No reason to celebrate

Panting irregularly, Draco pushed himself carefully up on his elbows and glanced up at Harry who stood breathing heavily and still buried deeply inside Draco’s body “Care to stay where you are or are you going to give me chance to lift my aching back of this silly windowsill? I am afraid of crushing my freshly sowed parsley in the small pot behind me.”

He still couldn’t believe what just had happened and tried to adjust to his inner confusion. Harry blinked at him somewhat owlishly and withdrew slowly, leaving Draco’s hole twitched slightly and the blond could feel a small amount of cum dripping down his crevice. As soon as Harry had stepped away Draco slid off the counter and grinned at his house guest.

“Well, golden boy. I never knew you had in you!”

“Technically speaking it was you, who ‘had it in you’.”

“Potter!” Draco snarled.

“Want a paper towel?” Harry turned to the wall behind him about to reach for the offered item.

“No, I rather take a shower.” Leaving his pants lying on the floor where Harry had pulled them down, Draco left the kitchen and headed upstairs.

Harry stood helplessly in the kitchen and suddenly felt a burning sensation stinging his cheeks. He was glad that Draco wasn’t here any longer to see the dark blush that had spread across his face and leaned heavily against the counter. What the hell had just happened here? Had he really walked into this kitchen and simply fucked Draco without even asking? He could feel his own cum drying on his cock, giving it an odd tense sensation and also the butter started to smell oddly rancid. All in all not too pleasant. Shuddering he turned towards the stairs and quickly moved down the corridor to his room to get cleaned up and ponder about how he would explain his behaviour to Draco later that day.


The spray of the scolding hot shower did wonders to his abused back and Draco rested his flat hands and forehead against the tiled while the water pounded down his bruised back. He could still feel the faint, dull pain in his backside and smiling shook his head, wondering about Harry and the sudden sexual attack in the kitchen. He would never had thought about Harry as a sexual partner, nor did he fit into his prey pattern. Usually Draco preferred younger and more innocent seeming partners. Partners with no own personal demands, with goals and too much experience. He liked teaching them his preferences and own ideas. But Harry was his own age and obviously had had partners of his own. But still, it had been strangely satisfying and exciting. The way Harry had been taking control and had just forced him into it. Sure if Draco had not given in, it surely would not have gone all the way, still his body thrummed with pleasure and a silly smile had made its way across his face. Maybe they could again… if they wanted to….

Harry had showered and now sat on his bed contemplating his current situation. What would Draco tell him once they were in one room again? Would he shout, yell, accuse him or….. A sharp knock on his door shook him out of his reverie and his head snapped up in surprise.

“Yes?” he asked carefully.

“Want some coffee?” Draco was muffled through the closed door.

“Sure.” Harry had to clear his throat, afraid that it would sound weak and cracking.

Hesitantly he opened the door and caught a glimpse of Draco just walking down the stairs to the ground floor. He had walked calmly as if nothing had happened, like they had had a perfectly normal morning and not a violent shag on top of the kitchen counter. Harry heaved a sigh and mentally shook his head at himself. Why did he feel so full of remorse and guilt, why had he not stopped himself before he jumped Malfoy if he would be so shocked about his own behaviour later on? Had it been because he now had glimpsed a fragment of Draco’s older self in that hallway at night or because he had guessed that Draco obviously preferred the casual shag to a lasting affair? Was he any better than Draco himself?


Draco watched the coffee machine silently and again marvelled at the inventions muggles had come up with. It was one of his many other hobbies to collect muggle machines and trinkets, fit them into his magical home and watch them work. He could hear Harry coming down the stair albeit the steps were hesitant and careful. Smiling Draco turned towards the open kitchen door and leaned back against the counter.

“Milk and two spoons of sugar, right?”

Harry had appeared in the door and he smiled back weakly. ‘Please let’s not talk about it’ his confused face seemed to say and the blonde smiled to himself. He would not utter a word about this morning, but perhaps he would make a move at the Griffindor himself some other time. As for know he would just bask in the wonderful afterglow and the pleasantly stretched feeling he was still having. He hadn’t been taken that forcefully for a long time. He had let Dennis only top once or twice and it hadn’t been really satisfying, so Draco had taken to being on top when it came to having sex with the young wizard. Though deep in his heart Draco knew that he preferred to be on the receiving end.

Harry took the coffee mug from Draco’s hands and settled on his, by now usual, place at the breakfast table. To his astonishment the morning proceeded like all the other mornings they had shared so far on weekends. Each of them would take some pages of the Daily Prophet and read while drinking their coffee and eating a few slices of toast. The well known comfortable silence would wrap them in its soothing arms and by the end of the afternoon Harry had overcome his worst worries and fears that Draco would say something about this morning. Maybe both could forget it quickly.


During the evening Harry sat down and started writing letters again, trying to contact more of the ex pupils of Hogwarts. They had managed to reach about one third of the whole lot and it would take them at least two more weeks to find out about the other ones. He felt safe here inside Draco’s study and soon he had repressed any memories of the incident earlier in the kitchen. The old grandfather clock in the hall announced midnight, when Harry felt the well known itch and got up to see if Draco had already gone to bed. He tiptoed slowly into the living room and found the former Slytherin deep asleep on the larger couch, an old book resting open on his slowly rising and falling chest.

Harry threw a quick glance at the title and shook his head. ‘Poetry and works of Nicolaus Lenau it read. He would never understand Draco’s habit of reading this stuff, what on earth was so exciting about these books? Grinning he moved further into the room towards a rather large cabinet and carefully opened it, gently so not to make any creaking sounds. The cabinet, like most of the living room furniture was an obvious antique and Harry knew full well, how much noise a single little drawer could make.

Inside he found what he had been looking for and firmly took a hold of the bottle of thirty year old Whiskey, not bothering to take a glass as well. Cultural Bolshevist Draco would call him, but he didn’t really need a glass. Taking his prize back to the study, Harry settled behind the desk again and picked up the feather quill enthusiastically. Taking a swig from the bottle he glanced down at the paper and the address at its side. ‘Neville Longbottom at Beaubatons’. Wondering what to write, Harry nursed his bottle and leaned back in the large Armchair behind the desk.


The weight of something heavy on his chest bothered him and slowly pulled Draco from the depths of his slumber. A smile curved the sensual lips upwards as he awoke. It happened quite frequently that he fell asleep on the couch while reading a book. Sadly this time the book was somewhat heavy and in the end felt uncomfortable enough to rose him. With a groan he sat up and carefully slipped a piece of silk ribbon between the old pages of the book. He sat it down gently on the side table and stretched his arms overhead before getting up to retire into his bedroom.

When he passed the half open door to his study however, his steps halted as he noticed the light still burning inside of it and irregular, soft snores emanating from within. ‘So,’ Draco thought smiling ‘that is what Harry calls working.’ The blond pushed the door fully open and his smile faltered immediately leaving a grimace of surprise and at the same time fury on it.

Harry had slumped forward onto the desk, his head burying scrolls, different kind of papers and the quill underneath it and from his half open mouth a fine string of spittle pooled slowly on a half written letter. The slow and deep breath smelled fowl and of alcohol and only now Draco saw the empty bottle of his most prized whiskey still clutched in Harry’s left hand.

“What?” he blurted out angrily and shook Harry’s slouching shoulder hard.

“Mhm…” Harry didn’t even wake up but instead grunted and tried to turn his head to the other side, smearing the spittle across his right cheek and further onto the letter, smudging the written words further.

“Harry! Wake up! Come on arsehole. Get a grip on yourself!” Draco yelled.

But nothing happened, Harry slept on or rather lay half unconsciously on the desk. Draco ripped the empty bottle from Harry’s grasp and bent down a little to open the small top drawer on the left side of his desk, retrieving his wand. Fighting the urge to gag, he turned his face away from the sharp stench of alcohol and mumbled a levitation spell that would enable him to bring Harry upstairs to his room. Draco didn’t even know why he bothered, but the alternative of leaving the drunken man here in his study didn’t appeal to him either, fearing the possibility of Harry getting sick in here.

Draco pulled a face as he guided the slack form over the unmade bed and with an evil smile of satisfaction ended the spell before Harry was actually lying on the crumpled covers. The Griffindor fell unceremoniously onto the bed and slightly hit his head on the headboard but never showed a sign of bother. He was obviously so out that he couldn’t even register pain. Draco shook his head and banged the door shut after him.

t.b.c