Scratching The Itch

Scratching The Itch…by Samayel


This was the worst summer of Harry's life.

It didn't involve the Dursleys, though every summer with them had been unpleasant to say the least. It wasn't about the war, although that certainly complicated things…and it really had kind of led to this situation. It wasn't arguing with his friends. He missed them terribly, since they were at their homes and he was stuck in Grimmauld Place. It wasn't even Voldemort. Not that he wouldn't have loved venting his frustrations on the evil son-of-a-bitch.

It was Draco Malfoy.

Snape had turned Draco over to the Order, after making assurances that he was still on their side. Not that anyone had believed him, but as it turned out, under Veritaserum, Draco had substantiated everything that Snape had claimed, and with Harry's first hand testimony regarding the night of Dumbledore's death, the Order had finally, grudgingly, accepted that Dumbledore's ultimate double agent was still on their side.

The Order was busy gathering information, fighting a silent war of propaganda and secretive alliances, preparing for the battles that would inevitable come, and members dropped in from time to time with supplies, but to guard Harry's safety, the safe house was used as little as possible. Harry was under strict orders to remain in hiding until told to do otherwise. Draco was wanted by Ministry and Death Eaters alike. They were trapped…in Grimmauld Place…alone…together.

This was Harry's private hell.

It wasn't bad enough that Draco was seemingly unrepentant about hating Muggles. It wasn't even that he was generally a foul mouthed and snarky little git. What made being around Draco so awful was much worse than that. Much, much worse.

Harry was gay. And apparently, so was Draco.

Draco was as clever and sneaky as ever. He'd figured out Harry's attraction to him early on in his stay. The bastard had no wand, and couldn't do wandless magic beyond the occasional Accio. But he knew how to tease. And he taunted Harry mercilessly.

Harry had figured out his preferences months ago. There had been subtle hints for years. The confused disinterest in girls, the flushed cheeks in the changing room after Quidditch. But mostly it was the numerous wanking sessions with images of cute guys in his mind's eye. He'd figured it out…but he hadn't really had time to do anything about it. He'd been too busy trying to catch Draco at every turn…and failing. Ron had been more right than he could possibly know. Harry obsessed over Draco, but he'd never imagined winding up living with him.

Malfoy had spotted Harry staring at his new housemate's bum less than a week after his arrival. As soon as the evil little shit had figured out that Harry had the horn…for Draco, he suddenly developed a need to wander about…shirtless…all the time. After a couple a days of watching Harry try to pretend he wasn't staring at Malfoy's slim, pale back, or the fine lines of the other boy's neck and shoulders, Malfoy upped the ante again.

Malfoy had spent the last three days, whenever other members of the Order were away, deliberately moving about the house in nothing but his underwear. Expensive, but rather scanty, underwear. Tight, white, thin cotton briefs.

Malfoy also spent a lot of time dropping things and picking them up…with a smirk on his face that was purest evil.

Harry had endured sexual frustration before…but never like this. Most days, his cock actually ached. He'd wanked himself sore more than once, and even that wasn't enough. Malfoy's nearly naked backside was in his dreams, and it was sidling by him all day when he woke up. It was sheer hell.

When Harry had finally broken down and tried the unthinkable…tried to woo Draco Malfoy with fumbling, amateurish shows of politeness and sympathy…clumsily hinting that Draco had been right about Harry's attraction to him, and that he was more than a little interested in knowing Draco better, he'd gotten these words:

"Why Potter…I didn't know you cared. I suppose you deserve a prompt, yet thoughtful answer. No. Not merely no, but hell no. I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last man on earth. In fact, if my ass was on fire, and your dick could put it out, I'd sooner burn to death. Need to fuck? Go fuck yourself."

That simple, infuriating exchange had preceded an all out war of words, with Harry threatening mayhem, and Draco remaining nearly naked out of pure spite, utterly unafraid of the hexes or curses that Harry had threatened. The bastard had cold-bloodedly reminded Harry that he'd been cursed nearly to death by Harry once already, and that he wasn't afraid of it anymore. That rebuke had stung so bad that Harry had fled for his room, disgusted with himself for even letting this happen.

If it hadn't been for the fact that Harry's room was dead boring, he'd never have left it. His only refuge was the heap of books left about by past residents of the Black estate, and routine wanking. It wasn't nearly enough, but it was all he had. There were six weeks of summer left, and his wrist already ached, and Malfoy was listening for footsteps, hoping for a chance to cock tease Harry once again.

Sheer hell.

The Black family was steeped in wickedness. Sirius had never fit in here, and it was a cruel irony that the only legacy he could give the godchild he loved was a house that he had hated with a passion. The books available weren't Harry's preferred reading material, but they were often foul and bizarre enough to take his mind off of his mood. It wasn't much entertainment, but with Draco stalking the halls in his skivvies, waiting to remind Harry of what he couldn't have, this was better than the alternative. It was also kind of educational…especially from a DADA standpoint, since the Black family had a long tradition of deadly curses and wreaking horrific vengeance upon its enemies.

As it turned out…it was inspirational. Cruel, perhaps, but bloody inspirational. There was a deep moral streak in Harry, and even with a near perfect revenge in his hands, he still agonized over what he should do. Malfoy was rotten to the core, and since this wouldn't be fatal, or even genuinely harmful, the irony of it seemed wildly appealing. Still, nagging doubts assailed Harry. It was cruel, and the results weren't quite what he'd originally dreamed of, but it was close.

Harry did the right thing. It didn't seem fair, or just, even if Malfoy was a prick teasing bastard and deliberately tormented Harry every day. Harry let it go, choosing not to use his newfound knowledge.

For about two days.

He hadn't really meant to do it. He'd lost his temper…and that part was Malfoy's fault. He'd come down for a bloody sandwich…that was all. He was hungry, and he wanted food. It wasn't his fault that Malfoy had been in the living room when he'd come out. Yawning, stretching, smirking wickedly while he artfully pretended that he wanted to scratch his bum. His shorts were riding lower than usual, and Harry's face was burning while he watched a smooth and pale hand slip down the back, lazily scratching…for almost a minute.

The argument had come seconds after that. Harry had been bellowing commands for Draco to drop the act, put his fucking clothes on and leave off being a tease. Draco had cocked his hips, thumb tucked into his shorts, showing off more of his hipbones and a faint tuft of blond fur, and coldly answered.

"Awww. Ickle Potty can't take it? Look at this! See this? You'll never have it. Want to know why? Because you're a Muggle-loving, mud-blooded worm, Potter! You aren't fit to do more than look at this in awe…and you will go to your commoner's grave knowing that I was too good for you! HEY!!"

Draco had been half turned, one hand on his ass while he delivered his hateful speech. Harry been boiling with anger, frustration, and raw loathing while he listened to Draco's spiteful invective. The tone of Draco's tirade had been faintly reminiscent of Bellatrix Lestrange. The curse had shot from his wand in a heartbeat, and he hadn't even thought of what he was doing. All he'd wanted was for Draco to eat his words. Draco obviously felt the spell hit, eyes wide with panic and disbelief, suddenly terrified, yet relieved that he hadn't been killed by another rogue spell.

"YOU! YOU SHIT! HOW DARE YOU! WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?! WHAT WAS THAT SPELL! ANSWER ME, FUCKER!!!"

Harry was too angry to care, and sneered as coldly as he could. Inside, he was still shaking with the realization of what he'd just done, but his anger hadn't abated, and he vented it as quickly as he could, before shame took over and made him do or say anything humiliating.

"Just what you deserve, asshole! Nothing more, nothing less. Don't worry, it was harmless, or I wouldn't have used it! Just count yourself lucky I didn't use any of the spells I could have! That'll teach you for giving the person whose house keeps you alive and safe so much fucking grief, you petty, miserable, hateful, snobbish little shit!"

Draco was almost purple in the face with outrage, and stormed up the stairs in a huff, slamming the door of his room behind him. Harry sunk into a chair, stunned by what he'd just done. It was wrong! Very wrong! It wasn't what he'd wanted…or had he? Maybe he'd done it because he himself was a selfish and horrible brat…but Draco had had it coming too…right? He'd been so angry…and that was the first curse fresh in his memory…just like last time…only this time it had been harmless. Draco wouldn't be hurt by it. He'd just…be uncomfortable…for a little while. Like…a few weeks.

The silence in the house lasted less than four hours. Draco banged on Harry's door, shouting all the while.

"Open this door, Potter! Open it now or I'll kick it down!"

Harry opened the door, and was relieved to find Draco fully dressed, but nervous and jittery, shifting his weight from one leg to the other every so often.

"What the fuck did you do to me? What was that spell? Talk…or I'll tell everyone what you did! Take this off me right this instant, or you will rue the day you were fucking born!"

Draco's face was still red, and his lips were a tight line, while gray eyes burned with irritation. Even so, Draco still shifted his hips uncomfortably, keeping his eyes right on Harry's while he shuffled back and forth, fidgeting nervously in front of Harry. Harry couldn't bring himself to admit what he'd done. It was too cruel. The fantasy had been sweet, but the reality made him feel horrible inside.

"It was nothing! Just an Itching Hex. An old variant. It'll go away on its own. I'm sorry I even cast it, but you didn't have to be such a complete arse, either! I told you it's harmless. Just deal with it!"

"I'll be the fucking judge of harmless! You incompetent ape! Dispel it! Break the hex…right now…or I'll make you wish you had! I'm not waiting a minute longer for your stupid spell to go away…take it off!"

"Uh…ummm…I…uh…can't."

"WHAT!!! What the fuck do you mean…'I can't'! Take the spell off now, Potter! It itches…inside me, and I want it gone!"

Harry's face was redder than Draco's.

"I'm not kidding. It's an older variant. There is no counter-hex. It lasts a few weeks, then it goes away on its own. Really. I'm not kidding."

"You're lying! I can tell by the look on your face! I'll…I'll fucking kill you for this! Make it stop, Potter! This isn't fucking funny at all! I can't stop itching, and you'd better break this fucking curse! NOW!"

"Malfoy…I'm sorry. I can't. I didn't really mean to use the spell! I was angry…but it will go away. I swear it! There is no counter-hex. It wasn't meant to have one."

Draco grabbed Harry by his shirt, and even with a wand jabbed into his neck he didn't relent, pushing Harry back and wincing while he tried to walk forward.

"Motherfucker! Use every counter spell you know…on me…right now…or I'll kill you wand or no! Do it, Potter!"

Harry pushed himself away from Draco, who went back to nervously fidgeting and shuffling, arms quickly crossed in a patently obvious attempt to keep from itching his bum in front of Harry. Harry rattled off counter curse after counter curse, generic and specific, and even Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise at a few of them, realizing that Harry clearly knew more DADA material than anyone in Hogwarts to date…short of the staff. Not one of them worked. Charms for numbness had no effect, and charms for soothing and cooling did nothing. Harry knew why, but he didn't dare say it.

"You asshole! You complete and utter prat! I can't believe you used another stupid old curse with no cure! You maniac!! I'm getting out of here! I don't care if it gets me killed…I'm finding a proper wizard and getting this removed!"

"WAIT! Don't…don't leave. I'm sorry….there…there is a way to…soothe it. You won't like it. That's why it's a curse with no counter. There's only one way to make it stop itching. I just…I didn't want to tell you. You really won't like it."

Draco sighed relief, then returned to pinched outrage again.

"I knew it! You hid it just to be a bigger prick than I thought you were! What is it? It's probably something gross! Like Blast-Ended Skrewt innards or some bloody thing! Tell me the fucking cure and let's get this done with, you abominable shit!"

"It…it isn't a cure…really. It's more like something that soothes it for a little while. The spell really will last a few weeks, then goes away on its own…just like I said, but I can make it stop itching for a little while at a time."

"WELL? Come on, Potter!!! HOW!"

"I…I have to…shag you."

Draco's mouth was a comic, perfect 'O', then clamped shut.

"You lying shit," he hissed. "You just want what you can't have. How pathetic! You cast a spell you can't break, then lie and say a shag'll set things right. You speccy, pervy, horrid git! Wait 'til I…argh! Never mind! I'm telling everyone! Grrr…my fucking bum!"

Harry picked up the book beside his bed, and haltingly opened it to the page in question.

"Read it. I wasn't going to use it…I swear it. I didn't mean to. Then you pissed me off…and I…it was cast before I even knew what I was doing. I…I'm sorry."

Draco snatched the book away and read it in horror, still shifting from leg to leg, mouth opening and closing with shock as he realized what Harry had done. It was all true. The only thing that would make the itching cease was to give in and let the caster shag him. Even then, it didn't end the spell, it just alleviated the symptoms for a short while. He would itch for the next two to three weeks, except for a few hours after a shagging…from Harry.

"You…you miserable, dirty, rotten…BASTARD! You…you complete fuckwit! I can't…I….oooh. Potter…I'll…never fucking mind!!!"

Draco threw the book to the floor, stomping back to his room, and slammed both doors along his way, setting off a tirade from Mrs. Black's portrait. Harry resigned himself to at least two weeks of misery. If Draco had been awful before, he would be insufferable now, and frankly, Harry deserved it…and he knew it.

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To Draco's credit, he lasted slightly more than two days. Granted, he shouted, screamed, kicked at the walls, cursed and growled with frustration every minute day and night, making Harry exhausted and miserable in the process, but Harry didn't complain once. Mostly, he kept starting apologies that were interrupted by the objects that were flung at him every few hours. At least he got considerable practice at Protego.

It was a little after four in the morning when Harry heard the knock at his door and snapped fully awake. Draco's twitchy shuffling could be heard outside, but the knocking had been comparatively peaceful next to the recent tantrums that had kept Harry awake. Draco was dressed in pajamas, which had been borrowed from Mrs. Weasley's stash of old clothes, and Draco's face was a study in barely contained outrage. His eyes looked hollow and haunted, and he obviously hadn't slept in two days.

"Potter. Let me in. We…we have to talk…about this…"

Harry moved out of the way, and Draco shuffled into the room, tugging uncomfortably at his pajama bottoms and shifting his hips uncontrollably. He crossed his arms defensively, glaring at Harry while the lower half of his body trembled and shuddered. Harry thought the moment might be right to apologize properly at last.

"Look…I really am sor-"

"Shut up. Shut your fucking mouth. Your part in this is answering my questions, and otherwise keeping that gob of yours completely shut! Clear?"

Harry nodded, his face burning. He couldn't muster anger at Draco's tone. He'd be lucky if he got out of this with his reputation intact. He'd had a lot of time to think about what might happen to people's opinion of him when this got out. He was technically no better than a common rapist. Draco had the power to ruin him, and he deserved to be ruined.

"Gods! I can't…I can't believe this shit! You…Rrrrr! My arse is killing me! I haven't slept in two days! People go crazy from lack of sleep, Potter! You're responsible for this! Let me explain this for the record. I hate you! If I could invent a word…a word more powerful and all encompassing than hate, which summed up every form of contempt and loathing one life form on this rock could feel for another…it wouldn't be nearly enough to describe how much I hate you!

"That having been said…we have a problem. First…only you can make this stop. You've engineered this nicely. I'd call you Slytherin…but that would be praise. No one can ever know about this. NO ONE! Nod if you understand me!"

Harry nodded, suddenly horrified with where this was going.

"You do your part, and I'll never tell a living soul that…that…we had to do this! But if this doesn't work…I will destroy you! You'll be in Azkaban when I'm finished with you! So…that having been cleared up…are you absolutely sure that there is no other spell to end this?"

Harry nodded again, hanging his head in shame. Draco sighed irritably.

"Now…have you ever…you know…before? With anyone?"

Harry shook his head no, burning with humiliation. He hadn't intended to admit any such thing…especially to Draco Malfoy, but since Draco was suffering from the effects of Harry's temper…again, what could he really do but tell the truth?

"Just great. When it would finally be useful for you to have a clue about what you're doing, you're a hopeless virgin as well as a prat! Errrrr! Merlin! I, at least, have some experience…but not…not with…that. I'll still have to tell you what to do…and you'd better do it right! Get your fucking clothes off and go stand by the bed!"

Harry slunk over to the bed, fiddling with his pajama buttons nervously. Draco was already peeling off his shirt on the other side of it. The irony…the tragedy was that there was nothing remotely sexy about what he was doing. Harry had cursed Draco, forcing him into sex he didn't want. It was sick, and wrong, and he couldn't feel anything like attraction at a moment like this, sickened by what he'd done.

"Oh, Salazar's Beard! Get the fucking pajamas off already! At least stop pretending like you didn't want this! It's asinine! A proper Slytherin would gloat or something! At least that wouldn't completely nauseate me. Strip, Potter! I want this over with as quick as possible. Get naked, cast a Lubricus, put your pathetic little pecker into me…SLOWLY AND GENTLY…and get the fuck off so I can get some rest! Are we clear?!"

Harry hurried with the buttons. Mostly he wanted to cry, which was really humiliating, since he was almost seventeen and hadn't any business crying over much of anything. He peeled away the shirt of pajamas, blushing furiously, then tugged nervously at the bottoms, stammering over a final apology he hoped Draco would actually listen to.

"Draco…I wasn't lying. I didn't mean for this…I'm…I'm really sorry."

Draco had already stripped and had just crawled halfway onto the bed, meaning to turn his back to Harry and stay on his knees, hoping to get through this without having to look at a man he despised during the act. If it hadn't been for the desperation, and the exhaustion, and the hideous, awful, constant itching in his nether regions, he'd never have let his first time be with a drudge like Potter. Potter's meek little apology frayed his last nerve.

"POTTER! GODS DAMN YOU! Just get fucking naked already. I told you to shut up and do it! I'm in misery here! My arse is driving me insane and it's your bloody fault, wanker! Here's your fucking reward…you right pervy bastard! Now drop those bottoms and put your pathetic pin dick to work getting me some fucking relief! NOW!"

Draco, tired of waiting, turned and yanked the hem of Harry's pajamas, pulling them down to the floor, cloth tearing at the edges from the sudden stress. He stopped in horror…staring while Harry covered his face with his hands and stifled more muttered apologies.

"Oh. Oh, bugger. Fucking Merlin, Potter. Uhhh…oh…damn."

It was bloody huge. Draco had nothing to be ashamed of in the cock department. He was a good measure past the average, and he'd had enough showers with the Slytherin Quidditch team to know it. Potter's prick was…well…obscene. Freakish. Or at least to one of Draco's only moderate experience. The length wasn't really stunning, that was strictly average or barely above it. What mattered most was its thickness. It was nearly the circumference of Draco's wrist, sloping awkwardly down, heavy and frightening even while soft. Harry was still rambling. Draco's stomach was turning at the realization of what he'd have to do…possibly for weeks. He almost…almost…forgot the nagging soreness and perpetual fiery burn inside his bum.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…God, I'm sorry. I can't do this. This is my fault. I didn't mean for this to happen. I wasn't thinking. Please!! I'm sorry."

Draco stared quietly, gulping, uncomfortably shifting and twitching while Harry apologized.

"Yeah…what? Umm…yeah. You're sorry? I mean…wait a minute! Hell, yes you should be sorry! Oh, shit! You'll kill me with that fucking thing! You asshole! You absolute freak! I can't believe this! Oh, fuck! Gods, damn it! Potter…you'd better be able to cast one hell of a Lubricus! Maybe…if…well…shit! Throw in some Numbing Charms with that! This is a fucking disaster!"

Draco turned around, back on his knees, hating that he was exposed so vulnerably to Harry, and dreading what he knew was coming.

"Cast the spells, Potter. Hurry up! Except with the fucking part…do that slow! I mean it…like turtle slow! Like waiting-for-the-end-of-class…clock-ticking-for-what-feels-like-hours slow! Okay? Please do this right!"

Harry cast the Lubricus with a shaky hand. Draco recoiled a little, faintly disgusted by the sudden cool slime that was conjured into his body, especially since it hadn't taken away even a little of the itching sensation that plagued him. The Numbing Charm hit, and did just as little good. It would alleviate most feeling but what the curse had caused, and that would have to do. Potter was still shivering beside the bed, not yet hard, and Draco was almost in tears with mingled fear and frustration.

"What? What's wrong now? Please get this over with! I need sleep…I need it to stop itching. I'm so fucking tired I'm willing to fucking do this for a little relief, even if it fucking kills me in the process. Will you please get on with it!"

"Draco…I can't…this is wrong. I don't want to…to make you do this. I can't get…you know…'up'. Not like this. I really never meant for this to-"

Draco took a deep breath and ground his teeth. Yelling would only make this more difficult, but it would be so much fun. There was a way to nip this in the bud, and he knew what would have to be done.

"Okay. Actually…not okay. We're a long fucking way from okay. Like 'the light from planet Okay will take about a million years just to get here.' But…I want you…to stop snibbling and moaning, and come over here. I told you that I, at least, have some experience at this kind of thing. Mind you…my bum is still killing me, and you may consider yourself lucky that you have a means to stop it, or I'd gut you and leave you for your friends to find, but what I want you to do…is come over here and hold still…and just be quiet. Understood?"

Harry pushed his hands through his hair, taking two nervous steps closer to the bed. Draco reached out and took the limp organ in his hand, lifting it up and tugging gently at it, alternately causing the foreskin to draw forward, obscuring the dark pink head of Harry's prick entirely, then back, revealing the one part of his tanned looking flesh that stood out as a different color, raw and shining in the dimly lit room. Harry's legs trembled, and he stood stock still, while Draco slowly, hesitantly stroked away.

Draco's backside periodically shifted, and his legs were still twitching from tiny spasms of discomfort. He needed relief, and he needed to hurry this process. The rest of it would take long enough, given what he was dealing with, and he wasn't in the mood to wait. He opened his mouth as wide as he could, and pulled back Harry's foreskin. It was all he could do to just engulf the entire head in his mouth, slathering it with his tongue, while Harry gasped above him, half in shock, the rest in ticklish pleasure.

"Ah…ahhh! Draco! God! That…that…"

Draco didn't stop his routine, but the glare of hatred that flicked upwards at Harry silenced the other boy immediately. The outrageous thing in his hand was swelling, and Draco closed his eyes and tried to enjoy at least the few sensations that were pleasant here. The sweet musk of another guy's sex. The soft heat of flesh in his hand and in his mouth. When he kept the situation off his mind, at least as much of it as he could…since his arse was positively aching…it was a very palatable experience. He'd rather seriously enjoyed the couple of cocks he'd sucked in school, and Blaise and Theo had made it clear that they had enjoyed it quite a bit. Blaise was bisexual…and enjoyed almost anything sexual with anyone who was willing to give him a go, but Theo had heard Blaise bragging about how expert Draco had been, and despite being straight, had tried it just the one time, grudgingly admitting that it had been incredible. Potter's reactions were bearing up as further proof that Draco had talent.

Draco silently thanked all the gods that the thing he was working on hadn't gotten particularly long in the process. Perhaps a little more than seven inches, but it had swelled alarmingly in girth. He could tell that Potter was close to orgasm, and that couldn't be allowed to happen…at least…not until he'd fulfilled his role. Draco pulled away from Harry's groin, lips bee-stung and swollen, gasping softly for breath. Then he turned on his knees and showed his aching backside to Harry.

"Now. Cast another Lubricus…this one on yourself. I want you to do this…okay?"

Harry recovered his equilibrium, his personal regrets lost in a haze of pleasure, suddenly missing the warmth and soft suction that had nursed his cock to full size. He cast the spell quickly, rubbing the stuff onto himself, trying to accept what he was actually about to do.

"Just…just put it up against…me…there…you know where. I'll…I'll try to do the rest. Just put it there and hold still. Idiot."

Draco felt the sudden heat and slickness against his entrance, and shivered in spite of himself. He suddenly wished he'd had Firewhiskey available, but he'd drunk the only bottle in the house the first night after the curse, trying to lose consciousness. It hadn't worked, but he had been sick as a dog yesterday. If only he could be that drunk and relatively carefree now. He'd only toyed with spit soaked fingers before this…and this…this was wayyyy beyond his experience. He knew in theory what he should do…he just hoped it worked like it was supposed to.

He pulled a pillow close and flopped his face into it, then slid his hands back and pulled his arse cheeks open as wide as he could, bearing down hard and pressing himself back against the huge prick behind him. The numbing effect of Harry's spell certainly helped, but Draco's lack of experience was crippling his efforts. His body just couldn't open enough to let Harry in. A minute of futilely shoving back against it later, groaning with the effort, and Draco surrendered and flopped forward, biting back a sob.

"Shit! Shit shit shit! You…you'll have to…push. Same time as me. Cast another spell for numbing…then we'll try again."

"Okay." Harry's voice was stunned and quiet, full of mingled anticipation and awe at what they were attempting. Draco braced himself, face down in the pillow, spread his cheeks as wide as he could while Harry whispered another spell, and then pushed back against Harry's straining prick. Harry centered his cock directly on the small rosebud that strained and flowered open desperately in front of him, then pushed himself into Draco as gently as he could.

Draco's whimpered huffs and growls of frustration gave way to a muffled gasp. The head of Harry's prick finally slid forward, paving the way for the rest of it to go in, which happened faster than they'd meant it to, since they'd both been pushing as hard as they safely could. Half of Harry's cock was up Draco in a heartbeat…and the tightness was downright painful…for Harry. Draco had the benefit of two Numbing Charms and a searing itch that distracted him from all other discomforts…Harry, on the other hand, had his prick lodged in a place never intended for anything this size, and it almost hurt. He was surrounded completely by tight heat and faint slickness, his cock twitching with surprise and excitement. He was actually inside another person!

Draco's reaction caught Harry completely off guard. Draco's entire body seemed to suddenly go limp, and Draco quietly whimpered with relief, lifting his head from the pillow only briefly.

"Ahhh…Salazar's Breath! I…it feels better. Not all…gone yet…but better. Potter…go slow…but do it. Finish it. 'S soo good."

Harry wasn't sure of what to do with his hands, but Draco's had flopped onto the sheets, limp with relief. Harry steadied himself by placing his hands on Draco's hips, albeit a bit gingerly, and pressed forward as slowly as he could manage. Now that he was in, and the Lubricus spells were doing their job, it was easier to move than he'd thought, but the tightness around his cock was daunting. When the soft dark muss of fur at the base of his cock was brushing against the cheeks of Draco's arse, Harry stopped and slid back just as slowly. Draco sighed softly, head tilted to the side. His body was almost completely relaxed.

"Gods…yesss! That…thass it…keep doing that. Slow. Ahhh, does 'at feel good. I c'n feel it…stopping…the itch…don' stop…now…keep going. Yesssss."

His words slid out between long gasps, and his eyes were half-closed lazily, his lips slack while he mumbled encouragement. Harry found a pace that certainly seemed to relieve Draco and stuck with it, but it was painstakingly slow, and he couldn't muster a genuine desire to come. The friction was great…he liked it so much more than he'd imagined, and guilt and shock over what he was doing aside, it felt incredible…but to come he'd need more than this. Harry sped up just a little, trying to ensure that this was as quick for Draco as it could be, but trying not to do any more harm than necessary.

Before a couple of minutes were up, Harry was pumping somewhat quickly and steadily into Draco's heavily slicked arse, hovering on the brink of release while Draco huffed and sighed beneath him. When the orgasm came, it took Harry by surprise, rising like a tsunami wave, overwhelming his senses in a heartbeat. He pushed deeply into Draco, holding still and clutching Draco's hips tightly for support while his cock seemed to explode with pleasure, each pulse almost painful inside the tight confines of Draco's warm and silken passage. Harry shuddered, teeth clenched, eyes crewed shut, biting back cries while his cock twitched and pulsed, spitting load after load of come into Draco's hot, tight little arse, every wicked fantasy he'd ever had quickly paling in comparison to the reality.

Draco sighed deeply and with a completely relaxed air, while Harry swayed, sweating and dizzy, just behind him. Every small move Draco made caused Harry's suddenly ticklish and softening cock to tingle with pleasure. So unbearably sensitive! Harry pulled away slowly, watching in awe as the hole that, just for a second, gaped hugely, trickling his come, quickly closed into a tight, albeit bruised and swollen, rosebud. They'd been careful, and Draco hadn't been hurt, but there were two small tears in the skin around the anus, only bleeding ever so faintly. Harry plucked his wand and nervously cast a small Healing Charm, while Draco curled onto his side contentedly. A few seconds later, he was almost snoring.

"Mmm…'s gone. 'S good. Still hate you, Potty…b' thas' better."

That was it. Draco was out cold. Sleeping like a baby. Harry just sat down in a chair and spelled his sore cock numb. He didn't really know what to do now. Draco was asleep in his bed, and Harry hadn't any business sleeping next to him after putting him through that. Harry kicked a few bits of clothing and a fallen pillow into place, and curled up on the floor beside the bed. What a way to lose his virginity! And to Draco Malfoy of all people. Regret still stung, and Harry wasn't especially proud of what he'd done, particularly since, whatever it might mean to Draco, Harry had never intended to extort Draco's own virginity away. At least Draco seemed content…and non-violent…now. In fact, sleeping peacefully, the prat was…kind of…kind of beautiful. Innocent in spite of what they'd just done. That alone was amazing. Harry drifted to sleep, still musing over the implausibility of an innocent Malfoy while his consciousness slid into twilight.

------------------------------------------


It was somewhere just after nine in the morning when Harry woke. Not because he wanted to…but because Draco had just kicked him in the ribs. Harry rolled out of his makeshift pile of bedding and sucked in air.

"What the hell was that for?! I was sleeping!"

Draco was already hopping back and forth on his feet, starkers and pinched-faced with annoyance.

"I know! That's exactly what I'm NOT doing! It itches again, Potter! I waited two fucking days for this…and I want more sleep! Get up…we have to do it again. Be careful what you wish for, Potter…just because you're getting your pervy little dreams to come true, it doesn't mean I'm going to go easy on you! You haven't had a wash yet, so don't even think of me giving you head again…just wank or whatever and cast the spells so we can do this without splitting me in half. What are you waiting for…MOVE!"

Harry stumbled upright, watching Draco kneel on the bed with a utilitarian air of boredom that stole even a hint of romance from the act. Admittedly, Draco had a magnificent bum, but the knowledge that Draco felt no enthusiasm for an act he'd essentially been forced into was more than Harry's libido could easily handle.

He cast the Lubricus for Draco, then the Numbing Charm, and then a Lubricus for himself. It was easier to make himself excited than it had been during the night, and Harry guiltily knew that it was because, having had sex for the first time, he rather desperately wanted more of it, even under clouded circumstances. After all…there was guilt, and then there was guilt while a seriously attractive bum was waiting for some attention…from Harry and Harry alone.

A few dozen strokes and he was stiff as he could be, pressing into Draco while Draco shoved back, making small grunts and straining hard while he pushed his way onto Harry's cock. That nearly unbearable tightness and warmth assailed Harry's erection once again, and a few minutes later he was comfortable inside of Draco's body, moving slowly and trying to enjoy himself as long as this had to be done anyway. He was dizzy, sleepy, hungry and nervous…but mostly he was horny, and bringing himself to orgasm wasn't nearly so hard this time.

Draco's body relaxed almost immediately after Harry starting moving inside of him, and with the hateful itching and burning fading fast, Draco sullenly and quietly settled down and let Harry work on making this as brief as possible. Admittedly, Harry was…respectful…while he was touching Draco, and that was acceptable enough, and the discomfort that came of being stretched to capacity was nothing compared to the horrifying sensations that Draco had endured the past few days. Harry did what was expected of him, with a certain amount of prodding, and before long Draco felt the tension in Harry's body behind him.

There was scarcely any room inside his own arse, and every twitch and pulse of Harry's cock could be felt while he came. It would have been irritating, except that the magic of the curse, already dimmed by sexual contact with Harry, faded away to nothing at the same time, leaving Draco relieved and content, despite the horrible awkwardness of feeling that way while Potter's cock was shoved up him, pumping half-blood, Gryffindor spunk into Draco's perfect pureblood arse. It was a travesty…but it certainly beat the alternative. Draco slid himself off of Potter's prick with a small gasp and flopped back onto the bed.

"Hell…that's better. Much better. Piss off so I can sleep. The last one helped for about four hours…I expect you back here when I wake up…and don't make me wait!"

Harry bristled, but Draco yawned and stretched, then curled into the next of rumpled blankets in a way that was…well…sort of adorable, his face still crossed by an imperious and irritable sneer while he drifted to sleep. This…this wasn't as bad as it could have turned out…not really.

He couldn't sleep, and frankly, he was still sticky from two rounds of sex, so Harry nipped off to the shower and cleaned himself up, keenly aware of the way his prick felt faintly bruised after his first couple rounds of sex. His prick had been a locker room joke amongst Gryffindors, and based on their talk, he'd just assumed he'd never get it into anyone. Not that he hadn't wished for it anyway…but he'd been reconciled to it not happening for a very long time…if at all. There would be open warfare in the wizarding world soon enough, and he really hadn't imagined sex being an issue he'd have to deal with so immediately. He still wished he hadn't cast that stupid spell, but the fringe benefits were nothing to scoff at!

Harry dried himself off, staring in the mirror, looking for some small difference that spelled out 'non-virgin'. There was nothing different visible, but he stared anyway. The Harry that had stared into that mirror a day ago had never had sex…but the Harry looking into it now had done 'it' twice, and would be doing it several times a day until the curse wore off.

A sudden dose of reality struck Harry in that instant. Two to three weeks. At least once every four hours or so. How much sex could one person give before exhaustion set in? How would he get any decent sleep? The rumble of hunger in his stomach yanked Harry's attention away, and he slipped down the stairs quietly in search of breakfast. In spite of his relative youth and vigor, Harry found himself sluggish and tired after he'd eaten, and promptly napped on the couch in the living room.

"POTTER! Get up here! It's started again! And bring a sandwich and a glass of milk…I'm hungry!"

And so it went. It wasn't very fantasy-like at all, and before two more days had gone by, Harry was leaning on other spells from the Black family library to keep meeting Draco's needs, and the insistent itch of the curse kept Harry eating, sleeping, showering and shagging in rapid succession, bleary-eyed from exhaustion and the total satiation of his own admittedly rabid teenage sex-drive. The only bright side was that, unlike before, there was one sure-fire way to keep Draco quiet and content for a few hours at a time, and as long as he hurried and did what he was supposed to do, they rarely argued.

In truth, they barely spoke, other than a few words before or after sex. Draco seemed alright with that, but Harry felt oddly uncomfortable about it all. A bloke ought to do more than leave the room after shagging another person, but that was all he did, and attempts at conversation usually reminded Draco of who he was shagging, and that always ended with Harry fleeing a string of acid comments and withering glares. At least Draco had started sleeping in his own bed again, but Harry had become little more than a house-elf to the victim of his hastily spoken curse. With the cooking and cleaning and fetching involved, it wasn't that different from a summer at the Dursleys.

Except of course for the constant sex. That was one major, and relatively pleasant, difference.

Day three was marred by Draco's complete loss of temper when Harry knocked irritably on the bathroom door with a question.

"Come on! I need the loo! You've been in there for like an hour, and I've got to go! What's taking so damn long?"

There was a strained silence, followed by a flush before Draco opened the door, red-faced with fury.

"You! You have the fucking nerve to curse me, so that I have to fuck you or ache for weeks, then fuck me four times a day, and you still have the balls to ask what I'm doing in there!? You come like a fucking horse, Potter! Where the fuck do you think it all goes, Mister Savior Of The World? I'm not planning to keep it as a fucking memento!!"

Things descended downhill rapidly from there, and Harry got still more practice at casting Protego.

By the time they reached the fifth day of the curse, Draco's body had adapted quite comfortably to Harry's sizable prick, and when Harry forgot to cast the Numbing Charm, largely because he was only catching sleep in three hour naps, Draco didn't even remember to complain about it. It had become a matter of fact routine, and since there wasn't any discernable amount of pain, Draco received Harry's sex-based soothing of the curse without a word…at first.

In the absence of the Numbing Charm, Draco actually felt what was inside of him. As the itching and discomfort dimmed, a sensitive place inside of him responded to Harry's comparatively gentle thrusts, and though Harry couldn't see it from where he was, Draco's eyes widened with horror. His entire body instantly tensed, and his own prick, which had sullenly remained limp since the entire debacle started, suddenly began to respond, stiffening quite quickly. Harry noticed the sudden tension in Draco's muscles and paused immediately.

"Are you alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Draco would have sooner died than admit aloud that Harry Fucking Potter had made him respond sexually. More than that, he'd have rather chewed his own arm off than confess that Harry's last few movements had sent a wave of pleasure through him that was simply indescribable. He was torn. The urge to chew Harry out and play for sympathy while making the prat hate himself was overwhelming, but there was a nauseating whisper in the back of Draco's mind, a silent voice that gained clarity with every ticking second.

'Don't tell him anything…just…just enjoy it. That felt sooo good. If you have to do this anyway, why not have a good time? You deserve it…let him make you feel good again.'

"It's nothing…Potty! Just…just shut up and get back to it! You were doing fine until you opened your stupid gob!"

Harry flushed crimson, and he would only ever admit to himself that his first thrust after those words was unnecessarily rough. Draco grunted softly and didn't say a word. The heavy cock inside of him touched that certain spot nearly every time it slid in deep, and it wasn't that hard to make himself relax enough to take it all anymore. While Harry was trying to politely make quick work of it behind him, Draco's eyes were rolling back in his head while he bit the corner of the pillow, trying not to let Potter see that he was aroused. Hell…fuck aroused! Draco hadn't had anything better than a wank in weeks, and the feeling that came over him when Harry pushed in deeply again and again was better by far than any thousand wankings could ever be!

Harry was close, desperately close, and Draco could tell by now. The pace quickened, Harry's breath became louder and more pronounced, and Harry always pushed deep and hard and then held still, shaking as he came. Draco's own prick was as hard as stone, bouncing and twitching while Draco tried to keep his silence. When Harry finally came, hands involuntarily clenching Draco's hips, the last faint hint of the curse dissipated like it always did, and the combination of outright relief and heady pleasure was too much to bear easily. Wide eyed and muffling a groan, Draco came hard onto the sheets beneath him. His body clenched tightly around Harry's cock with every spurt that spilled downwards onto the coverlet.

Lacking experience at anal sex, save for what he'd had with Harry lately, Draco hadn't realized that his response would be quite so…obvious. He'd been too swayed by that sudden pleasure to think ahead. Unlike usual, his legs were trembling violently, and the evidence of his orgasm was spattered across the coverlet. Potter would know. He knew. There could be nothing more horrifying than having Potter know full well that he'd made Draco come like a complete tart, without even the use of hands in the mix! Draco's face was flaming while he bit his tongue and flopped forward, trying to at least cover the sticky evidence with his own body.

"Oh. Damn. Did…did you just…?"

Draco exploded into action, whirling on Harry and slapping him across the face before he stormed out of the room, cursing over his shoulder.

"FUCK YOU! I hate you, Potter! HATE…YOU! Not a fucking word! THIS IS YOUR FAULT! GO TO HELL!"

Harry didn't move. He stood by his bed, rubbing his reddened cheek, staring in confusion at the specks and blobs of white that remained smeared across his coverlet. Draco had slammed the doors on the way to his room, and Mrs. Black was shrieking in the halls again, but Harry didn't have the wherewithal to care. He was still musing over why Draco would be upset about an orgasm.

Draco made it to day seven before he finally cracked. It was an impressive feat, considering that, for starters…Harry had been quiet about the whole thing, and hadn't bragged or taunted Draco regarding the previous incident, even when Order members had visited briefly, and second…Draco was both in agony AND suddenly quite horny for what he'd only just gotten used to enduring. He'd never had an orgasm of that intensity before, and the knowledge that it was possible teased the corners of his mind constantly. If he'd had a wand, he would have Obliviated himself rather than sit in his room remembering how good it had felt to come that hard, that way, especially since the memory of that moment was poisoned by the hateful knowledge that it had been Potter behind him, and inside of him, making it all possible.

Harry didn't say a word when Draco limped into his room, smoldering with irritation and obviously in discomfort. Draco peeled off his clothes, and Harry followed suit, and they went back to business as usual. Draco did manage to pinch himself in several sensitive places, letting pain prevent him from embarrassing himself a second time…but he regretted it when it was over. He had four hours to himself when Harry had finished, and the first thing he'd seen to after making use of the loo was a serious wank behind closed doors, fingers desperately failing to reach that spot that Harry had touched so easily. It just wasn't the same.

There was a moody, but peaceful silence between them during the days after that, and neither of them wanted to break it. It was easier to just do it and get it over with, and as long as Harry didn't say a word when Draco occasionally came, then Draco was willing to let the silence remain intact.

Twelve days of being shagged the same way in the same position. That would be enough to leave almost anyone a bit bored. When Draco gave in to temptation, and decided to experiment, he didn't consult Harry at all. The clothes peeled away like usual, but Draco flopped onto his back and pulled his heels up, scowling at Harry as if he were challenging the prat to say something about it.

It was actually better this way than it had been before. Instead of weak knees and shaky legs, Draco was perfectly comfortable on his back, at rest while Harry stood, hands under Draco's knees, thrusting with evident effort into Draco's pliant body. There was also the fact that, from this angle, Harry almost always hit the spot inside that made this humiliation worthwhile for Draco. The orgasm that erupted from Draco came well ahead of Harry's completion, and Draco kept his eyes closed during the last of it. Turning his head away while Harry moved inside him, finally pushing deep for the last minute or so while he came into Draco's arse. Not a word was said about the pleasure that Draco was obviously taking from their time together, and that suited Draco just fine. The spell was due to end in just over a week at latest, and it would all be over soon enough. If a few good orgasms came out of the entire mess, at least this disaster wouldn't be without some small reward for the indignities he'd suffered.

As the two week mark passed, Draco's temper got the better of him again. Not that he minded getting off all that much, but when he felt a kiss between his shoulder blades after Harry had finished coming and collapsed on top of him, it put the crown on an already complicated day and month. Harry couldn't figure out the source of the outrage, and it stung that Malfoy had been having sex with him for two weeks and not one moment of actual intimacy had passed between them. He'd been reasonable about everything, especially since the lion's share of the blame was his own, but Draco still stormed off and sulked for two more days before he was driven back to Harry yet again.

It was another three in the morning wake-up, with Draco prodding him in the middle of the night, but at least it wasn't the usual shouts or kicks. Draco was shuddering with discomfort and the need for relief, and his words were more polite than usual.

"Potter…get up. I need you. You know why. Just…come on. Budge over."

There was something dispirited and broken in Draco's voice. It didn't sit well with Harry at all. He almost preferred the chill arrogance and icy reserve that Draco had made his stock and trade. Hearing his rival, even a rival he'd hated and hungered after in equal portions, whisper a few words with such an air of defeat and surrender was unsettling.

The length of time between their trysts began to grow, and Draco and Harry both knew why. As the last week dragged on, the spell faded more and more obviously, until Draco could get through most of a day without a shag to pacify the curse. The final three days passed without incident, with Draco only edgily making his way to Harry's room shortly before seeking his own bed each night. The once violently tense atmosphere in the Black house had faded too. Now it was just oppressive silence, punctuated by a few brief minutes of necessary contact before they slept.

When the curse was supposed to end, Draco took a chance on staying in his own room. They heard each other, walking the halls or making use of the shower and toilet, but didn't interact once for two days. Harry accepted it as the end. What else could he do? Draco was finally free of the curse, and that had been the only thing forcing them together. There was nothing left between them but Draco's contempt for Harry now that curse was gone. When Draco knocked on his door on the third day, shuffling from foot to foot, looking irritated and as sore as he had all month, Harry's stomach did an odd flip. He'd gone from virgin to constant sex in just a few weeks, and the sudden absence of Draco had bothered him more than he liked to admit.

"Arse! Your stupid spell isn't working! It was supposed to go away. It isn't as bad as before, but it still itches. This is what I get for being foolish enough to imagine you casting any spell right on the first try! Gods!"

"Jesus, Malfoy! I'm sorry already! I didn't know it would do this! I'll do whatever you want if it will make you feel better…okay?"

And that was that.

Until Harry figured out that Draco was a very good actor…but not a perfect one.

There were little things that caught Harry's notice. Nothing overwhelming, but too many things to ignore. First, there was no order to Draco's needs. One hour he was fine, and then another would pass, and he'd be shuddering and griping, demanding immediate relief and cursing Harry's name every other breath. Second, they had never had sex any longer than necessary, and Draco had hinted on two occasions that it wouldn't be so awful if Harry took his time about it. Last, Draco stopped complaining about small gestures of affection. Harry hadn't ever been allowed to caress Draco, or even hint at intimacy, for almost a month, but now Draco didn't say a word about it. He just sighed and stayed quiet…unhurried and yet restless, leaving the room with a strange air of regret after resting for a while by Harry's side.

This wasn't all that raised Harry's suspicions, and even these things would have been ignored. It was the spell that clinched it. Harry felt badly, believing every word of Draco's verbal abuse. He'd botched the spell, and who knew how long it could last now? Since he couldn't ask others for help, Harry researched the Black library for answers. He found no counter spells, but he did find a diagnostic spell for curses that seemed helpful. Rather than risk ridicule, he cast it in secrecy, and learned far more than he bargained for in the process.

The curse had faded away more than a week ago. Right on schedule. He hadn't botched it. Draco was lying. They had had sex more than three times since then. Draco could only be faking the ailment because…because he'd wanted those last few shags.

At first, Harry wasn't sure if he should be flattered and proud or outraged and furious. Either way, Draco seemed to want him, and that was something that demanded some serious thought.

Naturally, Draco wouldn't allow Harry the luxury of quiet contemplation. At ten o' clock at night, Draco barged into Harry's room, sullen and irritable looking, shuffling and twitching as if the curse still ached, refusing to look Harry directly in the eyes.

"Potter…oh, fuck it! You know what's up. Just…make room over there and get ready. Might as well just enjoy this while the fruits of your inability to cast a proper curse make this necessary…right?"

Harry bit his tongue. He stood and peeled away his bedclothes while Draco stripped on the other side of the bed. The Lubricus was cast and Harry leaned in above Draco, who had turned his head and closed his eyes, the pale face looking wan and torn. When Harry slid inside of him, Draco shuddered with a needy relief that seemed so real it couldn't have been feigned.

There was something very different in this night between them. Harry did not rush himself to finish, and he didn't hold himself back. He'd learned a lot of things these past few weeks, striving to make the experience more tolerable for Draco. Timing, patience, gentleness and vigor. All these things were with him now. Draco came soon enough, some ten minutes into their time, but Harry didn't stop, and after a few moments of confusion, Draco didn't complain.

When Harry moved his hands across silky skin he'd quietly hungered to touch, Draco kept his silence except for small gasps, when once he'd have shouted to be left alone. When Harry's fingers slid around Draco's half hard prick, tugging it gently back to life, Draco sucked in his breath suddenly, stumbling words falling from his lips in an anxious tone.

"P-potter…wh-what are you-"

"Shhh."

Draco was silenced with a kiss that overpowered his senses, and while Harry continued to thrust slowly and deeply into Draco's pliant body, Draco melted, surrendering to pleasure, ultimately coming hard into Harry's hand, gasping headily with relief.

Still Harry did not stop. Less than a minute after Draco's second orgasm, he slid from Draco's body, still stone hard, and turned Draco gently and firmly onto his stomach. Draco was freshly sated, dizzy and compliant, allowing himself to be penetrated yet again, all without complaint, and Harry's pace quickened, treating Draco to the kind of vigorous sex that he hadn't yet experienced. It didn't take long before Draco was making noises that were clearly of contentment, wriggling softly into the sheets, savoring the rougher strokes that Harry made into him then. Even moving quickly and ready for release, it took Harry some time before he could come, and even then it was largely because he felt the now familiar shudder from Draco's body while the slim form beneath him shook with release, coating the sheets beneath them with spunk.

Draco lay quietly, too shaken and sated to respond to the soft kisses Harry placed between Draco's shoulders and along his neck. The waiting and self restraint had been well worth it. Harry's orgasm had been stunning, robbing him of breath and blurring his vision while he poured his desire into Draco's waiting body, every drop expected and accepted. He didn't pull away for a long time, lounging atop Draco and savoring the closeness while it lasted. Draco finally wriggled beneath him, and Harry rolled aside, letting Draco sit up. The blond boy sat on the edge of the bed, pensive and uncertain, refusing to look back.

"What…what was all that about…Potter?"

Harry readied himself for trouble, knowing full well that Draco wouldn't want to hear what needed to be said.

"Because I know. The spell ended a week ago."

The tension was as clear as day. Draco's back stiffened, and if he'd been a cat, his tail would have been as straight as an arrow while his hair stood on end. He looked ready to explode into violence while the flush crept up his skin.

"Don't. Don't be like that, Draco. If you don't want me to, I'll never tell a living soul about it, but you can't lie to me anymore and pretend you didn't at least partly want this, or that this was entirely my fault. I won't let you do that. I never wanted to hurt you…don't hurt me just because you can."

As fast as he'd puffed into fury, Draco slumped into a slouch, shuddering. Harry saw Draco's hand move to his face, while the other young man suppressed tears. No words were coming out, so Harry moved to offer a little comfort, but when his fingers touched Draco's back, Draco leaped from the bed and ran out of the room, choking back a sob, slamming the door behind him as he ran. Harry listened to the shrieks from Mrs. Black's portrait, wondering how he'd ever gotten himself into a mess like this one.

Silence owned Grimmauld Place for two weeks. Draco rarely emerged from his room, and Harry suspected that Draco was slipping into the kitchen at night, refusing to risk running into Harry at all costs. Notes under Draco's door were pushed back out, unopened, and polite requests and assurances that there was nothing wrong were ignored completely. It wasn't until a supply drop from the Order that Harry saw Draco again, and even then he kept his head turned away from Harry while he addressed Remus Lupin, handing off a letter in the process.

"Give this to Snape. I don't know how you contact him, but I know he's still working with you. Please. Just give him the letter. There's nothing in it you can't read, and I know you'll check it a thousand ways before you let it out of here, but please just get him the letter."

Two days later Draco was gone. Harry had stood at the top of the stairs, while Draco waited by the Floo with a small bag of clothes. Remus Lupin was accompanying Draco en route to an undisclosed safe house that Snape often used. That was the last Harry saw of Draco, and Draco had stubbornly refused to speak or even acknowledge Harry's presence the entire time.

It stung bitterly, and Harry nursed his bruised ego for a while, but war broke out as expected, and he had larger matters to worry over once Voldemort started to make his move in the final chess match for control of the wizarding and Muggle worlds alike.

The war was protracted, ugly, and costly, and Harry saw the world he knew forever altered. There were endless hard decisions, and losses that mounted in the year that followed his time in secrecy at Grimmauld Place.

As it turned out, all that practice at counter spells and Protego became very useful. Harry hadn't had many reasons to smile, but when he blocked spells and objects with an ease that others envied, he always smirked and remembered Draco's outrageous tantrums.

Draco stayed underground through the entire war, and only rumors of his survival reached Harry's ears. When peace was finally pulled from the burning wreckage of the world, and Voldemort was no more than a bad memory, Harry found himself in a surreal state of anxiety, unsure of what to do with the rest of his life. He'd fought a war that started with skirmishes when he was only eleven years old, and finished it just before he turned eighteen. He was a hero to the world at large, and the darling of a media frenzy that he had dreaded for years. He still lived at Grimmauld Place, but with Dobby helping him fix the place up, and the Weasley's visiting often, it almost seemed more like a home than the prison it had been after his sixth year.

Harry woke late each day, ate well, showered and dressed, worked on his house, read books when he needed the distraction, and wrote letters that he owled to friends that had survived the war. The spells that had made Grimmauld Place a veritable fortress had been allowed to fade, but it was still discreetly warded against intrusion, lest the press invade and overrun the entire building. The people who mattered knew how to reach him, and that was good enough for Harry. Even if it was a bit dull, he liked things just as they were, because any amount of boredom was welcome after the excitement he'd endured throughout his entire adolescence.

He'd thought a lot of Draco…during the war…and after. Some people just weren't comfortable with their own emotions, or with their own desires, and that was just the way things were. Harry missed strange things at times. The warmth of skin near his own, not quite touching but just close enough that he could sense it anyway. The wisps of memory that brought back the scent of Draco next to him on a bed they never really shared for anything but sex. Even the irritable tone of Draco's voice came back to him now and again.

Even if Draco never appeared in the wizarding world again, Harry had made a few final gestures to salve his conscience. The Ministry had eventually dropped the investigation into Malfoy's conduct at Hogwarts, and Draco might be persona-non-grata to the entire world, but at least he wasn't a hunted criminal. That was all that Harry could really do for a person who had vanished without a word. Remus didn't even know the actual whereabouts of Snape's safe house, owls always returned letters that were sent, and no one knew where Draco had gone after that. Harry's eighteenth birthday had come and gone, and even with the gifts and the love of friends around him, coming home afterwards had just seemed a bit off. The place still felt empty, and the nagging notion that Draco was the missing element wasn't very comforting, but it felt real enough to Harry.

The thundering of a fist on Harry's front door made him drop his book with a start. In general, only his friends knew where the house was located, and they were prone to knocking politely.

"OPEN UP, POTTER! I HAVEN'T GOT ALL DAY!"

Harry smirked on the way to the door, every step feeling a little lighter along the way. Be careful what you wish for, indeed.

Draco stood on the steps, dressed for sunnier climes than England and masked by expensive looking sunglasses, slightly tanned by time somewhere warm. He did have a wand tucked into his Capri slacks, and a much more stylish bag of belongings in his hand than when he'd left. Unlike his time in Grimmauld Place, his hair was perfectly styled and he seemed entirely calm, despite the shouting he'd done to get Harry to the door. Harry wasn't sure what to say, and was quickly elbowed aside while Draco walked in like he owned the place.

"Quit gawking like that and just get out of the way then! The place looks better. You have terrible taste though. At least it's cleaner. The Mediterranean was lovely…you should try it. At least there I didn't have to travel incognito all the bloody time. Snape said you lived here still. When's dinner?"

Harry was dumbstruck but couldn't stop smiling. He just closed the door and moved to the kitchen, Draco following along, blandly dropping small details of his travels while Harry fumbled his way through making a quick salad and some soup. Thanks to Molly Weasley, he'd picked up a few decent recipes that he could make on his own. For the most part, he was better at making breakfast, even if it had been learned while slaving away for the Dursleys. Dinner was another matter. Dobby could conjure something lovely if Harry really wanted him to, but Harry still felt odd about food conjured from thin air. It seemed better when he made it himself.

Draco was sprawled across a chair, sunglasses still on in the house, rattling on in a distracted voice about some of the lovely coastal areas he'd seen.

"…and anyhow, I prefer port and sherry to most of the swill they served there. The Italian coast was just amazing. Jagged and austere. When you think of all the history that happened there it takes your breath away. Walking in the footsteps of ghosts, as it were. Then I-"

The soup was simmering, but it would be awhile. Harry set the table, and lost control, shivering visibly when he placed a spoon in front of Draco. Draco's voice trailed off while Harry was leaning toward him, and Harry just plucked the sunglasses from Draco's face.

"Stop playing. Just say it."

"Potter…there…there's nothing to say."

"Bollocks. Do you think I'd laugh at you? Do you want me to say it first? Will it make you feel better? Fine. I missed you. A lot. More than I could have imagined. I'm glad you're here."

"Pott-"

"It's Harry. It shouldn't be anything else. Not to you."

Draco's voice was down to a whisper, eyes still locked on the tabletop. "Harry. What…what do you want from me?"

"Why? Why did you come back…here?"

Draco sat in silence, finally looking Harry in the eyes, searching for a reason to tell the truth. Truth was an uncomfortable thing, and no friend to Draco over the years. Telling it now seemed awkward and wrong, but at least he could try to soften it a little with humor. Draco smirked mildly, shifting his gaze back to the table.

"Maybe…there are just some itches…that can't be scratched alone."

Harry chuckled mildly. "Was that really so hard to say?"

"Not really. Maybe. So…Pot-Harry, if, theoretically speaking, of course, someone thought that it might be nice to stay here, at least for awhile, and someone else could restrain themselves from asking all kinds of uncomfortable questions about it, because the first someone would be more comfortable if he didn't have to explain a lot of stuff that shouldn't matter so bloody much in the first place, and the second someone was decent enough to put up with-"

"Yes."

"Okay. So when is dinner? I'm starved and-"

"Shut up."

Their kiss took so long that the salads were warm, the bread was cold, and the soup was burnt down to a thick cake at the bottom of the pot.

And Draco Malfoy, for once in his life, didn't complain about a single thing.


FIN!