If You Give A Boy A Kiss

Summary: Draco Malfoy is famous, has everything you could ever ask for... almost everything. There is one very important element to his life that he is sorely lacking: Love. It all boils down to the premier of a movie he co-starred in with a man by the name of Harry Potter. He flys to Francais (France) where the premier is held and an old flame flickers back to life... but will Hermione get in the way and spoil everything? It's very possible and even more probable. [Might be slightly OOC, but not much] ONE-SHOT

EDIT: There were a shitload of typos in this story, when it was mentioned, I was like 'well, okay then' but as I read it I was like HOW EMBARRASSING! So, yes, sorry about that and I hope this is much better.
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If You Give A Boy A Kiss


Acting was his passion and there was nothing you could tell him otherwise. In his opinion there was no other job fitting enough to accentuate such stunningly handsome looks and sheer brilliant talent. Ever since he was child he’d acted to get his way. A little tear here, a sniffle there and he had all the goodies he could ever wish for. It was so easy, really. Hardly any effort at all. And, unlike half of the people in the acting business, he could actually read.

He wasn’t stupid, no, far from it. He needn’t an agent but kept one just so he could waste his money on something. He reeked of class, pale aristocrat features framed with silvery blonde hair, sharp grey eyes resorted you to nothing but a weak-kneed mess or had you cowering in a corner, depending on the blonde’s mood. With just one smile he had woman swooning, with just a small hint of acknowledgment, the man made you feel important, like you were worth something. He was famous. He was sexy. He was in. He was Draco Lucius Malfoy.

Most people would say he knew his shit.

Those were the people who had first hand encounters with the man and his boisterous laugh. Strangely, anyone who said otherwise was somehow immediately taken out of his or her job, practically disappearing off the face of the earth. Only once Malfoy had been questioned about this. The reporter who asked was promptly shoved away by one of Malfoy’s beastly body guards—no one knew which it was, Crabbe or Goyle.

Movies like Round the Bend, The Kiss of a Gypsy, Damned to Death, and the his most dramatic production yet, Picket Fence had become instant box office hits, breaking records all over the world and rolling in the money by the dumpster full. To say the least, Malfoy was filthy rich. He could swim in his money; he could drown in his money.

And now, at the blossoming age of twenty one, Draco was flying thousands of miles above the face of the earth in a private jet, being whisked south to Français for a movie premier of a film he’d shot earlier that year called If You Give a Boy a Kiss. He couldn’t say he knew much French, but that’s what he paid his translators for right? The interesting thing about this particular movie was not the onscreen action, but the off screen. It seemed that the people of France did not like Draco all too well. Something about being supercilious and not appreciating fine food. Well, was it his fault that he did not like raw snails or, les escargots as they so insistently said? No, it wasn’t.

Truthfully Draco did not want to go back. He’d had enough of their peevish complaining. The only thing he enjoyed was the wine and the chocolates. Oh, and the women. They were simply gorgeous. He’d never felt his loins stir so excitedly in one place and one time than they had in France. He smiled lazily with this thought. He remembered their soft kisses pressing against his billion dollar skin, lingering longer than required, their flowery scents filling his nose and tickling his senses.

“Draco, you’re smiling. What are you thinking?”

Then there was Pansy. He wanted to fire her but his father had advised that he didn’t because then Draco would seem too confident and that would intimidate people. Whatever. She could be fun at times, working as his agent and also his comrade, but at others –like now—she could be dreadfully awful. He never had time to just think and daydream as he pleased.

“I hope it’s not that scruffy haired kid again. I’m telling you love, he’s bad news. He’ll grind your status to dirt.” Pansy slipped one of her perfectly tanned legs over the other, exposing an inappropriate amount of thigh and a bit of something pink and lacy.

Draco sighed. He knew what ‘scruffy haired kid’ she was talking about. She had gotten it stuck in her head somehow that he’d fallen for that stupid raven haired boy in which he’d co-starred with in the very movie they were going to see later that night. Right, so he shared a few laughs and had a drink or two with the man and now Pansy just up and assumed that Draco had a crush. Draco Malfoy didn’t have crushes, he had urges, fleeting urges and that’s what the boy had been. Yes, he wouldn’t even dignify him with a name. “Pansy, you’re not referring to, what’s his name, Peter, Parker, Pract—“

“Potter. And yes, I am.” Pansy knew this game well; she and Draco had played it many a times.

“Please, he’s not worth it. He’s below me.”

“Well, if you care to look at it that way everyone is. You’ll become a lonely old codger if you keep staring down your nose at everyone.”

“This is what I pay you for.” Draco commented dryly. He stood, stretching his hands above his head. “Really Pansy you should be focusing on arranging my next meeting not mediating my love life.” He found it weird that one second she could be against someone and the next she was all gung ho for them. It was as if she only lived to spite him.

Pansy knew she’d hit a soft spot. She always did when it came to Draco’s love life. He thought he had everyone deceived with broad smiles and flirtations behavior, but Pansy had spent enough of her time observing Draco to know that there was something big missing from his life. And her boss was right, it wasn’t her job to seek out a potential date for him but, she was female and what else did she like more than to play Cupid and spend money? Since Draco gave her plenty of the second thing she decided she might just place one perfectly manicured hand into the other pot.

She watched as the man unbuttoned his shirt, un-tucking the shirt tails before undoing the rest of the buttons. With one fluid movement, he discarded it, throwing it at Pansy to block her openly scrutinizing eyes. “I’ll have a quick shower now then a nap. Wake me when we arrive.”

+=+=+

The second they stepped foot out of their cream white limousine they were blinded with bright with flashes, a white noise of voices and the cool breeze of French air. Unfamiliar words filled Draco’s ears, confusing him and frustrating him to no end. In seconds a pair of designer glasses was placed over his eyes. His translator stood firmly by his side, firing off questions as fast as he could, growing steadily wary of the blonde as his answers became more clipped and rude. Quickly the man revised Draco’s words, making them more presentable and paper friendly.

Crabbe stood in front of Malfoy, towering over anyone who dared to even look too long. Goyle followed Draco and Pansy from behind just as thick and threatening as his counterpart.

“Bonsoir! Monsieur Malfoy, what a pleasure!” A clammy hand was shoved into Draco’s grip.

“Er, Hello.” He said, not really knowing whose hand he was shaking. Another hand pressed at his back, urging him to keep moving.

“Come on Draco, we don’t have time to chat with the fans. We have a premier to see.” Pansy whispered into Draco’s ear.

“I know that, bloke just shoves his hand at me, sorry if I can’t see a damned thing with these on!” He snapped back. Constant flashing, Draco smiled the whole way, the muscles in his mouth beginning to ache. He was familiar with that feeling since being a star, a celebrity, required that you look happy ninety five percent of the time.

“What is your favorite color?” His translator asked.

“Green.”

“Favorite food?”

“I dunno, uh—“

“When is your birthday?”

“What is your favorite designer?”

“Are you enjoying France?”

“Have you—“

Finally they reached the entrance. He was swallowed by two large wooden doors and instantly the noise outside was muted, replaced by a whole new crowd of people, except, these people were a lot more composed. Each of them held a glass of something expensive in their hands, toting it around like a fashion statement, wrists stiff, fingers glistening with jewel incrusted silvers and gold. This was Draco’s crowd.

Right when he was swerving for the bar Pansy’s hand appeared on his back. “Not now, straight to your room.”

Draco let out a childish whine, pouting cutely. He ignored the fond looks he gathered from the women around him, and the raised eyebrows of the men. He wanted a drink and Pansy was being annoying.

“I just wanted a sip.” Draco mumbled.

“Listen, you can have your sip later,” Pansy cooed to Draco as if he were a child. “I’ve just got word that they’re logging everyone in. If you’re late you won’t have a spot.”

Draco drew himself up proudly. “Let them dare deny me anything! I’ll shove canolis straight up their prim little—“

Pansy gave him a slap to the wrist.

+=+=+

Only a matter of minutes had passed, all four of them making their way down stairs, halls and doorways, steadily moving deeper and deeper in to Le Primero Ministro. Their feet hurt by the time they reached the secluded rooms of the many celebrities that would make an appearance tonight. The halls were white with intricately designed beige carpet on the floor, a mixture of dark greens and blues mixing and weaving to form plants and flowers. The smell of expensive perfumes and the muted sound of conversations greeted them. All was almost quiet. Well, for a second anyway.

“Damn it! I asked for one thing and one thing only! Dieu!” A voice rang out from behind a closed door, the number on front reading number 4, The Privet Suit. There was a quiet mumble then another explosion. “Non, c’est impossible! Hors! Maintenant!” The door swung open and in a blur, a short, stocky man ran past Crabbe, Draco, Pansy and Goyle followed by another who was quite obviously the source of all the yelling if the strained breathing and red face was anything to go by.

Instantly Pansy blushed and turned a shy smile down at her trainers. This did not go unnoticed by Draco.

The man stood there, shouting a few more choice words at the other scurrying man before he fell silent, hands planted on his hips as he whirled around. It seemed he didn’t recognize the two standing there, for he passed them straight up.

“Harry!” Pansy blurted, before clamping both hands over her mouth, cheeks blooming a ripe shade of red. She stepped behind Draco with a soft squeak.

Harry froze, recognizing that voice from some where. “Oui?” He turned around; green eyes that had previously flashed dangerously now shimmered welcomingly as he put up his façade. His and Draco’s eyes met. For a second there was no recognition and then his face split into a genuine smile. “Draco! I didn’t see you standing there!” Harry spoke oddly, with a mixture of French and English accent. His mother and father met in France and he spent most of his life there before they moved to England in search for better job opportunities with his family. He was fairly famous as well but he was more popular with the French crowd than UK or America, which were the only places Draco really went. Only twice he visited Spain and that was on vacation. “And where is—“

Pansy peeked out from behind Draco at precisely that moment.

“There you are!” Harry proceeded forward and pulled her out –not roughly of course, that would be rude—from behind Draco and kissed both of her cheeks. He turned to Draco and gave him the same treatment. Draco feigned indifference. He refused to pull a Pansy.

Harry stepped back and ran a hand through his already mussed hair, before letting it dangle at his side. Today he wore a pair of black vintage jeans; a thin white t-shirt with the name of a band Draco knew nothing about scrolled across it in black bold letters, and a pair of barely visible black Chucks. It all looked quite nice. It brought out his boyish charm. He seemed even more innocent without his glasses because his eyes looked so round. It set off his whole face, showing off his powder pink lips, long lashes and smooth tan skin. All this placed on a strict jaw curtained in a curly black mess, you could say that Harry was fairly nice looking. “When did you arrive?”

“Oh, just now.” Pansy said, blinking her eyes rapidly at Harry. Draco resisted the urge to gag. “The flight was wonderful, wasn’t it Draco?”

Draco shrugged, sighing as he pursed his lips slightly. He wished Pansy would grow a backbone. Besides, he wanted to talk to Harry and Pansy was already hogging on all of the attention. He didn’t like that, he was the star here, not her.

“Don’t mind him; he’s just upset that he couldn’t get a drink.”

Harry seemed to perk up at that. “I have some wine in my room, if you would like?” he asked, almost shyly, though his eyes were trained mostly on Draco.

Pansy opened her mouth but Draco cut in. “Non, merci. Maybe some other time when we are now running late!” He emphasized each word with a poke in Pansy’s shoulder. See, he knew some French, enough to refuse a drink which he knew he would sorely regret later.

“Alright, stop poking me!” Pansy scolded Draco before fixing Harry with her sweetest smile yet. “Je regretted. A tout á l’heure!”

“You’re improving.” Harry said with a small smile in return. “Later.” Pansy turned to leave. Harry placed his gaze on Draco. “Don’t forget to stop by. My offer is open at any time.” Then, Harry was gone, door clicking shut softly behind him.

+=+=+

“… no dignity at all. He’s famous Pansy, he probably gets enough of that around here without you slobbering over him.” Draco was in a snit. Maybe it was Pansy’s bold flirting, or the way she blushed with just a look from Harry, maybe it was because he was confused about Harry’s offer, how it seemed to have implied something other than what was obvious. It made his insides jump and that was the last thing he needed before stepping out onto a stage in front of millions of his fans. He needed to calm down but as much as he insisted that Pansy find him something cold and expensive to sip on, she just shook her head and told Draco that it would all come in due time. This was hell, he wanted to go back to his Manor and sit, just relax and enjoy a cup of tea and read about his accomplishments in a magazine or something. Anything but this.

“Sit!”

Draco looked away from his reflection in the mirror, his eyes scanning the rather luxurious dressing room. It resembled more of an upscale hotel room. “Did you just order me to sit?” He asked incredulously. This was it; he was tightening the reigns on this woman. He’d let her get away with far to many things and now she was commanding him around like some damned dog!

Pansy rolled her eyes. “I’m going to give you a massage, you’re tense. You just need to relax.”

Despite his current mood, Draco found that a massage sounded lovely. Grudgingly he plopped down on the small comfortable chair Pansy was standing behind. Instantly hands descended on his shoulders. Strong, slender fingers began to knead the knots and tense coils. Draco groaned and leaned back into that touch.

“That’s it.” Pansy purred as her fingers moved up to work Draco’s neck. “Just relax, think of Potter, if that helps.”

Draco scowled as Pansy giggled. “Please Pansy, just… please.”

“Oh, alright. I’ll help you, then.”

He didn’t have to see her face to know that she was smirking. “Pansy!”

“Imagine him standing behind you Draco in nothing but a loose bathrobe. He just got out of the shower and noticed you stressing over a particularly difficult script. He disappears then comes back with the finest glass of wine France has to offer. He sets it down in front of you and kisses you very lightly behind your ear in that special little spot.”

Draco licked his lips, closing his eyes tight. “Pansy, I’m serious!”

“You turn around and see those round candy green eyes staring at you with barely suppressed lust. He raises the glass flute to your mouth and urges you to sip. You do and an exotic explosion of fruits stains your taste buds. You image that is what Harry tastes like.”

He shifted, biting his lip as he wished that his body would not react, would not take in the information. Instead he thought about his most recent script and began going over the parts that he knew. That didn’t last long and once again Pansy’s voice came through.

“His hair is still wet and you can see water droplets trailing down his chest before disappearing beyond the V of his bathrobe. His fingers tease at your neck, just like this.” Pansy demonstrated, earning a quiet sigh from Draco. She smiled. “Then they travel lower to your shoulders where his thumbs smooth out the knots, his warm breath ghosting over your shoulders and back, sending tiny shivers up and down your spine.” As if on cue, Draco shivered. This was very relaxing.

+=+=+

“He’s really important Harry. You can’t just go yelling at him any time you want.” Hermione chided.

Everyone knew Hermione Granger now because for the past year she had been seen dangling, like sparkling jewelry off of one particularly handsome raven haired man.

It was odd how they had met. Harry was late for a dentist appointment, scheduled for a quick cleaning with extra if needed. He’d walked into the small shop placed smack dab in the middle of all the money. Some would say it was odd to have a dentist’s shop in a neighborhood but with celebrities nothing was ever not odd. So, there Harry sat, waiting patiently for his name to be called despite the fact that he was late, when Hermione Granger walked out of the office carrying several folders in her arms. Her eyes scanned the room and caught on Harry sitting there, tapping his feet to the beat of the music blasting through his ears by the little buds plugged in them.

Ungracefully Hermione had tripped, folders flying in the air, arms flailing. Harry was only just in time to save her from the most embarrassing fall of, probably, her life. They met for tea and coffee once, twice, three times and soon she was traveling with him, offering advice, being sexy and, like now, sorely annoying.

“Hermione, you heard the man, he wasn’t even trying.”

“Yeah, he was Harry he just had ten billion other orders too.”

“I should be most important!”

Hermione frowned. “Since when did you start thinking that? You know, when we first met—“

“Oh, not this again. Hermione I’ve changed, fame and money can do that to you so why don’t you just sit down and enjoy what’s given to you? Did you expect my life to be all peaches? Well, here’s your rude awakening. We’ve been over this plenty of times. Your job is to sit there and look pretty, I do the rest.” It was then that he knew something was wrong. Since when did he let such foul words fly from his mouth? Never had he spoke against Hermione in such a way. He looked over at the brunette to find her glaring through teary eyes. His face softened and he walked over to her, a look of sheer apology written clear across his handsome face. “Hermione,” he said softly. Before she could complain he pulled her into a tight embrace, resting his head atop hers before turning his head to kiss her on the forehead. “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m just a little stressed and jumpy. This is the big night, everything has to be perfect.”

Hermione nodded, letting her arms slip around Harry’s waist. “I know and I’m not making it any better.”

Harry didn’t argue, there was no point. He didn’t need a headache right before he went on stage.

“So, was that Draco outside?”

Harry could detect the hint of jealousy in her voice. It all started at the very beginning of their movie production when he and Draco had first met. At first things were a little rocky, both thinking they were best, only one of them being subtle about it. But then, things mellowed out somehow. When Harry thought back he could remember having trouble with one particular line. It was easy enough but the emotion that was put behind it… Well, Harry just wasn’t a good crier. Draco had been there, showing up like some silver haired hero to save the day. In seconds he had Harry crying from laughter. Together they recited the line: “A sweet kiss to send you off at least, we’ll be apart forever if fate has anything to say about it.”

This whole night centered on that one line. Harry knew and so did Hermione.

“Yes, he was. He had Pansy along with him.” Harry pulled back. “I’m sorry love, if I upset you.”

Hermione waved a dismissive hand. “No, I’m fine, really. Just… you know how we girls are. Very emotional creatures.”

Both of them jumped halfway to mars when there was a hard knock at their door followed by someone calling “Cinq minutes!”

They shared a look of pure excitement. “We should get going!” Hermione giggled as she dove across the room, gluing herself to Harry’s arm in the process.

+=+=+

People were everywhere, talking to everyone. Things needed to be done and NOW. The show depended on it, their lives depended on it! Bodies were shoved aside, people tripped up in their hurry to get from one side of the stage to the other in a matter of three seconds flat.

But, everyone made sure they did not run or shove or push any of the celebrities, mainly Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.

Harry rushed forward with Hermione giggling and clinging to his arm, his sneakers clomping down the hall. This was what he lived for, the thrill he got just before stepping out onto a stage, just before the first public airing of a movie he’d starred in came out for the world to see. It nearly brought tears to his eyes every time. And then there was the feedback.

During his first couple of years, he’d received so much negative feedback, people telling him he sucked, his hair was way too messy, his lashes way too long, that he looked too much like a girl, that his teeth weren’t straight enough, that his teeth were too straight, that he was the impersonation of a stick… It went on and on.

All of that was worth it now.

“Harry Potter, over here!”

A man wearing a pair of black dress pants, a white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeve and a loose dark blue silk tie sped towards the famous actor, papers held high above him, headset snug against the crown of his head. “You remember the lines don’t you?”

Harry nodded, wrapping an arm around Hermione’s waist. “Yes, Welcome, Draco’s bit, my thanks, kiss then exit. I remember.”

“Good, good. Draco has already arrived; he is waiting just at the edge of the stage. You two have to be seen together. That is essential. We want to portray a sense of camaraderie between you two.” The man gripped Harry’s free arm but then, after a warning grunt from Kingsley, he quickly let go. “Follow me, s'il vous plaît.”

Hermione giggled yet again, clutching at Harry’s arm a little more firmly. She looked beautiful even in the simple pair of jeans, t-shirt and trainers she wore, her hair tied back in a messy tie. She had huge red bangles around her wrist that matched the red print on her shirt. Her earrings were also red as was the stylishly chunky necklace about her slender neck.

They followed the man, Harry thankful that they were secluded from the mess that was going on around them outside this enclosed room. They were still on the stage but this part was made especially for the stars so that they wouldn’t be caught up in the jumble that was the crew.

+=+=+

“Are you happy now?”

“Very.”

Draco nursed a thin flute of the most delicious wine he’d every had the pleasure to let grace his tongue. He closed his eyes, relaxing back on the couch as he savored the tangy flavor. It was all he needed. The coolness contrasting with the heat he felt radiating from within. He was nervous, despite Pansy’s massage and comforting words. It seemed that her little fantasy had only boosted his adrenaline. But the wine was hitting all the right spots.

Pansy told him that he looked just fine in what he had on, even though he stressed that it was entirely too lax for such an occasion. That comment fueling Pansy into a rant that picked out how much of a lax occasion this was and how he should just have fun.

He wore a light blue shirt that clung lightly to his broad shoulders and muscled chest, over a pair of light jeans, and a pair of crisp white trainers. From the glistening diamond ring on his thumb to the garments he wore under his clothes, everything had a label. He was a walking advertisement. And he looked good enough to eat.

Pansy couldn’t keep her eyes off of him, like many occasions, so she just sat and watched as his lips cradled the edge of his wine glass, watched as they parted for the pink liquid, and tracked every movement of that pink tongue as it traced the edge of his mouth. She stood then, tugging at her extremely short skirt, and placed her self in Draco’s lap, legs dangling over one side of his thighs as she rested her head against his shoulder. “This is it Draco, everything that you’ve worked so hard for. This movie will show all your talents and it… well it will raise more questions about your sexuality than ever before.” She laughed, her head tilting up to look him in the eyes as he chuckled.

“Yes, I know, but that’s all apart of the package.” He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on he forehead.

Right at that moment the door swung open and three people walked in. First was Marc, second was Harry, and last was Hermione. Each of them wore fake smiles, laughing at some joke that Marc had told. “And here we are.” Marc gestured around them with one long sweep of his arm. The room was nice, very comfy but small, with nice soft furniture. Everything was heavily decorated, paintings linings the walls. It was very relaxed and classy, despite the fact that this room would only be used for ten to fifteen minutes at a time.

“Ah, monsieur Draco, mademoiselle Pansy! I was just telling Harry that you would already be here.”

Draco spared a smile as he pressed his glass back to his lips, letting his arm wrap loosely about Pansy’s waist. “Salut, Harry, Hermione.”

Harry’s eyes fell on Draco. The blonde looked so relaxed just then, with Pansy on his lap, the both of them looked like a happy couple. That struck a wrong note inside Harry. He hid the frown threatening to take over his face with a bright smile. “Salut, Draco, Pansy.” He looked over at Hermione, still beaming.

Hermione said her hellos, smiling just as bright as Harry.

“Well,” Marc said, clapping his hands together. “I must be going. Things to do. You know your cues, don’t get too comfortable. We’ll be starting in fifteen!” Then Marc left the four alone, closing the door softly behind them.

“Nice man, Marc.” Hermione commented as she detached herself from Harry’s side in favor of pouring herself a glass of whatever Draco was drinking.

“Very, he talks a mile a minute though.” Harry chuckled, shoulders visibly loosing tension when he heard Draco chuckle as well.

“This is it Potter, how does it feel to have worked alongside the most famous male actor in world history?” Draco asked, still smiling lazily.

Harry grimaced. “It was a pain the whole time.” He teased. “Always complaining about every thing.” He rolled his eyes as he placed himself in a chair opposite Draco and Pansy. Hermione joined him, placing herself on the arm of his chair.

Hermione did not like the looks that Draco was throwing Harry, nor did she like the faint blush coloring Harry’s cheeks. She decided that she would add a little tension in the room that always seemed to do the trick. She sipped some of her drink then leaned forward, leaning over as she placed her lips against Harry’s. She felt them part for her and she slid her tongue in, allowing some of the wine she collected to flow from her mouth into his. Pulling back, she smiled. “Good isn’t it?”

Draco had the sneaking suspicion that Hermione Granger didn’t like him all that well. Okay, it was more than a sneaking suspicion. The day after he and Harry had enjoyed their drinks together she had become stiff with him, giving him short, quick replies and subtle glares. He was starting not to like her all that much either. Did she think they were going to compete for Potter? Draco didn’t find it worth his time. Potter was below him, as he had said before, not worth a feud. He couldn’t waste his time with real relationships anyway.

He and Pansy exchanged looks.

“How sweet, wine kisses.” Pansy said in a bored tone.

Harry was blushing, not meeting anyone’s eye, especially not Draco’s. Even thinking the name set his cheeks aflame. Hermione was up to something, it was obvious. Harry knew her, knew she was the jealous type. He stood up abruptly and started pacing, hands shoved deep into the pocket of his very expensive jeans.

The door swung open yet again, a different face peeked through, the same man Harry had previously been yelling at. “Eh, hello!” He said tentatively, creeping into the room as if he were hunted prey, his voice heavy with French accent. “Em, I was sent to ask that all the girls come with me. There has been a change of plan.”

Harry was the first to speak, already fed up with this man. “What? What do you mean a change of plan? Why do they have to leave?”

“Harry,” Hermione said, her voice warning him to calm down.

“I don’t know! I was just sent to tell you!” The man raised his hands as if the say “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Harry stared at the man, hands turning to fists. Everything had to be perfect. What was he going to do without Hermione by his side for this? What about what they had rehearsed?

Draco stood, easily slipping Pansy smoothly on to the floor. “Change of plans, eh? So where are they going to go then?” He was determined not to loose his temper so easily.

Pansy pouted. “I wanted to go though, I thought…”

“Sorry, sorry! Not my rules! Everything will be the same but you,” The man looked at Harry. “There will be no kiss, sorry. Ladies come with me, you two get ready. Come, come!”

Hermione stepped beside Harry, shaking her head. “No, I’m staying.” She said defiantly. She didn’t really care that she wouldn’t be standing in front of millions of people, she just didn’t want to leave Harry alone with Draco.

“Not your choice, come! You are holding things up, miss.”

“But Harry needs me—“

“Just go Hermione.”

Hermione blanched, rounding on Harry with wide brown eyes. “What?” She breathed.

“You heard me, just do what he says.” Harry tried his best to bring in his temper. “You’re wasting time. Please, just go.”

“Harry—“

“Hermione, that isn’t a question, or a statement open for debate!” Harry looked up into her eyes, his gaze steady and unfaltering.

“Fine,” Hermione wheeled around, turning a stiff back to Harry. “Fine.” She barely stopped herself from storming out of the room, only managing by a hair to resemble someone of even a small bit of dignity.

Harry watched her go then followed Pansy with his eyes as she left, quiet all the way. The door closed and he could hear the smaller man’s voice as he spoke to the two women. He sighed and flopped down on his chair, placing his face in his hands. Everything was going to hell. He’d been to plenty premiers, had many problems but this was the mother of all premiers! He as starring with Draco Malfoy! Nothing could go wrong! Nothing! And now, here he sat all alone with the most talented actor in the world, fretting over something as small as a plan change. But he couldn’t help it. If he was left alone with that man he was sure he’d do something stupid, having a crush bigger than Asia on the man.

Draco observed this behavior with one raised pale eyebrow. He watched as his co-star ran his hands through his hair, taking it from stylishly messy to ridiculous. Now, that he could not have. Ten minutes from now he would have to make an appearance on stage with that and the last thing he wanted to do was look like he was friends with someone demented. That would surely ruin his reputation.

In three quick steps he was standing before the dark haired man, casting a shadow over him. He reached out and yanked the man’s hands from his hair. “Stop that, you’re messing your hair all up.”

Harry looked up at him. “What does it matter? Everything else is falling apart.”

Draco sighed and walked over to the couch, placing himself smoothly on the soft furniture. “Come sit beside me.” He patted he seat next to him. It seemed he was going to have to play mediator for the next ten minutes.

Harry looked hesitant, as if not knowing what Draco was up to but after a few seconds he stood and slowly sat down beside Draco making sure to leave a respectable amount of space between them.

“Good, now, I can see that you’re on the verge of a panic attack, which will not be acceptable at the moment. I refuse to allow you, of all people, to ruin this night so I am going to help you calm down. Know what I do when I get all antsy before a public appearance?”

“What?” Harry asked, still looking far too wary for Draco’s taste.

“I breathe.”

“Breathe?” Harry knew for sure that Draco was having him on. What the hell did he mean by that? Was this some plot to make him look even thicker?

“Yes.” Draco said, turning towards Harry at an angle so that their knees touched. “I breathe and it seems that you need to do a bit of breathing too. We don’t have much time—oh don’t look at me like that, I’m as sane as anyone here! Look, I’ll do it with you if you’d like, just to show that I’m not messing around.”

Harry nodded. “Alright.”

“Okay. Close your eyes.” Draco closed his.

“Draco—“

“Just do it!”

Harry did as he was told. “Okay, eyes closed, now what?”

“We breathe in to the count of six. Like this,” Draco fell silent and pulled in a long breath of air, counting from one to six. He did the same, letting out the air slowly. “Do that and think of things that calm you, that relax you. Come on, together now.” Eyes still closed, Draco listened as another pair of lungs drew in air next to him, both almost in perfect unison, before they released the air together.

They did that three times before Draco spoke again. “Feeling any better?”

Harry’s brow furrowed because Draco’s voice seemed closer than usual. Maybe it was his relaxed state of mind allowing him to take in things better. “Yeah, I am actually,” He opened his eyes and when he did, his ‘thanks’ died no his lips. Grey eyes stared back at him in such close vicinity that he could see every pale lash, every smooth curve of the blonde God’s face.

“One more thing that always makes me feel better.” Draco whispered, not moving an inch away from Harry as he spoke. He knew the man could feel his breath fanning over those delicious looking full lips as he could feel the raven’s own breath caressing him.

“Yeah?” Harry didn’t know if he could take it. If Draco didn’t move away soon he was sure he would pounce on the man. He could smell the wine on his breath and wanted to taste it, kiss the remaining wine from his lips and suck the sweet flavor from his tongue. He swallowed and leaned backwards just a bit. Draco followed.

“Yeah, would you like to know?”

Silently Harry nodded, green eyes round like a child that was being told some forbidden secret. “Oui.”

Draco smirked and the look fit his face like a tailored pair of jeans would fit a body. It was perfect, making his unnaturally good looks out of this world. Without a word he leaned forward, his eyes shuttering slightly.

Then there was a knock at the door.

Draco jumped back just in time as a head of brown hair popped in. “Time to go boys!” The female chirped, the admiring look not lost on either one of them.

Harry was up before she could utter another word. Draco watched as Harry slipped out of the door, hands stuffed into his pockets all casual like. As if, seconds before, he had not been about to crack.

Draco wondered if he had been played. He wondered if he were predictable. If Harry could pull him self together so quickly what did he need his help for? Did he know that Draco would do something like that? The blonde shook his head. “No, he couldn’t have. He’s just good at what he does. But I’m better.”

“Monsieur Malfoy? Are you coming?”

+=+=+

“Read from the prompter, you guys are actors so you have to make this work.”

Harry shoved his hands deeper in to his pockets, doing his best to avoid Draco’s eyes. He knew Draco kept sneaking glances at him but he refused to acknowledge them because he was sure that if he did he would be reduced to blushing and that was not what he did. Thing was, he was famous and hardly anyone expected a celebrity to blush. They were supposed to carry that ‘Been there done that’ air about them. Harry had probably been there but never really had he done that.

“I think I’ve got it.” Harry said after the man launched into yet another paragraph of instructions. Like the man said, they were actors, they knew what they were doing.

“Yes, you’re right. We don’t have a lot of time anyway, actually,” And then there was a huge explosion of claps, cheers and whistles.

Harry felt his famous smile slip onto his face, one hand pulling out of his pocket to comb his fingers through his fringe. This was it. His gut clenched. How many people were out there waiting for him? To see him flip his hair, to see him smile and laugh? How many people out there wished they could have his life, wished they could stand up there and be so cool under the eyes of so many who adored him and wondered how he could stay so cool? And then there was Malfoy. How many people wished they could get on stage and act all chummy with one of the most famous actors in the world?

“Remembered the breathing.”

It was Draco, standing so close Harry automatically took a forward back. He spared the blonde a quick smile, not liking the fluttering of what felt like soft butterfly wings tickling the insides of his stomach as the smell of his cologne and the wine he’d had earlier washed over him. “Thanks.”

And then they were both walked casually, Harry smiling, Draco smirking, onto the stage. Both were blinded by the bright stage lights and deafened by the cheers and the loud thunder of hands clapping for their beauty, their fame, their smiles.

+=+=+

Harry was worried but he wouldn’t admit it, not when everyone was settled down, quiet as mice, ready to watch the best movie they’d ever lay eyes on. He found himself sitting beside Draco Malfoy, despite his constant questioning of where Hermione was. Over and over he had been told that they were taken care of. What he really didn’t like though, was the fact that there was a big bulk of a man sitting to his left.

Malfoy had introduced him as Goyle when they’d first met for the movie. Still, Harry didn’t like him, or the way he sat so still as if he were a statue only acting when needed. He hoped the man did not fall asleep. Harry didn’t want to be crushed halfway through the movie.

Then his attention was completely diverted away from his surroundings and trained on the huge screen in front of him as the opening credits started up, the camera panning around the nearly empty streets of a French market area. People milled about, picking things from side venders, some having coffee and tea at the nearest Café, French barely audible over the music softly flowing.

Movie-Harry came into view, frown deep upon his face wearing a worn looking loose dark blue button down rolled up at the elbows tucked messily into a pair of black trousers. The music faded slightly as a girl came into view, dark black hair falling down her back like a sheet of silk. They stopped, and exchanged hellos.

Harry’s heart was in his throat as he felt the room growing hotter and hotter with every word his onscreen self spoke, every move he made, and every smile, frown, and laugh, every choreographed trip and gesture blown up at least a thousand times bigger than real life. His arms occupied both armrests, fingertips curling around the edges. He listened around him, smiled when people laughed at his mess ups and gasped as Draco came into screen. And they had reason to because the man looked stunning. Harry remembered seeing Draco for the first time in real life, the way he became that young teen again, nervous and shy and shaking like a leaf.

Now he was reduced to ogling and it was okay because everyone else was doing it, and he was supposed to be watching the movie.

From that point on he watched, getting wrapped up in the movie. It was amazing to watch it like this. When he watched the scenes he remembered the stuff that others didn’t see, like how there was a crowd of people trying to see what was going on in their home streets, how Draco and the co-director were having a silent argument just behind the camera making it hard for him to concentrate.

Everything stopped though, once they hit the climax. At this point, Draco and Harry had met for the first time, became instant rivals in a flower company business, working hard to sell better than the other. Slowly, through that hatred, they formed some warped bond. Draco—or Belo--had to move away, taking the rivalry between them with him, leaving only a raw sort of passion behind.

There was the kiss and his line.

“A sweet kiss to send you off at least, we’ll be apart forever if fate has anything to say about it.”

The room was silent, the air thick was anticipation. Harry could feel it, some of them were appalled, watching as Harry—or Armel—and Draco leaned forward, closer and closer. He could feel others who were leaned forward in their seats, not believing their eyes as their lips met.

There was a collective gasp.

At that moment a warm hand fell over his and Harry could have sworn his heart stopped beating. He blinked and looked over at Draco who was smiling at him. He knew people were watching them, and oh God if they saw the blush that stained his face, they would know that Harry wasn’t as perfect as he tried to portray.

He was taken over by images of that kiss. They had to do it over and over and over. After a while of stiff, formal kisses the director suggested—okay not really the director because he could never be caught suggesting something like this—that they have a dinner together, get to know each other. Well, it had worked, whatever it was the director was trying to get at and the next ten takes had produced magnificent kisses, some that actually seemed real and produced a blush that the director had thought fake and forced. Harry went along with that.

“Alright?” Draco whispered, leaning over so that they could hear over their onscreen selves yelling at each other over a denied love.

Harry nodded. “Yeah.” And, being daring, he flipped his hand palm up and entwined his fingers with Draco’s. He looked back at the screen, smiling slightly. “Yeah.”

“Potter, how do you feel after seeing yourself on the big screen? Was it everything you imagined?”

“Yeah, everything and more.”

“How was the kiss with Draco?”

“He’s a bloke, what do you think?”

Good answer, be evasive. That is key.

There was a collective laugh as the reporters and journalists readjusted.

“What is that supposed to mean Potter? Am I not a good kiss?” Draco feigned hurt. That got another laugh.

“Actually, that was the worst kiss of my life if I’m honest with myself.” Harry teased. He and Draco shared a look. Harry didn’t need Draco to say it, he knew what the blonde was thinking. ‘Would you like me to try it again and see what you think this time?’ Harry shivered but covered it with a light cough.

“Caught a cold?” A woman asked, thrusting her microphone at him.

“From Draco, yeah.”

Another big laugh.

Then another voice joined the throng. “As much as Harry would like to stay and chat, I think we should get going.”

Draco looked over to see Hermione Granger swaggering up to them. She was smiling widely, disguising her anger behind it. Draco managed not to scowl at the girl. She had a way of crawling under her skin. His eyes fell on Harry. After the show the man had invited him for a drink “For old time sake.” He had said. He wondered now, with Hermione storming towards him with that dangerous smile, if he would take back what he said hoping that Draco would understand.

Harry’s face faltered for a bit as he heard Hermione’s voice breaking through the scattered laughs. He turned his head to see Hermione speeding toward him, that crazy smile on her face. He glanced over at Draco then at the reporters gathered around the outside of Le Primero. “Um,” he began then smiled brightly. “Give me a moment please.” He raised a hand and slipped past Draco, meeting Hermione halfway. He gripped her arm lightly and steered her off towards the side.

Draco watched as they exchanged words, Harry keeping up his constant mask as Hermione’s face portrayed every emotion on her face. Her eyes cut to Draco, rounding wide. She looked back at Harry and her features melted into the most pathetic watery-eyed pout she could muster. Draco could read her lips. “Why?” Harry had his back to him so he couldn’t see what he said but whatever it was had Hermione wiping something from her eyes. She nodded softly and Draco saw her mouth form the word, “Okay.”

“Malfoy? Mr. Malfoy?”

Draco turned his attention back to the awaiting microphones. “A few more questions please?”

“Sure.” He nodded.

The flow picked up again as if they had never been interrupted. Draco felt the steady presence of Crabbe and Goyle behind him, their sheer size seeming to weight down on them. A few minutes passed and Draco chanced a look over at Harry. They were further away now and you could barely see Hermione around Harry. His head was bent forward, arms wrapped around no doubt, Hermione’s body. He watched as Harry’s head tilted slightly this way and that until his hands slid up from Hermione’s waist to cup her cheeks, hands never leaving her body their whole travel up. A sliver of Hermione’s face was visible, one of her chocolate brown eyes blinking up at Harry. Something was said, Draco was sure, and then Hermione turned to leave.

Harry turned at the same time and Draco looked away feeling a strange heat in the pit of his stomach. Damn Hermione.

It was all surprisingly calm, at least for Draco, who was so used to questions being screamed at him, microphones shoved so violently into his face that his bodyguards were inclined to get involved, flashes so blinding that you were stupid if you didn’t wear glasses regardless of the time of day. This crowd with the occasional flash of a camera and the swell of questions that he was almost completely able to make sense of was a walk in the park.

Everyone was still inside no doubt trying to find the two handsome stars and ask their own predictable questions. Draco’s bodyguards and someone Harry had introduced to Draco by the name of Kingsley –a huge mountain of a man who looked like he could crush steel just by looking it at—had ushered them outside on a whim that they needed fresh air. By the time the real rush came Draco hoped to be long gone. Now, if Potter was going to be in his company or not, he had yet to find out.

Harry joined Draco again standing rather close by his side. He smiled when the mikes were turned to him.

“Hey, do you guys mind if we got some pictures?” One man said then, when he got a “Is that not what you’ve been doing the whole time?” look from Draco he clarified. “I mean, you know, of you two together? Doesn’t have to be like anything in the movie, which was simply brilliant by the way. Just a simple hug between friends, that one armed kind of thing.”

Harry looked ad Draco who looked back at him with one eyebrow raised, lips curled up slightly in a small smile and a silent question. Harry shrugged and took a step closer to Draco.

They fell into position, Draco’s arm about Harry’s neck, Harry’s arm slipping around Draco’s slender waist. They smiled brightly, genuinely as their hips pressed together. The contact was innocent enough but they were both acutely aware of it.

“Yes, like that.”

For the next five minutes they were blinded by flashes.

“Mister Potter,” Kingsley spoke up, his deep voice rumbling over the clicks and wheezes of cameras. “Your limousine has arrived, sir.”

The cameras stopped for a second as the two complete opposites separated themselves from one another, albeit hesitantly though no one caught it but themselves, and Kingsley of course, because he was always very observant.

“Ah, well, I guess that’s my cue.” Harry flashed a bright, heart-stopping, knee-melting smile that had even Draco’s stomach twisting and fluttering in knots. He waved, and wasn’t surprised when the flashes started up again as he walked away, Kingsley close behind. He was surprised though that there weren’t another pair of shoes following him. He stopped and turned, catching Draco just as he looked away. “Malfoy, are you coming? I promised you drink didn’t I?”

The feeling of dread and slowly growing anger that had sprung inside of Malfoy instantly disappeared at those words. He decided that he would play as if he didn’t remember. He wasn’t supposed to be too eager. As he said before, Potter was below him. He smirked though and turned said expression on Harry. “Oh, you did, didn’t you?” He took a step towards Harry slipping a hand in the pocket of his trousers. “Guess I’ll be making my exit too then.” He looked at the frowning crowd. “Sorry ladies, gents.” He tipped his head to them as he joined Harry by his side. He waved Crabbe and Goyle off, assuring that he would be fine with Kingsley for the night.

Together they walked to Harry’s black limo, both smiling pleasantly to themselves.

+=+=+

Draco didn’t know what he expected, maybe a mansion of some kind complete with three wings, long stretches of perfect grass, maybe even a vineyard in the back, a small barn with horses but not this. Not this ranch style house they pulled in front of.

Most people would say that this house was huge but those were the middleclass types, the types that still saw limos as something very expensive. Anyone could get those now. He stared through the tinted window as the limo cruised down the long driveway, stopping in front of the casual looking house. It looked more like a summer get away than a place Harry actually lived.

“I know what you’re thinking, its small, but I don’t think it necessary to live in a castle to flaunt how much money I’ve got.” Harry said from the other side of the limo. “Just wait until you get inside.”

Draco nodded, not saying anything as Kingsley came around first letting Harry out with Draco following.

Harry led the way with the big man shadowing them. Harry waited as Kingsley opened the door and stepped in after the man, making sure Draco was following.

Harry’s house was all glass, wood and slivers of silver. They walked in to a long entrance hall that branched off into several rooms. Harry explained that the house was split in two by this entrance hall. They walked to the left and entered a kitchen. The countertops the fridge door the sink… every surface was glass, giving the place a very classy look. The cabinets and such were made of shining dark wood, the floors pulling it all together as they too were wooden, matching the cabinets. There was a large island with a glass rack hanging over it, clean and sparkling. Bar stools were placed round it as the middle of the island was hallow and had a door where one could walk in and serve drinks. Harry liked that particular feature. It was the first place he headed.

“Fancy a drink?” he asked as he slipped into the hallow center. With a lazy flick of his hand he signaled for Draco to come over.

Draco nodded, a drink sounded good right now. He could never get enough of it when he visited France.

Harry smiled and bent over, the sound of clinging glass coming from somewhere underneath the counter.

He knew he probably shouldn’t, but Draco found himself staring at Harry’s backside, noticing how his jeans seemed to fit him very well. He bit his lip as he pictured Harry bent like that minus his jeans. Heat rolled over his skin like sun warmed ocean water, making him look away in favor of not wanting to have to adjust his pants to hide his natural body reactions.

Harry reappeared with two glasses and a bottle. Like a pro, he uncorked the fine wine and made poured them both a generous amount. Again his upper half disappeared and Draco forced himself to pay attention to the refreshing cool drink slipping down his throat and not how Harry’s t-shirt was slipping up his back.

“Allez, viens!”

Draco looked away from his glass and blinked, wondering when Harry had come out from behind the bar. He stood by the kitchen door, looking over his shoulder at Draco. He raised his glass to his lips, which puckered as the lip of his flute parted them. Draco stood abruptly ripping his eyes away from Harry’s mouth. He picked this exact moment when he was sharing a casual drink with Harry in his home to start thinking like some crazed horny barbarian.

“I’ll lead you to the television room. Everyone likes it there. Hermione spends a good amount of time in that room watching all of her dramatic movies. She had good taste though, the main reason I have such a gigantic DVD collection.” Harry rambled as he lead them back into the entrance hall. He walked a few doors down then placed his hand on a brass knob, turning it and pushing forward.

Draco barely hid a scowl at the mention of Hermione. “Where is she anyway?” He drawled before taking a sip of his drink.

“I told her to go have some fun for tonight. And tomorrow, and the next day, so on.” Harry turned to look at Draco, a soft of sheepish expression on his face, making him look so pure and innocent. “She was sort of grating on my nerves with her constant whinging.” He mumbled.

“Oh, I understand. Pansy can get like that at times.” Draco paused then asked, “So, are you two an item? I mean every time I see you I see her. Magazines, television shows…”

Harry turned away from Draco then, an odd smile gracing his features. “No, not really. She gets quite jealous though. She’s more like a good friend, a sister.”

“Right, you snog all of your sisters like that then?” Draco lifted an eyebrow.

Harry choked on his drink as he spun around. “What?”

“Yeah, I saw you kiss her before she left. But I wasn’t snooping or anything.” Draco waved his drink hand in a small circle as if to show that he’d only had a glance in their direction.

“She, she wouldn’t leave it and she sort of…asked if I would kiss her.” Harry said then added, “I don’t have any sisters. Actually, I don’t have any siblings at all. I’m an only child.” Harry shrugged and watched Draco’s expression.

“An only child? So am I.”

Harry raised his glass. “Cheers to being only children.”

Draco raised his glass as well.

“Do you like it?” Harry said after they’d both drank to their fortunes, or misfortunes, however you looked at it.

It was then that Draco began to take in the room around him. Directly in front of him was a black wall, or, to be correct, a television screen, a wall to wall television screen. There was black couch set lying on top of plush green, sink-your-toes-in carpet. Now that he looked he noticed that everything was either black or dark green in this room including the CD, DVD and video game rack. There were so many movies Draco didn’t know where to begin. Upon closer inspection as he walked over to the collection he saw that they were all alphabetically categorized.

On the other side of the room was another bar, this one dyed black wood with a glass counter top. There was another rack hanging down from the ceiling with many more glasses.

And, oddly enough, there were pillows all around the room. Black, soft pillows, big enough to rest most of your upper half on. The room was perfect for watching movies, it carried that relaxed air, dark and comforting. Draco liked it.

“Yeah, s’not bad.” He said.

Harry rolled his eyes. It was like Draco to pretend that this room was not completely and outrageously wicked. “Have a seat then. Pick a chair or a pillow while I turn on the telly.”

Draco decided upon the couch, sighing as the cushions dipped and curved around his body.

And then, to Harry’s utter horror, as he flicked on the telly, a huge, larger than life cock appeared on the screen, like a thick, fleshy sword poised right at the opening of someone’s arse. He froze, his drink flipping in his stomach as whispered words filled the room, the blunt head of the mystery man’s penis slowly breeching the other male’s tight entrance. He flinched with each moan and curse, his mouth going completely dry. It was when those hips snapped forward to burry the rest of the man’s length inside the other and the loud cry that followed that seemed to snap Harry out of his trance.

“Oh mon Dieu!” He exclaimed, diving for the DVD player. He slammed his hand down over the power button just as another loud moan filled the room. The screen cut to blue, the room falling silent, the man’s moans still ringing in his ears which had turned a flaming red along with the rest of his face. He sat there, hand resting on the power button, waiting to hear those footsteps running out of the room and the door slam as Draco left, thinking him disgusting, disgraceful.

They never came.

Slowly, as if about the face down the barrel of a gun, Harry turned his eyes to Draco. To his surprise the man had his hand placed over his mouth, his eyes obviously crinkled in mirth as he tried to hold it in. Harry flushed harder if that was possible.

He stood and buried his face in his hands. “Oh god, Draco I’m so sorry!” He couldn’t believe it, he just could not believe it. He was going to kill Hermione Granger. Somehow he knew she had this planned! She didn’t even like porn! “That, that wasn’t mine, I mean, well, I—I think Hermione, Hermione she…”

“No!” The word came out as a squeak as Draco tried his best not to explode with laughter. At first, when the picture had come up he’d been thoroughly shocked but as he watched Potter’s face morph in to that of complete horror, well, he lost it. But, in all of that, Harry’s slip of French caught Draco’s ears. It sounded so smooth rolling off of his tongue even in his panicked state. He didn’t really like it when other’s spoke French, but when Harry did… “It’s alright Potter, really. Just…” He let slip a few strained laughs. “…Just…” And he couldn’t complete his sentence. He only had enough sense to set down his drink before he spilled it on himself. He spent the next couple of minutes trying to stop his laughter.

Having had enough of Draco laughing at his expense, Harry picked up one of the soft pillows from the floor and marched over to the blonde. He smirked, raised the pillow and whacked Draco hard enough to knock him sideways.

There was silence as Draco’s laughs abruptly stopped. Harry lifted the pillow and almost gasped at the nearly murderous scowl on Draco’s face.

“Draco, I didn’t mean—“

But he was cut off as a pillow smashed into the side of his head. He staggered and his face slowly curved into a smile. “You sneaky little bastard!” He smacked Draco with his pillow.

“None of this would have happened –ouch—if you hadn’t decided to put on gay porn! Ah, that hurt!”

“It wasn’t my fault! Hermione must have—“

“I didn’t know she was into—“

“She was just doing it to get on my—“

“God Potter I don’t want to know what she wanted to get on—“

“Shut up you prat or—“

Draco’s vision blurred into a mess of black and green as he tackled Harry around the middle.

They tumbled to the floor dark and light, Ying and Yang, until neither could tell where one ended and the other began.

Disoriented, panting and shocked, Harry lay there with the weight of another fitting so comfortably against him. After a few deep breaths he realized that Draco Malfoy was laying on top of him. And, as if life wanted him to die of embarrassment, he felt himself spring to life. And, oh shit, his cock was pressing straight into Draco’s chest.

He closed his eyes tight and stopped breathing though the heart pounding away in his chest screamed for air to keep it moving. He was in for it now.

Draco wasn’t sure he was feeling right as he lay there trying to catch his breath. He was still chuckling breathily but as he did so he felt something suddenly poke him in the chest. Now, considering where he was laying and who he was laying on and the things he had assumed about this man he could only come to one conclusion and that made his own length twitch in interest.

Slowly he lifted his head and trained his eyes on Harry’s face which was squinted. He smiled and, being the daring and handsome Malfoy he was, he shifted over Harry’s erection as if he didn’t notice it drilling a hole into his sternum. Languidly he slipped up Harry’s body making sure that something; some part of his body touched the straining bulge in those jeans. “Harry?”

And here it came, despite the body slide and the stab of breath-halting pleasure that came with it, Harry knew that Draco was about to call him some name… “Yes?”

“You’re awfully hard, you know that?” Draco said, his voice oddly calm as he rested his hips against Harry’s.

Harry nodded, not daring to open his eyes. Why didn’t Draco just get along with it?

“I wonder, what did it? Was it those men? Do you like that sort of thing, I mean, does porn turn you on?”

Harry couldn’t believe it. “Draco…”

“Or was it me? Did I do something?” Draco shifted and pressed his own aching member into Harry’s hip. “Oh, well, look there, seems I’m hard too.”

Harry’s eyes snapped open and he was caught by the piercing stare of Draco Malfoy, and god did he look just suckable right then. He bit his lip and fought the urge to press back into Draco, despite his shock that some other man’s cock was pressing into his hip! A cock that Draco had probably wrapped his pale fingers around, lubed up, and wanked off. A cock that he’d probably thrust deeply into some nameless woman, a cock he’d probably let some foolish boy wrap his unworthy lips around. A cock that scared Harry and aroused him into new levels of horny. He blinked rapidly as those hips pressed and rolled against his own.

No, this wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be, not this perfect, fair blonde floating above him, cock rubbing against his own through the strained fabric. It was too good but as he stared up into those eyes he knew that none of his fantasies could surpass this.

Then, as if to make Harry believe, Draco lowered his head, lips latching onto his neck, sucking, licking and nibbling until Harry could barely hold back a gasp or two.

On automatic, Harry’s hands lifted, fingers slipping through the soft strings of fine hair, arching his neck into the heavenly mouth. He hardly paid attention to Draco’s hands as they moved to his hips, sliding up and bringing his shirt up with them. It wasn’t until the shirt was bunched under his chin that he realized what was happening. It only made him want it more.

He lifted his arms and allowed his shirt to be pulled from his body. Hands covered his bare shoulders and traveled down his sun kissed skin, over his arms to rest on his stomach, moving back up. Fingers grazed the strawberry pink nipples to draw a groan from Harry.

Draco smiled down at the man below him, wondering how sounds he’d heard from other mouths countless times and had never excited him, did just that coming from Harry. He placed a soft kiss right above Potter’s navel then trailed his way up, watching the expressions flash across Harry’s face like advertisements on the television. He was at the crock of the man’s neck. He rested his head there, letting his breath wash over the area as he breathed.

Harry’s body was set aflame. His desire washed over him, staining his conscience with naughty thoughts of Draco. His length began a slow, aching throb that made his breath catch and his mind go hazy. He couldn’t breath and yet Draco hadn’t but kissed his stomach! “Draco, you… you should really get up now. I don’t think…”

Draco lifted his head, one eyebrow raised, his famous smirk planted across his lips. He said nothing as he leaned forward and pressed their lips together for their first kiss of the night. It was light, and could have even been described as chaste. That was until Draco’s tongue darted out to swipe at Harry’s plump, puckered lips.

Harry’s eyes shut tight as sensations he couldn’t describe rolled over him. His lips fell apart and his hips curved up, body aching, needing to feel the weight of Draco against his thighs and on his aching arousal. It was like he was under some sort of spell. He wondered if everyone Draco bedded felt like this… everyone Draco bedded… everyone…

“No, stop!” Harry sat up abruptly. “Draco… no, I can’t do this.”

Growling softly, Draco was forced to sit up as Harry had shot up so abruptly. “Harry, I won’t force anything on you if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“It’s not that, it’s just…” And then he felt stupid because he’d invited Draco Malfoy into his house, offered him drinks, and embarrassed himself with a porno movie. Of course Draco would be led to think that Harry wanted to have sex with him. He shook his head. “I’m sorry; I must have given you the wrong idea. I just wanted to talk and, I guess, catch up. I don’t want you to think that I purposely lured you here for a quick shag.”

“I didn’t think that.” Draco said honestly, and he hadn’t. This was just a bonus, really. “Harry, you don’t strike me as that type. This… this is something I think we both want.” He whispered, his voice taking on a husky quality. “Right?” He kissed Harry on his neck flickering the tip of his tongue along the skin before drawing back. He was snagged by the pure lust swimming through those green pools, calling to him as if delving deep into his mind and capturing him.

Draco kissed Harry again, this time making his intentions clear as he lapped repeatedly over Harry’s lips with his tongue. Slowly, reluctantly, they parted for him. Draco found himself straddling the man, his tongue slipping past Harry’s lips and into his hot mouth until he met another tongue, eager and wet. He led them into a quick war of dominance, Harry taking over for a bit before submitting to Draco’s more experienced tongue. Draco leaned forward so that his weight caused Harry to fall back onto the pillows below them. He settled his weight on top of the man, breaking the kiss to whisper in his ear as he began a slow grinding motion.

“You see Harry; I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking of all of the people who’ve been in this position, who have had the pleasure of bedding with me.” Draco ghosted his lips over Harry’s exposed collar bone, scooting himself down, making sure to keep his hips rolling and Harry’s cock stimulated. “The thing is, I want you so bad that I’m not sure what to do with myself. I don’t care what position we’re in. I don’t care if I’m in you, or you’re in me, or if you’re shooting down my throat so long as you’re with me.” Draco kept the smirk from his face as he felt Harry’s chest starting to heave. He moved lower, licking Harry’s nipples again, closing his eyes as Harry moaned. He sucked one between his lips, playing with it, nipping it to a stiffness before he started to speak again. “It all started with that one line, you remember right?” Draco wrapped his lips around the other nipple. Harry arched into his touch and he felt fingers push into his hair. “I guess you do, it was your line. Then we had those drinks together and I got to know you, got to see behind the shy smile. You’re quite handsome you know that?” Draco inched lower, thrusting his tongue in and out of Harry’s navel, grey eyes looking up at Harry to watch his brow crease, green eyes hooded.

He kissed the thin layer of coarse hairs that lead from Harry’s belly button down to his more private bits. Draco inched down until his lips met the leather of Harry’s belt. He kissed that too, eyes never leaving Harry’s as he sat up just a little, fingers slowly undoing the man’s belt. It clinked in the silence of the room. He slowly unbuttoned Harry’s trousers and pulled the zipper down notch by notch, watching as the thick arousal underneath bloomed forward.

Draco lay there, breathing quite heavily as his eyes trained in on Harry’s length. It twitched once under Draco’s intense stare and Harry let out a quick rush of air, closing his eyes as Draco ogled. He could feel his face heating up the more time passed. “Draco,” He whispered.

That seemed to snap him out of it. Draco leaned forward yet again and placed his lips to the tight arch in Harry’s boxers. He halted at the heat radiating off of the muscle below him then parted his lips to mouth the length through the fabric.

Harry gasped loudly, biting his lips to smother the moan that resonated deep within him. He needed Draco to touch him; he needed to feel skin on skin.

The blonde smiled and pulled back, raising to his knees, hands curling around the sides of Harry’s trousers, fingers slipping past the lip of elastic of Harry’s boxers. He eased them down exposing more evenly tanned skin and he was struck with the thought of Harry lying starkers on a sandy white beach, the sun licking his skin until it left its print with tinted skin. He shivered and continued to pull at Potter’s clothing. His eyes fell on the heavy arousal as it sprang free of its confines. It swayed; gradually descending to lie against Harry’s toned stomach. Being an actor required that you look the part and to do that you had to work out. Draco supposed that Harry worked out as much as he did or harder by the firmness of his abs whenever he flexed his stomach. Like now for instance. He could see the muscle pressing up against the skin repeatedly as Draco removed Harry’s shoes and rid him of his bottoms.

Harry shifted restlessly, his cheeks a bright red with embarrassment at being the only one unclothed. He also didn’t like the way Draco was staring at him or, to be correct, his cock. Those eyes seemed unfocused yet piercing sending shivers down his spine to the pulsing heat resting against his stomach.

Draco’s fingers trailed the hem of his own shirt before lifting it suggestively, his eyes traveling up and down Harry’s body, feeding on the image, branding it in his mind like a mental tattoo. He smoothed his hand up his stomach, over his chest then slowly pulled his shirt off, making a show of shifting his upper half as he did so. He could feel the heat of Harry’s eyes wandering over the skin exposed to him. Draco, in contrast to Harry, was pale, skin like the color of plain vanilla ice cream, probably just as sweet to the taste too. His stomach and torso were clearly sculpted, the hours Draco put into making his body what it was evident in the dips and defined lines. Draco set the shirt aside and began to fumble with his own belt, a thin strip of black leather with the name of a designer scrawled decorously over the buckle bit.

Why his hands were shaking was a mystery to him, but the lurch in his gut seemed to have a string tied to his cock, for it lurched too as he popped open the button to his jeans and pushed the material down his thighs, catching his pants in the process. He stood, feet still adjacent to Harry’s hips. He shook his hips, drawing a chuckle from Harry who looked on with lust shadowing his eyes. Draco’s clothing slipped down past his knees and he looked down at Harry as his cheeks brightened even more, watched as those green eyes traveled down his body to rest at the muscle standing erect and bobbing slightly.

Harry gasped quietly, his eyes going wide as they landed on Draco’s second head. There was another small sound, between a wine and hum. It made Draco hot all over. He lifted one foot from his pants and kicked the other so that his jeans went flying. He then lowered himself down until he was sitting right on top of Harry’s cock, the thick appendage parting his cheeks just slightly. Draco groaned, throwing his head back slightly as he rocked against Harry. Both of them exhaled breathily.

Tentatively, as if he were afraid of marring Draco’s pale skin, Harry glided his fingers over Draco’s hip bones, getting a light grip on them as he bit his lip. He wasn’t so sure he was ready for this but Draco was leaning forward now, whispering encouraging words into his ears like sweet nothings to a lover.

“First you’re going to stretch me,” Draco whispered, his lips pressed lightly against the shell of Harry’s ear. “Then, slowly, you’re going to enter me and I’ll slide down over your cock until you’re fully sheathed inside me. Then, once I get used to it, I’m going to ride you, Harry. I’m going to ride you until you scream and come hard to fill me even more.” He rolled his hips in a circle, Harry moaning lowly in response. “Does that sound nice?”

Harry nodded.

Then something occurred to him and he frowned a bit. “I don’t have lube…” But, that was a lie. He did have some in this room, hidden under the couch’s seat pillows, but that would be quite embarrassing to pull it out, not to mention that he would be naked while doing it. Surprisingly, his body seemed to like that idea and expressed that with sudden wave of desire. “Hold on.” He sat up, slipping Draco off of his thighs. He stood, very conscious of every breeze that tickled his arse and thighs. He walked over to the couch and, angling his ass away from Draco, bent over to rummage through the couch cushions. After a few seconds he pulled a clear plastic tube out, the oil moving lazily around the cylinder.

He walked back over to Draco and crouched back down between spread pale legs. Draco had his upper half propped up with his elbows, which rested against one of the many plush black pillows. Harry was a stranger to this, though he was no virgin. He’d only gotten his hands on a few woman and they had all been last year or before. He’d spent this most recent year popping in and out of shows, premiers, a few schools and even a café or two and, obviously, the movie with Draco. It had only been he and his hand all year and right now his cock throbbed hungrily against his thigh as he watched Draco spread his legs even wider, exposing the little pink pucker.

“Gods, Draco.” He breathed, his hands fumbling with the lube as he snapped the lid up. He tilted the bottle and allowed some of the oil to slip over his fingers, drizzling down his palm and the back of his hand. He used his other hand to slick up his fingers thoroughly. He leaned forward then until his face hovered over Draco’s length, his breath rolling over it like a light summer’s breeze. Draco shivered, his legs shifting, causing his erection to bob slightly. Harry stared, his tongue moving out and swiping at his bottom lip. He wondered what Draco tasted of. Well, he didn’t have to wonder much longer. Harry reached out with his left hand, the one that had lubed up the other hand, and grasped the base of Draco’s erection. They both sighed in unison, Draco because of the sudden charge of pleasure and Harry because how Draco’s cock felt, hot and heavy in his hand.

With caution, Harry slid his hand up, eyes flickering between the mass of heated skin in his hand and Draco’s face. He’d done this to himself so many times, he knew what he liked and tried his best to remember what made him gasp and writhe and buck like a desperate teenager. There was a light sheen of oil over Draco’s length soon and Harry could only drool at it as it sparkled like flesh colored diamonds. Without thinking, he leaned forward and ran his tongue over the tip, catching little pearly droplets. Draco’s cock jumped in his hand as a result of his hips snapping forward and towards Harry’s mouth. Harry did it again, this time digging his tongue into the slit. Draco groaned and fell backwards, his legs falling shamelessly apart for Harry. Harry took that moment to press the tip of his finger against Draco’s heated entrance. He felt the body beneath him tense and he stopped, circling the pucker with a finger tip until he felt Draco ease a sigh, a slight whine in the mix.

Slowly, not wanting to hurt Draco in the least, Harry pressed his middle finger in. His eyes fell closed at the intense heat and strong pressure around his finger. He pressed in to the third knuckle and stopped for a second before easing it back out. He opened his eyes as the tip of his finger pulled out of Draco.

Draco had never been entered before, and he’d never taken the time to finger himself either, not that he had it to spare with his busy schedule. And this was an odd sensation but not all together unwelcome as Harry pushed and pulled the slender digit within him.

Two fingers slipped in just as Harry’s lips wrapped around his over sensitive head. He gasped arching just a little at both sensations. This was a bit different. He felt the tug of Harry’s hand but also felt those digits going deeper and deeper inside him. It stung like the heat of the sun burning on unclothed skin. He shifted, moving Harry’s fingers about inside him. He felt Harry’s tongue swirl around his tip in such a glorious movement that he couldn’t hold back a moan this time. He opened his mouth to whisper encouragement but closed it again.

Harry spread his two fingers in a scissoring motion inside Draco as he had seen it done before. He was still embarrassed about where exactly he had seen it but still, the information seemed to be coming in handy. He lowered his head an inch over Draco’s cock, taking more in, smiling as best he could around the flesh as Draco’s hips began to do a slow rolling motion up towards him. Harry pressed his fingers as deep as they would go, wiggling them.

“Ah, oh fuck whatthehellwasthat?”

The outburst was unexpected and caused Harry to jump, his fingers sliding roughly out of Draco, his mouth disappearing from the man’s length. He had never heard Malfoy curse. Okay, that was a lie; he cursed all the time with the director but that was when Harry wasn’t supposed to be listening. This foul language sent chills through Harry and he wondered what other obscenities would roll from those lips if he gave Draco the right encouragement. He wasn’t into debauchery, but the thought of hearing Draco speak so naughtily was exciting. Harry answered Draco’s question. “That was your prostate, mate.” And in one quick swoop he took in as much of Draco’s cock as possible.

It wasn’t really all that impressive, his abilities, since he’d never done anything like this before but it was enough to have Draco writing beneath him. He pressed his fingers back in this time slipping in a third. Draco gasped and stiffened. Harry drew back. “You’ve got to relax, just trust me with this.”

There was silence and then, “Have you ever done anything like this before Harry?”

Draco’s voice was soft and unsure. Harry had to frown. “Um, non, I haven’t.”

There was that French again, even if it was just to say no. “So you don’t know what you’re doing?”

Harry’s heart seemed to fall a bit. “No…” He looked up at Draco, having paused his hand at the sound of the blonde’s voice already. “If you want me to stop—“

“Don’t you dare!”

Harry was all smiles. “Oh,” He said in mock shock. “Ordering me around are you?” He shifted his three fingers and it took only a few seconds to find that little lump that had made Draco gasp before. He brushed against it lightly and Draco’s mouth fell open in a loud rush of air.

“Uh… mm, I bet you like that, huh? Being ordered–oh sweet fucking…”

Harry’s face flushed. Draco was so beautiful when he cursed. He watched as the length in his hand pulsed and shivered, little droplets of sticky white oozing from the tip as hips began to push back against his fingers. He felt his own length aching and throbbing to be put to use. Harry closed his eyes as Draco clenched around his fingers. Moaning, the man rode them slightly.

“Harry… I need more… it’s too little!”

Harry laughed. “I haven’t put it in yet Draco!”

“Then do it! Stick your cock in me!”

And he almost lost it there. The words wrapped around his cock and gave a teasing squeeze. He had to hear them again. Harry assaulted Draco’s prostate again. “What? What is it that you want?” He asked, nearly whispering with how breathless he felt watching Draco’s stomach muscles flex as he threw his arms above his head at angles.

“You, I want you!”

“Want me to what?”

“Please, stop teasing, stop ah, ah! Shit, don’t stop, don’t stop!”

Harry pulled his fingers back his eyes slipping down to Draco’s shinning, stretched hole as his fingers left the dangerously hot passage. His eyes lingered as it slowly started to close itself. He couldn’t hold back much longer. He needed to stick his prick somewhere or he would ruin the moment by coming all over these black pillows.

Draco let out a whining sort of sound, eyes glowing with anger and swirling with lust. “I told you not to stop!” He said through clenched teeth. Harry ignored him as he gripped the insides of Draco’s thighs before using one to grab himself at the base of his cock. He grabbed the bottle of lube with the other and poured some into his palm. He hissed as he dribbled some of the cool liquid over his straining erection from his palm, then used his hand to oil it up. Draco was still going. “… don’t stick something up there right now I’ll be forced to do it myself! And, oh Gods Harry that’s hot, you wanking with me sitting right here, waiting for you to fill me like an empty cannoli…”

Harry pressed the tip of his cock against Draco’s entry and that seemed to shut the blonde up. He smiled up at Draco, a seductive, closed mouth thing that made Draco’s breath come shorter than ever. Slowly as if dealing with something of the utmost delicacy, he pressed forward. At first he was afraid that his head would not go in but at the last minute, the ring gave and permitted him to go forward. He did and groaned loudly as heat and pressure he could get from no girl’s snatch incased him.

Draco clung to the pillow below him with both hands, which were still above his head. He felt Harry’s hand grab at one thigh while the other gripped his cock again and continued to pump it slowly. That still didn’t take his mind completely from the pain of being entered. Tiny little sharp pricks stabbed at his insides as Harry pushed in further and Draco had to bite his lip to keep from moaning with pain. Harry leaned over him and started to kiss his neck and jaw, going down a few times to lick and suck at his nipples. That drew genuine gasps out of him. Deeper Harry went and the further he intruded the more Draco thought he wouldn’t be able to take it all in.

He was sure that Harry’s cock would touch his lungs before the man was done pushing it all in. “Harry…” He whispered as more was pressed into him. He heard ragged breathing by his ear.

Harry, on the contrary, was fighting himself, his desire so that he would not hurt Draco and slam home inside him. It was like nothing he could explain. It was hot, it was tight, so fucking tight and delicious. It seemed to take ages to slide all the way in, each drag against Draco’s tight walls pulling more breath from his lungs, filling his already desire filled body into a near frenzy. He felt his own lips forming silent curses in French and in English. When his hips did finally meet Draco’s though, he groaned and lay himself against Draco’s body, groaning again as their naked skin touched. It felt so right, so sexy.

“It hurts like hell!” Draco said.

“I know but,” Harry jerked his hand up over Draco’s arousal causing the blonde to moan. “It will get better, I promise.”

“I thought you said you never did this before.”

“I haven’t.”

“Then…” Draco trailed off as Harry blushed deeply. “Oh, so those movies weren’t all Hermione’s then, huh?”

Harry growled softly, answering with a shift of his hips, grinding his stiff length deeper into Draco who responded in a low chuckle. “Are you okay?” Harry said when he felt his patience wearing thin, his body needed this and if Draco didn’t feel comfortable Harry would have to finish this off himself and quickly before he did something stupid.

Draco nodded. “Yes, move.”

And Harry did. It was a slow and drawn out pull from Draco’s body, the pace of which set his arms to shaking as he held himself over Draco, feeling as those legs wrapped and locked about his middle. He closed his eyes the whole way. Teasingly, he thrust halfway in before pulling back again. He groaned and so did Draco, both of them panting with the slow movement. Harry did it again, denying himself the fast pace that his body ached for, that his cock was sure to explode for if he denied it any longer.

Then the itch became to urgent too scratch with just light brushes. He thrust deep in to Draco, hard.

Draco wailed and Harry had to bit his lip to keep from laughing as the blond seemed to lock up on him, his head falling to the side, eyes shutting tight as his mouth formed words Harry couldn’t make out. But God did that feel good! Harry pulled back and shifted Draco then slammed in again. Harry threw his head back and sat up on his knees, rolling his hips forward in to Draco though he was as far as he could go inside him. “Draco, oh sh-mm… You’re so tight… I’m going to pound you hard, going to fuck you a new one.” He breathed, surprised at his boldness in words but they seemed to be the only ones sufficient enough to portray what he felt.

“Do it!” Draco moaned. “No more talking, just fucking, hard and fast! I want you to—“

He was cut off as Harry drew back and thrust deep, paused then did it again and again and again.

They built a pace that seemed to suit them both, clawing at their insides and promising a mind blowing release. Harry watched as his cock was repeatedly swallowed over and over, looked up at Draco as he called out his name and clung to the pillow below him, back arching beautifully to get more, a deeper touch, a harder stroke.

Draco couldn’t think, couldn’t breath properly for the thick length stretching and filling him. Every time the head of Harry’s erection slammed against his prostate he was shoved closer and closer to he edge. His body twisted, his face almost half buried in to the pillow despite the position he was in on his back. He reached out for Harry and found that his cock was in the way. He gripped it and began to stroke himself in earnest, not able to find it within his ability to keep with the rhythm they had set. He cried out as Harry slammed particularly hard inside him. Pain rippled through him so deliciously that he was sure he would faint. It poked and mixed with the pleasure skipping up and down his spine and brought salty tears to his eyes. He could barely form the words on the edge of his lips. “Let me.., fuck, yeah like that, harder… mm, Harry, let me-Ah! Fuck.”

Harry chuckled and snapped his hips forward, groaning loudly. “You want to what?” He panted out then removed Draco’s working hand, gripping his length in his own fist and working it better than it seemed Draco had the sense to.

“Ride… you…”

Harry’s cock jumped at that and he thrust hard and deep. “Yeah, yeah do that.”

Before he could move himself, Harry was lying on his back, Draco already slipping back down over his cock. Harry leaned against the pillows behind him, his back propped up so he was sort of sitting. Draco gripped his shoulder with one hand, the other tweaking Harry’s nipples.

Harry closed his eyes and surrendered to Draco.

The blonde picked up the pace where they had left off; rolling his hips forward with each thrust and crying out with little ‘ahs’. The pleasure inside him wound deep and fast, this would not last long at this rate. His hand squeezed Harry’s shoulder and he shook his head, needing more, just a little more. He impaled himself harder now moaning with each thrust as Harry split him over and over again by his command. The sound of sweaty skin slapping against sweaty skin was like a stroke to his cock. He felt hands grip his hips as Harry began to meet his thrusts, his voice filling the room with Draco’s pants as his own pleasure wound up inside him.

“Harry, please, do it harder, I’m so close, so close… so…” He slumped forward against Harry still riding the man as fast as he could, whimpering into Harry’s ear, his breath jerky with the impact of their coupling.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and bent his knees, placing his feet firmly on the ground. He sped up to an almost impossible pace, both of them reduced to heavy breathing and whimpers and pleas of things they knew were impossible but sounded so right whispered and gasped into each other’s ears. Some of these things would make Harry blush furiously when Draco brought them up later, but now they seemed perfect. And he couldn’t get enough, each thrust was the one that would send him over and just when he thought he would tip he was ostracized of it by some unknown, torturous source.

“I can’t take it anymore,” Draco whispered hoarsely, his voice breaking with Harry’s thrusts. “I can’t hold back, I’m gonna come, Harry!”

Harry looked up at Draco’s face, watching as his hair flapped against his head, some of those pale strands sticking to his forehead with sweat. “You’re going to come Draco?”

Draco nodded, his body already starting to cease up.

“You’re going to come hard, all over us?”

Draco nodded again, which was accompanied by a desperate moan. “All over us, all over you…”

“Do it then, come Draco.”

Draco nodded again, his thrusts becoming clipped and to the point before he slammed down hard, threw his head back and let out a near scream of Harry’s name. Harry gripped the man’s cock and stroked feverishly, his own hips still working to reach his end. He felt the cock shudder, the only warning before Draco’s cum shot out of his slit, hitting Harry’s cheek, flying to land on his chest and stomach. He shuddered deeply as Draco clenched around him with orgasm and the squeezing, unforgiving walls pulled his climax straight from his cock and before he knew it he was blinded by the most intense heat of his life, washing over him, freezing him, holding him captive as he shook and filled Draco with a forceful blast of cum. He held his hips up, feet pressing into the floor to hold up him and Draco who had fallen against him limply. It was only when the last drop had wrung itself from his body and he was sure there was nothing left to squeeze from Draco with his hand, that he let himself fall back.

+=+=+

Draco woke in unfamiliar surroundings, his body tingling with something familiar. He blinked a few times until he could see clearly.

He was naked, he realized, and in someone else’s house, an entertainment room it seemed. His eyes widened and he tried to recount the nights events, thinking if he had had too many drinks when, like a freight train, his memories came back to him.

He gasped and looked down. Naked. A naked Harry James Potter lay underneath him, sleep, warm, smiling…

Oh god…

Wait until Pansy heard about this!

And Hermione will be absolutely pissed.




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A/N: Sorry if I messed up some of the French, those who know the language better than I do. I apologize if I've butchered it. Anyway, hope you enjoyed. It was rather long but I hope the last bit was worth the reading. It's hard for me to just throw characters into sex scenes without history. OH, and if you have questions about what certain words mean in French FROM THIS STORY just ask. I don't bite.