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Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic/Warner Bros. No profit is being made from this fiction.
Draco was getting impatient. The situation was so ridiculous, so unworthy of Potter, that Draco could hardly stop himself from hexing the balls off the scrawny camera maniac who stood in the centre of it all. But that's what a Gryffindor would have done. Draco resisted that reckless impulse because he saw before him a rare opportunity to finally get what he'd been fantasising about for months.
He dug his fingertips deeper into Creevey's skinny upper arm and hissed the same question for the third time. "How is he in bed?”
Draco didn't need that particular piece of information to succeed in his venture, but if he knew what to expect, things would go more smoothly. And, should he be unable to carry out his plan tonight, it would be useful for wanking purposes. Creevey, however, was being an uncooperative prat.
“It’s none of your business,” Creevey said as he pulled his head back and away from the wand tip that was digging in under his chin.
“I’m making it my business!" Draco pressed his wand harder into the delicate skin. “And if you don’t want Potter to find out what I saw today, you’re going to have to play along.”
They were alone in the boys' lavatory, and Draco kept darting glances at the door. It was a wonder no one had walked in yet; dinner had started five minutes ago.
“I don’t know," Creevey said.
Draco's arched eyebrow must have been a terrifying sight, for Creevey stammered to rephrase his answer. "Well okay, I-I guess I do know, but I wouldn't know how to describe—“
“Be creative!” Draco snapped. “Is he gentle and considerate or does he fuck you so hard you can't sit down the next day? Does he take his time and cater to your every desire? Or does he use you like the worthless slut you are? Does he suck your little prick? Is he any good at it?”
Creevey's cheeks flushed scarlet. “He’s good at everything he does.”
“Tell me more...”
Creevey chewed on his lower lip for a moment and then said, “He likes to be in control, or at least it seems that way. I—I’m not the dominant type, you know, so I usually just let him do what he wants.” He blushed again. “And he likes to bite.”
A delightful shiver travelled down Draco's spine. “He likes to bite?”
Creevey nodded. “Yeah, he can get pretty rough at times.”
“And you don’t like that?” Draco stepped forward, pressing Creevey into the washbowl again. He'd forgotten himself for a moment and had given Creevey enough space that he'd relaxed a bit. That was unacceptable.
“Of course I do!”
“Then why did you cheat on him?” When no answer came, Draco jabbed his wand under Creevey's chin to remind him that it was still there. “Why?!”
Creevey shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose I just wanted to try it with someone else.”
Draco was outraged. Puny little Colin Creevey cheated on His Sexiness the Boy Who Lived because he wanted try it with someone else. Again, Draco could hardly restrain himself from casting some horrible curse, possibly an Unforgivable. What an ungrateful twat! he thought. He reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a small knife, sniggering when Creevey's eyes widened in fear, grabbed a lock of the boy’s mousy brown hair and cut it off with a swipe of the blade.
Creevey closed his eyes and exhaled. “Can I go now?” he asked shakily.
“We’re not done yet. Show me how you kiss him." Draco became queasy at the sound of his own words, but he needed to be able to replicate Creevey's kiss if he was to be at all convincing.
Creevey gawped at him. “You can’t be serious!”
“What's the matter, Creevey? You can't tell me you don't like kissing other blokes besides your precious boyfriend," Draco said, sneering. “I want to know how you kiss him. Show me.”
Draco lowered his wand enough to allow Creevey to tentatively press their lips together. The kiss was eager, but submissive and --thank heavens-- not too sloppy.
Draco committed the kiss to memory and pulled away. “Now, tell me the password to Gryffindor Tower.”
Creevey hesitated. Draco was getting testy, but he forced himself to sound patient. “If you tell me the password, I’ll let you go, and Harry will never know it was you who gave it to me. But if you don't, you can be certain he’ll learn of your unfaithfulness.”
Draco could sense Creevey's internal struggle. He wondered if the idiot had any idea what Draco was planning. By now, anyone with half a brain would have figured it out; the hair, the kiss, the password—it was obvious. But then again, Creevey wasn’t the brightest star in the sky. Not that it mattered. Regardless of whether he had caught on or not, Creevey didn’t have a choice—that is, if he didn’t want Potter to find out he’d been shagging Justin Finch-Fletchley in the bathroom.
Creevey's shoulder sagged. "Pesky pixies."
"And the password to the Head Boy's room?"
"Sugar Quill."
“Thank you," Draco said with exaggerated politeness. "Now get lost. And make sure you stay away from Potter tonight, or else—”
Draco couldn’t help laughing at how the younger boy scurried away like a rat. He realised he’d let Creevey off too easily. Riff-raff like that shouldn't be allowed to go near Potter, let alone shag and then cheat on him. But right now, Draco had more important matters to pursue.
*****
The thick mud-like potion bubbled slowly in the cauldron, filling the out-of-order girls' lavatory with dark smoke. When it was ready, Draco ladled some into a glass. It was time to add a bit of Creevey's hair. He dropped in a few strands, and the potion hissed and frothed, turning a sickly shade of yellow.
Draco pinched his nose and gulped down the disgusting concoction. He braced himself against the unpleasant sensations that followed. A nauseating, burning feeling spread inside him, and his stomach churned. He watched in fascination as his hands began to shrink, the skin turning a deeper golden colour. To his dismay, his new fingertips showed no sign of a recent manicure.
Draco couldn’t resist opening his trousers to see what was inside. Damn. It was a tad small, but if it would get him into Potter's bed, he'd put up with it for the night. He drew out his wand, casting a simple tailoring spell to shorten his robe, the edges of which were now pooled around him on the ground. A second spell turned his green-and-silver tie to red-and-gold, and yet another changed his Slytherin crest into one that proclaimed him a Gryffindor.
Don’t look in the mirror. Draco knew that if he looked in the mirror, he would cringe and consider not going through with his plan. He imagined himself pale, blond and stunning as ever as he spun around and strode out of the lavatory.
His heart thumped excitedly as he went up the many flights of stairs until he finally reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. He whispered the password and entered through the hole in the wall. There were a few Gryffindors scattered around the common room, but none of them paid Draco any heed. As far as they were aware, he belonged among their tragic ranks. Gathering his resolve, Draco continued on to the Head Boy's (Potter's) private room, the location of which Draco had studied carefully on a detailed map of Hogwarts.
“Sugar Quill,” he whispered to the lion in front of the door which then swung open. He stepped inside and looked around. The room looked hideous with all of its red and gold décor. Potter apparently hadn't returned yet because he was nowhere in sight. That pleased Draco; he needed some time to calm his nerves. He sat on the edge of Potter's bed and picked up a pillow, bringing it to his face. It smelled of woods and moss, a scent he sometimes got a whiff of when Potter walked past him, one he couldn’t get enough of, but rarely got the chance to savour.
Draco put down the pillow, walked over to the closet, and looked inside. The quality of Potter’s wardrobe was shoddy, but at least he now owned clothes that actually fit him. Draco picked out a black tee shirt and pyjama bottoms and changed into these, tossing his own clothes carelessly—in what he considered true Gryffindor style—onto Potter's chair. On top of the desk lay a low stack of books that didn't resemble those for their required reading for classes. Draco would never have pegged Potter as someone who read for pleasure, so he went over to investigate.
Most of the books were related to Quidditch; no surprise there. Draco picked up one that was titled Seeker and Snitch and took it with him to bed. By the time Potter came in, Draco was reading, lying comfortably on his stomach, propped up on his elbows with his feet in the air.
“Hey, Colin,” Harry said as he spotted him from the doorway.
Draco’s heart raced frantically as the boy of his dirtiest dreams walked towards him. He pretended he was engrossed in the book.
“Thinking of taking up Quidditch?” Potter's smile was teasing.
Draco shook his head, too nervous to speak. When Potter started undressing, he thought he would die. He licked his lips at the tantalising sight of golden flesh and taut muscles, and tossed the book onto the nightstand.
“Are you wearing my clothes?”
Draco smirked. "They smell like you."
Potter's wrinkled his brow. "They shouldn't—I haven't worn them since they've been washed."
Draco watched as Potter removed his clothes. He was more toned than Draco had imagined. There were smooth curves outlining his abs, arms, and shoulders. Draco wanted to reach out a hand and touch that strong-looking chest, but Potter covered it up with a white tee shirt and crawled under the covers.
“Night,” Harry muttered sleepily into his pillow.
Draco swallowed. After spending nearly a month brewing Polyjuice Potion, he sure as hell wasn’t going to sleep before getting some action. Now, if he'd been able to act like himself, that wouldn't have been a problem; he'd simply have said so. But what would Creevey do? He didn't seem like the type to demand sex when his boyfriend clearly wanted to sleep.
Deciding to keep things subtle, Draco snuggled up to Potter from behind. A thrill coursed through his at their proximity. Draco reached under Potter’s shirt. The heat emanating from Potter's belly warmed his clammy hand.
"Your hand is cold," Potter remarked.
Draco didn't answer. Instead, he began laying butterfly kisses on Potter’s neck and his right shoulder. Draco's fingertips explored the line of course hair leading down from Potter's belly button to the waistband of his pyjama bottoms.
Harry grunted. “I’m too tired.”
Determined to get shagged by Harry Potter tonight, in this bed, Draco snuggled up closer, until the other boy could feel his erection pressing into his arse. He kissed Potter's neck again, this time leaving wet spots. He slipped his fingertips under Potter's waistband.
Potter gasped. “What’s got into you?” he asked. He sounded tired, but there was just a hint of amusement and arousal in his voice. That was a miracle, considering what Draco looked like at the moment. But then again, Potter wasn't looking at him, was he?
Draco didn’t answer. He took the edge of Potter’s ear between his teeth, nipping and then soothing the skin with his tongue. He slid his fingertips further beneath Potter's waistband until he felt the velvety skin of Potter's semi-erect cock.
“Colin, you’re asking for it,” Harry growled.
Draco wrapped his palm around Potter's dick.
Harry Potter’s dick.
Draco did his best to act normal, but his mind was reeling. He had longed for this since the day Potter had rescued him from the Fiendfyre. Not in his wildest dreams had he imagined he’d ever be touching the Boy Who Lived like this.
He slid his thumb over the tip of Potter’s cock; it was slick and wet and it made him rub his own erection against Potter’s arse. Suddenly a strong hand grabbed his wrist, pulled it out of Potter’s pyjamas, and pinned it to next to Draco's head. Potter was on top of him now, tongue slipping inside Draco's mouth and rubbing their erections together.
Potter’s hands were tugging on Draco's clothes, pulling everything off. Draco tried his best to kiss Potter Creevey- style, but it was hard to focus. Potter's mouth was hot and domineering; it made Draco's legs spread of their own accord. Draco squeezed his hand between their bodies to slip it underneath Potter’s waistband again. The material was sticky with precome, and Potter’s cock was thicker, harder than before. Draco had a sudden taste for salty fluid that would linger slightly bitter on the back of his tongue.
“Fuck my mouth,” he said.
Potter was dumbstruck. “What? You mean—?”
Draco had to stop himself from grinning as he untied the drawstring of Potter's pyjama bottoms. Apparently Potter wasn't accustomed to being sucked off. When Potter tried to climb off him, Draco held him in place by the hips. He realized he was probably acting way out-of-character, but he didn’t care.
“Stay on top of me. Fuck my mouth.”
Potter was still puzzled, but moved up Draco's body until his cock was in front of his face. Draco parted his lip and darted out his tongue to taste Potter. For a moment, he just teased, gently licking the succulent flesh. Then he grabbed Potter's arse with both bands and pulled him forward and into his mouth, slowly, until he could feel Potter’s dick in the back of his throat and his lips were wrapped around the base of his shaft. It took effort not to gag, but Potter's shuddering breath made it worthwhile.
“Oh fuck,” Potter whispered, his face screwed up in ecstasy. His hips jerked lightly of their own accord. He tried to control his thrusting at first, but when he saw that it didn’t bother Draco, he grew bolder and plunged deeper, faster into Draco’s mouth.
Seeing how much Potter was enjoying this, Draco abandoned his plan of getting shagged right away; he would let Harry finish. They’d have to start over, but that didn't bother Draco.
Potter’s sighs, as he started to reach his climax, were driving Draco insane. The pressure in Draco's groin was unbearable; he reached down with one hand and rubbed himself. Not a full minute passed before he came, moaning around Potter's cock.
Potter let out a strangled cry as he grabbed a fistful of Draco's hair and buried his cock deep inside his mouth. It twitched as it pumped seed down Draco's throat.
Potter was unnecessarily apologetic as he withdrew. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—I should have pulled out. Sorry.”
Draco hid a smirk. “It wasn’t that bad,” Draco assured him, looking pointedly at the mess on his own belly. Potter saw it and laughed, low and sexy. Draco had never heard him laugh like that before, and suddenly he was filled with a sense of regret at what he’d been missing. Why couldn't it have been me all this time? he thought. Surely Creevey doesn't have anything I don't...
Meanwhile, Potter had cast a cleaning spell on both of them and started to crawl back under the covers. Draco stopped him. “I’m not through with you yet.”
He pounced on top of Potter and kissed him, first on the mouth, then on his neck and down his chest. He took one nipple in between his fingertips, pinching and tugging it while his tongue lapped at the other. Potter watched, speechless, as Draco moved down his torso, tongue dipping into his navel and hand cupping his swelling cock. When Potter was fully erect again, Draco got off him and lay down on his back; he spread his thighs and looked expectantly at Potter.
Potter didn’t waste any time. He reached for a small bottle on the nightstand and poured some oil onto his palm. Draco suddenly became nervous; he’d never bottomed before. And Creevey had said that the Boy Who Lived could get rough.
“You’re trembling,” Potter said.
“Because I want you so bad." It wasn't a lie, exactly. Draco did want Potter. It just wasn't the reason why he was trembling.
Potter pressed his mouth against Draco’s and kissed him with fervour while his finger slipped between Draco's legs. Draco tangled his fingers into his Potter's hair, then gasped when he felt a fingertip slip inside him. That's when Potter bit his shoulder.
It was all happening so fast; Draco cried out in pain from the bite just as Potter pressed a spot inside him that sent pleasure through his body like a lightning bolt. He didn’t want it to ever end. Potter soothed the bite with soft kisses that trailed upward toward Draco’s ear.
“You smell so good,” Potter said. “New cologne?”
Draco nodded, trying to relax his muscles as a second finger entered him. He reached for Potter’s cock, eager to feel the thick shaft that would soon be inside him.
"I've no idea what’s got into you today," Potter said, “but Merlin, it makes me want to shag you senseless.”
Draco shivered in anticipation. “Might as well get on with it, then.”
A moment later, he regretted what he said, because Harry’s stiff cock was piercing through him, spreading fire from his backside through the rest of his body, all the way into his fingertips and toes. The sensation reminded him of the effects of Polyjuice Potion, only this fire was just as pleasant as it was painful.
Potter held to his promise; almost as soon as he was fully sheathed, he began pounding into Draco with vim. Draco wrapped a hand around his cock and wanked himself to the same rhythm of Potter's thrusts. The pressure in his groin was becoming unbearable, and he felt like he was about to burst.
Potter was breathing raggedly above him, flushed and covered in beads of sweat. The smell of sex and perspiration filled Draco's nostrils; together with the lingering taste of Potter's come on his tongue, it was Draco's undoing. If he wasn't delirious with pleasure, he might have been embarrassed of the sounds escaping his mouth and of the way his hips and legs quivered as he came.
Potter bit into Draco's shoulder again as he gave a few more punishing thrusts, then grunted and tensed.
“That was brilliant,” Harry said a moment later, burying his head in Draco's shoulder. Harry’s shoulders shook as he laughed, a genuine, happy laugh. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Draco did feel a bit sore, but he knew that wasn’t what Harry was asking about.
“Are you sure?" Potter asked. "You didn’t seem like yourself tonight. You’ve never been so— forward. And you’ve never done that.”
“What, suck your cock?”
“Yeah—and you usually don’t talk about these things so easily.”
Draco shrugged. "I'm just trying to add some excitement to our sex life."
When Potter continued to look dubiously at him, Draco turned onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “Actually, I’m Draco Malfoy. I made some Polyjuice Potion to look like your boyfriend so you’d shag me. Sorry if my acting was a bit off.”
Potter laughed and smacked Draco on the shoulder. “Prat.”
“I’m serious!”
Suddenly, Potter looked sad. “Malfoy would rather hex me than shag me. Besides, he’d never bottom.”
Draco arched a brow. “You don’t think so?”
Harry started putting on his pyjamas. It was a bit chilly in the castle this time of the year. “'C’mon—Malfoy? He’d never let anyone else take control, in any situation.”
Draco shrugged. “I think he would—if it was with the right person.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, for starters, he’s a spoiled brat. Do you really think he’d rather do all the work when he could just lie back and enjoy?”
“I’ve never thought about it that way—“
Draco smiled. “You mean you’ve thought about shagging Malfoy?”
“No,” Harry said quickly. Draco glared at him until he gave in. “Okay, maybe I have. But that was before you and I..."
Draco tuned Potter out for a moment; he was ecstatic about what he'd just heard. But this wasn't the time to saviour the feeling. Draco needed to continue acting. At first, he considered pretending he was mad that Potter had admitted to being attracted to another bloke, but then he had a better idea.
“You know, we could find out just how fit he is... underneath his robes.”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked.
“Polyjuice Potion. I could change into Malfoy and let you shag me.”
Potter laughed. “I can’t believe you’re even suggesting that."
Draco crossed his arms over his chest and pulled a long face.
“Oh god, you’re serious, aren’t you?” Harry was positively glowing now. “Do you realise how difficult the ingredients for the potion are to obtain? You’d have to get into Snape’s storeroom.”
“I have connections,” said Draco.
“And you’d need a piece of Malfoy, some hair or something.”
“I can arrange that.”
Potter grinned.
“Well?” Draco asked impatiently.
“Colin, if you manage to turn into Draco Malfoy, I promise, I will shag you until your blond hair is a knotty mess.”
“Agreed,” said Draco as he pulled the covers over himself. “But don’t mention this again—I want to surprise you.”
“Okay.”
Potter snuggled up against Draco and quickly fell into a deep sleep. Draco wished he could stay and enjoy the heat emanating from the other boy’s body and the sound of his slow, deep breathing, but he looked at his watch and it said 2:00 a.m. The potion would wear off any minute now. He placed a soft kiss on Potter's lightning bolt scar and slowly rose from the bed, put on his clothes, and slipped out of the room.
*****
Who in his right mind would break up with Harry Potter? That’s the question Draco pondered as he lurked in the boys bathroom, waiting for a certain sixth year Gryffindor. Creevey would be there soon, Draco was sure of it. The boy had a serious “going problem.” He went to the bathroom after every class and twice during lunch. Yes, Draco had been observing. The more he knew about his rival, the better.
Draco had been waiting for almost a month now, letting Potter think his boyfriend was preparing Polyjuice Potion. Even after all this time, he could still feel Potter’s hands on him. Every touch, every breath, every kiss was so vivid in his memory that when he lay down to sleep at night, he could swear Potter was with him.
These past few days, though, Draco had been getting butterflies because if he had made it, the imaginary potion would be ready soon, and he’d finally be able to come to Potter's bed as himself. This time, Potter's hands, lips, and other body parts would be on and in Draco’s real body. He wondered if it would feel different at all. But two days before he could find out, bloody stupid Creevey had to go and ruin his masterplan by breaking up with Potter.
What was Draco to do now? If all else failed, he could try to seduce the object of his affections, since Potter apparently did find him physically attractive. But that would be difficult, if not impossible, considering their past.
If it weren’t for Creevey, Draco thought, I might be getting laid tomorrow night!
Speaking of the devil, Creevey chose this exact moment to enter the lavatory. Draco had his wand pointed at the Creevey before the other boy had even noticed Draco's presence. Creevey backed away, looking like he was about to make a run for it.
“Don’t even think about running,” Draco told him, “or I’ll turn you into a toad.”
Creevey froze. “What do you want from me?”
“Why did you break up with Potter?”
“I should be asking you that.”
“What do I have to do with this?” Draco asked incredulously.
“Everything,” said Creevey. “You did something to him—”
Draco sneered. If only Creevey knew the things he'd done to Potter. “What do you mean, I did something to him?"
“It just hasn’t been the same between us, ever since that day you cut off some of my hair. What did you do, cast a curse on me something?”
Draco was curious. “What hasn’t been the same between you?”
“Harry—he’s different. He asks me to do things…”
“What kinds of things?” Draco asked. He had a pretty good idea, but he wanted to torture the boy.
“Things I’m not comfortable doing." Creevey blushed and looked away. “Sexual things. And when I do try to do some of them, he seems disappointed.”
While Colin talked, Draco checked his hair in the mirror; it was slicked back neatly. Draco’s stomach fluttered when he remembered Potter’s promise: Colin, if you manage to turn into Draco Malfoy, I promise, I will shag you till your blond hair is a knotty mess.
Draco glared daggers at Creevey. “And rather than improve your skills to try and please him, you dumped him.”
“I—“ Colin began, but then he sighed and went silent.
“I suppose you’re right, though,” said Draco. “If you're just not skilled in that area, there's nothing you can do. Still, your timing was a bit off. See, I needed you to stay with him at least another day.”
Creevey's brow furrowed. “Why?”
“Curiosity killed the cat, remember?" said Draco. "But if you don’t want to be turned into a toad, or worse, then you’re going to have clean up the mess you made.”
Creevey sighed, staring at the veined marble floor. “What do you want me to do?”
“It’s very simple, actually,” Draco said, turning away from the mirror. “All you have to do is write a letter to your ex—one which I will dictate to you—and send it.”
“That’s it?”
"Yes."
Creevey narrowed his eyes. “What’s it going to say?”
“You let me worry about that,” said Draco. “Meet me in the astronomy tower at nine. I trust that you’ll come and not tell anyone about our little meeting?” He made sure he sounded as threatening as possible.
Creevey nodded warily.
“Good.” Draco faked a friendly smile and lowered his wand.
*****
What did I do wrong? Harry wondered as he glanced back at the empty spot in his bed. Okay, so he knew what he’d done, but it wasn’t entirely his fault. That one night with Colin, nearly a month ago, had been amazing. They did things they’ve never done before, and his boyfriend had been so wild, so mischievous, so… skilled. But just as quickly as he’d morphed into this wonderful lover, he’d changed back into his old prudish self. The following night, everything had been back to normal. Colin had made a disgusted face when Harry asked him to suck his cock. And he just lay there, letting Harry do whatever he pleased.
Now that Harry was sleeping alone, he wondered if he’d been better off not showing his disappointment. Perhaps if he’d been more patient, if he hadn't pushed, Colin would have shown his wilder, more spontaneous side again. Honestly, though, Harry missed Colin less than he did the easy sex. He also regretted never getting to see his boyfriend transform into Draco Malfoy.
Harry sighed. That would have been fun.
An owl tapped at the window, pulling Harry from his thoughts. He walked over, let the bird inside, and took the note it carried in its beak.
Harry,
Breaking up with you was a huge mistake, I realised that almost as soon as I walked out the door. I took the easy way out, and now I regret it. I’m so cold and lonely without you. Will you take me back? I promise I’ll try harder to please you.
Love,
Colin
Harry read the note again, wondering how he should respond. Colin’s owl was still sitting on the window, apparently waiting for a return letter. Harry sighed and wrote yes on the bottom of the note, folded it, and sent the owl on its way. He wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing, but it wasn’t like the real Draco Malfoy was going to knock on the door and ask for a shag anytime soon.
It was late and time for Harry to try and get some sleep. He pulled back the covers and slipped between the cold cotton sheets. His dreams were just out of reach when he heard a knock at the door. Startled, he sat up. “Who is it?”
No answer came, just another knock. Frustrated, Harry flung back the covers and went to the door. When he opened it, he was sure he was dreaming, because Draco Malfoy was standing before him. The sneer was so genuine, it had to be the real deal.
“Malfoy? What are you doing here?”
Draco pushed his way past Harry and entered the room. “I thought you wanted to shag me.”
Harry watched stupidly as the blond made his way over to the bed. Could it be—? No, it couldn't be.
“Colin?” he asked. That was much more likely.
The blond looked at him as if he'd sprouted tentacles. “Are you blind, Potter?”
Harry stood, dumbfounded, staring at the gorgeous apparition that was now taking off its robe and sprawling itself out on his bed.
“So, are you going to shag me or not?”
Harry’s cock stirred in response, and he slammed the door shut. His feet felt like blocks of iron as they pulled him toward the bed, as if drawn by some magnetic force. When he leaned over to kiss the blonde, that cologne overwhelmed his senses again. It was the same fragrance the real Draco Malfoy wore, and it had always gone straight to Harry's groin.
Draco's lips were on fire; they sent sparks shooting through Harry’s body until he was tearing at the clothes that remained on Draco’s body and struggled out of his own pyjamas with his Draco's dedicated assistance.
It was all so wrong; Harry had never desired Colin like this when he was in his own body. But Draco's lips were pink and swollen, and Harry couldn't care about anything else.
Their erections were hard and oozing between their bodies as Harry licked and sucked and nibbled Draco’s ears and his neck. Draco's hands were entangled in his hair, pulling hard, and his legs were wrapped around Harry as he bucked and arched against him.
*****
Draco turned Potter onto his back and repeated the same titillating ministrations Harry had just performed on him. And he went lower, licking a line down Potter’s torso until he was face to face with the beautiful, swollen cock he had missed so much. Draco took it in his hand and swirled his tongue around the glistening tip. He wrapped his mouth around it and took it in until his nose brushed the dark hair at the base. Potter’s hips jerked, but Draco held them in place with his forearm. He licked and sucked and twirled his tongue until Potter was grunting and spurting ribbons of come inside his mouth.
“Fuck me,” Potter said as he lay panting afterward. His eyes shone with all the greenness of a jungle. Draco reached for the bottle that stood on the nightstand, poured some into his fingers, and brought them to Potter's entrance.
Patience might be a virtue, but it wasn't Draco's strongest trait. He pushed in two fingers at once, twisting them inside Harry until he started moaning and begging for more. Then he lifted Harry's legs and buried his cock inside him in one stroke. His cry of pleasure at their joining mingled with his lover’s. Harry’s arse was so damn tight and the wicked boy clenched his muscles purposely to fuel Draco’s untamed desire.
Draco surged into Potter's body in short, rapid thrusts aimed at Potter's sweet spot. His efforts drew the most delightful cries from the boy beneath him. Potter’s hands slid appreciatively over Draco’s pecs as Draco pounded into him again and again.
Draco was so close; they both were. Potter's finger was inside Draco so that whenever Draco pulled out, it slid deeper inside him. Draco could feel an incredible orgasm creeping up on him. He wanted to thrust harder, faster, but suddenly he found himself on his back, being impaled on Harry’s cock and wondering how that happened.
“Thought you could have your way with me, didn’t you, Malfoy?” There was a playful glint in the green eyes that were staring down at him; they promised vengeance of the wickedest sort.
Draco had never seen anything hotter. He could only spread his legs wider to show that he accepted his "punishment". It really did turn out to be a punishment, though, because Potter pinned Draco's wrists to the pillows so that he couldn't touch himself and fucked him so slowly Draco thought he'd explode. All the while, Potter's eyes never left Draco's.
It should have been enough for Potter—it really should have—but obviously it wasn't. Because Potter started hissing Parseltongue, saying things Draco didn't understand and didn't need to. The coiling sensation in Draco's groin tripled in intensity. Moments later, Draco gave a hoarse cry and came without any contact other then Potter's belly rubbing against his cock with each languid thrust.
Potter waited until the spasms stopped, then pounded into Draco for about a minute until, with a screwed- up face and a suppressed moan, he too finished. He hung his head as he regained his breath, then rolled off Draco.
They stared at each other for a moment, neither knowing what to expect.
Draco was the one to break the silence. "When did you figure it out?" he asked.
"I was pretty sure as soon as you showed up at the door," Potter said. "I didn't believe it, but it had to be you. No one could be that convincing." He shot Draco a look. "You're a terrible actor, by the way."
Draco smirked. "I told you I was last time. Besides, I don't remember you complaining."
"Only 'cause you're such a good shag."
"Then rest up, Golden Boy," Draco said with a grin. "Because soon I'll be requiring you to shag me again."
The End