Chapter Text
Harry found Grimmauld Place even more unbearable this summer than it had been the summer before. The heat would have been bad enough, but reminders of Sirius' unhappy incarceration in this place lurked around every corner. Worse than that, Harry had started having spontaneous sexual fantasies about people, mostly about Ginny but about others as well. The fantasies were explicit, often filthy and degrading - not at all loving, the way Harry imagined sex ought to be. Worst of all, they were also intrusive. He would be talking to someone and suddenly he'd imagine pushing them down to their knees and jerking off into their face. Or spreading their legs apart and fucking them. Or punching them and then fucking them. It was overwhelming and highly unwelcome. He couldn't imagine approaching Ron or Hermione with this problem. For one thing, their new relationship was, to say the least, a bit of an exclusive club. Harry felt more isolated than ever.
Making matters even more unbearable, Snape had brought Draco Malfoy to Grimmauld Place a month or so after Dumbledore's funeral. To Harry's surprise, everyone had reluctantly accepted Malfoy's presence once they had digested the news that Snape's actions had actually been at Dumbledore's request. The news that Malfoy's father had been killed in Azkaban by Death Eaters and that his mother had been found dead by her own hand at the Manor helped considerably. Malfoy clearly had nowhere to go and plenty of reasons to hate Voldemort.
Harry reckoned that Malfoy's changed demeanor also did no small part to ingratiate him. Shockingly, as soon as Malfoy emerged from a week-long mourning period, he proved to be most useful around the mansion in the ongoing refurbishing. While, predictably, he knew no cleaning charms and passively resisted being taught, on his second day in the house he surprised everyone by volunteering to clean manually by himself. Moreover, he offered to do this in rooms previously neglected based on their hopeless appearance. Harry suspected Malfoy had made this offer not only to placate the members of the Order who dwelt in the house, but also because it gave him the opportunity to snoop around in the house of his nearest remaining relatives.
While Malfoy was proving to be a lamb in wolf's clothing, Harry's fantasies were becoming increasingly depraved and frequent. He found himself, on some particularly bad days, unable to look anyone in the eye. In response, he withdrew, rarely venturing out of his room except for food.
One afternoon, about a month after Malfoy's arrival, he and Harry happened to be in the kitchen at the same time. Harry was getting some biscuits to take back to his room, while Malfoy did a complicated ritual with a coffee pot. Consciously trying to suppress any unbidden mental images, Harry asked Malfoy how he was doing. It came out stiff and insincere. Harry expected a sarcastic, sneering remark about the standard of living Malfoy was accustomed to. However, Malfoy only bent his head and responded politely that he was glad to be safe. Harry was still trying to think of an appropriate response when Ginny walked in.
Ginny wasn't allowed by her mother to come by very often, and when she did come it was invariably to see Harry and to make him feel bad about how he was treating her. The last time she came, she pushed him a little too hard about why he wouldn't touch her. So, long story short: he had touched her. The experience was clearly a bit more intense than she had been prepared for, however. She'd fled in tears.
Harry couldn't imagine why she had been allowed to come back.
"Harry, I've come to say something," she announced, looking stoic and self-righteous. It was more than Harry could stand. Clearly, an indictment of his depraved mind was forthcoming, and he wanted no part of it. He left the kitchen with all haste, not even sparing her an excuse or parting shot.
****
As soon as Harry had left the kitchen, Ginny began crying. Malfoy felt uncomfortable, but realized he had to say something, if only for the sake of appearances.
"What's going on, Weasley? Are you okay?"
"Harry won't even talk to me anymore," she spat out. "What do you care, anyway?"
Draco was at a loss. He suddenly realized he did care about the situation, although not about her feelings. "I was just curious," he admitted candidly.
Ginny hesitated for a moment and then muttered, "Yeah, so was I. And look where it got me."
Malfoy took a moment to puzzle this out. Coming to no obvious conclusion, he asked, "About what?"
Ginny gave him a pained look and pushed her way through the door. He heard Mrs. Black start screeching a moment before the front door slammed shut.
*****
Later that evening, members of the Order of the Phoenix went on a mission, once again excluding Harry and telling him virtually nothing. When he discovered what had happened, he seethed in the library for awhile and then went to find Malfoy, violent images fogging his brain. Somewhere in his subterranean depths he knew he was off to pick a fight, but he didn't care to admit it to himself in so many words. An image of Malfoy sucking him off flashed in amongst the scenes of punching and kicking, images of thrusting and biting, but he was too angry to care. He came across his broom on his way through the suffocating atmosphere of the house and picked it up.
He eventually found Malfoy in Regulus' old room, scrubbing the floor on his hands and knees. His shirt had ridden up, his pants slung too low and revealing the crack of his arse. Harry's first thought was to rip those pants the rest of the way down and thwack him with the broom he was holding - he had a vivid mental image of Malfoy's buttocks red and heated, his breathing hitched and erratic. A familiar stirring in his pants warned him it was far too dangerous to touch Malfoy, even in anger. He blurted out, "You want to go flying?"
*****
Draco had heard Potter enter the room and turned around, still on his knees. Potter looked like he wanted to do something painful to him. Maybe I'll let him, he thought.
"Potter," Draco said carefully. "I have no broom."
"Right." Potter sounded embarrassed at having missed this obvious point. "Well, we can take turns," he said belligerently.
"Where, exactly?" Draco tried not to drawl, he really did. He simply had this speech impediment that made everything he said sound sarcastic even when he was trying to be sincere.
"Goddammit!" Potter threw down the broom. "Why can't I ever do anything? Why do people keep saying no to me? I'm supposed to be so fucking important, but I never get anything I want!" He was breathing heavily, putting Draco in mind of some fantasies he'd been having lately. Draco felt his cock stir but paid it no mind.
"Few people do. What is it that you want?"
There was silence for the space of a breath or two.
"You want to punch me?"
Potter still didn't respond. He was still breathing heavily from his little outburst and doing his ten-yard stare.
"Surely you didn't actually come in here to ask me to go flying with you?"
*****
Harry looked at his broom on the floor. Had he wanted to go flying? Why did he even have the broom in the first place? He suddenly felt very wrong footed.
"Umm... No." Harry looked around, trying to avoid the sight of Malfoy on his knees and flushed from the exertion of scrubbing the floor.
"Well?" Malfoy said, sounding like he was placating a madman.
Harry decided to go on the offensive. "What are you doing in here anyway? Scrubbing the floor like Cinderella?"
As he said this, an incredibly detailed picture invaded Harry's head, of Malfoy in a fluffy white princess dress and tiara. Red splotches bloomed on Harry's cheeks. Fantasy-Malfoy, though in a very ladylike dress, was in a very unladylike position in this particular vision. And Fantasy-Harry didn't seem so gallant either, pounding away at him like that.
"Like who?"
"Never mind." Harry turned to walk out. He had lost his original intention of beating Malfoy to a pulp some time ago, and this conversation and the ensuing images were just too much. Since when had he and Malfoy ever had a civil conversation, anyway? It was too weird and it wasn't what Harry wanted.
"Wait. I'll tell you why."
"Why what?" he said over his shoulder
"Why I'm scrubbing this floor."
"Uh, okay." Harry reluctantly turned around, hoping Malfoy was not on his knees anymore. That position was entirely too provocative. He was relieved to find that Draco had settled on the floor with his legs crossed before him.
"I want this to be my room."
Harry struggled to think of reason why to say no and couldn't. "Okay. That makes...sense."
"It's sort of symbolic, I guess. The Reformed Death Eaters' Suite, right? Also, I'm tired of living in fear that Fred and George are going to drop by and try to sleep in their old room with me. That room freaks me out, actually. Who knows what they got up to in there?"
Harry looked scandalized but huffed out a little laugh. "What do you mean?"
"Don't they seem unnaturally close to you? They do me."
Harry's eyes took on an uncharacteristic gleam. "They do you?" he smirked.
"Oh, ha ha. I'm sure they would if given half a chance. If they could keep their hands off each other, that is."
"Incest, Malfoy? You have a dirty mind." Harry was sheepishly pleased by this observation.
"It's not unheard of in Pureblood families."
"In yours, for instance?"
"Don't sound so high and mighty, Potter, you're part pureblood yourself. Besides, it's kind of hot."
"Fred and George? Hot?!"
"God, no! Augh!" Draco covered his eyes theatrically. "Ginger! Freckles!"
Harry was snickering by now, feeling dirty yet strangely comforted. It began to dawn on him that perhaps he could talk to Malfoy about some of the - stuff - that had been going on in his head.
"Yeah, well... I don't think that's really going on, no matter what you say. But I think you can have this room, if you want it."
"Yeah. I do. Thanks. It's just- "
At the same time, Harry said "D'you ever-"
"No, you go first."
"No, you." He wasn't quite ready to discuss his problem with this stranger who looked like Malfoy.
"Um. What's got you so riled up, anyway?"
"Order mission. Not allowed to go. Again. And no information on what it is, either."
"I know how you feel," Malfoy said.
"I doubt it."
"Well, maybe not. But I was expected to be an instrumental part - strike that, I was expected to be an instrument, a tool - in a plan I never understood. And I wasn't ever going to get the full story, like I wasn't worth it. I wasn't trusted. I was just expected to risk everything, my life, my family..."
Harry snorted.
"What?" Malfoy looked pissed off.
"Yeah, that does sound familiar. I hadn't thought of it that way." Harry abruptly sobered. "It's not really that, though."
"Oh, so it's not having to defeat an evil overlord with the so-called assistance of a bunch of misfits who simultaneously treat you like a god and an infant that's got you down? What is it, then? Girl troubles?"
"Yeah, Malfoy, I got my first period today," Harry deadpanned. The merest hint of a smirk tugged the corner of his mouth.
Malfoy started laughing, harder than Harry had ever seen him. When he finally opened his eyes and wiped the tears away, Harry was grinning at him and shaking his head.
"I can't tell you what it is, Malfoy. You'll never let me hear the end of it, you'll definitely use it against me. Never give a Slytherin ammunition."
"It's a good policy." Malfoy gave Harry an appraising stare. "But I promise I won't tell. Who would I tell anyway? The weasel-"
Harry gave him a sharp look.
"Sorry, Weasley - would shove his fist down my throat as soon as I opened my mouth."
This graphic phrase did nothing for Harry's equilibrium. He blanched at the image of something else all the way down Malfoy's throat, Harry's fist clenched in that soft blond hair. Not that it wasn't an enticing image, just -
"Ron's ... not as violent as all that," he managed to say.
"It was just an expression. Merlin, Harry, what's wrong?"
Harry paused at Malfoy's use of his first name, but decided not to comment on it. "D'you ever have thoughts you couldn't control?"
*****
Potter's question took Draco off-guard. "Like what kind of thoughts?" he asked. He wanted to ask if they were sexual, but he figured Harry would bolt.
"Well... they started out like... sexy... about sex and stuff. They still are, a lot of the time."
Hurrah, said Draco's mind. "That's perfectly normal for a 17 year-old male," said Draco's mouth.
"Uh huh. Just wait. Like I said, it started out like that - blowjobs, handjobs, stuff like that. But they're getting dirtier."
Now Draco's mind was rubbing its figurative hands together in glee. "This sounds better and better all the time. I had no idea you were even able to contemplate such things."
"It's wrong. Sometimes, these fantasies, they're. Well, they're sort of... violent."
"That's not wrong. In fact, that makes perfect sense."
"Huh? How?"
"Well, you feel out of control in your life, so naturally you're going to have some pent-up aggression. If you want the violent sex fantasies to stop, you're going to have to act out in real life a bit."
"Okay, Malfoy: one, where did you pick up the Muggle self-help book, and two, how am I supposed to act out... no! I can't even- it's too - it's just disgusting. I can't do it."
"But I'm right. You have these urges and you have no outlet for them. And you need one."
"I just feel all this energy that -I just. Fuck!" Harry abruptly sat down, a scant foot away from Draco. He scooted back a few more inches and leaned back on his hands.
"It would be nice, wouldn't it?"
"What?"
"A fuck."
"Oh. Yeah."
Neither boy said anything for a few moments, Draco wondering if he'd gone too far with his little word-play, as Harry looked fairly unsettled. He wasn't leaving, though. That was something.
"Potter... that's why it's better with blokes."
"What? What is?"
"Men are dirtier. They're hornier. Sometimes they like it rough." Draco hoped he didn't look too pathetically eager. He licked his lips. You look like you're gagging for it,his brain helpfully informed him.
Luckily, Harry wasn't looking at him. He just sat there, staring at the floor. But he wasn't leaving. Draco decided to press on.
"What kind of fantasies are these, anyway? Who's in them?"
"Well..." Harry let out a heavy sigh. "Ginny."
"Of course. Right." Draco couldn't keep the derision out of his voice. He prayed that at least it would cover the disappointment.
"Yeah, 'of course. right.' She's... she was my girlfriend." Harry paused. "And other people."
"Ooh, what other people? The Mudblood?" Draco knew he sounded even more derisive now, but he couldn't help it. It was stupid to be bitter that Harry was straight.
"What the fuck, Malfoy?" Harry suddenly sat up and looked directly at Draco, leaning forward. "Don't use that word about her ever again."
"Okay, okay, Granger then."
"No, god no! Not Hermione! Just. ..other people, okay?"
"Right. Got it. And what's going on? Do you touch yourself when you have these fantasies?"
Harry shot him a look but apparently decided it was a fair question. "Um, sometimes."
"How?"
"Through my clothes, mostly."
"Through your clothes? Potter, you're doing it wrong!"
Harry looked mortified. "Well, it's... so what? It still feels good! What difference does it make?"
Draco couldn't help but laugh. "It makes a lot of difference, believe me. Show me what you've been doing."
"What? No!"
Normally, this was the time Draco would start making fun of Harry for being a prude, but now it actually seemed like they were getting someplace. Taunts and insults were for times when he didn't have Harry's attention. Now he appeared to have Harry's full concentration and they would just be a distraction.
"C'mon, Harry, I'll show you how I do it, if you show me how you do it." He was already unbuttoning the trousers he'd been given by Fred his first day here. Even if things never went any farther than this, even if Potter clocked him for being gross and perverted, this was the most exciting thing that had happened in months. Ever, maybe.
Potter opened his mouth, then closed it again. He shifted around uncomfortably and ran his hand through his hair. "I'll just watch you and see how I feel. After."
Again, had this been a normal situation, Draco would have insisted that turnabout is fair play and all that rot, but it wasn't. There was nothing normal about him taking his pants down in front of Potter and displaying the erection he had been half-heartedly trying to conceal for the past few minutes.
"See? Even just talking about it gets me..." He took his cock in one hand and gave a long, gentle stroke. Harry's face was flushed and it looked like he wanted to look away but couldn't. "God, this feels good. You should try it." Draco chanced a glance over at Harry. Harry looked distinctly uncomfortable but also distinctly interested.
"I... don't think that's such a good idea," he said, his tone suggesting that he could possibly be persuaded.
"Harry, it's just fucking around." Draco gave his cock another tug. "And it's fucking fun. You've got to do it with somebody, and I'm not saying no." He punctuated this with a breathy moan.
*****
Harry could hardly believe this wasn't just another unbidden mental image. It was so very like one of his own fantasies, except Malfoy would usually have his hands around Harry's cock and not his own. Not that he particularly wanted or needed Malfoy to touch him just now- he wasn't prepared for the other boy to discover how much he turned Harry on.
The other major difference between this and one of Harry's fantasies was the exquisite detail - the exact contours of Malfoy's prick, the golden hairs curling at the base of his cock, the way his cheeks were slightly flushed, the little sighing noises of pleasure he was making, the sounds of his cock and his hand slapping together.
The fog of anger from earlier had returned, only now it had transformed into unfettered lust. It clouded Harry's mind and made it hard for him to think of reasons not to just do this.
"Take it off," Harry muttered, his voice practically a growl.
*****
Draco wasted no time complying. He'd looked pretty dire when he first arrived at Grimmauld Place, but in the intervening time, physical labor and regular meals had given him back a decent physique. Plus, he hadn't been touched in what seemed like a lifetime, so if Harry wanted access to his body, Harry got it. Within moments Draco was wearing nothing but his birthday suit, exposed and vulnerable.
Harry's hand was at his crotch, rubbing furtively while his eyes brazenly tracked Draco's every movement. Draco made a firm decision to set aside his lingering stage fright and put on a show. He stepped up the pace of his stroking and moaning and was delighted to note (out of the corner of his eye) the corresponding increase in the urgency with which Harry touched himself.
"Unbutton them," he ordered, referring to Harry's pants that still obscured his erection.
Harry met his gaze with a glazed look and rose to fumble with his belt buckle. When he had his jeans down around his hips, Draco said "Scratch that." Harry paused, looking confused. "Take it all off."
Grunting softly, Harry stripped off his jeans and tore off his shirt. He stood there, hard and panting, looking at Draco with his arms hanging uncertainly but his cock at unequivocal attention.
Draco's mind gabbled wildly in exultation, but he was careful not to let his expression betray his emotions. Potter's body was, in a word, godly. Draco wanted to worship it, pray to it, offer himself to it. It was meant to be caressed and licked and spanked and fucked, and he sincerely wanted to be the one doing the caressing and licking and spanking and fucking.
"Come here." Draco could hardly believe his boldness. He felt drunk with desire, heady with the realization that finally something was happening.
"I want to suck your cock, Harry. I want to put my mouth on it-" Draco broke off as Harry had stepped close enough for him to do exactly as he wished. He stared at Harry's erection, transfixed by the sight and smell of it. Before he quite knew what he was doing, he had it in his mouth and was licking and sucking as though his life depended on it. In fact, it felt like he might die if he didn't taste Harry's come on his tongue, post haste.
Harry's hips bucked towards him, causing his cock to ram the back of Draco's throat rather painfully. It felt great.
Before Draco could even get used to the feel of Harry's cock in his mouth, Harry was coming, spasming and shaking and crying out. Draco was both honored by this uninhibited release and disappointed that it was over so fast. He hoped to all the gods in Heaven that Harry wouldn't be weird about this now that he'd gotten his rocks off.
Moments later, it was clear that Draco's prayers had either been unnecessary, or had been answered with uncharacteristic alacrity. Harry was reaching for Draco's cock with shaky but sure hands. He grasped it firmly, and Draco praised Godric Gryffindor for all his headstrong recklessness and courage. Draco had been much more tentative the first time he'd touched someone else's cock. Unless....
"Pretty good for your first time," he said shakily.
*****
"That's... that's good," was all Harry could get out. His entire attention was on his hand, and on what was in his hand. It was just fucking amazing - Draco's cock felt so soft and smooth and hard and warm, and it smelled unbelievable.
"Can I..." he said as he lowered himself down, but before he got an answer, before he even got the question out, he'd sucked the cock into his mouth. He tried to copy what Draco had done, doing his damnedest to give as good as he got. He wasn't going to let Draco win at anything, not even cocksucking.
*****
Draco was glad he was so turned on, because Harry definitely needed some practice at this. Nevertheless, the fact that it was Harry's head bobbing away down there, Harry's mouth and tongue working him over, Harry's moans that he heard muffled by his own prick...
"Oh fuck, Harry! I'm gonna..."
Draco shot his load down Harry's throat, spasming helplessly but still able to note that Harry had swallowed it. He felt warm, almost giddy, with the knowledge.
They sat there, breathing hard in the aftermath. Draco slowly lifted his head to look at Harry, and found himself meeting a piercing gaze. His heart contracted painfully - he knew that if Harry decided this had been a mistake, or that it just hadn't been any good, life was going to be that much less worth living. This might have been a terrible idea.
*****
Harry looked at Malfoy, knowing he was seeing him for the first time. Or maybe the second - watching him toss off had been rather eye-opening, actually. He felt the silence grow uncomfortable as he tried to work out a way to propose they continue this... whatever.
"We have got to keep meeting like this," he said, a nervous giggle mercifully suppressed. "I've got some fantasies I'd like to... what did you say? 'Act out.' You up for it, or are you scared?"
"Oh, I'm up for it."
Harry looked pointedly at Draco's now-flaccid cock.
"Come on - I just came!"
"Okay, fair enough," Harry ceded, laughing. "Tomorrow, then. There's an Order meeting tomorrow, and I'm sure I'm going to be pretty wound up afterwards."
"Good to know."
The look Draco gave Harry made him shiver, and he hoped he'd have some inventive new fantasy to act out with him tomorrow. Maybe, he thought, having a dirty mind wasn't such a bad thing after all.