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Was Potter still on the grounds with Granger? Was he at the match? Somewhere else? In the castle? Draco had no idea.

He stopped to catch his breath. A quick look around told him he was near the Entrance Hall. He'd been running without a clear goal. He had to pick a sensible direction.

Although, he wasn't in such a big hurry now, was he? If Blaise was right, reporting Draco for casting a love spell wasn't the drastic, final decision Potter had planned to make. What was it, then?

Maybe Potter wanted to break up and never see him again. Draco laughed. How drastic and final. He'd lose a boyfriend he never had.

Draco fell silent, looking around. Laughing out loud while alone in a corridor wasn't the sanest thing to do. His laughter had sounded maniacal to his own ears. Maybe he was crazy after all. Honestly, a nervous breakdown seemed like an emotionally safer option. He knew how to deal with that. Pansy had done it. There was a potion for it. But how was he supposed to deal with his father Obliviating him? With memories of being with Potter locked in his mind? Would he ever get them back? Memory charms were tricky, and there were all kinds of them. What if he had lost those memories forever? How it all happened, how he felt about it, their first kiss, the apparent happiness Blaise talked about.

And even if Potter believed him and agreed to describe it all, it would never feel real.

But it couldn't have been real. What if all his theories were true? What if he had lost his mind? And then he'd cast a love spell on Potter? And then his father Obliviated him?

The massive Hogwarts door burst open, and a large group of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs walked in. Their chatter was unusually low and subdued. They must have lost the match. Which was just wonderful. Now Potter would be even angrier.

Draco considered fleeing. Talking to Potter first was a risk. He should try Madam Pomfrey.

A dozen students headed for the Great Hall for dinner, but a number of older Gryffindors lingered, apparently for no other reason than to give Draco odd looks. Potter was with them; Draco only noticed him when he moved to the front, looking very surprised.

"What happened?" Potter asked, and everyone fell silent, staring at Draco.

For a horrifying moment, Draco thought that there was yet again something everyone knew except him, but then he realised — he must have looked a sight. He felt hot and sweaty from all the running in the heavy travelling cloak; his hair must have been a right mess, too. And he must have looked as confused and terrified as he felt.

"I was just—" Draco fell silent, unnerved by having that many Gryffindors watching him as though he were about to say something shocking. If he were them, he'd assume he was there to mock them for losing the match. He must have looked worse than he could imagine. Potter didn't even look angry anymore, just worried.

Draco's chest constricted. To think Potter was worried about him, to think he had Conjured silken sheets for him despite being hurt and angry. Was being with Potter always like this? Was this one of the things Draco was forced to forget?

He wanted it back.

Draco sucked in a breath and looked Potter in the eye. "I need to talk to you. In private."

"What happened?" Ginny Weasley burst out. "Did someone attack you?" She looked behind Draco as though she expected to see a monster there, chasing him. Several people went for their wands.

People panicked easily these days, Draco reflected.

Potter at least seemed to realise there were no monsters around. "Er, sure. We can go outside," he said, then looked between Granger and Weasley.

"Come on, you lot. I'm hungry," Ron Weasley said, apparently understanding Potter's silent message.

"Yes! Quite hungry," Granger agreed, tugging on Ginny's arm and pulling her towards the Great Hall. Some of the Gryffindors followed them, but others weren't that easy to convince.

Potter walked over, looking as though he wanted to grab Draco's forearm but thought better of it. "Come on," he said and headed for the exit.

They didn't go far. Potter paused at the steps and turned towards Draco. Several students lingered in the Entrance Hall, craning their necks, but Draco ignored them and faced Potter.

"That was rather public," Potter said.

Draco couldn't help feeling insulted. Was their relationship a secret because Potter was ashamed of him? "Did you mind?"

It was the wrong thing to say. "Did I mind?" Potter looked angry again.

Draco wished he knew what was truly happening. Then he'd know what to say next. Vagueness was his friend, he concluded. "My father was here on Saturday," he said.

Potter blinked in obvious confusion, but then comprehension crept into his expression. Along with more anger. "I see. Well, that's just great. I suppose it explains everything. I mean, everything except why you let him control your life. Draco, we talked about —"

Potter saying his name gave Draco courage. "I don't remember it."

Potter frowned. "What?"

"I don't remember him being here. I was told he was here. And apparently he talked to me. We were seen." Draco studied Potter's face, looking for clues. Something that would make things clear to him: should he explain himself further or run?

"I don't—" Potter shook his head. "I don't understand what you're saying."

"I'm saying there's a lot I don't remember. These past few months are a blur. I remember studying and… That's pretty much it."

"I... I don't believe you. You're making this up."

"Why? Why would I do that?"

"I don't know! Because... Look, Malfoy, if you want to end this, that's fine. As a matter of fact, I want to break up, too. So you don't have to— why are you smiling?" Potter looked unnerved, but Draco felt so light he thought the next gust of wind might blow him away.

"Break up? You want to break up?"

"No need to look so pleased about it, Malfoy!"

"So it's true? There's something to break?"

"Stop it!" Potter jerked away, and Draco realised he'd been clutching Potter's shoulders. "You're lying. You remembered everything just fine yesterday." Potter no longer sounded completely sure, so Draco pressed on.

"But I didn't. I just didn't want to show it. I thought it was some sort of joke. That you were pretending we were an item to mock me. Or that you were under some kind of love spell."

Potter took another step back. "That's ridiculous. You're ridiculous. If you want to pretend that the last two months never happened, then go ahead. I can do it, too."

"Two months?" Draco was temporarily distracted. "We've been together for two months? And we didn't have sex yet? What are we, twelve?"

Potter blinked. "We did have sex."

"Then what was yesterday about?" Judging by the way Potter had been acting, Draco thought yesterday was supposed to be their first time.

Potter stepped closer and peered into Draco's eyes, as though he'd find an answer there. His chest rose and fell rapidly. "You really don't remember?" he asked with a healthy dose of caution, but Draco was sure his tone was full of hope. Potter wanted to believe him. "Do you remember the snow fight?"

Draco remembered many snow fights, but he had a feeling he didn't remember the one Potter was referring to. "We had a snow fight. My God, we are twelve."

"But it can't be. If you don't remember any of it, you wouldn't be here. You hated me before. You wouldn't care. You'd be glad you lost those memories."

Draco had to laugh at that, if somewhat bitterly. "My father would have to erase at least two years from my mind to make me not care. I don't know what happened to you in this snow fight, but it happened to me long before that."

Potter's eyes widened. "You never told me that."

"Oh." Draco smiled, abashed. "I must have had a reason. Which I can't remember."

Potter was the one clutching Draco's arms now. He looked hopeful, excited, worried. "We should go see Pomfrey."

"Yes. Yes, we should."

Potter seemed surprised Draco had agreed so easily, and he took Draco's hand, pulling him towards the castle.

Draco allowed himself to be dragged, imagining all kinds of horrible scenarios. Like Pomfrey saying there was nothing wrong with his memory. Or finding something wrong only to declare she can't fix it. Or Draco remembering everything and realising he had given Potter a love potion during the snow fight. He should have asked Potter whether he had drunk any Firewhisky yesterday. Taken a sip at least.

"If Pomfrey can't help, maybe Hermione can," Potter was saying. He sounded anxious. "She restored her parents' memories without a glitch. She did so much research on the subject. She knows all the experts on Memory charms." They entered the Hospital Wing, which was empty. "Maybe she's at supper. I'll check her office." Potter gave Draco's hand a little squeeze and ran off.

Draco sat up on one of the hospital beds, not trusting his shaky legs to support him much longer. Mercifully, he had no time to mentally go through worst scenarios again because Madam Pomfrey walked in, waving her wand and grumbling. "Another Quidditch accident, is it? I swear this sport ought to be banned."

Potter hurried back to Draco's side. "No. We think he's been Obliviated."

Draco hated how unsure Potter sounded, but then again Draco didn't trust himself either.

"Oh my!" Pomfrey grabbed Draco's chin and turned his head this way and that, peering into his eyes. "Who was it? When? Any other symptoms? Headaches?"

Draco chose to answer the safest question. "Yes, headaches."

"Anxiety?" Pomfrey pointed her wand at Draco's forehead. "Paranoia?"

"Er, yes." He didn't realise anxiety and paranoia could be symptoms. It gave him hope, but it was still hard not to be apprehensive when Pomfrey said, "Let's see, then," and muttered a spell. Draco closed his eyes.

"Hmmm," she said. "There's nothing here… Oh wait, there it is." Draco sucked in a breath and opened his eyes. "A bit of a tangle, it seems. Quite contained. Well, that's fortunate. There's no tissue damage. Whoever did this was careful not to harm your brain function."

"I'll send them a thank you note," Draco said. It really happened, then. His father really did it. Draco wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about that. Angry, probably, but he was mostly disappointed. And to think he had believed his father couldn't disappoint him any more than he already had.

"Quite a skilled spell for a... Hogwarts student?" Pomfrey's eyebrow was raised.

"Mmm," Draco said noncommittally.

Pomfrey looked like she wanted to say more but thought better of it. She was usually good about not asking too many questions.

"Can you restore his memories?" Potter asked. He was clutching Draco's hand again. Draco hadn't even noticed. It was a warm, welcome comfort. He squeezed Potter's hand more tightly, worried Potter might pull away.

"It's likely, yes." Pomfrey was frowning. "I'll need you to drink a potion for protection. The side effects of the spell I must use can be overwhelming. The potion will make you feel a bit lightheaded, though."

Draco recognised a euphemism when he heard one. "Please, no potions. I'm sure I can handle it." The last thing he needed was more potions affecting his brain and making him feel like he wasn't himself.

Potter seemed to have understood. "I'm sure he can, Madam Pomfrey," he said in a charming way that Draco was sure would make everyone do what he asked. Pomfrey was immune to it, though.

"If I say he needs a potion, then he needs a potion," she said tartly and headed for the cabinets on the other side of the room.

Draco seized the moment to whisper urgently at Potter. "Did you drink any Firewhisky at all yesterday?"

Potter looked very confused. "What? Why? No."

Draco's heart sank. Potter could still be under a love spell. "Not even a sip?"

Potter shook his head. "What are you —?"

Pomfrey was back. "Drink this," she ordered, handing him a phial, and Draco obeyed, knowing it was pointless to argue. Then she gripped Draco's chin again and said, "Stay very still."

Draco clutched Potter's hand as Pomfrey shot a spell at his forehead. The effect was immediate, taking Draco's breath away with its intensity. It felt as though someone threw him headfirst into a cold lake.

Memories flooded his mind without order or reason. But even more intense than that was the onslaught of emotions, which replaced the emptiness filled with nothing but studying and routine. He remembered the joy of his morning flights, lingering anger at being kicked off the team, sadness that hit him every time he saw Crabbe's empty bed. He remembered worrying about Pansy, who was fighting depression and was getting steadily worse. He had switched her Calming Draught with apple juice because she was mixing it with other potions and it was doing her no good.

He remembered catching Blaise and Barnaby in bed one day. They were worried, thinking Draco would spread the story. They'd calmed down only after Draco confessed he was quite gay himself and promised he wouldn't tell a soul. Barnaby had shaken his hand, saying, "You're all right," and Blaise had been helping Draco with his Transfiguration homework ever since.

More than three months had been taken away and some things before that in patches. Pieces of his memory were coming together, and Draco remembered Potter now, too. Memories of him burned slowly, outshining all others, as though his mind struggled to present them with care. Maybe that was a part of Pomfrey's spell. To make the intense ones unfold carefully.

He remembered the snow fight. It happened just after Christmas holidays. He'd been freezing in an ambush, waiting for Potter to walk past, so he could dump as much snow in his face as possible. It was meant to be a prank, a way to piss Potter off, to make him notice Draco and glare at him the way he used to glare. But it turned into a battle, harmless snowballs their only weapon. They were out there for hours, having too much fun to be angry. Potter's cheeks were pink, and he laughed whenever one of his snowballs found its mark. His laughter was infectious, as were his good spirits. They wobbled to the castle, like two frozen fools, and Potter said, "We should do this again."

So they did it again. And again and again. And now Draco knew which snow fight Potter was talking about. Not the first one, but the one that happened weeks later. When the fight resulted in Potter pushing Draco down on his back, straddling him, and then instead of feeding him snow, he kissed him. He remembered how it felt. How the kiss warmed his frozen bones. How shocked Potter was even though he initiated it. Potter had run away; it was the first time Draco saw Potter running from something. It had given Draco the courage to go after him and kiss him back.

More kissing followed, in cupboards and broom sheds, hidden passageways and every dark corner the Hogwarts castle possessed.

And it wasn't just kissing. Draco definitely remembered the sex now. Their messy, nerve-wracking first time that resulted in embarrassment rather than orgasms; their diligent future efforts with much more pleasurable results.

His mind lingered on their last encounter. It happened on Friday night, a day before the Quidditch match. They'd been lying on the floor of a hidden passageway, on top of their cloaks and robes. Draco trailed his fingertips against the smooth skin of Harry's inner thighs, gathering courage. "Maybe, we could do it a bit differently sometime," he had said, his fingers slipping boldly between Potter's legs. Potter squirmed, grabbed Draco's wrist and said, "Er, sure. Sometime." Draco didn't know if that was a promise or rejection. But Potter blushed and added, "Match tomorrow, remember? I'll have to sit on my broom for hours. So. Sunday, though. We'll do fun things on Sunday."

"Quidditch is stupid," Draco had grumbled, and Potter had kissed his grumpiness away.

They talked about Quidditch all the time. It was a safe subject. It was even safe to fight about it. But he remembered other conversations, too. More serious ones about the war. It was never safe to fight about that but fight they did. About who they were and who they should be, about charging forward and clinging to shadows. Draco definitely didn't want to charge. He wanted to keep their relationship secret. He expected they wouldn't last. There was no need to risk his future and inheritance for it.

But he was beginning to change his mind.

He remembered writing a letter to his mother, telling her of his classes and friends and hinting of something more happening with Potter. His father showed up at Hogwarts two days after he had sent that letter. Draco remembered his horror turning to numbness as his father pointed a wand at his head and said, "You ate, you slept, you studied. There were no distractions. Nothing of importance happened; nothing else mattered. Especially Potter."

"Well?" Pomfrey's impatient question pulled Draco back to present. "Don't leave us in suspense! Did you get your memories back or not?"

Draco felt his face stretch into a smile he could not control. "I remember."

Potter tugged on his hand. "All of it?" His eyes were wide and worried, and they seemed so different now that Draco had the memory of them staring down at him as Potter rolled his hips and pushed inside him.

Excitement bubbled in Draco's chest. It was as though he felt too many things at once. He was grateful for Pomfrey's potion now. "I hope it's all of it," he said. "If there's more…" Draco grinned even wider. "I'd blame the loss of memory on sheer exhaustion."

Potter tried to — unsuccessfully — hide his embarrassed laugh with a cough, and Draco remembered Pomfrey was still there beside them. "That was quite a potent potion you gave me there, Madam Pomfrey," he said.

Pomfrey stared at their joined hands. "Clearly. All right, then." She cast another quick spell at Draco's head, looking pleased with the result. "Off you go. I'm afraid you won't get a note. You're fine. Return if you develop a headache, but I'll know if you're lying, so don't even bother."

"Thank you," Potter said and tugged on Draco's hand again. Draco hopped off the bed, grateful for being pulled away before he said something even more embarrassing in front of Pomfrey.

"Mr Malfoy!" Pomfrey stopped them. She hesitated for a moment, then said, "If there's anything you feel you need to tell the Headmistress, she's in her office all evening." Her expression was kind and full of concern.

Draco nodded, knowing he wouldn't accept that offer — this was his father and his problem — but he appreciated it all the same.

His heart soared the moment they reached the corridor. He pushed Potter against the wall and kissed him with ease and familiarity that was still somehow new and exhilarating. How could he have forgotten this? How could he have suspected love potions and nervous breakdowns when nothing ever felt more real?

"I'm so sorry," Potter was babbling in between kisses. "I should have realised. I should have noticed."

Draco shook his head. "Now I know whose fault this is, Potter, and it's not yours."

"It's not yours either."

"Maybe. But I know what I should have done to prevent it."

"How did he find out?"

"I'm assuming by intercepting a letter I sent to my mother. I didn't tell her everything; I kept it vague. He must have thought that if he made me forget, there would be no one to make me remember."

Potter's expression was tight, his jaw clenched. "What do you want us to do? What do you want me to do?" He looked ready to charge the Malfoy Manor and bring Draco's father to justice.

Draco had to smile. "Don't worry about it. We should let Mother handle it. I can't think of a worse punishment."

"I can," Potter said darkly.

Draco steeled his voice as he said, "This is his loss, not mine. He's the only one who will suffer the consequences here."

Potter looked miserable. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I should have noticed."

"I'm sure you would have had I reacted like a normal person."

Potter shook his head. "I can imagine how confusing it must have been. We have quite a history. I'm surprised I survived after ambushing you all over the castle. If hexing me was the normal reaction you were supposed to have, I'm glad you resisted."

"Honestly, I just didn't want it to stop. I wanted it to be real." Draco couldn't stop staring at Potter's face. The way Potter looked at him, with softness and emotion — Draco suspected he would never get enough of it.

"It was real. It is." Potter kissed him again, long and slow this time.

"Hmm," Draco murmured. "I was wondering where I learned to kiss like that."

Potter grinned. "By snogging half the Slytherin house. Or so you claimed."

Oh. Apparently, Draco was still fuzzy on some of the details. He waved it off. "I'm sure you never believed that anyway. You were my first real kiss. I had a practice session with Pansy once, but it was very awkward... What?"

Potter was studying him, his bottom lip between his teeth. "You're all about confessions today."

"Ah. Well, who knows what all these potions did to my brain? And also... keeping secrets hasn't worked out for me so well, has it? In fact…" Draco stepped back, pulling Potter with him. "There's something we should do. Right now."

"Have a celebratory shag?" Potter asked with a grin.

"No. Well, yes, but not right now. First, we're going to the Great Hall."

"Oh. That's good, too. I'm famished."

"Mmm," Draco said noncommittally. Eating wasn't really what he had in mind, but he said nothing as they walked down to the Entrance Hall. It was one of the most pleasant walks in his life. A part of him felt ridiculous for walking around holding Potter's hand, but another part refused to stop being giddy about it. They hadn't done that before, but Potter didn't seem to find it odd. However, he did look down at their joined hands uncertainly once they reached the Great Hall's entrance and Draco paused in the doorway. Students and teachers were busy eating and chatting, paying no attention to them. Pansy was looking their way, though, with a deep frown, her fork halfway to her mouth.

"Er, so," Potter said. "I need help here." He gently tugged on Draco's hand. "I'm thinking, if I don't pull away, you'll be angry; if I do pull away, you'll be angry. I need to know your plan."

Draco pulled Potter close, wrapping his arms around his waist. "This is my plan."

Potter stared at him, blinking. "I see. That's a very public plan." He looked around the Hall. "Not really what I had in mind when I said I want to stop hiding."

"Oh. Sorry." Draco tried to pull away, but Potter pulled him back.

"No, I get it. You father can't Obliviate half of Hogwarts."

"Yes, there's that." Draco bit his lip. "But also I just want everyone to know."

Potter laughed. "I don't think I can handle this level of honesty."

"I'm afraid you'll have to get used to it. I just a made a resolution. I plan to test it on my father, too, by writing him a letter to tell him — honestly — that he's a giant bag of dicks."

"What about... possible financial repercussions?"

That had always been one of Draco's arguments against making their relationship public. But he had reconsidered. He shrugged. "I don't plan to go back home, anyway. I do plan to get straight Os on my N.E.W.T.s. And I have a wealthy, famous boyfriend. I'll be fine." The best part was Draco truly believed that.

Potter beamed at him. "Not that wealthy, I'm sure, but I think I can afford to feed you."

"That's very kind of you."

"Well, then..." Potter pressed closer. "I think your famous boyfriend is about to become even more famous for shagging Draco Malfoy. But, you know, I'm so often accused of deliberately grabbing public attention it's only fair I do it deliberately at least once. Besides..." He glanced at the Hall that seemed much quieter. "It's too late to back down now."

Heat spread through Draco's cheeks and neck. Quite a few students were watching them, pointing and whispering, some with smiles and snickers, others with confusion and frowns. Even some teachers were staring; Slughorn was craning his neck for a better look. The Gryffindors were collectively leaning toward Granger and Weasley, who looked a bit flustered as they shrugged and shook their heads, looking very unconvincing. At the Slytherin table, Pansy was alternating between staring at Draco and her glass, as though she suspected she had one sip of pumpkin juice too many.

Draco grinned and winked at her. Then he looked back at Potter.

"No backing down, definitely," he said and pulled Potter in for a kiss.


"You know what would be really nice?" Draco said. "If you were to, for example, say hello to Pansy and ask how she's doing these days." The suggestion earned Draco a sideways glance from Potter. "No, really." Draco nodded.

They were lying on Draco's bed in the Slytherin dormitory, likely to be left alone for a good while longer. Blaise had agreed to keep Nott and Greg busy to stop them from showing up here. He hadn't been thrilled by the request, but Draco had made a sad grimace and said, "I've been Obliviated by my own father. Don't you think I deserve some comfort?" Blaise had been quick to point out he recognised blatant manipulation when he saw it, but he had agreed.

"Are you trying to pull strings?" Potter gasped, sounding affronted, but he was smiling. He seemed to be in high spirits. He usually was after shagging Draco silly.


"Hmm. I don't know. I think you should try harder. Make a tempting offer in return."

Draco rolled onto his side and grinned down at Potter. He'd felt spent and lethargic a second ago, but the mere sight of Potter lying naked on Draco's bed was enough to restore his energy. "I definitely plan to give you something. Now that I know what you want."

"Is that so? And what do I want, exactly?"

Draco's hand travelled downward beneath the covers, lingering teasingly on Potter's hip. "You want what you offered yesterday."

Potter pursed his lips. "That wrong, gay thing?"

"That's the one. And by the way, though I am sorry about what I said, I can't believe that you thought that I think that was wrong and gay unlike all the other things we did. And it was my suggestion."

Potter scowled. "How could I ever guess what goes through your mind? Have you met yourself? I bet not even you can predict your leaps of logic."

Draco couldn't disagree with that. Not after spending two days thinking up crazy theories. "Fair enough. But nonetheless, now that I've thought about it, I find your reaction telling."

Potter squirmed as Draco slipped his fingers lower to caress the soft skin of Potter's inner thighs. "Telling how?" Potter sounded annoyed, probably because Draco had pulled away. His gaze followed Draco's every move as Draco reached for the wand on the other side of the bed to Summon the phial Potter had given him yesterday. With a grin, Draco pulled off the covers and gave Potter's naked body a slow once over as he uncorked the phial with his teeth. He made a show of pouring the slick liquid on his palm.

"See," Draco said conversationally, rubbing the lube between his fingers. "I thought we were so monotonous in our sexual encounters because you're Harry Potter and Harry Potter doesn't take it up the arse. Especially from someone with a past as filthy as mine." Draco frowned. "Which probably says something about my self-esteem, and I should reflect on it. But not today." He grinned. "But then you went all out — a bed and candlelight and silk sheets. And when you were rejected..." Draco tsked. "You had a little dramatic outburst. Poor Granger had to hear all about it."

Potter, who listened mesmerised until then, blinked. "How do you know about that?"

Draco waved him off. "I stalk. I eavesdrop. You do that, too, so don't judge me. The important thing is that now I know." Draco slowly slid his slick hand between Potter's legs. Potter sucked in a breath, his half-hard cock twitching, his thighs spreading wide. Draco's fingers brushed against Potter's balls, then moved lower to the crease of his arse. "I know the truth, and the truth is you're scared."

Draco's finger slipped more firmly between Potter's arse cheeks, his fingertip tracing the puckered patch of skin there.

"I'm what?" Potter said, likely aiming to sound indignant, but it sounded more like a breathy gasp.

"You're terrified," Draco insisted. "Terrified of showing me just how badly you want me to fuck you." He pushed the tip of his finger past the tight muscle, amazed by how firmly Potter's body gripped it.

Potter shuddered, his eyes closing, his hands clutching the sheets. He didn't deny Draco's statement, and Draco felt a little braver, slowly working his finger deeper inside Potter.

"It'd be awfully nice if you admit it, though," Draco said and sat up, pushing Potter's legs apart so he could kneel between them.

"Why, if I'm that obvious?" Potter gasped as he bent his legs at the knees, clenching around Draco's finger.

Draco had quite a view now. He could see his finger move in and out, with pink, wrinkled skin stretched around it. Potter's cock, now thick and heavy, twitched lightly against Potter's stomach every time Draco pushed in. Every muscle in Potter's body seemed to clench and relax as he squirmed and struggled not to.

"Because," Draco said, his voice very low now, "it'd be nice to hear it." He pulled out his finger and pressed back in with two.

Potter gasped, his body arching, arse lifting off the bed. "I want you to fuck me," he burst out. "God, I want it."

Draco's limbs lost some of their strength; his throat went dry. He had imagined Potter saying it, but a part of him didn't really believe Potter would actually do it. Especially not so readily or so honestly. "How could you ever believe I wouldn't? Merlin, Potter, if you could see yourself..." Draco pressed his lips together before he said something embarrassing. His brain wasn't working very well. How could it with Potter's naked body exposed before him, his hips rolling as he answered every thrust of Draco's hand.

Potter had the strength to laugh. "I thought you wouldn't want to push your pretty little pure-blood body parts into filthy, dark places."

Draco paused, not knowing how to react to that. He couldn't tell which part of that statement was a joke, which part a jab, and whether or not Potter just confessed to having lingering issues about who Draco was.

But then again, they both had issues, and Potter was right here, letting Draco finger-fuck him and shamelessly loving every moment of it. There was only one thing they had to clear up. "Little body parts?" Draco asked, adding another finger and pushing into Potter again. Potter's gasp was so loud Draco wondered if he should cast silencing charms. But he couldn't be bothered to care too much at the moment. "Want me to stop this and get measuring tape?"

"No, no, no," Potter moaned, his hands twisting the sheets. His skin was slick with sweat, his hair a bigger mess than ever. He seemed unable to keep still, writhing this way and that, his lips red as though bitten, his eyes dark when Draco caught a glimpse of them. "You're big. You're so big. You have the biggest cock," Potter babbled, sounding feverish.

Draco grinned, taking advantage. "Bigger than yours?"

"So, so much bigger." Potter nodded, moaning as Draco pushed even deeper, stretching Potter wide.

"Oh, indeed. Sure you can take me?"

"Yes. Yesyesyes."

"Well, then." Draco struggled to steady his breathing and his hand as he reached for his cock. It truly felt bigger and heavier than ever, and Draco was afraid to touch it, thinking it'd all be over the moment he did. He shuddered as he smeared it with lube, but he managed to control himself.

Potter had gone silent and suspiciously still, staring at Draco's cock.

"It'll be fine," Draco blurted, unsure if Potter needed reassurance or he'd scoff at Draco for assuming he did.

"I know. I know," Potter said and smiled, which certainly made Draco feel braver.

Bravery didn't help him much as his mind awkwardly tried to calculate a good position to do this in.

"Come here," Potter said, and it turned out all Draco had to do was edge a little closer on his knees. His body acted on its own, then. He reached for Potter, hands grabbing his arse to pull it up against his thighs. Potter was open, slick and ready, and Draco pressed the head of his cock to Potter's entrance. It made Potter shudder.

Draco pushed in, just a little, and Potter moaned. So Draco did it again, pressed in another inch. It was the most pleasurable game he had ever played. Every push, every twitch, every roll of his hips was followed by a slightly different reaction, a slightly different moan and a gasp.

Had Draco had more inches to play with, he'd put them to good use. But he ran out of them and pressed as deep inside Potter as he could, his balls pushed up tight against Potter's arse.

He didn't know it would feel like this. He'd imagined it being tight and hot, but not this tight and not this hot, and he definitely didn't expect to be so intensely aware he was inside Potter. And that Potter wanted it and he wouldn't push him away.

Potter was gasping, clenching, adjusting. Draco knew how that felt.

"What a dark, filthy place my body part found itself in," Draco said.

Potter's breathless laughter seemed to travel through his body in the form of tremors that reverberated around Draco's cock. "Is that why it seems so confused and does nothing constructive?"

Draco didn't need to be told twice. He moved carefully, leaned forward, and bent Potter double. Potter's legs wrapped around him, heels digging into his buttocks.

"Hey," Draco said, looking down at Potter's flushed face and, before Potter could reply, Draco rolled his hips. Potter's eyelashes fluttered, and his hand flew to Draco's hair, gripping it tight.

"Do that again," he said, placing his feet on the bed and pushing up.

Draco obeyed, finding a push-roll-pull rhythm that Potter followed with upward thrusts of his hips. It felt so good. Too good. Panic gripped Draco with rapidly building pleasure: he wasn't going to last. But Potter sneaked a hand between their bodies, and Draco could feel it move frantically against his stomach, Potter's gasps turning louder with every twitch.

Draco came first anyway, pleasure that shot through him impossible to stop. It ebbed away slowly; his muscles relaxed, his body sagged. It took him awhile to realise Potter was still thrusting upwards feebly, his hand trying to move beneath Draco's weight.

"Wait. Wait," Draco said, gathering his strength. He moved downwards, batting Potter's hand away. Potter didn't seem inclined to retreat, but when Draco bent down, his mouth hovering above Potter's cock, he let go with a needy groan. Draco's lips closed around the head of Potter's cock, his fingers toying with his sack before sneaking down where Potter was hot and open and sticky. He shoved three fingers inside, and Potter cried out, managing to gasp, "Fuck," before clamping down on Draco's fingers and bucking his hips. He shoved his cock deep into Draco's throat and came.

Draco choked and pulled away. His eyes watered and he swallowed, working through the soreness in his throat. But his annoyance dissipated at the sight before him. Potter looked lost in his pleasure, his body a shivering mess, thrashing as he panted and fucked himself on Draco's fingers. Draco started moving his fingers the moment Potter went still, loving the way Potter whimpered and squirmed as though he didn't know whether to edge away or push closer.

"Stop stop stop," Potter decided at last, and Draco pulled away with a grin. He moved up to lie beside Potter, absentmindedly wiping his hand on the sheets.

Potter gave him a sideways look, still struggling to even his breathing. "There's really no need to look quite that smug."

Draco beamed. "I blew your mind, admit it."

"What ever happened to those self-esteem issues you mentioned?"

"Sorry, can't answer that question. Too busy noticing you haven't denied it."

Potter laughed and then opened his mouth to say something, but Draco leaned in and kissed him to prevent it. Potter only managed a small "Umh" that turned into a satisfied sort of hum when Draco deepened the kiss.

"However..." Draco said once they pulled apart. "We need to have a serious conversation about your hips. They're out of control and a bloody danger."

"Is that so? I remember you enjoying my hip movement very often and very loudly."

"There's a time and a place for everything."

Potter snorted. "All right, then. A serious conversation about my hips. What can we do?"

Draco reached down to caress and squeeze one of those hips. "Well, we could strap them down."

"What if they're too wild and break free?"

"Then we'll have to train them. The more we work on that, the better."

Potter narrowed his eyes. "Is this your way of asking if we're doing this again? You do realise this was just a one-time thing?"

Draco blinked.

Potter burst out laughing and, annoyed, Draco rolled on top of him to press him down against the mattress. "You're such a prat."

Potter cocked his head, gaze soft. "Your mind-blown prat, though."

Draco couldn't help shivering at that statement.

"I promise to never let you forget that again." Potter reached up to thread his fingers through Draco's hair.

"You better keep that promise."

Potter pulled him closer. "I will."