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Harry Potter has a beautiful arse.
Round and plump. Made of pure muscle and just enough fat that it'll probably give a lovely jiggle if you spank it. It’s like a peach that bounces with each step; a bruise would be both a shame and delight. It straddles the line between wanting to worship perfection and needing to completely destroy it until it’s bruised with bite marks.
It’s a testament to whatever the fuck the Auror Training Program is. How often did they work out? Shouldn’t they be studying laws and not making their bodies belong in museums? Professional Quidditch Players don’t even have arses this nice.
No, this arse. This. Arse. THIS ARSE.
Harry Potter’s arse barely fits in his heather-grey joggers. The seams pull and whine as he walks and when he fucking squats? The material would be crying real tears if it could. And there’s no reason for him to be squatting. No. They’re all in a bloody hotel lobby, waiting to check into their hotel room, so there’s no reason for him to be on the balls of his feet, squatting in the middle of the hotel, completely unaware that his arse is just ripe for the taking.
Theo is sure he’s about to drown in the amount of drool in his mouth that he can’t swallow down fast enough. And he’s a good swallower. He’s been told multiple times. But, fuck, this? He is brutally hard and needs a cold shower right this motherfucking second.
“You and Potter will be rooming together,” Draco says, slapping the hotel key into Theo’s chest.
Theo chokes on his spit. He coughs a few times, his entire body flushing with pent-up lust, and he scrambles for words.
“What…fuck? Why?”
It's all Theo can get out. He’s lucky even that much made it out. He blames the jetlag. This is the first and last time he ever takes a Muggle aeroplane anywhere. But they had to fly ‘cause Granger’s bloody cousin or something came along, and they couldn’t just say, ‘hey Muggle-lad-bloke, sorry you can’t use a portkey! Meet you in 26 hours!”
Why couldn’t they change the destination to somewhere closer, like Morocco? Theo would never know. But there was no fighting Draco when he was on a mission. Theo remembers the whole Dumbledore-murder mission-bullshit quite well, and a stag party in Fiji for a week was Draco’s current mission.
“Do you want to share with the Muggle?” Draco snaps back, completely unaware that Theo is keeping his bag firmly in front of his hips for a very obvious reason.
“We probably shouldn’t be calling him that. What’s his name again?” Blaise asks, walking up to Draco and Theo. He glances over at Theo and smirks.
Theo shoves his bag in front of his hips even more.
“Gavin,” Draco answers. “I’ve got him roomed with Longbottom.”
For all intents and purposes, Gavin looks like a normal sort of guy. To be honest, he even looks a bit like Potter, but a sandy blonde. He’s much shorter, too, which is a shame. His hair is curly, standing up everywhere. He’s got the same wire-framed glasses, but they're oval and make him look studious and meek instead of making his eyes glow as Potter’s do. He’s fit, lean even, but his arse is flat as a pancake if Theo’s being honest.
It would be safer to room with Gavin, but that means no Magic all trip. No cooling charms and relying on a shitty air con the whole week. Sand in places that only a cleaning charm can get to. Having to order and wait for room service. He’d have to live like a Muggle his entire vacation, and while that’s perfectly fine! Please trust, he has no issues with Muggles! He just likes Magic a whole lot too. He hates sand even more.
While Theo debates if switching rooms is worth his sanity, Potter stands and bends at his hips to not just touch his toes but the bloody floor. He places his palms directly on the marble floor and stretches out his body. So that’s why he’s squatting. Which is fair since they did just have a 26-hour flight, 2-hour long drive, and 30-minute boat ride to get to this godforsaken island.
Stretching out would be nice, but honestly, why does Potter have to do it here? In public? Where anyone, especially Theo, can see?
And the craziest part is that Potter is entirely unaware of anything that he is currently doing to Theo’s entire person. Even bent over in half, he’s talking casually with Longbottom, probably about something stupid like the shitty plane food, and completely unaware that Theo is about to swoon so hard he passes out.
“What about one of you? Switch with me?” Theo says, hoping he doesn't sound too close to begging but also pretty much begging at this point.
“Nah,” Blaise says, wiggling his eyebrows.
Theo hates that Blaise just knows. He always just knows. It’s like his secret magical talent. It’s not even Legillimency. Just Blaise being a fucking prick.
“You really have that big of an issue with Potter?” Draco asks, actually concerned. For all Blaise sees, Draco is still stuck in his memories of the War, of Dark vs Light, of Slytherin vs Gryffindor. He thinks this is some anti-Potter, pro-Slytherin shit sliding through. It’s not. The hardness of his cock can attest to that.
Theo feels like shit the moment Draco’s silver eyes find him. It’s Draco’s stag party for his wedding to Hermione Granger, for fuck’s sake. It’s taken Draco and Granger years of a slow friendship into an even slower relationship into, finally, thank Salazar’s fake tits, a moderately paced engagement. Part of all of it was showing Granger that he changed, that they all changed, that it was all their shitty upbringings, and underneath, they all had genuine hearts.
Besides maybe Blaise– that was still up for debate in Theo’s opinion with his “friend’s” current shit-eating grin.
“No, I don’t. It’s fine. Potter’s…” Theo swallows hard, glancing once again at that arse which was now at least standing straight but still beautiful as ever, “Potter’s great.”
“Brilliant,” Draco smiles, throwing an arm around Theo.
Blaise, unsurprisingly, laughs.
/ɑːs/
There is one bed.
And, of course, when Theo and Potter tell the front desk of the mistake, they're told the rest of the hotel is already fully booked. Not even a fucking rollaway is available.
“We’ll just transfigure a pillow into a bed,” Potter suggests as they walk back from the lobby, but now, standing in the room, they can see there’s no real space for that either. They could do some extension charms, but they’re both pretty knackered, and neither wants to risk it. Maybe after a good sleep, but at the moment, there’s too much risk of squishing the rooms next to them and the people inside.
Theo stays silent. He’s not sure what he can even say. Potter is very right on a lot of it, and his five o’clock shadow looks like it should be leaving burns on the inside of Theo’s thighs. Theo doesn’t even want to talk about the pulse in Potter’s neck that he wants to rip out with his teeth.
“I’m fine with sharing if you are,” Potter suggests with a shrug. It makes some hair fall out of the bun that holds up half his hair.
Theo’s brown eyes grow, his head snapping so quickly away from Potter that he’s surprised he didn’t just break his neck.
“I’m gay!” Theo practically shouts in panic.
Theo has had some rough coming-out speeches in his life, but this is hitting the charts as the worst attempt ever. That includes how he told his father while he was in Azkaban Prison with a Dementor just hanging out in the room with them. There wasn’t any joy for it to suck, that was for damn sure.
Potter, Deathly Hallows save his soul once again, just blinks. Like he’s not fazed in the slightest. Like he knows.
Oh, Godric’s motherfucking ballsack, Potter knows.
Luckily, Potter’s saviour persona shit is not just an act because he doesn’t say he knows. He doesn’t even look shocked, which he has a right to do after being shouted at.
Instead, he shrugs casually, smiles gorgeously, and says, “so right side or left?”
And that’s how Theo not only learns he’s sharing a room with the gorgeous Hero of the Wizarding World but a bed.
“I need to shower,” Theo states with all the tact of a Gringotts Goblin and rushes into the bathroom, slamming the door.
He turns on the cold water, sheds his clothing, and jumps in without waiting or locking the door. And it’s no surprise that Theo’s hand is on his cock before he can even open the soap. Or that he comes so hard against the shower tile that he almost falls over.
By the time Theo gets out of the shower, Potter’s on his side of the bed, atop the covers, fast asleep, still in his clothing, and his feet hanging off the bed.
Theo debates about waking him, but it was a long flight, and in their current position of bed-sharing, it’s probably best that he doesn't see what Potter wears to bed.
All he can do is hope he doesn’t wake with morning wood.
/ɑːs/
To Draco’s credit, the island is beautiful. They are six of the total fifty guests on it, which explains why it was so easily booked up. Draco would book some ritzy exclusive deserted island with no extra rooms. It’s a shock it's not just the six of them, to be completely honest.
There’s only a single restaurant where everyone eats every meal. It looks out onto a pool and then onto an ocean so blue that it’s impossible to tell where the water stops and the sky begins. The sand is whiter than Draco’s pale blonde hair.
The boys start drinking at noon with cold beers in the pool. They do stupid shit like wrestle in the water and see who can chug their pitcher of beer faster. Potter wins, of course, and just witnessing his victory smile makes Theo feel like he won. When the fuck did he get dimples, honestly?
The boys hike around the island, which takes only about thirty minutes, and then through it to experience something close to a jungle. It’s beautiful in a way that Theo never imagined. Everything feels so pure and innocent. The whole place is laced with earth magic that you can only find in old castles in Scotland.
By the evening, the warmth from the sun still heats Theo’s skin. He’s buzzed from the liquor he’s been drinking steadily all day when he returns to the room. Potter headed back twenty minutes before to shower and dress for dinner. Theo barely even noticed, glued to the football game on the telly. It looked like much more fun than Quidditch ever did to him. He doesn’t know the rules, but he wants to. He’ll have to ask Gavin.
The room has yet to be expanded wider. He and Potter decided to expand the room and fix the bed situation after breakfast, but they never returned to the room during the day. It’s all spinning too much at the moment for Theo to think transfiguration is a good idea. He’s not the best on a good day, so he knows that pissed he’ll be rubbish.
Plus, the moment he notices that the bathroom door is cracked open, he’s completely distracted. He can hear the water splashing softly over Potter’s body, hitting the floor after caressing each sculpted muscle.
“That you, Nott?” Potter shouts over the spray of water.
“Yeah, it’s me,” he gulps. Because his eye catches the mirror on the wall, and he can see right into the bathroom. Right into the shower.
And if he sits on the bed, it's just the right angle to see Potter’s arse, already decorated with beautiful tan lines from his swim trunks and all soaped up. His skin is a lovely umber, but his arse is a few shades lighter, like a glowing beacon that Theo cannot look away from.
Potter’s not bent over or squatting this time, but each cheek is still its own perfectly shaped globe with its own gravitational pull, and Theo cannot look away. It’s difficult enough to look away, let alone not to fly into the bathroom and join Potter in the shower.
He either doesn’t know or doesn’t care that Theo can see him because he keeps showering. Showering and talking like they’re best mates, and this is entirely normal.
“Sorry I didn’t fix the room,” he calls out. “Tried but bit too drunk. Changed the lamp into a candelabra instead.”
Theo looks at the bedside table, and the once-white modern lamp is now a beautiful crystal candle holder complete with six lit candles.
“It’s really lovely,” Theo says, and he’s not sure if he means the candles or Potter’s arse. Both, probably. He coughs and tries again. “Maybe give it to Granger as a wedding present.”
Potter laughs hard from in the shower, making Theo blush. He’s glad Potter can’t see him, but the moment he thinks that, the water shuts off. Leaping off the bed, Theo stumbles to the closet and sheds his shirt without a second thought. He busies himself by trying to find a new shirt that will look nice for dinner. To make it less obvious that he’s half-hard from just looking at Potter’s naked behind.
Behind him, he hears the bathroom door open. The warmth from the steam shower washes over him, and he has to gulp to keep his wits about him. He doesn’t turn around, though he can feel Potter standing behind him like he’s waiting for something.
Then Theo realises he's waiting for Theo to move out of the way.
“Er, sorry,” Theo trips over his words yet again. “This one will do I guess.”
He grabs a shirt without looking at it and does his best to walk away casually instead of sprinting like he would rather.
“Not a problem. You alright with still sharing the bed?” Potter asks.
Theo pulls his shirt on and starts on the buttons. Now clothed, he feels a bit more courageous and chances a look at Potter. He’s still naked, with just a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist. It almost has Theo swooning to the floor, so he plops onto the bed and pretends to fix his shoelaces.
“Yeah. Not a problem,” Theo repeats precisely what Potter said before because he doesn’t understand how words work anymore.
“You OK?” Potter asks, tilting his head.
The honest, truthful answer is no. No, Theo is not alright. Not alright because all he wants to do is get on his knees, tug that towel off, and nuzzle his face against Potter’s cock and balls.
But instead, he forces a smile and nods.
“Yeah, I’m great.”
/ɑːs/
They drink way too much. Pitcher after pitcher. Shot after shot.
They all stumble back to their rooms loudly and sloppily.
Theo plops on top of the bed, clothing still on, barely thinking. If he thinks, he’ll think about the way Potter’s arm was around his shoulders as they walked back to the room, leaning on each other to stay upright.
Potter plops down next to him, also clothed, groaning that he’s never drinking again. Theo wants to agree, but that requires thinking, and thinking right now is bad.
If he thinks, he’ll remember how Potter’s dimples challenged him to handless shots. And the way he sucked down each drink like he was swallowing loads. If he thinks, he’ll roll over, straddle Potter’s hips, and do something he regrets.
Theo doesn’t think, but he does do something he regrets.
Instead of rolling over onto Potter, he rolls to the other side of the bed and throws up over the side.
He promptly falls asleep after that and doesn’t wake until noon.
When he does, he discovers he’s been tucked into bed. All he’s wearing are his pants, and he does not remember getting undressed. He doesn’t even remember anything after puking.
Theo groans and peaks over the side of the bed, but the floor is clean. There’s not even a carpet stain. It’s been magicked away.
On the bedside is a plate of buttered toast and a tall glass of beer. Hair of the dog and all that, he guesses.
After a shower with the door firmly closed, he feels a bit more alive. Alive enough to dress and wander out towards the pool. He finds his friends all splayed out on lounge chairs, looking as hungover as he feels. All but Potter.
Draco grins when he spots Theo approaching. “Potter told us you were still breathing when he left, but we were worried.”
“Still alive. Feel like death though,” Theo groans, falling onto the lounge chair next to Blaise.
Longbottom lays face first on the chair next to them. Gavin’s on the chair furthest away, looking worse for wear. Theo would offer him a hangover potion, but he’s not sure if that crosses the Statute of Secrecy. He could just say it's a tonic he came up with, which was partially true.
Draco scoffs, and they all groan in response. “This is only day two. Get your shit together like Potter.”
“Where is he anyways?” Gavin asks in all his misery, trying his best to be part of the friend group.
“Running,” Longbottom mumbles through his chair pillow.
“You’ve got to be fucking me,” Theo groans.
“You wish,” Blaise snorts. And if Theo had any energy, he’d reach out and hit Blaise in the arm, but he doesn’t, so he just harrumphs from where he lies.
“He’s a machine,” Gavin comments, and they all make half-hearted replies in agreement. They know what machines are. Kind of.
After a minute or two of silence and peace, where Theo thinks he might just fall back asleep, Draco stands up abruptly.
“This is pathetic.”
He’s not wrong. They look like a pile of dead bodies after the Battle of Hogwarts.
“We have the rest of the week and we’re not going to waste it,” Draco continues. Theo wants to toss him in the ocean. “I’m ordering a round and then we’re going jet skiing. Whatever the fuck that is.”
Draco storms away in all his blonde prissiness. Longbottom holds up his middle finger in Draco’s wake, and Theo finds he really likes the bloke now.
They all lay silent a little longer, not rallying despite Draco’s cry. It’s not until he returns with Potter by his side and both their hands full of beers that anyone makes a move.
Theo takes the cold drink from Potter and makes a face as the smell hits him, reminding him of his sickness from the night before.
“Easy there,” Potter chuckles, watching him.
Theo tries his best not to flush from the attention of green eyes. He also does his best not to notice that Potter is shirtless, only in his running shorts, and glistening with sweat. He leans back just a touch so he can confirm, yes, the running shorts are sculpted like a second skin to Potter’s exquisite, plump, sweat-drenched arse.
“Thanks for this morning,” Theo says, going back to holding eye contact as best he can and not letting his eyes wander down Potter’s lean and muscled chest.
“Not a problem. Ready for the day?”
“Barely,” Theo groans.
“Come on, it’ll be fun. You can ride with me.”
“You know how to drive?”
“Can’t be much different than flying, can it?”
/ɑːs/
It takes barely a minute before Theo discovers jet skis are very, very different from brooms.
But they are definitely just as fun.
Maybe even more so when he wraps his arms around Potter’s torso and holds tight. He does his best not to lean too much into the man, but with their skin touching under the warm Fijian sun, it's too tempting not to touch just a little. Plus, Potter smells exactly how paradise should: sun lotion, salt air, and adrenaline-soaked sweat. Also, a bit of beer since, of course, they had resumed drinking.
Once hangovers are gone, the drinks start flowing once more. They don’t make it back to change for dinner and just end up eating out on the deck, still in their swim trunks, being as loud and rowdy as the night sky would allow.
The night dissolves from a nice restaurant dinner to Gavin teaching them a Muggle drinking game. The waiters don’t seem to mind turning to bartenders and even change the music to some Muggle rap that Gavin requests. They throw balls into cups across a table and drink if the other person makes it; it’s pretty easy to follow the rules, even drunk, so they break off into teams without much bickering.
Theo has never played beer pong before. He has no idea why someone would think of throwing a ball into a cup, but the more he plays, the better he becomes. He thinks. He’s pretty drunk, to be fair.
Theo knows this is how it was supposed to be in their teen years. It was how they were supposed to rebel. They were supposed to be drinking to excess and playing stupid games, not planning murders and sacrificing their lives. It's so easy now to float into how it was supposed to be that Theo doesn’t even notice it’s near midnight when Potter appears by his side, returning the ball to Theo.
“You forgot to say heating up,” Potter hums. There’s a pink flush to his cheeks from the liquor. It’s beautiful.
“Heating up,” Theo confirms, his voice low, only for Potter to hear. You’re supposed to say it after making two balls in a row. Theo’s not sure why; it’s not like it’ll cause some magic spell or something. Or maybe it does because Potter wets his bottom lip while watching Theo.
He doesn’t realize how close they are standing. Their foreheads could press together if he just leaned in a tiny bit.
“You’re cute,” Potter smiles right back.
A jolt of soberness shoots through Theo. “I’m what?”
“POTTER!” Draco yells from across the table, “stop flirting with the enemy!”
And instead of answering, Potter just gives a shrug and hands Theo the ping pong ball for his next shot. When Theo takes the ball, all his drunkenness hits him like a tidal wave. He had to have heard wrong. But the way Potter glances back at him over his shoulder says differently.
“Throw the damn ball, Nott!” Longbottom laughs from his side.
Theo misses the next cup, but he still feels like he won somehow tonight, and he’s not even sure how.
/ɑːs/
On the third day, Theo wakes up, and he’s not alone.
He’s grateful he not only made it to bed but also changed into flannel pyjama pants and did not get sick. He’s also grateful that lying next to him is a sleeping Harry Potter. The comforter is across their hips like they both got too hot and shoved it down low during the night. It reveals not only Potter’s chest but his defined hip bones that point to his dark happy trail and just a bit lower.
Theo knows he shouldn’t look, but it’s hard to look away. There are scars across Potter’s skin, but they add to the perfection. They make him look human and not just a marble statue behind a No Touching sign.
He shifts slightly, trying to remember the night before. Something happened. Something small, but it made him happy. He remembered smiling in his sleep. Maybe it was just a dream.
Potter’s eyelashes flutter, and his eyes slowly open. He yawns, a lopsided smile when he notices Theo looking at him. “Morning.”
“Morning,” Theo whispers, trying not to catch the contagious yawn. But it's too hard, and he finds himself yawning too. It makes him sleepy all over again, and the comfort of being in bed takes over. He curls up on his side, still looking at Potter. The pillow smells like him, and Theo wonders if it’d be creepy if he took the pillows home after this trip.
“I dunno if I can keep marathon drinking,” Potter chuckles, shifting to lay on his back with his arms behind his head, “my liver hurts.”
“Don’t you mean your kidneys?”
“I think I mean everything. Everything hurts,” Potter laughs.
Theo laughs, too, nodding. His whole body is hurting too. “Yeah, but I’ve been having fun. I’ve never partied like this before.”
“Me neither.” Potter nods and looks up at the ceiling. “Can you hand me my glasses?”
Theo follows Potter’s nod to the side table and rolls to grab the glasses before rolling back. He tries not to think about why Potter’s glasses are on his nightstand. Did Potter tuck him in again? Did they fall into bed together? He can’t remember a thing, and he suddenly wishes he could.
The light catches Potter’s glasses, and Theo glances through them for a moment. “Bloody hell Potter,” he swears and then puts the glasses on, “your eyesight is fucking shit.”
“Oi!”
And before Theo knows it, Potter is launching himself across the bed to steal his glasses. But Theo is too quick. He rolls away and is almost out the bed before Potter’s thick arms wrap around his torso and pull him back in, capturing his prey. They tussle a bit and wrestle like boys do. It’s dumb and stupid, but they’re laughing like it’s the most fun they ever had, and Theo is dying from the dizziness caused by the glasses, his hangover, and Potter on top of him.
“Yield,” Potter demands with the world’s biggest grin, pinning Theo’s wrists by his head. He’s trapped under the other man, breathing hard, seeing double because of the glasses, and loving every second of it. Theo begs his cock not to get hard while it’s trapped between their hips.
“I–” Theo starts and is interrupted by a pounding on the door.
“Nott! Potter! Get the fuck up!” Draco’s voice comes through the door. “We’re not fucking around today!”
Theo’s cheeks heat. Even with the glasses on, Theo can see Potter’s green eyes vibrant and glowing. Theo wishes he was fucking around. He wishes he was fucking.
Potter’s grip loosens, and he shifts off Theo. It’s a sad moment, but Theo knows that it has to happen. He hands the glasses back to Potter, chuckling.
“I should just have St. Mungo’s fix my eyes by now,” Potter sighs, putting his glasses on. He blinks a few times before smiling at Theo like he’s happy he can see the other man clearly now.
Theo blushes and removes himself from the bed.
“Nah, I like them. They’re part of you,” he admits, feeling his cheeks get warmer. “They look good. Trust me.”
Potter nods. “I do.”
While Theo starts getting dressed, Potter decides to shower. Again, he leaves the door cracked.
Theo only takes a quick peek in the mirror. He tells himself he’s just fixing his hair, but his eyes drift to the bathroom, and there is Potter’s arse. His tan line is more defined now, making his arse more beautiful than ever. He tries not to think about how that body was pressed against his own.
Theo makes sure to leave before he does something stupid, like saying he needs something from the bathroom and accidentally falling onto Potter’s cock.
/ɑːs/
Draco was serious about not fucking around.
The day is planned in a regimented schedule. Well, kind of. It’s mainly because there’s a boat to catch and more drinking to be done. Theo’s not sure that drinking and boating is the most intelligent combination, but Gavin assures him that people (Muggles) do it all the time. And once they’re on the open ocean, it’s as graceful as flying.
At some point, they stop at a sandbar that’s revealed itself for low tide. They set up a lunch consisting of sandwiches and beer. When Gavin isn’t looking, Potter transfigures a shoe into a Muggle football. It reminds Theo that they still haven’t extended the room and transformed the bed. He should probably say something, but part of him doesn’t want to, so he keeps quiet.
Instead, he joins in on the game. It’s three on three, only Gavin and Potter having some idea of what they’re doing. But it’s more fun than Theo expected. And he’s good. Ridiculously good. He’s not sure how he does it, but he steals the ball easily and sprints to receive each pass.
He scores again and again by kicking the ball into the ocean. This means he has to be the one to swim out and retrieve it, but that’s just as fun in the warm, clear blue water.
Theo’s having so much fun just playing that when he scores the winning goal, he barely even registers anything other than the high of victory. He’s never been loud, usually the quiet kid in the back of the class, but he yells a whoop and throws his hands in the air. Before he knows it, Potter’s arms are around his waist, lifting him off the ground and spinning him. They all cheer and celebrate by Potter throwing Theo into the water. It feels so good that when Theo swims back up for air, he’s laughing before he breathes.
When they return to the room to shower and change for dinner, Theo uses the bathroom first. He’s still soaring from the afternoon. His buzz lit up his skin, and the sun fed him happiness. He hums one of those rap songs Gavin played the other night as he rinses the soap from his short brown hair.
He almost doesn’t want the shower to end; the freshwater feels so freeing and recharges him even more. But he knows Potter is waiting to shower.
Theo turns off the tap and turns to find his towel. But as he looks at the door, he realises he didn’t close it all the way.
And through the crack, he can see the mirror.
And in the mirror, Potter is watching him.
Their eyes lock for a moment before both turn away and silently decide they are not going to talk about it. Potter rushes into the bathroom as soon as it’s vacant, and Theo dresses as quickly as he can. He’s out the door, his hair still wet and dripping onto his shirt.
/ɑːs/
Dinner is a repeat of the last three nights. They’re all buzzed once again by the time their food arrives and flat-out pissed by the end. While the island was a great idea, fun as all fuck, it’s starting to get a little boring just staying at the restaurant, so they grab bottles of tequila and head to the beach.
It's stupid to be so liquored up and standing in the ocean, but no one’s in their right mind to voice this. Even Longbottom is all laughter and smiles; there’s no more worry or nerves anywhere in his body.
Theo does his best to stay away from Potter, but the man is like his own planet with his own gravitational pull. Whenever Theo thinks he’s forgotten about those green eyes in the mirror, he finds himself looking for the man.
All six of them start being stupid. Or stupider, since they’ve always been a bit stupid with this much liquor and no adult supervision despite the fact they are adults.
“Truth or Dare,” Blaise throws into the night sky.
“Dare,” Potter says automatically, like he’s faced Death enough times that nothing scares him anymore. And he has faced Death, Theo thinks. Faced it more than all of them. Maybe even combined. And now they’re all here under a sky of endless stars in the Pacific Ocean, just floating happily.
“Give the man a wedding dance,” Blaise grins.
It takes Theo a moment to catch on to what Blaise truly means, but he understands as Potter stands and makes his way over to Draco.
The blonde is flushed red from drink and now embarrassment, his whole body shaking with laughter. “Oi! Granger said no strippers.”
“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Potter suggests, laughing, giving a flourished wink that makes even Theo blush from across the table.
Gavin, always with the fucking music somehow in his pocket like his own brand of magic, produces a track with a beat that is both slow, sexual, and still boppy in a way you can dance to. The lyrics leave nothing to the imagination, and yes, Theo most definitely wants to jump on it.
Because, Rowena’s godsdamn foot fetish, Potter can dance. He moves his hips easily, and it’s not only Theo with eyes for that arse. Everyone at the table is rolling with laughter and hollering. Even Blaise, always stoic, is gripping the arms of his chair to keep from sliding out of it onto the floor. When Potter places his glasses on Draco, Longbottom nearly wets himself in laughter.
It’s four minutes and eleven seconds of pure bliss. Potter takes his time, dipping to the music, grinding the air above Draco, acting overly flirty, and enjoying how free and pure the attention on him is. At some point, he pulls the tie from his hair and whips it around. He takes off his shirt, one button at a time, and throws it at Theo. It smells like paradise and sin, and Theo wonders if he can bottle the scent to sell it. He’d make a fucking fortune.
Theo can’t decide if he’s horny or if this is the most hilarious thing he’s ever seen. He’s choking on laughter, and his eyes are glued to every muscle of Potter, working hard like it’s doing some athlete training. He straddles Draco’s waist and his arse, ugh, it’s making the material of his clothing cry again, and Theo cannot look away.
When the song is up, Potter stands and gives a bow, and there’s a round of rowdy applause from everyone except Draco, who seems too confused, embarrassed, turned on, and completely done with it. Draco’s only response is to hand Potter back his glasses and then shove him away with more laughter.
“Gone from killing me to trying to shag me!”
“You wish, Malfoy,” Potter sasses right back.
He falls back into the chair beside Theo but doesn’t request his shirt back. He’s chuckling and trying to catch his breath the whole time. He gives Theo a wink.
“I don’t think anyone can top that now,” Longbottom says.
Everyone agrees, and the liquor bottles are near empty, so it’s a silent consensus to get back to bed.
The walk back to the room is still full of chuckles and laughter. Potter keeps his shirt over his shoulder and his hair loose. Theo can’t walk in a straight line, especially when he catches Potter’s eye, and they start laughing all over again.
Once in the room, Theo sits on the bed to try to stop the room from spinning. He debates sleeping in his clothes, but before he knows it, Potter reaches out, undoing his shirt's buttons.
Theo silently accepts the help and looks up at the man standing between his legs. It’s a moment of drunken decision, which means it’s probably not a good one, but that doesn’t stop Theo from giving Potter a soft shove backwards and getting on his knees.
Potter doesn’t say anything as his drunk brain tries to process what’s happening, but Theo tugs down the man's shorts to make it clear. Potter’s cock presses against the material; Theo can tell it's beautiful before he can even see it. It’s big too.
“Fuck,” Potter whispers, and Theo takes it as encouragement, tugging harder until Potter is standing naked in front of him because, of course, he wears no pants. His cock is half hard already, and Theo leans in to nuzzle his face against those thick thighs. Potter’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t say no or stop. He seems a bit frozen, unsure what to do, but then Theo licks up his shaft, and Potter’s hands are in his hair.
Potter leans back against the dresser, allowing Theo to take over. And Theo does. He might be drunk, but he knows what he’s doing. He wraps his hand around Potter, pumping him a few times to get him harder before pressing his lips to the head of the cock. It elicits an impatient whine from Potter. He’s being a tease, and they both know it.
But if this is the moment Theo gets, he’s going to have it. He wants it to last so he can at least remember parts of it in the morning if the tequila kicks in too hard later. After some more whining, Theo finally takes Potter’s cock fully in his mouth. He bobs his head once, twice, and on the third time, deep-throats it down to the hilt.
“Fuck, baby, so good,” Potter praises, and Theo preens so hard he does it repeatedly until he’s gagging on Potter’s cock.
“You’re taking my cock so well, Theo, love, fuck, yes….” Potter dissolves into a melted mess, and Theo is floating on air. His hands move over Potter’s muscular thighs to his balls, massaging them, making Potter’s hips jerk even harder.
But something hits the back of Theo’s drunken mind.
He pulls off Potter’s cock with a pop and smiles at the man. “Turn around.”
Potter, too blissed out, barely registers what’s happening but does as Theo says. And then there he is, face to the most beautiful, glorious, perfect arse he’s ever seen.
“Ever had your arse eaten before?” Theo asks, casting a cleaning spell.
He can’t see if Potter nods or shakes his head, but he supposes it's a no. That’s okay because Potter isn’t stopping him either as Theo massages the globes of his arse cheeks and then pushes them apart. It takes effort, almost because it’s so much thick, juicy muscle.
Theo’s in heaven before he even starts. There’s so much he wants to do to this arse that he can’t keep his thoughts straight. He licks one of the peach cheeks and then bites it hard enough to bruise perfectly shaped teeth marks. It's juicy like its fruit. Potter moans and then whines, wanting more, needing more, and Theo is all too happy to comply.
He spits down Potter’s cleft and then follows it with his tongue, flat against his hole. He keeps at it, licking and teasing, holding Potter’s squirming hips until he finally surrenders and presses his tongue into the man’s tight hole.
Potter falls apart at the seams instantly. Theo takes that as a no, Potter has never had his arse eaten, so he takes extreme pleasure in guaranteeing he’s not only the first but the best.
He presses deep into Potter, expertly using his tongue to tease and thrust. He thinks about using his fingers too, but Potter’s so sensitive to each movement that Theo doesn’t want to blow it and have everything over too quickly. No, he wants hours with this arse. He wants to know every inch of it by the time he’s done. He wants to never be able to forget how good it tastes in his mouth and feels against his face.
Theo guides Potter’s hands to hold his cheeks apart so that Theo has room to move about. Theo reaches around with his hand and strokes Potter’s cock. It’s slow and teasing, but it’s enough to make the man’s knees weaken uncontrollably. Potter leans hard into the dresser, using the furniture to support all his weight as Theo brings him closer and closer to heaven. He’s barely forming coherent thoughts, and sometimes an “oh fuck” or “so fucking good” escape his lips between the moans of pleasure.
Theo palms himself with his free hand because he’s hard as a rock, and it’s starting to get painful. But just the friction is enough to have him groaning into Potter’s arse. The vibrations cause Potter to buck into his hand, so Theo smirks and keeps at it.
It all unravels from there. They’re both too sensitive, and it’s all too fucking good that soon, they both come all over themselves. Theo’s not sure who came first, but it doesn’t matter because his pants are soaked, and Potter’s come is dripping all over the dresser.
Theo falls back and leans against the bed, just as spent and woozy. He’s not sure if the room is spinning from the tequila or the high of eating The Chosen One’s arse, but he’s fine with either. Potter doesn’t move for a good minute, breathing hard, trying to let everything that just happened to him catch up to real time.
Eventually, he turns around, and his hands find Theo on the floor. He tugs and manhandles him in a way that would turn Theo on for another round if he weren’t so close to sleep. He strips him of his dirty shorts and then climbs into bed behind him.
There are no words as they curl up together, Potter’s chest pressed hard against Theo’s back, holding him tight.
Theo tries to stay awake as long as possible to ensure the liquor doesn’t erase this feeling come morning.
/ɑːs/
The liquor fails at erasing the majority of the night. Theo awakes hungover and groggy but still remembers almost every detail of his face smashed between Potter’s arse.
The problem is he wakes to Potter silently and slowly unwrapping himself from Theo’s sleepy body. The room is too quiet, and the air is thick with the thoughts of sneaking away and pretending like this never happened. There’s nowhere to do a walk of shame, though, as they’re sharing a room and a bed, so Potter instead silently sneaks off to the bathroom. He makes sure to close the door tight.
Theo swallows hard. He knows that silent walk and that close of a door. “Fuck, fuck , fuckkkk.”
The shower goes on, and Theo remembers what he asked Potter.
Ever had your arse eaten before?
No, of course not, because Potter is a straight man, and that’s not what straight men want. Well, usually, it’s not what they want. Maybe they do. Theo isn’t one to kink shame. He's also never been straight. And he's also learned generalizing entire populations is a very, very bad thing, but he’d wager at least most straight men do not want another man’s tongue so deep in their arse it’s hitting their prostate.
And Theo just did that to the saviour of the entire Wizarding World like he was breaking a week’s long fast.
Theo rolls over and screams into his pillow. He’s done many stupid things in his life, but this one takes the cake. Pun kind of intended.
When the shower shuts off, Theo rolls back over to his side and closes his eyes. It’s weak and pathetic, but, hey, he’s a Slytherin, isn’t he? Jokes, but honestly, sometimes, it fits.
Potter is already dressed when he exits the bathroom. He wanders the room. Theo refuses to even take a peek as he pretends to sleep, but he can hear Potter drink a hangover potion and grab his room key. Eventually, after an extended silence, he leaves the room.
Theo pops up with a groan. His head is spinning, and now he wishes the liquor did its job and blacked out everything he did. The room still looks messy, with their clothes scattered across the floor. Theo blushes when he discovers Potter’s mess is still all over the dresser. Did Potter not realise? He surely would have charmed it clean before leaving like he did with Theo’s sick.
And then a whole other thought enters Theo’s mind: Potter doesn’t remember.
Oh, thank Merlin’s gigantic troll cock, Potter does not remember.
/ɑːs/
Everyone seems dead when Theo finally arrives for breakfast. Draco is face first on the table, Longbottom is half asleep in his chair, and Blaise has more fried food on his plate than he’s ever had in all of his time at Hogwarts. It’s their last full day, and yet everyone looks like they’re ready for the vacation to be over.
“Where’s Potter?” Theo asks, noticing the empty seat as he sits and starts loading his plate with food from the middle of the table.
“Running, again.”
“Fucking monster.”
“I hate him.”
“Should have off’ed him when I had the chance.”
“Could still do it.”
“I’ve avoided Azkaban too long to end up there now.”
“Where?”
Draco, Blaise, Longbottom, and Theo all freeze and look over at Gavin, sitting with a plate full of pancakes. Theo snorts cause he can’t help himself.
Draco kicks him under the table. “Oh just a stupid uh–”
“It’s, um,” Longbottom tries too and comes up with nothing.
Thankfully, the Wizarding World’s Savior does his job because Potter appears right at that moment, drenched with sweat, grinning like he’s not dying from dehydration and lack of brain cells.
He pointedly does not look at Theo. At least Theo thinks because he pointedly refuses to meet Potter’s eyes.
“What’s stupid?” he asks, sliding into the seat next to Theo.
“Nothing,” Blaise says quickly. He gives the sort of glare that tells Potter to shut up, and thankfully the sweaty hero understands.
“So last day- what’s the plan?”
“Death by hangover,” Longbottom mutters.
“No, that’s tomorrow,” Draco rallies and throws back his bloody mary.
They all throw out options and settle on snorkelling. Gavin and Blaise decide just to lay on towels in the sand and watch. Which means by the time they’re all out of the water, there are cold beers waiting for them all to enjoy.
Theo notices and tries to ignore how Potter sits as far away from him as possible. He doesn’t completely ignore Theo’s existence, but he gets quiet when Theo talks and looks at the sand instead. Maybe he does remember some, but he’s ashamed. Theo debates about swimming out into the ocean and letting the sharks get him.
The rest of the day goes the same way. They take it fun, easy, and lazy. They play ping pong and billiards under cool mist and out of the sun. They hang out at the pool bar and float around with beers in their hands. Draco gets a sunburn, and everyone teases him for it. Theo keeps a distance between himself and Potter to keep things simple. It’s their last night; he can keep it together until he gets home and obliviates himself. He just has to make sure he doesn’t get too drunk.
They start with poker after dinner. Thankful no stripping is involved, but it gets them all talking. They keep a bland cover story of how they attended boarding school together and once were enemies and rivals. They don’t mention the War. They don’t mention Draco’s Dark Mark or Potter’s lightning scar. Thanks to Gavin, they are just boys that became men the usual way without a mass murderer controlling their lives.
“Theo was always the one telling me to stop being such a prick. Always thought he had a crush on you, Potter,” Draco throws out there, causing Theo to choke on his drink.
It’s true, though. Theo remembers all the times he told Draco to just let up on Potter. That he needed to stop trying to impress his father by being a dick. No one knew the Draco that Theo knew, and it always irked him that he didn’t show anyone else. And he was right that if he just started being himself, he and Potter might even become friends.
“Yeah?” Potter asks from across the table, finally, for the first time all day, catching Theo’s eye.
Theo can feel his whole body redden under Potter’s gaze.
All he can do is shrug, but it makes Potter smile softly, and Theo has to hold onto his chair not to melt right off it. It's true that he also had a crush on Potter, but that was not the point, and he would die before admitting that.
“I gave Draco his first blowjob,” Theo throws out there as revenge. His blonde best friend turns a brighter red than his sunburn, and he starts sputtering excuses while everyone starts pestering him for details like if Granger knows.
Theo doesn’t talk much for the rest of the night. They move from poker to dancing until the restaurant lights go up. Draco has to be carried back to the room between Blaise and Potter, drunk from way too many shots of something green. Theo follows, stumbling a little, carrying Draco’s shoes.
It takes the three of them to get Draco into bed; Potter makes sure to put a trash can on the side of the bed in case he gets sick.
“Muggle trick,” he chuckles with a wink to Theo.
When they walk back to the room, it's quiet again.
They make sure to keep space between them, so their hands don’t brush as they walk side by side. As Theo slides the hotel key into the door, Potter leans against the wall in deep thought. It makes Theo nervous. He’s not sure what will happen now that they’re alone. He purposely started drinking water so that he wasn’t so drunk tonight to keep himself from repeating the night before on a drunk, vulnerable Potter.
But now he feels sloppy, and his world is pulsing with thoughts of Potter naked atop of him.
They change into pyjamas and get into bed without a word. They both lay on their backs, a foot of space between them. There’s no sleep happening for either of them. It’s obvious by how stiffly they both lay and how neither of their breathing relaxes. It’s pure torture, but Theo’s not about to bring up the night before.
He does debate just climbing on top of Potter, but before he can get up the courage, Potter speaks.
“I didn’t notice you much at Hogwarts,” Potter says into the darkness. “I just remember you were tall. And that you can see Thestrals too.”
Theo suddenly wishes he drank more. This is not the awkward conversation he was expecting. But he swallows hard and nods. “I saw my father murder my mum.”
“Fucking Christ,” Potter swears. He turns in bed onto his side. Theo, for some possessed reason, turns onto his side too. They’re face to face, and the space between them has closed just enough that he can feel Potter’s warm breath on his face.
“Yeah, that’s why I didn’t mind much when you got him sent to Azkaban,” Theo chuckles darkly.
Potter, even with the hero persona ingrained into his very soul, frowns slightly. Theo’s expecting some sort of excuse or lecture or maybe even an apology. But instead, Potter asks, “what was your mum like?”
Theo’s lungs constrict, and he has to remember how to breathe.
“She was, well, she was the perfect mum,” he whispers. “She let me be me. She didn’t think there was something wrong, when I told her, and would teach me things that she wasn’t supposed to. Order things.”
Potter’s eyebrows pop. “Like Order of the…”
“Yeah,” Theo nods. “She was friends with your mum in school. Secretly, of course. They were Prefects together.”
“Fucking hell,” Potter swears. “Just when I think I know everything….”
He trails and Theo understands. There’s a piece of him missing, taken too early from him with the loss of his mum. He wishes he had her longer. That he still had her. That he could know every single detail about her to keep her with him.
They lay in silence for a while. Sleep seems long off, but also, there’s nothing to say. Theo wants to bring up the night before, but it doesn’t seem the place. It doesn’t seem right.
“My dad had a secret affair with Regulus Black, before dating my mum,” Potter admits randomly.
“Fuck off,” Theo gasps.
“Nope, I found their love letters.”
“Fuck all the way off,” Theo says again, laughing. He can barely imagine it. James Potter, Gryffindor God, Head Boy, cocky arsehole of Doing The Right Thing, had a gay love affair with future Death Eater, supposedly bigoted, Slytherin Pureblood spawn, the little brother of his best friend, Regulus Black.
“Good for them,” Theo grins.
Potter nods and smiles back softly. “Yeah, that’s what I think too.”
/ɑːs/
When Theo wakes, he finds that he’s moved in his sleep. Once again, he’s on his side with Potter wrapped around him, back to chest, tanned arm slung around Theo, keeping him close. Theo closes his eyes and soaks in the warmth. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t want to wake Potter and feel it end again. They didn’t even do anything, and he’s not sure he can bear Potter sneaking away yet again.
Theo falls back into a light sleep again, safe in Potter’s arms. He wakes a second time from Potter’s lips on his neck, feather soft in hopes to not wake him most likely. But Theo is awake and can feel everything. He feels Potter’s tight hold of his body, his breath on his neck, his chest against his back, and Potter’s heavy erection against his arse.
Scared it might end, Theo tries hard not to move. He waits for Potter to leave. But he doesn’t.
And eventually, Theo’s body starts to feel stiff, and he needs to move just a little. He shifts, barely moving, but it’s enough to alert Potter that he’s awake. The body behind him stiffens and starts to pull away, but a small whine of protest escapes Theo’s throat.
It makes Potter freeze. He snuggles close again. Closer still.
“Morning,” he whispers into Theo’s ear.
Theo turns his head, and Potter’s face is right there, a sleepy smile on his lips. He’s beautiful. Courage surges through Theo, and he leans back to kiss those smiling lips softly like he’s wanted to do the whole trip.
Potter doesn’t pull back. He doesn't panic. No, he plunges in head first like the Gryffindor he is. He kisses back so hard Theo has to open his mouth. A throaty plea vibrates through him as he pushes his arse back against Potter’s hard-on. Potter rolls his hips in response.
And Helga's sweet, innocent Daddy kink, this is really happening. Theo is not dreaming.
Everything turns up a notch as they understand they’re on the same page. They’re completely sober, and there is no way this is a misunderstanding. Potter takes Theo’s cock in his hand and starts to jack him off slowly while grinding his cock into the cleft between Theo’s arse cheeks. Their mouths are unable to detach from each other.
They kick off the cover and then their pants. They keep rutting together on their side, not wanting to shift because everything feels so good and now even better with clothing gone from between them.
Potter pulls back just enough to murmur charms that clean and lube. Theo freezes in shock, so much so that Potter notices and pulls back worriedly. He leans to hover just above Theo a bit but still holds him tight to keep him from running.
“Is something wrong?” he asks, voice cracking from the morning and slight panic. His lips are plump from Theo biting them. He’s bloody gorgeous, and it’s hard not to attack him again.
“You’re not straight,” Theo chokes out.
Potter blushes, then chuckles. “Bi, actually.”
“But you’d never–” Theo reaches behind him and Potter to give his favourite slice of cake a squeeze. It makes Potter’s hips buck into his, and he groans at the contact. “That’s why I was trying not to make things awkward.”
Potter returns to kissing and sucking Theo’s jaw. “I’m usually the one that does the eating.”
“Oh,” is all Theo can say.
“Theo, I don’t think you understand how bloody obsessed I am with your arse. I had to ignore you all fucking day just to stop myself from jumping you.”
Theo, cannot, for the life of him, hold back his laughter.
“My arse?!” Theo yells because he obviously heard wrong. He had to have. There’s no chance that while he was literally dying over here, studying Potter’s arse like a bloody piece of art, all day, every day of this damned vacation, Potter was doing the same thing.
“Yeah! And you. Just you in general, actually,” Potter admits with a blush on his cheeks. “But I really want to fuck you right now, if that’s okay.”
Theo is one hundred positive he’s gone boneless. His voice cracks. “Please.”
Potter doesn’t waste another second. He pushes Theo to lie on his stomach and manhandles him to his elbows and knees. Theo whines, loving being pushed around just the right amount.
“That’s it, baby,” Harry hums, his middle finger pressing against Theo’s rim and then further in. He wiggles it around, just the right amount, slowly and teasing. The stretch burns just the right amount. Potter has big hands, big fingers, big cock. Theo wants more. He wants all of it.
“I’m not a virgin, you know,” Theo groans impatiently.
Potter laughs from behind him. “Like you didn’t take your time teasing me.”
Theo blushes. “You remember?”
“Bloody Hell, Theo, how could I forget?”
Potter adds another finger then, scissoring then now to stretch Theo properly. Theo wiggles and squirms with need. He whines until he’s begging, which, thankfully, seems to weaken Potter’s resolve. He removes his fingers and lines his cock up with Theo’s hole.
Theo mewls as Potter presses into him. He’s bigger than he’s taken in a while, maybe ever, and the stretch feels so divine it's hard not to come as Potter finally buries all of himself to the hilt. “Motherfucking hell, Potter.”
“Harry,” he corrects sternly.
Theo gulps at how fucking hot that sounds. He wants to say it over and over again. To moan it. “Harry, please, fuck me.”
It gets Harry to start moving behind him. Hard, quick thrusts. He pounds into Theo’s arse, gripping it and massaging it, sending Theo into overdrive. He can barely hold himself up and drops his face into the mattress. When he turns his head to the side to breathe, he sees the mirror. But in the mirror isn’t the bathroom. It’s Harry’s beautiful tanned body and his sublime arse clenched and slamming hard into Theo’s own.
Harry bends over Theo’s body, pressing his lips to Theo’s spine as he uses a free hand to take Theo’s cock and pump him in the same rhythm. The position shifts them together in a perfect way, causing Theo to scream out as Potter hits the perfect spot over and over again.
Theo’s choking on air and moans. He can hear Harry’s groans in his ear, egging him on, praising him for being such a good boy. He listens to the words, coaxing him to keep himself together just a little longer. Harry shifts yet again, sitting back on his heels, pulling Theo back with him, so he’s practically sitting in Potter’s lap, impaled on his beautiful cock.
Now when Theo turns his head, he can kiss Harry, and he does, with devotion. Theo whines and Harry swallows it, nodding his head. It’s enough permission for Theo to explode, his cock bursting like a fountain, covering the bed, his chest, and Harry’s thighs. Maybe at the same time, maybe seconds later– it's so hard to think straight– warmth is filling him, painting his insides. He’s so fucking full that Theo swears he can taste Harry’s come.
They roll their hips and move together, letting every nerve of need find pleasure. The thrusts and kisses become slow as they both soften, but neither moves from where they sit, puzzled together, fitting in exactly the perfect way.
Theo looks over to the side again and in the mirror is Harry’s beautiful, perfect arse.
/ɑːs/
They shower together this time and kiss their way through getting dressed. Leaving the room seems like torture, but if they don’t appear, someone will come looking for them. Probably to make sure they didn’t die from alcohol poisoning, but still, it’s not something Theo wants to encounter.
Once out in the hall, they walk side by side, space between them, hands in their pockets. Theo’s heart squeezes hard. He grows more nervous by the step as they fall into platonic roommates once more. He figures they'll just lie and say they were late to breakfast because they were last-minute packing since check out is at eleven.
He tries to remember a bit of that courage from the morning. Before they enter the restaurant, he grabs Harry’s hand and tugs him back.
“That wasn’t a one off, right?” Theo asks. "I mean, it can be if you want, but I was just hoping-"
Harry leans in and kisses Theo, hard and passionate, up against the wall. Interrupting and promising more to come. They pull back to catch their breath and stop themselves from diving in for more.
“I just didn't want to steal Malfoy's thunder,” Harry smiles. "But I'd very much like to date you."
Theo decides fuck it and dives back in, kissing Harry like it's life or death, and he'd pick either as long as it was with Harry.
Cheering erupts inside the restaurant, and Theo pulls back to realise they are completely in the view of their regular table.
“Pay up, bitches!” Blaise shouts.
Theo turns bright red, but Harry laughs and pulls him into the restaurant. As they approach the table, Draco, Gavin, and Longbottom are fishing their wallets out of their pockets and throwing money at Blaise.
“You made bets?” Theo gasps, falling into one of the empty chairs, still holding Harry’s hand. Even if he wanted to, there’s no way to explain that kiss away. What’s he going to say? I felt faint, and Harry held me up with his lips? Actually, that was sort of true.
“I thought you were going to burst night one, right there in the lobby,” Draco snarks.
“You always were too quick on the draw,” Theo sasses, and everyone howls at Draco’s blush.
“I went for night two. Harry can be a little oblivious even when he’s laying it on thick,” Longbottom shrugs.
“Oi!” Harry gasps, but the blush on his cheek hints that it’s true.
“I dunno you both, but three felt right," explains Gavin.
“If it makes you better, we deff hooked up that night too,” Theo admits. Harry squeezes his hand under the table.
“Seriously?!” Blaise groans and throws the money at Gavin. It flutters all over the table and into the food. Blaise crosses his arms and pouts. “How’d I miss that! Fuck!”
“You’re all arseholes,” Theo tells them, laughing.
“Just for this, we’re taking a portkey home,” Harry announces.
Theo’s grateful for that. Sitting twenty-six hours on a plane would be torture with the soreness in his arse. Not to mention how he’s already thinking of climbing Harry like a tree again. He’s also planning on asking Harry as his date for Draco and Granger’s wedding.
Gavin looks up from counting his money; it's at least a couple thousand.
“What’s a portkey?”