Chapter Text
“Oh, oh, fuck,” Draco moaned loudly, trembling, pale fingers groping the sheets wildly for support as Harry buried his cock deep into the tight, wet heat of his arse. “Harry, please—oh, dear Merlin—”
Harry stared down at him hungrily, his stomach burning and heat rushing to his groin.
Draco’s eyes were squeezed tightly shut in desperate anticipation, and his breaths were quick and shallow as he waited, squirming and impatient, quietly aching and begging for it without uttering a single word.
Harry’s hands automatically strayed towards Draco’s abundant, soft blond hair, fingers twisting and tangling in it, palm filling and overflowing with the fluffy, silky strands as he leaned down and captured his mouth.
A bright sheen of sweat was draped across Draco’s pale, milky skin, making him almost glow. Feeling intoxicated, Harry traced Draco’s lips forcefully, feeling the muscles on his back flex as he shoved his tongue into his mouth and kissed him roughly—exactly like he loved.
As always, Draco was making Harry lose his god-damn mind, and he couldn’t get enough. The sweet taste of his lips and the scent of his body excited him to his core, and he wanted more.
He wanted to touch more, see more, taste more.
Draco squirmed impatiently again and arched his back, lifting his legs so that they were high up in the air. He shuddered due to the sheer suspense of the moment, his muscles visibly twitching, shaking fingers gripping the sheets tightly as he braced himself.
Harry’s cock throbbed and pulsated inside Draco, and he felt the anticipation building and building and building in his stomach as he kissed Draco. For a fleeting moment, he felt like it was impossible to control himself, but the way Draco wriggled in desperation beneath him, grabbing him wildly, nails digging into his shoulder, made Harry want to tease him even more.
Suddenly, feeling compelled to take his time, he painfully calmed the urge to seize Draco’s hair and thrust into him senselessly. Instead, he slowly drew back, pulling his cock all the way out and pushing back inside in such an excruciatingly unhurried manner that Draco whimpered and whined against his mouth, melting like ice against his warm body, desperate hands coming up to claw at his back.
“Fuck,” cursed Harry as he came up for air, his lips trailing down to Draco's jaw, peppering hot, wet kisses along the way. Forcing Draco to tilt his head back, he licked and sucked down the long, exposed length of his pale throat, nipping at his pulse point and scraping his teeth against his most sensitive areas.
Groaning in pure frustration, Draco grabbed his shoulder suddenly, roughly pulling him up. “Harry—oh!—you fucking arsehole, please—” he gasped, pleading as he impatiently spread his legs and pushed himself down, forcing Harry’s cock further into him. “Move, for heaven’s sake—”
Harry’s heart leapt out of his chest, and he angrily slammed Draco back against the bed, pinning his wrists above his head. “Patience, kitten,” he whispered gruffly, his breathing heavy.
Draco visibly shuddered, and Harry let out a breath, withdrawing abruptly and thrusting back in so fast that Draco jerked forward in shock, letting out a half-strangled moan, “Oh, sweet mother of —”
Harry rocked back and forth, rolling his hips and fucking into him hard and fast, setting up a deep pounding rhythm from the beginning.
Draco moaned loudly and choked out a litany of swear words in relief, throwing his head back, and closing his eyes in pure pleasure. His brows relaxed, and his wet, red mouth opened in a blissful sort of daze.
“You never—” growled Harry, “—let me be gentle with you.”
“Oh, finally, yes—” moaned Draco in an almost ragged, relieved sob. “Just like that, darling, fuck me —”
Harry panted. “Fucking look at you,” he gasped, sweat trickling down the side of his face. “You love getting filled up with my cock, don’t you?”
“Yes, Merlin, yes—don’t stop,” pleaded Draco unabashedly in a raspy, breathless moan.
The curtains were drawn around Harry’s rickety old bed, and it was considerably dark in his shared dorm room, but Draco’s cheeks glowed bright red even in the low lighting, and the tousled, dishevelled golden locks of his hair curled clumsily around his ears, spilling over messily onto his beautiful face.
Without a single semblance of shame, he carried on pleading and begging incessantly, letting out a string of curse words and moaning loudly.
Unable to resist himself, Harry placed damp, clumsy kisses on the corners of his lips, sinking his teeth into the paleness of his throat right below, sucking and licking and making Draco’s fingers twist painfully in his hair.
Draco whimpered and arched his back again. Harry pressed him back against the bed harshly, thrusting relentlessly, the moans and gasps and shudders which left Draco’s mouth sending brilliant, thrilling sensations vibrating through his whole body.
Grunting, Harry seized Draco’s legs and yanked him closer. He’d just figured out the perfect angle to pound away into Draco when the sudden, unmistakable sound of someone hastily thundering up the stairs made him freeze immediately in complete shock, heaving quietly.
Draco’s whole body tensed, and his arsehole clenched around Harry’s cock, making him dizzy.
Breathing heavily, Draco twitched and wriggled beneath him, urging him to move, completely delirious with pleasure, chasing the high despite everything.
“Move, you fucking git—” croaked Draco desperately.
The distinct thuds of pounding footsteps neared the door, and Harry clamped a hand against his mouth hastily. “Quiet,” he hissed, and Draco let out a choked noise from his throat.
For a small moment, the silence echoed loudly, and he began to wonder if he’d imagined the noise, after all. Draco breathed heavily and glared up at him in anger, looking like a very furious tomato—due to how red he was. As a compromise, heaving and out of breath, Harry traced his lips quietly down Draco’s jawline, leaving wet kisses down his neck, nuzzling against his skin and inhaling his scent deeply.
The door burst open suddenly, and his cock pulsed, still buried deep inside Draco. Feeling way too horny, and no longer able to resist the temptation in spite of the noise outside, Harry slowly pulled out and pushed back in—a gentle, dragged out and deep thrust to relieve the pressure, but it turned out to be a terrible mistake because it made Draco let out a half-strangled, guttural moan.
“Shhh,” murmured Harry, panting as he heard the sound of loud shuffling and rustling noises just outside the curtain. “Be good now. Don’t act up, Draco.”
Draco made a broken sound from his throat, and Harry stared at him in a momentary trance, feasting his eyes on the sexy view.
God, he loved Draco like this—so pliant and weak and desperate for relief. His shining, sweat-soaked platinum-blond hair was splayed across the pillow almost artistically. He always blushed so easily that his whole face was flushed a vibrant red, with little uneven pink blotches scattered all over his face. His eyelashes were long and dark, and it made him look young and innocent as he blinked repeatedly, inhaling sharply, biting his lip, every scrape of his teeth against the plump, swollen fullness of his bottom lip causing Harry’s heart to leap into ecstasy.
As a direct result of his relentless attack, Draco looked like a complete and utter fucking mess, and it struck a sharp, striking contrast with his usual pompous, conceited, and overall put-together look. Draco Malfoy—to others—was a proud, haughty, arrogant little prick, always flawlessly prim and proper, always so graceful, with an ever-present dignified air surrounding him. Usually, on a normal day, his gorgeous hair would be neatly combed and slicked back, not a single fucking strand out of place. Similarly, his attire—traditional and fully covering every part of him—would always be impeccable, his mannerisms always refined and elegant—except when he was deliberately trying to be a git, but that was beside the point.
And then, there were moments like this one, when Harry successfully managed to peel back all of his thick fucking layers one by one, tearing him apart piece by piece, and exposing each and every single part of him wholly.
Only Harry and Harry alone ever saw him like this—lying wide open for all to see, with his very soul on display and his heart laid bare, looking wild and indecent and completely lewd with all his dishevelled, silky hair, pale white skin littered with bruises, and loud, unrestrained moans and grunts and shuddering breaths that managed to squeeze its way into the deepest corners of Harry’s heart.
Jesus, Draco was beautiful, achingly so.
And Harry could control himself no longer. Pulling back, he slammed into Draco, hoping the silencing charm would be enough to muffle the sound.
Draco let out a choked gasp and moaned. “Dear Merlin, Potter—” he groaned, breathing so heavily that Harry could hear each rough inhalation. “Oh, fuck, yes, just keep moving—”
Something crashed outside, and the shuffling footsteps stilled abruptly.
Harry froze once more, and Draco whimpered in agony, causing Harry to place a hand against his mouth instinctively. “Be quiet,” he hissed, stilling and frowning immediately. “Be quiet for me now, kitten.”
Harry panted and breathed shakily. Tiny little beads of sweat formed on his brow as he waited uneasily for whoever was poking around in his and Ron’s shared room to go away and leave them alone to finish their business. However, the tall, barely-visible silhouette outside the curtain didn’t move, and Harry frowned in confusion.
Draco bit Harry’s hand impatiently, making Harry curse under his breath. “That fucking hurts, you arsehole—”
“Move, or I’ll die, god-damn it,” gasped Draco feverishly, heaving as he wrapped his legs tightly around the back of Harry’s hips and yanked him forwards, making Harry abruptly collapse on top of Draco with a strangled groan.
“Draco, you stupid prick—”
“Harry?”
Harry’s body went completely still, and Draco’s jaws fell open in shock. For a brief moment, there was a stunned, uncomfortable silence, and then Draco gulped restlessly. “You . . . you said Weasley would go down to breakfast without coming back to bother you!” he choked out, staring almost dazedly at Harry.
Harry swallowed thickly, heat curling at the bottom of his stomach, urging him to move, but he knew he couldn’t—at least, not for a while, it seemed like. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he rasped breathlessly through gritted teeth, freezing completely with his cock in Draco’s arse. “He usually doesn’t come back. You know that.”
This thing with Draco, whatever it was, had been going on for a while now. Six months, in fact. Six months of sneaking around and shoving each other frantically into hidden alcoves for quick, rough kisses and desperate handjobs, of dragging each other off to secluded corners, and climbing to the top of the Astronomy Tower almost every night—giggling and struggling to fit under the invisibility cloak—to fuck under the starry night sky.
Seven whole months had gone by since they had returned for eighth year at Hogwarts, and his aching need for Draco was only growing, not diminishing—in spite of the almost astounding amount of time they spent fucking in concealed spaces all around the castle.
It hadn’t always been this way. Their attachment to each other had started off in an extremely normal way, considering their past and all. In the very beginning, when Harry, along with Ron and Hermione, had reluctantly returned for eighth year, he’d just felt a strange sort of vague curiosity towards Draco. He’d fleetingly wondered what Draco would do now—if, after everything, he’d be just as arrogant and proud as before, if he’d continue to be a selfish little arsehole, or if he'd inevitably change somehow.
It was very normal at first—his curiosity.
Then, shortly after they’d returned, thwarting all of Harry’s expectations for his last year at Hogwarts, McGonagall—Headmistress McGonagall—started her little campaign for inter-house unity. The spontaneous creation of an eighth year dorm was her very first experiment. Although he was fortunate enough to not be roomed with Draco, Draco still became a constant presence near Harry.
Draco, and his perky little butt, persistently kept appearing right in front of him—no matter where he went.
Soon after that, they were thrown together by McGonagall to help with castle reparations, and it was followed by a long string of activities organized by the Headmistress herself to promote unity even more than before. Even Quidditch practise was done together, and more often than not, Harry and Draco ended up competing against each other, forgetting the rest of their team.
On top of it all, Draco had actually apologized.
On a peaceful day in September, when Harry, Ron and Hermione had been in the library, poring over their already towering homework, Draco had almost abruptly turned up right in front of them. He'd stood unabashedly in front of them, looking stiff but resolute nonetheless. His gaze had been a vivid grey, unfaltering and steady, never leaving Harry's eyes as an awkward but sincere apology tumbled out of his lips. He had been frank and upfront about his errors and flaws, and had never once asked for forgiveness. They had been too stunned to say anything, and all any of them could do was gape at him in shock and astonishment.
Draco had disappeared as quickly as he'd come, and that had been that.
Still, he’d apologized, and Harry had actively watched him trying to make amends, helping people he would’ve barely given a second glance before. His curiosity, which was supposed to end, like all curiosities do, never did. It only grew, inch by inch, day by day, becoming larger and more profound than ever.
All in all, Harry never had a single fucking chance at resisting Draco’s charm.
Six fucking months had already gone by since then, and somehow, his sheer fucking need for Draco was becoming harder and harder to suppress each day. Sneaking into each other's beds had become an established routine, and at least one fuck a day was essential for him to be able to get through the day, to be able to resist the temptation of constantly wanting to bend Draco over every piece of furniture he saw. In fact, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d slept alone, and thanks to the invisibility cloak, there wasn’t a single hidden space left in Hogwarts castle where they hadn’t fucked each other at least once.
It was a desperate craving he felt churning inside him every moment, like a deep burning itch he couldn’t get relief from no matter how much he rubbed and scratched. Sometimes, he’d just find Draco strutting down the corridor in his tight trousers, swinging his sexy little arse for all to see, and he’d feel so intensely needy and jealous and greedy that he’d end up just shoving Draco into the nearest alcove, putting up clumsy spells with shaking fingers, and fucking him into the wall.
This morning had begun like one of those hungry moments. He’d stirred awake from his slumber with Draco lying stark naked beside him. From what he could tell then, Ron had already gone down for breakfast without him—as per usual these days—and the room was empty.
And Draco—pretty, sexy, sleeping Draco, with his endless pale skin, marked and bruised beautifully in several places from their little, thrilling tussle the other night, had just been lying there for him. He’d been right there, gorgeous and ready, laid out in front of him like a full-course meal, and suddenly, nothing had seemed more important than that.
“Harry, what the fuck are you doing in there?” asked Ron in shock.
Harry panted, and his breath rasped in his throat. He stared down at Draco’s contorted face with an apologetic look. Draco, who looked close to bursting into desperate tears, glared up at him in pure rage.
Swallowing, Harry forced himself to grab his wand and dismantled the silencing charm for a moment.
“Erm . . . nothing,” he choked out. “Nothing, Ron. I’m just—why did you come back?”
“Are you alright? You sound like you’ve been climbing a mountain all night,” said Ron in a worried voice. “I forgot my Transfiguration textbook, so I came back to get it. Are you up? Is something wrong?”
“Nope!” he croaked hoarsely. “Everything’s alright, Ron. I’m up. I’ll be down in a minute—ow, fucking prick—”
Draco chomped on his earlobe abruptly, kissing and biting and sucking roughly down his throat. “Put the silencing charm back up and fuck me,” he whispered in a cracking voice, writhing impatiently beneath him, so desperate that he’d lifted his feet completely, white-knuckled fingers gripping the sheets as he began to move by himself in a lewd, vulgar manner, clumsily trying to fuck himself on Harry’s cock by pushing himself up against Harry’s body.
Harry grunted, the sound rough and grating. “Fuck, Draco, don’t you dare—”
“Mate, you alright in there?” Ron asked, sounding panicked and concerned, his footsteps coming closer. “What happened?”
“Fine!” Harry cried in a croaky voice, his hand closing loosely around Draco’s pale throat as he glared down at him, making him flinch and halt. “I’m great! Just a cramp in my calf!”
“Well, we’re going down for breakfast,” announced Ron, sounding uncertain. “Aren’t you coming?”
There were quiet sounds of moving around, noises of shuffling, things being picked up and gathered, and Harry realized that Ron was grabbing his school bag.
“I am,” said Harry in a strangled voice, watching as Draco’s cock, bright pink and damp at the tip, dribbled pre-cum onto his stomach.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Draco choked out, glaring up at the ceiling for a moment and squeezing his eyes shut. “I was so damn fucking close—”
“Well, come on, then,” Ron said in a confused voice. “What are you waiting for? Hermione’s downstairs. We’re already a bit late, and she’s pissed.”
Draco opened his eyes with a sudden angry glint in his desperate gaze. Still glaring daggers at Harry, he slid his hand down to pump his cock eagerly, sighing deeply with relief and letting out a deliberately loud, whiny moan.
Harry clamped his hand harder against Draco’s mouth and hissed, “Draco, you fucking twat, I swear to god —”
“Harry?”
“You go ahead, Ron!” he snapped. “I’ll be right there. Just dealing with this fucking cramp in my leg!”
There was a pause, a quiet, suspenseful silence.
“Is everything okay? Are you alright in there, Harry?” Ron repeated in a concerned voice, sounding suspicious and unsure.
“I am!”
“Then, why are you hiding from me?” asked Ron in a disappointed voice. “Why do you always keep your curtains closed these days? It . . . it sort of feels like you’re always avoiding me, mate. Did I say something to offend you or something?”
Harry could say nothing, because Draco was staring up at him with heat in his gaze, stroking his own dick slow and hard, and letting out quiet little gasps and pants against his rough palm.
Fucking hell. Draco was killing him.
“Look, Harry . . . Hermione and I—we were just talking about you. You’ve been . . . well, you’ve been very distant with us these past few months. You’re always running off to be on your own, and to be honest, we’re both very worried about you. If there is anything —”
“Oh, for the love of God! Can we have this conversation some other time?” snapped Harry impatiently, gulping when Draco started to lick and suck on his fingers, teasing him, taunting him on purpose.
Another painfully long silence followed, and then — “Mate, I know that everything that happened during the war affected you much more than the rest of us, but you don’t have to bottle it all up, you know. We’re all here for you,” said Ron in a sad voice. “It’s just . . . you’ve not been yourself, Harry. You barely talk to me these days. If you’re somehow mad at me for anything I said or did, then I’d like to apologize for that —”
“For fuck’s sake, just leave me alone, Ron!” shrieked Harry, struggling to control a lustful and horny Draco who, without relenting, tried to bite his fingers to make him move again.
“Merlin,” breathed Ron in shock. “So, you are mad! You’re actually mad at me. What did I do, Harry? You’ve got to tell me, mate, because I have zero fucking clue what I —”
“I’m not mad, I swear! I’m just ill, Ron!” he yelled, desperation making him position himself once more to slide his cock into Draco. “Just get the fuck out!”
“Whoa. No need to be so rude, mate,” Ron said, and Harry could hear the bewilderment in his voice. “I was just leaving.”
Draco clenched around Harry abruptly, and he almost doubled over due to how fucking good it felt, letting out a soft, throaty moan of relief.
Draco’s lips curled into a satisfied, devilish smirk, and rage burst through his chest instantly. “Draco, I’m going to fucking destroy you,” he hissed, making him gulp and gape at Harry in an anticipatory daze.
“Harry, what the fuck are you doing in there?”
“I’m fine! Just leave, you daft son of a—Draco, stop!” he hissed, lowering his voice mid-sentence.
There was silence for a great while again.
“Bloody hell, Harry, are you really doing what I think you’re doing?”
“What—” croaked Harry, freezing once more. Even Draco stilled for a moment, his mouth falling open in surprise. “What do you think I’m doing?”
“You’re doing your Potions homework!” accused Ron in shock. “I should’ve known!”
That immediately drew a sudden giggle out of Draco, which Harry swallowed with a rough kiss. “What the fuck are you on about —”
“Isn’t that why you’re hiding? You said you didn’t know how to do it! You said you’d help me persuade Hermione to tell us!” shouted Ron. “How could you betray me like this, Harry?”
“Ron, for fuck’s sake, I’m not doing Potions homework!” Harry snapped. “And I swear to god, I’ll persuade Hermione to let us copy hers!”
“Oh,” said Ron. “Oh, then that’s fine, I guess.” There was a small sound of retreating footsteps. “Well, then. You're being a bit weird, so I'll leave you alone. Come down when you feel better.”
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, thank you!”
The footsteps suddenly halted once more, and Harry let out a loud, irritated groan.
“Hey, Harry?”
“What!”
“You don’t . . .” began Ron, pausing and hesitating for a split second. “You don’t have a girl in there, do you?”
Harry stiffened and croaked in a quiet, scratchy voice, “N-no?” It wasn't a lie.
“Right. Of course,” Ron responded hastily, footsteps hurrying to the door. “You’re still struggling to recover from all the horrible shit you went through, and I know you’ve been way too depressed to attempt anything of the sort.” He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself more than anyone else. “Sorry, mate. I shouldn’t have suspected you like that.”
With that, Ron walked away, and the sound of the door slamming shut echoed in the silence.
Draco was quietly snickering into his hand, red-faced and delirious with both amusement and inextinguishable lust. The sudden burning flame of rage which seared through Harry right then was impossible to smother. He couldn’t rein himself in any longer, and his desire burst through unrestrained in all its intensity. He’d already reached his utmost limit, and Draco had been incessantly pushing and pushing and pushing him to his breaking point. His cock painfully throbbed and ached for relief, and Draco stopped giggling instantly.
A fearful expression came on his face right then—a look of sudden dread and anticipation mingled with pure desperation and lust, and it was nearly enough to send him over the edge.
Fuck it all, thought Harry, and like a parched man desperate to quench himself, he pulled away without warning and seized Draco’s legs, yanking him so violently towards himself that Draco let out a strangled yelp of surprise and pain. Too angry and turned on to give a fuck, he slipped his arms around Draco’s lithe waist and abruptly lifted him off the bed with brute strength and ease, flipping him over smoothly.
With only one single thought, one single goal, in his head, he grasped Draco’s hips tight enough to bruise and wrenched him back onto his cock so hard that all Draco could do was tremble and choke out a shuddering moan as he tried to scramble hastily onto his hands and knees, sagging forwards as he helplessly yielded to Harry’s wishes—whatever they might be.
Harry felt his stomach ignite immediately, and his groin was ablaze. Heaving and grunting, Harry pounded into him single-mindedly without a care in the world.
Draco gasped in pain and pleasure, hands grappling wildly at the sheets, desperate for purchase as he was almost jerked violently forwards, each savage thrust seeming to rattle his very being. “Holy fucking finally—” And that was all he could manage to croak.
“You horny git,” groaned Harry, breaths quick and panting as he rocked back and forth ruthlessly, finding the best angle to nail Draco’s prostrate with each merciless thrust, hand wrapping lightly around his pale throat to hold him in place as he pounded away. “Did you enjoy that, you little shite? You want everyone to know what a desperate little slut you are for my cock?”
Draco flinched and trembled and shuddered, moaning loudly, hand pumping his own cock as he begged and pleaded and tearfully choked out, “Yes, yes, fuck, yes,” several times over.
Harry found himself letting out a low growl, increasing his pace. The sound of the bed creaking, and their heavy, panting gasps, resounded in the silence. Without stopping for even a moment, his fingers twisted around the sweaty strands of Draco’s hair, securing him firmly in place as he repeatedly rammed back into him, greedy mouth leaving a string of bruises on his neck for everyone to see.
Draco surrendered to him weakly without protest, losing his strength against his near-brutal thrusts. In just a matter of seconds, he was reduced to a sobbing, swearing gorgeous mess, and the only sounds that escaped his throat were hoarse, helpless huffs and panting breaths that mingled with the pounding noise of his cock plundering his tight, wet hole.
And Harry was going crazy due to how good it felt—how incredible and electrifying and breathtaking. It was a sensation out of this world. His whole being was burning hot, and after delaying the inevitable for so long, after waiting so eagerly and desperately, the waves of relief that rolled through his body as he pummeled Draco's arse was indescribable.
Changing angles to better access his prostate, Harry slammed into him repeatedly, and Draco looked as though he could hardly even moan or move by that point. Soon, through his intoxicated, lust-filled trance, he felt Draco’s body convulse, and heard him let out a weak, moaning sob of his name as he came messily all over, shooting white, hot spurts onto the bedsheets and trembling violently.
Harry watched his intense orgasm with an attentive gaze—the force of it vibrating through him—and flinched, his stomach clenching tightly. Immediately after, Draco’s knees began to give out beneath him, but Harry slipped a strong arm around his wet torso and hauled him back so that he was leaning weakly back against Harry’s chest. Shaking, he let out a choking noise when Harry fucked him with desperate, lazy thrusts, pounding until he felt his own orgasm ripping through him.
His world promptly went out of focus, blurring into disfigured reality. His cock pulsed, and he was scarcely aware of panting and grunting and growling against Draco’s shoulder, pulling Draco roughly as close as possible until his red, bruised arse was pressed firmly against his pelvis. He felt himself going light-headed as he came with his cock buried in his arsehole, endlessly spilling his hot, wet seed deep inside Draco until he felt himself become completely and utterly empty.
Draco flinched and trembled; his muscles tightened and relaxed as Harry continued to move lazily for a few more seconds, making a mess of his cum-soaked hole. Then, out of sheer weakness, he abruptly let go of him, and Draco collapsed onto the bed like a dead-weight, his head hitting the pillow with a muffled thump, and Harry’s cock sliding out with a squelching noise. Cum dribbled out of Draco’s spasming red arsehole and stained the bed.
“That was . . . the best yet,” Draco choked out breathlessly in a wheezing voice.
Not having the energy to reply, Harry just slumped powerlessly against Draco’s body, completely spent. For a long, long moment, the sounds of their heavy, panting breaths filled the room.
The sudden, resounding silence made Harry realize how much noise they had actually been making. Draco quivered beneath him for several long moments, and he himself felt wholly drained. For a whole minute, all he could do was stay still, silent and try to catch his breath again, secretly basking in post-coital bliss and satisfaction.
Neither of them moved for what felt like an endlessly long time, nor did they speak. Harry was exhausted but sated. Seconds stretched into minutes, and soon, his breathing evened out, and his limbs regained vitality. Almost absently, he nipped and nibbled at the junction between Draco’s neck and shoulder, unable to stop his craving even after such an intense fucking session.
The cold, biting air in the room suddenly tore into his naked skin, and Harry shivered. Draco suddenly grunted, face still flushed, and looking almost dazed and worn.
Quietly, Harry pulled him closer and pressed open-mouthed kisses against his shoulder. “You alright, kitten?” he asked in a quiet, soft voice.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to shove Harry away. “Get off,” he muttered sluggishly. “You’re heavy.” His cheeks burning red, he added, “And don’t you dare call me that when we’re not fucking, Potter.”
Harry chuckled. “Sorry,” he said gently and shuffled aside, a thin, sticky string of cum connecting the tip of his cock to Draco’s arsehole. “We’re going to be late for breakfast again,” he lamented in annoyance.
Draco sighed and reluctantly sat up, shoving the curtain aside and heading out buck naked with no hesitation at all. A thick trail of cum trickled down his legs, and the sudden bright rays of early morning sunlight from the windows made the little bite marks and hand prints on his pale white skin more beautifully prominent.
Swallowing, Harry felt his cock throb again. Not knowing his thoughts, Draco leaned down to pick up his trousers, which had slipped off the bed during their little tryst earlier.
Harry gulped, and he couldn’t help but inch forward hastily to give Draco’s plump, irresistible arse a tight squeeze.
Draco let out a surprised, pained noise from his throat and slapped his hands away. “Merlin, Potter. You’re insatiable,” he complained. “Stop ogling me and get up. Go down to breakfast. We can’t both be late.”
Harry fell back on the bed with a groan. “Fuck breakfast,” he said, folding his arms behind his head. “Let’s cuddle and go back to sleep.”
Draco rolled his eyes at him. “Who are you trying to fool, Potter? You’re not going to let me sleep anyway. You just want an opportunity to grope me some more,” he said with a slow smirk.
“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it,” said Harry with an arched eyebrow, contorting his face to mimic Draco’s expression earlier and adding in a mocking, high-pitched voice, “Oh, Harry. Fuck me harder, Harry. Oh, I might die if you don’t fuck me!”
Draco blushed a deep shade of red and threw his trousers at his face. “You fucking arsehole—”
Harry caught the trousers with ease and cackled merrily. “Oh, Draco. You’re too cute,” he said absently, shaking his head and opening his arms. “Come. Give me a kiss, darlin'.”
Draco flushed completely, looking flustered as he stomped back to him and snatched his trousers back. “Screw you,” he muttered angrily, cheeks glowing red.
“You already did,” said Harry with a smirk, and when Draco turned away, added hopefully, “What about the kiss?”
Draco rolled his eyes and cupped his face roughly, placing a loud, wet peck on his lips and pulling away with a huff. “There. Happy?”
Harry’s breath caught in his throat, and he nodded in a daze. “Very.”
Draco huffed at him and turned away with a disapproving shake of his head. He continued to grumble and huff and mutter under his breath for several moments, complaining about Harry being an uncouth bastard with barely any sense of decorum, and further accusing him of being an unrefined, primitive caveman with no grace or elegance. With rosy pink cheeks, he continued to bad-mouth Harry as he drew his wand and cleaned himself up, and Harry watched him quietly with a small, overwhelmingly affectionate smile on his face.
After a couple of minutes of this, the clock suddenly struck eight, and Draco looked back at Harry in horror. “Potter, you really should go now,” he said. “We can't both be absent at the same time. It's suspicious, and they might—”
“Why do I have to rush every day?” asked Harry with a frown. “You go first this time. I’ll follow you after fifteen minutes.”
Draco blinked, stared down at his thoroughly messy appearance for a moment, and then gaped back at Harry in horror. “I can’t go looking like this!” he said in shock.
Harry's frown deepened, and he stared down at his own sweaty body. “Then, what about me?”
“You always look like you’ve been rolling around in a mound of giant shite, Potter,” Draco said nonchalantly with a smirk. “I hardly think anyone would notice any difference.”
***
A couple of minutes later, Harry found himself finally complying with Draco’s urgent appeals and hastening down the stairs, hoping to show his face at breakfast before it was over. For some unknown reason, that morning, there seemed to be an unusual degree of commotion and disorder in the Great Hall.
As soon as Harry reached the massive double doors that led inside, he was roughly thrust aside by a young Ravenclaw girl, who ran out hurriedly in a flood of tears. Feeling excessively annoyed, he shouted, “Hey, watch where you’re going!” and stared after her with an angry, confused frown, abruptly noticing the long, hairy tail that was sticking out of her skirt.
The very next moment, another guy, who also had a similarly long, hairy tail, whisked by him to dash after her, screaming her name repeatedly and looking completely distressed.
Harry gaped after them in shock for a few moments, and then, shaking his head in bewilderment, he hurried inside curiously to see what the sudden ruckus was all about.
When he actually entered, he was met with the most bizarre sight he’d ever seen.
Nearly everyone in the hall was giggling and laughing and pointing at each other. Something extremely abnormal and strange seemed to be happening, and the entire hall was in an uproar. A significant number of students had weird little horns, feathers, tiny wings, tails or other odd, animalistic features, and the vast majority of them were outright freaking out.
For a moment, all Harry could do was freeze and stare in utter confusion. Almost immediately, it reminded Harry of when, way back in their second year, Hermione had accidentally poly-juiced herself into a partial cat.
Although none of the younger students had any animal-like characteristics, more than half of the older students had some kind of weird animal organ, and even a couple of teachers—Professor Flitwick, and Madam Pince, for example—had shiny whiskers or long rabbit ears. Multiple boys and girls were crying or blushing or hiding their faces, looking ashamed, and many more were smirking at each other and pointing out others who had the exact same features as them.
Frowning in bafflement and feeling deeply puzzled, Harry slowly walked towards the eighth year table, placed right below the High-Table (another one of McGonagall’s brilliant strategies to encourage inter-house unity).
As per usual, the Eighth Year table was awfully overcrowded, with all the returnees from all the four houses sitting squished together, chatting, laughing and fully savouring the post-war peace and happiness. The eighth year table, at least, was mostly in good spirits, and several of them were pointing out other panicking students and snickering.
For the most part, former Gryffindors, Slytherins, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs sat together. After seven months of eating all meals together, attending classes with each other, and taking part in numerous joint activities arranged personally by McGonagall, most of the enmity had lessened to a great extent. Somehow, even the Slytherins had mingled in with the rest and could be seen cackling just as boisterously as the others. Occasionally, McGonagall could also be seen glancing at them with great satisfaction and pride.
“What about Flitwick?” asked Ron in a muffled voice at the exact moment that Harry reached them.
“Ron!” Hermione hissed in shock, shooting a warning look at Luna, who let out an abrupt giggle.
Ron and Hermione were sitting together, next to the only three empty seats on the entire table. Luna, who’d developed a tendency to drift towards the Eighth Year table these days, was quietly sniggering into her hand.
Surprisingly, none of them had adorned themselves with any fake animal appendages, and it made Harry’s intrigue intensify tenfold.
“Who’s shagging him?” Ron asked in horror. “And why? And how? Merlin’s saggy tits, look at the rabbit ears on his head! Luna, do you see anyone else with rabbit ears?”
With furrowed eyebrows, Harry glanced confusedly at Professor Flitwick as he flung himself down beside Luna. “What the fuck is going on?” he asked in bewilderment.
“Ron, that’s very rude,” hissed Hermione, looking appalled. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with Professor Flitwick. How could you bring yourself to say something so mean—”
“Oh! Oh, I know!” exclaimed Luna excitedly. “I see someone with rabbit ears! Over there! It’s Filch!”
“Filch? Filch?” Ron gasped, turning around wildly and searching desperately for Filch with shock and terror on his face. “Where is Filch?”
“For god’s sake, it’s not Filch!” snapped Hermione. “Ron, if you don’t lower your voice and stop pointing at people, so help me God, I’ll actually silence you with magic!”
Harry stared at Filch, who was quietly and discreetly moving towards the door.
“Oh, thank Merlin, he has cat ears,” breathed Ron in relief, grimacing soon after. “Blimey. Filch and Flitwick! I don’t even want to imagine that!”
Luna let out another loud laugh. “Oh, now I’m really, really curious to know who Professor Flitwick likes!”
“I wonder how he even—” Ron furrowed his eyebrows contemplatively. “I mean, he’s very small, isn’t he? He’s tiny. I wonder if that affects the size of his—”
Luna guffawed, slapping her hands on her knees, and Hermione glared at them both in anger. “You two are vile.”
Harry frowned and opened his mouth, deducing swiftly that in order to receive an explanation, he’d have to repeat his question more loudly and announce his utter confusion once more.
Before he could speak, however, he saw a flash of flaming red hair whizz past him.
“It’s Professor Sprout,” claimed Ginny, appearing beside him out of nowhere, the skin on her arms covered entirely with black and white stripes like that of a zebra. Looking as cool, aloof and uncaring as ever, she flipped back her bright, glistening red hair and settled down directly in front of Ron, smirking indifferently up at him. “She had rabbit ears, and I saw her running out in tears a while ago. I almost felt bad for her, to be honest.”
“Ginny?” Ron choked out, gaping at her in alarm, his voice strangled. “Bloody hell, Gin. I can’t believe—who’s the guy? I’ll kill him.”
Harry felt puzzled by Ron’s question, and he had a hard time wrapping his mind around everything that was happening.
For some reason, both Ron and Hermione glanced at him suddenly, thoroughly scrutinizing his body, their eyes burning with curiosity as they looked back and forth between him and Ginny.
“Is it—?” Ron glared at him, and Harry glanced between them all in total perplexity.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at Harry. “No, it can’t be—”
Harry had no clue what was going on, but he understood almost instinctively that he should be answering in the negative. “It’s not me, I swear,” he blurted hastily.
Hermione nodded. “Not Harry,” she agreed. “He doesn’t have stripes on his arms, Ron.”
Ginny rolled her eyes as she greedily piled food onto her plate. “It’s none of your business, Ron,” she huffed, taking a long swig from her goblet and digging in eagerly. “And I don’t give a fuck what you think, so you better keep your mouth shut.”
Ignoring her, Ron looked around with a frown. “I swear I’ll find him, and I’ll hex him until he ends up in St. Mungo’s.”
“Oh, how scary,” said Ginny blankly. “I’m terrified.”
Hermione shook her head disapprovingly. “You’ll do no such thing, Ron—”
Ron gritted his teeth and glared at everyone in the hall. “I’ll find him—”
“Ron, there’s no one else with a zebra patterned skin around here!”
“Exactly,” confirmed Ginny with a shrug. “You’re wasting your time. I left him in the Room of Requirement. He’s probably catching up on some sleep.”
“Room of Requirement?” gasped Ron, his mouth falling open. “You’re my sister!”
Ginny’s eyes rolled back as she huffed wearily. “And?” She arched a challenging eyebrow. “Just because you haven’t been getting any action, you think you have a right to stop the rest of us from enjoying our blossoming youth—”
Ron went red in the face almost immediately. “You—how dare you? We’re just—” He glanced at Hermione and stuttered. “What’s so wrong about waiting until marriage—”
“God, just shut up, Ron,” huffed Hermione, her cheeks pink. “Stop talking right this instant!”
Ron snapped his jaw shut hastily. Ginny stared at the both of them in total amusement, and a very awkward pause soon ensued.
Harry, who felt more bemused than ever, realized that this could be his chance to make his confusion properly known by them all. “Will anyone tell me what the fuck is going on?” he asked with a frown, surveying the nearby view as he sipped on his juice. “Has there been some kind of new fashion movement or something? Why does everyone have tails and dog ears and whiskers all of a sudden?”
As soon as he asked this, all four heads turned to him with raised eyebrows.
“Didn’t you hear, mate?” asked Ron in bafflement. “Some poor bastard ended up buying a defective packet of sex powder. This is the result of him accidentally releasing it everywhere.”