#Ao3 bookmarfic rec no 192

[dewitty1]

Chapters: 10/10 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Ginny Weasley, Millicent Bulstrode, Luna Lovegood, Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, Minerva McGonagall, Narcissa Black Malfoy Additional Tags: First Time, Coming Out, Blowjobs, Sex Pollen, House Rivalries, Dark Arts, Potions, New teachers, Post-War Relations, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Dramatic Gestures, Rule Flouting And Breaking, Frenemies with Benefits, Slow Burn, Magic, Discussion Of Learning Disability, Major Parental Injury, Offscreen Prison Violence, Onscreen Homophobic Comments, Realistic Internalised Homophobia, Anti-Slytherin Bias, Post-War Trauma, Nightmares, Grief, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Community: hd_erised, Fights, Intercrural Sex, Hand Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Bisexuality, Coming Out as Bisexual, Accepting one's sexuality, Canon het relationship morphing into bisexual awakening, Bisexual Harry Potter, explicit mentions of past Harry/Ginny sexual encounters as part of a bisexual coming out narrative Summary:

After the Battle, Harry thinks he's left Hogwarts for good, but Minerva insists that all students return for an Eighth Year if they wish to sit for NEWTs in the spring, and Harry needs those NEWTs to go into the Aurors. Draco's just grateful not to be in Azkaban. Or the Manor. He's hoping he can steer clear of Potter this year and grapple with his own problems. Unfortunately for him, Potter appears to be one of those problems. And that's not even addressing the fact that Potter's got serious issues of his own, which Draco realises as he's forced to share an Eighth Year dormitory room and several classes with the Gryffindor Git. If only they can make it through the year without killing each other, it should be all right, shouldn't it?

Excerpt:

When Draco wakes up it's dark. He sits up, blinking in the shadows, rubbing at his eyes. He checks his watch; it's nearly quarter past seven, and all Draco can think is that Potter's waiting for him, and he's already late.

He doesn't bother straightening himself up; he just grabs his satchel and hurries out of the dormitory, feeling oddly scattered and discombobulated. He almost runs down the corridor leading to the library, throwing the doors open when he gets there. Pince looks up from her desk with a frown.

"Really, Mr Malfoy," she says sharply, but Draco's not listening. He heads back towards the stacks, towards the group room.

When he gets there it's empty.

"Oh." Draco sets his satchel on the desk, pulls out one of the chairs and sits. Disappointment roils through him. He pulls his hair back from his face in frustration before letting it fall loose again. "Fuck."

And then there's a cough from the doorway. "Looking for me?" Potter asks, and he steps into the group room, his books under one arm.

 He gives Draco a half-smile as he closes the door behind him. "I figured you weren't coming so I moved out to one of the tables until I saw you flying past Pince like you had an Acromantula on your arse."

"Ha ha," Draco says, but he's relieved to see Potter. He moves his satchel out of the way. "I got your note, eloquent as it was."

Potter doesn't take the seat opposite Draco like he usually does. He sits beside him, and his knee bumps Draco's when he pulls the chair closer to the table. He looks over at Draco and says, "Hey."

Draco feels his face heat. "Don't be a prat, Potter." Then he adds, "Although I suppose I should thank you for slamming Kirke into the wall."

"He deserved it." Potter's watching Draco, a curious look on his face. "The thing is, you know, that you're utter pants at Defence."

"I know." Draco hates the admission, but he also can't deny the truth of it. Not to Potter. Not right now. "It's never been my best subject." Potter's just studying him again, and Draco feels as if he might die of embarrassment. He wants to snap at Potter, but instead he just looks down at his satchel, reaches in to pull out his potions notes. "Should we--"

"Let me tutor you in Defence," Potter says, and Draco's gaze flies up to Potter's face. Potter gives him a small smile. "I'm good at it. I can help."

Draco wants to refuse. He can't spend more time than this with Potter. Not with the way his body's already responding to Potter's presence. "That's ridiculous," he manages to get out. Potter just raises an ungroomed eyebrow.

"Is it?" Potter knocks his knuckles against the notebook Draco's just set on the table. "You do all this to help me--"

"Because Ravi's making us," Draco says hotly, but Potter just looks at him. Draco swallows, glances away. He knows that's not entirely true now. "I just think it's a terrible idea."

Potter shifts closer in his chair. "Really? Because as I see it, there'd be two brilliant things about it. One." He hold up a finger. "If Claverdon and his idiots try anything else on you, you'll be prepared to protect yourself. Maybe even knock them about in return. And two?" 

He reaches out, drags his finger along the angle of Draco's cheek, over to the curve of Draco's mouth. "There'd be more chance for us to do this afterwards." He leans in, his lips only millimetres from Draco's. "God, I really want to kiss you right now."

Draco's eyes flutter closed. "And this is the part, Potter," he murmurs, "where this is a terrible idea."

"Maybe." And then Potter's knuckle is beneath Draco's chin, lifting it ever so slightly. "But say you'll let me."

"Tutor me or kiss me?" Draco can't open his eyes yet, can't see Potter so close to him like this.

Potter's breath is warm against Draco's lips, and Draco shivers. "Both."

"All right." Draco can't help himself. He needs Potter to kiss him, needs to feel the pressure of Potter's lips. And when Potter's mouth brushes featherlight across Draco's, Draco can't help the soft moan that escapes.

And then Potter's hands are pulling Draco closer, his fingers tangling in Draco's hair as they kiss, soft and careful at first, and then Draco's mouth opens to Potter's and he feels the sweep of Potter's tongue across his, the warmth of Potter, the taste of him, and Draco lets Potter drag him up, over the corner of the table, which catches painfully on his hip, until he's half-draped over Potter's lap, trapped between Potter's chest and the table's edge, his hands gripping Potter's biceps as he gives in to the overwhelming rush of Potter kissing him.

Potter tastes delicious, earthy and minty and sweet like treacle tart, and Draco loves the feel of Potter's fingers smoothing beneath the hem of his untucked shirt, sliding warm and soft along the waistband of his trousers, dipping beneath the edge.

"God," Potter says finally, his lips barely pulling away from Draco's swollen mouth. "Kissing you's bloody amazing, you know."

Draco just laughs, almost stunned that this is happening. "Fuck," he says, and then he starts to feel the ache in his back from being manhandled this way. He struggles to sit up; he misses the warmth of Potter's body.

Potter catches Draco's hand. "Don't leave," he says. He looks almost debauched, his mouth pink and wet from Draco's kisses, his hair rumpled, his t-shirt askew at the neck.

"I'm not, you idiot," Draco says, but he can't hide the softness in his voice. "Budge up a bit."

The chair scrapes loudly across the floor as Potter slides it backwards. He looks up at Draco, and Draco can see the swell of Potter's prick against his jeans. It amazes him that Potter wants him like this. He'll come to his senses soon enough, Draco thinks, but for now, Draco's determined to enjoy what he can take, what Potter will give.

Draco moves closer, watching Potter's face. He lets his fingertips graze Potter's cheek lightly, shivering at the scrape of stubble across his skin. He wonders if that's going to rough up his own face tomorrow, if his pale skin will show the burn from Potter's kisses. Draco doesn't care because right now Potter's looking up at him with those bloody gorgeous eyes, and Draco reaches over and plucks his glasses off, sets them on the table behind him.

"Oh," Potter says when Draco straddles his thighs, settling himself once more between Potter and the table. Potter's hands go to Draco's hips; Draco drapes his arms over Potter's shoulders.

"The better to kiss you," Draco murmurs, and then he's leaning forward again, capturing Potter's mouth with his.

This kiss is different. Slower, more careful. Potter's hands slide up Draco's back, pull him closer, and Draco swears he can feel the soft, steady thud of Potter's heart against his chest.

 It's mad of him, he knows, but for that one moment he feels almost connected to Potter in a way that's both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

Potter's hands slip higher, up to Draco's shoulder blades, across Draco's bruises, but Draco doesn't care--the pain only intensifies the pleasure of kissing Potter like this, and then he's holding Draco gently in place as he rocks his hips up, a slow, steady press of his prick against Draco's that nearly takes Draco's breath away.

"Oh," Draco breathes out against Potter's lips. "I--" The word's swallowed by a soft moan.

Potter's laugh is soft. "Yeah," he says, and Draco thinks Potter's brilliant at this for a straight boy, but then again, Potter's really not able to call himself that any more, is he? 

No one who only wanted girls would be able to make Draco feel this way, would be able to set Draco's skin on fire the way Potter can just by doing this.