An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 4/4
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Harry/Draco
Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Blaise Zabini
Additional Tags: a bit of violence, Explicit Sex
Summary:
The war is over and “eighth year” is about to begin at Hogwarts. But for Harry and Draco, nothing is quite the same. Harry’s looking for an escape, Draco’s looking for a friend. Does a little black bunny hold the answers for both of our boys?
He was so lost in his gloomy musings he didn’t notice someone coming up behind him. One moment he was staring at his feet scuffing along the stone floor, the next he was being shoved into a dark alcove, his back pushed up against the wall, his head bouncing painfully off the stones. Harry blinked rapidly and Malfoy’s face came into focus.
Harry knew that kissing boys was different from kissing girls. Kissing girls was nice, there was no doubt about that. He had loved kissing Ginny. Kissing her had been like sinking into a bath – warm, comforting, and sensual. He could have kissed her for hours and never grown bored. But as much as he had liked Ginny and as much as he had enjoyed kissing her, the second Harry’s lips touched Charlie Weasley’s, Harry knew kissing girls would always be second-best. Even though Charlie’s kisses had been gentle, they sent a heat through Harry’s body that Ginny’s most ardent kisses never had. Yes, Harry knew that kissing boys was different.
But kissing Draco Malfoy? That was something else entirely. There was nothing soft or gentle about it. Malfoy’s hands were on his hips, grinding them back against the wall, pinning Harry in place.
Malfoy’s mouth was hot and brutal, his lips pushing Harry’s open, taking what they wanted and demanding response. Sharp teeth bit at Harry’s mouth, caught at his lips, at his tongue, closing down too hard on soft flesh.
Harry moaned deep in his throat as desire unfurled with a heated fury, rushed up from his belly, melting his spine. He felt Malfoy grin against him at the sound before biting down again, even harder. Harry felt as though his skull would shatter with the want of it.
Harry returned the kiss urgently, body arching up even as his hands reached forward to pull Malfoy into him, slamming their bodies together with no coy pretense or restraint. He plunged his hands inside Malfoy’s robes, pulling his shirt from his trousers so he could slide his hands along bare skin. He needed to feel Malfoy with nothing between them, to touch flesh, feel that flat, hard stomach, that strong back. Needed to feel skin and muscle and fucking Draco. And now Malfoy was moving against him, grinding him back further against the stones. Harry could feel their rough angles digging into his spine, his shoulder blades. But he didn’t care. This was too good. This was better than anything, anything he had ever known.
Harry was lost in it, burning up in the heat of it, hot skin, hot hands, hot mouths. He was burning alive, everything he thought he was, everything he thought he knew consumed by the fire rising between them until all that was left was the desperate, aching need to keep kissing Malfoy forever.
