An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 15/15 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom Additional Tags: EWE, magical bonding, Language Summary:
Draco has done everything in his power to leave the past behind him. He’s established himself a successful business and built a reputation around the quality of his work and the breadth of his knowledge. But when aurors show up at his shop one afternoon, seeking his expertise on a peculiar item of questionable origins, they completely overthrow the precarious balance in Draco’s life. Trust Potter to bring danger and destruction in his wake, along with a painful reminder of all the things Draco is trying to forget.
Excerpt:
The pull tightened without warning, like a clamp snapping shut, and Draco dragged Potter into his arms. His head was just barely clear enough to get them from the storehouse to Draco’s shop, but the moment they materialized, his thoughts clouded.
Then there was only Potter. Draco crowded him against the wall, hands roving up and down Potter’s body, touching every inch of the auror he could reach. Potter gasped and husked, his own hands clutching greedily at Draco’s robes, urging him closer.
Draco leaned in, his face buried in Potter’s hair, his neck, breathing in the scent of him. His lips brushed against Potter’s jaw, just below his ear, and Potter led out a low, deep sound that sent blood rushing through Draco. His trousers grew uncomfortably tight, but he didn’t notice. He only noticed the taste of Potter’s skin, the sound of his hot, ragged breath at Draco’s ear, and the feel of his hands on Draco’s back.
Draco turned his head as Potter did the same. Their lips parted, their mouths a hair’s breadth from touching, Draco felt Potter’s breath on his face. Potter licked his lips, his breathing hitched, and—
Draco pulled away. Rather, he pushed away, by forcing himself off the wall, and released his hold on Potter. Gasping, panting as though he’d been playing Quidditch for days, Draco tried to ground himself, to remember they weren’t meant to—they couldn’t—
But the look on Potter’s face was a demanding one. It demanded kissing, snogging, all-consuming tasting.
Carding fingers through his hair, Draco turned away, unable to look at Potter any longer for fear of what he might do. Of what they both might do. When he turned back to Potter, it was to find him smoothing out his robes and trying not to look shaken.
With a laugh that barely veiled his lust, Potter said, “when they say ‘consummate,’ what do you think that means precisely?”
