An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Characters: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Original Dog Character(s), Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter
Additional Tags: Non-Sexual Kink, Non-Sexual Submission, Puppy Play, Under-negotiated Kink, Internalised Kink Shame, First Time Bottoming, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Boys In Love, Slow Burn, Collars, Light Bondage, Dogs, Ministry of Magic Ball, H/D Pet Fair 2016, Post-Hogwarts, Top Draco Malfoy, Switching, Sub Harry Potter, Romance
Summary:
“It wasn’t…” Malfoy stops and there’s something tentative in his voice, the hint of an apology in his words. “It was never about you, Potter.”
With memories of the war still fresh on his mind and Malfoy back in London, Harry's past refuses to stay buried. As Harry tries to grapple with life and love, Malfoy seems determined to make him confront his deepest desires and Harry has to try not to lose his heart all over again.
“It would be nice, wouldn’t it? To be like her.” Harry’s voice leaves him in a low, rough murmur. He can’t bring himself to say Lady’s name. He can’t bring himself to say it out loud, not yet.
He opens his eyes and Draco’s watching him intently. He’s not laughing. If anything, he looks more serious than before. His expression is cool and implacable but there’s a heat in his eyes which even his smooth, serious face can’t hide.
“Yes, Harry.” Draco lifts his hand to brush Harry’s hair behind his ear and he lingers just long enough to rub lightly at the back of Harry’s ear. “It would be nice.”
Harry’s eyes close and he tips his cheek against Draco’s palm, allowing himself a moment for everything to melt away. After a short while he opens his eyes and pulls himself up before he can get too comfortable. He holds out his hand to Draco and nods towards the dance floor. “I thought you promised me a dance?”
Draco hesitates as if he wants to say something but then he nods, standing and taking Harry’s hand. He drains the rest of his drink and lets Harry do the same before picking up their remaining drinks and following him onto the crowded dance floor. “Had enough talking for tonight?” He presses his lips to Harry’s ear, his hands finding Harry’s hips when they find a spot to the side of the crowd.
“For the moment.” Harry shrugs and he presses close to Draco. “Besides, you didn’t get all dressed up for that, did you?”
“For the non-sexy stuff.” Emboldened by his rum and coke, Harry moves against Draco and feels a hardness answering his own arousal.
“No, I suppose I didn’t.” Draco laughs and he brushes his lips against a spot on Harry’s neck which makes his pulse skitter. “I got dressed up to pull a fit boy to go home with for a long, filthy shag.”
“You did?” Draco’s words make Harry breathless and he wraps his arms around Draco’s neck, their bodies fused together with no space between them. As Draco’s fingers slip under his t-shirt and brush against his skin he wonders if he could come like this again, pressed together without even being touched. His inexperience makes him falter because Draco knows how to use a flogger. He talks about sex like he’s had a bit of it. He’s probably expecting Harry to have a list of conquests as long as his arm. He doubts Draco will believe the truth, as awkward as it is. “Any fit boy in particular?”
“There’s one I’ve had my eye on for a while.” Draco pulls back just enough to look at Harry. “If he’s interested.”
“I reckon he is. He wouldn’t mind having a shag.” Harry lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “First time for everything.”
Draco stills and Harry thinks he’s blown it. He watches the way Draco’s face twists into the same pained expression he had earlier. When he finally speaks, Harry can barely hear him over the music. He presses close to hear the broken syllables. Draco’s usual composure leaves him and his smooth drawl is clipped, his voice lower and rougher than usual. It’s Draco’s just been snogged to within an inch of his life voice. His going to come in my pants voice. Harry remembers that from the urgent kisses of the past.
“You haven’t fucked anyone before?”
“Nope. Or been fucked. Don’t you want to, then?” Harry gives Draco what he hopes is a challenging look.
“Christ, Harry. Why the fuck do you want to? With me? Why do you want to do any of this with me?”
Before Harry can answer, Draco’s kissing him breathless. It’s just like Harry remembers in some ways and in other ways it’s completely different. This isn’t a random meeting with Draco making a fleeting appearance then disappearing into the night after fucking Harry’s mouth with his tongue and getting Harry off with the heel of his palm. This isn’t two eighteen year old boys coming out of the closet only to go home and shut the doors behind themselves again. Their kisses aren’t fresh with the memories of war and Draco doesn’t kiss Harry hard enough to hurt these days. It’s not as wet and desperate as it once was; all teeth, tongue and no finesse. They’ve both had a few kisses since and a bit more than that – a lot more, in Draco’s case, Harry assumes.
This kiss is different but it’s still Malfoy’s distinctive cologne which assaults Harry’s senses. It’s the same, slim, cool fingers which twist into Harry’s hair and make him think about all sorts of filthy things involving those hands – those fingers. It’s still Draco’s hair in Harry’s hands, soft and ridiculously white as if it’s been charmed that way. It probably has, now Harry thinks of it. Not that he’s thinking entirely clearly at the moment. Draco’s hand moves to Harry’s jaw, guiding him deeper into the kiss and licking into his mouth with slow purpose. They shift as close as two fully-clothed people can be and there’s a song playing in the background that Harry thinks he might just remember forever. He’s going to have to ask a Muggle for the name of it and work out how to play it in Grimmauld Place because he’s pretty sure he’s going to want to listen to it again and again.
Draco’s lips slide from Harry’s lips to his neck and he kisses down the column of Harry’s throat until he draws an embarrassing groan of appreciation from Harry.
“Malfoy, that’s…gods, don’t stop…”
“I can’t…” Draco pulls back, his cheeks red and his hair unusually dishevelled. He’s breathing heavily and Harry’s heart sinks at his words.
“Can’t keep kissing you and not get arrested for public indecency, you oaf.” Draco rolls his eyes and gives Harry another kiss, softer this time. “Come home with me?”
“We haven’t finished our drinks yet. I spent a lot of money on that round. Not all of us are filthy rich like you, Malfoy and the Galleon’s bombed against the Muggle Pound. Surely you read the financial news?” A light, giddy feeling settles over Harry and he smiles broadly at Malfoy.
“Give me that.” Draco grabs his second drink from the nearby shelf and gulps it down, handing Harry his and folding his arms. “Ready yet?”
