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Little Prince, Kneel

Chapter Text

Harry smiled, reached out and tugged a stray strand of longish dark-blond hair behind Stefan’s ear. Stefan instinctively lowered his head and Harry clicked his tongue in mild disapproval.

“You can look at me, pet,” he encouraged and Stefan slowly lifted his head to reveal a hesitant but beautifully innocent smile. Harry reached for Stefan’s hand and circled his thumb gently over the pulse point on his wrist.

“Caleb is a good man, he’ll take good care of you, Stefan. You do know that, don’t you?” he reminded the young, slightly insecure man who stood before him and Stefan nodded in understanding and agreement.

Harry had spent the last three months training Stefan, teaching him all he needed to know about being submissive, and especially being a submissive for Caleb. Compared to his previous charges, it hadn’t been all that much of a challenge since Stefan was naturally submissive, relished in following orders and just needed a little guidance, as well as a steady hand.

They had met with Caleb a few times over the last two weeks and both Caleb and Stefan seemed rather smitten with each other, although Stefan was still somewhat shy whenever he was around his new Dom. Harry had no doubt that both Caleb and Stefan wouldn’t take long to get properly acquainted. He had known Caleb for a little over five years and had the utmost faith in him.

“I know, Sir.”

Harry chuckled and his eyes twinkled with amusement.

“I’m not your Dom anymore, pet, best not upset Caleb now, hm? He might just get jealous…” Harry glanced at Caleb, who sat in a comfortable armchair with one leg thrown over the other, waiting patiently, a content smile playing around his lips. They shared a smile; Harry raised a questioning eyebrow and Caleb nodded approvingly.

Several years of friendship meant that Harry didn’t necessarily need words to communicate with Caleb. Following the silent exchange, Harry engulfed Stefan in a tight, comforting hug.

Stefan almost automatically moved his arms as if to return the embrace, but he hesitated and awkwardly held them mid-air instead.

“You can hug me,” Harry permitted and Stefan gratefully returned the hug, melted into the embrace and Harry silently counted to five, then disentangled himself and stepped back.

“It’s time, pet,” he said firmly, gave Caleb one last nod, then turned and made his way towards the door. He heard Caleb calling out to his new sub, but did not turn around to watch the first proper exchange between Stefan and his new Dom. It wasn’t for his eyes or ears, that moment was theirs and theirs alone.

Instead, he swiftly pulled the door open, left the spacious flat and slowly descended the three flights of stairs. He hated goodbyes. They always reminded him of that time, long ago, when David had left him. He had felt so confused and lost in the weeks following their separation and some of that sentiment still lingered behind.

It only ever really surfaced when he found himself saying goodbye to someone he cared about and Harry knew that he would be back to his usual self well before dinner, but for now, he allowed himself a moment of vulnerability. One couldn’t always be tough and in charge of everything.

To him, training a new submissive was like an exceptionally good Quidditch match; it was wild, unpredictable, full of endless possibilities and opportunities to grow and learn. Introducing a well-trained submissive to their new Master, however, it felt a bit like sending your child off to study at Hogwarts, or so Harry imagined.

Those last few moments on Platform 9¾, just after everyone had boarded the Hogwarts Express and the train pulled out of the station to take the students away to another year filled with magic, spells, potions, charms, and transfiguration.

Remembering his own excitement each year, Harry tried to look at it from the other side. He imagined excited parents, finally being able to enjoy a bit of peace and quiet. The fantasy was sweet enough but it still filled Harry with a sense of melancholy.

Teddy was due to start Hogwarts in a few years and Harry dreaded the idea of sending his godson away for the better part of the year. He dreaded it so much that he pushed the mere thought of it to the furthest, darkest corner of his mind and locked it away.

Ignorance is bliss, he thought.

It really wasn’t, but when it came to sending Teddy away to Hogwarts, logical thinking wasn’t exactly Harry’s strong point. He excelled at it in all other areas of his life, especially when it came to exerting dominance, but Teddy was most definitely his Achilles’ heel.

Once outside the impressive-looking building of expensive flats, Harry took a deep breath, looked up at the blue sky and smiled.

Everything will be all right, he mused, enjoying the warm spring afternoon too much not to let the happiness soak through his skin and settle into his bones. With a slight spring in his step, he walked down the road, turned left, and continued walking until he made it back onto Portobello Road, with its colourful assortment of small boutiques, independent coffee shops, crammed bookshops, artistry florists, and hip, one-of-a-kind jewellers.

These past few years he had developed somewhat of a penchant for Notting Hill, though he wasn’t quite sure what exactly it was that he found so charming about this very area of London. Nevertheless, he continued walking at a much slower pace and decided to indulge in the colourful displays in the shop windows to his left.

He stopped every so often and even took the time to walk into a small bookshop, aimlessly browsing for a while. As luck would have it, he found a book that caught his interest, namely a second-hand first-edition psychological thriller that sparked his curiosity to the degree that he simply had to have it.

He had enough Muggle money on him and with the book firmly stowed away inside a paper bag, that had a beautiful design at the front, he continued his stroll down the road until he found himself doing a double-take near the entrance of a small coffee shop. Surprised, he stopped in his tracks and blinked, wondering whether his mind was playing tricks on him.

There, in a tattered but comfortable armchair, surrounded by paperwork, sat none other than Draco Malfoy, the very person who had gone out of his way to make his time at Hogwarts miserable.

All that over a rejected friendship, Harry thought bitterly. He couldn’t help but chuckle when he realised that seeing Malfoy didn’t ignite that spark of annoyance he had always felt in the pit of his stomach whenever they had bickered or duelled with each other while at Hogwarts.

Potter, you’ve grown up, Harry praised himself and chuckled some more.

Since his return to London several years ago, he hadn’t really seen Malfoy and, Harry noted with a frown, they most definitely hadn’t spoken to each other since the end of the war, which was odd considering that they now worked in the same building.

The day he had given his last sworn witness statement in front of the Wizengamot, Harry had packed up his possessions and left with Andromeda and Teddy for Canada. He had been desperate to make a fresh start, away from all the madness that had been the aftermath of the defeat of Voldemort. They remained in Canada for five years until Harry hadn’t been able to resist the urge to return to London any longer, his need to be around Hermione and Ron, his two best friends in the whole world, too great to ignore.

Since his return to London and much to his own amusement Harry had come to find that Draco Malfoy made the front pages of The Prophet even more often than he did. Malfoy had apparently studied law and had become a gifted prosecutor for the Wizengamot while Harry had been on a mission to find himself in big cold Canada.

Harry couldn’t help but smile. The man sitting in that armchair by the window, nose buried in thick stack of papers, and a smutch on his cheek from the inky Muggle pen did not at all look like the menacing prosecutor everyone, especially the newspapers, said he was.

Fiendfyre in the Courtroom was one of the titles, The Prophet had given Malfoy, Loose Cannon had been another. Harry allowed himself another look and decided that this Draco Malfoy did not look the least bit menacing.

I should know, Harry thought, you, Malfoy, can look very menacing when you want to.

Hm, no, the Draco Malfoy he was looking at right now looked like a tame tabby cat and with his curiosity sparked, Harry moved towards the entrance of the coffee shop, walked in, and approached the counter. He ordered himself a large, black filter coffee, paid, picked up his order and headed over to where Malfoy sat.

“Malfoy, fancy meeting you here,” he spoke, lifted his coffee to his lips and took a careful sip of the hot beverage.

Malfoy instantly looked up from his paperwork, appearing genuinely surprised, though Harry thought there was a tiny trace of annoyance shimmering in his eyes. Malfoy masked it quickly enough and Harry did not dwell on it. Instead, he watched as Malfoy reached for his own coffee, which appeared to be a cappuccino, then waited as Malfoy took his sweet time to return the greeting.

“I could say the same about you, Auror Potter,” he acknowledged Harry.

A tiny smirk appeared on his face and as Malfoy held Harry’s gaze, it morphed into a bigger one. There wasn't a trace of their petty Hogwarts rivalry in Malfoy’s voice, which, considering their history, was a bit odd but most definitely a pleasant change. It was obvious that they had both grown up enough to leave their teenage squabbles in the past. Harry decided he would like a chance to get to know the real Draco Malfoy.

“Harry will suffice, I’m not working today.”

Harry flashed him a lopsided grin and boldly took the liberty to sit down on the empty chair across from Malfoy, who shot him a curious look.

“You’ve grown a pair of balls,” he eventually said and Harry laughed, really laughed.

“If The Prophet is to be believed, so have you, Malfoy, so have you,” Harry grinned.

“I see you have developed a taste for sitting amidst Muggles on your day off,” he noted casually.

The mere fact that Draco Malfoy, snobby Pureblood extraordinaire, was hanging out in a Muggle coffee shop in Muggle London was a solid testament of how much he had changed since they had last spoken. It had been the day Harry had given testimony on behalf of the Malfoy family, sparing Draco and his mother a long sentence in Azkaban.

“I can’t remember the last time I had a day off,” Malfoy sighed, put his papers down next to his coffee cup on the small table between them and stretched luxuriously and cat-like.

Harry gave him an appreciative once-over.

The last eight years had without a doubt been kind to Malfoy. He had always been tall, but he was no longer the lanky teenager he had once been. He had most definitely filled out a little, in all the right places too, and Harry quickly raised his coffee cup to hide the fact that he felt the need to lick his lips. Malfoy’s languid stretch had revealed a small patch of pale skin just where his charcoal grey trousers and his dark-blue long-sleeved shirt met and it was a delicious and rather remarkable sight.

“Doesn’t sitting in a coffee shop constitute as a day off?” Harry asked to distract himself from ogling Malfoy.

Get a hold of yourself, Potter, a little voice in his head reprimanded him, you’re usually so good at it.

“Hm, no. I fled the office, I do so most days. Can’t hear my own thoughts with all that noise going on, not even a super-strength silencing charm will get you a moment of peace.”

Harry frowned.

“I can’t imagine a coffee shop being any quieter.”

“I can ignore that mindless babble, it’s all just frivolous chatter about relationships, make-up and the latest films anyway. What’s a bit more difficult to ignore is the chaos in the prosecutors’ chambers. Always something or other going on, never a quiet minute, people barging in and storming out, utter madness,” Malfoy shrugged and reached for his coffee.

I bet I could make you ignore it, Harry’s treacherous mind supplied but he silenced that thought immediately and blamed it on the fact that he had only just dropped Stefan off at his new Dom’s flat. He pointedly refused to acknowledge that Malfoy’s rather fit build had anything to do with his ill-placed, wandering thoughts.

“Why not Black Magic, then? It’s a lot closer than Notting Hill,” Harry wanted to know, referring to that hip new coffee shop that had opened on Diagon Alley several months ago. Malfoy raised an amused eyebrow at him.

“I thought you weren’t working today, Auror Potter? Why the interrogation?” he teased, placing special emphasis on Harry’s title.

It sent a pleasant shudder of arousal down Harry’s spine but he easily controlled it with a single breath and a casual sip of hot coffee.

“Just curious,” he shrugged.

He noted the way Malfoy looked at him, with a mixture of amusement, curiosity, and an easy playfulness that Harry hadn’t seen before but rather liked. He also noted the once-over Malfoy gave him and smirked into his coffee. He had chosen a pair of tight black jeans, a burgundy button-up shirt and a matching black denim jacket this morning and he could tell that Malfoy approved of his attire, was perhaps even impressed, although he did not comment.

Black Magic uses spells to work the coffee machines, I find it tampers with the taste. I prefer coffee made the Muggle way, Harry,” Malfoy eventually answered and Harry found Malfoy’s casual and unexpected use of his first name a mild turn on.

He knew better than to act on it though, for the time being anyway. It continued to fuel his interest in Malfoy and he decided he wanted to get closer to his former Hogwarts nemesis, wanted to get to know the young man he’d become, rather than the person he had once been.

“I admit, you have a valid point.”

“I’m a lawyer, I always make valid points,” Malfoy smirked and winked.

He lowered his head slightly to focus on his notes and Harry momentarily lost himself in the beautiful sight of Malfoy, head bend over his paperwork in a most casual form of unconscious submission; submission to his work but submission nonetheless.

Harry leant back in his comfortable chair and silently watched while he slowly sipped on his filter coffee. If Malfoy ever noticed him watching, he never said a word and they did not speak again until Malfoy finished reading several pages, made a few side notes and then stood to stretch once more.

“I need another coffee. You?” he offered and Harry nodded and motioned to the empty cup in front of him.

“Since you’re offering, filter coffee, black, no sugar, no milk,” he said and Malfoy nodded in silent acknowledgement, then headed off to the counter. Harry watched his retreating form, closed his eyes, and sighed.

Damn, why did Malfoy have to be so damn hot?

He knew he had always been rather obsessed with all things Draco Malfoy but it was only now that he slowly began to connect the dots. Having spent seven years looking over his shoulder, trying to avoid a megalomaniac, power-hungry wizard, intend on murdering him, hadn’t left him with much time to indulge in self-discovery. While in Canada, he had had plenty of time to deal with a few demons, get over the lingering trauma of the war and give free reign to his desire to be Just Harry, instead of the Boy Who Lived Twice.

It had been enlightening in many ways.

Chapter Text

Nearly a month later, after exchanging several memos a day with none other than Draco Malfoy, Harry found himself apparating out to Notting Hill during his lunch break to run an errand. Draco had unexpectedly turned him down for a pre-arranged lunch and the rejection had rather stung.

For reasons he wasn’t sure he was willing to admit to himself just yet, he had acted on impulse when he had decided to grab takeaway lunch for Draco and himself.

He was willing to admit, though, that he thoroughly enjoyed Draco’s sass, his sharp humour, and his clever brain. He was a refreshing breeze of air in Harry’s life and Harry rapidly found himself getting rather addicted to their daily conversations. While they mostly communicated via owls and inter-department memos, they had managed to meet for coffee twice and their stimulating conversation had left him craving more of Draco.

He wasn’t quite sure whether they had, over the last month, managed to become friends or whether their relationship was heading into a different direction altogether, but Harry wasn’t in the mood to question a good thing. Besides, the fact that Harry now thought of him as Draco, rather than Malfoy, was a huge testament to how much his opinion of one Draco Malfoy had changed since they had connected.

Harry had so far learnt that Draco was currently single and rather fancied the male gender. Apparently, he had done so since his fourth year at Hogwarts, though he had only come out to his parents after the war. Lucius Malfoy, serving a life sentence in Azkaban, had, in a fit of anger, denounced him as a son but his mother had supportively stood by him and they were now closer than ever.

Harry also learnt that Draco’s interest in all things law had stemmed from years of access to an impressive collection of books at Malfoy Manor and while he hadn’t returned to Hogwarts to get his NEWTs, he had put his head down and taken the necessary tests via owl post.

At the same time, he had prepared to get his degree in Magical Law.

Then, to redeem the Malfoy name, he had worked as a public defender for the Wizengamot. It was an unpaid, under-appreciated position but Draco had given it his all and soon enough the Director of Prosecutions had taken an interest in him and hired him on the spot.

Realising he was still standing in the alleyway he had apparated into, Harry shook himself out of his reverie and made a beeline for Draco’s favourite coffee shop, where he ordered two beef sandwiches, two fruit salads, a cappuccino, and a strong, black filter coffee to go.

Feeling bold enough to bend the rules, he stealthily cast a wandless warming charm as well as a Stasis Charm on the paper bag. Wrapped-up food and two takeaway cups of coffee in hand, Harry headed back to the apparition point and returned to the Ministry's Atrium.

Once again glad that his position as an Auror meant he was exempt from the Anti-Apparition wards the Ministry had in place, as well as wand checks, he headed straight for the prosecutor’s chambers. On his way there he carefully balanced his and Draco’s coffees, making sure not to spill anything over his pristine robes, or anyone else for that matter, as he wound his way through the throng of wizards and witches.

The moment he entered the department, he realised two things; one, that he had never been inside the prosecutor’s chambers before and two, that Draco had been right.

He found it strange that Aurors were, seemingly, never invited to the prosecutor’s chambers but that the prosecutors always came up to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement whenever they required an Auror’s testimony for a case.

The cacophony of noise, and complete chaos all around the place finally helped Harry to understand why Draco regularly fled his office. He had most definitely not been kidding when he told Harry why he preferred to do most of his work, or at least the work that required a high level of concentration, in a coffee shop instead of his private office.

Harry took a deep breath, and even though he really wanted to cover his ears, he forced himself to ignore the noise and the chaos. He strode through the big open-plan office, his scarlet Auror robes billowing behind him, and headed down the short corridor and straight to Draco’s office. The door was wide open but Harry was courteous enough to knock anyway. Draco, who had been staring out of the enchanted window behind his desk, turned around and Harry couldn’t help but note how the rather pained expression on Draco’s face softened a little.

“Harry,” Draco smiled, looking genuinely pleased. “What brings you here?”

“A hardworking prosecutor who refused my lunch invitation, citing too high a caseload as grounds for not eating,” Harry grinned, entered the room, and casually kicked the door to Draco’s office shut. He drew his wand, pointed at the door, and cast the most powerful silencing charm he knew.

The noise outside the office instantly faded away and Draco’s eyes widened with surprise at the sheer power of Harry’s magic.

A second later, however, his surprise was gone.

Instead, he looked most grateful.

Harry couldn’t help but think that there were other ways he could make Draco feel less bothered about all the noise in his department.

He resolutely pushed the thought aside, walked up to Draco’s desk, and placed the takeaway bag right on top of Draco’s neatly arranged papers. It seemed to be the only desk in the entire department that was devoid of clutter and Harry rather liked it.

“Lunch,” he said, slumping into a chair in front of Draco’s desk. He threw one leg over the other, then raised an eyebrow at Draco, who had yet to move from his spot by the window.

“Draco, sit, eat, please,” Harry said, trying his best to sound inviting rather than authoritative and after a moment of hesitation, Draco nodded, sat down in his chair, and revealed the purchases inside the bag. The scent of fresh coffee resulted in a blissed-out expression on his face and it instantly sent Harry’s mind into overdrive.

He distracted himself with accepting his own coffee when Draco handed it to him. Not bothering to even take his food out of the bag, he watched Draco instead.

Draco had forgone his sandwich in favour of unenthusiastically picking at the fruit salad and shoving several grapes into his mouth. Harry clicked his tongue and when Draco looked at him, he shook his head disapprovingly.

“What?” Draco asked with a half-amused, half-confused expression.

“Proper food first,” Harry pointed towards the sandwich and Draco’s gaze followed his finger.

“Certainly, Auror Potter,” Draco grinned and, ignoring the fruit salad, he unwrapped the freshly toasted beef sandwich Harry had bought him. Harry’s heart skipped a small beat and he bit the inside of his mouth to hide a triumphant smile.

“Exquisite manners,” Harry winked and Draco rolled his eyes at him but continued to eat his lunch.

“When are you accepting that Head Auror position then, Potter? You’re bossy enough for the job.”

“Cheeky,” Harry said, thoroughly amused. “I have it already, they’ll announce it in June,” he added and Draco’s eyes widened, then filled with glee over the fact that Harry had just made him privy to some very juicy Ministry gossip.

“You’ll—” Harry started but Draco cut him off.

“I’ll keep my mouth shut, not to worry. Your secret’s safe with me,” Draco said and Harry smiled. Strangely enough, he had no doubt that Draco wouldn’t share the news with anyone before Kingsley Shacklebolt made the official announcement in two months’ time.

They fell silent and Draco continued to eat, while Harry enjoyed his office. Halfway through his third bite, not that Harry was counting, Draco stopped and, tilting his head sideways, frowned at Harry. “Are you just going to sit there and watch me eat?”

“Maybe,” Harry shrugged, feigning nonchalance. He eyed the takeaway bag that still contained his food and sighed. He’d enjoyed a rather late breakfast and didn’t feel hungry at all. For now, coffee would suffice.

“You, Harry Potter, are a very strange man,” Draco shook his head and continued eating until a red inter-departmental memo floated into his office and landed on his desk. Harry watched him diligently wipe his hands with one of the napkins, then he reached for the memo and unfolded it. Upon reading the memo, Draco’s eyes widened, his hands began to shake and his breathing became faster as he shot off his seat and hastily pulled on his prosecutor’s robes.

Harry thought that he looked a bit like a headless chicken, though he knew better than to voice his thoughts. Draco was dashing around the office, gathering up a bunch of files here and there, then sprinted towards the door. He already had his hand firmly on the handle, ready to drag the heavy wooden door open, when it seemingly occurred to him that he wasn’t alone in his office. He turned, hesitated for a moment, and stumbled over his words as he mumbled something, Harry didn’t quite catch, then disappeared from his office at the speed of light.

Harry stared after him for several moments and, slowly rising to his feet, he reached for that inter-departmental memo. For a moment, he wanted to unfold and read it but his inner Gryffindor prevented him from invading Draco’s privacy like that and instead of satisfying his curiosity, he put the memo down again, grabbed the takeaway bag and left Draco’s office.

Aware that he couldn’t spend his break in an empty office in a strange department, Harry returned to his own office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He ate his own lunch in a sour mood and sulked through a large pile of mind-numbingly boring paperwork.

Several hours later the arrival of a purple inter-departmental memo, folded into the shape of an origami bird, resulted in a rapid improvement of Harry’s rather rotten mood. He watched it float into his office and land on his desk, immediately unfolding it to reveal Draco’s, by now familiar, beautifully slanted handwriting and the delicate drawing of a hyacinth. Harry did not miss the subtle connection and meaning behind the colour of the paper and the flower. He rather appreciated Draco’s subtle apology and thought that it had style.


Apologies for dashing off like that.

The opposition moved up a rather important deposition.

Lunch, tomorrow?

My treat.


Harry chuckled and reached for a yellow memo paper. Ministry guidelines stipulated the use of yellow memo paper for important communications only, however, Harry decided that the memo’s vibrant colour radiated happiness and had a distinct apology accepted feel to it. As he reached for his favourite Muggle fountain pen, Harry smiled and made the impulsive decision to be bold.


You’re forgiven.

Let’s make it dinner on Friday instead.

7 pm, ok?


Several minutes later a white inter-departmental memo appeared on Harry’s desk and he unfolded it with a silly grin. The note contained no signature, but Draco’s handwriting was obvious.

Is this a date?

Harry stared at the message for a few moments, then resolutely rose to his feet and made his way to the prosecutor’s chambers for the second time that day. Compared to earlier, the department was a lot quieter now, but it still easily qualified as the loudest department in the entire Ministry, or so Harry thought. He found Draco’s office door open, casually leant against the doorframe and when Draco looked up from his paperwork, Harry waved the white memo in a silent greeting.

“Yes,” he answered Draco’s question, pretending to be braver than he felt.

Draco looked at him, trying to read him and Harry allowed some of the nervousness he felt to shine through.

Draco smiled, waved him into the room. Harry obliged and walked right up to the desk. Draco stood, snatched the memo out of his hand and bend over to write something underneath his question. Harry watched with mild amusement and a growing sense of fondness. Once Draco held the memo out to him, Harry took it but not without purposefully brushing his fingers against Draco’s. He noted the slight tremor that surged through Draco but said nothing about it. Instead, he unfolded the message and smiled at the words. His heart fluttered a little.

Is this a date?

Since you confirmed that it’s a date, you may pick me up at Chepstow Place in Notting Hill at 7pm on Friday.

“I shan’t be late,” Harry said softly and locked eyes with Draco.

They stared at each other for several minutes and Harry noted the way that Draco’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard and fought not to break their eye contact but lost that battle of wills. Harry didn’t know if it was the nerves that made Draco look away first or whether he did it for another reason, but it did wondrous things to him.

Sweet Merlin, don’t do that to me, Harry thought desperately and, tightening his grip on the memo, he pushed down the strong urge to tell Draco to look at him in a way that would make it utterly impossible for him to refuse.

Another time, he chastised himself, cleared his throat and instead told Draco that he would see him on Friday.

Chapter Text

Friday evening found Harry, after turning his wardrobe upside down several times, on Draco’s doorstep in Notting Hill, nervously waiting for him to open the door. After a long debate with himself and the unresponsive floor-length mirror in his master bedroom, Harry had chosen a pair of neat black slacks, a dark-green cotton button-down shirt, and a black suit jacket to fend off the evening chill.

In his hand, he anxiously toyed with a single yellow rose tipped in cherry and brick tones. It had been a last-minute purchase and Harry still wasn’t sure what had made him do it. He had felt like he should present Draco with a small token of his appreciation but no matter how enthusiastically he had racked his brain, he had come up empty. Upon passing a small florist on his way to Draco’s flat, he had made the impulsive decision to purchase a flower to subtly convey exactly how he felt about their first date.

When Draco, after a short two-minute wait that felt like forever to Harry, finally opened the door, he all but thrust the rose at Draco who gave an amused laugh. It sounded like music to Harry’s ears, and he did not hesitate when Draco invited him into his beautifully decorated two-storey flat. Draco had told him before that he lived in a Muggle flat but seeing it for himself for the first time was quite different to merely having heard about it.

While Draco conjured a small vase, filled it with water and, placing the rose inside, found it a home in the centre of the coffee table, Harry took a casual glance around the place. The entrance hall opened into a spacious living room with large windows, tastefully decorated with a big, comfortable corner sofa. Harry imagined that the windows provided plenty of light during the day. As he had expected, the furniture was exquisite and the style modern and elegant. Overall the entire place had a distinctive homely feel to it.

Harry was, however, much more interested in Draco and when his eyes settled on the handsome man, he was about to take out for dinner, he momentarily forgot to remember how to breathe. Draco had chosen a pair of snug-fitting charcoal-grey cotton trousers and a light blue long-sleeved shirt, over which he wore an elegantly-cut spring cardigan that accentuated his fine figure.

Draco’s white-blond locks looked like he hadn’t styled them at all, yet Harry was sure that Draco had probably spent at least an hour preparing his hair. He couldn’t help but wonder whether Draco’s hair felt as soft as it looked. Harry swallowed hard and fought against the almost irresistible urge to push Draco up against the wall and kiss him senseless.

Not on a first date, Harry restrained his overactive imagination with a firm thought.

Taking a small step towards Draco, Harry noted that he smelled of bergamot and oak-moss. It was a subtle yet seductive scent with a discreet tone of sweet blackcurrant and it made Harry’s head spin.

“Where are we going tonight?” Draco asked and Harry was all kinds of grateful for the distracting question.

He watched as Draco gracefully, and with a sort of practised ease, stepped into a pair of black Oxfords. Instead of bending down to tie the shoelaces, Draco reached for his wand, pointed it at his shoes and mumbled a quick spell, then holstered his wand inside his cardigan.

“Surprise,” Harry cleared his throat, remembering to answer the question. It wasn’t really but he wasn’t sure whether he was able to string a coherent sentence together. Thankfully, Draco didn’t seem to mind Harry’s unplanned secretiveness.

“Hm, side-along then. You’re in charge, Potter,” he stated matter-of-factly, though there was a cheeky glint in his eyes.

Harry really wished he hadn’t just said that and momentarily struggled to rein in his mind, which was unhelpfully supplying a series of images of just what he could do with Draco if allowed to take charge. He ignored them all and instead pulled the door to the flat open and motioned for Draco to step out first.

“Harry Potter, when did you become the perfect gentleman?” Draco teased and Harry rolled his eyes at him. “The clothes are impeccable too, it’s like I don’t even know you,” he added with a smirk.

“For your information, I always had manners,” Harry answered, pointedly ignoring Draco’s compliment about his improved sense of dressing, even though it made him feel funny.

A good kind of funny, but funny nonetheless. He had stopped wearing his cousin’s hand-me-downs the day he, Andromeda, and Teddy had moved halfway around the globe. Dressing well was second nature and he really couldn’t remember the last time he had worn anything that wasn’t snug-fitting or, on occasion, tailor-made.

He enjoyed good clothes, it had become one of his weaknesses, and these days most of his platonic lady friends, including one Hermione Granger, preferred to go shopping with him rather than their own husbands. It was a silent testament to how much he had changed since the war and what an excellent decision leaving Britain had really been.

“Could’ve fooled me, Potter,” Draco laughed, stepped past Harry, and locked his flat with an ordinary Muggle key.

“No magic?” Harry asked curiously, intentionally disregarding Draco’s playful dig, although it did make him want to smack his arse. He never used a key to lock and unlock Grimmauld Place, the updated wards on the house responded to his magical signature and his alone.

“Mother was rather shocked when I insisted on buying a place in Muggle London and upon her first visit, she promptly put quite effective wards on the place. They activate when I leave the place,” Draco explained and Harry nodded.

They quietly walked down the few steps that led to the building’s front door and once outside, they found a dark alleyway and Harry offered his arm to Draco. Draco accepted without the slightest hesitation and closing his eyes, Harry pushed any thoughts about how good Draco’s touch felt firmly aside and focused on their destination instead. The last he wanted was for either one of them to end up splinched and in St Mungo’s brand-new Magical Accidents & Emergencies Department. A moment later they disappeared into thin air and reappeared in a darkened alleyway in the district of Shoreditch, relatively close to their intended destination.

As he led Draco out of the alley, Harry tried hard not to let the fact that Draco hadn’t let go of his arm distract him. The butterflies in his stomach fluttered excitedly and he enjoyed the soft pressure of Draco holding on to his biceps. Not sure what to say he silently guided Draco down Great Eastern Street until they reached number forty-six.

The place had once been a former iron factory, which the owners had redesigned into a hip, kinda rustic but classic Muggle restaurant that spread out over three floors. Following his return to London, it had quickly become Harry’s favourite place for eating out, though tonight was the first time ever he entered the Iron Bloom with a date on his arm.

Upon giving his name to the maître d'hôtel, she brought them to a private table, built right into what had at some point been an old furnace. She patiently waited for them to take their seats, then handed them two menus and disappeared only to reappear a moment later with a carafe of lime-and-mint-flavoured still water. Harry thanked her politely and she informed him that their waiter would be by shortly to take their order.

“This place is something else,” Draco smiled over the top of the menu and Harry reciprocated with a smile of his own.

“A good something else?” he asked, pleased when Draco nodded.

“How did you find it?”

“A friend’s recommendation,” keeping the information that his favourite BDSM club often held its munches at this very restaurant and the fact that he had chosen it simply because it made him feel comfortable firmly to himself.

“You must have expanded your circle of friends then, I highly doubt Ronald Weasley recommended the place,” Draco chuckled and Harry glared half-heartedly.

“If you must know, Ron and Hermione had their wedding reception here.”

“No doubt because you recommended the place,” Draco laughed and with an overly dramatic eyeroll, Harry turned his attention towards the menu and pushed the image of putting Draco over his leg and spanking him for his insolence right out of his mind. Instead, he allowed the section of the menu, titled “This Is Mine, Mine Only” to distract him.

Well, to a certain extent anyway. He sneakily cast a longing glance at Draco and allowed himself a moment to fantasise about how nice it would be if Draco Malfoy was an option to choose from under that very section of the menu. The realisation that he had it bad for Draco hit him hard and as he repeatedly reminded himself that this was only their first formal date, he tightened his hold on the menu. Any bold attempt to claim Draco for himself would most likely result in Draco running into the other direction.

They both perused the menu in silence and when their waiter approached several minutes later, Harry gentlemanlike motioned for Draco to order first. He did not miss the faint flush that pinked Draco’s cheeks but did not comment on it either. Instead, he thought it endearing and made a point to pay close attention to Draco’s order.

“I’d like the Asparagus and Spinach Soup with Stilton Cheese in an Edible Bowl, please,” Draco replied when the waiter asked him about his starter and unexpectedly chose a Veggie Burger with a side of Roquette and Parmesan Salad as his main course, along with a glass of Baccolo Bianco Appassimiento from Italy.

“What about a dessert?” the waiter inquired and after a moment’s hesitation, Draco made another unexpected choice.

“Black Sticky Rice Pudding with Vanilla Ice-Cream and Raspberry Sauce, please.”

“Excellent choice,” the waiter complimented and turned his attention over to Harry, who ordered a Charred Watermelon Brisket with Feta Cheese as his starter and the Wagyu Beef and Bone Barrow Burger with Bacon and Cheese with a side of Truffle and Parmesan Fries as his main course. To drink, he ordered a glass of a whiskey-based cocktail with the strange name of Scotch & Steak. He resolutely passed on the dessert and not even the waiter’s tempting suggestion of Dark Chocolate Pudding with fresh Strawberries and Cream could change his mind.

“You could have ordered that dessert, I would totally eat it,” Draco pouted a little when the waiter left with their orders and their menus.

Harry raised an inquisitive eyebrow, poured them both a glass of water and took a sip from his own glass before commenting.

“If you want a second dessert, you can order one,” he said casually, amused over the fact that Draco apparently had a secret sweet tooth.

“I’m not going to order a second dessert, Harry,” Draco declared with a firm frown.

“Why? Scared I’ll judge you for your impressive sweet tooth?”

“I’m not scared of you, Potter,” Draco scoffed.

I bet I could make you, Harry thought but said something entirely different.

“Then why make me order a dessert I’m not going to eat just so you can have it?”

Draco laughed and his eyes twinkled with amusement.

“Why, to save face, of course. Ordering two desserts, well that’s just greedy. Stealing your date’s dessert is,” Draco paused, clearly seeking for the right word, “acceptable.”

“Is it now?” Harry asked with an arched eyebrow, thoroughly entertained by Draco’s logic. “How come I never heard of this dating rule?”

“Probably because you don’t date much?”

Draco’s voice remained low but rose on the last word, subtly turning his statement into a question. It did not go unnoticed and Harry smirked, looked at Draco across the table and resisted folding his arms across his chest in a superior gesture. Instead, he took another sip of water and toyed with a napkin, folding it into a swan.

“Two,” he offered, answering Draco’s veiled question. “Neither one of them here in Britain,” he added and Draco nodded in silent understanding but before Harry could throw the question right back at Draco, their waiter approached with their drinks and starters.

They didn’t talk much since Harry was far more interested in ogling Draco than he was in his starter, which he picked at with enough enthusiasm to let Draco believe that he was enjoying the food.

Draco, on the other hand, seemed thoroughly enamoured with his starter and divulged a startling bit of information about himself, namely that he knew how to cook and was rather apt at it too but found little time to do it.

“How about you cook next time?” Harry suggested without thinking and Draco slowly consumed two spoonfuls of soup, before he answered Harry’s question.

“We haven’t even had our main course yet, and you’re already thinking about a second date? Are you so sure our first one will be a success?”

“I’m not, but I’m very much hoping that it will be,” Harry purposefully lowered his voice to a seductive whisper and held Draco’s gaze until the urge to reach across the table and take his hand became too great to resist. Only then did he avert his eyes and refocusing his attention, he ate a little more of his food.

“Hm, you might not be alone with that hope,” Draco admitted rather sheepishly after a long moment of silence during which they both finished their starters. Well, Draco finished his, Harry left a few bites on the plate.

When the waiter approached to collect their plates, Harry informed him that he had changed his mind about the dessert and placed an order for a dish of dark chocolate pudding with fresh strawberries and cream. Draco’s eyes widened at his gesture and he went to say something but Harry shook his head and, closing his mouth, Draco picked up his glass of white wine and offered a silent toast. Harry reached for his whiskey-based cocktail and they gently clinked glasses. Unable to take his eyes off Draco, Harry stared at him, resolutely suppressed the urge to get up, lean across the table, cup Draco’s chin with his hand and kiss him. He did, however, nudge his foot under the table.

Draco gave him a lopsided grin and their conversation slowly flowed towards lighter topics. By the time their main courses arrived, Draco was animatedly sharing anecdotes from his time as public defender and Harry shared a bit of information about the six years he had spent in Canada. Draco couldn’t quite comprehend how he had managed to survive Canada’s arctic winters and piles upon piles of snow.

Harry, in return, couldn’t help but provide Draco with vivid descriptions of the snow fights he and Teddy had enjoyed and how life somehow slowed down in the winter but never stopped entirely. He divulged that he had become rather skilled at ice-skating and had even taken up skiing.

By the time their desserts arrived, Draco was hell-bent on visiting Canada and unable to resist the temptation, Harry promised he would take him someday.

“Don’t make promises you might not be able to keep,” Draco said rather wistfully and Harry sensed that there was a story behind that pensive expression on Draco’s face but was too much of a gentleman to ask. Instead, he sincerely reassured Draco and made it abundantly clear that he had meant what he had said.

“I’m not in the habit of making promises I don’t follow up on, Draco,” he said, lowering his voice a little.

This time it wasn’t a seductive whisper but rather an assertive assurance, meant for Draco’s ears and Draco’s ears alone. He wasn’t entirely sure which part of his brain had made him jump the gun and promise Draco a holiday in Canada — on their first date no less — but even without contemplating the matter, he knew he had meant his words. The thought scared him though, and Harry decided that he needed to distract himself. He watched Draco for a while and delighted in the way that Draco appeared to thoroughly enjoy his dessert.

Feeling rather cheeky, Harry reached for his own dessert spoon and scooped up a mix of dark chocolate pudding, a bit of cream and a piece of strawberry. He offered it to Draco, who smiled, leant forward, and parted his lips just enough to accept the offered dessert. As his lips gently closed around the spoon, Harry’s heart skipped several beats and he swallowed hard.

“Merlin, Draco, don’t do that to me,” he whispered and Draco’s eyes widened.

He chewed the piece of strawberry Harry had offered him, swallowed the spoonful of dessert, and slightly tilted his head to the side and smiled.

“Do what?” he asked brazenly, his voice a little lower and a little huskier than before.

Harry could practically sense the air crackling around them and withdrawing the spoon, he reached for his drink and took a large sip of it to calm his nerves.

“Eat like that,” Harry then said and a low chuckle erupted from somewhere deep in Draco’s throat.

Harry shuddered, the sound was delectable and he wondered what other sounds—

No, he harshly censored himself, refusing to allow his mind to indulge in the fantasy.

“Let’s level the playing field, shall we?” Draco suggested and promptly offered Harry a spoonful of his own dessert. Harry hesitated for a moment, then leant forward and accepted the offered sweet treat.

As his lips closed around the spoon and the sticky sweetness filled his mouth, he realised that he couldn’t remember the last time he had let anyone feed him. To his utter astonishment, he also realised that he rather liked it.

Swallowing the bite, he motioned for the waiter and ordered another Scotch & Steak for himself and another glass of white wine for Draco. For his own sanity, he absolutely needed them to stay somewhere where there was a table between them. Right this very moment, Harry didn’t think anyone could hold him accountable for whatever he might do if he and Draco were to leave the restaurant and find themselves in a secluded corner somewhere.

Draco was, and Harry had not a shred of doubt about that, pure sex on legs, yet he was so utterly casual about it, that it drove Harry beyond wild.

Once the waiter had left, Draco frowned at him.

“You didn’t even ask if I wanted another drink,” he grumbled and Harry resolutely bit back the natural response that was on the tip of his tongue.

“I decided to take the liberty,” he answered honestly, holding Draco’s piercing gaze. When Draco eventually surrendered with a shrug, Harry smiled.

“Hero complex, I suspect,” Draco mocked him and continued to eat his dessert.

Harry did not offer him another spoonful of his own dessert but once Draco had finished his black sticky rice pudding with vanilla ice-cream and raspberry sauce, Harry casually exchanged their plates and acted as though he had already finished his sweet course while Draco had barely started on his own. Draco’s cheeks pinked a little bit and with a smile and a wink, Harry took a casual sip of his drink.

Their conversation returned to their jobs, though this time they spoke about a few cases Harry had worked on and solved as well as how the prosecutor’s chambers had handled the case on their end. Somewhere along the way, Harry topped up their drinks and before they knew it the waiter reminded them that it was late, just shy after eleven and that the restaurant was closing. Harry settled the bill and as they left through the front door, he casually offered Draco his arm.

Draco accepted and they strolled down Great Eastern Street until they found a quiet corner suitable for apparition. Harry brought them both to Kensington Gardens in Hyde Park and they wandered towards the Round Pond in amicable silence.

Harry exercised an impressive amount of self-control, ignored his treacherous mind which repeatedly suggested that kissing Draco would be a really good idea and by the time the clock struck one, he dutifully apparated them both onto Draco’s doorstep, bid him goodbye and voiced his interest in a second date, then disapparated before he lost the ability to keep his hands to himself.

Chapter Text

Swiftly making his way through Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Harry skirted around a group of excited teenagers that kept chanting his name and although it rather annoyed him, he still found it in him to smile and wave politely.

Keeping up the pretence, he thought and gave himself a proverbial pat on the back for his ability to deal with his fame professionally, instead of growling at anyone who wanted a piece of him.

Getting to the back of the multi-storey shop took longer than expected, and when the door to Ron’s and George’s workshop finally fell closed behind him, separating him from the shoppers, he felt just a little relieved.

“Anyone stop you for autographs?” Ron teased from across the room and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Bunch of young girls almost did, but I managed to avoid them…for now,” Harry replied, crossed the room and, leaning back against Ron’s messy workbench, he surveyed all the different bits and pieces with mild curiosity.

Inside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, things were never quite as they seemed and so he didn’t even attempt to try and make sense out of what his best mate was presently working on. Instead, he handed Ron an inconspicuous-looking brown parcel and grinned when Ron flushed with embarrassment.

“Your toys, you kinky slut,” Harry grinned lopsidedly and laughed when Ron spluttered, reached for the package, and hastily stuffed it into his holdall.

It almost seemed that the mere idea of leaving the package on his desk — even though it didn’t give anything away about its contents — was causing Ron great discomfort. While Harry could understand the mortification Ron felt, he failed to see the need to be this distressed about one’s kinks.

Each to their own, he thought. He could hardly force Ron to own up to his kinky bedroom fantasies if he didn’t want to.

Harry had to take a moment to remind himself that getting pleasure out of Ron’s obvious embarrassment wasn’t very nice, but try as he might, he couldn’t control his inner bastard.

Then again, his and Ron’s sexual preferences truly were on opposite ends of a spectrum. Whereas a pair of leather bondage cuffs and a charmed dildo were enough to properly fluster Ron and nearly send him running for the hills, it took a hell of a lot more to unsettle Harry.

At that thought, Harry paused for a moment and tried to think of something…anything that might unsettle him. He drew a blank. It made him realise, yet again, that when it came to kinks there wasn’t anything that could really unnerve him. There were a couple of fetishes that properly grossed him out, but even those did not manage to unsettle him and they most definitely did not manage to fluster him. He had heard it all before.

“Tha—thanks,” Ron stammered, face still flushed, only barely able to meet Harry’s gaze.

“It’s just a sex shop, you know?” Harry chuckled softly, he found Ron’s discomfiture almost endearing.

“Nobody at Pleasure is going to judge you for buying a pair of bondage cuffs or a dildo or whatever else you might want to surprise your wife with, you know?” he tried, yet again, to convince Ron that there was absolutely nothing mortifying about visiting a sex shop to purchase a couple of fun accessories.

By Circe, Harry had purchased far worse than a pair of bondage cuffs and a dildo, two items which he considered to be completely vanilla. He could not understand why Ron had no qualms to ask him for sex toys, but completely refused to go near a sex shop, even when Harry had offered him an iron-clad glamour to disguise himself.

In response to Harry’s gentle persuasion, Ron turned crimson and stammered something half-incomprehensible about needing to use the bathroom before storming off and slamming the door behind himself. Harry laughed, crossed his arms over his chest and pondered Ron’s closeted bondage kink for a moment.

When his treacherous mind provided him with a very much unwanted image of a tied-up Hermione, Harry felt his face heat up and he did not need a mirror to tell him that he was blushing like a fourth-year Hogwarts student trying to get a date for the Yule Ball. With a shudder, he realised that there was indeed something that could fluster him. It was the thought of sitting across from his two best friends at their dinner table and knowing exactly what they got up to in the privacy of their bedroom, no thanks to Ron’s inability to grow a pair of balls and visit a sex shop like most normal people did.

“Merlin, save me,” Harry mumbled to himself, sighed, and, pushing away from the workbench, he left the workshop, strode across the shop, and waved to George, who was leaning over the second-floor bannister to greet him. He was about to leave and head over to Shoreditch when the swarm of young girls from earlier accosted him by the door and begged for his autograph.

Harry resigned himself to his fate, though not without blaming Ron for it all, signed six Defence Against The Dark Arts spell books — what was it with female witches having him sign books he hadn’t written? — and made up an excuse of having to get back to work, before leaving the shop hastily.

He strode down Diagon Alley, headed through the Leaky Cauldron and out onto Charing Cross Road where he ducked into a dark alleyway and apparated halfway across London to Great Eastern Street. A short walk later, he found himself heading into the same restaurant he had taken Draco to some two weeks prior. He made his way up the iron staircase to a private room on the third floor. The door stood wide open in a welcoming gesture and stepping inside the spacious function room, Harry casually greeted a couple of familiar faces but did not linger to strike up a conversation. He headed over to where Caleb was sitting at the head of the table, two hands wrapped around a large mug of coffee.

Oi, Reid, where’s my coffee?” he greeted Caleb with a friendly dig, reached for a pen, and signed his initials on the sign-in sheet with a lazy flourish. Pulling up a chair, Harry sat down and smiled at Stefan, who sat near Caleb, happily munching on a slice of crunchy toast.

Caleb raised an eyebrow at him and pinned him with his piercing blue eyes. It was a silent challenge and Harry instantly rose to the bait. In all the years he had known Caleb, he had never lost a staring match against him and he wasn’t about to start now.

Bring it on, he thought.

“The universe in which I serve you, Potter, does not exist and will never exist,” Caleb eventually replied and out of the corner of his eyes Harry noted Stefan trying, but failing, to hide an amused chuckle. Stefan’s unrestrained delight earned him a hard glare from Caleb that was all bark and no bite. Stefan stared back in mild defiance, then lowered his head and continued eating his toast as if nothing at happened between him and his Dom. Somehow, Harry didn’t think his protegee would end up punished for his impertinence.

“It’s called manners, Reid,” Harry rebuked with a grin and getting up he moved over to the open buffet, poured himself a large cup of coffee and grabbed a banana.

Coffee cup in hand, Harry returned to the table, peeled his banana, and took a large bite of it. Still chewing, he reached for a name tag and a black Sharpie and wrote his first name down, before sticking the name tag above his left shirt pocket.

“The way you’re eating that banana, I suggest you might want to reconsider where you just put that sticker, Harry,” Caleb teased him and, rolling his eyes, Harry drank his coffee, leant back in his chair, and threw one leg over the other.

“There’s only one reason you’re this insolent. Played to your heart’s content last night, didn’t you, Reid?” Harry laughed and Caleb’s eyes twinkled with a healthy dose of mirth.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he winked and Harry grinned knowingly.

“I can imagine,” he said and glanced over at Stefan.

It had been a little over six weeks since he had left Stefan in Caleb’s capable hands and by the looks of it, the two were getting on splendidly. Judging by the way Stefan kept sneaking glances at Caleb, whenever he thought his Dom wasn’t looking, their mutual attraction didn’t seem limited to play time but had effortlessly flowed over into real life. The affection in Stefan’s eyes wasn’t just the admiration a submissive felt for his Dom, but that of a young man on the verge of falling in love with a gorgeous, outgoing, successful, and confident hunk of a man.

Hm, yes, Caleb was a very lucky man indeed, and so was Stefan.

Biting back a sigh, Harry took another sip of his coffee, then glanced around the room. He didn’t allow himself to think about Draco, didn’t allow himself to lose himself in thoughts about their budding romance and firmly tried to stay in the here and now. So far, nearly thirty people had turned up for Caleb’s munch and everyone appeared to be having a good time.

Harry noted several unfamiliar faces, undoubtedly newbies to the scene, though even they were slowly starting to warm up and join into conversations. The good food, strong coffee and relaxed atmosphere certainly helped. Try as he might, Harry’s attention began to drift and he momentarily lost himself in a fantasy, a fantasy of bringing Draco to one of these munches, of introducing him to the scene, of taking him to meet other submissives and Doms, of encouraging him to learn about different kinks and fetishes, of making friends with like-minded people.

Snapping out of his day-dreaming, Harry rose to his feet, refilled his coffee cup, and decided to mingle with the crowd instead. He briefly chatted to Elisabeth, an experienced slave, and learnt that she and her Master had parted ways. It had been an amicable separation but Harry could tell that Elisabeth was still trying to get over the breakup. He offered a few words of comfort and she gave him a grateful smile, before politely excusing herself and making her way over to a sweet-looking young woman with short brunette hair. She seemed rather lost, nervously twisting her fingers as she looked around the room and Harry was grateful to see Elisabeth taking an initiative to make the girl feel welcome.

Feeling in the mood to snack, Harry helped himself to a small coconut and raisin muffin from the buffet and casually joined a group of about five people. He didn’t actively join into the conversation, but listened and watched attentively. When addressed, he politely answered the questions posed to him and helped to move the conversation along when the group found themselves stuck.

After a while, Harry casually slipped into the background. He lingered near the now ajar door and leaning back against the wall behind him, he let out an inaudible sigh.

His thoughts drifted back to Draco and their last date. Draco had invited him to his flat, had offered to cook for him but Harry hadn’t felt bold enough to spend an evening alone with Draco and had taken him to a restaurant instead. He had wanted to accept the invitation, wanted to be alone with Draco, quite desperately so, but for the first time in years, he didn’t trust himself to be able to control his urges.

He wanted to pounce on Draco, wanted to push him against a wall, wanted to trap him between the unforgiving concrete wall and his body, wanted to stare deep into his eyes and then claim his mouth, kiss him hard, show him who was in charge, touch him everywhere, until Draco was a quivering, moaning, pleading wreck—

“When did you last play?” Caleb asked.

Harry pulled himself together and turned his head to look at him. He swallowed hard and judging by the look on Caleb’s face, Harry knew he had been staring into space with the expression of a hungry lion, desperate to find prey.

“Does training Stefan count?” Harry asked quietly and shoved both his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Caleb shook his head.

“Five months, give or take a couple days,” Harry admitted, taking a deep breath to try and calm his frazzled nerves and his racing heart.

Caleb raised a surprised eyebrow at him and he looked away, and stared out of the window at a large acorn tree across the road.

“Do you want me to find you someone?” Caleb offered quietly and this time it was Harry’s turn to shake his head. His answer surprised him and even though he really wanted to play, wanted to relish in taking control, he simply knew that he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to give a submissive the attention and care he or she needed and deserved. He knew he could force himself to try, to try and enjoy, but he knew he wouldn’t.

Ever since their chance encounter, and especially since their first proper date, Harry couldn’t get Draco out of his mind. He was truly smitten. He couldn’t remember ever having felt this way about another person and it scared him. He wanted Draco so badly that it physically hurt him. He had nearly wanked himself raw in the last few weeks.

“Potter, I’m talking to you!” Caleb snapped and startled him a little. Harry caught himself and focused his attention on Caleb, who was looking at him with his piercing blue eyes and he felt exposed, truly exposed.

“You’ve got it bad, Harry,” Caleb’s voice softened a little but Harry still flinched when he placed a hand on his forearm and squeezed gently.

“Do I know him?” he asked.

Harry shook his head, swallowed, swallowed again, and cleared his throat.

“He’s not— he isn’t— I mean— oh, fuck—!” Harry growled in frustration and Caleb squeezed his forearm a little harder. He dug his nail into Harry’s exposed skin and the sharp pain grounded Harry a little. He took several slow, deep breaths and seriously felt like crying. He blinked the unshed tears away, sighed and went to remove Caleb’s hand from his arm, but his friend did not let go and Harry did not fight him over it.

“He’s not in the scene, he doesn’t know that you like to dominate and it’s all been very vanilla,” Caleb summarised with a knowing smile and Harry nodded, seeing no point in denying the obvious. “How far has it gone?”

“Not far,” Harry mumbled, “two dates, a couple informal chats over coffee before that— daily memos at work.” Harry paused, squeezed Caleb’s hand, and relaxed a little more. Caleb loosened his grip but did not let go and Harry was grateful. “We’ve got history, it’s all a bit complicated. We’ve known each other since we were eleven. I nearly killed him once, too.”

Caleb’s eyes widened at that last confession and Harry sighed, thinking he probably shouldn’t have shared that fact about him and Draco. There was just something about Caleb that made it sheer impossible to lie to him, not that Harry had ever intentionally wanted to lie to him. His and Draco’s duel in sixth year still weighted heavily on his mind, especially now that they had reconnected and even more so now that they had discovered their mutual attraction.

He would never let me take charge, not after what I did to him in that bathroom, Harry thought bitterly and his heart twisted painfully in his chest. He desperately wanted to broach the subject with Draco but he didn’t want to upset him and didn’t even know where to begin, how to apologise, how to make it all go away. He wanted to know if his stupidity had left Draco with lasting scars but that question seemed even harder to ask than trying to work up the courage to apologise.

Seemingly sensing his inner conflict, Caleb offered a piece of unsolicited advice.

“You’ve got it bad, really bad, Harry. If vanilla is what you want to do for him, if you like him enough to go there, if you want him that bad and think you can control yourself, go for it, let him sweep you off your feet.”

Harry went to reply and was about to try and find the right words to explain to Caleb that he didn’t know if he could control himself if he could let go and just be a vanilla-version of himself when a choked sob reached his ears. His eyes widened in surprise and he frowned at Caleb.

Redredred— help, please, red—” the distressed and choking pleas of a woman in a panic reached his ears and Harry did not need to say anything to know that Caleb had heard it too, had heard the use of the most commonly used safe word within the kink community.

Harry’s entire body stiffened and drawing himself up to his full height, he pulled the door to the function room open and stepped outside, Caleb hard on his heel. Down the short corridor, near the female toilets, he spotted a woman, firmly trapped between a menacing-looking brute, who had his hands wrapped around her throat and was choking her as she clearly struggled to get away, crying, weeping, begging for him to stop. It did not look like consensual play, it looked like a vicious attack and storming over to the couple, Harry roughly separated the brute from the young woman, who sank to the floor and began to shake and sob uncontrollably.

Harry firmly, and without the least bit of compassion, restrained the stranger and, glancing behind him, he looked at Caleb for help. He did not have to ask. Caleb instantly stepped in and locked the stranger’s arms behind his back in a trained vice-grip. The stranger yelped and hissed a bunch of profanities, which Caleb ignored entirely. Instead, he tightened his grip, purposefully caused the stranger enough pain to make his knees buckle and give in.

“She said red, you piece of shit!” Caleb growled and Harry watched as he expertly continued to restrain the stranger with one hand while the other found its way to the guy’s neck. He forcefully yanked it backwards and squeezed with his arms, intentionally choking the man, who tried and failed to struggle free.

“You like to choke innocent women, do you now? Into breath play, huh? Let me show you what it feels like to choke, to feel the air leave your lungs and not be able to get more! Scared? You fucking should be, because I’m going to ruin you, you scum!”

For a moment, Harry wondered whether Caleb was losing control, was taking things a little too far, but when another Dom appeared at the door, clearly intrigued by the commotion. Caleb merely turned his head and issued an order.

“Call the police, I’ll deal with this filth until they get here. Nobody gives my munch a bad taste.”

The Dom at the door nodded, pulled out his mobile phone and Harry watched Caleb drag the stranger off into the direction of the men’s bathroom. Focusing his attention on the woman, Harry crouched on the floor and gently reached out to place his hand on her shoulder.

She flinched, stared up at him with a horrified expression on her face and, sitting down, Harry made a soft shushing sound to try and calm her.

“It’s all right, I’m here, I’m not going to hurt you, you’re safe, you’re safe here, I’ll take care of you,” he whispered and pulled her into his arms.

She resisted and Harry loosened his hold until she relaxed and willingly sank into him. Only then did he firmly wrap his arms around her and held her tightly against his chest as she sobbed heartbreakingly. Her entire body trembled and she clutched at Harry’s clothes as though he was her lifeline, as though she might drown if he let her go. Her tears quickly soaked through his shirt. Harry tightened his hold on her, gently rocked her and whispered sweet nothings into her ear. He tried to make out her name but her long blond hair obscured her name tag.

“Shush, sweet girl, it’s all right, you are safe, I’m right here, I’ll keep you safe, sweet angel,” Harry mumbled, aware that his excessive use of pet names was probably not all that appropriate for a complete stranger, but it seemed to calm her a little and as long as it made her feel better, Harry wasn’t about to stop.

“Ssshhh, darling, he’s gone, Caleb took care of him, he can’t hurt you, he’ll never touch you again, I promise, you’re safe,” Harry soothed, petting her hair ever so gently. He focused completely on the girl in his arms, on making her feel better.

It took nearly twenty minutes before she slowly began to calm down and her sobs ebbed away.

Another few moments later and she made a startling confession, one that had Harry’s blood boiling, one that made him tighten his hold on her, made him draw her into his arms and promise her that nobody would ever do anything bad to her.

When the police arrived, Caleb, after flashing his ID card that identified him as the Battalion Chief of the British Fire Brigade, personally roughly moved the stranger, into a police car. Harry, on the other hand, used gentle persuasion to coax the young woman in his arms, Cynthia, into giving a formal statement to a female officer of the law. With that done, Harry resolutely cancelled his plans for the afternoon, suggested that Cynthia refreshed herself in the bathroom and subtly cast a wandless cleaning spell to clean and dry his shirt.

When Cynthia finally emerged from the ladies’ bathroom, she looked a lot more presentable, although her eyes were still bloodshot and she hadn’t been able to entirely remove her smudged makeup. Gently taking her by the hand, Harry popped his head into the function room, where Caleb was busy doing his best to appease everyone who had attended the munch. He waved Elisabeth over and unceremoniously informed the two ladies that he was taking them shopping on Oxford Street for the afternoon. Elisabeth suggested that Bond Street was a much better destination and Harry gave her an affectionate slap on her behind.

“You do realise that you doing this isn’t going to make me regret what I just said, right?” Elisabeth teased him and Harry fixed her with an icy stare, which she did not submit to because the grin that was tugging on the corners of his mouth entirely ruined the effect.

“Naughty minx,” Harry said with a low voice and she winked at him.

“You love it, Sir,” she mocked him and with an eyeroll, Harry nudged her towards the stairs.

“Go, or I’ll change my mind, leave you tied up to the bannister and take Cynthia to Bond Street,” he laughed and Elisabeth opened her mouth with the clear intention of making a comeback when Harry gave her a pointed look that instantly shut her up. They had never been an item and he wasn’t interested in dominating her in any way but their friendship was a playful one and they enjoyed teasing each other whenever they met and Elisabeth wasn’t in a relationship with anyone.

“Don’t mind her, she’s got a potty mouth,” Harry turned to Cynthia and she gave him a weak smile.

Chapter Text

Two weeks later Harry, despite his initial apprehension, found himself in Draco’s flat, casually leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed over his chest. He watched with rapt attention as Draco prepared their dessert. Dinner had been a culinary experience and Harry’s mind was still reeling from the multitude of flavours Draco had thrown together.

He had diligently prepared a delightful Thai-themed dinner. As a starter, he had served them a Tom Yum soup and despite the mild late-spring, early summer temperatures the soup had warmed Harry’s insides pleasantly. It had had just the right mix of lemongrass, ginger, and Thai chillies. The fresh, plump shrimp, straw mushrooms and fresh cilantro had given the soup the perfect edge. The main course, a vegetarian Thai Green Curry, which Draco had served with steamed jasmine rice, had been spicy, aromatic, sweet and savoury all at the same time. For dessert, they had seemingly returned to Europe, for Draco was preparing two small bowls of vanilla, strawberry, and chocolate ice-cream with an assortment of fresh berries.

“Draco Malfoy, I would have never thought I’d ever see you this comfortable in a kitchen,” Harry teased and, uncrossing his arms, he braced himself on the kitchen counter behind him and swallowed hard when Draco brought the spoon to his mouth and licked it suggestively.

“Stress relief,” he shrugged. “I found that it relaxes me.”

“You have talent,” Harry smiled. “The dinner was perfect, thank you.”

Draco flushed a little at the praise and Harry really wanted to gently place his hand on Draco’s cheek, stroke it tenderly with his thumb and tease that sweet, sensitive spot of skin just behind and under his ear, then draw him in for a slow, heartfelt kiss.

He resisted the urge, smiled at Draco, and whispered another compliment.

“You are gorgeous.”

Draco flushed a little more. To hide his obvious embarrassment, he hurriedly busied himself with returning the package of ice-cream to the icebox. Pulling a nearby drawer open, he took out two spoons and handed one to Harry.

Feeling rather cheeky, Harry instantly dipped his spoon into the nearest bowl of ice-cream, gathered a mix of vanilla, strawberry and chocolate ice-cream and offered it to Draco, who hesitated for a moment but eventually parted his lips just far enough for Harry to feed him a spoonful. The way Draco’s lips closed around the spoon and his eyes fluttered as the treat cooled his mouth was nearly too much for Harry, who had to bite his lip to fight back a moan.

He took a deep breath, calmed his overexcited teenager brain, which was trying to tell his cock that getting hard was a very good idea, and eventually managed to compose himself. He, however, could not resist the temptation to pay Draco another compliment, and Draco rewarded him with the sweetest blush Harry had ever seen.

“You eating dessert is just purely indecent,” Harry sighed and a warm chuckle bubbled up from the depths of his throat.

Hm, you like that, don’t you, me making you compliments, Harry thought excitedly.

“I can’t help it, I love sweet things,” Draco confessed with a look of complete innocence and Harry shuddered.

Pull yourself together, Potter, he reprimanded himself and resolutely reached for his bowl, intend on putting a little bit of distance between him and Draco. He wanted to continue feeding Draco more ice-cream but he knew it wouldn’t end well, knew that he didn’t have that much self-control.

Instead, he walked over to the big living room window and looked outside. It was already dark and the streetlights threw odd shadows onto the road. He tried to focus on the scene, but failed, and shoved a large piece of chocolate ice-cream and two raspberries into his mouth instead, feeling frustrated with the situation.

It was a desperate attempt to calm himself, to stall what seemed to be inevitable, namely that he broke his resolve and made a move on Draco anyway.

He wanted Draco badly, wanted him with all that he had and then some, but for the first time in his life he was scared; scared of who he was and how he had chosen to live his life, scared of who Draco was and how little he knew, scared of their less than amicable history, and scared of the depth of his feelings for Draco.

There was extreme sexual attraction, and Harry could sense that Draco shared that sentiment, but there was also more. They both felt comfortable in each other’s company and Draco was a very stimulating conversationalist. He had opinions and he wasn’t afraid of sharing them, wasn’t afraid of making himself heard.

So far, Harry had not yet seen Draco argue a case in front of the Wizengamot, but whenever they talked and Draco got a little passionate about something or other, Harry could see his fierceness shine through. He liked it a lot, it was a massive turn on.

“Did I say anything wrong?” Draco asked, snapping Harry out of his thoughts, who turned away from the window and looked at Draco instead. He had walked over from the kitchen and wore a rather forlorn and confused expression on his face. Harry’s chest constricted painfully.

No, sweet darling, you could never say anything wrong, he thought and wanted to say the words so badly that he had to bite his tongue before responding.

“No, absolutely not, I just have a little something weighing on my mind.”

It isn’t even a lie, Harry mused.

“What is it? You seemed rather flirty just now,” Draco pushed and Harry sighed.

Setting his dessert down on the windowsill, he took a deep breath and gathered every ounce of his stupid Gryffindor courage.

“Sixth year,” he said quietly and heard Draco breathe in sharply.

Harry hated himself for the fact that he had brought up their ill-fated duel in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom in a desperate attempt to keep himself from pouncing on Draco and ravishing him. He had been thinking of how to broach the subject with Draco, it was the only thing they hadn’t discussed yet.

“I was wondering when you were going to bring that one up,” Draco sighed and, stuffing another spoonful of ice-cream into his mouth, he set his own dessert bowl down on the windowsill right next to Harry’s.

Clenching and unclenching his fists, Draco slowly pulled his grey shirt out of his trousers, pulled it up a little and pushed the waistband of his trousers down a smidgeon. Harry sucked in a sharp breath and gasped when his eyes settled on a large scar that slashed right across Draco’s lower abdomen. It was a stark contrast to his otherwise unblemished skin and Harry itched to touch it, wanted to trace the uneven flesh, wanted to somehow make it go away, but resolutely kept his fingers to himself.

“Just the one, Harry, this one the Dittany didn’t heal,” Draco whispered and pushed his shirt back into his trousers.

Unable to stop himself, Harry reached out, took Draco’s hand, and interlaced their fingers. He pulled him a little closer, ran his fingers gently through his hair and caressed Draco’s cheek with his thumb. Draco ever so gently pushed into the touch and Harry fought the urge to lean in and press his lips against Draco’s. He wanted to kiss him so badly that his entire body hummed with the desire to do so, but he firmly restrained himself and withdrew his hand from Draco’s cheek. He circled his thumb over the back of Draco’s hand.

“I’m so sorry, Draco, I should have never cast that spell, not knowing what it did.”

“I forgave you a long time ago, you don’t need to apologise.”

“I do need to apologise, it’s only right that I do.”

“In that case, thank you…and apology accepted,” Draco smiled.

Feeling his resolve weaken a little, Harry pulled Draco into a tight hug, which Draco reciprocated. They stood like that for several minutes, just hugging and Harry closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, thoroughly delighting in that familiar scent of bergamot, oak-moss and sweet blackcurrant that was so uniquely Draco.

“I like you a lot, you know,” Draco whispered and Harry really wanted to return the sentiment but the words would not leave his mouth. Draco withdrew slightly from the hug and with his face only inches away, Harry was fighting a battle he was rapidly losing. Draco leant in a little and Harry could tell that he was asking for a kiss, a kiss he so badly wanted to give.

Harry lost himself in Draco’s clear grey eyes and stared into them for the longest time while his entire body throbbed with the desperate need to lean in, to close the small gap between their lips, to taste Draco, to claim his sweet pale-red lips in a passionate kiss.

Me too, I like you too, I like you so much, sweet, sweet darling, you have no idea, his mind screamed and the air around them crackled with the anticipation of the obvious.

When Draco cleared his throat and parted his lips, Harry quickly brought his hand up and placed a single finger across them, silencing Draco before he had the chance to say anything.

“Ssssh, just don’t,” Harry whispered, withdrew his finger, leant in a little closer and exhaled slowly. His breath tickled Draco’s lips and Draco’s eyelids fluttered as if he couldn’t decide whether to keep them open or not.

“Close your eyes,” Harry murmured and after a moment of hesitation, Draco obeyed. Harry swallowed hard, blinked, and placed the gentlest of kisses on Draco’s lips. It was a barely-there ghost of a kiss and he lingered for only a few seconds, then pulled back and drank in the sight before him. Draco’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, his face flushed, and his lips slightly parted. He looked breathtakingly beautiful and Harry’s heart hammered in his chest as he tried to keep his composure, as he fought against the urge to push Draco against the wall beside the window, to trap him there and to kiss him until they were both breathless and Draco was begging him for more, begging to be stripped and made love to in the sweetest way possible.

Resolutely pulling away, Harry took a step back, interlaced their fingers, and pulled Draco into the centre of the living room. His eyes fell onto Draco’s Muggle stereo and his impressive CD collection.

“I want to dance with you,” Harry smiled and Draco’s eyes widened.

“You don’t dance, Harry Potter,” Draco said and Harry laughed.

“That was well over a decade ago.”

“Are you going to step on my feet?” Draco teased and Harry gave him a reproachful look.

“Draco Malfoy, zip it.”

“Yes, Sir,” Draco mock-saluted and Harry quickly turned his back on him, wondering how he was supposed to keep his composure when Draco was quite literally playing with fire, unwittingly begging to be—

Harry resolutely cut himself off right there, he did not want to go there, did not want to finish that thought.

If only you knew, Harry thought and perused Draco’s CD collection instead. He found something suitable soon enough and, inserting the CD into the player, he chose the first track and turned the volume up a little before making his way back to where Draco was still standing, waiting for him.

### I have never been the type to try and grab the spotlight
We were at a revel with some rebels on a hot night
Laughin’ at my sister as she’s dazzling the roo
Then you walked in and my heart went “Boom!”
Tryin’ to catch your eye from the side of the ballroom
Everybody’s dancin’ and the band’s top volume ###

“You, Draco Malfoy, are certifiably gay, you own a collection of Broadway Classics,” Harry laughed, reached for Draco’s hand, pulled him close, snaked his arm around Draco’s waist, and pulled him flush against his body.

Draco gasped. Harry laughed again and spun them both, rather effortlessly around the room.

“Who are you and what have you done with the real Harry Potter?” Draco shrieked but made no attempt to withdraw from the dance.

“I am the real Harry Potter,” Harry winked, lifted his unruly fringe, and exposed his lightning bolt-shaped scar to Draco.

“You, Harry Potter, are a very strange man,” Draco shook his head, then threw it back and laughed in a way Harry had never seen or heard him laugh.

It was almost a manic laugh, completely unrestrained and carefree.

“Why thank you for the compliment, you’re not so bad yourself, Draco Malfoy,” Harry smiled, slowed their dance a little and pulled Draco a little closer.

“Helpless, yeah, look into your eyes, and the sky's the limit, I'm helpless, baby, down for the count, and I'm drownin' in 'em,” Harry sang along, fixed his eyes on Draco’s, and watched, mesmerised, how Draco suddenly seemed to breathe just that little faster.

Hm, so sexy, Harry mused and was glad when the song sped up a little and he could resume spinning Draco around the room until they were both dizzy and laughing and giggling.

Eventually, the song faded out and since they were both breathless, they slumped down on the comfortable large white corner sofa. Leaning back into the cushions, Harry inhaled deeply and turning his head to the side. He looked at Draco, who seemingly sensed Harry’s eyes on him and turned his head to look at him. Their eyes locked and Harry sighed.

“Gosh, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, reached for Draco’s hand, and tugged ever so gently but insistently enough for Draco to get the message.

“C’mere,” he urged and Draco scooted closer, until he was sitting right next to Harry, their thighs pressed against each other.

Reaching out, Harry stroked his thumb over Draco’s cheek and leant forward. He gently eased Draco further into the cushions, leant closer still and captured Draco’s lips in a maddeningly slow kiss. His fingers trailed up his arm, the touch featherlight and he swallowed the low moan that escaped Draco’s lips.

Sorely tempted to deepen the kiss, to push his tongue into Draco’s mouth, to explore, to claim, to own, Harry fought to keep things light, to keep his composure.

Running his fingers through Draco’s soft, silken hair, he kissed Draco, sweetly and softly, like he was Harry’s most precious possession, a treasured prize, a rare relic.

Although he desperately wanted to, Harry never once added his tongue to the mix and when he pulled away, Draco’s eyes were nearly black with desire and lust and pure unadulterated want.

Harry resolutely pushed himself off the couch and sighed.

“I should go,” he said firmly, although he absolutely did not want to leave.

“Stay,” Draco whispered, looking up at him from under lowered lashes and Harry swallowed hard and shook his head.

“Just a little longer,” Draco pleaded. Harry had to take a moment to keep it together.

“Not tonight, Draco,” he insisted and took a step back before he could change his mind.

Merlin, he wanted to, he wanted to stay more than anything else in the world.

“It’s not a good idea.”

Draco nodded, seemingly respecting Harry’s boundaries and getting off the couch, he smiled.

“I’ll walk you to the door.”

“That would be lovely,” Harry nodded and once in the entrance hall, he slipped into his shoes and put his light jacket on. He hesitated for a moment, fought the temptation to kiss Draco again but instinctively knew that if he was to give in, he wouldn’t be able to control himself, wouldn’t be able to stop at just a kiss.

So instead, he drew Draco closer, tenderly ran his fingers through Draco’s hair and then leant in to place a gentle kiss on Draco’s cheek.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered, then left resolutely.

Chapter Text

Once he stood outside Draco’s flat, Harry closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He looked at his shaking hands and shuddered, unable to comprehend how Draco had that much of an effect on him. Not only was his heart racing and his head pounding, no, he was also painfully hard and badly wanted to turn around and kiss Draco senseless.

He wanted to walk Draco backwards up the stairs to his bedroom, wanted to strip him down to his birthday suit, push him onto the bed and kiss every inch of his body, give him the most incredible blowjob and then fuck him so maddeningly slow that Draco would have to beg for his release or go stir-crazy with want and lust and need.

I’m fucked, Harry thought, stepped into a dark corner and disapparated on the spot.

A second later he appeared in another neighbourhood in Notting Hill and, not even in the slightest bit bothered about the late hour, he entered Caleb’s building and pounded on the door.

The door opened and a sleepy-eyed, grumpy-looking Caleb stood at the door, wearing nothing more than a pair of boxer shorts. Unperturbed, Harry pushed past Caleb and headed straight down the corridor and into Caleb’s living room. There he grabbed a bottle of eighteen-year-old Glen Scotia, opened it, and, not bothering with a glass, he drank from the bottle. The strong liquor burned his throat and made his eyes water, but Harry didn’t care. He poured gulp after gulp of the expensive drink down his throat and only stopped when Caleb forcefully removed the bottle from his grasp and placed it out of his immediate reach.

“Mind telling me what the fuck is going on before you’re too pissed to string two words together?” Caleb asked and Harry looked at him and laughed. It was a maniac, almost crazed laugh. Harry sighed with exasperated frustration and ran his fingers through his messy hair.

“I kissed him, I fucking kissed him!” Harry exclaimed, looking up at Caleb with wide eyes. He felt as high as a kite, having overdosed on a mysterious drug called love.

He swallowed hard and Caleb sighed, grabbed a blanket from the nearby sofa and covered himself with it. When he used gentle force to direct him onto the sofa, Harry did not resist, instead he simply melted under Caleb’s ministrations. Letting out a breath he hadn’t even been aware he had been holding, he sank into the comfortable cushions dotted around the sofa.

When Caleb pushed a tumbler of the scotch, he had taken off him minutes before, into his hand, Harry mumbled a quiet thank you and swallowed half of the drink in a pathetic attempt to calm his nerves.

He felt all over the place.

Why was resisting Draco so hard? He didn’t want to resist him anymore, especially not now that he had finally tasted those lips.

Merlin, those lips!

Harry groaned inwardly at the mere thought, the mere memory. He wanted Draco with all his body and soul – and then some!

“I assume we’re talking about the guy you have the hots for, nearly killed once, and who has no clue about your penchant for kink?” Caleb asked and Harry did not like the wicked, sly smile that ghosted around Caleb’s lips, no, he did not like it one bit. He was, however, too worked up to really care about it.

“That would be the one,” Harry nodded, emptied his glass, and held it out to Caleb, silently asking for a refill.

Caleb took the empty glass from him and pointedly ignored his request.

“So, you kissed him, big deal, Potter. Grow a pair. Was it good?”

“Good?” Harry frowned, surprised at the sound of his own voice. It was off, it was too high. It sounded almost like a shriek. “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a more perfect kiss,” he sighed. “It was flawless, the man knows how to use his lips.”

“What exactly is the problem then?” Caleb wanted to know. “You obviously need counselling, so spit it out already before I decide to flog it out of you.”

Harry laughed. It was hollow and mocking.

“You wouldn’t dare, Reid.”

“Don’t tempt me, Potter,” Caleb chuckled and weirdly enough the amused twinkle in his eyes calmed Harry’s frazzled nerves a little bit.

He took a deep breath and launched into a detailed explanation of his dinner date with Draco. He told Caleb all about how Draco had made such an extraordinary effort with the food and how they had shared dessert. He described in minute detail how he evaded Draco’s first attempt at asking for the kiss and how they talked about their past, how Draco confessed his feelings, how they kissed and danced and kissed some more and how Harry didn’t know how to control himself around Draco because Draco seemingly knew how to push all the right buttons.

He was convinced that Draco knew exactly how to play right into his hand, knew exactly how to behave to drive Harry wanton with lust and awake the strong desire to protect him, care for him, and rob Harry of all his senses.

Somewhere along his lengthy play-by-play of the evening he had spent in Draco’s company, he kicked off his shoes and pulled his legs up onto the sofa. Caleb wordlessly handed him a refill, and, slowly sipping on his scotch, Harry patiently waited for Caleb to digest everything he had heard and offer some advice. He was about to get nervous and push for Caleb to say something when Caleb did just that.

“Sounds to me like you are half in love with the man, Potter,” he said and laughed quietly while Harry growled in frustration.

“Is that all you have to say after everything I just told you?”

“What else would you like me to say? What else is there to say? You two got a bit of history, so what? Seems to me like you managed to sort that one out all right. Also seems like the guy worships the ground you walk on and if you can’t keep your hands off him, well then don’t. Safe, sane, consensual, whether there’s a kink involved or not,” Caleb’s advice was blunt, as always, and Harry felt like he had just been slapped right in the face with a couple of home truths.

“I—” Harry started but Caleb firmly cut him off before he could continue.

“So, you prefer to take charge in the bedroom, enjoy restraining your lover and just generally get up to some kinky shit. Your Draco bloke is damn lucky if you ask me. Even if he’s only had vanilla sex until now, there are so many ways you can take charge and show him a good time, so many ways in which you still get to please your kinky little heart without sending him running for the hills. Fucking hell, Potter, you have been part of the scene for years, you’re not a bloody beginner, you’re an experienced Dom with an amazing reputation and more self-restraint than all those dunderheads in my firehouse put together.”


“But what, Harry? What? What exactly are you afraid of?” Caleb put him on the spot, staring him down. For a while, Harry remained unwaveringly still, defiantly holding Caleb’s gaze, then sighed and surrendered.

“I don’t think I can restrain myself around him,” he admitted quietly. “He’s got my head spinning, got me feeling dizzy, it feels like I’ve got my head under water whenever he’s around. He’s always been my worst distraction, always, from the first day I met him.”

“Well then don’t,” Caleb shrugged. “Don’t restrain yourself, don’t hold back, pull him into your arms, kiss him senseless, make love to him until he forgets everything but your name. Why are you overthinking things?”

“I don’t know, I—”

“Well, I do, Potter because it’s written all over your face. You’re in love, plain as simple.”

“I’m not in love with him!” Harry spluttered and looked at Caleb with utter indignation.

Some friend you are, you backstabbing bastard, he thought angrily.

“Won’t take much longer,” Caleb said with a kind of nonchalance that infuriated Harry even more, mainly because deep down he knew that Caleb was telling the truth. He had always been able to see right through him.

There wasn’t much that fazed Caleb and Harry admired his patience and complete self-control. As a teenager, Harry had always been somewhat of a hothead, but he had long since calmed down, in part because he no longer had to look over his shoulder and run from a megalomaniacal Dark Lord, and in part because he had grown up.

He had, however, never felt like this before, had never felt this strongly about a person, had never spent every waking minute thinking about someone, wanting someone, and it quite frankly scared him. He couldn’t get Draco out of this head and he couldn’t stay away either. He didn’t even want to try. A part of him kept pulling him towards Draco and it felt like they were meant to be and another part of him kept trying to tell him to stay away, lest he scare Draco. It was maddening and he felt like he wanted to tear his own hair out just to give him something to do to distract him from the rollercoaster of emotions he couldn’t get a handle on.

“Let me show you something,” Caleb smiled and his words had the desired effect: they stopped Harry from giving in and hyperventilating.

Caleb rose to his feet and reached out to take Harry by the arm. He mutely got up and followed Caleb out of the living room and down the corridor. They made their way upstairs to the second floor, up to Caleb’s bedroom. Harry frowned but said nothing.

Instead, he watched Caleb push the door to the master bedroom open and step aside. When Harry’s eyes fell on the sleeping form of Stefan, curled up in Caleb’s massive bed, his jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

“He sleeps in your bed,” Harry whispered, unable to take his eyes off the beautiful young man Stefan was. He had spent three months training Stefan and in all that time he had, of course, seen him sleep, but he had never seen him sleep with such a content smile on his face. He appeared to be completely at ease, like he belonged right there, sleeping by Caleb’s side. Harry had enough experience to tell that Stefan’s smile wasn’t a remnant of a satisfying play.

“You never let any of your subs sleep in your bed,” Harry mumbled and tore his gaze away from Stefan’s sleeping form. He watched Caleb pull the door to his bedroom closed again.

“He’s different,” Caleb shrugged. “Found him in the kitchen one morning, wearing a pair of boxer shorts and my shirt from the night before. He was dancing around the place, making coffee, toast, and slicing fruits. I just stood there for half an eternity and at some point, something clicked in me. When he realised, I’d been watching him he was rather embarrassed, but that pretty blush just made me fall a little harder.” Caleb smiled and Harry thought that his cheeks had a faint pink flush to them. He wasn’t sure whether that was from the alcohol they had consumed or because Caleb had just confessed, he had fallen hard for his sub.

“So—” Harry paused, trying to digest what he had just seen and heard. “You’re dating then?”

“Yep, he may have a kinky submissive heart but he loves it when I take him out on a vanilla date, he’s such a sucker for it, melts my fierce dominant heart,” Caleb chuckled.

“You’re not playing, then?” Harry wanted to know and Caleb shrugged.

“Not really. We did one or two scenes in the last couple of weeks, but I’ve been too busy turning on the good old Reid charm to set anything up. He doesn’t seem to mind though. He submits without me making any demands. I throw an arm around him out on the street and he melts against me. If he was a kitten, he would purr nonstop. It’s enough for me, for now.”

“But you don’t date…” Harry said feebly. In the five years, he had known Caleb, he had never seen him in a serious relationship. He had been in serious Dom/sub relationships but none of these had included romantic love.

Harry frowned. He couldn’t understand. Caleb had seemingly changed overnight and it didn’t make any sense to him. Sure, he had noticed a mild change in the dynamic between Caleb and Stefan at the munch, but he hadn’t given it all that much thought, had just put it down to the way their Dom/sub relationship worked for them. This, Caleb’s confession, well, it put things into perspective, it changed everything.

“I was married before we met. Ten years. We’ve got a daughter,” Caleb sighed and Harry opened his mouth, an avalanche of questions on the tip of his tongue but Caleb raised his hand to stop him. “I’ll tell you about my ex-wife another time, I promise. Tonight’s not the night for that conversation.”

Harry nodded and closed his mouth. He knew that Caleb kept all his promises. It was something he had learnt from his friend something that made him a better person, or so Harry thought. He had never been one to make a promise on a whim but Caleb had taught him the beauty of an honest promise and the amount of trust one could gain when one kept his word, always.

“This time was different, something about him, it drew me in, I just wanted more, so I went for it. Kink isn’t everything, you know. I wouldn’t want to give it up because it’s such a huge part of me but I wouldn’t sacrifice a shot at love for it either, Harry,” Caleb smiled.

“Stop overthinking everything and just let go. Fall in love, Potter, date, be silly, chase that man, give him everything you’ve got, wrap him around your little finger, draw him in, show him the time of his life. Who knows, he might be just as kinky as you are, and if he isn’t, if it’s something he absolutely doesn’t want to explore, well then you can still make a decision.”

“I don’t know what to say—” Harry sighed.

“The bastard in me wants to suggest that you should tell me that you’re leaving, but I’m not that a callous person. Take the guestroom, have a good rest.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. You know your way around the place, so make yourself comfortable. I've got a twenty-four-hour shift tomorrow, so I absolutely need to go to bed or I’ll be useless at work and if I’m useless my firefighters die.”

Harry glanced at his watch, realised it was nearly two am in the morning and looked rather apologetic. “You’re right,” he mumbled and Caleb laughed.

“I usually am,” he smirked and Harry rolled his eyes and showed him the finger before heading down the corridor to one of the guest bedrooms.

“I still think I should use you to break in that pretty new paddle I bought the other day,” Caleb teased. “Can you just imagine, that sweet red tinge, that hot stinging burn, you’d look so lovely squirming underneath my firm hand.”

“Tom Riddle,” Harry uttered his safeword without batting an eyelash or turning around.

“Ah you’re no fun,” Caleb laughed. “One of these days you really have to tell me what this poor bloke did to you that you turned him into a safeword. Must have done a real number on you.”

Poor bloke, hm, not likely, Harry thought with a grimace, wanting to laugh at the irony of it all.

“Would have to obliviate you if I did,” Harry muttered under his breath, his voice too low for Caleb to catch anything of that. Bidding his friend good night, Harry opened the door to the guest room and disappeared inside. As he stripped out of his clothes, he suddenly found himself feeling extremely weary. He didn’t even bother with a trip to the bathroom.

Instead, he used a wandless cleaning spell to rid himself of the taste of alcohol in his mouth and clean his teeth.

He crawled into bed, lay on his back, pulled the summer quilt up to his nose, closed his eyes, and pictured Draco.

He pictured his teasing smile, his sweet laughter, his passion for his job, his incredible talent in the kitchen, his gorgeous body…

I like you a lot, you know, Harry replayed Draco’s tender confession in his head until he felt dizzy, until a rush of something threatened to consume him completely, threatened to drag him under. His thoughts drifted to their first kiss and the gentle kiss they had shared after their silly dance around Draco’s living room.

“I like you too, so, so much,” Harry whispered to the empty room and finally fell asleep, his mind filled with images of Draco.

Chapter Text

Gently pulling the side door at the back of the courtroom open, Harry slipped inside but remained standing in the back, half hidden in the shadows yet not completely out of sight. The court was already in session and the last thing he wanted to do was to draw everyone’s attention onto himself. He leant back against the wall and watched intently as one of the witnesses stepped up onto the stand and the judge allowed the prosecution to begin with cross-examination.

He saw Draco effortlessly rising to his feet, straightening his black prosecutor’s robes, and walking up to the speaker’s podium with a thick folder under his arm. He slowly placed the folder on top, lifted his wand and cast a Sonorus charm to amplify his voice. He cleared his throat, sorted through his files and Harry thought that it was a deliberate tactic to make the witness squirm. He did have a bit of experience when it came to making people squirm, for various reasons. When he caught a glimpse of the look on Draco’s face, Harry knew that he had been right. He watched as Draco fixed his eyes onto the witness, stared him down, then posed a most innocent opening question. Harry smirked.

Go, get him, little dragon, he thought with amusement.

The witness hesitated, stammered his way through his answer and Draco chanced it and dived right in. For the next thirty minutes Draco held him in a verbal vice grip without the help of a single spell. His voice was unwavering, firm, steady and he had a comeback for whatever the witness had to say. He wasn’t overconfident but he was most definitely well prepared and it took Harry’s breath away. Draco dissected every single answer with minute precision, repeatedly verified timelines and just generally had the witness fidget on the stand as the man desperately tried to justify any discrepancies with his answers.

Draco did not fall for it, didn’t even rise to the bait. Instead, he straightened his back, crossed his arms over his chest, fixed his grey eyes on the witness, and stared him down.

“I think you’re lying, Peterson, and I also think that you know that you’re lying,” he eventually accused calmly and entirely unfazed. His cool aristocratic Malfoy-drawl sent jolts of pleasure down Harry’s spine and he found himself diverting more of his attention to his breathing in a pathetic attempt to control the way his body was reacting to Draco.

Damn, your smartness is beyond sexy, he mused and decided that he was on the verge of developing a kink for Draco’s resourcefulness.

Much to Harry’s astonishment, Draco paused and his eyes travelled around the courtroom. He spotted Harry and a sly smile ghosted around his lips. It was a barely-there kind of smile, but to Harry, it was blindingly obvious. He, however, didn’t hold Harry’s gaze but instead turned his attention back towards the witness.

“I think I’m going to request that the court charges you with lying under oath. A few days in our holding cells should clear your head and help you decide if you want me to charge you as an accessory to the fact, or if you would like to tell the truth and nothing but the truth,” Draco said, collected his files and returned to his seat with a flourish of his robes.

“The prosecution has no further questions for the witness at this point in time,” he addressed the judges before calmly sitting down, throwing one leg over the other and folding his hands on the table.

Deciding that he had seen enough, Harry was vaguely aware of the judges ordering the Court Aurors to hold the witness in contempt as he turned and slipped out the side door. He rested against the wall in the hallway and closed his eyes, then pressed his palms against the cool, tiled wall, tilted his head upward and breathed slowly and deeply.

You did a right number on me there, Harry thought to himself, astonished that watching Draco’s cool exertion of complete control over the situation had managed to properly put him on edge. A hot flush surged through him and Harry shuddered. He pushed himself away from the wall, wandered down the corridor and glanced at the Muggle watch around his wrist, realising that it was nearly lunchtime.

Certain that the court would recess for lunch in about half an hour, Harry headed for the Ministry’s Atrium, apparated straight to Draco’s favourite coffee shop in Notting Hill and splurged on a takeaway lunch for both him and Draco. Being an Auror absolutely had its benefits: no queuing for the Floo and unrestricted apparition within the Ministry. It was a perk Harry never ever wanted to give up.

He ordered two large coffees, one black, one a cappuccino, for them both, as well as a quinoa salad and a turkey and spinach wrap for Draco.

For himself, he ordered a beef sandwich and when he spotted his favourite dessert in the display, he asked for two large pieces of it along with a generous portion of warm custard.

With everything wrapped up and a Stasis Charm on the bag, Harry left the coffee shop, found a place suitable for apparition and returned to the Ministry. He strode through the Atrium and his feet almost automatically carried him up to the floor dedicated to the Wizengamot prosecution. He reached Draco’s office in no time.

As usual, the door stood wide open. Lifting his hand, Harry was about to knock to announce his presence when Draco turned around and they came face to face.

“Harry,” Draco smiled, “what a pleasant surprise.”

“Thought I’d treat you to lunch,” Harry grinned, and lifted the takeaway bag in his hand, showing it to Draco.

“If I hadn’t you, I’d starve to death,” Draco said and Harry stepped into the office, casually kicking the door closed behind him. He placed the takeaway bag on top of Draco’s desk and rounded the large mahogany desk just when Draco was about to undo his prosecutor’s robes.

“No,” he said softly and reached out to stop Draco from taking off his robes.

“Oh?” Draco raised a questioning eyebrow and his lips curled upward and into a sly smile.

“You look incredibly hot in those robes,” Harry whispered, clasped his hand around Draco’s wrist and pulled him closer.

I want to ravish you when you wear those robes and only those robes, Harry thought but kept that fantasy to himself. For now, anyway.

“I do?” Draco said and Harry nodded. He sneaked his arm around Draco’s waist and pulled him flush against his own body.

“Yes, I do. Absolutely.”

“Mr Potter.”

“Yes, Draco?”

“Kiss me already.”

“How demanding you are,” Harry tsked with a smile and stroked his knuckles softly along Draco’s cheek, sliding his fingers through Draco’s hair and down to the nape of his neck. He felt Draco shudder and, leaning closer, Harry breathed against Draco’s lips, pleased when they parted slightly and Draco’s tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“Anticipation is the sweetest form of torture,” Harry mumbled, pressed his lips against Draco’s and kissed him softly, gently, unhurriedly. Draco hummed into the kiss, melted against him and he rested his arms on his shoulders.

Harry moved his hand from Draco’s lower back, slipped it underneath the robe and ran his fingers teasingly along the waistline of Draco’s trousers. He tugged at the shirt, pulled it from his trousers, and the moment his fingertips brushed against the warm skin underneath the tailormade garment, he deepened the kiss and swallowed a low moan that slipped past Draco’s lips and into his own mouth. He felt Draco’s fingers thread through his hair and slowly drew a line with an irregular pattern all the way from Draco’s abdomen along his side to his back.

Draco squirmed a little, obviously ticklish, and Harry splayed his hand against his lower back, relishing in the feel of warm, tender skin against his own hand. Winding his tongue around Draco’s, Harry teased it with dizzying precision and ran his hand up Draco’s spine. He could feel the growing arousal press into his thigh and it took him every ounce of self-control not to push Draco onto his desk and ravish him right here and now.

He continued to explore Draco’s mouth with his tongue and thwarted every single one of Draco’s attempts to take control over the kiss.

After a while, Draco slowly surrendered and instead of fighting to lead the kiss, he followed Harry, complimenting every stroke and lick of Harry’s tongue.

Harry moaned into the kiss, pleased with his win. He slowly and gently scraped his fingernails down Draco’s soft skin, which resulted in Draco arching his back and buckling his knees. The move pressed his arousal into Harry’s thigh. Harry shifted his leg, aware that the movement would result in delicious friction for Draco, then pushed this thigh firmly against Draco’s erection. Draco practically melted into his embrace and Harry swallowed the low drawn-out moan his kiss drew from the depths of Draco’s chest.

Draco’s hands slid down Harry’s back and came to rest on his arse. Harry allowed Draco to pull him closer. He responded by sliding his thigh against Draco’s erection and became aware of his own painfully hard cock, straining against his trousers.

Harry fought to stay in control over the situation. While he wanted Draco, wanted him more than he had ever wanted anyone, he really didn’t want their first time to be a hurried fuck in Draco’s office.

Still, the idea wholeheartedly appealed to him and he found it rather difficult to resist the temptation. It would be so easy to undo Draco’s trousers, pull them down, bend him over his desk, fire a locking and a silencing charm at the door and fuck him into sweet submission, have him gasping and panting as Harry repeatedly teased his prostate with the tip of his cock, forcing him closer and closer to a mind-blowing orgasm. His mind supplied him with several very helpful images and, swallowing a groan, he withdrew from the kiss and tried to somehow regulate his breathing.

He stared at Draco, mesmerised at how much his eyes had darkened. Draco’s lips were swollen and red, his breathing heavy and his face deliciously flushed. Harry wanted to kiss every inch of it. Draco moved to lean back against his desk and combed his fingers through his hair, further dishevelling it, and Harry decided that he loved this debauched look on Draco.

“Harry Potter,” Draco breathed, held his gaze, and watched with wide eyes as Harry leant forward, reached for the takeaway bag, and produced their coffees.

“I think we should have lunch,” he said with an air of cool, trained nonchalance, offering Draco his coffee.

Draco’s eyes narrowed and even though he took the offered paper cup from Harry, he did so with the biggest frown Harry had ever seen.

“You’re just going to stop here?” Draco asked incredulously and Harry nodded.

“I am.”

“Excuse me, I think I need to take a trip to the bathroom before I can stomach eating anything,” Draco said and set his coffee cup down. He went to move around his desk, wincing in obvious discomfort at the throbbing arousal in his trousers.

With the greatest effort, Harry managed to bite back a smirk, caught Draco’s wrist, and stopped him from leaving.

“A wank, really?” he asked.

“Yes,” Draco replied, quite carefree.

“No,” Harry shook his head and Draco raised an eyebrow at that.


“You can manage without,” Harry lowered his voice down to a whisper and drew Draco close. He pressed a kiss against his lips, lingered for a moment but did not deepen it.

“Not in your office, not the first time,” he spoke firmly and with conviction.

Draco sighed.

“Potter, what are we? Teenage girls on the verge of losing their virginity?” he asked, the frustration evident in his voice.

Harry smiled.

“You have no idea how much I want you right now,” he admitted. “I want to tear the clothes off your back, bend you over your desk and fuck you senseless.”

Draco groaned. “Fuck, do it.”

“No,” Harry shook his head, remaining resolute.

When Draco made to move away from him, he tightened his hold on Draco’s wrist.

“Do you have any plans on Saturday?” he asked, attempting to distract himself from further fantasising about bending Draco over his desk or the fact that Draco clearly wanted him so much that he was willing to forgo lunch in favour of a quick wank in one of the bathroom stalls.

“Sleep in and ignore the fact that I’ll be yet another year older,” Draco answered.

“Let me take you out on a date.”

Draco smirked. “Do you want to throw me a birthday party?”

“For two,” Harry said, winked, and leant in to seal his promise with a gentle kiss.

“And if you really want to you can go have a wank,” he conceded, knowing he had no right to demand control over Draco’s orgasms. However, he didn’t want to think about Draco doing that while he wasn’t there to at least watch Draco enjoy a good wank, or even better to guide him through it and tell him exactly what to do and when.

“I think I can wait until tonight, lube spells suck, subpar quality,” Draco laughed and Harry couldn’t help but laugh too.

“Agreed. Means to an end, but the Muggle stuff is so much better.”

“I’m glad we see eye to eye on that,” Draco said and pulled his wrist from Harry’s grasp, reaching for his coffee. Harry grudgingly let go and when Draco slumped into his office chair, he casually sat down on the desk and sipped his own coffee.

“So, Potter, you have a fetish for my prosecutor’s robes, huh?” Draco teased and Harry rolled his eyes. “Should I bring these to my birthday dinner then?”

“Most definitely not,” Harry shook his head. He was quite certain that the next time he caught Draco alone in his prosecutor’s robes, he wouldn’t be able to exercise enough control to stop himself from going all the way. He had every intention of defiling Draco while he was wearing his robes, make him remember that encounter every time he put them on.


“I’m sure we’ll find some use for them in the future,” Harry said appeasingly and decided it was safer if there was a barrier of some sort between him and Draco. He slid off the desk and moved to sit in one of the two chairs in front of it. He busied himself with revealing the contents of the takeaway bag and delighted in Draco’s childish glee as he cooed over his lunch.

Inevitably, he also made fun of Harry’s dessert but the moment Harry revealed the bowl of warm custard, Draco reached for his wand, transfigured one of the quills on his desk into a spoon and stole a large portion of it.

Harry laughed, allowed him to get away with it and they ate their lunch in near silence, casting longing glances at each other every so often.

Food distracted Harry enough to keep his cool but he was fully aware that Draco was struggling to keep it together. Feeling just a little sorry, he gave up his bowl of custard and pushed it over to Draco, a silent peace offering. Draco’s beaming smile tugged at Harry’s heartstrings and he quickly took a sip of his coffee.

Caleb’s firm talk had resulted in Harry jumping over his own shadow and taking a chance at dating Draco.

So far, everything was going well, with the exception that Harry was finding it harder and harder to resist Draco, to hold back. Ever since their first kiss, most of their dates ended with an explosive snogging session and Harry didn’t know how much more he was able to endure before he could no longer take it.

He didn’t want to resist him, wanted him so badly that his entire body ached with the need and the desire to have Draco, but he had put it in his head that he wanted their first time to be a special occasion, memorable. He wanted them to take their time, to really explore each other’s bodies. It was crazy, Harry knew that much, but it was something he wasn’t willing to compromise on and so he resolutely procrastinated, aware that Draco was probably getting increasingly frustrated with him.

“Thinking of all the hot sex you’re currently missing out on?” Draco drawled, pointedly interrupting Harry’s chain of thought and Harry snapped his head up and glared.

“Draco—” he snarled warningly.

“There’s no way your present thoughts aren’t X-rated,” Draco said, smiling sweetly and Harry suppressed a groan.

“I know mine are,” he added cheekily and Harry took a deep, calming breath, clenched a shaking hand in his lap, and refused to rise to the bait, continuing to eat his dessert instead. He had completely forgotten about his beef sandwich, wasn’t even interested in having it anymore. The treacle tart was divine, and it helped to keep his frazzled nerves under control.

“Don’t push it,” Harry warned, though his eyes twinkled playfully as he shoved a large bite of tart into his mouth. He ardently enjoyed their banter, their casual back and forth. Draco’s cheekiness was something he relished in, something zesty, something refreshing that gave him a kick. It wasn’t something he wanted to lock away inside a cupboard, it wasn’t something he ever wanted to tame. He found it an extraordinary mental turn on.

“I’d rather you do the pushing,” Draco chuckled and this time Harry didn’t suppress a groan.

“Filth, you are pure filth,” he sighed.

“You say the sweetest things, Potter.”

“Someone ought to spank your insolence right out of you,” Harry mumbled, unable to restrain his thoughts. His mind naturally supplied him with the sweet image of Draco bend over his knees, pert pale arse exposed, and Harry momentarily lost himself in the fantasy of bringing the flat of his hand firmly down on Draco’s arse, colouring it red, making it sting.

“Are you offering?” Draco teased and Harry opened his mouth to say something, decided against it and shoved another bite of tart into his mouth.

He is just joking, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, Harry reminded himself firmly and repeatedly. Any other thoughts were too dangerous and Harry didn’t dare to go near them. A nagging voice in the back of Harry’s head tried telling him that Draco knew very well what he had just said and that he had said it deliberately. Harry ignored that voice resolutely and forced it into the darkest corner of his mind, locked the door and tossed away the key.

“I should head back to my office,” he spoke, mouth still half full of tart.

“Don’t flee,” Draco winked and Harry rolled his eyes. “I promise I’ll be good.”

Harry suppressed a groan and glanced at his watch.

“I have a meeting in ten,” he lied straight through his teeth, wrapped the leftover piece of his treacle tart up again and placed it in the bag, right on top of his beef sandwich. He rose to his feet and, with his coffee and the takeaway bag in one hand, he went to pull the door to Draco’s office open. At the last minute, he hesitated, turned around and smiled at Draco.

“Enjoy your wank tonight, I hope you’ll come all over your hand to images of me fucking you bend over that pretty expensive desk of yours while you wear nothing but your black prosecutor’s robes,” he said casually and didn’t wait for Draco’s response, as he pulled the door open and left the office.

Chapter Text

Bon anniversaire, nos vœux les plus sincères,
Que ces quelques fleurs vous apportent le bonheur,
Que l'année entière vous soit douce et légère,
Et que l'an fini, nous soyons tous réunis,
Pour chanter en chœur: "Bon Anniversaire, Draco!

Harry sang at the top of his lungs the moment Draco opened the door to his flat and took extreme pleasure over the fact that Draco’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. Harry offered him a handblown glass vase with an extravagant bouquet of orange roses, yellow Asiatic lilies, pink Peruvian lilies, Athos poms and white daisy poms, which Draco accepted with an obvious lump in his throat.

He wordlessly stepped aside, allowed Harry to come in and because Harry still had his hands full, he kicked the door shut.

“You can sing in French!” Draco exclaimed and Harry laughed.

“I spent a couple of months in Quebec, picked up a good bit of French. Such a beautiful language,” he explained with a sheepish grin, then motioned towards the flowers he had given Draco.

“I hope you like them, they are a bit colourful but the florist said they were the perfect choice for a twenty-seven-year-old birthday boy,” he smiled. He had spent nearly an hour driving the poor florist mad as he had asked her a million and one questions about birthday flower bouquets for a man. She’d had the patience of a saint and had shown him a large assortment of photographs, allowing him to choose one he thought fitting before carefully selecting the flowers and binding them together into a beautiful bouquet. She had firmly discouraged him from purchasing red roses and Harry hadn’t wanted to. He had wanted something playful, something bright and cheerful, something colourful.

“I—” Draco started but broke off, blinked several times, and smiled shyly. He was clearly gobsmacked and, not having seen that side of him before, Harry relished in it.

“Thank you, Harry, no one’s ever given me flowers for my birthday before,” he admitted quietly and walked into the flat. He placed the vase right in the centre of the coffee table in his living room. Harry, sensibly having kicked off his shoes, followed Draco and fastened the large dragon-shaped helium-filled balloon, which he had charmed with the numbers two and seven to the table with a sticking charm.

When Draco turned around, Harry handed him a large box of handmade chocolate truffles in the shape of tiny winged snitches and broomsticks.

“For your sweet tooth. I had them filled with cherry liqueur,” Harry whispered and, not waiting for Draco to put the box down, he pulled him into a searing kiss.

With his hands now free, he sneaked them both around Draco’s waist, and pulled him close, needing to feel him against his own body. Draco’s hands dropped to his sides and as he melted into the kiss, Harry slowly pushed him backwards. He gently coerced him onto the sofa, straddled his thighs and deepened the kiss. He fully intended on snogging all rational thought out of Draco and succeeded in his quest several minutes into the kiss.

Draco had let go of the box, which had slid off the edge of the sofa and was now resting on the floor. He had also clutched his fingers firmly into Harry’s t-shirt, holding on for dear life and, unable to resist the temptation, Harry slipped one hand between both their bodies.

He trailed a single finger down the centre of Draco’s chest, pressed his palm against Draco’s wildly thumping heart. Its erratic pounding matched Harry’s own heartbeat and he deepened the kiss a little more, letting his fingers slip further down.

He withdrew from the kiss, nipped at Draco’s bottom lip, and sighed hotly. The breathless panting was music to his ears and he peppered both Draco’s bottom lip and his upper lip with featherlight kisses. Draco moaned and Harry boldly slipped his hand further down and cupped Draco’s erection through his trousers. He rubbed his palm against it, squeezed the hard flesh gently and Draco’s low, desperate whine reverberated around the room.

He smiled, then abruptly ceased to tease Draco.

“Please, don’t stop here,” Draco pleaded, forced his eyes open and fixed them on Harry, who withdrew a little and smiled.

“What do you want, birthday boy?” he asked.

Draco’s pewter eyes had turned a dark charcoal grey and Harry couldn’t help but marvel at the effect he was having on him. It was such a turn on, it fuelled him with the intense desire to claim Draco, to make him his. The temptation to abandon all his plans for today, and spend the rest of the morning and the entire afternoon, possibly also the evening and the night, making Draco’s wildest dreams come true, was enthralling.

“You,” Draco breathed. “I want you, so bad.”

“How?” Harry pushed, then pressed a kiss onto Draco’s lips and pushed his hand firmly against Draco’s erection.

Draco whimpered.

“How do you want me?” Harry asked again.

“Just don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop what? Don’t stop kissing you? Don’t stop touching you?” Harry teased.

“Ha—Harry,” Draco moaned and Harry chuckled softly. “Nnn—aaah, please.”

“I suppose since you’re the birthday boy you do deserve a treat,” he whispered against Draco’s lips, trailed a series of teasing kisses along his jaw and assaulted his neck with a series of kisses and little nips. His nimble fingers made short work of the button and, pulling the zipper down, he slipped his hand into Draco’s trousers but refrained from pushing his hand inside the silken boxer shorts he found underneath.

He ran his palm along the length of Draco’s shaft, using just the right amount of pressure to cause delightful friction. Draco exposed more of his neck to him and a long, low moan escaped from somewhere deep inside him.

Harry had spent the last several weeks wanking himself raw to a series of salacious thoughts of ravishing Draco and this innocent make-out session was enough to cloud his senses and rob his mind of all sensible thoughts. He hadn’t planned to give Draco more than a hot, arousing kiss before dragging him out of the house but his own needs and desires had betrayed him and now, he couldn’t find it in him to stop.

Circe,” Draco whimpered. “You’ll be the death of me, Potter.”

Harry laughed. It was low, amused.

If you think me doing this will be the death of you, you don’t know the first thing about what I can do to you, he thought sinisterly and bit Draco’s neck gently. He sucked the hot, somewhat salty-tasting flesh into his mouth and slipped a single finger into the slit of Draco’s boxer shorts. He rubbed over the tip of Draco’s cock, pleased to find it coated in a thick layer of precome and pressed his finger against the sensitive flesh just underneath the head, drawing circle after circle, while the rest of his hand still teased Draco’s throbbing cock.

At this stage, Draco’s hands were no longer gripping at his t-shirt. Instead, he had them splayed out on the sofa and he repeatedly flexed and relaxed his long fingers, scratching his nails against the soft white fabric.

Sucking a little harder, Harry left a delightful love bite on Draco’s neck, which he soothed first with his tongue, then kissed repeatedly using soft gentle brushes of his mouth and lips.

“Want you to come from this,” he whispered hotly and Draco groaned and bucked his hips.

Fuck, Potter,” he swore and Harry lapped at his earlobe, sucked it into his mouth and gently nibbled on the sensitive skin.

“You’re so pretty,” Harry breathed into Draco’s ear, trailed hot kisses along Draco’s jaw and to his mouth, which he captured in a fiery kiss. He swallowed moan after moan, increased the pressure of his finger, running circles around the head of Draco’s cock and managed to somehow twist his hand to slip it fully into the boxers.

He gripped Draco’s hard long shaft firmly, pushed his thumb against the underside of the head and rubbed it back and forth while his fist slid up and down Draco’s cock. He didn’t exactly have a lot of room to move but it was just about enough to make what he was doing pleasurable for Draco.

He deepened the kiss, wound his tongue around Draco’s and caressed every inch of it and Draco’s mouth. Then, with a few skilled strokes, he pulled an earth-shattering orgasm from Draco, who arched his back, involuntarily kicked at the table, withdrew from the kiss, swore, and panted at the same time.

Harry gently teased Draco’s spent cock, deliberately extending the aftermath of his orgasm that little bit longer.

Then, he slowly withdrew his hand, now coated in Draco’s come. Sitting back a little, he brought his hand up to his mouth and licked a large portion of the thick fluid off his palm. Draco watched him with wide eyes while his chest rose and fell rapidly.

“So sweet,” Harry mused with a broad grin and effortlessly slid off Draco’s lap. He rose to his feet, stretched languidly, and made his way into the open-plan kitchen to wash the rest of Draco’s come off his hand.

“You better change your clothes,” he called out to Draco, who mumbled something incomprehensible in return and instead of getting up, he curled up on the sofa and sighed contently.

Purr, purr, little kitten, Harry thought, chuckled, reached for the soap, and washed his hands good and proper.

By the time he had dried his hands on a kitchen towel, Draco was half asleep. Harry watched him for a while, mesmerised at how young he looked, stripped free of any and all worries. He looked almost ten years younger, looked entirely innocent. There was no trace of a troubled childhood, a stressful job, and a traumatised post-war life.

Right now, Draco was just a boy, a sweet, sweet boy and Harry welled up just a little, as his heart skipped several beats. He wondered whether he had already fallen hard and fast or whether he was still on the journey down the proverbial rabbit hole.

He fought the urge to simply let Draco sleep, to allow him to recover, but he finally decided to kneel beside the sofa. Harry ran his fingers through the now messy hair on his head and leant down to kiss his cheek.

“C’mon, I've got a fun afternoon and evening planned for you, birthday boy,” he said with a casual glance at his wristwatch. Lunchtime was still a couple of hours away.

“Hm, give me five minutes,” Draco mumbled and Harry laughed softly.

“Already did. C'mon, ‘twas just a hand job.”

“‘Twas amazing though,” Draco murmured and as his eyes fluttered open, Harry’s heart melted completely.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. There’s more of the same in your future if you want it.”

“Yes, yes, and yes,” Draco smiled and Harry smirked, then cheekily smacked Draco’s arse.

“Only if you get up and change so I can take you out. I want to show my gorgeous boyfriend off to the world, make everyone Slytherin-green with envy.”

“Boyfriend?” Draco asked, still somewhat bleary-eyed as he shuffled into a sitting position. Harry automatically rose and moved to sit on the sofa.

“If you want to?” he asked, feeling a flush of mild embarrassment creep up his neck and into his cheeks.

“I want to,” Draco smiled and got to his feet. He stretched and, with his trousers still undone he briefly exposed the Sectumsempra curse scar that slashed across his lower abdomen. Harry’s eyes were immediately drawn to it and he swallowed hard. As if on autopilot, he reached out, gently grabbed Draco’s hips and spread his legs, pulling Draco closer. Leaning forward, he exposed the scar and placed a gentle kiss right on top of the marred pale skin.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against it and Draco shuddered, then pulled away.

“I told you, I forgave you a long time ago,” he said firmly and Harry nodded. He moved off the couch, pulled Draco into a loving embrace and kissed him gently.

“You are a special brand of wonderful, Draco Malfoy,” he whispered and Draco laughed.

“You’re a sap, Harry Potter,” he said, pulled out of the embrace, and turned to make his way upstairs and into his bedroom. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

Harry nodded, sunk back into the sofa cushions and with a low sigh he ran his fingers through his messy hair.

So much for self-control, so much for restraint.

But he had no regrets about what had happened. He had no doubt that Draco had enjoyed himself and even though Harry hadn’t come, had taken immense pleasure from the way Draco had melted against him, and all the delicious sounds he had made and how hard he had come from a simple hand job. It really hadn’t been what he had planned for the first time he and Draco got properly down and dirty together but Harry couldn’t find any faults with it and his thoughts moved to the delightful turn of events.

Boyfriend, I’ve got a boyfriend, he mused and grinned from ear to ear.

Chapter Text

“The zoo?” Draco asked incredulously. Harry smiled, grabbed his hand, and gently interlaced their fingers as they turned right off Regent’s Park Broadway and towards London Zoo’s entrance. “You’re taking me to the zoo,” this time it wasn’t so much a question but an observation.

Harry turned to face Draco and winked.

“Something safe,” he smiled. “Lest we are somewhere where you might suggest that I ravish you.”

“I’m sure they have secluded corners and bathrooms in the zoo,” Draco mused with a mischievous grin and Harry fixed him with a glare.

“I will not shag you in a secluded corner or a bathroom,” he said vehemently, rather put out that Draco was even suggesting it.

Although, if he was entirely honest — which he wasn’t — a bit of wild snogging and inappropriate touching in a semi-secluded corner, where anyone could catch them at any moment, did rather excite Harry. There was something exhilarating about that idea and Harry had to take a calming breath.

“No sense of adventure,” Draco rolled his eyes but laughed softly. “You do realise I’m twenty-seven today not seven, right?”

You really don’t want to know exactly how adventurous I can get, Harry thought to himself and tried not to imagine tying Draco to an abandoned animal cage, spreader bar keeping his legs firmly apart as he teased him mercilessly, until Draco willingly pushed back against the steel bars of the cage to get any kind of friction to his neglected rim. Harry shuddered and pushed that fantasy into the furthest corner of his mind. He really didn’t want to have to deal with a raging hard-on right now.

“Hm, I do, you’re a big boy. Still, nothing wrong with a trip to the zoo,” he shrugged nonchalantly and, as they approached the zoo’s entrance, he instinctively chose the shortest queue. He had pre-booked their tickets at one of London’s tourist offices scattered around the city and just needed to show his reservation. The cashier handed him two tickets, which included a light lunch or afternoon snack at The Terrace, the zoo’s very own restaurant, and, tickets in hand, Harry pulled Draco along to the barriers were a friendly-looking employee verified them and let them through.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever taken me to the zoo before,” Draco said and Harry squeezed his hand that little bit tighter. He wasn’t about to let go and Draco seemingly had no problem with their public display of affection.

Good, Harry thought, because I plan to show you off to the world.

“In that case, do you have any preference as to where you’d like to go first?” Harry asked, deciding to leave the choice of where to go up to Draco. It was, after all, his birthday.

“Can we take a stroll around and see everything?”

Draco looked rather sheepish.

Harry could tell that his shyness was merely a feigned act of innocence, the gleam in his eyes gave Draco away and it was a pretty sight.

“Of course, should be fun,” Harry smiled and they walked off into a random direction.

A short time later they arrived at the gorilla kingdom, admired all the different monkey species, and laughed together at just how goofily some of the smaller monkeys behaved when people were watching them. Soon enough, their cheeks and sides hurt from all the laughing and Harry paused for a moment, squeezed Draco’s hand, and drew him closer.

He reached out, tugged a loose strand of hair behind Draco’s ear and smiled.

“You’re beautiful.”

Harry leant in, and placed a shy kiss on Draco’s lips. He noted the shudder that surged through Draco and, acutely aware of their surroundings, he withdrew and broke the moment between them, but not before he took a mental photograph of the dazed look in Draco’s eyes.

“Where do you want to go next?” he asked quietly and Draco, apparently too stupefied to speak, merely tugged on his hand and dragged him over to the reptile house where they delighted in an amazing collection of reptiles and amphibians.

“Snake boy, care to introduce me to your friends?” Draco teased as they stood in front of the terrarium that housed a rather large boa constrictor and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Introduce you as my boyfriend or her dinner?” he asked and Draco glowered at him.

Harry stroked his thumb over the back of his hand and smiled. Before long, Draco’s expression softened and they walked on to look at the crocodiles, then headed over to the aquarium and quietly strolled through the three different halls. They enjoyed the vast selection of exotic, beautiful and weird fish, although Harry found his attention frequently drawn to Draco. He positively relished in Draco’s innocent, child-like delight at almost everything they saw. While he didn’t use so many words, his actions gave him away. It was the way he looked at all the animals around them, the way he thoughtfully studied the information about each of the animals and the way he made silly little jokes ever so often.

Merlin help me, Harry thought, I’m head over heels for you.

By the time they reached the tropical fish, Harry was quite sure of one thing and that was that he simply had to have Draco.

Draco was going to be his and he wouldn’t allow anybody to lay their hands on this beautiful creature, sent from heaven above to ensnare his senses, cloud his mind, and turn him into a smitten, love-struck fool.

Harry suppressed a sigh and turned his attention firmly to the colourful schools of tropical fish swarming around a coral reef. They were rather mesmerising to look at and as he and Draco stood in front of the massive fish tank, Harry let go of Draco’s hand and slipped his arm around his waist instead. He drew him close and Draco, almost naturally, rested his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“Fucking fags!”

Someone snarled at them in passing and Harry felt Draco’s entire body go rigid beside him.

Harry whirled around in an instant. A teenage boy scowled at him, but Harry calmly held his gaze, his eyes blazing with red-hot anger. The boy shrunk a little under his dominating gaze but defiantly threw another couple of insults at them, before spitting on the ground in front of Harry.

With a low growl, Harry snapped his fingers and the boy tripped on thin air. He found himself flat on his front howling in pain from the way he had twisted his ankle as Harry’s wandless, wordless spell had sent him flying to the ground. He hastily clambered back up and limped away.

“Karma’s a bitch!” Harry called after him and when he turned around Draco was bend over laughing, clutching at his stomach as he simultaneously tried to speak and breathe. Whatever he was trying to say came out as a distorted snort that made no sense whatsoever. Harry grinned and chuckled, then took a step forward to steady Draco, who was swaying, clearly a little dizzy and nearing hyperventilation.

“You’re fucking incredible, Potter,” Draco finally managed to pay him a compliment and Harry grinned.

“I do what I can for my favourite faggot.”

Draco burst into another fit of laughter.

Harry shook his head, rolled his eyes but couldn’t deny that the good mood was infectious. Throwing his arm around Draco’s shoulders, he pulled him close and planted a firm, wet and sloppy kiss on his lips.

“Come on, you mental case.”

He grinned and together they walked off towards the Outback section of the zoo, where they keenly observed native Australian animals. Next, they headed towards the African safari and then spent a rather long time in the Snowdon Aviary. When they reached the owls, Harry’s felt a heavy tug in his chest at the bitter memory of Hedwig’s death. He noted Draco’s scrutinising look.

“Did you know that a group of owls is called a parliament?” he asked unexpectedly and Harry frowned and shook his head. He hadn’t known that.

“They can also turn their heads by as much as 270 degrees,” Draco volunteered another random fact.

“That’s a bit crazy,” Harry sighed, trying to comprehend how that was possible. He had been working hard at getting himself ready to officially take over the Auror Department and the formal announcement of his new position was in two weeks’ time. He had spent the last few months reading more books and memos than in his entire time at Hogwarts, or so it felt, and the mere thought of anyone turning head by ninety degrees, let alone 270, gave him a headache.

“Did you know that many owl species have asymmetrical ears? When located at different heights on the owl’s head, their ears can pinpoint the location of sounds in multiple dimensions.”

Draco offered even more surprising knowledge about owls, mockingly moved into a duelling stance, cast a quick glance around them, drew his wand and conjured a single white lily. “Ready, aim, strike,” Draco smirked and offered the lily to Harry, who shook his head and accepted the gift.

“You are full of surprises, Draco Malfoy,” he praised, reached out and drew Draco in for a searing kiss. He momentarily allowed Draco to take lead and relished in the way Draco domineeringly pushed his tongue into his mouth to seek out its counterpart. But just when he had Draco convinced that he had the upper hand, Harry deliberately took charge of the kiss. He snogged the life out of Draco and shortly after they pulled apart, they were both breathless.

“Fuck— Harry, you can’t kiss me like that,” Draco whined and his desperate need for more was utterly evident in his eyes, which had darkened with lust.

Harry merely laughed.

“I can and I will, you’re my boyfriend.”

“You can’t kiss me like that and then not shag me,” Draco insisted and, taking a step closer to Draco, Harry wrapped both his hands firmly around Draco’s waist and pulled him close.

“You want me to shag you, is that it?”

Draco nodded and his breath hitched. Harry cupped his arse and gave the pert buttocks a firm squeeze.

“Patience is a virtue,” he said softly, planted a loving kiss on Draco’s lips and resolutely broke away. He casually headed towards a small bridge that led over a stream. He sensed that Draco was hard on his heels, he kept walking, taking deep breathes because all he really wanted was to shag Draco. Harry didn’t know whether it was Draco who was more desperate for it or whether he was the one who wanted it more. He did, however, know that it was costing him all his self-control not to spin around, grab Draco and apparate them both to Grimmauld Place for an afternoon shag.

They walked in silence for the longest time. At some point, Draco hesitatingly reached out and took Harry’s hand. Harry immediately curled his fingers around them and squeezed tightly as they passed the section of the zoo devoted to rainforest life.

They stopped off at the zoo restaurant where Harry ordered a grilled turkey sandwich and fries while Draco chose a salad and two desserts. Harry shook his head but said nothing about Draco’s sweet obsession. They drank two cappuccinos each and chatted about this and that. With their energy levels replenished they strolled around the rest of the zoo, thoroughly enjoying absolutely everything. They, of course, stopped every now and then to share a kiss but eventually returned to the entrance to go and find Draco’s final birthday gift of the day.

With plenty of time to spare, Harry dragged Draco down the road and towards the Marylebone Underground Station where they, despite Draco’s heavy protests and insistence that they should just apparate, got onto the Bakerloo line which took them to Baker Street. There they changed to the Jubilee line.

By the time they got off the tube at Westminster, Draco was still frowning and as they stood on the escalator, Harry leant in and pressed his lips to Draco’s ear.

“You’re fucking hot when you’re rattled,” he whispered, pleased when Draco’s entire body shuddered. To make his point, Harry casually slipped his arm around Draco’s waist and allowed his fingers to slip indecently low, toying with the button at the top of the Draco’s trousers.

“Cock tease,” Draco grumbled with a half-smile and once they returned above ground, Harry slipped his hand into Draco’s and pulled him towards Westminster pier and straight to the queue of a temporary ice-cream parlour. He brought Draco a large cone with two scoops of vanilla ice-cream and raspberry sauce on top and offered it to Draco.

“I’m sorry, something to sweeten the deal and make you forget about my wayward ways,” he smiled and Draco rolled his eyes but accepted anyway.

Much to Harry’s chagrin, Draco dipped his finger halfway into the cold, sweet treat, then sucked it into his mouth. Harry groaned as he watched Draco suck the ice-cream off his finger and instantly imagined those lips wrapped around his hardening cock.

Draco made a proper show out of devouring the ice-cream on his finger and by the time he let it pop from his mouth, Harry felt just a little dizzy and was painfully hard.

Draco’s tongue darted out and he salaciously lapped at the ice-cream inside the cone. He made an approving sound, that could have just as well been a moan and Harry clenched his hands at his sides and willed himself to remain calm and controlled.

But heavens did he want Draco. He wanted him so badly he had no idea how he was supposed to get through the evening without jumping Draco. He wanted him on his knees, sucking his cock, looking up at him while Harry threaded his fingers through his soft blond hair and told him how good he was at giving pleasure.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Harry, I know how to play the game,” Draco smiled sweetly.

There was a devilish glint in his eyes that Harry desperately wanted to spank out of him but he kept that thought firmly locked away in the depths of his mind.

“I know you do.”

Harry said nothing further on the matter and instead walked slowly down along the pier. It was a lovely early summer evening and the sun was still out. Miraculously, the crowds weren’t overbearing and the few people around them were idly strolling down the pier or taking pictures, enjoying a beautiful evening out in London. Harry walked towards the railing that separated the promenade from the Thames and braced himself on his elbows. He looked out over the water, tilted his face towards the sun and closed his eyes. He sighed softly and didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Draco stood next to him, closer than strictly necessary. He could sense him, smell him, feel him right there. Harry’s heart skipped several beats and something fluttered in the pit of his stomach.

“Harry,” Draco said softly.

“Hm?” Harry still did not turn to look at Draco. The sun was tickling his face and he wanted to soak up the warm rays for a little while longer.

“Are you mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know, but you’re hot one minute and cold the other, I’m not quite sure what to make of it.”

Harry sighed and, turning his head, he looked at Draco and squinted a few times until Draco’s blurry shape came into focus and he could see him clearly.

“Not on purpose, trust me,” he said softly, reached out and circled a single finger over the back of Draco’s hand. Draco’s breathing hitched a little bit and Harry smiled.

“I enjoy it,” he confessed with a whisper.

“Enjoy what? Teasing me?”

Harry nodded. “That too, but mostly I just enjoy you. You’re so fucking perfect, I don’t think you have any idea how hot you are and how weak you make me.”

“Yet you seem to have the stubborn willpower of a steel donkey,” Draco rolled his eyes and Harry laughed at the weird metaphor. “And just so you know, I do know that I’m hot,” Draco added and Harry groaned.

“You truly are truly a conundrum, Draco Malfoy.”

Harry smiled, pushed away from the railing and stepped in front of Draco. Leaning close he whispered, “I’ll make it worth the wait, I promise you,” into Draco’s ear and kissed his earlobe.

When he pulled back, Draco looked thoroughly dazed and was panting slightly. He parted his lips and Harry watched, mesmerised, as his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“I think the conundrum is you, Harry Potter, I’ve all my cards on the table. You play by rules I’m not privy of.” For an intense moment or two, they stared into each other’s eyes, losing themselves in the words their mouths refused to say. The air around them crackled hotly and Harry could feel his magic react to the effect Draco was having on him. He tentatively let it loose and it lapped at Draco’s magical aura. It was just a gentle touch but Harry’s entire body shook from the impact and he watched Draco’s eyes widen in surprise and his body straighten up at the unexpected gentle assault.

“Fucking hell, Potter, give us a warning before you do something like that,” Draco breathed and Harry smiled, then allowed his magic to settle.

“Didn’t think it be quite that strong a reaction.”

Draco glared at him, although there was absolutely no bite to it, “Nah-ah, you’re a powerful wizard, Harry, what did you expect would happen?”

Harry shrugged, then his eyes widened in surprise when something entirely intangible lapped at his own magical aura. It was both cool and warm at the same time and he shuddered at how oddly right it felt, at how easily Draco’s magic moulded around him, as though that was exactly the place it wanted to be. Draco smiled and withdrew. They both settled and Harry felt just a little dazed. Their magical cores were oddly attuned, almost like they were two halves of a whole and Harry felt yet another barrier dissolve.

“Care to tell me what we’re doing down at the pier? I have the feeling you didn’t drag me here for ice-cream and a leisurely walk down the promenade,” Draco broke the moment between them and Harry snapped out of his thoughts.

“Dinner,” Harry replied and motioned towards one of the cruise ships. “Dinner and a dance.” He smiled.

“If you’re trying to woo me, it’s working,” Draco said.

Having finished his ice-cream, he pushed himself away from the railing and threw the cone into the nearest bin.

“Shouldn’t we have changed into something more suitable for a fancy evening on a boat?” he asked as he followed Harry to the landing stage where their ship for the night was waiting for them.

“These outfits will do just fine,” Harry said as he produced two tickets, slotted into the line of queuing people, and reached for Draco’s hand. He squeezed it gently and as they neared the entrance of the boat, Draco nervously tugged at his hand and motioned for the couple behind them to step ahead.

“I should probably tell you that I can’t swim,” Draco confessed and Harry noted the wary glance he threw at the water.

“I’ve no intention of letting you go overboard. You’ll be fine, I’ll keep you safe.”

Draco gave the water another wary distrustful look, hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and gave in. Together they boarded the ship and Harry presented their tickets. A handsome young waiter walked them to their designated table. It was half-secluded and Harry thanked him as they prepared to take their seats. Harry pulled Draco’s chair back, waiting for him to sit first before he took his own seat.

Their table was right by the window and hidden away behind some decorative plants. It offered a fantastic view out over the water as well as on the stage near them. Harry reached out and with a very casual flick of his hand he lit the two long, slender candles in the centre of the table and requested a whiskey neat from the waiter, who had once again approached their table. He ignored the temptation to order a glass of wine for Draco and was pleasantly surprised when Draco asked for a Dry Martini.

“No wine today?” he inquired and Draco shook his head.

“Don’t feel like it.”

Harry nodded. “I think they’re serving half a bottle with the main course, but I’m not sure if it’s white or red.” He vaguely remembered having read that in the summary of the trip.

A short while later another waiter handed them tonight’s menu, a delightful yet light four-course meal, along with the programme for the live performance later. Draco glanced at the menu and instantly pulled a face.

“Suffice to say we won’t be drinking the wine they are serving,” he stated matter-of-factly. “It doesn’t at all go with the offered main course.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at him and the corners of his mouth twitched as he tried to keep a smile off his face. “I thought you were an expert on the law and not a wine connoisseur.”

“I am an expert on the law and that’s exactly why we won’t be drinking their wine, it’s a crime. A rich, ripe Pinot Gris would be perfect for a dish of roast duck but not an Albariño, that’s a wine for seafood,” Draco frowned, sat up a little straighter and elegantly crossed his arms over his chest in an act of pure defiance.

Harry couldn’t help but grin.

“I’ll just pretend that I understood any of what you just said there,” he said and exactly at that moment, their waiter approached them with their drinks and the hors-d'oeuvres — goat cheese crostini with fig-olive tapenade.

Just as the waiter was about to leave, Harry leant back in his chair, gently placed his hand on the waiter’s arm and stopped him. “We won’t be having the wine that comes with the meal, please bring us a bottle of the special edition Dom Perignon on ice and two glasses,” he instructed and the waiter nodded, then disappeared. When Harry looked at Draco, he was staring at him open-mouthed.

“That’s a grand and a half a bottle, Harry, you are insane!” Draco exclaimed and Harry sneaked his arm across the table and placed his hand on top of Draco’s.

“Only the best for the birthday boy,” he winked.

“Harry! That’s too much, no,” Draco shook his head and Harry squeezed his hand gently.

“It’s not enough, it’s not too much, it’s just perfect for you. Happy Birthday!”

Draco opened his mouth to protest further but Harry gave him a stern look and, closing his mouth, Draco swallowed whatever had been on the tip of his tongue. He quietly shook his head and withdrew his hand from underneath Harry’s.

“With you, a bottle of beer in a cosy pub would be perfect,” he whispered a confession that instantly melted Harry’s heart.

I just want to spoil you; you gorgeous heavenly creature, Harry thought and the words were on the tip of his tongue but he swallowed them and reached for one of the hors-d'oeuvres instead.

He watched Draco study tonight’s music program and couldn’t help but wonder whether he had upset Draco. He was unable to get a proper read on Draco and so the question continued to whirl in his mind. He sighed, reached for his drink, and toyed with it. After a minute or two of painfully uncomfortable silence, he cleared his throat and set his drink down on the table.

“I’m sorry. If it makes you that uncomfortable, I’ll cancel the order and we’ll just drink this,” Harry apologised and pointed towards their drinks when Draco lifted his head to look up at him.

“I’m not uncomfortable, and I’m not angry either. I just don’t know what to make of you, Harry Potter. You’re not the boy I knew.”

Harry shrugged. “I’ve grown up. You’re not the boy I knew either.”

“You were never this confident,” Draco shook his head. “Now you are. You sass, you’re bossy, you’re organised, you’re romantic, you’re— Fuck! Potter, are you on drugs? Addicted to Felix Felicis, perhaps?”

Harry laughed, properly laughed, and wiped a tear from the corner of his left eye. He took a deep breath to calm himself and grinned.

“Yeah, I am. It’s a brand new highly potent and extremely hard to obtain drug. Goes by the name of Draco Malfoy. You’re my ecstasy, Draco, I’ve been high on you for a couple of months now and it’s only getting worse.”

“You say the sweetest things.” Draco rolled his eyes but his lips curled upwards and into a grin, then he reached for his dry martini and just before taking a sip he lowered his voice to a husky drawl, “you’re my kryptonite, Potter.”

Harry swallowed a groan, swallowed the stupid comment about Draco knowing Muggle superheroes and just stared.

No, Draco, you are my kryptonite, you just don’t know it, he thought and reached for another hors-d'oeuvres. Draco copied him and they munched away in silence as the boat finally pulled away from the pier and out onto the Thames. The champagne arrived a short while later and Harry expertly opened the bottle and poured them both a glass. The musicians took to the stage and started the first half of their performance, several slow jazz numbers, perfect background music for their dinner.

They ate their starter — pot-roasted broccoli with shishito peppers and pickled onions — and the main course — roasted duck with an orange-bourbon glaze — in silence though Harry couldn’t stop himself from sneaking glances at Draco every so often. Draco caught him staring several times but never said anything, just resumed eating with a content smile on his face.

When dessert arrived — lemon crème brûlée — Harry tasted his, then handed it off to Draco, who laughed and accepted the second dessert happily.

“You’re a sucker for anything sweet,” Harry grinned, refilled their champagne flutes and, sitting back, he watched Draco indulge in his dessert. For once, he didn’t make a show of eating seductively but their eyes met anyway and Harry’s sucked in a sharp breath. He leant forward again and raised an eyebrow at Draco when he felt something creeping up his leg. Draco had, quite casually so, slipped out of his shoe and was now slowly running his toes up and down Harry’s calf.

“What are you doing?” he asked and Draco shrugged.

“Eating my dessert,” Draco drawled with an air of nonchalance only a Malfoy could muster.

“Under the table, I mean.”

Harry tried to remain entirely unfazed about the fact that Draco’s foot had reached his knee and was now creeping up the inside of his thighs. He spread his legs a little further and wondered exactly how long Draco intended to play this game.

Bold, very bold indeed, Harry thought.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Draco shrugged, reached for his champagne, and leant forward in his chair. His foot slid higher up Harry’s thigh and Harry’s tried his hardest to control his breathing. A moment later, Draco reached his crotch and pressed his foot into it, then curled his toes and expertly rubbed along the outline of Harry’s half-erect cock. Harry’s breathing hitched up a notch and he stared at Draco, holding his gaze as Draco continued to tease him to full hardness.

“You are naughty, very naughty,” Harry sighed and reached for his champagne.

“Are you complaining?” Draco asked and Harry emptied his champagne flute in response. While doing so, he casually slipped his free hand under the table and placed it above Draco’s foot. He mumbled the incantation to a spell and watched Draco shudder as his magic flowed from his hand into Draco’s foot and up his leg.

Draco promptly curled his toes and pushed them harder into Harry’s crotch, massaging his hard cock through his trousers. He gasped, shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, grimaced and stared at Harry with wide eyes.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“Just a simple mirroring spell, whatever you do to me, you feel tenfold.”

“Bastard.” Draco growled and Harry silently counted to three.

At two, Draco flexed and curled his toes, then pushed the ball of his foot firmly against Harry’s erection. He instantly wriggled uncomfortably in his chair and bit his bottom lip as he tried to swallow a moan that threatened to escape past his lips. His cheeks flushed and Harry curled his fingers around Draco’s foot and pushed it into his crotch. Draco’s fingers flexed and curled into fists and he squirmed in his chair. The waiter chose exactly that moment to appear and remove their empty dessert plates and Harry pushed Draco’s foot firmly against his straining erection.

“Ngh,” Draco groaned and stared at the waiter with wide eyes. He flushed bright red, lowered his head, and tried to pull his foot away from Harry’s crotch. Unfortunately, the movement just caused him more agony and Harry made sure to keep an iron grip on Draco’s foot.

“Are you alright, Sir?”

“Ngh, yes, I’m fine,” Draco forced himself to answer and studiously avoided looking at the waiter.

“He’s all right, don’t worry. A little too much champagne, that’s all,” Harry smiled sweetly and pushed a fifty-pound-note into the waiter’s hand. “The bill, please.”

“Thank you, Sir, and certainly.”

The waiter smiled and disappeared. Harry had no doubt that he knew exactly what the two of them were doing.

“Harry, please,” Draco panted.

“Please what?” Harry asked nonchalantly.

“Let go, please,”

“I quite like your foot where it is, it feels so good,” Harry said sweetly and shuffled a bit, causing Draco’s foot to slip a little. Draco slammed the flat of his hand onto the table, threw his head back and Harry watched with great pleasure as he tried and failed to swallow a long moan. He choked back half of it but the other half slipped past his lips and he flushed crimson.

“Ngh, Harry, please!” Draco whined, staring at him with big pleading eyes, panting as he tried and failed to control his breathing.

“Who do you reckon is going to come first, me or you?” Harry entirely ignored Draco’s plea and ground his hips against Draco’s foot.

“Ngh—” Draco moaned in response to that question and Harry laughed. “Do you want me to stop or do you want to come?” Harry asked and gracefully gave Draco a minute or two to collect himself.


Draco half-sobbed and curled his fingers around the edges of the table. He squeezed so hard that his knuckles turned white.

“Please stop? Please continue? I don’t know, Draco, you’re sending me mixed signals here.” Harry shrugged and ran his hand tenderly over Draco’s foot.

“Stop,” Draco breathed shakily and with a single tap of his finger, Harry ended the spell and allowed Draco’s foot to slip from between his legs. Draco slouched in his chair. Harry took pity on him and poured him a generous glass of champagne. He handed it to Draco, who accepted it with shaking hands and downed it in one go.

“You are the devil, Potter.”

Draco sighed and set the glass down on the table.

“And you’re devious,” Harry mumbled in response and watched as Draco closed his eyes and let his head fall back. He was still trying to come down from his high but Harry couldn’t find it in him to feel sorry for what he had done. Instead, he gave Draco a couple more moments to relax, settled the bill for their drinks and the champagne, and turned to look at the stage. The band had returned to continue the second half of their performance.

They warmed up, then settled into an upbeat jazzy tune that had Harry tapping his fingers on the table and his leg moving along to the rhythm. He caught Draco watching him, smiled, and winked.

“Want to dance, gorgeous?”

Draco’s eyes widened at the unexpected question.

“There are people around, are you sure you want to embarrass yourself like that?” Draco asked and Harry laughed. Apparently, Draco had found his sass again and wasn’t above dishing it out.

“I’ll chance it.”

Harry smiled and discreetly rearranged himself in his trousers. He rose to his feet and held his hand out for Draco to take.

“Birthday boy, would you do me the honour and dance with me?” he asked and after a moment’s hesitation, Draco placed his hand in Harry’s and Harry pulled him to his feet.

They headed out onto the dancefloor and the moment they’d reached the parquet, Harry whirled him around. Draco let out a small surprised shriek.

Harry smiled and made every effort to impress. They spun around the floor and Draco barely managed to keep up with Harry as he found himself repeatedly whirled around the floor. Gradually more people joined them and about half an hour later they were both breathless, Draco more so than Harry.

“Fucking hell, Potter, who are you and what have you done to the Boy Who Lived?” Draco panted as the music slowed a little and the band started a cover version of Frank Sinatra’s classic, I’ve Got You Under My Skin, which Harry used as an excuse to pull Draco flush against his body and keep him there.

“Whipped him into shape, taught him how to dance,” Harry smiled breathlessly and swayed Draco from side to side.

“You are—” Draco broke off, looked at him and shook his head. “If I’m falling for you, it’s entirely your fault,” he whispered and a shudder of anticipation surged down Harry’s spine with the ferocity of a lightning bolt.

“Are you? Falling for me?” He wanted to know, leaning ever so close and almost brushing his lips against Draco’s in a teasing barely-there kiss.

“That’s for me to know and you to guess,” Draco whispered back and Harry groaned.

“Lord of sass,” he sighed and Draco winked.

“You love it.”

Correction, I love you, Harry mused and the thought sent a thrilling shudder of excitement through him.

He looked at Draco, lost himself in his beautiful pewter eyes and thought that yes, yes indeed, yes, I love you. The idea both horrified and fascinated him.

“You’re lucky I do,” he smiled and decided that now was not the time to declare his love to Draco. For now, he wanted to keep that feeling to himself for a little while longer.

“Yes, I do feel quite lucky,” Draco replied, leant in, and boldly stole a kiss.

Harry gave it willingly and when they pulled away, he lingered for a moment, then whispered a line from the song, “I’ve got you under my skin,” before the song faded out.

“I’d rather have you on my skin, naked, kissing every inch of me,” Draco sighed and his eyes visibly darkened. Harry growled in response and, pulling away, he grabbed Draco’s hand and dragged him off the dance floor and out onto the upper deck.

“Fresh air,” he explained and they moved to the back of the ship. Harry leant against the railing and took a few deep breaths. Draco opened his mouth, went to say something, but Harry placed a single finger across Draco’s lips and shook his head.

He gently pushed Draco against the railing, had him face the water and pressed up behind him. The sun had finally sunk and not only was it dark outside but they were also well-hidden in the shadows. The cool breeze made Harry shudder and he slipped his arms around Draco’s waist. Draco braced himself on the railing and Harry rested his chin on his shoulder.

“Tell me more,” he breathed hotly, pressed his lips against Draco’s jugular and kissed him fervently. Draco tilted his head sideways and moaned softly.

“Tell me exactly what it is you want me to do, Draco,” Harry whispered. Draco trembled in his arms and Harry tightened his hold on him.

“I— I want— I want—” Draco stammered.

“Yes? What do you want?” Harry asked.

“I want you to fuck me,” Draco whimpered and Harry slipped his hand underneath Draco’s shirt and caressed the hot, flushed and slightly perspired skin he found there.

“How do you want me to fuck you, Draco?” Harry mumbled against his throat and pressed another hot kiss against the pulsing vein beneath his lips. He gently nipped at the skin and Draco made a most delicious sound.

“I— I— I want— I don’t know— Ngh— Fuck, Harry, just take me home and fuck me already,” Draco moaned.

Harry clicked his tongue.

“Tell me how.”

He mumbled the words to a spell he hadn’t used in a long time — Amplifico Desiderium to increase desire combined with Mulceo Sensus to increase Draco's perception of sensation for maximum effect.

The spell tingled all over Draco’s body and made him squirm in his arms. Harry tightened his hold, kissed his neck, and traced an ancient rune on the back of Draco’s hand. He was clutching the railing so hard that Harry couldn’t help but wonder whether Draco might end up breaking the steel contraption with his magic. It was wild and lashing about him uncoordinatedly.

“Ngh,” Draco threw his head back and let out a low whiny moan.

“What did you do to me? What spell— ngh, what spell was that— ngh—” he sobbed and Harry traced another ancient rune on the back of Draco’s hand. Draco trembled in his arms and his knees buckled.

“It’ll feel even better when— if you tell me exactly what it is you want, Draco,” Harry whispered.

“Tell me and I’ll make it happen, right here, right now.”

The spell he had cast made Draco feel exactly what he wanted to feel. If he wanted to feel Harry’s kisses all over his body, that was what he would feel. If he wanted to feel Harry’s hand wrapped around his cock, stroking him, getting him off, that was what he would feel. If he wanted to feel Harry sliding his fingers or his cock into him, fucking him, massaging his prostate, that was what he would feel.

“Fuck, Harry, please, just— anything,” Draco mumbled and practically mewled when Harry drew another rune on his hand. His knees buckled but Harry wasn’t in the least bit concerned, he had a tight grip on Draco.

“Anything, huh?” Harry breathed against Draco’s skin. It felt hot to the touch and tasted salty. Harry lapped at it and Draco moaned.

“I think you’ve had enough of this particular brand of magic for a night,” Harry whispered.

“No, no, no, no, don’t stop, don’t you dare stop, Potter, I swear I will kill you if you leave me like this,” Draco protested heavily. His ragged breathing was music to Harry’s ears.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Harry asked, wanting, no, needing to be completely sure that he was doing the right thing. He had lost control for a bit there when he had dragged Draco out onto the deck, but he hadn’t been able to help himself, had felt too wound up and too high strung to ignore what Draco did to him.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure,” Draco breathed heavily.

“Will you tell me to stop if it gets too much?” Harry whispered and Draco twisted his head around awkwardly to look at him.

“Yes, yes, I will,” he reassured and Harry frowned but could detect nothing in Draco’s eyes that made him wonder whether Draco was still in the possession of all his mental faculties.

“Good, well then, enjoy,” Harry chuckled and traced the outline of yet another ancient rune onto the back of Draco’s hand. Draco instantly melted in his arms, pursed his lips, and tried his best to hold back a long, shameless moan.

Harry whispered the incantation to a silencing charm and the sound barrier settled securely around them.

“Scream all you want, Draco,” he kissed Draco’s neck and Draco groaned but kept his mouth firmly shut. Harry drew the same ancient rune on Draco’s hand and this time Draco lost control and moaned, unabashedly.

“Hm, yes, that’s it, let me hear how much you like it,” Harry encouraged him and drew several ancient runes in rapid succession. Draco bucked violently in his arms, threw his head back and a strange sound escaped his lips. It wasn’t a groan or a moan, it wasn’t even a sob, it was something so much more primal, so much rawer. Harry’s cock leaked in his trousers and he thrust against Draco’s arse, letting him feel exactly how turned on he was by those beautiful sounds.

“Tell me what you want, come on,” Harry whispered, pushing the boundaries a little.

“T—t—touch me,” Draco stammered weakly.

“Touch you where Draco?”

“Any—ngh—my cock, touch my cock.”

Draco begged and Harry slowly drew the corresponding ancient rune onto the back of Draco’s hand.

“F—fa—faster,” stuttered and Harry obliged.

He drew several ancient runes and Draco began to trash in his arms, repeatedly moaning, panting for air. His face was flushed with a fresh wave of arousal, his neck was blotchy and red and pearls of sweat glistened on his forehead. One drop of sweat rolled down past his temple and down his cheek. Harry caught it with his lips and pressed a kiss against Draco’s cheek. He drew another ancient rune and that one was Draco’s undoing. His hips bucked so wildly that Harry had to pull him off the railing and into his arms. He came willingly, turned, threw his arms around Harry’s shoulders and held on tight as his orgasm surged through him and he came hard inside his trousers.

“Ssssh, I’ve got you, you’re OK,” Harry whispered and hugged Draco tightly, letting him ride out his intense orgasm.

He cancelled the spell, half-carried and half-dragged Draco over to a nearby bench and sat him down. He sat down next to Draco, pulled him into his arms as he panted into his chest and tried to come down from the rollercoaster ride Harry had sent him on.

Harry stroked through Draco’s damp hair and mumbled a few spells to help Draco with getting more comfortable. The copious use of wandless magic sent a series of small shivers through Draco but other than that he refused to move. Somewhat worried that he had inadvertently brought Draco under and deep into subspace, Harry checked for his pulse and gently forced Draco to look at him. Draco looked at him with glazed eyes and the goofiest grin he had ever seen.

“You’re okay there?” Harry asked softly.

“Hm—, no—, not okay—, fucking high is what I am—,” Draco mumbled and giggled stupidly.

Harry rolled his eyes and gently smacked Draco over the back of his head.

“Ow, Potter, you wanna spank me, go for the arse, not the head,” Draco protested and for a split-second, Harry felt sorely tempted to pull Draco across his thighs and spank him. He resisted that urge and brushed a few stray strands of hair out of Draco’s face.

“I have no idea what the fuck you did there, but I like your brand of naughty.”

Draco sighed and Harry tried his hardest not to get overly excited.

“There’s more where that came from,” Harry whispered and drew Draco into a silencing kiss before he could ask any questions Harry didn’t have an answer to.

“Happy Birthday, little prince,” he whispered against Draco’s lips and was about to pull away when Draco stiffened in his arms, instantly withdrew, and crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes were blazing and Harry gulped. He hadn’t at all meant to say those two words aloud.

“What did you just call me?” Draco inquired, glaring icy daggers and spewing murder.

Harry had the decency to shrink back a little because Draco Malfoy was seriously scary when he was angry.

“Potter, you insolent brat, I’ll have you know that there is nothing little about me, absolutely nothing!” Draco snarled.

Harry, unable to control himself, cracked a grin, then chuckled and finally succumbed to a laughing fit, which ended with him yelping when Draco drew his wand and aimed a stinging hex at him.

“Ow, what the fuck was that for?” he complained.

“For not taking me seriously and calling me little,” Draco growled and Harry couldn’t help it. He fell victim to another laughing fit and slid off the bench when Draco hit him with not one, not two, but three stinging hexes. Granted they were rather mild, but although Harry had a high threshold when it came to pain, they did manage to make him squirm.

“You insolent, good-for-nothing scoundrel of a boyfriend, don’t think for one moment that just because you gave me a mind-blowing orgasm, you’ll get away with murder now,” Draco spat and Harry found himself kneeling on the deck, clutching at his sides, laughing.

“Little prince is angry,” he teased and squirmed when yet another stinging hex hit him, then another, and another.

“Mercy,” he begged, still laughing.

Tears ran down his cheeks and as his eyes locked with Draco’s, he couldn’t help but notice that Draco’s expression had softened quite a bit and that there was even a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.


Harry panted again, breathless, and weakly pulled himself back up onto the bench.

“Never,” Draco spoke with determination, straddled his thighs, and kissed Harry hard. Harry’s arms automatically wrapped around Draco’s waist and he pulled him close, relishing thoroughly in the kiss.

“Merlin’s beard, Draco, I can’t tell if you’re mad or still horny,” he breathed heavily when they pulled away.

“Both,” Draco laughed.

“Can I please call you little prince?” Harry asked and gave Draco his best puppy dog eyes. Draco hesitated for a moment, then surrendered and nodded.

“That one stays between us though, if you use it in public, I won’t stop at a couple of stinging hexes, got that?”

“Don’t tell me you’ll add shackles?” Harry grinned mischievously and Draco rolled his eyes.

“No, I know a couple more effective spells than shackles,” he winked.

“Oh? Do tell, you’ll have to teach me all about them,” Harry teased.

“Like you don’t know them already,” Draco grinned. “I reckon dancing isn’t all you learnt in cold Canada, you also learnt how to fuck, didn’t you?”


Harry shrugged and winked at Draco.

“But that’s for me to know and you to guess.”

Chapter Text

“Fucking hell!” Draco stumbled backwards and protested heavily as Kona, a beautiful fully-grown Golden Retriever, repeatedly jumped up at him and tried to lick his face. She waggled her tail with the greatest enthusiasm and when she finally managed to put both her front paws on his shoulders, Draco lost the battle and toppled to the ground. He found himself buried underneath approximately seventy-one pounds of furry dog and surrendered. He stretched his arms and legs and grumbled when Kona slobbered all over his face.

Thankfully, Malcolm came to his rescue and, grabbing Kona by the collar, he yanked her off Draco and firmly told her to sit. She did so with reluctance and Draco sat up, whipped his face with his sleeve and slowly got to his feet.

“Don’t be mad, she loves you, madly,” Malcolm shrugged.

Smiling, Draco crouched down in front of Kona and gave her the biggest hug ever.

She barked in agreement.

“It’s all good. I happen to love her too,” Draco smiled and got to his feet again. He surreptitiously managed to cast a wandless cleaning charm on his grey trousers to remove the grass stains and got rid of Kona’s slobber on his sleeve.

“Well, in that case, would you mind looking after her next week? Kaimana is getting married and I can’t bring Kona on the plane with me. I mean I could, but I’ll only be gone a week and it wouldn’t be fair to put her through nearly nineteen hours in the cargo hold twice.”

“I knew you had sinister intentions when you asked me out.”

“I just wanted to catch up, it’s been a while.”

Draco crooked his head slightly to the side and raised an eyebrow at his ex-boyfriend.

“We were together for over two years; don’t you think I can see right through your little fibs?” he challenged Malcolm as they slowly made their way off the green and down the path that wound through the private park near Malcolm’s house. They walked in silence and Draco took a moment to look at Malcolm, really look at him.

They had broken up a few years ago but physically Malcolm hadn’t changed much. Well, his muscles were a little more prominent now but Draco expected nothing less from a man who loved to get up at five am in the morning to go for an hour-long run and who had practically grown up in the ocean, having learnt to surf before he had even learnt how to walk. His deep, natural tan was as alluring as ever but his hair was now much shorter than it had ever been. Shorter and messier.

For a moment, Draco’s thoughts drifted to Harry and he couldn’t help notice how much alike Harry and Malcolm were. They were of similar height and built, they both had messy, short dark hair and were rather bossy, though Draco put that down to both their jobs. Harry was preparing to take over the Auror Department and Malcolm ran his own advertising company, had successfully done so for many years. If he was entirely honest, which he didn’t want to be, the realisation that his ex-boyfriend had a lot in common with his current boyfriend scared Draco just a little bit.

“Hm, it was worth a try.”

Malcolm broke the silence between them and Draco snapped back to the present.

“But I also know that you’d never turn down a chance to look after Kona,” he smirked and Draco scoffed.

“You’re always so bloody sure of yourself.”

“I never got the feeling it bothered you.”

Malcolm winked.

“Me being married to my job bothered you, as did me forcing you to talk, to share the secrets locked away in that pretty head of yours, but my confidence never bothered you,” he said and as they prepared to leave the park, he put Kona on a leash. They crossed the road and seated themselves at a small table outside Malcolm’s favourite independent coffee shop.

Kona, attempting to show off that she was indeed well-behaved, crawled under the table and laid down with her snout resting on her front paws. Draco reached down and ran his fingers through her long fur. He ruffled her behind the ears and she looked up at him from under lowered lashes. Her dark brown eyes melted Draco’s heart and he slid off the chair and crouched on the floor to spoil her rotten.

When he heard Malcolm laughing, he twisted his head and glanced up at the man he had once been smitten with.

“If I’d known that you’re such a dog person, I’d have gotten Kona when we were still together. We’d probably be married by now,” he teased and Draco rolled his eyes.

“Wishful thinking on your part,” he replied and, sitting back down, he reached for the menu. He skimmed over it and when the waitress arrived to take their orders, he asked for a cappuccino and a raspberry tart.

“Flat White, extra shot and a plain cheese and cucumber bagel, please,” Malcolm said. When the waitress disappeared, he folded his arms across his chest, leant back in his chair and looked at Draco.

Draco held his gaze for the longest time but eventually grew impatient and frowned.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re seeing someone,” Malcolm stated matter-of-factly.

“And what if I am?” Draco replied flippantly.

Malcolm merely shrugged and grinned at him.

“Nothing, I’m happy for you. Although, I will admit that I’m a little jealous. The sex must be amazing, you’re practically glowing. If I wasn’t one-hundred per cent sure that you have a cock and balls I’d be inclined to assume that you’ve got a bun in the oven.”

At that blunt statement, Draco coughed and blushed a little. He reached for the carafe of lemon-flavoured water and poured himself a glass then took a few careful sips and swallowed a sigh. He was convinced that sex with Harry would be mind-blowingly good, but unfortunately, he had yet to experience the real thing. Apart from that handjob on the morning of his birthday and the kinky spell Harry had cast on him in the evening, the one that had made him come harder than he had ever come in his entire life, he was woefully unknowledgeable and very much lacked the experience of what it felt like to have sex with Harry.

He wanted nothing more than for Harry to fuck him senseless but somehow, Harry never let go enough for that to happen. He seemed to want to and Draco was no fool, he could tell that Harry wanted him as much as he wanted Harry, which was why the whole thing was so confusing. He had by now gathered that Harry was more of the controlling type and while it sometimes drove him around the bend, he couldn’t deny how much it also turned him on. He liked the way Harry made him feel, liked how Harry focused all his attention on him, liked how Harry made him feel like he was the most precious, most fascinating, most alluring person in the room.

But all of that made it even harder to understand why Harry always pulled away. He had never worked so hard at trying to get a man into his bed before, even getting Malcolm into his bed hadn’t been that hard. With Harry, however, no matter what he tried, Harry’s resolve seemingly never broke. Sure, it faltered but Harry always managed to get a grip on himself, to pull back, to remain in control.

Draco was rapidly getting frustrated, especially because following his birthday, Harry was now blowing cold again. They were back to heated kisses and sensual caresses and every time Harry pulled away, Draco found himself left with a painfully throbbing erection he had to deal with all by himself.

“Earth to Draco Malfoy!”

Malcolm’s voice cut right through Draco’s thoughts and he snapped out of his reverie as Malcolm clapped his hands right in front of his face. By now, the waitress had brought them their beverages and their food and Draco realised that he had properly lost himself in his thoughts and ignored Malcolm entirely.

“Sorry,” he apologised and flushed a little, feeling mildly embarrassed.

“Were you having a sex dream? You looked rather blissed out,” Malcolm teased and Draco really wanted to throw a stinging hex at him. He reminded himself of the fact that Malcolm was a Muggle and didn’t know anything about magic and therefore resisted the temptation.

“I was not having a sex dream,” Draco objected vehemently and added two bags of sugar to his cappuccino. When Malcolm shook his head, he frowned.

“I’ll never understand how you stay this fit with all the sugar and sweets you consume.”

“I’ve got excellent metabolism.”

“Are you sure it’s just that? Apparently, daily sex is just as good as a regular workout.”

“Tell Harry that…” Draco mumbled under his breath. He sipped on his coffee and when Malcolm pointed out that he had foam stuck to his top lip, he elegantly licked it off.

“So, Harry is your new beau’s name,” Malcolm smiled. “How long’s that been going on now then?”

“Few months.”

Draco shrugged and, quite uncharacteristically for him, he leant forward, placed his elbow on the wrought iron table and rested his cheek against his palm.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” Malcolm smiled.

“I remember, we danced around each other for about two weeks before we finally—” Draco trailed off, not quite sure how to phrase his question. It wasn’t that he was shy when it came to talking about sex, quite on the contrary. It was just that the whole thing seemed so ridiculous and he wasn’t sure whether discussing his current relationship with his former lover was such a good idea. He and Malcolm had become very good friends after their relationship had fizzled out, but he still couldn’t help feeling weird about asking for Malcolm’s opinion.

“Fucked?” Malcolm offered straight up and without the least bit of hesitation.

Draco nodded.

“Was that too quick or too slow or, just right?”

“For us? Just right, I’d say,” Malcolm answered and Draco sighed. “Why? What’s the matter? Trouble in paradise with your beau Harry?”

Draco shrugged.

“It’s been over a month and nothing. Well, he’s given me a hand job and the way he kisses me…sometimes it feels like I—”

“Could come from that alone?” Malcolm finished his sentence yet again and in response, Draco stuffed a large bite of his raspberry tart into his mouth. He swallowed half of it, then nodded.

“Is he a virgin?” Malcolm asked with such candour that Draco nearly choked on his tart. He coughed, reached for his glass of water, and took a large sip.

“No, most definitely not,” he vehemently shook his head and cleared his throat.

“Then you’re not straightforward enough, you do rather enjoy taking the backseat,” Malcolm smiled and Draco glared at him.

“I’ve asked him to bend me over my desk and fuck me hard. If that’s not straightforward enough then I don’t know what is,” he sighed.

“Did you take your clothes off before you offered that?” Malcolm chuckled and Draco growled. The temptation to kick Malcolm under the table was almost irresistible but he knew that Kona would likely have an issue with him assaulting her master.

“I did not,” he said pointedly. “I may be a little slutty occasionally but I’m not a whore.”

“Your sluttiness is hot, Draco, there’s nothing cheap about it. I always found it a big turn on,” Malcolm said and Draco relaxed somewhat. “Now, do tell me more about your mysterious lover boy Harry. I’m afraid, knowing what I know now I can’t offer you any useful advice.”

Draco hesitated for a moment, then lost his resolve and told Malcolm absolutely everything.

He told him about how he and Harry knew each other and about their less than amicable past, told him how they had rather unexpectedly bumped into each other after having been out of touch for years and how much Harry had changed. He described Harry in such vivid detail that it almost felt like Harry was sitting at the table with them, listening to him, just as Malcolm was listening to him.

He told Malcolm how confident Harry had become, how funny he was and how intensely stimulating conversations with him were. What with Malcolm being a Muggle, Draco left out anything that was even just remotely related to magic but he didn’t need to describe Harry’s magical abilities to paint a vivid picture of the man who had well and truly stolen his heart away.

He told Malcolm all about Harry’s inclination to be bossy and make decisions for them both and how he thought that it stemmed from the fact that Harry was getting ready to run a major law enforcement department all on his own. He described several of their dates in graphic detail and didn’t shy away from telling Malcolm exactly how he felt when Harry took charge and how he practically melted at Harry’s words and how it felt so right to just give in and let Harry take control of everything.

By the time he had finished, he was slightly breathless, just a little flushed and fighting off an erection.

Malcolm merely smiled at him, sipping on a fresh cup of coffee he had ordered halfway through Draco’s detailed description.

“What?” Draco asked, feeling mildly unsettled.

Growing up, he had never been the sort of person who laid it all bare, had always preferred to keep his cards close to his chest. Over the years, things had, however, changed. He found it easier to share things, easier to expose parts of himself, easier to be honest and relished in allowing himself to, at times, be a little vulnerable. It came at a price but it also came with rewards and thus far, Draco had no regrets. He couldn’t help but wonder whether opening up and letting the enigma that was Harry Potter into his heart would be his first regret.

“You are head over heels in love with the man,” Malcolm stated with a sly grin.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Draco sighed and did a double-take.

He stared at Malcolm, eyes wide, shell-shocked at how easy that confession had slipped past his lips. He had been thinking about it more and over other the last few days and especially since the magical day Harry had planned for his birthday, but had, at the same time, felt hesitant to admit his feelings to himself.

“Hm, I could tell you about a lot of things you don’t know, I do have a couple of years on you, but I won’t. I have the feeling you might hate me for saying this, but I think you should figure this out on your own, without me telling you what I think.”

“Well, you’re of no help at all now, are you? I’ve been racking my brain and wanking myself raw over that man and all you tell me is that I should figure it out on my own. Figure what out exactly? Harry Potter is a paradox, a contradiction in every sense of the way, I haven’t got the foggiest idea where to start or how to go about figuring him out,” Draco snapped exasperatedly and growled in frustration. He watched as Malcolm reached across the table, placed his hand on top of Draco’s and squeezed gently.

“Relax,” he said with his calming, yet authoritative, voice and Draco, despite not wanting to, felt some of his frustration seep from his body.

“I’ll tell you one thing, one thing that’s blindingly obvious to me, but maybe not to you. Feel free to disagree with me, but I do know you quite well and I think I’m right when I say that letting Harry take charge is the best thing for you. He’s the yin to your yang, you’re in perfect balance.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re trying to say,” Draco sighed.

“You’ll have figured it out before the year’s out. I’m fairly sure of that,” Malcolm smiled and Draco let out an audible breath.

“I would tell you more, but I really think you need to do this without me giving you all the answers,” Malcolm added and Draco noted that he sounded somewhat apologetic.

“Thanks,” he mumbled and Malcolm squeezed his hand one last time, then pulled away and drank his coffee instead. Draco watched him with a frown, then decided that his brain desperately needed a break and, sliding off his chair, he crouched down in front of Kona and pulled her head onto his lap. She came willingly and nuzzled him with her wet snout. He ruffled her fur and lovingly petted her head. She barked once in appreciation. Turning his head, Draco looked up at Malcolm.

“Can I keep her for the afternoon?”

Malcolm smiled.

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll leave her with you this week and next week, if you want,” he offered.

“Are you sure she won’t miss you?”

“She’ll get over it,” Malcolm laughed. “She’s rather easy when it comes to hot gay blondes who shower her with love.”

Draco rolled his eyes and decided not to comment on Malcolm latest veiled compliment. He had always been the flirty type and Draco didn’t even blame him for it.

“Give my best to Kaimana then,” he offered, remembering that Malcolm had told him that his younger sister was getting married. Malcolm had dragged him all the way to Hawaii once during their relationship and they had spent a marvellous month on the island. Over the course of their stay, Draco had met all of Malcolm’s immediate and extended family. He had also learnt that Malcolm’s actual Hawaiian name was Maleko, although hardly anyone outside of his family called him that. Even his close friends and co-workers here in London called him Mal which worked perfectly as a short form for both Maleko and Malcolm.

“I will,” Malcolm smiled and handed Draco Kona’s leash. “I’ll drop all her stuff off tonight. Eight all right with you?”

Draco nodded. “Address hasn’t changed,” he added with a grin.

Chapter Text

Harry apparated into Ottery St. Catchpole and, emerging from behind one of the buildings, he glanced at his watch and cursed under his breath. He was running late, later than usual, as the meeting with Kingsley had taken longer than he had anticipated. Quickening his pace, Harry headed for the main road, and crossed a small bridge that lead over the River Otter. He left the small town behind and made his way to The Burrow.

Less than ten minutes later he walked down a two-track lane and soon enough the Weasley family residence came into view. Over the years, it hadn’t lost any of its magic and it was still Harry’s favourite place to be. It was a remarkable sight, one that took his breath away in the most tentative of ways. The closer he came, the more he felt like he was about to enter his own home and soon enough the front door swung open and a young boy with flaming red hair raced towards him.

Harry had just about enough time to spread his arms wide open and steady his stance. Teddy collided with his chest, full force, threw his arms around him and Harry hugged him tightly, lifted him up and spun him round and round. Teddy squealed excitedly and his laughter was music to Harry’s ears. He stopped slowly and didn’t even attempt to set Teddy down, for the boy had locked his legs around his midriff and was holding on for dear life.

“Harry! I missed you!” Teddy exclaimed excitedly and repeatedly kissed first his right cheek, then his left cheek.

“I missed you too, you little tyke.”

Harry chuckled and walked towards The Burrow. He smiled at Andromeda, who was standing at the front door, waiting to welcome them both.

“He was worried you wouldn’t show,” Andromeda said as she stepped aside to let them into the house.

“I said I would come, you know I’m a man of my word,” Harry replied and attempted to set Teddy down, but his godson refused to let go of him. With a resigned sigh, he gave up on ridding himself of his human attachment and looked around the place instead.

Hermione sat on the sofa, cooing over one-year-old baby Rose and Ron was sitting on the armrest beside her, Butterbeer in hand. George and Angelina stood by the window, deeply engrossed in conversation. Their children, as well as Bill and Fleur’s, were running around in the garden, under the supervision of their grandfather Arthur Weasley, who was in his element trying to entertain five children, with the oldest being only six.

He was in the company of Bill and Fleur, who stood to the side, apparently content to take a back seat from parenting for a couple of hours. Percy had perched himself on the armrest of a comfortable but worn armchair and was cradling a little baby while talking to his heavily pregnant wife Audrey. Ginny, Harry thought, was likely hiding upstairs which she didn’t do to be unsocial but it was just her thing. He knew that she had a busy schedule what with playing professionally for the Holyhead Harpies and she relished in a bit of peace and quiet before the madness that was a family dinner at the Weasley Residence.

“There are way too many children around,” Harry sighed and Andromeda laughed.

“Weasley tradition,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Molly’s in her element, of course. I was trying to help but she’s kicked everyone out of her domain, the mad woman that she is. Two wands cast twice as many spells.”

“I’m feeling bold today, I think I’ll venture into the lion’s den.”

Harry grinned and glanced at Teddy, who had turned his hair bright purple. He tickled him until his godson squirmed in his arms and pleaded for mercy.

“Are you coming with me, monkey, or are you going to join the others outside?”

“I’m not leaving your arms ever again!” Teddy said with a most serious expression and Harry bit back a chuckle and nodded solemnly.

“Right, joined at the hip we are then.”

He readjusted his hold on Teddy and turned to face Andromeda.

“You officially have the evening off.”

“Oh yes, thank Merlin! I’m dying for a Gin and Tonic,” Andromeda approved and clapped her hands as she headed off into the living room to help herself to a drink from Arthur Weasley’s personal bar. Harry took another moment to look around the place and smiled as a wave of peaceful happiness washed over him; to this day the Burrow still felt more home than Grimmauld Place.

He had felt this way ever since his first visit well over a decade ago and over the years the feeling had only intensified. The Burrow was always buzzing with life, always felt homely, always smelt of baked goods and freshly cooked food and there was so much love and magic around the place, Harry couldn’t help but feel oddly at ease. The last few months at work had been crazy and in less than a week, Kingsley Shacklebolt would formally introduce him as Director Potter, Head of the Auror Department and Assistant Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

He had his moments when he wondered whether, at the young age of twenty-six, he was ready to shoulder that much responsibility but then he remembered that he had carried a far greater burden at a much younger age. He had also helped to turn Teddy into a sweet, loving, well-behaved child and somehow the knowledge of all that kept his panic at bay.

Harry tried not to think about Draco but with so many children and couples around, his heart wholly thwarted his plans and he couldn’t help but imagine convincing Draco to join him for Sunday Dinner at the Burrow. He imagined that it would take quite some effort to persuade Draco to spend an afternoon with the entire Weasley clan but he had a few rather brilliant ideas of how to get Draco to surrender.

A mischievous smile spread over his face and Harry was almost grateful when Teddy poked him between the ribs. He shifted a little and resolutely shook himself out of his thoughts, playfully growled at his godson and launched another tickle attack on him.

Teddy squirmed, thrashed about in his arms and Harry laughed. He thoroughly enjoyed horsing around with Teddy and often forgot that Teddy was just his godson.

In Harry’s mind, they were family and he thought of Teddy as his son. Somehow, nothing less would do. He had even spoken to Andromeda about formally adopting the boy and her response had been one of cool nonchalance.

He thinks of you as his father anyway, she had told him over a glass of red wine and promised him to gather all the information required to start formal adoption proceedings.

“Harry, please, can’t breathe,” Teddy complained and Harry eased up on his tickle attack.

He shuffled Teddy from his right hip to his left and made his way into the kitchen to finally say hello to his adoptive mother, the Weasley matriarch and the only woman in the entire world who managed to bring out his submissive side. With her he didn’t even try to argue, there simply was no point. She always had the final say. It was the golden rule nobody ever dared to break. They, and Harry included himself there, were far too afraid of the consequences.

While small in stature, Molly Weasley was a force to be reckoned with. She had a razor-sharp tongue, a witty disposition and a natural kind of absentmindedness that was endearing. However, what Harry loved the most about Molly was her heart of gold and the endless love she always showered him with. She always treated him like one of her own, and never like the Boy Who Lived or The Chosen One. To her, he was just Harry.

Finally setting Teddy, who almost instantly wrapped his arms around his waist, down, Harry casually leant against the kitchen doorframe and watched Molly bustle around, waving her wand with such precision that Harry felt a little dizzy. He hugged Teddy with one arm and grinned from ear to ear when Molly finally noticed his presence.

“Harry!” she exclaimed with the greatest vigour and Harry pushed himself away from the doorframe. He found himself engulfed in the bone-crushing hug a moment later and wondered for the millionth time how it was possible that little Molly Weasley was seemingly stronger than he was. She could battle a dragon with her bare hands.

Scratch that, Harry chuckled inwardly, the dragon would bow without a fight.

Molly Weasley’s stern glare was almost more terrifying than her sharp tongue.

Teddy squealed in protest between them both, huffed and petulantly turned his hair blue. He stalked off, announcing that he intended to find someone who had no intention to squash him half to death.

“Try your Aunt Gin!” Harry called after him and winked at Molly, who chuckled with amusement.

“Sorry for being late, Molly. Meeting with Kingsley ran overtime.”

“Never you mind that, my sweet boy, I’m just glad that you’re finally here,” Molly beamed. Motioning towards the dishes she wondered whether he might like to give her a hand.

Harry's eyes widened with genuine surprise.

“Are you sure?”

Molly nodded.

“Can I bribe you with an extra slice of treacle tart?” she asked with twinkling eyes and Harry licked his lips.

“Yes Ma’am, what needs doing?”

“Less of the Ma’am, for starters,” Molly chided, waving her cooking ladle about.

“Sir then?” Harry teased and she whacked him with a kitchen towel.

“Get started on cleaning those pots there, then help me make the whipped cream and tell Ron to set the table.”

Harry wrinkled his nose.

“I’m not sure he’ll listen to me. Best friends and all that jazz.”

Molly’s answer to that was to holler Ron’s name at the top of her lungs and less than ten seconds later her youngest son appeared in the kitchen.


“Be a darling and set the table,” Molly commanded and Harry noted that Ron didn’t even try to argue. He thought it rather hilarious. Growing up, Ron had always tried talking back but since he and Hermione had gotten married, he had turned into a rather obedient young man. Harry supposed much of that was Hermione’s doing. When she was on a roll it was rather difficult to get a word in edgewise.


Ron disappeared to follow through and do what he was told. Harry busied himself with scrubbing the pots and plates in the sink and although he could have done it all with a few magic spells, he chose to do it the Muggle way. He wanted something menial to do, something that didn’t require the use of his brain. Today had been a rather long day at the Ministry and Harry’s head buzzed with all the information he had soaked up. It was a never-ending avalanche of knowledge and Kingsley expected him to remember it all.

His thoughts began to drift and soon enough they settled on Draco. A few days had passed since his birthday and Harry knew that Draco was probably seething, possibly even plotting his demise and he could hardly blame him for it. He felt decidedly guilty. Draco had made several, obvious passes at him over the last few days and while Harry had partly given in, he made sure to remain firmly in control of the situation and pull back before things got out of hand. He simply couldn’t shake feeling that he had somewhat overstepped the line with that spell he had used.

He knew that he was probably overthinking everything and with each passing day it got harder and harder to say no to Draco. Especially because he didn’t want to say no in the first place. He wanted Draco with every fibre of his body and he was sure that Draco rather enjoyed his dominant side, but Harry was also very unsure, of how far he could take things before he went too far. He felt that he should probably just sit Draco down and tell him the truth, but somehow it felt like it was far too early in their relationship for him to do that. The last he wanted was to scare Draco off. No, for that he cared far too much about him, loved him too deeply.


A familiar husky male voice whispered directly into his ear, making him jump nearly half a mile out of his skin,

“I’m pretty sure my mum asked you to clean those pots, not stare at the wall in a daze.”

Harry just about managed to choke down a yelp that threatened to slip past his lips.

“Fuck’s sake, Charlie!” he snapped and whirled around. He tried but failed to duck away from Molly’s kitchen towel.

“Mind your mouth in my kitchen!” she reprimanded him and Harry blushed like a school girl.

“Sorry, Mrs Weasley,” he mumbled, reverting to calling her by her last time, something he always did when she scolded him and he had to apologise. He turned to glare at Charlie, who smirked devilishly.

“Bastard,” he mouthed and Charlie chuckled.

“I’ll catch you later, servant boy,” he mocked and Harry cast a wandless stinging hex towards Charlie’s arse. Unfortunately, Charlie was a split-second faster and with a swoosh of his hand, he redirected the hex. Harry blocked it with a plain shield charm and Molly clapped them both around the head.

“If you think I will allow you to duel in my kitchen, you’ve got another thing coming!” she barked and both Harry and Charlie shrunk under her reproachful gaze.

“Charlie, go cut some firewood!”

Ma, it’s the middle of summer!” Charlie protested but Molly merely gave him a pointed glare. He obediently lowered his head and nodded.

“Yes, Ma,” he said quietly and Harry chuckled into his hand. Charlie glowered at him but it only made Harry laugh more.

“Honestly, boys!” Molly shook her head and shot Charlie one more pointed glare.

“Already gone,” he said, holding his hand up in surrender and vanished from the kitchen.

Harry turned his attention back on the dishes and, squirming underneath Molly’s scrutinising glance, he gave scrubbing the plates and pots his best. He still hated the task, the Dursleys had always made him clean and scour everything, but somehow it was different when Molly asked for his help. When she asked, it felt almost like an honour, not a punishment of some kind.

“There’s something different about you,” Molly observed after a moment of silence and Harry turned his head to look at her.

“Good or bad?”

“Good, definitely good,” she smiled.

“Are you seeing someone, Harry, sweetheart?”

“Erm,” Harry hemmed and hawed a bit, not quite sure how to answer Molly’s question since he hadn’t expected it at all and while her sixth sense no longer scared him it still surprised him, still caught him off guard.

“That would be a yes then.”

Molly smiled knowingly and Harry sighed and gave a small nod.

“Early days, Molly, let me keep it to myself a little longer, okay? I’ll promise, when I’m ready to tell, you’ll be the first to know,” he said.

He was, in fact, ready to tell Molly right now, but he wasn’t entirely sure how she would react to the news that he was dating none other than Draco Malfoy. He didn’t think she would make a scene, but just to be on the safe side, he decided to tell her when it was just the two of them and not a house filled with overexcited children and the entire Weasley clan.

“That’s perfectly all right, my dear. I just hope that your strapping gentleman treats you with the love and respect you deserve.”

Harry smiled. He knew exactly what she was hinting at. She was forever worried that his partners were just with him for his fame and was very fond of her fierce protectiveness. It made him feel utterly loved and wanted. Molly Weasley had long since adopted him as her eighth child and he had no objections. He loved her like a mother and having grown up without his own mother he appreciated her unconditional love and support more than anything.

Feeling just a little sentimental, Harry quickly cleaned the last pot and dried his hands on a small towel. He wrapped his arms around Molly and planted a big, sloppy his on her cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered and smiled when Molly sniffed a little.

“Oh, off you go with that nonsense, boy.”

When he stepped back, she mutely shoved a big bowl and a whisk at him.

“Make yourself useful now, Harry,” she said with a warm smile and Harry laughed. He accepted the bowl and the whisk and started whipping the cream, slowly turning it into a thick creamy foam.

Chapter Text

Feeling thoroughly sated, completely stuffed and just a little tipsy, Harry, a tumbler of Firewhiskey in hand, made his way outside into the garden. Looking up at the starry night sky, he took a deep breath of fresh country air. It made his head spin a little more, he steadied himself on the open back door and focused his attention on Teddy, who was horsing around with Victoire. Most of the younger kids were already fast asleep but those two, being of nearly similar age, still had the energy to goof around with George, who was entertaining them with tiny magical fireworks.

After dinner everyone had remained seated around the table and, as it was customary, they had all shared news about what was going on in their lives while enjoying Molly’s divine desserts. Harry had polished off three slices of treacle tart and he didn’t even feel bad about it.

Ron had, of course, teased him mercilessly about his addiction but he had merely pointed out that Ron never stopped eating and had asked Hermione whether it had, in fact, been Ron who had given birth to their daughter and whether he was planning to carry the next one too. While everyone at the table had dissolved into laughter, Ron had flushed bright red and muttered something about revenge to which Harry had smugly thought, I’d like to see you try.

Sometime after everyone had finished their desserts and the children, now high on sugar after having wolfed down large helpings of ice-cream, had started running around the house, the rest of the family had scattered about the Burrow or the garden.

Percy and Audrey had left just after dessert and Harry didn’t blame them.

Spotting Charlie lounging on an old broad wooden bench, a bottle of Muggle beer in hand, Harry let go of the back door and made his way over to his honorary big brother. He playfully shoved Charlie’s legs off the bench and plonked down next to him. He held his glass out to Charlie, who bumped his beer bottle against it in a silent toast. They both drank and, leaning back on the bench, Harry stretched his legs out.

“Where’s Liam?” he wanted to know. He had noticed the young man’s absence over dinner but hadn’t had the opportunity to ask until now.

“Naughty boy is naked on his knees scrubbing the bathroom…with a toothbrush. Better be spotless when I come home or it’ll be a nice spanking he gets,” Charlie replied with a self-satisfied smile and Harry chuckled into his Firewhiskey before taking another sip.

“What’d he do?”

“Mouthed off at me,” Charlie answered. “Got a stern look first, but just kept going. Really pushed me.”

“Is Master getting soft? I’d have thought you’d dish out a tougher punishment for that,” Harry smirked. “I know you don’t like your sub mouthing off at you.”

“Would’ve,” Charlie shrugged, “except dinner with the family didn’t leave me with enough time to do anything. Also, he’s been rather good lately, so I decided to practice a little bit of leniency. Does occasionally work and even if it doesn’t there’s still time to make him squirm later.”


Harry nodded in silent agreement.

While Charlie had been on the scene far longer, Harry knew from personal experience that tough punishments didn’t always yield the desired results. There were several reasons why a sub might act out and simply punishing them for the sake of punishing them was never the answer. Any good Dom knew that. A punishment also wasn’t always a punishment. There were actual sanctions, a nearly endless list of possibilities, and then there were punishments intended to bring pleasure to both the Dom and the sub. The catalogue of funishments, as Harry preferred to call them, was also a nearly endless list of possibilities. Of course, always within the agreed limits.

“What about you, then? Got yourself a new sub? I think last we spoke, you were training someone for Caleb.”

“Not a sub, but a boyfriend.”

Harry divulged what he knew would be a surprising piece of information and turned his head to look at Charlie, who appraised him silently, then chuckled.

Harry wasn’t quite sure what had made him tell Charlie about his recent change in relationship status but there wasn’t much about him that Charlie didn’t know. In fact, Harry was sure that there really wasn’t anything Charlie didn’t know. For that, they had known each other long enough, had been too close, had shared too much.

Feeling a sudden itch on his wrist, Harry sat his tumbler glass down and pushed his watch up to reveal a faint, thin uneven scar that ran horizontally across his right wrist, the remnants of an old wound from a long time ago, a wound Charlie had helped to heal. He rubbed his thumb across the white line and sighed softly.

Charlie almost immediately placed his hand on top of his to still his movement.

“Don’t go there,” he whispered and Harry didn’t resist when Charlie removed his hand.

“Tell me, Harry Potter, are you going vanilla on me then? Or are you changing the solid laws of any good Dom/sub relationship because they’re about to name you Director Potter, The Saviour Who Lived?”

Charlie smiled and Harry momentarily lost himself in Charlie’s chocolate-brown eyes. There was something so intensely warm about them, something that promised eternal safety, and just like that Charlie pulled him off the ledge and his dark thoughts dispersed into nothingness. His wrist ceased to itch and, covering the scar with his watch, he reached for his Firewhiskey and took a small sip.

“Ha, bloody, ha.”

Harry rolled his eyes in response to Charlie’s deliberate mocking.

“Out with it, who’s your new sweetheart then? Anyone, I know? Muggle? Wizard?”

Charlie pushed him, which is what he usually did, and Harry hesitated for the longest moment. Longer than he usually did when he talked to Charlie but instead of asking for more details, he just waited, patiently, calmly.

Eventually, Harry gave in. Steadily holding his gaze, he let one name, and one name only, fall from his lips.

“Draco Malfoy,” he whispered, not even sure why he was whispering.

He cleared his throat, drank more of his Firewhiskey and searched Charlie’s eyes and face for any hint that he was surprised or shocked. He found neither and frowned slightly as he swallowed an irrational bout of nervousness.

“Inevitable, really. I have it on good authority that you really were quite obsessed with him back in the day,” Charlie smiled softly, fondly even.

“Exactly how kinky is he then? Spill… Somehow, I always imagine Slytherins have all sorts of weird kinks, what with Slytherin House being down in the dungeons. Bad prejudice on my part, I know, but I just can’t shake it.”

Charlie’s smile grew into a dirty smirk and for a moment Harry contemplated smacking him, but he knew that Charlie, given that he worked as a dragon-tamer, had impeccable reaction skills. When Harry didn’t answer his question, Charlie tilted his head sideways and his eyes widened in silent realisation.

“He doesn’t know, does he?”

Harry sighed and gave a small nod. He stared into his tumbler and wondered whether he could charm the remains of his Firewhiskey to swallow him up. He sensed that a very uncomfortable conversation was imminent and while he had wanted to talk to Charlie, he felt a little bit unsettled now that Charlie had, with practically no effort at all, pulled a ton of information out of him.

“Well, this won’t do, will it now?” Charlie spoke and a few moments later a half-full bottle of Firewhiskey flew into his hand.

He opened it, refilled the tumbler and Harry smiled gratefully and took a rather large sip. He absolutely could do with some Dutch courage.

“Now, tell me everything.”

Charlie coaxed gently and set the bottle of Firewhiskey down. He placed his hand on Harry’s knee and squeezed just firmly enough to help Harry focus. Harry shuddered, tried his best to order his thoughts and, placing his own hand on top of Charlie’s bigger one, he squeezed softly, then rearranged himself to sit cross-legged on the bench. Straightening his back, he took a deep breath, then cleared his throat. He launched into a lengthy, and extremely detailed summary of literally everything that had happened since he and Draco had rekindled their acquaintance.

He started with how he had bumped into Draco by chance and how he had instantly been fascinated by how much Draco had changed and the person he had become. Harry described Draco in vivid detail and told Charlie how hard he found it to control himself around Draco. He told Charlie that Caleb was now dating the sub he had spent three months training and that he turned into this big softie whenever he talked about Stefan. He even briefly mentioned the incident at the munch.

He confessed how Caleb had told him to grow a pair of balls instead of letting an opportunity at loving somebody slip right through his fingers and then launched into a long-winded recount of how naturally submissive Draco seemed to be and how much he seemed to enjoy it when Harry took charge, even though there were moments when he appeared to be annoyed by it. He left out no detail about the times when Draco had, on several occasions, blatantly asked him to fuck him but how he had, so far, always held back. He told Charlie about the hand job and the spell he had used on Draco and finally spilt his guts about how afraid he was to lose control and go too far with Draco.

By the time he finished, he was just a little breathless and probably a little drunker than he had been when he started baring his soul to Charlie. Harry fell silent and, to calm his frazzled nerves, he downed the Firewhiskey left in his tumbler and relished in the way it burned down his throat. Still feeling edgy, he aimlessly toyed with the glass in his hand while he tried to patiently wait for Charlie to digest everything he had heard. The silence was killing him, but he didn’t want to push Charlie into giving his opinion, he knew better than to do that to any of his friends.

Eventually, Charlie put him out of his misery and smiled warmly.

“You really are head over heels in love, aren’t you?” he said softly and although he had phrased it as a question it really was more of a statement.

Harry couldn’t help but nod.

“Merlin, yes, yes, fucking yes, I’m in so deep I scare myself.”

Harry let the words burst out of him. A huge wave of relief washed over him at having finally admitted his feelings for Draco aloud.

“Can I give it to you straight?”

Harry appreciated Charlie asking, but he knew that no matter his answer, Charlie would still tell him exactly what he thought. That was why Harry had spilt it all to him. He wanted his advice, craved it like a drug he had deprived himself of for way too long. That metaphor was perhaps a little strong, but these past few days Harry had been going stir crazy and needed someone to help him sort his thoughts.

“First off, you worry too much, way too much. I absolutely get why you have serious feelings for Draco and him not knowing about your preference for kink—”

“I think he has a bit of an idea,” Harry interrupted and Charlie gave him a stern look but didn’t say anything else.

“As I said, Draco not knowing about your preference for kink, or the level of your preference for it, does make it difficult, but not overly so. You should tell him, preferably sooner rather than later, otherwise, he will feel cheated on. He’ll feel like you just toyed with him, like all you wanted was a good time at the expense of his trust. You, more than anyone, know exactly what I’m talking about. In saying that, from what you’ve told me, he does seem to have a mild penchant for kink, maybe even more so than he himself realises.

“If you’re happy with keeping things vanilla and adding a bit of spice every now and then because you like—love him this much and if you think that you can keep doing this, then go for it. But, Harry, you can’t keep blowing hot or cold at him, it’s not fair, not even in a proper D/s relationship. There’s orgasm denial and then there’s torture and while we both know that there are some extremists who are into the latter, I know you’re not one of those people. Honestly, you’re just torturing yourself and I’d laugh if I didn’t know it would hurt you. For the love of Circe, he’s practically begging you to fuck him and you’re still finding ways to deny yourself a good time. You truly are a special brand of masochistic.”

Harry took a moment to digest everything Charlie told him. He hadn’t said anything new but it felt good to hear it all from somebody else. Caleb had said pretty much the same, though in not so many words. Why did jumping over his own shadow seem like such an arduous challenge then? He was afraid, Harry knew that much, but somehow the knowledge of that didn’t help much. Maybe—

Charlie interrupted him before he could finish that last thought.

“Harry,” he said softly, scooting a little closer.

Harry looked straight into his eyes and couldn’t help but smile.

“Next time he makes a move, don’t hold back, just let it happen. I’m not in the least bit worried that you’ll cross a line, but I do have something that’ll perhaps put your mind at ease.”

Harry silently watched Charlie take his necklace off. It was a thin and quite unremarkable leather band with a small silver pendant in the shape of a female Antipodean Opaleye.

Charlie drew his wand, tapped it against the pendant and mumbled a series of complicated-sounding spells. Harry hadn’t heard any of them before, though it didn’t surprise him. Charlie was full of surprises and that was exactly what drew Harry to him, just like the scent of sweet nectar had the power to bewitch any bee alive.

When Charlie finished his complicated incantation, the dragon pendant came to life, grew to the size of a chicken egg, and spewed a vivid red flame. Harry stared mesmerised, lost himself in the dragon’s glittering multi-coloured eyes and gasped when it settled down once more and returned to being a seemingly lifeless pendant.

“Wear this, if you’re worried about going too far, Aasymah will stop you.”

Intrigued, Harry reached out and touched the pendant. He hissed when he felt his own magical signature weave itself into the pendant’s magic and vice versa.

Leaning forward, he lowered his head and held still while Charlie fastened the leather band around his neck and adjusted the strap. When he sat up and the pendant touched his bare skin an intense strike of energy surged through him and he shuddered, felt dazed and had to close his eyes for a moment.

“What is it?” he asked, fascinated.

“Your new protector,” Charlie smiled. “Aasymah’ll stop you from crossing your own boundaries. Her magic and yours weaved together when you touched her. She’ll sense if you’re crossing your own lines and she’ll stop you.”

“What about you? Don’t you need her?” Harry frowned and touched the pendant resting against his bare skin. Strangely enough, it felt both hot and cold.

“I can make another one easily,” Charlie said and Harry wanted to throw his arms around him and hug him, but he resisted that urge. Charlie seemingly sensed what he was thinking of and drew him into a fierce hug.

“Being in love suits you, Harry Potter,” he whispered into Harry’s ear and Harry shuddered and broke into the biggest, goofiest grin ever. He mumbled a quiet thanks but Charlie simply patted his back and pulled back from the hug. He slowly got to his feet and stretched.

“I better get going and check on my little brat,” he grinned. “If scrubbing the bathroom didn’t cure him of his need to mouth off at me, I reckon me not being there will have done the trick.”

Harry chuckled.

“Don’t be too harsh on him.”

“I’ll try not to.”

Charlie winked and with that, he left to head into the house and bid his parents goodbye. Harry shuffled, let his legs drop off the bench and stretched them. He was about to get up when Teddy, now sporting Slytherin-green hair, came running, clambered onto the bench, and curled up in his lap. He threw his arms around Harry’s shoulders, rested his head against Harry’s chest and he instinctively wrapped his arms around the little boy in a protective, fatherly gesture.

He sat in silence and listened to Teddy’s breathing as it slowly evened out, evidence that his godson had finally fallen asleep.

Harry waited a few more minutes to make sure that Teddy was indeed fast asleep, and, hugging his godson tightly to his chest, he got up and made his way back into the house. He found Andromeda in the living room, engrossed in a conversation with Fleur, and briefly informed her that he would put Teddy to bed. She merely nodded and Harry carried Teddy up to Ron’s old room. He carefully put him down onto Ron’s old bed, pulled the summer blanket up and tucked it around him, then sat down on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through Teddy’s messy hair. Its colour changed from Slytherin-green to black and Harry chuckled. Now the boy looked almost like his son. Bending down, Harry tenderly kissed him on the cheek and slowly got up. He left the room, and closed the door behind him as he made his way downstairs.

Halfway down he passed Ginny’s bedroom and gently knocked against the wooden frame.

Ginny, who sat on her bed, writing in a black diary, paused, and looked up at him. She smiled and beckoned him into the room. Harry obliged and walking into her room, he sat down on her bed. She put the diary and quill down and crawled over to him. She curled up beside him and placed her head into his lap.

“Hello stranger,” she said with a smile.

“Gin,” he said affectionately and toyed with her long hair. He was ever so grateful that she didn’t hold any grudges about their failed romance and apart from Charlie, she was the only one in the Weasley family who knew the true extent of his love for kink. Ron and Hermione had an idea, of course, but he had never divulged all the details, never told them everything. Spilling his deepest, darkest secrets to Ginny hadn’t been difficult at all, especially not after she had been nothing more but accepting about his sexuality.

“Still not sick of being a superstar?” he mocked and she scoffed at him.

“Love it more than you ever will.”

He laughed heartily and, shuffling about, he leant back against the wall. He and Ginny chatted about Quidditch and his upcoming promotion until she was unable to suppress her yawns any longer. Harry took that as his cue to leave and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. He got off the bed, wished her a good night and left. He suddenly felt rather exhausted but still found it in him to exchange a few pleasantries with Arthur, then find Molly to thank her for her wonderful hospitality.

In return, she shoved a large care package into his arms and winked.

“Loads of treacle tart left over.”

Laughing, Harry gave her a big hug and a kiss. She told him not to be a stranger and since Harry was too tired to walk back into the village, he stepped outside the Burrow and apparated straight into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place where he poured himself a large glass of water to help with the hangover he would undoubtedly have to deal with in the morning.

Chapter Text

“—Ladies and Gentleman, respected judges of the Wizengamot, valued members of staff and esteemed members of the press, following my lengthy speech, which I am sure bored several of you half to death. As Minister of Magic I can assure you that this absolutely was my intention—”

Several chuckles rippled through the audience at the Minister’s little joke and even Draco smiled, bemused. Minister Shacklebolt had a way with words.

Draco casually leant back against the wall at the back of the extravagantly decorated Ministry ballroom and took a sip from his champagne.

Once upon a time, he would have mocked Harry over the fact that the Ministry had made every effort to impress for the formal announcement of his promotion. These days, however, Draco found it fitting of the man. In recent months his opinion of Harry had changed quite a bit, although, if he was entirely honest with himself, he still wanted to mock Harry for this grand event, if only to get a bit of a rise out of him.

Draco took another sip from his champagne flute. It tasted nowhere as good as the one Harry had bought for him on his birthday but it wasn’t entirely awful. Still, he thought it didn’t really deserve the title champagne. Sparkling wine was a much more fitting title but then again it didn’t sound quite as fancy. Minister Shacklebolt’s voice continued to boom through the large reception hall and Draco focused his attention on the stage.

“Let me take this opportunity to formally announce Harry James Potter, Director Potter, I should say, as the new Head of the Auror Department and Assistant Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” Minister Shacklebolt said and stepped back from the podium. He motioned for Harry to make his way up on stage and as he did, Draco’s breath caught in his throat.

Harry had changed out of his Auror uniform, which made him look very handsome indeed, and he was now wearing a formal set of black robes with a black bowtie.

Draco felt a shudder of excitement surge through him.

The last time he had seen Harry dressed this formally, they had both been in fourth year at Hogwarts and had attended the Yule Ball as part of the Triwizard Tournament. The vivid memory of a scrawny fourteen-year-old teenager in formal wizarding robes paled completely in comparison to the man who had stepped up to the podium which stood in the centre of the glass stage. He was looking out into the crowd, patiently waiting for the applause to slowly die out and for people to take their seats again.

Draco swallowed hard and felt his body react the way it always did when he thought about Harry or saw him. Over the past couple of weeks Harry had really done a number on Draco and most of his waking thoughts — and his dreams — revolved around him. Nearly all of them made him hard and most all of them eventually resulted in him having to take care of the problem by himself because Harry still wouldn’t fuck him and Draco was about to lose his mind.

He had never wanted a man the way he wanted Harry and the two times that Harry had gotten him off had been nowhere near enough.

Draco’s libido was out of control and he was convinced that he was most definitely non-compos mentis.

There was no way he still had any amount of sanity left inside of him and with shaking hands, Draco downed the remainder of his champagne and beckoned one of the waiters over to exchange his empty glass for a full one.

I will not be held accountable for what I’ll do tonight, he thought darkly and forced himself to focus on what was happening up on stage.

Tonight, Potter, will be the night, I’ve waited long enough and I’ll get you, one way or another.

He inwardly straightened up and looked at the man who had stolen his heart, his sanity and everything else in-between, above, and below. Harry, dressed to the nines, in his, undoubtedly, tailormade robes looked extremely handsome.

Scratch that, Draco thought, Harry he looked good enough to eat and it was with the greatest difficulty that Draco refrained from picturing Harry naked. He was already painfully hard and it was taking him every ounce of self-control not to vacate the room, head for the men’s and wank furiously to the image of Harry Potter dressed in the wizarding version of a Muggle tuxedo.

Harry stood with his back ramrod straight though there wasn’t the tiniest bit of tension in him. Instead, a playful smile ghosted around the corners of his mouth and Draco imagined that his intense green eyes were probably sparkling with excitement.

There was an air of confidence about him that made the butterflies in Draco’s stomach flutter pleasantly in anticipation. He hadn’t seen Harry in nearly five days and was going nearly crazy with desire. Harry’s daily memos and the flirtatious notes he included with the lunches he kept having delivered to Draco’s office at twelve thirty sharp each day, didn’t help Draco’s composure whatsoever.

He wanted Harry so bad, his need to be around him, to touch him, to talk to him was stronger than anything else. He had told Harry so, had written it all down in a note, and when Harry had responded with the cheeky magical drawing of a moving winking devil’s face, Draco had wanted to bang his head on his desk. He was absolutely and unequivocally ready to beg Harry. He was ready to sink to his knees and beg Harry to fuck him and that was something he had never ever done, yet somehow doing it for Harry made it sound like a very good idea indeed.

Draco vaguely registered that Harry had begun talking, but he found that he had serious trouble focusing. The deep, warm voice washed over him like a protective blanket and he found himself gracefully weaving through the crowds and moving further to the front. He stopped several rows from the stage and when Harry’s eyes settled on him, he momentarily forgot how to breathe. He shivered and his entire body felt on fire. When his lungs burned in protest, he forced himself to take a few shallow breaths and his tongue darted out to wet his suddenly too dry lips.

Draco shifted his champagne flute from his left hand to his right and, slipping his left hand into the pocket of his snug-fitting grey trousers, he brushed his fingers along the shaft of his rather prominent erection.

Harry gave him a wicked smile. He almost unnoticeably shook his head and Draco had no idea whether it was that or Harry’s intense gaze that made him pull his hand out of his pocket and let it dangle at his side. Harry smirked at him and then turned his attention back to addressing the audience, leaving Draco seething quietly. He wondered if jumping up on stage, tearing Harry’s clothes off and sucking him off in front of everyone was a good idea but dismissed that thought.

He wanted Harry to fuck him, wanted it so desperately, wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything in his life.

Please, he thought shamelessly, please, please, please.

Chapter Text

Harry swirled Ginny around the dance floor and she moved with an air of gracefulness and elegance that even he found breath-taking. She was no longer the school girl he had once so heavily crushed upon, but a fine-looking young woman and even though he preferred the male gender he could appreciate her stunning beauty — she had filled out in absolutely all the right places — and was grateful that she had agreed to be his companion for the night.

He had wanted to ask Draco, had even told him that he wanted nothing more than to enter the festive banquet hall with Draco at his side but they had both agreed that it was a little early for them to make their relationship public. Draco had laughed and teased him mercilessly when Harry had told him that he had asked Ginny to be his date and while he had felt tempted to spank the sass out of Draco, he had thoroughly enjoyed the impertinence.

It was refreshing and one of the founding pillars of their relationship.

Harry didn’t want to give it up for the world.

As the music slowed, Harry drew Ginny a little closer and smiled at her. Over her shoulder, he spotted Draco, who was dancing with a dashingly handsome young Auror trainee and an irrational bout of jealousy washed over him. Tobias had his hands low on Draco’s hips and Harry wanted to slap them away or better, permanently curse them off.

His magic flared and it took Ginny squeezing his shoulder for him to rein it in.

She turned her head and followed his gaze, saw exactly what he saw and when she turned back to look at him, she had a devilish smirk on her face.

“Draco Malfoy, huh?” she said and Harry knew that it was useless to even try and deny it.

His magic and the look in his eyes had given him away.

He nodded.

“Takes a special brand of handsome to bewitch you this thoroughly.”

She smiled and Harry squeezed her hip. Ginny yelped, slapped his shoulder, and glared at him.

“Harry James Potter, behave yourself, we are in public.”

Her reprimand was teasing and good-natured and in response, Harry spun her around the dancefloor with renewed vigour.

He kept his eyes firmly on Draco and a few moments later, his boyfriend turned to look at him. Their eyes locked across the semi-crowded dancefloor and Harry’s brow furrowed. Draco flashed him a lopsided grin and in an act of pure defiance, he pulled his dance partner flush against his body. Harry glared hard but Draco merely laughed, purposefully leant closer and whispered something into Tobias’ ear. The young Auror trainee threw his head back and laughed and when, a moment later, Draco pulled him off the dancefloor and they vanished into the crowd, Harry saw red.

“Go on, go after him, spank that pale booty of his,” Ginny laughed and Harry slowed their dance and led her off the dancefloor.

She excused herself and Harry watched her head for the bar. His eyes roamed around the room and he tried to spot Draco’s white-blond hair in the sea of people milling about. It took him a few minutes but eventually, he was successful and made a beeline across the room. He elegantly wound his way through the crowd, politely accepted well-wishes from a few random people, smiled and inclined his head in return.

He finally caught up with Draco at one of the side doors that let out of the banquet room, reached out to clasp his hand around Draco’s wrist, and stopped him in his track. Draco whirled around, wand drawn, but relaxed and holstered it when he saw who had stopped him.

“Leaving so soon, Malfoy?” Harry asked, dropping his voice down to a low husky drawl.

It had the desired effect and Draco shuddered visibly.

“Yes,” he replied steadfastly.


Harry pretended to look dejected, then stepped closer and forced Draco up against the wall beside the door.

“I did not like that stunt you just pulled on the dancefloor, I did not like it one bit,” he growled and squeezed Draco’s wrist a little firmer. He brought his other hand up and ran it affectionately through Draco’s hair. Draco trembled but he boldly held his gaze in a silent challenge.

“'Tis what you get when you don’t put out, Potter,” Draco drawled and Harry took another step closer, almost pressing his body up against Draco’s.

“Is that so?” he asked, his question quiet with just the right edge of danger to it.

Draco reacted to it almost immediately, his breathing ragged and shallow. His pewter eyes darkened several shades until they were a dark smoky, almost porpoise grey. Harry absolutely wanted to punish Draco for his brazen behaviour, but he knew that he could not.

Not really, anyway, and not in the way he wanted to.

Clearly not daring to speak, Draco merely nodded and Harry trailed a single finger down the side of his neck, past his collarbone and down the centre of his chest. He stopped just below where he knew Draco’s navel was and Draco’s breathing hitched.

He licked his lips.

“Harry,” he breathed and Harry smiled.

“Yes, Draco?”

“I need some fresh air.”

Harry nodded.

“Yes, I think you do. I think we both do.”

He took a step away from Draco, let go of his wrist and instead went to open the side door. He held it open hissed when Draco’s hand quite purposefully brushed against his crotch. He had a fair idea of what Draco was playing at and he was most definitely game. He also knew that fresh air was not the only thing that was on Draco’s mind. It was quite possibly the very last thing that was on his mind. Still, he followed Draco out of the banquet hall and they walked down the corridor in silence.

Draco headed for the lifts and when an empty one arrived, they both stepped inside and Harry watched him as he pressed the button for the Atrium.

The journey was short and for a moment, Harry felt the almost irresistible temptation to grab Draco, spin him around and apparate them both straight into his bedroom at Grimmauld Place. He would have preferred to apparate them straight into his playroom, tie Draco up good and proper and tease his insolence right out of him, or until he begged for mercy, but he wasn’t reckless enough to do that to Draco without having discussed limits, put a valid D/s agreement in place and knowing his safeword.

Instead, he abandoned those thoughts and when they both reached the fireplaces that allowed for both floo’ing and apparition, Harry slipped his hand into Draco’s and squeezed gently.

Draco turned to smile at him and Harry allowed him to pull him close. A moment later, he felt the familiar tug of side-along apparition and they both disappeared into thin air only to reappear close to Notting Hill Gate Underground Station. Harry let Draco pull him down Campden Hill Road and they walked in comfortable silence but with the anticipation building steadily between them.

Harry knew exactly what Draco wanted, he didn’t need him to say the words. Draco had been an open book about it for a good while now and for the first time Harry thought he may just give in.

Soon enough they turned off Campden Hill Road and onto a smaller street. A few minutes later Draco slowed and they stopped in front of his building. Draco turned to face him and Harry could clearly sense his nervousness. He found it endearing and, deciding to ease Draco’s nerves just a little, he pulled him closer, sneaked his free arm around Draco’s waist and splayed his fingers out across his lower back.

Draco melted into his embrace and Harry let go of his hand, cupped Draco’s cheek and smiled, then drew him in for a gentle, promising kiss. Draco moaned and Harry pulled him that little bit closer, hugged him tightly and ran his fingers through Draco’s hair. Draco practically mewled and it was with the greatest difficulty that Harry pulled away from the kiss.

“Are you going to invite me in?” he whispered against Draco’s wet, somewhat swollen lips.

Draco nodded a breathless yes but made no move to extract himself from Harry.

“Lead the way,” Harry encouraged gently and that seemed to push Draco into action.

He withdrew from the embrace and Harry let him slip away.

Walking up to the front door of the building, Draco drew his wand and cast an unlocking spell. Harry saw his shaking hand but chose not to comment on it.

Instead, he followed Draco into the house and up the stairs. They walked up to the second floor and Draco unlocked the door to his two-storey flat. Harry silently noted that he had opted for magical locking charms rather than his usual Muggle keys.

When they both entered, the Golden Retriever Draco was currently taking care of for his Muggle friend, greeted them with great enthusiasm. Draco patted her head, then sent the dog back to her blanket and while she looked a bit put out, she obeyed and trotted off. Harry closed the door behind them and slipped out of his shoes. He watched Draco do the same, then noted that Draco still hadn’t holstered his wand. He smirked but said nothing.

Draco wordlessly reached for his hand, pulled him up the stairs and into his bedroom.

Once inside, Draco kicked the door shut and Harry sensed the wordless locking charm, Draco cast at the lock. He still said nothing. He was rather intrigued as to what Draco was up to. He knew exactly what Draco wanted and he very much wanted to let Draco have it but he was curious to find out how Draco intended to go about getting exactly what he wanted. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer tonight and that suited Harry just fine.

Draco turned to face him.

“You’re not leaving here tonight, Potter,” he whispered, sounding most determined, and Harry chuckled.

“I’m not?” he asked.


Draco shook his head and raised his wand. He pointed it at Harry and swished and mumbled an incantation Harry knew all too well.


Harry suppressed an amused chuckle as he found himself levitated onto Draco’s bed with his left and right hands bound to the fancy iron-wrought headboard. The bonds were tight and Harry flexed his fingers a little and pulled at his restraints.

He couldn’t quite remember the last time anyone had tied him up — well, he could but those memories had no place here and now — but he was sure that it wouldn’t take much of an effort to get out of those ropes.

For now, Harry had no intention of fighting Draco’s magic and strange as it was, sitting, tied to Draco’s bed didn’t feel in the least bit uncomfortable. He was pleasantly intrigued by Draco’s efforts.

Kudos, he thought, you are good, little prince, I like it.

He watched Draco carefully place his wand on the dresser near him and then snap his fingers. Light, but sexy music filled the room and Harry smiled.

You planned this, my devious one.

He had a fairly good idea of what was about to come and Draco did not disappoint.

He gently swayed his hips from side to side as he slowly loosened his tie and pulled it over his head before carelessly discarding it on a nearby chair. His hands trailed down his front, over his hips and down to his mid-thighs. He swayed his hips a little more prominently and kept his eyes locked on Harry’s as he licked his lips and started to slowly unbutton his shirt. His fingertips brushed against his, undoubtedly, heated skin and Harry instantly thought of a wandless spell he could cast to increase the sensations but he refrained. This was Draco’s show and he wasn’t about to ruin his moment. He had clearly planned this and Harry appreciated the effort.

With his shirt completely unbuttoned, Draco unfastened his cufflinks, placed them beside his wand on the dresser and, turning his back on Harry, he slowly shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall down his arms and slip to the floor. Harry swallowed and licked his lips, the pale skin on Draco’s back looked delectable and he wanted to kiss every inch of it, wanted to bite and nip it until Draco moaned continuously underneath him and begged for more.

“So sexy, so beautiful,” Harry whispered.

Draco turned his head to look at him over his shoulder. The smile that curled his lips upward melted something fierce inside Harry and he wanted to tell Draco to turn around but he swallowed those words.

Draco, seemingly having read his thoughts, turned around, slowly, and gracefully, and his hips swayed in the shape of an infinity symbol. He took a step closer to the bed, dropped his hands to the waistband of his trousers and toyed with the top button.

Harry drank in the sight of his bare chest, smooth and pale. He wanted to kiss every inch of Draco’s chest, wanted to flick his tongue repeatedly over Draco’s nipples until they hardened underneath his teasing touch. He wanted to gently bite the pert nubs until he had Draco moaning and writhing beneath him. He wanted to swirl his tongue around Draco’s bellybutton and kiss every inch of his stomach until it quivered beneath his touch. He wanted to tie Draco’s wrists to the headboard, wanted to spread his legs and tie his ankles to the feet of the bed. He wanted to kiss every inch of Draco’s body—

Harry’s breath hitched when Draco popped the top button of his trousers, teasingly toyed with the zipper, then slowly dragged it down and slipped his hands inside.

They slid down his legs and even though Harry couldn’t see them, he knew that they lay crumbled and pooled at Draco’s feet. Draco stilled his hips, gracefully stepped out of his trousers, expertly toed his socks off and Harry looked at him, then slowly let his gaze trail down Draco’s chest. He briefly settled on the scar that ran across Draco’s abdomen but Draco soon distracted him when he hooked his thumbs into his light-grey boxer briefs and slowly pulled them off his hips. His very prominent erection sprang free and bobbed excitedly, delighted to finally be free of its constraints.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Harry felt his own hard cock twitch in response and he shuffled on the bed, suddenly finding his trousers way too tight. Draco stepped out of his boxers, discarded them onto the floor and, leaning forward, he braced himself on the bed. He lowered his knees to the edge of the bed and Harry let out a low moan.

The sight of Draco on all fours, slowly crawling towards him, slowly straddling him, awoke the beast in him and he struggled against the ropes that held him tied to the bed.

Draco straddled his thighs, squeezed his shoulders, and suggestively moulded himself against Harry. He expertly undid Harry’s bowtie and tossed it to the floor, then unbuttoned several buttons of Harry’s dress shirt.

“Still want to leave?” he breathed hotly against Harry’s ear and Harry growled in response.

He channelled his magic, directed it towards his wrists, clenched his hands into fits and broke free of his restraints. With almost no effort, he wrapped his arms around Draco, flipped him onto his back and banished his outer robe to the floor. He pressed Draco into the mattress and pinned his hands above his head.

“No,” he said firmly and delighted in the moan that fell from Draco’s lips as he writhed beneath him, half-heartedly struggling against the sudden change of power dynamics between them.

Harry lowered his head, pressed his lips against Draco’s and pushed his tongue inside his mouth. He thrust his hips down and rolled them against Draco’s hard cock and swallowed the low, lengthy moan his ministrations drew from the depths of Draco’s throat. He pulled away from the kiss and stared down at Draco, who looked up at him with lust-laden eyes, full of desire, want and need and just a little bit of desperation.

“What do you want, Draco?” he asked firmly yet softly, his gaze never once wavering.

“You know what I want,” Draco replied.

“Do I? Do I really know what you want?”

“Ye—yes,” Draco said but this time his voice quivered and he sucked in a sharp breath.

Harry rolled his hips again and Draco whimpered.

“Tell me anyway, tell me what you want.”

“I—I wa—want you to fu—fuck me.”

Draco stumbled over his words and Harry found it endearing. He pressed a firm yet tender kiss against Draco’s lips.

“How do you want me to fuck you?”

Sitting up a little, he straddled Draco’s thighs and finished unbuttoning his dress shirt, then pulled it off his shoulders and tossed it onto the floor beside the bed.

He leaned forward, splayed his fingers over Draco’s chest and slowly ran his hands upward to Draco’s shoulders and from there along his upper arms, down his forearms until his fingers intertwined with Draco’s. He squeezed and Draco’s fingers tightened, firmly holding his hands in place. Harry leant down, trailed warm kisses along his chest, past his collarbone and along the side of his neck.

“What do you want, Draco?” Harry asked again and nipped at Draco’s earlobe, sucking it into his mouth and flicking his tongue repeatedly over it.

Draco mewled, whimpered, and moved beneath him, not necessarily struggling but just desperate for more.

“Do you want it like this? Do you want me to look at you while I push inside you and slowly fuck you into oblivion? Or do you want to get on your knees for me, while I grip your hips and thrust into you, stroking your prostate each time I claim you as mine? Do you want to stand, legs around my waist while I fuck you into the wall?”

Ngh, Ha—Harry,” Draco panted hard and clenched his fingers so tightly that Harry didn’t need to look at them to know that his knuckles had gone white.

“Tell me and I’ll make it so good for you, I promise.”

Harry kissed his jawline, peppered tiny kisses along his lips and lifted his head to look at Draco, who looked so utterly divine, pinned to the mattress, his hands raised slightly above his head, gently restrained by Harry’s hands. Draco’s eyes were nearly black with lust. He had parted his lush red lips and they were slightly swollen from all the kissing they had been doing. His breathing was uneven and shallow and his face beautifully flushed.

Unable to resist, Harry captured his lips in a fierce kiss and determined to make Draco’s head spin, he kissed him with everything he had and then some.

His kiss had Draco writhing and moaning underneath him, almost trashing even.

He slowly slid off Draco’s thighs, gently broke the kiss, moved to lie beside him, propped his head up on his hand and smiled at Draco, who stared at him, breathless, utterly mesmerised and like he was the only person that presently existed in the entire universe.

“Want to look at you,” Draco whispered and his hand moved to run down Harry’s chest and Harry let him, let him play with the curls of his chest hair, let him press the palm of his hand against his heart and let him move his hand down to the waistband of his trousers. He let Draco undo his belt, let him unbutton his trousers and let him pull the zipper down. He let him slip his hand inside, wrap it around his erection and groaned when Draco squeezed, then rubbed his palm along the shaft.

He captured Draco’s lips in yet another searing kiss and when he pulled away, he asked where he kept his lube.

Draco feebly motioned towards his nightstand and Harry pulled the top drawer open and located the bottle of lube. He clasped his fingers around it, moaned when Draco slipped his hand into his boxers and wrapped his long nimble fingers around his throbbing erection and stroked it with a sense of purpose.

Harry cast a wandless warming charm to pre-heat the bottle and silently noted that Draco used the same special brand of magical lube he himself preferred. It was shockingly expensive but worth every gallon. Looking down at Draco, he smiled.

“Careful with that now, I kind of need that…unless you prefer a dildo?” he warned jokingly, teasing Draco a little. Draco smirked but dutifully withdrew his hand.

Placing the lube on the bed, Harry shuffled around, climbed across Draco and over the bed to take off the remainder of his clothing. He noticed Draco’s eyes dropping to his groin and heard the sharp intake of breath as his eyes settled upon Harry’s cock for the first time ever.

Harry allowed him to take a good long look, then gently ordered him to shuffle to the centre of the bed. Draco obliged and, spreading his legs, he made room for Harry to kneel between his legs.

Harry leant forward, placed both arms on either side of Draco’s head and leant down. He captured Draco’s lips in a teasing kiss, then trailed kisses down the front of his neck and teased Draco’s Adam’s apple. It bobbed as Draco swallowed hard and Harry smiled.

“Arms above your head,” he whispered and Draco obeyed without hesitation.

Sweet praise almost slipped from Harry’s lips but he bit his tongue and swallowed that remark.

Instead, he leant forward, dropped a kiss into the open palm of Draco’s left hand and trailed soft, wet kisses across his wrist, all up his forearm, paying no heed to the remnants of the Dark Mark, along the inside of his elbow and up the inside of his upper arm. He kissed his way down towards Draco’s pert nipple, sucked the dark nub into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, then gently bit down.

Draco writhed underneath him, groaned, and panted hard. Harry took that as his cue to move on to Draco’s other nipple and subjected it to almost the same treatment.

This time he, however, bit a little harder.

Draco screamed and bucked his hips almost violently.

Harry pressed his own hips down and effectively restrained Draco’s hips, then gently trailed a ton of kisses all over Draco’s right shoulder, his upper arm, the inside of his elbow, down his forearm, across his wrist and finally dropped a single kiss into the open palm of Draco’s right hand.

“Fuck, Potter, I swear if you’re just teasing, I’ll strangle you with my bare hands,” Draco swore under his breath.

Harry chuckled.

I’d like to see you try, he thought then kissed Draco hard and plunged his tongue into Draco’s mouth, sought out his tongue and stroked it with practised determination.

Merlin, you taste sweeter than the finest wine, he mused.

It would take one tiny spell for him to have Draco bound so tight he would only be able to think about moving. The thought excited Harry way too much and he pulled away, covered Draco’s chest in kisses and licked, sucked, nibbled, and kissed his way down to Draco’s throbbing erection. He trailed a single finger along the long shaft, repeatedly circled around the head, scooped up some of the precome and tasted it.

“You taste divine,” he whispered as he popped his finger from his mouth and watched Draco swallow hard.

He flexed his fingers but didn’t move them from where Harry had asked him to put them.

“I think I’ll suck you off first,” Harry mumbled and not waiting to hear Draco’s thoughts on the matter he lowered his head, covered his teeth, and sucked Draco’s cock deep into his mouth. He wisely restrained Draco’s hips and Draco groaned, loudly and without the least bit of shame.

“Harry, fuck—” Draco panted and Harry held his gaze as he sucked Draco’s cock.

His tongue twirled around the head and then he took him deep, coated it with plenty of his own saliva and closed the fingers of his hand around the base. He stroked in time with his bobbing head and blindly reached out for that bottle of lube, gently nudging Draco’s legs further apart.

Draco obliged and Harry stroked the palm of his hand up and down the inside of Draco’s thigh. He lightly scratched his fingernails over the sensitive skin, trailed his fingertips over Draco’s balls and along the perineum, then gently rubbed over the rimmed muscle, feeling it quiver and contract beneath his teasing touch.

He opened the bottle of lube, tipped some of it into his hand and coated his fingers with it, then gave Draco’s cock a hard suck that forced a lengthy, almost guttural groan to fall from his lips.

His index finger found Draco’s hole and Harry circled his lube-coated finger around it but did not attempt to breach the tight muscle. He just sucked and teased, teased and sucked, sucked and teased and felt Draco’s entire body tremble beneath him.

His legs were shaking and Harry did not need to look to know that Draco was curling his toes. He was mildly surprised that Draco hadn’t attempted to curl his fingers into his hair and for a moment he felt tempted to pull away and deny Draco his orgasm but decided against it.

Instead, he pushed gently at Draco’s hole, still not enough to breach but enough to let him know about his intentions.

Draco tensed further, his cock leaked precome into his mouth and Harry cupped Draco’s balls with his remaining free hand. He squeezed gently, rolled them in his palm and rubbed over them.

Draco mewled, moaned, whimpered and Harry thought that he was trying to say something but it was all a bit of a garbled mess.

Harry paid no heed to it.

He cast wandless, wordless cleaning and protective charms, then pushed his fingers past the tight ring of muscle, pushed right in up until his first knuckle and gently thrust in and out of Draco.

That was the final straw for Draco who came with a long guttural groan of what Harry thought was his name, the rest he couldn’t make out.

Draco filled his mouth and Harry swallowed it, suckled every drop out of him and when Draco keened lowly, he slowly allowed his cock to slip from his mouth and withdrew his finger from inside Draco.

Harry sat back on his haunches, looked at the pretty mess he had made and smiled wickedly when he noted that Draco still hadn’t moved his arms.

Such a good little prince you are, Harry thought and wondered what would happen if he said the words aloud. He didn’t give in to his desire to praise Draco and braced himself on one arm as he leant forward and simply looked at Draco, who’s eyes fluttered opened.

He looked at him with such intensity that Harry’s heart skipped a beat and he wondered whether now was a good time to tell Draco that he loved him.

He decided against it, captured Draco’s lips in a slow kiss and this time Draco’s hands moved as he trailed them up his arms, over his shoulders and as Harry shuffled to lie on top of Draco, he let his hands slide down his back and to his arse.

He allowed Draco to explore and rocked his hips gently. Draco shuddered and sighed into their kiss.

Harry gently drew away, smiled down at Draco, and brushed his damp hair away from his forehead.

“Can you take a little more pleasure or have you had enough fun for one night?” he asked and Draco nodded.

“Yes, yes, I can take more,” he whispered and, slowly pulling back, Harry once again sat back on his haunches and reached for the lube. He squirted a generous amount onto his hand, coated his fingers with it and circled a single finger around Draco’s hole. He teased until Draco squirmed and asked for more. Only then did he breach the still tight muscle, pushed his finger inside, pushed in until the second knuckle, then pulled back and thrust his finger back inside. Draco clenched a little around his finger but loosened soon enough. Harry kept his eyes locked onto Draco’s and pushed his finger all the way inside, thrust a few times, then angled his finger and brushed against Draco’s prostate.

Ngh,” Draco shuddered and his body trembled.

Harry did it again— and again— and again— and again.

Only when he had reduced Draco to a moaning, whimpering, quivering wreck did he stop. He pulled his finger out, added a second one and slowly pushed inside. The tight muscle fought back with mild resistance, but Harry thought that Draco was a little too high on pleasure to really care about or feel the burn. He still took his sweet time, eased two of his fingers inside and once again angled for Draco’s prostate. Draco’s moans, gasps, and the way his body writhed was music to his ears and when Draco’s eyes slowly fell closed, Harry stilled his fingers and reminded him to look at him.

It took Draco a moment to respond but he eventually forced his eyes open.

Smiling at him, Harry continued to tease him, all the while thinking how good and obedient Draco was and how much he liked it. He teased Draco’s prostate a while longer and when he started writhing beneath him, he pulled back and stopped teasing.

Draco moaned at the sudden loss of pleasure and Harry rubbed his lower abdomen to distract and give him something else to focus on.

After a while, Harry continued to move his fingers and continued to tease Draco. He took much more time than he usually would but this was not a scene and Draco wasn’t his sub. They were just two people making love and Harry desperately wanted Draco to feel good.

He had promised him that much and he intended to keep his promise.

“Wa—want m—more, H—Harry,” Draco whined and thrashed underneath him.

Harry smiled.

“You sure?”

“Y—yes, pl—lease Harry, n—need your cock, please, so bad.”

Such a good boy, you even know how to beg for it, oh you’re sinfully beautiful, Harry thought and withdrew his fingers.

He coated Draco’s now loose hole and his cock with plenty of lube, helped Draco to bend his legs at the knees and then guided his cock to Draco’s hole. He gently pushed and Draco gasped and shuddered. His half-erect cock faltered a little but Harry gently stroked the inside of Draco’s thigh, teased with his fingernails, and pushed deeper into Draco.

Fuck!” Draco groaned and Harry dug his nails a little firmer into Draco’s thighs, attempting to distract him. Draco kept his eyes locked on his and reminding him to breathe, Harry continued to edge deeper into Draco. He was slow but deliberate and a few moments later, he was fully sheathed with his balls resting snuggly against Draco’s arse cheeks. He sought out Draco’s hand, allowed their fingers to intertwine, but let the other trail to Draco’s hip, which he gripped hard.

He pulled back, then pushed inside and Draco made the most delightful sound of pure unadulterated pleasure. Harry leant forward, told him how fucking beautiful he looked, then captured his lips in a searing kiss. He gradually increased the speed of his thrusts until he had built a steady rhythm.

Adjusting his angle, he aimed for Draco’s prostate and scored. Draco’s entire body convulsed beneath him and Draco screamed in delight, mumbling a ton of incoherent nonsense.

“Want to touch you.”

He sounded almost like he was begging and the look in his eyes told Harry that he was.

“Touch,” Harry whispered, granting permission, and Draco’s hands all but flew to his shoulders, holding on, gripping tightly. Harry didn’t even mind in the slightest. He thrust harder, faster, rougher, felt Draco’s cock swell between them and set an unforgiving pace. Draco attempted to lock his legs around his waist but he didn’t have the energy left to sustain his hold and they dropped back onto the bed though he kept them bend at the knees. Harry thrust harder still.

“So gorgeous, so fucking gorgeous,” he whispered against Draco’s lips, too out of breath to kiss him, too high to focus on anything but slamming into Draco and hitting his prostate, providing him with maximum pleasure.

He watched Draco, watched how he desperately tried to keep his eyes open, tried to keep looking up at him but eventually lost the battle. His arms fell back onto the bed and he gripped the corners of one of the pillows and squeezed, held on for dear life.

His mouth hung open and every so often his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He was panting hard and large pearls of sweat rolled from his forehead down his temples and soaked into his hair.

Draco’s chest was rising and falling rapidly and his entire body trembled and shook from the impact of Harry’s thrusts.

He half-moaned, half-sobbed and Harry wondered whether Draco was still able to string a coherent sentence together.

He highly doubted it.

Unbelievably turned on by the sight of Draco’s debauched body beneath him, Harry increased the ferocity and intensity of his thrusts, slammed into Draco as if to claim him, and felt his own orgasm building.

It started somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach, spread with the uncontrollable fury of Fiendfyre and as his body supplied him with an overdose of adrenaline, endorphins and other delightful hormones, his magic whipped about him and, with one last thrust, one last brush of Draco’s prostate, he came on a low but long guttural groan.

As he filled Draco with streak after streak of thick white-hot come, he managed to find it in him to close his fist around Draco’s cock. He pumped once, twice and on the third stroke, Draco exploded over his hand, coating it and his stomach with a heavy load of his come.

Harry stilled, braced himself on both hands and slowly pulled out of Draco. He sighed, tiredly moved to flop down onto the bed beside Draco and wiped his hand on the bedsheet.

When Draco rolled onto his side and curled up against him, Harry had enough sense left in him to pull him into his arms and hold him tight.

Harry pressed a breathless kiss against Draco’s temple, rubbed his back tenderly and three sweet words fell from his lips in a loving chant, I love you, I love you, I love you.

He wasn’t sure whether Draco had heard him and stiffened a little when Draco sobbed into his chest and moaned against his hot and sweaty skin.

“Fuck Harry,” he mumbled, clearly half incoherent. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“That good, eh?” Harry teased, hugged Draco tighter and flung one leg over Draco’s thigh to envelop him almost completely. He cast a mild warming charm over him, rubbed his back soothingly and, unable to resist, he quietly reassured Draco, and repeatedly told him that he was safe and loved.

“Little prince,” Harry whispered and Draco mumbled something completely incoherent into his chest.

Eventually, Draco’s breathing slowed down and he sighed, mumbled something that very much sounded like I love you too, then drifted off to sleep.

Harry lay awake a little while longer, his instinct to protect Draco forcing him to make sure that Draco was just asleep and hadn’t, in fact, lost consciousness.

He checked Draco’s pulse and was able to feel Draco’s steady breathing against his chest. He cancelled the warming charm and spelt a summer blanket over them both.

A minute later, he, too, drifted off into the land of dreams.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up to the sound of a running shower and Draco’s off-key singing. Stretching luxuriously, he lifted his arm above his head and glanced at his watch. It was just gone eight in the morning and bending his legs at the knees, he pressed his heels into the mattress. It was just the right kind of firm softness and was so perfectly comfortable that Harry didn’t really want to get up any time soon.

He made a mental note to ask Draco where he had purchased his mattress, for it was so much more comfortable than his own, then strained his ears, listened closely and after a few moments he managed to identify the song Draco was presently murdering. It was an upbeat nineties tune by the Weird Sisters and Harry chuckled.

He imagined telling Draco exactly how bad his singing was, and imagined Draco throwing a raging temper tantrum. He was sure that in this scenario Draco would try to hit him with a series of stinging hexes and perhaps a few other jinxes. Harry pictured himself dodging all of Draco’s attempts to curse him and indulged in the kinky fantasy of snapping his fingers and producing a long, silvery rope to bind Draco with.

He had quite the penchant for the art of Japanese bondage, or Shibari, and couldn’t help but think that Draco would look divine, bound in beautiful dark grey silk ropes — a stark contrast to his exquisite pale skin. Harry allowed himself to imagine the ropes slithering around Draco’s wrists, imagined it binding his hands tightly and repeatedly around his torso, creating an intricate pattern of complex knots.

Then, with Draco beautifully bound, he wanted to walk him backwards, wanted to force him against his bedroom wall and keep him there with no opportunity to escape. He couldn’t help but wonder whether Draco would promise him torture or submit willingly but could think of a few ways in which he could gently persuade Draco to surrender to him.

Stretching his legs and arching his back a little, Harry rolled onto his side and stared at the en-suite bathroom door. He realised that Draco had left it ajar and smirked.

A silent invitation, perhaps? Harry mused but was still not quite ready to get out of bed. He let his thoughts drift and settle on last night’s lovemaking and shuddered at the mere memory. It made his blood rush south and pool in his groin. It had been very vanilla with a faint dusting of kink but it had been perfect, utterly perfect.

For the love of Godric Gryffindor, he thought as he remembered Draco stripping for him.

He remembered Draco crawling onto the bed, looking so sinfully erotic that the memory of it alone made Harry crave a repeat performance. He remembered how he had taken control back and how willingly Draco had surrendered to him; how much he had enjoyed Harry treating him like the little prince he was. He could still, and very vividly so, picture how utterly divine Draco had looked with his arms raised above his head and how much of a turn on it had been to feel him writhe beneath him. The moans and the way he had screamed, lost in the throes of his orgasm, echoed in his mind and Harry shivered a little.

He was surprised at how much of an impact making love to Draco had made on him and now that he’d had a taste of it, Harry wanted more, so much more. Draco was his drug; his ecstasy and he was hopelessly addicted.

With a little sigh, he recalled the way Draco had melted against him in the aftermath of their passionate love-making and how he had fallen asleep with his face buried in Harry’s chest but not without telling him that he loved him too.

Harry felt a wave of pleasant dizziness wash over him — it was more like a rush of serotonin, really, since it made him grin like an idiot — and wondered if Draco remembered what he had told him before he had drifted off to sleep.

Too curious to remain in bed, Harry sat up and pushed the blanket away. Finally getting up, he patted towards the bathroom, hesitated for a moment, then resolutely pushed the door open and stepped into the steam-filled room.

Draco was still murdering that Weird Sisters tune and Harry couldn’t help but grin.

There was something strangely sexy about Draco singing and he wondered whether he was developing a new kink.

Possibly, he thought, then decided that Draco Malfoy was his kink. The singing was just a bonus.

His eyes sought out the lithe form and he took a moment to fully appreciate Draco’s naked body, his long legs, his muscular thighs, his perfect buttocks, and his pale skin.

When looking was no longer enough, Harry resolutely stepped further into the room, pulled the glass door to the spacious shower cubicle open and entered. Just before Draco could turn around, he hugged him from behind, wrapped his arms tightly around his waist and pulled him flush against his body. As the heavenly warm water cascaded down over him, he let his hands trail up and down Draco’s stomach and relished in the way those exquisite abdominal muscles flexed beneath his touch.

His hands travelled up to Draco’s chest and he circled his thumbs over the tender nipples, then pressed a kiss against the side of Draco’s neck. He sucked at the skin and bit gently, purposefully leaving a red mark. He liked the idea of marking Draco because in Harry’s mind that was what Draco was, his.

Draco relaxed into his embrace, tilted his head back and with his eyes closed, he let out a soft whimper that made Harry’s cock stir. He thrust against Draco’s arse and drew another low moan from him. The water served as a near-perfect substitute for the lube he didn’t have at hand. His cock slipped in-between Draco’s buttocks and he rutted against him. The delicious friction made him fully hard and, trailing his hands all over Draco’s body, he placed a series of tiny kisses all along his Draco’s neck.

“Good Morning. You are a heavenly creature; do you know that?” he whispered and Draco murmured something quite incomprehensible in return.

Harry’s hand found his rather prominent erection and he wrapped his hand around it, leisurely stroking up and down. Draco whimpered and tried to thrust into his hand but Harry held him tight, kept him pressed up against his own body and made it rather impossible for Draco to move.

“It would seem two orgasms last night weren’t enough for you,” Harry teased and Draco moaned softly.

“Want one more?”

Draco rather awkwardly twisted his head, opened his eyes, and looked at him.

“Please,” he sighed, his eyes dark with arousal and lust.

Harry thrust a little firmer.

His cock slid effortlessly between Draco’s buttocks and the feeling was most definitely quite pleasurable.

“Harry,” Draco breathed and with a low chuckle, Harry captured Draco’s lips in a slow, sexy kiss.

He drew several low moans from Draco and greedily swallowed them all, then broke away from the kiss and pressed his lips against Draco’s cheek.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Harry murmured.

HE stroked Draco’s cock with a little more determination and built up a slow and steady rhythm.

As Draco’s breathing became more laboured and his moans increasingly frequent, Harry sped up his strokes and intensified his grip. He assaulted Draco’s neck with several kisses, bites and licks and alternated between firm steady strokes and circling his thumb around the head of Draco’s cock.

Draco whimpered and made a delightful sound Harry didn’t know how to describe. He focused on letting his hand fly up and down Draco’s shaft and added determination to the firmness of his strokes.

Sooner rather than later, Draco’s hips bucked, his knees buckled, and he groaned. He spurted his come all over Harry’s hand, though the water almost immediately washed away any trace of the thick white fluid and it disappeared down the drain.

Loosening his hold on Draco, Harry allowed him to turn in his arms and delighted in the fact that the warm water wasn’t the sole perpetrator to blame for Draco’s beautifully flushed cheeks.

Salazar, Harry, three orgasms in less than twelve hours, are you trying to kill me?”

Draco grinned goofily.

“Nah, not trying to kill you, just trying to make you mine,” Harry smirked.

In response, Draco kissed him.

Harry reciprocated and they leisurely snogged for a while until Draco reluctantly broke away. He smiled, licked his lips and then, much to Harry’s astonishment did something Harry hadn’t at all expected.

Draco gracefully sank to his knees right in front of him and Harry’s breath caught in his throat.

His heart hammered in his chest as he looked down at Draco and Draco looked up at him, eyes wide, lips slightly parted.

“Gosh, you’re so fucking beautiful,” Harry whispered.

Cupping Draco’s cheek, he teased his thumb over Draco’s lips.

“You’re a sin, Draco Malfoy, a ravishing sin.”

Draco’s eyes darkened.

Harry had no doubt that his words were turning Draco on and smiling, he filed that information away for future reference. He was about to say some more, but Draco shut him up by leaning forward, parting his lips, and sucking on his hard cock.

Harry groaned and as Draco’s warm wet mouth engulfed his hardness he almost involuntarily bucked his hips. Draco sucked hard and with determination and skill. Harry’s hands flew to Draco’s hair and he twisted his fingers in the wet, blond locks. He threw his head back and thought, yes that’s it, my love, suck me.

He moaned, marvelled at just how skilled Draco was with his tongue and his mouth and how his teeth never once graced his sensitive cock. He forced himself to look down at Draco, found him staring up at him and felt his lips curl into a smile.

“Fuck, yes, Draco, you’re so good!” he encouraged.

He was decidedly drunk on the sight of Draco on his knees.

Draco smiled around his cock and doubled his efforts.

Harry had no words to describe how utterly perfect Draco looked right this moment, kneeling in front of him out of his own volition, giving him the most perfect blow job. Draco splayed his hands against his thighs and his fingernails dug a little into his skin but Harry couldn’t care less, in fact, he thoroughly enjoyed it. This felt so right, so good, so perfect and the fact that he hadn’t even asked Draco for a blow job but that Draco himself had decided to give him one made it even sweeter.

Unable to resist prolonging his release, Harry closed his eyes and allowed his orgasm to surge through him. After a few more skilled sucks and a feeble warning, Harry bucked his hips and came hard, filling Draco’s mouth with his come. He felt Draco swallow around his cock, forced his eyes open and watched Draco slowly pull away and licked his swollen red wet lips.

He gingerly rose to his feet and Harry instinctively helped him up, pulled him into his arms and kissed him fiercely.

“I am never letting you go again,” he whispered against Draco’s lips.

Draco hummed in approval at hearing that promise.

They shared another lazy kiss, then Harry inspected the various bottles on the shelf inside Draco’s shower and reached for the body wash. He squirted a copious amount of the clear lemon-scented liquid onto his hand and pulled Draco away from the stream of water. He lathered him in a thick layer of soap and Draco merely stood there and enjoyed it all.

Harry rinsed off the body wash, washed Draco’s hair and conditioned it too and was rather amused when Draco returned the favour and even handed him a spare toothbrush and some toothpaste.

While Draco stepped out of the shower, Harry brushed his teeth, turned the water off and then stepped out of the shower himself. Draco wordlessly handed him a towel and, drying first his messy hair and then the rest of his body, Harry was about to ask whether he could borrow a pair of boxer briefs when Draco offered him a pair and a fluffy white bathrobe.

He accepted everything gratefully, along with a kiss, and just when Draco was about to leave the bathroom, Harry caught his wrist and pulled him back.

“Do you remember what you told me last night?” he asked quietly, too curious not to ask.

He carefully brushed a stray strand of Draco’s damp hair away and tugged it behind his ear.

“Hm, I do,” Draco nodded but said nothing further.

Harry quirked a questioning eyebrow at Draco.

In response, Draco smiled, placed a cheeky kiss on the tip of Harry’s nose and left him alone on the bathroom. Harry stood, gobsmacked for several moments, then managed to gather himself and shook his head. He sighed and wondered whether he might get away with spanking Draco for his teasing.

“Cheeky sod,” he muttered to himself.

He pulled his borrowed boxer briefs on and wrapped the fluffy bathrobe around himself, then tied it at the front and left the bathroom to survey the mess of clothes on the bedroom floor. With a wave of his hand and a wandless, wordless spell he tidied up a little bit. The clean clothes neatly folded themselves into a pile on the chair by the dresser while the dirty clothes flew into the washing basket in the corner. Nodding to himself, Harry made his way downstairs to find Draco, who was goofing around with his temporary furry companion.

“No coffee?” Harry asked.

Draco paused his horseplay and turned his head to look at him.

“I thought we could go out for breakfast? I’ve got to take Kona out for a walk,” he said and Harry grinned.

“In this attire?”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“I’ve got a pair of old jeans that might fit you.”

Harry felt tempted to ask him why he possessed a pair of jeans but decided against it.

“I’m sure one of my t-shirts will fit you, too.”

Harry walked into the open-plan kitchen and helped himself to a cool glass of water. Casually leaning against the kitchen counter, he took several sips then smiled at Draco.

“Deal, though I reserve the right to ravish you again when we come back,” he said, inwardly pleased when Draco’s cheeks pinked a little.

Draco rose to his feet, patted Kona’s head, and mumbled something about going to look for some suitable clothes for Harry to wear. Harry smirked into his water glass, emptied it, and then walked over to play with Kona, who was more than grateful for the attention.

Chapter Text

Harry waited patiently for Draco to let Kona off her leash, watched him fool around with the beautiful dog, then toss a bright yellow tennis ball as far as he possibly could.

Kona dashed off, barking, and chased after the ball. Taking a step towards Draco, Harry snuck an arm around his waist, squeezed his hip and pulled him closer. Draco came willingly and, feeling rather bold, Harry took the leash from Draco and draped the sturdy brown leather lead around Draco’s shoulders.

“Pretty,” he smirked and swallowed the remainder of what he would have liked to say — you’d look so fucking gorgeous with an emerald-studded collar around your neck and that leash attached to an O-ring at the front.

“I’m not a dog, you know,” Draco said with a half-hearted glare.

“Nah, you’re my little prince,” Harry teased with a chuckle.

Draco rolled his eyes, mockingly, then managed to shock Harry with what he said next.

“There are better things you could do with that leash.”

The mischievous glint in his eyes was unmistakable.


Harry raised a curious eyebrow.

Draco merely winked at him and said nothing more which both irked and intrigued Harry because he could think of several things, he could do to Draco with just that leash.

He watched as Draco bend down to pick up the tennis ball — now drenched in saliva — Kona had returned with and for a second, Harry had to fight the urge to smack Draco’s arse. Not because he wanted to punish him but because it looked so utterly delicious in those tight black skinny jeans he had chosen to wear.

When Draco had first put them on, Harry had fought with himself. The mere sight, the suggestiveness of those jeans, it had made him want to throw Draco onto the bed and ravish him. He had almost told Draco so, but he was sure that the look in his eyes had given him away. Draco had stared at him for the longest time, swallowed hard and finally flushed a lovely shade of pinkish red.

After Draco had thrown the ball for Kona and surreptitiously cast a wandless cleaning charm on his sticky hand, he turned his attention back to Harry and smirked.

“You were saying?”

“Wasn’t saying anything.”

Harry smiled, pulled Draco a little closer and was throwing propriety right out of the proverbial window when he gave him a morally questionable kiss that turned into a heated battle of the tongues.

Not even Kona’s persistent barking could break them apart and it took her jumping up at them both and nearly sending them flying flat onto their backs to break the kiss.

“You are way too naughty for your own good,” Harry grumbled and let go of Draco.

He bent down, picked up Kona’s ball, and tossed it a good few metres further than Draco had.

“She’s an only child, they are attention hoggers.”

Draco laughed and Harry gave him a pointed look.

“You make me want to say something you won’t like.”

“Go on, Potter, hit me with your worst insult.”

“Spoilt, overindulged, pampered brat,” Harry said and mentally prepared himself to start fending off stinging hexes.

“Aww, Harry, you say the sweetest things! Although, I do take offence at being called a brat. I think Slytherin Prince of Darkness has a much better ring to it, don’t you?”

Harry bowed mockingly.

“Your Royal Highness, it is an honour.”

“Now look at that, finally a Gryffindor who knows his place; at the feet of one Lord Draco Lucius Malfoy, Prince of Darkness—”

“Prosecutor Extraordinaire and Fiendfyre of the Wizengamot Courtrooms—” Harry paused and took a step closer.

He fixed Draco with a piercing stare and smiled devilishly, then dropped his voice to a mere whisper.

“If my memory serves me right, it was you who was at my feet this morning, not the other way around.”

He watched Draco swallow hard, and grabbed both ends of the leash still hanging from Draco’s neck.

“Want to do it again?” Harry drawled. “You did look rather beautiful with my cock in your pretty little mouth, sucking me off. My, Draco, where did you learn to be so filthy?” he teased unabashedly, held Draco’s gaze, and watched his eyes darken, watched him squirm and chuckled lowly.

“Circe, Salazar and Merlin,” Draco breathed. “You’re definitely making up for holding out on me, aren’t you?”

“Oh, most definitely, I’ll have you whimpering beneath me, begging me to let you come in no time.”

“I—,” Draco started but left that sentence unfinished.

Instead, he tugged the leash out of Harry’s hands and Harry let it go. He let Draco bend down, pick up Kona’s ball and stood back as Draco sought to distract his mind — and his undoubtedly throbbing cock — from the entirely pornographic images Harry had purposefully planted there.

You are enjoying this way too much, a little voice in his head told him and Harry couldn’t help but agree.

He was, however, also painfully aware that Draco still didn’t know anything about the extent of his love for kink and the type of relationship he preferred and his wrist itched a little, gently reminding him of a time, long, long ago, that he would rather forget, given half a chance.

Back then, Charlie had offered to obliviate him, to take those memories away for good, but he had rejected that offer, determined to deal with his demons, determined to learn from his mistakes, determined to grow and become a stronger person, a better man, an experienced Dom.

For the rest of the morning, Harry resolutely restrained himself and put a lid on all his kinky remarks. He didn’t quite manage to stop himself from thinking them, but he decided to give Draco a break.

When half past noon rolled around and Kona had exhausted herself and both his and Draco’s stomachs began to rumble, Harry invited Draco to lunch and they headed towards Portobello Road in the heart of Notting Hill. Draco suggested a Japanese ramen restaurant and Harry nodded in silent agreement.

As they walked, with Draco holding Kona’s leash in one hand, Harry couldn’t quite resist the temptation to take Draco’s free hand and they walked in comfortable silence, which Harry soon broke. His earlier rather dominant behaviour weighted heavily on his mind and he simply had to make sure that Draco hadn’t taken offence at his forwardness and was now merely putting up a mask to keep his thoughts and feelings to himself.

“Draco,” he spoke softly. “I’m sorry, if I was a bit too explicit earlier,” he apologised, mildly surprised when Draco turned and looked at him with a smirk.

“You have a very filthy mouth, Potter, do you know that?”

“I have been told,” Harry shrugged.

“Relax, I like a bit of dirty talk, it’s hot. Sweetest kind of mindfuck really, as long as the real thing happens sometime after the dirty talk, of course.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to getting another blow job from you, you are rather good.”

“So are you, Harry, so are you.”

Draco smiled and cut their conversation short when they arrived at the restaurant and they realised that there were no tables outside. Draco tied Kona to a lamp post to which she objected with a lengthy whine and Harry patted her head and ruffled her behind the ears.

She gave an approving low woof and they both headed inside the restaurant. Harry let Draco choose their table and they ended up sitting by the window, where Kona could see them. A young Japanese waiter approached them, served them a glass of lemon water each and handed them the menu. Harry placed his on the table and smiled when Draco frowned.

“Don’t tell me you’re not hungry?” he wanted to know.

“Famished,” Harry answered truthfully.

“You order, surprise me with something good.”

Draco nodded and chuckled.

“Surprise lunch coming right up,” he said, skimmed over the menu, then called the waiter over and while he placed the order, Harry glanced outside the window and toyed with the dragon pendant around his neck.

It still felt both hot and cold to the touch, which was weird, and Harry reminded himself to tell Draco the truth soon.

Chapter Text

Dressed in tailormade black leather trousers, a burgundy button-up shirt, and a snug-fitting black leather jacket, Harry confidently approached the entrance to Pandora’s Box, London’s most exclusive BDSM dungeon. He handed the bulky scary-looking security guard at the entrance his invitation card to Caleb’s private party, as well as his platinum membership card, which entitled him to all sorts of VIP privileges.

“Like I wouldn’t recognise you from a mile away,” Ekon laughed and handed both the invitation card and Harry’s membership card back to him. He stepped aside and pushed the door to the club open.

“Nice necklace, Sir,” he said when Harry stepped past him and Harry gave him a devious smirk which Ekon returned with ferocity.

“Thank you, E,” he responded politely, then vanished inside the club.

He had accessorised tonight’s outfight with a handmade diamond-studded triskelion symbol necklace, Charlie had given him for his twenty-first birthday.

He seldom wore it, but for tonight’s party, he had wanted a little something special.

At a fetish club, wearing leather was usually the perfect way to blend into the crowd.

A diamond-studded necklace, charmed to sparkle brightly even in low light, gave his whole outfit a bit of an edge; an elegant edge but an edge all the same.

Ascending the stairs, Harry headed down a dimly-lit corridor, made to look like the inside of a medieval castle. It was the club’s running theme and on night’s like tonight, when Harry wasn’t in his Dom headspace, the place never failed to remind him a little of Hogwarts and he chuckled to himself.

Minus all the fun torture equipment, he thought with a wicked grin and pushed the door to the Sapphire room open. It was the club’s biggest and most luxurious private play and function room, equipped with its own bar, a broad selection of high-end BDSM furniture and a cabinet full of various toys, bondage gear and other fun things.

You had to, of course, purchase any toys before you could use them in a scene. The club had a strict No-Toy-Sharing policy which Harry valued as much as the founding pillars of BDSM — Safe, Sane, Consensual.


“Trinity,” Harry smiled and allowed the imposing Dominatrix to engulf him in an almost bone-crushing hug.

“You’re looking…hot,” he praised, admiring her black fishnet stockings and gorgeous red corset one piece when she pulled away and teasingly ran her riding crop up his arm.

“You look like you stepped right out of my wet dream fantasy,” she blatantly flirted with him and Harry laughed.

“Rumour has it you prefer your boys at your feet, Mistress.”

Harry winked.

“Funny, I heard the same thing about you. We should play together sometime, really put my new sub through his paces,” Trinity said and threw one arm around his shoulder. She yelped a little when Harry snug his arm around her waist and gripped her hip firmly.

“Hm, I’d love to, but I’m in a steady relationship these days,” Harry politely rejected her offer, but kissed her on the cheek to sweeten the blow.

She pouted at him and Harry rolled his eyes, then extracted himself from her and made his excuses. He had spotted Caleb at the bar and was extremely grateful when his friend handed him a bottle of cool beer the moment he approached. He took a languid sip, perched himself on the barstool next to Caleb and leant back against the bar.

“Where’s the birthday boy?” he inquired.

“Mingling,” Caleb replied with a shrug. “Gave him the night off. Short of playing with anyone who isn’t me, he’s free to do whatever.”

“Aren’t you a benevolent Dom,” Harry teased with a low chuckle, shrugged his leather jacket off and placed it on the empty bar stool beside him.

“Only once a year.”

Caleb laughed and clinked his beer bottle against Harry’s.

“Where is your precious new pet? I thought you might finally introduce him to me, but no, you show up alone again. I’m starting to think that your Draco is a figment of your imagination.”

“If that was true, I wouldn’t waste my time in law enforcement but write novels instead.”

Harry turned slightly and gave Caleb a once-over. He hadn’t seen him in a few weeks and couldn’t deny that his friend looked rather good.

“Love suits you,” he complimented and Caleb smiled.

“I could say the same about you, only took one mention of his name and your eyes started sparkling brighter than that necklace of yours,” Caleb said, then leant in and the moment he opened his mouth Harry knew exactly what he was about to ask.

“Have you told him yet?”

Harry shook his head.

Caleb raised an eyebrow at him.

“It’s been— How long since you made things official?”

“Nearly two months.”

Harry shrugged and Caleb gave him a reproachful look that was more effective than a thousand words.

“I tried, really, I did,” Harry attempted to defend himself and Caleb’s glare turned withering.

“He’s been busy with a massive case these past two weeks, he’s not in the right headspace to deal with this,” Harry tried to explain and huffed when Caleb merely pursed his lips in response.

“Don’t be so judgemental.”

Harry sighed, exasperation creeping into his voice and after yet another moment of torture, Caleb’s expression softened and he smiled.

“I think you’re making a mountain out of a molehill, Harry,” he said, his voice soft and calm and Harry quietly sipped on his beer and surveyed the room.

He spotted Stefan near a table piled high with birthday gifts, who was engaged in an animated conversation with a group of people. He allowed himself to zone out as he tried to sort through his thoughts.

Six weeks had passed since Kingsley Shacklebolt had officially announced his promotion, six weeks since he and Draco had slept together for the first time and ever since then their sex life had been explosive, to say the least.

He could hardly get enough of fucking Draco and Draco could hardly get enough of taking it. While they managed to have civilised conversations and vanilla dates, once they started touching and kissing, they never managed to keep their hands off each other. Harry tried his best to control his dominant side but Draco was just so utterly compliant that he found it harder and harder to hold back.

A gentle squeeze of his knee pulled Harry back into the real world and he looked at a Caleb.

“I could really use your advice,” he admitted and Caleb smiled knowingly.

Caleb slid off his bar stool, told the bartender to hand him a six pack of beer and, bottles in hand, he motioned for Harry to follow him. Harry grabbed his leather jacket and they headed for one of the side rooms.

It was a small room with two comfortable red and black leather sofas and an African blackwood coffee table. It was simple and its only purpose was to provide privacy before a play, a quiet place to discuss limits, desires and needs before a scene commenced.

Caleb put the six pack down on the table, seated himself, and placed his left ankle on top of his right thigh. Harry rather ungracefully flopped onto the other sofa, leaned back, and stretched his legs out.

“Last time we chatted you told me that your Draco rather enjoyed your creative use of a dog leash.”

Caleb grinned and Harry smiled at the memory. Draco had been quite cheeky that day and after they had returned to Draco’s flat from taking Kona for a long walk, Draco had playfully smacked Harry with one end of the leash.

Harry had utilised his Auror skills, spun around, grabbed the leash, and swiftly tied it around Draco’s wrists before dragging him upstairs, raising Draco’s tied arms above his head, pinning them to the wall, and showing Draco exactly what happened to sexy blond prosecutors who didn’t keep their hands to themselves.

“He did rather enjoy that,” Harry nodded.

“He also has a bit of a penchant for ropes, though so far I’ve only tied his hands to the bed and it’s all been completely spontaneous and in the heat of the moment, not planned. He does, however, rather like the pet name I’ve given him.”


Caleb quirked an eyebrow but Harry shook his head.

“I promised him I’d keep it between us.”

“Fair enough, a promise is a promise.”

Caleb nodded approvingly.

“Have you tried anything a little kinkier?”

Knowing that he couldn’t tell Caleb about the ancient rune spell he had used on Draco just the other day — which had resulted in Draco coming completely untouched and very nearly descending into subspace — Harry mentioned the mild spanking he had given Draco and how much Draco had enjoyed it.

Flashback Start

“Naughty boys like you should be spanked,” Harry growled, grabbed Draco, and flipped him onto his front. Draco yelped in surprise, turned his head sideways and defiantly stared up at Harry, who felt his hand twitch.

“I dare you, Potter.”

Draco smirked at him and the itch to bring his hand down firmly on Draco’s pert buttocks grew more intense but he resisted giving in to his instincts.

Instead, he hesitated.

He looked at Draco, really looked, but when he saw nothing but pure arousal and sass, he decided to chance it. Making sure Draco could see his hand, he raised it and just as Draco sucked in a sharp breath, Harry brought the flat of his hand down on Draco’s bare arse and positively delighted in the resulting smacking sound. His hand connected with Draco’s left buttock, leaving a very nice red imprint of his hand behind.

Draco shrieked, buried his face in the mattress, and let out a low moan as a shudder surged through his body. The impact of Harry’s hand connecting with his arse had clearly startled him.

Harry gently caressed the mark he had left behind. He let his fingers ghost over it and leant down. He kissed his cheek tenderly, then pressed his lips to Draco’s ear.

“Are you okay?” he asked very softly and let out a small sigh of relief when Draco nodded into the mattress, turned his head, and looked at him with slightly watery eyes.

“Fuck— I didn’t think you would actually do it.”

“Hm, you did dare me,” Harry pointed out and pressed a soft kiss against Draco’s earlobe.

He nuzzled the sensitive skin softly and hummed.

“Did you hate it?” he wanted to know.

“No,” Draco admitted truthfully and Harry could tell that being this honest couldn’t have been easy for Draco.

His voice was barely audible and, sparing him any further questions, Harry kissed Draco’s shoulder.

He trailed a series of tiny kisses down Draco’s spine and then kissed every inch of the mark he had left on Draco’s buttock. He kissed and licked and nipped at the sensitive skin and Draco trembled beneath him.

Harry could feel Draco pressing his crotch against the mattress and saw the way he clenched and relaxed his arse cheeks. Harry slipped a single finger into the crack between Draco’s buttocks, sought out Draco’s hole and teased it tenderly, rubbing gentle circles around the puckered flesh.

He bit Draco’s arse, then soothed the bite with his lips and tongue. Draco moaned and mumbled something entirely incoherent.

After a while, Harry stopped, pulled away and pressed his lips back against Draco’s ear.

“Such a good little prince you are, not at all naughty anymore. I spanked it right out of you, didn’t I?”

To Harry’s surprise — he hadn’t expected an answer to his question, especially because he had used Draco’s nickname — Draco gave a feeble nod and Harry pulled away and looked at Draco. He looked at his face and found Draco worrying his bottom lip nervously.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked yet again, just a little worried.

In response, Draco sighed.

His cheeks pinked, he flushed and averted his eyes.

“Liked it, didn’t you?” Harry prodded softly, wondering whether a simple yes or no question might come easier to Draco in his current state.

It took several minutes before Draco finally answered him and when he did his voice was low and shaky.

“Yes, yes, I did,” he breathed and Harry smiled and stroked Draco’s hair affectionately.

“Want more?” Harry pushed and he gently traced the outline of his hand on Draco’s arse.

He wasn’t even surprised when Draco nodded but he found it utterly endearing when Draco flushed crimson and kissed him gently.

Part of him wanted to make Draco ask for it, but he had the feeling that it wouldn’t go down well, so, instead, he kissed Draco’s shoulder and enticed him in an entirely different way.

“Take four and I’ll rim you until you come screaming my name,” he whispered into Draco’s ear.

Draco practically mewled and Harry wondered whether he might ask for it after all.

He didn’t.

He did; however, nod enthusiastically and then buried his face in the mattress. Harry slipped his hand into Draco’s and held on tight, stroked Draco’s pert arse tenderly, and wisely gave Draco a few moments to mentally prepare himself.

“Ready?” he checked and the moment Draco nodded, Harry brought his hand firmly down on Draco’s arse.

Draco groaned, his scream muffled by the mattress and Harry squeezed Draco’s hand tightly. He gave him a moment to relax, admired the reddening skin of Draco’s arse, then brought his hand down again.

His third stroke was almost as hard as his first one and Draco trembled, bucked his hips, and groaned into the mattress. Harry didn’t wait for Draco to finish but delivered the final blow instead and Draco sobbed and whimpered softly.

Flashback End

As Harry fell silent, Caleb smiled.

“And this is why I asked you to train my sub because you understand better than anyone,” he praised and Harry felt himself flush a little.

“Understand what?” Harry frowned.

“The subtle things, the things people don’t say, don’t do, you feel them, you’re good at reading people.”

“I didn’t use to be,” Harry chuckled.

“When I was 14 this girl had a massive crush on me and I was completely oblivious until my best friend told me straight up.”

“Well, seems like twelve years of practice did you the world of good. Did Tom Riddle have anything to do with it, by any chance?” Caleb teased and Harry rolled his eyes.

Caleb had a penchant for trying to work out the story behind Harry’s safe word but Harry was sure that Caleb would never manage to get him to disclose any information about that part of his life.

“Sod off, I’m not going to tell you, not even if you cane me.”

“Are you asking me to?”

Caleb’s eyes twinkled with mirth.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer, Reid.”

“Boundaries duly noted and respected.”

Caleb nodded with a smile, then turned serious.

“You did talk to him about it afterwards, didn’t you?” he wanted to know and Harry inclined his head. Of course, he had talked to Draco about it. It had been several hours later, but they had talked it through.

Flashback Start

Harry watched with an amused smile as the two characters in the movie fooled around by the campfire and chased each other down to the beach.

At the water’s edge Eric caught up with Julia and Harry’s smile grew into a smirk as he watched Eric clasp his hand around Julia’s wrist. She made a sassy comment, gave him a defiant look and Eric smacked her swimsuit-clad bum, then pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

He felt Draco stiffen and gasp beside him and knew at once what Draco was thinking about. Turning his head slightly, he looked at Draco and noted the faint flush on his cheek and the way he gnawed at his bottom lip. He pulled Draco a little closer, leant in and placed a gentle kiss on Draco’s cheek. He let his hand travel up the back of Draco’s thigh, cupped his left buttock and squeezed gently.

“Knut for your thoughts,” he breathed against Draco’s cheek.

Draco shuddered and let out a low whimper when Harry squeezed his arse again.

“You really did like it, didn’t you?” he asked, pulled back slightly, and looked at Draco’s flushed face.

His pupils were dilated and his breathing was a little ragged. He was a beautiful sight and Harry felt his cock stir with mild interest.

Instead of acting on it, he noted Draco’s shaking hand and placed his own on top of it, squeezing gently.

“I—” Draco whispered and flushed a little more.

“Tell me,” Harry encouraged gently.

“Tell me what you liked about it.”

“I’m not sure,” Draco said tentatively.

“The pain was a bit intense but what you did afterwards, it— it was so hot,” he admitted and averted his eyes.

Movie forgotten, Harry shuffled a little, placed a single finger underneath Draco’s chin and gently persuaded Draco to look at him.

It took a bit of coaxing but eventually, he relented and looked up. His eyes were almost dark with arousal and Harry smiled softly.

He didn’t need Draco to say the words, he was certain that Draco had enjoyed himself and that he couldn’t stop thinking about the moment Harry’s hand had connected with his bare arse cheek, couldn’t stop thinking about Harry caressing the tender skin afterwards, kissing it, licking it, biting it ever so gently.

“You know, Draco, there’s a fine line between pleasure and pain. What you felt wasn’t so much the pain but the pleasure that followed. That turned you on, it made you want more.”

“I’ve never felt like this, you’re turning me into a kinky monster, Potter.”

Draco smiled and Harry chuckled. Somewhere amidst all the coyness was his sassy Draco and Harry thought that he knew just how to get him to come out to play.

Leaning close, he kissed the side of Draco’s neck and bit the sensitive skin gently. Draco whimpered and let his head fall back against the backrest of the sofa. He turned his head and exposed his neck to Harry.

Harry assaulted it with a series of tiny licks and bites, then sucked Draco’s earlobe into his mouth and repeatedly flicked his tongue over it. As he did so, his hand found its way to Draco’s arse and he squeezed, massaging the pert buttock through Draco’s loose trousers.

Draco moaned softly and Harry breathed hotly across Draco’s neck. His warm breath and the saliva-cooled skin moulded together perfectly and Draco mumbled something that sounded strangely like please, more. Bringing his mouth close to Draco’s ear, Harry kissed it softly, then opened his mouth to speak.

“I fucking loved it, your sass, you all but asked for it, it was so hot. Your skin turned such a lovely shade of red. I love the idea of my hand’s imprint on your arse. You’re mine, all mine. I love that I get to leave a naughty little mark on you for me to imagine and you to feel, such a turn on. Hm, Draco, you looked so good, the sounds you made—”

Harry paused, and pulled away to look at Draco’s face. He was staring at him, wide-eyed, looking like he was about to space out and Harry wanted to ravish him, wanted to strip him off all his clothes, conjure a rope to bind his wrists behind his back and fuck him right here on the sofa, with his legs spread far apart and his entire body shaking from each rough thrust.

“I want more,” Draco whispered, flushed crimson, and let out a soft, stifled moan.

“Fuck, Harry, fuck, what did you do to me?”

Harry smiled.

He could tell that Draco hadn’t meant to tell him that he wanted more, that it had slipped past his lips before he had been able to stop himself. Wanting to reward Draco for his honesty, Harry leant in and captured Draco’s lips in tender and loving kiss.

When he pulled away, he looked deep into Draco’s eyes and smirked.

“I’ll give you five seconds’ head start before I start chasing you,” he whispered and Draco’s eyes widened.

When the realisation of what Harry had just said to him sunk in, he extracted himself from Harry’s embrace, scrambled off the couch, and dashed up the stairs.

Harry laughed, rose to his feet, stretched languidly and slowly, then followed Draco without any hurry at all. He had no intention of spanking Draco again but knew from experience that the anticipation of the inevitable was almost as thrilling as the actual event itself.

Flashback End

“Jesus fucking Christ, Potter, your man’s practically begging you to spank him, he lets you tie him up and whisper dirty things into his ear and you still won’t talk to him? I don’t get you. From what you’ve told me, I’ve never ever met a more naturally submissive person than your Draco there,” Caleb said firmly and started on his second beer.

He fixed Harry with a piercing glare. Harry wanted to squirm, wanted to laugh, and wanted to look away but he did none of those things. He held Caleb’s gaze, looked him straight in the eye, and sighed.

“Soon,” he mumbled and he could tell that Caleb wasn’t pleased with his answer but said nothing to push him further. He appreciated it. Caleb’s sense of decorum was truly refreshing. He knew exactly when to push and when to back down.

Chapter Text

Bagged lunch, fresh from a new Italian eatery not too far from the Ministry, in hand, Harry made his way down the corridor and towards the Ministry’s Prosecutors’ Chambers.

He heard Draco long before he saw him and it briefly made him stop in his tracks.

Draco was shouting at the top of his lungs, silencing everything and anyone around him and it sounded scary, terrifying even. His voice was as harsh as the sound of a whip cracking through the air, as sharp as a diamond knife slicing through rock as though it was butter.

Shuddering a little, Harry made a mental note to never end up at the receiving end of Draco’s unadulterated wrath, then continued walking and resolutely entered the Prosecutors’ Chambers.

Inside the large open-plan office it looked as though a bomb had exploded. Papers and stationary lay strewn about everywhere and several chairs were upturned, their wheels still turning slowly, pathetically. The place was usually a chaotic nightmare, Draco had explained this to him, but what Harry was looking at right this moment wasn’t ordinary chaos.

It resembled the remnants of someone having temporarily lost control over his magic and judging by the signature of the lingering ambient magic, Harry knew exactly who the culprit was. None other than Draco Malfoy, prosecutor extraordinaire and the man he had fallen head over heels in love with was to blame for the havoc.

Harry frowned.

He couldn’t fathom what had happened to upset Draco so much that he was yelling the entire department to shreds. Surveying the proverbial war zone, Harry noted that nobody was moving, least of all the poor guy Draco was presently throwing a truly colourful insult at.

“Barnaby— you truly are an irredeemably, nonintuitive unequivocally witless half-wit!”

Draco shouted at a brunette boy, who was a good few inches shorter than him and presently shaking like a leaf. He looked like he was about to burst into tears and even though Harry knew it was morally wrong, he couldn’t stop the smirk that crept onto his face. When Draco was in the right mood, he had a way with words that took Harry’s breath away. It was, if Harry was entirely honest, quite arousing.

“I asked you to do one fucking thing! One simple task! I even wrote you a script for it, and you go and manage to fuck that up! You asked me to take you seriously, you begged me to give you a chance, and when I do this is how you repay me? I’m truly astounded by what a vapid odiously suffocating depravity of genetics you are. How did you pass your bar exam? For the love of the great Salazar Slytherin, I daren’t imagine what you did to get your certification!”

Draco continued to insult the poor boy and Harry felt Draco’s magic flare up again. It rolled off Draco in waves and Harry felt the almost irresistible temptation to cast his Patronus and sent it galloping towards Draco in the hope that it might calm his livid boyfriend down just a little.

“Barnaby, I swear, if your imbecilic error cost me my case I will personally rip you to shreds and I promise you compared to you splinching yourself it will be a walk in the park! I told you I needed that witness prepared, and what did you give me? A stammering, useless bundle of nerves. Ever heard of a fucking calming draught? Ever heard of talking a bit of confidence into somebody? The defence ripped Emma to shreds. She was our star witness and they ripped her to shreds. You, Barnaby, are a truly frightful proof that evolution can go in reverse! If your fuck-up is going to put a serial killer back onto the streets, I will slice you open and tear out your guts!”

Draco snapped and Harry watched as he fell silent, fixed Barnaby with an ice-cold death glare and lowered his voice to a threatening whisper.

“You’re fired, get out of my sight before I draw my wand and give the healers at St Mungo’s a reason to work overtime tonight.”

Harry watched as Draco turned on his heels and walked down the corridor into the direction of his office. A few seconds later a door slammed loudly and another few seconds later, a sobbing Barnaby stormed past Harry and out the door. Everyone slowly began to relax and several employees silently started to clean up the mess of papers.

Harry, careful not to step on any potentially important documents, crossed the large open-plan office and headed down the corridor into the direction of Draco’s office. He had witnessed enough to know exactly what had happened and why Draco was furious. He felt that it was his duty to somehow try and calm Draco down.

Approaching Draco’s private office, Harry knocked confidently but didn’t get an answer.

He waited a few moments, then boldly pressed the handle down, pushed the door open, and gasped in surprise. The sight that greeted him wasn’t at all what he had expected to see.

He had been expecting a seething murderous-looking red-faced Draco Malfoy.

Instead, he found himself confronted with an almost manic-looking, frantically pacing version of Draco, who was wringing his hands and repeatedly mumbling something about having to find a way to fix the mess Barnaby had caused.

Harry’s heart constricted painfully and he felt the overpowering urge to wrap his arms around Draco, pull him into a tight embrace, hold him close and tell him that everything would be all right. Harry and his team of Aurors had helped arrest the bastard Draco was trying to have convicted for multiple vicious murder. He was all too familiar with the case, Draco was currently working on, and of all the public scrutiny that the trial was getting. He felt his blood freeze just a little at the thought that a vile monster may just end up on the streets again due to a clerical error.

Resolutely walking into the room, Harry let the door fall closed behind him and placed the bagged lunch on Draco’s desk. He stepped right into Draco’s path, stopped him from pacing and took both his wrists into his hands. He squeezed gently, skilfully manoeuvred Draco around and made it so that he was standing with his back towards his desk and slightly perched on top of it.

“Look at me,” he said firmly.

Since he had his fingers pressed against the pulse points on Draco’s wrists, he could feel his pounding heartbeat which seemed to be increasing at a rapid pace instead of slowing down.

As Draco’s eyes settled on his own, Harry could see the trepidation in them and he wondered if Draco had heard him at all. He was, and Harry had no doubt about that, seconds away from having a full-blown panic attack. There wasn’t an ounce of anger left in him, only blind panic.

“Breathe,” Harry reminded him.

He kept his voice firm and steady, needing it to sound authoritative enough so that Draco would take note of it and react.

He felt Draco’s fingers clench into tight fists. His ragged and irregular breathing was a concern and Harry knew he had to help Draco control it first before he could properly get through to him. Draco opened his mouth but Harry shook his head.

“No, Draco, breathe. All I want you to do is breathe, listen to my voice, and breathe,” Harry instructed.

“Breathe in—, breathe out—, breathe in—, breathe out—, breathe in—, breathe out—,”

Harry repeatedly ordered, resolutely coaching him to breathe at a much slower and more appropriate rate.

With his eyes focused on Draco, Harry kept his voice steady and his instructions simple. He reminded himself that the worst thing he could tell Draco was to calm down and knew from a previous experience with a submissive he had trained, that it would only make matters worse. Since driving him over the edge was the last thing Harry wanted, he stuck to telling Draco to breathe in and breathe out and it seemed to help.

Once his breathing had slowed a little, he slightly loosened his hold on Draco’s wrists and pressed his thumbs firmly against the pulse points. Looking at Draco, he could sense that he was about to lose focus. His eyes appeared glazed and Harry was sure that Draco was struggling against the sense of detachment he currently felt.

He had gone from extremely angry to extremely panicked within a very short time and while Harry had never studied medicine or psychology, he knew that both types of emotions were intense and draining, a strain on the body. One of them was bad enough to deal with but both in such rapid succession was a recipe for disaster and disaster was exactly that Harry was trying to prevent, hopefully.

“Look at me,” he reminded Draco firmly when his eyes started to droop and his attention began to wane.


Draco tried to acknowledge his presence but Harry cut him short.

He didn’t want him grappling with words, trying to explain himself. He just wanted Draco to focus on him and only him.

“Don’t talk, just listen to me,” he insisted, circling his thumbs over Draco’s pulse points.

The motion was regular and repetitive, something for Draco to focus on besides his voice, something to hopefully keep Draco grounded.

“Focus on me, my voice, focus on my touch, right now that’s all that’s important. Nothing else matters, Draco, absolutely nothing else matters. You, me, right here, right now, that’s all there is,” Harry said in earnest

His voice was unwavering, just an even flow of firm encouragement and exactly what he thought Draco needed.

Since Draco’s skin felt cold and clammy, Harry harnessed his magic and with a wandless wordless spell, he directed a mild warming charm to slowly seep from his thumbs into Draco. It was to gradually warm him from the inside. He took another step closer, leaving practically no gap between them and kept his eyes focused on Draco. He continued to allow his thumbs to work their magic.

Draco looked tense, yet he was shaking and shivering and tiny pearls of sweat had gathered on his forehead, threatening to fall. Harry didn’t dare to imagine what his back felt like but suspected that Draco’s perspired shirt was probably clinging to his skin.

“There, that’s got to feel better. Slow and regular breathing, breathe in, breathe out. Yes, just like that. You’re doing this so well, my little prince, I’m so proud of you,” Harry encouraged.

He allowed even more of his dominant side to shine through as he attempted to control the situation.

“Yes, very good. Keep breathing, Draco. Slow and easy, in and out. Just focus on my voice, nothing else matters. I’ve got you and you are safe. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere until you’re back to your old self.”

Harry unhurriedly continued his quest to calm Draco without actually telling him so.

His thumbs continued to slowly draw even circles over Draco’s pulse points. He felt Draco’s fists unclench and some of the rigidness started to leave his body. While he was far from relaxed, Harry knew that he had managed to break through the outer shell and was convinced that persistence would pay off.

“Draco, I have seen you in action, I know what you are capable of. You know what you are capable of. This is all but a minor setback and you will get a conviction. You will find a way to sort this out, but you need to be rational about this. So, your assistant screwed up. It doesn’t matter.”

Harry paused when he felt Draco tense and allowed yet more of his dominant side to come out to play. He straightened himself up and kept his eyes fixed on Draco.

No, Draco, no! It doesn’t matter, you know that as well as I do. You know it so well. I know you planned for this, I know you haven’t played all your cards.”

He spoke with the calm and cool determination of an experienced Dom trying to get through to his rattled submissive. While he was fully aware that he was neither Draco’s Dom nor was Draco his submissive but right this moment it was of no concern to him. All that mattered was that he took care of Draco because right now that was what he needed.

“You have an entire team of prosecutors you can get onto the case. You have an investigative Auror team at your disposal. You can request that the Auror Department reopen the case and assists. You have endless possibilities. Losing your head is, however, not one of them. It’ll get you nowhere.” Harry said, noticing how even more tension seeped from Draco’s body and how he slumped a little.

His eyes appeared a little glazed over but he looked focused and Harry could tell that he was getting through to Draco, that he had broken down yet another barrier.

“You have no idea how absolutely alluring you are whenever you stand up in court to fight for the truth. You are full of confidence. You have a plan and even if you don’t you have everyone else believing that you have. You are like a dog with a bone and when you are onto something you will not let go. Seeing you like that, it’s one of the many reasons why I fell in love with you. You took my breath away, bewitched me so completely.”

Harry softened his voice and continued to run soothing circles over the pulse point on Draco’s left hand. He brought his right hand up to Draco’s face and cupped his cheek softly, gently.

“You can do this. You will do this. You will win this case and the papers will praise you for your fierceness, for your loyalty to the law, for your persistence.”

Draco’s eyelids fluttered a little and Harry allowed a small smile to creep onto his face. He ran his fingers through Draco’s hair and was surprised when a low mewl escaped Draco’s parted lips and he tilted his head and pushed it into Harry’s palm.

“Hm, I can tell you’re feeling better already, you have hugs and sweet caresses on your mind,” Harry whispered.

He let his hand rest at the nape of Draco’s neck and leant in to place a tender kiss on Draco’s lips.

Draco’s breathing hitched and he moaned, his eyes fluttered closed and Harry stroked the side of Draco’s neck, allowing his thumb to ghost along Draco’s jugular. He felt it pulsing beneath his barely-there touch and continued drawing circles over the inside of Draco’s wrist.

Several minutes passed before Draco opened his eyes again and when he did, Harry just about managed to keep the surprised expression off his face.

Draco’s eyes had completely glazed over, he looked dazed and thoroughly out of it.

He looked—

Harry was almost afraid to finish that thought but he had seen that look many times before and not only on Draco. He looked seconds away from drifting off into a trance-like state.

“Draco?” Harry asked softly.

“Hm,” Draco thankfully acknowledged him.

Harry wrapped him into a one-armed embrace, gently pulling Draco into his arms.

Draco was pliable goo and he practically melted against Harry, who let his wrist slip from his grasp as Draco hugged him, rested his cheek on his shoulder, and buried his face in the crook of Harry’s neck.

The last time he did that I tied him to the bed, edged him, fucked him senseless, and made him come three times, Harry thought.

When the realisation of what had just happened properly dawned on Harry, he barely managed to stop himself from stiffening.

One deep calming breath later he had caught himself and allowed his dominant side to take over. He let it guide him through the process of dealing with the predicament he now found himself in.

I think I most definitely sent him to another planet, Harry mused, hesitant to admit that Draco was halfway to subspace and for a moment he wanted to laugh but didn’t.

Instead, he decided to try his theory.


“Hm, feel funny, head’s fuzzy,” Draco responded.

Instead of extracting himself from Harry’s embrace, he buried himself deeper in his arms. Harry’s response, which was almost automated, was to tightened his hold on Draco.

Fuck, he thought, no, no, I can’t have you go off into another world right now.

Holding on as tightly as he could, he did his best to move Draco into his chair. It took a bit of effort, but eventually, Draco was sitting down. Resting back, he looked up at Harry with a stupid grin plastered across his face.

“You are a mindfuck, Harry Potter,” he mumbled.

Harry wanted to smirk because it was true but suppressed the urge for now.

He was more concerned with Draco completely succumbing to his trance-like state.

The last he wanted to deal with was Draco lost to the sensations of the chemical cocktail in his brain and mild subspace while they were on their lunch break. He knew from previous experience that it usually took several hours for Draco to fully emerge from his dazed-out state of blissful I-don’t-give-a-damn-about-anything-because-I’m-as-high-as-a-kite.

He also found it nearly unbelievable that his words and his touch had had this much of an effect on Draco and wondered what might happen if he pushed Draco just a little further, just a little past his boundaries.

Draco was, and Harry had no doubt about it, extremely prone to subspace, and given the right treatment, he drifted off into it like a baby drifted off to sleep.

Still, Harry couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that he had managed to talk and caress Draco into an altered state of mind. It was freaky and it took him all his willpower and then some to keep his composure. Draco still needed him, needed Harry to take care of him. While they hadn’t had sex, Harry always took aftercare seriously, very seriously. To him it simply wasn’t optional, never optional.

“Thank you, you are quite something yourself, my little prince.” Harry smiled.

He perched himself on Draco’s desk. He reached behind him to grab the bag of lunch he had gotten for them both.

“While you look utterly dashing, all blissed-out like this, I’d rather you eat something. Will you do that for me?” Harry asked, then moved to open the lunch bag, and pulled out a box of freshly made Chicken Caesar Salad.

Taking the lid off, he handed it and a plastic fork to Draco.

“Here, have that, you need some food in you,” he urged him to eat.

Draco accepted the food and though his movement was slow, sluggish, and slightly uncoordinated, he carefully dug his fork into the fresh salad and lifted a mouthful of food to his mouth. As he chewed on the lettuce, croutons and chicken, Draco’s eyes appeared to clear a little and he became more focused.

Harry reached into the bag and pulled out his own lunch, a box of Linguini with Carrot Turkey Ragu, and opening it up, he enjoyed a mouthful of the still-warm food.

“There’s also Tuscan Vegetable Soup and two desserts,” he teased and Draco’s head instantly shot up.

“Desserts?” he asked.

The wicked gleam in his eyes made Harry laugh.

“Yes, desserts. One is tiramisu and the other is pannacotta, both are for you.”

“Tell me there’s espresso!” Draco demanded with almost childish excitement.

Harry wordlessly handed him a small cup with a double espresso he had put under a Stasis Charm to preserve the taste and the heat.

Draco instantly rolled his chair closer to the table, set his lunch down and took the lid off the takeaway cup. He gulped the coffee down and gave Harry a silly grin.

“You, Potter,” he said, then paused, stood up and moved to stand right in front of him.

Harry had just about enough time to put his own food down before Draco threw his arms around him and engulfed him in a tight hug.

“As corny as this sounds, I love you,” he whispered.

Harry felt a rush of deep affection surge through him.

“I love you too,” he responded and sneaked his arms around Draco’s waist. He held him close, spread his legs a little and let Draco close the small gap between them.

He gently kissed the side of Draco’s neck, nipped at the sensitive skin and when Draco moaned into his shoulder, he placed a lingering kiss on that extremely erogenous spot just behind his ear.

“You’re making me horny,” Draco told him.

Harry chuckled, then pulled back a little and looked at him.

“Doesn’t take much,” he whispered with a teasing smile and was about to say something else when Draco kissed him.

Forgetting whatever he had been about to say, he allowed Draco to sneak his tongue past his lips and into his mouth. As Draco took charge, Harry, just this once, happily took the backseat and they leisurely kissed for the longest time.

It was only when Draco really struggled to fill his lungs with enough oxygen that he slowly broke away and looked at Harry with a slightly stupefied expression.

“I don’t know what magic you used to talk me out of my manic state, but you, Harry Potter, are most definitely a keeper. You bring me desserts, you bring me coffee, your voice drives me to the edge of my sanity and your body drags me right over it, repeatedly. You I will not be letting go any time soon.”

“Nor I you,” Harry replied.

To make his point, he tightened his hold on Draco and kissed his lips.

When they separated a while later, Draco looked at him for the longest time, then smiled softly.

“I expect you to take care of me properly tonight, Potter.”

He smirked, sat down in his chair, folded one leg over the other, and resumed eating with a nonchalance that drove Harry wild.

It made Harry want to do crazy things. It made him want to throw all caution into the wind. He wanted to cast a strong locking charm on the door, vanish Draco’s clothes, make him kneel on the chair. He wanted to tie his arms firmly to the backrest and his legs to the armrests, then fuck him hard, fast, and rough.

Harry very resolutely pushed that thought, the whole idea even, into a dark corner of his mind and tried his best not to indulge in the fantasy.

“And exactly how do you expect me to take care of you tonight?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and stuffed a forkful of linguini into his mouth.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something, you always seem to do.” Draco winked.

Harry just about managed to suppress a groan.

Trust Draco to find a way to make him imagine a thousand and one ways that he could take care of him.

Oh, I will take care of you, my little prince, I will take care of you so well, I promise you that, Harry thought with a controlled shudder of excitement.

“Are you due in court this afternoon?” he asked, both to distract his mind from succumbing to the vast array of kinky thoughts that were threatening to overwhelm him, and because he had sinister intentions.

Draco nodded and eyed the lunch bag with a greedy look. Harry smiled, picked it up and teasingly dangled it in front of Draco. When Draco went to reach for it, he snatched it away and smiled when he frowned because Harry was purposefully withholding dessert.

“So insatiable.”

Harry shook his head and Draco smiled.

“You and me both,” he said and four words were enough for Harry to understand that veiled innuendo.

“It really is a pity that you are due in court this afternoon.” Harry dropped his voice a little, handed Draco the lunch bag, and, keeping his eyes fixed on Draco’s, he licked his lips.

Draco’s eyes darkened a little as the implication of Harry’s words sank in and Harry smiled victoriously.

You play a good game, sweet one, but I will win this round, of that you can be sure, he mused with a silent chuckle.

“And why is that?” Draco looked at him, mildly aroused and most definitely intrigued.

“Because if you had an afternoon of boring paperwork ahead of you, I’d make you pull your trousers down, bend you over your desk and fuck you so hard that my cock would be all you’d be thinking about while you do your paperwork. Alas, what with this case being so important, it wouldn’t be fair of me to distract you in that way. You’ll just have to wait until tonight.”

Draco growled and fixed him with an icy death glare.

Harry laughed.

“Your tough-guy-act does not scare me, Malfoy, I know how to make you melt.”

In fact, I made you melt less than twenty minutes ago.

The memory of how easy it had been to make Draco melt made Harry shudder and he thought back to his conversation with Caleb. He decided that he really had to tell Draco the truth.

He simply had to ‘fess up, had to tell Draco about his choice of lifestyle, his love of kink and his preferred relationship style. But before he took that step, he had to speak to Charlie. He needed a bit of advice before he took the plunge because, for the first time in a long time, Harry was just a little scared.

He was afraid of what Draco might think and scared of what Draco might do once he knew it all.

Yes, despite his usual bravado, Harry was feeling out of sorts and had been for a while. He was worried that Draco might not understand, scared that they might end up fighting and concerned that Draco might feel pressured to do something he wasn’t ready for.

“You only know how to make me give in because I let you make me yield to you,” Draco replied flippantly.

Harry abandoned his inner monologue and watched Draco thoroughly enjoy a bite of tiramisu instead.

“That’s very true,” he acquiesced with a small nod.

Without really knowing what he was saying, without knowing all the details, Draco had hit the nail on the head.

It was only because he allowed Harry to influence him that Harry managed to affect him this much. It was exactly this that turned Harry on and what excited him so much. He didn’t much enjoy forcing somebody’s submission, it didn’t give him pleasure… Unless it was a scene, previously discussed and outlined, and even then, Harry preferred natural submission, the kind that came so easy to Draco. It was Draco’s willingness, his trust and how much he enjoyed it, that made the experience so much more special.

Yes, little prince, you deserve to know everything, Harry thought fondly and smiled as Draco pushed yet another forkful of tiramisu into his mouth, made a most indecent sound and looked positively blissed out.

How would you like to kneel at my feet, letting me feed you your favourite dessert? Harry mused but resolutely stopped himself from indulging in his kinky thoughts.

He really had to talk to Charlie. While Caleb had already done his best to push him in the right direction, he absolutely needed Charlie’s expertise on the matter.

Or did he? Maybe he was making this more difficult for himself than it had to be...

Chapter Text

“Is all this extravaganza entirely necessary, Mother?” Draco asked.

He surveyed the grand display before him. Whenever he came home for tea — or any meal really — it was always the same. His mother went all out for him.

Well, she told the house elves to go all out for him.

His mother wasn’t the kind of mother who spent her time in the kitchens; cooking and baking.

The Manor’s house elves had, as usual, outdone themselves and not only prepared a teapot full of his mother’s favourite yellow tea but also prepared a large cup of Draco’s favourite cappuccino.

Three cake stands, laden with a vast selection of tiny sandwiches, biscuits, pastries, and cakes stood on the table. While the table was set for two, there was most definitely enough to drink and eat to feed a small army and taking his seat, Draco elegantly placed one leg over the other. He reached for his cappuccino, wrapped both his hands around the large mug and leaning back in the comfortable wingback wicker chair, he smiled at his mother.

She reciprocated and pouring herself a cup of tea, she added two pieces of brown rock sugar, stirred her beverage until the sugar had dissolved and then gracefully picked her tea up and took a small sip. She nodded in silent approval and Draco chuckled.

Somehow, everything his mother did, she did with an air of elegance and beauty that was simply breath-taking. There wasn’t anything pretentious about it; it was just the way she was.

She was a refined woman, a beautiful creature with a warm heart of gold, though she kept that firmly under lock and key.

Few were privy to ever see the real Narcissa Malfoy.

Draco was one of those few lucky ones.

At some point, his father had been too but since he was serving a life sentence in Azkaban, his mother had made it her mission to shower him with all her love instead. Draco occasionally had to gently remind her to rein it in but he mostly allowed her to get away with it.

“For you, it is absolutely necessary,” his mother chuckled softly.

Draco rolled his eyes.

“You needn’t flatter me, I’ll love you regardless, Mother,” he grinned.

“I have ulterior motives, my darling son.”

“Yes, I thought you might,” Draco nodded.

In his last letter, he had insinuated that he had news to share with his mother.

The mere knowledge of the fact that he had something important to tell her was enough to bring out the devious side in her, though she hid her cunningness underneath a thick layer of poise.

Deciding to let her stew for a little while longer, Draco reached for a small chocolate cake and taking a bite he delighted in the burst of sourness that filled his mouth as he sunk his teeth into the liqueur-filled cherry inside the tiny cake. It mixed perfectly with the sweet bitterness of the chocolate and Draco hummed in approval.

He went on to casually sip on his cappuccino but felt his mother’s eyes on him. She was trying to read him, trying to work out what exactly he wanted to tell her and, being a true Slytherin, he continued to let her puzzle over his news. He did enjoy a good game and so did his mother. They both knew that he would eventually indulge her with the truth, but for now, he wanted to let her guess.

“A promotion at work?” his mother posed the question with a slight frown as she tapped her fingers gently against the fine porcelain of her teacup.

Draco shook his head and reached for another sweet cake. This one was a fluffy sponge cake wrapped in white chocolate with an almond and a glaze of dark chocolate on top.

“Hm, I thought not,” his mother mused, then added, “you’d have told me straight up.”

Draco watched her sit forward. She gently placed her cup down on top of its matching saucer, then she reached for a cucumber sandwich and taking a small bite, she chewed thoughtfully and fixed her blue eyes on him.

“You’re moving back in with your beloved mother.”

Draco did not react. Instead, he quietly sipped on his cappuccino.

Nice try, mother, nice try, he mused to himself.

He was a little bit worried about how his mother might react to the news he had for her but he wanted her to know, wanted her to feel included. He didn’t want to keep his current relationship a secret from her and despite his slight apprehension over telling her, he was convinced she wouldn’t begrudge him his happiness.

She was the only family he still had and she had always tried her best to protect him, somehow and in some way. She hadn’t always made the best choices but no parent ever did. Ever since the end of the war, she was certainly trying her best to compensate. He had repeatedly told her that there was no need but it was practically impossible to change her mind once she had made it up.

“You’re seeing someone.”

His mother sounded confident and very sure of herself. Draco smiled into his cappuccino.

Of course, she would guess correctly.

She had just been playing with him to humour him. She did that a lot, though never in a mocking or hurtful way but always in a loving and affectionate way.

He truly appreciated her dry wit and sarcasm.

She delivered it with such finesse and grace that it often took his breath away.

It also reminded him of Harry, who miraculously possessed the same type of artistic flair, especially when he was feeling devious…

Draco resolutely pushed any thoughts of Harry talking him into letting him ravish him to the back of his mind, lowered his coffee cup and inclined his head.

“Yes,” he replied.

His mother’s smile increased tenfold.

“Who is he?” she asked, clapping her hands lightly together.

There was a childish curiosity in her eyes that made Draco want to laugh and the fact that she had used the correct pronoun still astounded him. It also made him want to get up and throw his arms around his mother. He wanted to wrap her into a tight embrace and never let her go again but he resisted the temptation.

There would be time for that later.

When he had first come clean to her about his sexuality, he had firmly believed that she was merely humouring him and still expected that he would eventually settle down with a beautiful pureblood witch and gift her with an heir to the Malfoy line.

A year down the line, on a holiday to the South of France, he had finally plucked up the courage to ask her about the true nature of her feelings about his preference of the male gender.

She had outright told him that she had always known that he was different, had sensed that he would never be happy married to a woman. He had asked her why she had never said anything but she had merely told him that it hadn’t been her place to force his hand, that it was entirely his decision when he came out and whom he told.

Her calm acceptance and modern views had shocked him to the core; it was too stark a contrast to how his father had reacted.

Lucius Malfoy had straight out denounced him as his son. He had cursed him to burn in hell and demanded that he renounce the Malfoy family name.

Draco had pleaded and begged for his father’s understanding. He had even promised that he would try to get his father’s sentence reduced once he passed his bar exam but his father had merely told him that he would rather rod in a dark cell under the watchful eye of the Dementors than be associated with the abomination he thought Draco was.

Those words had cut him like a knife, had stung him like a slap in the face and broken his heart. It had taken him months to get over his father’s blatant rejection of him.

That had been part of the reason he had so firmly believed that his mother’s complete acceptance of who he was, who he wanted to be and how he wanted to live his life had merely been an act. A graceful attempt to lure him with sugar instead of caning him with her disgust.


His mother’s gentle voice cut through his thoughts and pulled him out of his reverie. He set his coffee mug down and absent-mindedly reached for a small cheese puff pastry which he stuffed into his mouth.

“Regardless of who he is, you will always be my son, I hope you know that,” she reminded.

Draco chewed on his puff pastry and smiled, then swallowed slowly and cleared his throat.

“Even if he’s Harry Potter?” he asked, deciding to jump right in and not mince his words in any way.

His mother regarded him with a certain level of scrutiny. Her gaze was fixed and unwavering but her thoughts veiled. Draco held his breath and waited for the inevitable explosion, waited for her to react just like his father had done the last time he had seen him.

Surely, his confession that he was now dating Harry Potter was the last straw for her.

Surely, she wouldn’t be able to accept that.

He boldly held his mother’s steady intent look, although everything inside of him screamed for him to get up and run before she drew her wand and cast an Unforgivable on him.

His mother’s face was completely devoid of any kind of expression and although it was neither cold nor cruel, it still terrified Draco. It made him want to recoil, made him want to escape back to the safety of his Muggle flat in Notting Hill.

Finally, his mother relented and picking up her teacup, she took a careful sip.

“Do you love him?” she wanted to know.

Her voice was still completely neutral. Just like her eyes, it didn’t give anything away but Draco found himself nodding nonetheless.

“Yes, mother. Yes, I’m in love with Harry Potter and he is in love with me,” Draco said quietly.

He clasped his hands together he rested them in his lap. They were shaking badly and try as he might, he couldn’t quite stop them from doing so.

Remembering Harry’s preferred way to calm him, he circled the pulse point of his right hand with his left thumb but the gesture did not have the same effect on him as when Harry did it.

In fact, it had no effect on him at all and Draco sighed softly. What was it about Harry that changed things? What technique did he use that made all the difference? Draco had asked himself that question many times but, so far, he hadn’t been able to find an answer.

“Mother, please, if you disapprove, if you’re angry, just tell me so, I can take it. If you want me gone, I’ll leave. But, please, don’t just sit there like that with that cool mask of indifference on your face.”

At hearing his plea, his mother relaxed and a moment later a strange little smile made her lips curl upward. It was a tiny smile at first, but it grew steadily and suddenly Draco didn’t know what terrified him more; his mother’s deadpan expression or her smile. When he noticed a twinkle of mirth in her eyes, he pursed his lips and fixed her with an icy death glare.

“Mother!” he exclaimed warningly.

His mother chuckled but caught herself almost immediately.

“Draco, I am not angry and I don’t want you gone. You are my son, my own flesh and blood. I will never want you gone. I am merely trying to work out if you’re having me on or if you’re telling the truth.”

“And to what conclusion have you come?”

“You’re telling the truth. Nobody is that good a liar, especially not you. You might be in court but those people don’t know you as I do. When you want to, you are excellent at masking your emotions but your eyes, they say it all. They always have. Your eyes are your Achilles’ Heel, they give away what you really want. You’re much like your father in that regard, except you’re so much stronger than he ever was…or ever will be,” his mother said.

Setting her teacup down, she rose to her feet and moved to stand beside his chair. She held out both her hands and Draco did not hesitate to take them.

He got to his feet and when his mother drew him into a hug, he all but melted against her. He wrapped his arms so tightly around her that she yelped and gently reminded him that she wasn’t the youngest anymore. Draco entirely ignored her protests and squeezed her tighter but pulled away a moment later and cupping her face, he kissed first her left cheek and then her right.

He noted the light pink flush that now graced her mother’s cheeks and smiled.

“It’s been a while since a dashing young gentleman tried to sweep me off my feet.”

She giggled and Draco smiled, then offered her his arm, which she gratefully accepted.

“This dashing young gentleman would like to take you for a walk around the grounds, it’s been a while since we’ve done that,” he said.

They quietly exited the Manor’s grand winter garden through the open glass doors and strolled around the impressive grounds that surrounded the Manor. They walked in silence, enjoying the warm afternoon sun and the light breeze blowing through the trees.

When they reached the lake, Draco behaved quite unexpectedly. He placed his hands on his mother’s hips and lifting her up he swept her off his feet and repeatedly spun her in a circle. She yelped and protested and demanded that he put her down this instant, but Draco ignored her objections.

Eventually, her protests died down and she threw her head back and laughed without the slightest inhibition.

When Draco finally set her down again, they were both dizzy and his mother’s long curls was a complete mess. She laughed, straightened it out, then fixed her skirts and smiled at Draco. She reached out, cupped his left cheek, and stroked it with her thumb.

“Love suits you, my darling,” she smiled, “but if you do this to me again, I may just have to resort to some sort of punishment.”

“You deserve a slice of my happiness,” Draco shrugged.

He grinned like a Cheshire cat.

His worries had been entirely unfounded, his mother was perfectly all right with him dating Harry Potter and apparently also wholly approved of the fact that he was head over heels in love with The Saviour, or Director Potter as people referred to him these days.

As they continued their stroll around the lake, Narcissa wanted to know absolutely everything.

Draco patiently answered question after question and by the time the house elves served them supper, Draco had given her a complete recount, starting with how he and Harry had met, how they had developed a natural friendship and how their flirtations had ended in a date and then another and another and another.

The only thing Draco didn’t share was the details about his and Harry’s sex life; his mother really didn’t need to know about Harry’s bossy streak and how easily Draco succumbed to Harry’s domineering attitude.

Climbing onto Harry’s lap, Draco straddled his thighs, sat back and bit into a big juicy strawberry. Harry lowered the file folder in his hands and Draco offered him the other half of the strawberry.

“I told my mother about you today,” Draco said.

Harry chewed on the fresh piece of fruit and raised a curious eyebrow at him.

“You did?” he asked.

He swallowed the strawberry down and Draco watched him put the file folder away. He squirmed a little when Harry’s hands wound around his waist and pulled him closer, forcing him into a kneeling position that made him nearly a head taller than Harry.

“What did she say?”

Harry’s hands found their way underneath his t-shirt and pushed it up and Draco squirmed some more. Harry caressed his back and ran his fingertips up and down his spine.

Draco arched away from the touch, then pushed right back into it.

“She wholly approves of me being in love,” he breathed.

Harry pushed his shirt further up and raising his arms, Draco allowed him to skilfully pull it over his head, then moaned when Harry kissed his nipple.

Resting his arms on Harry’s shoulders, he rocked his hips gently and shuddered when Harry bit his nipple, gently at first, then with a little more intensity. The pain made him hiss and as he ground his hips down, he tightened his hold on Harry, who did the same. Harry soothed his abused nipple with the hot wetness that was his tongue. Tiny licks and insistent kisses were all it took and Draco moaned as the pleasure mixed with the lingering pain and clouded his senses.

“I also wholly approve of you being in love,” Harry murmured against his chest.

His hot breath made Draco shiver. Harry’s hands cupped his arse cheeks and squeezed.

“You being in love is sexy,” Harry continued talking.

He kissed along his chest, then bit Draco’s other nipple.

Draco groaned and trembled.

This time, Harry had bitten him a lot harder. A wave of sharp pain flooded his brain and made his head spin but almost instantly mixed with unadulterated pleasure. Harry’s tongue drew tiny circles around his nipple, then bit again.

Draco was vaguely aware that he was making a rather strange sound and his fingers curled into Harry’s hair as his brain tried to process both the pain Harry had caused and the pleasure he was giving.

A moment later, Draco found himself flat on his back as Harry had flipped him around and moved on top of him. He was holding him down with his body weight and Draco felt oddly comfortable in that position, pinned to the bed with Harry keeping him in place, looking down at him.

Harry captured his lips in a fiery kiss that left him breathless, left him yearning for more, left him with an intense unquenchable craving for Harry to take him, claim him, make him his.

“Do you know what I also approve of, my little prince? I approve of me being in love with you,” Harry whispered against his cheek.

Draco shuddered both at the words and the nickname Harry insisted on using.

He had been so offended when Harry had used it for the first time, but it had quickly grown on him. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, couldn’t really put his finger on it, but every time Harry called him his little prince, he said it with so much affection that Draco wanted to melt, wanted Harry to do unspeakable things to him.

“I approve of that too,” Draco murmured.

His own voice was shaky and his vision just a little blurred.

He wasn’t sure whether that was because of what Harry was saying or doing and didn’t care to try and work it out.

Instead, he sank into the feeling completely and moaned when Harry teased his earlobe, then bit it hard, soothed it, then sucked on the side of his neck and purposefully left a mark, and finally bit him again. Draco tilted his neck, shuddered, and groaned. The combination of pain and pleasure was making thinking rather difficult. All he wanted to do was to enjoy.

“Mine,” Harry growled into his ear.

He thrust his hips forward to make his point.

“Yours,” Draco found himself replying and when Harry pulled away slightly, Draco felt dizzy and out of sorts.

“How do you do this? Do you use hypnosis or something? How do you make me feel so good?” he questioned.

Harry chuckled.

“You want me to make you feel good. You let me make you feel good. It feels good, it really is that simple. And no, I’m not using hypnosis. I’m afraid I don’t have that kind of skill.” 

“You have some sort of power over me.”

“Hm, yes, I do. The power you let me have over you. Not an inch more and not an inch less.”

Harry smiled and captured his lips in a toe-curling, butt-clenching, head-spinning kiss.

When he pulled away, several years later, or maybe just a few minutes, Draco wasn’t entirely sure, he was panting hard. When Harry told him to spread his legs further, he didn’t even hesitate.

Harry slipped in-between his legs and their still-clothed erections lined up perfectly.

Draco groaned.

“Please,” he whimpered.

The faint plea fell from his lips just as Harry started to rock his hips, thrust against him, and then rolled his hips.

“Please what, my love?” Harry asked, looking at him and Draco bit his bottom lip.

He could feel himself flush; his cheeks were practically burning.

“What do you want?”

Draco’s mind was already reeling but Harry’s questions were sending it spinning right out of control and he found himself blushing like a school girl as he thought of an almost endless list of things he wanted.

“Don’t— Don’t make me ask for it,” Draco pleaded.

Harry chuckled softly, then pressed a kiss against his lips and rolled his hips again.

“Just me and you, Draco, you can tell me anything, you can ask for anything, anything at all,” Harry reassured him

Draco blinked several times and tried to focus on Harry’s face.

“I want—” he murmured, then stopped.

“Yes? What do you want?”

Draco’s mind was still spinning. He wanted so many things. He wanted Harry to tie him up, he wanted Harry to suck him, rim him, fuck him, he wanted Harry to make him beg for it. He wanted Harry to twist his mind and send him over the edge, wanted Harry to turn him into a moaning quivering pile of goo.

“Spank me,” Draco breathed.

When he realised what he’d asked for, he flushed crimson.

He hadn’t even realised that this had been on his mind until the words had left his mouth.

But now that he had said it, he couldn’t deny that he absolutely wanted it, craved it, desired it with such a ferocity that he couldn’t think straight. Not until Harry gave him exactly what he wanted, needed.

Please, please, please, please, he thought and prayed that Harry wouldn’t deny him.

He never denied you before, his mind appeased him and Draco allowed himself to relax a little.

Fucking hell, you did not just ask me to do that to you, Harry thought.

His mind was reeling and it threatened to spin right out of control.

He suppressed a low growl and fixed his eyes on Draco.

Out of all the things you could have asked me for, you ask me for this? Do you have any idea what you do to my sanity, little prince?

Harry wrangled with himself and realising that he needed to react, lest Draco freaked out, he leant in and captured Draco’s lips in a tender kiss.

“Are you absolutely sure that this is what you want, my love?” he asked, his voice low and quiet.

The rational part of him tried to tell him that he should put a stop to this, that he should end this before things got out of hand. He needed to talk to Draco and he had to put his cards on the table before they did this…did anything.

He was about to do exactly that when Draco raised his arms over his head and curled his fingers around the headboard.

“Please,” he breathed.

It was then that another part of Harry’s brain took over, one that reasoned that he couldn’t possibly deny Draco what he had asked for, not when he acted like this and surrendered so completely and without the slightest bit of restraint.

He asked out of his own volition, the darker part of his mind whispered to him, he just begged you for it too. He wants this, give it to him.

Moving off Draco, Harry moved into a kneeling position.

“Roll on your front for me, get on your hands and knees,” he instructed.

A shudder surged through Draco and Harry licked his lips.

He watched as Draco slowly complied with his request. His fingers uncurled from around the iron-wrought headboard and he first rolled onto his front, then gracefully moved onto his hands and knees. Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s hair, stroked down his spine and pausing at Draco’s lower back, he splayed his fingers across the warm skin beneath his hand, covering Draco’s tailbone.

“Last chance to tell me you don’t want this,” he said.

He wanted to give Draco one last opportunity to back out, but Draco remained silent, didn’t say a word, didn’t even whimper.

“So eager,” Harry praised.

He moved behind Draco, settled between his spread legs, and pulled Draco’s boxer briefs down to his mid-thigh, then ran both his hands over Draco’s firm buttocks. He squeezed them and spread them slightly apart.

Harry let his thumb slip into the crack, muttered a cleaning and protection spell, then gently rubbed against Draco’s hole and leaning forward he peppered Draco’s lower back with a ton of tiny kisses.

Draco mewled and pushed into the touch. Harry squeezed his buttocks firmly, massaged them with his hands and as he continued to cover Draco’s back in kisses, he remembered the first time he’d done this. The first time he’d spanked Draco. It had been a game then, they’d been fooling around and Draco had been sassy, dared him to do it even.

And he had, he’d done it. Draco had liked it too. They’d, of course, talked about it later and Harry couldn’t help but wonder whether Draco had unconsciously been thinking about that one time. Draco had most definitely enjoyed himself back then and Harry was quite desperate to work out what had driven Draco to randomly ask for a spanking tonight but he also wanted to give him what he wanted. He wanted to make this good for Draco, wanted him to crave it more and often.

He summoned a bottle of lube, which flew straight into his outstretched hand, and opening it up, Harry spread some on his hand, coating his fingers with it. He deliberately took his time to further tease Draco, to increase his anticipation, then gently bit into his shoulder and pressed his mouth to Draco’s ear when he groaned and shook underneath him.

“Ready, my love?” he whispered.

Draco didn’t respond immediately but after several moments of silence, he answered with a very shaky yes.

“Very well,” Harry said, “but remember, if you can’t take it, all you have to say is stop, do you understand? Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” Draco breathed.

Harry nodded to himself. He placed one last kiss on Draco’s shoulder then pulled away.

He ran his unlubed hand over Draco’s buttocks, teasing, squeezing, massaging them, then pulled them apart and just when Draco expected the first blow, he pushed a lubed finger inside him, pushed it in all the way and wriggled it around until he found Draco’s prostate. The burn of his sudden intrusion fused with the pleasure of having his prostate caressed made Draco shudder, shake and tremble.

“Fold your arms, it’s easier,” Harry said.

The slight change in position resulted in Draco’s arse being higher up in the air than before and withdrawing his finger slightly, Harry thrust it inside again and teased Draco’s prostate, drawing a long, seemingly never-ending moan from Draco’s lips. He teased Draco for a while longer, then pulled his finger out and raising his hand he brought it down on Draco’s buttock, delivering the first blow.

Draco groaned and Harry could tell that he was trying to muffle a scream by biting into his own arm.

“Fuck,” Draco breathed hard.

As he trembled from the aftershock of the blow, Harry caressed the red imprint of his hand and let his fingers ghost over it. He then traced the outline of it with feather-light kisses. Draco moaned and shuddered and firmly grabbing Draco’s reddened buttock, Harry squeezed.

Draco groaned and Harry slipped his finger inside Draco and finger-fucked him. Slowly at first, then he gradually increased the speed, making sure to tease Draco’s prostate as often as possible.

Draco whimpered.

“Please, Harry.”

“Please what, Draco?”

“More,” Draco breathed shakily.

Harry’s entire body shook at the impact the words had on him.

Draco had asked him for a spanking and not only that, but he was also begging for more.

For the love of Godric Gryffindor, we should be talking about this, not having kinky sex, Harry reprimanded himself but unable to stop now, he slowly withdrew his finger, teased Draco’s hole for a moment, then pulled away entirely and brought his hand down on Draco’s other buttock, marking that one with an imprint of his hand, too.

This time, Draco did not muffle his scream but let it out.

He shuddered and his folded arms threatened to give in but he bravely remained in position and Harry smacked him a third time and then a fourth. He paused, briefly, then delivered three more in rapid succession and varying degrees of strength.

Draco fell forward, buried his face in the bedsheets and the sound he made was neither a scream nor a sob. It wasn’t a moan or a cry either but it sounded so very beautiful to Harry’s ears. He caressed the fresh red-hot marks on Draco’s arse, then rewarded him with two fingers.

Harry pushed them inside Draco, firmly thrust against that sweet bundle of nerves that caused Draco unadulterated pleasure and worked him into a frenzy.

It only took a few thrusts until Draco began to push back and utter some complete gibberish; Harry could not understand.

He wanted to spank Draco some more but Draco’s incoherency held him back.

If Draco couldn’t clearly tell him yes, continue or no, stop then Harry wasn’t going there.

Instead, he peppered Draco’s reddened arse with kisses and continued to tease him with his fingers, repeatedly thrusting them into his lube-slickened loose hole and pulling them out again. He kissed along his spine, snug an arm around Draco’s waist and splayed his hand out over Draco’s heart.

He pulled him back, dragged him into a kneeling position and gently manoeuvred Draco onto his back.

Draco hissed at the slight but obvious discomfort of his freshly spanked arse rubbing against the cool bedsheets and looking at his face, Harry recognised the blissed-out expression on Draco’s face from several days ago.

Only this time, Harry had pushed him a little further, had driven him a bit more out of his mind.

He noted that Draco’s erection hadn’t faltered much and that his cock was still standing proudly. Harry pulled Draco’s boxers off, haphazardly tossed them aside, then took his own off. He raised Draco’s legs onto his shoulders and leaning forward he pressed his lips against Draco’s and kissed him, softly, gently, unhurriedly.

“You did so well, my love, you did so, so, so well. I’m so proud of you, so very proud of you. The way you took those seven blows, that was just beautiful, so beautiful,” he whispered against Draco’s lips, needing him to know how he felt about his submission.

He pulled away slightly and watched as Draco attempted to open his eyes. He did so with the greatest effort and when their eyes locked, a small smile, which Harry reciprocated, tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Make love to me,” Draco mumbled.

The desire in his eyes and voice was so intense that Harry froze for a moment and simply stared.

Draco had never asked him that before, usually always asked him to fuck him. Sure, they made love sometimes — taking it slow was just as special as going at it with a bit more zest — but Harry never told him he wanted to make love to him and Draco never asked him. It was just something they did, entirely without announcing it.

Harry unexpectedly felt tears sting his eyes as he captured Draco’s lips in yet another kiss, overwhelmed by his feelings and swept away in the heat of the moment.

“I will. I will make love to you. I’ll make you feel so good, so very good,” he promised.

He reached for the lube, coated his erection, then aligned the tip of his throbbing cock with Draco’s loose, well-prepared hole, and slowly pushed inside. He deliberately took his time and even though it took him every ounce of self-restraint he had in him; he kept the pace slow, so agonisingly slow.

Draco’s eyes had fallen closed again and once Harry had sheathed himself completely inside of Draco, he pressed a soft kiss against Draco’s lips.

“Look at me, my sweet little prince,” he whispered, breathless.

Draco’s eyes fluttered open.

“I love you; I love you so much,” he murmured.

Draco gasped. A few tears spilt from his eyes, ran down his temples, and soaked into his hair.

Harry braced himself on one arm, brushed a stray strand of Draco’s damp hair behind his ear and kissed the tears away.

“Don’t cry my love, I’ve got you, I’ll always have you, you’re safe with me, I love you,” he whispered lovingly, moving very slowly inside of Draco, and drawing a low moan from him in the process.

He continued to rock and roll his hips and when Draco wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss, asking him to place his arms above his head was the furthest from Harry’s mind.

Instead, he lost himself in the sensations of the kiss and ever so slowly built a steady rhythm, increased the ferocity of his thrusts and a short while later he was thrusting into Draco and pulling out of him at a fast yet gentle pace.

Tonight, there was nothing rough about the way he claimed Draco as his own.

Tonight, he just wanted to connect with Draco and connect they did, in the most intimate of ways.

As they kissed and made love Harry felt his heart melt, felt Draco turn into pliable goo beneath him and felt him shudder and tremble as he brought him closer and closer to his climax.

He felt Draco’s hand sneak between their bodies, felt him wrap it around his throbbing erection and felt Draco stroke himself in time with his thrusts. When he could feel his own orgasm approach, he broke away from yet another mind-altering kiss and pressed his mouth to Draco’s ear.

“Come for me, my love, come for me,” he whispered.

His words had the desired impact because a mere three thrusts and strokes later, Draco exploded underneath him.


It was all but a breathless whisper, then Draco groaned, threw his head back and lost himself in the throes of his orgasm.

Watching Draco’s face contort so beautifully and feeling his entire body tremble and shake beneath him was enough for Harry to lose his resolve and thrusting into Draco, he buried himself deep inside him and came hard, filling Draco with his come as he groaned and rocked his hips, trying to make sure to stimulate Draco’s prostate to prolong his pleasure.

Sooner rather than later, exhaustion seeped through every square inch of him and gently pulling out of Draco, he shuffled onto the bed and pulled Draco into a tight embrace. Draco buried himself in his chest and Harry tightened his hold on him, overcome by the intense need to protect and nurture the man in his arms.

He ran his fingers through Draco’s sweat-soaked hair, held him tight, and trailing his hand up and down his back, he focused on Draco’s breathing, which was beginning to slow down.

Harry let his own eyes fall closed and briefly wondered whether he had found his soulmate but abandoned the thought when Draco slightly pulled away from him.

Forcing his eyes open, he looked at Draco and smiled.

“I love you, Harry,” Draco whispered and giggled when Harry kissed the tip of his nose.

Chapter Text

Two days before his birthday, Harry finally got the opportunity — and found the nerve — to try and sit Draco down for a lengthy conversation about his preferred type of relationship and his love of kink in general.

He, of course, repeatedly thought it through in his head, even floo-called Charlie for some advice, but eventually tossed all his ideas and plans into the bin.

Instead, he decided to tackle the matter as naturally as possible. He wanted Draco to understand and accept, not feel threatened and freaked out. A lazy morning, spent in the comfort of Draco’s Notting Hill flat, seemed like the perfect setting to somehow start that conversation, one Harry both absolutely dreaded and highly anticipated.

Still, he didn’t want to draw things out any longer. He wanted Draco to know it all, without any exceptions.

It was that which pushed him to make a move, to finally lay all his cards on the table because he needed Draco to understand not only what it meant to him but also that Draco shared more of his penchant for kink than he was probably presently aware — then again, that was a conversation he wasn’t going to force but if it happened as part of their talk today, he intended to be thoroughly supportive and mentor Draco through it.

Harry slipped his arms around Draco’s waist and rested them on the kitchen counter, effectively trapping Draco between it and his body. He moulded himself against Draco, placed his chin on Draco’s shoulder and kissed the side of his neck. Draco shuddered and tilted his head to the side to give Harry more and better access. Harry smirked against his warm pale skin.

“I’ve got a knife in my hand,” Draco protested weakly.

“Are you telling me to be careful or are you threatening me?” Harry murmured softly against Draco’s neck, then gently trailed his fingertips over Draco’s bare forearm, the inside of his wrist and the back of his hand.

Draco’s hand trembled underneath his light touch and Harry rather effortlessly eased the knife out of Draco’s hand and placed it on the worktop.

“There, all safe now. Doesn’t even take a disarming spell to make you surrender,” he said.

He planted a few kisses on Draco’s neck, pleased when Draco’s breathing hitched a little and he shuddered in his arms.

Draco mumbled something unintelligible and Harry watched as he pressed the balls of his hands against the worktop and flexed his fingers.

“When you’re done with that sandwich, I’ve got something to show you,” Harry said quietly and with one last kiss to Draco’s neck, he peeled himself off Draco’s back and stepped away.

Draco turned his head and the slightly dazed look in his eyes made Harry want to spin him around, press his arse against the kitchen counter and whisper unspeakable filth into his ear until Draco melted and begged him to do all those things to him.

Instead, Harry remained where he was and restrained his desire with a slow deep breath, then retreated into the living room.

He folded himself onto the sofa and reached for his glass of freshly pressed orange juice. He sipped it slowly and reaching into his backpack, which he had left beside the sofa, he pulled out a black hardcover book and let it rest in his lap.

The cover was inconspicuously enough for him to do so. The book title was in Japanese and the image underneath depicted a silver braided silk rope collar with an intricate knotting pattern and a red infinity knot integrated into it.

Several minutes later, Draco, chewing on the last bite of his sandwich, joined him on the sofa and offered him a plate with carrot, cucumber, and celery sticks.

Harry smirked and chose a large carrot stick.

“Funny how you make yourself a sandwich with strawberry preserve, then offer me tasteless vegetable sticks,” he laughed and bit off half of the carrot stick.

Draco winked.

“They might be tasteless, but they’re healthy.”

“Are you insinuating that I’m getting fat?”

Harry frowned, though the twinkle in his eyes gave his amusement away. He felt the urge to mock Draco’s love for all things sweet but decided not to go there, not right now anyway.

“Not at all, Director Potter, I would never dare to be this insolent.”

“Good, otherwise I may have to drag you across my knees, hold you down, pull those joggers off your arse, and spank your insolence right out of you,” Harry grinned.

He watched Draco’s eyes darken a little and nonchalantly shoved the rest of the carrot stick into his mouth. He chewed on it thoughtfully and without breaking eye contact. In response, Draco swallowed hard. Harry had no doubt about what was presently occupying his mind.

“Didn’t you say you had something to show me?” Draco eventually asked, his voice low and croaky as he changed the topic. It was obvious that doing so required great deal of effort on his part.

Harry nodded and shuffling on the sofa, he moved further into the corner where the two parts of the sofa met. He wedged the book between the backrest of the sofa and his thigh, then issued a soft-spoken invitation, he knew Draco wouldn’t be able to resist.

“Come, sit here, between my legs.”

Draco set the plate of vegetable sticks down on the coffee table, and seductively crawled over to him. It took Harry every ounce of willpower not to tell Draco to stay exactly like that, on his hands and knees. The sight of him crawling drove him wanton.

Instead, he appreciated in silence and when Draco got comfortable, he sneaked his arms around Draco’s waist and pulled him close. Draco relaxed into his embrace, leant back against his chest, and rested his head on his shoulder. When he turned his head sideways, Harry cupped his chin and captured his lips in a gentle kiss, which Draco melted into and Harry didn’t break for the longest time.

Eventually, he did pull away, teased his thumb over Draco’s reddened lips and reached for the book, slipping it into his hands.

Draco’s attention immediately turned to it and taking the into both hands, he stared at the cover, ran his fingers over the impressive collar, then opened it.

Without seeing Draco’s face, Harry still knew that he was frowning.

“It’s in Japanese, I didn’t give it to you to read, I gave it to you for the photographs. Keep leafing,” he encouraged and Draco did.

Meanwhile, Harry massaged Draco’s shoulders.

When Draco reached the first photograph — an artistic black and white Muggle photo of a kneeling naked male, with his hands tightly bound behind his back and his head lowered submissively — Harry heard him gasp lightly and interrupting his massage, he ran his hands along Draco’s arms and allowed his fingertips to ghost over Draco’s bare forearms. He absentmindedly drew a knotting pattern and watched as Draco trailed a single fingertip over the ropes that bound the photographed submissive.

After a while, Draco turned the page.

The next photograph depicted a kneeling woman with very short blond hair. She had her legs spread wide and she had her back turned to the camera. A beautiful red rope wound itself tightly around her torso and her neck before it disappeared between the crack of her buttocks.

The knotting pattern was complex and beautiful and Draco’s eyes lingered on the photograph, then flicked to the next photograph which portrayed a Japanese woman with long purple and blue hair, suspended in the air with a rope which had been tightly fastened around her right ankle. A second rope repeatedly wound around her breasts and helped to hold her suspended in mid-air. With her arms restrained behind her back, she looked completely at ease and was staring off into space with a tiny smile ghosting around her lips.

The next photograph showed a male model, sprawled out on the floor, head tilted upwards, mouth slightly open, eyes focused at the camera. His left ankle was bound to his right thigh and raised slightly above ground, obscuring a direct view at his crotch. His arms rested behind his back, secured by beautiful back ropes and Draco stared at the photograph for the longest time before he continued to leaf through the book, slowly turning page after page.

With each page that Draco turned and each photograph that his eyes lingered over, Harry’s respect and admiration for him grew and grew until he could no longer restrain himself. Hugging Draco close, he pressed a kiss against his clothed back.

“Do you like these?” he asked and held his breath as he patiently waited for Draco’s answer.

“Yes,” came the breathless response only a short moment later.

Harry felt Draco take his hand and guide it to his groin, where he placed it above his erection.

“I really like these,” Draco admitted.

Harry squeezed his cock through the loose joggers, then rubbed his palm over it until a low moan escaped Draco’s lips and he trembled slightly.

“Do you like these, Harry?” Draco wanted to know, his voice shaky and rough.

“Yes, I like it very much. I love rope bondage, especially this style. It’s so beautiful, so erotic,” Harry answered truthfully and without hesitation.

He continued to let hand rest above Draco’s very prominent arousal, and wrapped his other hand tightly around Draco’s waist, pulling him flush against his chest.

“You would look so beautiful bound like this, Draco,” he murmured against the sensitive skin on Draco’s neck. “Your beautiful pale skin, hm, I wouldn’t put any red ropes on you, I know how you feel about Gryffin—”

“Red ropes would be fine,” Draco whispered breathlessly.

Harry felt him tremble in his arms. He wasn’t quite sure if it was from the excitement of what they were talking about, anticipation or fear.

“Hm, all right, red ropes I shall use then. Although, on second thought, black ropes would look so much better on you, the contrast between them and your light skin, just beautiful.”



“Do you want to tie me up like this?”

“Do you want me to?”

Harry answered Draco’s question with a question of his own but kept his voice low. He let his breath ghost over Draco’s neck as he spoke.

Draco hesitated for a while before he responded and his uncertainty was obvious in his voice.

“I don’t know, it doesn’t look particularly comfortable, especially if you’re planning to suspend me.”

Harry chuckled softly. He couldn’t help but note that Draco hadn’t completely rejected the idea of being bound tightly with ropes; he was just unsure about the execution of it. He, therefore, decided to help Draco along and began to paint a picture in Draco’s mind, hoping he’d be able to visualise.

“I wouldn’t suspend you on the first try, my love. Suspension, that is advanced stuff. If you really wanted me to do this, I would— Hm, let me think Maybe Yes. I would slowly move your hands behind your back and tie your wrists together with a complicated but beautiful knot. Then, I would make you lie down which would be a little uncomfortable and awkward because you have your hands bound behind your back but you’d be fine. I would tie your left ankle to your right thigh and kiss every inch of you before I’d turn you over and continue to kiss every inch of your skin. I’d leave you bound like this while I admire my handiwork and tell you how beautiful you look and how much you excite me. I would slowly fuck you for hours and hours until you beg me to let you come, until you whimper and sob and breathlessly whisper Sir, please let me come, I need to come, I need to come so bad.”

Harry’s teasing words drew a low moan from Draco’s lips and he slowly pushed the book aside.

Then, and not without some difficulty, he shuffled in Harry’s embrace, kneeled between his legs, and sat back on his haunches.

When he looked at Harry his eyes were dark and his face flushed, though not with embarrassment but with definite arousal. His mouth hung open slightly and he placed his trembling hands on Harry’s thighs. Harry rested his own hands above them and squeezed gently.

“What else do you want to do to me?” Draco asked and Harry could tell that it required a bit of effort for him to try and stay focused.

He squeezed Draco’s hands a little more insistently and it seemed to help Draco to focus as the fog in his eyes cleared away just a little.

“I don’t want to do anything to you, that you don’t want me to do,” he said earnestly. “I would never want to do anything to you that you are not comfortable with or that you don’t want to happen. I wouldn’t get any pleasure out of knowing that you’re not enjoying what I’m doing to you,” he explained further.

Falling silent, he moved his hands to Draco’s wrists, wrapped his fingers around them and squeezed tighter than he had ever before. Draco made a small sound of discomfort, tensed, and struggled a little. Harry was about to loosen his grip when Draco shook his head and Harry watched him take a calming breath, then relax gradually.

“Is this your way of telling me that— that— that you don’t just enjoy a bit of bondage and kinky sex but—” he paused and frowned.

Harry remained silent and allowed him to come to his own conclusion. It didn’t take long; Draco was too sharp and perceptive for that.

“You really enjoy it when I let you take control, don’t you? You get off on me submitting to you.”

Harry nodded.

“Yes, I like it. I like it very much; it is who I am. But I only like it when you submit because you want to. I wouldn’t enjoy it if you didn’t want me to take control. You do though, you’ve shown me plenty of times. You like it when I take control, don’t you, Draco?”

Harry paused to let the question sink in. He released Draco’s wrists and laced their fingers together instead, then pulled Draco in for a slow, mind-twisting kiss.

Draco pulled his hands away and wrapped them around Harry’s neck while Harry let his own hands to travel down Draco’s back.

His nimble fingers found their way underneath Draco’s shirt and he caressed the soft warm skin of Draco’s lower back, slowly slipped his hands underneath the waistband of Draco’s joggers, and squeezed his buttocks, massaging them with his hands.

When he broke away from the kiss, Draco looked a bit dazed but not dazed enough that Harry thought he wouldn’t be able to continue following the conversation.

“You submit so beautifully, Draco, I love how you melt at my touch, how you follow my voice and obey the simplest of commands, whether they are spoken or implied. It really turns me on to see you sprawled out beneath me, hands above your head, looking at me with big, black wanton eyes, quietly pleading with me to push you over the edge,” Harry whispered.

Draco mewled in response and buried his face in the crook of Harry’s neck, then actually bit him as he let out a low moan that tickled Harry’s skin. Harry growled and pinched Draco’s arse hard enough to make Draco yelp and look at him with big wide eyes.

“I do the biting,” Harry winked.

Draco licked his lips, swallowed hard and stared at Harry for the longest time, then flushed crimson and lowered his eyes in embarrassment.

“What’s got you flustered all of a sudden?” Harry asked softly, withdrew his hand from inside Draco’s joggers and placing two fingers underneath his chin, he gently urged Draco to look at him which he eventually did but only with the greatest reluctance.

“Tell me, my love, tell me what’s on your mind, I’d like to know— If you’re willing to share, that is.”

Draco remained silent and it was obvious to Harry that he was fighting a battle with himself, a battle over whether to reveal his innermost thoughts or keep them to himself after all.

While Draco made his decision, Harry waited patiently, didn’t push, or otherwise pressure him.

Eventually, Draco’s desire to share seemingly won and he made a confession that neither surprised nor shocked Harry.

“You know, Harry, I’ve always had a strong preference to bottom, but no one ever made me feel the way you do. No one ever made me react the way you do. No one ever made me want to give it all up. You literally have the power to drive me crazy with a simple touch, a mere glance, or a single word and that’s more than a little scary. That’s all it takes for me to want to yield to you, to bend to your will. You make me want things I’ve never wanted before, or never knew I wanted. It’s—,” Draco paused and sighed softly. “It’s a bit of a mind-fuck,” he admitted with a low rumbling chuckle and Harry smiled.

“It can be when you’re first trying to work it out. The descriptive term you’re looking for, it’s called being submissive,” he offered a simple explanation to a complex topic. “Or for short, being a sub. Some people enjoy submitting completely and in every aspect of their lives. You, however, are not one of those people,” Harry paused momentarily and threading both his hands through Draco’s hair, he pulled him close and kissed his forehead.

“You, my love, and this is my interpretation of you, so feel free to object at any point, you enjoy giving me control, you enjoy surrendering to me and letting me please you. You are also rather good at following orders, even those given subtly, rather than spoken outright. You do not have a very high tolerance for pain, though you enjoy a little of it here and there.”

When Harry fell silent, Draco shuffled into a slightly more comfortable position and moved to sit with his back against the sofa’s backrest. He pulled Harry’s leg over his thighs and Harry let him. He also let Draco take his hand, lace their fingers together and allowed him to aimlessly toy with the leather strap of his watch, gently picking at it but not opening it.

“That would make you dominant,” Draco smiled. “It’s not bossy for short, is it?” he asked and Harry chuckled and shook his head.

“No, bossy isn’t the short form of dominant, not the officially accepted short form anyway. That would be Dom. I identify as a Dom,” he explained.

“You are dominant, there’s absolutely no doubt about that. You enjoy being in control, don’t you?”


“Always? Do you always want to be in control?” Draco asked.

He left the strap of Harry’s watch alone and ran his hand up and down the inside of Harry’s calf and eventually slipped it underneath the loose fabric of his trousers. There he alternated between gently scraping his fingernails against Harry’s skin and trailing his fingers over and through the coarse hairs growing on Harry’s leg.

“Yes. I would prefer being in control most of the time. What I want, however, entirely depends on what you are comfortable with,” Harry answered Draco’s question. “If I wanted you naked and kneeling at my feet, with your head lowered and silent unless directly addressed but you didn’t want that then it wouldn’t happen. Simple as.”

“Do you want that? Do you want me naked and kneeling at your feet with my head lowered, waiting for you to allow me to speak?” Draco asked.

Harry took a moment to consider his answer.

“I’d be lying if I told you that I don’t find that idea extremely alluring,” he said, then paused to squeeze Draco’s hand. “However, I can’t see myself forbidding you to speak completely. I wouldn’t enjoy that, I like the sound of your voice, you’ve got a very sexy voice.”

“Do I?”

Draco grinned mischievously.

“Yes, you do. Now stop teasing my leg, it tickles.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Draco retorted with a cheeky glint in his eyes.

“It’s called respect, Draco. Respect and boundaries. If you expect me to stop when you don’t like something, you also need to stop doing something when I don’t like it,” Harry said. His voice was soft but with a firm undertone.

Draco’s face fell. He slowly withdrew his hand from inside Harry’s trouser leg and looked a bit crestfallen.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Harry instinctively shuffled and moved closer to Draco.

“Hey, no, listen to me. Wrong choice of words, I didn’t mean to say that I didn’t like it and I don’t forbid you to touch me like that. I just asked you to stop because it tickles, that’s all. There’s a difference, do you understand that? You can touch me whenever and however you like. If I don’t like it or I don’t want you to touch me in a certain way I will tell you and I would expect you to accept my boundaries, just like I will always accept yours.”

It took a moment before Draco nodded.

Harry leant in to plant a gentle kiss on his lips, then pulled him into his arms and wrapped his arms and legs around Draco’s shoulders and waist respectively. Draco instantly relaxed into the embrace and Harry kissed the top of his head.

“I like touching you so much, my little prince,” he whispered. “I like it when you touch me too. Your skin is divine, your touch exquisite, your mouth delectable. Every part of you is utterly perfect.”

Charmer. Where did you learn to talk like that? You were a tongue-tied fool back at Hogwarts.”

“That was ten years ago, people change,” Harry laughed. “You were an aloof, ostentatious, pathetic little bully. Now you are a smart, sexy, sassy, confident prosecutor, with a deep love for all things sweet, a newly-discovered penchant for kinky sex, and an extremely handsome boyfriend.”

“Don’t think much of yourself, do you, Director Potter?” Draco laughed and resting his head back against Harry’s shoulder, he twisted his head and looked up at him.

“If you’re going to use a title, I prefer Sir,” Harry said with a wink.

“Sir Harry? Harry, Sir? Sir Harry Potter?” Draco teased.

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Just Sir will do, thank you very much.”

“Hm, is that what you want me to call you? Sir?”

Harry tried not to let on how much Draco’s use of the word turned him on, but he was struggling. His cock twitched and his eyes darkened a little and even though he knew that Draco was only mocking him, he couldn’t ignore the effects it had on him.

“This turns you on, doesn’t it? Me calling you Sir,” Draco asked before Harry had the chance to tell him that he wasn’t going to demand for Draco to use that title and that Harry or Potter was perfectly acceptable.

Harry nodded.

“It does, especially when I’ve got my arms and legs wrapped around you like this and you can’t get away. You’re mine.”

“How much would it turn you on if I was to kneel at your feet and call you Sir?” Draco asked boldly and Harry smiled.

“Why don’t you try and find out for yourself?”

Harry raised a suggestive eyebrow at Draco, then loosened his hold, leaving Draco with the choice to either stay where he was or move to kneel on the floor.

“Do you want me to kneel on the floor for you?” Draco asked.

His voice barely a whisper and Harry watched as he swallowed hard. He pressed a reassuring kiss to Draco’s cheek, smiled, caressed his arm, and laced their fingers together, toying with them.

“Yes. I want you to kneel on the floor for me, my little prince,” he murmured into Draco’s ear. “But only if you want to, if you aren’t comfortable with that, stay right here in my arms, I won’t judge you and I won’t be disappointed either.”

“You won’t?” Draco questioned.

“I won’t be disappointed, it’s entirely up to you, Draco. I will never make you do something you don’t want to do,” he said softly and after a long pause and some hesitation, Draco shuffled in his arms.

“I want to try, I want to kneel for you, I want to know what it feels like,” he admitted quietly. A faint pink flush adorned his beautiful pale cheeks.

“Then, my little prince, kneel,” Harry whispered.

He both felt and saw the shudder that went through Draco as he shuffled and gracefully slid off the sofa and onto the floor. He moved into a kneeling position, placed his hands on his thighs and looked at the floor.


He spoke the word so softly that it was more of a low exhale than an actual sound.

Harry shuddered as he moved to sit forward. He placed both feet firmly on the ground and licked his lips. His cock twitched excitedly in his joggers and his mind was spinning so fast that he felt just a little dizzy. Swallowing hard, he cupped Draco’s chin and gently persuaded Draco to look at him. He was gnawing at his bottom lip and that faint flush that had graced his cheeks was now a deep shade of red as he fought against the embarrassment he so clearly felt.

Harry could tell that Draco was excited, not just physically but also mentally.

He, however, also knew that it would take some time for Draco to fully accept just how much he enjoyed his submission, or rather how much he enjoyed this type of submission.

If you let me, I can help you with that, my sweet darling, Harry thought.

“I don’t think you have any idea how beautiful you look, kneeling there at my feet. So good, so sweet, so beautiful, so stunningly beautiful,” he whispered and ran his fingers through Draco’s hair.

Draco whimpered softly and stared at him, eyes wide open, pupils blown. His laboured breathing was yet another clue and Harry leant down to capture Draco’s lips in a soft and tender kiss.

“Will you put your hands behind your back for me?” he asked softly and Draco hesitated for a moment, then complied with Harry’s request.

“Mmm, beautiful, so, so, so beautiful, just perfect, you are just perfect,” Harry said.

He gently stroked Draco’s cheek and traced Draco’s bottom lip with his thumb. When he reached the centre of Draco’s mouth, he puckered his lips and kissed his thumb.

Sir, what would you like me to do now?” he asked and Harry’s mind whirled.

He could think of a million things he wanted Draco to do but thought it selfish of him to continue with anything. Anything that included continuing to make Draco kneel on the floor was too much too soon. This, kneeling because Harry had asked him to, was too new for him and Harry did not want to exploit Draco like that. He had only just started telling Draco exactly how much he enjoyed kink and there was still so much more to tell, so much more to talk about, to discuss.

“I’d like you to come back into my arms so I can cuddle and kiss you for being such an obedient little prince,” Harry whispered.

He watched as Draco rose to his feet without removing his arms from behind his back. Draco seated himself between Harry’s legs and they resumed their previous position with Harry wrapping his arms and legs around Draco and holding him firmly in place. Kissing was a little bit awkward in this position but they managed to make it happen and for the longest time that was all they did.

When they parted, they were both breathless and Draco had a wicked glint in his eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take care of your rather prominent predicament?” he asked with a smirk and Harry locked his legs tightly around Draco’s waist.

“Later,” he whispered. “First, let me give you your reward.”

“I thought that kiss was my reward,” Draco frowned.

“Good boys like you get more than just a kiss, Draco,” Harry chuckled and slipped his hand into Draco’s joggers.

He closed his fingers around Draco’s throbbing cock, mumbled a lubrication spell and stroked Draco, setting a slow but regular rhythm. It only took a few strokes until Draco threw his head back, licked his lips and moaned.

“Fuck, yes, Harry, that’s so good, please don’t stop,” he whimpered and tried to thrust into Harry’s hand, but Harry’s legs kept him firmly pinned down.

Stroking faster, Harry gripped Draco’s cock harder and pressed his mouth against Draco’s ear.

“You’ve already been so good for me, but can you be even better for me, my little prince? Can you?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Draco’s response was all but a shaky breath. His laboured breathing made it rather difficult to talk normally. “Yes, Sir, yes, I can be good,” he whispered and trembled in Harry’s arms.

“Don’t come without my permission,” Harry spoke a little more firmly. “Can you do that for me, my little prince?” he asked and Draco moaned and squirmed in his arms.

“I— I can— I will try.”

“Good,” Harry smiled and let his other hand slip underneath Draco’s shirt. He pinched one of his nipples and twisted it a little. Draco groaned and arched his back. Harry increased the speed of his strokes and made sure to brush his thumb over and around the extremely sensitive head of Draco’s cock. The conjured lube, while not as great as Muggle lube, made the task easy.

Draco made an indiscernible sound that, when Harry twisted his nipple yet again, turned into a groan. Harry scraped his nail over the already abused hard nub.

“Harry, I’m so close,” Draco whimpered.

Harry slowed his strokes down to a slow and teasing caress and Draco let out a frustrated huff of air and dug his fingers into Harry’s thighs.

“You can do it, breathe through it,” Harry encouraged, giving Draco a few moments to come back from the edge.

When he had and when his breathing had slowed a little, Harry twisted Draco’s other nipple, scraped over it with his nail and then increased the speed and intensity of his strokes.

Within seconds, Draco was a trembling, squirming mess in his arms and ordinarily Harry would tell him to stop, would tell him to keep still, but this time he didn’t.

This time, he let Draco squirm, watched as Draco’s toes curled and his legs spasmed. He drove Draco right to the edge and then instead of over it, he stopped, squeezed the base of Draco’s cock, and delighted in the whimpering, sobbing mess he had managed to turn Draco into. He briefly stopped stroking Draco’s cock and using both hands, he pulled Draco’s loose joggers off and dragged them down to his midthighs.

“Harry, please, I can’t take this,” Draco moaned and Harry knew that the cool air that was now teasing and caressing Draco’s cock felt like slow torture.

“You can, my love,” Harry whispered and this time Draco nearly screamed when he closed his hand around his cock again and started to stroke him, hard, fast, unrelenting.

“You’re doing so good, my sweet one,” Harry continued to encourage.

He allowed his free hand to slip underneath Draco’s shirt, gently caressed his taut stomach, toyed with his nipples, and twisted them some more, causing delightful bursts of pain to zap through Draco. He bit into Draco’s neck, sucked the sensitive skin into his mouth and soothed the abused skin with tiny kisses and tender licks.

“Please don’t stop again, please don’t, Harry, please,” Draco pleaded.

Harry smiled against his neck.

“I won’t, you’ve been so good for me, you didn’t come without my permission, you deserve a reward. You may come now, my love, come for me, come now,” Harry murmured and his hand flew up and down Draco’s cock. He pushed him right over the edge and watched Draco fall.

He watched the way his toes repeatedly curled and uncurled, how his legs trembled and shook, and how his fingers twisted themselves into Harry’s joggers, needing something to hold on to, needing something to ground him. He felt Draco’s entire body convulse and quiver and shake, felt him arch his back and heard him groan and pant and breathlessly babble a bunch of incoherent nonsense. He watched as Draco came, hard, fast and with such intensity that he briefly forgot to breathe properly. He shot his come all over Harry’s hand and his stomach and slowing his movement, Harry stroked him through his climax, then cast a longing glance at Draco’s come on his hand but resolutely banished it with a cleaning charm.

Draco was a trembling, shaking panting wreck and needed his attention and care.

Harry tenderly held him in his arms, caressed his flushed and damp skin and kissed his neck, his cheek, his parted lips, and eventually even the palm of his hand and each fingertip.

“Ssssh, my sweet love, I’ve got you,” he whispered repeatedly and held Draco until he had calmed down somewhat.

“Do you want to go upstairs and have a nap and a cuddle?” Harry asked.

Draco, rather uncharacteristically, giggled in his arms.

“I don’t think my legs know how to walk,” he mumbled.

Harry chuckled.

Draco turned his head and his gaze was unfocused and his eyes glazed over. He had a look of pure bliss about him and Harry pressed a gentle kiss against his forehead.

“Hmm, that’s all right, I can carry you,” he said and shuffling them about, he got to his feet, then moved one arm underneath Draco’s armpits and the other one underneath his knees.

“Arms around my neck,” he instructed.

Draco giggled some more but did as good.

“Yes Sir.”

Harry rolled his eyes but said nothing.

Instead, he carried his giggling, babbling and very submissive boyfriend up the stairs and gently placed him on top of the bed. He covered him with a light summer blanket, then crawled onto the bed and spooned Draco from behind. Draco pushed into his embrace and mumbled something incomprehensible. Within minutes he was fast asleep and Harry held him as he slept peacefully, recovering from the intensity of their little game and his orgasm.

Harry’s own cock was still painfully hard and he desperately wanted to take care of it but decided that he could wait a little while longer. Draco looked so peaceful and it felt so good to just hold him.

Even though he had the distinct feeling that he would get many more opportunities to hold Draco, he didn’t want to miss out on this first chance.

Chapter Text

“Made your choice yet?” Harry asked.

Draco stopped perusing the menu and looked up.

He allowed himself a moment to drown in Harry’s vibrant green eyes, then smiled softly. He had made his choice a long time ago, five years ago to be exact.

Whenever he visited Kensington Creperie, he always chose the same, always ordered the crepe filled with conference pear wedges doused in orange blossom honey, cinnamon, vanilla bean and squeezed lemon juice. It was just the right kind of sweet, the right kind of posh, and the right kind of plain.

He had fallen in love with it the first time he had tried it and even though he often told himself to be bold, to try something new, he never did. At least not when it came to eating crepes.

Today, he briefly considered spicing things up. He considered ordering a crepe filled with chocolate sauce and banana slices dusted with powdered sugar and topped with toasted almonds.

But then his earlier conversation with Harry started wreaking havoc with his mind and he found himself craving something familiar, something he knew and liked.

He still hadn’t quite processed what Harry had revealed to him and even though it filled him with anticipation and excitement, he knew that it would take time, research, and several conversations for him to be able to properly wrap his head around it all.

It felt a bit like Harry had thrown him into the deep end of the pool, but the feeling was by no means unpleasant, just different. He truly appreciated Harry’s honesty; he could tell that laying it all on the table hadn’t been easy for him.

Their conversation had resulted in some rather steamy sex that had twisted his senses and robbed his mind of every coherent thought and he couldn’t deny that he wanted more, so much more.

Realising that he hadn’t answered Harry’s question yet, Draco resolutely pulled himself back to the present and smiled apologetically.

His mind kept wandering off ever since had woken up from his unplanned nap and he repeatedly found himself having to rein it in

“I always order the same, I have for about five years,” he admitted somewhat sheepishly.

He couldn’t help but wonder whether Harry thought him boring now. It was a nagging thought he couldn’t quite shake off and it unsettled him.

Since they’d started dating, Draco had been anything but boring.

In fact, just earlier today he discovered a completely new and different side of himself. One that was anything but boring.

Surely, Harry wouldn’t fault him for this?

“Nothing wrong with having a firm favourite. As you know, treacle tart and I are old mates,” Harry winked with a smile.

Draco’s nervousness dissipated instantly. He wasn’t sure what it was but there was something soothing about Harry’s voice, something calming about the way he smiled and his general demeanour. Somehow, Harry had the distinct ability to keep him focused; for the most part anyway.

“Care to tell me your favourite then?” Harry pushed him for an answer.

Draco frowned.

“La Crepes Pacific Palisades,” he said, realising that he had drifted again, though this time not because his mind had gone off on its own but rather because he had been too busy allowing Harry’s charm to sweep him off his feet.

It was about time that he got some food into his stomach, his brain needed fuel, quite desperately so. He was acting all sorts of stupid. He watched as Harry glanced at the menu, found the crepe in question, and gave him an approving nod. It was then that a curious thought entered Draco’s mind and unable to let it go, because really, you could never kill an idea, he boldly posed the question to Harry.

“This whole thing about taking control, does that mean you want to order for me?”

“Do you want me to choose something and order it for you?” Harry answered his question with a question of his own and Draco considered it for a moment, then firmly shook his head.

“No, I want to order my own food.”

Harry smiled.

“Then you will order what you like and I will choose my own crepe. Unless you would like to suggest something? You appear to be a regular customer.”

Draco considered Harry’s answer carefully and thought he understood.

Harry would never force him to do something he didn’t want Harry to do to him or for him. He rather liked the idea of that and reaching across the table he took Harry’s hand and squeezed it gently.

“Sweet or savoury?” he asked.

“Savoury,” Harry replied. “Sweet is your thing.”

Draco took a quick glance at the menu, then offered a suggestion, “La Crepe Alesia.”

Harry shot him an amused grin.

“Funnily enough that was the one I’d been thinking about ordering,” he said.

Draco tried to gauge whether Harry was having him on or whether he was being sincere. Harry seemingly sensed his disbelief, and squeezing his hand softy he reassured him that he had indeed been thinking about ordering that crepe but that he very much wanted to add a portion of diced chicken to it.

“They don’t mind special requests here,” Draco said.

“Do you?” Harry asked.

They briefly interrupted their conversation when a waiter approached their table to take their order. Draco attempted to withdraw his hand but felt Harry tighten his hold and forced himself to relax.

If Harry didn’t give a damn about what the waiter thought upon seeing two men holding hands across the table and sharing a meal together, neither would he. He listened as Harry placed their order and smiled goofily when Harry ordered an extra helping of the crepe filling for him as a side dish, then thanked his lucky stars when Harry not only ordered a cup of black filter coffee for himself but also a cup of caramel cappuccino for him.

Once they were alone again, Harry swiftly returned to their earlier conversation and for a moment Draco wasn’t sure whether Harry’s wicked grin scared or excited him.

After some hesitation, he settled for both options. Harry most definitely had the ability to both scare and excite him.

So far, Harry had mostly excited him but Draco had a distinct feeling that if pushed too far, Harry would retaliate and that thought was a scary one indeed.

Draco shuddered inwardly.

For the time being he had no desire to find out what Harry was like when he was being scary, he preferred it when Harry was firm but teasing. It gave him a kick, more so than he’d ever thought.

“So, Draco Malfoy, tell me, do you take special requests?”

Harry’s voice was low and baiting and it made Draco shiver like it almost always did.

His gaze drifted to his and Harry’s hand. Harry had let go of his hand and was now using the tip of his index finger to draw random patterns on his palm. It tickled a little but it was a pleasant sort of tickle that Draco did not what to give up. He flexed his fingers, then looked straight at Harry.

“What kind of special requests are we talking about?” Draco asked, deliberately stalling. He didn’t want to give a definite answer just yet. Somehow, he had a feeling it was going to be something that would render him speechless.

“Well, the day after tomorrow is the thirty-first of July…”

Harry smirked.

Draco chuckled.

“So, it is. And what’s that got to do with me taking special requests?”

Draco purposefully played dumb and decided that he enjoyed bantering with Harry just a little too much. It reminded him of their Hogwarts days, though this time around exchange of teasing remarks was playful and friendly. Neither one of them had the desire to hurt the other.

“Uh, I don’t know. It may just be Director Potter’s birthday. I heard through the grapevine that he’s your boyfriend… You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Harry effortlessly joined into the game and Draco frowned intentionally.

“Ah, yes, now that you mention it, I seem to remember seeing that memo on my desk, dutifully made a note in my calendar, I was going to pick up a card tomorrow. The Ministry is going all wild over The Saviour’s birthday. Wouldn’t surprise me if they declare it an official holiday before Director Potter turns 30,” he teased with a mischievous glint in his eyes and sat back a little when the waiter approached to serve them their coffees, then disappeared again. He had already purchased and wrapped Harry’s gift. It was waiting, safely stowed away at the bottom of his wardrobe, hidden underneath a powerful disillusionment charm, which was a little unnecessary since he doubted that Harry would go rooting around his wardrobe without permission but still.

“Did you now? That’s good to know. I was worried that you’d forgotten all about it.”

“I’m not senile. Not yet anyway, give me a couple more years.”

Draco laughed and took several sips of his cappuccino.

“What’s your special request?” he asked.

He had to wait for Harry to answer his question since the waiter returned with their food and taking just one look at it made Draco’s stomach growl in anticipation of finally getting some food into his starving stomach.

“I’ll tell you the day after tomorrow,” Harry winked, picked up his knife and fork and started on his crepe.

“Eat first, you need some sustenance,” he added and with a nod, Draco picked up his own cutlery.

He truly was starving. Harry’s confession and their subsequent chat and the mind-blowing hand job Harry had given him, followed by his lengthy nap meant that he’d missed lunch.

Cutting into his crepe, he brought a large bite of the delicious, warm sweet treat to his mouth, parted his lips, and slid the fork inside. As his lips closed around his favourite sweet crepe, he let out a low, almost indecent, moan and glanced at Harry who chuckled softly and winked.

“Looking at your face there, it’s hard to decide what’s better, that crepe or sex,” Harry teased.

Draco schooled his features into a very serious expression.

“This crepe after sex—,” he paused for a moment for dramatic effect, “with you, Harry.”

“You say the sweetest things.”

“You bring out the sap in me, though I’m not entirely sure yet whether I like that,” Draco said with a fond smile and as they resumed eating, they both fell silent for a while.

Draco’s thoughts strayed a little, but he didn’t allow them to settle on anything specific. He was too content in Harry’s company to completely disappear into a world of his own and thoroughly enjoyed the way Harry looked at him from across the table. His expression was warm, his green eyes bright and a soft smile lingered on his face.

It was a little after they had finished their food and were enjoying a second cup of coffee each that Draco got the feeling that there was something on Harry’s mind.

He kept his curiosity at bay for the longest time, but eventually, it got the better of him and he found himself reaching across the table and placing his hand on top of Harry’s, he squeezed gently.

“I have the feeling that there is something you want to say to me,” he said quietly, choosing to once again be bold.

He watched as Harry toyed with his hand and eventually laced their fingers together before caressing the back of Draco’s hand with his thumb. He lifted his coffee cup and took a languid sip from the hot black beverage.

“As a matter of fact, there is something I’d like to ask, I’m just not sure how you’ll feel about being asked such a question,” he said and set his coffee cup down.

He casually waved his hand around and Draco felt a wave of magic as Harry cast a wordless wandless silencing charm around them. Draco wasn’t sure why Harry had done it but found that he was too curious to question it.

“I’m intrigued.”

“As am I, Draco, as I am I,” Harry smiled.

He held his gaze with frightening ease and Draco wanted, but couldn’t, look away. He wanted to focus on his and Harry’s hands instead. There was, however, something so oddly captivating about Harry’s green eyes as they danced and twinkled with mirth, that, try as he might, Draco couldn’t bring himself to break their eye contact.

Instead, he allowed himself to drown in Harry’s eyes, wondering why he’d never noticed how incredibly expressive they were.

“Ask then,” Draco eventually urged, unable to comprehend why Harry remained silent.

He did not look in the least bit embarrassed or uncomfortable.

In fact, Draco had yet to discover what made Harry uncomfortable. He highly doubted that there was anything that could unsettle Harry. And if there was, Harry guarded those secrets well.

Although, a small part of him wanted to find out. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Harry.

“Are you sure?”

“No, but I can’t take much more of your deliberate stalling,” Draco sighed and reaching for his cappuccino he took a sip and licked a bit of foam from his upper lip when Harry pointed it out to him.

Harry started to draw slow and even circles over the pulse point of his wrist and Draco found his attention drawn away from Harry’s face. Instead, he focused on what Harry was doing to his wrist.

He wasn’t quite sure why Harry enjoyed that particular action so much but every time Harry caressed his wrist like that, he found himself filled with a sense of calmness. It was hard concentrating on being nervous or worried when Harry did that to his wrist, when he touched him so gently yet with so much force.

“Well then, I was just wondering how much you enjoyed watching me wank in the shower earlier…”

Harry spoke with complete nonchalance and Draco felt his mouth go dry and a pleasant shudder surged through him as he remembered exactly what he had witnessed after waking up from his nap:

Flashback Start

Draco stretched lazily, rolled onto his back, and stretched again. He blinked slowly and wrinkled his nose, then rubbed it with the back of his hand. The warm rays of summer sunshine that were streaming in through his open bedroom window were tickling his face and stretching yet again, just for good measure really, he slowly sat up in bed and decided that he had never felt better. It had been a strange morning. He had learnt yet another intimate fact about Harry and it had resulted in a mind-blowing orgasm and a — Draco glanced at the Muggle alarm clock on his nightstand, it was nearly two pm in the afternoon — rather long nap.

Feeling his stomach grumble as it demanded food, Draco pushed the blanket back and climbed out of his bed. He stretched a little more and finally awake enough to properly register his surroundings, he realised that Harry was no longer in bed with him.

Strange, he thought, he could have sworn that he had fallen asleep with Harry spooning him. Looking around the room, Draco was about to head downstairs to check whether Harry had returned to the living room when he realised that the bathroom door was ajar and the shower was running.

Making his way over to the bathroom, Draco couldn’t help but wonder whether Harry had purposefully forgotten to close the door or mistakenly left it ajar.

Draco extended his hand, placed it on the doorknob and was about to pull the door closed when he heard a low groan. Shuddering, he pushed the door further open instead and pressing his cheek against the doorframe, he peaked through the gap and hastily bit his lip to swallow a small moan.

Harry was leaning against the shower wall with his eyes closed and he was slowly wanking himself, lazily stroking his hard cock. Draco swallowed hard and felt a jolt of excitement rush down his spine. It ended in his groin and his still spent cock gave a little interested twitch.

Feeling his face flush, Draco wanted to pull away, wanted to give Harry the privacy to finish what he was doing, but try as he might, he could not convince himself to look away. The sight of Harry wanking, with his lips slightly parted, and his face flushed with arousal — it was too captivating for Draco to just pull away and pretend he hadn’t just seen that.

He felt a little conflicted about standing there, secretly watching Harry pleasure himself and, therefore, intruding on such a rather intimate, and very private, moment. Harry hadn’t given him permission to watch but somehow, turning away wasn’t an option. He felt bold and devious and he wanted to see more, wanted to see Harry bring himself off. Not even the knowledge that all Harry had to do was to open his eyes and he would be looking straight at him managed to scare Draco into abandoning his newly discovered voyeuristic tendency.

Harry looked—

Draco had no words for how Harry looked.

He had never seen anything more erotic than what he was witnessing right this moment.

Clasping his right hand over his mouth and digging the nails of his left hand into his thigh, Draco tried his best to remain calm and quiet as he watched Harry quicken the pace of his strokes, as he watched him grip his erection harder, as he tilted his head slightly towards the water and licked his lips. He watched as Harry began to fondle his own balls. He rolled them in the palm of his hand and squeezed them gently as his other hand began to fly over his cock, stroking, rubbing, causing delicious friction.

Another moan escaped Harry’s lips and this one wasn’t low; it was downright indecent.

It felt like Harry had moaned right into his ear, and Draco shuddered as his own cock began to express a definite interest in the free pornographic show.

For a moment, Draco felt tempted to touch himself as he watched Harry wank, but he dismissed the idea. He just wanted to watch, wanted to enjoy.

Shoving half of his hand into his mouth, Draco swallowed any moan that might have been on the tip of his tongue and wondered what Harry was thinking about.

Was he thinking about him? And if he was, were his thoughts filled with kinky ideas or did Harry keep his thoughts vanilla when wanking?

Draco couldn’t even begin to imagine what Harry may be thinking about but his mind still filled with all sorts of filthy ideas as he imagined Harry tying him up and making him watch as he pleasured himself, then making him beg for Harry’s touch and his orgasm…

Unable to stop a low whimper from escaping his past his lips, Draco bit down harder onto his hand and stared at Harry as he fisted himself with hard and rough strokes, working himself to the edge and then pushing himself over it.

Harry came in hot spurts, spilling his seed over his hand and the shower floor and as he stood there, panting, and trying to come down from his high, Draco couldn’t help but think that he would have loved to swallow every single drop of Harry’s come and savour it.

He shuddered and moving away from the door, he climbed back onto the bed and under the covers. He rolled onto his front to hide his throbbing erection lest Harry chose exactly that moment to walk out of the bathroom.

Flashback End


Harry’s gentle but insistent voice pulled Draco out of his reverie and back into the present.

He kept his eyes firmly locked onto Harry’s hand, watching as his thumb continued to draw circles over his pulse point and felt his face heat up as he flushed crimson. He attempted to pull his hand away from Harry’s loose grasp but Harry was faster and held on to him.

“Look at me,” he said softly.

Draco resolutely shook his head.

“No,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes firmly fixed onto the table.

Yet another flush of embarrassment, this one seemingly even more intense than the first, crept onto his face. He had been so sure that Harry hadn’t seen him, hadn’t seen him stand pressed to the doorframe enjoying the free show.

“Why not?”

Harry’s voice was still gentle and before Draco had the chance to pull away, he found his chin gently cupped and pushed upwards. He let his eyes dart around the room and, unwilling to look at Harry, he dragged his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it.

“Look at me,” Harry prompted again, then added a soft please that sent a shudder through Draco.

He stubbornly held out for a few more moments, then finally relented and allowed his gaze meet Harry’s.

His breath promptly caught in his throat.

Harry was looking at him with darkened eyes, shining with arousal.

“What were you thinking about in the shower?”

Despite the silencing charm, Harry had cast around them, Draco whispered the question, sounding almost breathless even though he hadn’t exerted himself at all.

“You,” Harry smiled. “You, when you so willingly got down on your knees in front of me earlier. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. You were a bit too out of it after your orgasm so I took care of the hard-on you gave me.”

“How did you—”

Draco broke off and swallowed hard as his own head filled with images of himself kneeling in front of Harry. He remembered the look of pure unadulterated love he had seen in Harry’s eyes when he had called him Sir simply because he had wanted to know what it would feel like. He hadn’t been prepared for the overwhelming desire to submit to Harry after Harry had made it so blatantly obvious that he enjoyed it and the memory still gave him goose bumps.

“The door was ajar and my eyes weren’t completely closed all the time,” Harry explained without Draco ever getting the chance to finish his question.

“It was such a turn on, knowing you were standing here, watching me,” he smiled and Draco swallowed hard.

“I— It was— h— hot,” he whispered. “I was so turned on, it made me want to wank.”

“Did you?”

Harry smiled. He withdrew his hand from underneath Draco’s chin and trapped Draco’s hand between both of his. Draco did not look away but shook his head.

“No. No, I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just wanted to watch,” Draco admitted sheepishly.

Harry reacted with a positively devious grin.

“Now I can’t help but wonder whether you have a penchant for that,” he teased.

With a cough and splutter, Draco reached for his drink and finished off the remainder of his cappuccino.

“Keep wondering,” he said.

He took a deep breath, straightened up a little, then withdrew his hand from Harry’s loose grasp.

“I’m not an open book, I’ve secrets too.”

“Can I have the key to them all, please?”

Draco laughed and shook his head.

“No, you’ll have to make your own.”

“I see, a challenge. I do like a good challenge.”

“Well, rumour has it you managed to break into Gringotts, I’m sure you’ll get them out of me at some point.”

“I’m sure I will,” Harry winked.

He cancelled the silencing charm around them and called the waiter over to settle their bill.

When they left the restaurant and were on their way back to Draco’s flat, Harry informed him that he would have to head into the office for a while to catch up on a bunch of paperwork and Draco did not like the sound of that — he wanted to spend more time with Harry. Still, he knew better than to make a fuss about it.

They were both adults with jobs that occasionally, or often, required them to work overtime and getting upset about it wasn’t going to change a single thing about the situation.

Instead, he nodded and once Harry had left — though not without a kiss that left Draco feeling week at the knees. — he decided to spend the remainder of the afternoon perusing a few speciality bookshops for more information on what he and Harry had discussed earlier.

He wasn’t quite sure where to start looking but he was in no rush to satisfy all his curiosity in one afternoon. He was sure that the internet held more answers but the idea of overwhelming himself with information, rather terrified Draco. That, and while he Muggle devices and other modern technology no longer scared him, books made him feel a lot more comfortable. He was sure that he was bound to find something or other to satisfy his curiosity.

Chapter Text

“Come in,” Harry responded to the knock on his office door and moved his chair back with a certain level of exasperation — not because of his unexpected visitor but because it was one of those days were seemingly nothing went the way it was supposed to go. He couldn’t help but wish that he hadn’t bothered getting up this morning.

Standing up, he searched his desk for the document he needed for his files but, much to his vexation, couldn’t find.

“I swear I just had you in my hand,” he snarled angrily.

He leafed through yet another thick case file in the desperate hope that he had merely accidentally misplaced the document. No such luck. Incendio was rapidly becoming a very good idea.

“Fuck— I hate this job!”

“Is this a bad time?”

The familiar sound of Draco’s voice made Harry pause what he was doing and looking up, he smiled.

“No, you, Draco Malfoy, are a most pleasant distraction from all this paperwork and the headache it comes with. If I’d known about this, I would have formally turned down the job and left the country…again. Being an Auror was easier than this nightmare. Tell me, whatever was I thinking?”

“Director Potter, don’t you have a secretary to take care of this for you?” Draco teased

He walked further into the room and let the door fall closed behind him. Harry noted that he was holding a bag of takeaway food and the moment Harry’s eyes fell onto the bag, his stomach started rumbling loudly.


He had completely missed lunch. Not only missed but also forgotten about.

“I have two, the responsibility to review case reports and sign off on them is, however, mine and mine alone. I wish I could pawn it off on somebody else, I honestly do,” Harry sighed.

He let himself fall back into his chair, glared at the dozens of case files and folders that were piling up on his desk, taking up more space than he was content to let them. He hated the mess; it made his skin crawl and the hair at the back of his neck stand up. It made his hand itch, made him want to draw his wand and cast a very strong Reducto at everything on his desk. He needed a filing system; one he understood and could handle — preferably yesterday.

Sadly, he had no time to invent one.

“Always hard at work,” Draco smiled.

He approached Harry’s desk and as he did, he bent down to pick up an interrogation report from underneath one of the chairs in front of Harry’s desk.

“Were you by any chance looking for this?” he asked as he rounded the desk and placed a thermal takeaway bag on Harry’s desk.

“Merlin, yes!” Harry exclaimed.

He took the file and studied it briefly, then nodded to himself and reached for the case file it had fallen out of. He put it back where it belonged, stood up, pulled Draco into his arms, pushed him back against his desk and kissed him soundly.

“Hm, if that’s what I get for coming up to your office, I should visit more often.”

Draco hummed in approval and Harry chuckled.

“You’re always welcome in my office, Draco Malfoy, especially wearing those prosecutor’s robes. Sinful, just sinful, that’s what you are.”

Harry laughed and planted another kiss on Draco’s lips, then pulled back slightly. Suddenly, he was in a much better mood.

“I figured you might like these, so I left them on,” Draco said with a devious smirk. “I also figured that since it’s your birthday I should be the one to bring you lunch.”

“Smart, sophisticated, sexy and submissive, you tick all my boxes, Prosecutor Malfoy,” Harry grinned.

He didn’t even attempt to hide the mischievous glint that twinkled in his eyes and gave Draco another kiss, then sat back down in his chair and folded one leg over the other.

“I’m going to have to untick a couple of those boxes, I’m afraid,” Draco sighed.

Harry frowned but remained quiet. He had the feeling that Draco would voluntarily explain himself eventually.

For now, Draco handed him a takeaway box of good old-fashioned beef lasagne along with a spoon. Harry removed the lid, inhaled deeply and sinking his spoon into the hot dish, he brought a large bite to his lips. Draco, on the other hand, munched on a bread roll with grilled chicken, lettuce, tomato, and cucumber and Harry quietly approved of the fact that Draco was having real food before he indulged in a sweet treat.

“No dessert for you?” Harry teased between bites and Draco rolled his eyes.

“In the bag. What do you take me for? No dessert? Please! That day will never come.”

“Uh, my humble apologies, I won’t ever make the mistake to assume you don’t want dessert again. Do I get a bite since it is my birthday and all?”

“I got you a large piece of treacle tart and warm custard,” Draco winked.

“Careful now, you might just make me fall in love with you.”

“I was under the impression Sir already was, in love with me that is.”

Harry’s eyes darkened. Draco had deliberately used that title and it did unspeakable things to him. It woke the beast inside of him and it took him several minutes before he managed to rein in his kinky thoughts. All it would take was a locking and silencing charm and he could have Draco on his knees in front of him, sucking his cock instead of eating that bread roll. He barely contained the low growl that wanted to slip past his slips — he wanted Draco and he wanted him bad.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Draco sternly cut right through his thoughts and Harry instantly banished every kinky thought he had floating in his mind.

“As you wish.”

He smiled and noted the rather apologetic look on Draco’s face.

“Not that I don’t enjoy the idea of a bit of kinky office sex, but I absolutely do not have time to indulge you. That is the bad news I came to deliver and I thought lunch, these robes, and your favourite dessert would soften the blow.”

Harry chuckled at Draco’s choice of words but said nothing — he did silently disagree though; whatever was the fun in softening the blow, it had to sting, otherwise it was no fun.

Still, he raised a questioning eyebrow at Draco and waited for his explanation.

“I’ve got to go and accompany a bunch of Court Aurors to interview a witness for a potentially big case, but I can’t tell you where I am going or when exactly I’ll be back. I’ve got to go today, this afternoon in fact, and although I don’t expect to stay overnight, I’m afraid I can’t honour our plans for your birthday. This lunch is a pathetic apology for having to cancel dinner at the last minute. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you on the weekend?”

“You better,” Harry smiled. “And don’t worry, I understand.”

“Not mad then?”

“I’m not that petty, Draco.”

“I know, but it is your birthday and all. I do feel bad.”

“I’ll live, work is work. There will be times when I want to spend time with you but will have to put work first. Such is life. Unless we both elope and spend our hard-earned fortunes on a desert island in the Caribbean, I don’t see how we’ll manage to avoid life occasionally getting in the way. It’ll give me a chance to catch up with Teddy and see what Hermione and Ron think about the two of us dating.”

“You— you want to tell them?” Draco asked and Harry thought that he looked just a little horrified at the idea.

“You told your mother,” Harry shrugged.

He had been wanting to tell Hermione and Ron for a while but hadn’t been able to find the right time to do so. Since Draco was, unexpectedly, otherwise engaged, Harry intended to grab the dragon by its talons and sit his two best friends down for a chat.

“Yeah, but we are talking about Granger and Weasley. Are you sure they won’t rip me to shreds?” Draco asked, looking rather uncomfortable.

“Anyone who wants to rip you to shreds has to get past me first,” Harry said with a smile.

He put his lasagne down on his desk, stood up, and moved in front of Draco. He gently brushed his fingertips over his pale cheek, then leant in to steal a kiss.

“I mean it, anyone who wants to do you harm needs to get past me first,” he whispered and placing a hand on Draco’s hip, he leant even closer and kissed his earlobe.

“I’m fiercely protective of you, my little prince. You’re mine to rip to shreds and I’m not delegating that honour. It’s non-negotiable, I don’t share, not ever.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Yes, I do, Draco,” Harry murmured.

He pulled back and stared into Draco’s eyes, stared until Draco swallowed hard.

“But you also know what I meant; I will not stand for anyone not accepting the person I want to be with. I have given enough of myself to everyone around; I deserve and demand the respect to freely choose the people I want to surround myself with. Anyone who doesn’t agree with that is welcome to have a discussion with me about that, however, if it gets nasty, I can’t promise that I won’t draw my wand to solve the matter with a small hex or three,” Harry said.

He squeezed Draco’s hip just firm enough for Draco to distinctly feel the possessive touch through his robes and trousers. It had the desired effect of pulling a low breathy whimper from the depths of Draco’s chest.

“Are you saying you’re planning to hex your two best friends if they don’t accept me as your boyfriend?” Draco asked, wide-eyed.

Harry laughed.

“I don’t need to do that; I know they’ll accept my choice to be with whoever makes me happy.”

“Are you sure?”

Draco continued to look sceptical.

“Don’t worry, Hermione won’t turn you into a ferret and she won’t punch you in the face either, you have my word,” Harry teased.

Draco’s eyes darkened several shades. He scowled and schooled his expression into a hard, icy glare.

“Harry Potter, you did not just go there,” Draco snarled.

Taking a precautionary step back, Harry laughed.

“Ah, but I did,” he winked.

“For that comment, I reserve the right to withhold sex. I’d all but forgotten about that incident.”

Draco looked rather miffed and setting his bread roll down on a large napkin, he crossed his arms over his chest.

Harry stepped closer again and placing his hand on Draco’s thigh, he squeezed gently, then slowly slid his hand up and underneath Draco’s robes, past his hip. He squeezed Draco’s waist, just above the hip where the flesh was soft and sensitive, and nudging Draco’s legs apart he wedged his thigh between them.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” Harry whispered and leaning in, he brushed his lips against Draco’s.

It pleased him to feel Draco shiver at the feather-light kiss and watch him swallow hard.

Trailing his lips along Draco’s jaw, Harry planted a few soft kisses on Draco’s cheek.

“I’ve no problem with you withholding sex, my little prince, I’d be only too happy to tie you to the bed, then tease and pleasure myself, maybe even ride your cock until I come all over you and you only get to look on, ‘cause I’d make damn sure you get to withhold sex just as you threatened,” he murmured against Draco’s ear.

Sneaking his free arm fully around Draco’s waist, he pulled Draco flush against him, nuzzled the side of Draco’s neck and eventually gently sunk his teeth into the pale skin. He drew a low moan from Draco’s lips and soothing the slightly abused flesh with his lips and tongue, looked deep into Draco’s eyes.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Draco croaked.

He blinked several times and Harry watched him swallow repeatedly.

“Hm, what did you mean then? You said you wanted to withhold sex; I think this would be an excellent way to do that.”


Draco’s feeble protest came out as a low whine and Harry chuckled.

“No? Don’t want me to ride your cock then if you don’t get to come? How about you watch me instead, I’ll just sit on the bed, spread my legs, and give you a private show. As I remember, you do seem to enjoy these… I’ll let you watch me wank while you’re tied to the bed with a cock ring firmly in place to make sure you don’t come until you decide you don’t want to withhold sex anymore. I’d let you hear me moan your name as I tell you all the depraved things, I’m thinking about doing to you.”

“Harry—" Draco moaned.

“Yes, my love?”

“You are filthy.”

“Ah yes, you bring out my sly side, the devious one that should have been sorted into Slytherin,” Harry chuckled.

He stood back and gave Draco a bit of space to gather his bearings. Sitting down in his chair, he resumed eating his lasagne with complete nonchalance and as though he hadn’t just whispered several mouthfuls of utterly lewd fantasies into Draco’s ear.

“You play dirty,” Draco mumbled, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

“Only when you give me the right incentive to do so. I assume you no longer have any problems with me telling Hermione and Ron about us, then?”

“Prosecution rests.”

Draco smirked.

Harry laughed heartily.

“You give in too easily, Prosecutor Malfoy.”

“Only for you, Director Potter, Sir.”

“I should hope so. Now, I was under the impression you promised me treacle tart?”

Draco wordlessly reached inside the takeaway bag. He produced a plastic bowl of treacle tart and a cup of custard, as well as a sturdy-looking plastic fork.

“You don’t need me to feed you, do you?” he teased and Harry chuckled.

“Only if you sit on my lap while you do so.”

Draco frowned.

“Are you kidding or are you actually serious?”

“You figure it out.”

Harry smiled. He uncrossed his legs and wondered what decision Draco would make. When Draco, armed with treacle tart and custard sat down in his lap less than a minute later, he wasn’t at all surprised. Draco enjoyed their power play; it gave him a kick.

“I can’t help but think that somehow this dynamic is all off. Aren’t you supposed to demand that I kneel at your feet while you feed me my favourite dessert?” Draco asked as he offered Harry a forkful of treacle tart and custard.

“Is that what you want? Do you want to kneel at my feet and let me feed you your favourite dessert?”

Harry promptly turned the question around, then closed his mouth around the bite of treacle tart, Draco offered him. He locked his arms around Draco’s waist and squeezed, keeping Draco close.

“Why is it that you always twist all my questions around? Auror or lawyer, you are suited for both jobs.”

Draco sighed.

Harry took the fork from his hand and dipped it into the warm custard, then offered it to Draco, who accepted it willingly.

“Let me give you the simplest explanation of all; I’m not going to demand that you kneel at my feet and let me feed you anything if that isn’t what you want,” Harry said softly.

“I will never force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. If you let me, I may push your boundaries a little, but I won’t ever make a demand if I don’t explicitly know that this is something you will enjoy. Decide for yourself. If kneeling at my feet, letting me feed you, is what excites you, I’d be happy to fulfil that wish,” Harry elaborated a little further, then fed himself another large piece of treacle tart, delighting in the lingering sweetness of his favourite treat.

“This is a mindfuck.”

Draco sighed and running one hand up and down Draco’s thigh, Harry distracted him a little.

“I’d also be happy to sit on the couch with you and share your favourite dessert,” he presented Draco with yet another option, hoping to show him that the decision was entirely up to him. Yes, Harry loved taking control, but at the end of the day, Draco was in charge and he needed him to realise that. It would take time, but Harry was confident that they’d eventually get there.

“You don’t like eating that much sweet stuff,” Draco objected instantly, stole the fork from Harry and fed him some custard, followed by a small piece of treacle tart.

Harry accepted both offerings with a smile.

“I never said we had to share equally now, did I? Me eating one piece of chocolate and you enjoying ten is still sharing, isn’t it?”

He smirked and Draco rolled his eyes but said nothing else.

“You drive me crazy,” he said after a while and Harry laughed.

“Well, I hope it’s a good kind of crazy. While I do think you’d look exquisite in restraints, I don’t think a straightjacket would flatter you at all. That cream-white does not compliment your pale complexion. Those black prosecutor’s robes, however, those do compliment you, perfectly so.”


Draco rolled his eyes.

“Hm, yes, I’d love to charm all your clothes off,” Harry retorted.

Draco, pretending to take offence over the crude joke, promptly attempted to remove himself from his lap. Harry simply tightened his hold on him and refused to let him go.

“I haven’t finished my dessert yet; I will not let you go until I’ve had all of my birthday treats.”


“Yes, my love?”

“Please tell me that by ‘all of your birthday treats’ you mean finishing your treacle tart and custard and only that,” Draco said, looking somewhat wary.

“But of course, my little prince,” Harry smiled, then winked. “I’ll finish you over the weekend.”

Chapter Text

“We’re losing!”

Teddy stated the obvious. He had perched himself comfortably on Harry’s lap, reasoning that he needed to be close to Harry.

Harry hadn’t had any objections there; quality time with Teddy was something he simply couldn’t get enough of, even if it meant that he couldn’t feel his thighs anymore because Teddy insisted on using them as his own personal chair.

At some point during the evening, Teddy had changed his hair colour to jet-black which, Harry thought, almost made him look like a much younger version of himself.

“How very observant of you, Teddy,” Harry said.

He made sure to keep his annoyance out of his voice lest his godson misunderstood.

However, it didn’t stop him from giving the wizarding chessboard in front of him a very disdainful look — he absolutely had no idea why he always managed to allow Ron to talk him into a game, although this time around it had actually been Teddy who had demanded that he show Uncle Ron his place. So far, he wasn’t doing a very good job at complying with Teddy’s wishes.

He defiantly glared at Ron, who merely smirked.

Harry couldn’t help but wonder whether he would ever see the day that he managed to defeat Ron at wizarding chess.

He highly doubted it. Apparently, however, it didn’t stop him from trying. Charlie was right, he truly was a special kind of masochist.

“You know, Uncle Ron, it’s Harry’s birthday today, you really should let him win.”

“I’ll happily let him win, Teddy, he just needs to make more of an effort, that’s all,” Ron replied.

Harry was rather impressed, and a little proud, when Teddy boldly shot Ron an icy death glare across the table.

If you turn your hair white-blond and your eyes a lovely shade of pewter you could pass for a miniature version of Draco Malfoy, he thought and chuckled to himself.

When both Ron and Hermione, who was sitting next to her husband, quietly observing the game, shot him curious glances, Harry schooled his expression into one of calm nonchalance. He wasn’t about to tell his two best friends about the developments in his love life while his godson was sitting in his lap.

Reaching for his tumbler of Firewhiskey, Harry took a small sip and surveyed the chessboard, wondering whether he and Teddy stood any chance at all. He was about to make a move when Ginny approached the table, briefly hugged him from behind and mumbled something into his ear that made him grin from ear to ear.

Ron’s expression instantly turned sour and he glared at his younger sister.

Ginny merely shrugged, entirely unfazed by Ron’s disapproval of her disregard for the rules. She sat down at the head of the table and summoned an apple from the kitchen. As she sank her teeth into it, Harry instructed his knight to boldly attack Ron’s bishop. Teddy clapped his hands and squealed in excitement while Ron looked less than pleased and ground his teeth to stop himself from cursing in the presence of a minor.

Harry hugged Teddy tightly, then placed a kiss on his cheek, grateful that Teddy was still young enough to enjoy having cuddles and kisses forced upon him. He couldn’t help but wonder how much longer Teddy would allow him to get away with it but decided not to question a good thing while it lasted.

“You lot should be out dancing or whatever it is you kids do these days, not sitting around the table playing chess on Harry’s birthday of all days,” Arthur said.

He briefly stopping at the table on his way upstairs, cradling his sleeping granddaughter Rose protectively in his arms. He had happily volunteered to take over babysitting duties to give Ron and Hermione a little bit of a break.

Molly, who usually helped to look after most of the Weasley grandchildren during the week, was sitting on the sofa and enjoying a glass of sherry along with the latest copy of Witch Weekly. It was a rare sight not to see her bustle about the place, doing this and that, and Harry relished in the opportunity to see her unwind. She deserved it.

Admittedly, Harry was a tiny bit sour about Draco unexpectedly cancelling their dinner plans in favour of a secretive business trip but he was also mature enough not to let it affect his mood — there was really no point. His unplanned arrival at the Burrow meant that less than half of the Weasley family was present and his birthday celebrations were a rather quiet affair.

Then again, Harry didn’t mind; quiet was just as good.

Molly had whipped up a fantastic birthday dinner and the chance to spend a little bit of quality time with Teddy, Ron, and Hermione was too good an opportunity to pass up.

Besides, he had the feeling that Molly was probably already planning a big dinner affair to make up for the lack of a party they were having tonight and Harry couldn’t help but look forward to the event. Attending boisterous parties at the Burrow was one of his favourite pastimes, though lately, his other pastime had taken precedence over that. He thoroughly enjoyed spending as much time as possible with Draco.

“I’m perfectly happy to spend my birthday in the company of my adopted family instead of out dancing at a club,” Harry said.

Arthur gave him a wink, then disappeared upstairs. Most likely to put Rose to bed so that he, too, could enjoy a drink and relax for a while.

“You’re getting old and boring, Director Potter,” Ginny said between swallowing a bite she’d taken from her apple and once again sinking her teeth into the sweet, juicy fruit.

Harry rolled his eyes at her in response.

“Really? You’re really going to go there?”

He gave her a long hard glare and she smirked.

“You don’t scare me, Sir.”

She teased him boldly and with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Harry went to retort something but found himself momentarily distracted when Teddy loudly protested in his arms.

They both watched with mild horror as Ron’s rook moved to attack Harry’s king.

Looking far too pleased with himself, Ron announced, “Check!”

The game went on a little longer but it quickly became apparent that not even Ginny’s whispered help could save Harry from ungracefully losing the game and when he did, Ron punched the air with glee.

“Did it again. Save me the trouble of repeatedly proving it to you, Potter, and just admit that you’re a bloody awful player.”

Teddy, his hair now fiery red with purple streaks, stormed over to Molly and asked her whether she had some chocolate cake. She affirmed and several moments later, Teddy presented Harry with a big slice of chocolate cake, while happily munching away on a big home-baked chocolate chip biscuit.

“Nana Tonks says chocolate solves all problems,” he said with a most sincere expression.

Harry smiled warmly, then pulled Teddy into his arms and gave him a big sloppy kiss. Teddy squealed in protest, squirmed in his arms, and wriggling out of his embrace, he ducked away.

“You know what’s even better than chocolate?”

Harry grinned wickedly, rose to his feet, and pretended to look all menacing.

“Chasing little Metamorphmagus boys around the place!” he laughed.

Teddy screeched and dashed off. Harry chased him around the house and the grounds outside and took his sweet time catching Teddy. He could have done so with ease but he could tell that Teddy was thoroughly enjoying their little horseplay and didn’t want to cut it short.

When he finally caught Teddy, he picked him up and mercilessly threw him over his shoulder. He playfully used his buttocks as a drum set and tapped out the rhythm of a silly pop song stuck in his head. Teddy protested heavily but Harry easily turned those protests into breathless laughter. He tickled Teddy’s sides while his godson twisted and turned with quick writhing movements, clearly trying to escape but not managing to do so since Harry had an iron grip on him.

It took Teddy pleading for mercy for Harry to finally ease up on his attack and setting his godson down, Harry benevolently allowed him to catch his breath.

After a few moments, Teddy placed his hands on his hips, glared at Harry and turned his hair a defiant shade of blue. Harry laughed and Teddy stalked off in a pretend huff.

Arthur, who had returned from putting his granddaughter down for the night, offered to entertain him with a game of Exploding Snap and he guaranteed that Teddy would win.

Harry shook his head, returned to the table, and sitting down, he treated himself to a forkful of chocolate cake.

He couldn’t help but miss Draco terribly.

He pushed the plate of chocolate cake away and staring at it, he imagined Draco pulling the plate towards himself with a big grin.

You’d enjoy that cake, wouldn’t you, my little prince? Harry thought wistfully.

When he looked up, he found himself staring at three expectant faces that belonged to Hermione, Ron, and Ginny.

“So, are you finally going to tell those two that you’re in love, or should I?” Ginny asked.

Harry scowled at her.

“In love?” Hermione queried.

Ginny’s bold question had clearly sparked her interest and Ron looked equally as curious.

“Anyone we know?” he wanted to know.

Harry scowled again when Ginny answered in the affirmative.

“Oh yeah, you all know him,” she said with a conspicuous grin.

Harry threw her an icy glower.

“I told you, Potter, you don’t scare me, you can shoot daggers at me all you like,” she teased and Harry rolled his eyes.

“I’m afraid the brat is telling the truth, I’ve been seeing someone for the past few months and we’re rather serious about each other,” Harry confessed.

He purposefully refrained from revealing Draco’s name just yet, especially because Molly had just taken a seat next to Hermione and was now listening expectantly.

Apparently, her adopted son’s love life was more interesting than anything Witch Weekly printed these days — weren’t there any made-up rumours about him inside the tabloid? Harry couldn’t fault Molly for her interest, though he wasn’t entirely sure how comfortable he was revealing the name of his boyfriend in front of her. He had no idea how she would react to the news that he had fallen head over heels in love with Draco Malfoy, that the feeling was mutual, and that it wasn’t just a simple fling but something a lot more serious.

“Oi, Potter, I’m no brat,” Ginny protested and went to slap his bare forearm.

He caught her hand with ease and held it in a vice-like grip.

“You so are and you know it.”

Harry gave her a stern look, then turned to give Molly an apologetic look. Ginny was, after all, her daughter.

“I wholeheartedly agree with you, Harry, that one has always been a troublemaker. I don’t fault her though, it’s tough growing up with only brothers around you,” Molly winked.

Smiling, Harry let go of Ginny’s hand.

“I did think that there was something different about you recently,” Hermione mused and her eyes twinkled with mirth. “I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together. Motherhood’s got me all frazzled, I think. Who’s the mysterious man we all know then?” she asked.

Harry sighed.

He eyed Ron warily, then turned his head to look at Ginny, who merely shrugged.

“Apparently I am a brat, but I’m not going to tell them for you,” she said.

With those words, she lay claim on Harry’s abandoned chocolate cake. She pulled the plate closer to her and started eating. Harry watched her for a while and couldn’t help but wish that Ginny was a little more devious.

Then again, her ability to keep a secret was exactly why Harry loved her so much. He doubted that even Veritaserum had the power to make Ginny reveal a secret she didn’t want to share with anyone. She was the perfect Secret Keeper.

“Why does my sister know who you’re dating but I’ve been left in the dark?”

Ron quipped up in obvious protest and with a frown firmly in place.

“Because your reaction, Ron, worries me the most.”

Harry let out an audible breath and sat back in his chair.

“And yours, Molly,” he added.

Her warm, encouraging smile made him feel even worse.

“As long as he makes you happy, you have my full support,” she said. “You’ve always been a good judge of character.”

Harry looked back and forth between the four of them. He wanted to be bold and tell them but also wanted to be a coward and run. He wanted to get to his feet and run as fast as they would carry him. He gave himself a mental bollocking, he really needed to pull himself together. This was ridiculous.

You’re a complete idiot, they’re your friends, he reprimanded himself and couldn’t help but wonder how his best friends and his adopted family always managed to turn him into such a scaredy-cat. It wasn’t him, not usually anyway. He generally had a bit more backbone than that. This family, his family, brought out his stranger side.

Because you love them and their opinions matter, his treacherous mind unhelpfully supplied and taking a deep breath he thought, well, here goes nothing, at worst, there’s hopefully an empty plot waiting for me next to my parents’ grave.

“He works for the Ministry. He’s a prosecutor and you all know him because he and I attended Hogwarts together, albeit not in the same house.”

Harry paused and looked first at Molly, then at Hermione — who looked like her grey cells were hard at work, trying to solve the puzzle — and finally at Ron. He tried to gauge whether they had guessed that he was talking about Draco Malfoy but their faces didn’t give anything away at all.

Since Ginny already knew, he didn’t bother to look at her. He knew that she was most likely smirking to herself.

Sadist, he thought.

He honestly didn’t need to see her face to know that she was enjoying the way he was squirming and vowed to hex her the second he next got a chance to do so.

When it became apparent that neither Molly nor Hermione and Ron were going to start guessing who his boyfriend was, Harry took a deep breath and decided to jump into the deep end of the pool. In for a knut, in for a galleon.

“His name is Draco Malfoy.”

The deafening silence that followed his statement drove Harry to the brink of insanity and he couldn’t help but wonder whether he should be drawing his wand and thinking about defensive spells.

“Wait, what, the ferret?”

Ron was, unsurprisingly, the first to find his voice.

Harry pulled a face.

Ron’s voice had risen several octaves and he sounded screechy. He was also staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Don’t call him that, please, Ron. I love him and hearing that hurts,” Harry said without thinking about his choice of words.

“You love him?”

Ron’s question earnt him an elbow between his ribs from his wife. Harry gave her a grateful smile which she returned.

“Yes, I do. I love him,” Harry repeated.

He felt a little braver now that the truth was out and he was merely reaffirming it. Neither his friends nor Molly had drawn their wands yet and it made Harry feel somewhat hopeful.

He looked at Molly and tried to work out what his adoptive mother was thinking about but her expression did not give her away and Harry involuntarily squirmed under her scrutinising gaze.

He felt the almost irresistible temptation to explain himself, to tell them how much Draco had changed since Hogwarts and how much good he did with his work as a prosecutor but kept his mouth firmly shut. He knew that all of them read the papers and Draco’s cases, most of them high-profile because he was just that good, rather frequently made the front pages of The Prophet.

“You’ve gone insane.”

Ron shook his head and rising from his chair, he announced that he needed some fresh air. He was about to leave through the backdoor when Ginny drew her wand and shot a leg-locker-curse at his back. Ron’s knees buckled instantly and swaying back and forth, he desperately tried to keep his balance but went down to the sound of Ginny’s roaring laughter.

“Don’t be such a prude, Ronald Weasley, you didn’t make such a drama when he told you that he was gay,” Ginny said firmly.

She stood up and walked over to where her brother was lying on the floor. He was trying but failing to get back onto his feet. Harry bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself from smirking as he watched Ginny point her wand at Ron’s chest.

“I’ll cancel the spell if you promise to be a good boy and sit down at the table with all the other grownups,” Ginny drawled with a bored expression.

When Ron spluttered indignantly and began to throw a couple of colourful insults at his younger sister, she laughed.

“Ronald Weasley, not under my roof!” Molly said brusquely and Ron instantly snapped his mouth shut. He looked as though he was suffering from the effects of a lip-locker-jinx on top of the leg-locker-curse that kept him on the floor.

Ginny Weasley, you are a devious brat, Harry thought and decided, right there and then, that one simply had to have the greatest respect for her — she didn’t take any crap, no matter who tried to give it to her.

Damn you woman, are you sure you’re not a dominatrix? Maybe you want to be? You’re one hell of a scary witch! he mused.

The mental image of Ginny dressed in black leather with red knee-high boots, wielding a whip in one hand, and branding her wand, disguised as a cane, in the other made him want to laugh.

He managed to school his features into a mostly nonchalant expression and abandoned any and all ill-placed salacious thoughts about the woman he considered to be his little sister, partner-in-crime, and all-around greatest female friend he’d ever had.

“I’m sorry, mum.”

Ron apologised and with a flick of her wand, Ginny removed the leg-locker-curse and returned to sit at the table.

Ron took a moment to gather his wits, then cautiously clambered to his feet and gingerly moved back to sit at the table. He glared at Ginny, crossed his arms over his chest and frowned.

Harry struggled to work out what Ron was more irritated about; the fact that his sister had hexed him or the fact that his best friend was in a relationship with Draco Malfoy.

For a moment, everyone was silent and Harry was about to say something when Molly cleared her throat and folded her arms on the table.

“Well, Harry, my boy, although you already hinted to me about being in a relationship, I can’t say I’m too pleased now that I know who he is.”

She extended her hand and reaching across the table, she placed her hand on top of Harry’s bare forearm and squeezed firmly, appeasing him before his fear of what she was about to say next managed to take a proper hold.

“However, I stand by my word, you have always been a good judge of character. It’s a skill you undoubtedly got from your mother; may she rest in peace. So, Harry, for as long as you’re happy and if he is good to you, then you have my support. You, of course, know that I do expect that you bring that Malfoy boy by so I can tell him exactly how I feel about him even just thinking about hurting you.”

Harry chuckled and placed his hand on top of Molly’s hand, patting it gently.

“Molly, I fear you’ll scare him into a heart attack if you tell him that.”

“Good, it’ll keep him from thinking about any funny business. He needs to know how I feel about anyone hurting my boy, you are family. Let me say this much though, Harry, if Christmas passes and the boy hasn’t been here to formally introduce himself as your boyfriend, I shall find myself forced to pay him a visit at the Ministry to question the impeccable manners all those aristocratic purebloods always claim to have so much of,” Molly said with a sense of satisfaction and purpose alike.

Harry’s respect for the woman instantly increased tenfold. Her expression and the way she spoke told him everything he needed to know and, really, had always known. Molly loved him as fiercely as she loved all her children. She would stop at nothing to make sure that nobody rubbed him up the wrong way.

Maybe I should get you on my team of Aurors; Chief Interrogator, Harry thought.

He was convinced that Molly’s menacing looks could scare a full confession out of any perpetrator — she didn’t need Veritaserum to get the truth out of anyone. People knew better than to try and lie to Molly Weasley. Despite her charm, her sense of perception and ability to read between the lines was as sharp as the talons of an eagle.

Grateful for Molly’s support, Harry decided to turn his attention to Hermione and Ron.

His best friend still had his arms crossed over his chest and looked everything but happy about having found out that he was involved none other than Draco Malfoy, former Slytherin git, ex-Death Eater, and mostly redeemed Ministry do-gooder with a very brief career as a four-legged bushy-tailed rodent.

Mostly you are my gorgeous little prince though, Harry mused with a smile and made a mental note to tell Draco when he saw him next. He didn’t even care that Draco would most likely mock him mercilessly for it.

Harry reluctantly reminded himself that he still had unfinished business and pulling himself out of his thoughts, he caught Hermione’s expression. Her eyes were warm and loving. She placed one arm around Ron’s shoulders.

“Don’t worry, Harry, I’ll sort this one out. You know that he’s not a fan of changes, but he’ll come around. You have my word,” she reassured him.

Harry chanced a glance at Ron, who shot him an icy glare and grumbled something incomprehensible.

“Yeah, you’ll come around, won’t you, Ron, darling?” Ginny quipped up, “Because I know a few really good jinxes that could make your life a bit miserable and I do look forward to using these on you,” she added with a vicious expression, although the cheeky twinkle in her eyes gave her away.

“Ginevra Weasley, stop being so mean to your brother,” Molly scolded her but the smirk that tugged at the left corner of her mouth told a different story altogether.

Poor Ron, what have I done to you? Your own family and wife are all ganging up against you just because I am dating Draco Malfoy, Harry thought and looking at his family and friends, he smiled.

“We’re good then?” he asked, wanting the reassurance that he was still part of the family and very much welcome at the Burrow whenever he wanted. In his heart, he knew that nothing had changed between them but he wanted to hear the words, wanted comfort.

“We’re good.”

Molly and Hermione nodded in unison and Harry didn’t bother to look at Ginny. She had already proven to him that she had his back.

Swallowing a sigh, Harry looked at Ron and wondered exactly how long it would take Ron to come around to the idea of him dating Draco Malfoy.

Would it be like their fourth year where Ron hadn’t spoken to him for weeks?

Harry really hoped not; they weren’t teenagers anymore. Surely, Ron would get over it within a week or two at the most.

One can only hope, Harry told himself and slowly rose to his feet.

“I suppose I should go,” he mumbled as he rounded the dinner table.

He approached the small table where Arthur was still entertaining Teddy and desperate for a hug, Harry knelt in front of Teddy and wordlessly pulled his godson into his arms. He rose to his feet and hugged Teddy as tight as he possibly could without crushing him.

Teddy’s response was simple and innocent and Harry’s heart nearly burst right out of his chest with happiness.

He wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck and his legs around Harry’s waist and clung so tight that it hurt. It was the best kind of pain and Harry relished in it.

“You are the best,” Harry whispered into Teddy’s ear and ruffling his godson’s hair, he chuckled when it turned black underneath his touch. “I love you, my little man.”

“I love you too, Harry,” Teddy mumbled into his neck and Harry squeezed him a little tighter.

Harry really didn’t want to let him go. Instead, he wanted to take him home to Grimmauld Place and tuck him into his bed in the room Harry always had ready and waiting for him. He was, however, aware that Teddy had school tomorrow and that he wouldn’t be able to abduct Teddy, no matter how much he wanted to. Molly would never let him.

“You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” Harry asked as he gently put Teddy down.

Teddy only reluctantly let go of him and stared at him with soft light-brown eyes.

“Of course, I will,” he nodded.

Harry kissed his forehead. He highly doubted that Teddy would be really all that good, he was a child and a bit of a rowdy boy after all, but the promise to do so was enough for Harry. Especially, because Teddy wasn’t an overly naughty child at all. He was cheeky but he was a good kid.

“Good. I’ll make some time for you the weekend after next and maybe we can go somewhere fun.”

Harry smiled and ruffling Teddy’s hair, he delighted in watching his godson’s face light up with excitement at the promise of Harry-Teddy-Bonding-Time. He turned his attention to Arthur, who so far hadn’t said a word, and was about to open his mouth when Arthur beat him to it.

“As long as you’re happy, Harry,” he said supportively, leaning forward to pat his back. Harry gave him a grateful smile, then said his goodbyes and left the Burrow, feeling a lot less anxious than he had when he had arrived.

Chapter Text

Harry rose from the sofa and pulled his t-shirt over his head with practised ease.

He noted Draco’s rather appreciative look and deliberately took his sweet time as he reached for Draco’s belated birthday present — an extremely soft dark-green Merino wool jumper that was just perfect for early to mid-autumn — which he had just unwrapped.

With the jumper in hand, Harry leant forward, braced himself on the back of the sofa and brought his lips within inches of Draco’s. There he lingered and relished in the way Draco’s breathing grew slightly laboured. His eyes sparkled with anticipation of what Harry might or might not do next.

Closing the small gap between them, Harry pressed his lips against Draco’s in a sweet kiss but moved away before Draco had the chance to reciprocate.

He trailed a series of light kisses alongside Draco’s jaw but stopped when he reached Draco’s earlobe. He nipped at it and when Draco shuddered beneath him, he smirked and pressed his mouth to Draco’s ear.

“Like what you see?”

“Yes,” Draco breathed shakily.

“Want to touch?”

Harry teased a little more and glancing down at Draco’s hands he found them splayed out over his thighs; an attempt to ground himself.


“Ask me.”

Harry pushed and pulled back. He watched as Draco bit his lip, clearly in two minds about whether to ask for what he wanted or not. Harry waited patiently.

Ordinarily, he would prompt again, would make sure that his voice was firm and unwavering but he didn’t with Draco. Instead, he gave him all the time in the world, let him decide whether he wanted to ask or not.

Several moments of silence passed but eventually, Draco stopped hesitating and looking right at Harry, he smiled softly.

“Please, may I touch you?”

His voice was low, barely a whisper even, and the faint flush that graced his cheeks made Harry’s heart flutter with excitement.

Harry nodded.

“You may.”

Draco responded with placing his warm hands on his bare hips and squeezed gently. Harry temporarily abandoned trying the new jumper on and braced both his hands on the backrest of the sofa behind Draco’s shoulders, then moved to straddle Draco’s thighs.

Draco’s fingertips trailed up and down his sides and across his taut stomach then up to his nipples, which he teased with such a gentle caress that Harry couldn’t help but let his eyes fall closed and his head fall back.

A moment later Draco pressed his mouth to his chest, peppered it with tiny warm kisses and when he sucked one of his nipples into his mouth and repeatedly flicked his tongue over it, Harry moaned in appreciation.

The feeling was too good not to encourage Draco to keep going.

Draco’s hands found their way to his thighs and squeezing gently, he paused his assault on Harry, who opened his eyes and looked down at him.

“Put the jumper on. Please, I want to see.”

Harry smirked.

“And here was I thinking you were about to take my jeans off too, instead you’re giving me orders,” he chuckled.

Draco rolled his eyes. Harry reached for the jumper and slipping his arms into the long sleeves, he poked his head through and pulled it down over his torso. It fitted like a glove, like a second layer of skin, and moulded perfectly against his body. He moved off Draco’s lap, stood up and gently tugging at the jumper, he pulled it into place and marvelled at its softness. He knew that Merino wool was the finest and softest sheep’s wool around but he had never known it to feel quite this soft. It was exquisite.

“I had it infused with some protective charms, well actually I put the charms on it myself,” Draco said.

He looked up at Harry and smiled softly, warmly. He hadn’t moved from his spot on the sofa and his bare feet were toying with the shaggy carpet while he’d moved his hands back to his thighs, letting them rest there.

 “Oh?” Harry asked curiously.

“Just a couple of shield charms to help lessen the impact of the most common offensive spells,” Draco said. “You’ll still need your wand and a decent set of defensive charms though.”

Harry chuckled and trailing his hand down his chest, he took another moment to marvel at the softness of the jumper. Holding his hand out for Draco to take, he pulled him to his feet and into his arms and as Draco wrapped his arms around his waist, Harry rested his arms on top of Draco’s shoulders.

“You do like me in Slytherin colours, don’t you?” he teased.

He’d had slipped into a pair of silver-grey jeans this morning before meeting Draco for a lazy but luxurious brunch at a small coffee shop near Draco’s flat in Notting Hill.

“Makes your eyes stand out,” Draco shrugged.

Harry laughed heartily.

“Yes, you would say that.”

“It’s true, green looks ridiculously good on you.”

“Thank you.”

Harry cupped Draco’s chin he drew him into a kiss.

“Thank you, my little prince, I love your birthday gift.”

“I’m glad you do.”

Draco smiled shyly. Harry tightened his hold on him, thoroughly enjoying having Draco in his arms.

They stood like that for a while, just hugging and Harry took great pleasure in the way Draco buried his face in his chest. He kept inhaling deeply and it almost felt like he was trying to draw strength from him. Harry let his fingertips trail up and down Draco’s spine and absorbed every single one of his small shivers, held him just that little bit tighter, that little bit closer.

When Draco eventually pulled away, Harry was reluctant to let him go. Draco looked at him, his eyes slightly darker than before. A shy smile ghosted around the edges of his mouth and his gaze flickered back and forth between Harry’s and the floor.

Harry instantly recognised the action for what it was, the desire, though shrouded in insecurity, to want to submit. He had seen it several times before and reaching out, he tenderly ran his fingers through Draco’s soft hair and smiled when Draco tilted his head to the side to push into the touch. His eyes fluttered closed and he clearly enjoyed the sweet caress. Harry wanted to tell him to kneel, wanted to see what Draco would do but bit the inside of his mouth and said nothing.

“I have another birthday present for you,” Draco said quietly.

A light flush crept onto his cheeks.

Harry smiled.

“You do?”

Draco nodded.

“Can you— Can you give me fifteen minutes, then come upstairs?”

“Sure,” Harry said.

Unable to resist, he pulled Draco into a slow kiss, then resolutely stepped back, and moved to sit on the sofa.

“I’ll wait, patiently,” he promised.

Draco gave a nervous chuckle, then turned on his heel and disappeared upstairs.

Once alone, Harry shuffled to the edge of the sofa, and grabbing a handful of fresh green grapes from the fruit bowl, he popped one into his mouth and glanced at his watch, taking note of the time.

He was quite intrigued about what Draco had planned and it took him most of his willpower not to let his devious mind get the better of him. Repeatedly scolding his thoughts, which were trying to run away with him, he reminded himself to get a grip. He munched on yet another grape and was about to reach for this morning’s copy of The Prophet when half the title of a book caught his attention —Yes, Sir.

Curious, Harry nudged the wizarding newspaper aside and smirked as he read the full title — Yes, Sir, A Journey into Submission.

He was quite familiar with the book, had read it himself some time ago, but was rather surprised to find it lying on Draco’s coffee table. He picked it up and leafing through it, he noted the page Draco had bookmarked. He skimmed over the chapter, Draco had yet to read, then lowered the book and smiled.

My gorgeous little prince, you truly are a devious dark horse, he thought and as he closed the book again, he couldn’t help but feel just a little proud as he thought back to his and Draco’s conversation over the previous weekend.

They had barely scratched the surface with that conversation but Harry had no doubt that Draco was clearly fascinated — and bold — enough to investigate the matter on his own.

Wanting to know as much as possible was Draco’s instinct, fuelled by his love for his profession and how brilliant he was at getting to the bottom of things.

I’d like to get your bottom, Harry cheekily mused.

He let out a low chuckle, then dutifully placed the book back on the coffee table and pulled The Prophet on top of it. He found himself impatiently glancing at his watch and realising that he still had ten minutes to kill before he could follow Draco upstairs, he rose to his feet and paced the room.

Feeling just a little too hot, Harry took the jumper off and put his t-shirt back on. He folded the jumper neatly and placed it back inside the black box it had come in. He left the lid off the box and tugging his t-shirt into place, he moved to stand in front of the window and looked down onto the street below.

It was quiet outside and Harry suspected that most Londoners were probably enjoying ice-cream and a spot of sunshine in the park. He had been about to suggest the same but Draco had beaten him to it by telling him that he had a second birthday gift for him.

He found Draco’s secrecy rather alluring and captivated by it, Harry sighed softly and turned his back on the window. He leant against the windowsill and finally gave in to the temptation to imagine just what Draco was up to upstairs.

He let his thoughts run wild for a few minutes but because it did him no good, he banished any and all kinky ideas that had crept into his conscious mind.

Another glance at his watch told him that he still had five minutes to go and his ill-placed impatience made him frown.

Annoyed, he reprimanded himself and took a few calming deep breaths.

Heading into the kitchen, Harry poured himself half a glass of water and slowly sipping on it, he smiled as he remembered the book, he had discovered on Draco’s coffee table.

It made him think of another book, he thought Draco might enjoy reading. He frowned for a moment as he tried to recall the title but after a bit of racking his brain, he remembered it — Under His Hand, I Blossom.

The book Draco was reading now dealt with different types of submission and included the thoughts and experiences of several submissives. The book, Harry had in mind, was a collection of erotic stories that explained spanking and submission in a rather playful yet informative way. He briefly wondered whether he had a copy of the book at home but soon decided that the easiest way to get Draco a copy of the book was to pop into Pleasure and order several books for Draco to poke his nose into — in his own time, of course.

Harry set his now empty water glass down on the worktop and realised that the fifteen minutes, Draco had asked for, were finally up.

Deviously deciding to let Draco hang for another two minutes, Harry remained right where he was and folded his arms over his chest as he waited patiently.

The knowledge that Draco was upstairs, squirming, wondering where he was, pleased him immensely but deciding not to overdo it, he eventually pushed off the kitchen worktop and unfolding his arms, he casually made his way upstairs.

He found the bedroom door closed and a note pinned to it. He read it and smiled at Draco’s choice of words.

Harry, I trust you.


Please handle with care, I bruise easily.



Oh, I’ll handle you with the utmost care, my sweet little prince, Harry thought and raised his hand to knock on the door.

“Come in,” Draco called out.

Turning the doorknob, Harry pushed the door open and smirked at the sight that greeted him. Draco had drawn the curtains in the room and dimmed the lights a little, though it was still bright enough for Harry to see clearly.

He was completely naked and casually lounging in the centre of the bed with one leg bent at the knee. His pose effectively concealed his crotch from Harry’s view, making it impossible for him to discern whether Draco was hard or not.

Two silken ties, one green and one grey, hung loosely from his neck and Draco was casually toying with them, a coy smile playing around his lips.

Someone wants to play, Harry thought and stepping further into the room, he closed the door behind him, then leant back against it and crossed his arms over his chest. He watched as Draco pulled both ties from around his neck and extending his hand, he shyly offered them to Harry.

“I thought Sir might like the honour,” Draco whispered.

Harry smiled.

I would most definitely like the honour, he mused and pushing himself away from the door, he walked over to the bed. He took the silken ties from Draco, grabbed Draco’s bent leg, and straightened it. Draco did not resist him which pleased Harry quite a lot.

The sight of Draco’s erection made him lick his lips in appreciation. He trailed a single finger from Draco’s big toe, all the way up his leg and straight to the place where his thigh met with his hip, then shuffled further up the bed and delighted in the way Draco’s breath hitched and his stomach muscles quivered underneath the taut skin.

Straddling Draco’s thighs, Harry toyed with the silken ties and smiled at Draco as he let them run through his fingers, marvelling at their smoothness. He had no doubt that they were one hundred per cent silk — only the best.

“What exactly would you like me to do with these?” Harry asked with a seductive twinkle in his eyes and teased Draco’s cock with the soft silk.

Draco’s breathing hitched up another notch and Harry winked suggestively.

“Personally, I can think of so many things I could do with these beautiful ties, my little prince,” he whispered.

He paused, leant forward and placing one hand on the headboard behind Draco, he steadied himself. He brought his mouth to Draco’s ear and kissed his earlobe, then nibbled at it gently.

“But this is your fantasy, so tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen.”

He murmured right into Draco’s ear, making sure to keep his voice low and husky. Running his free hand through Draco’s soft hair, Harry teased his fingertips along Draco’s neck and down his chest. He circled his thumb over Draco’s nipple and smiled when Draco’s breath quickened as Harry tempted him to give in to his desire to submit.

“Tell me, Draco, tell me what you want,” Harry urged.

His voice was now a little firmer than before and slowly pulling away he placed two fingers underneath Draco’s chin and gently forced it up, making Draco look at him.

“Tell me,” he insisted and Draco bit his lip as his cheeks flushed pink with both arousal and slight embarrassment.

“Tie me up,” he requested.

His voice was barely louder than a laboured breath.

Harry smiled, then leant in and captured Draco’s lips in a tender kiss.

“I’d love to,” he responded.

He pulled away from the kiss and placing the green tie around his neck, Harry reached for Draco’s right hand. It was shaking a little and Harry instinctively ran his thumb over the pulse point on the inside of Draco’s wrist.

“What’s the spell to release these bonds, Draco?” Harry asked, his voice soft and warm.

Draco instantly focused on him and Harry watched as he swallowed once, twice, then opened his mouth to answer the question.

Resolvo,” he said.

Harry nodded with a smile, then leant in to kiss Draco.

“If at any point you want these ties gone, that’s what you’ll say, do you hear me?” Harry prompted.

He was still drawing circles over the inside of Draco’s wrist and continued to do so until Draco nodded. With an encouraging smile, Harry turned his attention to the grey tie in his hand. He cast a wandless extension charm to lengthen the tie, then found the bight of it with frightful ease. He wrapped it twice around Draco’s wrist, just above the joint, leaving enough room to slip a couple of fingers between the tie and Draco’s wrist.

“Are you going to tie it just like in the book you showed me?” Draco asked.

Harry smiled and winked at him.

“Yes, not quite as elaborate though,” he replied.

He crossed the bight over the working ends of the tie, then tucked it underneath all the makeshift ropes. Next, he made a loop with the working ends and pulled the bight right through, creating a simple knot. He then created another knot in the same way and pulled it tight, ensuring that the silk that wound its way around Draco’s wrist did not overlap. He also made sure that the knot was on the outside of Draco’s wrist and tugging on the tie, he brought Draco’s hand up to his lips and kissed each finger tenderly.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

He placed one final kiss on the palm of Draco’s hand, then gently moved Draco’s bound wrist to rest it against the headboard. One practised knot later and he had secured Draco’s right wrist to the headboard.

“OK?” Harry asked.

Draco experimentally tugged on the tie.

“I can still wriggle around in it.”

“Hm, yes you can, but you can’t slip your hand out of it. I want to restrain you, not cut off your blood circulation and cause nerve damage,” Harry said.

He pulled the green tie from around his neck, cast an extension charm on that one too and found the bight of the tie. He held it in his hand and instead of simply taking Draco’s hand he asked for it.

“Will you give me your left hand, Draco?”

Draco hesitated for a moment, then gave Harry a small nod and offered him his wrist. Harry placed a kiss on the back of Draco’s hand.

“Such a good boy you are,” he whispered encouragingly, then swiftly restrained Draco’s left hand in the same way he had restrained his right hand.

“OK?” he asked again.

Draco nodded and Harry sat back on his haunches. He placed both hands on top of Draco’s naked chest and caressed the warm skin beneath his hands tenderly.

“Now that you can’t escape, what do you reckon I should do with you?” he mused aloud, deliberately teasing Draco and building his anticipation.

“Up to you, Sir,” Draco whispered softly.

Harry didn’t quite manage to control the shudder of excitement that surged through him but was dexterous enough to keep his slight lapse of control off his face and out of his voice.

“Any preference?” he asked with a smirk.

Draco mutely shook his head.

“Oh, my sweet one, you haven’t got a clue what you’re doing to my sanity, have you? Full control and a nearly endless list of ideas to choose from…” Harry whispered.

He took his t-shirt off, haphazardly flung it onto the floor beside the bed and leant forward to capture Draco’s lips in a slow, deep, mind-twisting kiss. He ran the tip of his tongue over Draco’s lips and parting them he plunged his own inside and sought out its counterpart, then curled his tongue around Draco’s and stroked and caressed with the utmost care, treating Draco as though he was a fragile custom-made piece of glass.

Draco’s breathing grew laboured and Harry could feel him writhe a little underneath him. He couldn’t help but wonder whether Draco was itching to touch him.

When he pulled away from the kiss, he noted the way that Draco was flexing his fingers and had his answer.

Yes, Draco most definitely wanted to touch him.

Intertwining his fingers with Draco’s, he squeezed gently and peppered Draco’s lips with tiny kisses but always pulled away when Draco attempted to deepen the kiss. He ran his fingers along the inside of Draco’s arms, up to his shoulders, down the centre of his chest, over his stomach, and along his sides, which twitched underneath his touch, then resolutely pulled away and sat back on his haunches.

“A few rules first, little prince,” he said softly.

He paused and waited for Draco to look at him, though only after blinking several times to focus. “Rule number one, do not come without my permission, otherwise I might have to flip you over and leave a few bite marks on your sexy arse. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” Draco nodded.

Harry smiled.

“Good. Second rule and this is the most important one, if at any point you want me to stop, you know the spell. Resolvo. The bonds will fall right off you. Don’t hesitate to use it, and don’t play brave and try to handle what you can’t. You pushing yourself past what you can take does not give me any pleasure at all. Understood?”

Draco nodded again but Harry shook his head.

“No, Draco, I want to hear you say it, otherwise we will stop right here. Vanilla sex with you is hot too.”

Draco whimpered in protest.

“Say it and I’ll make your wildest dreams come true,” he said with a seductive twinkle in his eyes.

Draco hummed and let his head fall back. Harry gave him a few minutes to gather himself and was pleased to note that Draco’s eyes were clear and focused when he looked at him a moment later.

“I will tell you to stop when it’s too much and I won’t try to push past my limits,” he said softly.

Leaning in, Harry captured Draco’s lips in a warm and very soft kiss.

“That’s my good boy,” he whispered against Draco’s lips but pulled away when Draco tried to deepen the kiss.

Draco keened in protest but Harry merely clicked his tongue.

“I decide when you get a kiss, my little prince.”

Sitting back on his haunches, Harry contemplated for a few moments, unsure where he wanted to take their little game. It wasn’t like he’d had the chance to plan this in advance…

Draco had practically dropped him into the deep end of the pool.

Harry was, however, very good at improvising and thinking back to a conversation he and Draco had had earlier in the week, he smirked.

Shuffling, Harry moved off the bed and stripped his jeans, boxer briefs, and socks off.

Once naked, climbed back onto the back and pushing Draco’s legs apart, he knelt in-between them.

“You really are a sight for sore eyes, Draco. Wrists bound tightly to the headboard, eyes dark with lust and desire, ragged breathing, flexing stomach muscles… Mm, I’m going to have so much fun with you, my little prince.”

Harry caressed Draco’s stomach, his chest, his arms, and his cheeks as he spoke. He captured Draco’s lips in a slow and sensual kiss and when he pulled away Draco looked at him with such shameless hunger shining in his eyes that Harry briefly considered abandoning his devious plan in favour of fucking Draco through the mattress instead.

One deep breath later, he had restrained himself and pressing his lips against Draco’s ear, he breathed hotly and audibly, slowly turning Draco into a quivering mess with the sound of his breathing alone. He drew one, two, three, four low moans from Draco and satisfied, he pulled back, cupped Draco’s chin and made him open his eyes.

“So, Draco Malfoy, tell me, do you take special requests?”

Draco’s eyes widened at the question and staring up at him, he let out a low whine as he tugged on the ties that secured his wrists to the headboard.

“What was that now?” Harry asked with a frown.

“I’m not sure I understood.”

“What special requests?” Draco croaked breathlessly.

Harry shook his head.                         

“No, that’s not how we play this game, my love. The answer is either yes or no,” he told Draco quite firmly.

Sitting back, he watched wave after wave of hesitation flicker across Draco’s face as he tried to make his mind up.

Intrigued, Harry waited patiently for Draco to decide what he wanted. He teased the inside of Draco’s left thigh with his fingertips and brought them dangerously close to Draco’s balls but made sure to never actually touch him. Leaning down, he breathed over the tip of Draco’s leaking, throbbing cock, and watched with delight as it twitched as he tempted Draco into making a bold decision.

“Yes,” Draco breathed.

His entire body trembled from the impact of his decision.

Deciding to reward Draco for being brave and jumping into the unknown, Harry wrapped his lips around Draco’s cock and sucked it into his mouth.

Draco almost instantly tried to thrust up into his mouth, but Harry’s hands were faster. He secured Draco’s hips and pressing them into the mattress, he sucked Draco’s whole length into his mouth, then pulled back and repeated the whole process several times over. His sucks were slow and he was deliberately teasing but he could tell that he was still pushing Draco closer and closer to the edge.

When Draco’s moans grew louder and he struggled to move despite Harry firmly pinning his hips down, Harry pulled away and looking at Draco, he licked his lips.

“You taste so good, you have no idea,” he winked.

He trailed a series of kisses along the inside of Draco’s thigh, nipped at the skin that covered the hipbone, kissed up Draco’s stomach and chest, over his breastbone, and along the side of his neck. There he nipped at the sensitive skin and biting it gently at first, he then sucked it into his mouth. Draco voluntarily tilted his head to the side and exposed his neck to him which Harry rewarded with a rather fierce bite that dragged a low grown from the depths of Draco’s chest.

Nibbling at Draco’s earlobe, Harry flicked his tongue over it and wrapping his fingers around Draco’s hard cock, he stroked the pulsing flesh slowly, agonisingly.

“Share a fantasy with me, something you’ve always wanted to do in bed,” he whispered into Draco’s ear.

He pulled back abruptly to look at Draco’s face. As he had thought, Draco’s eyes had snapped open and he was looking at him with a disbelieving expression.

“Yes, Draco, that’s my special request,” he said softly. “I want to know something about you absolutely nobody else does. Something that’s in your head and your head alone.”

Harry—” Draco whined.

Harry watched as his cheeks flushed deeply, turning nearly crimson in colour, and he promptly averted his eyes.

Letting go of Draco’s cock, Harry placed two fingers underneath Draco’s chin and pushed it up, forcing Draco to look at him.

“I didn’t say you could look away, little prince,” he whispered.

He brought his lips closer to Draco’s and placed a feather-light kiss on Draco’s mouth.

“You look quite sexy when you get all flustered, do you know that?”

Draco made a sound that was neither a whine nor a moan but it was most delectable all the same.

Harry chuckled softly.

“Tell you what, Draco, I bet you I can wrangle the fantasy from you. I bet I can make you want to tell me. What do you say, my love, are you up for a challenge, a little battle of wills?”

Harry trailed his fingertips up and down Draco’s chest, then rolled Draco’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger before squeezing just firm enough to cause a bit of discomfort.

“What— What are you— are you going to do— do to me?” Draco moaned.

He blinked several times. Arousal and embarrassment still flushed his face and Harry couldn’t help but smile.

“Now, now, that would be telling. If you want to play, you’ll just have to trust me,” he said with a cheeky wink.

Draco grumbled and glared but eventually, his expression softened and he surrendered.

“Fine, Potter, you win, do your worst.”


Harry’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he pretended to take Draco’s words at face value.

“Really,” Draco nodded.

Harry promptly slipped his hands underneath Draco’s knees and yanked him into a more horizontal position, which forced him to stretch his arms a little. Leaning over Draco, Harry placed both his hands on either side of Draco’s head and bent down. He sucked at Draco’s bottom lip, then bit it gently.

“It’s not very obedient of you to call me Potter, little prince,” he whispered, then bit a little harder until he drew a low whine from Draco.

“Consider that your punishment,” he said with a firm voice, then started a mind-twisting assault on every inch of Draco’s neck, kissing, nipping, biting, and licking.

At the same time his hand found his way back to Draco’s throbbing cock and wrapping his fingers around it, he stroked it. His strokes were maddeningly slow and as Draco whimpered and moaned underneath him, he continued to kiss along Draco’s left clavicle and bit the soft sensitive flesh near Draco’s armpit.

Harry’s hand left Draco’s cock and teasing his balls instead, he found Draco’s nipple and grazing it with his teeth, he licked it, then bit it, and finally sucked it into his mouth. Draco’s groans grew louder and more wanton and Harry paused his assault for a moment and looked up at Draco.

“Want to tell me yet?” he asked.

Draco vehemently shook his head.

“I see,” Harry smirked. “This is going to be harder than I thought. Hm, maybe the use of a little magic will persuade you.”

Stretching his hand out, Harry summoned his wand from the floor, and wrapping his fingers around it, he whispered a spell he had previously used on Draco. He made sure to utter the words just loud enough for Draco to catch them. He knew that Draco did not know the spell but he also knew that Draco’s understanding of spell theory was good enough to allow him to guess exactly what the spell would do to him.

“This time it’s only a toned-down version, my love, I do want you to have a fighting chance,” he chuckled with a devious glint in his eyes.

Draco attempted a glare but Harry wrapped his hand around his cock and gave it a firm stroke. The spell intensified the sensation and Draco scrunched up his face and moaned.

“Harry—” he whimpered.

“Yes, my love? Got something to tell me?”


“Careful now, I will spank you if you finish that word,” Harry warned.

In response, Draco whined but pursed his lips and resolutely remained silent.

Stroking a little faster, Harry continued his assault on Draco’s body, and working his way to his belly button, he plunged his tongue inside and swirled it around, then bit the sensitive skin just above and below.

Draco groaned and trembled, the sensation once again amplified by the spell, Harry had cast, although only marginally so. Stroking harder and firmer, Harry relentlessly teased Draco and brought him right to the brink of his orgasm, then pulled him back with a rough bite to the inside of his thigh.

Draco yelped and moaned and Harry chuckled as he surveyed the whimpering, writhing mess he had turned Draco into.

So gorgeous, he thought.

“Ready to share yet?” he asked.

Draco’s response was an incomprehensible jumbled mess of words that sounded like a lengthy refusal to cooperate.

Since it didn’t seem like Draco was ready to share yet, Harry continued his onslaught. He was thoroughly enjoying turning Draco into an incoherent mess of limbs that refused to cooperate with Draco’s brain.

Deciding to replace his hand, Harry sucked Draco’s cock into his mouth and swallowing the whole length, he ran his fingernails up and down the inside of Draco’s thighs, taking pleasure in the way Draco’s legs trembled beneath his touch.

He kept Draco’s hips firmly pressed into the mattress and sucked on Draco’s hard cock as though he was enjoying his favourite popsicle. Within minutes, Draco’s moans turned into loud and unrestrained groans as he continued to mutter entirely unintelligible nonsense.

Harry smiled around Draco’s cock and sucked that little bit harder. Working him into a frenzy, Harry pushed him right to the edge only to expertly pull him back.

Draco very nearly screamed. The frustration, Harry knew he felt, was evident on his face, in his eyes and in his voice.

Crawling up Draco’s body, Harry hovered above his face and felt a strong tug of love as he looked at Draco’s contorted face and watched him writhe in the throes of pleasure.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

Several moments passed before Draco found the willpower to open his eyes.

“I’m not done with you yet, my little prince, I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve,” Harry smiled devilishly.

Shuffling, he pulled the top drawer of Draco’s nightstand open and reached inside. He felt for the bottle of lube, pulled it out and dangled it in front of Draco’s face.

“Two choices, you can either end the game or you can share a fantasy with me. The choice is entirely yours but you won’t get to come before you make a decision,” he said.

Since Draco looked like he was about to object, Harry kissed him. It was an open-mouthed, ravenous sort of kiss. It was hot and long and hard and greedy and completely possessive. He drew all air from Draco’s lungs and when he pulled away, Draco was a panting, wide-eyed trembling wreck.

“Beautifully debauched, so utterly beautiful, you take my breath away, Draco,” Harry whispered.

Not giving Draco a moment to recover, he momentarily changed his plans. He placed the bottle of lube on the bed and forced Draco’s legs apart. He pushed them firmly against Draco’s chest and running the flat of his hands up and down the inside of Draco’s thighs, he kissed Draco’s leaking hot prick. He lavished his sensitive balls with a copious amount of attention, then paused to mumble a quick cleaning spell that he knew sent a shiver through Draco.

“Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to share?” Harry asked one last time.

Draco defiantly pursed his lips.

“Very well,” Harry said.

With a low chuckle, he pulled Draco’s buttocks apart and exposed his tight, puckered hole. He licked his lips appreciatingly and looking up at Draco, he winked and lowering his head, he gave Draco’s hole a long firm lick.

Draco groaned and Harry could feel him tremble. He repeated the action several times over, then circled the tip of his tongue over the firm muscle, feeling it flex beneath his insistent tongue. His spit coated Draco’s hole wonderfully and withdrawing a little, Harry blew cool air over the heated slick skin. He watched and felt Draco shiver, heard him moan and continuing his assault on Draco’s arse, he prepared to rim him within an inch of his life.

Lowering his head again, Harry dug his fingers into Draco’s legs, keeping them pushed against his chest, keeping them spread as far apart as he possibly could.

He plunged his tongue right into Draco’s hole, forcing it past the tight muscle, forcing his sphincter to give away and allow him to slip inside.

Draco groaned and whimpered and made the most beautiful sounds as Harry mercilessly thrust his tongue in and out, teasing the extremely sensitive bundle of nerves around Draco’s entrance. The tight ring of muscles quivered and loosened further and Draco moaned louder. It sounded almost as if he was begging, though not in as many words, and spurred on by the truly delightful sounds Draco was making, Harry continued his assault on Draco’s most private part.

A simple ancient rune, drawn onto the inside of Draco’s thigh with his index finger, increased the effectiveness of the spell, he had cast earlier, and setting a hard and fast rhythm, Harry thrust his tongue as deep into Draco’s arse as he could, then pulled back, licked over his hole, circled the dark furrowed skin with the tip of his tongue, then thrust back into Draco, pushing him to the edge.

Draco panted and writhed and moaned and shuddered and trembled and shook and as much as Harry wanted to take him all the way, to push him over the edge and give an earth-shattering orgasm, he didn’t. He stopped, pulled away and licking his lips, he deviously left Draco tethering on the edge, left him hanging inches away from a mind-blowing, toe-curling rapturous orgasm ripping through him.

Ngh, Harry,” Draco whimpered.

He sounded desperate.

With a low chuckle, Harry moved up Draco’s body. He looked down at Draco and smiled, then leant down and trailed a series of kisses along Draco’s jaw until he reached his earlobe. He nibbled on it, flicked his tongue over it and eventually pressed a lingering kiss to it.

“Tell me,” he coaxed.

“Tell me, and I’ll make you feel so, so good. Tell me, and I’ll let you come so hard you’ll be seeing stars until it’s time for dinner. Tell me, and I’ll fill you with my cock, rub that sweet spot of nerves deep inside you and twist your cock until you cover me with your juices. Then I’ll lick them off you and swallow every drop.”

Harry was entirely unabashed about the filthiness of his words.

He pulled away slightly and looked at Draco, really looked at him. His eyes were nearly black, his flushed cheeks were a deep shade of red and he had parted his trembling lips ever so slightly to help him breathe. He was also worrying his bottom lip and Harry could tell that Draco’s entire body was on fire. It wouldn’t take much more to send him over the edge into blissful oblivion.

For that Draco was too close, too high-strung, too turned on.

Everything about Draco told Harry that he did not want to end the game but that he was embarrassed to share an intimate fact about himself. Since this was all still relatively new to Draco, Harry decided to try a different approach altogether. He pressed a rather chaste yet affectionate kiss against Draco’s flushed cheek and letting his hips fall forward he let out a low groan as his erection rubbed against Draco’s cock. A small shudder surged through him and he repeatedly rolled his hips, indulging in the feeling of his cock sliding effortlessly against Draco’s cock.

“I want you to come up to my office wearing nothing but your prosecutor’s robes and holding several long jute ropes. I want you to let me sprawl you out over my desk, push your ropes apart and tie your wrists to your ankles to keep you spread open for me, to give me access to every inch of your body. I want to sink my hard cock into your tight hole and fuck you into my desk until your world turns upside down and you beg me to let you come,” Harry whispered into Draco’s ear, filling his head with a fantasy of his own.

He heard Draco moan and felt him arch his back.

Abruptly pulling back, he stopped rolling his hips, stopped frotting Draco, then lifted his head. He stared down at Draco, kept his eyes firmly locked on Draco’s glazed orbs and smiled.

One, two, three, he counted the seconds until Draco relented. Until he decided that he couldn’t take this sweet torture any longer. By the time Harry had reached six, Draco cleared his throat and spoke softly. His voice was barely a whisper and his face nearly crimson.

“The living room window, where you kissed me for the first time,” he mumbled breathlessly.

Harry redistributed his body weight. Bracing himself on one arm, he reached for the bottle of lube and opened it, skilfully pouring a generous amount over his fingers. Some of it ran onto the bed, but Harry couldn’t care less. Instead, he moved his fingers to Draco’s hole and ghosted over it, making it and Draco quiver.

“Continue,” he encouraged with a warm smile.

“I— I— I want you— I want you to fuck me— fuck me in front of the window, my hands— my hands braced on the windowsill— bend over for you— your hands— hands on my— my—”

Harry slipped a single finger past the tight ring of muscle and entered Draco, moving his finger rhythmically back and forth.

“My hands doing what?” he asked.

“Your hands— your hands on my— my hips, grip—gripping ha—hard.”

Draco struggled to remain coherent now and Harry pushed a second finger into him and increased the speed of his thrusts but refrained from brushing against Draco’s prostate.

“What else?” Harry asked.

“I want— want— wa—want the curtains open, so— so— so I c—can look out, while— while you fu—fuck me.”

“That’s sounds hot. What if the neighbours see?” Harry asked.

Withdrawing his fingers from Draco’s arse, he grabbed his cock, gave it a few strokes, then positioned it at Draco’s hole and pushed inside in one swift motion. Draco groaned and grimaced at the sudden stretch and the piercing pain — Harry hadn’t been exactly gentle though he could tell that Draco didn’t exactly mind.

He sucked in a sharp breath, attempted to breathe through the pain and eventually Harry felt him relax a little, felt him adjust.

“S—sod the neighbours.”

Draco shuddered and his eyes slid closed as Harry ever so slightly moved inside of him.

“Bold. My little prince is bold. Is there more to that fantasy, my love?”

Ngh,” Draco mewled.

“Y—ye—yes. I want y—you t—to ho—hold me so t—tight you’ll leave bruises, I w—want you t—to take me, f—fuck me, b—bi—bite down on my shoulder, m—ma—make me sc—scream your name again and again and again.”

Draco continued his confession and Harry fucked into him, slowly, deliberately, teasingly. He brushed Draco’s prostate once and Draco’s entire body trembled beneath him as he moaned and tore at his restraints.

“Is it just a fantasy or do you want me to make it come true?” Harry whispered and thrust a little harder.

Draco merely keened in response and his mouth dropped open, his back arched and his toes curled against Harry’s thighs.


He begged deliriously and at this stage, Harry wasn’t sure what exactly Draco was asking for. Was he asking for that fantasy to come true? Was he asking for Harry to fuck him rougher harder faster? Did he want those bruises now?

Ordinarily, Harry would stop, would remain sheathed deeply inside Draco, would hold still until Draco clarified his answer.

This time he, however, refrained from doing so.

Instead, he pulled back and thrust into Draco, thrust hard and claiming.

Draco groaned and Harry captured his lips in a deep passionate open-mouthed kiss. One of his hands found its way to Draco’s hip and squeezing with the intention to bruise, he angled for Draco’s prostate on his next thrust and the one after that and the next and all the others that followed.

“You’ve been so good, you’ve taken all my teasing, you’ve held out, you gave me what I wanted, my little prince, you deserve a treat.”

Harry whispered the words against Draco’s now swollen lips and kissed him again, roughly, hungrily, and desperate.

“Come for me, Draco, come for me, I want to feel your come splash against my skin, I want to feel you clench around my cock, drawing me in, I want to hear you scream my name as you come,” Harry urged and as his words slowly washed over Draco.

He watched with gleeful excitement as realisation slowly dawned on Draco and the moment it did, Draco’s entire body convulsed and he shuddered and shook as his orgasm tore through him so violently that all Draco managed was a strangled sort of croak that was neither a groan nor a recognisable version of Harry’s name.

Nonetheless, Harry thought, you look so fucking gorgeous, I want to savour this moment and all others for all eternity.

Withdrawing from Draco’s tight channel, Harry thrust back inside, felt Draco’s come splash against his skin, and hitting Draco’s prostate several times over, he prolonged his orgasm, then felt his own body tense. He came on a hot, all-consuming excruciatingly intense wave of something quite overwhelming. His body quaked and as he followed Draco over the edge, he couldn’t help but seek out Draco’s neck and sink his teeth into the hot, flushed, and salty skin to muffle his own groan.

Several moments passed before Harry found the energy to move but since he was acutely aware of the fact that Draco appeared to be half-delirious and in a euphoric state of incoherency, he forced himself into action.

Shuffling, he moved his tired limbs, pulled out of Draco, waved his hand in a swishing motion to remove the silk ties that kept him bound to the bed and then helped him into a more comfortable position. He spooned around Draco, offered him one arm up as a pillow and sneaking the other around Draco’s waist, he held him tight.

He peppered Draco’s shoulder with tiny kisses and too exhausted and unfocused to attempt any other wandless magic, Harry held his hand out and summoned his wand. Gripping it tightly, he ended the spell he had cast over Draco, cast a cleaning charm over them both and the bed and pulling Draco’s trembling form tighter into his arms, he also mumbled a mild warming charm to engulf them both in a cocoon of warmth.

Draco sighed softly, mumbled something completely unintelligible and pushed back and into Harry’s embrace. He had his eyes firmly squeezed shut, his chest heaved and his body was a boneless heap of limbs. Harry pressed a chaste kiss between Draco’s shoulder blades, tightened his hold on him and allowed his eyes to fall closed but vowed to only allow himself a few minutes of rest before heading downstairs to prepare a sweet snack for Draco once he woke up.

“You rock my world.”

The words were barely audible. They were more of a breathless whisper but Harry’s ears had still caught them and grinning into Draco’s back, he responded first with a kiss, then with an overly romantic declaration of love of his own.

Chapter Text

About two weeks later, Harry returned to his office, after a successful raid with several senior members of his Auror team only to find a rather nervous and out-of-place-looking Ron Weasley pacing up and down in front of his desk.

Wand holstered, a thick stack of papers in hand, and scarlet outer robes somewhat carelessly flung over his arm, Harry stepped into his office, kicked the door shut and greeted Ron with a warm, welcoming smile. He hoped that a calm outward appearance might help Ron relax just a little bit since he seemed quite flustered, which wasn’t unlike him but still not a something Harry particularly enjoyed seeing.

“What brings you to my office?” Harry asked as nonchalant as possible.

He draped his robes over the back of his chair and set the pile of paperwork down on top of his desk, then slumped into his seat, relishing in the softness of the cushions beneath his buttocks and behind his back. He stretched his legs out underneath the desk and reached for a bottle of half-finished pumpkin juice, he brought with him from the Ministry canteen this morning. He hadn’t had lunch yet and while he was starving, he wanted to give Ron a few minutes of his time to explain his presence, even though Harry was well able to hazard a fairly accurate guess.

Ron stood awkwardly in front of his desk and the expression on his face screamed, this was a bad idea, where’s the nearest Apparition Point, damnit why did I leave the Aurors, if I hadn’t I could just apparate right out of here. He looked ready to bolt and Harry couldn’t help but wonder whether drawing his wand and flicking it at the door to cast a locking charm might be a good idea. Despite his rather childish thoughts, Harry was mature enough not to follow through and unscrewing the lid of his bottle of pumpkin juice, he brought the bottle to his lips, fixed his gaze on Ron, hesitated for a moment, then took a few sips.

“Sit down already, Ron. I’m not your professor and you aren’t in trouble for snogging Hermione in the girls’ bathroom,” he said.

Sometimes he was just a little exasperated over the fact that Ron had the amazing talent to act like a fifteen-year-old teenager instead of the rather responsible husband and loving father he was.

A few moments — during which Harry absolutely wanted to hex his best friend — passed before Ron finally decided to accept the invitation to sit and occupied one of the two chairs in front of Harry’s desk. He plonked himself down rather ungracefully and placed his clasped hands in his lap.

“Is this a social visit or have you come to renounce our friendship?” Harry asked.

Ron vehemently shook his head.

Harry fought the urge to point out to Ron that yes or no was not the appropriate answer for a this or that question but resolutely swallowed the desire to reprimand his best friend — Ron got enough of this kind of treatment from Hermione. She had a rather serious penchant for correct grammar although Harry was sure that the reason, she corrected her husband was because it meant she got a rise out of him. Anytime she did it, it always ended with a squabble which inevitably ended with a kiss which was when Harry would turn around and pretend to find his fingernails utterly interesting.

“I’ve done a bit of thinking,” Ron finally spoke, somewhat hesitantly.

“And, well, I’ve come to the conclusion that I was a bit of an arse to you on your birthday, when you— when you told us about, about dating the fer—, I mean, dating Malfoy.”

Harry smirked.

He emptied the bottle of pumpkin juice and screwing the lid back on, he set it down on his desk but instead of letting it go, he absent-mindedly toyed with the label. He knew that this was as good an apology as he was going to get from Ron. He also knew that while the words were coming from Ron’s mouth, Hermione had most likely whipped them into him after giving him several stern reprimands.

Literally whipped? Harry’s devious mind asked out of curiosity and while the thought was intriguing, Harry still pushed it aside. There was only so much he wanted to know about his best friends’ sex lives and who spanked who firmly fell into the shudder-and-change-the-topic-right-away-category. Although given the fact that he had — on more than one occasion — helped Ron to purchase sex toys, Harry had to concede that he knew more about Ron’s and Hermione’s sex lives than he should.

“Does that mean you’re okay with me dating Draco?” Harry asked.

He purposefully referred to Draco by his first name, though he did not expect Ron to do the same.

“Do you really love him?”

Ron answered his question with a question of his own and scrunched his face up in disbelief.

With a small sigh, Harry got to his feet and headed over to the tiny kitchenette near the window of his office. Today’s charmed view was of the River Thames. It was a bright and sunny day and it instantly reminded Harry of that time he’d taken Draco on a cruise to celebrate his birthday in style.

Calling his tiny kitchenette, a kitchenette was a bit of a stretch really. It was just a small table with a cupboard hanging above it. Harry drew his wand and tapping it against the kettle, he boiled some water, then procured two mugs and placed a tea bag into each one.

Once the water had boiled, he filled the two mugs and rooting around the cupboard he found an unopened package of chocolate biscuits which he put under his arm. With a tea mug in each hand, he made his way back to his desk and setting one mug down in front of Ron, he kept the other one for himself. He placed the package of chocolate biscuits right in front of Ron, who reached for it, ripped it open and promptly stuffed a biscuit into his mouth.

You and Draco have more in common than you’ll ever know, Harry mused but thought it wise not to mention to Ron that he and Draco both had a penchant for all things sweet. He didn’t think they’d reached that level of intimacy yet.

“To answer your question, Ron, yes I do. I really love him,” Harry said.

He smiled fondly and wrapping his hands loosely around his tea mug, he blew at the hot liquid to cool it down a little.

“Why?” Ron blurted out.

He instantly turned crimson and corrected himself.

“I mean, how?”

Harry chuckled.

“Why? Many reasons. He’s witty, he’s got an incredible sense of humour, he’s smart, he’s got opinions, he’s fantastic at his job, he’s snarky and sweet. He makes me laugh, and most importantly he doesn’t care that I’m Harry Potter, not like other people do. He’s changed a great deal, Ron. We also have a couple of other things, you most likely don’t want to know about, in common.”

“Are you still talking about Draco Malfoy? The git who made your life a misery? He tried to k—”

Don’t, Ron, just don’t,” Harry said.

His voice carried a warning undertone and he sounded a little harsher than he’d originally intended but he had no desire to revisit his memories of Dumbledore’s death or what had happened when he had used Snape’s dark defensive spell on Draco — or anything else that had happened between him and Draco while they’d been at Hogwarts. The boy Draco had been then no longer existed, it was the man he’d become Harry had fallen in love with and he wasn’t about to allow anyone to rain on his parade.

“Take my word for it, Ron, he’s changed, a lot. We’ve made our peace with the past. It doesn’t mean that we don’t fight like cats and dogs sometimes, but he’s exactly what I need and I am what he needs.”

“OK, I’m sorry.”

Ron looked rather apologetic and Harry sighed. He let go of his tea mug, he rubbed his suddenly throbbing temples. His warm hands provided some much-needed relief.

“We can talk about this some other time, when we’re, well, not inside the Ministry.”

Harry attempted to meet Ron halfway. The last he wanted was to scare Ron off when he had only just come to terms with his choice of partner. Harry really couldn’t help but wonder exactly how hard Hermione had worked over the last two weeks to change her husband’s mind. Ron could be a stubborn arse when he really wanted to, that much was a given. Then again, in all the years they’d been friends, Harry had never once blamed Ron for being a headstrong grump. He knew exactly why Ron behaved the way he did — he cared a great deal and couldn’t stomach the idea of losing his best friend. Ron had never actually said those things to him, not directly anyway, but Harry was well able to read between the lines and they’d come to a quiet understanding.

“It’s all right, we don’t have to. If you’re happy, well, then that’s all that really matters.”

Ron managed a somewhat uncomfortable-looking smile and shoved another chocolate biscuit into his mouth, before carefully sipping on his hot tea.

“Are those your words or Hermione’s?”

Harry could quite resist the urge to tease Ron a little. He got a half-hearted glare in return.

“Oi, I can think for myself, git.”

“Hm, yes, you just prefer to let ‘Mione take the lead, don’t you?”

Harry continued to tease. He tried his best not to imagine Ron wearing a collar and leash.

I should give a set to Hermione for Christmas, I’m sure she would know what to do with it, Harry thought but decided that Ron would undoubtedly hex him into oblivion for pulling such a stunt. Then again, the look on his face would most definitely be worth all the trouble.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ron frowned at him from across the table and Harry wondered whether Ron was playing dumb on purpose.

He was about to answer when his office door swung open with such force that the hinges groaned.

A very red-faced, livid-looking Draco Malfoy burst inside, his black prosecutor’s robes trailing behind him. He briefly reminded Harry of Severus Snape, but he firmly pushed the memory aside and looked on as Draco slammed today’s copy of The Prophet onto his desk.

Draco crossed his arms over his chest and looked like he was seconds away from committing murder.

“Corrupt odious delinquents, the fucking lot of them! That whole article is an ineffable perverse profligacy of paper! The Prophet well and truly is, and always has been, a sickly dissolute excuse for a printed publication and their editorial department is a rank buttock-rimming cesspool of sub-human filth—”

Despite not even halfway through his rant, Draco abruptly fell silent. He had finally realised that Harry had a visitor and flushing a rather lovely shade of red, he uncrossed his arms and dropped them to his sides.

Harry bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself from bursting into ill-placed laughter. When he was in a rage, Draco truly had a way with words and it took Harry every bit of self-control to keep a straight face.

“I’ll just come back later,” Draco said quietly.

The level of his voice was a stark contrast compared to that of a mere thirty seconds ago.

“Stay,” Harry urged gently.

He felt the need to protect Draco wash over him and relished in the fact that Draco had, consciously or not, come to him for help. It was obvious that Draco needed a bit of assistance to come back down from whatever frenzy he had worked himself into and Harry wanted to be the one to be there for him. He felt that it was his duty, given that they were dating and given that he knew a little more about Draco than most people.

Getting out of his office chair, Harry rounded his desk. He walked up to Draco and entirely ignoring Ron for the time being, he reached out and curled his fingers around Draco’s left wrist. He found Draco’s pulse point with practised ease and circling his thumb gently over it, he focused his attention on Draco and Draco alone.

“What happened?” he asked softly.

He purposefully kept his voice low and calming, hoping it would have the desired effect.

When Draco merely growled in response, Harry circled Draco’s pulse point a little more firmly, drawing Draco’s focus to his touch and away from his anger.

“Clueless scoundrels don’t have the first fucking idea about the law but in the name of freedom of speech, they insist on the right to tell the prosecutor’s office how to do their job. If they did that with the Wizengamot Judges the editor-in-chief would be out of a job within a week, scratch that, he would be looking for a new job tomorrow,” Draco snarled.

His facial features softened considerably just a moment later.

“I’m sorry for barging in like that, I really needed to let off some steam.”

His quiet admission made Harry smile.

“You know perfectly well that you can come to my office any time you want to or need to. Feel better now?”


Draco nodded with a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“I’m glad,” Harry chuckled.

He let go of Draco’s wrist and taking a step back, he reached for the package of chocolate biscuits.

“Sorry Ron, I think my boyfriend needs these more than you do,” he grinned.

He handed the sweet treat to Draco and watched with affection as he snatched the package from him and unashamedly stuffed a whole biscuit into his mouth, then chewed on it with a gleeful expression.

“You really picked the perfect time to pop in, Draco. Ron stopped by to tell me he’s finally come around to the idea of us dating and that he absolutely supports our relationship,” Harry said.

What he hadn’t anticipated though was that his little jest resulted in Ron and Draco glaring at each other with such venomous and cold expressions that Harry shuddered and felt the strong desire to back away. He perched himself on the edge of his desk and looking back and forth between Ron and Draco, he wondered whether he should be drawing his wand, just to be on the safe side. He had an inkling that this wasn’t going to end well.

“Not going to try and hex me again, are you, Weasley?” Draco mocked.

He schooled his expression into one of superior nonchalance.

“You really should give it another try; you did such a spectacular job the last time.”

“Why don’t I just call my wife?” Ron retorted, sounding just as snarky. “If I remember correctly, she has a rather fierce right hook. Tell me, Malfoy, did she break your nose back then? If not, I’m quite certain she would agree to give it another go. You know, do it properly this time.”

“I see, you still need a girl to fight your battles for you then, Weasley?”

Draco sneered.

Without really thinking about it, Harry drew his wand and cast an invisible shield charm between the two of them.

He did so just in time too, because at that comment Ron was out of his chair and on his feet, with his own wand drawn. He pointed it at Draco’s chest and Harry noticed that Draco hadn’t drawn his own wand. He couldn’t help but wonder whether Draco had felt the wave of magic surging through the room as Harry had cast the wordless shield charm. He was also rather surprised to see Draco and Ron react this strongly to being in each other presence — it was mildly worrisome. Then again, Harry conceded, it hadn’t been an arranged meeting and neither one of them had been prepared for it.

“I don’t need my wife to fight my battles for me!”

Ron raised his voice and his face turned red.

Harry wasn’t entirely sure whether it was anger, embarrassment, or a mixture of both.

Draco laughed mockingly, then continued to rile Ron up even further.

“Go on then, Weasley, do your worst. Attack a prosecutor in robes in front of the Director of the Auror Department. I’m sure it’ll go down well for you. I promise you; I’ll have your freckled arse inside one of our holding cells faster than you can even think about Apparating out of here. Oh wait, you’re no longer an Auror, privilege revoked — this will be too easy.”

His conscience reminded Harry that he should probably put a stop to Draco’s taunts before they got completely out of hand but all he could manage was a dirty smirk — this little showdown between his best friend and his boyfriend reminded him a little of their Hogwarts days and how much effort he and Draco had put into despising each other in the most colourful ways possible.

What witness? he thought devilishly and reprimanded himself for his rather unprofessional thoughts.

At this point, he was, however, pretty sure that Draco most definitely hadn’t noticed the shield charm. He was just that good at playing somebody. After all, it was what he did for a living. Still, Draco’s words seemingly got through to Ron because he slowly lowered his wand and he eventually holstered it again.

“Smart move, Ronald Weasley, you aren’t as quite as dumb as I thought you were.”

Draco nodded with a devious grin. It made Harry wonder where Draco’s submissive side had disappeared to. He was full of sass and everything he said had quite a bit of bite to it.

It was as if his proclivity to surrender had all but vanished and Harry allowed himself a moment to imagine pushing himself off his desk, straightening up and stepping behind Draco to pull him into a tight embrace.

Would Draco yield or would he push him away?

Harry’s fingers itched.

He wanted to find out, wanted it badly, but resolutely controlled himself. He wasn’t about to test Draco’s willingness to submit while Ron was in the room. Draco cared about his privacy, it was the one thing that was most important to him, and Harry had no intention to betray Draco’s trust in him.

“You are vile, Malfoy, I’ve no idea what Harry sees in you,” Ron snapped.

“Ron, Draco, please, we’re not in Hogwarts anymore. You’re acting like teenagers.”

That was the last straw and Harry finally decided to actively step in and looking back and forth between Ron and Draco he sighed softly.

This was ridiculous. He could understand why Draco has gotten riled up so easily. When he’d stormed into his office, he’d already been feeling upset and angry — Harry didn’t blame him for losing his temper at the slightest provocation. Also, Draco wasn’t the type of person who let the chance to rise to the bait go.

What Harry couldn’t quite understand though was why Ron hadn’t managed to control himself just a little bit. Sure, Ron had always had a bit of a temper but since his and Hermione’s wedding, and since becoming a father, he was all talk and no action.

Harry shook his head. Really, Ron and Draco were worse than toddlers.

“Tell him that.”

“Tell him that.”

Ron and Draco said crossly at the same time and Harry laughed.

“I suppose the three of us having drinks tonight is out of the question?” he asked.

He ignored the fact that Draco was glaring daggers at him.

You don’t scare me, my little prince, I know how to turn you into putty in my hands, he thought but said nothing of the sort.

“I’ve got to get back home to help Hermione with the baby, she’s waiting for me.”

Ron suddenly hastily made up an excuse and although it was believable, Harry knew that it was a feeble attempt to get away. Since Hermione and Ron both worked, Molly usually took care of baby Rose during the day. As such, nobody was waiting for Ron at home. At least not this early in the afternoon.

Harry suppressed the urge to call Ron out on his little white lie but couldn’t resist giving him a pointed look while he crossed his arms over his chest.

Ron answered with a rather apologetic expression and a mildly pathetic shoulder shrug and before Harry could stop him, he had bolted out the door.

“I’ve got a deposition to get to,” Draco muttered hurriedly.

Before Harry could react accordingly, he’d already turned on his heel and was halfway out the door. A second later, he’d also disappeared.

Harry shook his head and for a minute or two, he stood alone in the middle of his office and wondered whether there was any point in going after either Ron or Draco.

He decided that there wasn’t and returning to sitting behind his desk, he grabbed The Prophet to read the drivel about Draco’s latest court case. The trial had, of course, made the front page and while the article was mostly an update on the case in general, it did mention the prosecutor’s office rather unfavourably and Harry absolutely understood why Draco had been so outraged over it. He absent-mindedly reached for an inter-departmental memo and scribbling a note on it, he folded it and sent it off with a half-hearted wave of his wand.


We’ll talk tonight.


Deciding that reading the rest of the article would be a waste of his time, Harry binned it and unenthusiastically turned his attention to his paperwork but thoughts about what had transpired between Ron and Draco just now kept distracting him.

His gut instinct told him that Ron had no actual problem with Draco, at least not one he wouldn’t be able to get over. Ron was the kind of person who needed an appropriate amount of time and the right kind of persuasion to adjust to changes.

Harry temporarily abandoned his case files and sitting back in his chair he massaged his sore temples, then steepled his fingers together and rested them underneath his chin. He let out a soft sigh.

It had taken Ron months to accept his move to Canada and Harry still vividly remembered the many Howlers, Ron had sent, trying to somehow understand why Harry had felt the need to up and leave with his makeshift family.

Harry had explained everything, in minute detail even. He’d written so many long letters that his writing hand had cramped for days on end, and eventually, Ron had understood. He’d accepted that moving halfway across the globe had been something Harry had needed after the war, that it has been his way of distancing himself from the aftermath of everything, his way of licking his wounds and finally taking a bit of time for himself.

If he can accept you leaving the country for five years, he can accept you dating Draco Malfoy, a little voice inside of him, that sounded strangely like Charlie, said and Harry chuckled to himself.

He drew his wand and spelt the door closed, then picked up his by now lukewarm tea, binned the teabag and summoning the bowl of sugar from his makeshift kitchenette, he added three teaspoons of brown sugar.

“Ugh, you’re turning me into a sugar-loving monster, little prince.”

Harry grumbled under his breath, slightly disgusted with himself that he had turned his tea into a sweet syrup. He put the sugar bowl down and hitting the mug with a mild reheating charm, he took a few careful sips, then pulled a face at the extreme sweetness.

With Draco still firmly on the forefront of his mind, he couldn’t quite resist the temptation to daydream a little. He imagined coaxing Draco into letting go of his annoyance and submitting to him instead. He could think of several ways to get Draco to let go of everything. He had managed it before and was rather confident that he could manage it again.

I’d make you forget everything but my name, Harry thought.

He had to consciously remind himself not to fully succumb to the pie in the sky he had dreamt up. He really wanted to give in and spend the afternoon thinking up various ways of seducing Draco until the raw desire to submit replaced his exasperation over whatever The Prophet had printed about his case.

Feeling just a little befuddled, Harry resolutely decided to postpone his kinky fantasies until later. He most definitely wanted to spend the evening with Draco. The idea of having to stay in the office longer than necessary, just to finish a never-ending influx of paperwork, filled him with enough dread to get himself into gear. He vaguely remembered that he was still hungry but pushing those desires to the back of his mind, he decided to devote the remaining hours of his official working day to get through as many files as possible.

Chapter Text

Long slender fingers curled around Harry’s wrist, effectively stopping him from returning to the living room.

Yes, Harry thought, finally.

Turning to face Draco, Harry raised a curious eyebrow at him and wondered whether Draco was finally ready to tell him what was bothering him.

Within about five minutes of arriving at Draco’s flat, he had noticed that Draco appeared unnerved. All that nervous energy had been subtle and despite, at times, being barely noticeable, it had bugged Harry. He couldn’t think of a good reason for Draco’s nervousness. It made sense that there was still some lingering resentment over today’s headlines in the Prophet but what didn’t make sense was this unusual trepidation Draco carried with him. It was as though he was afraid of having to admit to a mistake.

When he wanted to, Draco knew all too well how to mask his uneasiness, he was, after all, a rather gifted Occlumens. Harry doubted that Draco had failed to properly guard his mind but he seemed entirely too distracted to focus on keeping his thoughts to himself.

A lot had changed since Hogwarts and Harry finally possessed the ability to read people — he didn’t need to magically invade anyone’s mind to do so. No, he’d simply acquired the skill of reading people’s expressions and gauging their feelings based on that. It hadn’t been the easiest thing in the world to learn but it often came in handy. Not only whenever he was interrogating criminals but also when he tried to work out what his subs felt like and how much more they could take before it all got too much.

With Draco, it had been in the way he had moved around the kitchen, shoulders drawn up almost to his ears, while he had finished preparing dinner. It had been in the way he hadn’t asked for Harry’s help to chop the vegetables but had vehemently insisted on taking care of dinner, going even as far as to shoo Harry away to give him space.

Get out of my kitchen, Potter.

What was usually a teasing taunt had suddenly almost felt like a slap in the face and while it had stung a little, Harry hadn’t let on.

It had been in the way Draco had kept his head down all through dinner, limiting their conversation to the latest Quidditch news and a new law book he planned to order — mindless chatter without any real depth, a pathetic attempt at trying to keep Harry at bay and avoiding any subject that might result in him having to come clean about his feelings. It had been in the way his eyes had flickered with worry and in the way, he had tensed for a split second when Harry had pulled him close to hug and kiss him.

Harry wasn’t entirely sure whether Draco had intended for him to notice all these things or whether he had unconsciously allowed his agitation to shine through but to Harry, Draco was an open book. It had taken him a great deal of mental control to stop himself from addressing the elephant in the room.

Never confront, unless you are completely sure that this is what your sub needs, a piece of advice Caleb had given him many years ago, had helpfully reminded him that forcing Draco to talk when he clearly wasn’t ready to do so would only end with him getting defensive and telling him nothing.

So, instead of exercising a healthy dose of dominance to get Draco to talk about whatever was troubling him, Harry had chosen patience. He had chosen to subtly let Draco know that he was there whenever Draco felt ready to get things off his chest. All those small touches, his soft gentle inquiring glances and an open and inviting body language seemed to have finally done the trick.

“Are you angry with me?” Draco asked.

His voice was soft, his eyes pleading and his expression worried.

Harry took a step closer and setting his mug down on the worktop, he gently removed Draco’s fingers from around his wrist. He held on to Draco’s hand and caressed the back of his hand with his thumb.

“Should I have a reason to be angry with you?”

Draco sighed.

“I don’t know, your note this afternoon, it was so—”

Harry only barely managed to bite back a smirk and only at the very last second.

“Is that what tonight has been all about? You were worried that I’m mad at you because my note was so short?”

Draco nodded and flushed a little.

Harry found it endearing and taking another step closer, he placed his hand on Draco’s hip and squeezed gently.

“I’m not mad and I apologise if my note made you feel that way. That was not my intention.”

“I spent all afternoon worried you were mad at me because of what happened between me and Weasley in your office.”

Draco admitted quietly and when he averted his gaze and lowered his head, Harry abandoned Draco’s hip and placing a single finger underneath Draco’s chin, he pushed it up.

“Hey, look at me,” he said softly.

He waited for Draco to comply.

Once he did, Harry continued.

“You can be a silly fool when you want to be, Draco Malfoy. Just in case saying it once isn’t enough, I’ll say it again. I’m not mad and I’m sorry my note made you feel that way. It was rather short; I admit to that.”

“Made me forget all about that stupid article,” Draco said.

The soft smile, that tugged at the corners of his mouth, and his low chuckle pleased Harry immensely.

“See, that was my intention all along.”

Harry smirked and Draco rolled his eyes.


“Hey now, no insults.”

Harry pretended to look affronted and changed the tone of his voice to sound just a little more authoritative — similar to the tone he used when he issued an order in his official capacity as the Head of the Auror Department or when he got a little firmer with Draco while they were in bed together, not that it was strictly necessary because Draco followed most orders, even when softly whispered directly into his ear, but because he thoroughly enjoyed the way Draco would freeze for a second before he obeyed.

“You know how I feel about those, little prince,” he chided.

He both saw and felt the slight shiver that surged through Draco at the implication his words carried.

“I’m sorry, S—” Draco whispered and his cheeks flushed anew.

He choked slightly on the last word but it made Harry smile nonetheless.

“Such a good boy you are,” he praised.

He leant in and pressed a gentle kiss to Draco’s slightly parted lips.

“You know, good boys get rewards,” he murmured against Draco’s lips, then promptly deepened the kiss.

He plunged his tongue deep into Draco’s mouth, actively seeking out the warm wetness of his tongue. He curled his own around it, playfully teased it until he pulled a strange half-moan half-gasp from Draco.

Harry relished in the way that Draco’s hand twitched in his and pressing him firmly against the worktop, he trailed his fingertips down Draco’s neck, along his shoulder and down his arm. When he reached Draco’s wrist, he gripped it tightly and gently pulled Draco’s arm behind his back, loosely restraining it there.

Draco arched against him and a low appreciative moan escaped past his lips and into Harry’s mouth. Harry thrust forward, trapping Draco between the kitchen counter and his own body, and slowly breaking the kiss, he pulled back and smirked at Draco.

“Let’s take this conversation back to the living room, much easier to bend you over my knee and spank that pretty arse of yours in case you decide to force my hand with some more foul language. And don't for once think I won't do it.”

Unable to completely conceal the effect Harry’s words had on him, Draco’s eyes darkened considerably.

For a moment, Harry felt the desire to indulge Draco. He wanted to give Draco yet another chance to explore his newly discovered penchant for spankings but decided against it. The fantasy of it was just as good and since the whole idea of dominance and submission was still so very new to Draco, Harry knew that Draco needed to explore his fantasies and indulge in them almost more than he needed the real thing. It was a safe haven, a way for him to acclimatise himself with the whole idea, a change for him to imagine whatever it was that he wanted without diving head first into things he wasn't quite ready for.

Pulling a little further away from Draco, Harry released his arm and his hand.

Draco looked a bit lost but he managed to regain some of his composure, though his breathing remained laboured.

Harry picked up both his and Draco’s mug of hot milky black tea, then winked at Draco.

“Little experiment. Let’s see how good you are at following orders,” he said.

“I want you to wait until I’ve sat down on the sofa, before you may follow me. Can you do that for me, my little prince?”

Draco gave a small nod and pleased with his willingness to try and obey, Harry made his way into the living room. He was careful not to spill the tea as he walked and placing the tea mugs on cork coasters on the table, he sat down on the sofa and leant back comfortably.

As he did, Draco walked into the living room and stood in front of the sofa, looking a little forlorn and unsure about what to do next.

Harry smiled and patted the empty space next to himself.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’d love a cuddle,” he said.

Draco’s eyes lit up instantly and Harry knew that this was a reaction he’d never tire of seeing on Draco’s face.

With a wide grin, he strode over to Harry, plunged himself down onto the sofa and boldly placed his head in Harry’s lap.

Chuckling, Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s hair and pulled a soft, appreciative moan from Draco. He continued to comb his fingers through Draco’s soft blond locks and glancing at the TV, he smirked.

The current contestant on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire had just wrongly answered a question about where Paddington Bear was originally from and had therefore lost out on the chance to leave with one million British Pounds — in fact, he'd lost out on the change to leave with any money at all.

Despite not knowing most of the answers, though refusing to admit that he didn’t, Draco loved the show and Harry was still trying to wrap his mind around exactly what made Draco enjoy a show he didn’t really understand. It wasn’t as bad as Draco’s penchant for the Big Bang Theory though. Nearly all the jokes, as well as all the science, made absolutely no sense to Draco, though it didn’t appear to bother him. If anything, and weirdly enough, it just seemed to make him enjoy the show even more.


Turning his attention away from the TV and back to Draco, Harry smiled down at him and casually rested the hand that wasn’t entangled in Draco’s hair on Draco’s chest, right above his heart.

“About Weasley—”

“What about Ron?” Harry asked.

“I didn’t mean to go off on him like that.”

“Hmm, I was a bit surprised. You two properly riled each other up. Still, hate him that much then?”

Draco scowled.

“I don’t hate Ronald Weasley. I never have. I used to strongly dislike him, these days it’s simmered down to tepid indifference.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Harry rolled his eyes but kept the tone of his voice warm.

He wasn’t entirely happy about how Ron and Draco had gone off at each other but he could understand them both and as such he chose to exercise leniency — for now anyway.

“I wasn’t exactly feeling myself when I showed up in your office. Didn’t help that I wasn’t at all prepared to see Weasley in your office and when he gave me that dark glower, I just couldn’t help myself and all rational thought went out of the proverbial window.”

“Do you think you could call him Ron?”

Draco grimaced.

“I’m not calling him Weasel, aren’t I?”

“Point taken.”

Harry chuckled at Draco’s sassy comeback — he lived for those and truly enjoyed the fact that Draco was bold enough to still be himself. It was exactly what Harry wanted. He enjoyed both sides of Draco, the bold and brazen one that was full of sass and cheek and the submissive one that didn't talk back and surrendered so beautifully that it made Harry's heart pound wildly in his chest.

“You’re not mad about that either, then?”

“I’m not mad at all, Draco, but thank you for your implied apology for acting like a snarky teenager in front of my best friend.”

“You know, I meant what I said. I never did hate Weasley.”

“Let me guess, you were too busy hating me, right?” Harry teased.

“Absolutely, Potter, you were the bane of my existence. I was too preoccupied thinking about you, day and night, to worry about Weasley.”

Harry looked rather amused and his eyes glinted with mischief.

“Day and night, huh? And what sort of thoughts did you have about me that kept you up at night?”

“That’s for me to know and you to wonder about.”

Draco laughed and Harry quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Are you sure, my little prince?” he asked, purposefully keeping his voice low but authoritative.

He slowly let his hand slide down Draco’s chest and over his stomach, which quivered underneath his gentle touch, then rested his hand just above the button of Draco’s trousers, and held his gaze for several moments.

“Would you like me to refresh your memory on how I can make you tell me absolutely anything, even your deepest darkest secrets, my little prince?”

Draco made a strange squeaking sound and Harry smirked when he grabbed his hand with both of his, stopping him from moving it any lower.

“Don’t,” Draco pleaded.

“Scared of what you’ll tell me, my love?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Draco said hastily but his flushed cheeks told a different story.

“Hm, yes, sure there isn’t.”

Harry smiled knowingly and withdrawing his hand he placed it back on Draco’s chest.

Draco’s heart was now thumping wildly and that was all Harry needed to know. He had a secret and he was somewhat embarrassed about it.

I’ll get it out of you at some point, sweet one, he thought and made a mental note to add Draco’s wank fantasies to the list of things they were going to talk about at some point or other.

“Weasley. We were talking about Weasley.”

Draco hurriedly changed the topic and attempted to sit up, but Harry kept him from doing so.

“Nah, don't, I like you like this, on your back, head in my lap, looking up at me.”

“So bossy.”

Draco grumbled and glared up at Harry, who merely shrugged and shuffled into a different position altogether. It took a little bit of moving about but eventually, he was lying on his side with his back pressed into the sofa cushions and his head propped up on his elbow. He placed his hand back on Draco’s chest and draped his leg possessively over Draco’s thighs. Leaning down, he brought his lips close to Draco’s.

“We both know you like it when I get bossy with you,” he whispered.

Before Draco had the chance to respond, Harry kissed him hard. He claimed his mouth with a deep, demanding kiss that had Draco grip at his bicep as he arched his back upwards to press his groin against Harry’s thigh.

Harry pulled away and fixing his eyes on Draco, he kept his gaze on him until Draco lay perfectly still. His chest heaved and his body trembled slightly but otherwise he did not move.

“Arms above your head.”

It was a softly-spoken command but a command all the same. Draco sucked in a sharp breath but obeyed. He slowly let go of Harry’s biceps and raising his arms, he used them to frame his head.

“Such a good little prince you are,” Harry whispered.

He took immense pleasure in the fact that Draco struggled against the fog that presently clouded his brain as his desire to submit to Harry tugged at the edges of his being. It was so frightfully easy to get him to that stage and Harry knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that watching Draco gradually let go and become this pliable, willing submissive was something he'd never tire of.

“Keep them there until I tell you otherwise, if you move them before you're allowed to I will turn that gorgeous behind of yours a beautiful shade of Gryffindor-red,” Harry said.

He paused for a moment to allow Draco to get used to the fact that he was now, out of his own volition, in a submissive pose. Once he was sure that Draco had adjusted adequately, Harry continued.

“Now, I believe you wanted to talk about Ron.”

It took Draco several attempts before he managed to form a clear sentence and even then, he stumbled over his words and had to repeat himself. Harry didn't blame him — Draco's mind was slightly preoccupied, though not so much that he couldn't still follow and participate in the conversation.

“I—, I don’t think Weasley and I— will— will ever be friends but— but I think we could be civil with each other. I know he’s— he’s your best friend. I would try, for— for you. Because— because I love you.”

Harry’s first response was to kiss Draco sweetly and his second response was to reciprocate and tell Draco that he loved him too. Reassurance always came first — if Draco was willing to openly show his vulnerable side then he needed to know that Harry cared about him and that he was safe and looked after.

“You should probably know that Ron sent me a letter before I left the office,” Harry said.

He caressed Draco’s cheek tenderly and placed a butterfly kiss on the tip of his nose which resulted in Draco scrunching up his face and Harry laughing quietly.


Draco sounded a little more like himself and a lot more in control over his thoughts. His arms were still framing his head, just as Harry had requested, and Harry’s arm and leg were still trapping his body.

“He apologised for storming off and for telling you that he had no idea what I see in you. He said that he lost his head when you mocked him and then said pretty much the same thing you just did. He doesn’t think he’ll ever manage to be friends with you but that he could tell how much you mean to me and that he wanted to try his best to be civil.”

“Are you sure he wrote that letter out of his own volition?” Draco asked.

Harry frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“Not to sound mean or anything, but we are still talking about Ronald Weasley, yes? From what I know about him and from what you’ve told me, as well as going by what I witnessed in your office this afternoon when I accused him of letting his wife fight his battles for him, well, he does not come across as the type of person to write such a letter. On the off chance that you’re going to be mad at me for making such a crass accusation, I think Weasley’s wife made him write that. She probably fed it to him word for word.”

Harry managed to hold his laughter in for all but two seconds, then it burst out of him like a female Hungarian Horntail spewed fire when riled up.

Draco’s clueless expression only served to make Harry laugh harder and pressing his face against Draco’s shoulder, he tried to find it in him to calm himself.

He failed miserably.

His body continued to shake with his unrestrained and nearly hysterical laughter and not even Draco’s use of the f-word would get him to stop. He wheezed and snorted and gasped. His sides ached from the effort it took to laugh and breathe at the same time and it was only when the flat of Draco’s hand firmly connected with his clothed thigh and the fierce sting of the unexpected smack zapped through him, that he started to sober up.

Draco stared at him with a frown.

“You’ve gone insane. What in Salazar's name is wrong with you, Potter?”

“I think I should ask you that question, Draco,” Harry said.

His voice was sharp and curt and he instantly firmed his features. Any trace of amusement had vanished from his face and disentangling himself from Draco, he moved to stand and crossed his arms over his chest. He watched as Draco, eyes wide with fear, scrambled into a sitting position and when he attempted to get to his feet, Harry fixed him with such an icy glare that he instantly sank back into the sofa cushions and did not dare to move.

“I told you not to move your arms until I told you that you can. How difficult is it to obey such a simple request? The vulgar language I can forgive given the circumstance, but slapping me, are you out of your—”

Harry abruptly fell silent.

A strange hissing sound, one Harry had never ever heard before, stopped him from finishing that sentence. It was vicious and piercing and it nearly brought him to his knees. His arms uncrossed out of their own volition and dangled at his sides yet Harry could not recall moving them. The dragon pendant, he’d been wearing around his neck ever since Charlie had given it to him, suddenly burnt red-hot, threatening to melt right through his skin. He grimaced, let out a gasp and shuddering, he inhaled sharply and forced himself to calm down. He wanted to touch the pendant but he also wanted to take a step forward and closer to Draco. Surprisingly his body refused to obey him. It was like the dragon charm prevented him from moving at all.

Harry took another deep breath and forced himself to calm further.

Shit, he thought, damn it, no. He'd gone too far, crossed his own boundaries and just as Charlie had promised Aasymah was stopping him. Harry didn't know whether to be grateful or happy but he was horrified at his own reaction and the way he’d snapped at Draco. He stood frozen to the spot for several minutes, then curled his fingers into tight fists, focused on the hissing sound and realised that the dragon was talking to him, not just spitting strange sounds at him that threatened to burst his eardrums.

“Easy there, youngling, there’s time for rage but it isn’t now, be calm and I shall release you,” the dragon spoke and with a frown, Harry wondered whether Draco had heard that voice too.

One look at him told Harry that he hadn’t.

He took another deep breath and loosened his fists.

I’ve got this, he thought and a minute later the hissing sound in his ears disappeared. He felt the penchant thrum around his neck as it gradually cooled down and before long it had turned to its resting state. Harry let out a low sigh of relief and swallowed hard. He’d very nearly crossed a line, no, he had crossed a line, he had acted on impulse and allowed his inner Dom to react to Draco's actions. His momentarily lapse of control, though given that he was only human it was perfectly understandable, disgusted him. Draco deserved better and he silently vowed that he would give him better.

He sat back down onto the couch and tried to reach out for Draco’s but he pulled away and immediately scooted to the other the side of the sofa.

Harry sighed. He had to fix this now.

“Draco, please—”

He spoke softly, attempting to salvage the situation — he needed to put things right. The last thing he wanted was for Draco to be scared of him. He wanted to move closer to Draco but knew better than to invade his personal space after he had moved away from him. It was up to Draco to initiate contact. Harry had no intention of forcing it. Instead, he relaxed his features, softened his expression, and held his hand out in the hope that Draco would eventually accept it.

“C’mere, Draco, please, let me explain.”

Harry made sure to keep his voice soft and gentle throughout.

“I promise nothing will happen, you are safe, I’m sorry, Draco, I’m so sorry, please come here.”

Several minutes passed, and each one of them was excruciating for Harry before Draco finally moved. He hesitatingly crawled towards Harry, sat back on his haunches, and resting his hands on his thighs, he looked wary.

Merlin, you don’t even know how submissive you are, you’re doing it even now and I don’t deserve it, you utterly perfect creation of nature, Harry screamed in his mind but pushed the thought aside and locked it into a dark corner. He had no need for it now.

Harry went to reach out but stopped himself before he touched Draco. Instead, he let his hand hover in mid-air and asked for permission first.

“Draco, may I take your hand?”

Draco inclined his head in silent approval and placing his hand on top of Draco’s, he squeezed gently.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you, that was uncalled for and absolutely out of line. Please don’t be scared, it’s hurting me to see you like that.”

“You terrified me,” Draco whispered.

Harry couldn’t help but note the unshed tears in his eyes and something gripped his heart in a vice-like grip and made it difficult to breathe properly.

“I sure did and I’m sorry, I had no right to speak to you like that. I promise you, it will not happen again, you have my word.”

Harry tightened his hold on Draco and tugged gently, hoping his mild insistence would coax Draco back into his arms. Draco hesitated but eventually, he shuffled forward and allowed Harry to draw him into a hug. Harry kissed the top of his head, stroked his fingers through his hair, and ran his hand soothingly up and down Draco’s back, then laced their fingers together.

“I’m sorry, truly, I am,” he apologised again.

“You were laughing so hard about what I said about Weasley and Granger. I just wanted to know why but you were in no fit state to tell me. I’m sorry I slapped your thigh.”

“Don’t. Don’t apologise. We do not have a Dom/sub relationship, you were perfectly within your rights to do so, I’m ashamed of the way I reacted. My inner Dom got the better of me.”

Harry sighed and placing his index finger underneath Draco’s chin, he gently persuaded him into looking up. Instead of apologising again, he captured Draco’s lips in the softest, most innocent kiss. He poured his emotions and about a million more apologies into the kiss and only pulled away when he felt the wetness of Draco’s silent tears against his own cheeks.

“Why are you crying?”

Draco huffed out a low sigh mixed with a strange sort of chuckle.

“Nobody’s ever kissed me like that,” he admitted.

“Kissed you like what?”

“Like I— like I am the— the most important person ever.”

“Well, I can't speak for anyone else but to me you are the most important person ever and I need you to be happy. I also need you to feel safe when you're with me.”

Harry smiled softly, then leant in and continued to kiss Draco's tears away. They tasted salty and he bravely swallowed them all. It felt like he was trying to force down a bitter pill of regret over his actions but Harry continued until the only wetness left on Draco’s cheeks was that of his kisses.

“I’d kiss you like that every day for the rest of your life if that’s what you wanted, Draco,” Harry said.

He pulled Draco into his arms and held him so close that he was, for a moment, afraid he might crush Draco.

When Draco wrapped his arms around his waist and melted against him, Harry knew that Draco had forgiven him. He kissed the top of Draco’s head and smiled into his soft silken hair.

“Do you want to know why I started laughing so hard?”

Draco nodded.

“Because you have no idea how spot-on you were with what you said. Hermione is rather bossy and Ron lets her be bossy. He enjoys it, I think, but it would take Veritaserum and the Cruciatus Curse to get him to admit that.”

Draco pulled out of their embrace and looked at Harry with a curious expression.

“Do they have a Dom/sub relationship? Are they into— Is Granger like— like you then?”

Harry chuckled and shook his head.

“No, Hermione is not a Domme, she just has a bit of a penchant for bossing her husband around and her husband happens to like it. Then again, she's always been like that. I think Ron is a bit terrified of ‘Mione but he loves her so much, he lets her get away with murder. Besides, if you ask me, her bossiness is what made him fall in love with her in the first place. And you’re right, Hermione did make Ron write that letter. She was also the one who made sure that Ron came by my office today, I’m quite sure of that. You know, Ron is a really good guy, he's got his heart in the right place, he just takes longer to come around to things— Like when I— After I left for Canada with Andromeda and Teddy, he couldn't understand. It took him a good while, but he got there and in the end he was cool with it.”



“I need to know— I mean, I want to know. If we were— If we had— you know— a proper Dom/sub relationship— If you were my Dom— if I was your sub— like for real— You’d have punished me for what I did earlier, right?”

Absolutely, Harry thought but opted for a gentler response.

“Yes, Draco, yes I would have punished you for that. In my book, you broke three rules; I absolutely would have disciplined you.”


Draco’s voice was small and barely audible and Harry hesitated.

“Do you really want to know that?”

“Yes, I do,” Draco said.

This time, he sounded a little surer of himself and Harry couldn’t help but admire his curiosity, his thirst for knowledge and his desire to understand everything about the lifestyle.

Harry took a moment to gather his thoughts and thought Draco’s disobedience. He decided to start with the smallest infraction and work his way up chose to keep the punishment to things Draco was already familiar with.

“Alright. Very well. I asked you to put your hands above your head and keep them there until I told you otherwise, correct?”


“And did you do that?”

“No. No, I didn’t. I moved my arm without your permission.”

“Do you think I’d be within my right to punish you for that?”


Draco’s response was shaky and he was no longer looking at him, but Harry let it slip.

He could tell that his words were affecting Draco and that he was taking this a little more serious than strictly necessary. To him, it clearly felt like more than just a conversation about disobedience and discipline.

Everything about Draco’s body told Harry that he was getting aroused but that he felt embarrassed to let Harry know what he was and those were the only two reasons why Harry continued. He wanted to fuel Draco's arousal but he also wanted to push him a little past his boundaries and allow him to experience something new and exhilarating.

“I’m glad you agree. As for your punishment, I think I would make you kneel and ask you to stretch your arms out over the sofa, let them hover there for three minutes and each time you falter and one or both of your arms touch the sofa, I’ll add thirty seconds to your punishment until you learn that you must not move your arms until I permit you to do so. What do you think, does that sound reasonable?”

Draco nodded and Harry noted that his breathing was now slightly laboured.

He pulled Draco tightly against him and held him close for a while before he continued.

“As for your use of foul language. Let's say our Dom/sub relationship agreement stipulated that you may not use foul language in my presence, but you broke said rule, I would most definitely punish you for that, my little prince. You broke the rule in the kitchen and I believe, I gave you a firm reprimand. I told you exactly what to expect for a repeat offence. You used foul language again so that would most definitely result in a spanking, however, your final offence was to slap me, which is downright disrespectful behaviour towards to your Dom and not something I would ever let slide. I think I would combine your punishment for the use of foul language and slapping me. I think five hard strikes with a nice leather belt would be perfectly acceptable and I’d make you count them out too.”

Harry fell silent and when Draco buried his face in his chest and clutched at his shirt, he let him.

A strange sort of whimper escaped his throat and Harry slowly let his hand slide down Draco’s back. He rested it on Draco’s buttocks and squeezed gently.

Draco moaned into his chest, the sound was somewhat muffled but he was still able to discern the moan for what it was — all that talk about discipline had aroused Draco, Harry had absolutely no doubt about it.

He rubbed the palm of his hand over Draco’s buttocks, drew several small gasps from somewhere deep within Draco and cupping his chin, he forced Draco to look at him.

Draco’s flushed face looked so beautiful that Harry couldn’t help but lean in to steal a kiss. He wanted Draco to look at him but Draco kept his eyes firmly shut and refused to open them, even when prompted.

“My little prince, not following orders will result in a punishment, you know that, don’t you?” he warned softly, then asked Draco for the second time to look at him.

When Draco refused, Harry smacked his buttock once but firmly.

At that, Draco’s eyes flew open and he stared at Harry.

His bottom lip quivered and his eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

“One more little infraction, my little prince,” Harry whispered.

“While I will never have a problem with you storming into my office to rant, I will always have a problem with you storming out of my office without at the very least politely excusing yourself. That is utterly disrespectful and completely unacceptable.”

Harry paused and squeezed Draco’s arse cheek again.

“And for that, do you know what I’d do to you for that, my little prince?” he asked.

He watched as Draco bit his bottom lip and shook his head.

“I’d make you take off all your clothes and tell you to stroke your cock,” Harry murmured.

He trailed his hand down Draco’s chest and used a bit of gentle force to slide it between Draco’s thighs.

Draco silently spread his legs apart to grant him access and Harry cupped his erection through his trousers. He squeezed it firmly and drew a beautiful whimper from Draco.

Then, as he continued to speak, he slipped his hand into Draco’s trousers and mirrored what he was saying.

“I’d make your stroke yourself just like this until you’re so close that you’re desperate to come. Then I’d tell you to stop and I’d make you do that for as long as it would take for you to get on your knees and start to beg me please, please, please let me come, Sir.”

Draco groaned and his eyes flickered shut. Harry slapped his buttock and they flew open again. Draco’s mouth fell open too and he gasped and shuddered.

“And you know what, Draco? After all that edging, when you’re most desperate for your release and when you’re begging me to let you have your pleasure, I still wouldn’t let you have it, not after all your transgressions. There’s an evil little spell that I can use, it’ll make your erection wilt like a flower without water and you won’t be able to get hard again until I take it off you. And do you know the best thing about that spell? It takes away your erection but it doesn’t lessen the frustration. You’ll still feel on edge the whole time but you’ll be unable to do anything about it. After enduring that for a few hours, you'll be perfect putty in my hands, being disobedient would be the last thing on your mind.” Harry said.

He stroked Draco’s cock harder, faster and with a purpose. Draco’s fists clenched into his shirt and he whimpered. His eyes fluttered and Harry smacked his buttocks hard.

“No, Draco, you will look at me, is that understood? If you want to come, you will look at me,” Harry said firmly.

Draco nodded in mute agreement.

“Fuck, do you have any idea how goddamn gorgeous you look right now, my love? Wanton and so desperate for the release only I can give you. Turned on and pushed to the brink by mere words. Yours is a special kind of kink, isn’t it, my little prince?”

“Yes, Sir.”

The words feel from Draco’s mouth and went straight to Harry’s cock which throbbed painfully in its confines.

It set Harry on fire and unable to ignore his own desires, he pushed Draco onto his back and yanked his trousers down. He mumbled a wandless lubrication spell and pushing two fingers into Draco, he finger-fucked him, trying to draw out his own desperate need to have Draco, to claim him, to make him his. His fingers brushed Draco’s prostate and Draco screamed. He threw an arm over his eyes and shamelessly begged for more.

“Please, please, please, please,” the words fell from his lips in a never-ending chant.

“Look at me,” Harry growled.

He undid his trousers, pulled his pulsing cock out, and muttering a lubrication spell, he positioned himself at Draco’s hole. Draco moved both arms to rest above his head and stared up at Harry with his eyes wide open. His mouth hung open and Harry swallowed hard. Unable to control himself just a moment longer, he pushed into Draco and filled him with his cock. He watched as Draco’s face contorted and his body tried to adjust to the sudden intrusion and whispered sweet nothings into Draco’s ear to help distract him. It only took a minute before Draco relaxed completely.

“This isn’t going to be gentle,” Harry warned.

Draco’s only response was to arch his back and his wanton movement forced Harry’s cock deeper into him.

“Fuck me, Sir, please,” he panted. “Please, Sir, please, I need you to fuck me.”

Harry pulled back and slammed into Draco. He grabbed Draco’s leg at the knee, pushed it up to his chest, and fucked Draco hard. Every single one of his thrusts shook Draco to the very core and Harry felt pulled under by the display of pure desire dancing on Draco’s face.

He was willingly submitting and begging for Harry to take him and it was the most beautiful sight Harry had ever seen. Draco’s pleas were music to his ears and his desperate moans pushed Harry closer and closer towards his own release.

When he was barely able to hold back, he told Draco to come for him, and come Draco did.

Thick spurts of come flew from his untouched cock and they landed on his shirt and Harry’s own clothing. Harry didn’t care, not even a little. He managed one last thrust into Draco and slammed right into his prostate, prolonging his orgasm for another few seconds. Draco clenched around him and that was enough to pull Harry, who felt a little overwhelmed by everything that had transpired tonight, over the edge. He emptied himself deep inside of Draco, and panting and falling against him, he sought out Draco’s open mouth and claimed it in a breathless kiss.

“Mine,” he whispered and Draco shuddered underneath him.


They lay together like that for the longest time, well, until Draco started shivering and Harry’s now soft cock slipped out of him. It was only then that Harry grudgingly moved and getting to his feet, he pulled Draco up and half-carried half-dragged him upstairs where he removed the remainder of his clothing and then his own before taking Draco into the shower with him to get them both cleaned up.

Chapter Text

Stretching his legs lazily out in front of him, Harry braced himself on his arms and wriggled his bare toes — according to Draco one wasn't allowed to wear shoes during a picnic; it apparently was a heinous crime. Draco's logic had amused Harry a great deal and he'd chuckled about it for a good while but in the end he had willingly complied with Draco's order. It was nice to spend a relaxing afternoon in the sun with Draco, without unwanted interruptions. It was just them, spending a bit of quality time together and it felt glorious and absolutely and perfectly right.

He reached for a green grape, popped it into his mouth, and chewing it slowly, he let his eyes roam over Draco's body, marvelling at how handsome he was. Harry felt incredibly lucky and the fact that he was being overly romantic was of no concern to him. He wanted their relationship to last, preferably forever. He was aware of just how mawkish his own thoughts sounded to him but he couldn't care any less.

Although Harry couldn't find any fault with spending an entire afternoon thinking about Draco — after all, he'd done it often enough in the past, even when they hadn't been a couple yet — he turned his attention back to giving Draco an appreciative once-over.

Draco had sprawled out on his back on top of their picnic blanket and had folded his arms behind his head, effectively using them as a pillow. His eyes were closed and he had tilted his face towards the warm afternoon. His blond hair sparkled in the sunshine, making him look just a little otherworldly.

Like an angel, Harry thought with a smile. 

He popped another grape into his mouth. Somehow, he had a hard time feeling embarrassed about his feelings for Draco and if he was truly honest with himself, he wasn’t even all that surprised. He was in love with the man and he wasn't ashamed about it. Draco occasionally mocked him for it, reasoning that only a Gryffindor could be so utterly sentimental but every time Draco put him on the spot for his corniness, Harry simply smiled and distracted him with a sweet toe-curling kiss. So far, Draco had yet to learn how to resist him, although, Harry was sure that if he really wanted to, Draco would have absolutely no trouble resisting him. It just so happened that he had no inclination to do so and Harry rather liked that about his little prince.

The content smile on Draco’s face told Harry that his spur-of-the-moment-idea to persuade Draco to leave the office at lunch had been a good one.

They'd originally arranged to have a quick lunch at a nearby coffee shop but he had firmly insisted that they skip said coffee shop lunch in favour of something a little more special.

Draco had, of course, endlessly pestered him for a reason but Harry had merely silenced him with a heated kiss, then apparated them both to Hampstead Heath for a relaxing picnic and a lazy afternoon in the sun — they’d really gotten lucky, the weather was wonderful. It was neither too hot nor too cold, just perfect really.

On the way over, they had stopped at a rather well-known Muggle Providore, the famed Hampstead Heath Fine Foods & Butcher, to purchase a deluxe picnic hamper and Harry had left the task of filling it with all sorts of goodies up to Draco. Somehow he'd had the feeling that Draco would thoroughly enjoy the task and Harry had been right.

Draco had chosen a fine bottle of wine, an exquisite assortment of cheeses, grapes, fresh tea sandwiches, boiled eggs, Caprese salad, cherry tomatoes, blueberries, tea cakes, pastries, and a selection of luxury chocolates. He'd been completely in his element and had carefully chosen each item. It had made Harry’s heart flutter and he knew he’d treasure that moment forever — it absolutely was the simple things that had made him fall in love with Draco. His love for desserts, the way his face lit up when handed a cup of coffee, how much he cared about his job, how he had turned out to be an all-or-nothing sort of guy. The way his eyes sparkled when Harry praised him and how affectionate he was — something that had very much surprised him. It was an endless list of a million tiny completely and ordinary things.

Picnic basket in hand they had strolled through the large park to find a quiet spot, which, considering that it was a workday, hadn’t been difficult at all. Despite the splendid weather they practically had most of the park for themselves.

“Harry Potter, I can now officially say that you have set the bar very high.”

Draco broke the comfortable silence between them and pulled Harry out of his thoughts. He chuckled, leant forward, and pecked Draco, who voiced is approval with a content hum, on the lips.

Reaching into the picnic basket, Harry procured a piece of handmade honeycomb chocolate which he fed to Draco.

“That is exactly my intention, my little prince. I wish to ruin you for everyone else. Like it or not, you’ll be stuck with me for as long as you’ll have me. I’d prefer that to be the rest of your life but that’s not really my decision to make. Still, nobody else will ever be able to do what I can do to your sanity.”

Draco’s eyes darkened slightly, though not because he was glowering in disapproval but because he was intrigued and interested, and moving some of the food boxes out of the way, Harry lay on his side and propped himself up on his elbow. He trailed a single finger down Draco’s chest, along his hipbone, and up his side, then rolled over to lie half on top of Draco. Instead of letting Draco take his entire body weight, he braced himself on his arms and looking down at him, Harry watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard.

“I fear you may have succeeded,” Draco whispered.

He smiled softly and Harry could feel his happiness radiate off him in waves.

“That's exactly what I wanted to hear you say.”

Harry smirked and easing himself down on top of Draco, he captured his lips in a kiss that started innocent enough but ended with them both panting after Harry slowly but surely deepened the kiss with the very intention of plunging his tongue into Draco’s mouth and enticing its counterpart to join into a fiercely passionate battle for the upper hand — which Harry, of course, won. If you ignored the fact that Draco had willingly surrendered to the kiss, that was.

“I vote that you take me home now and have your wicked way with me,” Draco said breathlessly.

Harry chuckled.

“Why? I can have my wicked way with you right here, right now. There's absolutely no need to wait until we get back to your flat.”

Draco looked rather indignant.

“Harry James Potter, I’m not going to have sex with you in the middle of a park where anyone could see us! You may be slowly but surely corrupting me with your love of kink, but that's going a little bit too far.”

Harry raised a curious eyebrow, then chuckled softly, thoroughly amused by Draco’s facial expression and the dark look he was giving him.

He highly doubted that Draco was completely opposed to experimenting outside the bedroom but it was, perhaps, still a bit early to bring that particular topic up. The idea of outdoor sex appealed to Harry but sex in a public park was a little too much out there, even for his liking. It didn’t mean that he couldn’t have a little fun playing with Draco.

“Who said anything about sex, Draco?” he asked.

He held Draco's gaze and gave him a pointed look, then continued to tease him.

“My little prince, as we discovered last night, I can drive you to the brink of your sanity with mere words. Your imagination is apparently vivid enough for that.”


Draco exhaled audibly and his pupils dilated a little more.

“Yes, Draco?”

Harry couldn't quite stop the predatory smile that crept onto his face, nor did he want to stop it.

“Now, what little fantasy shall I torment you with, huh? Any preferences? Or should we just imagine that I’ll strip you naked, tie your hands behind your back and fuck your hole with my tongue while I have you on your knees in front of me? If you’re a good little prince and don’t make a single sound, I’ll even stroke your cock and let you come after I’ve had my fun teasing you until you’re so desperate you’ll beg me for your release. I do especially enjoy that part, when you beg me.”

Harry teased and momentarily falling silent, he nipped at Draco’s lips, half-biting and half-kissing them.

“All it will take is a couple of charms and nobody will ever notice that you let me eat your arse in public. Nobody won't know but us. You'll go home knowing that, you'll think about it for days, you'll fantasise about a repeat performance. Just imagine...”

“Harry— Salazar... don’t— I— I can’t—” Draco pleaded, looking both flustered and intensely turned on.

His chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried but failed to control his excitement and his breathing. He was clearly just a little overwhelmed.

“Too much?” Harry asked.

Draco gave a small nod and respecting Draco’s boundaries; Harry placed a gentle kiss on Draco’s slightly parted lips and pulled away from him. He moved into an upright position, sat cross-legged, and reached for another grape to pop into his mouth — they were incredibly juicy, sweet, and far too delicious for him to resist finishing off the entire pack.

Lifting his head, Draco braced himself on his forearms, then flexed his stomach muscles and sat up. He looked a bit dazed and Harry didn’t even need to look at his crotch to know that Draco was rock hard. Making Draco’s blood surge south and pool low in his groin was almost too easy. Harry thoroughly enjoyed it. He loved having that power of Draco, it gave him a kick, and by the looks of it Draco liked it too.

Harry was, however, also mature and experienced enough to give Draco space when he needed it. He handed him a small bottle of cool water and gave him a few moments to cool down. Draco took a couple of small sips, inhaled deeply and reaching into the picnic hamper, he took out a small chocolate cake, unwrapped it, and taking a bite, he closed his eyes and sighed.

Divine, Harry thought.

There was something quite irresistible and absolutely exquisite about the way Draco ate sweets. He always had that utterly blissed-out expression on his face, like he was floating, and it was beautiful to watch.

“Feeling more like yourself?” Harry asked once Draco had finished his chocolate cake.

“Loads. You are a dangerous weapon, Director Potter.”

Draco smiled.

“Only because you want me to be, Prosecutor Malfoy, I hope you know that.”

Draco nodded and Harry leaned back on his hands and smiled.

“This kind of brings me to the reason why I brought you out here for a picnic.”

“I knew you had ulterior motives, Potter. There’s no way you brought me out here for just a romantic afternoon in the park. Gentlemen like this only exist in literature.”

Harry grinned and idly wondered what sort of fictional chap Draco was referring to. Muggle fiction or a wizarding tale? He was intrigued and almost tempted enough to ask but he and Draco had something to talk about first. It was important.

“When it comes to you, my little prince, I always have ulterior motives. And relax, I just wanted to talk to you about last night and make sure you’re okay about what happened.”

Draco laughed heartily.

“I really don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about. I’m always going to be okay with you initiating mind-blowing sex, Harry.”

Harry gave him a stern look and that was all it took to get him to sober up.

“You know very well that that’s not what I’m talking about, Draco. There’s a huge difference between me exercising a bit of dominance over you and me disciplining you for bad behaviour. It’s something we need to talk about.”

“You didn’t actually discipline me last night though. We just talked about it and—”

Draco left the sentence unfinished. He looked a bit unsure and Harry effortlessly picked up where he’d left off.

“And just talking about it excited you quite a bit. So much even that you melted in my arms, called me Sir, and begged me to fuck you.”

He deliberately did not mince his words; he needed Draco to understand that this was not an ordinary reaction. This was the typical reaction of a sub who thoroughly enjoyed surrendering to his Dom — because given the right circumstances, even talking about a punishment could be exciting. Granted, the actual punishment most likely wouldn’t be but there was most definitely something arousing about the idea of it.

When he’d twisted Draco’s mind with kinky fantasies of being completely controlled and disciplined to correct his misbehaviour, Harry had been firm but playful and Draco has responded beautifully.

Draco flushed and promptly averted his eyes in embarrassment.

Normally, Harry found it endearing when Draco blushed but right now, he had other things on his mind.

Last night, Draco had been too mentally exhausted for Harry to coax him into having a conversation about what had happened between them. It had been intense and extremely hot and they needed to talk about it — he needed Draco to understand that there would be times when he would want to punish Draco for misbehaving but that he'd never do it without his explicit permission. Not having Draco’s approval went against everything Harry believed in. For him keeping it consensual was the only way to truly indulge in the lifestyle. Anything less than that simply did not do.

The way Draco had snuggled into him after their shower, had led Harry to believe that Draco was perfectly fine with everything that had transpired.

For his own peace of mind, however, Harry needed to hear Draco say it to feel completely at ease with the way the evening had progressed for them both. Especially because of the incident with Aasymah when he'd nearly given into his desire to discipline Draco — something he was still beating himself up for, even though he knew that there was really no point to do so. 

He was painfully aware that he should have had more control over the situation, should have exercised a little more self-restraint but somehow, he’d managed to lose himself in the heat of the moment. Then again, he was also mature enough to admit that he was only human.

Thankfully, Charlie’s pendant had stopped him before he’d truly gone too far and he’d managed to salvage the situation. He’d been rather surprised to discover that their little setback, while a frightening experience, hadn’t in the least quenched Draco’s desire to satisfy his own curiosity and the evening had, unsurprisingly, ended in rather hot and truly mind-blowing sex.

Still, communication was key — it was one of Harry's mantras and not something he intended to ever ignore.

Last night, he had fallen asleep to the regular rhythm of Draco’s breathing, but before giving in and drifting off into dreamland, Harry had vowed to speak to Draco in the morning.

When he had woken up, Draco had already left for the Ministry. He hadn't done it to avoid the conversation but because he needed to be in early for a deposition — the note he’d left on his pillow had said as much.

Pulling himself out of his reverie, Harry shuffled closer to Draco and placed his hand on Draco’s thigh.

The innocent gesture made Draco look straight at him and calmly hold his gaze. Something in Draco’s eyes momentarily stunned Harry into silence.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on it but there was something about the way that Draco looked at him that sucked him right into Draco's world — and it wasn’t the first time it had happened. The sensation left him feeling pleasantly tingly all over.

Somehow, the look in Draco’s eyes said that he was both determined to stand his ground and, given the right incentive, ready to give it all up.

Harry couldn’t imagine anyone but Draco being able pull that look off — the unbelievable mixture of zest and power and the willingness to let go, to not be in charge. It was terrifyingly addictive and it made him want Draco all the more.

He squeezed Draco’s leg gently.

“You made it sound so hot— I couldn’t— I didn’t want to—” Draco said.

His voice was barely a whisper but Harry did not need him to speak any louder. He also didn’t need to him finish any of his sentences to understand the meaning Draco was trying to convey — he understood and it was yet another testament to the depth of their connection. They had found something real, something truly magical, something worth treasuring for as long as possible.

“Well, you do have a penchant for getting spanked, so I deliberately chose that to keep things fun. I didn’t want to scare you off since we do not have a Dom/sub relationship and a valid contract that stipulates what counts as a punishable transgression. As such, I don’t feel that I have the right to punish you for anything. Consent is extremely important to me and while I could have gotten that from you last night, it didn't seem right. However, I can assure you that you would not have enjoyed five strikes with a leather belt. It would have hurt.”

“How much?”

“That would depend entirely on the belt and how hard I strike you with it. It would also depend on whether I allow you to wear clothes or strike your bare arse,” Harry said.

The scowl on Draco’s face told him that Draco wasn’t at all satisfied with that answer but before he could get grumbly about it, Harry quickly elaborated. He was only all too happy to offer further information; he wanted Draco to know it all. No secrets.

“I think you know that five strikes on your naked butt would hurt more than five strikes on your clothed butt. Since the average belt is rather soft and pliable, it wouldn’t hurt as much than a belt specially designed for punishments, those sting a whole lot more, mainly because it’s a different kind of leather that’s not as soft but much harsher. A broader belt would hurt less than a thin one, that one would sting quite a bit, it would probably feel similar to a whip, if I had to give you something to compare it to, which I realise won’t mean much to you since you’ve never experienced either. Depending on everything I just told you and on how hard I strike you with the belt, what you’ll feel could be anything between an enjoyable smack that'll have you beg me for more and something so fucking painful it’ll break the skin and make you bleed and possibly have you shout out your safeword.”

Harry paused and gave Draco a moment to digest all the information he had just given him.

When Draco’s breathing grew laboured, Harry knew it wasn’t because his words had aroused Draco but because he was tethering on the brink of hyperventilation — and just like that the idea of discipline wasn’t all that arousing anymore.

Harry shuffled closer to Draco, squeezed his thigh once more and, keeping his voice low and soft, he asked him for his hand. Draco gave it to him willingly and Harry effortlessly found the pulse point on the inside of his wrist. He gently circled his thumb over it and softly prompted Draco to look at him. 

Draco took a deep breath which appeared to calm him a little and slowly raising his head, he looked right at Harry. A storm of confusion raged in his silvery-grey eyes. Every single emotion, from excitement to fear to trepidation to mild arousal swirled around in them and while his outward experience gave off a sense of calmness, Harry knew Draco was trying his hardest to process, to understand, to come to terms with it all. It wasn’t an easy feat to do and Harry didn’t expect him to successfully digest everything in a single afternoon nor did he want him to. It was impossible.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully, Draco, and I want you to remember what I'm telling you. I would never ever take a belt to you without your explicit approval, absolutely never and under no circumstance. If I did, that would be abuse and that is not me. It would also be a criminal offence, but I don’t have to tell you that. For a Dom/sub relationship to work, a valid contract is necessary. In it, both parties outline their needs and desires as well as what they can or cannot accept. That's the only way this type of relationship can work. Now, I’ll say it again, because I really need that message to sink in. If I was to punish you however I saw fit, with a complete disregard for your limits, then that would be abuse.”

“If we had that kind of relationship you would have taken a belt to me yesterday, am I right?” Draco asked.

Draco lowered his gaze to focus on what Harry was doing to his wrist and it seemed to calm him further. Harry was glad.

He would have preferred for Draco to continue looking at him, but he let it slide. At this moment in time, Draco's comfort was more important to him than eye contact.

“No. I don’t think I would have used corporal punishment at all.”

“Why not?”

Draco lifted his head and frowned. His confusion was evident in his eyes.

“According to you, I broke four rules. I stormed out of your office, I moved my arms when I wasn’t allowed to, I used foul language twice and I slapped your thigh.”

“Hypothetically speaking, if we had a valid D/s contract, all these actions would most definitely fall into the misbehaviour category, however—”

“And would, therefore, be punishable,” Draco interrupted.

Harry glared disapprovingly.

“Draco. Please use your prosecutor’s brain. Also, don't interrupt me, it's rude. I said I wouldn’t have used corporal punishment. I didn’t say no punishment. Now, will you please let me explain?”

Draco had the sense to look abashed and nodded mutely.

Harry smiled.

“Thank you. Yesterday’s article in the Prophet agitated you, that’s why you stormed into my office. You needed to vent, you needed someone to listen to, but above all you wanted comfort. On top of that, you most certainly weren’t prepared to bump into Ron. Given the circumstances under which the transgression, which was you storming out of my office without excusing yourself, happened, I think a conversation would have been enough to rectify the matter. Then again, a transgression isn't always a transgression, Draco, you must understand that. It isn't the same as when you prosecute a criminal. In a D/s relationship you cannot take a transgression out of context, not ever. It would be extremely irresponsible, not to mention a clear sign of a distinct lack of experience, if I did that. You were upset, people act differently when they're upset. I would have told you that I didn't like the way you stormed out of my office but given the context I wouldn't have punished you for it. As for your use of foul language, if that was something we'd agreed on you not being allowed to do while in my company, I’d have simply turned the TV off and sent you upstairs to write me an essay to explain why you felt it was necessary to resolve to use foul lan—”

“What the actual fuck, I’m not a child anymore, Harry, and we’re not at Hogwarts! What’s next? Writing five-hundred times I will not slap my Dom?!” Draco interrupted with utter indignation.

He pulled his wrist away from Harry and shoved his hand off his thigh. He looked livid and almost ready to draw his wand and curse Harry’s balls off.

Harry smirked. He had absolutely expected that reaction.

Draco had too strong a personality to accept the idea of such a punishment without putting up a fight. Given what he knew about Draco from their time at Hogwarts and what he’d learnt since they’d rekindled, Harry was also convinced if he’d have a hard time getting Draco to accept writing an essay as a form of discipline.

“A punishment isn’t supposed to be fun, Draco, that would render it completely useless,” Harry reasoned calmly but Draco’s expression remained livid and he glared icy daggers.

Harry suppressed the desire to chuckle — Draco's fiery disposition was most definitely doing funny things to him.

“Writing lines sounds like a marvellous idea. Your reaction tells me it's something that you'd dislike more than anything, so yes, I would absolutely make you write lines — the message would sink in wonderfully, I'm quite sure of that. However, you would not be writing lines for slapping me on the thigh. Slapping your Dom is completely disrespectful and unacceptable, even if it’s done playfully. As my boyfriend you’d get away with it, as my sub there’d be no way I’d let you get away with such despicable behaviour. I think, I would have left you alone for the evening and not made you write lines. A sub who disrespects me does not deserve my company, simple as.”

Draco gaped and while he stared disbelievingly, Harry chanced his luck and reached for Draco’s hand.

When Draco didn’t pull away, he squeezed gently.

“If you’d like to read a couple of D/s contracts, just to get a feel for the content, I’d be more than happy show you some,” he offered. “Just to be clear, this would be for you to get an idea about what a contract is like, what the dynamic feels like. Something for you to read and think about. I’m not expecting you to sign one with me.”

“This lifestyle, this is your thing. How can you not want me to sign one? You love it when I submit to you, you said so yourself. When I surrender and let you have control, it gives you a kick, you live for it,” Draco said disbelievingly.

Harry moved to straddle Draco’s thighs. He cradled Draco’s face in his hands and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Tell me, my love, what joy would I get from you entering into a proper D/s relationship with me if this wasn’t something you really wanted? Yes, I love it when you submit. Yes, I live for your surrender but only when you give it freely. You letting me control you gives me a high but you've got to understand that if you’re not enjoying yourself then I’m not enjoying myself either. The moment you stop enjoying it, the dynamic is off balance. I told you this before, and I’ll tell you again and as many times as it’s necessary for you to remember. I will never want something that you don’t want, that's not how this works. I love you. Besides, it’s way too early for us to consider a formal D/s agreement. It’s a massive step and not something that should be done on a whim. You barely know anything at all, now is the time for you to learn and discover, not think about signing a contract with me that'll give me the right to spank you whenever I feel like it.”

“What if I never want it? What if all I’ll ever want is a bit of kinky sex and you to occasionally getting a bit bossy?”

Harry smiled. He didn't even need to think about his response. There was only one answer.

“Then that’s all you’ll ever want.”

Draco opened his mouth and for a moment Harry thought that he was going to tell him that he didn’t believe a word of what he had just told him, but those words never left his mouth.

Instead, he smiled.

It was a faint smile but it was most definitely a smile and Harry felt himself relax.

He captured Draco’s lips in a slow, heartfelt kiss. They had a lot more to talk about and it would take them some time to cover all aspects but they had all the time in the world — there was no need for them to rush into anything, especially not something Harry knew Draco wasn’t ready for.

Draco’s sudden need to seek physical reassurance told Harry he was rapidly reaching his limits. As such, Harry decided to order a few more books for Draco to read in his own time. Then again, books only could teach Draco so much. He needed to talk to people who frequented the lifestyle, he needed to meet like-minded souls who could give him a far better impression of what being a sub was like.

I should take you to a munch, Harry thought as he slowly pulled away from the kiss and smiled at Draco. He looked just a little bit dazed. Apparently, a kiss was enough to turn his world upside down.

Harry chose to take things one step further, offer just a little bit more reassurance.

“You are who I want, Draco, what you give me is what I want,” he whispered, his lips brushing Draco’s as he spoke. “In your own time, at your pace, always.”

Chapter Text

Slipping his arms tightly around Draco’s waist, Harry pressed himself flush against his back and dropped a kiss onto his neck. Draco shivered in his embrace. That was his first response. His second response was to put his knife down on the cutting board and flex his fingers.

“You are distracting me, Potter,” he complained.

To Harry it didn't sound like he meant it, in fact, he knew Draco didn't mean it. He was just joying with him. Because Draco enjoyed the game as much as Harry did. It was what made them such a perfect match. It was what made this whole thing so exciting and every single encounter a one-of-a-kind moment.

“I know. I do love distracting you. Say, my sweet little prince do you think you would be able to keep chopping the vegetables while I yank your trousers down and fuck you against the kitchen counter? Hm? Would you?”

Harry murmured the teasing, yet utterly filthy, words against Draco’s neck. He'd chosen the place just below Draco's earlobe, where the flesh was soft and oh so sensitive. Harry let his lips linger there for a moment as he allowed Draco a few seconds to process his words, then, without warning, sank his teeth into Draco's neck and bit hard. He drew a long low anguished moan from Draco, who other than tilt his head, did not flinch away from Harry's possessive bite. Harry let the sting linger for a second or two, then gently soothed the abused flesh with a few caressing licks of his tongue and several tiny sweet kisses. He shoved his hands into the front pockets of Draco’s jeans and his fingertips brushed the outline of Draco’s exquisite cock ever so gently. It reacted with an interested twitch and Harry repeated the action.

He suddenly wanted Draco to be achingly hard while he prepared dinner. He wanted him to be painfully aware of the level of power Harry had over him. The idea that Draco wanted to come but didn't have the permission to touch himself, completely excited Harry and he thrust his hips forward, pressing his own growing erection firmly against Draco's arse.

Draco shuddered.

“Do you ever think about anything else other than sex?” he mocked.

Harry chuckled and kissed his neck softly, tenderly, lovingly — a stark contrast to the claiming mark he'd put there a mere minute ago; one that Draco wouldn't be able to hide during dinner. Harry intended to make sure of that. He wanted Draco to sit at the dinner table with his mark exposed, wanted Draco to have to sit through dinner knowing that everyone else knew that Harry had marked him, that he was owned, claimed. And know they would; even if they had no idea about the exact nature of the bitemark they would, at the very least, know that Harry had put it there.

“Oh my sweet little prince, don’t tell me you’re not turned on by the image I just planted in your head…” Harry teased.

“You know I am,” Draco said flippantly.

His sassy response earned him a smack to the thigh.

He yelped but pushed back against Harry and turning his head, he tilted it upward.

“Kiss me,” he said.

It was a demand, not a request and Harry smiled at the way Draco shamelessly puckered his lips, offering them up to him to claim in a fierce kiss. It was the perfect mixture of submission and sass, one that was so uniquely Draco, and Harry lived for it. He'd become a complete sucker for it, though he suspected he'd been one from the very start.

“Before I indulge you, my sweet boy, I want you to answer my question. Tell me what you think about me fucking you against the kitchen counter,” Harry said.

He kept his voice soft, yet made sure to give it a firm undertone and Draco, who had closed his eyes, opened them again and blinked several times. He had that dazed look in his eyes, the very one he got when he was about to go under and surrender. That moment when he tethered right on the edge between the confident independent prosecutor who talked back and was a sassy uncontrollable fury and the obedient sweet little prince who lived for Harry's praise, melted at the slightest touch, begged and pleaded and squirmed and did exactly what Harry wanted, no questions asked. It was like watching the sun set and rise at the same time and despite having seen it many times before, he still couldn't get enough of it. He doubted he ever would.

“I think you may have to think about getting dinner delivered, Sir, because that hard-on in my trousers is rather distracting me from cooking anything substantial. That’s what I think about the image you put in my head.”

Draco let out a soft, wistful sigh which turned into a whimper when Harry let his lips ghost over Draco's and they shared the same air.

He was about to turn his head away but Harry was faster. He cupped Draco’s cheek with his hand, and firmly holding it in place, he captured Draco’s lips in a demonically passionate kiss, one that was designed to rob Draco of all his senses. Harry's other hand squeezed Draco’s hip, then travelled straight to Draco's cock. He kneaded it though his trousers and relished in the feeling it grow bigger and harder under his expert touch.

Soon enough, Draco  attempted to thrust into his hand.

Harry smacked his thigh, pulled away from the kiss and pierced Draco with a forbidding glare.

“And it will keep distracting you, my little prince, because you're mine. I own you and it's my prerogative to distract when and however I please. As for dinner, if you don’t get it finished on time, then I'm afraid there will be absolutely no orgasm for you. You’ll go to bed with a throbbing cock standing hard and proud between your legs and if you dare to wank, if you defy my orders and attempt to satisfy yourself, I’ll make you come so many times you’ll cry and weep and beg me to stop.”

Harry whispered his devious little thread against Draco’s lips, brushing them as he spoke. He felt an immediate sense of satisfaction when Draco whimpered and his knees buckled a little as he struggled to remain fully upright. A rush of power flowed through Harry and his heart skipped a beat.

“Harry— Sir—” 

Draco's low mewl, filled with desperation and desire alike, made Harry's cock twitch with excitement. A rush of endorphins flowed through him, setting his body on fire.

“Hm, yes, my love?”

“You’re such a bloody tease.”

Harry clicked his tongue.

“Such terrible sass, I shall have to spank it out of you, you naughty boy.”

With those words, Harry peeled himself off Draco's back, grabbed his hips and pulled them back. Draco's hands slipped slightly and he had to brace himself on the kitchen counter as Harry forced him to bend over and offer him that sweet inviting curve of his taut buttocks, hidden away underneath a pair of jeans that fitted him like second skin. For a moment, Harry simply looked, then he raised his hand and firmly brought it down on Draco's left arse cheek. Since Harry hadn't bothered to yank his jeans down, the sound wasn't quite as satisfying than his bare hand striking Draco's naked arse but he'd purposefully used enough force to draw a startled yelp from Draco.

Harry delivered four more blows of equal strength, then pulled Draco into his arms and kissed him gently.

"There, that ought to do it," he whispered and reaching forward, he grabbed a piece of celery.  He popped the crunchy vegetable into his mouth and smiled. Draco looked flustered and thoroughly distracted and Harry was rather pleased with himself.

Harry squeezed his thigh so hard that he had to avoid groaning. He resolutely forced his extremely filthy thoughts about ravishing and spanking Draco in his kitchen to the back of his mind — as much as he wanted to indulge in them and tease Draco until he begged for mercy, they had plans today and a rather tight schedule too.

It took quite a bit of effort for him to successfully control himself and pushing himself away from the doorframe, he'd been casually leaning against for the past ten minutes or so, he walked into the room and leant against the kitchen counter instead.

Upon his return to London, he had completely renovated and redesigned Grimmauld Place from top to bottom. It no longer held any resemblance with the dark and gloomy place it had once been when he'd first visited during his fifth year at Hogwarts. All the old Black family heirlooms, including the rather vocal painting of Walburga Black, were gone. He'd moved those to the Black family fault at Gringotts. The entire place was now considerably brighter and lighter and it felt like a proper home.

Following the extensive renovation and redesign, Grimmauld's kitchen was now half its original size. He had done away with the long, large kitchen table that had taken up most of the room’s space and replaced it with a much smaller table and four chairs. The ancient nineteenth century-style cupboards and counters were all gone; he'd exchanged them for a modern white fitted kitchen.

The pantry was now double its previous size and it was spacious enough to allow for food storage and doing the laundry.

As part of the extensive renovations, Harry had also gotten rid of the formal sitting room — he had absolutely no use for it and preferred the much cosier living room.

What had once been a formal sitting room, or reception room, was now a comfortable dining room with a large round oak table and a cupboard to store the China, he saved for special occasions. Hermione had made him buy it and while he hadn't seen the necessity of it, she'd been adamant that it was something he absolutely had to have — since he had no desire to argue with his best friend, he'd tasked her with picking the design and then forked over a rather obscene amount of Muggle money.

If needed, a simple enlargement spell assured that up to sixteen people could comfortably sit around the large round oak table — though, thus far, there had been no need for that. Family dinners took place at the Burrow; that was a long-standing tradition and Harry had no intention of making new rules. He had no family of his own, yet, and he wasn't prepared to have it out with Molly Weasley for something as trivial as the location of a family dinner.

Still, having a proper dining room made him feel like the responsible adult he was supposed to be and generally also was.

Fully aware that he was drifting off into his own world again, Harry abandoned his musings in favour of reaching for a couple of carrot sticks Draco had prepared for something or other but before he had the change to grab them, Draco slapped his hand away.

Piqued over not having the permission to do as he pleased in his own kitchen, Harry glowered darkly and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Excuse me?” he said, rather indignantly.

When Draco turned his head, Harry gave him a pointed look but Draco merely smiled and didn’t look in the least intimidated. It made Harry want to throw his hands up in desperation and question whether he would ever manage to exercise any kind of control over Draco.

“If you’re not going to help me cook dinner, you aren’t allowed to steal food,” Draco said.

He held his gaze with frightful ease and Harry frowned.

“I am helping!” he responded, thoroughly affronted. “You banned me from the kitchen and told me to go set the table, which I did by the way, because, you know, I'm good like that.”

Draco laughed.

Harry instantly reverted to glaring icy daggers at him. He was supposed to be the one giving the orders. He was supposed to be the one in charge. Draco was supposed to obey him, not the other way around. Yet, somehow, today the tables were reversed and Harry found himself at the receiving end of Draco's orders. It wasn't something he was used to, ordinarily, he would never allow a sub that much control, it wasn't who he was, but Draco had the miraculous talent of taking whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.

Today, the kitchen was his and he didn't just act like he owned it, he did actually own it. There was no trace of his proclivity for submitting and being dominated. He was fully of sass, extremely bossy and no matter how many times Harry had tried to get the upper hand, he'd failed, repeatedly. It was vexing, truly vexing.

“Because you, my dearest Potter, weren’t following any of my instructions. What you were doing wasn't helping me cook, it was giving me more work. Since you’re back, I would just like to note that it’s evident that you have a serious problem with obedience.”

Harry wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation. A few minutes ago, he'd been lost in a daydream about dominating Draco, filling his head with filth an spanking while bend over the kitchen counter, yet what was presently happening between Draco and him couldn't be further removed from the fantasy he'd indulged in earlier.

Not giving into his desire to show his amusement, Harry scowled darkly at Draco instead and just to prove that he could get his own way, if he so desired, especially in his own kitchen, he stubbornly stole a slice of carrot anyway and hastily stuffed it into his mouth. As he chewed, he kept his eyes firmly fixed on Draco, who boldly held his gaze and showed absolutely no inclination to giving in. If anything, he wore his sass with an air of confidence that made Harry want to take it from him.

Instead of surrendering to his desires, he used his words.

“That’s because I prefer to be the one who gives out instructions,” he said.

He lowered his voice to a dangerous growl and it finally had the desired effect.

Draco shuddered in response, broke their eye contact and silently returned to chopping vegetables. It was a small sign of surrender but a sign all the same and Harry basked in it. What made it extra sweet and special was the fact that Harry had absolutely no doubt that Draco's reaction had been entirely his own choice. He wasn't doing it out of fear but because he knew it pleased Harry and he enjoyed pleasing him, even if he was still learning the ropes and the in's and out's of what it meant to surrender to somebody to please them.

Harry remained where he was and simply watched Draco continue to prepare tonight's dinner. He appeared to be in his element, Harry could tell that much.

After a few minutes, Draco gently put the knife down and Harry reached out to take his hand. He wrapped his fingers around Draco's wrist, squeezed gently, then laced their fingers together and tugged ever so softly.

“Come here for a moment,” he said.

Harry continued to tug on Draco’s hand until he was standing right in front of him. Only then, did he let go of Draco’s hand and lovingly cradled his face with both his hands. He rested his thumbs on Draco's cheeks and let his fingers slip to the nape of Draco's neck to affectionately toy with his soft silken hair; he absolutely loved the feel of it underneath his fingers and looking deep into Draco's beautifully expressive silvery-grey eyes, he tried his best to read him.

“I need to know, so please tell me the truth and know whatever you say I will not be offended by your choice but I will respect you and appreciate you for making it. The table is set for six. Are you sure that you’re okay with Charlie and Ginny joining us on top of Hermione and Ron? I don’t want you to agree to this for my sake, I need to know you’re okay with this and that this is what you want. I can tell Charlie and Ginny to stay away, they won’t be offended and they won't think any less of you either, trust me.”

Harry watched Draco closely and saw the hesitation flicker across his face. It was obvious to Harry that he was seriously considering the choice; the temptation to take the easy way out was most definitely there — he wasn't trying to hide that, he was being deliberately open and honest and that little gesture meant the world to Harry.

In the end, and after that little moment of dithering as he considered his options, the words uninvite them never made it past Draco's lips. Instead, his features hardened, as though he was trying to show Harry through his actions that he could handle absolutely everything but eventually, a small and very smug smile broke through.

Harry returned it instantly.

“Potter, if you think that I can’t handle three Weasleys and a Granger-Weasley, then you don’t know me very well,” Draco said.

He sounded full of confidence and so full of sass that Harry's first response was to chuckle incessantly — he had no doubt that Draco was telling him the truth.

When Draco, less than a minute later, quietly admitted that it was him, he couldn’t handle without going weak at the knees, he instantly stopped laughing.

A fiery sort of passion flared to life inside Harry’s chest and a hot wave of something intense, something incredibly possessive, spread from his core right through his body and straight into every single fibre of his being. In that very moment, it defined him.

“Don’t say such things and expect me not to make you want to kneel in front of me, my gorgeous little prince,” he whispered.

He watched as Draco swallowed hard, repeatedly cleared his throat, and eventually found enough energy to remind them both that he had agreed to cook tonight’s dinner.

Harry reluctantly let him go and summoning a glass, he filled it with cool water — he absolutely needed something to calm down. He perched himself on the small dining table, drank his water in silence and watched Draco move about his kitchen with a graceful sort of ease, he had never seen before. It seemed almost like he was dancing and it was beautiful to watch. It was completely addictive, too, and Harry doubted he'd ever tire of it.

I wish you would cook naked while wearing my collar around your neck.

The thought jumped into Harry's head entirely without warning. He gripped his water glass tightly and looking down at his hand, he noted that his knuckles had gone white. Suddenly afraid that he'd end up breaking the glass and cut himself on the shards, he relaxed his grip somewhat. It would inevitably lead to him having to explain himself to Draco and at this moment in time, he simply wasn't prepared to do so.

You make me fight so hard to keep every ounce of self-control I have ever owned.

Since Draco appeared to have dinner preparation completely under control, Harry decided to remove himself from the room. Being around Draco wasn't doing his sanity any good and somehow a couple of hours locked away in his study, working through the pile of reports he'd brought with him from the office, seemed like a very good idea.

On his way out, Draco called after him.

Pausing in the doorframe, Harry turned and raised his eyebrow.

“What is it?”

“I couldn’t decide what to wear for tonight’s dinner so I brought two outfits over with me. I’ve taken the liberty to lay them out on top of your bed. If you like, you may choose what I’ll be wearing later. I’ll put on whichever one you’d like to see me in, Sir,” Draco said.

A faint flush pinked his cheeks as he gnawed at his bottom lip, worrying it nervously.

Momentarily stunned into silence, Harry had to take a deep breath before he could even think about an appropriate response.

His mind was reeling and his heart pounded in his chest. He felt a bit like he was about to have his first kiss or enter the Great Hall at Hogwarts with his crush on his arm.

The butterflies in his stomach stubbornly refused to settle and abandoning all thoughts about leaving the kitchen, Harry walked right up to Draco and setting his glass down on the worktop, he trapped him between the kitchen counter and his own body. He kissed him hard and claimed his mouth in an almost bruising kiss that left them both gasping for air when he pulled away some time later.

Mine, he growled in his head, mine, mine, mine.

Draco’s eyes had darkened to the point that they looked like smouldering coal, rather than the clear silvery-grey orbs they usually were.

Harry was sure that his own eyes were equally as dark. Every single nerve ending in his body thrummed with the unquenchable desire to make Draco his. He was feeling incredibly possessive and for a moment, he wished that they didn’t have dinner plans tonight but that it was just the two of them and he could have his wicked way with Draco. He wanted it badly. He wanted Draco.

But he knew that he had to behave — at least until after dinner — and therefore limited himself to kissing Draco’s slightly swollen lips, fiercely claiming them as his own all over again.

He couldn’t help but applaud Draco; he played a truly good game and knew how to floor him by presenting him with a truly unexpected gift.

“Thank you, my little prince.”

“You’re welcome, Sir, it's my pleasure.”

He lowered his gaze to stare at Harry’s chest, then brought his hand up to let it rest right above his heart, which promptly skipped a beat.

“Now, as much as I love the idea of letting Sir have his wicked way with me, may I continue cooking please?”

For the love of Circe, Harry thought, you have no idea what you’re doing to my sanity, you perfect, gorgeous creature.

He scolded himself for his inability to keep it together, blamed it on Draco’s unexpected and unprompted submission and inclining his head, he left Draco to reign over the kitchen while he sought respite in the Master bedroom. Ascending the stairs took half an eternity, mainly because he nearly tripped over his own feet twice, and once on the landing on the second floor. He’d all but forgotten about his plan to head into his study to try and get some work done.

“Merlin, Potter, get a fucking grip on yourself, he’s supposed to be the submissive mess, not you,” he muttered to himself as he pushed the door to his bedroom open.

He walked inside, closed it behind him and leant back against the heavy wood, then closed his eyes, and tipping his head back, he let it rest against the door, and took a deep, calming breath.

He wants it so badly and he doesn’t even realise it.

Harry sighed.

His thoughts were suddenly rampant with visions of Draco’s display of spontaneous submission.

It wasn’t spontaneous though, was it? a treacherous little voice in his head whispered, he planned this, he planned it for you, he wanted you to have this little bit of control over him tonight.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Harry took another deep breath, opened his eyes, and resolutely pushed away from the door. He slowly headed towards the bed and carefully examined the two outfits Draco had laid out for him to choose.

Imagining Draco in either one of them did nothing to calm Harry’s overactive mind and his thoughts unhelpfully drifted to the locked room on the fourth floor of Grimmauld Place, his own personal playroom. He yearned to take Draco inside. He wanted to show him everything, wanted to invite him to play but he was also a realist.

He knew that Draco wasn’t there yet, that he needed a little more time before he would be able to stomach the sight of a fully furnished BDSM playroom.

Still, it didn’t stop Harry from fantasising and before long he realised that half an hour had passed and he still hadn’t chosen an outfit.

He took another lengthy look at both outfits, contemplated for several moments and eventually settled on the grey skinny jeans with the crisp white button-up shirt. Draco had chosen a broad dark green belt to accessorise the outfit with and picking it up, Harry let the soft leather slide over his palm.

For a moment, Harry allowed himself to imagine tying Draco’s hands behind his back with the belt.

He imagined unbuttoning his shirt and teasing every inch of his chest, biting his nipples, and swirling his tongue around his navel.

He imagined trailing his kisses further south, undoing Draco’s jeans and roughly dragging them down to his knees, effectively restraining them.

He imagined sucking Draco, repeatedly bringing him to the brink of his orgasm, then imagined forcing Draco to clench his thighs around his cock as he fucked himself into a mind-blowing orgasm while Draco sobbed and begged for his own release.

Jerking out of the fantasy, Harry was suddenly all too aware of his own throbbing erection.

He dropped the leather belt onto the bed, picked up the black trousers and dark-green shirt, he didn’t want Draco to wear, and placed the two garments inside his own wardrobe.

Then, unable to focus until he got some relief, he headed into the bathroom and pulling his trousers open, he freed his cock.

He summoned the lube from his spacious shower room and liberally spread some on his hand he began to wank to the fantasy, he had only just dragged himself out of.

He was entirely uninterested in wasting any time on teasing himself and finished the job in a matter of minutes — he just needed to take the edge of, relax a little. It was a wank for the sake of a wank and while it was satisfying it wasn't nearly as pleasurable as making Draco take care of his erection. That appealed a lot more.

Harry came on a low grunt of Draco’s name, spelt his come off his hand and cast a strong cleaning charm over himself and especially his nether regions. He was still panting a little when he tugged himself back into his trousers and decided to distract himself with scrubbing his hands, then braced his wet hands on the bathroom sink and eyed himself in the mirror.

A silly grin joined his flushed cheeks and his dazed expression of pure post-orgasmic bliss.

All because of you, my little prince, he thought as his attention drifted back to Draco who was busy cooking in the kitchen downstairs.

Leaving his bathroom, Harry decided to head down back down into his study to get some work done after all. He did he have a few reports he needed to get through and the sooner he got them off his desk, the sooner he could forget about them, or so he hoped. When you were the Head of the British Auror Department something unexpected always turned up.

Chapter Text

Turning the hot water off, Draco stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist.

He finally felt refreshed and rejuvenated and decidedly more human than he’d done for most of the day — cooking was a pleasure, reeking of cooking oils and spices and other ingredients not so much.

Draco reached for a second towel, a much smaller one, and he dried his hair before casting a very mild drying charm over it.

Once done, he dried himself off and headed into Harry’s bedroom where he put on a pair of fresh grey boxer briefs and some grey socks. He sat down on the bed, reached for his crisp white button-up shirt, and slipping into it, he slowly buttoned it up, taking his sweet time with it.

Eventually, he stood, grabbed the grey skinny jeans, and holding on to them for a moment, he smiled and allowed a wave of still slightly unfamiliar emotions to wash over him. They consumed him in the most intense way and left him craving more, more, more.

Harry had chosen this outfit for him. He had done so because Draco had asked him to yet he knew that to Harry it meant so much more than that. It meant dominance to Harry and voluntary submission on Draco’s part. It was Harry’s thing and it was also rapidly becoming Draco’s thing. He enjoyed it far more than he could rationally understand, though somehow, he didn’t feel that he was necessary for him to fully understand it at this point in time. He wanted to simply enjoy. He wanted to explore all the new sensations; Harry kept introducing, though he was always careful to never give him more than he thought Draco could handle. It was that which sweetened the deal for Draco, that, and the fact that he trusted Harry to do the right thing. So far, he’d proven it several times over and Draco had no doubt that he would keep doing so.

He’s a bloody Gryffindor, it’s practically in his blood, he thought with an amused chuckle.

Draco looked down at the trousers in his hands. It felt oddly good to be putting on an outfit Harry wanted to see him in. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something beyond exciting about leaving the decision up to Harry and he wanted to indulge in that sensation a lot more often.

He pulled his jeans on with one swift move, elegantly stepped into a pair of brand-new black Oxfords, he had bought especially for tonight’s dinner, and doing up his trousers, he looped his favourite dark green belt through the belt loops and fastened it.

One glance at the floor-length mirror told him that he looked better than Witch Weekly’s average male model and smirking to himself, he returned to the bathroom to style his hair and apply some of his favourite cologne, which he knew Harry loved. He suspected it was the bergamot and oakmoss with its subtle undertones of sweet blackcurrant and vanilla that drew Harry in. He wore it almost exclusively. It made him feel strong and powerful and was especially useful to keep him focused in court.

Tonight, it was his very own version of a little Dutch courage.

Now that he didn’t have the distraction of preparing and cooking a four-course meal for six to keep him focused, he could feel the jitters starting to settle in and bracing himself on the bathroom sink, Draco stared at his reflection in the mirror.

You can do this; he thought and briefly faked a smile, not because he really had to but because it gave him the confidence to convince himself that the night wasn’t going to disastrously end with a trip to the Department of Magical Accidents & Emergencies over at St Mungo.

He had told Harry that he could handle three Weasleys and a Granger but in truth, he wasn’t so sure.

Harry had given him an out earlier today but he had felt bad even thinking about it. He desperately wanted a chance at an amicable relationship with Harry’s friends.

They were all adults now, had all done a fair bit of growing up, surely it had to be possible to build bridges, make amends and leave the past where it belonged? He didn’t want Harry to have to live two lives; one with him and one that included his friends and family. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t how he wanted their relationship to be. He wanted, no, needed, it to be open and honest. He wasn’t going to be a dirty little secret that Harry kept hidden away from those nearest and dearest to him. If they wanted to judge him, if they wanted to have a go at him for all his past mistakes, well, he was more than ready to take it — or at least that’s what he told himself.

The butterflies in his stomach fluttered more insistently and taking a deep breath, Draco straightened himself up squared his shoulders.

“If you can stand up and argue a case in front of the entire Wizengamot, you can do this,” he mumbled and startled when a familiar voice agreed with him.

He turned his head and found Harry casually leaning against the bathroom doorframe.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asked.

Draco fervently hoped Harry hadn’t witnessed too much of his inner battle.

“Just long enough to hear you motivate yourself to face a bunch of Weasleys,” Harry said with a big grin.

Draco groaned in response to that.

“Charlie and Ginny are in the living room, they just arrived. Ron and Hermione are still trying to put the baby down. Apparently, Rosie won’t go to sleep without several lullabies from mummy and daddy.”

“Weasley can sing?”

Draco raised a curious eyebrow and then turned to briefly cast one last look at his reflection. He nodded in approval — he most definitely looked presentable.

“Not even a little bit, but for whatever reason, Rosie seems to like it when they both sing to her. Then again, she’s just barely a year old so I think it’s more about the fact that mummy and daddy are both there.”

Draco scoffed and firmly resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Someone needs to teach that child the meaning of good taste before Weasley causes irreparable damage.”

Harry laughed.

“I’m sure Hermione would be delighted if you offered to babysit.”

Harry pushed himself away from the doorframe and closed the distance between them. Draco felt his hands slide into his own and relished in the familiar body contact. It instantly made him feel safe and loved and he didn’t even feel embarrassed about his corny thoughts.

“I don’t know the first thing about babies,” he whispered truthfully.

Harry gave a low chuckle that travelled right down Draco’s spine and made him shiver pleasantly.

“They’re not that difficult to handle, you know. I’ve had a bit of practice with Teddy. Quite straight forward once you get the hang of it.”

Harry smiled.

“Come on, if I take much longer to bring you downstairs, Ginny is going to spend all evening making stupid jokes about the quick shag we didn’t have.”

As Harry dragged him from the bathroom, Draco was glad that they were holding hands. He drew an infinite amount of comfort from the intimate gesture and followed Harry down the stairs.

To distract himself from the nervous flutter in the pit of his stomach, he went over dinner one last time, though there was really no need to worry about anything. Still, it kept his mind occupied and didn’t give him the chance to contemplate running away.

The tomato-and-cucumber salad was chilling in the fridge, the bacon and cream cheese filled mushrooms were sitting on a serving tray on the kitchen counter — under a preserving charm, of course, and the rosemary roast chicken and potatoes were still in the oven. The oven was off but Draco had left the dish inside and put it under a Stasis Charm to keep the food hot, warm, and tasty — it would be a while before they got to the main course.

The glasses of orange, honey and lavender posset were in the pantry, also under a Stasis Charm to keep it cool.

Perfect, Draco thought and taking a deep breath, he entered the living room a split-second after Harry.

“I managed to convince him to stop hiding upstairs,” Harry said.

Draco resisted the temptation to glare daggers at Harry’s back.

Instead, he found himself giving Charlie Weasley an almost appreciative once-over.

He was wearing a pair of dark blue jeans, a black button-up shirt, and a dark brown worn dragonhide leather jacket on top. It made him look slightly scruffy and quite casual but the outfit suited him perfectly. He was tall, taller than Draco had imagined him to be. His dishevelled ginger hair was almost as messy as Harry’s, with the small difference that Charlie somehow managed to make it look like a hairstyle, while Harry’s unruly hair was just that, unruly.

Charlie’s piercing blue eyes were a little unsettling but his smile was warm and inexplicably drawn to it, Draco stretched his hand out to greet him.

“Hi,” he said.

He was suddenly quite unsure of what else to say or how to start the conversation and somehow, a casual hello seemed to be the best way to go about it.

He didn’t know much about Charlie. Harry has given him a little bit of information but Draco didn’t feel confident to crack a joke or make a snide remark.

No, he wanted to make a good first impression.

“Hello,” Charlie winked.

He accepted Draco’s outstretched hand and shook it.

“Congratulations on turning Harry’s head. If one can believe the rumours in the Prophet, many have tried to capture Harry’s heart but apparently, so far, none have succeeded. That is until you came along, of course.”

Draco resisted rolling his eyes and smiled instead. He desperately hoped that it wasn’t a fake smile. Charlie’s open approval of their relationship made his heart flutter but it also made him feel rather embarrassed.

He felt Harry’s hand slip possessively around his waist and squeeze his hip gently and grateful for the silent support, he felt himself relax considerably.

“Draco had Harry’s heart the very first time he mocked him when they were eleven. Harry just didn’t know he’d given it away. Took him some sixteen years to work out where he’d misplaced it,” Ginevra Weasley piped up.

Turning his head, Draco looked at the beautiful young witch, really looked at her. Her long fiery-red hair loosely cascaded down over her shoulders and her bright yellow summer dress hugged her athletic body in all the right places. Feeling just a little jealous, Draco reminded himself that he was with Harry now and that it didn’t matter that Harry and Ginevra had once been an item — even if that relationship had only lasted some five minutes. He forced yet another smile and was about to extend his hand to greet Ginevra Weasley when Harry spoke up.

“Watch your sass, Ginevra.”

Harry scolded her outright.

She gave him do-it-if-you-dare kind of look and Draco couldn’t help but warm up to her — he liked that woman, liked her very much.

“I’d like to see you try to do anything about it, Harry James Potter.”

Ginevra teased Harry boldly and Draco pressed his lips together to cover up his smirk but Ginevra caught it and gave him a tiny wink — strangely enough, it made him feel like they were partners-in-crime and a wonderful sort of warmth spread through him, one he hadn’t felt in quite a long time.

“I absolutely will if you don’t behave yourself,” Harry said.

Draco turned his head just in time to see him scowl. He couldn’t quite decide whether Harry was seriously angry or whether he and Ginevra usually conversed like this but he still found the way Ginevra stood up to Harry, without as much as batting an eyelid, thoroughly exciting.

It also fuelled his mild bout of jealousy a little, but he did his best to suppress the unwanted emotion — and reasoned that there was absolutely no point to it.

Ginevra laughed.

“Give it your best shot, Golden Boy,” she said.

A moment later, she yelped and rubbed her shoulder.

“Potter, did you just freaking throw a stinging hex my way, you bloody bastard?”

Harry threw his head back and laughed.

“You know I did.”

It took him a moment to calm, then he turned his attention to Draco.

“She’s quite the minx, that one is, needs a pretty firm hand. It takes a special sort of person to be able to handle her.”

Draco frowned, unsure what to make of Harry’s comment. The fact that Harry clearly was in a sassy mood didn’t help and only made reading between the lines that much harder.

Was he trying to tell him that Ginevra Weasley was a kind of girl who enjoyed submitting to someone?

Try as he might, Draco could not imagine anyone being able to take control from Ginevra.

She seemed to be a spirited ungovernable sort of soul.

Was she like Harry then?

Did she enjoy controlling somebody else?

Draco felt his frown deepen as his confusion increased.

Harry had told him that Charlie was in a long-term D/s relationship and that he shared a cottage with his partner near the dragon reserve in Romania, where he worked, but somehow Draco could not imagine that Ginevra Weasley also had the same kind of penchant for kink.

Maybe it runs in the family, Draco mused but had to cut his thoughts short when the fireplace chimed and green flames roared to life.

A moment later, none other than Hermione Granger stepped through.

She looked absolutely stunning with her long, bushy hair bound together in a high ponytail that gave her both an incredibly youthful, yet utterly womanly look. She was wearing a pair of light-blue leggings, though Draco couldn’t decide whether they were real or painted on, they looked to be that tight.

Her high-heels elongated her legs wonderfully and she wore a long loose white blouse which she had accessorised with a broad brown waist belt — Draco searched his memory frantically for a memory of Hermione Granger looking his fashionable and high-class but he drew a complete blank.

She’d looked cute in that gorgeous dress at the Yule Ball, or so Pansy Parkinson had repeatedly insisted, but Draco thought that it was nothing compared to the truly stunning woman she’d turned into. She was slim, toned and slightly tanned and Draco had a hard time believing that she was the mother of a tiny being. She looked like she’d stepped straight off a catwalk, rather than the nursery of her child.

Draco boldly dared to take a closer look and noted that Hermione Granger hadn’t bothered to put on any make-up. Well, she was wearing a light glossy lipstick but other than that she’d gone au naturale and a hint of dark circles underneath her eyes gave away that she was indeed a sleep-deprived mother with a full-time job.

The fireplace chimed again and Ron Weasley stepped into the room.

He wore a pair of plain blue jeans, white runners, and a t-shirt with the slogan Coolest Dad Ever.

Draco purposefully kept his expression neutral but couldn’t quite contain the mild shiver that went through him. He was most grateful when Harry squeezed his hip reassuringly.

“Well, now that everyone’s here, I hope you’re all starving. Draco slaved away in the kitchen all afternoon to cook us something delicious,” Harry said.

“Figures you’d make him slave away in the kitchen while you laze about the house,” Ginevra mocked.

Clearly, Harry’s stinging hex had done nothing to dampen her ardent personality, Draco thought.

“I didn’t slave,” Draco muttered under his breath.

He shot Harry an icy look but Harry merely chuckled.

“Apologies, I stand corrected, after all, one must not get his facts wrong when in the presence of a hotshot prosecutor. The only person who slaved away today was me, completing case reports in my office while my gorgeous boyfriend here had fun in the kitchen,” he said.

Draco contemplated whether drawing his wand and hexing Harry was worth risking the retaliation of three Weasleys and one Hermione Granger. He decided that it wasn’t and flashing everyone his best smile, he continued to remain civil.

“If you’ll all just follow Harry into the dining room? I’ll bring the appetisers and starters right out,” he said, then politely excused himself and left the living room.

Once in the hallway, Draco took a deep breath, wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and headed for the basement kitchen.

“You heard the man,” he caught Harry say as he ushered their guests into the dining room. “We best obey and honour his wishes.”

Once in the kitchen, Draco opened the fridge, pulled out a half-full bottle of white wine and summoning a glass, he poured himself a generous amount. He gulped it down hastily and breathed deeply.

For a moment, he felt tempted to pour himself a refill but knowing that he had to levitate a tray with six bowls of salad and another tray with six plates of stuffed mushrooms into the dining room, he decided against relying on more wine to get him through the evening — corny as he thought it sounded, even in his own head, he had Harry.

Instead, he drew his wand and summoned a large tray, placed it on the worktop beside the fridge and transferred all six bowls of salad on it.

He carefully levitated the salad tray and the tray with the stuffed mushrooms to hover in front of him and keeping his wand steady, he guided both trays to float ahead of him into the dining room.

Harry had, in the meantime, dutifully poured everyone a glass of white wine as well as a glass of water and setting the two trays down on top of a nearby cabinet, Draco snapped his fingers and directed all six bowls of salad to gently land in front of everybody. He did the same with the plates of stuffed mushroom and quietly took his seat between Harry and Hermione Granger.

“Please, eat.”

He invited everyone to start the meal and caught the disdainful look Ron Weasley gave his salad.

For just a second, Draco felt the urge to transfigure his salad into a bowl full of slugs but he consoled himself with the fantasy instead.

“The salad’s delicious.”

Harry’s praise sent a shudder of excitement through him and Draco relished in the reassuring touch when Harry briefly squeezed his leg, just above his knee.

“Thank you,” Draco smiled somewhat shyly.

Whenever Harry praised him it did funny things to him and it instantly made him crave more. Those sweet words of approval, the warm looks, the gentle touches, Draco wanted it so much. He couldn’t resist it. Getting Harry’s approval absolutely felt like his weak spot; it was what made him want to surrender to Harry and what turned him into putty. He suspected that Harry knew, there was no way that he didn’t, and the knowledge that Harry had that kind of power over him made Draco shudder with a kind of anticipation he’d never ever felt before.

To distract himself, he picked up his fork and started to eat.

He felt just a little light-headed and needed to something to soak up the large glass of wine he had just consumed.

“Harry’s quite right, this salad is delicious,” Hermione Granger said.

Draco whipped his head around, staring at her with utter disbelief.

“Err, thanks,” he mumbled.

He was unable to do anything to stop the flush that crept up onto his face and coloured his cheeks.

“Harry mentioned that you cook,” she said conversationally.

Draco couldn’t help but wonder whether she was putting up a brave front for Harry’s sake or whether she was genuinely trying to be polite. He instantly berated himself for his mistrust. Since her arrival at Grimmauld Place, Hermione Granger had been nothing but polite and if she was trying then Draco was determined to do the same.

“Stress-relief,” he shrugged.

“I picked it up while working as a public defender. Needed something to distract me from the lack of support you get from just about everywhere when you’re barely getting paid anything while you try your hardest to try and keep somebody out of Azkaban.”

“That job is a royal pain in the rear,” Hermione nodded.

After a brief pause and a smile, she added something that made Draco want to recoil in horror.

“We should exchange recipes sometime.”

He couldn’t, for the life of him, work out whether she was being genuine or whether her words were code for let’s-have-a-serious-talk-about-the-fact-that-you-are-shagging-my-best-friend.

“Are you sure your husband would be okay with finding me sitting in your kitchen when he comes home from work?”

The question slipped out before Draco had any chance to stop it.

“You know, I don’t quite care whether he would be okay with that, he’s just going to have to find a way to deal with it,” Granger smiled.

Draco watched Ron stuff a large forkful of salad into his mouth in response and made the spontaneous decision that he quite liked this older version of Hermione Granger. He’d despised here in school, largely because his father had forced outdated and ridiculous beliefs on him but also because she was smart, clever, and excelled at every single subject — seemingly without trying. He was sure that she was in line for the position of Minister for Magic at some point.

“Why don’t you two skip the sharing of recipes and just go shopping so you can gossip about me?”

Harry joined into the conversation and everyone at the table, apart from Ron, chuckled.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to go shopping with Ginevra?” Draco teased.

“Call me Ginny,” Ginevra— Ginny corrected with a lop-sided grin.

“Only my mother calls me Ginevra. I’ve been trying to entice her to stop but my mother isn’t the kind of woman who accepts orders from anyone.

Mind, Harry likes to call me Ginevra too. For some ridiculous reason, he thinks it’ll make me listen to anything he’s got to say. Your salad and those mushrooms are really good by the way.”

“I second that,” Charlie nodded. “My Liam is quite apt in the kitchen but you’ve got something special, Draco. This tastes like home, like love.”

Draco looked down at his salad to hide his blush. Not sure what to say, he thanked everyone and ate one of his stuffed mushrooms.

Everyone, except for Ronald Weasley, of course, was being nice, genuinely nice, and Draco didn’t quite know what to do with it or how to handle it.

He wondered what Harry had told his friends about him.

Maybe he threatened to hex them, Draco mused and reprimanded himself for being stupid.

He washed his stuffed mushroom down with a large gulp of water and dropping his left hand under the table, he hesitatingly placed it on Harry’s thigh.

A moment later, Harry covered it with his own hand and squeezed gently, providing silent reassurance and support.

“They genuinely want to get to know you and I think they already like you.”

He leant in and whispered a little more praise directly into his hear. Draco could feel his cheeky smile and even though he couldn’t see his face, he was sure Harry had winked at him.

Unsure of what to respond to that, Draco quietly finished his salad but couldn’t stop himself from every so often sneaking a sideways glance at Harry.

They continued to hold hands under the table until Ginny made a joke about them acting like loved-up teenagers.

“You’re just jealous.”

Draco muttered under his breath but smiled.

Ginny laughed heartily.

“Nah, Drake, you can keep Director Potter there all for yourself. I hear he’s got a penchant for blondes lately and these days I’m not all that interested in brooms — at least not the ones you two are interested in if you get my drift.”

Draco shuddered at the way Ginny had just butchered his given name but decided to let her get away with it.

For now, anyway.

Although, he figured not correcting her now meant that she would forever use that blasted butchered version of his name.

Draco decided he still didn’t care enough to set her straight.

“I get you,” he said.

His smile promptly turned into a smirk when Ron choked on a cucumber dice and Hermione had to repeatedly pat him on the back.

“I truly hope the Holyhead Harpies lose the next game.”

Harry snarled at her and Ginny pretended to look horror-stricken.

Harry, why would you say such a dreadful thing?”

She exclaimed, delivering the line with a perfectly pouty expression that was entirely fake.

“Because you have a loose mouth, Ginevra.”

Harry glared and deciding to somehow diffuse the situation, even though there wasn’t really anything to diffuse, Draco rose to his feet and announced that he would bring the main course out shortly.

Upon leaving the room he heard Ginny tell Harry that for as long as she was a Chaser the Holyhead Harpies would not lose a single game.

“It’s always the same with you Chasers, no respect for the Seeker.”

Harry’s retort was swift and Draco thought he heard Hermione groan. A short moment later, Ron joined into the conversation to inform everyone that no team was worth shit without a decent Keeper.

“You’re all dunderheads, a Quidditch team without a great Captain at the helm is just a bunch of wizards and witches on brooms.”

Charlie silenced them all and with a smirk, Draco made his way into the kitchen.

Logically Charlie has a point but I’ll take Harry’s side, he thought with a grin as he levitated the large baking tray of rosemary roast chicken and potatoes out of the oven and placed it on the wooden worktop. Draco cast Diffindo several times to slice the chicken and grabbing a wooden chopping board, he levitated the makeshift tray in front of him and returned to the dining room.

Apparently, Harry and his friends still hadn’t come to a unanimous decision over which Quidditch player was the most important asset of the team.

Draco was content to listen but otherwise stayed out of the debate. He silently collected all the salad bowls and appetiser plates and when he was about to start serving the main course, he found Harry at his side, stopping him from doing so. His arm found its way around Draco’s waist and he squeezed gently, then leant in to kiss him. It was only a kiss on the cheeks but it was enough to fluster Draco.

“Sit down, my love, I’ll do this,” he said.

Draco raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

Harry smiled and gave him a gentle nudge into the direction of his seat, clearly the decision on who would serve the main course was not up for debate.

“Aww, you lovesick dorks! Everyone, listen to this. Just get married already, will you?”

Ginny teased them both and as he sat down Draco flushed bright red.

Harry growled although the amused expression on his eyes let Draco believe that he wasn’t in the least embarrassed about Ginny’s joke.

“Charlie, do me a favour and restrain your baby sister before I hang her upside down in my dungeon!”

Charlie roared with laughter.

“No can do, there are no shackles in this world that can hold down my sister.”

Dungeon? Draco thought with a mild frown.

Harry had a dungeon?

In the cellar?

Was that why Harry had insisted on getting the wine for tonight’s dinner?

Vowing to ask Harry about it later and feeling a bit uneasy, Draco busied himself with drinking a little more wine — he didn’t really want to imagine what Harry’s dungeon might look like. He allowed Hermione to engage him in a conversation and was grateful for the distraction.

Once Harry finished serving the main course, the chatter around the table died down a little as everyone busied themselves eating.

Draco got a few compliments on his food and the praise caused his cheeks to pink, although at this stage he wasn’t sure anymore whether it was just the praise or the wine he kept drinking whenever he didn’t know what to contribute to the conversation.

He felt pleasantly inebriated but couldn’t pinpoint whether that was because Harry’s friends were welcoming him with open arms and actively giving him a chance, or whether he was just getting drunk.

He tried to pace himself by drinking water instead but when the feeling refused to ebb away, he gradually relaxed and shared a few anecdotes of his past cases when Charlie asked about his work as a prosecutor for the Wizengamot.

Towards the end of the main course, Harry got up to make a toast and when he pulled Draco to his feet, wrapped an arm around his shoulder and hugged him tight, a big lump made its presence known in Draco’s throat and when his eyes prickled with unshed tears, he quickly excused himself to the kitchen where he braced himself on the worktop and inhaled deeply.

A few minutes later, Harry appeared and hugged him from behind.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

Closing his eyes, Draco tilted his head slightly to the side and exhaled audibly when Harry placed first one gentle kiss on his exposed neck and then left a whole trail over them behind.

“Yeah,” Draco whispered.

“I just thought there’d be more animosity, you know.”

“I didn’t just tell them that we’re dating, you know? I told them that I love you,” Harry said.

He pressed yet another kiss against his neck. Draco had lost count of how many kisses Harry had given him but he never wanted him to stop. Harry’s embrace and his soft kisses felt so incredibly right and he felt so perfectly safe.

Draco sighed contently and when Harry tightened his hold on him, yet another wave of safety washed over him.

“Can you do that thing you do with my wrists?”

Draco asked sheepishly.

Harry chuckled into his neck and both the sound and the gentle vibrations made him shudder.

A moment later, Harry wrapped his hand around his left wrist and circled his thumb over his pulse point. His left hand remained firmly locked around Draco’s waist, something Draco was most grateful for.

“I’ve got you, my little prince,” Harry whispered.

Draco shuddered. He didn’t dare to think about anything but allowed his mind to remain pleasantly blank.

“I’ll take care of you, always, no questions asked.”

Draco felt himself gradually relax as Harry’s gentle words washed over him and his thumb on his pulse point eased some of the tension he felt.

Harry trailed several kisses along his neck, nibbled at his earlobe and sucked it into his mouth.

“I’ll take care of you properly later when we’re all alone and when it’s just us, with absolutely no interruptions. I promise I’ll make you feel so good.”

The murmured promise had Draco tremble with anticipation.

A few moments of silence past, then a knock on the open kitchen door interrupted their little moment and Draco felt Harry grudgingly pull away from him and turn around.

Draco took a deep breath, did the same and looked rather surprised to find Ron standing in the doorway, hands awkwardly shoved into his jean pockets.

He looked like he didn’t really want to be here and after a moment of awkward silence, he cleared his throat, shuffled from one foot to the other and spoke.

“Harry, could I have a moment alone with Malfoy?”

Turning to look at him, Harry raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

Draco inclined his head in silent approval and kissing his cheek, Harry made his way out of the kitchen.

As he passed Ron, he patted him on the shoulder and reminded him that “it’s Draco, Ronald,” then went to join Hermione, Ginny, and Charlie in the dining room.

“Err—” Ron said.

He looked uneasy and embarrassed and biting back a sigh, Draco pushed himself away from the kitchen counter.

“I just came in to get the dessert,” he justified fleeing the dining room, even though he had no idea why he had just done that. It wasn’t like he owed Ron an explanation.

Still, now that he’d said it, he automatically moved over to the pantry and pulling the door open, he drew his wand and mumbled the incantation for the levitation spell.

A moment later, a tray with six glasses of posset floated out and landed neatly on the worktop.

“Look—” Ron started again, then broke off.

Draco turned to hear him clear his throat.

He felt as awkward as Ron acted but was marginally better at concealing his own emotions while Ron clearly wore them on his sleeve. Deciding to jump over his own shadow, he took a deep breath and prepared himself to speak.

“I’m sorry for that verbal attack in Harry’s office the other day.”

Draco fervently hoped that he sounded sincere. He was sincere, he really hadn’t meant to attack Ron like that.

“Likewise,” Ron nodded.

“Look, Malfoy, I don’t have a problem with you as such, I mean I don’t think we’ll ever be best mates, but let’s try and be civil with each other, OK? Harry’s obviously completely smitten with you and I’ve not seen him this happy before, he deserves it. It’s just a bit much that it’s you who is making him this happy, but I’ll get over it, I know I will.”

“I’m not messing with him if that’s what you’re worried about, I genuinely like—love him,” Draco said.

He felt completely out of his depth.

His hands were shaking so badly that he moved them behind his back to clasp them so tightly together that he could barely stop himself from grimacing.

“I’m not worried. It’s just, Harry’s my best mate, and I— I’m not— I’m not too great with change. You can ask— ask Harry, if you like, he’ll tell you all about it.”

“Hit you hard when he just up and left the country after everything, huh?”

Draco prodded gently. When Ron nodded, he managed a weak smile. Much to his astonishment, Ron smiled in return and then did something that left Draco speechless for several minutes.

He stepped fully into the kitchen, pulled his hand out of his jean pocket, and offered it to him.


Draco stared at Ron’s offered hand for a few seconds as his mind treacherously replayed that moment on the train when he had offered Harry his hand, offered him his friendship and Harry had turned him down.

Resolutely unclasping his hands, Draco reached out and shook Ron’s hand.

“Truce,” he said.

He was rather amazed that his voice sounded steady and firm instead of croaky and shaky.

“Do you want some help with levitating the dessert into the dining room?” Ron asked.

“If you don’t mind,” Draco shrugged.

“I don’t.”

“Well in that case, and if your hand is steadier than mine, be my guest.”

Draco smiled and waited for Ron to levitate the dessert tray before he slowly followed him up the stairs, through the hallway and into the dining room.

They served dessert together and Draco blushed furiously when Hermione gave him the thumbs up and Harry announced loudly and unabashedly that he was head over heels in love with him.

Chapter Text

Nine pm found Draco, having used magic to clean the massive stack of dirty dishes in the kitchen, sitting cross-legged in the centre of Harry’s bed, waiting for him to emerge from the bathroom.

He had tried to read a little bit but the book he hadn’t been able to put down the previous evening now lay open and abandoned on the bed. He simply couldn’t concentrate on it, although there didn’t seem to be an obvious reason for his inability to focus or if there was a reason it wasn’t entirely apparent to him.

Draco clasped his hands together and twisting his head around, he looked at the comfortable cushions behind him. He yearned to lie down, stretch his limbs, and close his eyes, but he was edgy and tense.

Tonight’s dinner with Harry’s friends had taken it out of him and it all still felt a little surreal, to say the least, but it also made him giddy.

Harry’s willingness to introduce him to his friends and the fact that Harry’s friends, given his past and the history between them, were prepared to accept him meant the world to him.

Still, he felt mentally and physically exhausted — not necessarily in a bad way but he wanted something to take his mind off things.

Unfortunately, so far, nothing he’d tried had worked. Then again, he hadn’t made all that much of an effort. He was still trying to digest the tentative peace treaty Ron had offered.

Draco had no idea whether Ron had come looking for him out of his own volition or whether Hermione had pushed him into doing it, but thinking about it and trying to work it all out had given him an epic headache and so simply he’d stopped thinking altogether. He let his mind drift but didn’t allow it to settle on a thought or idea, or at least he tried not to allow it to settle but wasn’t entirely successful in his endeavour.

Harry’s earlier promise to take care of him and to make him feel good suddenly echoed in his mind and made calming down even more of an impossibility.

Mind-blowing, toe-curling, feverish, unadulterated sex with Harry most definitely had the ability to take his mind of absolutely everything and reduce him to a pliable mass of goo but at this stage, he knew Harry well enough to always expect the unexpected.

Draco’s deliciously sleazy thoughts resulted in his cock showing signs of define interest and he resolutely abandoned a rather kinky fantasy about Harry restraining him to the bed and having his wicked way with him.

He tried to focus on a bunch of decrees and policies which were so absurd that they regularly made his job a living nightmare, but his mind continued to stray.

It stubbornly wandered off and now thoughts about Harry’s offhanded comment about hanging Ginny upside down in his dungeon kept filling his mind.

That thought refused to leave him alone and earlier on when he’d been about halfway through cleaning the dishes, he’d found himself suddenly unable to concentrate on anything else. He had made it as far as the pantry, had walked right up to the door that let down to the cellar, had even put his hand on the doorknob but something had stopped him and he’d returned to finish up the dishes, then hastily made his way upstairs to wait for Harry to get out of the shower.

Taking a deep breath, Draco tried to unclasp his fingers and twisted them into the summer quilt which covered Harry’s bed. He blankly stared at the open book in front of him and tried to imagine what Harry’s dungeon might look like. Strangely enough, he couldn’t stop picturing shackles and iron chains. He had a distinct feeling that he was being entirely ridiculous but he couldn’t quite control his thoughts.

When the bed suddenly dipped, Draco yelped and nearly jumped half a mile out of his skin.

“What’s the matter?”

Harry sounded entirely too concerned.

Draco sighed and regretted his rather over the top reaction.

He hadn’t meant to worry Harry.

Focusing, he looked at Harry and instantly felt his mouth go dry as every single coherent thought he’d ever had in his entire life escaped him.

Fucking hell, he thought.

Harry looked downright fuckable.

While Harry had dried himself off, his hair was still damp. Even in that state, it managed to look truly unruly and wild.

Instead of dressing properly, Harry had slipped into a pair of light blue ripped jeans which hung low on his hips — he looked positively edible. Draco liked jeans but up until right now, he’d never had a kink for them. Seeing Harry in that very pair had instantly changed all that, quite possibly forever.

To make matters worse, Harry’s chest was bare and Draco’s fingers itched, they truly itched; so much that he could barely control himself.

He wanted to run his fingers over Harry’s warm skin.

He wanted to feel every ripple of muscle and trace every imperfection.

He wanted to feel Harry’s heartbeat and kiss every inch of him.

He wanted to worship that body so badly.

Right this moment, Draco couldn’t come up with a single thing he’d ever wanted quite as much as to please Harry.

He had no idea whether Harry had somehow read his mind or whether he had inadvertently voiced his wish but when Harry placed his hand on top of his own, Draco immediately stopped twisting his fingers into the quilt and allowed Harry to guide his hand to his chest.

Draco splayed his fingers out over Harry’s chest and pressed his palm against the warm skin, relishing in the fact that he was able to feel the steady beat of Harry’s heart.

He let out a small appreciative sigh and when Harry crawled onto the bed and gently eased him onto his back, Draco fell willingly. He effortlessly spread his legs and let Harry slip in-between.

Harry’s hand travelled up his outer thigh, squeezed his hip, slid underneath his shirt, and settled low on his waist.

Draco was about to wrap both his arms around Harry’s neck but he gently shook his head.

“Above your head,” Harry whispered the command.

Draco didn’t even hesitate.

He obediently moved his arms to rest above his head and felt his breathing quicken as he stared up at Harry. He opened his mouth, wanted to say something, but Harry shook his head again and when he shuffled and pressed his mouth against a tiny spot of exposed skin just above the button of his jeans, Draco couldn’t help but whimper.

Harry didn’t bother to remove his shirt but pushed it up and trailed tiny kisses all over his stomach and chest. His hands slid up Draco’s sides, over his armpits, the inside of his upper arms, and along his forearms.

Draco shivered, not because he was cold but because he was excited.

Harry’s hands slipped into his and he effortlessly laced their fingers together.

As if on autopilot, Draco squeezed and Harry smiled softly then captured his lips in a ferociously passionate kiss.

When Harry’s tongue demanded access to his mouth, Draco gave it enthusiastically and willingly and when Harry’s crotch pressed against his own, further pinning him into the mattress, Draco moaned into the kiss and tried arching his back.

A wave of emotions, none of which he was able to properly identify, washed over him and he lost himself in the thrill of it all.

A moment later, Harry pulled away and Draco instantly felt naked and incredibly vulnerable. Somehow, it felt like Harry had stripped him bare and had exposed his soul without even taking any of his clothes off.

“What do you need, my little prince? How can I make you feel better?”

Harry suddenly spoke, his voice soft and gentle.

It took a moment before the words cut through the haze in his mind. Draco swallowed hard and opening his eyes, he stared straight into Harry’s vibrantly green eyes.

Too green, too damn green, he thought and blinked a few times, unsuccessfully trying to focus at least a little bit.

Weirdly enough it felt like Harry could hold him down with just a look — no restraints required. The desire to move was the last thing that was presently on Draco’s mind and he wasn’t even entirely sure whether his limbs still functioned properly.

“Do you really have a dungeon?”

He blurted the words to his question, which had been tormenting him ever since Harry had made that blasted comment, out without even thinking about it.

Harry stared down at Draco, suppressed the urge to frown, and took a moment to digest the unexpected question.

He had been prepared for absolutely everything, even Draco asking to spend the night alone in his Notting Hill flat but he had most definitely not been prepared for this.

Why was Draco asking whether he had a dungeon?

Had either Ginny or Charlie offhandedly said something when he hadn’t been listening?

Was Draco freaking out about something or other again?

Letting out a breath he hadn’t quite known he’d been holding; Harry drew away and sat back on his haunches.

He pulled Draco into a sitting position but refrained from letting go of his hands.

“Why do you ask?”

Harry deliberately kept his voice low, soft, and gentle. He watched Draco very closely and very carefully.

Draco gnawed at his bottom lip and his cheeks flushed. He looked thoroughly embarrassed and hurriedly averted his eyes.

Harry let go of Draco’s hand and placing two fingers underneath his chin, he coaxed him into looking up and meeting his eye.

“Tell me,” he insisted.

Draco swallowed hard and remained silent for another minute or two, then finally spoke.

“At dinner— You said you were going to hang Ginny upside down in your dungeon if she didn’t behave herself,” Draco whispered.

Harry felt him try and turn his head away again but he didn’t let him.

Instead, he smiled and leaning in he pressed his lips against Draco’s.

It was a chaste kiss but it was enough to ease Draco’s mind a little, of that he was sure.

“It was a joke,” he said earnestly.

“I do not have a dungeon. I mostly use the cellar to store wine and a couple of other things that I don’t want cluttering up the place. You can check it out for yourself if you’re curious. I can assure you there’s nothing kinky down there. No hooks or chains and definitely no shackles.”

Harry paused.

He was a little unsure of how honest to be with Draco. He hadn’t yet told Draco about his upstairs playroom but the situation was delicate and he felt withholding that piece of information now would lead to more trouble in the future. After a very moment of hesitation, he chose complete honesty.

“I do however have a playroom,” he said.

Draco’s forehead creased as he frowned and Harry squeezed his hand gently. He was certain what Draco’s next question would be, but he could tell that he was struggling with asking for what a part of him clearly wanted. He gave Draco another few moments to wrangle with himself, then stepped in to put his mind at ease.

“Draco, would you like to see it?”

He was still convinced that Draco wasn’t ready to step into a fully furnished BDSM playroom, which could feel imposing at the best of times, and especially after a mentally exhausting day but he was also sensible enough to leave the decision up to Draco.

There was, and Harry was painfully aware of it, always the possibility that seeing the room might send Draco running for the hills but he decided to cross that bridge when they came to it.

“Can I?”

Draco’s sudden, and somewhat uncharacteristic, shyness was rather endearing and Harry gave his hand another comforting squeeze. He smiled softly, reassuringly.

“Of course.”


“If you want, yes. The room is upstairs.”

With that, Harry let go of Draco’s hand and holding his hand out, he summoned a shiny golden key from inside the top drawer of his nightstand.

It flew into the palm of his outstretched hand and reaching for Draco’s hand, he gently placed it in his palm and folded his fingers around it.

Draco swallowed hard and Harry could tell that, despite now having the key to the room, he was unlikely to make the first move. He gave him several minutes to mentally prepare himself and was about to take initiative when Draco surprised him with an unexpected request.

He merely whispered the words but to Harry, it sounded like he’d said them loud and clear.

“Take me, Sir?”

Harry smiled and nodded. He wordlessly slid off the bed and standing up, he took Draco’s empty hand into his own and tugged gently.

“Follow me, my little prince.”

Draco moved off the bed and as he did so, he curled his fingers tightly around Harry’s hand, making it evident that he needed the support. Harry led him out of the bedroom, down the corridor and up the stairs to the fourth floor.

At the landing, they turned left and Harry stopped in front of an inconspicuously-looking black wooden door. He pulled Draco into his arms, cupped his face with one hand and kissed him tenderly.

“Before you unlock the door and go inside, I want you to remember one thing, one extremely important thing. You are under absolutely no obligation to do anything inside that room. You may also touch whatever you like, open any cabinet or chest of drawers that piques your curiosity. You may ask me anything and if at any point you think being inside the room is too much, I want you to tell me and we’ll leave immediately. Can you do that for me?”

Draco nodded and although Harry wanted to make him say the words, he decided to let it slide. They weren’t about to have a scene and Draco’s non-verbal confirmation was good enough for him. So, instead of pressing Draco for more, he motioned at the door and silently watched Draco unsuccessfully fumble with the key.

His hand trembled slightly and steadying it with his own, Harry helped him to unlock the door and turn the doorknob. Draco pushed the door open and as he did, Harry mumbled the incantation to the spell that turned on the lights inside the room. Draco took a hesitant step inside the room and upon hearing his first comment, Harry had to suppress a chuckle.

“Of course, it’s red, bloody Gryffindor, should’ve expected that.”

Harry remained at the door and pushing his hands into his jean pockets, he casually leant against the wooden doorframe and watched as Draco tentatively stepped further into the room.

He walked steadily past the black wooden St Andrew’s Cross with its red leather padding and the cosy-looking cushioned armchair that stood nearby, then stopped in front of the leather sex swing and frowned at it. He reached out as if to touch the leather straps but withdrew his hand at the last moment and pushed it into his jean pocket instead.

Draco wordlessly walked past the bondage bench, the wooden spanking bench, and a wooden classic shape BDSM horse with high-class black leather padding.

Harry’s favourite grey leather sex chair quite obviously drew Draco in for just a moment and Harry wondered whether it was the colour that had made Draco stop or whether he liked the shape of it. It was the only piece of furniture that wasn’t either black or lava red.

Harry’s newly-acquired Scorpion Chair properly sparked Draco’s curiosity even further and after walking up to it, he stood in front of it and admired it for several long minutes. Harry couldn’t help but think that Draco might enjoy a session in it. It was leather-padded, extremely comfortable and equipped with special stands to restrain a sub’s legs while keeping them spread far apart for easy access and at the same time ensuring a certain sense of vulnerability. The chair also had plenty of metal hooks in all the right places to attach restraints or ropes to.

After appreciating the Scorpion Chair, the padded wall was the first piece of furniture Draco touched. He tentatively splayed his fingers out over the leather, then caressed it with some uncertainty.

Drawn to one of the hooks that lined the wooden frame, Draco crooked his finger around it, lingered for a moment, then resolutely let go. His gaze trailed upward and he discovered the hoist, spreader bar and cuffs that allowed for suspension.

A visible shudder went through him and he stepped back as though he wanted to bring a healthy amount of distance between him and the suspension device. He slowly crossed the room and headed over to the four-poster BDSM bondage bed instead. There, he trailed the length of the expensive red satin sheets and Harry caught the half-smile that appeared on his face.

You like that, don’t you, my little prince, he thought and promptly found himself having to fight the strong urge to walk into the room, push Draco onto the bed, vanish his clothes and restrain his arms to the specially designed headboard.

Draco lingered by the bed for several minutes and alternated between running his fingers over the exquisite black wood, which was firm to the touch, and the soft satin sheets.

While he did that, Harry pictured him naked, bound to one of the four posters and fantasied about forcing Draco into a slightly awkward position, then making him watch in the mirror as Harry fucked him hard and mercilessly.

He bit his lip to stifle a moan, then shuffled into a more comfortable position.

Simply watching as Draco walked about his playroom, his sanctuary, was a massive turn on and it took Harry every ounce of self-restraint not to pounce on Draco, who had wandered off and now stood in front of a wall lined with an extensive selection of whips, crops, floggers, paddles, and various other impact toys.

Harry had more toys than those that were on display but he kept them stored away inside the large black wooden cabinet underneath the display.

He watched carefully as Draco reached for a pretty standard riding crop and gripped the handle tightly. He let his fingers slide down the flexible shaft, then swished it through the air and jumped a little when the tress at the end unexpectedly connected with the wooden cabinet and the sound echoed through the room.

Not bad for a first attempt at wielding a crop, sweet one, Harry mused with a smirk.

He pushed off the doorframe and slowly stepped into the room but instead of approaching Draco directly, he headed over to the red leather sofa and sitting down he kept his arms and legs uncrossed in a welcoming and not at all dominating pose.

If Draco had noticed him entering the room, he paid him no heed.

For a moment, Harry thought Draco might start pulling out drawers and opening cabinets to check their contents but he did no such thing.

Instead, he returned the leather crop to its rightful hook and took in the entire room.

Then, he slowly approached Harry and stopped in front of him.

He seemed unsure of what to do now and clasping and unclasping his hands as he looked at the floor.

“Look at me, my love,” Harry said softly.

After a moment of nervous hesitation, Draco complied with his request and slowly lifted his head.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

When Draco gave him a tentative nod, he smiled.

So far so good. Draco hadn’t run for the hills; he hadn’t panicked and he was showing a definite interest in the room’s furniture and some of the toys. Harry was most certainly proud of him but he was also aware that all the new impressions were likely rather overwhelming for Draco.

“Apart from the colour it’s not so bad,” Draco said before Harry had the chance to praise him for his courage to explore his playroom.

Harry chuckled.

“It’s not red because I was sorted into Gryffindor, you know? Come, sit down next to me, I’ll show you something.”

He invited Draco to join him on the leather sofa and when he did, Harry pulled him into his arms and hugged him close.

“Watch this,” he whispered into Draco’s ear.

He mumbled an incantation and wandlessly cast a spell. The lights in the room slowly dimmed and a soft golden glow spread around the room. The dark wood and black leather absorbed most of the light but the red leather and the red satin sheets reflected it beautifully, creating an ambience that was both calming and intensely erotic.

Harry snapped his fingers and the key to the door, which was still stuck inside the keyhole, flew into his hand. At the same time, the door closed with a gentle click and the lock turned.

Draco shuddered in his arms and tightening his hold on him, Harry took his hand, placed the key in his palm and curled his fingers around it, much like he’d done earlier in his bedroom.

“This is your safeword. The moment you let it go the door will open and the lights will come on again,” he murmured and pressed a gentle, reassuring kiss against Draco’s neck.

“Do you— Are you— Do you want to— p—play?”

Draco stammered his way through the question.

Harry felt another tremor surge through him. He’d heard the trepidation in his voice.

“My little prince, I feel that this room scares you a bit. I don’t want you to be scared, so, Draco, tell me do you trust me?” Harry asked softly.

Mentally he prepared himself for everything, even Draco letting go of the key to show him that he wanted to leave the room.

Instead, Draco nodded.

“Tell me, use your words, my love,” Harry urged.

He moved one of his legs onto the sofa. The change in position meant that Draco could comfortably sit between his spread legs and lean back against his chest.

Draco sucked in a shaky breath.

“Y—yes, I trust you, Harry.”

“Hm, good, then close your eyes.”

Harry instructed and as he did so, he placed his hand over Draco’s eyes, deliberately taking his eyesight away. He felt Draco’s eyelashes flutter against the palm of his hand and felt him tense.

“Relax, my love, nothing you don’t want to happen is going to happen, you know that. Hold on to that thought, you absolutely are in control of the situation,” he assured.

Draco relaxed a little in his arms and Harry cast a wandless, wordless spell.

Hauntingly beautiful music — a violin accompanied by the gentle sounds of a piano and a harp — began to fill the room and Harry ever so softly caressed Draco’s cheek with his thumb.

“Listen to the music, my little prince, let it carry you away. Listen to my voice, focus on it, do as I say.”

Harry paused for a moment to avoid overwhelming Draco, then continued with his instructions.

“Rest your hands on my thighs and leave them there, don’t let go of the key, unless you want me to stop. If you want me to stop, just let go of the key, remember, you are in control, you decide how much you want to let happen.”

Harry spoke softly, pressing a few sweet kisses first to Draco’s neck and then to his cheek.

Draco sighed contently and Harry felt him move his hands and slowly place them on top of his thighs. He splayed one hand out over Harry’s thigh but kept the fingers of his other hand firmly clasped around the key to the room.

Making sure that Draco hadn’t opened his eyes again, Harry trailed his fingers teasingly up Draco’s biceps and massaged his shoulders.

Another sigh escaped Draco’s slightly parted lips and Harry kissed him again, then rested both his hands right above Draco’s heart.

“I want you to feel, just feel. Feel the warmth of my body radiating from my thighs and into the palms of your hands, your fingers. Feel the warmth of my body against your back, keeping you warm, keeping you safe, always,” Harry whispered. “Can you feel that my precious little prince?”

Draco nodded, then made a sound that was neither a hummed approval nor a soft moan. It was beautiful all the same.

“Feel my hands on your heart, can you feel how it beats? Focus on it. So steady, it never stops, lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub…”

A low whine escaped Draco’s lips and Harry kissed him again.

He fell silent for a moment and allowed Draco to lose himself in the picture he had painted in his head and the instructions he had given him.

“It’s not always about sex, my love, that’s only a small part of it. It’s about you trusting me enough to be vulnerable in front of me and allowing me to take care of you. It’s about you knowing that I’ll only ever hurt you in the best possible way and never ever in anger. It’s about me keeping you safe, always, and about making you feel loved. It’s about making you feel good, so, so good. I get as much pleasure from you allowing me to choose your clothes for the day as hearing you beg me for your release. It’s about control and submission. It’s about you giving yourself to me and knowing that I’ll never ever abuse the trust you put in me.”

Draco whined softly and shuffled in his arms, though not because he wanted to get away but because he wanted to get closer.

Harry felt the fingers of Draco’s hand dig into his thigh and smiled into Draco’s neck as he watched his right hand, albeit still resting on his thigh, tighten around the key, desperate not to let go. He peppered Draco’s neck with tiny kisses, teased his earlobe with the tip of his tongue and French-kissed that sensitive spot just behind Draco’s ear.

His actions drew several moans from the depths of Draco’s chest and a long whine followed shortly after he stopped his gentle and teasing assault Draco’s neck.

“What do you want, my little prince?” Harry asked.

Draco trembled in his arms.

“You, Sir, please, I want you,” he breathed.

Harry resumed kissing his neck.

“I want you to know something, Draco. I want you to know that you’re incredibly hot when you stand your ground and fight for what you believe is right. And I also want you to know that you’re breathtakingly beautiful when you submit and willingly surrender yourself to me.”

Harry quite deliberately twisted Draco’s mind some more.

Harry—” Draco pleaded.

“Yes, my little prince, tell me what you want, anything at all, I’ll give you anything you want, you just have to tell me.”

“Touch me.”

“I am touching you.”

“More, please,” Draco begged, sounding half delirious with want and need.

With a smile, Harry began to slowly unbutton Draco’s shirt. He pushed it aside and ran his bare hands over Draco’s torso, caressing every inch of skin, he’d just exposed.

He alternated between using his whole palm and just his fingertips and Draco moaned and arched into the touch.

An incessant stream of pleas left his lips but since he wasn’t asking for anything concrete, Harry kept teasing Draco’s chest and stomach with his fingers, delighting in the way Draco’s muscles quivered beneath his gentle touch. He bit Draco’s neck, caressed the mark, and suckled on the abused flesh.

“What do you want?” he asked again.

This time he was a little bit more insistent.

Draco mewled.

Harry caressed his face, caressed his lips with his fingers and kissed his cheek.

“What you want, my love?” he asked a third time.

“The bed— ta—take me t—to the bed,” Draco stammered.

Harry smiled.

“Then what, sweet one?”

Ngh, please, Harry, please.”

“Please what, my little prince, you have to tell me. If you don’t, I don’t know what you want and I can’t give it to you.”

“The bed,” Draco pleaded again.

“Yes, my love, I know you want the bed, what do you want to do there? Tell me, my little prince, and you can have it. I won’t ever deny you anything you want; I can promise you that.”

“I want— I want— Harry, I— Harry— make love to me— on the bed— tie me up— make love to me, please.”

Draco finally forced the words out and Harry peppered his neck with a ton of tiny kisses.

He gently extracted himself from behind Draco and getting to his feet, he picked him up as though he weighed nothing more than a feather. He carried Draco over to the bed, eased him onto the satin sheets and leaning down over him, he gave him a deep kiss.

“Keep those eyes closed, and don’t let go of that key unless you want to stop this. Remember, the key is your safeword, if you want to stop, just let go,” he whispered, knowing that he needed to remind Draco more often. He was too new to this and too likely to descend too far past the haze in his mind to remember on his own.

Harry placed a gentle kiss on Draco’s nose.

He held his hand out and wandlessly summoned a black satin blindfold which he expertly fastened it around Draco’s eyes.

Draco trembled and writhed slowly on the bed.

Harry withdrew a little and allowed himself a moment to appreciate the sight of Draco, lying on the bed with his shirt open, his knees slightly bend and the soles of his bare feet insistently rubbing against the soft satin of the sheets. He smiled and relieved Draco of his shirt, jeans, and boxer briefs, leaving him gloriously naked safe for the blindfold.

Banishing all of Draco’s clothes to the leather sofa, Harry continued to stand beside the bed. He watched Draco writhe some more and knew that the reason he kept doing so was because the sensation of cool satin against his heated skin was thoroughly thrilling.

Harry gently snapped his fingers and summoned a set of black bondage ropes from the cabinet across the room. He bound Draco’s wrists together, gently eased his arms above his head and tied the ends of the rope to the headboard.

“Spread your legs and bend your knees a little more for me, my gorgeous little prince,” Harry whispered.

He unbuttoned his jeans and let them slide to the floor, then summoned a bottle of expensive lube with magical sensation-heightening properties.

Bottle in hand, he crawled onto the bed and sitting between Draco’s legs, he braced himself on one arm and pressed a kiss to Draco’s parted lips.

“You will not come until I tell you to, do you understand?”

Draco inhaled sharply, shuddered, and nodded.


“Yes, who?” Harry pushed, wanting to see if Draco remembered.

“Yes Sir, I understand, I won’t come without your permission.”

Draco panted, forced the words past his lips and writhing against the bedsheets, he tugged on his bound wrists.

Harry smiled.

“Good boy,” he praised, watching the effect his words had on Draco as they washed over him.

He sat back on his haunches and began to prepare Draco. He was generous with the lube but took his sweet time preparing him — the preparation wasn’t about stretching him to accommodate his cock but about drawing out the inevitable.

Harry slowly worked his fingers into Draco and teased him to the brink of a toe-curling orgasm but denied him his release. He gave him a moment to come down from his almost-high, then sucked Draco’s cock into his mouth and brought him right to the edge again but didn’t allow him to climax.

Then, after teasing and denying him twice, he pushed his cock into Draco’s tight channel and by the time, he had denied Draco his third orgasm, Draco was a trembling pleading mess.

“Please, Sir, please let me come, please, please, please.”

A wretched sob tore from the depth of Draco’s chest along with his desperate plea for his release.

He continued to beg and plead and he sounded and looked so beautiful that Harry’s heart skipped a few beats. He couldn’t help but take immense pleasure in the fact that Draco’s cheeks were wet with salty tears and that his body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Harry knew that Draco wasn’t crying because he was upset and hurt but rather because Harry was, quite deliberately so, keeping him right on the edge of unattainable release and the myriad of emotions that flowed through him was too much to take yet at the same time not nearly enough.

That was what submission did to the body and mind of a person who willingly surrendered himself and seeing that very reaction in Draco was a sight, Harry knew, he would never tire of seeing.

He leant forward and captured Draco’s lips in an intense kiss and when he pulled away, he mumbled a single word against Draco’s lips.


Draco groaned and writhed against the sheets. He tugged on his restraints and clenched his fingers tightly around the key to the room — Harry had no doubt that letting go of it was the last thing on Draco’s mind. Not because he was too far gone to make a rational decision but because he’d lost himself in the throes of his pleasure and wanted more, more, more.

“Please, please, please,” Draco begged.

He sounded half delirious with desperation and Harry thrust into him, purposefully brushing against his prostate on his inward stroke. The sly move turned Draco’s last plea into a long and drawn-out moan.

With a bit of practised finesse, Harry adjusted his angle to brush Draco’s prostate on every thrust. He reached between them both, wrapped a well-lubricated hand around Draco’s throbbing deep-red cock and stroked it slowly and in time with his thrusts. He captured Draco’s lips in yet another fervent kiss and only pulled away when he felt that Draco was about to climax.

“Come for me, my sweet prince,” he whispered, quite unexpectedly, demanding the release he’d previously repeatedly denied Draco.

He stilled his strokes, stilled his thrusts and his words were all it took for Draco to lose it. He arched his back, spasmed tightly around Harry’s cock, trapping him deep inside his tight channel, and spurted rope after rope of hot come all over himself, Harry’s hand, and his stomach.

The sounds he was making were enough to push Harry over the edge too and he emptied himself deep inside Draco, filling him with his seed.

Miraculously, Draco never let go of the key to the room. He held on to it as he sobbed through the intensity of his orgasm and waving his hand Harry vanished Draco’s restraints. He gently eased his softening cock out of Draco, freed him from the blindfold, slumped down beside him, and pulled him into his arms.

“I’ve got you, my precious love, let it all out, let it go,” he whispered soothingly.

He rubbed Draco’s back and allowed him to press his tear-stained face in his chest as he tried to recover from the sheer force of his orgasm but struggled to do so.

Harry gently pried the key from Draco’s fist but had to reassure him several times that it was okay to let go before Draco voluntarily surrendered it.

“You did so well, my love, so, so well, I’m incredibly proud of you,” Harry praised.

He summoned a bottle of cool water and he helped Draco take a few sips, needing him to hydrate a little, then summoned a box of chocolates and offered one to Draco, who accepted the sweet treat gladly.

“Sleep, my sweet little prince, if you want to, I’ll be here, I won’t leave your side, I promise,” Harry murmured.

He cast a cleaning charm over Draco, the bed and himself to make them more comfortable and continued to hold Draco. He combed his fingers gently through Draco’s damp hair and rubbed his back until he felt him slowly drift off in his arms. It was only when he was sure that Draco was fast asleep, that he allowed his own eyes to close and tiredness to catch up with him.

Draco’s wellbeing came first, always.

Chapter Text

By the time Draco entered the room sometime late the next morning, Harry had been sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying his breakfast, for quite some time. He hadn't slept as long as Draco but after waking up he hadn't quite managed to tear his eyes away from Draco's sleeping form and had spent a solid hour watching him dream — the only reason he'd eventually given in and forced himself out of bed had been because his grumbling stomach had started to loudly complain about a distinct lack of food.

“My, aren’t you looking dapper this morning, Mr Malfoy?” Harry said with a broad smile.

When Draco approached the table, Harry handed him a cappuccino. He’d made it earlier with the intention to bring it upstairs so that Draco could enjoy it in bed, but hadn't been able to convince himself to rouse Draco from his sleep. He'd looked so peaceful, quite angelic even, and Harry wanted him to have all the rest in the world.

Instead, he'd returned to the kitchen and kept the coffee warm and in the perfect drinkable condition with the help of a Stasis Charm.

“I’ve got you to blame for that, I think.” Draco said with a chuckle.

His eyes twinkled with mirth and for a moment Harry couldn't decide whether he liked them better open or closed. In the end, he settled on not being able to make a decision and gave Draco a casual once-over.

He looked well-rested and right as rain and as he took a sip of his cappuccino, he took a seat across from Harry.

“Incidentally, mind telling me how I got back into your bedroom last night? I’m a bit foggy on anything that happened after we— I mean I think I remember but—” Draco paused.

He flushed and reaching for a warm chocolate croissant, he took a large bite and chewed slowly.

“After you explored my playroom, allowed me to lead you astray and then begged me to tie you to the bed and make love to you?”

Harry offered without any qualms and an entirely straight face, then smiled at Draco's coy reaction to his words. Most of the time, Draco was anything but coy yet pretending to be shy seemingly came quite naturally to him. Harry rather enjoyed that coquettish bashfulness. It was both flirtatious and sweet but also extremely alluring — some of it was, of course, not pretense but raw emotions and a direct response to the way Harry spoke and looked at him.

Draco, his head clearly full of images from last night, flushed an even deeper shade of crimson and promptly averted his eyes.

Harry reached across the table and placed his hand on top of Draco’s forearm to give it a gentle reassuring squeeze. He lingered and rubbed his fingertips gently over Draco's pale skin. It was soft and warm to the touch and in response, Draco flexed his fingers.

“Hey, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, you wanted what you wanted and you enjoyed yourself thoroughly,” Harry said.

“But to answer your question, I carried you back after I let you rest for a bit and after I did the same. You were quite out of it and fell asleep in my arms almost immediately. I’d say you played to your heart’s content, my little prince, and in my humble opinion there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.”

“It was—”

Draco paused and looking right at Harry he frowned, opened his mouth as if to say something, but shook his head and took another bite of his chocolate croissant instead. He licked his lips, chewed extensively, then exhaled audibly. It was fairly obvious to Harry that Draco was clearly struggling to find the right words but Harry was in no rush. He was quite happy for Draco to take all the time in the world. Whatever Draco needed, this was his discovery, his journey and Harry wasn't going to cut it short for him. Draco didn't need to have everything fed to him, some things he needed to work out on his own and some questions needed to be asked by him before Harry answered them, even if he could tell what the question was or might be.

“Last night. How did you do that; how did you twist my mind like that?”

Harry smiled.

“I didn’t twist your mind, I just helped you relax. I figured you’d find seeing my playroom for the first time a bit overwhelming and I was right. It was a bit too much on top of an already tiring evening, you went pretty deep pretty fast. I would have preferred you to be less tired and more alert on your first visit but maybe it was for the best, maybe it was what you needed.”

“You had your wicked way with me!”

Draco sounded a little accusing, but there was no malice in his voice. In fact, he had a rather fond expression on his face, one that said he had absolutely no regrets about what had happened. He was clearly trying to suppress his amusement but wasn't doing a very good job of it — or maybe he didn't want to do a good job, maybe he wanted Harry to know that he'd enjoyed himself. Then again, Harry already knew that much. Still, it never hurt to hear, or in Draco's case, see, the truth and on occasion even Harry enjoyed having his ego stroked a bit.

“You asked me to, my love, remember?”

Harry winked and chuckled when Draco sighed exasperatedly, seemingly finding it a little hard to believe that he had slipped so far into submission as to outright ask for Harry to make love him inside his playroom.

“I remember,” Draco said quietly. “It was— It felt—”


Harry offered helpfully — and because he had few more years of experience than Draco and knew how to adequately express himself when it came to describing the emotions connected with both submission and dominance.

Draco nodded.

“I mean, it’s been intense before and I thought I was used to that but this was different. This was like you stripped every single one of my inhibitions away. Asking you to tie me to the bed, it didn’t feel embarrassing anymore. It just felt— It was—”


Harry easily finished Draco’s sentence and smiled softly.

Draco nodded.

Harry squeezed his forearm gently, reassuringly, then withdrew his hand and reached for a slice of crunchy toast. He buttered it and took a large bite. As he chewed, he watched Draco carefully and felt a bit in awe of how far they had come in such a short space of time.

Several months ago, when they had first started dating, he would have never dared to hope that Draco might be interested in the lifestyle, interested in surrendering control, interested in having sex inside a fully-furnished BDSM playroom. Draco most definitely had a few kinky penchants and Harry wanted to help him discover every single one of them in-depth.

Harry couldn’t help but feel drawn to trying to push Draco’s boundaries, drawn to helping him to explore his inner submissive. He so clearly enjoyed submitting, enjoyed it when Harry took control, completely relished in it even. Draco, that much Harry had already discovered, needed submission in doses. He very much needed moments when he was in control and when he could be his own person and speak his mind without the fear that it would result in being disciplined but he also needed moments when he was allowed to surrender completely and let himself fall and trust that Harry was there to catch him when he fell.

Last night had proven that quite clearly and Harry sincerely hoped that Draco would give him many more chances to show him exactly how beautiful and liberating submission was for someone who truly enjoyed it.

In Harry's opinion, there really wasn't a stronger connection between two people. The link between a Dom and his sub could be, and in most cases was, intense. The level of trust involved, the commitment from either party, the vulnerability of one person and the power of the other. All that formed a deeper and stronger bond than love alone ever could — and that was saying something because love was a pretty powerful emotion on its own.

He wanted to help Draco unearth the kinks he hadn’t yet discovered and wanted to show him the true extent of surrendering control, of letting someone else take care of you so completely that you could just trust and let yourself fall yet be sure to never ever hit the ground.

Harry wanted to teach Draco what it was like to be with someone who knew you better than you knew yourself, someone who knew what you needed when you needed it but who also understood the importance of safety, of rules, of boundaries, of needs, of consent, of communication…of everything really.


Draco interrupted his train of thoughts and snapping out of his little daydream, Harry smiled and took another bite of his toast.


“You looked miles away. What were you thinking about?”

“You,” Harry said with a grin.

It wasn’t even a lie. He had been thinking about Draco. He thought about him most of the time.

“I was thinking about how brave you were last night and how beautiful you looked. And I was thinking about the truly wonderful gift you gave me when you gave it all up for me.”

“I hardly did anything brave.”

Draco protested but his mild flush told Harry that he had thrown him with his compliment.

Praise worked wonders on Draco — it really hadn’t taken Harry long to deduce that one. His reactions were those of a submissive with an extensive praise kink and Harry really hoped that he’d one day get the chance to show Draco just how beautiful it was when simple words of praise, spoken from the heart and with true meaning, pushed you right into subspace.

Harry didn’t consider achieving subspace a necessity for a scene to be mutually fulfilling and not getting there didn’t mean that a submissive had failed to adequately please the dominant partner. Things that were important were the level of interaction, the emotional connection, safety, and mutual consent.

Still, from what Harry had seen and experienced so far, Draco was highly-susceptible to that trance-like altered state of mind that brought forth a myriad of intense emotions and feelings. He knew that helping Draco to achieve that condition meant that he was extremely emotionally and psychologically vulnerable and would require careful monitoring and loving aftercare but Harry was prepared to give him all that and more to help ease him back to a more rational state of mind afterwards.

Harry smiled.

He abandoned his plans of any future scenes and grabbed the chance to teach Draco something new by the horns.

“I beg to differ, Draco. It takes real guts to walk into a playroom when all this is still so very new to you and it takes even more guts to trust someone enough to surrender control. Last night, you proved to me that you have both, the guts to experience something you’ve never experienced before and the guts to trust me enough to willingly surrender to me. I couldn't think of a more accurate definition of the word brave.”

Draco regarded him carefully for a moment and not breaking their eye contact, Harry sipped his coffee and finished his buttered toast.

He knew Draco needed time to consider what he had just said. He didn’t need to hear Draco say the actual words to know that he trusted him but he needed Draco to understand that what had happened between them inside his playroom had been based on trust, full and explicit trust.

Given their history and everything that had transpired between them, it was strange but it was also undeniable. In the end, intense attraction and love had won out and their tumultuous past had well and truly faded into the, well, past. It was of no importance to their future, or at least Harry hoped it wasn’t. He wasn’t stupid or arrogant enough to think that their past would never catch up with them but he felt confident that they’d manage to navigate those waters together.

“What did it feel like for you?”

Draco suddenly asked and while the question was a little unexpected, it wasn’t enough to throw Harry off his game. It took much more than that.

“Last night?” he asked, stalling for a little time to sort his thoughts, not because he didn’t know how he felt about Draco submitting to him but because he was a little hesitant about how to answer the question.

Draco gave a small nod.

“In plain old English, it felt incredible, for me dominating always does.”

Harry drank more coffee and paused for another moment.

“Let me answer in the present tense because the feeling doesn’t change, but first, I want you to know that this is how it feels like for me to be with you and you alone. It’s not some generic answer. To have you surrender to me without questions asked and trust me enough to ask me for what you need and trust me to be able to give you what you want, even if you’re still learning about it all yourself, well, it gives me an unbelievable rush of power. In comparison to that, absolutely everything pales, except you. I find that I notice everything about you, every little breath you take, every gasp, every quiver, every tiny reaction to anything I do to you. The way you submit pleases me, excites me, arouses me. It stimulates all my senses. When you respond to me, when you—”

Harry took a moment to watch the effect his words were having on Draco, mildly worried that he was pushing him too far too soon.

Draco had wrapped both hands around his coffee cup and was holding it tightly. His eyes had darkened a little and had glazed over too. He had parted his lips ever so slightly and was gently worrying his bottom lip. The faint flush that graced the top of his cheeks and the way he wouldn’t look at anything but Harry was the perfect tell-tale. He was thoroughly excited, hooked, spell-bound even — and all that because of a few things Harry had said to him.

The way Draco reacted to his words told Harry all he needed to know. He wanted Harry to make him feel like that and he wanted to give Harry the divine gift of submission. It was entirely his choice and the fact that he was choosing Harry, was almost enough to make Harry fall in love with Draco all over again.

There was just one question, was Draco ready to admit to himself that submission was something he craved, something he wanted, and more importantly, was he also ready to admit that to Harry?

Harry had no intention of pushing Draco into answering that question. In fact, he had no intention of even asking the question. It wasn’t necessary. He was convinced that Draco would admit his desires freely when he was ready to do so. Again, it was absolutely his choice.

I want to own you, I want you to be mine and only mine, Harry thought and placed his hands above Draco’s. It was then that Draco broke their eye-contact, stared down at their hands, and swallowed hard.

“Harry—” he whispered.

“What do you want?”

Harry allowed his dominant side to respond.

“I want more,” Draco said hesitantly. "So much more."

Harry stroked his thumbs over the back of Draco’s hands, innocently teasing and caressing the soft, pale skin he loved so much.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be a bit more specific than that, Draco.”

Harry tried a slightly firmer approach and spoke resolutely and with conviction but when Draco lifted his head to look at him, he smiled softly, warmly, and full of encouragement. It was important to him that Draco knew that could be both, firm but also gentle, demanding but also lenient.

“Just— will you show me everything that’s in your playroom?”

Harry smiled.

“Show you or use it?” he asked.

A mild bout of panic flicker across Draco’s face as he inhaled sharply.

“I— some of the stuff inside the room— It looks— it looks pretty scary,” Draco said.

The fact that he was openly admitting that he was scared, and Harry fully expected him to be, was a definite sign of trust.

You haven’t seen anything yet, my love, Harry thought but smiled, then took the opportunity to remind Draco that his consent was everything.

“And you also know that I would never use any of it on you without your explicit consent.”

Draco gradually relaxed and smiled shyly.

In response, Harry growled inwardly.

Mine, mine, mine, he thought possessively. By Circe, why do you have to be so damn perfect?

There was absolutely nothing timid about Draco, he wasn’t naturally coy but the fear of the unknown changed him that little bit. It usually only lasted for a short period of time but it was beautiful to watch.

Harry wanted to pounce of Draco, he wanted it quite badly.

He wanted to collar him.

He wanted to mark him, own him, make him his.


After last night, the urge was even stronger than before, it was an almost primal need he did not know how to control, except somehow he found the strength to do exactly that. For Draco's sake; for both of them.

Right in that very moment, it took Harry a great deal of effort to stop himself from summoning a collar from upstairs. He had a selection of them, all of them for the purpose of casual play, not for the purpose of claiming a sub but there was one special collar Harry couldn't stop thinking about. It was quite simple, yet completely stylish.

He wanted Draco to wear it, wanted it very badly but he had enough common sense to know that now was not the time to present Draco with a collar. They were not there yet and they wouldn't be for quite some time.

He wanted to see the soft pliable grey leather snuggly sitting around Draco’s neck, wanted to hook his finger into the small D-ring at the front and wanted to tug on it to pull Draco into a fierce kiss, then tell Draco that he was his, that he belonged to Harry and that for as long as Draco was happy to be his he would not let him go.

But he did none of that.

He remained calm and cool, and taking Draco's right hand into his own, he lifted it, and leant forward to place a sweet kiss just below his knuckles.

Draco giggled and Harry thought that it was quite possibly the most beautiful sound he’d never heard Draco make — if he disregarded Draco’s pleas and moans from last night.

“I’m not a lady you need to fawn over,” he said.

Harry caught his gaze and held it.

“No, Draco, you’re not. You are so much more, you are perfection.”

“Now, now, Potter. You’re laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think?”

Draco mocked him deliberately.

Harry chuckled in response.

“Remember one thing, Malfoy, I know how to make you fall apart at the seams and I don’t need magic to make it happen,” he whispered and reaching for another chocolate croissant, he handed it to Draco.

“Eat,” he said pointedly and Draco’s hesitation lasted all but half a second.

He took the offered croissant and bit into it with fervent enthusiasm.

Harry kept his expression blank but inside his head, he smiled in victory.

And that, my sweet little prince, was submission at its finest, he mused, oh, you do please me so.

Chapter Text

Nearly a month later, which had been a bit of a strange, but wonderful, rollercoaster ride for them both, Harry found himself standing outside the Riding House Café, a modern and cosy restaurant, on Great Titchfield St in Fitzrovia with Draco at his side.

“Last chance to back out. Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?” he asked.

He took Draco’s hand, laced their fingers together, and placed his thumb on top of Draco’s in an intimate yet mildly possessive gesture.

He had discovered Draco quite liked little things like that.

Tiny, seemingly innocent ways of seamlessly inserting a bit of the D/s power dynamics into their everyday lives.

To the untrained eye none of these things were even remotely obvious but that was what it was all about. Harry knew what it meant and Draco knew what it meant and that was all that mattered. What others thought was of no concern to him and while he didn’t expect Draco to wear a t-shirt that stated I’m-submissive-and-I-like-it-when-my-boyfriend-spanks-me-when-we-have-sex — the idea of that appealed greatly, perhaps not something for Draco to wear in public, but rather for those times when they were alone together — it was very important to Harry to know that Draco was comfortable in his own skin and with his choices, all of them.

He was a little bit worried that Draco was biting off more than he could chew but at the same time he was also immensely proud of the fact that Draco wanted to meet Caleb and other people who enjoyed the lifestyle.

Since the entire concept of BDSM was still so horribly new to Draco, and wanting to continue to ease him into it rather than forcing him to jump into the deep end of the pool, Harry had initially offered to invite only Caleb and Stefan to meet them for a Saturday morning brunch. His intention had been to give the four of them a chance to talk in private and for Draco to get to know one of his best and closest friends.

Draco being Draco, however, had obstinately insisted on attending a proper munch and not even the prospect of spending the morning surrounded by Muggles could change his mind. Harry had wanted to argue, had wanted to try to get his own way but he respected Draco too much to force him to surrender when that was not what he wanted.

For Harry, this wasn’t how it worked.

I want to meet other people like you and me, Draco had said and Harry had smiled at that because Draco had unconsciously referred to himself as someone who was into the lifestyle and really what were you supposed to say to that, especially when your boyfriend's preferred choice of weapon were words?

Or had it been a deliberate slip of the tongue?

With Draco, one could never be entirely certain what was a genuine slip of the tongue and what was deliberate; and that was exactly what made him so great at his job.

Whatever it had been, that very statement that had made Harry surrender and he had gotten in touch with Caleb to organise a munch. He had contacted a few of his friends from the club and personally invited them to come out for a bit of vanilla fun. Having known them for a few years, Harry trusted them enough not to completely terrify Draco.

Loath to allow Draco to attend his first munch blind and lacking fundamental knowledge of the most common terminology everyone Harry knew used, he’d spent the last month taking as much time as possible to teach Draco. It had been a crash course but it had been informative and eye-opening, for both of them.

Draco had willingly shifted his work schedule around as much as possible and had even handed one of his cases off to a fellow prosecutor, though not without promising to hex his balls to the moon if he lost the case. It had been yet another testament to how important this journey of discovery was to Draco and that he truly wanted to learn more.

Preferably everything, he'd said. Harry still remembered those words as though Draco had said them only yesterday. They'd made him smile and he'd kissed Draco soundly and for several long minutes.

Over the past month, they’d spent many evenings inside Harry’s playroom. They’d mostly talked about rules; which Draco now knew a fair bit about since he’d previously perused a few sample D/s contracts. They’d extensively talked about consent and Harry had repeatedly told Draco how important it was to him that absolutely everything they did was based on mutual consent.

In response to that, Draco, who at times took extreme pleasure in being completely childish, had called him a silly Gryffindork. Harry, intend on showing Draco his place, had given him his most menacing Slytherin glare, however, it had failed to have even the slightest effect on Draco. Instead of backing off, as Harry had playfully been trying to entice him to do, he’d decided to try his hand at showing off his bratty side.

He’d turned his sass on to the degree that Harry’s hand had itched terribly and after chasing Draco around the playroom, and eventually the house, he’d finally caught him in the living room and thrown him over his knee. Draco had, of course, struggled and tried to get away but Harry had kept a firm grip on him, showing him exactly who was in charge. He still remembered the question he’d asked which had led to Draco’s surrender — Do I have your permission to spank that gorgeous arse of yours and turn it a delightful shade of red?

Draco had twisted his head and looked up at him from under lowered lashes and held his gaze for a few long moments. When Harry has smiled, he'd flushed crimson and blinked several times, then a acquiesced, offering himself up for a playful punishment that left him in a giggly mood afterwards.

Apart from rules, they’d also extensively talked about safewords and after a bit of indecisiveness — mainly because he loathed the idea that red meant stop and green meant go — Draco had eventually settled for the traffic light system, though not without making it absolutely and unequivocally clear that he didn’t think a Gryffindor deserved to have that much power, not even when it came to BDSM.

That conversation had ended with Harry spending several hours showing Draco the merits of the colour red — red, kiss-swollen lips, red bite marks, red hand imprints on Draco’s arse, Draco’s hard cock, a deep shade of red, after having been edged and denied his orgasm countless of times, red restraints that complimented Draco’s pale skin beautifully.

By the end of that demonstration, Draco had conceded that the colour red wasn’t so bad at all though Harry very much suspected that he’d only done so because he’d been desperate to climax.

Of course, they’d also discussed boundaries and Harry had patiently introduced many different types of play to Draco; some had properly grossed Draco out but others had excited him and though he’d never actually said so, not with words anyway, the expression in his eyes had told Harry everything he needed to know.

While Draco continued to learn about BDSM, Harry had taken the opportunity to pay close attention to any and all of Draco’s reactions and had therefore nearly perfected his ability to read him like a book.

After all that, Harry had moved on to introduce Draco to a wide array of toys and other props. He’d shown him different types of restraints, vibrators, and dildos, as well as anal plugs and the cock rings. Draco had spent most of that conversation looking at him with a flushed face though not because he’d been embarrassed but because he’d been rather excited — the gleam in his silvery-grey eyes and his dilated pupils had given the true nature of his thoughts away.

Naturally, Draco’s arousal hadn’t left Harry unaffected and after several ardent kisses and a few bites to Draco’s neck, he’d suggested a demonstration.

A few moments of careful consideration later, Draco had agreed to be a willing participant and not soon after that he’d found himself restrained to the bed while Harry mercilessly teased him with a vibrating dildo and plenty of praise until he’d successfully reduced him to a shaking moaning mess, desperate for release and not ashamed to beg for it.

Their conversation about impact play toys had gone equally as well, far better even than Harry had expected it, considering that Draco wasn’t all that keen on pain and was very much still discovering the merits of it. He outright rejected the whip and cane, wanted absolutely nothing to do with it, but the paddle, flogger and especially the riding crop had thoroughly drawn him in and he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off those toys, especially the crop. He appeared both terrified and intensely turned on by it and after giving him a few days to process, Harry had, one Saturday afternoon invited him up to the playroom for a proper demonstration.

Flashback Start

Harry sat down on the red leather chaise sofa and casually reclined into the soft cushions behind him. He curled the toes of his bare feet into the soft shaggy rug in front of the sofa, toyed with it for a moment, then pulled one leg up onto the seat cushion beneath him and casually folded it underneath his other leg.

In a deliberate attempt to distract Draco, he’d put on his favourite pair of light-blue distressed jeans, the pair that always sat low on his hips. The countless tears revealed quite a bit of skin, giving a glimpse of tanned taut flesh. It had taken him all but five minutes to work out that Draco had a very soft spot for the raggedy look the jeans gave him.

Harry toyed with the frays that ran along the edges of the ripped holes, then moved to adjust his black short-sleeved shirt. It was just tight enough to compliment his biceps and his taut rigid abdominal muscles but not tight enough to give him the outward appearance of someone on the wrong side of camp — because there was camp, which he liked, and then there was ludicrous and when it boiled down to it, Harry very much preferred the former over the latter, though it wasn’t really a look he managed to successfully pull off.

Harry sat in silent contemplation for a few minutes, taking the opportunity to mentally prepare himself until Draco’s arrival. He idly tapped his fingers on the armrest, though not because he was nervous but rather because he enjoyed the feel of the chaise’s cool leather beneath his fingertips. It was both soft and firm and strangely enough it reminded him of Draco, who, much like the leather, had moments when he was pliant and thoroughly obedient and times when he was obstinate, extremely bratty and sassy enough to completely twist Harry’s mind as he battled his desire to dominate Draco until being sassy was the last thing on his mind and his lust to push Draco into giving him all the sass he had to give.

A gentle knock pulled Harry out of his reverie and he smiled.

A moment later, the wooden door to his playroom opened and Draco stood in the doorframe, dressed in a pair of black chinos and a light-grey button-up shirt. He wasn’t wearing any shoes but unlike Harry, he hadn’t taken his socks off.

Draco looked the perfect mixture between coy and excited and Harry’s heart skipped a beat. Unable to resist the temptation to toy with Draco’s mind, he gave him a slow and very appreciative once-over. He delighted in the way Draco’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and how he appeared to be engaged in a fervent battle of wills. He seemed to desire to keep his eyes locked on Harry’s but at the same time, he also exhibited signs of the need to give in and avert his eyes — perhaps to hide the fact that he was feeling self-conscious about Harry putting him on display, even though it was just the two of them and there was nobody else watching them.

Prior to this afternoon, they’d had a long discussion about consent and boundaries — although Harry, while promising Draco not to push him past what he could take, had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t intend to give Draco a step-by-step guide of what was going to happen once he entered the playroom. They’d agreed that Draco was not to cross the threshold until Harry gave him permission to do so.

Harry could tell that the knowledge that he had to wait and that he was most definitely not in charge of the situation was making Draco just a little fidgety. As a result, he alternated between shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers and pulling them out again a short while later. Harry thoroughly enjoyed the flicker of nervousness in his eyes and the way he worried his bottom lip — it was power play at its finest and the perfect chance for Draco to get acclimatised to the fact that Harry expected him to give up control, be obedient, and mindful of what he said and did.

While he had no intention of turning this afternoon into a proper scene, Harry did have every intention of giving Draco a brand-new experience, one he wouldn’t forget for quite some time.

After several more minutes of making Draco squirm at the door, Harry finally put him out of his misery.

“Come in, my little prince,” he said softly.

He motioned for Draco to step into the room and the moment that he did, Harry snapped his fingers and the door fell closed behind him. When it locked, Draco flinched and momentarily looked back over his shoulder. Harry could tell that Draco was somewhat unsettled and the last he wanted was for Draco to have a panic attack before they’d even started to explore.

“Draco, look at me,” Harry prompted.

He kept his voice soft but at the same time, he also made sure to give it a slightly authoritative undertone. He needed Draco to know that he wasn’t asking politely but that he was giving him a direct order and expected obedience.

He had no intention of corporally punishing Draco for any failure to comply with his commands, they weren’t quite there yet, but he had other ways to make his displeasure over any insubordination known to Draco.

Thankfully, Draco didn’t seem at all inclined to ignore Harry’s request and he slowly turned his head and when their eyes met across the room, Draco marginally relaxed. Harry lifted his hand and showed him the golden key to the room.

“Tell me, my little prince, if you want to stop, if you don’t want to continue anymore, what’s your safeword?”

“Red,” Draco replied without hesitation.

Harry nodded and smiled.

“Good. Very good,” he praised.

He noted the slight shudder that surged through Draco and pounced on it.

“You like being good for me, don’t you? You like being my good little prince, don’t you?”

Draco pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, flushed a little and nodded.

“Hm, yes, I know you do, you’re just so eager to please me, aren’t you, my love? Come here, kneel for me, my little prince.”

Draco hesitated for a moment, then slowly crossed the room. He stood in front of Harry, dithered briefly, then quietly complied with Harry’s request and gracefully sank to his knees. He sat back on his haunches and rested his hands in his lap.

Harry leant forward and pushed his fingers underneath Draco’s chin. He gently forced it up, then caressed Draco’s cheek with his thumb.

“Sweet boy,” he whispered.

Another shudder went through Draco, his eyes glazed over and he tilted his head to push into Harry’s gentle caress.

Harry smiled.

“Pretty. My pretty little prince.”

Draco parted his lips and he let out a small gasp of breath.

Harry showed him the key, then ran it from Draco’s temple, down his cheek, along his jawline and the side of his neck. A low whimper escaped Draco and Harry leant forward to kiss him on the lips.

“You’ve got your safeword, you won’t need this today. It’ll stay in my pocket until we’re finished or you use your safeword. Do you understand that?”

Draco nodded.

Harry clicked his tongue.

“Words, my little prince, use your words, you’re so good at that.

“Yes, I understand,” Draco murmured.

Harry clicked his tongue again.

“Not quite, try again.”

Draco momentarily scrunched up his face, then realisation dawned on him.

“Yes, Sir, I understand.”

“That’s better, I’m proud of you for remembering.”

The praise made Draco shudder again and Harry kissed him again. He lingered for a few moments, then pulled back and relaxed into the cushions behind him. He pushed the key to the door inside his jean pocket and with a smile, he placed one arm on the backrest of the chaise and the other on the armrest.

“Eyes on the ground,” he instructed.

Draco obediently lowered his head in silent compliance.

Harry let a minute of silence pass.

“Such a pretty boy you are, my little prince. I do like having you on your knees, do you know that?”

Draco’s head jerked a little, but before he could lift it, Harry clicked his tongue.

“Cross your wrists behind your back.”

Harry issued another order and Draco executed it beautifully. He moved his hands from his lap behind his back and dutifully kept his head lowered and his eyes on the floor.

“Perfect, just perfect. You are sinfully beautiful, let me enjoy this for a moment.”

Praising Draco for his flawless obedience came easy to Harry. He meant every word and knowing the effect it had on Draco, made it all the sweeter. He allowed himself two full minutes to appreciate Draco’s submissive pose, then stretched his hand out and silently summoned a very special kind of riding crop.

It wasn’t all that much different from an ordinary riding crop really. It was plain black, had a comfortable, leather-clad handle with a wrist loop for extra support. The long fibreglass shaft, naturally covered in fabric for safety reasons, terminated at the thin flexible leather tongue, which really was the only special part about the crop Harry had chosen for his and Draco’s afternoon of kinky delight.

A riding crop’s tress was generally made of leather and while this one indeed was, only on side of it was leather, the other side had an extra coating of soft black fur and was, much like a feather, designed for teasing not for causing any kind of discomfort…or pleasure — such was the beauty of a riding crop, depending on one’s preferences it could either be the cause of pain or of intense pleasure.

Harry idly toyed with the crop for a few moments, then pushed the fur-coated part underneath Draco’s chin and forced him to lift his head.

Draco stared at him and when Harry withdrew the crop’s tress from underneath his chin and showed him the toy, he inhaled sharply and a tremor surged through him. There was both trepidation and mild excitement in his eyes and Harry smiled warmly.

“Do you trust me, my little prince?” he asked softly.

Draco swallowed hard, then nodded.

Harry clicked his tongue.

“Use your words,” he reminded him.

“Yes, Sir. Yes, I trust you.”

“That’s good. Now, I believe you’re a little bit overdressed for the occasion, don’t you agree? Be a good boy and pop the first two buttons of your shirt open for me.”

Draco slowly brought his hands out from behind his back and lifted them up. He carefully and with trembling fingers undid the two top buttons of his shirt, then let his hands drop into his lap. Harry gently ran the soft side of the crop’s tress along Draco’s neck and slipped it underneath the now open collar. He teased part of Draco’s collarbone and the top of his breastbone and in response, Draco let out a low audible breath and his eyes fluttered.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, my little prince?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded.

“Yes, Sir,” he whispered.

Harry smiled and continued to tease the little bit of exposed skin with the tress. He alternated between Draco’s left collarbone and his right collarbone and ran the tress from his breastbone up along his throat until it rested underneath his chin, then rubbed it along the sensitive part of skin just below Draco’s earlobe. The featherlight touch made Draco whimper softly and he shuddered a little.

A while later, Harry decided to move things further along. He pressed the leathery side of the tress to Draco’s lips and gave him another order.

“I want you to undo the rest of the buttons, my little prince.”

It took a bit of effort to undo the remaining buttons, mainly because Draco’s hands were shaking quite badly now but also, Harry suspected, because he kept the crop’s tress pressed to Draco’s lips, making it impossible for him to speak.

Eventually, Draco managed to undo all the buttons and dropped his hands back into his lap.

Harry tapped them gently with the crop and nudged them behind Draco’s back.

“Hm, yes, that’s better. Keep them there until I tell you otherwise,” he instructed.

He used the crop’s tress to move the open shirt and exposed Draco’s beautifully pale chest and licking his lips, Harry simply admired him for a few minutes.

“You’re gorgeous, my sweet little prince,” he praised.

Draco mewled, his eyelids fluttered and his tongue darted out of his mouth to wet his lips. He flushed at the sweet words of praise. Harry teased his reddened cheeks with the soft side of the tress, then dropped it to Draco’s left shoulder and nudged the unbuttoned shirt off it.

It easily slid down Draco’s upper arm and Harry also pushed the shirt off Draco’s right shoulder, then began to tease the soft side of the tress up and down Draco’s arms, along his collarbone and the side of his neck.

Draco whimpered softly.

“What do you want, my little prince?” Harry asked.

Draco stared at him with darkened smoky eyes, full of desire.

“Touch me,” he whispered.

Harry clicked his tongue.

“Sir, please.”

“I am touching you, my sweet little prince, don’t be so greedy. All in good time.”

Harry smiled. He flipped the crop around and this time he traced Draco’s arms and his collarbone and the side of his neck with the leathery part of the tress.

Draco let out a soft moan and Harry ran the very tip of the tress down the centre of Draco’s chest, from the little dip at the bottom of his throat to the top button of his trousers. Draco shuddered and flipping the tress around again, Harry used the soft side to tease Draco’s sides and then, finally, his nipples.

He rubbed the soft fur over the hard nubs and Draco trembled, his mouth formed a perfect O-shape and he sighed. His eyelids fluttered and he had a hard time keeping them open but did his best not to let them fall fully closed.

Harry teased mercilessly. He alternated between the soft furry side of the tress and the firmer leathery side and without once landing even a single blow, he drove Draco right out of his mind.

“Please, Sir, please,” Draco whispered.

Harry chuckled.

“Please what? What do you want?”

“Please touch me, Sir, please,” Draco begged.

Harry held his gaze for several seconds, then shook his head.


Draco whimpered and Harry dropped the riding crop’s tress into his lap. He could feel Draco’s cock strain against the fabric, its outline was clearly visible and Harry teased the long hard flesh with the tress.

A desperate moan fell from Draco’s lips, followed by a breathless plea. Harry ignored it. Instead, he forced the tress between Draco’s thighs.

“Spread your legs for me, my little prince.”

Draco shuffled a little and obediently parted his legs.

“Now, lift that gorgeous arse of yours up in the air, no more sitting back on your haunches, that’s for lazy people, and you’re not lazy, are you, my beautiful little prince?”

“No, Sir.”

“Hm, yes, I thought so.”

Draco complied with his orders and Harry ran the leathery side of the crop’s tress up and down Draco’s inner thighs, then tapped it against the button and zipper of Draco’s trousers.

“Take these off, I want you naked. You may move your hands.”

It took Draco several minutes to divest himself of all his clothes but eventually, he was naked as the day he’d been born. He resumed kneeling and moved his hands behind his back. Harry nodded in silent approval and let his eyes sweep over the naked pale skin on display.

He teased the soft side of the tress up Draco’s left arm and the leathery side down Draco’s right arm then flipped back to the soft side and teased Draco’s sides, making him squirm. Harry tapped the tresses’ leathery side against Draco’s pert nipples, rubbed over them, then smacked them ever so gently. It was more of a tap than an actual smack but Draco let out a soft surprised moan and after a while, Harry dropped the crop and used the tress to nudge Draco’s legs further apart.

“OK?” he asked.

Draco nodded.

“Yes, Sir.”


“Green, Sir.”

Harry chuckled softly.

“Your favourite,” he said.

He ran the tress down the outside of Draco’s left thigh, then up the inside, down the inside of his right thigh and up the outside of it. He teased for several long minutes and until Draco pleaded with him to touch him.

Harry denied him his request for the third time.

“No,” he said quite firmly.

Draco whimpered and Harry ran the soft side of the tress over Draco’s balls, rubbing the underside of them. Draco’s whimper turned into a moan and Harry rather unexpectedly flipped the tress over and ran the leathery side along Draco’s long shaft, teasing every single side, including the head, with the smooth but firm leather.

Draco bucked his hips and moaned.

“Please, Sir. I need— I want— Please, Sir.”

“What do you need, my little prince.”

“I need to come,” Draco said, followed by a desperate mewl.

“Absolutely not. Don’t even think about it.”

Harry had no qualms about denying that request and Draco stared at him with watery eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

“Please, Sir,” he begged.

“No,” Harry said quite firmly.

He tapped the crop’s long shaft warningly against the outside of Draco’s thigh.

“The answer is no, my little prince,” he said, softening his voice a little. “You can do so much better than that, I know you can and if I know it, you can prove it to me.”

With those words, he leant forward, cupped Draco’s cheek and gave him a reassuring kiss. Draco melted against the palm of his hand and fervently responded to the kiss, clearly desperate for the little bit of skin on skin contact, Harry was offering.

“You’re my good little prince, you can hold out a little longer,” Harry whispered.

He pulled back, resumed his earlier position, and let his eyes roam over Draco’s body. His chest was heaving, his pale skin had red blotches all over it, his face flushed, and his eyes dark and smoky. He looked delectable, good enough to eat and slowly rising to his feet, Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s hair, then stepped behind him. He pressed the tip of the crop’s tress between Draco’s shoulder blades and gently nudged him forward.

“Rest your chest against the chaise, my little prince,” he instructed.

Draco bent forward and Harry ran the soft side of the tress down the centre of his back, then flipped it over and teased Draco’s pale arse cheeks with the leathery side. He ran the tress along the outside of Draco’s thighs, then the inside, nudged his legs further apart and teased his balls from behind, then rubbed along his cock, drawing the most delightful noises from Draco’s parted lips.

He was a panting wanton mess and every fibre of his body was throbbing with desire.

“Colour?” Harry asked softly while pressing the tress gently against the underside of Draco’s cock.

Draco moaned, then answered.

“Green, Sir.”

“Very good, are you ready for something a little more intense, my little prince?”

Draco sucked in a sharp breath.


“Yes, love?”

“What are you going to do?”

“Just a little sting to that gorgeous arse of yours. A bit of red to offset all that white milky skin,” Harry said and before Draco had the chance to properly contemplate it, he lifted the crop and brought the leathery side of the tress down on Draco’s buttock.

Draco yelped and swore and Harry smiled. He’d used far less force than he did with his bare hand but a smack with a leather tress stung differently compared to the flat of his hand.

“Fuck!” Draco exclaimed.

“Was that a good fuck or a bad fuck?” he teased.


Draco ground his teeth together.

“Good,” he eventually said.

Harry chuckled softly and rubbed the soft side of the tress over the mark he’d just left on Draco’s arse. He teased gently, softly, for a few moments, then ran the tip of the tress down the crack between Draco’s arse cheeks.

Draco moved his hips and the tress slipped deeper into the crack. Harry guided it to his hole and rubbed over the sensitive flesh, teasing quite unashamedly so but pulling back when Draco started to roll his hips to cause more friction. Instead, he ran the tress up and down Draco’s spine, then delivered one more blow. It was much lighter than the first one and Draco only yelped because Harry had, quite deliberately, aimed for the exact same spot, he’d left a mark on before.

“Turn around, my little prince, sit on the chaise and spread your legs for me.”

Draco awkwardly complied with the order and once he’d sat down, Harry used the crop’s tress to push him back into the cushions behind him. He summoned a bottle of lube and stepping in-between Draco’s legs, he handed it to him.

“You want to come, don’t you, my little prince?”

Draco nodded mutely.

“Touch yourself.”

Draco’s mouth dropped open and he stared disbelievingly. Harry held his gaze for a long moment then smiled devilishly.

“I won’t do it for you, so if you want to come, you’ll have to make the effort or walk around with a hard cock for the rest of the afternoon. The choice is entirely yours,” he said with a nonchalant shrug and pulled his hand back.

Draco made a strangled sound of protest, leapt forward, and snatched the bottle of lube from him.

Harry chuckled.

“Desperate much, my love?” he teased.

Draco glowered up at him and Harry tapped the outside of his thigh with the crop.

“None of that sass now, not in here,” he reprimanded Draco gently.

“Sorry, Sir,” Draco apologised.

His cheeks flushed a little and leaning forward, Harry braced himself on the leather chaise and captured Draco’s lips in a slow sensual kiss. When Draco attempted to wrap his arms around him and pull him down on top of him, Harry broke the kiss and took a step away.

“Touch yourself,” he said, repeating his earlier order.

Draco uncapped the bottle, spread a liberal amount of cool clear lube all over his hand and wrapped his long pale fingers around his cock. He hissed and carelessly dropping the bottle of lube onto the chaise beside him, he began to work his cock, giving it long slow strokes to tease himself.

Harry watched, thoroughly enjoying the show. He ran the soft side of the crop’s tress along Draco’s leg, over his hip, up along his side and down his chest, then back up. He pushed the tress underneath Draco’s chin, forced him to meet his gaze and licked his lips.

“How does it feel?” he asked.

“Good, Sir.”

Harry smiled.

“A little faster perhaps, then,” he suggested.

Draco complied. His breathing grew fast and laboured and he clasped the fingers of his free hand around the edge of the leather chaise.

“And you thought that the only way I could use this crop was to turn your behind a glorious shade of red, oh how wrong you were my little prince. I don’t need to deliver a single blow to control you with it. I could lay it across your chest and leave it there and you’d do anything I tell you to, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” Draco answered and blinked up at him.

Harry forced Draco’s chin up a little more.

“Such a good boy you are, stroking yourself for me,” he said with a smile.

Draco melted and his eyelids fluttered at hearing Harry’s praise.

“Tell me, my little prince, do you want to come?”

“Yes, Sir,” Draco breathed.

“And do you have permission?”

“No, Sir.”

“Then stop.”

Draco let out an anguished sort of moan-sob but stilled his hand. Harry nudged it away from his cock, which was rock-hard and stood proudly between Draco’s legs, surrounded by perfectly trimmed light-blond pubes at the base.

Harry teased the twitching flesh with the crop’s shaft, then delivered a sharp smack to the inside of Draco’s thigh.

Draco groaned.

“Heels up on the chaise, spread your legs as far as they’ll go.”

Draco obeyed.

“Now, continue, my little prince. Go on, pleasure yourself.”

Draco’s hand returned to his cock and wrapping his fingers around his throbbing prick, he twisted them around the shaft and worked himself steadily.

Harry watched. He teased the crop’s tress up and down the inside of Draco’s thighs, then slipped it between his buttocks and robbed the thin side of the tress against his hole, just like he’d done before.

Draco moaned and pushed against the tress.

Harry withdrew it and smacked the inside of his thigh, delivering a sharp blow.

Draco gasped, then let out a low moan. His hand faltered but Harry nudged it with the tress and made him continue.

After a while, Draco began to thrust up into his hand. He squirmed uncomfortably and looked up at Harry with pleading eyes.

“Harry— I’m— I will— I’m close— I—”

“You will do no such thing. You do not have my permission.”

Harry snarled and leaning forward, he placed the crop diagonally across Draco’s chest. He reached for the bottle of lube and undoing his jeans, he let them slide down to his ankles, then spread a liberal amount of the clear liquid on his thick hard cock. He gave it a few strokes, then rearranged Draco on the leather chaise. He placed Draco’s left leg over the backrest of the chaise sofa, bend the right one at the knee and pushed it so far apart that Draco groaned in mild discomfort. Harry then placed Draco’s arms above his head and hold him to hold on to the armrest. He positioned himself, let the tip of his cock nudge Draco’s hole, then leant down and kissed him passionately.

“If that crop falls you don’t get to come, my little prince,” he whispered against Draco’s quivering lips, then pushed into him with one swift move, breaking the tight muscles of Draco’s hole and filling him with his cock.

Flashback End

“For fuck’s sake, Potter!” Draco snapped, sounding thoroughly exasperated.

Harry jumped.

“Are we just going to stand outside the restaurant all morning or are we actually going in?”

Reprimanding himself for his lack of focus, Harry pushed his thoughts of the last month, and especially those of that riding crop, aside and shot Draco a killer smile with the very intention of appeasing his annoyed boyfriend.

“I just wanted to give you a few minutes to properly consider,” he said with a cheeky wink.

Draco rolled his eyes.

“And I told you I am sure I want to do this. I repeated myself three times.”

Draco countered with a dark glower.

Harry gave him a pointed look.

“You’re being sassy,” he said.

He held Draco’s gaze until he gave in and averted his eyes.

“There, that’s much better, such a good little prince.”

Harry praised him softly and taking a step closer, he slipped a single finger under Draco’s chin and pushed it up until they were once again looking into each other’s eyes.

“I do like your sass, never forget that,” he whispered and captured Draco’s lips in a slow, teasing kiss. As he pulled away, he ran his hand through Draco’s silky hair. “I’m sorry for zoning out on you, that wasn’t fair.”

“It’s alright, understand, can’t be easy standing next to a stunningly gorgeous man and being forced to content yourself with imagining what he looks like without his clothes on instead of being allowed to enjoy the real thing.”

Draco laughed and his eyes twinkled with mirth.

“You just wait until we get home, I will most definitely bend you over my knee and spank you until your arse cheeks are all red and throbbing. Then I’m going to make you sit on it until you squirm beg me for mercy,” Harry said with an entirely straight face and watched as Draco swallowed hard.

“You— you don’t— you don’t re—really mean that,” he stammered.

Harry kept his expression neutral.

“I absolutely do. If you have any objections you may use your safeword,” he said quite nonchalantly and tugging on Draco’s hand, he pulled him towards the entrance of the restaurant.

He pushed the door open and they both walked inside. Caleb had told him to ask for The Stables, a private function room at the back. It comfortably fitted up to twenty people for a brunch and that suited Harry just fine.

A smaller munch was exactly what Draco needed for his first outing into the world of kink. He just needed to meet with a bunch of people who were a little more experienced than him, easy-going, and fun to be around.

He was just about to push the door open when Draco held him back.


Harry turned to find Draco gnawing at his bottom lip. He looked a mixture between scared, worried, and somewhat shaken.

Leaving the door be, Harry pulled Draco to the side, cupped his cheek, and caressed it with his thumb.

“I think we both know that you’d rather enjoy if I spanked you, it wouldn’t be a punishment at all, just the beginning of a rather raunchy evening of hot, kinky sex,” he said in a hushed whisper, then stole a cheeky kiss from Draco and when he drew back, he watched his face carefully.

Draco relaxed a little and Harry squeezed his hand.

“I want you to go in there and be yourself not sit beside me and stare at the floor because you’re worried about upsetting me if you make a cheeky remark,” Harry said earnestly. “Please remember that.”

Draco nodded and smiled and Harry leant in to give him another kiss.

“Come on, let’s go inside before the other patrons complain about our blatant public display of affection.”

Harry grinned and tugging on Draco’s hand he pulled him into the private function room.

“Potter! You’re late!”

Caleb’s voice promptly boomed through the room and Harry turned his head to roll his eyes at Draco.

“You have my explicit permission to give him your best sass, I can’t beat him,” Harry mouthed.

Draco nodded in silent understanding and winked.

Harry chuckled to himself — this was going to be a whole lot of fun — and turned his attention to Caleb, who sat at the head of a long table across from the buffet table.

“Clearly not late enough, Reid. Where’s my coffee?” he asked

As usual, Caleb ignored his question. It had become a little bit of a game between them, one they both thoroughly enjoyed.

Pulling Draco along with him, Harry approached the table, then let go of Draco’s hand and reached for a pen. He carelessly scrawled his name onto the sign-in sheet and handed the pen to Draco.

Draco who took it and signed his name with an elegant flourish while Harry held the paper steady for him.

When Harry looked up, he caught Caleb raising a questioning eyebrow at him but instead of rising to the bait, he merely shrugged.

It wasn’t exactly customary for a Dom to help his sub with such simple tasks as signing a piece of paper and Harry could tell that Caleb had noticed his and Draco’s unusual dynamic and was rather confused by it.

Caleb reached for the sign-in sheet, glanced at it, and gave Draco a calculated once-over.

“Fancy scrawl, Draco Malfoy,” he said.

Harry bit back a smirk when Draco crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Caleb with an ice-cold Slytherin death glare.

“If it was a scrawl, it wouldn’t be legible. Since you had no trouble deciphering my name, and even managed to pronounce it correctly, though I credit Harry for that, I would call it elegant penmanship, though fancy works too, if you absolutely insist on using an adjective that describes imagination rather than appearance,” Draco said coolly.

Stifling a snort, Harry turned around and wordlessly headed to the buffet to help himself to a large cup of coffee.

He couldn’t help but wonder how Caleb might react if he was to return with a bowl of ice to soothe the perfect way in which Draco had so thoroughly burned his pride.

He’ll probably threaten to whip me, Harry mused and chuckled under his breath.

When he returned a few minutes later, holding two cups of coffee, he found Caleb standing, mimicking Draco’s pose.

“No wands,” he reminded Draco quietly as he handed him his coffee and added, “I’ve put extra sugar in it.”

“I don’t need a wand to duel him,” Draco smirked.

Idly sipping on his coffee, Harry glanced back and forth between Caleb and Draco. The two of them were engaged in an intense staring contest. He could practically feel the air crackle around them and shuddered a little.

Don’t give in, my little prince, he thought with a devious smirk.

He pulled up a chair, sat down, and casually continued drinking his coffee. He leant back and rested his right ankle on his left thigh, just above the knee.

Harry watched the silent showdown for a while but when it became apparent that neither Caleb nor Draco was about to give in and end the staring contest, he shifted his attention to Stefan and started chatting to him.

“He’s different.”

Stefan nodded towards Draco after a few minutes of exchanging pleasantries.

Harry smiled.

“Quite so,” he said.

He looked up he found that Draco and Caleb were still competitively glowering at one another, though at this stage Caleb was frowning while Draco looked downright bored.

“Reid, for the love of God, stop being a pillock. He’s a prosecutor, it’s his job to twist your words and fuck with your mind and he’s damn good at it,” Harry intervened.

Caleb shot him a positively withering glare and although he sat down, he defiantly kept his arms crossed.

Harry smirked into his coffee cup.

In all the years he had known Caleb, he had never seen him this rattled.

Draco was getting to him and Harry couldn’t deny that he liked it.

“Never try to outstare a snake, we don’t blink,” Draco mumbled under his breath, then gracefully turning on his heel, he sauntered off to the buffet.

Harry stared after him for a moment and rather uncomfortably shifted in his chair. He was half-hard and truly grateful that he had chosen to wear a pair of loose jeans. They did a semi-decent job of concealing his predicament although, despite the extra legroom, they wouldn’t be able to completely hide a full-on erection; he knew that much.

“You told me he is—” Caleb started.

Harry interrupted him before he finished that sentence.

“I never said that it applied outside the bedroom,” he smirked. “Although he’s partial to that as well.”

Caleb frowned.

“Are you sure he is—”

“Submissive?” Harry finished the question. “Yes, but he’s got a ton of sass, which I love, though I can see it bothers you a great deal.”

“I see,” Caleb smiled.

He uncrossed his arms and reached for his own coffee mug. Harry watched him finish it, then subtly set it down in front of Stefan, who took it and rose to his feet before walking off to the buffet to get Caleb a refill.

“I understand why you were so apprehensive at first, he’s got a brazen mouth on him.”

“And I love him for it,” Harry said.

He glanced around the room, waved at a few familiar faces, then turned his attention back to his coffee and his conversation with Caleb.

“How is it going with you two?” Caleb asked.

Stefan returned with his coffee and sliding an arm around low around his waist, he pulled him close in a possessive but affectionate gesture.

“Thank you, pet.”

Stefan beamed down at him and was about to sit down when he spotted one of his friends.

Harry caught him looking at Caleb for permission to go off on his own and Caleb gave him a small, approving nod.

“Thank you, C,” Stefan smiled.

He extracted himself from Caleb’s embrace but just before he could walk off, Caleb caught his wrist and pulled him down for a brief kiss.

Harry had the decency to look away to give them a moment of privacy.

He drank his coffee and felt the urge to look around the room for Draco but resisted. It was a private function room in a restaurant, Draco was fine. He was a grown man and didn’t need constant supervision.

“You two are rather smitten,” he said shortly after Stefan had left to join his friend.

Caleb winked at him. There was an excited sort of gleam in his eyes that Harry hadn’t seen before but he had to admit that Caleb wore it rather well.

“What can I say, Cupid’s Arrow hit the right spot. Now, I’m sorry, you were about to tell me about you and that fiery dragon of yours.”

Harry grinned.

“Was I?”

Caleb gave him a pointed look.

“Next time you come running to me in the middle of the night, I’m just going to ignore you pounding on my front door.”

“You’re so petty,” Harry chuckled.

“Honestly, it’s going great. I think the fact that we’re both here today proves that quite clearly. He’s a fast learner. He’s also keen.”

Caleb nodded and Harry moved his ankle off his thigh when Draco approached him and made it rather obvious that he intended to sit in his lap.

“Sandwiches for you, cake and chocolate croissants for me,” he said.

Harry kissed him and delighted in the faint blush that coloured Draco’s cheeks a lovely shade of pink.

“You’re a bold little pet sitting on your Dom’s lap like that,” Caleb said.

Harry didn’t quite manage to swallow the groan that flew out of the depths of his throat and to the tip of his tongue. Caleb had not just said that…

“You’re worse than a bear with a pot of honey, Reid. Just can’t resist the temptation to get your arse kicked,” he sighed.

Then, before he could say anything else, Draco rose to his own defence.

“First of all, I am not a pet. I never have been nor will I ever be anyone’s pet. While I don’t dispute that some people may enjoy being someone’s pet or relish in the use of such a term of endearment, I do not count myself amongst that crowd. For the time being, you may address me as Mr Malfoy, however, if you lose that impudent childish behaviour of yours, which is entirely unbecoming for someone your age, I will accept your use of my first name,” Draco said.

He took a bite of a small chocolate cake and looked entirely unperturbed.

Harry casually placed his hand on Draco’s thigh and squeezed it a little.

“Furthermore, I’m not quite sure how sitting on my boyfriend’s lap constitutes as being bold but if it makes you uncomfortable, I gladly will move to a chair. I do respect your boundaries,” Draco continued.

Harry grabbed a small sandwich from the plate, Draco had placed on the table in front of them. He wasn’t particularly hungry but he suddenly felt the urge to give his mouth something to do.

Draco’s sass did unspeakable things to him and he wanted to drag him home and have his wicked way with him.

“I concede, stay where you are, Draco. Honestly, Potter, I don’t know how you put up with him, I’d have caned him raw if he treated me like that,” Caleb said with a dirty smirk.

“Practise,” Harry smiled.

He stroked Draco’s thigh reassuringly to let him know that he had no intention of using a cane, or any other impact toy, on him — for the most part, he did not consider Draco’s sass to be a punishable offence.

“We went to school together, remember?” he reminded Caleb of his and Draco’s history.

“Don’t tell me he was always like this!”

Caleb pretended to look horrified and laughing, Harry squeezed Draco’s thigh again.

“Worse, he’s since learnt some manners. I could tell you stories… There was that one time he made and handed out badges that read Potter Stinks because he couldn’t get over the fact that I was better at chasing a ball than he was.”

“Potter, you do realise that I’m right here, don’t you?”

Draco glowered and Harry blew him a kiss and smiled sweetly.

“Of course. You’re sitting on my lap; how could I forget? I’m sorry, did I say something untrue?” he teased.

Draco regarded him for a moment, then silently finished off his chocolate cake. While he hadn’t used his words, his expression spoke volumes. It said something like you just wait, Potter but a moment later, he relaxed and smiled.

“You didn’t, I acknowledge, was quite a brat back in Ho—”

Draco cut himself off with a cough when Harry dug his nails firmly into Draco’s thigh.

“Back in secondary school, I mean,” he corrected himself.

Harry sighed with relief.

A close one.

“You’re an odd pair.”

Caleb shook his head and laughed.

“However, there’s no denying that you two have chemistry.”

“We have plenty of chemistry, especially the explosive kind,” Harry chuckled.

They continued their easier banter for a little longer.

Eventually, though, the conversation turned to their respective jobs and Caleb shared a few rather entertaining stories from his firehouse, including one where they had tried to rescue a kitten from a tree but had ended up rescuing the firefighter who had climbed the tree and managed to get stuck together with the kitten.

Draco slowly warmed up to Caleb and willingly shared a few tales from his own job and Harry was once again mesmerised to see the effort Draco was making around his friends. It was the ultimate proof of how much he had completely changed since the end of the war.

Harry was also pleased to note that Draco tried his hardest to censor himself as to not accidentally out himself as a wizard. He did slip up once when he almost said something about Muggles but Harry squeezed his thigh firmly and that was enough for Draco to catch himself.

At some point, Stefan returned to their corner of the table and the four of them chatted amicably until Stefan attempted to whisk Draco away to introduce him to a few people.

That was the first time that Draco looked at Harry and while it very much looked like he was asking for permission, Harry knew that Draco was just unsure and was looking for reassurance.

Harry smiled and gave him a soft nod. He encouraged him to wander off and chat to a few people. It took a little bit of persuasion and some mild coaxing but eventually Draco gave in and walked off with Stefan, who, despite being a little younger than Draco, most definitely had a little more experience and kindly took him under his wing.

Since Harry knew most of the people, who had turned up at this morning’s casual meet-up, he didn’t bother to mingle but remained at the table and chatted with Caleb.

They mainly discussed a few new toys and several of the upcoming events at Pandora’s Box.

When Caleb asked whether Harry planned to bring Draco along to the club, he shook his head and reasoned that Draco wasn’t ready for that kind of culture shock just yet.

Well over an hour later when Draco returned to the table, looking exhilarated and giddy, Harry couldn’t help but rethink his earlier decision.

He had somewhat misjudged Draco when it had come to his playroom and he was rather sure that, if given a bit more time, Draco would be interested in discovering the secrets of Pandora’s Box.

Harry made a mental note to speak to Draco about it at some point in the future and when Caleb politely excused himself from the table, he focused on Draco and listened with rapt attention as he excitedly shared his experience of chatting with other like-minded people about the various aspects of domination and submission.

By the time Draco had finished, Harry couldn’t help but cradle his face in his hands and draw him in for a passionate kiss that left them both slightly breathless and Draco thoroughly flushed.

They prepared to leave the munch about half an hour later and although they had already said goodbye to Caleb, he stopped them at the door and Harry decided that the cheeky glint in his eyes meant Caleb was most definitely up to no good.

“A question, Mr Malfoy, before we part ways,” he said quite respectfully.

Harry bit his tongue to suppress a chuckle.

Draco inclined his head.


“Potter here is rather, shall we say, tight-lipped about his safeword, but I’m sure he’s told you all about it. Care to satisfy my curiosity and indulge me on whatever that poor sod Tom Riddle did to deserve being turned into a safeword?”

Harry groaned and glared daggers at Caleb, then warily glanced at Draco.

Up until now, and given their history, he hadn’t told Draco about his safeword and although he was aware that they should have had that conversation at some point over the last month he hadn’t been prepared to go there — while he preferred his own safeword, red worked just as well for him.

He was fully aware that he should have jumped over his own shadow but anything involving the war was and would always be a touchy subject.

Besides, he couldn’t help but reason, in all the years since he had chosen Tom Riddle as his safeword he had only screamed it once and that had been when Charlie had pushed him so far past anything, he had been able to handle, that he hadn’t had a choice but to use it — which had been what Charlie had been trying to achieve but that was another memory for another day.

Now that the cat was out of the bag, he couldn’t help but watch Draco’s face closely for his reaction as he anxiously waited for his response.

“I wish I could tell you but I haven’t got the foggiest idea,” Draco answered with a sense of poise, Harry found intensely arousing.

“And for the record, even if I did, there’s no torture device in the world that could make me give up any of Harry’s secrets,” he added.

Harry automatically reached for Draco’s hand and squeezed it tightly. He circled his thumb over the pulse point on the inside of his wrist and conveyed his admiration for Draco without the use of words.

Caleb turned to face Harry and smiled knowingly.

“I always felt there was a wicked story behind your choice of a safeword, and your fierce dragon here just confirmed all my suspicions,” he said.

Caleb reached out and surprised Harry somewhat when he squeezed his shoulder and patted his back.

“If you let this one go, Potter, if you fuck this up and let him walk away, I will personally punish you so hard you won’t know what hit you and how many times.”

Harry tensed a little, inhaled sharply, and tightened his hold on Draco’s hand, then forced himself to gradually relax.

“I can assure you, Reid, I’ve got no intention of letting this one go, he’s everything I’ve always wanted and the only way I will let him walk is if that’s what he wants because I’ve fallen hook, line, and sinker.”

“Threatening an officer of the law in front of a prosecutor,” Draco clicked his tongue.

“Utterly stupid thing to do, Mr Reid, I’d watch my back if I was you.”

He chuckled and the three of them shared a laugh before Caleb bid them goodbye and they left.

They exited the restaurant in silence, Harry confidently walking ahead of Draco, and strolled down Great Titchfield St.

The weather was glorious and the sun was warm and Harry grinned like a loon.

They strolled down the pavement and came to a casual stop near a narrow alleyway that led into a small courtyard.

There Harry turned to face Draco, who regarded him with a curious expression.

“So, Tom Riddle, then?”

Draco posed the question with an air of professionalism that was both unnecessary and admirable at the same time.

Harry nodded.

“I’ve no problem using red, but this is my absolute last resort and I apologise for not having told you before, but well…” he trailed off, a little unsure of what to say or how to justify himself.

“You know, Harry, after that long conversation we had about the importance of safewords, I thought long and hard and I figured yours might be one related to the war but in my mind, you had settled for Lord Voldemort. I do realise that this makes me special kind of insane, but I’ll wear that badge proudly for you, Harry Potter,” Draco said quietly.

Harry felt the shudder that went through him as Draco uttered the name of the darkest wizard to ever walk the surface of the earth. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the name, he had never been, it was just that it brought back unwanted memories of very dark times and it filled him with a fury he sometimes didn’t know how to control.

“When Charlie asked me to pick a safeword, that was my first thought, but that name doesn’t scare me in the slightest. It never did, it only fills me with revulsion and hatred so deep I can barely breathe,” Harry said.

He felt Draco free his hand from his grasp but didn’t stop him.

Neither did he stop him when Draco sandwiched his hand between the palms of his own hands.

He smiled softly and looked Draco straight in the eye.

“Tom Riddle. That name, it puts the fear of God into me. Dumbledore showed me memories, memories of a sweet young boy, left to fend for himself in a world that didn’t want him. It ruined him, it turned him into the manipulative megalomaniac he was when I finally took him down on the second of May, 1998.”

Draco nodded softly and for a moment they stood in silence, both lost in their own thoughts as they remembered those horrid times, times when the desperate need to survive, to live to see just one more day, had kept them going, had enabled them to do things that were beyond the capabilities of ordinary teenagers.

Harry tried to think of a way to lift the sombre mood that had settled around them but it was Draco who spoke first.

“Dobby,” he said and Harry gasped.

He hadn’t heard that name in a long time.

He hadn’t even thought about the sweet elf, in many years.

Not because he wanted to forget, but because it hurt too much to go there. So many years had passed since the little creature had bled out in his arms after—

Overcome by an irrational bout of anger for a woman that was long dead, Harry snarled.

“Bellatrix killed him,” he said.

He spoke through gritted teeth and his hand curled around Draco’s wrist and squeezed tightly.

He needed something or someone to anchor himself to before his resentment got the better of him.

Bellatrix Lestrange had taken the lives of too many people he held dearly.

“I know,” Draco said softly. “I saw her fling the knife.”

“Why did you bring him up?” Harry asked, schooling the tone of his voice.

He had no reason to be angry at Draco; he didn’t want to be angry with Draco. He knew Draco hadn’t brought Dobby into the conversation to hurt him.

“If you permit, I’d like Dobby to be my safeword. He was the sweetest, kindest, and the most caring creature I ever knew, yet my father treated him worse than the dirt on his shoe. At the time I was too young to realise Father was wrong and by the time I did, it was too late to do anything about it. When I was young, Dobby, he always treated me kindly. Not because he was bound to serve the Malfoy family but because it was in his nature and—”

“And this is how you want me to treat you. With kindness and respect.”

Harry finished Draco’s sentence with a smiled.

An intense kind of warmth spread from the centre of his chest throughout his body and he resolutely walked Draco into the narrow alleyway and pushed him into a doorway that shielded them perfectly. He cupped Draco’s face with his hands and pressed a possessive kiss to his lips.

“Your submission to me, Draco, if you’re willing to give it to me, is the greatest gift you could ever give me and I promise you, I will always treat you with kindness and with the love and respect you deserve,” he whispered and kissed Draco again.

“I accept your choice, it is a very good one,” he mumbled against Draco’s lips.

He deepened the kiss and claimed Draco’s mouth with his lips and tongue, kissing him fiercely and passionately.

Harry lost himself in the heat of the moment and wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist, he pulled him as close against his body as he could and didn’t stop kissing him until they were both breathless and desperate for oxygen.

It was only then that he grudgingly pulled away and stared at Draco. He watched as Draco slowly raised his hands over his head and crossed them at the wrist, then looked him straight in the eye.

“Take me home, Sir, I’m yours,” he whispered.

He lowered his gaze submissively and fixed his eyes on Harry’s chest.

Harry growled and was entirely unable to resist the intense need to possess that washed over him.

He wanted Draco with everything he had and he wasn’t going to settle, not when Draco was offering himself up to him on a silver platter. He placed one hand over Draco’s crossed wrists and roughly pinned them to the wooden door, he had him pressed up against.

“Then what?” he growled.

He wanted, no, needed to know how far Draco wanted to take this.

“To do as you please, Sir, I trust you and I have a safeword.”

Draco responded without looking up and Harry squeezed Draco’s hip hard enough to force a moan from him.

“Fuck, Draco, you’re perfect. Wonderful, amazing, beautiful and perfect and I love you so much,” he whispered.

He tightened his hold on Draco, closed his eyes, focused and apparated them both straight to Draco’s flat.

He had wanted to take Draco home to Grimmauld Place but with unrestrained access to his playroom and Draco’s permission to do as he pleased, he didn’t trust himself to hold back.

No, he needed them to be somewhere where he could twist Draco’s mind and reap the gift of his submission without pushing Draco’s boundaries beyond what Harry knew he was able to take.

Some other time, he thought as they landed in Draco’s living room and he simultaneously undid his jeans and forced Draco to his knees in front of him.

Chapter Text

Sunday afternoon found Harry, happy to enjoy the warm autumn sunshine and a much-needed stretch of legs, accompanying Draco to The Pavilion Café all the way out near Highgate Wood to meet Kona, the dog that had stolen a large part of Draco’s heart, for a playdate in the park and her owner for coffee and cakes.

Harry was rather excited about the prospect of meeting Malcolm. Draco had told him a little about his friend and from the few stories Draco had shared — granted most of Draco’s tales revolved around Kona but Malcolm had made the one or other appearance — he’d decided that he quite liked the man. He seemed mature, funny, and responsible, and exactly the sort of a person Harry could see Draco wanting to spend time with.

He did sometimes wonder about the true extent of Draco’s and Malcolm’s relationship but so far, Draco hadn’t told him and even though he was curious, Harry hadn’t given into his desire to ask. This was Draco’s story to tell and he deserved to tell it in his own time. After all, they both had a post-war past they had yet to share with each other and Harry was in no rush to put all his cards on the table, neither did he want Draco to feel pressured into doing the same.

If there was one thing that Harry was not worried about it was that they were always honest with each other and he was proud that candid conversation had become part of the foundation of their relationship. It had taken a while for them to find their footing but these days Harry was confident that they’d managed to create something special, something unique, something that worked for them.

Despite his reluctance to spent his weekend at work, Harry had grudgingly given in to working overtime. He’d tried — and, of course, failed — to catch up on a few reports that were due the following week. But somehow, no matter how many forms he signed, the stack of paperwork on his desk refused to dwindle down and at some point, Harry had seriously contemplated setting the whole pile on fire.

Only a strong cup of tea and a few biscuits had distracted him from reaching for his wand to cast the spell.

That and Draco, who had walked into his office right around the third time, Harry had felt the strong desire to burn his desk and everything on it down with a powerful Incendio.

Thankfully, Draco had been a most welcome distraction and seeing him had resulted in Harry banishing any and all thoughts to turn part of his office into ash. Draco had looked good enough to eat in his grey jeans and midnight-blue jumper and Harry had found his attention thoroughly diverted — in the best possible way.

He’d expressed a great interest in bending Draco over his desk and having his wicked way with him to which Draco had rolled his eyes most dramatically. He had then allowed Harry to get away with some teasing and had been more than willing to spend several long minutes snogging but Harry’s dirty office sex fantasy remained just that — a fantasy.

At the memory of Draco, dressed in his stylish but casual Muggle clothes, standing in the doorway of his office, Harry drifted a little, but before he could properly indulge and lose himself in his kinky thoughts, Draco pulled him to a halt.

“Why are we stopping?” Harry asked.

He was mildly confused and just a tiny little bit cross about having been dragged out of his little fantasy before he’d had the chance to properly indulge in it.


Draco flushed a little.

“I may have a confession to make before you meet Kona’s owner,” he said.

Harry raised a curious eyebrow at him.

“He’s a Muggle, yes, I know, you mentioned. I’m over the surprise that you’ve come around and decided that Muggles are good people after all, even if they don’t have any magic.”

Harry smiled.

Ignoring his good-natured dig at his past, Draco’s eyes nervously darted around the place and Harry sensed that there was something else Draco was worried about.

He took a step closer and taking Draco’s hand, he laced their fingers together.

“What is it?” he asked softly.

Draco harrumphed a bit, clearly stalling for time.

“I may have deliberately forgotten to mention that Malcolmisactuallymyex,” he eventually said.

He looked positively uncomfortable as he confessed to the true nature of his relationship with Kona’s owner.

Harry held his gaze. He suppressed the urge to smile — as expected then. At some point or other Draco had been more than friends with Malcolm. One look at Draco told Harry all he needed to know; he had absolutely nothing to worry about. They were a couple and Harry did not begrudge Draco a friendship. They were in a relationship and yes, Harry enjoyed spending as much time with Draco as possible but at the same time, he had no wish to isolate him from the people that had been in his life before they’d started dating.

He was about to tell Draco that when Draco continued talking or rather began to nervously explain himself.

“We dated shortly after I started working as a public defender at the Ministry and for a while after. I wanted to understand Muggles better and I wanted to understand myself better and so I kept going to all these gay Muggle bars and clubs and— well— one night— I met Malcolm and we— well, we kind of clicked. We were together for a couple of years— two actually— but it’s been over for quite some time and— we— it’s just that we’re— we’re still good friends and I mean he doesn’t know about magic or that I’m a wizard but he’s a really cool guy and—” 


Harry interrupted gently, trying to get a word in edgewise but Draco kept talking.

“We’re just friends. There’s nothing going on. We never engaged in casual sex or anything after we broke up— We just— we kind of realised we were better suited as friends and I really liked the fact that he never judged me and that he didn’t know about any of my mistakes during the war and I could just be the person I wanted to become with him—”


Harry interrupted again but this time he made sure to sound a little more authoritative.

It had the desired effect.

Draco shut up, swallowed hard and looked at him with mild trepidation.

He looked a bit like he was trying to work out whether he should panic and run or whether the situation was perfectly safe. It was rather endearing, though Harry decided that it would probably be wiser if he kept that thought to himself, especially if he wanted to avoid Draco drawing his wand and hitting him with a stinging hex.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you when you first met Kona but I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea so I just told you Malcolm was a friend—”

“Draco, will you shut up already? You’re acting like I’ve got you in interrogation, asking you a million and one personal questions.”

Harry said to him and smiling, he took a step closer and combed his fingers through Draco’s hair.

“I’m perfectly okay with you being friends with your ex, you are entitled to choose your own friends and I will never tell you who you can and can’t see, this is not how I work. I am friends with Ginny, aren’t I? Although let’s be honest, that disaster of a teenage romance can’t really be called a relationship.”

Harry chuckled.

“You’re not mad?”

Draco looked a little taken aback and Harry frowned.

“Why? Should I be?”

Draco sighed.

“I didn’t tell you he was my ex.”

“Hm, yes you didn’t, that’s true,” Harry nodded.

“Now, the question is, did you deliberately do that because you were hoping I’d punish you for keeping this from me or did you just do it because you thought I might be jealous?”

Draco opened and closed his mouth but no words came out.

Harry laughed. He sensed the perfect opportunity to tease Draco a little.

“If you want a spanking, my sweet little prince, all you have to do is ask. If you want the riding crop, all you need to do is ask. If you want something else, something a little spicier, all you need do is ask. I’ll give you anything you want, you know that.”

“I— I didn’t— I mean— I don’t—”

Draco stammered. His cheeks pinked and he sounded and looked so endearing that Harry couldn’t resist the temptation to shut him up with a searing kiss.

“I love flustering you, do you know that? It’s become one of my favourite pastimes.”

He whispered against Draco’s lips, then pulled away to look at Draco’s face.

“Look, I’m not mad. So, this Malcolm guy used to shag you a couple of years ago. I knew you weren’t a blushing virgin when we started dating, although if you wanted ever to behave like one, I would find that entirely acceptable.”

Harry paused to smirk and delighted in the way that Draco’s blush intensified and his eyes widened.

“Mmm, delectable, we should do this sometime, would make for a nice roleplay. You a blushing submissive virgin and me your dominant date with a one-track-mind. Yes, absolutely, this fantasy has definite potential, I would thoroughly enjoy repeatedly popping your cherry.”

Draco coughed.

“You have some weird kinks, Potter.”

He shook his head but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and his beautiful silvery-grey eyes gleamed with mischief.

Harry winked at him.

“You don’t even know half of it, my love, besides, I don’t see you turned off by what I’m suggesting.”

“Strangely enough I am not. I think you’ve completely led me astray.”

Harry chuckled.

“I’ve barely begun, Draco, I’ve barely begun. Now, are we just going to start right here and talk about kinks or are you going to take me to meet your ex and his dog? Because, honestly, either one is fine by me.”

“Will you promise not to be jealous?”

Harry grinned.

“Only if he’s not hot.”

Draco glared daggers in response to that and Harry decided that he’d teased enough and that he should probably behave.

“Fine, I promise I won’t be jealous, but I reserve the right to remain fiercely possessive of you, my little pet dragon.”

Draco rolled his eyes but said nothing more on the subject.

They walked the rest of the way in silence and even continued to hold hands.

Harry whistled, though completely off-key, and swayed their linked hands back and forth until they reached the coffee house.

There, he had to let go of Draco’s hand when a barking Golden Retriever dashed up to them at top speed. Kona repeatedly jumped up at Draco and nearly sent him flying onto his arse and it took Harry every ounce of self-restraint not to burst out laughing at the sight of Draco trying his best to protect himself from having his face covered with slobbery dog kisses.

It took a good few minutes before Draco managed to calm Kona down enough that he could manage to grab her leash. He told her to sit and she grudgingly did so but waggled her tail excitedly, sending a whole lot of gravel flying left and right.

When Draco asked her if she remembered Harry, she immediately jumped up and barked enthusiastically, sniffing at Harry’s hands and his trousers.

Harry rubbed her head and she pushed her wet snout against his wrist and sat down before him, expectantly looking up at him.

Draco snorted.

“Even dogs submit to you.”

He rolled his eyes and Harry laughed.

“Don’t worry, I won't leave you for her, I prefer taming dragons,” he said, then found himself thoroughly distracted when a tall Adonis with a muscular body, bronzed skin, dark brown hair, and a big welcoming smile approached them.

Harry cast a sideways glance at Draco and frowned at the beaming smile on his face. He was mature enough not to read anything into the situation but he still felt intensely possessive when Draco greeted his ex with a friendly hug and Kona excitedly jumped at them both.

“Harry, meet Malcolm.”

Draco introduced them and Harry accepted when Malcolm extended his hand. He grabbed it firmly and as they shook hands, he caught Malcolm’s knowing grin.

At least he thought it was a knowing grin.

“So, you’re the special guy I’ve heard so much about,” Malcolm said.

“Come on, I’ve got us all a table outside, the weather is too good to sit inside. Kona’s already ordered a big bowl of fresh water.”

As they followed Malcolm to the table, Harry couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at Draco, who looked just a little bit uncomfortable.

“Just how much did you tell him?” he asked quietly, trying his best to suppress a smirk.


For a moment, Draco looked rather uncomfortable. He dithered for a while, then confessed.

“Before we started dating properly, or, well, before we slept together for the first time, I may have been a little frustrated with you being so restrained so I talked to Malcolm about it.”

Harry chuckled.

“Funny how those roles are completely reversed now. Lately, it’s always you who is restrained.”

Draco glowered at him and Harry said nothing else. They caught up with Malcolm and sat down at a nice round table. Draco let go of Kona’s leash and she trotted over to her water bowl and noisily slobbered up half of it before she returned to the table and politely sat down on the ground beside Malcolm. She waited for him to pet her, then rested her head on his thigh for a while before moving to get comfortable underneath his chair.

“You’ve got her well-trained,” Harry said.

The first time he’d met Kona when Draco had looked after her, her level of devotion had thoroughly surprised him. That and her ability to follow orders. She had a bit of a wild disposition but overall, she knew how to behave herself. She did remind Harry a little bit of Draco. He, too, was a bit of a wild one, loved being sassy and had a scathing tongue, but at the end of the day, he thoroughly enjoyed it when Harry told him what to do and Harry couldn’t help but think that Draco would make a lovely pet indeed, although he had no intention to share that thought with Draco — somehow, he was sure it was the fastest way to find himself on the receiving end of a rather nasty curse, hex, or jinx.

Malcolm nodded.

“Hm, yes, she’s very eager to please.”

“I can see that. She’s very acquiescent,” Harry said.

He then decided to be a little bold after all — he simply couldn’t help it, he enjoyed pushing Draco’s buttons as much as Draco enjoyed pushing his. It was a little game they played.

“I wish my pet was that eager to please.”

Harry grinned slyly and made sure to keep his eyes fixed on Draco as he spoke.

“Some pets are harder to tame than others,” Malcolm said.

“Yes, indeed. Mine is rather headstrong and willful. He needs more of a firm grip. But I guess dragons are a lot more work than a dog,” Harry said.

He just about managed to stop himself from telling Malcolm that he had a friend who was in the business of taming real, fire-spewing dragons and that Charlie would be too happy to offer advice or a helping hand when it came to taming Draco.

“Are you two quite finished?”

Draco looked rather put out and reaching across the table, Harry attempted to take his hand but Draco pulled it out of his reach.

Oh, you did not just do that, little prince, Harry thought and very much wished he could take Draco home tonight to teach him a lesson about showing your Dom a bit of respect.

Alas, they had yet to reach that level in their relationship and he wasn’t about to push Draco into anything he wasn’t ready for.

“Finished with that?” Malcolm asked.

He looked completely nonchalant and Harry silently praised him for his ability to conceal the fact that they’d just had a very kinky discussion.

“I’m sorry, Draco, I thought you wanted your Harry and me to be friends, we’re just bonding.”

“Bonding my arse!”

Draco huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Harry doesn’t have a pet! No dog and most definitely no dragon, not that those creatures exist.”

Nice save, Harry thought, amused. For the fact that Draco had grown up in a pureblood wizarding family, he’d really become quite apt at interacting with Muggles.

“He doesn’t?” Malcolm asked with a smirk. “Harry, is that true?”

Harry smirked.

“Well, it is and it isn’t. You see, I’m in the process of acquiring a pet. We’ve bonded several times, but he’s not quite ready for the permanent thing.”

“Ah, that’s a pity,” Malcolm said. “I hope it works out.”

Harry nodded.

“So, do I.”

He bit back a laugh when Draco abruptly rose to his feet and announced that he was going to find them some menus.

This time, Harry caught his wrist before he managed to stalk off and tugged at it.

“Menu is on the table, my love,” he said with a smile.

He remained entirely unperturbed when Draco’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits and he glowered icily.

“Waiter then, I’m gonna find a waiter.”

Draco remained resolute, abruptly yanked his hand away and disappeared inside the café.

Malcolm sighed.

“Oh dear, he’s upset. I think we may have taken it a bit too far, Harry. He’s a sensitive soul.”

Harry inclined his head in agreement.

“I better go and fix this, although I’ve no doubt that I’ll pay the price later. I’ll get us all a round of coffee while I am at it. Any special request?”

“Flat White with an extra shot,” Malcolm replied.

Harry got to his feet. He headed inside the café and after a short look around he found Draco in front of the cake display and sidled up next to him.

“The chocolate fudge cake looks delicious,” he suggested.

He inwardly flinched when Draco turned his head to merely glare at him, then turned back to look at the cakes. He pointedly raised his chin up a little higher and pursed his lips.

“I’m sorry, Draco, I didn’t mean to upset you, and I’m sure neither did Malcolm, it was just frivolous banter between two guys,” Harry apologised.

He slipped his hand into Draco’s and squeezed gently. Harry fully expected him to pull away but was pleased when he didn’t.

“I couldn’t quite understand why you were always so assertive and bossy and enjoyed being in control and all that, yet only ever teased but never made a proper move on me. That was way before I knew what it really and before we’d even slept together for the first time. He doesn’t know the specifics—”

“He does,” Harry said, interrupting Draco’s flow.

Draco frowned.

“Believe me, Draco, he does. He wasn’t talking about taming pets any more than I was— Well, at least not pets in the traditional sense.”

“I know what kind of pets you were talking about.”

Draco glowered darkly and Harry smirked.

“Oh?” he asked.

“The kind of pets Caleb likes,” Draco said, huffily. “I’ve done my reading, I’m not entirely stupid, you know.”

“Never said you were, you’re anything but stupid. You’re smart and gorgeous and sexy and sassy and wonderful and your Malcolm—”

Draco growled.

“He isn’t my Malcolm!”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said and fought, with limited success, to suppress the urge to laugh.

Draco’s insistence that he and Malcolm were only friends was rather cute, though entirely unnecessary. Harry could tell that their relationship was strictly platonic and he wasn’t in the least bit worried about that ever changing. He’d never been a petty sort of a person and he didn’t intend to start now.

“Just to reiterate, not-your-Malcolm wasn’t talking about ordinary pets any more than I was. He knew exactly what I was talking about.”

“He’s not— He’s not into that sort of— Malcolm, he’s not like you.”

Harry sighed.

“Draco, first, calm down. Second, I’m not accusing Malcolm of being a closeted Slave Master and even if he is, good for him. I couldn’t tell you whether he is or he isn’t, but I can tell you, without the shred of a doubt, that he noticed my play on words and reacted appropriately,” he said calmly.

He circled his thumb over the back of Draco’s hand and gave him a moment to mull over his words, then smiled.

“I think it’s a two-pieces-of-chocolate-fudge-cake kind of day,” he said softly and continued to smile even when Draco frowned, then looked positively outraged at the suggestion and instantly protested quite vehemently.

“I’m not ordering two pieces of chocolate fudge cake!”

“No, you’re not. You’re ordering one and I’ll order the other and when you’ve finished yours, we’ll swap plates, just like we always do. It’s our thing, remember?” Harry smiled

Before Draco could object, he dragged him to the counter and ordered a filter coffee for himself, a flat white with an extra shot for Malcolm and a cappuccino for Draco. He also ordered two plates of chocolate fudge cake and then gave Draco a questioning look.

“I don’t know what Malcolm likes.”

“Fruit salad, no cream,” Draco told the barista and as he settled the bill, Harry informed her that they were sitting outside.

When they returned to the table, still holding hands, Malcolm greeted them with a big smile.

“All kissed and made up then?” he asked.

Draco smiled and Harry nodded.

“No kisses though, unfortunately,” Harry said.

When Draco leant sideways and planted a kiss on his cheek, he chuckled and squeezed Draco’s hand.

“There, here’s one. You can have more kisses later,” he said.

“Aww, that’s very gracious of you, my love.”

“Oh, stop it already, you two. Watching you is like a stab to the heart for any single man,” Malcolm said.

“If you’re interested, I’m sure Harry knows a few very obedient pets,” Draco said so nonchalantly that Harry didn’t quite manage to suppress a smirk or his subsequent need to laugh.

You are just full of surprises, sweet one, he thought.

Malcolm smiled, then motioned towards where Kona was still lying under his seat.

“While that sounds delightful, I’m happy with just the one,” he said.

A short while later a young waiter brought out their order and their conversation drifted towards more mundane topics.

They chatted about Malcolm’s job and his love of fitness and Draco divulged to Harry how much he had suffered when he and Malcolm had dated. Apparently, Malcolm hadn’t been above dragging him to a Muggle gym to work out and Harry was rather surprised that Draco had managed not to hex Malcolm for that.

He couldn’t help but grin deviously at the images in his head — Draco in Muggle sportswear, working up a sweat on the treadmill — and decided that if he ever got lucky enough to negotiate a D/s contract with Draco, he would most definitely insist on regular trips to the gym. For his own perverse pleasure and because he knew Draco would despise him just a little for pushing his boundaries like that. While Draco could always say no, Harry doubted Draco would veto such a clause. He had the distinct feeling that Draco would secretly enjoy it, though it would probably take hours of orgasm denial before he’d admit to it.

Harry deviously smiled into his coffee cup, then quietly took a few sips. There truly was something oddly arousing about imagining Draco, all sweaty from his exercise, kneeling at his feet, arms behind his back, eager to please him even as he was desperate to have a shower and refresh himself.

Since he could feel his body react to the fantasy, Harry resolutely pushed his kinky desires into a dark corner of his mind and as promised, when Draco finished his chocolate fudge cake, Harry swapped their plates and Draco ate his piece too.

Malcolm naturally made a wicked comment about love birds and the unfairness of being single and Draco reminded him that he wasn’t alone at all because he had Kona. Malcolm conceded that it was indeed true and the three of them spent a wonderful afternoon in the café, chatting and laughing about almost everything.

When Kona started to get restless, they took her for a walk in the park and when they arrived at a big clearing, she absolutely delighted in the fact that she had three handsome men doting over her, throwing her sticks, and chasing after her.

By early evening, they walked Malcolm to his car, waved their goodbyes and while he drove off, Harry took Draco’s hand and they strolled into the general direction of a suitable apparition point.

They walked in comfortable silence and when Draco reached for his arm and placed it around his shoulder, Harry decided that he would never have a reason to be jealous of Malcolm. He was a good friend and yes, he and Draco had been an item once but at the end of the day Draco wanted him; he wanted what they had.

He squeezed Draco’s shoulder and in response, Draco snuck his arm around his waist and they walked side by side with not an inch in-between to separate them.

A thought struck Harry, one that made him immensely proud of the person Draco had become.

He had changed so completely; gone was the teenager who’d spouted nonsense drilled into him by a narrow-minded man — Draco had well and truly grown into a fine young man and the realisation of that made Harry’s heart skip a beat, much like it always did when he took a moment to look at Draco.

At Hogwarts, Draco’s arrogance had been annoying, now it was endearing — it was a different kind arrogance now, it was an educated sort of egotism one couldn’t help but love. His sharply critical comments were smart and funny and his sass, well his sass was an absolute turn on and one Harry simply couldn’t get enough of. And then there was his levelheadedness and his elegance in the courtroom which was—

“Harry?” Draco asked, putting an abrupt end to Harry’s musings, much like he always did.


“When I suggested to Malcolm to ask you to help him find a pet, did he turn me down because, well, because he’s not into— you know—”

“BDSM?” Harry offered.

Draco nodded.

Harry shrugged.

“Who knows. Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t. Maybe he has or wants a human pet, maybe Kona is the only pet he wants. If you really want to know if he’s into the lifestyle you can always ask him, I think you’re close enough to surprise him with that kind of question. I can’t tell from one conversation with the man, although I can tell you that he probably knows a good bit about it.”

“Isn’t that a bit of a weird question?”

“Maybe. But remember, you have dated and you are friends, from what you’ve told me, you’ve shared intimate stuff with him before. I think he’d understand; you can ask him; he won’t be offended, I’m quite sure of that.”

“What if he is into it?” Draco wanted to know.

Harry turned his head sideways to look at him.

“What if he is?”

“Wouldn’t that mean that he— I mean when we were dating, he never did anything like you, you know. He never just took control of me the way you do. Of course, when it came to Muggle stuff, I kind of just let him handle it, but that’s because I didn’t know how to do these things, not because I wanted him to dominate me.”

Harry smiled.

“Perhaps it was a bit of both on your part, unconsciously so or perhaps he realised you weren’t into it but liked you enough to be with you anyway,” he said and chuckled when Draco looked sceptical.

A frown creased his forehead and Harry wanted to smooth it out with a bunch of kisses.

He pulled them both to a stop, stepped in front of Draco and kissed him softly.

“Truth time. In the beginning, when we first started dating, well, I hadn’t planned to tell you either, you know?”

Draco’s eyes widened.

“You— You were going to build our relationship on a lie?”

Harry sighed.

“No, Draco. I just liked you enough that it didn’t matter to me. I didn’t pursue you because I wanted you on your knees at my feet. I pursued you because I genuinely like you and now, I love you. I fell for you so hard and so fast, I just wanted to be with you, no matter what. Whether you had an inclination for kink or not didn’t matter to me until I started to notice how receptive you were to me taking control and how much of a kick you seemed to get out of it, especially whenever I did it in the bedroom. That’s when I took the plunge and told you my deepest darkest secret. Not without freaking out first though, mind you. Feel free to ask Charlie and Caleb, they both had to listen to my whining for weeks. I was terrified and convinced I’d sent you running for the hills.”

Draco chuckled.

“The great Harry Potter has a weak spot.”

“I absolutely do. You are my weak spot, Draco Malfoy,” Harry whispered.

He wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and hugged him tightly.

Draco leant in, coyly asked for a kiss and Harry gave it to him.

It was a gentle kiss at first, but soon enough he gave in to the temptation and deepened the kiss. Draco willingly parted his lips and Harry’s tongue disappeared into his mouth. He stroked it against Draco’s, relishing in the warm wetness of it and the lingering taste of chocolate fudge cake in inside his mouth. His hands moved to Draco’s buttocks and squeezing tightly, he felt Draco’s arms flail as he struggled to settle on a place for them.

Harry pulled away from the kiss, gazed deep into Draco’s eyes and smiled.

“Put your arms on my shoulders,” he said softly, his voice low and seductive.

Draco obeyed his instruction just like that, no hesitation, no questions.

Harry resumed the kiss, drew a little moan from Draco and swallowed it greedily.

He felt Draco’s fingers thread themselves through his hair and squeezed his buttocks in response.

They kissed without a care in the world and Harry was most grateful that they were alone.

Not that he really minded it when people watched him, but they were rather intimate and just a touch shy of indecent.

Harry grudgingly pulled away from the kiss and instead of squeezing Draco’s arse, he moved Draco’s arms to his hips and cupped his face.

“I want to take you home.”

“Then what?” Draco asked breathlessly.

Harry winked.

“That depends entirely on what you want…”

“I want you,” Draco said without hesitation.

“Hm, I know a good place where we can intimately discuss exactly how you want me.”

“Why do you always ask what I want?”

Draco pouted and Harry ran his thumb over Draco’s kiss-swollen lips.

“Should I not?” he asked quietly. “What if I wanted to tie you to my spanking bench and take a cane to you until you cried and begged me for mercy? Would you be okay with me doing that without asking your permission?”

He felt Draco shudder and watched him swallow hard. He looked fearful, nervous, and unsettled.

Harry smiled.

While he had no intention of taking a cane to Draco’s arse, at least not in the very near future, he thoroughly enjoyed teasing Draco and pushing his boundaries with the mere use of his words. He also liked to keep reminding him of how important consent was.

“I don’t think I would enjoy that very much,” Draco whispered, his face creased with deep worry lines. “In fact, I don’t think I’d enjoy that at all.”

“What if you weren’t meant to enjoy it? What if I just wanted to hurt you for my own pleasure? What if I all I wanted was to hear you scream and cry and beg me to stop?”


Draco breathed and Harry could feel his tension. Instead of cupping his face, he wrapped his arms around Draco’s body and hugged him tightly.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want to hear me scream and cry and beg. You want to hurt me,” Draco whispered.

At hearing those words, Harry was instantly surprised that he hadn’t pulled away yet, or worse tried to run.

“Draco, listen to me, I want what you want, always. I said it before and I’ll say it again. You decide how much you can take and how far we go, that’s how this works and that’s how it will always work,” he said quite firmly. “If you don’t want it, then I don’t want it, it’s that simple, it really is.”

Draco sighed.

“Be honest, Harry.”

The exasperation was evident in his voice and Harry wondered whether their current location was the perfect place for this conversation. He decided that it wasn’t.

“Let’s go home, we’ll talk there,” he said.

He closed his eyes, visualised his living room and they disapparated into the evening.

A moment later, they appeared exactly where he had wanted them to and walking Draco backwards to the sofa, he pushed him into the soft cushions and straddled his thighs. He looked at Draco, held his gaze, then leant in to capture his lips in a distractingly slow kiss.

He teased Draco’s lips, teased his tongue, and drew one tiny whimper after another from him.

Harry felt Draco grow hard against him and smiled into the kiss, then pulled away.

“I am honest, Draco, and I will always be honest with you about this. I want what you want. You make the rules; I just reinforce them. I will occasionally try and push your boundaries but never beyond anything I know you can take. Trust me, your safety is most important to me. Nothing you don't want to happen will ever happen to you.”

Draco opened his mouth but no words came out.

“Even if I wanted to cane you, even if I wanted to hurt you, I would never do that without your consent. With your consent it will be something we both enjoy, without it, you’re the prosecutor, you tell me where I’ll end up.”

“Azkaban,” Draco breathed.

They’d had that conversation before but Harry failed to see the harm in having it again. He’d happily repeatedly discuss the topic of consent, rules, and boundaries with Draco. What he wanted was a consensual relationship based on love and trust, not an abusive one.

“Exactly. And I have no desire to go there. So, remember this, my sweet little prince, everything we’ll ever do will be based on mutual consent. It doesn’t work any other way and it will never work any other way. Do you understand that?”

Draco nodded and Harry smiled.

“I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you say, I understand, Sir.”

“I understand, Sir,” Draco whispered.

“Such a good boy you are, I’d even go as far and say that you’re a good little pet, my good little pet,” Harry said.

He pressed a tender kiss to Draco’s lips and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I think you’ve earnt yourself a reward. What do you want?”

“I want to know what it’s like to be a good little pet.”

The words slipped past Draco’s lips and he instantly flushed crimson red.

Harry smirked and caressed Draco’s cheek.

“My sweet little prince, do you want to be my good little pet tonight? Do you want to please me?” he asked.

Draco nodded, then shyly averted his gaze.

“Yes, Sir,” he said.

He sounded a little breathless and Harry threaded his fingers into Draco’s hair, grabbed a handful of the silky soft strands and tugging Draco’s head back, he exposed his neck. He peppered Draco’s throat with tiny kisses, then licked his way to that sensitive spot just below Draco’s earlobe and sank his teeth into the soft flesh. He bit and sucked and Draco moaned loudly. Harry pulled away and soothed the love bite with the tip of his tongue.

“You should know, I take very good care of my pets, my little prince, and if my pet pleases me, I will reward it well,” Harry whispered.

“Please, let me, I want to please you,” Draco said.

Harry smiled at him.

“We haven’t even begun and you’re already such an eager little pet.”

Harry chuckled and continued to caress Draco’s cheek with his thumb.

“There’s no need to rush, sweet darling, we have all evening and all night. Let’s have some dinner first, shall we? I’m sure you’re hungry too.”

Draco moaned and Harry captured his open mouth in a possessive kiss. He forced his tongue into Draco’s mouth and stroked Draco’s tongue, coaxing it into action, wanting it to dance the tango with his own and just as Draco obeyed and kissed him back, Harry pulled away.

Draco groaned and stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Dinner first, little prince. Will you be good and go out to buy us some? I’ll use the time to think of something fun for you to enjoy afterwards, I promise.”


Draco gasped.

He looked positively displeased when Harry climbed off his thighs and the sofa.

“Be a good little prince and do as you’re told and then you get your reward,” Harry said. "Food first, then play."

He moved even further away from Draco, who stared at him for a few moments, blinked and finally managed to find just enough resolve to rearrange himself in his trousers and get to his feet. He walked somewhat unsteadily and his dazed expression made Harry want to pounce on him, but he merely crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Draco to calm himself enough to find the energy to go out to buy them something for dinner.

Chapter Text

Harry moved his chair, leant back in it, his posture relaxed and informal, and laced his fingers together behind his head. He fixed his eyes on Draco and smiled, then watched Draco’s cheeks pink then turn crimson under his intense, scrutinising gaze. He kept his expression impassive, hiding his true feelings on purpose.

He knew Draco wanted to look away; his desire to break eye contact was strong and very much evident in the way his eyes would flicker away for barely a second, then settle back on him. He sat up straight, trying to exude confidence but it was an act — he kept shuffling and moving his feet, a clear sign of his nervousness and Harry decided to test his resolve. He wanted to push Draco’s boundaries and see how long it would take before he gave in to his inner battle of wills, surrendered and looked away.

Draco opened his mouth, intent on saying something, but Harry shook his head.

“Shush,” he whispered into the quiet of the kitchen.

Draco hesitated for half a second, then snapped his mouth shut and swallowed whatever he had been about to say. He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and worried it with his teeth, gnawing on it.

Harry watched him but did nothing to discourage or calm the nervous energy that filled the room. He wanted Draco to get a feel for the unknown and deliberately allowed three long minutes to pass before he spoke again.

“Do you still want to please me, my little prince? Do you still want to be my good little pet?”

Draco whimpered, the sound of his voice quiet and gentle. He’d allowed his shoulders to slump forward a little and appeared pleasantly subdued, not as calm as Harry wanted him to be but he hoped to get him there sooner rather than later. There was an endearing sort of enthusiasm in his eyes — he still wanted to play and he wanted it badly.

“Say it,” Harry pushed. “Say you want to please me. Say you want to be my good little pet.”


Draco started but had to pause to clear his throat, then spoke so quietly that Harry had to strain his ears to catch the words.

“I want to please you.”

He clicked his tongue and gave Draco a disapproving look. Draco being all sotto voce he could handle; Draco being lazy and not showing his respect by not addressing him properly he wasn’t going to tolerate.

Who do you want to please, my little prince?”

A gentle reminder was all it took for Draco to correct himself.

“Sir,” Draco whispered. “I want to please you, Sir.”

“Now that sounds so much better. Say that again.”

Harry smiled.

Draco’s words were music to his ears.

“I want to please you, Sir. I want to be your good little pet, Sir.”

Draco complied with his request without the slightest hesitation and Harry let a few moments of silence pass between them before he spoke again.

“Do you really?”

Draco nodded with a kind of child-like zeal that made Harry grin. He could tell that Draco’s desire to please was there, he just didn’t know how to properly express it — yet.

To increase Draco’s anticipation and to make him fully aware of what was happening, Harry, who had an excellent view of the kitchen clock sat in silence for two full minutes. He watched Draco’s face carefully and checked for any sign that he wasn’t comfortable or wanted out — he found none.

“C’mere,” he said, his voice deep and husky, perhaps even a little smoky and smiled in a slightly mysterious way.

Harry hoped that the tone of his voice would make it impossible for Draco to resist his gentle invitation and pushing his chair backwards, he watched as Draco took his time to get up.

He took one, two, three tentative steps towards him, then stood there with his arms dangling at his sides. He shuffled from one foot to the other. A wave of nervous excitement rolled off him and Harry smiled.

“Very good, my little prince. Now prove to me how much you want to please me.”

“Harry—, Sir—, I—”

Draco spoke in a hushed whisper, his voice tremulous with nerves and mild anxiety, but Harry shook his head.

“No, Draco, no words, you are very good at using them, too good. Show me instead. Prove to me you want to please me. I want to see.”

Harry remained firm about what he wanted and watched. The hesitation was evident on Draco’s face. There was also mild confusion but apart from that Draco held himself with a certain kind of elegance that was truly admirable. There was nothing superior about him, he just looked beautiful, stunningly beautiful.

Kneel, Harry thought, kneel, my sweet little prince, but he didn’t say the words.

He wanted to mouth the order, wanted to tell Draco what he expected him to do, but he forced himself to remain quiet. He wanted Draco to do it out of his own volition, not because he was obeying an order — if Draco really wanted to please him tonight, he had to show him. Harry wanted Draco’s submission and he wanted it badly but he also knew how to keep himself under control. Not giving his desire to see Draco kneel for him away wasn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world but Harry had an iron will, or at least he thought he did.

A few moments passed, then Draco wordlessly moved his hands behind his back and sank to his knees in front of him. He did it with the refined grace of an angel. It was beautiful to watch and Harry’s breath caught in his throat. He refused to blink, he wanted to savour that moment forever.

Draco looked at him as he slowly sank to his knees, held his gaze with a strange sort of ease, and Harry wished he had a camera to capture the scene.

The way Draco bit the corner of his bottom lip was obscenely erotic and his coy smile made Harry want to jump him. He wanted to push Draco onto the kitchen floor, vanish his clothes and take him right there and then. He wanted to possess him, wanted to own him, wanted to mark him and keep him forever but he did none of that.

Instead, he praised Draco.

“Such a good pet you are, it pleases me to see you on your knees for me,” Harry whispered.

Draco’s cheeks pinked instantly.

Harry reached out to run his fingers through Draco’s hair and caressed his cheek tenderly with his thumb.

“Look at you, so beautiful, so stunningly beautiful, you take my breath away, my little prince,” Harry continued to praise and cupping Draco’s chin with his thumb and index finger, he gently forced it up and captured Draco’s lips in a sweet kiss.

Draco mewled and Harry combed his fingers through Draco’s hair again.

When he pulled away from the kiss, Draco gave him a coquettish smile, then cast his eyes downward to look at the floor.

“I want to please you, Sir,” he whispered.

A shudder went through Harry.

He inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly and repeated the action several times to get a hold on himself.

“Hmm, yes, I believe you do. And please me, you will, of that I’m sure,” Harry said.

He wordlessly summoned the key to the playroom from his bedroom. It flew into the kitchen and Harry caught it in his right hand with minimal effort.

Once a seeker, always a seeker, he thought with a smirk.

“Give me your right hand, pet,” he said, keeping the tone of his voice soft and gentle, yet authoritative enough for Draco to know he expected him to comply with his request.

Draco held his hand out, just as Harry had asked to. He did it without looking up.

Ngh, do you have to be so perfect? Harry mused.

He placed the key to his playroom in the palm of Draco’s hand and closed his fingers around it, just like he’d done countless times before.

“My sweet pet, I want you to go upstairs. I want you to take your clothes off and kneel by the door with your hands on your back. Face the room but keep your eyes on the floor. Will you do that for me, pet? Will you be my good little pet? Will you please me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Draco’s voice quivered as he answered and as he went to get up, Harry placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder and firmly pushed him back down.

“Ask first,” he chided.

Draco swallowed.

“May I go upstairs, please, Sir?”

“Yes, you may.”

Harry removed his hand from Draco’s shoulder and sitting back and watched as Draco slowly and gracefully got to his feet. He left the room without making a sound and sitting forward, Harry reached for his half-finished glass of water.

He took a few sips of the cool liquid and tried to work out whether he really was about to give Draco his first real scene. He decided that he was and the anticipation of it made him shudder but he managed to get a handle on his excitement — for the most part anyway.

And pet play too, he thought with a chuckle.

“Draco Malfoy, you never cease to amaze, or surprise.”

He spoke into the now empty room not because he particularly enjoyed talking to himself but because the words sounded so much better spoken aloud than simply thought in his head. He rose to his feet and stretched to ease his stiff neck and back — he couldn’t help but wonder whether he might be able to persuade Draco to give him a massage.

Not tonight perhaps, but sometime soon.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Harry decided to give Draco a little more time and cleared the table. Then he went into the pantry and searched for some sweets. After a short look around, he found a small bag of milk chocolate-coated biscuit balls and taking those with him, he made his way upstairs.

He took his time climbing the stairs up to the fourth floor and with each step he took, his anticipation grew. He wasn’t entirely sure whether Draco was ready for what they were about to do but he was determined to try his very best to guide Draco through it all and give him a memorable experience, one he wasn’t going to regret or be embarrassed about.

Once he reached the fourth-floor landing, Harry paused for a moment and took a deep breath.

Go slow, he reminded himself and forced his own nerves to take a backseat.

He didn’t need them to distract him. For Draco’s sake, he needed a cool head for this.

One more deep breath and he was ready.

He walked down the corridor to his playroom and found the door open.

Draco was exactly where he had told him to be and Harry took a moment to appreciate his beautiful pose. He was naked and kneeling on the floor by the door with his back to Harry and his head lowered submissively. His hands, loosely crossed at the wrists, rested on his lower back and he was sitting back on his haunches. He held the key to the room in his right hand and Harry decided to let him keep it, let it be his safety net. It was something Draco was familiar with and even though he had a safeword now, Harry didn’t want to take that away from him.

Harry quietly closed the door behind him and snapping his fingers, he dimmed the lights. A flick of his hand into the general direction of the stereo was all it took to fill the room with beautiful and evocative background music. Again, it was something Draco knew and Harry hoped it would help him relax further and that it would allow him to lose himself in the moment.

He took a step forward, gently placed his hand on Draco’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. He then stepped in front of Draco and easily dropped down onto one knee.

“Look at me, sweet pet,” he prompted.

Draco slowly lifted his head.

Harry gave him an encouraging smile.

“You look so beautiful, so very beautiful.”

Draco looked rather shy and averted his gaze, clearly embarrassed about the praise.

Harry chuckled.

He knew Draco liked to hear that he was beautiful and good but he also knew better than to force Draco to admit that he had a praise kink. He would eventually, of that Harry was sure. For now, though, he wanted Draco to simply enjoy the effects praise had on him — it seemed to make him so much more willing to submit and Harry wholeheartedly intended to use that little weakness to his advantage.

“No sweet pet, look at me, I want to see your beautiful eyes when I talk to you,” Harry whispered.

He placed a single finger underneath Draco’s chin, Harry lifted it and looked deep into Draco’s big wide grey eyes. He felt him swallow hard, saw him tremble with anticipation and nervousness and gave him a warm smile.

Opening the bag of sweets, he had brought with him, Harry placed a chocolate-coated biscuit ball between his teeth and leant in for a kiss. Draco responded and as he did, Harry pushed the sweet treat into his mouth and let him have it, then pulled back.

“Good little pets get treats, remember that, sweet one.”

He murmured the words against Draco’s quivering lips and kissed him again, then pulled away from him a little. He ran his fingers through Draco’s hair and then his thumb over his lips, first the bottom lip, then the top one. Draco’s lips were a delicious shade of red and glistened with saliva. They were also soft to the touch and Harry pressed his thumb against them, quite unwilling to stop enjoying the sensations.

“I want you to listen to my voice and focus on what I tell you, okay? If, at any point, you feel uncomfortable or you think you can’t go on, then use your safeword or let go of the key in your hand. I will stop immediately; you have my word. Do you understand that?” Harry said, holding Draco’s gaze.

Draco nodded in response.

Harry shook his head.

“No, pet, I’m afraid a nod is not good enough in here. I need to hear you say it, I need to know you understand. It’s very important, Draco.”

“I understand, Sir,” Draco said in a hushed whisper.

Harry smiled and ran his fingers through Draco’s hair, then kissed him again.

“Good pet, you remembered,” he praised.

Draco flushed a little.

He tried looking away but Harry caught his chin before he could do so.

“Be a good little pet for me and stay right here,” he instructed, kissed Draco one last time and then rose to his feet.

He deliberately left the bag of sweets on the floor near Draco, in a place where he could see them, and moving across the room, Harry approached one of the cabinets, pulled the top drawer open and looking inside, he contemplated for a moment.

Plain back with a soft fur lining, he decided and picked up a light, smooth leather collar with a steel O-ring at the front.

The leather felt marvellous to the touch and Harry opened another drawer to pull out a matching leather leash. He left the leash on the red leather sofa and returning to Draco’s side, he crouched down in front of him and showed him the collar.

Draco’s eyes widened with clear apprehension and he shook his head, then opened his mouth to object but Harry swiftly placed a single finger across Draco’s lips and silenced him.

“Ssssh, pet, I just want your left hand,” he said softly.

Draco hesitated but eventually, he brought his left hand out from behind his back and offered it to Harry.

Harry took it and placed the collar in his hand.

“Feel it, my sweet pet, the leather is light and smooth and soft with fur lining,” Harry said and as he spoke, he moved Draco’s fingers over the collar, letting him touch every inch of it.

“You’d look so pretty with it snugly fastened around your neck, my little prince, and it would please me so much if you let me put this collar on you.”

Leaning in, Harry gave Draco a gentle kiss and swallowed the soft sigh that fell from Draco’s lips. He pulled away and caressed Draco’s check.

“Try it on for me, pet, please. If you absolutely don’t like it, you can tell me to take it off and I promise I will. Understand that I won’t force you to wear it if you hate it.”

“I’ll try it, Sir,” Draco whispered.

“Such a brave pet you are,” Harry praised, his smile broad and his eyes shining with love.

“Brave pets get treats, sweetheart.”

He reached for the bag of chocolate-coated biscuit balls and he offered Draco a sweet but held it just a little out of reach so that Draco had lean forward a little to get it.

“Good pet,” Harry praised. “Now, will you let me put this on you?”

Draco nodded and lowered his head in silent surrender.

Fucking perfect, Harry thought and gently placed the collar around Draco’s neck. He expertly fastened the clasp but knowing that Draco wasn’t familiar with wearing a collar, he deliberately left it loose. With the collar securely fastened around Draco’s neck, Harry gently cupped his chin and made him look up.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

Draco shrugged.

“OK, I guess.”

“Does it bother you?”

Draco shook his head.

“Do you want me to take it off again?”

Draco shook his head again.

“No, Sir, please, I’ll wear it for you.”

“Hm, you really do know how to please me, sweet pet.”

Harry smiled and offered Draco one more treat.

“Open up, pet,” he said.

When Draco opened his mouth, Harry placed the biscuit ball on the tip of Draco’s tongue and winked. He withdrew his hand and Draco closed his mouth and hummed as the chocolate melted in his mouth and he chewed on the biscuit.

“Let me have a taste, pet,” Harry said.

He hooked his finger into the O-ring at the front of Draco’s collar, pulled him closer, pressed his lips against Draco’s, and plunged his tongue into his mouth. He swept the tip of his tongue over Draco’s teeth and caressed and massaged his tongue, tasting Draco, tasting chocolate, and tasting biscuit. It was sweet and it was perfect.

“Such a sweet pet, I want to eat you right up.”

Harry whispered against Draco’s lips as he slowly withdrew from the kiss and unhooking his finger from the collar’s O-ring, he trailed it down Draco’s chest, teased around his navel, over his stomach and through the soft dusting of light curls at the base of his cock.

Draco’s breathing hitched and he licked his lips.

Keeping his eyes locked on Draco’s, Harry told him to spread his thighs just a little bit. Draco did and Harry ran a single finger along the length of Draco’s hard cock. It twitched under his touch and rubbing his finger around the sensitive head, he brought it up to his mouth and licked it off his finger, then hummed approvingly.

“That tastes even better,” he said with a smile and a wink, then slowly stood up.

Draco looked up at him with pleading eyes and Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s hair and massaged his scalp.

In response, Draco whimpered. His unspoken affirmation about how much he enjoyed Harry’s touch was soft and sweet, little bit like honey, really.

“Good pet,” Harry praised.

He did not remove his hand from Draco’s hair and took a moment to just look at Draco, collared and kneeling at his feet, expectantly looking up at him as though he had all the answers.

“You are absolutely perfect, my love,” Harry spoke softly, his voice low, warm, and gently.

“You’ve done really well so far; I’m going to make things a little harder for you. Are you ready for a little challenge, my pet?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry smiled.

“I’m going to go and sit on the sofa and I want you to come over to me,” Harry said and paused for effect. “It would please me ever so much if you crawled for me. I’d like to see you on your hands and knees, I’d like to watch you crawl over to me. Will you be a good pet and do that? Will you crawl for me, my love?”

Draco flushed crimson and opened his mouth.

Sensing that he was about to reject the request outright, Harry shushed him and combed his fingers through Draco’s hair to distract him and to ease his anxiety.

“It’s only embarrassing if you think about it, my little prince. There’s nobody here but me, you’re doing this for me and only me. It would please me so much if you made the effort to at least try. If you feel that you can’t do it, you may stop at any time and you may get to your feet and walk over to me.”

He continued to run his fingers through Draco’s hair and allowed him to remain focused on his touch.

Draco let out a breath of air.

After a while, he acquiesced with a small nod and Harry rewarded him with a kiss, then moved across the room and sat down on the sofa.

While sitting down, he summoned the sweet treats and placed them with the leash.

Draco hesitated for several moments, then he brought his right hand out from behind his back. He stared at the key in his hand and then looked at Harry, clearly unsure of what to do with it. Harry was about to give him a hint but before he could do so, Draco simply put the key between his teeth, elegantly fell forward onto his hands, moving onto all fours. His buttocks rose into the air and swayed from side to side as he slowly crawled across the room.

He did it with a kind of gracefulness that Harry had never seen before.

It was beautiful to watch and Harry’s breath caught in his throat for the second time that evening. He felt himself grow even harder if that was at all possible, and spreading his legs a little further apart, Harry squeezed his cock through his trousers and let out a soft moan.

He kept his eyes fixed on Draco and was pleased to note that Draco crawled all the way. He only stopped once he reached the sofa and taking the key back out of his mouth, he moved his hands to his lower back and sat back on his haunches. He lowered his head and Harry let out an appreciative low hum.

“Look at me, pet,” Harry rasped and Draco did.

“You did so well, that was perfect, you were perfect. That was beautiful to watch, my little prince,” he said with a smile.

Harry sat forward and reaching for the bag of sweet treats, he offered it to Draco.

“You’re a good little pet, have your treat.”

Draco opened his mouth and Harry placed two chocolate-coated biscuit balls in his mouth. He watched Draco enjoy his treat and while he did, Harry undid his trousers and pulled the zipper down. He reached inside and freeing his throbbing cock, he hissed as the cool air caressed the sensitive tip. Keeping his eyes fixed on Draco, he leisurely stroked himself and smirked. Draco’s eyes darkened with lust and desire and he licked his lips. Harry knew exactly what he wanted and he had every intention of letting Draco have it — though not without twisting his mind a little first.

“Look at what you did to me, my sweet gorgeous pet. Seeing you like this, naked, on your knees, wearing my collar and crawling for me. Give me your hand, feel how hard you’ve made me,” he said.

When Draco gave him his left hand, Harry wrapped it around his cock and groaned when Draco stroked him gently and gave him a shy look. Harry leant forward and kissed him.

“You’re not normally this shy, pet, but it’s beautiful. I love seeing you like this. Tell me, do you want it? Do you want to suck my cock?”

Draco mewled and his hand tightened around Harry’s cock.

“Yes, Sir,” he said breathlessly.

“Ask me.”

Harry thrust up into Draco’s hand.

“Please, Sir, please may I suck your cock?”

Ngh, yes, pet, yes you may. Put those sweet pretty red lips around my cock and show me how good you can be, show me how much you want to please me.”

Harry didn’t have to tell him twice; Draco moved forward and eagerly sucked his cock into his mouth. Harry wound his right hand into Draco’s hair and with his left hand, he reached for the leash. With one swift motion, he attached it to the O-ring at the front of Draco’s collar and wrapping the leash around his left hand, he tugged a little.

“Take a little more, pet,” he said

He let out a low moan when Draco did just that.

“Yes, that’s it, pet, ngh, yes that’s good, suck it, make me come,” he mumbled.

He kept Draco’s head in place, thrust his hips up and forced Draco to take him a little deeper still. Draco gagged a little but adjusted quickly. He took Harry deeper and sucked harder still. He sucked with enthusiasm and made no secret out of the fact that he enjoyed having Harry’s cock in his mouth, enjoyed giving head, enjoyed a chance to show off his skills.

Leaning back, Harry slid his hips forward and spread his legs a little further. Draco shuffled closer and brought his right hand up to rest on Harry’s thigh.

For a moment, Harry contemplated telling Draco off, then he let it slip and instead decided to enjoy the blowjob Draco was giving him.

It was exquisite and delicious.

Draco knew exactly what to do.

He knew where his tongue should be and how to bob his head and he didn’t shy away from changing his angle to take Harry deeper. He kept his left hand wrapped around the base of his cock and stroked up and down in time with his sucks. Harry pulled on Draco’s hair and gently forced him to take more.

Every so often, he held him down for a few seconds at a time but always released his hold before Draco struggled to breathe and tugged on Draco’s collar instead.

“Fuck yes, you’re so good, you really are my good little pet,” he praised breathlessly.

He let out a low groan when Draco attempted to take even more of him. The warm wetness around his cock and the indecent sounds Draco made as he sucked was a little too much for Harry and groaning loudly, he let his head fall back and felt the muscles in his abdomen start to clench.

A warm tightness filled his belly and insistently spread through his groin. His balls tightened and Harry felt a little light-headed as his cock hardened just that little bit more. Images of spurting his come into Draco’s awaiting mouth and all over his face filled Harry’s mind and he moaned but resisted the temptation to do that to Draco.

Not tonight, he told himself and thrust into Draco’s hot, wet mouth. Draco took him just that little bit deeper and Harry fought hard, he didn’t want to hold back. He wanted to spurt thick ropes of his come into Draco’s mouth and he wanted him to swallow it all.

“Do not come, pet,” he rasped, seconds away from his orgasm.

“You do not have my permission to come, pet, not just yet anyway, and if you do, I will punish you,” he promised Draco and when Draco hummed around his cock, Harry wasn’t quite sure whether he was telling him that he understood or urging him to come but right this second, he didn’t care either way. The sensations of Draco’s warm wet mouth and his skilled tongue along from the vibrations of his humming were decidedly too much to take.

His orgasm tore through him with such intensity that his lungs burned in his chest as he struggled to fill them with enough oxygen. For a moment, he saw stars and his heart pounded in his chest, then an incredible burning sensation started in the pit of his stomach. His muscles clenched and he groaned loudly, unashamedly. His cock exploded inside Draco’s mouth and filled him with his come as he recalled the memory of Draco crawling across the room on all fours. He felt Draco swallow around his cock and smiled through the haze of his orgasm.

Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s hair and petted him. Draco sucked gently and cleaned him thoroughly before he slowly pulled back and let Harry’s softening cock fall from his red, swollen lips. Harry forced himself to sit up a little and blinking several times, he let go of Draco’s hair and brought his hand up to his right his glasses. They were askew and had almost slipped off his nose.

“Such a good pet,” he whispered and caressed Draco’s cheek with a content smile. “Did you come?”

“No, Sir.”

Draco shook his head. His voice sounded rough and husky as he spoke.

“I was good, Sir.”

“Very good, I do like a good obedient pet that knows how to obey me. Tell me, sweet pet, would you like a reward?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Draco nodded and Harry offered him a chocolate-coated biscuit ball.

“I bet that tastes good mixed with my come, doesn’t it, my sweet prince?”

Draco nodded again and admitting that made him flush a deep shade of red.

“So sweet you are,” Harry smiled. “Tell me, pet, will you do something else for me?”

“What do you want me to do, Sir?”

“Something that’s pleasing to the eye.”

Harry winked.

He summoned one of the black shaggy rugs that lay on the floor beside the bed and positioned it behind Draco, then gently pried the key to the room from Draco’s hand. Harry magically attached it to the collar around Draco’s neck — a simple spell was all it took and Draco looked rather beautiful with the golden key hanging from the O-ring of his collar.

“If you want to stop, you can either touch the key or use your safeword,” Harry said.

When Draco opened his mouth to say something, he silenced him by placing his finger across his lips. “Hush now, good pets don’t speak. Besides, for what I have in mind, you need both your hands.”

Harry smiled and Draco nodded in silent understanding. Harry briefly let go of the leash, he had attached to Draco’s collar earlier, and tucking himself back into his trousers, he did the zipper up and slipped the button through the hole.

“Lie back, pet. Lie back on that soft shaggy rug behind you. I want you to lie on your back, bend your legs at the knees, then spread your legs as far as they’ll go, I want to see you, all of you,” Harry said.

Draco followed his instructions down to a T and Harry couldn’t help but admire him for his obedience. There was no doubt in his mind that Draco really wanted this and that he was enjoying this and it pleased him so much to know that. It also turned him on quite a lot.

As Draco lay back, Harry moved to the edge of the sofa and reached for the leash. He tugged on it gently and watched as Draco followed it with his eyes. He blinked several times but did not object.

Instead, he spread his legs that little bit further and exposed himself completely to Harry, who inhaled sharply and thoroughly enjoyed the view.

Draco was still hard and his cock stood up proudly. It twitched a little and Harry licked his lips. He let his eyes glide over Draco’s balls and down to Draco’s arse.

“Spread yourself open for me, pet, I want to see that tight little hole of yours,” Harry whispered.

Draco gave a low moan as he pulled his buttocks apart and spread himself open, showing Harry his hole, showing him his most private part.

“Beautiful, so beautiful.”

Harry smiled.

“Tell me, pet, do you want to come?”

Draco moaned.

“Yes, Sir.”

“How badly do you want to come, pet?”

“Very badly, Sir, please may I come?”

Harry regarded Draco for a while, then he shook his head.

“Not yet, pet, first I want to see you play with yourself. Will you do that for me? Will you let me watch as you pleasure yourself?”


Draco groaned.

“Yes, Sir, yes, yes, yes,” he breathed and rolled his hips.

Harry tugged on the leash.

“Be still, I like a patient pet,” he chided.

Harry summoned a phial of lube, caught it in mid-air and levitated it over to Draco, allowing him to reach for it.

“Do you want a toy?” Harry asked. “Good pets like you do like to play with a toy, isn’t that so?”

When Draco keened and tightened his hold on the phial of lube in his hand, he grinned.

“Hm, yes, I think I’ll give you a toy,” Harry nodded.

“It’ll be so much fun watching you fuck yourself with a charmed dildo that will hit your prostate every time you shove it inside yourself,” he said rather nonchalantly and releasing Draco’s leash from his grasp, he got off the sofa and walked over to another cabinet, one filled with an almost endless assortment of dildos, vibrators, butt plugs and anal beads, charmed and uncharmed, of course.

After some careful consideration, he chose a simple black silicone dildo that was roughly the same size in length and girth as his own cock. There was no charm on it to ensure that it hit Draco’s prostate every time he shoved it into himself but Draco did not need to know that.

He returned to the sofa, summoned his end of Draco’s leash into his hand and handed Draco the dildo. Draco took it without hesitation and Harry sat on the sofa.

“Just pretend I’m not here if it helps.”

He chuckled and sat back to enjoy the show with a devious glint in his eyes.

When Draco hesitated for too long, Harry tugged on the leash and that seemed to push him into action. He placed the dildo down beside him and uncorking the phial of lube, he spread some onto both his hands, warmed it slightly and wrapped his right hand around his cock. He stroked himself leisurely, teasingly, and let out a low moan as he did so.

“Beautiful,” Harry praised. “Stroke a little faster, pet.”

Draco tightened his hand around his cock and sped up his strokes. His other hand moved to his balls and he fondled them in the palm of his hand, squeezed them gently and finally rubbed a single finger over the sensitive skin just behind his balls. His finger edged closer to his hole but Harry clicked his tongue and pulled on the leash.

That was enough to stop Draco from going any further.

He turned his attention back to his cock and stroking himself a little faster still, he continued to caress his balls too and his breathing slowly became ragged. A delicious small moan fell from his lips and pulling his bottom lip back into his mouth, he thrust into his own hand.

Harry watched him closely.

He paid attention to every little detail.

Draco’s breathing and the way he moved, his moans, which became lower in sound and more urgent and the ever-changing expression on his face — he’d closed his eyes and wore a mask of pure ecstatic joy. His hand flew over his cock and he panted as he let Harry watch how he pleasured himself. He thrust his hips up and when his name repeatedly fell from Draco’s mouth, Harry felt his cock stir again. He allowed Draco to bring himself right to the edge of his orgasm and then he deviously ruined it.

“Stop,” he said brusquely.

He gave Draco’s leash a firm tug, one that was harsh enough for it to feel like the collar had tightened around Draco’s neck — though most definitely not harsh enough to choke him in any way — and since he hadn’t expected that, Draco froze.

His entire body shook as hung on the edge, seconds away from his orgasm.

He groaned in frustration and tried to thrust into his hand, but Harry simply held his hand out and muttered a spell that made that quite impossible.

It was a very useful variation of the Full-Body-Bind-Course, one that allowed him to only freeze a certain limb. For the duration of the spell, Draco had no control over his hand.

Ngh, Harry—”

Draco groaned in protest and Harry chuckled.

“Not so fast, my sweet pet, I want to enjoy the show,” he said.

When he was sure that Draco was no longer hovering on the edge of exploding all over himself, Harry waved his hand and ended the spell.

“Use the toy, pet, I want to see you fuck yourself with that toy.”

Draco made a sound that was entirely indescribable.

It wasn’t a groan and it wasn’t a moan; it wasn’t even a whimper or a panted breath but somehow it was all of that together and somehow it wasn’t.

It was a strange sound but to Harry’s ears, it sounded beautiful.

He watched as Draco poured more lube onto his hand and using his left hand to pull his left buttock away, he moved his lubricated fingers to his hole. He teased around his hole and Harry watched as the tight ring of muscle responded to the touch.

It fluttered and clenched and unclenched and Draco rubbed his index finger over his hole and let out a low whimper — he wanted more, that much was obvious.

“Push it in,” Harry said.

Draco breached his own hole and pushed his finger in right up to the first knuckle.

He groaned and Harry smiled.

“More, push it all the way in, pet,” Harry said.

Draco obediently pushed his finger all the way into his tight hole, slickening it himself up and groaned at the intrusion.

“Fuck yourself with your finger.”

Harry watched with rapt attention as Draco pulled his finger out and then thrust it back inside. He repeated the action and soon enough his hips started moving in unison with his thrusts. Draco groaned and an incoherent plea left his lips.

“One more,” Harry said quietly.

Once again, Draco obeyed him beautifully and slowly pushed two fingers into him. He hissed at the slight burn and paused for a moment to adjust, then pulled his fingers out only to shove them right back in. He fucked himself, moved his hips to increase the intensity of his thrusts.

His other hand went to his cock but Harry clicked his tongue.

“No pet, I didn’t tell you that you could touch your cock. Just your fingers, find your prostate, let me hear what it feels like when you play with your own prostate,” Harry ordered.

Draco groaned but complied with the command nonetheless. He adjusted the angle of his fingers and after managing to find his prostate, he began to stimulate it slowly. He rubbed against it, jerked his hips up, groaned Harry’s name and his free hand found the dildo. His fingers closed around the shaft and he squeezed hard.

“Do you want that, my sweet little pet? Do you want that toy inside you, my love?” Harry asked.

“Yes, Sir, please.”

“Go on,” Harry smiled.

He watched as Draco withdrew his fingers and coated the dildo with plenty of lube, then pressed the tip against his hole and pushed. At first, the tight muscles around his hole clenched and refused, then they slowly loosened and Draco pushed the head of the dildo inside himself. He groaned and breathed and Harry knew that it burned and that it was uncomfortable. That dildo was stretching Draco quite nicely and Harry absolutely loved the sight of it.

“Breathe,” Harry said.

Draco took a few deep breaths, then slowly pushed the dildo deeper.

“Good pet, you’re doing so well, I love to watch you take that toy into your tight hole. I love to watch you play with yourself. Tell me, does it feel good? I bet it feels good.”

“Yes,” Draco replied shakily.

Harry clicked his tongue.

Sir. Yes, Sir.”

Draco instantly corrected himself and pushed the dildo a little deeper still.

“Go on, stretch yourself for me, take all of it, push it all the way in,” Harry said.

He watched as Draco did just that and felt his cock twitch inside his trousers. Draco filled himself with the dildo and watching it slowly disappear inside of him was all it took for Harry to grow fully hard again. He palmed himself through his trousers and groaned.

“Fuck, Draco, you’re so fucking hot,” he whispered.

He watched as Draco slowly withdrew the dildo and then thrust it back inside.

“Sir, please, I want to touch myself.”

Harry rejected his request.

“Not yet.”

“First show me how my good little pet fucks himself with his toy. I want to see you play with yourself properly. I want to hear you moan as you pleasure yourself, show me what you do when I’m not there to fuck you.”

Draco made that strange sound again and tightened his hold on the dildo but his hands and the toy were so slick with lube that he struggled to grip it properly. That didn’t discourage him though and after a few failed attempts, he found a way and started to fuck himself in earnest. He found his prostate with it and arched his back off the rug, groaned loudly and Harry watched him slowly lose himself in the sensations. His cock twitched excitedly and Harry knew that he was dying to touch himself but he also knew how very close Draco was and he had no intention to let Draco come from a handjob and a dildo.

That didn’t stop him from enjoying the show though and he positively delighted in the sounds Draco made as he fucked himself. He was writhing on the rug, shamelessly impaling himself on the dildo while he shoved it as deep up his arse as he could and each time it brushed against his prostate he keened and groaned. It didn’t take long for him to reach the brink of yet another orgasm and when he did, Harry summoned the toy straight out of his hand.

Draco screamed in frustration and howled.

“No, please, Sir.”

He sobbed as he tethered on the very edge of his orgasm.

His body trembled and he struggled to get enough air into his lungs and Harry loved every second of watching Draco thrash about on rug, unable to reach the finishing line and unable to completely come down from his high.

Harry stood and undoing his trousers, he pushed them to his knees and let them drop to his ankles. He stepped out of them, took his boxers off, and discarded both garments haphazardly. He sat down and tugged on Draco’s leash.

“C’mere pet,” he whispered.

For a moment, Draco struggled to move onto all fours. His limbs were shaking but after a few attempts, he managed to slowly crawl over to the sofa and kneel between Harry’s spread legs.

“Into my lap, pet,” Harry said.

He summoned that phial of lube and coated his own cock with it.

“Unless you’d rather finish with the dildo…?” he asked.

Draco pulled such a disgruntled face that Harry couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Come on up, into my lap,” Harry repeated.

Draco used Harry’s thigh for leverage as he pulled himself up and climbed into his lap. He straddled Harry’s legs and Harry grabbed the base of his cock, then helped Draco impale himself on his cock. Draco slowly sank down onto Harry’s cock and Harry groaned at the tight velvety heat that engulfed his slick prick.

“Still so unbelievable tight, my sweet pet, you feel wonderful, absolutely wonderful,” Harry praised.

Draco made a sweet, sweet sound that went straight to Harry’s cock and made it twitch deep inside Draco. He instructed Draco to place his hands behind his back and used the leather leash to expertly bind Draco’s wrists behind his back, then, with his hands now free, Harry placed them on Draco’s hips and guided him, showing him to slowly lift himself up.

Draco took the hint and flexing his thigh muscles, he started to fuck himself on Harry’s cock, rolling his hips each time that he sank back down and clenching around Harry as he lifted himself up. He groaned, threw his head back and Harry wrapped one hand around Draco’s cock and gave it a few teasing strokes.

“Faster, pet,” he said.

Draco tried his best to move faster. Harry helped him along and thrust his hips up, meeting him halfway on each thrust.

“Yes, that’s it, my sweet little pet, so good, you’re so good at this,” Harry encouraged him.

Draco let out a low groan — he was so far gone that his desire to blush at hearing Harry’s praise had seemingly vanished into thin air.

Harry adjusted the angle of his thrusts and brushed against Draco’s prostate, pulling yet another loud groan from him.

He brought Draco closer and closer to the edge, then squeezed the base of Draco’s cock.

“Don’t you dare, not without my permission,” he growled.

He wrapped his arms tightly around Draco’s hips, moved off the sofa and placed him on his back on the rug. He didn’t give Draco any chance to adjust to the new position but instead pounded into him, setting a fast and unforgiving rhythm. He teased Draco’s prostate and his cock and brought him to the edge once more but did not grant him any release just yet.

“Do you want to come, pet?”


Draco sobbed, the desperation evident in his voice and Harry sank his teeth into his neck, just above his collar and bit hard.

“Then beg for it, be a good pet and beg me for your orgasm. Let me hear how much you really want to come.”

Ngh, please, Harry, please, please, I need to come, please, please, please.”

Draco begged shamelessly and Harry snapped his hips forward and buried himself deep inside Draco. He could feel his own orgasm starting somewhere in the low in his groin and he was most definitely tethering on the edge himself but he knew he could hold out a bit longer.

Draco on the other hand…

“Such a desperate little pet. Beg a little more and I’ll think about it,” he whispered.

Draco groaned and almost choked on his own spit as he tried to get the words out.

“Please, let me come, Harry, please, please, please.”

He panted and sounded so desperate that Harry decided he had tormented him enough for one evening. He pulled back and changing the angle of his thrusts, he filled Draco with his entire length, then roughly stroked his cock and circled the sensitive head.

Draco writhed beneath him, he groaned and let out a low desperate moan. A few choked sobs escaped with it and an incessant scream of pleas fell from his lips.

“Come for me, my sweet little pet,” Harry murmured.

He thrust into Draco and stimulated his already highly-sensitive prostate thoroughly on that one inward thrust. He felt Draco tighten around him and felt his cock twitch in his fist. Draco’s entire body convulsed beneath him. He twisted and panted and groaned and sobbed as Harry’s words wrenched his release from him and he came hard, spurting rope after rope of hot come all over himself and Harry’s hand.

He tightened around Harry’s cock and all that; the sounds he made, the way he moved, the way his body reacted to the intensity of his own orgasm, well, it was enough to draw Harry over the edge for the second time that night and he emptied himself inside Draco, groaned and slumped on top of the trembling wreck he had reduced Draco to.

He allowed himself a few moments to ride out his second orgasm, then forcefully shoved his own tiredness away and moved off Draco. Not focused enough to undo Draco’s wrist restraints by hand, he mumbled a spell to undo them and gingerly clambering to his feet, he gently picked Draco up off the floor and carried him over to the bed where he eased him onto the bed and leant down to press a kiss against Draco’s sweaty forehead.

Draco stretched against the cool satin sheets and moaned softly and contently. His had closed his eyes and had a dazed sort of expression on his face.

Rounding the bed, Harry moved to lie beside him and pulled him into his arms. Draco immediately curled into his embrace and buried his face in Harry’s chest.

Harry vanished his own shirt and allowed Draco the skin on skin contact he knew would help ground him, then followed up with a gentle cleaning spell which he cast over them both. He ran his fingers through Draco’s damp hair and summoned a blanket to cover him with but made sure to inspect his wrists. He was pleased to find them only slightly reddened and entirely free from damage; he was quite sure that the marks would be gone by morning. Reassured, he kissed Draco’s wrists gently and when Draco rolled onto his back, blinked, and stared up at him, he smiled and kissed the tip of Draco’s nose.

Draco chuckled quietly and scrunched up his face.

“You were a wonderful pet, my love, absolutely amazing. You did everything I asked you to and you did it so well, you were perfect,” he whispered, caressed Draco’s cheeks, and captured his lips in a slow, sensual kiss.

“There, that’s a much better treat than chocolate will ever be,” he smiled.

When Draco frowned, he chuckled.

He knew exactly what Draco wanted to say and was oddly pleased that he was still too out of it to speak his mind.

“Yes, I know, kisses and chocolate are the best treats, one isn’t better than the other, I’m sorry.”

Draco nodded and Harry laughed.

He removed the key from the O-ring of Draco’s collar and sent it flying towards the door, then he disconnected the leash and tossed it onto the ground beside the bed. He was about to unclasp the collar when Draco wriggled in mild protest.

Harry paused, raised a questioning eyebrow, and Draco flushed a little.

“Can I keep this a little longer?” he asked shyly.

Harry smiled warmly. He kissed Draco tenderly and stroked his hair.

“You can keep this as long as you like, my little prince, it’s yours.”

“What about me? Am I yours?”

Draco sought reassurance and Harry kissed him again.

“Of course. You are mine, for as long as you want to be. You are my Draco, my little prince, my gorgeous dragon pet.”

Harry chuckled and pressed a kiss to Draco’s frown-creased forehead.

“Tell me, pet, do you spew fire?” he teased.

Draco pretended to glower at him but since he was still floating in blissful post-orgasmic bliss it wasn’t quite as effective.

“Only in the courtroom,” he said.

Harry laughed heartily.

“Hmm, yes that’s right,” he nodded.

He ran his fingers through Draco’s hair and his thumb across over his still-flushed cheek.

“Have you changed your mind about pets then?” he asked curiously. “At the munch, you were rather adamant that it wasn’t something you wanted.”

“Are you going to make me eat from the floor?”

“Not unless you want to. But I might get you a butt plug with a fake dragon tail.”

“You want me to walk around with a tail sticking out of my arse?”

Draco frowned but Harry could tell that his mild outrage was just a show.

The cheeky twinkle in his eyes was an obvious giveaway.

“Ideally, I’d want you to fly with that tail sticking out of your arse because that’s what dragons do, but I don’t think we’ll manage to conjure a pair of working wings and stick them onto your back. I’ll settle for making your mind fly instead.”

Harry chuckled.

“I could always ride your Firebolt.”

Draco grinned and snuggled a little closer to Harry.

“Is that a euphemism for something?”

“You just had two orgasms; don’t you ever stop thinking about sex?”

Draco groaned and Harry laughed.

“Not when I have a hot dragon in my arms, definitely not then. But if you keep being this cheeky, you’re in for a spanking.”

Draco pulled away and frowned. Harry ran his thumb over his forehead and smoothed out the creases.

“I thought we were finished playing,” he said, sounding a little unsure.

Harry pulled him into his arms.

“Hmm, yes we are, but if you misbehave, I’ll still want to punish you.”

“I guess I’ll just sleep then.”

“With that collar on?” Harry asked.

Draco angled his head to get a better look at him. He flushed a little and the look in his eyes said it all.

Harry didn’t need to hear him say the actual words to know that despite his initial apprehension, he now really wanted to keep that collar. His chest filled with pride and he captured Draco’s lips in a passionate kiss that left them both a little breathless.

A part of him wanted to hear Draco say the words, wanted to hear Draco ask him May I please keep the collar, Sir? but he didn’t push the issue.

“Tell you what, my little prince, we’ll cuddle a bit more and you can keep wearing it. You’ll have to take it off before we hop in the shower though, the fur lining doesn’t respond well to water and soap. How is that? Is that an acceptable deal?”

Draco nodded.

“Yes, Sir, thank you.”

“Such a polite little prince, I really am blessed and pleased, truly pleased.”

Harry smiled and kissing Draco again, he ran his fingers through Draco’s hair and massaged his scalp.

“I’ve another deal for you, let’s see how you feel about that one. You can keep this collar indefinitely. I won’t take it off you, and you can wear it whenever you feel like it. But I want two things in return—”

“What two things?”

“First, promise me to never wear it to bed. This one is a bit wide to wear in bed and it will get uncomfortable if you leave it on the whole night. If you ever want to sleep in one, I can give you one that’s better suited,” Harry said and tried very hard not to think about putting an eternity collar around Draco’s neck.

It was a little early for those sorts of thoughts but he couldn’t quite stop himself from indulging in a little fantasy. Maybe someday.

“I can promise you that,” Draco nodded. “What’s the second thing you want?”

“I’m going to put a charm on it that’ll tell me when you put it on. If you’re ever feeling submissive when I’m not around, I’ll want to know so I can give you a treat when we’re together,” Harry smiled. “Neglecting your needs would make me a very bad Dom indeed.”

Draco frowned a little, hesitated for a few moments, but eventually, he nodded and Harry decided to push the boundaries a little.

“One more thing—” he said.

When Draco immediately tried to protest, he shushed him.

“Listen first, then object, same as in your courtroom really,” he said.

“You may put the collar on whenever you want but if you put it on when you’re around me, say when we’re in your flat or here in my house, then I expect you to kneel for me. I won’t make any other demands from you without discussing them with you first but when you’re wearing that collar, I’d very much like to see you on your knees for me. Do you think that’s something you’re comfortable doing?”

Harry felt Draco shudder in his arms and pulling him closer against his body, he threw one leg over him, held him tightly, and paid close attention to the expression on Draco’s face. He looked unsure and slightly apprehensive but not completely put off. Harry took that as a good sign and decided to explain more.

“It’ll be your way of telling me that you’d like to surrender, a little sign that you’d like me to take control for a while, look after you, take care of you, make you feel good,” Harry whispered and rubbing Draco’s back, he kissed his forehead, his nose, and his lips.

“It’s your choice, Draco. I won’t lie, I would like this to happen, but it’s entirely up to you, you can say no. In fact, if you’re saying yes just to please me, I’ll know and I won’t accept it.”

“Can I think about it for a while? Just the last thing you asked, please.”

Draco looked a little sheepish and Harry gave him a kiss.

“Of course. You can take as much time as you want to think about it. The collar is yours, wear it whenever you want, or just told it in your hands, touch it, feel it, whatever makes you happy,” he smiled and hooking his finger into the O-ring, he mumbled the incantation to a devised tracking charm.

Once Draco put the collar on when he wasn’t around, the charm would activate and Harry would know.

“You have a wicked way of making me want to surrender to you, Harry Potter.”

Draco let out a tiny little sigh and buried his face in Harry’s chest. Harry pulled him an impossible inch closer and sensing that it gave Draco comfort, he let him hide away.

“You have a wicked way of making me want to dominate you, Draco Malfoy,” he replied.

“Is this how we’re going to say I love you to each other from now on?”

Draco’s words were somewhat muffled because he was talking into Harry’s chest.

Harry laughed but inwardly he felt overcome with giddiness.

To hear Draco to compare his own desire to submit to him and Harry’s desire to dominate him to them exchanging I love you’s, was quite something.

Feeling a little emotional, Harry kissed the top of Draco’s head.

“I love you,” he whispered.

He both felt and heard Draco whisper the same three words against his chest.

They seeped through his skin and right into his heart, which first skipped a beat, then beat a hell of a lot faster, sending little thrills of excitement through him.

Harry closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The air immediately surrounding him smelled of sex and sweat but it also smelled of Draco, a rather pleasant citrusy scent, Harry liked a lot.

They lay in perfect silence for a while and Harry allowed himself to drift a little. He didn’t sleep and didn’t think of anything special, but enjoyed the closeness between him and Draco; it wasn’t only physical closeness but they also shared a very strong emotional connection. Harry couldn’t help but think that their bond had deepened just a little, had brought them a little closer together and he fervently hoped that they would continue working towards strengthening the relationship between them.

It had only been a couple of months but it had been an incredibly good couple of months and Harry wanted more, so much more. He wanted all of Draco, he wanted them to last and to somehow try and make a life together. His thoughts sounded mawkish, even in his own head, and he couldn’t imagine saying them aloud, at least not now, but he also couldn’t summon the necessary willpower to stop himself from being utterly corny. He decided that occasionally it was perfectly OK to be ridiculously sentimental.



“Thank you.”

Harry turned his full attention back to Draco, who’d pulled back a little and was smiling at him. His silvery-grey eyes sparkled with joy and he looked happy and relaxed; everything Harry wanted him, preferably always but especially after what they’d just experienced together.

“For what?”

“For tonight, it was incredible. I really enjoyed it and I hope that we can do it again sometime.”

“As long as it’s what you want, we absolutely can,” Harry said. “Remember, you make the rules, I’m just a willing participant.”

“I remember.”

Draco smiled, then looked a bit coquettish and something fiercely possessive instantly flared to life inside Harry.

“Can I have a kiss?”

“You can have as many kisses as you want, always, my sweet little prince.”

Chapter Text


 It’ll be your way of telling me that you’d like to surrender, a little sign that you’d like me to take control for a while, look after you, take care of you, make you feel good…

Harry’s words echoed in Draco’s head, incessantly teasing him yet at the same time caressing every part of him, settling around him like a thin layer of fog that made it hard to think clearly or to think at all, if he was honest with himself.

He clutched the soft smooth leather collar in his hand tightly and slid off the sofa and onto his knees in front of the coffee table. His eyes wandered over the assortment of wizarding newspapers and magazines splayed out before him but settled on none.

The headlines differed wildly but the photographs all conveyed the same clear message.

The Chosen One had chosen.

The Saviour of the Wizarding World was in love with another man.

Harry Potter was in a relationship with Draco Malfoy. Not a single mention of the fact that he was the Ministry for Magic’s finest prosecutor.

Director Potter, Head of the Auror Department, wasn’t defending himself against the Dark Arts anymore but embracing them instead.

What utter pillock, Draco hadn’t dabbled in the Dark Arts since before the end of the war and afterwards he’d been far too busy getting his NEWTs and studying every law book he’d been able to get his hands on, to care about such nonsense.

Suddenly, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin had taken on an entirely different meaning.

Words like Former Death Eater, Marked, Redemption, and Second Chances taunted Draco without the slightest bit of mercy, threateningly glaring up at him from the front page of every single wizarding newspaper and magazine published in Britain.

Draco’s vision blurred and his chest tightened to the degree that breathing became so difficult he wanted to give up on it altogether.

They were bringing it all up again, every sordid detail of his past, every single mistake Father had ever made. Everything he had fought so hard to make people forget about, yet the papers saw it fit to drag it all up again, to humiliate him, to shame him.

Lest the Wizarding World forget, lest they grant him respite from his nightmares, lest they grant Harry respite to finally live his life the way he wanted to live it.

Did such a thing even exist?

Draco doubted it.

He’d stopped believing in respite a long time ago…

Or at least until Harry had reappeared in his life and turned it upside down. Again and in the best way possible.

He had a talent for that, didn’t he?

Suddenly, Draco was no longer frontpage news because of his skills in the courtroom.

No, he was frontpage news because of whom he had fallen in love with.

Suddenly, he wasn’t frontpage news because he had helped to convict a criminal who deserved to rot behind thick steel bars in the dark dampness that was Azkaban.

No, he was frontpage news because he was the man Harry chose to spend his private time with.

A part of Draco wanted to laugh, except his throat refused to emit that sound.

…take care of you…

Harry’s warm, soft voice tormented him sweetly and Draco tightened his hold on the collar and pressed it to his chest. He brought it up to his neck and sighed when the soft fur lining tickled his bare skin.

It felt so good, so right.

It felt like a safety net.

The urge to fasten the collar around his neck was almost irresistible and he let out a soft whimper as his fingers toyed with the clasp.

He still wasn’t sure why he wanted it so badly but he did and he couldn’t deny it, couldn’t hide it.

 …take control…

…look after you…

Moving images of Harry’s strong arms wrapped around him as they embraced, oblivious to anyone watching.

Moving images of Harry’s lips on his own as they kissed without the slightest bit of embarrassment or shame.

Moving images of him and Harry sharing private moment after private moment.

All of them playing on a loop on the front pages of every single wizarding newspaper.

Draco felt dizzy just watching.

An appalling intrusion of privacy, that’s what it was.

Not one single newspaper had asked for a statement from either one of them.

No, they’d simply taken the photographs, sold to them by an anonymous photographer, and gone right ahead with the exposé, regardless of the damage it might cause and the hurt it would bring about.

Draco gingerly clambered to his feet, compelled himself to let go of the collar and leaving it lying on the sofa, he stumbled into his kitchen.

He made it to the sink just in time.

An all-consuming wave of nausea rolled over him and he dry-heaved.

At first, it was a pathetic retch that brought up nothing but air, then the rank stench of bile rising into his throat brought with it another wave of nausea and another.

It forced him to bring his lunch back up and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop the inevitable from happening.

He clasped his shaking hands around the edges of the kitchen counter and his stomach convulsed repeatedly.

His eyes watered and his mind filled with images of himself, naked, arms bound tightly behind his back, collared and on a leash, kneeling in front of Harry Potter, passively awaiting his Master’s orders.

Would they find out about that too?

Would they manage to get photographs of him when he was at his most vulnerable?

Would they unscrupulously expose his desire submit to Harry, his inclination to allow Harry to control him, to dominate him?

Would they ruin him over this?

Bring his career to an end?

They certainly had it in them, he knew that much.

Draco retched harder and louder and felt his knees threaten to give in as he deposited every bit of his lunch and some of his breakfast in the sink.

His throat burned and he shivered.

A cold sweat broke out all over his body and as he jerked his leg forward to steady himself, he stubbed his toe. The searing pain that shot up his leg spread through his body like cursed wildfire and the thought of that pushed his mind into a very dark place.

He learnt that sobbing and retching at the same time resulted in choking and doubled his efforts to empty his stomach of all its contents.

The rotten taste of bile continued to fill his mouth and tears streamed down his cheeks. He desperately tried and failed to calm his nerves and stop his stomach muscles from contracting painfully but they relentlessly forced him to continue to bring up half-digested food that burned his oesophagus and the inside of his mouth.

Blind panic gripped him, the kind of irrational panic he hadn’t felt in years, and his throat constricted even further. He spluttered and choked, groaned, and made a pitiful attempt to continue vomiting.

Why did it have to be such an effort?

Getting it down and into his stomach was easy and oh so pleasurable.

Why did doing the reverse consume every ounce of his energy?

“Ssssh, breathe through your nose, Draco, breathe deeply and breathe slowly.”

Harry's soothing voice suddenly filled his ears and mind and a strong arm circled around him and steadied him as his legs finally gave away from under him.

A warm, familiar hand closed around his wrist and Harry’s thumb circled over the pulse point on his wrist.

Draco was vaguely aware of the fact that his vomit vanished from the kitchen sink but even that couldn’t stop him from heaving.

A strange sort of heavy weariness filled him and he tried to blink, tried to focus but his vision stubbornly remained blurry and nothing made sense.

His head throbbed with the beginnings of a splitting headache and he felt like someone had repeatedly cast the Cruciatus Curse over him, torturing him slowly, forcing him to surrender all control in the worst possible way.

“In through your nose, my love, out through your mouth. Slow, deep breaths, with me, do it with me, breathe with me.”

Harry continued to whisper into his ear and Draco wanted to ask him why he was in his flat instead of at work but getting the words out was too much of an effort.

Perhaps Harry was just a figment of his imagination? Perhaps everything that had happened between them over the last few months had just been a dream?

“That’s right, good, you’re doing so well, again, with me, in through your nose, slowly, feel that air fill your lungs, now out through your mouth, slowly, take your time, there’s no rush, focus. Whatever is wrong, we’ll fix it later, now breathe, that’s all that matters.”


Draco let that warm, husky voice wash over him like warm water in the shower and gradually felt himself calm down little by little, bit by bit.

Harry’s hand gently rested on his stomach and he rubbed circles with his palm.

Draco didn’t know and didn’t care if he was using a spell or if it was just the feeling of Harry’s hand but the tender touch was enough to quieten his stomach and relax his frayed abdominal muscles.

“How about one more deep breath, my love? Will you do that with me? Come on, in through your nose, slowly, fill every corner of your lungs, now out through your mouth. Yes, that’s good, you’re doing so well.”

Harry’s praise washed over him with the tenderness of a lovingly cast warming spell and Draco relaxed into his embrace, giving himself over to Harry, the way he always did because it felt so utterly right to give in, to surrender to Harry, to just let go of absolutely everything.

Harry’s thumb continued to circle over Draco’s pulse point and his mind grew fuzzy and his thoughts hazy. His vision was still foggy but he didn’t care.

Complete safety.

How did Harry always manage to emanate the feeling of complete safety whenever he did that with his thumb?

Draco’s head filled with at least ten more questions but his throbbing headache told him that thinking wasn’t something he wanted to attempt right now. It seemed too tedious; he didn’t have the nerve for it.

He didn’t have any nerves.

For anything.

“Have some water, my love,” Harry coaxed — and damn why did he have to be so sweet about it, it was only water — and pressed a glass of water to his lips.

Draco parted his lips and welcomed the cool, refreshing taste of water. Never had water, plain water, tasted so good, so right. He swirled it around his mouth, then spit it into the sink and repeated the action twice more.

The vile taste in his mouth disappeared and as the burn in throat lessened, he swallowed tentatively.

He felt grateful when his stomach didn’t object and sighed softly.

Draco was vaguely aware that he should be able to hold on to his own glass of water but he quite frankly couldn’t be arsed to make the effort to lift his hand.

When Harry wondered whether he was coming down with something and suggested that he go upstairs to lie down for a while, he didn’t protest.

Instead, he allowed Harry to half-drag and half-carry him up the stairs and put him to bed.

Having someone take care of you like that was so nice.

You didn’t need to think, you didn’t need to worry, you could just let go, completely, thoroughly, entirely.

Draco sighed.

A gentle cleaning spell removed the sweat sticking to his forehead and plenty of other places and a warming charm enfolded him in a cocoon of safety.

“Sleep, my little prince, have a rest, you need it, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Harry’s low voice was persuasive and his words as sweet as honey and when he started to comb his fingers through his hair, Draco decided that letting his eyes flutter closed was a