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Tell the Truth

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“Who’s next?”

“Harry!” Ron elbowed Harry next to him. “Oi! Earth to Harry! Are you still with us?”

Harry gasped, turning abruptly towards Ron. No, no, he wasn’t still there with them and hadn’t been for the last thirty minutes.

It had been Malfoy’s turn and he had been dared to snog Nott. Harry had watched as their lips had collided, pecking at first, then more and more rough — Draco had grasped Nott’s hips, pulled him onto his lap, and they’d started to rut against each other.

Shamelessly, in front of everyone, until Ron had spluttered an embarrassed, “Get a room! We want to play too!” And they’d parted. 

Malfoy had gone back to his place, looking like an idiot. An absolutely smug, hot, flustered, deliciously rose-pinked cheeks idiot. 

Harry hadn’t been able to tear his eyes off of them for the entire duration of the kiss, not even after it broke. He just followed every single move Malfoy made until Malfoy had looked up and they made eye contact.

Their gazes locked and Harry could feel his face burn with lust, could see Malfoy’s cheeky smile, how he’d licked his lips looking right into Harry’s eyes. 

It was painfully obvious to Harry right at that moment, with a disheveled Malfoy in front of his eyes, shirt wrinkled where Nott’s hands had wandered, hair soft around his pointed face, that he ached for Malfoy. He ached to touch him, to take him, to make him moan harder than he had with Nott. 

It was painfully obvious to Harry that he was shaking with jealousy, because no one else should dare to make Malfoy look so damn kissable.

For the rest of the game, nothing else existed for Harry except his tight chest, his ragged breathing, and Malfoy’s stormy eyes. 

“Harry, c’mon!”

“Yes—”, Harry cleared his throat, his voice still breathy and resentful. His chest roaring, shouting that Malfoy should be his. “Yes, I’m here. Dare.”

“No feckin' way,” Seamus pointed at Harry clumsily, the alcohol making his Irish accent even worse. “You’ve chosen dares the whole night! It’s time for you to choose truth!”

It was true. Harry had avoided choosing truth for the duration of the game; afraid he’d receive questions that were too personal, knowing that he had too many secrets about the War, about Voldemort, Dark Magic, about his past, that he absolutely couldn’t and wouldn’t share. His pathetic Occlumency skills were too poor to shield him from the three drops of Veritaserum each of them had swallowed at the beginning of the night.

He looked up at Seamus. He was his friend, right? He wouldn’t ask painful or embarrassing things. “Okay, then. If you insist. Truth.”

“Yes! Ehhh,” Seamus crooked his head, regarding Harry with a smirk on his face that only widened when he slurred, “Have ya ever had a gay fling?” 

Every Gryffindor in the room burst out laughing, Ron loudly crying, “You’ve wasted a question, mate.” And Harry could understand them, really, he was almost happy that his friend Seamus had chosen such a safe question for him; he probably really thought it wouldn’t have caused Harry any problems. 

Harry would love to answer as everyone expected him to, and say that, “No, of course, don’t be ridiculous Seamus!”, but unfortunately the Veritaserum in his veins was hot as fire and his poor attempt at Occlude faded away as ash in the wind. 

“N—” Harry tried, for his sake. The Veritaserum gave a jolt in his veins, his mouth twisting against his will. “Yes.” It was whispered, but everyone heard him.

Harry groaned and grabbed his glass of firewhiskey, downing it in one go. This was the kind of secret he’d wanted to take with him to his grave. He looked around the circle, and saw the Slytherins giggling with smug faces, that pug face of Parkinson already whispering with Blaise, Ron and Hermione looking at him with wrinkled eyebrows, Ginny looking hurt. Fuck. 

And then that idiot crew of Seamus, Dean, and Neville were all laughing up their sleeves, Seamus clapping at him. 

Harry sighed, cursing the moment he thought it would have been funny to have an Interhouse Unity Party, and above all, that it would have been funny to play ‘truth or dare’ with the last people remaining after the curfew — only Slytherins and Gryffindors, of course.

He quickly looked in Malfoy’s direction, to find him distractedly looking at his nails, as if nothing interesting was happening. Harry grabbed the bottle to spin it and fucking move on with this stupid game when Hermione interrupted him.

“But!” She said, a funny look on her face. “He did try to resist the Veritaserum.”

“‘Mione!” Harry shot back, surprised. 

“She’s right,” Parkinson interfered. “And you know, Potter, Seamus is entitled to three more questions now.” 

Harry glared at her, and then at Hermione. This was so unfair, so fucking unfair. 

“We have to come up with good questions if we want to know the name of his gay fling.” Hermione rose from her seat and moved next to Seamus, Ron following her and Harry watched, impotent, as they started whispering, writing down notes, deciding what to ask him next.

“Okay!” Seamus bellowed after a few seconds. “First question: do we know the fella?” 

Harry stared at them, his heart racing, making his contaminated blood rush to his head. He could feel heat all over his cheeks and ears before even speaking. “I— erm, y-yes.” Damn. Damn, damn, damn. 

“My, my, Potter, you’re so busted.” Zabini was having too much fun for Harry’s tastes.

“Shut up!”

“Yeah, shut yer trap Zabini, I still have two more questions.” Seamus’ eyes flickered maliciously before he smirked and grabbed the notes. “Is he in this room?”

Oh, fuck. Harry was so screwed — they were going to discover, he knew it, but tried anyway. “Guys, can’t we just drop—”

“Spill the tea, Potter.” Ginny was now looking at him, her arms crossed in front of her chest. 

“Uuuh, did you hear the spite she put in your surname? Wow, this evening is turning  out to be so interesting.” Pansy winked at Ginny and turned to Malfoy, lightly shoving his shoulder. “You’re too silent, darling. Have a bit of fun with me, here.” 

Malfoy’s cheeks went a delicious pink again and his eyes widened minutely, darting for one second to Harry and then returning to Pansy. He spluttered, “I-I don’t care about Potter’s flings, thank you very much.”  

Harry rolled his eyes while the other people in the circle looked suspiciously at Malfoy. Luckily, Seamus cleared his throat and went on. Maybe he’d guess the wrong person? The Veritaserum worked only for questions for which the answer would be either ‘yes’ or ‘no’ — if they wanted the name of the person, their only shot was to try and ask Harry for a  specific name now.

“Thanks, Malfoy. You’ve been… enlightening. Harry,” Oh, shit, no. “Is yer gay fling Draco Malfoy?”

“How dare you! Draco would never—”

“Yes.” The word was out of Harry’s mouth before he could even process it. Parkinson stopped her empty protest, turning her head to Malfoy so fast that her neck cracked audibly in the stunned silence of the room.

“Fuck, buddy, I was kiddin'. What the f—”  Seamus was looking at him with wide eyes, as were all the other Gryffindors. 

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Harry, muttering, “Congratulations, Potter.” 

“What! How was I supposed to...! Maybe if someone would have deigned to teach me Occlumency properly!”

“I tried, Potter, but you’re a fucking lost cause, always wearing your emotions on your sleeve!”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait a minute,” Ron interrupted their bantering, holding up a hand to obtain their attention. “Are you suggesting… that this fling happened... before the War?” 

Harry could feel heat on his face, the Veritaserum in his veins still singing loudly. Yes, yes, of course it was before the War, Harry wanted to shout. As if he’d ever look at Malfoy like that now! But that wasn’t completely true, Harry knew it. 

He and Malfoy exchanged a look, and Harry could see on his face the same embarrassment he could feel in his gut. They slowly nodded, never taking their eyes off each other. 

Harry didn’t know what he expected to hear after this confession, but it surely wasn’t a sudden burst of laughter from every single person in the circle.

“Pfft, are you— oh Merlin, are you telling me that for all those years…” Pansy tried to talk between one laugh and another, a hand on her belly, tears in her eyes.

Neville finished for her, “That for all those years you weren’t fighting, but foreplaying?” his voice muffled by snickering.

Malfoy’s cheeks became even redder beyond every possible imagination. “What! We most certainly were n-not… I mean, we… S-sometimes it helped getting there fast—” He clamped a hand over his lips, the Veritaserum visibly forcing the truth out of his mouth. 

Harry’s eyes widened while the laughter of their friends only increased. He risked a glance in Ginny’s direction finding her lightly shaking her head, her eyes again amazed. She caught his eyes and chuckled, a little smirk playing on her lips. 

Ron and Hermione stood to come back next to Harry — Ron clapped a hand on his shoulder with a disgusted face. “Bloody hell mate, the ferret… really!?”

“Will you shut up?” Harry shouted embarrassed. “I've had enough of this.” He grabbed the bottle and spun it, watching with relief and only a touch of disappointment as the bottle stopped on Zabini.

The game went on pretty much the same, with Hermione and Ron sending him glances from time to time, reminding Harry that he hadn’t escaped it and that they’d wanted every single detail of what happened the day after. 

He kept drinking his firewhiskey, happy to let it flow in his body, helping him free his mind, just enough to forget for an evening who he was, the War he just survived, the horrors he lived. His cock throbbed in his pants every time his gaze crossed Malfoy’s; he remembered all too well what those eyes wanted from him when the grey almost disappeared, replaced by the black of their dilated pupils, sparkling with desire. 

With a pang in his chest, Harry remembered the last time they’d spoken. 

“Go away, Potter!” Malfoy whispered in the darkness of the Hogwarts Infirmary, his face twisted in pain. 

Harry’s chest was heavy with guilt, pain, with the sobs he wasn’t able to control anymore. The terror of having killed Malfoy, of having lost him forever, still deep in his stomach. 

He slowly approached Malfoy’s bed, sitting on it, right next to his hands. 

“I said go away! If Pomfrey finds you here—”

“What? I don’t mind, Draco. Please, let me… let me see, I—”

“What do you want to see? Go. The. Fuck. Away.” Every word Malfoy pronounced hit Harry like stabs in the ribs. He needed to touch him, to feel he was really alive, really—

Harry raised a hand to touch Malfoy’s face. When Malfoy didn’t move, he gently cupped his cheek, rubbing his thumb on it.

He let out a shaky breath, whispered with a broken voice, “Fuck, you’re alive. Draco, you’re alive, I thought I-I…”

“Had killed me? You’d have done me a favour.” Malfoy’s voice was clearer now, less angry. He looked tired and tiny on the white bed of the infirmary, his pale skin — even paler than usual — almost grey under the moonlight.

“Don’t say that. Don’t even— don’t even think it!” Suddenly hit by a surge of protectiveness, Harry grabbed Malfoy’s shirt and pulled him in a tight hug, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, feeling him lightly shaking. 

Malfoy had rested his head on Harry’s shoulder and his silent tears had soaked Harry’s pyjama as his hands balled into fists on Harry’s sides. “Why are you even here, Harry? We— I, I took the Dark Mark, Harry.” His voice was increasing in volume, the desperation seeping through him, slowly rolling out of him and reaching Harry, soaking him with dread.

He cast a wordless silencing charm around them and hugged Malfoy tighter.

“I couldn’t resist, Harry! V-Voldemort, he… He… I didn’t know what… Harry, I’m a Death Eater! I’m a fucking Death Eater, I betrayed you, I betrayed everything that we’ve been through! I’m a monster! I’m a—”

“Idiot!” Again, Ron’s elbow startled Harry out of his reminiscence. 

“Ouch, stop doing that!”

“You’ve been staring into nothingness for the whole night like an idiot! It’s your turn again.” Ron wiggled his eyebrows, pointing at the bottle which was indeed turned toward Harry. 

Everyone else in the room was looking at him with expectant eyes, ill-suppressed giggles and smirks, and Harry knew he couldn’t endure another round of honesty. 

“Shouldn’t we just go to sleep? It’s late…”

“We already said this is the last round! C’mon buddy, truth or dare?” Seamus again. Was someone bewitching the game?!

Harry sighed, gesturing vaguely in Seamus’ direction. “Dare, if I’m allowed.”

“Oh, Harry, of course yer allowed.”

Harry realised his mistake the moment Seamus opened his mouth to speak again, his eyes quickly glancing to Malfoy. “I dare you to suck Malfoy’s fingers.”

“What!” Harry tried to counterpoint something clever but he was far too gone for it. Suck Malfoy’s fingers? What kind of dare was it? And…

Harry sighed resigned. “Umpf, for how long, Seamus?”

“Huh, you decide, Harry.”

This dare was making less and less sense. He had to suck Malfoy’s fingers (which one? And how many? Of what hand?) and they didn’t give him a specific timing for it. 

“, it can also be one second?” Harry was starting to be more and more confused.

His friends started giggling, Ron snorted next to him. Seamus looked at him with a big grin, the kind one uses with particularly daft kids. “Sure, buddy. One second .”

“I don’t see why I should agree! It’s not my dare!” Malfoy was half-shouting to Pansy, who looked far too amused.

“Hey big fella, it’s always like this with dares. You didn’t say anything when Bulstrode dared Nott to kiss you…” Seamus raised an eyebrow to him, daring him to try and contradict him.

Malfoy sighed and brought himself into the centre of the circle, a scornful expression on his face. “Well, hurry up, Potter, I don’t have all night.”

Harry reached him, slouching towards him reluctantly, muttering that, “You actually have it…”, gaining an angry wave of Malfoy’s hand in his direction. 


“Why, Malfoy, someone’s greedy.” Zabini snickered from his place next to Pansy, moving his hands to form a heart with his fingers. 

A rush of heat ran through Harry’s cheeks, reminding him again of that night at the infirmary. At how Harry had tried to calm Malfoy down, taking his face in his hands and looking directly into his eyes. ‘You’re not a monster’, he had said. ‘But let me help you. I can help you, Draco.’

They’d stared at each other in the moonlight a few seconds before Harry had added, “I love you. I miss you. Please, Draco, don’t do this to me. Let me help y—”

And Draco had blushed, so bright and red against the weak shine of the moon. And Harry had kissed him, desperate, hot, messy. 

He looked at Malfoy blushing now for Zabini’s stupid joke and felt his heart shrink in his chest, his head spinning. Without thinking, he brushed his fingers to Malfoy’s hand and brought it to his face, without ever looking away from his silver eyes.

He watched while Malfoy’s breath hitched in anticipation and the fire in his chest roared stronger, urging him to make Malfoy remember exactly how it felt to be Harry’s. 

Harry brushed his lips on Malfoy’s fingers, kissing along their length, his nails, his palm, hot and shivering against him. Not breaking eye contact, Harry flicked his tongue out and dragged it from Malfoy’s palm to the tip of his index and middle fingers, closing his mouth at the end to swallow them, slowly sucking them into his mouth. 

Malfoy’s eyes widened and his blush extended towards his ears, his neck, his collarbone. He’d always had such a sensitive skin, Harry had almost forgotten. He marveled in the vision Malfoy was as he kept at licking and sucking his fingers — Malfoy’s lips were parted, ragged gasps escaping them, reverberating in the silence of the room. 

Harry didn’t know how long he kept at it, but it surely was more than one second when Malfoy finally gave in and pulled his fingers out of Harry’s mouth, growling impatiently and grabbing at his shirt, pulling him toward his chest, crashing their lips together.

Someone in the background exulted, someone else whistled, others faked gagging, but all Harry could hear were Malfoy’s soft moans, his scent lingering in the air all around them, his hands madly roaming on his chest, up and down, his fingers tripping on the buttons. 

Harry’s blood rang in his ears, reality and memories fusing in a unique feeling, the one of Malfoy’s body pressed against his. 

Two years ago, in that hospital bed, Malfoy had opened immediately to Harry’s kiss, clinging to him as if his life depended on it, silent tears rolling over his cheeks. 

He had broken the kiss to moan into it, “I love you too, I love you, I love you.” 

Now, when Malfoy broke the kiss, Harry’s mind blurred — for a confused moment, he thought he’d heard Malfoy confessing his love for Harry again, but then his mind cleared and Malfoy’s whispers against his lips made more sense. “I missed you, I missed you so much, I missed you.”

This time, silent tears rolled down Harry’s cheeks and anger coiled in the pit of his stomach. Taken by a wave of nausea, he pushed Malfoy’s chest away, opening his eyes, looking around himself.

Their friends looked like frozen statues, their lips open in astonishment or covered by their hands, their eyes wide, trained on them or looking away in embarrassment. 

He returned his eyes at Malfoy again, at his swollen lips and disheveled hair, his eyes shining with tears too. He looked hurt, perhaps because Harry pushed him away and that thought made a new rush of anger run through Harry’s body. 

He stood up on unstable legs, forgetting about their friends, about how that long time ago, Malfoy and he had sworn they’d never tell anyone what had happened. With a trembling voice, he shouted, “You missed me, Malfoy? It’s you who decided to take the Dark Mark, you who turned down my help, you who betrayed me! I can’t believe you!” 

Now that he had started, he felt as he could never stop anymore. Harry had bottled up his mixed feelings towards Malfoy for so long that now he felt like an erupting volcano, the anger boiling in his veins like lava, ready to reach out and swallow Malfoy and everything else. 

A sudden noise of explosion startled Harry, who tore his eyes off Malfoy’s to look at thousands of little shards dispersing at his feet, around the floor of the room. 

His magic was reacting to his feelings, and the bottle for their stupid Truth or Dare game had just exploded. 

Hermione’s worried voice came from behind him, “Harry, you need to cal—”

He turned, glaring at her. “Don’t tell me to calm down!” As soon as he took in Hermione’s hurt eyes, he regretted shouting at her, and he knew she was right. 

He tried to take a deep breath but his chest burned and another sob escaped him. Turning to look again at Malfoy, he ran out of the room, Ron’s ‘Harry, wait! Where are you going?’ already fading into nothingness behind him as he left the Room of Requirement and wandered through the hollow corridors of Hogwarts. 

The only audible sounds were his hurried step, heavy breathing and desperate, broken crying. 

He ran without apparent direction until his lungs hurt and he had to stop, bending at his waist, legs apart, hands on his knees. Closing his eyes, he tried to control his breathing again — inhale through his nostrils, hold three seconds, exhale through slightly parted lips. That’s what his therapist taught him.

“Calm breathing?”


Harry would recognise his voice amongst thousands.

“My therapist taught me that too.”

His voice came clearly from behind Harry. He had followed him, then. 

Harry straightened up and opened his eyes, seeing for the first time where his feet had brought him. He was standing in front of the door of their classroom. 

Suddenly, all the memories linked to it rushed to Harry’s mind.

They had discovered it in fourth year. It was somewhere between the second and the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, and they’d started… whatever it was between them, only a few weeks before. 

They usually met in secluded corridors, hoping no one would find them, fearing the possibility but thrilled by the novelty of it all the same. 

It had been Malfoy’s idea. They were snogging against a dusty wall, snickering, breathing on each other’s neck when they’d heard approaching steps. Harry had quickly covered them both with his invisibility cloak and they’d escaped the Prefects’ patrols by a whisker. 

As soon as they’d been alone again, Malfoy had snorted, whispering into Harry’s ear, “Follow me”, grasping his hand and dragging him around Hogwarts, protected under the cloak.

Harry had laughed, went along with it, whispered back, “Where to?”

Malfoy was barely keeping in his laughter, descending a long flight of stairs. “Anywhere! Everywhere!”

Harry had laughed out loud at that, shaking his head. “You’re crazy, Malfoy!”

Malfoy had turned towards him, smirked. “Isn’t it why we ended up snogging in the first place?” 

His face was red from the run, the heat under the cloak, the laughter. 

It had been the first time Harry had truly thought he was handsome, breathtaking. The first time Harry realised he had sensitive skin, that Malfoy blushes easily. The first time he knew it was something he’d never be bored of. 

Malfoy kept running, giggling, muttering, “Hogwarts is gigantic, right Potter? So, my theory is this — somewhere in here there’s at least one room that no one has heard of, unused, abandoned, forgotten.”

“The Chamber of Secrets? Found it.” Harry had looked smugly at Malfoy.

“No, you prick. You know what I mean!”

And that’s how they’d found it. Running, poking at each other, snogging here and there during their research, laughing until their eyes were filled with tears, calling each other silly names. 

“Here! Yes! I knew it!”

Harry felt Malfoy’s hand brush his back, slowly, hesitant.

“I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be here.”

Harry finally turned to face him. His head was throbbing and he felt drained of every ounce of energy. 

Malfoy’s hand slid from Harry’s back to his waist and Harry couldn’t find in himself the strength to dodge away from his touch. 

“Honestly, me neither.” Cringing for the open vulnerability of his broken voice, Harry took another fortifying breath. “What are you doing here, Malfoy?”

Malfoy’s free hand fished out a tiny vial from the pocket of his trousers. “I, erm…This is Veritaserum. I took it from the game for… Well, you can use it on me, if you wish. Ask me whatever.”

Harry looked bewildered at him and then lowered his gaze to the vial. “What if this isn’t the Veritaserum at all? And, and… even if it actually is Veritaserum, why do you feel the need to use it? Can’t you fucking be honest for once in your life without any extras?”

Malfoy’s hand on his waist shook slightly and then fell away. He had the decency to look sheepish when he spoke again. “Fuck, Potter, I did it for you! I want to be honest with you, I really want to! But if you can’t trust me—”

“With reason.”

“With reason! I know, Potter, I know! That’s why I took it. But I can be honest without it too. I’m afraid you’ll have to trust my word then, though.”

Harry frowned at him, cocking his head. Trust Malfoy’s word. It had never been easy. He looked into Malfoy’s eyes, searching for a sign, any sign at all of lies. But he couldn’t find anything other than openness in his face.

He sighed, already regretting his decision. “Don’t take that shit.”

He turned, grabbed the handle of the door, opening it and entering the room. He wasn’t ready for the pang of nostalgia that hit his stomach, thousands of images filling his vision.

Malfoy and him laying on the floor, kissing.

Malfoy and him, studying together in the weirdest uncomfortable positions only to be the closest possible.

Malfoy and him, laughing while doing silly dances around the room, trying to avoid the desks and inevitably bumping them. 

Malfoy came to stand next to him, his deep breathing soothing him somehow.

“Fuck, Potter,” he whispered.


“Shall we—”

“So,” Harry interrupted him, his anger reinforced by all the damn happy moments they had shared. 

“Tell me, Malfoy. Tell me why you took the Dark Mark.” He struggled recognising his voice, icy and distant. 

“I— I…”

“Actually, don’t answer that.” He suddenly turned towards Malfoy, piercing him with what he hoped was a glacial glare.

“I know why you took it. Voldemort was evil, he probably put you in a threatening situation. You must have felt trapped. New question, then.”

The anger was dangerously coming to the surface again, Harry could feel it in the magic now tingling on his skin. “Tell me why, dear Merlin, why you stepped on my face on the Hogwarts Express, instead of reaching out for help.”

“Harry, I—”

“Or!” Harry’s voice raised, his hands now balling into fists at his sides. “Why you chose to cast the Cruciatus Curse at me, instead of talking to me, why you fucking went away even after I offered my help at the infirmary, why you—”

Malfoy’s hands were suddenly on his chest, pushing him away, making Harry stumble backwards, smacking his legs against a desk. 

“Fuck it, Potter! Give me the time to explain!”

Harry grabbed Malfoy’s shirt and pushed him back, strongly, until he hit the wall. He pressed him there with his chest, their noses bumping together.

He spelled every word with as much spite as he could master. “Give me one reason why I should listen to you, you bastard.”

“You said you trusted me.” 

“No. I told you not to take the Veritaserum, because I don’t trust you to not use Occlumency to shield it, Malfoy. I don’t trust you.”

Every word they spoke lingered in the air between their faces, their lips impossibly close, almost brushing. Their breaths ghosting over each other’s chins.

It shouldn’t have aroused Harry, but he had spent too long desiring Malfoy, dreaming about him, the bittersweet memories of this room were confusing him. 

Malfoy must have seen something on Harry’s face, because he smiled minutely and jutted out his head, their lips now wetly touching. 

“Then what are you still doing here?”

Harry closed his eyes as the vibrations of Malfoy’s words on his lips went straight to his cock. Malfoy’s smell was strong up close like this, clouding his ability to think, bringing back too much, too many feelings. 

“I…” Why was he still here, indeed? 

“I missed you too.” Harry blurted out, realising only in the exact moment the words left his mouth that this was the reason he still hadn’t pushed Malfoy off, still had wanted to give him an opportunity. 

Sour tears run down Harry’s face. “I missed you.” He repeated, sobbing.

Malfoy finally kissed him, chaste, a peck on the lips. Retreaded back, to look into Harry’s eyes. “The Dark Mark. I… you’re right. The situation, Voldemort, he… Harry, it was taking it or dying on the spot. I still thought I could help you, I wanted to tell you straight away, but…” 

Harry stepped back, taking a deep breath, sliding his hands up to cup Malfoy’s face. 

“Go on, love. I’m listening.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened before speaking again. He smiled, turning to quickly press a kiss to Harry’s hand. “But then, Severus talked to me.”

“Snape? What—”

“Potter, please, let me finish. And don’t jump to conclusions as usual. Severus, he told me he knew about us. He said it was dangerous, that Voldemort would have killed me the moment he’d seen in my mind I loved you. I didn’t know Snape was a spy at the time, but he scared me. It got me thinking… and I feared Voldemort would have used our relationship to get to you… I… Harry, I know now I didn’t make the wisest choices, but—”

Harry started brushing his thumbs over Malfoy’s cheekbones, tenderly. He stepped forward, bringing their bodies close again. 

“Say my name again.”

Malfoy frowned, but complied, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Harry…”

“Fuck, it sounds so beautiful in your mouth. I had forgotten…”

Harry pulled Malfoy’s face close to his, sealing their lips together, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. He trembled with the power of want that crossed him, feeling he couldn’t resist him anymore.

He wanted Malfoy, right now. He needed him, he needed to have him again. 

With his head spinning, Harry reached Malfoy’s neck, leaving wet kisses, sucking his skin into his mouth, breathing lightly on the marked skin, making Malfoy whimper against the wall. “Draco, we have so much to talk about, but… but I…”

“I know. Fuck, goddamnit, I want you too.” 

Harry raised his head to kiss along his jawline, his cheekbone, behind his ear, right where Malfoy’s skin was most sensitive. Malfoy couldn’t stop squirming against him, his hips jutting forward, every brush of their hard cocks eliciting the most beautiful sounds Harry had ever heard.

How could have Harry possibly lived without them for so long, he had no idea.

“You know,” Draco’s voice was breathy but steady, “you were so sexy before, sucking my fingers…”

The hand that was gripping Harry’s hair left, sliding to his ear, lightly stroking it and then Harry’s chin, pulling his face in front of Malfoy’s. His fingers traced imaginary paths all over his face until they arrived at the corner of Harry’s lips.

Harry smirked, held Malfoy’s gaze. “You mean like this?” He asked innocently, playing with the tip of his fingers, finally sucking them again in his mouth.

Harry saw Malfoy taking in a breath and then his fingers pushed in deeply, his lips parting on a loud moan. Harry closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the feeling of having Malfoy again. 

Suddenly Malfoy pulled out his fingers, lingering on Harry’s lips, tracing their shape with a heated gaze. “Do you remember our first time?”

Harry snorted, shaking lightly his head. Malfoy’s fingers still on his lips. “Merlin, why Malfoy.” He laughed, lost in the memory. “Fifth year. How can I forget… you conjured a bed,” Harry turned to point somewhere in the middle of the room, “right there.”

“Mmh, I did, didn’t I? Ugh, cheesy…”

So cheesy. But I loved it. We were so clumsy, ugh, but I can’t forget how… how you took me.”

Malfoy’s chest was rising and lowering quickly with his heavy breathing. “Such a mouth, Harry…” He grabbed Harry’s waist and turned him to face the wall, pressing his hard cock on Harry’s arse cheek. 

Harry braced himself against the wall and pushed back, sighing in relief. After a second, Malfoy’s hand landed on his other cheek, smacking deliciously, making Harry shiver. 

Memories again filled his mind, memories of how they’d discovered the freedom of letting go, of being at the mercy of the other and forgetting their destined paths for a moment. How Harry had discovered Malfoy could make him come only spanking him, barking at him to stay still, to take him in his mouth. 

How they’d switched, they’d tried both roles, how nothing was decided and precise, because fuck the world, everyone wanted something from them, but they could be free together.

Now Harry knew they were young, they didn’t know anything about role-playing, BDSM, anything. They only did what they wanted. He wondered if Malfoy had realised now, as Harry did.

“Tell me,” he whispered on Harry’s neck, massaging the spot he had hit on his arse  cheek, “Tell me what we did that night.”

Harry closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Whether Malfoy knew or not, Harry recognised his firm voice and his cock throbbed in his pants. He’d never disobey Malfoy.

“We were on the bed, naked, and you… you taught me the lube spell, brushed my hole with your lubed fingers…” Harry trailed off — Malfoy had undone his trousers and shoved them down Harry’s legs, just under his knees, together with his pants. He was massaging his arse cheeks, grasping them, and had murmured that same lube spell as Harry was talking, brushing his hole, following Harry’s words.

“Like this?” He murmured into Harry’s ear, making him shiver, a moan escaping his mouth, his hips pushing back towards Malfoy’s touch.

“Oh fuck, yes, Malfoy, like this… and then, you slipped one finger inside me. It was, ah! , it was the first time someone did that to me.” Harry gasped at Malfoy’s fingers now slipping in so easily, so known, familiar. 

Malfoy gasped too, hot and broken on his neck, inhaling deeply against Harry’s hair before speaking again. “And now, Harry, now how many times has someone done this to you?”

Harry was already lost in the pleasure that sparked from every thrust of Malfoy’s finger, already followed by a second one. He laid his forehead on the wall and murmured, “I only had you, only you, Draco. After the War, I-I was with Ginny, and then… One date, but… no one was you, no one is you, D-Draco. Gods, yes, more, more, please!” 

He felt Malfoy panting behind him, reaching for his own trousers and shoving them down too, freeing his cock that jutted against Harry’s crease, slicked with pre-come. He brushed his hard cock between Harry’s cheeks, rough, landing another loud spank on them. 

“No one could ever make you fall apart like this, right love? Only me. You’re so hot, Harry, so hot. What else did we do, then?” His voice was starting to break, his movements incoherent and messy against Harry’s arse. He murmured the lube spell again and Harry heard him grasping his cock, the sound of his wet hand sliding up and down its length mixing with Malfoy’s gasps, making Harry crazy with want. 

His own cock was dripping pre-come, throbbing in the air at Malfoy’s words. He lowered a hand to it and took it in his hand, giving a couple of harsh tugs. 

“T-then you fucked me, Draco, y-you thrust your cock in me so deeply, I felt so full and it was so new… I asked for more almost immediately. Ah! Ah, ah, I—

“Yes, love, scream for me baby, make me feel how much you like it.” In a long smooth thrust, Malfoy’s cock was buried deep inside Harry’s arse. It was like going back home, different, unknown and yet sweet, familiar.

Harry gasped loudly, almost crying in pleasure — he wanted Malfoy to know just how perfect he felt, how perfect they were together. 

Malfoy started moving inside of him, teasing him with slow thrusts, taking out his cock until the tip rested against Harry’s hole and then waiting for it to spasm and for Harry to cry ‘fuck me, love’ before pushing in again. 

They went over the edge together, murmuring sweet and dirty words to each other the whole time — for a long time their moans, their broken ‘yes, fuck, yes’ and the indecent sounds of their bodies sliding together were the only sounds audible in the room.

When Malfoy grasped Harry’s cock covering his hand and started pumping fast, he licked his ear, whispered, “Come for me, love”, and Harry knew he couldn’t hold it back anymore. He came, gasping out Draco’s name over and over again, soon followed by Malfoy, and the room was now filled with moans of Harry’s name too. 

Malfoy sagged against him, sighing tiredly, resting his forehead on the back of Harry’s neck, mouthing clumsily at it. He pulled out his cock, tugged to make Harry face him again, cleaned them both with a silent spell. He was smiling, that unguarded curve of his lips that Harry had craved to see again for too long now. 

He felt himself smiling back, and Malfoy brought a hand to stroke Harry’s hair, and opened his mouth only to close it immediately after. He blushed and looked almost scared. 

“What is it, Draco?”

He blushed some more and then asked in a whisper, “Do you remember… our first time, when you came…”

Harry’s smile widened and he took Malfoy’s face in both his hands, landing a soft dry kiss on his lips. “I told you I love you. It was the first time for that, too.”

Malfoy’s eyes shimmered in the room, now almost completely dark in the night. He drew his wand and cast a low Lumos. “I told you I love you back. Harry… I never stopped.”

He bit on his lips, looking as he was pondering what to say next. “I never stopped loving you. Never, you have to believe me.”

Harry looked at him, at his knitted eyebrows, his intense stare. “I do, I believe you. And… I never stopped loving you either.”

He kissed Malfoy again, his mind already spiralling with thousands of thoughts — it would be hard to build something together again, it has always been so complicated between them.

Malfoy snorted in the kiss, breaking it. “Oh Merlin, Harry, we’ll fight so much. We… I know things are not magically resolved now…”

Harry giggled too, some nervousness coming back to him. “Oh yes, we’ll do that. But… well, you know how fights go with us. We’ll fight and then we’ll fuck and it will be scorchingly hot, and then we’ll fight again, and we’ll have sex again, and again, and again."

Malfoy wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist, squeezing him in a tight hug. He grinned and nodded, solemnly.

“And again.”