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Rumours were dangerous. Rumours could ruin you.
This was the lesson that Draco Malfoy learned his Eighth Year at Hogwarts. It was a big decision - to return at all. There was a part of him, a rather large part if he was honest, that just wanted to hide away after the war. To not be reminded of all the despicable things he had done. The things that no amount of atoning would ever make right.
But there was another part, albeit smaller and more hidden away, that despite it's size - was much more difficult to ignore. The part of him that wanted to be better. To stand up and prove that he would no longer be a coward. For the first time in his life he wanted to earn something, instead of having it handed to him on a silver platter. So back to Hogwarts he had gone.
For the first six months it was awful. Jeers and taunts followed him down the halls. The other student's hissed at him like snakes and called him names that would shock his Mother. But in the end, he had deserved it and it hadn't lasted. Mother had told him, after receiving another of Draco's letters, to stick it out and he had. After six months he had been rewarded. Slowly but surely, the taunts had died off and he had been left alone. They instead pretended like he didn't exist, which Draco was more than fine with. He just wanted to finish his last year so that he could do something with his life. He had had a solid month of invisibility to enjoy.
Until the rumour that is. His new invisible freedom had been ruined - by a bloody Hufflepuff no less. Sixth year hadn't exactly been a hot year for him in the romance department, so he had decided to take his new found freedom of not being a total pariah and ask a nice looking girl to Hogsmeade. She'd accepted and he had small hopes bloom that he could enjoy something as small and simple as a date. The date had gone surprisingly well. Well enough that she had invited him back to her dormitory afterwards. That was when everything went decidedly NOT well. That was all it had taken. The next day the whispers and taunts were back, they were just of a different kind this time:
Draco Malfoy couldn't get it up.
~~~
"Agave Nectar."
The door to the Prefects Bath swung open and Draco stifled a groan; the room was warm and damp with steam - which meant that someone was already in here. For fucks sake, it was 2am! Shouldn't they be in bed like a normal person? Draco had a reason for avoiding everyone like the plague and it was perfectly reasonable for him to be here this late. What the hell was their excuse? Draco sighed. He had been looking forward to a long soak, but he guessed he could just duck around to the showers and the other student probably wouldn't even see him.
Draco walked through and shut the door with a soft click. He had only taken a few quiet steps into the room when he came to an abrupt halt.
Harry Potter was standing buck naked in the haze of steam, in the midst of toweling off.
The rumour mill had been running rampant about Potter too - though to be fair, it was in a far more favorable light. Speculation was running wild about just what exactly the Savior of the Wizarding World had been doing to himself that had taken him from scrawny beanpole to Adonis God in a matter of months. Potter had definitely bulked up; new muscles stretching out the shoulders of his previously baggy t-shirts until all the girls were swooning. 'Is The Chosen One taking enhancement potions?' Rita Skeeter had snidely titled one of her more recent articles. But no, Draco personally thought it was far more likely that for the first time in his life Potter didn't have death looming over his head. Draco had noticed him eating more, training more, laughing more. No. For the first time in his life, Potter was healthy.
Still. Knowing all this was really quite different when being accosted with all of it's naked glory at two in the morning. Potter hadn't even noticed him yet, and Draco was being treated to an eyeful of well...everything. Muscles shifted over his back as he dried himself, strong thighs covered with course dark hair bunched and shifted as he lifted one to wipe off; and there, laying against one thigh, was the Saviors cock- long and thick, a shade or two darker than the rest of his skin.
Draco's mouth went dry. Potter still hadn't noticed him, continuing to towel himself off as he hummed a soft tune Draco didn't recognize under his breath. He knew he should move. Walk to the showers, leave, anything other than stand there with his mouth hanging open, gawping like an idiot at the very naked boy standing in front of him. But for some reason, his brain and body seemed to have disconnected and were suddenly very much not on the same page. To his growing horror, he realized that he was growing hard, his cock heavy and eager between his legs and all of a sudden Draco was irrationally angry. He had been in bed with a very pretty, very soft, very feminine girl willing to do all kinds of naughty things to him and not a twitch, but standing here watching Harry fucking Potter dry off was the time it decided to put in an appearance? Because of Potter? Draco sucked in a sharp breath. NO. He was NOT gay. He wasn't. Merlin, if his father caught wind of this he would be so-
"Are you going to stand in the doorway all night? You can come in and bathe you know, there's no-one here but me."
It took Draco a second to realise that Potter was talking to him. Which then made him feel even more like an idiot, because, for fucks sake, who else would he be talking to? Potter turned toward him, having finally wrapped the towel around his waist. He seemed to be waiting for Draco to respond, but all Draco could do was swallow nervously and continue to dream about fleeing.
Potter raised an eyebrow. "I'm guessing those rumours flying around are unfounded then?" he asked, with a pointed glance at Draco's tented trouser bottoms. Draco flushed. He could feel the incredible force of it, heat burning up his cheeks like wildfire. Potter stared at Draco's frozen form in amusement.
"I could help you with that. You know, if you wanted." Potter said, gesturing vaguely at Draco's crotch.
Draco felt all that burning blood instantly drain from his face and reefed his jaw unstuck.
"I beg your pardon?" he snapped.
Potter ducked his head for a moment and took a deep breath. He seemed to be having some kind of internal debate with himself. After a few seconds he took a few steps toward Draco, and meeting his gaze with a determined expression, grasped the towel at his waist and pulled, letting it drop to the ground. Draco couldn't help but notice that Potter was half hard himself, and Draco was confused as all hell. Was this some kind of crazy absurd dream?
"Po..Potter what are you doing?" Draco stuttered. He wanted to run, but his feet were leaden. Surly he didn't mean to...
Potter was in front of him now. "I told you, I'm helping you." he murmured, and suddenly he was much too close.
Then he dropped to his knees.
Draco's brain short circuited. What did he do right now? What the fuck was he supposed to do? On one hand, he wasn't gay - this is not what Malfoys did. His father would...he wasn't supposed to want this. Except he did. And Harry Potter was on knees looking up at him like...like..
Seemingly encouraged by Draco's lack of protest, Potter's shaking fingers were undoing his belt and his pants were around his thighs and Draco still wasn't saying no.
"Malfoy?"
Draco sucked in a ragged breath, but even with a lungful of air, his answer was still a breathy barley there sound. "Yes?"
Potter smiled wryly and said "Don't hex me okay?"
Then he swallowed Draco whole.
It's all a blur after that to be honest. Wet, warm heat and silky hair threaded through his fingers. He can vaguely hear sounds, groans and breathy whimpers, and wonders detachedly where they are coming from. He can feel the sting of the half moon dents in the soft flesh of his arse where Potter is gripping and pulling. His body has turned into a riot of sensation, too much and not enough and all he can think is more more more.
Potter's mouth is pulling away and Draco is about to protest but Potter's hand is still moving, gliding up and down the length of him and the words literally die in his throat as, quite without his permission, his orgasm rips through him like a tidal wave.
Draco comes back to himself slowly, his mind racing to catch up with what just happened. Did that just happen? The edges of his vision are a blur of colour and he looks down at Potter in a daze. Potter hasn't moved. He's sitting back on his heels, breathing fast, palms resting open on his thighs. His thick rosy cock is hard, flushed red and leaking against his stomach. His hair is even messier than usual, in complete disarray from where Draco's hands have evidently gripped it. Even more damning is the long ropes of pearlescent come that strip across Potter's heaving chest. He looks like a debauched fallen angel, Draco thinks a little wildly.
Draco's gaze snags on the single drop of come that has landed at the corner of Potter's mouth, mesmerized. Potter is staring at him, eyes dark and hungry, pupils blown wide. With a trembling hand Draco reaches forward to swipe his thumb over Potter's bottom lip. He had just meant to wipe it off, but Potter turns his head and catches Draco's thumb, pulling it into his mouth, tongue swirling around to taste the drop.
That's all it takes for the haze to completely shatter; reality crashing down with stunning speed. He'd just let the Savior of the Wizarding World suck him off.
Draco choked out a cry and wrenched his hand away. He stumbles back, and with clumsy fingers he hurriedly redoes his flies, the feet that wouldn't move at all before are suddenly flying as he hurls himself from the room.
***
It's been a week since the incident in the Prefects Bathroom. An entire week of Draco avoiding Potter in the halls whilst desperately trying not to wank himself raw to the images that seemed to constantly be plaguing him. He just doesn't know what to do. Why did Potter do it? That was the question that was truly driving Draco crazy.
Which is why he's currently staring out the window at Potter sitting by himself down by the lake. It's the last Hogsmeade trip of the year and most of the other students have taken advantage of it. Draco wonders if Potter is giving Weasley and Granger alone time. Then he decides he doesn't really care. The point being, is that Potter is sitting by himself with no-one else around. If Draco wants answers, this would be the most opportune time to get them.
It's with mostly false bravado that he decides to go for it and storms out onto the grounds without actually considering what he is going to say. Which is how he finds himself five minutes later standing awkwardly a few feet from Potter on the grass, unsure of how to proceed and once again feeling like a complete and utter moron. Draco is tempted to roll his eyes at himself.
Potter glances at him, not looking at all surprised to see him there. The look on his face though, is wary.
"Afternoon Malfoy," he says pleasantly enough. He looks down and away, his eyelashes casting spidery shadows across his cheeks.
Draco swallows past the dryness in his throat. "I was wondering if I could perhaps...sit." He requests lamely.
"I'm not stopping you Malfoy," Potter replies wearily, scrubbing a hand across his face. He looks tired, and Draco wonders if Potter's nights have been as sleepless as his have. Draco glances back at the castle with longing, strongly considering running and hiding in his dormitory where he can forget this whole thing ever happened. Then he remembers the fact that that is exactly what he has spent the last week doing to no avail and slowly lowers himself to the ground. He plucks the grass between long pale fingers and wonders where to start. Potter doesn't say a word. He doesn't even look at Draco, just sits quietly staring out over the lake - waiting.
Draco summons the last shreds of his courage and blurts "I wanted to talk to you, you know, about the other night when you...you..."
"Sucked you off?" Potter supplies, finally turning to look at him, eyes dancing with a hint of amusement.
Draco splutters indignantly, quickly glancing around to see if they are still alone. Thankfully, the only people around are a bunch of first years on the other side of the green, so far away that they are just misshapen blobs of colour on the grass.
"Yes...that," Draco says slowly. "Why did you do it?"
Potter snorts. "I would have thought that was obvious."
Draco feels his mouth pull into a frown and says tartly "Well it's not to me so if you'd be so kind as to-"
"I wanted to okay?" Potter interrupts. "You were standing there and you were staring at me with this...this...look on your face and I wanted to so I did. I guess I just thought...never mind." He looks away with a shake of his head.
"Are you gay then?" Draco blurts out and then immediately wishes he hadn't when Potter's shoulders tense.
"Well, if I wasn't sure before then I certainly am now." he mutters, looking uncomfortable.
Draco thinks he might be having a heart attack. Or suffocating. He's not sure which. All he knows is his heart is hammering a mile a minute and his lungs seem to have forgotten how to breathe. Did that mean...
"Are you saying you... liked... doing that to me?" Draco asks incredulously.
Potter snorts. "Malfoy, I wanked myself to orgasm in about thirty seconds after you left - using your come as lubricant. So yeah, I'd say that I 'liked' it."
Draco lets out an embarrassing sound somewhere between a choke and a gasp as heat floods his entire body. Oh fucking Merlin. His cock is straining against his trousers, which in an instant have become unbearably tight. He chances a glance at Potter, who is determinedly not looking at him, his cheeks flushed a dull pink underneath his tan.
Potter looks distinctly uneasy now. "Look, I have been meaning to apologise."
"Apologise." Draco repeats faintly, now completely and utterly confused.
"Yes. I didn't mean to force you into anything or make you do something you didn't want to do. I mean, for a moment I thought...but it's obvious now that you're uncomfortable and I- "
Draco doesn't even remember deciding to do it. All he knows is that he suddenly doesn't care about what he's supposed to want and decides to just go with what he does want and the next moment he is launching himself at Potter, and Potter is underneath him on the grass and their mouths are crashing together and the groan that tears itself out of Potter's throat is the most glorious sound he has ever heard. Draco slots himself between the other boys thighs and grinds down, their mouths disconnecting when Potter arches his spine, head thrown back as Draco moves to plant wet open mouthed kisses down his throat instead.
They are out in the open and people could see and Draco still doesn't care. Because Draco can feel the heat of Potter's skin blazing off him through his clothes and he wants him, he wants him so badly and Potter's mouth finds its way back to his, but this time his lips are opening and his tongue is mapping Draco's mouth and it's so good that Draco might just die.
Reaching down between them he fumbles, working open first Potter's pants and then his own. He has no idea what he's doing but when he wraps his hand around both straining erections and brings them together, he thinks maybe he has got the right idea if the strangled cry that comes bursting from Potter's mouth is anything to go by. It's quick after that, a few strokes and they are both coming hard, no longer kissing so much as panting into each others open mouths.
Draco rolls off Potter to lay on his back. He's trying to catch his breath and starts slightly when he feels the tingle of a cleaning spell wash over his skin. He blushes, not looking at Potter as he tucks himself back into his pants.
"You're not going to run off again are you?" Potter asks, and Draco can hear the uncertainty in his voice.
Draco takes a deep breath and rolls onto his side. Potter is already facing him, so close that Draco can see the slight marring of freckles across his nose. His eyes are wide and green and he looks anxious. Draco opens his mouth and then closes it, trying to come to terms with how he feels. Hell, he doesn't know how he feels. All he knows is that he wants to experience that again, and again, and maybe some more after that. It's more than that though. He stares at the boy in front of him. This boy doesn't make him feel invisible. He has always seen Draco, even when Draco didn't want to be seen. Draco thinks he likes that Potter sees him.
"No Pot-Harry" He corrects himself, because hell, if this is going to turn into a thing he may as well use his first name. "No, I'm not going anywhere."
The smile Harry gives him is blinding.