Harry looked at himself in the mirror. He had cast a temporary spell on his vision, he didn't like it much, since it was uncomfortable to apply and didn't last long, but he wanted to use it today, so he was without his glasses.
He studied the outfit he wore, the white dress shirt was soft, with a high, structured collar, and it widened around his belly, fitting comfortably. Over it, he had a black waistcoat with satin lapels, the buttons only fastening at the top, while the elongated hem helped to disguise his stomach a little.
The black trousers had a straight cut, with a bit of stretch, and the front sat lower, which worked perfectly since it didn't press against his belly. And then there was the cloak, with its structured shoulders, when closed, it also concealed his stomach. Overall, it looked somewhat like what he had worn in his fourth year, except that back then the shirt was different, and instead of black, it had been green.
The biggest difference now was that he wasn't wearing a tie. Instead, he had on a pair of symmetrical pieces, each fixed at the corners of his collar, connected by a thin chain that curved in a gentle arc between the points. The pieces and the chain were golden, likely real gold, and in the center of each piece lay a round red stone, rubies.
Molly had shown him pictures of the piece, explaining that Fleur had suggested he wear it instead of a tie, and Harry liked the idea. He handed her the money to buy it, adding a little extra so she could get Ron something nice as well. No one wanted a repeat of the fourth year.
Ron walked into the room, wearing a simple white dress shirt, a fitted vest in a shade somewhere between beige and gold, and a dark blue suit, the overcoat and trousers matching in color. His shoulders were sharply cut, and his bowtie was the same deep blue.
"Hey, mate, looking sharp," Harry complimented, and Ron laughed, rolling his eyes.
"Thanks, you're looking great too," Ron said, running a hand through his red hair, as if trying to tame it. Harry wouldn't have bothered, he knew it was pointless. "Nothing's too tight, yeah?" he asked, and Harry gave a small smile, stroking his belly.
"No, everything's comfortable," he confirmed softly, and Ron stepped closer.
"You know you're in love with him, right?" Ron asked, and Harry swallowed hard, nodding slowly, feeling his hands being clasped. "Everybody knows he's in love with you too," Ron added before Harry could gather breath to deny it. "Harry, mate, you know it. Don't try to deny it. He might not have said it outright, but everyone sees it," Ron said seriously, and Harry sighed. "I want you to be happy. Merlin knows you deserve it. So if you chose that git, that's fine," Ron smiled, "but I think I can swing a reduced sentence and dodge Azkaban, so if he ever screws up, count on me, alright?" Harry only realized he was crying when he felt the wetness on his cheeks.
"Bloody hell, fucking hormones," he muttered, knowing he was only this sensitive because of them, and Ron laughed, pulling him into a hug.
"I heard he's waiting for you at the entrance to the Great Hall," Ron said when they pulled apart, and Harry wiped his tears.
"And Hermione?" Harry asked, and Ron smiled.
"I'll wait for her there," he shrugged, and Harry sighed.
"Shall we?" Harry asked, and Ron nodded, and they left the room together.
The common room still had a few people in it, like Lavender, who was wearing a long yellow dress, chatting with Parvati, whose gown looked a lot like the one from their fourth year, but in shades of blue. Abbott and Bones were just stepping into the common room, one in purple and the other in cream.
They crossed the corridors, and when they reached the entrance to the Hall, he saw him. A white dress shirt with a high collar and small pleats down the front, its cuffs long and fastened with silver cufflinks, paired with a white bowtie. A fitted white waistcoat with satin lapels hugged his slim frame.
He wore straight-cut black trousers and a long black cloak that flared open at the legs, lined in gray. A folded white handkerchief sat in the pocket, and a silver chain, likely from a pocket watch, hung at his side.
Draco Malfoy looked spectacular.
Harry watched him turn, saw those gray-blue eyes lock onto him, saw him take a deep breath and swallow hard. Draco took a few steps closer, extending one hand, and Harry took it, watching a shy smile form on the taller boy's lips.
"You look beautiful," Harry said, just as Draco's free hand found its place at his waist.
"You're not wearing your glasses," Draco murmured, sounding far less articulate than he usually did.
"Yeah, I manage with spells for just a few hours," he shrugged, feeling his hand slip free as Draco cupped his face.
Draco didn't say anything else, just held his gaze, like he was admiring something extraordinary, and Harry couldn't understand why. They were only his eyes, after all. They'd been there all along. He knew the glasses made them look a little smaller, but still, they were the same pair of eyes.
"You're so beautiful, Harry," Draco said, never once glancing at Harry's clothes, and it made Harry swallow hard. "So beautiful," he sighed, then took a step back, finally giving his outfit a once-over. "Are you comfortable?" he asked, and Harry nodded. "That's wonderful. The clothes look stunning, Sweetheart," Draco smiled.
"Molly picked shoes with extra cushioning so I won't tire too quickly," Harry mentioned with a soft laugh.
"She was very clever," Draco said, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple.
Harry smiled, finding Draco's behavior endearing, and when he lifted his face to make some teasing remark, he caught sight of Hermione behind him, and she looked breathtaking. She wore a deep red gown, strapless with a single swath of fabric draping over one arm. Silver beaded embroidery adorned the neckline, and the skirt fell heavy with a touch of volume. She was dazzling.
"You look beautiful, love," Ron said, walking up to her, offering his arm, which she took.
"You look handsome too, Ron," Hermione replied, stroking his cheek, and Harry smiled at their exchange.
"Shall we?" Draco asked softly, drawing Harry's gaze back. Harry nodded, smiling.
The Great Hall was fully decorated in deep blue and gold, the tables gone, and the enchanted ceiling altered to resemble a galaxy. Sofas had been placed along the edges, something Harry silently thanked for, knowing he couldn't stay on his feet all night.
Near the entrance, Harry spotted Ginny in a dark green gown, with off-shoulder straps and a plunging neckline. She looked lovely, with Luna's arm looped around her waist.
For some reason, Harry had thought Luna would wear purple, but she was in pale pink instead. Her straps mirrored Ginny's, running across her shoulders, but hers were adorned with flowers covering the entire area.
He smiled at the two of them but didn't approach. He still didn't feel entirely comfortable around Ginny. Instead, he followed wherever Draco led him, until he smiled, spotting Neville, his waist encircled by Theodore's arm.
Neville wore a suit in shades of chocolate brown, an olive waistcoat, and a cream shirt, a small silver leaf brooch pinned to his jacket. Theodore, on the other hand, was in charcoal, with a slate-blue vest and a plain white shirt.
"I'll never get used to you without glasses, mate, your eyes look twice as big," Neville remarked, and Harry rolled his eyes.
"Relax, these spells are too much of a hassle to cast and don't last long. I like my glasses," he shrugged.
"Professor McGonagall set up two drink areas," Theodore explained. "One for the graduates, probably with alcohol, and another for the younger years. Ours has an age-detection spell at the entrance. The non-alcoholic one is right there." He pointed, and Harry turned to take note of its location.
"Thanks," he smiled softly.
"Guys, there's going to be an opening dance, like at the Yule Ball, but only for the eighth years," Zabini announced, slipping in between Theodore and Draco. He was dressed head to toe in black, with deep wine-red accents throughout.
"What?" Harry asked, remembering how he'd had to dance before. "Merlin, I'd rather face the dragon again," he muttered aloud.
"Shouldn't you be looking for a partner?" Theodore asked, one brow arched.
"I'm dancing with Millicent," Zabini shrugged, and Theodore pulled a face.
"Isn't she lesbian?" he asked.
"She is, but she doesn't have a partner, I don't either, so we're dancing together, it was her idea." Another shrug. "Funny thing is Daphne, who's straight, is dancing with Pansy." He rolled his eyes.
"As far as anyone knows, she's straight," Draco muttered, and Harry looked at him. "She's never said she was," Draco added with a shrug.
"You always said you were straight, and none of us ever believed you," Zabini shot back, and Draco rolled his eyes.
"Oh, please. I only started saying that at the start of fifth year, and by the end I'd figured out I was pansexual." Harry let out a small laugh. "When did you realize you liked blokes?" Draco asked quietly.
"Cedric Diggory," Harry murmured, and Draco's brows furrowed in amusement. "He and Cho in fourth year were my biggest Bi Panic," he admitted, making Draco chuckle. "Come get a drink with me," he added, and the taller boy followed. "Who was it for you?"
"End of fourth year, with Oliver Wood," Draco admitted, and Harry's eyes went wide. "I just noticed he was fit," Draco said with a shrug, and Harry laughed.
"And who did you lose your virginity to?" he asked, genuinely curious, making Draco laugh.
"Don't judge me, all right?" Draco asked, and Harry nodded as he poured himself some punch. "I lost my virginity to Isobel MacDougal, a Ravenclaw in our year, during fifth year. But my first time with a guy was Adrian Pucey, right before sixth year started."
"Adrian Pucey?" Harry asked, incredulous, and Draco tilted his head back with a groan.
"You said you wouldn't judge," he complained, and Harry let out a soft laugh.
"I didn't say a word," Harry defended himself, and Draco raised a brow. "But now I'm questioning your taste, and by extension, questioning my looks," he teased, and Draco caught his face in both hands.
"Don't you ever do that," Draco said firmly. "He might've been my first bloke, but I've always had a thing for you." He let go, and Harry looked at him, skeptical. "It's true," Draco shrugged.
"You had a funny way of showing it," Harry joked, and Draco chuckled.
"Yeah, I was awful at it," he admitted.
"'Was', as in past tense?" Harry asked, and Draco smiled, the same smile Harry remembered from the night they'd made James, and the days that followed.
"You only started being interested in me this school year, I know," Draco murmured, calm, and Harry gave him a small smile.
"Hermione thought I fancied you in sixth year, but honestly, I don't think that was it," Harry murmured, and Draco smirked again, provocative as ever.
"Think so? Not sure?" he asked, and Harry rolled his eyes. "So you might've had a bit of a crush on me back in sixth year, Potter?"
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Malfoy," Harry shot back, using his surname out of pure spite for being called that too.
Suddenly, Draco's smile vanished. He glanced down, looking distinctly uneasy, and Harry frowned, not fully understanding. Looking around, he noticed a few stares aimed their way. None of them were friendly, and most were directed at the Slytherin.
"We don't have to dance, I don't mind," Draco said with a shrug, and Harry wondered how he'd failed to read him before.
"Draco, look at me," he asked, cupping the taller boy's face. "We've got a lot to work through, a heavy past between us, years of rivalry and a war. We can't just erase all of that in seven months." He brushed his cheek gently. "But I'm not ashamed to be here with you. As your friend, your date, the father of your child," he said quietly, and Draco lifted his gaze.
"And as my partner?" he asked, voice low. "As my boyfriend, would you mind?" His gray-blue eyes shone with uncertainty, with raw vulnerability.
Before Harry could answer, Professor McGonagall's voice rang out, calling the eighth years to the floor. He watched as Ron and Hermione moved to the center along with Dean and Seamus, Zabini and Bulstrode, Parkinson and Greengrass, Lavender and Parvati, Goldstein and Padma, Smith and Bones, Neville and Theodore, Corner with a Gryffindor seventh-year, and Finch-Fletchley with a Slytherin who seemed to be in sixth year.
Harry reached for Draco's hand, pulling him along into the crowd. He settled one hand at Draco's waist, let the taller boy lead, and placed his other hand on his shoulder, locking eyes with him.
"I'd love to be here as your boyfriend, Draco," he murmured, and the Slytherin's whole face lit up with his smile. Harry thought he'd like to keep that image forever.
Dancing didn't feel half as awkward or dreadful as it had in fourth year. Maybe it was because Draco moved as naturally as walking, maybe because Harry wasn't leading, but all Harry knew was that it felt easy, lost in icy blue eyes and the glow of his smile.
At some point, he stopped holding back, cupped Draco's face, and pressed their lips together. Their first kiss in front of so many people wasn't showy, just a simple meeting of lips, because resisting had become impossible.
The music shifted, and Harry realized the dance was over, especially when Bulstrode, dressed in a gown Harry couldn't quite decide was green or blue, took Draco's hand and tugged him away.
"Harry," Ron's voice called, and he gratefully let his friend sling an arm around his shoulders, steering him clear of the throng.
"I think Draco just asked me to be his boyfriend," he admitted, taking the drink Hermione handed him, trusting her blindly.
"You think?" Hermione laughed.
"Fine, he asked. And I said I'd love to," Harry said, scowling when Ron ruffled his hair.
"How sweet. Our Harry's finally in a relationship. They grow up so fast," Ron teased, and Harry shoved him away.
"Do I need to remind you I'm pregnant with his kid, which means we slept together seven months ago?" he asked, and Ron grimaced.
"Who slept together?" Dean asked, walking up with Seamus, both holding drinks that were definitely alcoholic.
"Harry and Malfoy," Hermione answered, and Ron's grimace deepened.
"Mate, he's pregnant, you're only noticing that now?" Seamus said, and Harry laughed.
"No, but it's not exactly something we need to keep bringing up, is it?" Ron muttered, looking disgusted, then turned to Harry. "Or do you want to hear about how Hermione and I shagged?" he asked, and Harry covered his ears.
"You don't shag," Harry shot back, starting to chant 'lalalala,' but still managed to hear Hermione burst into laughter.
"Works both ways," Dean said, grinning.
"Easy for you two, we had to listen to you shagging all through sixth year after you and Ginny broke up," Ron said, then froze. "Oh my god, tell me you didn't sleep with my little sister," he begged, and Dean laughed loudly.
"No, mate, relax. Neither of us were ready," he reassured, and Ron turned to Harry.
"Mate, you remember I lost my virginity at the same time I made James, right?" he asked, and Ron sighed in relief before the disgusted grimace returned. Seamus cracked up at that.
"We're graduating," Neville said, appearing beside them. "Our original dorm," he sighed, then glanced at Hermione, who raised a brow. "Yeah, I'm including you, Hermione, you were basically always there," he shrugged.
"Who would've thought we'd live long enough to graduate," Harry murmured.
"Well, we can at least say we lived," Seamus said with a faint laugh. "I mean, you three more than anyone." He pointed at Ron, Harry, and Hermione.
"Not like we had a choice," Ron muttered.
"We should've seen it coming when I kinda killed our DADA professor in first year," Harry remembered.
"Mate, fuck it, we survived a bloody war and still came out on the winning side," Neville said with a weak laugh. "And I'm even finishing this shit off with a boyfriend." He grinned wide.
"You're drunk, aren't you?" Harry asked, and Neville smiled.
"Not yet, but I'll get there." He took a gulp from his cup. "Ah, Theo's over there." He drifted off toward him.
"Don't get him pregnant," Hermione called, swiping Neville's drink and finishing it herself. "Oh, Parvati's here, I wanted to talk to her," she murmured, tugging Ron along by the hand.
"Potter," he heard his name and turned, spotting Parkinson in her glittering black dress. "Draco's looking for you," she said.
"Tell him I went to sit down, my feet are starting to ache," he asked, and she nodded.
He started toward the sofas, steering clear of the crowd, only to notice Dean and Seamus tagging along. He rolled his eyes but found it oddly sweet, it seemed to be a shared understanding not to leave him alone.
Once he sat down, he lifted his feet a little and sighed in relief, smiling when he saw familiar blond hair heading his way. Draco was carrying a small plate, and as he sat beside him, Harry saw it was filled with snacks.
Dean and Seamus left at the same moment, and Harry picked up one of the snacks, bringing it to his lips, feeling that familiar relief of eating when hunger hit. He tried not to linger on the realization that he was hungry. He couldn't let himself spiral there.
"Ever wonder what our fifth-year selves would do if they saw us like this?" Draco asked.
Harry paused to take them in, the way they sat close together, one of Draco's hands resting on his thigh, fingers brushing along the inside of his leg, while Harry absently rubbed his own rounded belly.
"I'd be certain I'd lost my mind completely, with everything going on back then," he replied, glancing at Draco, who gave him a small smile.
"I just wouldn't believe it," Draco said, and Harry smiled too, cupping the taller boy's chin and pressing their lips together. "Are you sure about what you're doing?" he whispered.
"You know I've never had the faintest idea," Harry countered, kissing him again. "It's not like that's ever stopped me before," he added, and Draco tugged him closer, their mouths meeting once more.
The kiss was steady but unhurried, their lips moving in a slow rhythm, as if there was no reason to part. Draco's fingers trailed up Harry's thigh, along the curve of his waist, and the touch made the Gryffindor lean further into him. Harry let his hand drift from Draco's jawline to the back of his neck, keeping him there, feeling the soft strands of blond hair under his fingers. Their breaths mingled, warm and shallow in the tiny space between them, and for a moment the noise of the hall faded, leaving only the measured sound of lips meeting and the gentle brush of hands searching each other.
Harry couldn't have said how long he stayed on that sofa, but fast songs and slower ones passed by, and when a very slow tune began, he stood, extending a hand silently to Draco, who accepted at once.
And so Harry and Draco found themselves wrapped in each other's arms, swaying to a slow song in the middle of Hogwarts' Great Hall, surrounded by every student above fourth year, on their last night as pupils in the castle.
"I want him to have your eyes so badly," Draco whispered, and Harry smiled.
"And what if he comes with your eyes and my hair?" he asked, and Draco frowned. "You do know he could be a redhead, right? I mean, my mum's whole family is blond, but she was a redhead," he reminded, and Draco laughed.
"He's not going to be a redhead," Draco said, and Harry laughed at the desperation in his tone. "Well, I do know the Potter hair genes are strong, I mean, most of your family's fortune probably came from that hair product they invented just to tame it," Draco said, and Harry chuckled.
"I like my hair," he murmured. "My aunt Petunia hated it, and just because it drove her mad, I started liking it. Whenever she got too furious, she'd cut it all off, buzz it down till I was nearly bald. But every morning it grew back like nothing happened. Drove her insane." He laughed softly.
"You used to grow your hair back as accidental magic?" Draco asked, smiling. "I used to make the walls of the manor change colors. My father nearly lost his mind, though it only happened when I was properly furious," he shared.
"Once, I was running from my cousin and his idiot friends, I don't even remember what started it, but then I just turned up on the school roof," Harry said, recalling how confused he'd been that day.
"You Apparated involuntarily as a child?" he asked, eyes wide. "Merlin have mercy on us with James, bloody hell," he groaned, and Harry laughed. "Do you know how much magic it takes to pull that off? I swear, I don't think there's been a single recorded case of accidental child Apparition in centuries," he said, and Harry smacked his shoulder lightly.
"Shut up," Harry muttered, unable to stop smiling.
"He'd be perfect if he came out looking just like you, you know?" Draco said with a small smile. "With your eyes, your hair, your skin tone, your nose, your lips, your cheekbones, with—" Draco would have gone on, but Harry cut him off with a kiss.
Draco responded instantly, leaning in to deepen the contact. His mouth was hot, insistent, and Harry sighed into it, shivering as Draco's tongue brushed lightly against his own. With each movement, the pressure grew.
Draco held him by the waist, fingers gliding over the fabric of his robes. Harry's hand pressed firmly to the back of Draco's neck, dragging him closer, the kiss turning wetter, more desperate, tongues colliding and retreating in a rhythm that left him breathless. The harder Harry tried to keep up, the more Draco seemed intent on taking the lead.
Harry lost himself in it, in the drag of those long fingers up his back to the nape of his neck, in the steady grip that refused to let him pull away. His heart hammered wildly, and his hips shifted almost on their own, grinding closer. Draco answered by tightening his grip on Harry's waist, pulling him flush against him.
The kiss was fire spreading unchecked, lips pressing harder, teeth grazing lightly, ragged breaths swallowed between each hungry clash. Harry groaned softly into Draco's mouth when those hands slid down again, exploring the curve of his waist before resting on his ass, squeezing firmly.
He didn't want to stop, but awareness of where they were pierced through the haze for an instant. The noise around them was distant but still there. Harry dragged in a shaky breath, breaking away just enough to whisper against Draco's lips.
"Can we get out of here?" his voice was low, trembling.
His eyes stayed shut, forehead pressed to Draco's. His hand lingered at the back of Draco's neck, as though afraid he might pull away before answering.
"Of course, sweetheart," Draco murmured, and Harry opened his eyes at the sound, only to receive another quick kiss.
He let Draco lace their fingers together and tug him away from the party. Harry spotted Ron and Hermione on the way out but ignored them. The moment they stepped into the corridor, Draco cupped his face and pushed him gently against the first wall they found, and Harry kissed him back eagerly. The walk to the eighth-year common room took three times longer than it should have, because neither seemed capable of keeping their mouths off each other.
When they finally climbed the stairs to the dorms, Draco started to pull back, but Harry tugged him along into his room. The Slytherin sat down on the Gryffindor's bed and pulled Harry into his lap, and once again Harry found himself straddling Draco Malfoy, his lips being devoured.
Draco's hands gripped Harry's waist firmly, hauling him closer, while his mouth moved over Harry's, hot and hungry. Harry moaned softly when Draco's fingers dug through the layers of fabric into his skin, his body leaning instinctively forward, the weight of his belly pressing against Draco's solid chest.
Draco adjusted his position without hesitation, leaning back on the bed so Harry could settle more comfortably on his lap. His hands moved slowly up Harry's sides, sliding to the base of his neck and pulling him into a deeper kiss. Their tongues met again, wet and hot, tangling in a rhythm that stole his breath.
Draco's mouth was warm, damp, and the way his lips parted against his made Harry shiver. He tried to keep up, but soon surrendered to the pace set for him, yielding to the pull on his nape, as if Draco wanted to devour him whole. With each glide of their tongues, Harry's breathing grew heavier, the sweet taste of mingled saliva clinging to his mouth.
Harry clutched Draco's broad shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his coat as he let himself be guided. Each time Draco squeezed his thighs or slid a hand over the curve of his lower back, a shiver shot down his spine, and he responded by pressing his lips harder, letting slip small sounds that were swallowed into the kiss.
The air between them felt too heavy, every brief pause serving only for Harry to snatch a short breath before Draco claimed his mouth again, as though he couldn't allow even the smallest distance. Teeth grazed his lower lip, and Harry gasped, yielding as the tongue invaded his mouth once more.
One of Draco's large hands anchored on his thigh, sliding slowly up the inside, and Harry's legs trembled faintly around him. His hips reacted on their own, a small, tentative motion, but enough to draw a sharp breath from the blond against his lips.
Heat spread through Harry's whole body, the press on his nape, the firm grip on his thigh. His fingers tightened over Draco's shoulders, almost leaning on him just to stay steady, heart racing, breaths uneven between kisses.
Draco pulled him closer still, and Harry gave in without thought, body surrendering to a rhythm that wasn't his but one he followed with pleasure. Their tongues clashed in a pace bordering on desperate, until Harry's breath faltered, as if he couldn't draw in enough air. His hands, once steady on Draco's shoulders, began to wander, sliding over the fabric of his chest.
He pulled back just enough to breathe, their noses still brushing, and let one hand trail up to Draco's neck. The fitted white vest outlined his torso, and Harry's heart raced as his fingers followed the line up to the collar, where the bow tie sat perfectly fastened.
He hesitated for only a moment. His fingers trembled slightly as they tugged the strip of fabric, undoing the knot. Draco kept his eyes closed, but Harry caught the satisfied sigh that slipped from his lips when the tie came loose, falling between them.
Harry let the kiss resume, deeper, hotter. His hands returned to Draco's collar, fingertips brushing lightly over the skin revealed above it. Draco groaned low against his mouth, hauling him tighter by the waist, while Harry felt his whole body tremble with the gesture.
Harry's fingers drifted down the front of Draco's vest, skimming the buttons until he undid the first. He paused again, heart hammering, but the way Draco's thumb stroked his waist gave him courage.
He undid the second, then the third. Draco opened his eyes just enough to watch him, a small, pleased smile curving his lips. When the last button gave way, Draco himself tugged the vest off his shoulders, letting it fall beside the tie, before pulling Harry against him once more.
The long fingers slid up his sides, over the shirt, until they reached the golden chain fastening the two ends of his collar.
"May I?" he whispered, lips brushing his.
Harry only nodded, breathless. Draco unclasped it calmly, removing the piece, and instead of discarding it carelessly, placed it gently on the nightstand. Then he pulled Harry back in, kissing him again with force.
Harry felt the blond's fingers at his nape, tugging him slowly, while the other hand traveled down his stomach, pausing over the rounded curve. Draco caressed there, unhurried, before sliding to the hem of his coat. Harry helped him remove it, and Draco tossed the garment aside, somewhere Harry would only care about later.
When they parted for an instant, Draco squeezed his waist and lowered his lips to the curve of his jaw, nibbling lightly. Harry gasped aloud, clutching at the fabric of his shirt.
Harry opened his mouth again, searching for Draco's tongue, letting the kiss consume him whole. His trembling hands found the hem of his own vest. When he began unbuttoning it, Draco broke the kiss just enough to help him, slipping the fabric off with care, doing the same with his shirt.
The piece fell, and Harry's skin prickled in the cool air of the room. But Draco allowed no time for discomfort, he leaned forward, pressing his mouth to Harry's collarbone, scattering slow, heated kisses. One hand rested again on his stomach, as if to hold him there, while the other slid along his bare back, tracing soft lines with his fingertips.
Harry clung to his shoulders, eyes widening when Draco lifted him effortlessly, laying him down gently on the bed, settling between his legs, mindful of the curve of his belly. Harry panted, mouth red and wet, fingers digging into his back as though he couldn't let go.
Draco's lips moved slowly against his, as if savoring every second. His hand traveled down Harry's side, lingering lightly on the curve of his stomach before sliding to his thigh. Harry reacted instinctively, clutching Draco's shirt in tight fists.
Draco pulled back just enough to breathe against his lips, intense blue eyes locked on his.
"Are you sure?" he asked softly, voice firm but gentle, as if there was no rush. "We don't have to… we can stop anytime, Harry. No matter when."
Harry's chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice. He gasped, unable to answer right away, but brought a hand to the blond's nape and pulled him into another kiss, wet, urgent. It was his way of saying yes, that he wanted this.
Draco smiled against his mouth, almost imperceptibly, and moved slowly, his fingers reaching the waistband of Harry's trousers.
"I'm going to take these off, all right?" he murmured, meeting his eyes.
Harry nodded, heart hammering. He felt Draco undo the clasp with care, sliding the fabric down without hurry. Once it was gone, Draco bent to kiss his thighs, slow and lingering.
Shoes and socks were removed with the same care, one by one. Harry, still unable to believe he was there, let out a low moan when Draco returned, trailing kisses over his belly, his chest, until he found his mouth again.
It was hot, intense, yet there was a softness in the way Draco touched him, hands always steady on his waist, making sure no extra weight pressed on his belly, lips exploring his skin with patience.
Harry, in turn, surrendered completely. His fingers ran through Draco's blond hair, tugged lightly at the still-worn collar, traced paths across his back. With each kiss, he opened more, became more vulnerable. The room was silent, save for the sound of their uneven breathing and the kisses that seemed endless. Draco pressed his forehead to Harry's, lips still close, and drew in a deep breath.
"Tell me if anything's too much, okay? I'll stop immediately," he said. Harry just pulled him back, pressing their mouths together in a quick, insistent kiss.
Harry's fingers rose hesitantly to the first buttons of Draco's shirt. Close enough to feel the warmth of his breath against his lips, his hands trembled slightly as he began to undo each fastening. Draco made no move to help, eyes fixed firmly on his.
When the last button gave way, Harry peeled back the fabric slowly, revealing pale skin, the shape of his chest, and the subtle curve of muscles moving with each breath. Before pulling back, he leaned in to kiss Draco's collarbone, eliciting an immediate shiver through the Slytherin.
"You're beautiful, you know?" Draco murmured, voice low and husky.
Harry felt his face heat but didn't look away.
"You're more," he whispered.
Clutching the open shirt, he pulled Draco back for another deep, eager, nervous kiss. Draco responded, tongue teasing his with patient pressure, and Harry pushed the fabric aside.
When they separated, Draco rose slowly, eyes still locked on Harry. His fingers reached the waistband of his pants, unbuttoning them deliberately, giving Harry the chance to pull away if he wanted. He didn't. He stayed there, heart hammering, watching every movement.
Draco slid the fabric down his long legs, revealing smooth, pale skin. His abdominal muscles were defined without exaggeration, marked only by the familiar scars Harry already knew. Firm thighs, the subtle curve of hips, the thin line descending from the stomach into his underwear. Once the shoes and socks joined the pile of discarded clothes, Harry realized he was holding his breath.
It was impossible not to notice. The dark underwear outlined the hard length beneath, pressing unmistakably against the fabric. Harry's eyes flicked away quickly but returned involuntarily, heat rising to his cheeks and spreading through his body. He swallowed, feeling ridiculously small before Draco's bold, exposed presence, erect, unashamed.
Before losing himself entirely in the sight, he reached out, drawing Draco closer. The Slytherin crossed the short distance without hesitation, leaning in to capture his mouth again. The kiss was hot, deep, wet, and Harry moaned softly, muffled against him. His hand rose, splaying across the sculpted chest, feeling the warmth of the skin, the movement of muscles, the contrast of scars beneath his fingers.
Draco pressed himself against him, and Harry couldn't ignore the rigid length brushing his thigh. His body reacted immediately, hips arching slightly, breath catching between kisses and the dizzying thrill of contact.
The kisses deepened, Draco's tongue pressing firmly into Harry's mouth, exploring every corner, slow and wet, leaving trails of saliva that dripped when they parted just enough to breathe. Harry didn't care. He couldn't think of anything beyond the heat of the mouth and the addictive taste that made him dizzy.
Draco's hands never stopped. One stayed firmly on his waist while the other slowly traveled down his back to the curve of his ass. Harry gasped loudly when the fingers squeezed over the underwear, thumbs pressing in and pulling him closer. The friction drew an embarrassed moan from him, but he couldn't hold it back.
Draco seemed to like it, repeating the gesture, pressing harder, making him grind against the obvious hardness beneath his own underwear. The friction was slow, gentle, yet enough for Harry to feel his cock pulse within the fabric, hot, throbbing, wet. He realized, flushed with shame, that he was already leaking into his underwear, but Draco didn't seem to care. On the contrary, he murmured something low against Harry's mouth and slid his hand along the side of his thigh, gripping firmly, making a path to where Harry needed it most.
Harry moaned again, louder this time, arching his hips for more. His fingers tangled in Draco's blond hair, tugging impatiently, while the other hand clawed at his shoulders, no delicacy in it. He didn't know what he wanted, didn't even know how to ask.
"Draco, please… I… Draco," the words escaped anyway, hoarse and desperate.
He only knew he was falling apart beneath Draco, that the heat, the weight, the touch were unbearably good, and he couldn't wait any longer. Draco pulled back just enough to look at him, blue eyes dark with desire, warm breath grazing his skin.
"Shhh… I know," he murmured, voice low, deep, sliding his hand down to the waistband of Harry's underwear.
Calmly, Draco pulled the fabric down, freeing the hard, wet length, throbbing from need. The cool air of the room hit the sensitive skin, drawing a moan from Harry. He buried his face in Draco's neck, embarrassed by his reaction, but unable to stop his hips from moving, seeking more contact, more pressure, anything to relieve the burning need inside.
Draco pulled his mouth away slowly, lips still wet, eyes fixed on Harry as if he didn't want to miss a thing. His heavy breathing brushed against Harry's face, and for a moment, the silence was so intense all that could be heard was the staggered sound of them both.
Then Draco reached for the wand resting on the nightstand, Harry's wand, once his own. Harry shivered just seeing the gesture, something strange and intimate in the scene.
"May I?" Draco asked softly, eyes still on him.
Harry nodded, throat dry, unable to form a word.
With precise movements, Draco cast the privacy spells, then murmured an anti-noise charm, and finally raised the wand one last time, stopping just before casting. He turned his gaze to Harry, serious, expression firm.
"Only if you let me," he whispered.
Harry swallowed hard, body trembling with anticipation. He nodded again, a barely audible "yes," but enough.
The spell hit him in the next instant. A cold wave ran through his body, more concentrated in his most intimate spot. Harry gasped, fingers clenching the sheets, the strange sensation of internal cold making him shiver from head to toe. Draco tossed his wand aside, and the silence was filled only by their rapid breaths.
Before Harry could think, Draco lifted him gently and summoned a pillow with nonverbal magic, without a wand, laying him down again with his hips raised. Harry blushed to his ears but didn't protest, he didn't have the strength to.
Draco ran his firm hands along Harry's thighs, slowly sliding upward until he squeezed the flesh with long fingers. The firm touch drew a muffled moan from Harry. He felt Draco's warm mouth land on the skin of his ass, spreading wet kisses, then quick, sharp nips, nothing gentle. Harry moaned loudly, hips trembling under the intense attention.
Then, without warning, the tongue slid hot against his sensitive entrance. Harry choked on his own breath, fingers digging into the sheets even tighter. The wet, insistent pressure made him shiver all over, low moans escaping uncontrollably.
Draco held his thighs firmly, spreading him more, exploring every part with his tongue, alternating between licking, pressing, and lightly nibbling the surrounding skin. Harry felt the cold from the spell inside dissipate under the warmth of Draco's mouth, and the mixture of sensations drove him insane.
"Draco," he moaned, voice faltering, not even knowing what he was asking for. His hips moved on their own, craving more, wanting everything.
Harry no longer knew where he was. The entire world had shrunk to the heat of Draco's mouth and the insistence of his tongue against his sensitive flesh. Every moan seemed to make Draco press harder, alternating between sliding his tongue and gently biting the surrounding skin, leaving marks that burned against the pleasure.
He tried to hold back but couldn't. One hand shot forward, into the middle of his legs, tangling in Draco's blond hair, pulling him closer. The moan that escaped his throat was low and desperate, a mix of pleading and surrender.
Draco moaned against him, the muffled sound vibrating directly on the spot that stole Harry's breath. The tongue pushed a little further, hot and wet, and Harry arched his back, throwing his head even further back.
Suddenly, he felt the pressure of a finger. It didn't hurt, didn't burn, just an awkward sensation that made him hold his breath. His body took a moment to adjust, and Harry felt tense for a few seconds, but Draco didn't force it. The movement was slow, patient, and the discomfort quickly gave way to a strange familiarity, making Harry exhale slowly and let his muscles relax.
He was still gasping when the second finger came. This time, the pressure was greater, deeper, and the faint burn drew a trembling moan from him, hips rising instinctively against the touch. It wasn't pain, just a warm discomfort mingled with pleasure, making his body vibrate.
Harry gripped the sheet beside him, the other hand rising to Draco's neck, pulling him closer as the blond kissed his rounded belly. The contrast of the soft mouth against sensitive skin and the fingers moving inside him left Harry lost, unable to hold back his moans.
The rhythm of Draco's fingers, sliding in and out slowly, already made him shiver, but when the tongue returned to move in tandem with them, Harry completely lost his breath. It was wet, hot, a double pressure that made him arch against the pillow, choked sounds escaping his throat uncontrollably.
And then it happened. A different touch, deeper, more precise. Harry let out a sharp, high-pitched moan, nails scratching the sheets beside him as his hips rose without permission.
The tongue pressed, explored, while the fingers insisted on that sensitive spot, each movement drawing more from him than he could contain. Heat rose too quickly, pleasure burning low in his belly, spreading through his tense muscles.
"D-Draco," he called, voice breaking, eyes squinting, unable to finish the sentence.
He was close, too close. But just as the wave began to build, Draco pulled his mouth and fingers away at once, leaving him empty. The shock drew a low, almost protesting sound from him, his whole body twisting in frustration.
He opened his eyes slowly, blurred from need, and found Draco above him. The blond watched him with intensity, breathing heavy, but movements calm. It was when Draco lifted a hand and brushed his thumb over Harry's face that he felt it. His skin was wet. Tears. He hadn't even noticed until Draco gently wiped them away.
"Shhh…" Draco murmured, carefully dabbing, his grayish-blue eyes soft and tender. "You are… Merlin, you are beautiful like this."
The whispered compliment against his skin made Harry's chest tighten. There was desire in Draco's tone, yes, but also devotion, as if Draco truly saw him whole.
"Are you okay?" the blond asked, voice low, firm yet concerned. "Do you want me to stop?"
Harry shook his head, too quickly, unable to form words. Instead, he brought his trembling hand to Draco's hip, fingers sliding down the waistband of his briefs to grip the obvious bulge there.
The sound he heard in response was almost unbelievable. A deep, husky moan escaped Draco's throat, vibrating through the air. Harry felt his body shiver at it, amazed by the realization that he was the one making him sound like that.
He wanted more. He squeezed again, firmer, and Draco responded by arching his hips against Harry's hand, letting out another sound that seemed even more desperate. Harry watched, fascinated, lips slightly parted, mind spinning just from seeing the blond so vulnerable before him.
Draco closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, there was fire there. With a slow movement, he pulled down his own briefs, freeing himself from the fabric that could no longer hide anything.
Harry moaned against Draco's mouth as he felt the hot friction, their bodies pressed together, limbs meeting in short movements, each rub drawing a new, desperate sound from him. The kiss deepened, tongues tangling in a hungry, wet rhythm, as if each sought to consume the other entirely.
Harry's hands slid down the broad back, coming to rest on firm ass. He squeezed tightly, pulling Draco even closer, hips reacting instinctively, rubbing uncontrollably for more contact. Draco groaned hoarsely into his mouth, the sound vibrating straight into Harry, making him gasp against the blond's lips.
They drifted toward the center of the bed, stumbling through kisses and touches. The mattress sank beneath them, but the kiss never broke for long, only brief pauses, gasping breaths, and then mouths met again, urgent, clumsy, and slick with saliva.
At that moment, Harry noticed the wand moving in Draco's hand. A silent, discreet spell. The gentle warmth of the magic spread between his legs, followed by a dense, hot moisture that made him shiver. Draco had just cast the lubricating spell, preparing him. Harry gasped against his mouth, heart racing, nearly losing his breath just realizing how much Draco was thinking of him, trying to make him more comfortable, taking care of him.
Draco leaned over him again, lips brushing slowly, tongue caressing his in a slow kiss, full of promise. Harry responded without hesitation, fingers still buried in the curves of his waist, pulling him closer.
"You okay?" Draco murmured, warm breath against his lips. "We can stop, " Harry felt the hard head already pressing against his sensitive entrance.
"Draco… please… fuck me already, I can't take it anymore," he begged, spreading his legs wider, offering himself without shame.
The blond groaned low, then entered slowly. The spell helped, but the pressure was still intense, different, overwhelmingly hot. Harry felt his whole body shiver, gasping loudly as pain mixed with pleasure. He grabbed Draco's shoulders tightly, eyes closing reflexively, trying to adjust to the size. Draco didn't rush, keeping a slow, patient rhythm, eyes locked on his.
"Fuck, Draco," he moaned, throwing his head onto the pillow, body arching as he felt himself opened centimeter by centimeter.
His chest rose and fell quickly, heart hammering as if it would explode. Draco's cock filled him completely, burning, aching, but perfect. Harry had never felt so full, so invaded, so surrendered. With each second, the burn eased slightly, replaced by waves of growing pleasure.
Feeling the orgasm approach too soon, he desperately squeezed the base of his own cock, trying to control himself. He didn't want to cum yet, didn't want it to end. He wanted to feel Draco inside him longer, until he lost all sense of sanity.
"You're so good, Harry… so delicious… so incredible," Draco gasped against his skin, spreading wet kisses across his face, his free hand caressing Harry's open thighs.
Harry moaned loudly, grabbing him by the ass, begging for more movement. Draco began to move, slow at first, then firmer. Pleasure consumed Harry like fire. He tried to keep his eyes open, focusing on those now-darkened blues, but soon the kiss returned, messy, wet, tongues colliding in a desperate rhythm.
When Draco hit his prostate, Harry arched completely, a guttural moan ripping from his throat. His spine curved, eyes rolled, and he scratched Draco's back hard, nails leaving red marks on the pale skin.
Draco didn't stop. He kissed and bit his neck, sucking until he would probably leave purple marks. Harry yanked his hair, moaning louder and louder, unable to think of anything besides that hard cock hitting his most sensitive spot, filling him to the core.
Draco moved inside him with a rhythm that was both devastating and careful. Each thrust made Harry gasp, body shuddering completely, the feeling of being utterly full driving him to the edge of madness. The cock throbbed inside him, stretching his walls, making him feel every inch, every fucked movement the blond made.
Draco's hands roamed over him without pause, sliding up his thighs, squeezing the firm flesh, tracing the sides of his hips. One hand moved along the curve of his belly without pressing. The motion was quick, but it drew a hoarse, broken moan from Harry, mingling with the tears beginning to blur his vision.
"Fuck, Harry… you're perfect," Draco murmured against his skin, urgently kissing his neck, leaving purple marks that burned, then biting at the collarbone.
Harry couldn't respond. He just moaned loudly, clutching the blond hair with both hands, pulling Draco against him as if he could fuse them together. The next kiss was clumsy, desperate, teeth clashing, saliva spreading, broken breaths swallowed between moans. He felt a tear slip down his temple, only realizing it fully when Draco pulled back for a moment and wiped it with his thumb, dark blue eyes filled with lust, but also a tenderness that tore him apart inside.
Harry hiccupped a short laugh, cut off quickly by a loud moan when Draco shifted angle, hitting his prostate again. His body arched uncontrollably, the round belly rising and falling with each ragged breath.
Draco took advantage of the opening, sliding his free hand down to Harry's cock, hard, already glistening at the tip with pre-come. He made a slow, firm stroke, drawing a moan and causing Harry to clamp around him instinctively.
"Merlin, Draco!" Harry cried, gripping his hair tighter, hips trembling for more friction, unable to decide which was better, the pressure inside or the firm hand on his cock.
Draco kissed him without pause, leaving bites and suck marks along his jaw, neck, down to the collarbones. Harry felt teeth scratch the thin skin, strong suction leaving hot marks, and each new mark made him squeeze even tighter around Draco's cock.
Tears now flowed freely, not from pain, but from pleasure so intense his body couldn't contain it. He tried to kiss him back, but his lips trembled, moans escaping in the middle, turning each kiss into a messy mix of saliva, teeth, and desire.
Draco sped up his hand on Harry's cock, the other firmly holding his thigh open. The sensation was unbearable, being full to the soul inside while being pushed to the limit from outside. The orgasm approached, closer and closer, and Harry whimpered against his mouth, unable to form words.
"So beautiful like this… crying just for me," Draco murmured in a hoarse voice, sliding his mouth to bite his shoulder, hips never stopping, each thrust deeper, more precise, making Harry moan without caring about anything else.
Harry could only babble his name, begging, pleading for more, lost in pleasure, his belly moving gently with the rhythm of their bodies. He was on the verge of shattering.
Harry felt he couldn't last another second. Draco's cock thrust deep, scraping precisely against his prostate, while the firm hand jerked him in a cruelly perfect rhythm. The heat surged suddenly, too fast, an overwhelming wave consuming his entire body.
"D-Draco!" he screamed, arching, fingers clutching the blond hair as the world seemed to explode.
The climax spilled in hot streams over his abdomen and stomach, even splashing onto his chest, and Harry sobbed loudly, vision blurred by the relentless tears. Draco slowed, stopping his hand, nearly pausing his hip movements.
"Shhh, calm down, sweetheart, you've already come, you need to breathe," the voice was low, worried, but hoarse with desire.
Harry shook his head desperately, gripping Draco's body with his open legs, pulling him closer, deeper into himself.
"N-non-stop, Draco, please, don't stop, I need…" His voice broke in sobs, moans cut off, every word coming out with effort.
Draco's blue eyes fixed on his, hesitant for a moment, but the pleading was enough. He started moving again, slow at first, then firmer, and Harry moaned loudly, his whole body trembling from the overstimulation. Each thrust was too much, a mix of sharp pleasure and delicious pain that made him cry even more.
"Aah, Merlin, Draco," he moaned, voice breaking in a loud sob, fingers scratching weakly at Draco's back.
He felt open, vulnerable, his cock still throbbing too sensitively after the orgasm, yet he loved every second, each new thrust making him weaker, more lost. Draco kissed his tears, his neck, his collarbones.
"You're killing me, Harry… so tight, so hot," he groaned against his skin, voice low and broken.
Harry whimpered without stopping, needy moans begging for more, even when he seemed unable to take any more. Then he felt Draco's body tense above him, the rhythm becoming uneven, deep, desperate.
One last hoarse moan escaped Draco's lips, muffled against Harry's mouth as he spilled inside him, hot, pulsing deep. The blond collapsed completely, hips buried against Harry's body, filling him in strong waves.
Harry moaned with him, loud, feeling every hot surge inside, pleasure crawling back through his spine despite being overly sensitive. His body trembled, but his heart felt like it would burst from the sensation of being whole, filled, loved.
Draco collapsed over him carefully, resting his weight on his arms, still inside, breathing heavily against his mouth. Harry kissed him through tears, unable to stop smiling amid the crying.
He whimpered at the sensitivity as Draco withdrew from him, finally able to breathe again when Draco left a kiss on his forehead and sat beside him.
Harry couldn't move, his whole body limp and sore, as if dismantled from the inside. He just turned his face when he felt Draco's fingers slowly tangle in his hair, a lazy caress that made him close his eyes for a moment.
Draco smiled small, satisfied in an almost teasing way.
"You look wrecked," he commented in that low, hoarse voice, though the sparkle in his eyes betrayed the tease.
"And whose fault is that, Malfoy?" Harry huffed, laughing weakly despite the exhaustion.
"The baby's, obviously," Draco raised an eyebrow, theatrical. "He took up all the space… I just enjoyed what was left," he touched the belly lightly.
Harry laughed properly, tossing his head against the pillow. "You're ridiculous."
"I'm amazing," Draco shot back, far too serious not to sound ridiculous. "And, let's be honest, you don't seem to be complaining."
Harry's laughter dissolved into a satisfied sigh as Draco rose just enough to reach the wand left on the bedside table. With a swift movement, he cast a cleaning spell over them, the immediate warmth of the magic spreading across their skin and washing away the sticky discomfort of intimacy.
Only then, with his usual calm, Draco lay back down beside him, pulling Harry against him. They remained silent for a while, breaths mingling, sharing the warmth.
Harry eventually turned onto his side, trying to find a comfortable position for his belly, but didn't protest when Draco followed, pressing his body to his in an instinctive spooning.
Draco's fingers began tracing lazy lines across Harry's exposed skin, gliding along his back until they paused over a design.
"Hm," he murmured softly, curious. "So the Golden Boy hides tattoos."
Harry held his breath for a second. Draco had never seen them, never mentioned them. He didn't respond, just smiled to himself, eyes closed, feigning indifference.
Draco didn't push. He continued exploring with his fingers, following the inked lines as if trying to memorize the patterns etched there. Then he buried his face in the nape of Harry's neck, leaving a light kiss before settling in.
Harry closed his eyes completely, surrendering to the heat that enveloped them, not before taking one of Draco's hands and kissing the knuckles. The constant touch, Draco's breath against his neck, the comfortable weight of being held.
And so, they fell asleep entwined.