Fic: Everything Forgotten (To Memory), part 4

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FIC: Everything Forgotten (To Memory), part 4

Gift for:  envy_venis
Summary: Harry couldn't remember and Draco knew too much. Or was it the other way around?
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Thanks: To my delightful prereaders and betas sapphirescribe, otta_ff, saltygoodness24, twilightmundi, and arcadianmaggie, I offer you endless thanks and epic squishes. xoxo





Part 4.

 

Blood poured from Draco's face, and quickly his clothes turned a deep scarlet over his chest from the deep cuts Harry had inflicted with his spell. Draco fell backwards onto the floor of the bathroom, splashing to the ground.

"No!" the cry came from Harry as he ran to him, the pale skin becoming even whiter as the red of his blood swirled into the water. "No—I didn't...no!"

Harry fell to his knees over Draco, who lay there shaking uncontrollably as the pool of blood grew ever wider around him. Harry was aware that Moaning Myrtle was screaming but all he could see was the thick crimson that continued to pour from Draco.

Suddenly Harry was shoved aside as Snape knelt beside him, tracing the gushing wounds and incanting as he did so. Quicker than Harry expected, the blood stopped flowing and the wounds closed and Snape was leading Draco to Pomfrey.

Harry stood there, shaken to his core, and entirely frozen as he watched the blood float along the surface, stretching curls of red farther and farther into the clear waters. He was completely in shock. "I...I didn't...I didn't mean to..."

Harry's words, if he managed to say them at all, were lost in Myrtle's continued screams.

Harry yanked his head out of the Pensieve.

He thought he could handle it, thought he wanted to know, but he knew now that it was a mistake. His stomach turned over and he tried not to gag.

"I'm sorry," he managed to say to Draco before he dashed to the nearest loo. Slamming the door shut, he fell to his knees and his stomach emptied itself into the toilet. "Fuck," he whispered. They were both children. And he'd almost killed Draco. He hadn't meant it, but he had; he'd nearly killed him.

Watching it twice in a row nearly killed Harry. He gagged again and braced himself over the toilet.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered to the empty room when he finished.

He heard a soft knock on the door. Flushing the toilet, he sat back against the wall, his head in his hands "Don't come in."

The doorknob turned slowly, opening despite Harry's protest.

"Come on, then," was all Draco said as he cast a quick cleansing charm on the bathroom and on Harry himself before pulling Harry to his feet and back out into the hallway.

"Draco, I'm so sorry," Harry said again. It would be impossible to convey exactly how much...

"Look, Harry, I know you are. And clearly you had no idea what the spell would do, and, well, I wasn't exactly faultless myself," Draco said. "I was about to Crucio you. But well, no harm done, right? Against all odds, we're both here today. And now that we've watched it from both sides, we can deal with it, and move on."

Draco started off down the hall, gesturing for Harry to follow. "Come along. I've ordered Mipsy to make you some tea and bring us some especially bland biscuits. I, on the other hand, plan to drink something a bit stronger. I hope after your stomach settles, you'll join me."

"Right. Okay. Good." Harry followed after him gratefully, thinking that something stronger might be just what the Healer ordered.

~oOo~

"Memories are rubbish," Draco announced, taking another drink of his wine. His words were slightly slurred but Harry regarded him seriously because he could tell Draco was trying very hard to make a point. He was, after all, speaking quite loudly.

After thinking for a minute, Harry agreed. "Mine certainly seem to be." His head felt very heavy as he hung over the side of the overstuffed chair.

"Mine too, mine too," Draco murmured from his spot on the adjacent love seat.

"Then why do we want them back again?" Harry asked, not quite able to remember. He took another drink. He suspected his glass held at least a few answers.

Draco appeared to be deep in thought as he sipped his wine, so Harry took advantage of the time to watch how his throat bobbed when he swallowed.

"I have absolutely no idea," Draco finally answered.

"Prob'ly cause they're ours," Harry said after a minute.

Harry felt Draco's gaze and looked up. Draco looked impressed. Harry felt warm then, but it was probably just from the wine.

Maybe he could impress Draco further. He raised his glass into the air. "I think...that memories...are th'key to the future," Harry said. "The future of all Wizardkind. And hippogriffs. Well, maybe not th'hippogriffs. Do you think hippagrifts have memories?" He lowered his glass to think about it. "I think they do," he said. "Memories and feelings."

Harry sipped his wine. "D'you think hip—hippodrifts fall in love?"

Draco snorted. "If they're smart, they don't."

Draco's comment stung, but Harry steeled his face. The wine made it difficult, but he did his best.

"Oh, don'listen to me, what do I know of...hippogriffs?" Draco said, catching the frown Harry hadn't meant to leave on his face.

"That's true!" It was Harry's turn to laugh. "Good point." Draco hadn't exactly got on with Buckbeak, had he? Harry could laugh at it now, the look on Draco's face when Buckbeak advanced.

Draco chuckled, and something about the sound made Harry snort. Merlin, he really needed to put down the rest of his wine, but he couldn't stop laughing even long enough to do that, because the sight of Draco's red face and his unexpectedly high pitched laughter made Harry shake and laugh even harder himself—so much so that he sloshed wine out of his glass and onto his jeans.

"Oh! Bollocks!" Harry looked down at his reddened lap. He gulped the last of his wine, so as not to spill more, and stood up. He looked at Draco. "I'm pants at cleaning spells. Fix me?"

Draco laughed harder, and wiped his eyes. "You want me to fix your crotch then, do you?"

"C'mon. Just take care of it will you? Or I'll just have to sit back down and get it all over your silver sofa," Harry whinged.

"Grey. Slate grey. Silver would be tacky," Draco pointed out, breathing deeply as he tried to maintain his composure and not burst out laughing again. "Okay, okay, hold still." He aimed his less than completely steady wand at Harry's bits. It was slightly alarming.

"Evanesco!"

Harry gaped at where his jeans used to be. "What the? Draco!"

Draco's cheeks pinked as he looked at his wand curiously. "Thas odd. I meant to say Tergeo. Din't I say Tregoeo? Maybe that's why McGonagall was always saying not to charm drunk."

"No, you did not say Tre-tergeo. You vanished my favourite jeans!" Harry realized he was standing in the middle of the room in his pants. He looked down. His knees looked particularly knobby and his socks very clearly didn't match. He covered his bits with his hands. "Draco!" he huffed.

"Well, I got rid of the problem at least, didn't I?" Draco smirked, clearly trying to catch a glimpse.

Harry gave him a look.

"Okay, okay. Here, relax." Draco transfigured a dark green throw pillow into a blanket for Harry, who wrapped around his waist as he sat down again on his chair, grumbling the entire time. "More wine," Harry said hopefully, figuring that after another bottle he might be able to forget how Draco's eyes had travelled over his lower body minutes earlier.

Draco nodded and poured them each another glass.

They lapsed into silence. Harry tried not to think about how he was spending time trouser-less in Malfoy Manor. He glanced at Draco; his face was still reddened. Harry felt his own cheek with his hand. He was definitely flushed as well. Merlin, it had been a day. Too much wine and too many memories. Painful ones. Too many. Way too many...

Harry didn't want to share memories like that with Draco, he didn't want Draco weighed down with his past. He wouldn't have wanted that for anyone, but especially not Draco, not now when he was growing to like and even respect him. Stupid git.

Harry swirled the crimson liquid in his glass but it only reminded him of what he had seen in the Pensieve, the deep red that poured from Draco's body. He downed the last of the liquid and somehow managed to get to his feet, his blanket gathered around his waist. It seemed imperative that he pour another glass as soon as possible.

He wandered over to Draco, who graciously refilled his glass. Harry collapsed next to Draco on the loveseat. The empty spot was both nearer to Draco and the wine, so it seemed ideal to Harry. Plus, he was feeling a bit stumbly, so he decided it best to minimize any further walking so as not to appear uncoordinated in front of the ever graceful Draco.

His eyes moved to the man beside him, the tall, lean frame—still proud, but no longer of the wrong things. Draco was staring off into space, his lips moving slightly. He appeared to be reciting the words to the Muggle national anthem, so Harry decided it was okay to interrupt. Especially because he had something so very important to say. He took a deep swallow of his wine and gathered his courage.

"I'm sorry I sextumstempraed you, Draco," he said.

Draco paused, his mouth still open, as he looked over at Harry. "You did sectumsextraed me, didn't you?" He started laughing. "Merlin, that is hard to say. Sectumsextras, sextrasemptum, sextumsempra. Sectumsemtums. Sep-tum-semp-ra, is that right?" Draco stuck out his tongue and pinched it between two fingers. Like his lips and cheeks, it was reddened from the wine. "Mah tongah isth mithbehafing."

Harry reached over for Draco's arm. "I'm serious."

"He'th theriouth," Draco echoed, still gripping his tongue, and nodding in mock severity.

"Draco."

Draco released his tongue and looked at Harry. "I know you are. I accept your apology. And I apologize for attempting to Crucio you. Now please, can we not talk about it? I want to forget and the wine can only do so much if you keep mentioning it."

Harry nodded and drank deeply from his glass until it was empty. He held it out to Draco who refilled both of their glasses.

"Red looks good on you," Draco said after a moment, as he looked at Harry, who wore a dark maroon shirt that Hermione had given him.

"Thank you. Er...It looks good on you too," he responded after a moment, emboldened by the wine.

Draco looked confused. "I'm not wearing red."

Harry bit his lip and decided maybe he'd had enough to drink. "Right. I meant...your cheeks. You're all red. Flushed. From the wine. It makes, well, ...you look...the red makes your eyes all big and silvery."

"Oh. Well, thank you, I suppose."

"Not silvery in a tacky way," Harry elaborated.

"Yes, I got that. Thank you."

Harry glanced up and saw that Draco looked pleased. It made him smile.

He set down his glass and rolled his head along his shoulders. Merlin, he was tired.

"I should go," Harry said. He tried to get to his feet but he was caught up in his blanket and extricating his legs seemed fairly well impossible.

"You're troo dunk. Too drunk," Draco replied. "You can stay."

"But we didn't finish the guest rooms yet. They're still empty." Harry kicked one leg free at last and attempted to stand, managing to fall partially off of the seat and onto the floor. He finally managed to get to his feet, and only then realized the blanket remained around his ankles. He quickly bent down to grab it, hiking it up to his chest. He sighed. At least he'd chosen to wear reasonably good pants that morning.

"I can transfigure the sofa into a bed."

"And risk vanishing it by mistake?" Harry grinned. "I'm okay." He said the words too loudly, he knew, but he couldn't stay. He'd already lost his jeans and his dignity. It was definitely, positively time to—

"Stay anyway?"

"Okay."

Harry returned to his seat beside Draco, but this time he dared sit a bit closer, and when Draco shifted accordingly, Harry decided it was okay to maybe rest his head on Draco's shoulder. He settled in and pulled the blanket up over them both with a soft sigh, closing his eyes to rest them for a moment. The wine softened everything, even Draco's bony shoulder.

"Draco?" he said after a moment.

"Yes?"

"Did you vanish my trousers on purpose?"

Draco chuckled softly and Harry felt him relax into the sofa. He was glad they'd taken the time to figure out the ever-comfortable charm for the furniture. "No. Maybe. No, not on purpose."

Harry smiled, his eyes still closed. "Okay."

He felt Draco's breathing even out.

"Harry?"

"Hmmm?"

"I don't drool in my sleep."

Harry tried unsuccessfully to open his eyes. "I never said you did."

"Oh. Hmm. Must have been a memory."

"Right. Must've." Harry'd want to see that memory for sure. Best to do it in the morning though...

"Nox," Draco whispered.

"Night."

~oOo~

Harry awoke to a brutal headache, a respectable amount of nausea, a folded pair of Draco's trousers, a small vial of hangover potion, a slip of parchment, and an otherwise empty couch.

The hangover potion was the first item he reached for, and while his stomach gurgled at the small movement, he was able to hold his nose and swallow it down. It bubbled in his stomach, as expected, but after burping twice, it began to settle.

After using a small charm to adjust the fit of the trousers—slightly shorter, but a tad wider at the waist—he stood up and put them on. He blinked against the bright light in the room, but after stretching a bit and giving the potion time to work its magic, he felt decidedly better.

He picked up the parchment. "Breakfast on the veranda."

Well, the note certainly gave away very little about how Draco was feeling that morning, but then, it did offer directions as to the nearest sustenance, and for that, Harry was grateful.

After a quick trip to the loo and a Scourgify to clean his teeth, he headed outside, where he could smell freshly baked pumpkin muffins waiting.

When Harry entered the veranda, Draco looked up. Harry ran his hand through his hair and scratched the back of his neck, slightly uncertain what to say after their night of drinking and the impromptu sleepover.

Draco didn't look the least bit phased, however. In fact, he seemed to be in an excellent mood. He gestured for Harry to sit, then poured a second cup of tea and handed him a muffin, all without once insulting the state of his hair. And, while he couldn't be completely sure, Harry was fairly certain his eyes were a bit more sparkly than usual.

With a crack, Mipsy entered, wringing her hands. "Mipsy is to be apologizing, Harry Potter, sir. Mipsy wanted to be making your favourite, but we are being out of the ingredients."

Harry was confused. "This is great, Mipsy. Thank you. I love pumpkin muffins."

She looked relieved. "Mr. Harry Potter, sir, is too kind. Master says Mr. Potter, sir, likes his buns, but Mipsy can only be making muffins this morning."

"Thank you, Mipsy, that will be all," Draco coughed, as Harry grinned.

"Mipsy," Harry said. "Does Draco like buns too?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Harry Potter, sir! Mipsy is hearing him say he likes Mr. Harry Potter's buns with nuts, sir! Mipsy is to be wishing for this recipe."

Harry snorted. Draco buried his head in his hands. "Mipsy, please go to the house and clean something. Anything."

She bowed slightly. "Thank you, Master. Mipsy is to be going now."

"Well," Harry said after she Apparated away. "That was illuminating."

Draco huffed and stood up from the table to look over the gardens. He took his tea with him, sipping at it in the silence of the morning, as Harry sat and enjoyed the muffin along with the view.

"I thought we should try something different today," Draco said eventually.

"Sure," Harry agreed quickly. He wasn't sure he could handle a repeat of the day before. They'd been sharing some of the most difficult memories with each other, something Harry knew was necessary, if highly unpleasant. He was glad Draco seemed to feel similarly.

"We've been watching so many memories related to the war lately. I thought maybe we should try to remember some...ah...more pleasant occurrences, shall we say?"

Harry frowned at the teasing tone of Draco's voice. "Like what?" He was pretty sure Draco had already shared most of the happy memories he had, laughing with Ron and Hermione over Butterbeers, wandering around Diagon Alley with Neville and Luna as the Wizarding section of London rebuilt itself after the war, and the like.

"Aren't you curious about your first kiss? Your first crush? Your first...everything?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

Oh. Those sorts of memories. It was true they'd avoided discussing them.

Harry even avoided watching those sorts of Draco's memories.

Well, most of the time.

When Harry had his hands in his pants after a long day of sitting beside Draco, watching the shape of his shoulders and the back of his neck as he leaned over the Pensieve, well, that was another story. Harry may have watched a few of those kinds of memories then. Or possibly a lot of them. Twice.

Harry bit his lip. The idea was intriguing, but the potential for intense embarrassment seemed rather high. Still, he wanted to know about his own firsts, and there really was no other way...

He swallowed. "Okay."

~oOo~

"I...er...hafta go. I'm sorry. Um, see you tomorrow then? Right, okay."

Harry knew his voice sounded reasonably strangled and possibly quite high in pitch, but he couldn't worry about that. He grabbed his things and dashed to the nearest Floo, making sure his back was to Draco the entire time. When the ashes settled, he was standing back in his own home.

Merlin. What had he been thinking?

It hadn't started off so badly, sharing their "first time" memories. Harry had watched curiously as his younger self kissed Cho Chang, his first time kissing anyone, as Molly Weasley's pecks on his forehead certainly didn't count. He'd been confused afterwards—it couldn't have been said to have gone well; there were tears, after all. They'd then watched his experiences with Ginny and Harry'd gone so far as to attempt to make love to her—a funny way of describing it, considering she loved him and he wanted to love her. Watching it made him cringe though. It had been excruciatingly clumsy and nearly silent but for Harry's apologies and her sounds of discomfort. They hadn't known what to say, and both of them had trouble finishing at all. It was definitely not an experience Harry wanted to repeat, and it was more than enough to confirm that he just wasn't interested in her (or any other girl) that way. He hadn't been shocked, really, considering he hadn't exactly spent his nights in the tent during the war dreaming of any girl's face. They broke up soon afterwards.

They next watched Harry's first kiss with another man, which it turns out had been rather unremarkable. After the war he'd gotten to a point where he had simply been tired of waiting, so he wore a glamour to a Muggle club and had just...done it. Right there, in front of everyone. Kissed a man. And no one even noticed. Even the Muggle barely seemed to notice, as he'd wandered off toward the bar soon after. Harry felt a bit disappointed when he watched it, and he knew he felt similarly at the time, imagining maybe he'd just made kissing into more of a big deal than it really was.

Draco refrained from commenting after they'd finished watching those memories, for which Harry was grateful. But while slightly embarrassing, none of those scenes had been too troublesome. Especially since they'd gone right ahead and watched Draco's first kisses too. Harry bit his own tongue when they watched Draco's first kiss with Pansy, which had been no less awkward that Harry's first kiss, especially considering it resulted in an exchange of hexes that left Pansy's lips thoroughly engorgio'ed and Draco's belly button temporarily vanished. Draco's next kiss was slightly better. He and Zabini managed a thorough snog until they were interrupted by Narcissa's footsteps on the stairs.

No, those memories hadn't been too bad, really. After that, though, they got more and more difficult. Because that's when they got good.

Draco frotting against some Durmstrang boy after a Death Eater meeting, as the two sought out the only release from the tension that was within their reach.

Harry being thoroughly snogged by a Muggle boy in France after the war, the boy grinding up against him as Harry was pressed into the back of a building one autumn afternoon, making Harry lose control and come in his pants.

Draco's prick, glistening as it slid between Zabini's lips until Draco cried out...

Harry, in another glamour, staring down as another wizard took him in his hand and stroked him, offering to do more...

That's when Harry had pulled his face from the waters of the Pensieve and bolted for the Floo. He couldn't take it any longer, couldn't watch further. It was too much. He was achingly hard, which was not something he wanted Draco to see. Plus he was certain that if he watched one more moment, he'd never be able to hold himself back from simply tackling Draco to the floor without any sort of permission whatsoever—the only question being whether he'd take the time to remove their trousers and pants or simply just vanish all their clothing at once.

His need was no less acute after making it home, so Harry dashed off to the shower, peeling off his clothing along the way. Stepping under the hot spray of water, he slicked his skin with water and soap and took care of matters.

He steadfastly refused to recall any of the memories he'd seen earlier that day as he did so.

He was successful, too—for about 45 seconds.

Because really, he may have saved the Wizarding world, but he was only human. And resistance, it seemed, was entirely pointless.

~oOo~

Harry was quite unsure what to do with himself as he wandered through his empty house that night after dinner. He hadn't gotten home this early since, well, since before the accident. Every waking moment had been spent with Draco, it seemed.

At a certain point, he sprawled out on his sofa with a back issue of Quidditch Weekly. He'd probably already read it, but if he had done so, it was before the accident. It seemed new enough to him even if it was technically dated nearly a year prior.

He was halfway through the article on Victor Krum's tragic decline when Hermione firecalled. Frankly, Harry counted himself lucky that he was decent; he hadn't been expecting her to pop up in his hearth.

"Harry! Where have you been? I've called every night this week, and you're never here. We've been trying to invite you over to dinner. Ron and I thought it would be fun to reminisce about the time we destroyed the Horcrux with the basilisk fang. You haven't remembered that yet, have you? How's Saturday evening? That will be fine with us too—"

"Hermione, wait. No, I—"

"Oh, it's no bother to cook, Harry, I promise. I'll mark it in my calendar. Also, I wanted to ask you about your availability next week; I'm looking for a few volunteers to help staff the S.P.E.W. booth outside the Magical Creatures office during the Ministry career fair, and well, I know you're not working right now, so I just knew you'd be eager to help. I'll put you down for Wednesday, then?"

"I'm not sure that I—"

"Sure you can, Harry. No need to be shy, all you'll have to do is hand out pamphlets. I suppose people will want you to autograph them then, won't they? Hmm, I'll have to remember to bring some extra quills. I'm sure we'll get lots of people stopping by if they know you'll be there. Oh, thanks, Harry. You're the best."

"Hermione! Stop. No."

She looked confused. "You can't? Hmm, I suppose it is a bit last moment, but we've been trying to reach you for days now. You should have owled that you were going away. We were worried."

"I wasn't away, I've been over at the Manor working with Draco, is all."

"With Malfoy?" She frowned. "Are you guys still having to spend so many hours together? I'd have thought by now that..."

"That what? Thought that they'd have found a counter-curse? Because you know they haven't. Or maybe you thought that I'd somehow be able to get 19 years of my life back overnight? Because that hasn't happened either. We're working on it, but these things take time."

"Can Ron and I help? We miss you, Harry. Malfoy isn't the only one who remembers things. If you spent time with us, you wouldn't have to spend so much time with him. Is it terrible, Harry? It must be terrible."

"It's not so bad, really. Not anymore. Draco is...better now. And his memories in my head aren't as distracting anymore. At first they were all new, so it was hard to ignore them. But now I've seen him take his first broom ride a few times now, you know? So I don't really pay attention when it pops into my head. It makes it easier to concentrate. Though, honestly, I'm sure I'll always be highly disturbed when I remember some of the Death Eater activity. I can't wait for those memories to be gone. But I'm sure Draco feels the same way about some of mine though. No one wants to shudder every time they walk by a door under a set of stairs. But we're getting through it."

Hermione looked sceptical, however. "You...and...Draco...you're getting through it. Together."

Harry nodded in the affirmative.

"And you don't need Ron or me."

Harry shook his head.

Hermione bit her lip. "Are you sure, Harry? Why don't you come over for dinner tomorrow? You don't have to wait until Saturday. Come tomorrow."

"I can't, Hermione. I'll be at Draco's. But please, you don't need to worry about me. I'm fine now."

She eyed him. "What about next week? If you'd just man the S.P.E.W.—"

"You know I hate that sort of thing, with the crowds and the attention."

"Oh, how do you know?" Hermione pouted. "Figures that you remember next to nothing, but that you're quite certain of."

Harry laughed. "I'll owl you next week about dinner."

She brightened at that. "Good. You were worrying me, wanting to spend all your time with Malfoy—"

"Draco."

"Right. Draco." She shook her head. "We're here for you too. You know that, right?"

"I do. Thanks. Tell Ron hullo for me."

"All right. Bye."

"Bye, 'Mione." he said, closing off the Floo.

~oOo~

Harry was so completely out of sorts that he decided to simply go to bed and start over again the next day. He fell asleep surprisingly quickly, possibly because the night before he'd been up so late until he eventually passed out on Draco's couch.

His dreams, however, were less surprising, considering all he'd seen that day in the Pensieve. Vivid and unrelenting, he watched again and again as Draco kissed Slytherin after Slytherin, male and female, with each kiss getting progressively more desperate.

Nor did his subconscious relent when Draco ran out of Slytherins. Draco began snogging Ravenclaws before moving on to Hufflepuffs. By the time he reached Zacharias Smith, the kisses had become lengthy groping sessions, and only when Draco vanished Zacharias' trousers, did Harry awake, sweaty, panting, and rock hard.

Figures Draco'd never snog a Gryffindor, even his subconscious knew that.

Except he would, a small voice said. And you have a memory that proves it.

He bit his lip. Should he watch it, finally? Did he want to see how they'd been together? That day in the Pensieve he'd seen Draco's face screwed up in pleasure from the touch of another. He'd seen flashes of their own encounter as well, but only short glimpses. He'd never intentionally watched. But now, in the dark of night, in the privacy of his bed, he could really watch it. After watching Draco kiss the others, Harry wanted to know how Draco'd kissed him. Wanted to see how Draco had run his hands over Harry's body and how Harry had touched him in turn. Wanted to know what Draco'd liked, and hear the sounds he'd made as Harry fucked him...

Harry groaned. Gods, how had he gotten himself into this mess? And worse, he wasn't even completely sure he wanted to get out.

Merlin forgive him, and Draco too. He wanted to know.

He closed his eyes and let the memory wash over him.

"Why are you doing this, Potter?" he leaned over to whisper in Harry's ear, his voice low.

Harry Summoned the oil from his night stand, pouring just a bit onto his palm before he tossed the small jar aside once more.

Potter shoved back from the wall and spun around, his green eyes bright and defiant. "I'm not gonna tell anyone. Gods, I was just trying to be nice!"

Draco gazed at him. "No one's that nice, Potter." There was always a reason, always something to gain. Any decent Slytherin knew that.

"I don't know." Potter spat, but then he was clinging to Draco's jumper and Draco could feel the heat of Potter's hands on his chest. He blinked his eyes against the assault.

Harry watched Draco accuse him of things that he didn't even believe himself. In the memory, Harry's cheeks were flushed as their emotions ran high, but Draco seemed to think Harry was handsome like that, mussed and angry and ready to fight. But when Harry had touched Malfoy's chest in the memory, Draco had experienced a surge of desire so strong that Harry couldn't help but be swept up in it as he lay there in the dark, already on edge from his vivid dreams. He took himself in his slicked hand, touching himself lightly, as though he had a prayer of lasting long at all.

"Potter," he said, because that seemed to say everything while admitting nothing.

Harry closed his fist around his prick, running it slowly up and down his length.

Potter squirmed under his gaze, so Draco said it again. "Potter." Green eyes held his own, and he knew what Potter wanted, likely before Potter knew it himself. He could see the desire in Potter's eyes, nervous but eager. And Merlin, he wanted it too. He'd never admitted that before, but with Potter clinging to his sweater, he could acknowledge it now, if only to himself.

Draco wanted him; the thought made Harry groan. Wanted him, wanted him, wanted him. Harry's head swam with the knowledge. Gods, Harry couldn't wait for Draco to...

Potter's green eyes widened almost comically behind his glasses as Draco slowly leaned in. Slow, so Potter didn't spook. Slow so that Draco didn't combust. Slowly. Very, very slowl—

Kissed him.

Harry licked his lips and wished he could feel Draco's kiss on them. Pinching his eyes shut, he lost himself again in Draco's memory—it was all he had.

"Mgmefmph," Potter said when Draco's mouth touched his, and he pulled back abruptly. Did he honestly not know what Draco had been about to do? Yet Potter was still there at least, his fingers against Draco's chest and his eyes locked on Draco's lips. He wasn't breathing.

Draco began to get defensive because Potter was just standing there looking all ridiculously clueless and Draco had about had it. He was dreaming up cutting insults especially for Potter when—

"Fuck it," Potter said, ever eloquent, before kissing Draco back. It was worth the wait.

Harry smiled to himself. Draco was so pleased when Harry seemed properly awed after their next kiss. Not to mention, he was reasonably chuffed to find out Malfoy thought him a good kisser.

Potter backed up against the wall, and Draco leaned in, watching him lick his lips. They stared at each other, sizing one another up as though trying to determine who would blink first, until that didn't make sense any longer, because really, they both had lips, which meant Draco had better things to do with his time.

They kissed again, messy and hungry and maybe a little desperate, and Draco wrapped his hand around Potter's neck, holding him closely. The soft whine Potter made sent tingles down Draco's spine.

Yes. Harry's heart may have appreciated the kissing, but his prick was grateful they were getting to the good bits. He stroked himself as he watched them snog each other senseless.

Draco pressed against Potter's hip; they were both hard. Potter reached for Draco's arse, pulling Draco even more tightly against his body.

Gods, did Harry wish that he could feel Draco's heat against him...No warming charm could ever replicate the sensation of a body, heavy and hot and hard as it pressed against his.

Draco scraped his teeth along Potter's neck. He tasted like he smelled, slightly salty with a bit of spice. It was masculine and in no way smelled like he saved the world, which relieved Draco, because he wasn't sure he could have dealt with that.

The fact that he couldn't remember what Malfoy tasted like made his lungs hurt, but soon Harry was lost again in the memory, because Draco lifted his shirt and dragged his fingers over his abdomen and up to his chest, and it made Harry's skin prickle just imagining it.

Running his hand up under Potter's shirt, Draco found Potter's nipples before dragging his fingers along the heated skin. "Gods," Potter said, but then he was questioning everything and that was simply ridiculous, Draco thought, because they both were very obviously aware of how much better this felt than hexing or ignoring each other.

Draco licked Potter's throat and told him what he could do if he wanted. He tried not to let on how badly he wanted it too. Potter groaned, a sound that made Draco's cock harden further.

Harry continued to stroke himself as he watched, lazily twisting his hand over his head as he remembered how Draco had licked and nibbled at his throat, teasing him with broad swipes of his tongue and open kisses.

He reached for Harry's zip, biting back a smile as Potter jerked when his hand brushed over the erection straining against his trousers.

Draco couldn't even be bothered to get fully undressed, he wanted Potter so badly, and Potter didn't seem to mind. Draco was only wearing an unbuttoned shirt by then, and Harry's trousers and pants were at least down around his ankles, and that was good enough under the circumstances.

Merlin, the sight of them together, nearly naked and completely exposed—it made Harry crazy. Both of their pricks were heavy and hard, and while Draco didn't spend much time looking at himself, Harry could tell he was gorgeous. His hand sped up, and he gripped himself harder.

When he was spun to face the wall, Draco felt Potter's warmth behind him, felt the brush of wandless magic cast by one of the most powerful wizards of their time. Draco groaned softly and craned his neck, wanting those lips, that mouth, just as much as he wanted the rest of him. He wanted him. Wanted him, wanted him, wanted him. He grasped at the wall as Potter touched him, curling his finger and setting Draco's nerves on fire.

Harry reached down with his other had to tease his own arse, wanting to feel what Draco did. Bloody hell.

Draco's desperation increased exponentially when he felt Potter's prick running along his arse. "Fuck me. Please," he panted.

Harry's fist flew over his prick, there was no helping it. Watching Draco like this, Harry could barely keep it together.

Potter pressed into him, stretching him past any possible semblance of comfort, and making him bloody like it. He gasped, pressed his cheek to the wall and tried to breathe through the intrusion, and Harry just kept pushing into him, further and further as Draco relaxed, and Draco wasn't sure he'd ever get over what Potter was doing to him, how he was taking him.

Harry grunted, still stroking himself as he fingered his arsehole, all the while watching Draco pressed to the wall. Bloody fucking fuck.

Potter thrust into him, filling him, wrapped around him, clinging to him as he canted his hips. It was sweaty and Draco was grunting as he scraped his fingernails against the wall, trying to find some way to hold on. He stroked himself with his other hand.

"Yes, just there," he groaned as Potter pressed into him in such a way that his body caught fire.

Harry's body was wound tight and he couldn't take much more. He squeezed his eyes closed. Just a little more...

"Malfoy..." Potter groaned. "Gonna..."

"Do it."

Potter pressed in as far as he could, his release making him tremble as he clung to Draco's body.

Draco's memory was still playing out in Harry's mind and he grunted as he jerked and came hard, his release coating his stomach.

Potter turned Draco and they both watched as he took Draco's prick in his hand, stroking with hands powerful enough to defeat the Dark Lord.

Harry's heart rate began to return to a respectable rhythm and his breathing slowed as he watched Draco finish.

"Potter." His voice was strangled.

Potter kissed his mouth, silencing him. Draco pinched his eyes shut as he was finally overwhelmed and lasting a moment longer was no longer a possibility. He jerked into Potter's fist.

"Fuck, Malfoy..." Harry said, awe in his voice.

Harry agreed entirely. It was utterly amazing, what they'd done to each other, not to mention that it was the hottest thing he'd ever seen in his life. And now that he'd seen it once, he knew that he wanted to experience it again.

And again.

And again after that.

He yawned and lazily cast a cleaning spell before he curled into his pillow, his body now blissfully relaxed.

Again and again and again, he thought as he drifted off to sleep. And again and again after that...

--> Go to Part 5 <--