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"Quickly," Draco whispered urgently. A hand clasped over Harry's sleeve in a vice grip as he pulled him down the hallway, and their socks squeaked against the polished floorboards as they shuffled over to their destination. Harry smiled, at the thought of what this would surely lead to, at the thought of Draco in general, really, but his voice carried a reprimanding tone when he told him, "Careful, I just ironed this."
"What- who cares?" the blond huffed, dragging him through a door to their left. If Harry guessed correctly, it was the powder room closest to Arabella Black's bedroom. There was no way to tell for sure though, because the door was slammed shut as soon as they were both inside, shrouding the couple in darkness. Luckily, every room in Number Twelve was now squeaky clean, thanks to one Draco Malfoy. He wouldn't accept having to fuck in a dusty room when push came to pull which, if you knew him, happened pretty much all the time.
Draco put his hands in Harry's hair, fingers sliding back over his head through thick black curls and forwards again. His breath fell warm and heavy on his lips, fragrant and smelling of citrus.
"It's been so long," he murmured, his warm palms coming to rest at the back of Harry's neck, rubbing at the skin there in a slow massage. He laughed.
"It's been two days," he said, but let his hands slide up Draco's waist anyway. His fingers ran over the silk of his lover's shirt, the skin underneath saturated with heat.
"My point exactly," Draco quipped, and leaned forward to lick his tongue into Harry's mouth. They groaned collectively and their tongues danced together while their lips tried their best to stay in contact. A hand ran down the brunet's back and a finger tapped on his spine, twice, four times, six.
"Not like this," Harry said through slick lips in response to his silent request, "turn the lights on first. I don't want to misaim and get it on your clothes."
"Too much work," Draco murmured, leaning in to capture his lips this time in a sloppy, searing kiss- his own urges forgotten. Harry's eyes rolled back head and he wondered, for a moment, how he'd ever managed to land himself in bliss.
Reluctantly, he broke away from his lover's lips and felt around for the light switch. It was easy enough to find, and a minute click sounded before the room was bathed golden yellow light.
Draco looked stunning in front of him, his carefully arranged hair dishevelled, his cheeks pink and his shirt ruffled. The blond looked down at said shirt and swore.
"I thought nobody cared about wrinkly clothes," Harry chuckled, and was met with a half hearted glare.
"On you," he clarified, "I however, must always look my best. For now though..." he began to undo the front of the garment, his fingers quick from frequent practice, "that rule can be overlooked."
"Nasty," Harry said fondly, grabbing him firmly by the sides of his face and tipping it upwards while simultaneously forcing him to crouch a bit, "Open up."
He did so eagerly, and the brunet loomed over him. He looked him in the eyes, currently blown wide with lust and anticipation, and spit into his mouth. Draco groaned low and loud, his lips still parted with a glob of Harry's spittle visible: sitting innocently on his tongue.
He kissed him again, even as he pushed Draco over to the toilet and eased him down onto its closed lid. Obediently, he parted his legs to allow Harry to stand bracketed between them.
"Fuck," Draco said as they separated once again, "oh, fuck. Please tell me you'll let me do what I think you are."
"I know you, baby," Harry smiled at him in a manner that he knew could only be described as cheeky. His hands went to his belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle even as his eyes never left Draco's face. He, however, had his eyes fixed on Harry's crotch like it was a novel thing. "You know that."
In a matter of seconds, the belt came undone, as did his fly, then his hands fell away. He moved them to the sides of his torso and spread them out for Draco to see, tipping his head in a little gesture that said 'go ahead'.
His face lit up like a string of Christmas lights and he dove forward, pulling Harry toward him one handedly by the buttocks while using the other to tug his cock out.
Draco's obsession had dimmed slightly over the years, but he still worshipped Harry's cock like it would get him to heaven. He took it into both hands like it was something delicate. Then he gripped it firmly at the base in his right hand, tugging upwards in a slow drag that made Harry's nerves tingle and his toes curl against the tiled floor.
"Fucking hell," he hissed, reaching out to run a hand through Draco's sweat matted hair once, twice, before gripping it in a tight fist. "Suck me, Malfoy. Let me fuck your pretty mouth like I own it."
Draco's eyes were dark as he looked up at him through a curtain of blonde. The sight sent a shiver of pleasure up his thighs, and he too found himself wondering how in the world they'd gone two entire days without this. He'd been aroused from the second Draco stepped out of the walk-in in that outfit of his. White shirt, perfectly pressed slacks and high shine dress shoes all topped off with a magnificent looking summer cloak. He wanted to eat him all up.
He pushed him back slightly, moving off of the toilet seat to sit on his knees on the floor instead. A pink tongue darted out to lick at his lips, and he blinked up at Harry again.
"This okay, Potter?"
"I don't think I told you to move," Harry said, grabbing his head in both hands, "But I suppose we can't do much about your wanting to act like a two-knut whore all the time."
Draco flicked his tongue over the head of his cock, collecting the precome leaking out of the tip without once breaking eye-contact. He was holding back a moan, Harry could tell.
"Suck," he commanded again, and the effect of that single word was evident. Draco moaned, tongue swirling over the crown of Harry's dick twice before he closed his lips around it and swallowed the entire thing down. Harry's world exploded into white and the universe narrowed down to Draco's tongue on the underside of his cock, impossibly wet and silky and oh so incredibly warm.
He didn't bother to hide his moan as Draco pulled back and sunk down again. Harry's cock hit the back of his throat, the slick heat of Draco's mouth madly erotic around him. He shut his eyes briefly, but promptly reopened them because he had to see this; Draco Malfoy-Potter on his knees in front of him, mouth on his cock, and a hand down his own pants.
"Fuck, look at you," Harry hissed, mussing his hair again, before reclaiming it in his fist, "filthy, absolutely fucking gorgeous. I love watching you touch yourself Malfoy. Touch your cock like I'm touching it for you."
Draco groaned again, his hand quickening on himself. His rings clicked loudly against eachother with each jerk and twist of his wrist and echoed off the tiled walls louder than the slick sounds of him bobbing his head around Harry's girth.
His free hand rose to clasp around Harry's arse, pulling him even deeper into his mouth. Harry looked down at Draco, at his flushed cheeks and wide eyes, and saw the silent message in them.
Sliding his hand to the back of his head, he gripped his hair as tight as he could without feeling bad about it, and thrust into Draco's mouth. Stars exploded in his vision, amplified only by the guttural moan that vibrated in the back of Draco's throat.
"Oh God," Harry cried, thrusting his hips again with a groan. Draco scrabbled against his hold, pulling off his cock to take a breath.
"You- you know, fuck, you know what I want?" he said, his voice slightly hoarse from the beating his larynx had taken, "I wanna feel that big dick of yours in my throat. Want you to fuck my throat like you wouldn't even fuck my arse. That is, if you're not too pussy to do it."
His words made heat pool and swirl in Harry's gut. He smirked, "We'll see about that. What I want is to see you fuck yourself like the needy whore you are. Do it."
Draco complied. He always did, because this was all his idea at the start anyway. Harry was only roped in- and gladly so, it seemed. He'd never have known how badly he got off on powerplay before Draco.
He grabbed his head again and thrust slowly all the way to the very back of his throat. Draco shut his eyes, hand quickening on his own cock while he breathed shallowly through his nose where it was pressed into a thatch of coarse black curls.
He mewled as Harry pulled out almost completely before he began to pound into his mouth. Hips snapping hard and fast, he tried his best to keep his eyes on the sight that was Draco. His hand had halted on his own dick, eyes shut as he came into it.
"Oh hell," Harry shut his eyes and tried his best to push down the wave of pleasure that washed over him lest he cum into Draco's mouth. He'd probably like that too, but he had something else in mind for him.
"Come on," he said, pulling out and tugging Draco up by his hair, "get up. Sit where I told you to. And..." he paused to allow a shaky Draco to sit down on the toilet seat, "open up."
Draco looked up eagerly, pink lips parting and tongue rolling out in anticipation. He held his shirt open with his hands as Harry jerked himself off till he came with a shout, his eyes screwed shut.
He opened them to the sight of Draco covered in cum. The sticky liquid that hadn't made it to his mouth had ended up on his cheeks and pointy chin, as well as his chest. His eyes were shut too, and he gathered what he could on his tongue, rolling it around in his mouth and tasting it like wine.
"Fucking filthy," Harry said in a tone of awe, and reached forward to wipe a bit of cum off of his cheek, "Look at you. How gorgeous are you?"
"Well, I'd tell you, but that would seem awfully conceited of me," he said cheekily, and tugged him down for a kiss. Harry could taste himself on his tongue but he didn't mind.
"Prat," he said fondly, and kissed him again, slow and deep. He pressed their foreheads afterwards, smiling in contentment, "Happy Birthday, Arsehole."
Draco hummed in the affirmative and kissed him again, "Thanks. I love you."
"I love you more."
"Look who finally decided to show up!"
Harry smiled sheepishly in the direction of the outburst: Pansy, it seemed. On his arm, Draco only snuggled closer as the couple walked into their own drawing room ('entertainment room', Draco had explained time and time again, but Harry was more than alright with 'drawing room') looking decidedly smug.
"Sorry, Pansy, we were..." he trails off at a loss for a plausible excuse.
"Having a good old wand fight in the bathroom. Isn't that right, Harry?" Draco finished, peering at him through his lashes. He was being ridiculous, Harry knew, but the primitive part of his mind still wanted nothing more than to snog him silly.
Not helping. "Er... yes. That's right."
"Hilarious, the two of you," Pansy deadpanned, even if she did look slightly amused, "And mature to boot. Regardless, your son has been going spare, looking for the two of you. He's only calmed down now that Draco's Father is here."
"It must be the blondeness," Draco said, "Ta, Pansy. Come on," he added this bit addressing Harry as he tugged him along.
"Dada! Papa!"
An excited blond baby toddled over to the couple on unsteady feet. Harry cooed at his son and promptly bent down to gather the boy into his arms.
"Scorpius! How did you get here so fast?" he asked exaggeratedly, and bounced him in his arms causing him to giggle, "Did you fly, like Auntie Gin'? You did, didn't you!"
"No! 'Cause Papa's slow," said the two-year old scoldingly. Harry made a face at him, and allowed Draco to tug the baby out of his arms.
"Yes he is, isn't he?" said one blond to the other, shifting him against his shoulder so he could card a hand through the boy's messy curls.
"Dada's slow too! Where did you go?" Scorpius struggled to remain serious when Harry tickled his ribs, causing him to break out in giggles and kick his knees against Draco's chest. He tutted, putting his palms against the backs of them if only to prevent further damage to his ribs.
"Oh okay, you're right. We're sorry, love," he said, and planted a tender kiss on his son's damp temple. "Did you have fun with Grandpa?"
"Yes! Hi Gampa!" the boy yelped, squirming excitedly in his father's grip at the sight of the older man. Say what you want about Lucius Malfoy, but Harry had to admit the man was rather good at being a grandparent. After he was sure he wouldn't fill his son's head with pureblood propaganda, that is.
"Good day, Scorpius. I believe it hasn't been long since I saw you last," he said looking down calmly at the boy in his father's arms. He spoke to the child like an adult, which both Harry and Draco found strange at first, but Scorpius seemed to get a kick out of.
"Yes!" he squealed bouncing up and down again to the point where Harry had to intervene and take him into his own hold.
"Good evening, Draco," he greeted, placing a ring-clad hand on his son's shoulder, "I take it your birthday has been going... well. " At this, he levelled a knowing look in Harry's direction, causing the couple to flush.
"Evening, Father. Um..." Draco rubbed his hand on the back of his own neck, which was no doubt flaming hot as of now, "why don't you go ahead and help yourself to some refreshments?"
Lucius smirked at him knowingly before sauntering off and leaving his cheeks heavily colored. Harry opted to ignore his embarrassment in favour of brushing his hands through soft damp curls and feeling the warm puffs of his baby's breath against his collarbone.
"You don't wanna go play with your friends?" Harry asked softly, bouncing him lightly while eyeing the cluster of their friends' children playing in the corner of the room. They were all much older than little Scorpius, what with he and Draco deciding to wait a little longer to conceive than most of the others had. Rosie, Harry was glad to note, still existed based on what he'd seen of her in his visions all those years ago. In fact, she was the oldest, conceived mere days after Harry and Draco had gotten together for the first time. She was now nine years old, and eager to follow her 'cousin' Teddy to Hogwarts.
The rest, Hugo, Victoire, Freddy and many others from Draco's friends were all six to eight years old, a clear contrast against Scorpius at only two.
"Later," the boy answered seriously, "I wanna stay with you, and Dada. Okay?"
Draco had finally recovered from his embarrassment and leaned in close to press a kiss onto the baby's cheek. Harry stared at him, at both of them, because what else could he have done in a moment like this.
"Close your mouth," he told him softly, silver eyes gleaming as he smiled, "it's unbecoming of you."
Suddenly Draco's face was very close, and his lips were on his own in a chaste, sweet kiss. "And it makes me want to say something possibly incriminating," he whispered, "we wouldn't want that to happen now would we?"
"No..." Harry whispered. He knew he was staring but damn it if he cared.
"Ahem, if you two are done making us gag," called a familiar voice. They turned to face Ginny, standing there with a mimosa between her fingers and a grin on her face, "the cake's over there."
"Lucky for you, we're not quite finished yet," Draco said, as she took her time kissing the air next to Harry's cheek and cooing at Scorpius.
"Well, we can't all have what we want," she smiled, and if she looked at Harry when she said it, her gaze was elsewhere by the time he looked back. Ginny hadn't taken the breakup well when it had happened (Harry had woken up with boils on his arse more than just a few times), but they were on more than alright terms now. She was godmother to their child, and they had exclusive seats in the VIP box at all of her Quidditch games. All that mattered to Harry was that she was a far cry from the absolute fright he'd seen in the visions, and that she was happy on her own terms.
"Where were you guys?" she asked, hands on her hips and a playful expression on her face. "I had assumed people don't usually invite a bunch of people home while they disappear to Merlin-knows-where themselves."
Harry coughed, but Draco would not back down before anyone except for his parents. "Harry was giving me my birthday present. Weren't you, baby?"
He shut his eyes and buried half his face in Scorpius' hair while he felt his cheeks flame. "Er... yes."
"Presents?" Scorpius perked up, peering up at his father with wide green eyes, "Papa, what did Dada get for his birthday?"
"A new shirt, of course," Draco said, taking the baby out of his arms once again with a devious wink. He was, in fact wearing a brand new top, if only because the other one was drenched in things Harry would rather not think of right now. "Mind out of the gutter, Potter. We'll be over in a minute," he added to Ginny, who shook her head and sauntered off.
Draco stared quietly at Harry, grey eyes darting over his face. "What?" Harry asked, starting to feel a little uncomfortable.
"Nothing," he said, "Oh, what's that doing over there?"
Harry turned his head to see what he was talking about. When the click of a camera shutter sounded behind him, he shook his head at his own gullibility. Only for Draco.
"Sorry," he said cheekily, the camera still clutched in his hand. In one long stride he crept up close to Harry and bent to kiss the side of his neck. "You look beautiful like this."
Harry reached over to bury his fingers behind his blond head and smiled into a kiss. "Is that for the journal?"
"Maybe..."
"Creep," he kissed him while he said so, only breaking off when Scorpius began to fuss in his father's hold.
"You still want me, though," Draco pointed out, bending to let Scorpius down.
"I do."
Harry took hold of his hand and turned it over in his grip. He then brought it up to his lips, and kissed the smooth skin there.
"I want you."