Title: It's the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)
Summary: A heated game of Quidditch reaches boiling point in the changing rooms.
Warnings (if any): PWP…plain and simple
Total word count: 2,592
Original prompt request number: 117
Third prompt at link
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's notes: Much to my embarrassment – it was not until long after I chose the prompt that I realized it was made specifically for art. Still, I hope this makes you smile. Special thanks to oldenuf2nb for her love and support. And to the Vegas group – in the land of friends, there are none better.
Beta(s): gabe_speaks and the_flic, and eeyore9990. You all rock my world.
Ron's features hardened and his skin took on a shade of red that rivalled his hair. Harry knew the minute he descended the stairs from the dormitory that Ron was going to give him a hard time about flying with Draco.
Ron glared at Harry. "What the fuck is wrong with you? How can you possibly spend time with that wanker? He’s been nothing but a prat since you met him and now, suddenly, you seem to have forgotten all the shit he put us through for the last seven years."
"I really don’t want to get into this with you, Ron," Harry said with a sigh. "I know how you feel, and I even understand it, but if there's one thing the war has taught me it's that everyone deserves a second chance."
Ron huffed, his glance shooting to Hermione. "You understand, right, Hermione?"
Hermione raised her hands in defeat. "What do you want me to say, Ron? If I agree with you, I’ll upset Harry. If I agree with Harry...well, you’ll be angry with me." She folded her arms across her chest and sat back on the sofa, rolling her eyes at them both.
Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "She’s right, you know. Besides, I’m not asking you to like him. I’m just asking you not to make me choose."
Ron snorted. "Like you asked me how I felt in the first place."
"For the love of Merlin, Ron, we’re eighteen. We finally have our lives in front of us. I’m going to have some fun. And if that means flying with Malfoy" — Harry paused — "well, I’d like you to join me, but if you can’t, I’ll understand."
Harry glanced at the clock on the wall and gave a frustrated huff.
"I have to go," Harry said sharply. "I made a promise and now I'm late." He gave Hermione a small smile and looked at Ron. Ron didn't move. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were unblinking as he glared at Harry.
Turning, Harry rushed to the portrait door. He stopped, looking back at Ron over his shoulder. "We'll talk later, right?"
Receiving no response, Harry hurried out the door and down the hall, shifting his broom on his shoulder. He knew that Draco would have something to say about his being late.
Running down the hall, Harry rounded the corner, catching sight of Draco leaning against a wall and his chest tightened at the sight.
"Potter," Draco called out. "Are you fundamentally incapable of being on time?"
Harry stopped, smiled, and shook his head. He knew Draco was putting on a show for the students in the hallway. It wouldn't do for them to suspect that he and Draco were much, much more than friends.
"Unlike you, Malfoy," Harry retorted, "I have other friends who also enjoy my company."
Draco placed a hand on his chest. "Oh, Potter, your rapier wit wounds me."
Harry reached out and laid a hand on Draco's shoulder, giving it a barely negligible squeeze.
"Git," he said aloud, before whispering a soft "love you, too" that only Draco could hear.
They heard the murmurings from the crowd that had gathered when they turned to head out of the castle. An undistinguishable voice said loudly, "And here I thought Voldemort was going to end the world as we know it. I never thought it would be from Harry Potter befriending Malfoy."
Harry turned and looked into the crowd. He shrugged his shoulders and clapped Draco on the back. "Ready to lose at ‘Catch the Snitch’?"
Draco sneered. "In your dreams, Potter."
They passed through the large oak doors and down the steps. When they were out of the other students' range, Harry leaned into Draco. "The only thing I dream about is you, writhing underneath me." He smiled and nudged Draco's shoulder. "I wonder what that crowd will say when they find out we've been together for nearly four months."
"I imagine they'll accuse me of bewitchment and you of acute insanity."
Arriving at the pitch, Harry straddled his broom and, giving Draco a sly wink, kicked off and took to the sky, but not before casting a glance over his shoulder. "Come on, Malfoy! While there's still daylight!"
Draco swung his leg over his broom and quickly caught up. "Ever the comedian, Potter," he said, shaking his head and arching an eyebrow. "However, I would suggest you consider another career path?"
Harry reached over, swatting at Draco. "Just one of the many things you love about me."
"What I love about you is your cock," Draco replied with a smirk. "And all the power that goes with the package." Draco released the Snitch and soared away, laughing.
Harry paused to watch Draco fly; he did it like he did everything else: effortlessly and with such grace. Shaking himself out of his momentary stupor, Harry took off after Draco. "Game on!" he shouted.
They dogged each other, shouting taunts to throw the other off their game — "I can't wait to fuck you into the mattress tonight, Potter!" "In your dreams, Malfoy! Your arse is mine tonight!"
Harry was leading Draco on a false chase when he looked down and stopped suddenly.
"For the love of Merlin, Harry! Are you trying to kill us both?" Draco shouted.
Harry pointed to the ground.
"You two interested in a friendly pick-up game?" shouted Demelza Robins. "A bunch of us were over by the castle when we saw some idiots on the pitch. Knowing that you two generally end up trying to kill each other, we felt it was our duty to save you both from certain death by offering to turn this into a real game."
Harry looked over at the gathered crowd, his gaze stopping on Ron.
Ron shrugged. "I thought maybe while you were handing out second chances..." his voice trailed off.
"Git," Harry said with a smile. "Come on. You can be my Keeper."
"Well, thanks for that, Potter." Draco drawled. "Now my team will win for sure."
Harry gave Draco a small smile. "You wish."
Nearly two hours into the game, Draco's team was leading one-hundred and fifty to ten. Ron hadn't managed to stop a single Quaffle. Tension was high, so when Draco and his team began to hum — rather loudly — the tune to Weasley is our King, Harry‘s frustration grew.
He was just about ready to fire off a barrage of insults, when he caught sight of the Snitch fluttering mid-field. Harry extended his body low across his broom and shot off. He knew it would only take a second for Draco to catch his movement, and he watched Draco follow suit, racing towards him across the pitch. Harry calculated his distance and was confident he would reach the Snitch first. Still, he could see the determination on Draco's face as they zoomed through the air — directly towards one another. Harry focused his attention wholly on the Snitch and didn’t take his eyes off it as he stretched his hand out, reaching, and shifted his weight to the side. He could see Draco's pale hand reaching towards the Snitch and closing around Harry’s hand — the hand tightly gripping the Snitch.
Harry whooped and hollered and soared into the sky before turning and plummeting towards the earth in some re-fashioned Wronski Feint. He pulled up in the nick of time and took a victory lap around the pitch, his hand held high in the air.
"If you're finished gloating, Potter," Draco growled, pulling up next to Harry on his broom, "can you land so that your teammates can commence with their celebration?"
Harry landed and joined his team as they walked the line, shaking hands with Draco's team. Harry's teammates were boisterous and cheerful, as each member hurried to their respective house locker room. Harry hung back from the rest of the Gryffindors, making a production of putting all the equipment back into the school broom shed. In truth, he was watching Draco walk to the Slytherin locker room, trying to judge his lover's mood. Harry couldn't pinpoint his feelings, but all of his instincts told him Draco was far from happy. An angry Draco, of course, was a bad thing for him if it was true.
Harry entered the locker room as the rest of his team were filing out.
"Meet you in the Common Room for a celebration?" Romilda asked, hurrying towards Seamus and sliding her arm through his.
Harry forced himself to smile and nodded. "Yeah. Be sure to save me a Butterbeer."
Entering the darkened locker room, Harry lit the torches with a wave of his hand. He stripped and padded softly to the shower stalls. He turned the knob to start the water, pausing to give the water a chance to heat up before stepping under the steaming flow. He stopped and tilted his head as a noise from the outer room caught his attention.
Swearing under his breath, Harry realised his wand was in his locker with his clothes. He shoved his glasses on his face with one hand and reached for a towel with the other, quickly wrapping it around his waist before stepping back into the shadows — listening to the footsteps drawing closer.
"I know you're in here, Potter," Draco called out. "You killed the darkest wizard known — stop hiding like a coward."
Harry stepped out of the shadow and glared at Draco. "I'm not a coward," he spat. "I don't shower with my wand, so I'm at a bit of a disadvantage here."
"The only disadvantage here is the fact that you have a towel covering that lovely arse of yours." Draco stalked towards Harry, his eyes glinting ferally. "Do you have any fucking idea what you did to me today? How hard I get watching you, your thighs gripping round your broom as you soared into the sky like you were born to fly?"
Draco stopped in front of him, reaching out so his index finger could follow along a trail of water as it ran down Harry's chest before hooking his finger in the front of the towel. "All I could think about were those thighs, wrapped around my waist while I fucked you." He leaned forward and ran his nose along Harry's jaw, stopping at his ear and nipping at the wet lobe. "I had to start singing that stupid song to keep from coming right there."
Harry sniggered and pressed his erection against Draco's hip. "You're not the only one who was turned on today." He wrapped his arms around Draco, cupping his arse and pulling him closer. Harry slid his hands inside Draco's jumper and pulled it up over his head, trapping Draco's arms. Harry laughed and licked a line from Draco's collarbone to his nipple, while Draco struggled to free himself. Harry worried the tiny nub with his teeth until it stood red and erect and Draco was arching towards his mouth.
"Oh, fuck," Draco moaned, finally freeing his hand and tossing the jumper aside. He ran his fingers through Harry's damp hair.
Harry's mouth slid lower, his teeth grazing Draco's hip bones, before sliding his tongue under the waistband of his trousers. He cupped Draco's erection, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Do I make you hard, Draco?" Harry whispered huskily.
Draco pressed Harry back against the shower wall, and then dropped to his knees. He placed his mouth on the towel and exhaled hot air directly onto Harry's erection.
Harry groaned, his hips bucking involuntarily towards the heat of Draco's mouth. "More," he panted, tugging at Draco's arm until he stood up. Their lips barely touched as they kissed, hands struggling to divest Draco of his remaining clothes. Harry grasped the waistband and pulled Draco's trousers down. He palmed Draco's prick and balls in his hand before stretching the elastic waist of Draco's pants over his erection, letting it fall to his feet. Draco kicked them off and out of the way. Harry felt Draco take hold of the back of his towel, yank it off, and drop it onto the floor, as he pressed their cocks together.
Draco wrapped his hand around both pricks and fisted them slowly, nibbling on Harry's lower lip before pressing their mouths together. The kiss started out slowly and grew quickly in intensity. Harry slid his tongue into Draco's mouth, slowly mapping the inside, then pulled back and licked Draco's full lower lip.
"Bloody hell." Harry sighed.
Draco reached onto the shelf and grabbed a bottle of conditioner. He squirted some into his hand and turned Harry to face the tiles, his arms planted firmly on the wall at shoulder height. A steady stream of hot water drenched Harry’s right shoulder as a cold, slick finger teased Harry's entrance, preparing him with practiced ease.
When the blunt tip of Draco's prick nudge against his hole, Harry pushed back until he felt the spongy head ease through the loosened muscle. He loved the feeling of fullness he experienced when Draco's prick filled him and pressed back, ignoring the burn, until he felt Draco's balls gently slapping against his.
Draco pulled out slightly and slid forward into Harry's arse, slightly overwhelmed by the channel gripping his prick. Harry squeezed his arse cheeks and Draco shuddered.
"Move, damn it!" Harry growled, rising up on his toes and falling back onto his heels, desperately seeking — something...anything.
Draco bit Harry’s shoulder as he pulled his cock out of Harry’s arse, just until only the head of his cock was inside and slammed back into Harry with bruising force. In — out, in — out, the pace Draco set threatened to bring them both to a rapid climax.
Reduced to mumbling, Harry sputtered words that sounded like yes and more and oh, God, now, and all the while Draco kept up the brutal pace he had set.
Harry's hands clawed at the wet, steamy wall as Draco pushed him closer and closer to the edge with each movement. Draco stretched his body flush against Harry's and placed his hands over Harry's, twining their fingers together. This new position reduced the intensity of Draco's fucking, but still enabled him to press further into his lover's tight heat with wide hip rotations rather than hard and fast thrusts. Each move seemed to hit Harry's prostate.
Draco murmured breathlessly into Harry's ear, "Come for me."
Harry arched his back and growled as streams of come spurted from his cock. He felt Draco's breathing hitch as his hips slammed into Harry's arse with renewed vigour, shuddering. Seconds later, Draco collapsed forward, pressing Harry's body against the semen-spattered wall before uncoupling with a wet squelching noise.
Harry turned to face Draco and pulled him into his arms, peppering his pale face with kisses as they slid to the floor. He pulled back slightly and said with a wink, "If you watching me fly gets me this kind of orgasm, I may never get off my broom."
Draco grinned. "If I have my way, you'll never get off my broom."
Harry's laughter rang through the locker room.
"Harry?" a familiar voice called out. "You coming?"
"He just did, Weasel," Draco drawled.
Harry slapped Draco's shoulder. "So much for keeping things quiet." Harry waited for the inevitable outburst from his best mate. When none was forthcoming, he stood and looked at Draco. "Hmm. He didn't ask me if I lost my mind. Maybe I was wrong about how they'll react."
"You might want to reserve judgement until he regains consciousness," Draco replied dryly.