FIC: Potter de Milo [Harry/Draco]

[hp_drizzlemod]

Title: Potter de Milo
Author: emansil
Prompt: # S54 by eijineko
Pairing(s): Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Word Count: 12,380
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): I can’t think of any.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: This was such a fabulous prompt, I had such great and it turned out, impossible plans for it. I just simply ran out out time to include everything I wanted. I do hope it gives some joy to the prompter and the reader. I’d like to thank my betas C and W, who both stepped up at the very, I mean very last moment. Any remaining errors are clearly due to the fact that I couldn’t leave well enough alone. Thanks to the mods for running this fest, you’ve been great, with the extension and understanding.
Summary: The Hogwarts eighth years’ trip to Australia allowed Draco to see a lot more of Potter than he’d been expecting, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been hoping. Sometimes wishes really do come true.

Potter de Milo


“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Draco asked as he carefully placed his pint back on the table.

He and Potter were engaged in a furious drinking contest, and Potter was starting to pull ahead. Draco may have finished that last pint a bit too quickly, but a man had his pride. He couldn’t let Potter beat him, again.

“She said we're going to go to Austria and take up smurfing. “ Weasley shouted loud enough for everyone in the pub to hear. Weasley, the ginger wonder, it seemed, was in competition with no one but himself.

“Smurfing? What’s smurfing? Potter asked. “Why did I never learn about this is Little Whinging Primary? How can I help Gregory learn Muggle stuff, if I don’t know it myself?” Potter wailed, as if he was a failure at all things Muggle and being a mate. So okay, maybe Draco wasn’t the only one who was rather pissed.

The one, who was sure not to be---pissed, that is-- was Granger. Draco turned to her for clarification, only to find her laughing helplessly as she beat her head repeatedly on the table. Perhaps she, too, was rather deep into her cups.

“Not smurfing, you idiots,” she giggled. “Surfing, we’re going surfing.”

“Can you surf in Austria? Shouldn’t there be an ocean?” Harry asked, his expression going from despair at not being able to help his Muggle studies partner, to confusion at not being able to calculate exactly where an ocean was in regards to Austria.

“Not Austria,” Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes. “Australia. Honestly.” She had finally stopped laughing and was back to her generally annoyed, and yet mothering, behaviour when around Potter and Weasley. Draco too, now that he thought about it.

“Why?” Goyle asked, having just plopped down on the bench next to Potter. Ever since they’d partnered in Muggle Studies, Goyle and Potter had become BFFs. If Draco had not known that Greg was like a moon sick cow over Millicent, he‘d be horribly jealous of the closeness of their friendship.

“Okay, everyone listen up.” Granger’s voice boomed through the small pub. Draco and others around him flinched. Draco was betting on a sonorous spell. “The eighth year Muggle Studies class, in other words, the eighth year students, will be going to Australia for a surfing vacation after the winter holidays.”

“I can’t go,” Draco piped up. “I have to go with Mother to visit Father. Christmas is the only day Azkaban prisoners are allowed to see their family. “

Truthfully, he had no intention of going to visit his father. He just didn’t want to go to Australia, or any beach where he’d burn. And then to add revolting on top of embarrassing, he’d peel. And the whole process would start all over again. Beaches had sand; sand that got into places it had no business being, and was impossible to get out. Neither did he have any intention of learning to surf. Though, he was quite sure he’d be amazing at it Wait, what was surfing again? Had they learned that in Muggle studies?

“Umm, what is surfing, again?” Nott asked. Okay, good someone else wanted to know. Draco didn’t have to be the one to look ignorant. He hated asking questions about things he probably was supposed to already know.

“You ride the waves of the ocean on a surfboard,” Neville answered coming up from behind Draco.

“How do you do that?” Draco asked. He was somewhat intrigued with the idea. Was it like riding a broom? He’d be brilliant at that. Of course he would be. He’d be the best. Then Potter laughed beside him and Draco knew the truth. No matter what it was, Potter was sure to be better at it. It was just a fact of Draco’s life. One he had come to embrace. Especially since Potter always looked so damn hot, no matter what he was doing.

“If you and Theo hadn’t skipped class the other day, you would know this.” The glare Goyle gave Draco was very Granger like in its intensity. Draco scowled. Goyle’s friendship with Potter was getting out of control, if he was starting to parrot Granger. “You paddle this long sort of skinny board out into the middle of the ocean. Then, when a wave comes behind you, you stand on the board, sort of run up and down on it, and sometimes you have to dance on it,while you ride the top of the wave back to land.“

Dance on it? Draco mused for several minutes on that. Well if dancing was required, he’d be sure to be able to beat Potter. He was a horrible dancer, everyone knew that, just ask the Patil twins, they could tell horror stories about it. Draco rested the side of his face on his hands and envisioned himself as the greatest surfboard dancer in the history of all mankind. It was a glorious dream.

Then Potter had to go and ruin it. “Or you stand on the board, get hit by the wave, fall off the board and drown under a gazillion gallons of water,” Potter said looking sort of green. “Should be fun, I’m in.”

“I can’t go. I mean look at this skin. I’ll burn. I’ll turn as red as Weasley’s face did when he barged in on me—”

“Never mind that,”Weasley interrupted, “How about those Cannons?”

Weasley had interrupted Draco one Sunday morning while he’d been having a bit of lie in. His mind focused on how Potter really wasn’t that horrible, and was rather fit with a lovely smile and laugh. How he was exceptionally good at magical stuff (a skill, Draco found dead sexy in a wizard, especially one as fit as Potter), and well… One thing had led to another.

Draco was just catching his rhythm, his hand moving furiously between his legs when Ron had burst in. Too close to the edge, Draco hadn't been able to stop the oncoming orgasm. Weasley had sort of screeched and ran out of the room. Thankfully before any version of the name Harry Potter had tumbled from Draco’s lips as his release had spilled over his hand.

Being caught wanking was awkward, but not the end of the world. He’d been caught plenty of times in Slytherin—no big deal. Being caught out wanking to Harry Potter by Harry Potter’s best mate, well, that would be lot harder to live down.

“There’s sunscreen you can use to keep the sun off you,” Nott suggested, interrupting Draco’s thoughts.

“But you have to come,” Draco’s friend and Muggle studies partner, Hermione said. “If you want to become an Aurologist, you have to take the NEWT for Muggle studies. Without this trip they won’t let you take them. Everyone has to go,” she repeated for emphasis, in case he hadn’t understood the importance of Muggle Studies, and NEWTS and his dream career. He had and he did.

The room began to sort of rock back and forth, and Draco laid his head down on the table conceding yet another win to Potter. He was still trying to figure out how a screen could be big enough to block out the entire sun without all those that loved the sun protesting. And wouldn’t it be dark all the time? Too drunk to figure out the answer just yet, Draco adjusted the position of his head on the table so he had a clear view of the man who haunted his dreams, his ex-nemesis.

Potter sat back sipping his own pint. The corners of his eyes crinkled into an easy smile as he listened to the conversation ebb and flow around him. He turned in Draco’s direction and smiled at him. How Draco had gone from being the ‘to be avoided at all costs enemy number one’, to be included in the Friday night jaunts to Hogsmeade, he had no idea.

Maybe it had to do with being assigned Weasley as his roommate. Their first night together had ended within the first hour with a black eye for Weasley and a trip to the infirmary for a dose of “Skele-Gro” for the two fingers Draco had broken. After the initial two weeks in which they had tried to kill each other on a daily basis, they’d finally come to the conclusion that they were wasting too much time and energy hating one another.

Or then again, it could have been Hermione taking Draco under her wing as his partner in Muggle studies, or maybe…

The next thing Draco knew, Potter was leaning over him. “Come on, sleeping beauty. It’s time to wake up, they’re kicking us out.” Potter smiled down at him.

“Isn’t the prince supposed to kiss the beautiful princess to wake her?“ Goyle asked. Potter viciously shushed him, casting surreptitious glances in Draco’s direction. Greg just laughed and turned towards the door.

“Not sleeping,” Draco said groggily, wondering what that had all been about. He looked around the bar, at the empty tables all wiped clean. The bar staff leaning against the bar giving them all the evil eye. Maybe he had fallen asleep.

“Not sleeping huh? Do you always drool when you’re not sleeping?” Ron asked, causing the others to snicker.

Draco hurriedly stood, to prove he had not been sleeping. Too hurriedly, it would appear, as it totally back fired on him. He came over all dizzy and had to grab Potter’s arm to keep from falling. Harry had gone still at the initial touch, then turned to Draco, putting his hands out to help stabilize him. “Okay, there Malfoy?”

Wait, had Potter just called him sleeping Beauty? Draco’s heart gave a little pitter patter at the thought. Then scowled as Potter’s face crinkled in laughter.

“What?” Draco snapped, or intended to, unfortunately, it came out more of a blurry drawl. Circe, he was tired.

“It’s just. One side of your hair is as soft and perfectly styled as always,” Potter said unexpectedly thrusting his fingers through Draco’s hair, his expression wistful. “But the other side, the side you just slept on, looks like you recently went to battle with Ron’s dad’s Leaf Blower, and lost.”

“Yeah, and not to mention the dried drool going from the mouth to the chin,” Goyle, the evil traitor, said from across the room, causing the rest of the group to burst into guffaws on their way out the door. Even Aberforth was chuckling.

Draco quickly shoved his hands in his pockets, wishing against all hope, that the floor would open up and swallow him. He’d never live this down.

“It’s adorable.” Harry said. And suddenly Draco was rather happy to be right where he was.

###

Months later, Draco found himself and the rest of the eighth years huddled together at the British Airlines Terminal waiting to check their bags and receive their boarding passes.

“Excuse me sir,” a portly man in a uniform nodded to Draco. “May I ask you a few questions?”

Draco looked to Ron for guidance, then nodded at Weasley’s nod that it was okay.

“Did you pack your bags yourself?” the man asked abruptly.

Surprised and offended at the question, Draco drew back. “What a rude question, of course I did. Having House Elves pack for me would be using magic. We’re not allowed to use magic on this trip.”

“House Elves? Magic?” the man asked, staring at Draco as if he’d lost his mind. Which, clearly he just had. Fuck! Now what?

“House Elves is what he calls his household servants. You know the posh, right,” Ron whispered conspiratorially to the man, all the while waving his hand behind him for someone to come and rescue Draco from his idiocy. “Hey, did you happen to catch that match between Liverpool and Manchester the other night? That was some game, right?” Ron asked, steering the man and his attention away from Draco.

An eternity, or ninety actual minutes of mind numbing boredom, had passed and it was, at last, time to board. By luck of the draw, and some serious bribing of Goyle who had been placed in charge of seating arrangements, Draco was seated next to Potter. Stuck in the middle seat, yes, but he was slim; it wouldn’t be too horrible.

The rumbling noise the plane made as it began to move brought him up short. As much as he’d flown through the sky on his broom, the idea of a machine heavier than the Hogwarts Express flying through the air absolutely terrified him. Swallowing nervously, Draco began chatting with Potter, anything to get his mind off his fear.

“How high does this thing go?” he asked, still thinking in terms of broom flights.

“I think the pilot said we’d be flying at around thirty five thousand feet.” Potter said, starting to pull out the laminated folder that was in the seat pocket in front of them.

Draco’s stomach plummeted, his fear exploding to new levels. “Thirty five thousand feet! That’s more than five miles! Do they have any idea what will happen if we crash?”

“I’m quite sure they do. That’s why we were just given a demonstration, which you totally ignored, on how to use our floatation devices in case of a water crash. Not to mention the extremely detailed instruction on the proper fastening of seat belts.” Just then the plane shook and seemed to drop from where it had been gliding comfortably along. Draco and a few others screeched in terror.

Potter reached out and grabbed his hand. “It’s okay Malfoy it just some turbulence. The plane hit an air pocket, sort of like a speed bump in the sky. The turbulence happened again, and then again, giving Draco a minor heart attack with each drop. Until Potter clutched his hand and said, “Hey, I’m getting nervous here. Would it be okay, if I squeezed your hand when things got really bad?”

Draco knew that was a complete and outrageous lie, but it did serve to calm him. “If you really need me to, I’ll be happy to,” he replied, entwining his fingers with Potter’s.

“It’ll really help me out. And you can do the same. We’ll be each other’s support,” Potter insisted. His expression so open and shining; Draco could stare at it forever. But then he’d look like a loon, so he quickly turned away, just as Theo nudged him from the other side. “Sorry, I need to go to the loo.”

“Can’t you hold it?”

“For the next eight hours?” Nott snapped. “Not bloody likely.”

###

Exhausted from their journey, the twenty plus of them went directly to their rooms. Unfortunately due to time changes their arrival coincided with morning and the start of a new day. They’d been traveling for almost a full day, twenty three hours. The eight hour layover in Hong Kong doing nothing to revive them, and none of them felt up to anything but bed and a few hours of sleep. Good nights were mumbled with agreements to meet later for lunch, or more accurately brunch.

Entering the room, Draco stared aghast at the accommodations he would be sharing with Finnigan. Smaller than his closet at the manor, Draco questioned how two people were supposed to share the space? Two tiny beds beds were separated by a small table that served no purpose as far as he could tell, other than to hold an alarm clock.

A ratty looking vomit orange chair stood in the corner. Plastic hangers, of which there weren’t enough for even his swim clothes, hung in an open wardrobe. Where the rest of his clothes, or any of Finnigan’s stuff was supposed to go, Draco had no idea. Nor did he care, at this juncture.

“Do you want to shower now or should I?” Finnigan asked.

“Where is it? Do we have to share with each other?” Please tell me sharing is not required. Draco hated sharing his bath time.

Finnigan gave him an odd look, and opened a door that was right next to the sink, pointing to the shower that was inside.

He wondered if he’d have the strength to stand in a shower long enough to wash. More than likely he’d fall asleep leaning against the wall, fall to the floor, hit his head, be knocked unconscious and drown before Finnigan thought to check on him. Or the hot water would run out, he’d catch pneumonia and die. Either way, death was imminent. His mind, tired as he was, then began a long and convoluted journey involving how his body would be returned to England.

“Since all you’re doing is standing there staring into space, I’m guessing that, you’ve chosen to wait until later. I’ll go ahead then.” Finnegan said, stripping off his shirt and toeing his shoes off one at a time, and interrupting Draco’s very moving and self-absorbed day dream.

“No wait! I’ll go now.” Draco grabbed a towel off the rod and ducked into the bathroom shutting the door firmly behind him. An hour later, showered and shampooed, his face covered with little dots of toilet paper rumoured to supposedly stop the bleeding of the multiple cuts he’d obtained from shaving without magic, Draco finally crawled into his bed.

Next to him, Seamus already sleeping snored loud enough to wake even the recently deceased. Positive he’d be awake all bloody night, Draco began to ponder what the penalty was for killing an English citizen while visiting Australia, due to cruel and and unusual punishment. He should record it, so they could hear. They’d probably let him off; maybe even award him hazard pay.

His head had barely hit the pillow when the box on the useless table started the most annoying buzzing sound.

The bed next to him moaned and its bed clothes rustled. A loud smack blessedly halted the annoying buzzing sound. The room was again encased in silence. Draco was just returning to sleep when a loud knock at the door disturbed the peace.

“Rise and shine. It’s time to get up. We need to meet in the café in about thirty minutes. Lots to do today; don’t be late.” Hermione’s annoying voice rang through the thin doors.

As he lay in the bed, Draco could hear her knocking on other doors down the corridor and the same message being repeated over and over again. Draco groaned and rolled over. He was not looking forward to the day. He was bloody fucking exhausted. How the Muggles managed to survive plane-drag, he had no idea. What he wouldn’t give for a pepper-up potion, the no magic rules be damned. Knowing his luck they probably had some type of trace on his wand, and they would know and he’d be extradited back to Great Britain to stand before the Wizengamot, and all without having learned to bloody surf.

Whoa! He really needed to get a handle on these thoughts of doom.

###


“For fuck’s sake Malfoy, Are you coming? You’ve styled and restyled your hair a hundred times already. It doesn’t matter what it looks like. No one cares; it’s going to be wet soon enough, anyway.” Finnigan bounced from one foot to the other with his excess energy.

“I care,” Draco muttered. Even though he knew he would soon be dripping wet, he wanted to look his best. Potter might not like him—yet—but he did seem to appreciate when Draco made an effort. ‘You go ahead. I’ll be down in a couple of minutes. There’s one more thing I want to get.”

Grabbing his last item Draco shoved them on his face and ran for the lift. Arranging his flip-flops, his swimming trunks and T-shirt had taken more time than he’d thought. It was actually closer to fifteen minutes before he was ready. He hurried to the restaurant, only to see most of the gang already finished with their breakfast and heading out the door. Only Potter, Hermione, Goyle and Weasley remained. They were all leaving without him, and he was bloody starving.

“It’s about time you showed your ferret face,” Weasley teased from across the room. Draco turned toward them, a frown on his face. Potter looked up and froze. He even stopped shoveling handfuls of bacon into his mouth.

Draco almost crowed with excitement. The look on Potter’s face was the one he’d been hoping for - Potter laughing in delight at the heart shaped, hot pink plastic sunglass Draco had slipped on the last moment. Covered with various sized white hearts scattered across them in random patterns, they were bright and colorful and fun. The kind of thing Draco had never been allowed to wear with his fashion conscious mother and his social status conservative father. He’d thought them fun when he bought them. Now after seeing Potter’s joy in them, Draco thought them the best thing he’d ever purchased.

Weasley shook his head laughingly at Draco. “You look ridiculous.”

“No he doesn’t, he looks adorable,” Potter said as he ducked his head paying special attention to his napkin, tearing it into little shreds.

Are we finally ready? Can we go?” Goyle asked.

“Everyone have their sunscreen on?” Hermione asked. “The sun’s going to be dangerously strong out there. We need to be safe.”

All and sundry turned towards Draco, who wanted to hit something. All that time spent getting ready, and he’d completely forgotten his sunscreen. He’d looked so good too! Thoughts of going without it were quickly rejected, as one Muggle after another came through the lobby, skin the same colour as boiled lobster, and not one of them was as pigment challenged as he was. Draco sporting skin that clashed with his new shades would not cause Potter any joy. That would not do. Draco’s new purpose in life was to keep that look of delight on Potter’s face.

The others stared at him, their expressions a cross between annoyance and non-surprise. Protecting his delicate skin and fair complexion would take too long. He couldn’t ask the others to wait. “You guys go without me. It’ll take too long. I have to have someone do my back, and Seamus has already gone.” He had seen Finnigan’s bright aqua and lime green tropical print shirt disappear down the road with Dean and some of the others.

“Not going without you,” Goyle said loyally. “We’ll just have to find someone to do it for you. I volunteer Harry. He’ll be happy to, won’t you Harry?” Goyle laughed and nudged Potter, who again was blushing furiously.

“Great idea, Goyle. You’d be okay with Harry rubbing lotion all over you. Your back and shoulders and up the backs of your legs, wouldn’t you, Draco?” Draco’s most-annoying-Hogwarts-roommate-ever said, Weasley's face turning puce from trying to hold in his laughter.

Draco swore then and there he was never consuming alcohol in another’s presence ever again, since he tended to indulge his every secret after the barest minimum amount. But first he was going to kill Weasley. Goyle, too, just because he could.

He thought of Potter’s hands gliding over his skin, rubbing sunscreen into his pores. Palms calloused from years of gripping a broom, running along the back of his thighs, up to and under the hem of his swim trunks. Fingers with well-trimmed nails massaging the lotion down his lower back, under the waist band, and possibly even dipping down and over the curve of his arse. Heat and desire rose in Draco until he feared the spontaneous combustion he’d read about in some fascinating newspaper he’d found on the plane, called The Enquirer

The others chuckled at his obvious discomfort, and he felt even more heat rush to the surface of his skin.

“We’ll see you two later,” they said as they all turned to the exit, preparing to leave him and Potter behind.

“You know where we’re meeting, right, Harry?” Hermione asked her own eyes bright with unchecked laughter.

Draco glanced over at Potter who appeared to be attempting to dig a hole through the tile floor with his big toe. Draco could see him visibly swallow as if Potter was some how—Nervous? interesting

Potter turned towards him and they watched as their class mates walked out the door and towards the ferry to take them to the beach at Manley.

“Looks like I’ve been chosen to be your saviour yet again,” Potter said with a slight wink. “Come on, let’s get you greased up.” He turned towards the lift. Then stopped when he noticed Draco wasn’t following him. “Something wrong, Malfoy?” he asked.

Draco signed. “Um, I sort of forgot my sunscreen,” he said, his mouth twisting in a half frown, half apology. He had only just realised that when they had been discussing who would stay behind to help him. He’d been so confused by the snickers and knowing glances and winks between Goyle and Weasley that he’d not thought to mention it.

“You brought five bloody suitcases, and what; there wasn’t room for even one bottle of sunscreen? Did you at least remember the after sun lotion?” Potter looked at Draco’s head shaking no, and shook his head, laughing. “Malfoy, you made such a fuss about your delicate skin being marred by the deadly sun, and you forget them both. How?”

“I just did, okay. I had other things to think about.” Like seeing you in a bathing suit with no shirt, looking all tanned and bloody fucking gorgeous, and how I was supposed to survive seven fucking days of that torture without having somewhere private to go and wank. This last bit he kept to himself, no need to share everything.

Potter gave him a half smile. “Okay, no worries. You can buy some at the hotel gift shop. It’ll cost a bloody fortune, but I guess you can afford it. You can, can’t you?” Potter looked a bit stricken as if maybe Draco couldn’t afford it.

“Yes, I can afford sunscreen. They’ve not take that much from the family vault for the reparations. Only I don’t have any Australian—,” interrupting himself with a huge yawn that made his eyes water, “currency. I was too tired after the twenty three hours of traveling to do it when everyone else did at the airport.”

Maybe there was a currency exchange office in the lobby; unfortunately there didn’t seem to be one readily available. He’d have to find one on the streets.

Two hundred Australian dollars in hand, along with three bottles of sunscreen in various SPF strengths (whatever that was), an extra-large bottle of after-sun lotion, and he and Potter were finally in the lift, heading toward Draco’s room. He and Finnegan had left their room a mess; somehow he’d doubted Potter would even notice.

He was right. Potter didn’t bat an eye at the rummaged beds, the wet towels laying all over the floor, or the shaving cream and toothpaste hardening on the bathroom sink. He walked in and headed straight towards the table where the TV stood. “How do you want to do this? Sit or stand? Do you plan on keeping your shirt on, while we’re on the beach? It might be a good idea. It’ll help protect you from the sun and wind.”

In answer, Draco pulled his t-shirt up and over his head, and sat on the corner of the bed, his back towards Potter. “I’m not sure yet about the shirt, so we should probably make sure my back is covered, just in case.” His heart was beating as fast as a hummingbird’s as he waited for Potter’s touch. Merlin, he hoped he didn’t make some horribly rude sound.

But nothing happened. Apparently, there was no need for him to worry as Potter came nowhere near him. Draco looked up, catching Potter’s reflection in the mirror, silent staring at Draco’s back, neck and shoulders. His gaze moved even further downward to where the swimming trunks rode low on Draco’s hips and then back up again. Potter swallowed convulsively several times and visibly trembled. Gathering himself together he at last took the bottle in hand and moved toward Draco.

What the fuck, had that been all about? Did Draco repulse him so much that Potter trembled at the very thought of touching him. Then all thoughts stopped as warm hands were placed on each of his shoulder and lotion massaged into his skin, making sure the back of Draco’s neck up to and even under his hair was protected. Potter’s caress, for that was exactly what Draco felt, moved down and across his shoulders and along his upper arms. Potter’s fingers penetrating deep into the dermis of Draco’s skin making sure that all the lotion was thoroughly absorbed.

Harry poured more lotion into his hands spreading it across the flat of his hand and his fingers. Placing his palms between Draco’s neck and his shoulders, Harry moved his fingers, followed by his palm forward and across, covering Draco’s clavicle and upper chest with the rich emollient. The tips of his fingers lighted grazing the pebbled outer ridges of his nipples.

Draco moaned at the touch. Everything stopped. Fuck,, that was one of the sounds, he had really hoped he wouldn’t make. Humiliated, he started to stand, but Potter placed his hands on him, pushing him gently back down. “We’re not done yet, Draco,” he said, his voice soft, yet firm and confident. “Don’t worry about that noise you just made, it’s natural to make noises like that when something feels good. You’re okay.”

Draco looked into the mirror at their reflection. Potter was biting his lower lip, hard, his hands trembling as he looked at Draco sitting on the bed, the look in his eye, soft and desperate. Draco wasn’t sure what that meant. Potter squirted more lotion in his hands, rubbing them together he leaned forward against Draco’s back, and Potter’s hard length pressed against him.

And it all made sense. The shy looks Potter gave him, the nudges and snickers between Ron and Goyle. All the hints that Blaise, and Pansy, even Hermione had dropped whenever Potter left the room. Potter, it would appear, was also interested.

Only thing was: Draco didn’t know whether the thought thrilled him, or scared the ever loving crap out of him.

While Draco had been contemplating what a blind fool he had been, Potter had finished rubbing the sunscreen along his waist and up his sides under his arms. “I don’t think I can get your legs with you sitting down like that. Not the back of the thighs, anyway. Would you prefer to stand or lay on your stomach?” Potter asked, his voice quivering.

It was now or never. Draco was going to make his move, and hope he hadn’t taken hold of the wrong end of the wand. Still sitting on the edge of the bed, he turned to face Potter. His face level with Potter’s chest, Draco lifted his head, and held out his arms. “Help me up, Harry.”

Potter put a hand around each of Draco’s arms and pulled him to his feet. Draco slid his arms around Harry’s neck, and whispered. “Stop me if I’ve got this wrong.” Tilting his head, he moved closer.

“No, you’ve not got this wrong.” Potter answered as he moved forward and their lips met; a soft brush of lip against lip. Draco’s arms stretched around Potter’s neck, pulling him to him. Harry moaned, tightening his grasp of Draco’s arms.

Draco parted his lips and Harry’s tongue slipped inside. Harry pulled Draco to a standing position. Draco cocked his head to the side, and Harry deepened the kiss. Standing just as they were, chest to chest, wrapped in each other’s arms, they kissed for several long minutes. Each touch of their lips against the other, seemingly better than the last, and better than any other kisses Draco had shared with another.

After a few minutes, Harry pulled away. “If we have any intentions of getting to the beach and surfing lessons, we need to finish up. Come on, let’s get this done. Stand or lay?”

Draco stepped away from the bed, and turned his back towards Potter. “Standing, I think would be more productive. That way you can cover both the back and sides of the legs together.”

Nodding his assent, Potter squatted down behind Draco and promptly fell backward. “Oh fuck, I’m just going to sit for this part." He sat back down, crossing his legs Indian style and rubbed the lotion on the tops of Draco’s feet, his ankles, along the backs of his calves and shins. Each stroke of Potter’s hands on Draco’s skin was smooth and fluid, creating feelings in Draco that were going to be hard to ignore.

Draco spread his feet for balance, enjoying the silky feel of the lotion and Potter’s rough and calloused hands on him. After some manouvering Harry rose up to his knees, and applied the lotion to the back of Draco’s thighs. Potter’s fingers moved ever higher; up to and under the hem of Draco’s bright pink swimming trunks. The long legs of the shorts were soon crunched up to just under his arse, Harry’s hands massaging the lotion into the crease where thigh met arse.

“Potter, I’m pretty sure, short of my swim suit being pulled off of me by the surf, the sun’s not going to be getting anywhere near there,” Draco said with a laugh.

Potter chuckled softly, followed by a low whimper that sent shivers of desire up Draco’s back. Potter must have felt the same as there then followed the heat of a soft kiss on the back of his thigh, just below that same crease. Then, inexplicably, there came an abrupt slap on his arse. “What the fuck, Potter?” he yelped.

“Your back side is done. Hold on and I’ll get the front.” Harry crawled around shuffling on his knees, until he was directly in front of Draco. His head level with Draco’s cock, which had already grasped that reality and had perked up. Once they realised where he was, each of them swallowed hard, silently staring at the other.

“Get up here Potter, you look an idiot.”

“I would have thought you’d want me on my knees in front of you like this,” Harry teased.

“Oh, I do. Believe me, I do, I’m just not sure this is the right time or place.”

"We’re alone. The others won’t be back for at least another hour. I can’t think of a better time or place.”

Draco’s eyes widened in shock then relaxed into pleasure as Harry leaned forward and planted a kiss right on the erection that Draco was sporting under his swim clothes. Harry opened his mouth dragging his tongue up the soft fabric that covered it.

A crack of thunder and a torrent of rain slashing against the window had them both jumping apart, with Draco bending over in laughter at Potter who had fallen backward onto his bum. A quick glance out the window showed a pitch dark sky and trees branches being blown about. A serious storm had blown up in the time that the others had been gone.

“Where did that come from?” Harry opened the curtains and looked out just as a streak of lightning flashed across the sky. He took a step back. “Fuck, I hope the others are okay. It’s not safe to be in the water in a storm like this. Should we go check on them?” he asked, nervously checking out the window after each crack of thunder.

“I’m sure they’re fine. The professionals at the surfing school would have known the storm was coming and would have made them come in, if they even made it out into the surf. I bet they’re enjoying a pint at one of the locals, laughing and chatting.” Draco reassured Harry though he wasn’t feeling too sure about the others’ safety himself.

Slipping his shirt back over his head, Draco asked. “Should we go down to the lobby and see if we can get some news about the seriousness of the storm?”

“Yeah, I think I would feel better.” Harry closed the door behind them making sure it was locked, and followed Draco down the corridor.

As the lift doors opened, Draco heard the unmistakable sound of Pansy’s laughter and Hermione’s following closely behind. Thrilled that their friends were okay, Draco turned to reach out to Harry. As they rounded the corner into the main lobby, they both gasped as Pansy wrapped her arms around Hermione and proceeded to stick her tongue halfway down Hermione’s throat. Weasley stood behind them, seemingly cheering them on.

“Whoa, how much do you think they had to drink?” Draco whispered. “And when did they start? Did they even make it to the beach?”

"This looks like way more than just a few pints have been tucked away. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. In terms of both, liquids consumed and public displays of affection.” Potter laughed and tugged Draco against him.

###

Draco answered the soft knock at the door. Harry stood in front of him, dressed in a bright tropical print shirt, which was beginning to feel like the Hogwarts’-on-holiday uniform, and bright red, low hanging swimming trunks.

“Hey, are you two about ready to go? Everyone else is waiting in the lobby.” He stuck his head into the room.

“Seamus left a few minutes ago to go and get Dean. He said they’d meet us there. I’m ready, just need to make sure I’ve got the key and funds for the ferry.”

“You’re alone?’ Harry asked, as he cast his gaze first right then left down the corridor. Then with a grin, he darted into the room, and gave Draco a quick kiss on the mouth. Before he could pull away Draco reached out and taking Harry’s face in his hands, he extended the kiss. Tilting his head, Draco deepened the kiss. Harry’s arms entwining around Draco’s waist, pulled him in closer.

They separated at the same time. ‘We should go, the others will be waiting,” Harry said.

Hand in hand they walked down the corridor to the lift and allowed it to take them to the ground floor. Before the doors opened, Harry turned towards him, kissing him one more time. “Do you want them to know, for real, yet? Or are we still keeping this just between us for now?” he asked.

Draco shook his head. “Not yet. Maybe later.” It wasn’t that he was ashamed or wanted to hide that he and Harry were together. It was just that it was private and special and new. He wanted to savour their time together, just the two of them. There would be plenty of opportunities to be and share with others later, as well as plenty of time to be mercilessly teased. “Are you okay with that?”

“Of course, though, I should warn you. Hermione’s like some psychic know all, see all. She’ll probably have it figured out long before you’re ready to share. Especially when she notices I can’t keep my eyes off of you.”

Draco smiled back at him. “Me too.”

###

In groups of two, three or four, sometimes more they walked the few blocks to the Circular Quay, where the ferry would take them to the beach, for a scheduled outing.

The planned activity for their first full day was a bonfire on the beach, just a few yards from where they were to have surfed that day. The Australian wizarding Ministry, aware that their visiting British partners were forbidden the use of magic had made all the arrangements, including the food and non-alcoholic beverages. Anything else they wanted to drink, they’d have to provide on their own.

The earlier storm had blown a lot of branches and other debris about the site. It was a popular location with the locals for evening entertainment, and more than a few had begun to set up their own groupings. The joint clean up assistance that was arranged did a lot to turn them into a congenial group. Soon offers of assistance and sharing of food and beverage were being shouted back and forth along the sands. Most of the others seemed to know one another, with the group from Britain being the unknown entity.

They attracted a great deal of interest from the others, some going so far as the make their way over and introducing themselves to the Hogwarts students. A couple of the blokes were being a bit more circumspect but there was no doubt of the interest.

Spreading out their towels and blanket they would be using, and gathering up the things he and Seamus had brought to share with the others, Draco noticed one male paying him extra attention. Whenever Draco happened to glance up, this other bloke - Aussie boy, Draco started calling him in his head - would be staring at Draco, staring and smiling and very obviously appreciative of what he saw.

Draco was used to having attention paid him—but this man, this Aussie—was something entirely different. The man was bloody gorgeous; Draco had to give him that. Reminiscent of Cedric Diggory, only with a spark of the potentially naughty, something Draco had never observed in Diggory.

Draco’s only hope was that the man would prove to be a classless idiot. Otherwise, Draco was going to be in big trouble before the night was over. Draco enjoyed the attention he received from gorgeous and potentially naughty young men. If this bloke did not stop his looking, Draco feared his own action.

Well, that is except, of course, for one thing, one very important thing or person rather - except for Harry.

Just thinking of Harry made Draco feel ridiculously giddy inside. Like he wanted to start giggling for no apparent reason, or run barefoot along the shore. Thoughts of Harry made Draco want to draw rainbows and multi-petaled flowers along the edge of his potions essay, and little D.M hearts H.P on all his scrolls. And how absolutely mortifying that would be.

Aussie boy may be gorgeous, but Potter… well Potter was Harry and Harry was Potter. And while they were both the same, they were also each very different. Potter was brave and stupidly reckless, stubborn and annoying, and a right arse most of the time. Harry was sweet and funny and caring, and truthfully seemed to be scared of rejection. He always stood up for those he believed in, whether they felt the same about him, or not. He wanted those he cared about to be happy, and for whatever the reason, that now included Draco.

And Draco wanted them both, with an intensity that frightened him.

“Hey,” Harry said from right beside him. Startled, Draco jumped. He had been so engrossed in his thoughts about Harry, that he hadn’t even noticed him approaching.

“Hey, yourself,” he replied. “What’s up? Or should I ask, why you smell like you’ve just inhaled a brewery?”

Harry shrugged and then laughed, a laugh that was just this side of a giggle. “Blaise made friends with some of the people on the other side of where he and Pansy and some others had their stuff. He may have offered me a few.”

Draco bristled. Just because Blaise was Potter roommate back at Hogwarts did not mean they had to be all cozy with one another here. Blaise had his own roommate on trip to bond with; he didn’t need Potter any more. “And I assume because he offered you had to consume them all?” he snapped.

But Harry didn’t even seem to notice his snappishness. If he did he chose to ignore. Instead he softly leaned against Draco and sort of snuggled. “Yep, it’d be impolite to refuse. Want to make a good impression on our countrymen of the Southern hemisphere. Hey, the water looks great. I’m going in. You want to come with?” Harry turned that bright green gaze on Draco, questioning.

“No, I don’t’ think so. I’m not fond of swimming in places where I can’t see what’s coming to attack me. I’ll just stay here and watch while the rest of you get eaten by sharks and eels and huge gigantic squids,” Draco said with a smile. “Are you sure you’re okay to be in the water right now? Of course I guess you can always breathe your beery breath on any creatures that get too close.”

“Malfoy, I’m fine. Really, watch.” He stood and carefully placed one foot in front of the other, walking a straight and steady line. Then plopping back down he leaned in and promptly whispered ten of the most advanced charms spells they had learned that year. His accent and inflections perfect as usual. “See, I’m just having some fun. But thank you for worrying about me.” He leaned in and gave Draco another soft kiss, then turned to run off back to the shore, shouting, “Don’t know what you’re missing.”

Draco smoothed the blanket back from where Potter had mussed it. Then fiddled with getting things they might need out of the basket. At last satisfied, that everything was done, he settled back to enjoy the activities, which of course included Potter watching. An activity, Draco was very familiar with. He’d spent many a long hour engaged in Potter watching over the past few months. But he also found himself casting glances at one Aussie boy who happened to be seriously staring back at Draco every single fucking time Draco looked his way. He wasn’t sure if he found it intriguing or merely annoying.

He’d about decided on “fucking annoying” when loud groans and shouts of “watch out Potter,” from the group on the beach interrupted his thoughts. Draco looked up, just in time to see Harry being caught by a large wave. It wasn’t the largest wave that had appeared that evening, but it wasn’t anything to sneeze at either. Anxious for Harry to reappear, Draco watched from the blanket, chewing on the edge of his thumbnail. Why didn’t Harry come back up? Where was he?

Reaching the end of his nerves, Draco was about to go in after him, when Harry’s head appeared in the waves. Draco sighed in relief, and settled back down. He was going to kill Potter for worrying him like that. Harry stayed in the water, treading while he looked all around him, as if he had lost something. He made no effort to dive back into the water; instead he kept dunking himself into the water, but not actively engaging with it. Nor did he show any interest in swimming back to shore.

What the fuck was he doing? He was acting as if was flummoxed by something. What it was, Draco couldn’t imagine. Laughter exploded from the beach. People stood and started pointing, still laughing in Harry’s direction. What were they all laughing at? Then Draco saw it, too. From behind Potter, there slowly appeared a blob of material that Draco would be willing to bet, in the light of day, would be Potter’s bright red swim trunks. Harry was out there swimming buck arsed naked. Circe’s tits, that was hilarious. Draco was soon guffawing with the rest of them.

The blob of material kept bobbing out of Harry’s reach. Every time he went for it, a wave would come and carry it farther out to sea. Time and time again, nature plotted against him. Potter may have finally met his match. The laughter grew and swelled bringing in people from the other groups on the beach, including Aussie boy. At last, Potter did the one thing that Draco had never seen him do. He admitted defeat.

Potter’s mouth set in the moue he sometimes got when he dared anyone to say a word—not one fucking word. An attitude viewed as a challenge from the Hogwarts group. Different voices began to call out across the sands, laughing and teasing.

“What‘s matter, Potter, feeling a bit too confined then, had to lose your trunks?”

“Oi, Harry, why don’t you come on back up here? Show us what you’ve got. Don’t be shy”

“Even if it’s teeny tiny, you’re still our hero. We won’t mind.”

“Draco might though. Rumour has it, he likes a really big cock,” Zabini’s smooth as twelve year old scotch voice was most distinctive. Oh he was a dead man! Azkaban or not, it would be worth it.

“The porn stash hidden under his mattress confirms it.” Weasley added his two sickles to the conversation. Draco would clearly be taking up residence in Azkaban soon for murdering Blaise. He saw no reason to stop at just the one; two was just as well as one.

“Yeah, Harry come on up. Show us what Malfoy’s going to be getting some of tonight,” Goyle hollered out, loud enough for even the other groups to hear.

“Will he be disappointed, or pleasantly surprised?” Millicent added then fell against her boyfriend’s shoulders, shaking in laughter.

There was a moment of absolute and complete silence and then an absolute explosion of hoots and hollers and complete pandemonium.

Oh god. Oh god, oh god! Where was his wand when he needed it to AK the bunch of them. He was already going to be spending the rest of his natural life imprisoned for offing Blaise, Weasley and Goyle, what was a few more? Failing that why did he not have the ability to Apparate himself to an island in the middle of the Atlantic, with room for only one? Draco felt the heat flood his chest neck and face.

Once the laughter had started to die down, Draco was still there. He had not been swallowed up by the sea. He was going to have to live out the rest of his life having to face them. Calling on the Malfoy reserve, Draco happened to glance in the direction of Aussie boy, who was, of course, still looking, but was now laughing, with the rest of them. As their eyes met, he raised his bottle of beer in a silent toast to Draco.

How had Aussie Boy known they were talking about him? Draco looked around and everyone, literally fucking everyone, was looking at him. With most of them having their glasses and bottles raised in his direction. Some looked surprised. Not everyone knew that he and Harry were starting to be an item-- well they did now. That cat was out of the bag. And most of them, looked genuinely pleased. Dumbfounded, Draco spent the next few seconds looking down.

Emotions swirled up in him. The others weren’t angry, they weren’t storming across the beach to grab him and tie him down, threatening to turn him over to the Wizengamot. Sure that he had performed some sort of dark Death Eater magic on their saviour. They accepted him and they accepted that Potter was with him.

A roar of approval and loud clapping came from those gathered on the beach. Potter had turned, and surfacing inch by inch, he walked toward the shore. Tanned and bronzed, like some sort of Greek or Roman god, he emerged from the waves.

There was something about this image that struck Draco. He’d seen it before, but where. The last rays of the setting sun hit across Harry’s chest and shoulder, making his tan all but glow in the deep purple and magenta sunset. The reflection off the water made the paleness of his legs and lower abdomen more noticeable. The inky black waves of his hair dripped down the side of his face, beginning to curl as they did.

Striding as if he didn’t have a care in the world, Harry walked towards the beach. Then Draco remembered. A statue, as well as some paintings, of a goddess they’d studied in a Muggle art history lesson. Venus… Venus de Milo, that was it. Only now, it was Potter de Milo, and he was even more striking than a goddess could ever hope to be.

The catcalls and laughter quieted, until a pin drop could have been heard, as Potter and his cock calmly walked out of the surf and up the beach toward where Draco sat. Hands down by his sides, Harry made no attempt to cover his bits. It was as if he was saying: Fine, you want to see what I’ve got. I’m not ashamed. I’ll show you.

And fuck if he wasn’t right. There was nothing to be ashamed of there. While not as large as some of the pricks Draco had seen in his personal and apparently, not-so-secret, secret stash of gay porn. Potter would have made a nice addition to a photo shot. Even with having been in the ocean for the last thirty minutes and the mortification, he had to be feeling, having that much attention on him, his cock was still worthy of appreciation, and that was exactly what Draco planned on doing, showing his full appreciation.

Potter said not a word but came to stand in front of Draco. Then with that grin, the one that made Draco melt, even without having a view of the fucking gorgeous cock along with it, Potter bent down and running his fingers through his hair, shook his head in Draco’s face, splashing water all over him.

And with that same action, Potter successfully mooned everyone else on that stretch of sand and surf. Everyone one, except Draco, groaned with even more catcalls and verbal snark.

“Put it away Potter. That’s not what we want to see.”

“We want a better view of the front, not the back,” Pansy hollered out to more hoots and calls.

Harry turned around to the rest of them, by now the entire beach was watching and listening, and enjoying the show. “Nope, the only one that’s going to to be seeing any more of this,” he said, taking his cock in hand and playfully stroking and waving it, before the crowd. “Is going to be Malfoy,” he winked at Draco.

Draco, in the meantime, was torn between squealing in dismay at the shower he’d just received, and wanting to get down on his knees and thank the gods that that cock was going to be his, at least for tonight.

Then he dropped onto the blanket, pressing his hands against the sand, one on each side of Draco, Potter leaned in and snogged him. Snogged him in such a way that Draco would have sworn they had started the fireworks display early, and that somehow a thousand tiny bells had been implanted into his brain, and they were all going off at the same time.

Draco was lost. Any doubts he’d had were now gone, vanished into the ether of the day, and the night, and the kiss. Harry was the man for him. Harry drew back and whispered softly, “Please tell me you brought along an extra pair of trousers or shorts or swim trunks, or anything. I really don’t want to spend the rest of the evening being the only one with his cock hanging out, especially not in its current condition."

Shaking his head no, he didn’t have any extra clothes, Draco looked down and the previously semi-erect cock was now standing at full attention, and fuck if it wasn’t all Draco could do to stop himself from bending forward and wrapping his lips around it. “I’ve a towel you can maybe use,” he suggested. Harry looked as if Draco had just been announced the prize winning candidate for all things Wizarding, and reached out his hand in acceptance.

Shouts and laughter and the sounds of people running past erupted around them. They turned around to see their friends disrobing and running into the sea, naked and free as the day they’d been born, and full of too much much beer and wine.

“Looks like you’re not going to be the only one without clothing tonight,” Draco said.

“Yes, but they can always put theirs back on.” Harry pouted.

“Not if we steal theirs and hide them where they can’t find them,” Draco said with a wink.


Harry pulled back and looked at Draco with unmitigated glee. “Draco Malfoy, I think I love you. You’re an absolute evil genius. Let’s go.”

###

Using the stealth practices they had both learned in the war, and seven years of sneaking around Hogwarts, they successfully gathered all the loose items of clothing they could find, and hid them in the ashes of a previous burnt out bonfire. Feeling extremely proud of themselves, they settled back down on their blanket.

Draco turned towards Potter who was leaning back on his elbows, his legs crossed at the ankles. Harry rolled to his knees and started crawling towards Draco when they were interrupted by Draco’s own Aussie boy. “Here,” Aussie said, “I thought you could maybe use these. I happened to bring along an extra pair. Not something I usually do, but something told me, maybe I should tonight.” He held out a pair of cutoff jeans and handed them to Harry.

“Umm, thanks. Who are you?” Harry asked looking back and forth between Draco and Aussie Boy. “Do you know Draco?” Harry asked.

“No, he doesn’t. Not really,” Draco shrugged. “But every time I look up he’s been looking at me. It’s sort of—”

Before Draco had been able to finish that last thought, Potter was up and standing in Aussie Boy’s face. “Listen, I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, but you need to keep away. Stop looking, stop being so damn helpful,” he snarled, “and keep your hands off him, mate. He’s mine.”

Looking sort of shell-shocked the other man shrugged and walked back to his friends, who gathered around him, patting him on the back, and teasing him about better luck next time.

“I’m yours?” Draco scoffed, when Harry came back beside him. “Who the fuck decided that? Aren’t you getting a bit ahead of yourself? We’ve not even shagged yet.” Inside he was doing a happy dance at Harry’s possessiveness and over the top jealousy, but he couldn’t let Harry know that. Not yet, anyway.

“Yes, well that’s going to be changing tonight,” Harry said, leaning back in and taking Draco’s face into his hands. He held perfectly still for a second or two, just looking at Draco as if he was breathing him in. Pinpricks of desire broke out all over Draco. If Potter didn’t kiss him, and soon, he wasn’t sure what he would do.

Harry turned toward him, his expression in shadow. Draco wasn’t sure what to expect, though he knew what he wanted. His patience taxed to the very limit, he remained still as Harry’s face moved closer. So close, his lips lightly grazed against Draco’s, barely touching. Harry sucked in Draco’s bottom lip, catching it between his. Tugged on it, then let it go.

Harry moved back in, his tongue tracing the circumference of Draco’s mouth. As Harry’s tongue continued its circuit, Draco reached out with his own, hooking Harry’s and bringing it back with his. His tongue taking up residence in Draco’s mouth, Harry’s lips closed over Draco’s, sealing them both in. Harry’s tongue completed a thorough exploration of the inside of Draco’s mouth searching out the hidden tastes and textures.

Harry retreated into his own mouth, capturing Draco’s tongue as he withdrew, bringing it along for his own discovery of Harry. Harry tasted sweet and spicy. Draco wanted more of Potter’s mouth.

Harry pressed against him and Draco felt himself sinking down onto the blanket and the grit of the sand underneath them. By the time they left this evening, he would have the blasted stuff everywhere. In places it had no business being. At least he fervently hoped to. Just as Draco fell against the blanket, Harry lost his balance and fell on top of him. Chuckling softly for a few seconds, Harry soon found something to occupy himself with. His tongue licked at the the exposed bit of skin along the edge of Draco’s shirt.

“You smell like coconut cream pie, or coconut cake. And almonds. Coconut cake with almond frosting,” Harry murmured against Draco’s skin. “Makes me hungry.”

“Aren’t you always hungry? It’s the sunscreen you smell,” Draco said with a laugh.

“Yes. If we’re going to be together, I guess I’ll have to get used to your kinky and exotic tastes.” Harry laughed as he nosed his way along Draco’s chest, stopping to nibble on Draco’s clavicle.

Had Harry just said, what Draco had thought he’d said? Were they going to be together, was this the beginning? With everything he had, Draco really hoped so. He drew in a breath and then let out slowly whimpering in pleasure as he did. Harry had stopped his nibbling and now sucked hard on Draco’s neck, drawing the blood to the surface, and Draco’s cock to a whole new level of steeliness.

When they pulled away, Draco said, “Go take the shorts from the nice man Harry, and you might want to apologise. He didn’t do anything but look. People are going to look. You just have to get used to it.”

Grumbling under his breath, Harry stood and walked over to the other group. When he got there, he immediately threw out his chest. Draco halfway expected him to start beating his fists against it in some sort of macho ritual. Potter’s feet were slightly separated; the classic stance for a wizarding duel, or most any other duel Draco knew about.

Intrigued, Draco moved a little closer. One, because it really made him feel sort of hot and tingling, and really fucking horny. But also to make sure that Potter didn’t get himself punched.

“Thank you for your offer of the shorts. That’s very kind of you. But, I’m serious. You need to stop looking at him. He is mine. I’m warning you. You’ve no idea what I’m capable of. You don’t know that I once…” Harry stopped.

Thank Merlin, Draco thought. That was a bit, too close to Potter spilling the beans, beans that didn’t need to be spilled. Beans that needed to stay exactly where they belonged, in the bag.

“Oh no, you’ve got it wrong. I bow to you. You’ve clearly got something anyone, and I mean anyone, would love to have hold of.”

Draco’s head snapped up at that last comment in time to see Aussie Boy, his Aussie Boy, giving Potter, Draco’s Harry, a long once over, his gaze moving, and lingering over Harry’s body.

Oh hell no! It was time for Draco to stake his claim. He marched over to them. It was his turn to get in the face of Aussie Buy. “Listen here, Aussie boy. You keep your grubby hands off his something, that you’re so anxious to have hold of. He belongs to me,” tapping the tip of his index finger against the chest of the other man.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Draco could see Harry’s eyebrows almost reach his hair line, he raised them so high, and he turned to look at Draco, the words “I’m yours?” mouthed across the distance.

“Actually, I’m from New Zealand,” Aussie boy said.

“Whatever. Just keep your kiwi paws to yourself. He is mine! Got it? Come on Potter, let’s go.” He stormed off back to their blanket with Harry following after him and laughing. “I’m yours? Oh but, Draco we’ve not even shagged yet?”

"Shut up, Potter, and put the damn shorts on.”

“I think maybe later,” Harry said, then started singing softly, just under his breath. “I belong to him, I belong to him. Hmm, Hmm, I don’t know the rest of the words,” he hummed very softly then continued singing, “I belong to him, I belong to him. There isn’t an ocean too deep, a mountain so high it can keep, keep me away. I belong to him.”

“Potter, I don’t think those are the correct words to that song.”

“Yeah, well they fit, and I like it.”

Draco rolled over onto the flat of his back, pulling Harry down with him. Spreading his legs he created a space for Harry to nestle in. One against the other, they lay face to face, chest to chest and cock to cock.

The pressure of Harry’s cock against his was incredible. But Draco wanted more. He pressed upward, his cock creating more friction against Harry’s.

"Fuck!” Harry responded.

Draco could not have said it better himself. But actions spoke louder than words at a time like this. Harry pressed down against him; clearly understanding Draco’s desires, without him having to say a word. Merlin, they really were meant for each other.

Then Harry pulled off an absolute genius move. Raising himself up on his elbows, he raised his upper half up, causing his middle section to thrust downward against Draco’s cock. The pressure firm and steady , the pleasure Draco felt intense.

Draco gasped then moved his hands lower and grasped Harry’s arse pulling it even closer.

“Fuck,” Harry moaned again. Draco had never realised how much he could appreciate a man of such few words, especially one that held so much meaning.

Harry’s cock rocked back and forth against his, but Draco’s was still covered. The material of his swim trunks kept him from fully feeling the velvety softness wrapped around the hardness of Harry’s cock. Somehow, he’d succeeded in loosening the drawstring. It was the getting the damn things down and freeing his cock, that was creating the dilemma. No matter which way he squirmed, some part of them got stuck under his arse.

“Malfoy, what the hell are you doing?” Harry asked, taken aback by all of Draco’s wriggling and maneuvering.

Stop!” he cried out. Pushing Harry away, Draco struggled to sit up.

Harry pulled up, looking stunned and confused. Even in the thin light of the moon, Draco could see his chest rising and falling rapidly, but he did as Draco requested. “What, what is it?”

“Potter, get back here, and help me get out of these clothes. Now.” At times of stress and great need, Draco knew he tended to revert to spoiled Malfoy brat. This was one of those times. “I need these damn things off,” he cried out. “I need to feel you against me.”

“But I thought…Oh.”

Thank Fuck, Potter cottoned on quickly. In a flash, he was kneeling at Draco’s feet and had taken hold of the waist of Draco’s swimming trunks. He nodded at Draco to go ahead. Draco lifted his arse off the blanket and Harry gently pulled the offending garment down past Draco’s arse. Once the trunks had cleared the feet and ankles, Harry flung them to the side and was back on Draco in an instant. Their groins pressed together, and this time it truly was cock to cock,

Harry lifted up on his hands, staring down into Draco’s eyes. Slowly he lowered his lips on to Draco’s face, dropping kisses all over Draco’s face, cheeks, nose, eyelids wherever he could reach. There was no pattern to where he landed next. Random and haphazard, like Potter, they left Draco at a loss as to what to expect next.

All the while Potter was slobbering all over Draco’s face; he continued to roll his hips in such a delightful and ohmygodsofuckinggood way that Draco forgave him the mauling of his face. (Who was he kidding? He loved every touch of Harry’s lips on his skin.)

Harry’s cock pressed against his soon reduced Draco’s thoughts to just one goal. Harry’s too, it seemed, as Harry’s lips had now settled on to Draco’s mouth. He kissed Draco slow and soft, his mouth, lips, and tongue moving slow and languid against Draco’s.

Their cocks slid together, except they didn’t. The addition of some type of lotion or oil was needed to help smooth the way.

“Hold on, let me get some of the sunscreen,” Harry said, reaching across Draco. Grains of sand fell from his hand on to Draco’s chest.

“Potter, put your hand down. You’re covered in sand; I’m not letting it anywhere near me. Not with all that sand, just no, okay. I’ll get it.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Draco discovered it wasn’t easy getting the lotion out of the bag, and then pouring it into his hand. All with Harry still braced over him, but Draco soon proved he was a resourceful young man.

He poured a puddle of lotion into the palm of one hand. Immediately, he reached down between them, spreading the lotion on Harry’s cock from base to tip and then doing the same to his own. Reaching up, he wiped the excess on Harry’s back, rubbing it into Harry’s skin, still damp from the sea.

Breathing rapidly, Draco grasped on to Harry’s arms clinging as his orgasm began to build in him. Roiling from the very center of his being, through his gut, surging through him like an explosion ready to go off.

Potter’s own rapid fire hip thrusts and staccato breaths let Draco know that he too was close. Draco reached down and wrapped his fingers around their cocks, squeezing them together. The pressure, the pleasure, was so intense.

“Fuck, Oh fuck Draco!” Harry gasped. His face grimaced above Draco, and he felt the wetness of Harry’s release seep between his fingers. Knowing he had contributed to Harry’s orgasm, Draco’s own release followed almost immediately after.

Steadily their breathing returned to normal and Harry rolled off of him.

“Fuck. That was good,” Harry said.

“I can’t argue with you on that,” Draco said. “Which is a bit of a surprise, I can usually argue with you about most anything.”

Harry laughed softly. “I’m gonna smell like coconut cake the rest of the night.”

“Yes, well. Now that way everyone will know you’re with me.”

“I think they already knew that, or at least suspected it.”

Draco couldn’t help it, he chuckled. “Potter, I think that kneazle was let out of the bag when you took your cock in your hand, waved it at them, and spoke these immortal words: “The only one getting any of this is going to be Draco” That may have been a clue even the dimmest would have figured out.”

“Well, this way there won’t be any doubts.” Harry said, yawning. “I’m sorry I’m just really tired.”

Leaving Harry with his mouth open in another yawn, and wondering what sort of flying creature he might be apt to swallow, Draco sat up and looked around.

The sun had completely set, but the half moon and the stars over the Southern Hemisphere lent enough light for him to make out certain shapes and shadows.

Various groups gathered along the beach, some singles, some coupled and a few that appeared to just be talking and laughing in a group. Most of them, he was disappointed to find, were dressed—to some degree. Maybe they had been wise and had left their clothes on when they went into the ocean, or maybe they had found his and Harry’s hiding place A few appeared to have decided that if Harry Potter could prance around the beach naked, so could they.

A small crowd stood before the mostly burned down bonfire, roasting marshmallow and the end of the frankfurters. Draco would have bet money Weasley would be among them, but when he looked, he couldn’t make out Weasley’s bright hair or lanky body shape.

Scanning the beach for those he had intended on murdering, only now was ready to forgive and forget. Well, maybe not forget, but he could forgive them. After all, he had got what they had wanted him to have. Harry, he had got Harry.

Something caught his attention. Narrowing his gaze he looked closer, and then stopped. Stunned, surprised, mortified, pick a verb, by what he was looking at. And there was no doubt. At least he didn’t think there was, but maybe he needed some clarification, through another pair of eyes.

“Potter, quick! Come here,” he hissed at Harry, who had been lying back watching him with a smile on his face but was now; it appeared to Draco, to be actually falling asleep.

Harry jerked to awareness. “What?” he replied tersely. “I was almost asleep.”

“I know, but you need to come see this. Is that who I think it is?” he said pointing at a pile of bodies entwined around each other. Bright ginger hair and a long and lanky body lay on the sands. boy were they going to have some serious sand issues, ran unbidden through Draco’s mind at that vision. Straddling over his waist were the distinctive curves of Pansy. The roll of her hips left no doubt as to what was happening.

That wasn’t all, not that that wasn’t enough to put him in the Janus Thickey ward at St Mungo’s, but Granger, the epitome of all things right and proper, her hair gone wild in the heat and humidity, knelt at Ron’s head, straddling his face while she bent forward her hands and mouth on Pansy’s tits tweaking the nipples. Occasionally Granger opened her mouth in a silent O, arched her back, giving a long sigh of what could only be intense pleasure.

“Well, fuck. You know what this means, don’t you?” When there was no response from Harry, who looked to be struggling to become as emotionally involved as Draco was, Draco raged. “They’ve beat us again. There are three of them; we only had the two of us.” His rage transformed into a pout.

“Well, we could always ask Blaise to join us. I doubt he’d turn down such an opportunity,” Harry said, a teasing glint in his eyes, clearly waiting for a reaction.

And Draco gave him one. He turned to him with a scowl. “You keep Zabini out of this. I already told you. You belong to me. Nobody else. Me.” Then he pushed Harry back onto the blanket and kissed him until there would be no doubt in Potter’s or anyone else’s mind that Draco Malfoy meant what he said.

The end

Comments

[lokifan]

hee! This was loads of fun and I love your Draco voice.

[emansil]

Thanks so much. Draco is always fun to write.