Chapter 13

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Over the course of the next two lessons, Harry became increasingly impressed by the ingenuity of the Room of Requirement. Far beyond conjuring mere walls, the Room could also reproduce places, sounds and even scents with amazing accuracy. 

He'd been surprised at first, when the Room began to shift and melt around him; colors and textures fighting to manifest whatever vague fantasies danced around in his or Malfoy's head. 

On Friday he could have sworn he heard Mrs. Weasley's voice calling him down to breakfast as he inhaled the scent of bacon and pressed a bright orange pillow over his face to muffle his moans. When it was Draco's turn, Harry wrinkled his nose at the sudden odor of potions ingredients and rotten wood. He thought it was quite odd that Draco got off while surrounded by newt's eyes and other assorted pickled body parts, but whatever worked.

They hadn't spoken about it. They merely began each lesson, eagerly awaiting whatever secret desire would be fulfilled that day.

It was now Monday, and Harry lay on his side next to Draco, fisting his cock roughly and licking figure eights around the shell of his ear. He nearly yelped when Goyle's voice filtered through a suddenly green-canopied bed.

"Malfoy, supper. You coming?"

"Soon!" Draco choked in reply, and Harry snickered into his shoulder.

This turned out to be a self-fulfilling prophecy, and Harry was swiftly rewarded with steely fingers clamping around his wrist and fingernails digging pincer-like into the soft skin above his pulse. When it was over, Harry pulled his hand away and wiped it on the sheets, examining the crescents left in his flesh with lazy interest.

Draco chuckled huskily and waved his wand vaguely in the direction of the mess. Once clean, he turned onto his side and propped his head up. Harry glanced his way and ran his eyes slowly down the other boy. Draco might not have known it, but he'd struck an alluring pose with one leg tucked up and bent at the knee, modestly covering himself but making his arse curve in a very enticing fashion...

Draco studied Harry with an unreadable look for several moments before speaking.

"So, what'll it be today, Potter?" he asked, as though asking what Harry would like for dessert.

Malfoy was breaking their unwritten rule, and talking about the fantasies they shared in. He considered playing dumb but quickly dismissed the idea, realizing that it wouldn't last long, anyway, and he was better off just playing along so he could get Malfoy's hand on his cock sooner.

"Er, I'm not sure," he said, looking away and shrugging.

He didn't need to be looking at Malfoy to know that a grin was spreading on his smug face, nor to feel the hand sliding slowly along his waist. Fingers dipped below his beltline and Harry gasped and closed his eyes. The bed shifted, and Harry heard the sigh of sheets as Draco moved closer. His jeans were unbuttoned and pushed down his hips along with his pants. Cool air rushed over his twitching and steadily growing length, and Harry swallowed as he waited for Draco's next move.

"The curtains are still green," he heard Malfoy say, as he felt a hand sliding along his semi-erect length. 

Harry cracked his eyes open and looked around before nodding and mumbling an affirmation. Draco's palm squeezed him tighter, pulling him slowly and seemingly purposefully. Harry got the vague impression that Draco had a plan, but he didn't care as long as that plan involved keeping his hand moving.

"So, Potter, you fantasize about doing it in my bed?"

Harry had half a second to contemplate that before the idea went straight to his groin. He pictured Malfoy writhing beneath him, biting his lip in a struggle to keep silent as his housemates moved around just outside the curtains...

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