𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

The Third Day

Harry awoke the next day happy, but alone.

He and Malfoy had made rather messy work of the locker room in their post-fight, make-up sex enthusiasm, and while Harry was sure he would never quite look at the showers the same way again, Malfoy had made it clear that neither stopping nor relocating were viable options. Malfoy had also made it clear that he looked very enticing wet and that he could bend his legs at unbelievable angles and press his back against the wall in a way that opened his hole entirely for Harry to take and abuse and worship…

Harry stretched out, testing his limbs, flexing his arms to see where he was sore. Holding Malfoy’s entire weight balanced on his cock was bound to take some sort of physical toll.

He felt a slow burn in his right shoulder and rotated it slowly; nothing major, but a definite reminder of last night’s exertion. As he padded into the bathroom, he blanched as he got his first good look at himself in the mirror. Apparently Malfoy had been a bit rough with the teeth again; there were screaming red bite marks practically covering Harry’s collarbone, and a love bite on his neck that was turning an irate shade of violet.

Harry thought over last night’s events as he showered and debated over the intelligence of trying to magic the marks away.

They had decided it would be best for both of them to get a full night of rest in their own beds. Showing up late again would not go over well, especially considering the fact that today was the lecture on the rise and fall of Voldemort- what went wrong, what tactics worked, what tipped the scales- and Harry would almost certainly be pressed to speak.

Malfoy had left Harry with a searing kiss- one that used his whole body, with their thighs pressing together and his hands on Harry’s face and lips and tongue and teeth- one that Harry swore he could still feel even after a night of sleep. There was no doubt that Malfoy had an incredible effect on Harry’s hormones- the mere idea of that kiss had kept him overheated all evening, but there was something else clamoring for Harry’s attention.

After Malfoy had gone all of these questions started forming in Harry’s head. What was this? Where was this going? He knew that voicing anything of the sort would almost certainly earn him scorn from Malfoy’s direction, but the truth was that Harry had never considered himself the ‘fuck buddy’ type.

The thought of applying that term to whatever was going on with Malfoy made his stomach squirm anxiously.

If Malfoy had the right to be angry with him over something as simple as a misstatement, something for which Harry seemed to have a particular talent, did that make this more than just two Aurors having it off after a day of sweat and training?

Feeling confused and more than a little girly over all of his analyzing, Harry got for his third day of training.

He was immediately cornered by set-faced Ron.

“Hey, Ron, I was just going to…” But one look at Ron’s expression told Harry that he was not going to be able to avoid the topic. It also told him that Ron had spent the entire night building up a monologue of anger.

“Mate, I need to know what the bloody hell is going on. You disappear after our first day of training, you waltz into class late the second day, and you barely speak to me then because you’re apparently too busy looking miserable, and now you’ve got this dazed…happy…blimey!” Ron’s eyes had snapped onto Harry’s throat. “What kind of animal got a hold of your neck?”

Harry’s hand immediately flew to the love bite. All that thinking about Malfoy in the shower had gotten him somewhat…distracted.

“What? Oh…yeah….this…well, um. It was…late…” Ron was staring at him incredulously.