The Man From H.O.G.W.A.R.T.S. (A Drarry FanFiction)

Chapter Thirteen

   Malfoy's fingers dug into his back, and his expression turned molten. His blond hair, normally so carefully combed back, was hanging down around his face, dripping with sweat, and his pale skin had a tinge of pink at the cheeks. "Of course, Your Highness."

Harry wasn't sure he liked the silly nickname his Russian compatriot has bestowed on him, but he was pretty certain whenever he heard it again in the future, he would always associate it with what happened next. And that meant he became rather fond of it, extremely quickly.

Malfoy slid slowly out of him, almost to the tip, then thrust smoothly back in. The motion was easier that time, but it wasn't what caused Harry to wail like a wolf at the moon. It was as if Malfoy had found a secret sweet spot within him, some sensitive little area that, when touched, sent electricity through the entire length of Harry's body and back again.

"Dear God," he spluttered, his voice coming out in an almost sob. "Do that again."

Malfoy smiled at him. There looked to be genuine affection in his eyes, but Harry really couldn't say. He was too far gone to make sense of such things.

Malfoy set a steady rhythm, pounding into him relentlessly, making Harry moan and mutter incoherently in several different languages. It was almost too much, the sensation overwhelming, but he hung on as his climax built. He hoped they didn't have any neighbours trying to sleep, because he was surely going to bring down the house.

Malfoy looked to be getting close too, judging by the way his face was screwed up. Without faltering in his rhythm, he reached one hand between them and wrapped his fingers around Harry's cock. A few strokes were all it took to shatter Harry's world, and he came with a howl, ejaculating hot, white mess between them.

Fireworks exploded in the darkness behind his closed eyes as Malfoy rode down on him hard, chasing his orgasm with his own. It didn't take long for him to arch his back, grunting and clenching his teeth as he spilled his seed inside Harry.

Exhausted, he fell boneless on top of Harry, hugging him sloppily. Harry's vision swirled as he blinked and tried to focus on the ceiling above. Without his glasses, it was impossible to see much more than a foot or so in front of his face with any clarity, but at least that meant he could see Malfoy's profile as he turned to look at him.

For a moment, he just stared. He thought he knew his rival, and yet, after all these years, he'd had no idea at all.

Malfoy sighed, then turned his head to face him. "Hello," Harry said softly.

"Zdravstvuy," Malfoy murmured back. He eased his way out of Harry with a groan and rolled over. Harry felt the loss of full body contact immediately and keenly. But he bit his lip and tried not to show it, instead removing the pillow from under his hips, and watching Malfoy walk into the bathroom. He was probably going to shower; they had made quite a mess of themselves after all. He closed his eyes and mentally told himself, very sternly, that that was fine. What did he expect? Malfoy wasn't a woman, he didn't require a post-coital cuddle, that would be absurd.

Harry was sore and covered in sweat and cum. He started to shiver, and thought maybe he should sit up and try and clean himself off.

He startled as he felt the bed dip, and whipped his head around to find Malfoy was back with a damp towel in his hand. "Hold still," he said gruffly, pushing Harry back down onto the bed. Using gentle sweeping motions, he wiped the stickiness away from his chest, mopping up every last drop, then dipped the towel between his legs to catch what was leaking from their intimate encounter. Harry stared dumbly as he worked, allowing himself to be cared for like an infant. "Up." Malfoy shooed him off the bed with a flick of his hand.

Harry was too tired and disorientated to do much more than what he was told. He was starting to suspect he was a damn poor secret agent, but in that moment, he couldn't muster the energy to berate himself further.

He guessed Malfoy was getting them ready to move on. However, he was surprised when instead he yanked back the bed covers. He was so comfortable moving around without any clothes on, it gave Harry the confidence to stand and watch him without covering himself up.

Malfoy pointed at the stripped back bed. "In," he said simply.

Harry blinked a couple of times. He should insist they keep going. Who knew if Voldemort's men had followed them or managed to track them, despite Malfoy's use of the secretive Parseltongue language? But his traitorous heart liked the idea of their surreal moment not being over just yet. If he got in the bed, would Malfoy join him?

He slipped between the sheets and watched as Malfoy moved over to the cabinet, picking his way through their clothes that were littered all over the carpet. He reached the lamp and clicked it off, plunging the room into mostly darkness, although there was a glow of streetlight coming through the thin curtains. Which meant Harry was able make him out as he walked confidently back the way he came, not faltering in his step as he rounded the bed and climbed in beside Harry.

"Sleep now," he grunted. He wrapped his arm around Harry, hauling him over so his back was pressed up to Malfoy's chest, and nuzzling his nose into Harry's hair.

Harry thought maybe he should protest at being manhandled. However, he didn't really feel like it, not when it turned out that a post-coital cuddle was actually really lovely. He sighed, snuggling against the cheap, scratchy sheets, and the warm body pressed up behind him. Yes, he thought. This wasn't too bad at all.