Drarry Oneshots

△⃒⃘ Round Two △⃒⃘

A/N Did I just publish two smutty-ish chapters in a row? I believe I did, yes.
951 words

Harry woke up, although his body didn't want to, keeping his eyes closed in protest. He could feel an almost serene atmosphere in the room, and imagined rays of sunlight dissecting the dust in the air.

His first conscious thought was that it was cold. Very cold. The room didn't radiate warmth; if anything he felt like the walls were draining the heat from him. But that wasn't the only cold he felt. He realised that his back was bare, and recognised an odd type of shiver running up his spine. It felt as if, just minutes earlier, there had been something covering him, keeping him warm, that had since been torn away from him, exposing him to the cool autumn air.

His next thought was he felt numb. He tried moving nearly everything below his shoulders, but failed. His body was too tired to move. Harry instead tried tuning into what he felt. As he traveled down his body, he felt his arse was sore; it felt like the kind of painful numbness you'd expect after a sharp slap. He was all too familiar with this feeling. Alarmed by the fact he knew what caused this type of pain, he willed his eyes open.

Rather than the warm, yellow walls of Harry's dorm, he saw grey rock. Details from the previous night flashed before his eyes.

Him pushing Harry against the wall, kissing him roughly while undoing his shirt buttons.

The light in the room came from candles, rather than the morning sunlight Harry was used to in the Gryffindor Tower.

His hand gripping Harry's neck, making it difficult to breathe in the best possible way.

The room didn't have a carpet, showing the floor in here was the same as in the charms classroom.

The cold tiles digging into Harry's knees while his mouth worked away at the other boy's cock.

As opposed to the brown four-poster Harry usually slept in, this one was so dark it almost seemed black, and the curtains were green rather than red.

Harry holding onto that four-poster for dear life while the other boy fucked him into oblivion.

No matter how hard he tried, Harry couldn't remember who he had been with the night before. The only thing he could blame that on was too much firewhiskey (he refused to accept it was his fault). Harry decided it would be better to find out now, before things got awkward.

"This... isn't my room," he said, his voice way huskier than he wanted it to be.

"What an astute observation, Potter. It is, in fact, mine."

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief, and his eyes shot up at the all-too-familiar voice. He blinked dumbly at the blond.

"Why so surprised, Potter?" Draco asked, smirking and raising one of his perfect eyebrows. "Forgot who was with you?"

More like forgot how to speak, Harry thought. Really, it was quite difficult to concentrate when all Draco was wearing was a towel around his hips.

Draco seemed to ignore Harry's stare, and had already moved on to doing his hair. "You seemed to know exactly who I was when you were screaming my name last night."

"Wait, what?" Harry asked, still unsure if this was real.

"Potter, you are about as observant as an egg," Draco rolled his eyes, but there was some hint of softness in his tone. "In case I had to make it any clearer, we fucked."

Harry buried his face into the pillow, so he could process all this. Sure, he had definitely thought of Malfoy as attractive before. Okay, he has been wanting this since fourth year. But the fact it actually happened? And he remembered none of it? How? Harry cursed his lightweight genes. "For once something good happened, and I was too drunk to even remember."

He realised far too late that he said this out loud.

Harry heard Draco's chuckle, and immediately felt his cheeks redden in humiliation. He flipped onto his back with a slight groan, rubbing his eyes. Couldn't the floor just open up and swallow him whole already?

"I mean," Draco began innocently, his voice smooth as silk. "If you want we can always have a round two," he purred.

Harry stopped a moment, his mouth opening slightly in shock. He looked up at Draco, only to find the boy now standing at the edge of the bed. He gulped, torn between questioning if this is real and praying he hadn't misheard that. Having the brainpower of an average potato, Harry - in his flustered state - could only work up one word; "what?"

Draco rolled his eyes a little, but still didn't seem repelled by Harry's stupidity. He moved his hand thoughtfully to Harry's face. Draco slowly traced Harry's jawline with his index finger, making it nearly impossible for Harry to concentrate on what the blond was saying. Nearly.

"We can do a repeat of last night anytime you want, darling. You just have to say the word."

Harry let out a pathetic mix of a moan and a whimper. "Please."

Draco looked pleased, but still leant down so that his face was inches away from Harry's. "What's my name?"

"Please, Draco."

Draco didn't show any emotion in response, simply cocking his eyebrow. At that moment, Harry remembered - clear as day - a single word from the previous night.

"Daddy."

Draco smiled, his eyes already clouded with an expression far from innocent. "Good."

He locked the door before coming back to the bed. "Good," he repeated, hungrily eyeing Harry from the foot of the bed.

It was at that exact second that Harry knew he wouldn't be able to walk for a couple of days.