Firsts and Seconds

The first time they kissed, it was angry and fierce. Harry didn't even know how it came about; it just happened.

One minute they had their wands pointed in one another's faces and in the next they were snogging.

Or perhaps 'snogging' was too polite a term for what they had been doing. Too polite or too romantic a term.

Their first kiss had been anything but polite or romantic.

It had been hard, unrelenting, and demanding. Harry couldn't remember who initiated the kiss but he could remember thinking that he would be damned if Malfoy bested him at it. Harry had always overpowered him on the Quidditch pitch and he hadn't been about to let Malfoy best him in duelling or snogging or anything else if he could help it.

He remembered why they'd been fighting in the first place - Malfoy had accosted him while he'd been walking back from the Quidditch pitch, determined to 'make you pay, Potter' for 'what you did to my father'. Apparently over summer hols he'd been brooding about how to get Harry back for sending his father sent to Azkaban, which was total crap to Harry. It was news to him that he'd forced Lucius Malfoy to take the Dark Mark, follow Voldemort, and break into the Department of Mysteries that past Spring.

By the time they pulled back from one another, Harry's glasses were askew and Malfoy's wand had dropped to the ground.

Malfoy sneered at him, eyes only flickering once down to his wand. "Go on, Potter," he said, lip curling. "Hex me, then. I've not got all day."

Harry scowled, straightening his glasses and tightening his grip on the hilt of his wand.

"Or are you too scared to do it, hmm? Scared you'll get detention?"

Harry quite wanted to punch him. It would have felt good.

"I'm not scared of you, Malfoy," he said slowly, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

Wiping away the taste of Malfoy's mouth on his.

Or rubbing it in?

"Then what are you?"

"I'm late," Harry said flatly. "That's what I am."

Malfoy snorted. "Late for what?"

"That's really none of your business, now is it?"

Harry advanced on Malfoy and thrust the tip of his wand beneath Malfoy's chin, lifting it slightly so that he could look right down into Malfoy's eyes.

When he saw the muscles in Malfoy's neck move as he swallowed, presumably against a lump in his throat, it was all Harry could do not to laugh. But he managed to control himself and smirked instead. "I think you're the one who's scared, Malfoy." Feeling bold and more than a little smug at the way Malfoy's eyes widened, Harry jerked his frame in toward Malfoy and pulled back just before contact, causing the other boy to twitch in surprise.

Satisfied that he'd gotten the better of Malfoy this time around, Harry withdrew his wand and headed back to the castle. Snape wouldn't be pleased if he was late for Occlumency, especially since he'd been so against Dumbledore's wishes that Harry resume his training.

As Harry pushed open the door to the castle, it occurred to him that he really didn't want Snape to see anything that had just happened with Malfoy - the snog in particular. He could feel a heat rise in his cheeks at the memory of it. This both confused and frustrated him, as he knew the heat - and the odd fluttering in his stomach that accompanied it - wasn't from anger over what had happened. It felt kind of like...it reminded him of how he'd felt around Cho a few years ago, except it was much sharper and bigger somehow.

No, it wouldn't do for Snape to go poking about in his mind and see that. It wouldn't do at all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The second time they kissed, it scared Harry.

It didn't scare him because it was Malfoy that he was kissing. Like he'd told Malfoy after the first time they'd kissed, Harry wasn't scared of him.

The kiss scared him because it felt right.

Kissing Cho had been a dead disaster . A person's first kiss, Harry figured, was terrifying enough as it was. But add in the fact that the kissee was leakier than the holiest of faucets? That meant the kiss would be the most frightening thing ever, or at least one of the top ten most frightening things ever.

When he'd kissed Cho, Harry had expected to feel something. Well, he expected to feel something besides just lips moving against one another. A person should feel sort of dizzy and have a warm tingle in their toes that travelled up and all over, he'd always secretly thought.

Cho had only managed to make him feel something like a drowned rat..

But Malfoy made him feel something else entirely.

Malfoy made him feel better than dizzy and warm and tingly all over.

Malfoy made him feel alive.

Like the first kiss they shared, the second one just happened.

They were in Hogsmeade on one of the last visits of the school year.

Ron and Hermione had wanted to go into the Three Broomsticks for tankards of butterbeer but Harry decided he'd rather head out to the Shrieking Shack. Hermione had given him that concerned look, the one he knew meant that she was worried about him and wanted to ask about Sirius and how it made Harry feel but wouldn't end up asking because she thought it would upset him. He gave her a small smile and waved the two of them off before making his way out to the shack.

It'd been a while since Harry had been out that way. Right after Sirius died, Harry avoided pretty much anything that reminded him of his godfather. That day, though, the need to go out and look at the Shack, at the place where he'd first really met Sirius, was overwhelming. He didn't know why he felt it was so urgent to go out to the dilapidated building, but he knew it was important for some reason, so he went.

To his surprise, someone had beaten him to it.

When he crested over the last incline before the shack, Draco Malfoy was the first thing that he saw. Malfoy was leaning against one of the few unrotted planks in the fence that separated the Shrieking Shack from the rest of Hogsmeade, just staring at the shack.

Cursing under his breath, Harry turned on his heel, intending to go meet up with Ron and Hermione. He'd only gone a few steps before he heard Malfoy speak his name.

"Potter."

"Malfoy," Harry greeted, squaring his shoulders as he turned back round, green eyes locking with grey.

"What's the matter, Potter? Your friends too--"

"Leave off," Harry interrupted, holding up a hand.

Malfoy looked rather affronted that he'd been interrupted in the middle of an undoubtedly brilliant jab. "I was here first," he countered snidely, taking a step toward Harry.

Lowering his hand, Harry shrugged, tired of this already. He wasn't in the mood to banter with anyone, not even Malfoy. All he wanted to do was be near the Shrieking Shack and let his mind wander, not stand here and get into some ruddy pointless bickerfest with Malfoy. "That's nice," Harry mumbled, brushing past Malfoy to get to the fence. Curling his fingers over the wood, he stared hard at the building. It looked more worse for the wear than he'd remembered.

Behind him, he heard Malfoy huff but he didn't turn around. He didn't have time for Malfoy's snit.

It surprised Harry, a few minutes later, when a shoulder brushed against his.

Malfoy.

He'd thought Malfoy would have left after Harry failed to rise to his bait, but he was wrong.

Malfoy was standing so close to Harry at the fence that he could smell his aftershave. Harry inhaled deeply; it smelled...nice.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked curiously after a long silence, stealing a side-long glance at him.

"I don't have to explain myself to the likes of you, Potter," Malfoy said immediately.

For some reason, this made Harry laugh. Hard.

Harry laughed and laughed until his sides positively ached and he had to slump against the fence to keep upright.

"What," Malfoy said slowly, his mouth curling in distain, "is so funny?"

"N-nothing," Harry gasped, trying to get ahold of himself and failing miserably.

Malfoy looked at him long and hard. "You're a heathen, Potter," he said after a beat. Harry thought he heard a hitch in Malfoy's voice and that sobered him up right quick.

"Look," he said awkwardly, "I just...er...Why're you...." Harry's voice trailed off; he didn't have a sodding clue as to what he was even trying to say to Malfoy anymore.

"Malfoys don't explain themselves, Potter."

Harry blinked. "Do you... d'you hear yourself, Malfoy?"

"Yes, of course I do," Malfoy snapped.

"Okay," Harry said slowly. "But d'you like what you hear? 'Cos you sound like some sort of mindless parrot to me."

"Shut up." Malfoy's mouth set in a thin line and his eyes narrowed, but Harry could see the uncertainty clouding in Malfoy's eyes.

"All right." Harry shrugged. If Malfoy wasn't going to at least make a half-arsed attempt to be himself when Harry was actually giving him the opportunity, he wasn't going to pursue the matter. It wasn't like he even knew why he was trying to help the pointy git, anyway. "Parrot."

"SHUT UP." Malfoy's nostrils flared and his hand inched closer and closer to the centre-front part of his cloak.

Harry didn't feel like shutting up.

"So you've told me what Malfoys do, Malfoy," he said, flipping up the cowl of his cloak. "But I don't have a bloody clue as to what Draco does." Giving Malfoy the two-fingered salute, Harry pushed off the fence and moved to go round him.

He didn't make it very far. One of Malfoy's hands reached out and took up a fistful of Harry's cloak, hauling Harry against him. "I hate you," Malfoy said in a low voice, wrapping his free hand around the back of Harry's neck. Anticipation and tension simmered low in Harry's belly as Malfoy leaned in closer and closer, then suddenly struck. Malfoy's mouth covered his and, before he could stop himself, Harry's mouth opened willingly and he just gave in. Harry gave in and allowed Malfoy to snog him, allowed Malfoy's tongue into his mouth, moaning softly as Malfoy's tongue stroked his own.

The kiss was so fucking sexy and demanding and urgent, and Harry grabbed hold of Malfoy by the shoulders and held on as he kissed back. Malfoy's knees must have buckled, because he started to slip, but Harry pulled him up and broke off the kiss, running his tongue along Malfoy's lower lip while he panted against Harry's mouth, breath warm and sweet as it puffed against his lips.

Malfoy let up his grip on Harry's cloak and Harry stared back at him, reeling. That had been-- That kiss had been the way he'd always thought a kiss should be-- hot and needy and electric. He was a bit dizzy, there was a pleasant warmth in every last bit of his skin, and he felt so fucking alive. Oh, and he really wanted to snog Malfoy again. A lot.

"That," Malfoy said quietly, his eyes flashing defiantly, "is what Draco does."

There was a mad fluttering in Harry's stomach, like someone had released a hundred Snitches all at once inside of him. He grinned. "Does Draco want to do that again?"

He didn't get an answer, not exactly. He knew Draco was a talented wizard, but even he hadn't figured out how to speak and snog a bloke senseless at the same time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The first time he said "I love you," he hadn't been sure that he meant it. Harry didn't even really know what it meant, anyway.

What was love to him? He really didn't know. Love hadn't been anything that he'd been around before. He'd seen love like the Weasleys had for one another, but Harry hadn't ever seen anything like the sort of love you share with another person who wasn't your relation. He thought he might know what it looked like from watching those of his schoolmates who had paired off, although it was likely more lust and infatuation than real honest-to-goodness love, but he wasn't sure what it actually felt like.

Would it feel like the first time on a broom? Or would it feel like the pit of his stomach was about to fall out, the way it did when he set out in a Wronksi Feint?

He hadn't intended to say the L word at all. It just sort of...flew out of his mouth in the middle of a row. Harry and Draco had had a load of rows when they first got together to be whatever it was they were to one another.

Most of the rows focussed on two subjects: Draco's inability to be civil about or toward Ron and Hermione, and Harry's desire for them to be public about their relationship.

Whenever they argued about the latter, Draco would talk round and round until Harry would cave and end up agreeing that it would be better for the both of them if no one knew about them, even though he just wanted to be himself and not hide anything. If people found out about Harry and Draco, there was no telling what might happen. Harry knew that it could be dangerous for Draco if people knew Harry had feelings for him: Voldemort might use Draco for bait against him...and there wasn't any forgetting that Lucius Malfoy was an alleged Death Eater. To say that being together was complicated was probably an understatement.

Whenever they argued about the former, Harry tended to lose his head and Draco tended to brandish his wand and threaten to hex Harry. Only in the worst of rows did they actually resort to hexing one another. It was during one of those sorts of rows that Harry said It. He didn't know why he did. It just sort of flew out of his mouth. They traded and dodged hexes for a time before Draco cast the Knee-Reversing Hex, which Harry quickly deflected with the Shield Charm. When Draco's spell bounced off Harry's shield harmlessly, his face screwed up with rage and he told Harry that they were finished, that he didn't want anything to do with Harry and that their entire affair had been a waste of his time.

Panting, Harry lowered his wand and stared hard at Draco. "What?" he asked in a low voice, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

"You heard me," Draco said, his lips drawn into a thin, haughty line. "Potter."

It was probably the 'Potter' that did it. In class and in the corridors, surrounded by schoolmates, Harry could handle it. That was all part of the charade. But this? Calling him by his surname and sounding like Harry was something unpleasant he'd found on the bottom of his shoe? It hurt. It hurt in a way Harry hadn't known before and it was awful.

Harry's jaw clenched. "Fine," he said loudly, trying like hell to ignore the unexpected and overwhelming panic rising up within. "FINE."

"Fine then," Draco said, his voice dripping with scorn. He pushed roughly past Harry toward the castle, rounding the broom shed. Harry waited a beat just in case Draco would come back, which he knew all along wouldn't happen, before turning the corner to see Draco off. He watched Draco walk along the path to the school, his heart swelled in his chest, and he knew he had to say something. "I love you," he called up to Draco. When he realised what he'd said, Harry ducked back behind the broom shed and pressed his back against the wall. Screwing his eyes shut, he cursed under his breath. What had he gone and done that for? Did he really love Draco? Did he even really know what the sodding hell love was? What he'd just done was completely idiotic. That was so fucking stupid of him and--

Suddenly Draco's voice called down from the path, cutting into Harry's thoughts.

"I hate you, Potter."

Harry didn't know if he really meant it when he'd said that he loved Draco, but he was more than sure that Draco meant what he'd said to him. He hated Harry. Draco hated Harry and Harry was nothing but a fool.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The second time he said "I love you," Harry meant it. He meant it and he knew exactly what it meant.

He hadn't spoken to Draco in months. The last time they'd talked, it had been during the row that ended with Draco telling Harry that he hated him. They hadn't bothered with one another for the remaining few weeks of the year or even on the Hogwarts Express to King's Cross for summer hols. On the trip back to Hogwarts at the end of August, they'd made brief eye contact but that had been it. No greetings, no snide comments, nothing. He'd been awfully sullen in the carriage during the trip back to school, but he didn't tell Ron and Hermione what was bothering him, no matter how much he knew they really wanted to ask. He suspected that they'd known about him and Draco during the last month or two of sixth year, but, being the brilliant friends that they were, they never pressed him about it. Harry was grateful for them, he really was. When they figured that something big was going on with Harry, they usually waited patiently until he was ready to talk about it.

Harry didn't speak to Draco until the first Quidditch match of the year. Gryffindor versus Slytherin.

They successfully managed to avoid one another on the pitch, each hanging back while the other looped around, then they'd switch. Occasionally one would take off when they'd spy the Snitch and the other would follow, but the Snitch would flit out of their grasp and disappear from sight once more and they'd split, keeping one eye out for the Snitch to make an appearance again. Five goals were made from the last time they'd spotted the Snitch to when it reappeared one fateful last time. Harry saw it first and shot off like a rocket after it. It took Draco a split-second to realise what was happening before he, too, began to chase it. The Snitch flew around goal hoops and up and over players, but neither boy let up. They cobbed and blatched and Draco even had the cheek to blag, but Harry leaned to the left and kicked at Draco's hands. When Draco grunted and let up his grip, Harry lay as flat against the handle of his Firebolt as possible and accelerated, intent on catching the Snitch. The wind whipped through his hair but he didn't care, reaching one hand out toward the Snitch. Close, closer...almost there.

From somewhere behind, he heard the sickening sound of a Beater's bat hitting something. It didn't sound like it hit a Bludger; this sound was the a dull, wet thunk. The crowd went silent as Harry's fingers curled round the fluttering, cold-metallic Snitch. When he brought his broom round, he saw Crabbe and Goyle flanking either side of Draco's broom, Draco's body slumped against the handle. His white-blond hair was stained crimson with blood. Harry dropped the Snitch.

Draco had been in the hospital wing for several hours before Madam Pomfrey allowed any visitors. Harry had hung around, keeping an eye on the double doors leading to the hospital wing while hiding behind a statue of Alguff the Awful. When the last of the Slytherins finally left, Harry went inside and looked around. Madam Pomfrey gave him a small smile and waved toward the back of the room, warning him not to stay too long because Draco needed his rest. Harry nodded shortly, then went down the aisle, passing cots with crisp white sheets on them and blue stand-alone privacy screens. When he reached the end, he paused just before the privacy screen he knew was hiding Draco's cot and swallowed hard. He didn't know if Draco was awake or if he'd even want to see him, but Harry had to see him. Even if Draco hated him, Harry wanted to see him.

"Hi," Harry said, moving past the screen to stand at the foot of Draco's bed.

Draco had a bit of a bump on his head but other than that he looked completely normal. Arms crossed about the chest, a bored and put-upon expression on his face. Completely normal.

He quirked a brow. "I'm in Hell, aren't I?" he said, sliding his arms off his chest and propping himself up on his elbows. Draco winced from the effort and Harry crossed to his side, sitting down on the edge of the cot uninvited.

"That depends," Harry said cautiously, studying his face.

"On what?"

"On you, I reckon," Harry said, shrugging.

Draco was silent for a moment and Harry could see him working something out. "You know," he said abruptly, "a Slytherin wouldn't resort to barbaric violence if they wanted to kill a person. They'd use a nice, quick hex. Elegant, dignified. He wouldn't bludgeon someone with a bat like a stupid, bumbling Gryffindor."

"Sloper said it was an accident," Harry said quietly.

"Sloper couldn't distinguish his arse from a hole in the ground, even if he had a map," Draco scoffed.

"Probably not," Harry agreed. Then: "You're all right, yeah?"

"What does that matter to you, Potter?" Draco asked automatically, and Harry was reminded of the parrot again.

"It matters to me," he said slowly, "because I love you. Draco."

A deadly silence fell over them but Harry didn't move or look away from Draco, no matter how much he wanted to do just that. He told Draco the truth. He loved him. He was in love with him. If he'd doubted that over the last few months, it all snapped into focus the very moment he'd swivelled his broom around to see Draco hurt and vulnerable draped across his own broom.

"I hate you," Draco breathed. Harry felt as though a cold, clammy hand had just reached into his chest and squeezed his heart. "Harry."

Harry watched as Draco's lips formed his name and he became acutely aware of a smooth, warm hand closing over his.

In that moment, Harry knew that when Draco said "I hate you," he really meant that he loved him. Draco had loved him all along.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Their first time together had been a little bit awkward but mostly amazing. Although they'd done things before, it had been restricted to frotting and hand jobs, so the whole act of being together was a bit foreign. But that had been all right with Harry. They'd figure it out together.

As it turned out, they were both quick to learn.

They'd gone flying late one night around the Quidditch pitch, chasing after one of the school Snitches for hours until their cheeks were raw from the wind. Harry stowed the Snitch back in its case and had barely shut the door to the broom shed before Draco pounced on him, wrapping his arms around Harry's chest and pinning him against the door. Their groins pressed together almost indecently and Harry hooked a leg on Draco's hip, rocking against him. Their mouths collided together for a frantic, hot kiss and Harry groaned, pulling Draco to the ground and rolling on top of him.

Clothes were unfastened and pushed out of the way and Harry didn't have a clue as to what he was doing, but neither did Draco so that was all right. Draco sucked Harry's fingers into his mouth, tonguing the sensitive skin between them, and Harry moaned. Hair spilled into his face as he pulled his fingers away and replaced them with his mouth, his hand moving down to touch the place where he desperately needed his cock to be. Draco keened and groaned into his mouth as Harry prepared him, the sounds turning into a cry as Harry awkwardly thrust inside him. It felt good. Brilliant. Tight and hot and velvety and so good. Harry waited until the tight muscles around him stopped quivering and then tentatively pushed further inside, pressing his cheek against Draco's while he panted with effort. One of Draco's hands found his and their fingers entwined as Draco whimpered and pushed himself down onto Harry.. Harry laughed - he was fucking Draco Malfoy and they were in love and he was having sex - and then began to move in and out of the heat of Draco's arse. They slowly began to find a rhythm together, although they lost it several times because everything was new and felt so. damned. good. Because they were seventeen and boys, it didn't take long for them both to fall apart together..

It was messy and awkward and Harry was very sore and exhausted, but it had also been brilliant and he couldn't wait to do it again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Their second time together happened during a Hogsmeade weekend. Harry and Draco both told their mates that they didn't feel well and to go on without them, although that hadn't been the case at all. After the students left for Hogsmeade, Harry went down to the Slytherin common room to meet Draco, where they played wizard's chess and argued Quidditch strategies for hours. After they took tea together in lieu of joining the firsties and second years in the Great Hall for lunch, Draco announced that he wanted a lie-down, so they settled down together under his duvets and napped.

Harry woke up some time later and found Draco spooning into him, his chest pressed against Draco's back. Harry grinned and stretched slightly, feeling himself rub against Draco's arse.

Oh. Oh God.

He could feel himself twitch and that now-familiar fluttering sensation in the pit of his belly and he sighed, running a hand along Draco's side and then down over his stomach. Draco let out a soft, sleepy sigh and Harry slid his hand down into Draco's pants, his skin touching the smooth heat under the thin cotton. He ran his fingers lightly over the length and then pulled his hand out, unfastening the button and zip, yanking the trousers and pants down over Draco's hips. Harry undid his own zip and led himself out of his y-fronts, then slicked his fingers with saliva and stretched Draco impatiently. Stopping briefly to lift Draco's leg up and push his own underneath it, Harry finished him up and brought himself to nudge against Draco's entrance. There was a light touch on his knee and Harry gasped, his sound mingling with Draco's sleepy murmuring. He sighed again and pushed his arse back against Harry, then began to rock his hips. Harry cried out, reaching round Draco's front to fist him, stroking it slowly in time with the thrusting of his hips. Draco moved with him and they found - and kept - a soft, lazy rhythm together. Sliding his free hand under Draco, Harry settled his hand on Draco's chest and held him close as they shagged, close and comfortable and loved.

When it was all over and Draco performed a Cleaning Charm around a tired yawn, Harry kissed the back of his neck languidly and drifted back to sleep, satisfied and safe and looking forward to a future of being hated by Draco Malfoy.