Blood Clot

Harry's POV

PART THIRTY

Promiscuous

"Look at him. He's so...artificial. Isn't he?"

I turned around from studying, looking up as Draco showed me yet another picture of a buff professional Quidditch player, this time a grinning, short man with chestnut hair. Sighing, I couldn't help but laugh, and asked, "Draco, if you hate them, why look at them?"

"Because the media exaggerates people's flaws and goodness's. They undermine him for his stature, yet compliment him for his strength. It's stupid."

I sighed. This was exasperating, and Draco knew it.

"Do you think I have no reason to slap you? Because you just gave me a good reason. You're interrupting my studying. If it's stupid, why spend your time looking at those magazines?"

Draco smirked at me, his eyes twinkling with an unrecognizable emotion. He loved getting me annoyed, the git. For some reason he liked to see me sitting there, cheeks flushed in anger, now distracted from the studying I should have been doing. I had readily prepared myself for learning what I had missed in seventh year from McGonagall and Hermione, but mostly I tried to stay in my room and study it alone, because being with two women for an hour could be quite maddening. Also there was the fact that I still wasn't inclined to tell Hermione and Ron the truth about the time they knocked on my door and I was busy with Draco.

Turning around to pat his butt Draco said, "Go ahead then. Slap me."

Blushing, I instead gave Draco's back a kick, only making him wobble slightly. Turning around, he shoved my quill and parchment away, and before I could say a word in protest he sat in my lap and leaned in to stop my words with a kiss.

I battled with Draco's tongue to try and get it out of my mouth and stop the kiss so I could continue my work, but my attempts were futile. Finally, succumbing to his wiles, I kissed him back, letting the heat and passion flow through me. When he tried to begin undressing me, however, I pushed his hands away, never letting him get a hold of me.

Instead, I focused on torturing him as much as possible so he would have to leave, and so that he would know not to bother me when I was studying again. Unzipping his trousers and sliding a hand in, I steadily caressed and pressed against his arousal, never letting him get what he truly wanted.

Finally, breaking away from me, he re-zipped his trousers back up and began to retreat, frowning. But then he lunged towards me again, and fearing he was going to start all over, I stood up, and giving him an angry glare, I yelled, "Go! Go away! You can't always get what you want, and I've got better things than that to do right now, okay? I don't need that now! So just, just go, Draco, leave!"

I sighed as he turned and walked out the door. Then I turned back to my work, trying to focus and not think of the trouble I was currently having with my friends and Draco.

-----*-----

My boots clacked against the wood as I walked up the stairs and into the club. The bright lights and loud, blaring Muggle music caused me to stop and try to get used to it before venturing further. I had no idea why I was at a Muggle club--complete with dancing, bars, and strip performances--other than the fact that I felt quite angsty and had dove into the first place that looked like it could give me a relieving drink.

A few minutes later, I walked away from the bar area, waiting for my drink, and slipped into a dark corner where I would go unnoticed. Moments later I looked out to find another person coming to join me in the corner. I was about to open my mouth to ask him to leave when I realized who it was.

Draco.

Why on earth was he here?! It didn't make any sense! I would never have thought Draco would go anywhere that Muggles were, talk about a Muggle club! Voicing my confusion, I asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question, Potter."

Uh-oh. It was back to Potter. For the last week or so since our rendezvous in my room, we had called each other by first name, in private. Although I knew that our disagreement was my fault, his sudden change in attitude toward me made me angry. Signaling for the bartender to leave the drink on the counter, I focused all my attention on Draco, and said, "I would never have thought I'd see you at a place with Muggles. Why are you here?"

His eyes were shadowed, but I could see that the mood in them was morbid and pained. I had to repress the sympathetic urges spinning in my stomach; but it was very difficult. Staring at me stolidly, he replied, "I'm depressed."

I glanced at him before going to get my drink, and upon returning I laughed humorlessly, and then took a swig. Then I said "How ironic. 'Cause you know what? So am I!"

There was a pause, and then I asked him, "Why did you leave?"

"You told me to. You said to go. So I did."

I decided not to voice my confusion. Since when did Draco Malfoy follow orders? Not that I'd really ordered him, but still; just because I'd said so didn't mean he had to, and usually he wouldn't do what I said, order or not, unless there was something in it for him. I voiced these skepticisms, and in reply he simply said, "I needed to leave, to get a break from it all. Your words just...spurred me on." Suddenly, holding out his hand towards me, he asked, "Want to dance?"

I stared down at his hand, knowing that him asking me to join him on the dance floor was more then just that. It wasn't simple. He was also asking for a truce, for me to forgive and forget about our argument a few hours earlier. But I refused to let it pass so easily. This was important. I wouldn't let our relationship revolve around lust. The argument would happen again the next time I was busy studying, so I had to make sure there wouldn't be a next time; it had to be resolved now.

Besides, I had taken notice of the way the dancers rubbed their bodies against each other sensually, standing close together and sneaking the occasional snog. The throng of people was close-knit and unembarrassed. I didn't think I could do that, or wanted to. It was Public Displays of Affection at the maximum.

Snorting in disapproval, I said, "I don't think so. Don't think I haven't noticed the way they dance. And besides, this would simply let you get the action you wanted earlier. I still stand to refuse. You can't always get what you want, Draco, and I won't let you make me your toy."

Staring at me intently, Draco replied, "You're not my toy, Harry. I'm not going to treat you like that. After your outburst today, I wouldn't be so stupid."

"You were stupid before! You treated me like your possession, all the time! Even after saying it to my face, and after I helped you resolve your--your--problems! You simply used my body for pleasure. I won't stand for that anymore. NO way."

Gritting his teeth, he placed his hand on my shoulders, saying, "Listen, it's not you doing all the work to try and make this relationship work. Damnit, if it weren't for me letting you, you wouldn't understand a thing about me! I let you help me with my problems, and I listened to your doubts and your rants of anger. But you haven't opened up yet either, Harry. The reason I treat you with lust, and lust alone, is because that's all you've let me do! I've asked you things about why you do what you do, I've learned your side on some things; I've come to understand you partly. And you've helped me realize that my...my..."

I was shocked to see his eyes brim with tears as the difficulty of voicing it aloud overloaded him with emotion. He choked, "My physical abuse. You've helped me realize that's it's...wrong."

He took a deep, shuddering breath, before continuing. "And you've helped me to give it up once and for all. But meanwhile you've hidden the truth from your friends, and you've hidden your heart and your mind from me. It's because you're scared Harry, I know that's why. And I'm scared too! But...but if you just...l-let me...get to know you, and be open-minded, then, then it won't be just snogging and stuff like that any more. I promise I'll let you study, too. If you'd just explained to me how important it is to you, I would have understood. But instead you shove me away when you don't want me, and leave me frustrated, and blaming myself that I don't know and understand you better. But actually it's partly your fault also."

Once finished with his speech, he grabbed my bottle of vodka and chugged down the rest of it for me. I had listened closely to what he said, letting every word engrave themselves in my head for future reference. And suddenly I realized that what he was saying was true--every word of it. He had let me heal him, but I had never opened myself up to him enough to let him do the same for me. What is wrong with me? Unconsciously I've been hiding myself from him. No wonder he's always so passionate with me--it's the only way I ever let him connect. I've seriously messed this up for us. I'm so glad he realized it. Damn, but he's perceptive!

Smiling, I said, "You're right. I've made mistakes and unknowingly hid myself away. I promise I won't do it anymore. You'll get to know me better. But you'd better keep that promise to let me study! Anyway, let's talk later; I'd like that dance now."

Grinning, he took my hand in his, and led me to the dance floor.

-----*-----

"Damn it, it's so fucking hot in here!"

Clamping a hand over his mouth, I murmured, "Sshh, stop...hehheh...mmm..." I forgot what I had been going to say as Draco leaned in for another kiss. My world was bright, and I felt as if I was floating. Some of my alertness was still around, but not much. After dancing, vodka after vodka had left me slurring my words and feeling a bit woozy. So Draco had lead me back to our little corner, where we'd promptly commenced snogging viciously.

Dancing had been wonderful. After a few minutes, having such a skilled and gorgeous dance partner had made all my nervousness melt away. I had ignored the strange looks we'd gotten from a Muggle or two, and had simply let my body flow naturally to the music, twisting and spinning against Draco. He had kept me especially close to him on the slow song. The fast ones had been extremely exhilarating and enjoyable, but the slow one had made me feel as if in a dream, the soothing music accompanied by Draco's warmth causing me to feel sleepy, yet happy.

My tongue slowly pushed and slid inside his mouth as, groaning into the kiss, Draco slid his hands from my hips to my arse. I froze as a familiar giggle met my ears, and both Draco and I pulled away from each other to see who had intruded our corner. My eyes widened. Pansy!

She stood in front of us, hands on her hips, lips fully glossed, wearing a sleek, pale purple dress that almost reached her knees. Her mouth was twisted in an amused smirk, and her eyes glinted as her gaze switched back and forth from me to Draco. Turning to Draco, she asked, "So? What have we got here? The Slytherin King snogging the Boy Who Lived? My, my, my. What a surprise."

Turning to me, a brow raised, she said, "So? Feeling all-powerful, able to make this--" she jerked her thumb at Draco, "--insufferable, stubborn git snog you senseless?"

Shaking my head, I was about to reply when she turned back to Draco, saying, "So? Who's the boss here; you, or the specs?"

Grinning roguishly, Draco replied, "Neither. He got the top when we shagged, but I've pinned him down and sucked him off a number of times." The woman didn't even flinch at Draco's careless tone, nor the crude imagery and words directed at her. Instead, she simply grinned in return, and clapped her hands, as if the prospect of two men getting intimate was the most delightful thing in the world.

Then, she laughed, and turning her bright eyes to me, asked in a sultry tone, "When're you gonna do the same for him, eh? You two have some special plans tonight?"

Blushing furiously, I shook my head vigorously. This was not the kind, patient Pansy I had had visit me in the hospital. This was the cackling, pug-nosed Slytherin wench who, annoying all, had paraded around at Draco's side in her school days.

Pushing at her shoulder as if she was just another bloke and not of the opposite gender, Draco said, "Go away, Pansy. You know you're bothering him and you need to shut your bloody mouth so leave us alone and stop waiting for an opportunity of voyeurism."

Cackling softly, Pansy shouldered her purse and prepared to leave, saying, "Alright then, see you later boys! Have fun!" She gave Draco a quick kiss on the cheek before turning around and leaving, calling back a chortle of, "Treat him well, Drakey!"

Glaring in the direction the woman had gone, Draco muttered, "'Drakey' my arse. That woman needs a zipper for her mouth, she bloody opens it so damn much!"

He turned to me, and was about to lean in for another kiss when I, perhaps recovered from the vodka, placed a finger over his mouth, saying, "Stop swearing so much. It hurts my ears." I wondered why he had mentioned shagging to Pansy. In truth we'd never actually gone that far, never had the time or the desperate crave to succumb to the lust that much. I had wondered more than once what it would be like to do it, and if Draco ever got the want to, but didn't for my sake.

Giving me an amused little smirk, Draco replied, "Anything to please you, delicious," before bringing my finger in his mouth. After a minute or so I slid to sit down, leaning against the wall, my finger still in his mouth. My legs spread wide, I let him sit in between them down on his knees, hands resting against my chest, fingering my collar. I sighed in content as his tongue swirled around my finger gently, closing my eyes with a sigh.

In a moment, his hands were at my waist, and hastily drying my finger I had to pry his hands from their grasp on my belt, about to unhook it. Smiling, I shook my head, and placing his hands on my shoulders I motioned for him to scoot closer.

He gave me a questioning look but scooted closer anyway, obediently turning around to lean back against me when I motioned for him to do so. Clasping my arms around his waist, I let him rest his head on my shoulder, fingers creeping up his shirt to slide against his back. We sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the music and the noise outside our little corner; it all seemed so distant, like a faraway world. Then, suddenly, he blurted in a very uncharacteristic way, "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"About...what I said, that--that you were mine. My acting so possessive, it was wrong. I just...don't want to lose you." His voice cracked on the last words, and I could almost swear those beautiful eyes were hinting of tears.

He continued hastily, as if in order to breathe, to not collapse from such a burden, he had to heave it off as quickly as possible. "And trying to make you lie, I'm sorry for that too, and, and just..." he heaved a big sigh, shoulders slumped, the look on his face one of ultimate dejection.

"Everything. I'm sorry about everything."

Leaning closer to him, his eyes, filled with guilt, boring into mine, I cupped his cheek, whispering, "It's okay. I forgive you. We're just so eager to know each other that we take it all too fast and, actually, the process of knowing, and learning from our mistakes, is a gradual thing."

He nodded, and for some time, all was silent, as I continued to slide my fingers up and down his back, massaging his shoulders for a few minutes. I laughed as he began to squirm underneath my touch, hissing for me to stop when I slid my fingers down his spine; it gave him a ticklish feeling, I supposed. Then I slid my hands back around his waist, and began to unbuckle his belt as I asked, "So? What's your favorite food, Draco?"

I could just imagine the look on his face--confusion, befuddlement, and slight irritation. "WHY are you asking me this question? It's irrelevant to--" I cut him off on purpose by pretending to 'accidentally' brush my hand beneath his belt for a few moments. I didn't want to listen to his protests and trying to make everything I said logical. I just wanted a little chat, small talk. Nothing important anymore. I had had enough stress for the time being. The night was now peaceful, and I felt like I could be as lazy as I wanted.

"Shut up, Draco."

He complied, grumbling slightly, and I finally whisked his belt from it's loops, bringing it up to my face to brush the leather against my cheek before placing it on the floor. My hands went back down to his waist area, but instead of doing anything; I simply rested my hands there, fingers rubbing against his skin beneath the hem of his shirt. On a whim he decided to answer my question, and said, "I have no favorite food. Butterbeer, occasionally. I like wine better though. But if I have to have a fetish, I do say I've always liked cream cheese. And bespectacled green-eyed blokes."

I laughed, and said, "Why green? Slytherin spirit?" Although we both knew that that wasn't the reason--unless it meant that I had some Slytherin spirit in me--and that he was talking specifically.

He nodded, saying, "I suppose you could say that. What's your favorite food?"

"I've always liked treacle tarts. But you know what I really love?"

He was about to ask what when I attacked for an answer, my hand invading Draco's trousers to rub against the slight hardness in his boxers. Unable to kiss him in my current position, I settled for sucking at his ear, while simultaneously continuing to feel him up. Eventually I had a full erection beneath my hand, Draco's moans of pleasure driving me into a frenzied eagerness to further heighten his arousal.

I heavily fondled and pressed at Draco's firmness, feeling my own breathing become ragged as the simplest hot breath against my skin suddenly had the ability to give me an erection. I pressed against Draco, the leather material of his trousers rubbing, making me moan breathlessly in unity with Draco as my hand's continued pressure against him drove him mad.

My hand slid from his trousers when he turned around, and his tongue ravaged my mouth and neck mercilessly with insistent kisses and sucks as we drove each other mad with the extent of our passion; but somehow it was never good enough. Now, when I felt I would do anything, even jeopardize my sanity, to let him shag me senseless as long as it gave me the fulfillment I so desperately needed--we couldn't, because regardless of our want, the place was inappropriate, and I would feel ever regretful and humiliated if we did it here. Also was the fact that we'd promised each other our relationship wouldn't be ruled totally be passion; yet here we were snogging wildly yet again.

How long will it go on like this? How long until one of us gets sick of it?

I wondered if Draco, too, was asking these questions.

Draco's POV

PART THIRTY ONE

Perfection

"I don't think so, Professor. No, Professor, I would rather--"

A head with chaotic ebony hair tilted upward, turning to look at me as I walked through the doorway. Nodding to McGonagall and Granger-turned-Weasley, I scooped up Harry's parchment and sat on his desk in front of him. Placing it in McGonagall's hands, I glanced at Harry.

He was giving me an odd look, one of slight annoyance and curiousity. Turning to his tutors, I tilted my chin upward in a business-like manner, saying, "Professor McGonagall, Professor Weasley, I would like to end this lesson now, with your permission. Harry and I have an...arrangement...of sorts. It is very urgent, and we must be leaving in," I glanced at the clock on the wall, "at the maximum, ten minutes."

Although school was over and it was now June, Harry and I and a few other guests were still here at Hogwarts. Several of the teachers who still had business, such as Granger-Weasley and McGonagall, as well as Dumbledore, were still here. So Harry had continued his lessons with them, and was now almost done with the work worth the year that he had missed.

McGonagall turned to Granger-Weasley for a signal of agreement, before turning to me. Giving me a shrewd, calculating look, she said, "Permission granted."

Grabbing Harry by the arm, I dragged him from the room, and was just stepping out the door when Granger-Weasley asked, "May I ask where it is you're taking him, and why?"

I gave her a half-hearted glare, before answering, "I'm taking him to the place he's always wanted to go. As for why...well, that's a secret between him and I."

Grinning, I then rushed out of the room and brought Harry upstairs with me. Soon we stood in front of the door to my room, where he grabbed my arm, as I turned the knob, asking, "I didn't ask to go to your room. Is this where you planned to take me?"

"No, Harry. I'm taking you to wherever you want to go."

"Wherever I want to go? What kind of trick is this?"

"It's no trick, Harry. It's a surprise."

"But, wh-"

He was cut off as I dragged him after me into my room, and then sat him down on the bed. I watched as he warily eyed a scarf that lay on the bed; it was our Portkey. Then he turned to me, but before he could say anything, I said, "Think of wherever you want to go, and on the count of three, both of us touch that scarf--our, well, let's avoid complicated technical explanations and just call it a specialized Portkey."

Harry stared at me for a few moments, and then nodded. For a minute or so, there was silence. I indulged myself in eyeing every intricate detail of him, from the cut on his elbow to the rumpled bottom of his trousers and plain, thick shoes. No matter what he wore--unless it was some horribly pink and frilly thing--or how aggravating he got, Harry was always extremely lovable.

My mind floated back to the present as I heard Harry's voice say, "Alright. One...Two...Three..."

I reached forward to touch the Portkey, my hand bumping Harry's, wondering where it was we were going. What place did he want to go most?

-----*-----

Once the whirl of Portkey travel had ended, I felt myself deposited onto the ground with a thump, Harry lying half on top of me, his torso stretched out over my back. After he stood up, I did, making sure to brush myself off before taking a look around.

Of course, I thought, a little smile twitching my lips, I should have known!

Godric's Hollow.

It made sense. Harry and his parents had lived here before Voldemort's terrible visit, and although it couldn't be said that the place held good memories for him, if any at all, it was, in a way, his home.

But it had been years since Harry got his scar, and the house had been destroyed when Voldemort came. I would have expected Godric's Hollow to have a dead and perhaps haunted feeling to it, but it didn't. Instead, the bright flowers and different leafy shades of green, as well as the varied plants and sweet scent in the air created a welcoming mood. A couple of birds twittered cheerfully up among the branches, and the chirp of crickets and the buzzing of bees was creating faint background music. The trickle of water could be heard from a stream quite a ways away but just visible behind a clump of bushes, yet the noise wasn't so abundant that it was irritating. Instead, it was a pleasant combination of quiet and loud; perfect. The place was so colorful, so...alive. It was exhilarating.

Looking around, it almost seemed to be a wild jungle. A broken pillar, tilted, had a bunch of ivy winding up all around it, which then crawled down the other side of the brick wall that the pillar lay against. The wind whispered of ancient power and virtue, the bright sun and shrouding trees creating a pleasing yet slightly quieted atmosphere, as if it was a crime to speak too loudly. The place automatically sunk one into a mood of reverence and silent contemplation of its natural beauty. Other shrubbery and a few trees grew freely here and there, and through a scattering of flowers and grass was a faded, almost imperceptible beaten pathway. Overall, the place was quite beautiful.

I stood watching as Harry gazed around in amazement. His feet finally standing at the very place he was truly meant to be, he positively glowed, so radiant was his joy. I couldn't help but smile as I watched him walk all around, bending down to smell a flower, touch a gnarled tree's bark, stare at pieces of things that could be parts of his family history. He looked so much like he belonged; it was the most soothing sight, seeing Harry so obviously peaceful, happy, and awed. Tears came to my eyes as I considered what he could be feeling, how yearning would be tugging at his heart, and a great sense of loss for what had been his past and yet he had never known filling him. I hoped these feelings wouldn't cover his otherwise optimistic mood.

What really attracted my attention was a large oak tree way in the back, standing isolated. It's great size made it stand out from all the other trees and bushes, it's branches reaching out to loom over in an almost protective way, as if a hand tightly grasping something precious to it, unable to let go. I followed Harry as he walked towards the tree, but then fell back, slowing my step, as he knelt on the ground in front of two tombstones.

I stopped a little ways away, standing behind him, respectfully averting my eyes from his kneeling form, his head bent down. My eyes raked up and down the gigantic oak, fascinated by its rough bark and intertwining, long, reaching branches that plunged down and up in an untraceable pattern. The leaves reminded me of clouds, flattened and painted green, the rounded edges creating a rippled diamond shape.

Finally my attention was brought back to Harry as, with a loud sniff, he stood up, and turned towards me. I didn't know what to expect. Apprehension was clenching around my heart; would he be angry? Disturbed? Emotionless? Depressed? Dismissive? Exhausted? Thoughtful?

I stood with mouth slightly open as Harry walked to stand in front of me, his eyes sparkling wetly. Giving another loud sniff, Harry smiled at me, and that was when I knew that I had done the right thing. A huge relief and joy swept through me, and I almost felt like crying myself, as that smile of Harry's made me feel the most intense surge of joy I'd felt in, well, an awfully long time, if not my entire life. I felt the most exquisite contentedness as Harry threw his arms around me in a hug, and I returned his embrace with an absolute, unfamiliar kind of affection.

Then, taking in a deep breath, a smile still all over his face in every possible way, Harry flung his arms into the air, and laughed with the most cheerful edge to a laugh that I'd ever heard. He then closed his eyes, face upturned to the sky, and yelled, "THANK YOU!" I wasn't sure if he was thanking me, the oak tree, his parents, Godric's Hollow, the sky, or the entire world, but I felt so satisfied, so glad that Harry was with me, that Harry was happy, that Harry was Harry, that I just had to tell him somehow.

Unable to stop smiling, I wrapped my arms around Harry's waist, whispering a husky, "I know it's early, but, Happy Birthday," before pressing my lips to his in a tender kiss. I didn't know if it was that his joy was so great that it spread through every fiber of his being, but Harry's mouth seemed a lot more delicious that day. The kiss wasn't very long, and neither of us really wanted to sink into it, so we only skipped usage of tongues, allowing the kiss to be one of sweetness rather than passion.

It was almost as if I was flying. Harry's heartbeat steadily against mine, his hands cupping my face were warm and gentle. The most amazing warmth--mental and physical--emanated from him, and at that moment I felt as if nothing nor anyone in the world could be more perfect than this time, place, event, and the person I was with. I sighed as we softly broke the kiss, and automatically we wrapped our arms around each other again. For a few moments we just stood there, absorbed in our own thoughts yet reveling in the other, without an upset or negativity in us at all.

Then we broke away, and, as Harry had already expressed his thanks without words, for a moment there was nothing to do. Then Harry smiled at me, saying, "Draco, I...this has been the best birthday present ever."

Shaking my head at his repeated thanks, I smiled saying, "It's not over yet, Harry, not just yet. How about going somewhere for a drink?"

He nodded, and after a few quick whispered words of where, we Apparated.

-----*-----

Vodka after vodka after vodka. When Harry was in the mood, he could down them in gulp after gulp. This time, however, he drank out of happiness, not any negative feeling. Since neither of us wanted to talk after our wonderful experience back at Godric's Hollow, I let him drink as much as he wanted, hiding my laughter at his eager drinking each time Harry looked towards me.

Finally, with a loud clink, Harry put down his cup for what seemed the thousandth time, and grabbing his shoulder, I said, "No more, Harry, come on," before leaving I set a few Sickles and Knuts down on the counter. Quickly I marched Harry--or should I say, helped him stumble--down a hallway and out the door of the wizarding pub/hotel we were staying in. It was quite nice, and quite expensive, even on my terms. But it was for Harry, so...no complaints from me.

I had noticed, when standing upstairs looking out the window while Harry rested after we arrived, that there was a meadow out back. It was a nice place to bring a drunken Harry to, spacious, empty, with a few random trees here and there for a bit of shade.

Once I had chosen the tree of preference--a nice leafy maple--I curled up with Harry in a little crook between two roots. Petting the ebony-haired head that rested on my chest, I hummed a tune that I had heard from childhood--one I still managed to remember from the cradle. It had something to do with the word yesterday, and had been sung by some famous muggle by the name of Paul McCartney, a guy in a band that my mother used to like a few years before meeting my father. Although quite sad, I had grown to like the tune, and Harry obviously found it quite soothing, because eventually he was lying snoring in my arms.

Once I had finished singing the song--quite a while after Harry fell asleep--I became a little restless. But I didn't want to bother Harry, because today was supposed to be his perfect day. I knew that Harry had never had a really great birthday. Sure, he had been given presents, probably, and cards, but never anything as special as I hoped today would be to him. He needed to have a birthday where his mind didn't wander to sorrow or bitterness; it needed to be a totally perfect, pleasing day where he could do and be whatever he wanted.

A yawn suddenly startled me away from my thoughts, and I looked up as Harry leaned away from his position of lying against me, yawning widely as he stretched his arms and legs. Adjusting his glasses, he stared at me for a few moments before giving me a quick smile. As he leaned towards me again, I thought he was going to go back asleep, but instead he began to shower kisses against my neck. He slid his hands underneath my shirt then, swirling his fingertips around my pectorals.

Almost immediately my body reacted under his touch, stiffening ever so slightly and arching every part of me towards him. Looking up from his nibbles at my neck, Harry, now quite flustered, began to push my shirt upward, giving me a glance that demanded I say yes to him taking it off. I nodded, and within seconds the brunette's tongue was sweeping all over my torso, taking special care to pay attention to my nipples and navel.

Placing my hands on his arse, I realized that the trousers he wore fit his arse snugly, making the shapely firmness all the more obvious. Then I groaned in pleasure as, at the same time that I got an erection, Harry chose that moment to rub his body against mine, and steal a vicious, brief kiss.

Gasping, I almost missed his words as Harry breathed huskily, "I have a birthday request to make, Draco." Smiling, I wiggled out from under his grasp slightly to get in a position to look him in the eye. Curiousity enfulged me against my will.

"Anything for the birthday boy. Make your request."

Grinning madly, Harry said, "Okay, here's what it is..." and whispered it in my ear, his face flushed red, words whizzing by quickly in his nervousness. I was astounded. There was no other word for it. Harry Potter was the one and only person who could ever surprise Draco Malfoy, and he was bloody brilliant at knowing what and when to say to make me feel...the way I did. Several feelings were clashing in me. Most prominently was shock, but then came embarrassment, amusement, a bit of nervousness, and a smidge of eagerness and anticipation as well.

Smiling, I put on my shirt and slid out from under Harry, saying, "Alright then, Harry. You'll have to imagine the music in the background, but I'll do the rest. Here goes..."

Slowly, I began to rock back and forth, singing to a silent tune, twisting and shaking my body to soundless music.

I was glad that I got to choose the song. In my few years since Hogwarts I had come to slightly accept some of the things I'd been known to hate as a child. Although I despised television and still disapproved of Muggle-borns, I had grown to love Muggle music. It had become an obsession. So now all the time spent listening to the radio came to use, and I had many options of what to sing for Harry.

Each step I did was carefully placed, each gesture timed to happen at a certain word or syllable, each implication made at a certain moment.

I struck a pose I remembered seeing a stripper do when glancing through the window into a strip club. Harry squeaked at this, twitching nervously as my hands slid down the front of my torso, locking on my belt.

I walked a few steps forward towards Harry, who became fidgety at my approach. Giving him a sultry wink, I slid down to my knees in front of him, my gaze locking with his steadily, whispering the lyrics as I reached one hand out to cup his cheek. Smirking, I slowly slid my other hand up my thigh, noticing how Harry was watching my every move. Teasingly, I slowly slid the zipper of my trousers down and back up again, before backing away and then quickly letting them drop.

I moved forward to ease myself into Harry's lap, noticing the incredible hardness throbbing in his trousers. Taking his hands in my mine, I moved his fingers to unbutton my shirt, and then flung it over his head, laughing. Moving away again, I massaged my hand back and forth against my crotch, then said the next stanza with a swivel to my hips.

I looked over at Harry. Oh, he was definitely squirming now. But he was enjoying it. And there was no denying he'd asked for it. He just hadn't known I would dance in this...provocative manner.

At the very last line, I slid out of my boxers, draping my bare figure on Harry as a whispered the last two words in his ear. Harry moaned loudly, breath coming in quick, ragged gasps. He was trying his best not to let the lust overtake him and not to stare at my revealed skin, however, the rigidity of his erection denied any kind of inattention.

A loud moan as I shifted position a bit told me exactly how attentive Harry had been during my performance. The remembrance of his squirming and the feel of the constant throbbing in Harry's trousers made me smirk. I had to admit that I was getting quite aroused myself. Harry's moaning and fidgeting excited that part of me to no end.

I decided to cut to the chase, and quickly slid Harry's shirt over and off of him, leaning in to grind against his crotch as I sucked slowly at that spot beneath his ear. Somehow I managed to heave the other man so that I sat with he leaning against me, which gave me better opportunity to use my hands, while also being able to get close to him.

Harry gasped loudly when I began to fondle and massage his crotch much more than was necessary, fingers curling and pressurizing the tent in his trousers. Soft gasps came from my own mouth, as, in a fit of aroused squirming, Harry's arse did it's own job of massaging, rubbing against my cock as it was.

Finally deciding to stop playing with him, I helped Harry shed the rest of his clothes, and then both of us turned simultaneously to embrace the other. It was with a sigh of relief that I pressed my body against his, reveling in the sensation of his soft, smooth skin--all of it--against mine.

A low groan slipped from me as suddenly a strong hand was stroking me, tantalizingly putting only a little pressure. I closed my eyes, a soft, quiet little ongoing moan beginning as Harry treated me. He was a little too gentle for my tastes, but that thought disappeared as soon as his tongue me.

His soft, slippery tongue was almost too hot to stand; I refused to beg, but Harry would have had to be unconscious not to realize I wanted more. However, instead of sucking me off more, he conjured up a bed from nowhere, and pulling the sheets over us, proceeded to shag me senseless.

I couldn't believe that I let him be on top.

But then again, why not?

It was his birthday present, after all.