Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10018292.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M, F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Draco_Malfoy/Harry_Potter, Hermione_Granger/Ron_Weasley
  Character:
      Draco_Malfoy, Dudley_Dursley, Fred_Weasley, George_Weasley, Ginny
      Weasley, Harry_Potter, Hermione_Granger, Millicent_Bulstrode, Molly
      Weasley, Neville_Longbottom, Other(s), Pansy_Parkinson, Petunia_Evans
      Dursley, Ron_Weasley, Seamus_Finnigan, Vernon_Dursley, Arthur_Weasley,
      Blaise_Zabini
  Additional Tags:
      Explicit_Language, Slash_sex, Sexual_Content, Humor, Parody, Romance
  Collections:
      HPFandom
  Stats:
      Published: 2008-01-09 Completed: 2008-01-12 Chapters: 4/4 Words: 5177
****** Old Rivalries Die Hard - Mostly ******
by Blaiyne [archived by HPFandom_archivist]
Summary
     Voldie's dead, and Harry decides to enjoy his 7th year at Hogwarts.
Notes
     Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally
     archived at HP_Fandom, which was closed for health and financial
     reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its
     works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I
     e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but
     may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator,
     please contact me using the e-mail address on HP_Fandom_collection
     profile.
***** Vernon's a Slimy Oaf *****
Disclaimer: I don't own these people.
A/N: In this story, for the sake of my enjoyment only, I've added an extra year
to the student's life at Hogwarts. Also, I've changed people's ages. No, I'm
not just stupid. I'm aware of what I'm doing. ;) Oh right. And Voldie's dead.
Harry Potter was reclining lazily on the Dursley's sofa, taking full advantage
of the fact that the family, his family, was out on some day trip to some
random, probably boring location of sorts. He had his school books out,
pretending more than anything to be the studious student he really should've
turned into, but failed. Hedwig was perched happily on the sofa back, and for
once Harry felt totally relaxed in the tense atmosphere of his aunt and uncle's
pathetic excuse for a home. And basically, Harry's mind was jumping from topic
to topic with no rhyme or reason.
Summer was nearly half over, and Harry was busy contemplating exactly what
would be happening to him. He would be going into his seventh year at Hogwarts,
which meant that he'd only have one more year of the Dursely's nonsense. A year
too long, he reflected, but then again, he had managed to survive thus far.
Knock on wood. Ideally, however, Harry wanted, and was determined to find
somewhere else to stay for the following Summer. Each year Harry somehow seemed
to find it in his heart to hate the Durselys more and more, and he would not,
if at all possible, spend any unnecessary amount of time there. Damn Durselys.
Also, he would like to be able to visit with his friends over his breaks. The
rare letters and packages just didn't seem to hold him over as they used to,
and he wanted to actually see Ron and Hermione, not just read about their
lives. How dull. But now that he was thinking about it, he realized that he
hadn't received a single letter from either of his closest friends. He hadn't
even received anything from Dumbledore or Hagrid. There was no way Harry's
popularity had suddenly disintegrated, especially considering that during the
past year he killed Voldemort, saved the "Wizarding World," and all that jazz.
So where were his letters? Harry didn't mean to sound like a whiny prat, but
really. There was no way he'd just been completely forgotten within a month.
But that was depressing. Time to move.
Harry came to the realization, rather suddenly, that he'd never seen the
entirety of the Dursely's home. He'd seen Dudley's room numerous times,
considering that the boy was a pig so of course Harry was forced to clean up
after him. But Harry had never seen Vernon and Petunia's bedroom. He jumped up,
knocking a large potions book of his lap and onto the floor, and stirring
Hedwig from her peaceful slumber. He sauntered over to the room like he was on
top of the world, opened the door, and had to admit that he was a bit
disappointed when all he saw was an ugly, plain bedroom. He really expected to
uncover corpses and such. Perhaps they had a skeleton in their closet. He
smirked at the pun, then straightened his face, realizing that if there were,
it wouldn't surprise him. So he walked over, pulled open the closet door, and
uncovered, in a way, the Dursley's skeleton.
Harry gasped at the seemingly shrine devoted to Harry, except for the fact that
if the Dursely's did have a shrine, it would be in the name of Hitler or
Stalin, or hell Voldie for that matter. There were letters and packages all
addressed to him, all hidden in the damn closed. Vernon must've been
intercepting his friend's owls all this time, the slimy oaf. Harry kicked the
wall in frustration, then dragged the bulk of HIS belongings into his room
along with a disgruntled Hedwig.
Several hours later, Harry's face was flushed a deep shade of scarlet. He had
NEVER been this angry in his life, and that was saying something. He'd
discovered from various letters from Mrs. Weasley and Ron that he had been
invited to stay at the Burrow for the Summer. Following the invitations were
several letter of them seeming dejected, then angry for not answering them at
all. Hermione, too, had sent him several letters, saying that she was staying
with the Weasley's, then he opened on of her literally screaming at him about
courtesy and manners and about how rude he was being, blowing them all off.
Then the letters all became worried, and everyone seemed to be question where
he was. Was he okay? Did he somehow get hurt?
Harry hastily grabbed a notepad and began a quick note to his friends,
explaining what that bastard of an uncle had done. He rolled it up quickly,
tied it to Hedwig, and sent her out, smirking at the result he knew would come.
The Weasley's would be here in no time, rescuing the damsel in distress. Or, as
the case may be, Harry.
***** I Think Your Dog Died *****

Author's notes: Harry's rescued
===============================================================================
The Dursley's had arrived home shortly after Harry triumphantly sent his
letter, and came home to a house that looked like a small hurricane had run
straight through it, leading directly to the closet. Harry could hear a yell
that sounded distinctly Vernon-like, and locked his door, prepared for the
storm that his Uncle was now going to start.
"HARRY! Get your ass out here right now!"
Harry, obviously, did not to as he was told. No one was to say that he didn't
have a good head on his shoulders.
"Did you hear me, you ungrateful little son of a bitch?! I swear to God I'm
gonna rip your head off your neck, you little piece of filth. This is the
thanks we get after all we've done for you?!" There was a distinctly Vernon-
like slam against his door. It was a wonder the wood didn't crumble under his
sheer whale-like weight. "Open the door!"
Not a chance. If Vernon wanted him, he'd have to break the door down.
BOOM!
And apparently that's exactly what the oaf had in mind. Great.
BOOM!
Harry counted. 3...2...1...
BOOM!
3...2...1...
BOOM! CRASH!
Vernon Beached himself in the center of the room. Harry wasn't sure how he'd
accomplished this, but was quite impressed. Unfortunately, Vernon quickly
snapped to and lunged at Harry with hands too big to miss, despite aim. Harry
went down, wondering at how he himself was crushed under the weight.
"What in the WORLD is going on here?"
Petunia screeched. Vernon reeled. Harry snickered.
"Harry? Harry! Are you alright? No of course you aren't. Silly question." Harry
saw Molly Weasley's face appear over the bulk of his uncle, flushed and very,
very angry. Vernon struggled to get up and shoved past Mrs. Weasley, going to
accompany wife and son. Harry finally got a chance to sit up. And breath.
"No. I'm fine, really." Harry glared at his relatives as Ginny, Ron, Hermione,
and Mr. Weasley all came into view. Harry adverted his attention to his friends
and jumped to his feet, running to give them much deserved hugs. Mrs. Weasley
stood between to the two groups, looking like she was going to explode. The
Dursley's were huddled together nervously. Nothing good ever came out of
wizards visiting, and there were a lot more than usual this time.
"Harry will be coming home with us," Molly stated slowly like she was talking
to a group of two year olds.
"Wh-Wh," Vernon stammered, earning another death glare from Molly and a smirk
from Harry. This would be a good Summer after all.
"Go get your things Harry. Ron, go help him," Mrs. Weasley ordered, still
eyeing the Dursleys, daring them to try and stop her.
"So this is your room, mate?" Ron asked, slightly dumbfounded by the sheer
smallness of it. "It's a bit cramped."
"It's better than the cupboard they used to lock me in," Harry retorted, meant
for the offence of his aunt and uncle rather than Ron.
"You WHAT?!" Molly shouted, finally blowing. A stream of curses and lectures
poured from her motherly mouth, and Harry watched, enjoying the Dursley's
reaction.
Harry also noticed that Mr. Weasley was off doing his own thing. He was
rummaging around the house, inspecting various odds and ends before settling on
the family's rather large, gaudy television. Harry suppressed a laugh as Mr.
Weasley shrunk it and put it in his pocket, much to Vernon's dismay.
While this was going on, Harry observed, Dudley had taken to staring at Ginny
and Hermione, the two most attractive girls that would never give him the time
of day. Hermione glared daggers at him while Ginny simply moved away, going
into Harry's room to watch as everything was packed. Finally done, Ron emerged
carrying a suitcase, as did Harry, and Ginny had Hedwig's cage. Mrs. Weasley
finished her spouting and turned to gloriously make her exit, the students
following, and Mr. Weasley curiously tailing.
"Hey," he said friendlily, pointing to a rather disgusting statue of a dog
lying down that the Dursley's were rather proud of. "I think your dog died."
Vernon turned purple as the group apparated away right before his eyes.
-----
They ended up in the Weasley's living room, Molly ranting and raving about bad
parenting as Mr. Weasley settled down to inspect the stolen television. Ron and
Harry hauled everything up to the room where they'd be staying, bantering each
other lightly as they worked.
"So you had it pretty bad, huh? I didn't really realize..." Ron stated, eyes
looking questioningly at Harry.
"It wasn't usually that bad. Vernon was just angry because I went through his
closet and found all the things from you and Hermione that he'd stolen. Usually
they just leave me alone to my own devices," he explained. "But, I have to
admit, you definitely arrived at the right time today. I would've been crushed
to a pulp."
Ron laughed openly. "You know...your Uncle kinda resembled a beached whale
flailing on the floor like that."
"My thoughts exactly,” Harry smirked.
------
Later that evening the group finally was calmed down and sitting around the
table to enjoy a wonderful Weasley dinner. Ron and Hermione were bickering
about something or another, as were Fred and George, and Harry was seating
between the two fights, completely content were he was among his friends and
the people he truly considered his family. Yes, this Summer would be
interesting. But he was certainly looking forward to it. Mrs. Weasley smiled at
him, and Harry smiled back. Yes, this would do.
***** A New Look *****

Author's notes: Harry and Ron get new looks
===============================================================================
The next morning, Harry awoke to the sound of excruciatingly loud shouting by a
knot of voices that caused him pain comparable to the touch of Voldemort.
Disoriented, and rightfully annoyed, Harry slowly and agonizingly rolled out of
bed, muttering something under his breath about the stupidity of Vernon before
realizing that he was at the Weasley's, and the Weasley's didn't shout unless
it was absolutely necessary, at least not this damn EARLY in the morning. So
Harry picked up his pace and shot out of the room that he and Ron were sharing.
Harry found the Weasleys, sans Ginny and Hermione, standing around the
television that Arthur Weasley had pilfered for Vernon and apparently learned
how to set up. Much to his amusement, they were all curled into themselves
looking strangely fetal-like with their hands clasped dangerously over their
ears, and mouths wide sacrificing shouts to silence the already pounding
shrieks emitting from, as Harry was humored to note, coming from the television
itself. He momentarily contemplated leaving the situation to work itself out
before deciding that this particular group of people would simply continue
shouting until the television responded. Which would be never. So the only
logical thing to do was to be a good Samaritan and relieve the world, or at
least the small part concerned, from the horrid noise. With a flick of his
wrist the volume was turned significantly down, and the group slowly lowered
their defenses and eyed him like he was a seventeen year old messiah.
"How didja do that, mate?" Ron asked incredulously.
"Magic," Harry retorted automatically, only to silently course himself for that
statement. Haha. Right. In WIZARD world magic existed. Damn muggle sayings. Now
the group was eyeing him like he was the stupidest person in world. Maybe he
was.
Too sum up a potentially long and boring explanation, Harry spent the better
part of the morning explaining the technicalities behind the television (which
was a strange concept, considering that the people on-screen HAD spoken, but
were not speaking. How did that work?) Eventually, they had it set on Wheel of
Fortune, and all were participating fully in the declaration of muggle
stupidity when Ginny and Hermione decided to make their grand appearance. How
they had slept through the tremendous noise earlier, Harry was still unsure.
"We have an announcement," Ginny announced boldly, her shrill voice penetrating
the click click click of the wheel on screen. Harry turned to look at her, but
everyone else immediately shushed her. Ginny looked slightly taken aback.
"I'm listening," Harry offered, rolling his eyes at the apparent silent
consensus. Ginny looked slightly reassured.
"We," she began, "have decided that everyone could use a slight make-over
before returning to Hogwarts. We don't have much longer there, and we all
deserve to go out with a bang, especially considering all we, especially you,
Harry, have been through." Harry restrained himself from making a snide
comment, taken aback by the whole...make-over thing. "And Harry, since you are
the only one listening," she continued surly, "you will be the first."
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Ginny's pleas and
incessant bouncing up and down that reminded Harry of the show monkey clashing
away at his symbols. He smiled at this image, not even realize that his mind
had gone off on a rather random tangent. Which was unfortunate, because the two
girls took this smile as a signature to their contract and rushed over to him,
each grabbed a hand, and drug him upstairs. He was pushed unceremoniously into
Ginny's room and forced just as ungracefully onto a chair situated right in the
middle.
"Alright, Harry," Hermione grinned, "Ginny and I have decided that you have the
potential to be gorgeous. Not that you aren't already attractive," she quickly
added. "So just sit there and we'll transform you into a new and improved Harry
Potter." Harry glared at the two extremely excited girls but wisely kept his
mouth shut, knowing that this was a war that he could not win. Ginny smiled as
she reached across Harry to grab blindfolds that were tied sloppily over his
eyes. Harry began to whine, but was silenced by Ginny's hand.
"Just trust us, Harry." There was no point in arguing.
Harry sighed and ended up giving in to their wishes. Fortunately, he thought,
that in the worse case scenario he comes out looking terrible, he could at
least reverse the damage. With that reassuring idea, Harry slipped off into a
relaxed slumber without even realizing it until he was nudged away by the
gentle hands of Hermione.
"We're done," Hermione said smugly, slowly removing the blindfolds to show
Harry their work. They were both obviously very proud. And Harry ruefully
admitted to himself that they had every reason to be. These girls could work
wonders.
Harry's hair had been darkened just a touch to finally reach a soft black. It
was grown out a couple of inches to fall shaggily around his face in a rather
flattering way. His glasses had been replaced by contacts, which honestly made
all of the difference and was the distinction between Harry Potter, and very
attractive Harry Potter. How nice it was to be the latter. Also, his scar had
diminished greatly and was only observable to someone really scrutinizing his
face and trying to pick out the imperfections of which, Harry noted happily,
there were very few. His skin was toned slightly to the shade that, if he'd had
a normal family that let him out of the house, he would've had naturally by
now. The girls dressed him in a pair of black, almost tight jeans and a green
shirt, which brought out the glorious beauty of his emerald eyes. Hell Harry
had to admit. He looked good.
"You're welcome," Ginny whispered smoothly in his ear with a wink before she
and Hermione proudly sauntered off to, most likely, announce to the others the
amazing feat that they had accomplished. And what a fine job they'd done. Harry
looked amazing. He looked himself over once more, feeling slightly cocky,
before following in the girls' path. He reached the top of the stairs, but
stopped abruptly when he heard Hermione's distinct voice.
"Introducing the new and improved Harry Potter."
Harry rolled his eyes as he flushed uncomfortably under the weight of several
pairs of eyes. He modestly made his way downstairs as the Weasleys stared at
him all gob-smacked like. How humiliating.
Fred and George were the first to regain themselves, and as to be expected they
began whistling and cat calling while Ron's jaw twitched, being played like a
puppet.
"You aren't Harry," he stated idiotically.:
"Oh shut up, Ron," Hermione retorted, smacking him upside the head. "Of course
it's Harry, you moron. And he looks wonderful."
Ron scowled at her. "You have him all dolled up like-like...like a Slytherin or
something."
Hermione looked indignant as Harry fought back a laugh. "Don't worry, Ron," he
grinned. "It's still me."
Ron looked skeptical, then glanced warily at the two girls before deciding that
the waters were NOT worth testing. He threw his arms in the air, defeated.
"Fine. Whatever you say."
"Really?" Ginny asked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. She grabbed a hold of
Ron's wrist and grinned. "Cause you're next."
Ron looked around wide-eyed as he was drug off to undergo his similar
metamorphosis. He looked to Harry for help.
"Sorry mate," Harry replied cruelly. "There's nothing that I can do about it."
***** Strange Happenings *****

Author's notes: Life takes a twist
===============================================================================
Ron's makeover hadn't been so much of a makeover as a simple hair solution. He
now sported a fohawk. And he was mad.
"A FOHAWK?!" he yelled in exasperation, flouncing around and about as if his
arse were on fire. "Do I look like the kind of bloke that can pull off a
fohawk?" Ron honestly looked bewildered.
"It looks great," Ginny tried to convince him as she and Hermione looked at
each other and rolled their eyes.
"Harry? A little help here?" Ron begged.
"It looks fine, Ron."
"Fine? fine?" He looked like someone had smacked him in the face with a tuna
fish. "It looks-it looks-"
"Gorgeous," Hermione finished simply.
Ron looked stunned. Harry simply smirked. It was no secret that his two best
friends had a thing for each other, but bother were too shy to do anything
about it. On more than one occasion Harry had considered talking to them about
it, but he had decided that in this case it would be best to simply allow them
to figure everything out on their own. But at this rate, nothing was ever going
to happen.
----
The next morning everyone was shocked by the sudden appearance of Albus
Dumbledore himself. He walked straight into the Weasley's house while they were
eating breakfast and began pacing immediately, anxiously.
The whole of the room just stared at him incredulously.
Dumbledore stopped moving and turned to look at the group. "What I am about to
say," he began, looking each person squarely in the eye. "-may not - no - will
not be received well. By any of you."
The group shifted uncomfortably as one.
"Yes?" Arther Weasley nervously asked.
"Sit down Molly. I wouldn't suggest standing for this particular bit of news."
Harry glanced at Dumbledore imploringly as Mre. Weasley too a seat.
"Very good. We have just been informed by a very reliable source that the Death
Eaters have recently started to congregate again." Molly started to say
something, but Dumbledore held up his hand to silence here. He continued, "They
have separated into groups of sorts. There are three in all. One believes that
Voldemort is still alive and that it is their duty to find him and carry on
with their duties. This group is by far the largest in number, but is also the
least violent. They are not looking for people to kill. They only want to find
Voldemort. We should have no trouble extinguishing their group because, thanks
to you my dear boy" he winked at Harry. "Voldemort is dead, so the search will
be endless. So with a few well placed raids..." he trailed off, allowing the
others to fill in the gap.
The table erupted into chaos as the group worriedly began talking. Dumbledore
gave them a few minutes to absorb what he had just told them before continuing.
"The second group is also one that we are not too worried about. There are very
few of them, maybe ten or so. They want to carry on with Voldemort's plans to
kill Harry. But-" he held up his hand to silence everybody again. "But they are
being closely monitored, and at the first sign of trouble will be destroyed
before even getting close to Harry." Molly sighed her relief.
"But the third group of Death Eaters is by far the most concerning. As you
know. all of the Slytherin students had turned down Voldemort and becoming a
Death Eater despite their parents wishes. These parents now seem to want their
revenge. They are searching for their children to destroy, having brought such
shame and disgrace to the family name." Now Molly looked mortified. They all
did, in fact. "This is the group that we have obviously decided to deal with
first. It will please you to know that we have captured all but two of these.
Now here is that part that I suspect that you won't much care for. We needed to
find a safe place for the two sons of the Death Eater's, and there is no wiser
choice than here." Eight pairs of eyes widened as one pair drew into a
concerned furrow. "We chose your house for two very obvious reasons. First of
all, this would be the last place for anyone to suspect and second of all I
believe that, even in the case that the Death Eaters discover their son's
whereabouts and come knockin', you have all had experience in battle and I
trust you, all of you, to keep the boys and yourselves safe. Of course," he
concluded wryly, "I cannot force you to accept my request, but I certainly hope
that you will."
Everyone was stunned. But they all knew that if Albus Dumbledore had proposed
something as ridiculous as this, then there must be a necessary cause.
"alright," Mr. Weasley stated, looking somewhat green in the face. "I trust
you, Albus."
"Molly?" Dumbledore inquired, quirking a brow at the poor, obviously torn
witch.
Mrs. Weasley nodded her head slowly.
"Good!" Dumbledore sighed, very relieved. "Then it's settled. Wait here while I
go and get them. It should not take me more than an hour or so."
The next hour passed in a blur as everyone did their best to make the situation
seem a little less disastrous. Molly flitted about, cleaning and re-cleaning to
the satisfaction of even she didn't know who.
It had been decided that, much to Ron's utter horror, that the two unwelcome
"guests" would be staying in his room and he and Harry would have to migrate to
the living room. "It's only for three weeks, it could be worse," Mr. Weasley
pointed out.
"That may be," Ron retorted sardonically." "But it's not your room that's being
confiscated." Harry had to agree. Silently, of course.
Slowly, Harry and Ron trudged upstairs to collect their needed belongings and
haul them downstairs to their new "room."
"Why do the Slytherins always win?" Ron questioned wryly, which earned him a
harsh look from his mother.
"Their fathers are out to kill them, Ron," Hermione said sharply. "I would
hardly consider that 'winning.'"
Good point. Harry decided to stay quiet and finish moving his things. Ron, much
to his mother's delight, sheepishly did the same.
Exactly an hour later there was a rapid knocking on the front door. Everybody
congregated around the living room, doing their best to look welcoming as Mr.
Weasley slowly opened the door, then froze.
A solid minute later went by before Molly slowly stepped forward. "Arthur?" she
asked, before she too momentarily froze. "Oh."
Dumbledore coughed loudly, snapping Molly and Arthur back to life.
"Right. Very well then. Right this way boys," she sputtered a little too
quickly.
Cautiously the first boy appeared, looking extremely uncomfortable and out of
place.
"Zabini," Harry stated with a slight nod through gritted teeth as everybody
else just stood there awkwardly.
"Well Blaise. It seems that we have killed this party," an unmistakable voice
chimed in. Harry groaned as white-blonde hair sauntered slowly towards them.
"Malfoy," Ron hissed.
"That's right Weasel. I'm thrilled to see you as well."
Harry looked like he was going to be sick right then and there. Three weeks of
Malfoy? Draco MALFOY?! No. Nononononononono. Dumbledore did NOT do this to him.
He couldn't have.
Dumbledore left and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley showed the two intruders to their
bedroom, where they stayed for the rest of the day, much to everybody's relief.
"What are we gonna do?" Ron asked, panicking.
"There's not much we can do," Ginny replied.
"We just have to survive for three more weeks. We've already had to for the
past six year. I'm sure we'll be fine," Harry offered.
The remainder of the day passed in silence as everybody contemplated the
situation. Even the normally rowdy dinner was completely quiet. It wasn't until
late that night that someone finally spoke again.
"Shit," Harry loudly whined.
Ron quirked an eyebrow at him quizzically.
"I left the case for my contacts in your room," Harry explained sulkily.
"We can just get it in the morning."
"No. I need it now." Harry reached into his bag and pulled out his invisibility
cloak. "If something happens to me, you'll know where to find me." With that,
Harry pulled on the cloak and headed towards Ron's stolen room, despite his
friend's worried protests. Harry simply rolled his eyes and quickly slipped
into Ron's room, careful not to make any noise. He had just reached his bed,
where the nightstand where his contact case was, before noticing that the bed
was still made, if only slightly ruffled. Harry glanced about curiously before
noticing a painful sounding noise coming from Ron's bed. He slowly creeped
towards it, then fought back a gasp at what he saw.
It was at this moment, this defining moment, that Harry discovered his true
sexuality.
Zabini was completely naked and grinding a massive, weeping cock over Malfoy,
whose neck he was in the process of hungrily devouring. Malfoy, too, was
completely nude. Harry felt his pants grow uncomfortably right as he trailed
his eyes down Malfoy's smaller body, settling on his swollen, weeping cock even
more gorgeous than even Zabini's. Harry thought that he had died and gone to
Heaven as he watched the two boys.
"God Draco," Zabini moaned, reaching between them to roughly grab Malfoy's
dick. "You're bloody gorgeous. Did you know that?"
Harry agreed. Malfoy simply groaned his response as he thrust his hips needily
into Zabini.
"Just do it already," Malfoy begged, staring up at Zabini with eyes glazed over
with lust.
Zabini rolled away and leaned over the bed, searching for something. Harry
watched with intense desire as Malfoy flattened his feet on the bed with his
knees bent in the air. His legs were completely spread, revealing a body that
Harry knew that he would be getting off to. Malfoy rolled a hand lazily down
his body, stopping momentarily to tweak already pert nipples. He trailed his
hand lower and slid his fingers across his abdomen, which caused him to buck
suddenly and roll his eyes in pleasure. His slow movements were driving Harry
crazy as he watched that wonderful hand make its way finally down to his
erection which he immediately began pumping.
"Hurry," he moaned, stretching his other hand across to grasp Zabini's arse.
Zabini huffed as he finally found what his was looking for, a tube of lube, and
pulled himself back between Malfoy's legs. He smoothed some of the cold gel
over his own erection before shoving his fingers roughly into Malfoy, which
caused the smaller boy's breath to hitch. "Hurry," he repeated pathetically.
Harry watched with an even greater intensity as Zabini rubbed both hands up
Malfoy's body then locked them behind the golden head. With a harsh thrust he
was inside Malfoy as both moaned loudly. Malfoy bit his bottom lip and grasped
Zabini's hips, holding him steady for a moment before nodding that he was
ready. Zabini began thrusting quickly, his balls slapping against Malfoy's in
an urgency for completion. Harry simply watched in awe.
"Harder," Malfoy begged between grunts and a variety of other sounds. Zabini
happily obliged.
"You feel so good." Zabini dropped his head down to Malfoy's chest and held
himself up with his elbows. It was a rather awkward position that, Harry
observed, only these two would look this good performing.
A few more nonsensical words were mumbled, mostly from Malfoy's mouth, and then
Harry caught a muffled "I love you, Blaise."
Which was by far the strangest thing to ever come out of the short, evil,
somehow sexy boy's mouth.
Zabini stopped, looking gobsmacked. "Wh-what?" He jerked out of Malfoy roughly,
and Malfoy looked like he wanted nothing more than to sink into the mattress
and die.
"Nothing," Malfoy muttered, turning a bright shade of red.
"You said you loved me," Zabini stupidly parroted. "You didn't mean that did
you?"
Malfoy turned away, his eyes glimmering in what Harry thought just might be
unshed tears. Impossible.
"Draco." Zabini pulled Malfoy's face to look him in the eye. "Did you mean
that?"
Malfoy nodded once, looking terrified.
Zabini looked bewildered. "No. You can't be in love with me. No. This isn't
happening. Get out of my bed."
Malfoy looked crestfallen as he rolled out from under Zabini's arms and
silently slipped his boxers on before traipsing over to his bed, Harry's, and
crawled under the covers, pulling the sheets up to his face. Harry glanced
worriedly at him and the tears that now where freely flowing. This had to have
been just a strange nightmare. He grabbed his contact case quickly and darted
out of the room and downstairs, looking stricken.
"What happened?" Ron asked worriedly. "You took forever! Harry?"
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!