Summary: Harry didn't do what everyone expected of him and he became a professional Quidditch player, however, he still has a huge hero streak. When he does something reckless to save Draco Malfoy from a potentially fatal fall in a match it changes more than just Draco's attitude towards him.
Links: Part 1 | Part 3
Link: Other fic
Harry walked into his room and threw himself onto the bed. He wasn't sure his right hand would ever work again; he had signed that many autographs. He really hated the appearance weekends the league sometimes organised, but it was in his contract that he had to attend if the management wanted him to and of course he was Harry Potter; they always wanted him to. The fact that he always had four times as many fans queuing for his autograph had not escaped those making the money and half of the people who came to see him weren't even Quidditch fans.
His team mates had gone to the bar, but he was far too knackered and he had no plans to do anything but sleep. They had another full day of smiling for the cameras and signing things the next day and he at least wanted to be awake for it. That meant sleep, but, even as he lay there, he knew he had a problem to deal with first.
Harry and his dick usually had a very pleasant relationship, but today it was misbehaving. The management had sat him one table down from Malfoy; why he had no idea, but his cock had sat up and taken notice instantly. He'd been hard most of the day and had had to escape to the loo several times just to stop himself squirming. It was embarrassing; he wasn't a teenager anymore, but his anatomy seemed to think he was.
Sitting up again, he began to strip off, throwing his clothes into the corner until he was completely naked. It was an indulgence he had never had until he had bought his own home, but he had found that when in need of relief, he liked to do it naked. That was quite possibly one of the very few facts that his friends didn't know about him, not even Ron.
Lying down, he arranged himself on the ample pillows carefully, spread his legs indulgently and then let his hand slide down over his stomach and around his waiting cock. It wasn't the first time he had been intimate with his hand that day, but it was the first time he could indulge freely without having to worry who might hear and so he let himself groan quite loudly. He spread his legs a little more, so that he could dip his hand further down and play with his sac a little.
Fondling himself kept his attention for a little while, but he really wasn't interested in long and drawn out. He needed some relief and finesse could wait for another say. Giving his balls one more gentle squeeze, he moved back to his cock, stroking it from root to tip and twisting his hips a little as if he was thrusting into something other than his fist.
The images of Malfoy from his dreams crept into his head and they made his whole body throb with arousal. He didn’t think he had ever wanted anyone like the dreams were making him want Malfoy. Closing his eyes, he sank into the mental world that his subconscious had created and leaked into the rest of his mind. Malfoy was always just out of reach and he was always chasing the ex-Slytherin in his dreams, but with his conscious mind he could imagine what would happen when he caught Malfoy.
He imagined scenario after scenario where he caught his prey and dragged Malfoy to him, demanding repayment for such diligent chasing. Just the idea of kissing Malfoy added so much to his arousal that in only a few strokes he was coming. His mind blanked as white hot pleasure lanced through him and all he could feel were the shots of orgasm running through every nerve. He really didn’t care what his body was doing or how loud he was being as he indulged and let go of all the tension that had been building all day. Quite frankly it was wonderful.
Lying back in the bed, Harry let himself stare up at the ceiling and enjoy the after glow. He'd clean up properly and put some clothes on to go to bed in a little while, but he was pleasantly tired now and what he needed was forty winks.
An outraged voice made him start and he blinked, suddenly very confused. He had been having a lovely dream about pursuing Malfoy through a wood and to find that he was in fact in a hotel room was a bit of a shock. The fact that it wasn't his hotel room was even more of a shock, and the fact that he was naked with only his wand in his hand was about the last straw.
"What the hell?" he said to his surrounding in general.
"My thoughts exactly," said the voice that had woken him and this time he was with it enough to recognise it.
Malfoy was sitting in the bed staring at him. Not sure what on earth was going on, he glanced behind him and saw an open door, through which he could see his own room.
"Oh shit," he said in a very heartfelt way, "I think I just sleep walked in here. Sorry, Malfoy," he continued rapidly, wanting back into his own room as fast as possible, "I didn't mean to wake you."
He was all too aware that his dream about Malfoy had had its usual effect; he was hard and erect and this time he had no towel to hide it.
"Potter, don't you dare just walk back through that door," Malfoy all but growled, climbing out of the bed. "Sleep walking I could accept, but sleep spelling? That door was locked."
Harry froze and then looked at his wand; how was he supposed to explain this?
"I swear I don't know how I got in here," he promised; he would never live it down if Malfoy started telling everyone what had happened. "I fell asleep, I was dreaming one of those dreams and then I was here."
Malfoy's eyes gave him a quick up and down, settling for a moment on his erection before moving on. He did not dare flee, not with Malfoy in his current mood; he was likely to be hexed.
"I see the dreams have a similar effect on you as they have on me," were not the words Harry really expected to hear.
"Come again?" he asked, not sure he wasn't still dreaming.
"The dreams, Potter," Malfoy said, as if explaining to an idiot, "they make me hornier than a dragon in mating season and they appear to do the same to you."
Harry felt himself blushing, which was utterly ridiculous, but he couldn't stop himself.
"And?" he asked, wishing he could just step back into his own room.
"Let's stop beating round the bush shall we?" Malfoy asked, raising an eyebrow. "We obviously find each other attractive and, I don't know about you, but I need some relief. These dreams have me so worked up my hand is not really enough and, with the current schedule, attachments outside the team are virtually impossible. So what do you say?"
Harry wasn't into one night stands; his heart had to be in it or his body wasn't really in it either, but the crux of this matter was that the dreams made him feel like he knew a hell of a lot more about Malfoy than he really did. He'd been dreaming for days, the potion he had bought doing nothing to help, and it felt like he really had been with Malfoy every night.
"I don't ..." he tried to begin to explain, but he really didn't want to turn down Malfoy, so he couldn't say it.
Malfoy walked towards him.
"Don't forget I'm having the dreams too," Malfoy said in little more than a whisper. "I know what it feels like. Come on Potter, a little fooling around could help us both."
His resistance was low to begin with, but that just about shattered it. In his dreams he had been chasing Malfoy and now Malfoy was within his grasp, so he reached out and took what was on offer. He just about saw Malfoy look momentarily startled and then he dragged his one time Nemesis into the most scorching kiss he knew how to give.
There was resistance in Malfoy to begin with, but it melted away as Harry continued the kiss. He hadn't had that many relationships, Ginny called him picky, and he could honestly say that it was the hottest kiss of his life. It pulled his mind back to when he had first found himself attracted to Ginny; there was a clawing in his chest that urged him on. Only this time it was stronger and it was as if he had just freed the animal inside.
Following his instincts more than rational thought, he broke the kiss and threw Malfoy onto the bed, climbing on afterwards so he was straddling the ex-Slytherin. Malfoy didn't seem to be bothering to hide his surprise at this move, but neither was Malfoy objecting, so Harry carried on. He felt like he had something to prove, which was odd in itself, but he wasn't arguing with his libido tonight, not any more.
Malfoy was all pale flesh and Harry ran his fingers over his bed partner's torso, noting the very faint lines littering the surface. He remembered all too well where some of those lines had come from and the whole memory horrified him, but it didn't stop him. There had been a debt between them because of that act, but so many debts had been wiped out during and just after the war that it meant nothing now. He found himself overcome with the need to make it clear that everything like that was in the past.
"What are you ..?" was as far as Malfoy got before he hooked his fingers in Malfoy's waist band and pulled down the elegant boxers, which were the only thing Malfoy had been wearing.
He had to assume Malfoy had been having a similar dream to him, because Malfoy was already hard, which meant he really didn't have too much work to do. He knew what he wanted as clearly as he knew how to catch a Snitch and he swooped onto his prize with eager abandon. It was funny; he'd never been particularly fond of giving blow jobs with his two other boyfriends, but it was all he could think about right then.
"Oh Merlin's balls," Malfoy said very loudly as Harry wrapped his lips around the waiting erection and employed his tongue along the already wet tip.
What followed was a low hum of appreciation, so Harry was pretty sure he was getting it right. The taste of another male was not something he had ever managed to make himself like, but Malfoy; Malfoy was a different story; it was almost like he was sucking on the finest lollipop and never wanted to stop.
"Potter," Malfoy's tone was a little strangled, "never knew you were this direct."
It seemed that hadn't changed either; Malfoy apparently liked to have the last word. Since Harry had his mouth full, he didn't bother replying in words, he just hummed a little and felt Malfoy turning to goo under his ministrations.
He licked and sucked and fondled to his heart's content, enjoying every reaction he could elicit out of Malfoy, be it vocal or physical and he showed no mercy. He wanted Malfoy and so he took what he wanted, and Malfoy really seemed to be enjoying the experience. It really didn't take long before Malfoy was bucking under him and he had exactly what he wanted.
As Malfoy lay there gasping, Harry slowly climbed up his bed partner's body until they were face to face. Seeing the contented look on Malfoy's features filled him with a deep seated pleasure that he found difficult to explain, especially since his own erection was still very much in evidence. Malfoy's eyes were closed and the ex-Slytherin looked thoroughly debauched; lips pink from the kissing and expression so sinfully sated that if anyone else had been able to see it there would have been no doubt in their minds about the cause. For a while Harry just let himself look.
Eventually grey eyes opened to look at him, and the fire in his belly and the raging in his chest flared up again from where they had gone to being quietly stirring. For once it seemed Malfoy didn't have any words, only actions and, as he was pushed onto his back, Harry went without resistance. It became very obvious very quickly that Malfoy was intent on returning the favour and Harry wrapped his fingers in the bed sheets and gasped as warm, moist lips encircled the head of his cock.
"Oh god, do that again," he managed to stutter out as Malfoy did something with his tongue that sent Harry into ecstasies.
He had been very aroused before Malfoy started, but he was still one hundred percent positive that no one had ever sent him hurtling towards orgasm quite so fast. He felt the pressure in his groin building so rapidly that it literally took his breath away and all thoughts of staying power vanished from his head. It was like he was being pushed on and pulled on and in every way forced towards his sexual zenith and male pride just didn't come into the equation. It was like he just had to come and it was the most important thing in the world to him.
Exactly what he shouted when he came he wasn't sure, but he did know it was probably obscene and very loud. He felt as if someone had just connected him to the mains and some distant part of his mind that wasn't wholly occupied by the wonderful physical sensations noticed something else as well. His magic reacted and it was only a small thing compared to the overwhelming orgasm, but, at the back of his mind, he knew it happened. It left him with a strange tingly sensation at the base of his skull, but most of him was too busy feeling blissed out to take any notice.
Now it was Malfoy's turn to climb up him until they were once again face to face and he just about managed to drag his eyes open. He was used to the feelings of lethargy after sex, but he seemed even less inclined to move than usual. When Malfoy leaned down and kissed him, he kissed back lazily and they shared a soft, almost dreamy moment until Malfoy slowly rolled back onto the bed.
"That was better than I had ever imagined," Malfoy muttered in a very sleepy voice, "we should do that again some time."
Harry just murmured in agreement and let himself drift off to sleep.
On Sunday morning, Harry had woken up to find himself alone in Draco's bed. Having been intimate with him, Harry found he could no longer think of his ex-Nemesis as Malfoy. A note had explained that Draco had had an early breakfast meeting before the convention began again at nine, but to his disappointment Harry had found that the seating arrangements had been changed over night. He hadn't had a chance to see Draco up close all that day and if the dreams he had had that night were anything to go by, his psyche had not been happy about that at all.
Before his dreams had had plenty of naked Draco, but they had always been about titillation and pursuit; on that Sunday night when he'd finally fallen into bed at home, his dreams had made those look positively innocent. He was pretty sure that if he ever managed to get Draco alone, he would have no choice but to pin the other man to the nearest supporting surface. His dreams had been so encompassing that he had slept right through his alarm and hence was fifteen minutes late for his breakfast appointment with Ron and Hermione.
"Wondered where you had got to, mate," Ron said as he dashed into the café.
He, Ron and Hermione had a standing bi-weekly Monday morning breakfast date. They were all busy and they met up whenever they could at other times, but no matter what, they always had breakfast every other Monday morning.
"Sorry," he apologised, sitting down in his usual seat, "I didn't hear the alarm."
Ron looked surprised; Harry had never been the heaviest of sleepers.
"No problem, Hermione had to stop by the book shop first," Ron said, but Harry could tell his best friend was a little concerned, "she should be here in a minute of two. Was the convention rough?"
"Only as ever," he said, hoping that he could gloss over what he had done on Saturday night, "they should give us danger money; some of the fans are nuts."
"So, that why you missed the alarm this morning," Ron asked, "knackered?"
For a moment Harry considered the easy way out, but he was beginning to realise that he might actually want to pursue something with Draco and that meant explaining to Ron. They didn't have secrets; they were best friends and it was going to take some talking, but he was going to have to try and make Ron understand sooner rather than later.
"Not exactly," he said, choosing his words carefully, "I've been having dreams."
Now Ron looked really worried, the last time Harry had had dreams it was because of Voldemort.
"Not bad dreams," he added hastily, before Ron jumped to the wrong conclusions, "quite the opposite in fact. It seems to be related to the hair; we think it must be a spell or something. The dreams are so nice that most of the time I don't want to wake up."
"Nice how?" Ron asked and Harry couldn't help grinning just a little.
"Let's just say I'm having better sex in my dreams than I've ever had in real life," he said in a conspiratorial whisper.
Ron grinned broadly as well at that.
"And he's having similar dreams," Harry continued, still in the low tone, "so much so that we kind of hooked up Saturday night in desperation."
Not being attracted to the male of the species, Ron didn't look quite as enthusiastic about the whole thing after the explanation, but Ron was nothing if not a great friend and had long since turned the corner where Harry's wider scope in partners was no longer a problem.
"Doesn't sound like it's such a bad spell," Ron said with a suggestive wiggle of eyebrows.
"Except that I'm not getting any proper sleep," he replied with a small laugh, "you try spending most of every night having sex, even if it is in your dreams."
Ron gave a very hearty laugh at that.
"Hermione might have something to say about that," Ron joked back.
Flora, the proprietress of the establishment, chose that moment to walk up with their usual order of tea.
"Good morning, boys," she greeted with her usual warmth, "how are we today?"
The fact that Flora was a great grandmother allowed her to get away with calling grown men boys and Harry always thought of her as an older Molly Weasley. Both women would feed you if you failed to run away fast enough.
"We're fine, thank you," Harry said with a bright smile, "and Hermione should be here shortly. How are you this week?"
"Oh a few more aches and pains to add to these old bones," Flora said, but sounded as if she was talking about something much happier, "but nothing to complain about. Had the little'uns around yesterday and I think I'm getting too old to chase a three year old."
"Not you, Flora," Ron said in a totally disbelieving tone, "you can't be a day over thirty."
Since school, Ron had gained a smoother side that had never been evident as a teenager. It always amused Harry to see it and Flora laughed like a school girl at the compliment.
"I only wish," she said cheerfully. "Now I'll leave you boys to your chatting, just wave me over when the lovely lady has arrived and you're ready to order."
"Thank you, Flora," Harry said and went to pour the tea.
There was nothing quite like a good cup of tea and Harry felt himself waking up even before he actually drunk any.
"So," Ron asked once the tea was poured, "who's the lucky chap?"
Harry had just taken a sip of tea and almost choked on it; that was the more difficult bit of the conversation.
"Um," he said and pondered exactly what to say for a while, "put your tea down."
"Why?" Ron asked, but did as he was told anyway.
"Because this might be a bit of a shock," Harry replied, knowing that it was going to be a lot of a shock.
"Don't tell me you've hooked up with Krum," Ron said, sitting back. "I saw he was on the list for the convention."
"As great a physique as Victor has," he replied, "I don't think asking him would be worth the risk. Victor is a ladies man."
"Then who," Ron asked, clearly intrigued, "about the only person I can think of that is beyond belief is Malfoy; there's no way the ferret..."
Harry knew his face had given everything away when Ron stopped talking and began to look stunned. It was like all thought had drained out of Ron's head as his friend looked at him.
"You're pulling my leg," Ron said eventually and Harry was worried that his friend was a funny colour.
Harry shook his head.
"Don’t think I haven't wondered what on earth I could be thinking," he said, trying to explain, "but he's really not how you remember him. We've all grown up a lot and he still has a hell of a tongue on him," that conjured up some interesting thoughts, "but you might even like him now."
"You and Malfoy?" Ron seemed to be a little stuck.
Harry nodded this time; he knew that it would take Ron a little while to really process the information, so all he could do was wait.
"I see you told Ron then?" Hermione's voice made him turn and she pecked him on the cheek and sat down.
"You knew?" Ron all but squeaked.
"Of course, Dear," Hermione said and gave her husband a quick kiss, even though Ron seemed too distracted to take much notice, "who do you think Harry came to when he realised he was under some sort of spell? I assume you're serious about it now then, Harry?"
He nodded again.
"I think I could be very serious about him," he said with complete honesty.
Hermione smiled at him.
"It's about time," she said with a smile, "now why don't you tell Ron and me exactly why, which I'm sure will clear everything up."
Harry loved Hermione, he really did; she always seemed to know how to sort things out. Taking a mouthful of tea, he sorted out his thoughts and then he began to talk.
The Manor looked completely different to how Harry remembered it, but then these days, by all accounts it was a place of charity garden parties and other worthy causes. Harry had looked in to how Draco was rebuilding the Malfoy name and he had been very impressed. Unlike his father after the first fall of Voldemort, Draco actually seemed to really be doing good rather than making it look as if he was. He wasn't sure he wouldn't be hexed off the premises, however, once he explained.
The house elf that had shown him in had appeared cheerful and healthy, reminding him somewhat of Dobby after being freed. He knew Hermione wouldn't approve, but the old pureblood families were not about to give up everything. Harry waited in the entrance hall and hoped that Draco would be available to see him.
He had gone to Hermione absolutely desperate, because sleep seemed to be impossible. It had been three days since his tryst with Draco and all he seemed to be able to think about was the ex-Slytherin. He was so distracted the coach had sent him home from practice because it was dangerous for him to be on a broom, which was when he had gone to Hermione for help. Hermione had cast a spell on him and revealed some things that had shocked him to the bone, but at least he had an explanation now.
"Potter," Draco greeted, appearing from one of the many doors, "this is a surprise. What can I do for you?"
Draco appeared as tired as Harry felt and he could tell they were both in the same predicament.
"I know why we're having the dreams," he said, since there was no point beating around the bush, "and it's not a spell."
That brought Draco up short.
"Come into the study," Draco invited; "we can talk there without being disturbed. Mother has guests today."
Harry followed Draco through a set of double doors into a comfortably furnished room with a large fire place, a grand desk and two chesterfield sofas.
"Have a seat," Draco invited, "I'll order us some tea."
Sitting down, Harry let himself look around and he decided that the room was very much Draco. There were books on various shelves and some were old and had pompous titles like History of the Pureblood Lines, but others were like Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry liked the balance. Draco summoned and spoke quietly to a house elf and then came and sat down opposite Harry on the second sofa.
"So," Draco asked, sitting back as if this was any other casual conversation, "if it's not a spell, what is it?"
"I'm trying to create a life bond with you," Harry had decided that he was not going to beat around the bush; this was too important to play games.
Draco just raised an eyebrow.
"What kind of life-bond?" Draco asked far more calmly than Harry had expected.
"Fae," Harry replied, trying to appear just as calm; "hence the hair. Turns out the Potter line has Fae blood and so does the Evans line. They're both very faint, but something about me made it active. When our blood mixed in the accident it initiated the first stage of the bond."
"Go on," Draco said and Harry couldn't tell what his companion was thinking at all.
"According to Hermione there are three stages to the bond," there was nothing for it but to explain; "the blood was the first; what we did on Saturday night was the second and if we'd had full on sex that would have been the third."
Draco just looked at him for a while.
"You don't strike me as much of a Fae," Draco said eventually, "from what I've read, aren't Fae supposed to be flighty and promiscuous?"
"Hermione said the same thing," Harry admitted; "and the only theory we have is that I only have some of the Fae traits. Hermione thinks I've been trying to find a life bondmate the whole time, which is why I've been so picky. I remember sharing blood with Ginny at one point, at the time I thought it was an accident, but now I think it might have been my subconscious pushing me into it. None of my partners thus far has gone any further; the blood bond failed so I drifted away from them."
"But not me?" Draco sounded surprised.
"No, not you," Harry said with a nod; "with you it stuck."
It was quite a thing to admit, but he had no choice; Draco needed to know what was going on.
"So, where do we go from here?" Draco asked, still seeming amazingly calm.
"I don't know," he responded; he wasn't about to lie, "but Hermione is looking into it."
Draco nodded as a house elf appeared with their tea.
"If you don't mind," Draco said as the elf poured the tea, "please could you tell me everything you know. We have an extensive library here at the Manor and I would like to look into it myself."
Harry nodded; it was the least he could do. This was, after all, all his fault.
End of Part 2
On to Part 3