(This chapter is extra long because I couldn't figure out where to cut it. OH WELL, have the rest!)

Harry waited three minutes and then he silently ascended the stairs and turned the door handle. It swung open without a sound and he smirked at the knowledge that sometimes a Slytherin's need to be stealthy worked to his advantage. No Slytherin, or former Slytherin, that Harry knew would ever let a door hinge squeal.

Malfoy was stood at the sideboard that held the liquor-and also the tea, which Malfoy was currently preparing by stuffing leaves into a metal ball. A steaming mug rested near his hand. Harry waited until Malfoy dropped the tea ball into the mug. His blond head was bent and he looked tired. Harry could relate.

He dropped the invisibility cloak and slammed the door shut, drawing Malfoy's attention and also his wand. Harry ignored the potential threat and stalked forwards.

"We need to have a chat about that curious incident that happened last night. Why did you kiss me? And why did you leave and then put yourself on lockdown? Was that display meant to drive me mental? Because if so, it succeeded, thank you very much." As Harry shouted he continued to advance on Malfoy until the tip of his wand seized up against his chest.

For once, Malfoy seemed to have nothing to say. His grey eyes were wide and unblinking and Harry felt a surge of satisfaction that he'd at least got even for the mind-numbing shock Malfoy had induced in him the night before. He'd been so astonished at Malfoy kissing him that by the time he'd recovered his ability to think straight, Malfoy had been down the stairs and gone. Harry had tried reaching him by Floo and owl for nearly an hour before giving up.

"We're closed," Malfoy said, although his expression didn't change.

The statement was so unexpected that it startled a laugh from Harry. "Merlin, you are maddening." With that, he reached out and dragged Malfoy into a kiss. He'd been too astounded to appreciate it the night before, although he'd had a pleasant enough time revisiting it over and over during his hapless attempt at trying to sleep afterwards.

Malfoy's lips were pliant and soft, and just as unmoving as Harry's had been during their prior kiss. Harry pulled away and met his eyes again. "Why did you kiss me last night?"

For reply, Malfoy reached his free arm around Harry's neck and pulled him into yet another brilliant snog. This time there was no hesitation from either of them. Their lips met, parted, and turned into a near-battle of epic proportion, with neither of them stopping until the rattle of glass startled Harry. He had walked Malfoy back into the sideboard.

"You'll spill my tea," Malfoy said breathlessly against Harry's mouth.

"I'll spill more than that, you gorgeous prat."

"Are you here to punish me, because if this is how you intend to go about it, then I'm willing to submit."

The word submit thrummed through Harry's ears, opening up an entirely new world of fantasies. His fingers tightened in Malfoy's shirt, a soft cashmere knit thing that felt brilliant even though Harry would like nothing more than to drag it over his head and bare his flesh to Harry's exploring hands and lips. "Yes. I'm here to punish you for driving me insane. I've wanted you since the first night you walked in here looking like...well, looking like you do, and then later I find that you've grown into an actual interesting human being instead of a sodding obnoxious cretin. That has only made it worse."

A pale brow lifted. "You-really?"

Harry gave him a shake. "Of course really. Now tell me why you kissed me last night."

"I Flooed over because I've been fantasizing about you for bloody days, and I had some mad notion that if I went to see you I would remember what a sodding annoying prat you are. And then you went and invited me into your bedroom-thank you for that, by the way, since it caused me to lose what little control I had left-"

Harry silenced him with another hard kiss, overwhelmed with the excellence of Malfoy's confession. The room went quiet then, with only the muted, gasping sounds of their snogging breaking the stillness. Finally, Harry forced himself to pull away, afraid that he might come in his pants like a green teenager. His hands had roamed over every part of Malfoy they could reach, and his fingers itched to slide beneath clothing and touch bare skin. He wasn't certain how far Malfoy's interest went. He might have changed his mind in the previous quarter hour or so, though he supposed it was a slim chance judging by Malfoy's current rumpled state.

Malfoy tipped his head back and looked at Harry through grey eyes that looked somewhat dazed, although his smile held the definite shadow of his old cocky smirk. "Potter?"

Harry found a grin pulling at his lips. "Yeah?"

"Why are you stopping?"

Although he'd stopped kissing Malfoy, Harry hadn't stopped touching him, and he squeezed the taut muscles just above Malfoy's pelvic bone, dreaming of how they would feel with Malfoy stretched out beneath him. Or above him; he didn't much care which. "I don't want our first time to be leaning against a liquor cabinet with your tea and fancy bottles of whiskey at risk."

"First time. I like the sound of that. Do you mean something like a bed?"

Harry nodded so agreeably that he thought his neck might snap. "Yes, absolutely. A bed. And also without the possibility of random friends and strangers walking in on us."

Malfoy pursed his lips and glanced at the door. He reached behind him-both wands had ended up on the sideboard-and picked up his wand to cast a series of Locking Charms on the door. "That won't hold Pansy, but it should work for everyone else."

Harry lifted a bemused brow. "I hope that means you plan to Apparate us out of here."

"No need." With that, Malfoy pushed away from the sideboard and his overly-strong, cooling cup of forgotten tea. He walked across the room to a curtained-off corner. Harry had assumed it to be full of stored items, possibly boxes and papers and the sorts of things that lived in Harry's attic. His surprise was all the greater for that assumption when Malfoy yanked the curtain aside and then gave him a beautiful smirk.

"A bed. You have a bed in your photography studio?" Harry's words grew sharper towards the end as he was assailed with images of Malfoy in the bed with other people.

A sharp smack on his arm drew his attention to Malfoy, who glared at him. "It's for boudoir photos, you arse. Pansy says they are all the rage."

The ice in Harry's veins thawed as quickly as it had formed. "Boudoir photos." He took a deep breath and forced a smile, trying to come to grips with the fact that for a moment he'd been ragingly jealous. "I see. How many of those have you taken?"

"Not a single one. In fact, other than Pansy, I don't believe this bed has seen any use at all." With that, he crawled onto it, toeing off his fancy shoes as he went. Harry's libido perked up. And then a thought occurred to him.

"Pansy?"

Malfoy snorted. "Fear not, she's only been in it for a moment. As far as I know, she hasn't broken it in properly. And believe me, I would much prefer to remain in ignorance than learn otherwise." With that, Malfoy rolled onto his back and sprawled out, looking at Harry like a delectable invitation. To enhance the image, Malfoy held out a beckoning hand.

Harry hesitated, remembering that they were in Malfoy's photography studio. He glanced around for cameras and then recalled that he had come here with the intent to confront Malfoy; he hadn't been lured here. At least, he hoped not. If it had been an elaborate trap, he'd fallen straight into it. Then again, Malfoy hadn't been all that successful in his previous attempts at plotting. He was rather shite at it.

"Potter?"

Throwing caution to the wind, Harry walked forward, took Malfoy's hand, and slid onto the bed. If it was blackmail Malfoy planned, then Harry would make it worth his while. Harry crawled over him in what he hoped was a predatory fashion and then hovered over him, arms stiff, and glasses nearly slipping off his face.

Malfoy smiled, and it was such a charming and utterly disarming sight that Harry felt his heart skip a few beats. It seemed like the sun had peered out from between perpetually raining clouds, and lit up the entire room.

"I've never seen you smile like that," Harry commented, not even bothering to hide his enchantment.

"I keep it locked away, only to use on special occasions."

"When was the last special occasion?" Harry asked and then nearly kicked himself for the question when Malfoy's sunny expression faltered.

"Far too long ago. And it wasn't that special."

Harry wanted that smile back. And he wanted to keep it there for a very long time. He wanted it with an intensity that surprised him. "Well, then, we'll have to try and make this extra special to make up for that, yeah?" He grinned, but softly, so that Malfoy might know he meant his words.

To his delight, the smile returned, just a flash of brilliant teeth, but it was enough. "I approve." And then Malfoy flung his hands back over his head, sprawling as though he'd just fallen. His voice ratcheted into the falsetto range. "Oh, Harry Potter! Take me! Take me like the slayer of darkness and the defender of righteousness that you are!"

Harry wanted to be affronted; he felt the old, familiar surge of annoyance begin to rise, but the ludicrousness of the words spilling from Malfoy's perfect lips sounded so ridiculous that amusement won; he chuckled and it turned into a real laugh when Malfoy's eyes crinkled with merriment.

"Merlin, you are a complete arse!" Harry sat back until his weight rested on his legs, and then he dug his fingers into Malfoy's sides-and began to tickle. "I'm trying out a new method of defeating evil wizards. What do you think so far?" To his delight, Malfoy grabbed his wrists in both hands and squirmed away with a yelp. He was ticklish!

"Help me!" Malfoy cried with a silly accent that sounded like a Southern American falsetto. "Help me, the Saviour has gone mad! He's torturing little old innocent me! What shall I do?"

Harry nearly dissolved into laughter, but he kept tickling and managed to manoeuvre himself between Malfoy's legs, which suddenly whipped up and wrapped around his back. A swift twist later and Harry was the one flat on his back with a smirking Malfoy sitting astride him.

"Ze tables 'ave turned," Malfoy said in a terrible French accent. His hand pressed both of Harry's wrists onto the bed and his mouth seemed set in a permanent amused smile of which Harry highly approved.

"Oh no, how shall I escape this dreaded fate?" Harry asked tonelessly.

"You shan't," Malfoy said and kissed him.

Harry braced his legs and lifted his hips until his erection pressed against Malfoy's, earning a delicious groan that rumbled over their lips. Malfoy pulled away and looked down at him again as Harry relaxed back onto the bed. Malfoy let go of his wrists and Harry reached up to press his hands against Malfoy's chest, then slid them down over his taut abs to the place where the fabric bunched as it crossed over the waistband of Malfoy's trousers. The cashmere was kitten-soft.

"I love this shirt. Take it off."

Malfoy tsked. "First things first." His fingers moved to the buttons of Harry's shirt. He had spent a ridiculous amount of time dressing earlier, selecting and discarding clothing until they littered his room like fallen leaves. And then he had gone to a local shop and purchased a new hunter green shirt with pale green stripes. And some new trousers. And new pants. "I've wanted to see this again since your tempting tease last night." As more and more of Harry's torso was revealed, Malfoy sat back until Harry felt like he was on display. To his surprise, it wasn't a bad feeling at all, especially when Malfoy left off unbuttoning and let his hands glide over Harry's exposed skin, slowly and almost reverently.

Harry hadn't known what to expect; his late night fantasies had consisted of little more than blow jobs and orgasms. Malfoy was taking it to a different level, mingling laughter and teasing with moments of heart-stopping intensity. Harry thought he might have opened himself up to more than he expected. It was terrifying, and yet hopeful.

When Malfoy bent down to take one of Harry's nipples into his mouth, he decided to stop philosophising and just feel, because feeling was very, very good.

ooooDoooo

Draco lifted his head and observed Potter's half-lidded eyes and wet lips still curved in a smile. Bloody hell, Draco had nearly forgotten how much he loved sex. He loved kissing and touching, the taste of a lover's body and the scent of sweat and hot breath. He couldn't quite believe how much fun Potter was turning out to be. The tickling had been a delightful surprise. Stanton had never teased; sex had been serious business, and Draco had never felt open enough to reveal even a hint of his more playful side.

He shook off thoughts of Stanton, with the startled knowledge that for the first time in months he felt nothing but a vague sense of annoyance with the bastard and his former relationship fiasco. Potter really was a miracle worker.

Draco kissed a path down Potter's breastbone and dipped into the groove between his abdominal muscles, following the dark trail of hair that led to the Holy Grail. He lifted his head enough to meet Potter's eyes and then placed one hand flat on Potter's erection. Potter's gaze was riveted on Draco's; the flutter of his lashes and hitch of his breath was a heady rush.

"What do we have under here?" Draco asked and gave it a squeeze. Potter groaned.

Draco took his hand away, but only to move it as far as the snap-fasteners on Potter's trousers. Draco was unwillingly impressed by Potter's wardrobe. No Muggle jeans today; he'd gone contemporary wizard with fashionable trousers, gorgeous striped shirt, and matching argyle socks, just visible beneath the cuffed hem of his trousers.

Draco opened Potter's trousers and yanked them back enough to expose the tantalising bulge hidden beneath tight cotton pants. Draco stared at the sight, his mind flashing back to the cock photo he'd received days ago. He wished he could photograph Potter now for comparison, but the bulge looked very similar. And delightful.

"Is anything wrong?" Potter asked, levering himself up onto his elbows.

Draco smiled and gave him a wink. "I'm willing to accept the possibility that you might have a work of art under there, Potter."

Potter snorted. "I'm glad someone thinks so."

"Let's unwrap it and see, shall we?" With that, Draco lifted the edge of the black-flecked green pants and pulled them gently back to reveal Potter's exceptional cock. Pansy had been right. It was perfect. Thick and heavy and peeping through a thin foreskin that covered all but the tip like cellophane, seeming to beg Draco to slide it back and take a taste... So he did, flicking his tongue over the reddened tip and catching just a hint of precome.

"Oh god," Potter said hoarsely. His entire body seemed to clench and Draco was seized with an almost predatory sense of anticipation. If Potter was this responsive after a single lick, Draco could hardly wait to spend the next hour driving him to heights of passionate madness. He had to count backwards from ten to talk himself back from an orgasmic plateau at the mere thought of it.

"You need to be naked right now," Draco said and turned to yank off Potter's shoes, first one and then the other. "Lift," he ordered and Potter helped as he wrestled the trousers over Potter's hips, and then Draco gripped the hems and hauled them off of Potter's long legs before flinging them somewhere on the floor. It was a terrible way to treat fine clothing, but Draco was too far gone to care.

Potter's pants were next, catching on one ankle as he tried to kick them away, but Draco didn't wait for them to join the trousers. He pounced on Potter, tackling him back onto the bed and kissing him breathless. One of Potter's arms was trapped, as he'd been in the process of shrugging out of the shirt, but when Draco was finished kissing him he didn't seem to have the energy to worry about finishing the job. Draco decided he rather liked him looking thoroughly unprepared, wearing nothing but socks and half a shirt.

"Merlin, you kiss like the very devil," Potter said as his free hand trailed over Draco's back.

"How many devils have you kissed? No, don't tell me. I don't want them to add that to your extensive resume. Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Chosen One, Dark Lord Slayer and Devil Snogger. They'll want to print t-shirts and that would annoy me every time I went to Diagon Alley and saw some geriatric wearing one and touting your prowess. Besides, the print is already so small as to be barely legible."

Potter laughed and Draco had already found that he quite liked making Potter laugh. It was even better than making him do that scowl-y thing while pinching his lips together, although that was nice, too. "Are you required to balance your moments of loveliness with periods of utter prattishness?"

"I don't believe that is a word, Potter."

"I think it's time for more kissing. And you have far too many clothes on." With that, Potter gave a heave and sat up, forcing Draco upright as well. "If you don't trust me not to ruin that fine shirt taking it off, you might want to do it yourself."

Draco huffed, but he obediently reached back and gathered a handful of the fabric to slide it up over his head. To his surprise, Potter pulled him close, by wrapping an arm around his waist, and began to pepper biting kisses over his exposed hipbones. As Draco tossed the shirt (to hell with cashmere) and reached for his belt, he could barely manoeuvre himself out of his trousers with Potter grasping and clawing and kissing him all over. He felt devoured, but in a very good way.

Potter tried to help with the removal of Draco's trousers, but ended up doing little more than hindering the process and nearly toppling them both off the bed. Draco found himself on his back again with Potter pulling off one of Draco's shoes with one hand and yanking at his trouser leg with the other. His determined expression gave Draco the chuckles and it took even longer to divest Draco fully of trousers, shoes, and even socks, since Potter seemed to be nothing if not thorough. Potter managed to finally lose his own shirt in the process, although he seemed to have forgotten about the socks still on his feet.

"Draco," Potter growled before he kissed a path from Draco's knee up the inside of his thigh.

"Pot-Harry." The name came out as a huff of breath as Potter's cheek grazed over Draco's cock.

"Hmm, that sounds nice." Potter pressed a kiss to the tip and then pushed himself up again to kiss Draco on the mouth.

"Tease," Draco complained when he could breathe again.

"Maybe I just like kissing you."

The words shouldn't have made Draco blush, but he couldn't seem to help himself. Instead of admitting that he felt the same, he pulled Potter back into another snog. Potter's position atop him had their erections rubbing together and they began a gentle frotting motion that felt fabulous, with just enough friction to make Draco want more pressure... and some lubrication.

"Oh, damn."

Potter lifted his head. His glasses were skewed and smudged. Draco laughed and pulled them off before considering Potter's face. He looked nice, Draco supposed, although very un-Potterly without them. Draco decided he liked the look, more vulnerable and less heroic, if that made any sense at all. "Our wands are back in there and I, for one, would like some lubricant."

"Oh. Hang on." Potter leaned up onto one arm and flung a hand out towards the opening in the drapes. "Accio wand!"

Of course it flew straight into his hand. Draco could have pulled that manoeuvre for an hour and he might have had success. With Potter, it was a given. Draco snorted.

"Let me lube this up for you," Potter said as he tossed the wand on the bed. He slid back down and took Draco's cock into his mouth as though he'd been starving for cock and needed to swallow as much as possible. He gripped the base and pulled slowly off, sucking hard the while, and then swirled his tongue over the head in a move that had Draco nearly arching off the bed while making inarticulate gasp-groans.

Draco mentally tacked on a few more titles to Potter's growing list: The Boy Who Fellated and the Chosen Cocksucker. Draco thought he might have to create new badges.

Green eyes flashed up to lock with his every so often as Potter moved up and down. His hand moved from Draco's cock to his testicles and back to his cock, while the other stroked Draco's hip, thigh, and ribs in continuous movement, as if he were trying to touch everything at once. Draco pushed a hand into Potter's hair but was careful not to force any motion; Potter was doing just fine on his own. He seemed to have no gag reflex, taking it deep enough that his nose brushed Draco's abdomen with each downstroke.

Draco bit his lip to stop the mindless babble from escaping. He felt hot and cold and electrified. And, Salazar, he was getting closer with each glide of Potter's brilliant mouth. A warning clench of Draco's hand in his hair seemed to alert Potter, who let go of Draco's cock and dove upwards again, pausing to give Draco's nipples some attention before kissing him again.

Draco allowed it for a few wet, messy moments, and then he pulled away, aching, and lifted his hips to rub his cock against Potter's. "I need you to fuck me."

"Yes," Potter said simply and reached for his wand again. He reared back and mumbled a spell that squirted a handful of pale gel into his hand. It smelled lovely, with a scent Draco couldn't concentrate enough to put a name to. Potter lathered up his cock and Draco helped, using both hands and bumping them over Potter's before reaching up to smear a stripe over Potter's mouth, earning a wrinkled nose and a growled chuckle. Potter touched a dab to Draco's nose in retaliation and then they were wrestling in earnest, smearing lube everywhere and rolling on the bed, laughing, and smacking each other with slick handprints. The bedcovers were a wreck.

Despite the digression into silly play, Draco's erection had hardly flagged at all, so when he ended up on his stomach with Potter sprawled atop him, he simply lifted his hips in invitation and spread his legs wider to accommodate Potter, who froze mid-giggle and then reached round to grip Draco's cock again.

"This way?" Potter asked.

"Yeah. Easier, to start with, I think." In truth, Draco hadn't been fucked in so long he was afraid he'd forgotten how. He wanked with toys only on rare occasions, so his arse had likely gone back to near-virgin status.

"All right." Potter pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, his shoulder, and the curve of his jaw before he located his wand and cast another lubrication charm, since the previous mess was all over them. Draco couldn't suppress a laugh and Potter bit him lightly on the neck. "Shush, you."

Potter's slick fingers brushed between Draco's crack and slipped over his arsehole before dropping lower to graze Draco's perineum and caress his balls. Draco's cock sprang back to full hardness, aided by Potter's other hand still methodically stroking his cock. A well-lubed finger pressed into Draco. He closed his eyes and bit into the blanket, clenching his teeth against the intrusion, which felt both awful and wonderful. He took several steadying breaths as Potter moved his finger in and out several times. His lips never stopped moving over Draco's neck and shoulder.

"More," Draco said when he felt ready and Potter obediently slipped in another finger. Draco's body adjusted quickly this time, and by the time a third finger was added, Draco was ready for Potter's glorious cock. He shifted his position and braced himself before glancing back and nodding encouragingly.

Potter redid the lube charm and then used one hand to line up his cock whilst the other held tightly to Draco's hip, holding him in place as he opened Draco up for the first time in far too long. Draco groaned and clenched his hands into the covers, wishing he'd thought to move closer to the headboard for leverage.

"You okay?" Potter asked with worry in his tone.

"You're not that enormous, oh Swollen Headed One."

Potter drove his hips forward and Draco cried out again as Potter was completely, deeply buried. "Oh shit, did I hurt you?"

Draco forced a laugh, although it had stung, and made a mental note not to insult Potter during such a crucial moment again. "Just get to fucking, Potter. I don't have all day."

"Prat," Potter muttered, but then he set to moving at a nice pace, in and out, and didn't forget to reach around and tug at Draco's cock, although both movements at once seemed to throw his concentration a bit, so Draco took over his own cock ministrations and let Potter's hands settle on his hips for better leverage.

It was glorious.

Even then, Potter's hands didn't stay still, moving from Draco's hips to his thighs, sliding over to his spine, and caressing and squeezing his buttocks. After long, fabulous minutes, Potter stopped and bent down over Draco's back.

"I want to see your face." Potter's words were a whisper in Draco's ear that sent a shiver down his spine. He nodded and they rearranged themselves. Potter slipped back in and then Draco pulled himself up with a grip on Potter's biceps. They sat face to face for a moment, and then Draco shoved Potter backwards and grinned hugely at his wide stare.

"You're right. This is much better." With that, Draco drove himself up and down on Potter's cock, joying in the burn of his thigh muscles and the hard, tight knot that began to wind even tighter as Potter wrapped both hands around Draco's cock. It wouldn't take much longer, he knew.

The bed creaked wildly and part of the frame thumped against the windowsill; Draco knew he'd have to do something about that later. The tenants downstairs were probably going to come pounding up the stairs at any moment to complain about the noise. The thought of being caught fucking Harry Potter was titillating enough that it sparked Draco's orgasm. He watched with interest as a spray of come splattered over Potter's chest. A drop hit him on the chin and Potter's wide grin suggested that a comment was coming. Draco wiped up the drop with his fingertip and shoved it into Potter's mouth the moment it opened.

He expected a choking response, but instead Potter's cheeks hollowed and he sucked in Draco's finger, just as his eyes fluttered shut and he jerked with controlled shudders. His hands were tight on Draco's hips and Draco slowed his movements, making certain that Potter was spent before he stopped moving. He took his finger out of Potter's mouth and replaced it with his tongue, kissing Potter with firm tenderness that he hoped might convey a portion of his delight.

As he sprawled next to Potter and stretched out his aching legs, he realised the ghost of Stanton had finally been exorcised. One session with Harry Potter had been better than months of routine sex with the overly-stuffy pure-blood. What had Draco even seen in him? He rolled his head to grin at Potter.

"Good?" Potter asked.

"No, Potter. A Chateau Bellevue Mondotte Bordeaux is good. That was closer to a Chateau Latour Pauillac Premier Grand Vin."

"I...have no idea what you just said."

Draco beamed. "Excellent."

Potter slugged him and Draco had to roll over and kiss him into submission. It degenerated into lazy snogging and finally just somnolent repose, with hands stroking skin and Draco considering the ramifications of drifting off to sleep. Finally, however, he lifted his head.

"Stay right here," he said and levered himself away from Potter and the bed with effort. He got to his feet and padded out of the room.

A locked cupboard held most of Draco's camera equipment. He'd been using it more since opening the studio, oddly enough. He had expected his only clients to be the few taking his classes, but he'd had several requests for portraits in the past week, although he'd been willing to chalk those up to morbid curiosity.

He also fetched his wand and returned to the bed, where Potter was still sprawled in a sexed-out pose, looking spent and gorgeous. Draco wanted to pounce on him again, but he forced down the thought. Potter cracked open an eye and then sat up, alarm wiping out the sleepy look with terrifying speed. The Ministry had been fools to let him leave the Aurors, Draco realised.

"Oh no," Potter said, sitting up and holding up a hand. "No."

Draco pouted. "I just want one for me. A memento of this auspicious occasion."

"Couldn't we just have some more auspicious occasions?"

Was Potter offering to do this again? "I'm listening."

"Like, um... regularly."

Draco's cock certainly liked the sound of that. "How regularly?"

"Daily, if you like. Your place, my place. Anyplace." Potter didn't seem unaffected by his own words, judging by the tempting flesh between his legs perking up much the way that Draco's was.

"You've got yourself a deal, Potter. On two conditions."

Potter frowned and his growing erection flagged slightly. "Which are?"

"One, if it's going to be a daily thing, then it needs to be an exclusive thing, as well. I won't have you showing up at some Ministry party with a tart on your arm whilst I'm waiting for you like a dirty little secret." Draco winced as he realised he sounded like a jealous shrew. Perhaps it would be easier to Obliviate Potter.

"Fine, as long as you agree to be my date at said Ministry parties and similar functions."

That threw Draco for a loop. "You're willing to be seen in public with me?"

"If you are with me." It sounded like a challenge and the flash of Potter's green eyes made it so.

"Agreed," Draco snapped.

"What's the second thing?"

"I get to take this photo."

Potter's face pinched up and he scowled. "Not fair, Malfoy."

Draco lifted a finger. "Hear me out. I will make certain that you are completely unrecognisable. You know I can do it, and I will let you destroy any proofs that you find objectionable. You can help me in the darkroom when I develop them."

Potter didn't reject the notion outright, and his white teeth worried his lower lip for a minute as he considered it. Draco wanted to crawl onto the bed and help him with the lip gnawing, although one would think he'd had enough of kissing in the past hour. (He hadn't.)

"No tricks?"

"No tricks. I just want to take your photo."

"All right. This is probably utterly insane, but I'm going to trust you."

Draco smiled at him, feeling somewhat foolishly pleased. "Of course you can trust me. Congratulations, Potter. I'm your new exclusive daily fuck buddy." The last two words deflated his sense of euphoria and he regretted saying them.

"I think the word you are looking for is boyfriend."

"Excuse me?"

"Come on, Malfoy, if we're going to be exclusive and you're going to be seen with me in public, I think we might as well skip the silly dancing around the issue. I like you, all right? And I think I could grow to like you a lot more, so it's boyfriend or no photo."

"You drive a hard bargain, Potter."

"I'll show you some hard driving, Malfoy." Potter leered and the stupid giddy feeling was back, pulling a smile from Draco when he would have preferred a stern glare at the terrible pun. Finally he gave in and let a laugh escape.

"Promises, promises. Now lay back, boyfriend, and let me snap some photos so that we can get back to the hard driving."

Potter's smile was brilliant and Draco realised he might have made a bigger bargain than even he realised. Potter's boyfriend! Salazar, what a difference a few hours could make. The wizarding world would have kneazles, including Pansy and all of Potter's friends.

Then again, Draco grinned, that was part of the allure. He raised the camera.

ooooHoooo

Harry lifted his glass and took a drink, although his head was starting to swim and he realised he should probably slow down if he planned to stay awake enough to fulfil his part of Malfoy's bargain. Seamus negated that idea by lifting a bottle.

"Oi, Potter, your glass is nearly empty! Can't have that on Dean's birthday!"

"Didn't I tell you I was never drinking again?"

"That was ages ago and I know you didn't mean it." Seamus held the bottle up next to his face and crooned at it. "He didn't mean it, sweetie."

Harry snorted a laugh and took another drink. He glanced around the flat, which was packed with people, many of whom Harry did not even know. Hermione was in a corner arguing with someone from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Ron had wandered off somewhere, and Sarah the American was hovering near a dark-haired girl with one arm braced on the wall and a very intense look on her face. That was a bit of a surprise; Harry had been almost entirely certain she was straight.

The music volume increased and a sudden burst of laughter drew Harry's attention. Dean Thomas was dancing atop his living room table, shouting the words to the newest popular hit at the top of his lungs. Harry laughed with the others as Dean gyrated suggestively.

"Who's gonna dance with me?" Dean bellowed.

"I will!" Seamus offered and started to climb onto the table.

"All right, what the hell?" Dean gestured him up, but Seamus had barely been on the tabletop for a moment before he toppled off the other side. The room grew almost deafening with the resultant laughter. Harry had to put his drink down and wipe his eyes, leaning against the wall for support. Merlin, his friends were idiots.

"Oh, honestly!" said a familiar voice and the next thing he knew, Hermione had climbed onto the table and was grinding seductively against Dean, screaming the words with him and throwing her hair around.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, rubbing his eyes.

"I was wrong, Potter. This party is astounding. And I believe I've gained enough blackmail material to keep me rich well into my octogenarian age."

Harry smiled and leaned into his boyfriend for a kiss, avoiding the camera slung around his neck. "You're terrible."

Malfoy's grey eyes twinkled and he smiled a smile that promised naughty, naughty things later. Harry reached for his drink to take another fortifying sip. The expected outcry from his friends had been non-existent. Even Ron had only muttered something bewildering like "Godric, finally" and then had stuffed so many biscuits into his mouth that Harry hadn't been able to get another word out of him. Hermione had smiled and shaken his hand, as though he'd won a prize.

The Daily Prophet, of course, had printed all sorts of salacious nonsense, complete with quotes from a certain Orson Rhonestaadt from the Department of Records who stated that he'd known Malfoy was up to something all along, but had suspected it to be fraud rather than the seduction of the Defeater of Voldemort. Harry had burnt all available copies, except the one that Malfoy had pasted into a scrapbook, mainly to annoy Harry.

The song-thank Merlin-ended and some brilliant person turned down the volume on the radio. Before Dean and Hermione could start dancing to another song, Seamus took the opportunity to wave a magazine in the air. "Who wants to read the latest Cock Critique?"

There was a general whoop and a crowd clustered around Seamus. Harry laughed and started forward, but Malfoy's hand on his arm stopped him. "Want to get out of here?"

Harry blinked at him. "Now? But it's early."

"I will make it worth your while." Malfoy's eyes burned into his and Harry swallowed hard. Malfoy was very, very good at making things worth Harry's while.

"That?" Dean's voice was loud and incredulous. He had hopped down from the table, thankfully. Harry had been afraid he'd been about to topple off a couple of times. "I'm twice that size and I only rated an N!"

"It's not about size, you gormless nitwit!" Seamus smacked him with something that Harry couldn't see through the crowd. "It's about ass...ass... What's that word?"

"Aesthetics!" someone yelled.

Harry chuckled and squeezed Malfoy's hand. "All right. Just let me say Happy Birthday and goodnight to Dean." He moved away and pushed through the crowd surrounding the birthday boy.

He joined the circle just as the magazine was changing hands, so he paused to look down at the photo, curious. His jaw gaped open and the blood thudded in his ears so loudly that it drowned all other background noise, including Seamus. He struggled to focus and clenched the magazine in both hands.

"Oi, Harry, careful with that! Can't mar perfection!" He finally heard Seamus' voice and subsequent laugh, although it sounded like it was coming through a tunnel. Harry eyes moved past the shocking sight of his own body in the photo to the words beneath.

This is how a perfect cock photo should be taken. It helps that the cock in the image is exquisite, of course, but also note the generous portion of his body visible in the photo, as well as the beckoning hand that makes the viewer want to climb into the bed and do naughty things involving that beautiful cock. The rumpled blankets suggest earlier debauchery, and the muted lighting adds to the ethereal, fantasy quality of the photo itself. I give this cock photo an O for Outstanding, and I should know as I took this picture of my glorious boyfriend. I intend to share him only this once as a (admittedly smug) lesson to you all.

Harry turned around with the magazine in hand to see Malfoy studying his nails as though bored and ready to leave. Harry waited until Malfoy's eyes lifted. A smile curved Malfoy's perfect lips and one shoulder lifted in a shrug. Harry marched forward.

Harry's voice was a low hiss. He was torn between being astounded and furious. "You sent my photo to the cock critiquer? Wait, you are the cock critiquer." He shook the magazine. "I can't believe this!"

"Oh come now, no one knows it's either of us. At least, they don't unless you continue to wave that around and behave like an angry crup, although that is a good look on you, I admit." Malfoy's eyes swept over him in a way that always fired Harry's blood.

"We need to discuss this." Harry kept his tone determined, fighting the pull of Malfoy's grey eyes.

"Your place or mine?" The seductive tone, combined with a sultry smile, unravelled Harry's outrage. Bloody hell, the sexy bastard knew how to defuse Harry's irritation every time, but since it always ended it orgasms he could hardly complain.

"Yours," he snapped and stepped closer to yank his annoying boyfriend into position for Side-along. "We'll be back later!" he called over his shoulder and Disapparated.

oOo

A week later, Harry was seated in Malfoy's lap, snogging the breath out of him, when the door banged open and Parkinson walked in.

"Unlock your lips, boys, we have work to do." She tossed a large packet onto the desk before settling herself in her usual space on the edge. "That last photo you posted seems to have prompted everyone with a dick to dig out their cameras. Look at this mess."

She upended the packet and a mass of photos spilled out. Mindy entered the room with another bundle that she dropped onto a nearby chair.

"This always happens after I award an O," Malfoy said. "Everyone thinks they can do better."

Parkinson nodded. "True. When was the last one?"

"That would have been the one I took of my husband," Mindy offered. Three pairs of eyes turned to her and she blushed red as a ripe apple. "I'll just go and fetch the tea!" With that, she turned and fled.

"I am constantly revising my opinion of that woman," Malfoy murmured.

Parkinson shrugged. "Whatever. Let's get on with this. Here is a nice one. Of course, it doesn't measure up to Potter, here, but it's not bad." She gave Harry a leer, but he was getting better at not blushing every time she mentioned his cock. Thankfully, only she and Mindy were aware that the subject of the last O photo had been Harry. Mindy never mentioned it, although she seemed to look at Harry speculatively, on occasion. Parkinson, of course, never let it lie. There had been an epic row the first time she had brought it up, which had led to angry floor sex, and not-so-angry shower sex, and then apologetic bedroom sex, so all in all, Harry could handle a few digs from the bint.

Harry got to his feet, reluctantly leaving Malfoy's lap, but they had work to do. "All right, let's get to sorting. Utter rubbish here, potential decent photos here, and second glances here." He pointed to three spots on the desk and Parkinson shoved everything aside (other than her arse) to clear spaces. Harry met Malfoy's eyes and they both smiled.

Malfoy had considered giving up the cock critique thing, but once Harry's annoyance had passed, he thought it might be fun to help him with it. Harry was gradually getting better at spotting what passed for good and bad photos, and his skill with a camera was increasing. Malfoy agreed that soon he would be ready for the Intermediate class, and might eventually be allowed to help him in the studio with paying customers-also mentioning that having Harry's name in association with his business was already drawing more customers. Harry couldn't begrudge him that. The bastard was quite a photographer and deserved all the customers he could handle.

And if his private collection of photos of Harry's outstanding cock was growing also, well, Harry supposed he didn't have a problem with that either.

~END~ 8===D LOL