Disclaimer: Anything you recognise isn't mine.

Warnings: SLASH. Rated M for a reason.

Lust Crazed Saviours

Chapter 1

Draco gave his potion one final stir before nodding at it in satisfaction. It was the perfect shade of deep pink and even he was impressed with his own efforts. It was a devilishly tricky potion to brew, as a quick glance around the classroom proved. Longbottom aside, most of the assembled seventh and eighth years had managed something with at least the hint of a pinkish hue, but no one else beside himself and Granger had managed the vibrant colour the professor had described at the start of the lesson. Yet even as the thought crossed his mind, Potter, Granger's partner for the afternoon, began the final set of stirs, his features narrowed in concentration and Draco couldn't resist. Pouring a sample of his potion into a vial, he headed for the currently deserted professor's desk to hand it in. As he was passing Potter's desk he began muttering under his breath, just loudly enough for the Gryffindor to hear him.

"Five, eighteen, ten, twenty-four, seven..."

Almost immediately, Potter began cursing, but Draco forced himself to keep walking, it would do no good for him to get caught in the spray when the potion, (still volatile until the thirtieth stir and thoroughly ruined at the thirty-first), inevitably exploded. Depositing his vial, he finally allowed himself to turn back, biting back a grin when he saw Granger whispering furiously to her troubled looking friend. Quickening his step, he kept well back, watching cautiously as the bubbling cauldron began to froth violently. Potter had apparently recovered his mulish streak and was glaring at Granger as if it was her fault he was so easily distracted and Draco found himself biting back a malicious grin. His plan was working perfectly. Any minute now, the cauldron would explode and Potter and Granger would fall, temporarily at least, in lust with each other. Alright so it wasn't the most evil of plans, but it would certainly throw a spanner in the workings of the golden trio. Weasley would be devastated and no doubt the amorous pair would be thoroughly mortified when the effects finally wore off.

Of course, the one thing Draco hadn't accounted for was his own rotten luck. Later when he thought back on it he had to acknowledge that he should have known better, after all, when had any of his plans regarding Potter ever actually worked as intended? At the time however, flush in the knowledge that everything was going swimmingly, it didn't even occur to him how badly his prank could backfire on him.

As Draco settled into his seat, he kept his eyes on the Gryffindors' cauldron noting the way the high flame quickly pushed the liquid inside up to boiling point. Granger and Potter, meanwhile, were still arguing and didn't seem to have noticed the heightened activity of their potion. Any moment now, he thought eagerly, any moment now... Suddenly, just as he had anticipated, the potion exploded showering Potter with pink droplets only, at the very last second, he turned away from his friend to glare at... Draco.

For that brief moment, time seemed to stand still. He was only faintly aware that Granger, damn her, had somehow managed to cast a shield before the potion could touch her. He didn't even notice the effects of the explosion on the already overly amorous pair of seventh years at the next table, who promptly jumped each other's bones in the middle of the classroom. All he could see was the familiar glare on Potter's face melting away to be replaced by a completely unfamiliar expression of pure, unadulterated desire.

"Hello, Draco." The Gryffindor whispered huskily, crossing the room in a flash and coiling his arms around Draco's neck.

Fuck. This was not supposed to happen. Potter was supposed to be looking at Granger when the potion exploded. He was supposed to fall in lust with her.

"Get off of me, Potter." He shoved roughly at the other boy's chest, but to no avail.

"Come on, Harry, let Malfoy go." Granger's cajoling voice piped up from somewhere behind the Gryffindor.

"No." He declared stubbornly, burrying his face in the curve of Draco's neck and kissing him. "Want to stay here."

Well that was quite enough of that. Slipping his wand out of its holster, he pointed it straight at the saviour's middle and cast.

"Ow, fuck! What was that for?" Potter's usual glare was substituted by a rather pitiful expression that looked completely wrong on the hero's face, but at least he'd stepped back.

"No one touches a Malfoy without permission." He hissed.

"But..." The Gryffindor took a step forward and Draco instinctively raised his wand.

"No you don't, not another step closer or that stinging hex you just felt will feel like a gentle caress in comparison to the next one."

Potter blinked at him, before his features curved up into an unexpected smile.

"A gentle caress?" He asked softly, apparently completely missing Draco's point.

"No." He glared and aiming his wand, he opened his mouth, only for another spell to hit Potter before he could get the words out.

"Stupefy!"

Draco wasn't certain who was responsible, but he suspected Granger given that she was already hovering over her prone friend before anyone else had managed to overcome their shock.

"Keep him away from me until that wears off." He glowered at the Gryffindor's housemates.

"We will, but only for his own good." The muggleborn's glare was just as implacable as his own. "It's your own fault and you deserve to deal with the consequences."

"Of course it is." He rolled his eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's entirely my fault that Potter is incapable of brewing a potion correctly."

"I know it was you, Malfoy." Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him. "He was just telling me as such when the potion exploded."

"Why would you want Harry to fall in lust with you?" Weasley asked stupidly, his face twisted with confusion.

Draco rolled his eyes again. "I want nothing of the sort and if your pathetic hero had spent more time watching his potion and less time watching me, he might have managed to brew it without it blowing up in his face. Furthermore, if he hadn't been so busy glaring at me, I wouldn't have been the object of his ridiculous affections in the first place. Now in case you missed it the first time, I'll repeat myself. Keep him the hell away from me."

"I still don't get it." Weasley muttered, before lowering his voice to speak directly to Granger. "Why would Malfoy interfere with Harry's potion, he must've known Harry would be looking at him? Harry's always fucking staring at the ferret, it's sickening."

Draco barely managed to keep his mouth from dropping open as he heard the Weasel's whisper, obviously not meant for his ears. Glancing round he was relieved to see that no one else seemed to have caught the quiet words. Of course, he knew Potter spent an inordinate amount of time with his attention fixed on Draco, but whenever Draco caught him at it, he merely seemed to be glaring. Yet why would that bother the Weasel? He was little better himself, sending plenty of scowls Draco's way, even if he didn't spend quite as much time glowering at him as Potter did.

"Harry will be mortified when he comes round." Longbottom pointed out, answering the first question and at that, Weasley's expression cleared, though his girlfriend was now giving Draco an uncomfortably appraising look.

Still, he felt a little better about things. Perhaps his plan hadn't quite worked out how he'd intended, but he'd still managed to humiliate Potter. Not wanting to stick around for the Gryffindor to wake up, however, he hastily began throwing his things into his bag before striding out of the room, head held high.

^v^

A couple of hours later, Draco found himself in the great hall for dinner, definitely not noticing the conspicuously empty space at the Gryffindor table. He'd have thought the potion would have worn off by now, but perhaps Potter's mouth had been open during the explosion and he'd ingested some of it. Even a drop or two could prolong the effects for up to six hours, though it was unlikely to be much longer than that without a full dose.

Picking at his food, he tried to stop himself replaying the incident in the classroom over and over again, but his mind appeared to be stuck on a loop. All he seemed capable of thinking about was Harry Potter; the way Potter had looked at him, his features for once not twisted with anger or disgust, the way Potter's lips had felt, oddly soft against the skin of Draco's throat, the way Potter had spoken to him, all rich velvety tones. 'Hello, Draco' he'd said, and who knew that could be so... appealing.

By the time he'd made a passable attempt at dinner, he felt thoroughly drained and all he wanted to do as he left the hall was curl up in bed with a good book and stay there for the rest of the evening. It was perhaps not the most traditional way of spending a Friday night, but he simply couldn't face the mind games of his fellow housemates while he was so preoccupied. Leaving his friends in the common room after the barest minimum of social discourse, he headed to his dorm to do just that, preparing himself for bed before pulling back the drapes. It said a lot about his distraction that it wasn't until he spotted the all too familiar messy head settled on his pillow that he realised the drapes should not have been shut in the first place. It was obvious now why they had been closed, however. There in his bed, though mostly hidden by the covers, was Harry sodding Potter.

"Hello, Draco." The Gryffindor purred at him. Fucking purred.

"Potter!" He barked back, hoping the roughness of his tone would hide the effect the rumpled presence of his nemesis seemed to be having on him. "What the fuck are you doing in my bed?"

"Waiting for you." He was huskily informed.

The Gryffindor stretched cat-like, then pushed himself up into a sitting position. The move dislodged the sheets and Potter seemed perfectly content to let them fall away from his chest. For a long moment all Draco could do was stare. Beneath the covers, Potter was shirtless, his surprisingly toned torso on full display. He was sure it should not have affected him, marred as it was by countless scars of all shapes and sizes and, of course, the fact that it was attached to Potter, but for some reason he found it almost impossible to tear his gaze away from the unexpectedly enticing sight of all that bare flesh. He didn't even dare to contemplate what the Gryffindor hero might be wearing beneath the sheets now pooled in his lap. Or not wearing, as the case may be.

"How did you even get in here?" He demanded, desperately trying to regain control of himself. "Who gave you the password?"

Potter shrugged. "No one, I just followed you after dinner and slipped in before the door shut behind Goyle."

"You followed me? Why does that not surprise me?" Draco muttered to himself, before adding aloud. "Your friends were supposed to be keeping you away from me."

The other boy shrugged again and the sheet slipped a few centimetres further, revealing yet more of the tanned skin and not a hint of clothing. "I sneaked out."

"Of course you did."

Draco pressed his fingers to his temples as he prayed to whatever deity was listening for strength. He knew the obvious thing to do would be to simply hex Potter unconscious and leave him in the corridor for his friends to collect when they inevitably realised their precious hero had escaped. Really, it was the only sensible course of action, but seeing the Gryffindor in his bed, half naked or possibly even completely naked… He hastily shut that thought process down before it could take root. Well, it reawakened a few of those forbidden fantasies that he'd never even admitted to himself to having.

Focussing on Potter again, he opened his mouth to say Merlin knows what when the other boy abruptly lunged forward, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging hard, sending him sprawling across the bed with a yelp. Before he could so much as consider what to do next, the Gryffindor rolled on top of him, burying his hands in Draco's hair to keep him steady and slamming their mouths together.

Whether his gasp of shock was misconstrued as encouragement or whether in his potion addled state Potter simply didn't care that Draco was not quite willing, he wasn't sure, but the Gryffindor did not hesitate to take advantage, slipping his tongue between Draco's parted lips and kissing him deeply. Somewhat desperately, he reached for Potter's shoulders, intent on pushing him off no matter how good the smooth, warm skin felt against his palms, only then the Gryffindor shifted, settling more firmly against Draco's body and his protest abruptly became a moan of pleasure. Almost unconsciously, his hands began stroking over Potter's bare flesh, pulling him closer rather than pushing him away. Evidently feeling his capitulation, the Gryffindor seemed to redouble his efforts, his tongue twining with Draco's in a sensual dance that left him breathless and needy.

"Potter!" He choked out, when the other boy finally released him.

"Mmm?" The Gryffindor murmured, pressing his lips against Draco's neck and completely derailing his train of thought.

"This... You..." He gasped, his words dying away as Potter sucked hard before soothing the spot with his tongue.

"You have to stop." He tried again, but all that came out was a moan of pleasure.

His hands drifted unconsciously down Potter's back, sliding easily over the bare skin and pushing the twisted sheets away without a thought. Even so, when his fingers drifted lower, caressing the base of the Gryffindor's spine, he expected to meet some form of resistance. When there was nothing stopping him, his hands slipping down unhampered over the other boy's behind, he froze in shock.

"You're naked." He whispered.

"Mhmm." Potter finally drew back to look at him, fixing that smouldering gaze on Draco's face. "And now it's your turn."

"What? Wait!" He yelped as the other boy suddenly attacked the buttons of his pyjama top, tearing at least two of them off in his evident hurry to strip Draco of his clothing.

"Potter, stop it!" He protested fruitlessly and perhaps a little half-heartedly as the Gryffindor wrestled him out of his shirt.

"Why? I know you want me too." The other boy murmured, pausing in his task to pepper kisses across Draco's chest.

"Of course I don't!"

"Liar." Potter declared, raising his head to grin at him. "Did you really think I wasn't going to notice this?"

Before Draco could stop him, Potter had hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of Draco's trousers, tugging them down his thighs and revealing the erection he had indeed hoped the Gryffindor would be too distracted to notice.

"Potter..." He warned, but the harsh tone he'd attempted came out sounding more like a breathy plea. A plea the Gryffindor seemed all too happy to answer.

Another tug and Draco was as naked as Potter and then the other boy's hand was right there.

"Fuck." He gasped, his back arching automatically as he thrust himself more firmly into the Gryffindor's fist.

"Mmm, good idea." Potter whispered, resettling himself over Draco's body and widening his grip to encircle both of them.

"What?" He bit back a moan of pure pleasure at the new sensations the Gryffindor's latest trick had evoked.

"Fuck me." Potter demanded huskily.

For just a second, Draco's brain seemed to short circuit and he nearly gave Potter exactly what he'd asked for. Yet almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he knew he could not go through with it. Much as he'd always hated the Gryffindor, had always longed to get one over on him, he simply could not bring himself to do it. Shocked as he was certain Potter would be to discover it, Draco did in fact have a conscience and he could not take advantage of the Gryffindor in his current state of intoxication. Of course he probably should have come to this conclusion before Potter's hand had found its way into Draco's pants, but he could hardly be expected to think properly when he unexpectedly found his bed full of naked, lust crazed saviour.

"No." He whispered finally.

"Why not?" Potter pouted, halting the movement of his hand and nearly prompting Draco to change his mind.

"Because you're not in your right mind. You'll regret it in the morning." And probably have me expelled for rape, he added silently.

"I won't regret it." Potter assured him earnestly. "I've wanted this for so long..."

"Of course you have. You've wanted me since the very first moment you saw me, right?" He'd been going for sarcastic but his words came out sounding rather more bitter than he'd intended.

"No, that's just stupid, I hated you." Potter gave him a look as though he were the one whose brain was completely addled.

"I know you do." Draco sighed heavily, feeling suddenly exhausted despite the early hour.

"I just don't any more." The Gryffindor finished as though he hadn't been interrupted.

"That's just the potion talking, you'll be back to hating me in the morning, don't worry."

"No I won't." The other boy declared, stubbornly. "You'll see."

"Fine, then we'll wait until morning. If you still want me to fuck you then, I will fuck you so well and so hard you'll be screaming my name so damn loudly that your friends will be able to hear you all the way up in Gryffindor tower."

"Merlin..." Potter whispered, staring at him wide-eyed. "Is that a promise?"

"Sure, why not." He threw his hands up in frustration, before finally rolling out from beneath the other boy. "Tomorrow morning you can have whatever you fucking want."

"And what about now?" Potter murmured, pressing himself against Draco's back and sliding an arm around his waist.

"Now, we go to sleep." He held himself rigid, despite the almost overwhelming urge to relax into the embrace.

"Yeah right." Potter snorted. "As if either of us are going to get any sleep while we still feel like this."

As if to illustrate his point, the Gryffindor's hand slid down over Draco's abdomen to cup his erection in his palm. Despite his best attempts, he couldn't quite bite back his moan of pleasure as Potter's warm fist encircled him once again.

"Turn over."

"No, go to sleep."

"Turn over." Potter repeated, tightening his grip almost to the point of pain.

"Ow, what the fuck?" Rolling onto his other side, Draco shot the Gryffindor a vicious glare only to have his lips immediately caught in a breathtaking kiss.

"Much better." The other boy murmured finally, as his mouth left Draco's in favour of trailing his tongue over the rough stubble of Draco's jaw. "Now, I can do this..."

Somehow, despite all their movements, the Gryffindor had managed to retain his grip on Draco's erection. Now, he widened his fist once more to encircle them both, immediately setting a fast pace that left them panting roughly into each other's mouths.

It felt better than he could have imagined; the firm press of Potter's chest against his, the rough calluses of his hand as it stroked, the indescribably pleasurable sensation of the hard, velvety shaft, rubbing urgently against his own... He wanted to add his own fingers to the mix, to feel Potter's length in his hand, but he didn't dare. He was already allowing the Gryffindor to do far more that he should, he could not permit himself to take a more active role in their coupling. Whatever happened, he knew Potter would be furious in the morning, but despite it all, he just couldn't bring himself to force the other boy to stop. No matter what the consequences might be, he simply wanted it far too much to deny himself this one chance at bliss, even if it was only now that he was fully able to admit that he wanted the Gryffindor at all.

Despite his best intentions and iron self-control, the urge to touch Potter, even in some small way; to tangle his fingers in the messy hair or close the distance between them in a heated kiss, was almost more than he could resist. He knew however, that if he allowed himself anything, he would not be able to stop himself from taking more. One kiss would lead to two, three. One innocent touch would lead to a hasty caress, a stolen grope. Still, he would not, could not, stop Potter from touching him and at the very least, the Gryffindor seemed determined to make up for everything Draco would not permit himself to do.

His lips trailed over Draco's skin, one moment pressed against his own, the next sucking roughly at his throat or the edge of his jaw. At the same time, his free hand travelled unceasingly over Draco's torso, tangling in his chest hair, tracing the faintly raised lines of barely visible scars or teasing at his nipples and all the while his right hand continued its furious rhythm, driving them both closer and closer to the edge.

When the Gryffindor tightened his grip just slightly, his lips settling more firmly over Draco's in a rough and breathless kiss, he very nearly lost control completely. Tearing his mouth away before he did something stupid, he instead found himself gazing into over-bright green eyes, glazed with passion and he nearly lost it all over again.

"Potter..." He warned, urgently, knowing he would not be able to hold back again.

"Yes..." The Gryffindor moaned back. "So close, Draco..."

A moment later, Potter tensed, his head falling back with a silent cry as he shot ribbons of fluid across both of their stomachs. It shouldn't have been so hot, but the expression on the Gryffindor's face, combined with the sensation of his now slick hand sliding over Draco's flesh was more than he could stand. With a muffled cry, he tumbled over the edge, coming into Potter's fist harder than he had during even the most incredible sex he had previously experienced.

He was still coming down from his post-orgasmic high when the Gryffindor reached for Draco's wand, casually casting a quick cleaning charm, before settling back into his arms. He wasn't sure why it was this, rather than the unexpected brilliance of the one-sided hand-job that really threw him, but despite the potion, Draco had still expected the other boy to be hexing him stupid or at the very least, running for the hills by now. The last thing he'd expected was to find himself trapped by a cuddly Potter, far more intent on nuzzling Draco's throat with his face and hugging him tightly than making any attempt at fight or flight.

"That was amazing." The Gryffindor told him huskily when he finally drew back, his lips quirking up into a surprisingly attractive, wicked grin. "Just imagine how much better sex will be."

Draco wanted to imagine no such thing, knowing that he was far more likely to be hexed insensible in the morning than shagged silly, but he nodded his agreement anyway.

"Until tomorrow, then?" Potter winked, snuggling more comfortably against Draco's side and pressing one last kiss against his shoulder.

"Yeah." He agreed, morosely, though the other boy already seemed to be half asleep. "Until tomorrow."