Ever since Draco had gotten his license, Dudley had been bumming rides off of him to skip having to catch the schoolbus. Draco didn't mind. They were best friends, after all, and he enjoyed Dudley's poor singing to every song on the radio, even that early in the morning.

But then, one afternoon in December, Dudley had called him, frantic, asking him to pick up his kid brother — they were cousins, really, but one wouldn't be able to tell with how close they were — from the middle school. He'd gotten detention and no one was home to get him; it was snowing, was the excuse Dudley had used, though they both knew it was because Dudley's parents despised the green-eyed child.

Draco, of course, had accepted. He didn't really know Harry, but from the few times he'd been over — for obvious reasons, Dudley preferred not to bring guests to meet his parents — he'd been perturbed. Harry liked to stare at him, like he was some bizarre creature the child couldn't quite grasp, and had barely spoken a word to him in the five years Draco had been friends with Dudley. It wasn't for lack of trying — at the baseball games Dudley had guilted Draco into attending, Draco sat by Harry. He would make offhanded comments about the game, joking and teasing Dudley for even liking the sport, but Harry just sat quietly, smiling faintly, occasionally watching the game, but mostly watching Draco.

Draco had pulled into the snowy bus loop outside the middle school, windshield wipers working furiously to give him what little visibility they could manage — which wasn't much. He wondered whether he should go in to try and find the boy, until he spotted a dark figure hunched on the snowy bus curb, collecting snowflakes.

For a terrifying moment, he'd thought it was something dead. Then, shaggy hair shifted and Draco could just barely make out familiar glasses through the haze of snow.

He'd rolled down the window, incredulous. "Harry?" he'd called, shocked. "What the fuck are you doing out here in this goddamn snow? Get in this fucking car!" he'd bellowed, and Harry needed no further incentive to stand shakily, brush himself off, and clamber into the passenger seat.

Draco had been livid.

When Harry strapped in, he was wet, and shivering, and Draco had muttered a slew of colorful expletives before yanking off his sweater and tossing it at the boy, who'd looked back at him, surprised.

"I've been wearing that shit all day, so it should be warm," he had promised as he cranked up the heat in his car. Then, he was peeling out of the bus loop and onto the connected street, making his way back towards their neighborhood. "What the hell were you doing out in the snow?" he crowed again, just angry. "Are you trying to get yourself sick?"

When he received no answer, Draco turned frustrated eyes on Harry, only to find the boy huddled, knees pulled up beneath the sweater, nose buried in the material. Harry looked serene — blissful, even, as he shyly pushed his arms through the sleeves and tugged it further over his nose, inhaling deeply.

Draco guessed the kid liked the smell of his cologne — though it couldn't be very strong. He only spritzed it, and that had been nearly ten hours ago — but didn't let his question drop.

"Harry?" he'd prompted.

"They don't like me," he whispered back, large green eyes blinking at Draco beneath his thick glasses. The boy's eyelashes were long to a nearly ridiculous degree.

"Who doesn't?" Draco had asked, glancing in his side mirror before flicking on his left blinker and making the turn. The car skid a bit, and Draco forced himself to calm down, to drive more carefully. They weren't in an all out storm, but it was a damn near thing.

"Everyone," Harry snorted, and Draco was shocked by the cynicism. "Teachers, other kids, my parents."

"Do they hurt you?" Draco asked sharply. He'd never ask Dudey something like that, because, of course, Dudley loved his parents, but Harry...

Harry hadn't answered, turning to look out the window instead.

"If they do," Draco warned, voice dark, "you know I'm right down the street, right? You can come over whenever, Harry, if... if they're scaring you."

Harry had stared at him then, shocked.

"I can?"

"Of course," Draco replied, a tad defensive. "We're friends, aren't we?" he'd asked, because he and Dudley were friends, and Harry was practically Dudley's brother, and he and Harry had 'spoken' a couple times, so they might as well be considered so, in a very slight sense. And, even if they weren't friends — it wasn't as though Draco would turn away someone in need, and he hoped Harry at least knew that.

But Harry looked delightfully surprised, if anything, and that made Draco feel bitter in itself. Harry looked surprised.

"Yes," Harry had whispered, practically breathed the word, and Draco felt himself grudgingly smile. Harry must have felt ecstatic then, to finally have someone other than family (read: Dudley) call himself his friend, assuming Harry hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said everyone at his school hated him.

"And you've got a phone, haven't you?" Draco continued on griping, anyway, because he'd been worried, dammit. He told Harry this. "Surely you have my number — Dudley must have given it to you for emergencies. Just call me, goddammit, Harry! I was fucking worried, seeing you out in that snow. I thought you were some dead animal!"

Harry was smiling that soft smile again, looking at him like he'd hung the moon. "I promise," he whispered, and Draco harrumphed, satisfied.

"You'd damned better."

And Harry had, occasionally, called to be picked up. But, he more frequently just schlepped over to Draco's house to stay the night in the spare bed Draco had in his room. Usually, Draco just kept laundry he was too lazy to put away on the twin-sized bed, but since Harry had been sleeping over more often — he was even starting to grow on Draco's parents which, considering he and Dudley had been friends for half a decade and they still didn't trust him, meant a lot — he'd taken to actually putting his laundry away on time; keeping it clear and the sheets made and tucked and ready for use whenever Harry popped over.

After he'd entered high school, Harry wasn't around too often due to his sudden interest in football, and he was almost always at the gym, lifting weights or whatever else Draco wheezed from only thinking about. But, when he did come over, he always showered, borrowed a pair of Draco's too-long (but not wide enough, apparently, damn those shoulders he'd developed) pajamas, and inevitably stayed the night.

It was somewhere in this timeframe that he'd told Draco, sitting in the far end of the bleachers as they both pretended to be interested in Dudley hovering at the base he was covering — in the speckled shade, leaning together, whispering about his cousin with good-natured jabs — that he was gay. Draco had been surprised, and hadn't the faintest idea where the admission had come from, but had nodded, told Harry it made sense since he'd always been weirdly meticulous about his hygiene (that had earned him a slap), and that was that.

He still slept over at least once a week, still texted all the time, and nothing changed, except they'd become closer. Sometimes when Harry came over, he said it was because 'his' parents were drinking, but sometimes it was for homework help, or just because Dudley was annoying him. Eventually, he and Harry grew as close as he and Dudley were, and Harry started feeling to him like the younger sibling Draco had always wanted.

He made the grave mistake of telling Harry that, once. They'd been nestled together on his couch, beneath a blanket, watching scary movies late into the night instead of trick-or-treating like that overgrown baby Dudley was doing. Harry kept accidentally brushing his hand in the popcorn bowl, and soon after, Draco said The Thing He Shouldn't've.

Harry had reacted horribly, like being Draco's little brother was the worst possible thing he could think of, and Draco had gotten suitably offended as one of his close friends reeled back at him, face warped into a grimace.

"I fucking hope not," Harry had said, forcing a laugh. "I don't think of you as a, a brother, at all! But we're still close, yeah?"

Draco's mouth had fallen into a grim line as he watched the television, mind not processing what he was seeing at all, only what he was hearing. Close, but not brother-blood-bond close, he'd thought sourly.

And they'd gone to the same community college, but they'd kind of drifted apart by then. Draco had made a point to always be too busy to hang out with Harry now that he was in college, and by the time Draco was becoming a Junior and Harry showed up as a Freshman, they barely spoke. But they did speak occasionally; partially because, with distance, it hurt a little less and Draco admittedly missed Harry and his quirky sense of humor, and also partly because it was hard to avoid Harry when he and Dudley still spent so much time together.

They didn't go to the same college — Dudley having wanted to go somewhere further away so he could live in a dorm away from home — but his college wasn't too far. Draco and him still met up every weekend, and sometimes Dudley would bring Harry, because he knew that him leaving had only made it harder on his kid brother. And they all watched movies together, or went out to eat. Sometimes Dudley ditched him to spent the weekend with Harry, but sometimes he also ditched Harry to hang out with Draco.

Dudley didn't know why they were suddenly so distant, but they acted civil to each other, so when Draco told him they just didn't have that much in common anymore, Dudley believed it. They'd just grown apart, Draco had said, and Dudley had nodded in understanding.

"You're so focused on your studies, and Harry's just a gym rat now. It's all football and protein shakes for that one."

"You sound bitter," Draco had noted. He wondered if Dudley was trying to say Harry's grades were dropping, but wouldn't ask.

Dudley released a long ass groan and whined, "I've been doing baseball for seven years, and then this kid does football for four and suddenly he's getting jacked while I'm all..." He prodded at his stomach.

Dudley wasn't overweight for his height, but still seemed a little chubby in his torso. He was very toned everywhere else — his tummy was simply where he held most of his fat. He was sensitive about it, but always played it off as a joke when he brought it up. Draco laughed along, not wanting to bring up his friend's vulnerabilities, but he did consciously make an effort to remind Dudley — in organic conversation of course, Draco wasn't obvious about it — that he found Dudley very attractive and impressive.

"Yeah, well you do both. You're just so driven," Draco said, resting his chin in his palm. "Isn't it exhausting? Working so much harder than everyone else all the time? Christ, I can't even imagine playing a serious sport and studying for hours a night. You're like a killer combo, you bastard. How the fuck am I gonna compete with that?"

Dudley slurped at his soda to try and hide his flush. "Shut up," he said, but Draco could tell he appreciated it.

Then Harry had strode in, dumped his gym bag on the floor, and dumped his sweaty ass in the last chair.

They were fortunate Dudley's roommate was rarely home. Or maybe he made a habit of never being around on the weekends because Dudley had them over so much? Draco didn't really care, he decided. What he cared about was the fact that Harry somehow looked really cool, despite the sweat stains and odor and being all of a measly high school senior. Draco was a sophomore in college, dammit, and he knew for a fact that Harry had more sex appeal than he did.

"Want something to drink?" Dudley offered his cousin.

Harry peered at said offered beverage before returning to his previous position of looking for all intents and purposes like he was ready to up and die. He was so dramatic sometimes.

"I can't drink soda," he whined. "No sugar, no carbs."

"Sugar is a carb," Draco said.

Harry put his hands over his face. "Don't remind me."

"You work so hard though; don't you deserve a little cheat?" Dudley asked. Draco noticed that Dudley wasn't drinking his soda anymore, but didn't act like he'd noticed.

"I don't want to win by cheating," Harry had hissed, finally getting up. He went to the fridge and grabbed a water, pulling up the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face.

Both he and Dudley pretended not to notice his abs.

"You just seem so... mad, these days."

"Of course he's mad," Draco couldn't resist piping in, "he's also in a caloric deficit, isn't he? He's bloody hungry all the time."

"All the time," Harry agreed, sounding forlorn. He wilted dramatically against the fridge.

"It's paying off though," Dudley told him. "Isn't it, Draco?"

Draco was surprised and, for some reason, embarrassed to have to answer that question. "Sure it is," Draco agreed easily, because Harry didn't matter to him anymore, and he had to exude that, "but you're not looking so bad either." He winked.

"You're kind of a flirt, you know that?" Dudley asked, looking a little suspicious. "You sure you're not gay?"

"You can still suck dick in a caloric deficit," Draco said, just to say it, and was rewarded handsomely by Harry slamming the fridge shut in shock and Dudley choking on his own spit. "I was just kidding, Jesus," he sniggered.

Dudley shook his head, smirking himself. "You know, Harry made a similar joke to me the other day, except it was — what was it? Oh yeah-"

"Dudley," Harry groaned.

"No, no, it was funny! I'd called Harry an ass, and he told me, 'Well, you are what you eat, right?'" Dudley cackled, and Draco was annoyed to find himself laughing a bit as well. "You two are like the same person," Dudley went on to say, "I'm still surprised you don't get along as well as you used to."

Draco shrugged, taking Dudley's soda and sipping at it, just for something to do.

"Hey, my drink!" Dudley complained, swiping it back and exaggeratedly wiping the straw off. Which was fortunate, or he would have seen Harry's peeved expression and the way he stormed from the room. So he was still mad when it was brought up, was he?

Madder than Draco, apparently. At first, Draco hadn't noticed Harry avoiding him, until he did, and it pissed him off even more. He hadn't said a damn thing when Harry had confessed to being gay, but Draco so much as confesses to thinking they were close, and Harry has a problem? Not only that, but it's been three years, and he's still not over it?

He never came over anymore, and Draco's laundry piled up. For three years it had been.

Draco gave Harry a real reason to hate him in his freshman year.

When Harry had gotten his first girlfriend, all awkward and pink-faced, he had chosen wisely. Even in college, the high school football captain and cheerleading captain were still recognized as such, and were therefore the star couple of the whole damn college in freshmen-goddamn-year. It was like they were famous or something, even the seniors were expressing interest.

Harry wasn't ugly, and never had been — sure, he'd been a little scrawny up until the beginnings of high school, but towards the end he'd definitely grown into himself. The commitment to the gym and sports only helped. Even then, however, the female population had never really shown him the time of day, likely because they still considered him the scraggly weirdo from elementary school. In college, however, he was only known for not being a scrawny kid, and in fact being very desirably proportioned for a freshman. And, he had a hot girlfriend, which just made him all the more appealing. All the guys wanted to be his friend, and all the girls wanted to be his.

Harry had chosen the best possible girl to date. Draco wasn't sure if he was still gay — if that was something that could even change — but even if he was only fake-dating her to keep up a straight-guy image, he'd chosen wisely. No one was doubting him now.

But then, Draco had to open his big mouth.

They were passing each other in the hall, Harry uncharacteristically without his entourage, and Draco waiting for his own group of friends — much smaller than Harry's, but at least Draco knew all his friends' last names.

Draco was content to pretend they didn't know each other, as they had been doing while on campus since the beginning of the year. But, since they were alone, it seemed Harry was willing to break that little silent agreement.

"Oh, hi," he said.

Draco looked at him silently for a couple seconds, just long enough for Harry to understand that this was unwanted conversation, and just a little longer so Harry would begin to shift on his feet and open his mouth to say something else, and then Draco replied, "Hey."

"Are you waiting for someone?"

"Are you?" Draco shot back, annoyed. What, so Harry was only willing to talk to him when he was alone? Was he going to sprint away when Draco's friends arrived, or something? Now that he was finally popular, he couldn't afford to be seen with Draco? Or was it still some residual resentment from being compared to the little brother Draco had always imagined.

"Um, no," Harry replied awkwardly, seeming to pick up on Draco's ire. "H-how are you?" He scratched at the back of his head, ducking it a bit as he stared at their shoes. "I haven't seen you around much."

"Dudley's got his own girlfriend now, so I'm trying to give him some space," Draco allowed himself to share. "I thought you'd be happy you don't have to see me anymore." And, shit, he hadn't meant to blurt that last part — now Harry knew that he was thinking about him.

Harry looked angry. "Why are you always blaming me? I'm not the one who made us this way."

Draco was surprised by the vehemence, but daren't show it. "I like it better this way, so I guess I just thought you would, too," Draco lied. He wanted Harry to hurt. Wanted Harry to feel guilty, because as far as Draco was concerned, it was him who made them this way. If he was so insulted by Draco saying he valued him as even more than a friend — Dudley would have been thrilled if Draco said he thought of him as a brother — then Draco didn't want to keep him around, knowing the whole time that Harry only wanted to be kind of close friends. In a twisted way, it was like asking to date someone, only for them to want to remain friends with boyfriend privileges; they just didn't want to be exclusive. It was a waste of time and energy, putting so much work into someone only for them to not like you as much as you like them.

Harry was fuming, fists tight and jaw clenched. He looked beautiful, kind of, which made Draco even more upset. Why did this piece of shit get to grow into someone so gorgeous, while Draco had to work for his beauty? Draco had to style his hair and moisturize his skin and dress for his figure, while Harry just rolled out of bed, told people he just wanted to be friends, and looked like that.

Well, that wasn't completely fair. He did dedicate all of his free time to sports and the gym, but still. He was an asshole. He didn't deserve to be hot. He didn't deserve all the girls liking him, all the girls should be into Draco.

"Draco!"

He looked over to see his friends, Pansy, Astoria, and Theodore finally arrived at the entrance of the library. All of the kids in chemistry were at the library now, as their lecture room was in the building right across the street. They looked at Harry subtly.

"Go back to your girlfriend, Potter," Draco said, wrapping an arm around Pansy. She squeezed his side in response, knowing he wanted her support, just not why. But she didn't ask — she knew he had to keep up pretenses sometimes, and he liked that about her. "I don't want to discuss your commitment issues anymore."

That had been his mistake.

He hadn't expected a rumor to sprout because of it, a rumor that Harry had been cheating. This lead to the star-couple's breakup, and suddenly, all kinds of rumors were flying about "that pretty green-eyed-jock-who-was-too-good-to-be-true, had to be cheating still, or abusive, or an asshole, or gay," and Draco had no idea what to do to stop the rumors — if he even could, and if that was his place as either an ex-best-friend or even the one who had kickstarted the whole thing. He didn't know what to do as Harry closed in on himself, never smiling, quitting the team.

Dudley had stopped talking to him then, and Draco hadn't questioned him. He wasn't sure what Harry had told him, or if Dudley had come to his own conclusions, but either way, Draco felt miserable. He had done this.

Harry's best friend, Cedric Diggory, had abandoned him when rumors started about Harry and Cho Chang, which was the issue, in Draco's opinion, of having all your friends only connected to you through one person. Diggory was actually Chang's ex, and though they said they didn't have feelings for each other anymore, they were still close. So, when Cho heard the rumors and actually believed them, of course Diggory believed her over Harry. It was all so ridiculous and far-fetched to Draco, as if they were looking for an excuse to drop Harry or something, because Harry didn't cheat like that. He might be an ass who didn't like to get close to people, but he valued his friends and his relationships. He was incredibly committed, as long as both parties agreed on the level of their relationship, for him and Draco's situation.

And then Diggory spilled that Harry was gay. Apparently, in an attempt to keep his only 'real' friend, Harry had told Diggory in hopes he would understand — he was still figuring himself out, but he hadn't even gone that far with Cho. Who could he have cheated with? In which Diggory only became enraged further because not only had Cho been with a fag, but Harry had been using her.

Harry was alone, and ostracized, and furious, judging by the looks he'd send Draco whenever they passed in the halls.

Draco didn't know what to think. To a degree, he'd single-handedly ruined Harry's entire life, but also, it was Harry's own fault for dating a girl who didn't even know him well enough to know he never lied, not ever. Or to befriend a bloke who would betray him like that, a bloke who Draco felt a treacherous sort of delight for, considering he so perfectly juxtaposed Draco's own fantastic friendship. Surely Harry, by now, was realizing he couldn't get any better than Draco, that he'd been a dick to have said what he did, that Halloween.

Harry had hurt his feelings.

Draco had ruined his life.

To distract himself, Draco had finally asked out Pansy, the girl he'd been crushing on for years, and she'd said yes, and there they were.

He hadn't known Harry had been there, that he'd been walking by the entryway to the courtyard just as Pansy squealed and threw her arms around him. He'd hugged her back, grinning brilliantly, until he saw a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. The heel of Harry's unmistakeable ratty trainers as the boy sprinted down the hallway, judging by the sound of rapid footfalls and a few startled, "Hey!"s that echoed from the doorway.

When Pansy had asked him what was wrong, what he was looking at, he'd smiled, cupped her face, and told her it was nothing.

Because it was. Harry didn't want to be his close-as-brothers best friend, but then got angry when Draco didn't tell him about his plans to date Pansy? As though Harry had opened up to him like a friend would about his supposed plan to date Cho Chang to put skeptics off his back. Draco might have — he didn't know — helped, perhaps, even though they'd been enemies by then, but Harry was still important to him, always would be, and he might have put aside his vindictive nature to help Harry with his heterosexual charade.

Harry had no reason to feel left out because Draco hadn't opened up to him, no matter how inexplicably guilty Draco felt afterwards. Rather, it wasn't inexplicable—he felt bad because he couldn't stop thinking, Haven't I hurt Harry enough?

Present

Draco drove home, frustrated, because he hadn't been able to make out with Pansy without picturing angry green eyes and freckle-dusted tan skin, so he'd called the night to a close early, which in turn made Pansy upset with him.

He turned into his driveway to find Harry Potter sitting on his porch step, eyeing his car with an unreadable expression on his face.

Draco shut off the engine and just watched him, and Harry watched him back.

Draco was, admittedly, scared. Harry may be nine-bloody-teen, and a mere freshmen (practically still a high schooler), but he hadn't been football captain in high school for nothing. He was powerful, and a big guy, and he could do a goddamn tackle when he needed to.

Draco wasn't weak, but he was more slender and tall than intimidating-Harry-Potter and tall. He was lanky, really, but he had a pretty face, so he was allowed to use the word slender. And even then, Harry wasn't as tall as he was, yet Draco had no trouble admitting to himself that Harry could probably break Draco's jaw before breaking a sweat.

Eventually, Draco stepped from the car, aiming for casual, and shut the door behind himself with a little more effort than necessary. His keys jingled as he shoved them into his jacket pocket — bloody Harry was still without a coat, even in autumn — and leaves crunched underfoot as he trekked his way towards his door, towards Harry.

He stopped before the brunette, and Harry just stared at him.

"I'm sorry," Draco blurted.

Harry blinked at him, apathetic, and suddenly Draco felt everything bubbling up.

"I didn't mean to start the rumors, I only said that thing about commitment to hurt your feelings because you'd hurt mine. I didn't think... didn't know things would escalate to this."

When Harry continued to watch him, Draco wondered if that wasn't what he'd wanted him to apologize for.

"I'm sorry you had to date Cho Chang just to feel comfortable in your own skin," he blurted, genuine, "and I'm sorry she didn't know you enough to know you would never cheat on anyone, even someone you don't love."

Silence.

"And I'm sorry Cedric Diggory is a piece of shit, and that you wasted your time trusting his sketchy ass. No one worth their salt backstabs a friend after they're no longer friends. You told him your sexuality in confidence, and I'm sorry the whole schools knows now."

Harry glanced at his shoes, and suddenly he was the middle-schooler sitting on the curb in the snow because he didn't think he deserved any better, and Draco couldn't help the wistful pang in his chest at the memory of that sweet, innocent child.

All fear left him as those unsure green eyes met his.

He knelt down before Harry who, knowing him, had probably walked all the way over just to come and sit on Draco's doorstep — with no intention of starting anything unless Draco did, until Draco spoke first.

"But, for the record," he mumbled, because he didn't need to speak any louder with them this close, "I think you inspired some other guys to come out of the closet, so, you know, there's something good that came out of this. Kind of."

"I love you," Harry said.

Draco stared at him, baffled. "What?"

Harry leaned forward, pressing their mouths together, and Draco started so quickly he nearly fell on his ass as he scrambled away from Harry, the back of his right hand pressed firmly to his recently-violated lips.

"What?" he repeated, shocked.

"I've loved you since the day I saw you," Harry said, voice barely a whisper, barely there at all, and his eyes were sad. "It's only gotten worse. I can't be your brother, Draco, not when I need you so much."

Draco didn't know how to react, what to think. Part of him was disgusted by the thought of Harry wanting him like that, and another part felt pleasure at the fact that Harry hadn't rejected him because he hadn't liked him, Harry had rejected him because he liked him too much. It wasn't that Harry hadn't wanted to commit to being as close as Draco wanted, it was that Draco hadn't wanted to commit to being as close as Harry wanted.

"I hate you so much I could kill you, but I love you even more," Harry said, voice calm, and that rattled Draco—the serenity in those familiar, cold eyes as spoke those words so genuinely, it was terrifying.

Harry suddenly got a hunted look about him. "You know that, don't you? That I'd do anything for you?"

Draco took a step back, unsure and wary, and Harry stood.

Harry's posture was tense, his shoulders hunched forward as thumbs hooked in his pockets.

"What do you want?" Draco finally asked.

"You owe me," Harry announced.

Draco pursed his lips, because he knew he did — he owed Harry his entire life back — but didn't like being told he owed something, especially not from Harry when he was acting so bizarre.

"Owe you what?" Draco asked slowly.

Harry bit his lip, brows furrowing as he looked at Draco. "Let me mark you."

Draco raised his eyebrows, momentarily dumbfounded. "What?"

"That's it," Harry promised, words tumbling out with scarcely a breath between them in his haste to get them out of his mouth. "Then we're even, I promise, just let me mark you-"

"What?" Draco asked again, shocked. "Mark, how? You want to, what, give me a hickey?" he asked, flabbergasted. That was the only explanation after Harry had just confessed his love, but it didn't make much sense, even then.

Harry made an odd whimpering noise, like a dog. "Yes," he breathed, "just one, Draco. Please, just let me do this, just this one thing. Please."

Draco wasn't sure what else he could say. He'd ruined Harry's life, and Harry told him he loved him and wanted to suck his neck. What else could he say?

Well, he could say no, he supposed, but a small part of him wanted to relieve himself of the guilt, was thankful Harry had sought him out after so long so he could apologize, and they could get this settled. This situation was bizarre, but Harry was making it so simple. It would be easier to agree, for both their sakes.

He nodded, uncertain, and Harry approached him like one would a spooked animal.

He huddled Draco against the hood of his car and breathed against Draco's neck.

"Can I...?" he asked, hands hovering by Draco's side, and Draco bit his lip, nodding a bit.

Harry put his hands very lightly on Draco's hips, tugged Draco very slightly towards himself, and then he shoved his nose in Draco's neck and inhaled grandly.

Draco shivered, and Harry made a noise before dabbing his tongue out and licking the skin.

"You taste fantastic," Harry said, sounding awed.

"Get on with it. Fuck," Draco blurted, because he knew he was red in the face and terribly uncomfortable and unsure about all of this. This was... weird. The longer it went on, the more time Draco had to reflect and realize that this was probably not normal. Harry was gay, not some creepo — he didn't usually act like this. Or was it that he'd always been like this, he just never showed Draco?

Harry placed his lips on Draco's pulse, holding them there, waiting, before he spread them, hot breath searing Draco's neck, and bit down. Hard.

Draco cried out, attempting to jerk away, but Harry followed the movement, mouth firmly attached. He withdrew what felt like insanely sharp teeth and lapped at the blood drawn in response before sucking harshly, and Draco yelped again.

He settled after the sucking began to numb out, and jerked abruptly when Harry released the skin with a pop! noise.

Harry stayed hovering near him, breathing against Draco's ruddy skin, hands gently, gently, resting over Draco's hip bones.

"Harry?" Draco asked, perturbed.

Harry turned his head slightly, and his soft hair tickled Draco's cheek as he did so, his breath brushing over the shell of Draco's ear.

"I want to throw you up against this car and fuck you," he said, and Draco stiffened in his hold.

Draco tried to step away, but Harry's feather-soft grip suddenly tightened, and he pressed himself against Draco firmly. He was shorter than Draco by a good few inches, but when he pressed Draco further against the hood, when he looked at him like that, Harry could have been ten feet tall.

"I want to turn you around and eat you out," he continued, moaning a bit, hips snapping forward, and Draco was horrified.

"Oh, my God," he garbled out, disoriented, and shoved at Harry's chest. "Fuck, get off. Harry, get off," he snarled, shoved, and Harry stepped away calmly, as though he hadn't felt any of it.

His eyes looked golden and piercing, savage in the light of the setting sun.

He didn't say anything before shoving his hands back in his pockets and stalking off down the road, supposedly back towards his house, but Draco didn't react, didn't do anything regarding the abrupt turn Harry's attitude had taken.

Draco, uncomfortable and scared and feeling justly violated, sprinted up to his house and checked thrice that he'd locked the door behind himself before finally trekking up to his room, where he proceeded to shut the window blinds before stripping and hopping in the shower. A cold one.