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Harry Potter and the Black King	By : Phoenixstrike Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 10586 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Harry Potter and all characters and situations are created and owned by JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Warner Bros. No money is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
Chapter fifteen: Happy Birthday Ron

The week that followed the destruction of the Horcrux was quiet and uneventful, which suited the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place perfectly after the drama of the previous few days. Snape and Lupin had returned to Ely Cathedral in the middle of the night to repair the statue of Saint Etheldreda and remove the Muggle-Repelling Charms, proclaiming it a full success and leaving no evidence or magical signature behind of their venture. Draco and Ron continued to get on relatively well; Harry noted, with amusement, that Wizard’s Chess provided a much better outlet for them to express their mutual hostile feelings than hexing the living daylights out of one another. Harry was just glad they had stooped their constant fighting and putting him in the middle of arguments in which he had no interest.

Harry had watched Snape closely, too, for a few days after the incident in Harry’s bedroom, but the older man had given no indications of his bizarre behaviour the previous week, other than a renewed and fierce determination to destroy the snake. His mother’s scent had seemed to act as a catalyst for Snape as he threw himself into research, a hard, resolute expression on his features. Draco had expressed his theory of Snape’s reaction to Harry, causing Harry to wrinkle his eyes in disgust. Still, Harry reasoned, if Draco was correct and Snape had harboured feelings for his mother whilst they were at Hogwarts, then it would at least explain some of the hatred Severus felt towards Harry’s father. However, the whole idea was not one Harry wished to dwell on particularly.

As the remainder of January slipped away and February arrived, Harry was realising with an unpleasant lurch to the stomach that his idea for killing Nagini was looking more and more like it was going to be the only option they had available to them- more so as February hurtled alarmingly quickly towards March without anyone having any plausible ideas. Harry vowed to give it until the middle of March then, if they still didn’t have a plan, he would voice his. Actually killing the snake wasn’t the biggest problem they faced; as Snape pointed out, it would be relatively easy to sneak into Malfoy Manor under Harry’s Cloak or Disillusionment Charms and slaughter the creature in the dead of night whilst Voldemort slept. The problem lay with how to ensure that Nagini’s death didn’t draw attention to their Horcrux hunt and alert Voldemort- the soul still inside Harry needed destroying before he could even think about going after the Dark Lord, and that would give Voldemort more than enough time to check up on the the hiding places of the other Horcruxes, or create another, should Nagini’s death arouse the Dark Lord’s suspicions as to exactly what Harry had been up to the last few months.

Harry wished he could take the chance and purge the fragment from his own mind before ambushing Nagini and then just mount an attack on Snakeface straight after she was killed, but the risk was too great. If it turned out there was some Parseltongue protection surrounding the beast after he lost the ability to understand it then the repercussions would be catastrophic to their chances of victory in the war. It had to be done in the order Harry planned it. That didn’t mean he had to like it though.

As the first of March approached, however, Harry determinedly pushed thoughts of Horcruxes and Evil Dark Lords temporarily from his mind; Ron’s birthday was looming and Harry was determined to celebrate the occasion. Hermione had initially protested, insisting that they couldn’t afford to lose the research time, to which Harry, Ron, and even Draco, vehemently protested against.

“Come on, Hermione,” Harry had reasoned. “It’s been months since we let our hair down and had some fun. It’s only for one day, and we’ll be out in the Muggle world. We all deserve this. Let’s just enjoy ourselves this once.” The ‘It could be for the last time’ went unsaid, but everyone heard it nonetheless. Hermione let out a huge sigh and relented.

“You’re right,” she conceded. “We’ve earned a day off.”

As the day was to be a Muggle day, Harry and Hermione planned the trip, whist Draco generously offered to fund the whole adventure, thanks to his Gringotts card. Ron stammered his thanks, but Harry bit back a grin. He knew Draco hated being cooped up in the house and would have offered a lot more than to pay for Ron and Hermione in order to get out of Grimmauld Place for the day.

After much discussion, Harry and Hermione settled on a day at Alton Towers, which was somewhere Harry had always wanted to go but obviously was never taken. Harry, remembering Draco’s reaction to riding a simple escalator back in August, secretly couldn’t wait to see the look on Draco’s face when he realised exactly what the place was, and planned to keep it a surprise from him until they arrived. Ron was happy with whatever he and Hermione planned; his only requirement was that in the evening they could ‘go for a meal and get pissed off their arses.’ Harry, who had never been drunk in his life, thought this was a great idea, as did Draco. Until, that was, Harry remembered something. He and Draco were still only seventeen. Draco and Ron had been confused when Harry voiced this, until Hermione explained that Muggles came of age at eighteen, not seventeen, and therefore Harry and Draco wouldn’t legally be allowed to drink in the Muggle world for another few months.

“How do Muggles prove their age if they’re asked to, in pubs and things?” Draco asked. Hermione told him what forms of identification were acceptable and Draco smirked, left the room, then returned with his and Harry’s forged passports from their trip to Paris. Harry looked on, amused, as Draco took out his wand and added a year to both their dates of birth on the passports.

“There,” Draco said smugly. “Problem solved.” Harry had to laugh, particularly at the scandalised look on Hermione’s face, but thankfully she kept silent.

On the morning of the First of March, Harry exited the bathroom and returned to his own room to find Draco almost in a state of collapse from silent laughter, tears running down his flushed face, as he rested his head against the party wall between theirs and Ron and Hermione’s room.

“What are you…” Harry began but Draco held up a hand to silence him.

“You have to come and hear this,” he whispered, hastily beckoning him over with a hand. “Hermione and Weasel forgot their Silencing Charm.”

Harry stared at him in horror.

“Draco! Are you eavesdropping on them having sex?”

“Please, trust me,” Draco said, struggling to keep his composure. “You cannot miss this.”

Harry’s curiosity got the better of him. Feeling like a bastard for listening in on his best friends shagging, but also knowing that Ron and Hermione would not normally be a source of hilarity for his boyfriend, nor would Draco ordinarily wish to listen to them in the throes of passion without good reason, Harry made his way to the wall and took his position next to Draco.

Oh, was he glad he did.

All guilty thoughts left his mind in an instant and he stuffed a fist into his mouth to stop himself from crying out in laughter and giving them away.

“That’s it, Hermione, you service my broomstick!” was the first thing Harry heard coming from Ron’s room. He turned to stare at Draco, wide-eyes sparking in shock and amusement, and saw the blond’s head was buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking in laughter, just as Hermione gasped, “I’m your Gryffinwhore, Slytherin me!”

“Granger’s got quite a dirty mouth on her when she’s going at it, doesn’t she?” Draco smirked, his cheeks rosy with glee. “You missed my personal favourite, ‘riding your broomstick in my Chamber of Secrets’. Of course, that came after, ‘perform an Engorgement Charm on my magic wand’, and ‘polish my wood’ from Weasley.”

Harry felt like a voyeuristic traitor but this was far too hilarious to miss. Even so, the moral part of his brain took over and he decided that enough was enough; he’d hate it if Ron and Hermione were doing this to him and Draco. He pressed an ear to the wall a final time, to hear Ron shout out, “Riding high on my broomstick of love,” before deciding his best friend had taken the metaphor as far as he could. He could also hear Ron’s raspy breathing speed up and had absolutely no desire whatsoever to hear his best friend come. Still chuckling but deciding to finally give his friends some privacy, he erected his own Silencing Charm and cut off the sound, much to Draco’s disappointment.

“My poor ears,” Harry said, mouth still tugged up in a grin. “Where the fuck did they get all those? The Big Book of Corny Wizarding Innuendo? I wonder if it was in the Black library?” Draco snorted.

“Promise me one thing,” he said, wrapping his arms round Harry. “Never, ever speak to me like that when we’re in bed together.”

Harry leant in and kissed Draco deeply. “I promise,” he said when they broke apart. “Um, you’re not going to let Ron know we heard, are you?”

“Course not. Not directly, straight away, anyway. I’m a Slytherin. Discretion is my middle name,” Draco retorted, a wicked glint in his eyes that Harry didn’t fully trust.

Harry thought Ron and Hermione looked flushed and thoroughly shagged when the pair entered the kitchen half an hour later. He wished Ron a happy birthday and poured them both coffee, not quite able to meet their eyes.

“Hope so anyway, mate,” Ron said cheerfully, pulling a pile of gifts towards him. “Better than my seventeenth birthday, anyway. I mean, last year I nearly died because of that poisoned mead-”

He abruptly stopped talking and flung a hand over his mouth, sending an apologetic look to Harry and Draco.

“Merlin! Malfoy, I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”

Harry chanced a glance at Draco, who had gone a little paler but otherwise gave no indication he had heard Ron. He took the blond’s hand and held it tightly.

Ron began opening his presents. All was going well until he reached over and picked up the package Harry had left on the table for Ron the previous evening. Suddenly, Harry remembered what he had bought his friend; his cheeks flushed and he stared at the table as Ron tore open the paper and revealed a-

“Wow, a broomstick servicing kit! Thanks Mate!” Ron exclaimed happily, whilst Harry’s face burned and Draco snorted into his coffee.

“You like to get your broomstick serviced a lot nowadays, Weasley?” Draco asked, the epitome of innocence. Ron completely missed the insinuation, but Hermione gave him an odd look. Harry noticed a faint tinge to her cheeks, and vowed to never, no matter how entertaining it may be, to listen in on things that don’t concern him ever again. It just wasn’t worth the self-inflicted guilt trip afterwards.

Harry had reluctantly agreed to accompany Ron and Hermione to The Burrow early that morning for Ron’s birthday breakfast. It wasn’t a trip he was particularly looking forward to; Christmas was still too fresh in his mind. However Ron was determined that his mother should apologise, and mean it, to his best friend. So it was with a heavy heart that Harry kissed Draco goodbye and Flooed to the Weasleys’ residence.

Mr Weasley, who hadn’t yet left for work, met Harry and Ron in the living room as they arrived. He greeted his son and wished him a happy birthday, before turning his attention to Harry. He gave Harry a warm, genuine smile and shook his hand thoroughly. The knot in Harry’s chest loosened slightly at this gesture.

“So good to see you, Harry,” he said kindly. “I can’t stop, I’ve got to be at the Ministry in five minutes- I just wanted to see Ron before I left. And I wanted to apologise to you for what happened over Christmas. I just wanted you to know that I do, and will always, think of you as part of my family, and you’re always welcome in my home. What happened over Christmas has not changed that.”

To Harry’s horror the corners of his eyes prickled and his throat ran dry. He managed to stammer a “Thank you, Arthur,” before entering the kitchen whilst Mr Weasley Flooed to work. Mr Weasley would probably never know just how much those words meant to Harry in that moment.

Harry had been hoping that the twins were going to be there to help lighten the mood, but evidently Fred and George were busy in their shop this morning; Molly Weasley was alone in the kitchen. She gave Ron a nervous smile when she saw them enter, rushing to embrace her youngest son warmly, before giving Hermione a quick one-armed hug. She then turned her attention on Harry.

“Harry, dear,” she whispered, opening her arms widely for him and smiled fondly. Harry didn’t respond to the invitation. Instead he stood rooted to the spot. Her behaviour was confusing him, to say the least.

“Harry, what was said at Christmas,” Mrs Weasley continued tentatively, obviously deciding to get straight to the point. “I was very wrong to say those things to you. What I said about… about your parents. That was despicable, and I regretted it as soon as I said it. I am so very sorry.” When Harry still didn’t respond, her smile faltered.

“Ronald, dear, there’s cards and presents on the table. Ginny owled hers here for you. Breakfast won’t be long.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione took their seats at the table and Ron opened more presents and cards. When he unwrapped the box of chocolate cauldrons from Ginny, Harry managed to crack a smile and jokingly told Ron to check them thoroughly for Love Potion before he ate them this year.

Mrs Weasley served breakfast then, and there was silence in the kitchen whilst they all tucked into bacon, eggs, sausage, mushrooms and toast. Harry kept looking up at Molly, desperately wanting to make it up with her but wondering if the apology was genuine; Ron had, after all, made it clear that he expected Harry to receive one on his birthday, and Harry wondered if this was all a ploy on Molly’s part to ensure Ron didn’t stay angry with her any longer.

After breakfast, Ron and Harry washed up by hand.

“Mum’s genuine, you know,” Ron said in a low whisper, as Harry handed him a plate to dry. “I could see the doubt in your face, but honestly, she is sorry. I think Ginny telling her to mind her own business over yours and her relationship helped, too.”

Another awkward half an hour passed before it was time to leave. Hermione and Ron deliberately Flooed ahead, leaving Harry alone with Molly. She touched his arm.

“Harry, I know I may never fully earn your forgiveness or regain your trust. But please do know, I’m really, very, very sorry. I know my words hurt you. Ronald was absolutely correct with what he said to me. What you said at Christmas was a shock, but that’s not an excuse. And if I could take those words back I would.” She opened her arms once more, repeating her earlier gesture, and this time Harry fell into the familiar embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around his mother-figure.

“It’s going to take time, Mrs Weasley,” Harry said. “It really was an upsetting thing to say, and you really saddened me deeply to be honest. But this is a good start, and in time I know I’ll be able to fully forgive you.”

He bent his head low and kissed Molly on the cheek, before grabbing a handful of Floo powder, throwing it into the fire, and stepping into the emerald flames. He shouted, “Grimmauld Place!” and had just enough time to flash a genuine smile at Mrs Weasley before he Flooed away.

As Harry had expected, Draco’s face was a picture when he realised exactly what Alton Towers was. Harry didn’t know what was funnier- the look of outrage, indignation, or fear, when Draco realised that Alton Towers was not, as he had assumed, an ancient castle filled with wondrous history and Medieval artefacts, but a loud and dirty Muggle theme park with rides operated by moronic-looking youths who seemed to be performing some mini-miracle by being able to walk and talk at the same time. It was the first day the park had opened for the year after the winter closure, so it was incredibly busy, and the apparatus the Muggles were queuing to use looked incredibly lethal through Draco’s eyes.

At first he point-blank refused to go on any rides, until Harry did his puppy-dog eyes at him and he relented. Harry chose the log flume in which to take Draco’s Muggle ride virginity; he pointed out to Draco that it would involve them having to sit very close to one another, with Harry stationed between Draco’s legs in their little ‘boat’. Draco thought he could live with that.

Just as Draco was beginning to become so fed up with queuing that he was contemplating using a Confundus Charm and pushing to the front, it was their turn. Hermione got in the front of the boat, Ron behind her, then Harry, followed by Draco at the rear. Harry was right; they were close, and Draco was sure he wasn’t imagining Harry pushing back into his groin and subtly rotating his hips. Draco rested his hands on Harry’s thighs, absent-mindedly stroking his fingers up and down the denim. He was loath to admit it, but the ride wasn’t bad. It was quite relaxing, travelling along in the stream of water, having his cock pleasantly ground into by Harry whilst enjoying the artificial scenery. And then they turned a corner.

Draco’s eyes popped and Harry turned to give him a wicked grin as a huge mount with a steep drop- that their boat was heading straight towards- came into view.

“Hold on tight,” he smirked, and suddenly Draco’s gentle ride became terrifyingly perilous, and the little boat began a steep shuddering climb, which caused Draco to grip onto the sides of the boat until his knuckles turned white. It reached the top, tittered dangerously over the edge for a few seconds, then plummeted full-speed to the bottom.

Draco shrieked even louder than Hermione and threw his arms around a laughing Harry as the boat hit the water below, sending it splashing over its inhabitants.

When Draco exited the ride he glared at his boyfriend.

“This sweater is fucking Cashmere! Do you know what happens to it if it gets wet?”

“Oh lighten up, Malfoy,” Ron chortled as he discreetly cast a drying charm over everyone. “It’s only water. No harm done.”

Draco opened his mouth to protest but Hermione stuck the map of the park under his nose to distract him.

“You choose the next ride, Draco,” She said. Draco scanned the map.

“Hex,” he said with a smirk.

As the four began to make their way to the ride, Draco grabbed Harry’s arm, and the pair dropped into step behind Ron and Hermione.

“Why the fuck,” he said in a dangerously low voice, “didn’t I see that drop on the water ride whilst we were queuing?”

It was Harry’s turn to smirk. “A variation on the Notice-Me-Not Charm that Severus and I have been working on,” he replied, completely unabashed. “Every time you glanced at it you were drawn straight away to stare at me and give me your full attention.”

Draco wanted to be angry, but instead he laughed. “I’ve been out-Slytherined by a fucking Gryffindor,” he said, shaking his head. Harry grinned and, taking him by the hand, sped up to catch up to his friends.

After Hex, the foursome went on a few more rides- Draco’s confidence growing- before Ron declared that it was time for lunch. Harry and Hermione steered their boyfriends towards the KFC. Harry was confident Ron would like the food, but Draco would hate it, and he was unfortunately not proven wrong. Draco once again refused the fries, but managed to eat a burger, even if he did find it repulsive; he looked on with disgust as Harry tucked into a piece of chicken, grease dripping from the meat down his chin and onto the cardboard tray below.

Ron seemed to be enjoying his food. In fact, Harry thought, Ron seemed to be having a wonderful birthday. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes sparkled as he embraced every new experience. He had been thrilled by every ride, laughed at screaming Muggles when they were on their rides, and relished in their anonymity. It was perhaps the most care-free Harry had ever seen his best friend, even more than when they played Quidditch together. No matter what happens with Voldemort from here on in, Harry thought, we have had today. And I’ll treasure this day with the three people I love most in the world for the rest of my life.

After lunch, Harry and Hermione bought candy floss for everyone, and Harry had never wanted a camera so much in his life. Draco and Ron had both been sceptical when Hermione handed them each a stick, but, Harry discovered, Muggle-made sugary products once again proved to be his boyfriend’s Achilles’ Heel. Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, Slytherin Ice Prince and heir to the Malfoy fortune, was tucking heartily into the fluffy pink treat with an expression of ecstasy on his face, and looked so adorable that Harry wanted to drag him off to a quiet corner and snog him senseless. Harry vowed to examine this moment again in the Pensive Remus had bought him for Christmas in the near future. Probably whilst Draco was present and in one of his ‘pure-blood supremacy’ moods, so Harry could tease him.

Hermione had spotted a ride called ‘Marauder’s Mayhem’ which Harry decided they all had to ride on just because of the name, and afterwards he wished he hadn’t when his lunch threatened to make a reappearance. In fact, only Ron seemed unaffected. Hermione was clinging to him in a desperate attempt to remain upright, and Draco had a rather unpleasant grey tinge to his face; his normally pink lips were white and pressed firmly together, his pale eyelids closed as Harry’s hand slipped in his. For once he had no counter argument to Draco’s rant about “stupid fucking Muggle idiots.” Why would anyone find spinning round in two directions at once until they became so dizzy and disorientated they wanted to vomit a pleasant way to spend their leisure time?

Ron was the only one who hadn’t picked a ride yet, and he studied the map for a long time before finally selecting the park’s ghost train, Duel-The Haunted House Strikes Back. Harry enjoyed the spooky walk through the wood to the ride’s entrance, even if a couple of the models that lined the path reminded him horribly of the Inferi he had encountered in the cave the night Dumbledore died. The actual ride was entertaining enough- Harry thought the Muggles had done a passable job of depicting ghosts and other ‘fictional’ figures of horror such as werewolves and vampires, and the models were well-made and quite realistic. To be honest he hadn’t been paying too much attention to the exhibits inside as he and Draco were far too occupied with snogging in the dark, thankful for some ‘alone time’. However the ride took a sudden turn and a hooded figure, clearly designed to scare the Muggles, loomed over them, perhaps two feet from their face, and let out what was obviously meant to be a frightening sound. Harry gasped and looked on in dismay as Draco whimpered, and instantly pulled out his wand, aimed it at the model, and yelled, “Reducto!”

The exhibit was obliterated. Harry could hear Hermione’s sharp intake of breath, and Ron mutter, “stupid fucking Malfoy!” from the car behind theirs in the aftermath of the blast. Harry put his head in his hands and sighed.

“Why,” he said, seething through clenched teeth, “in the name of Merlin did you do that?”

Draco at least had the good grace to look abashed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “We were kissing so deeply, and I lost myself and forgot where we were for a minute, then that thing just came at us and I panicked. It reminded me of a Death Eater with that cloak and mask. Fuck, did the Muggles see?”

“The people in the car in front of ours did I think,” Harry replied in an angry whisper. “Draco, could we just have one day in the non-magical world without you potentially getting us in trouble with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?”

“You’re a prick, Malfoy,” Ron’s voice unhelpfully called out into the dark, as Hermione cast a very quiet Reparo.

“Fuck you, Weasel,” was Draco’s rather predictable retort.

As the ride came to an end and they exited their car, Harry could hear the Muggles from the car in front of theirs enthusiastically complimenting the rather bewildered ride operator on the ‘extremely realistic special effects’ during the ride. He couldn’t help but let out a relieved chuckle. No harm, no foul, he thought to himself, although, if truth be told, that had been too bloody close. Draco Malfoy and Muggles just weren’t a compatible combination.

After the Duel Incident, the foursome’s enthusiasm for rides had somewhat diminished. Ron insisted on riding Nemesis before they left, which he and Harry had a go on- Hermione and Draco point-blank refusing- after which they decided to call it a day. It was getting on for closing time in the park anyway, and Hermione had made reservations for the four of them to eat at the exclusive Michelin-starred Rousillon restaurant in central London. A day in a dirty theme park didn’t exactly make them presentable for such a fine establishment, so they Apparated back to Grimmauld Place for showers and changes of clothes before arriving at the restaurant.

This was much better. Draco stared approvingly at the menu, which had been presented to him from a well-mannered waiter in a crisp white uniform, and felt himself relax for the first time all day. There were several sets of cutlery laid out for each diner, designed for each course. The silverware was highly polished and the crystal wineglasses were spotless and unblemished. So the Muggles can do some things right, Draco thought to himself. He waved away the others’ concerns when they saw the prices; Draco was a Malfoy, and a Malfoy believes a good meal is worth paying the price to acquire. He was footing the bill tonight, but it was not as if he couldn’t easily afford it anyway.

In his element and feeling more confident than at any other point whilst in the Muggle world, Draco called the waiter over and ordered a bottle of good-quality Champagne which cost over thirty Galleons on its own, after everyone had to show their identification. Hermione, of course, had a genuine passport, and the waiter gave Ron the benefit of the doubt as he was with others, and was wearing an ’18 today’ badge, but Draco and Harry’s illegal forged documents easily passed examination. Harry proposed a toast to his best friend and the four drank. Before they had even ordered their food, the bottle was drained and Draco ordered more expensive Chenin blanc, with labels Draco recognised from the Malfoy cellar. By the time the waiter had taken their orders (Draco had had to explain a large portion of the menu to the others), Draco had already consumed three glasses of wine and was well on the way to getting drunk. His father’s voice rang in his head: Wine is to be savoured, not gorged on; a Malfoy does not allow himself to become intoxicated. Draco laughed internally as he poured everyone a fourth glass.

By the time their meals arrived, Ron was slurring his words, Hermione was scarlet and giggling at everything, and Harry’s eyes had stopped focussing properly and he was whispering all the things he was going to do to the blond once they were back home into Draco’s ear. Draco noticed they were attracting some disapproving glances from the other diners, but he chose to ignore them.

Everyone agreed the food was delicious. All four cleared their plates of starters and main courses. The wine was still free-flowing, and by the time they were waiting for desserts they were all pretty drunk indeed. Drunk enough, it seemed, for Ron to try and bury the hatchet with Draco.

“Y’know, M’foy, I may not like ya too much, but Harry loves ya and I know ya loves him too,” Ron slurred, as he stood awkwardly, leant across the table and threw one arm around Draco’s shoulders, whilst repeatedly jamming the index finger of the other into Draco’s chest with every syllable. “So how’s about ya ‘n’ me puttin’ the past properly behind us now, and gettin’ ta know each other prop’ly?” Draco wordlessly held out an unsteady hand to Ron, who grasped it, then returned to his seat.

Their desserts arrived and an inebriated Harry couldn’t detach his eyes from Draco, who was deliberately and very slowly fellating his spoon, refusing the whole time to break eye contact with him and seriously turning Harry on. Harry was realising quite quickly that he became rather randy when he was drunk; ever since he had whispered all the sexual things he and Draco were going to do to each other that evening, his mind hadn’t really been off sex, and watching Draco with the spoon and imagining it was him Draco was sucking off right now instead was too much. Grateful for the long, draping tablecloth covering giving them some degree of privacy, Harry reached under the table for Draco’s hand, then watched in amusement as his boyfriend’s eyes widened when Harry placed the hand flat against his rather hard member. Draco’s cheeks flushed, whether in arousal or surprise Harry couldn’t tell, as Harry gently moved his hand along the length, whilst he gave small barely noticeable thrusts of the hips into Draco’s palm.

“Do you need to go to the loos for a few minutes?” Draco asked pointedly, an eyebrow raised and a slight smirk on his face. The small part of Harry’s brain that was still functioning was screaming, yes! Go to the toilets and deal with this together in private, or, better yet, wait until you’re at home in bed- not at a fucking table in a posh restaurant with your friends sat three feet away! But unfortunately that part of his brain was very much in the minority. The part that was drunk, and stupid, and actually finding the idea of getting off at the dinner table arousing, was completely dominating. He shook his head.

“Please,” he gasped, quiet enough that Ron and Hermione didn’t hear over their own conversation, as he bucked further into Draco’s open hand. Draco’s smirk grew, and the next thing Harry was aware of was Draco’s dexterous fingers undoing the fly on his trousers and reaching his hand into his boxers.

“Didn’t know you had this in you, Potter,” Draco whispered seductively into Harry’s ear, as his hand finally freed Harry’s erection from its clothing entirely.

The next few minutes were amongst the strangest, but also possibly erotic, of Harry’s life. Draco gripped him, gently but firmly, and began to move his hand. Harry fought hard to keep control; he reined in a gasp, and instead put his face in his hands as sensation threated to consume him. He heard Ron ask Draco if he was okay, and Draco lie easily by saying that the alcohol had got to him and he just needed a few minutes’ peace and quiet- never once breaking his contact with Harry’s member.

A minute or so later Draco leant over and once more whispered, “Granger knows what we’re doing. She’s not taken her eyes off you.” Harry forced his eyes open and looked at Hermione; she was staring at Harry with an unreadable expression on her face, but her shoulders were rising and falling heavily with deep breathing and she was biting on her bottom lip. Despite having no attraction whatsoever to women, and especially Hermione, just knowing that he was being watched brought Harry even closer to climax. I’m a fucked-up exhibitionistic drunken idiot, Harry thought, as he bit back a gasp when Draco ran his thumb over the super-sensitive head.

Harry closed his eyes again, and returned his head to his hands as he knew he was about to come undone. He could hear an oblivious Ron babbling away to Draco, who was answering him perfectly coherently and articulately, all the while bringing Harry nearer and nearer to orgasm. He was so close, so fucking close, and was about to lose it entirely. And then he realised he was about to come and was going to make a mess. He wouldn’t just be able to perform a Cleaning Charm at the table, nor was he prepared to leave behind any evidence of what he and Draco had been doing. He managed to grab the napkin off the table and position it just in time, as Draco gave one final skilled stoke and Harry came, not managing to completely prevent a moan escaping his lips, or the shudder his body gave. He was still breathing heavily when he felt Draco take the napkin from him and wiped his own hand.

He managed to tuck himself back into his clothes as he came down from his climax, and looked up. Ron was still shovelling pudding into his face and chatting away, unaware that his best friend had just been wanked off mere feet away from him. Hermione, however, uttered a very deliberate, “feeling better now, Harry?”

Harry suddenly felt a lot more sober as the realisation of what he had just done crashed over him. He flushed in embarrassment and gave Hermione an apologetic grin. He couldn’t help but think that Draco looked completely and utterly pleased with himself. He vowed never to mention to Ron what he had done.

The bill arrived at that moment and, whilst Harry, Ron and Hermione all expressed concern at the cost, Draco quite happily paid it without a second thought. With the amount of wine they had all drunk it came to just over five hundred pounds, which was about a hundred Galleons. However Draco had seen his father pay more than double this for a good meal. And the meal had been fabulous. But right now he was eager to get home; wanking Harry off in the middle of dinner had left him rock-hard and desperate for some contact. Grateful for the lamb’s wool coat he changed into for hiding the straining erection in his trousers, he followed the others to a quiet side street, and the four Apparated home.

As soon as the front door was closed behind them, a very drunken Ron pounced on Hermione, giving her a very uncoordinated and sloppy kiss. When Draco noticed Hermione put her hand on Ron’s arse, he just couldn’t resist; straining hard-on or not, he wasn’t about to miss the chance to wind Harry’s friends up. He dashed into the kitchen and retrieved Harry’s birthday present to Ron, then returned to the hallway. He tapped Hermione on the shoulder, forcing her to break the kiss, and handed her the package.

“I thought you might need the broomstick servicing kit,” Draco said, fully deadpanned. “That is, if you’re going to fuck again. But please, remember the fucking Silencing Charm this time.” He left the pair open-mouthed and blushing furiously and began his ascent of the stairs, a laughing Harry close behind him.

As soon as Draco closed the bedroom door he threw up the strongest Silencing and Locking Charms he knew, and had not even had time to return his wand to his pocket before Harry pushed him against the door and pressed his body flush against his, attacking his mouth with his tongue and causing Draco’s erection to become painfully tight in this trousers. He’d been on edge now for close to an hour, and even the material of his clothing was causing a delicious friction. Harry’s thigh, which was now pushed against it and grinding into him, was almost torture.

“Harry,” Draco almost begged, “please, just do something, anything, otherwise I’ll come in my underwear at this rate.” Harry stopped kissing and licked his lips as he began fumbling with the fly on Draco’s trousers, the whole time not breaking eye-contact. Draco’s pupils were huge and dark, almost hiding any hint of the stormy grey they normally contained. They were filled with pure want. He finally freed Draco’s length from its clothing and, without once breaking eye contact, he dropped to his knees.

Draco knew the second Harry’s mouth wrapped around his cock that this was going to be all over embarrassingly quickly. An hour of being extremely turned on, and watching Harry come, had almost pushed him towards his climax even being touched. He tried to thrust into Harry’s mouth, but a firm arm clamped him to the door. Draco could feel himself rushing towards orgasm; he tried to warn Harry but barely a whimper escaped his lips. He shut his eyes and threw his head back, not noticing or caring that it hit the door with a loud ‘clunk’. His breathing sped up and he began to tremble until, ohmyfuckinggodyes wave after wave of his climax surged through his body, and Harry sucked relentlessly, not missing a drop until Draco finally collapsed, spent, onto their bedroom floor. It had lasted barely a minute.

“Sorry,” he panted ,when he had finally got most of his breath back.

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” Harry smiled. “Besides, means we’ll both be ready to go again in a few minutes.” And as if to emphasise his point, he leant over to kiss Draco once more, pushing his growing erection into Draco’s hip.

“You’re insatiable,” Draco said, and began to attack Harry’s neck with his lips.

“You can bloody talk,” Harry gasped, indicating Draco’s cock, which was beginning to take an interest once more, “And how can I not be, Draco, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He took Draco’s hand and pressed it against his groin. “Look what you do to me. So hard, and always because of you.”

Draco pounced. He crushed his mouth to Harry’s and walked him backwards until the back of Harry’s knees made contact with their bed. Clothes were quickly shed and the two lay on the mattress together, bodies pressed flush together, their lips locked, beads of sweat running over their goose-pimpled skin. Harry threaded his fingers into Draco’s hair, tugging slightly harder than he intended to when Draco found a particularly sensitive spot on his neck. He flipped Draco onto his back and began kissing him all over, leaving Draco’s skin tingling where Harry’s lips touched. Harry paused only to retrieve his wand from the bedside table and cast a quiet Cleansing Charm on his boyfriend before resuming his trails of kisses, lower and lower still, even bypassing Draco’s throbbing erection, instead licking his testicles, his scrotum, even lower still, until-

“Fuck!” Draco hissed, grabbing two huge fistfuls of bedclothes urgently. Why had they never done this before? Harry licking there was perhaps the single most wonderful thing he had ever felt- it was highly intimate, sexy as hell and completely and utterly dirty. Draco felt as if every nerve-ending had exploded and multiplied, setting his entire body on fire. Harry snaked a hand round and began to slowly fist Draco’s erection, which by now was fully erect and in desperate need of attention once more. Draco was thankful he had only just come, otherwise this would have been all over by now.

Harry very gently breached Draco with his tongue, causing Draco to make a rather peculiar sound that Harry politely ignored; instead he swirled his tongue inside Draco, never once taking his eyes off the blond as Draco inch by inch fell to pieces under Harry’s control. Draco really was stunning- his cheeks were flushed pink, his blond hair matted to his head with sweat, and his perfect lips were kissed-swollen and slightly parted. Harry decided in that moment that Draco needed to see how gorgeous he was. He removed his tongue and once more picked up his wand.

“Have you ever watched yourself come, Draco?” he asked in a low voice, trying to control the lustful tremble in it. Draco moaned from the loss of contact but shook his head. “Well, you’re going to tonight. I could come just by watching you, you know. So sexy, so fucking sexy.” He waved his wand in front of them and produced what partly looked like a Patronus, except it was non-corporeal, and it reflected his and Draco’s image back as effectively as a mirror. “We’re going to watch you come together, love.”

Draco didn’t need much preparation as Harry’s tongue had already done most of the work, but Harry still expertly used his fingers to massage Draco’s prostate for a couple of minutes, then withdrew them, before quickly Summoning the handcuffs they kept in Draco’s nightstand.

“Put your hands behind your back,” he commanded, and Draco did as he was told, eyes wide with pure unadulterated desire. Harry secured the cuffs onto Draco’s wrists, then bent him over onto all fours, positioned himself, and gently pushed in. Once he had fully penetrated Draco, Harry pulled Draco up onto his knees so they were both knelt on the bed, in front of their reflective charm. Harry gently pulled out of Draco as far as he dared, before slamming back in.

“So beautiful. Just look at you,” Harry said breathlessly, as he made eye-contact with Draco in the reflection. “You’re mine. You’re always going to be mine.” With that, Harry bit him on the neck, not hard enough to break the skin but with enough strength to leave a mark.

“Yours,” gasped Draco, and he threw his head back onto Harry’s shoulder and shut is eyes tight. Harry yanked his hair.

“Eyes open, and look at your face,” Harry ordered, slamming deeply into his boyfriend. Harry could tell Draco was getting close; his breathing was becoming erratic and Harry could feel his muscles start to rhythmically contract. He reached round the front and began to wank Draco in time with his thrusts.

Draco began to whimper, and he fought the urge to screw his eyes shut. He was very close to orgasm now; the combined stimulation to prostate and cock sending extreme pleasure soaring through his body. He bit down on his lower lip as his breathing sped up, forcing himself to look his reflection in the eye.

“You keep your eyes open,” Harry commanded again. “Look at you, so beautiful, so perfect. Do you see, now, what I see? Why you make me so hard, why I want you all the time? I’m watching you closely, Draco. You’re getting me so fucking near. I need to watch you. Come, Draco.”

Draco had never had an orgasm on demand before, but he had already entered the point of no return when Harry began speaking. The wanton tone in Harry’s voice proved to be Draco’s undoing; his climax hit and Draco came with a loud cry, managing to watch himself as it reached its completion. Harry thrust deeply one, two, three more times before Draco felt him stiffen, his own release upon him, and he let out a groan of satisfaction.

“Fucking incredible,” Harry said once he could speak again. “I really, really love you, you know.”

Draco twisted his head round and searched out Harry’s lips. “I love you too,” he replied once the kiss had ended. “And Drunk Harry is one kinky bastard. I think I would very much like him to visit again.” Harry laughed sheepishly.

“Actually I mainly sobered up just before we Disapparated outside the restaurant. But I just couldn’t help myself tonight. Draco, I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life now.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” Draco said, wrapping his arms around Harry as Harry removed the handcuffs. “I’m yours, remember? That cottage in Godric’s Hollow, just me and you, having the most unbelievable sex, forever.”

“Sounds perfect,” Harry replied, as the pair lay down on the mattress together and Harry Summoned the duvet.

As Draco drifted off to sleep, Harry lay awake staring into the darkness. With the end of the war looming, Harry couldn’t help but wonder how long his and Draco’s ‘forever’ was going to last. Would they both come through the other side alive? He forced the thought from his mind, determined not to ruin what had been a totally wonderful day, and fell asleep on Draco’s chest, thinking he had just had the best sex of his entire life and nothing was going to spoil the memory of that. Not even Voldemort.

……...................

A/N: All the rides depicted in this chapter are real rides based at Alton Towers, although not all the rides were actually at the park during March 1998, when this chapter takes place. But their names fit so well into my story that I decided to use them anyway.
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Harry Potter and the Black King