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The Amour	By : Manhattan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4142 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
The Amour
Prequel to The Amourette

Rated
R

Disclaimer
Can I say, rated R?
Anyway, I leave it up to you to decide whether or not you think I own Harry Potter after reading this chapter:) You might wish I did, cuz I wish I did.

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• Chapter Five •
Vanilla, Mint, and the Bitterness of Coffee

“MALFOY!” Harry squeaked, his throat going dry and feeling as if someone had placed their hands around it, squeezing his air canal shut. He toppled unceremoniously from the couch and lay in a heap on the floor.

“Smooth, Potter,” Malfoy said, raising his eyebrows in amusement. “You could be training for a circus and I wouldn’t be the least surprised.”

Harry felt the heat rising in his cheeks and he scrambled to right himself.

“MALFOY!!!” He spluttered again, his coherent train of thought completely lost.

“My, your vocabulary seems to have shrunk a great deal,” the blonde frowned.

“What are you DOING in here??” he blurted out, staring back and forth between the him and the closed door in shock. “How did you -”

“I have special powers, Potter. I can glide through walls like a ghost.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open.

“You’ll catch flies Potter. Of course I can’t glide through walls. Did you honestly believe that?” Malfoy asked incredulously. “And I thought you couldn’t get any thicker,” he mumbled. “I was in the Owlery sending a letter when a tornado rampaged past me. I decided to see if I could entertain myself with it until lunch.”

Harry made a strangled noise that was meant to be a protest. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to hex Malfoy more, or flee from the room as fast as he could. With Malfoy here before him, so obviously real, he couldn’t be sure that the events of last night had been a nightmare. It was the same smirk, the same gleam of mischief, the same glistening lips. Harry’s heart was thundering in his ear so loudly that he could hardly hear what Malfoy was saying and could only read the drawling movements of those lips.

“Did you hear me, Potter?” Malfoy asked sharply, waving his hand. Harry was jolted out of his reverie and he realized a moment too late, that his bag was by the door, and his wand was inside his bag. He usually kept it in his pocket but he’d been so upset leaving Snape’s classroom that he’d stuffed in there along with everything else.

“I said I wanted to talk,” Malfoy repeated slowly, as if calculating Harry carefully.

Harry’s veins throbbed. “A - about what?” Why was he so nervous? Malfoy couldn’t possibly know about his dream, could he? It wasn’t like he could read people’s minds... Unless he’s a Legilimens! He thought frantically. He tried to remember what Snape had taught him back in fifth year, clearing his mind, expelling obtrusive thoughts, fighting against the intruder...

“What the fuck are you doing now? You look constipated.”

Harry opened his eyes. This clearly wasn’t working. His mind was too chaotic. Too loud. Too much Malfoy.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself, Potter. I just want to talk.” Malfoy seemed to hesitate before taking a step toward him. Harry scrambled back onto the couch, eyeing Malfoy warily.

“I heard that -” he said jerkily. “A- about what?”

Malfoy looked startled for a split second before drawing in a low breath.

“Are you serious?” he said quietly, his voice sharp.

Harry felt dizzy. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He’d never been so serious in his life. This was hardly a situation he found funny.

“So you’re telling me, you don’t know what I want to talk about?” Malfoy said, articulating each word clearly. Harry nodded slowly.

“So you’ve no memory -” Malfoy paused, licking his lips. “Of what happened last night?”

Oh god... Harry’s stomach felt like a bottomless pit, his heart had completely stopped beating, and he could only gape back at Malfoy, knowing that he had misheard him.

“L - last night?” he mouthed, choking on mere air.

Malfoy’s look of disbelief turned into that of suspicion and Harry did his best to keep his fear from showing on his face.

“Yes... last night. You were sleeping in the infirmary, and I was there next to you...”

Harry gulped. “You - you were?” he feigned a look of unknowingness.

“Uhuh, and we talked... about lots of things,” Malfoy took another step closer, less tentatively.

“We did?”

“Oh sure, lots of things. Like You-Know-Who and Dark Marks and Death Eaters.”

Harry couldn’t have moved an inch even if he’d wanted to. His body was frozen and glued to corner of the couch he was scrunched up in. Malfoy was steadily coming closer, with each word he spoke, and whether or not the slight swagger in his hips was intentional or not, Harry couldn’t guess, but the way Malfoy walked was... he recoiled and willed himself to jump over the back of the couch and hide, only his body didn’t respond in the least.

“And then you told me to go away, to leave you alone. But I didn’t,” Malfoy stopped when he was only two feet away. Harry had to tilt his neck upwards to look at him. The blond then slowly lowered himself onto his knees. His movements were fluid, like silk, and soundless.

“And then you want to know what happened?” a whisper passed Malfoy’s lips which were barely moving and Harry shivered. No. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to know what happened after that...

He closed his eyes tightly and clamped his hands over his ears.

Not listening! Not listening! Not liste --

“This.”

And that familiar feel of warm lips pressed against his, just as gently as the first time, a simple touch of warm skin against warm skin, sending a thousand sparks shooting up and down his spine.

He let out a muffled gasp and let go of his ears to grasp at the cushions on either side of him to keep himself from falling backwards.

And then, a warm, wet tongue slid across his bottom lip and despite his mind’s screams of protest, his mouth opened involuntarily, and the tongue entered past his lips, exploring every crevice in his mouth hungrily, sucking onto his own tongue, as if challenging it to a passive duel.

Stop... he wanted to plead, but his voice was lost except for the weak moan that escaped his throat.

Malfoy was skillful with his lips and tongue, and all Harry could do was sit there immobile with his knuckle-white hands clenched tightly onto the soft cushions, his gut flipping and aching with want. Malfoy tasted of so many things... vanilla, mint, a faint bitterness of coffee...

He was almost afraid to kiss back, afraid because he thought that if he made any awkward movements, that warmth would leave him. He was so caught up in the moment, that he didn’t even notice that Malfoy’s hands had reached up to gently caress his shoulders, pushing him back slowly, slowly until his back landed on the armrest cushion and the seat was sinking even lower with the weight of two people.

The hands continued to massage every ache in his body, every knot in his muscles, running over his neck so lightly that it felt like air more than anything. Hot, swollen lips trailed after them, leaving an invisible path of burning kisses and then biting tenderly into the flesh of his pulsepoint. Harry groaned and bit his lip, his back arching in response.

He felt fingers swiftly undoing the buttons of his shirt, tugging impatiently at the loose knot in his tie. Hands were soon touching his naked chest, running up and down his arms as if memorizing every inch of his raw skin. That hard pain in in his lower regions could only mean one thing; that he was aroused by Malfoy kissing him, touching him so sensually, so erotically.

“Oh god...” he gasped when Malfoy’s lips captured his nipple, teasing it leisurely with his teeth and circling his tongue playfully around the sensitive skin. His hips twitched upwards, yearning for more. More contact. More skin. More everything.

Malfoy’s lips then returned to his mouth again and once more, their bodies were perfectly aligned, flush up against each other. Malfoy was propped on his elbow, one hand tangled deeply in Harry’s hair and the other tracing patterns on Harry’s abdomen, tickling the the patch of skin under his navel and just above the waistband of his boxers that were peeking out from his trouser belt.

A knee slid upwards between Harry’s legs, grazing against his thighs and up until it was pressed firmly against Harry’s crotch, where his erection was far from unnoticeable. Harry moaned and bit down onto Malfoy’s lip, letting his hands grab onto Malfoy’s thin upper arms shakily, to steady himself. His breathing became shallow and harsh each time Malfoy’s knee pressed up against his painful erection, and somewhere inside his head, he knew that he wouldn’t last if he let this go on. Tearing his lips away desperately, he gasped for much needed oxygen, his own hand keeping Malfoy’s knee at bay.

“Off -” he breathed, fumbling feverishly with Malfoy’s green tie, and rumpled shirt. His fingers were hardly able to get the first button undone and so Malfoy had to sit up and undo them himself, tossing the crumpled mass of cloth over his shoulder when he stripped his torso completely.

“Fuck...” Harry heard himself saw when he was able to see Malfoy’s smooth, pale chest and sharply jutting collarbones for the first time. Malfoy was thinner than Harry. He wasn’t as muscular, or angular, and that, Harry thought was perfection in itself. He touched Malfoy slowly, running his hands down the flat chest, around the pale nipples, making Malfoy suppress a moan between his lips, and then back up the the narrow shoulders that were straining from being held up on such thin arms for so long.

The next thing he knew, he’d flipped Malfoy over onto his back, breathing uneven breaths and pressing the blond into couch.

Malfoy stared up at him with half-lidded eyes of surprise, his own breathing ragged.

Their lips crashed together again, drowning out any thought or speech that might have been uttered and Harry straddled Malfoy’s hips, taking his turn to taste the slightly salty skin sheathed in a light gleam of perspiration. The fast beating of Malfoy’s heart reverberated through his lips and swept such an arousing emotion through him that he couldn’t help but press his body closely against the one below him.

The faint clinking of metal and the tugging at his hips told him that Malfoy was undoing the clasp of his belt. He groaned, urging Malfoy to hurry up. His erection needed to be released so badly...

Moist hands slipped past his waistband easily, and wrapped themselves around Harry’s length and Harry let out a loud gasp, his hips bucking forward uncontrollably.

“Oh god -” he gasped, biting his lip so hard that he was drawing blood.

Malfoy’s hand began to pump up and down, slowly at first, and then gradually quickening it’s pace to quick, sharp jerks that sent Harry’s mind reeling with pleasure. He rocked his hips in sync with the movement of Malfoy’s hand, pressing his forehead to Malfoy’s.

“Oh god - fuck - stop -” he gasped, trying hard to ignore the ‘more, more, don’t ever stop!’ being screamed inside his head. He didn’t want to reach his climax now. He didn’t want to come before Malfoy.

Malfoy’s hand stopped, still wrapped tightly around his length and Harry tried to look at Malfoy in the eyes without faltering. He was close to the edge now, anything rash and he would surely be too far gone to stop...

Malfoy’s eyes were dilated, and dazed. He was staring back at Harry expectantly, waiting for the cue to continue.

Harry reached down slowly, gingerly unwrapping Malfoy’s fingers from his erection and carefully entwined them with his own and bringing them up to rest on the cushion beside Malfoy’s head.

“Let’s... go slowly...” Harry murmured shyly, sighing weakly and letting his cheek brush against Malfoy’s. “Please?”

Malfoy nodded in understanding, turning his head to meet his lips to Harry’s.

Harry kissed back hesitantly, feeling somewhat less anxious, even though his erection was aching to be relieved of it’s load. The kiss started up gently again, passionate, and slow. Malfoy was placing kisses along his jaw - now on his chin and it made butterflies flutter in Harry’s stomach. It wasn’t so hot and febrile anymore, but it sent a different kind of fire through Harry’s veins; the kind that made him beg silently for this moment to last for as long as possible.

Malfoy’s hand was running through the disheveled hair on the back of his head, stroking softly and playing with strands between his fingers. Harry didn’t know why, but he smiled slightly into the warm kiss, bliss taking over his mind, inch by inch. He sucked gently on Malfoy’s lips, one of his hands still interlaced with the other, pale hand that was so much softer than his and beautiful.

It was almost frightening in a way, how quickly he’d given in to the needs of his body. Was it even possible to imagine what he’d have thought a day ago, if someone had told him he’d be having a snog with Malfoy in less than twenty-four hours? He knew he didn’t love Malfoy though. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, and hardly thought that one passionate encounter was enough to strike Cupid’s arrow to the heart. Malfoy was aesthetic and a damn good kisser, which was probably the only reason he had fallen in this pit in the first place. Whether this first time would also turn out to be the last time, was just as much of a mystery to Harry as Malfoy was. Maybe later, when they were both cooled off, they’d suddenly realize what they’d done and be disgusted by it - after all, they hadn’t been Hogwarts worst pair of rivals for five whole years for nothing.

A light kiss was placed on his nose and he felt Malfoy stirring underneath him. Not deliberately, as if to provoke his erection, but as if to sit up. Harry hastily lifted himself off of Malfoy’s body, hoping he hadn’t been squashing him, and sat awkwardly onto the farthest cushion seat so that Malfoy could place his feet on the ground.

“Care for a shower?” Malfoy asked with a smile, a real one that made Harry’s insides grow warm.

Yes, he would care for a shower, which in fact sounded great, but he hadn’t been thinking of a shower when he’d conjured up this room, unfortunately.

“But there isn’t one,” he noted, blushing slightly.

“Oh really? Than what do you suppose it means by ‘bathroom’?” Malfoy asked, mock-thoughtfully, nodding over Harry’s shoulder. Harry turned his head, confused and saw a door that had a sign next to it. ‘Bathroom’ it read.

“Oh!” Harry exclaimed sheepishly. “Well, it wasn’t there before.”

“Well this is a special room isn’t it?” Malfoy asked, leaning forward to tease Harry’s lips with his breath, barely kissing him.

“Yeah...” Harry whispered, voice croaking. “It’s the Room of Require...” he couldn’t help but close the distance between them to taste Malfoy’s taunting lips again.

“Come on then,” Malfoy pulled Harry up from the couch and wrapping his hands lightly around Harry’s neck, began leading him backward toward the door. They were attached at the lips the whole way, and Malfoy had to grope for the doorknob blindly with a free hand. They helped each other strip off their pants and only when they broke away to start the shower, did Harry’s breath hitch in his throat at the sight of Malfoy’s erect cock. It was perfect, touchable, just like the rest of him, and he wanted to make the blonde come so badly that for a moment, he was about to forget the new agreement completely.

Slowly, Harry.

When Malfoy’s arms snaked their way around his neck again, pulling him close under the cascading water, Harry groaned. Their lengths rubbed against one another’s so suddenly that it was all Harry could do to keep himself from coming then and there. Malfoy bent his head, resting his forehead on Harry’s shoulder and Harry could feel the breath on his skin shallowing and quivering. Harry was mesmerized by the pearly beads of water that trickled down from Malfoy’s dampened hair, down his neck, his smooth shoulders... he caught the drops with his tongue and kissed Malfoy’s neck.

“Harry,” Malfoy moaned softly, pressing up against him so that Harry’s back was against the cold tile of the wall.

Harry spread his legs just enough to let Malfoy’s lower half fit between them, to get as much contact as possible.

“Oh god, oh god...” Harry gasped when he felt fingers wrapping around him again. But this time, he needed it so much that he didn’t (couldn’t possibly) protest against it. He thrust his hips against Malfoy’s and shuddered with pleasure when Malfoy thrust back against him, removing his hand and placing them on either side of Harry’s head against the slick wall. Their thrusts were fumbling at first, struggling to agree on the right rhythm, but it wasn’t long until the rhythm grew steady and Malfoy’s body was moving flush with Harry’s. Thrust for thrust.

Compulsive moans were escaping Malfoy’s throat, mixed with gasps and calls of his name that made Harry’s thrusting more urgent, and less controlled.

“Fuck - Harry!” Malfoy said desperately, and Harry didn’t care that his hair was being fisted tightly. His own nails were digging into Malfoy’s back, and a huge wave of intoxicating madness swept through his body, making him shudder violently and cry out in ecstasy.

He was shuddering until his climax subdued completely, and he slumped back against the wall, chest heaving so heavily he was having trouble breathing. He swallowed a good many times and it took great strength to untangle his limp limbs from Malfoy, and it was then that he noticed that Malfoy had come too, sometime during his own orgasm.

The rain of water was quickly washing away the evidence of their slowly passing elation and even though his own arms were heavy, he instinctively reached out and caught Malfoy as he swayed dangerously on his feet, collapsing forward into Harry’s chest.

“That was... unbelievable,” Malfoy murmured in a slurred muffle, burying his nose into Harry’s hair.

“Yeah...” was all Harry could manage then, even though he wished he could have had the energy to think of something more eloquent to describe what he felt about it. It was beyond unbelievable, that much he knew for sure.

For a few more timeless minutes, they stood there under the warm water, arms draped loosely around each other and enjoying the after sensation of that mind-blowing orgasm. Harry wondered if all orgasms were like this, because if they were, then he decided that it wouldn’t be bad to earn them often.

Twenty minutes later, they had washed themselves, got back into their clothing, and gathered up their bags, ready to leave.

“We missed lunch, it looks like,” Malfoy commented with a smirked, glancing at the clock sitting on one of the bookshelves on the far wall. “But I’d go for this over lunch anytime.”

Harry blushed, hoisting the strap of his bag onto his shoulder. There was that vague awkwardness of a post-shag-with-the-enemy, but it was to be expected, Harry knew.

Malfoy gave Harry one last look-over, gave a tug at his slipshoden scarlet tie and with a simple nod, left the room and disappeared around the corner of the dim corridor.

Neither made any future promises, and neither felt they had to. A silent agreement, a silent plight, and they returned to their day with their customary attitudes.

Harry hid away his smile as he approached the double doors of the Great Hall, taking a deep breath, and entered without trepidation.
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The Amour