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Say My Name	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 30142 -:- Recommendations : 10 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
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A/N: Hey guys! This is my first ever fanfic and I'm excited to share. I've been lurking on this site for a while and enjoying all of your great fics and I thought I might try one of my own with my favorite pairing. Please let me know what you think. This idea first came to me as a oneshot but since then the story has been progressing in my head, and could definitely continue past this chapter if people want it. So please review!
Chapter 1: Say My Name
It was with drenched robes and stiff limbs that Harry Potter climbed the stairs to his room, pleased with the way Quidditch practice had just gone, but lamenting the late hour and the torrential downpour the team had to contend with towards the end of practice. He had classes in the morning and with all that mud would definitely need a shower before he could even think about bed.
Once in his room he stripped until he was down to his pants, then cast a quick drying charm on his robes so they wouldn’t drip all over everything else in his laundry basket. He would just sneak to the bathroom under his invisibility cloak, so that he wouldn’t be caught nearly starkers by any late-night wanderers. He had done it before. He grabbed the cloak and his toiletry kit, making his way back down the stairs unseen by the few 8^th years that were still lingering in the common room at this hour.
Even though he was often worn out at the end of the day, Harry found himself preferring showering late, because it meant he had the bathroom to himself. Headmistress McGonagall was generous enough to give the 8^th year students their own living quarters, which included a common room, a bathroom each for the men and the women, and single bedrooms for each student. It meant that Harry had his own space, which he was incredibly grateful for, and he only had to share a bathroom with the dozen or so other boys from his year that had elected to return to Hogwarts after the war.
But solitude was precious to Harry these days, and he took it anywhere he could get it.
The moment he entered the bathroom he realized he wasn’t alone. He could hear the sound of the shower at the far end of the room, feel the steam on his skin even through his cloak, and smell the pleasant tang of soap, subtle but undeniable.
He cursed under his breath, but resigned himself to having company. Maybe whoever it was would be done soon.
He glanced over towards the shower stalls as he prepared to take off his cloak when he recognized the blond head of one Draco Malfoy, and he paused in his movements, momentarily frozen.
Great, he thought, with irony. Of all the people he would run into in the bathroom, alone, at night, it would of course be Malfoy.
He couldn’t help remembering the last time he had confronted his rival in a bathroom, and what a disaster that had turned out to be. The fact that he could have killed Malfoy with that Sectumsempra spell still haunted him.
Maybe I’ll just wait until he’s finished, he thought. He hadn’t removed the invisibility cloak, and there was a very good chance that Malfoy hadn’t even heard Harry enter the bathroom over the roar of the shower. He hadn’t looked Harry’s way at all, and seemed intent on his shower, completely oblivious to his surroundings.
In fact, Harry realized with a lurch, as he took in the left hand of Malfoy’s that was resting against the tiled wall of the shower, supporting some of his weight, and the right arm that was working furiously, making the lithe muscles of his back ripple, it appeared that Malfoy was wanking.
Harry’s mouth went dry, and he felt a strange dizziness that he couldn’t justify entirely with mere embarrassment or shock. And, even more unexpected, his feet moved of their own accord, careful to keep silent, bringing him closer to the bowed, pale figure of Draco Malfoy.
He could really only see the man’s upper half, since the other was partially blocked by the opaque walls of the shower stall, but as he got closer it was clear that his initial assessment was correct: Malfoy was indeed having himself a wank right there in the shower, right in front of Harry. Unknowingly, of course.
At another time, in another life, Harry might have been delighted at the prospect of having an opportunity to humiliate his boyhood rival. He might have been cheerful with the knowledge that he had something on Malfoy that could be used for taunting down the line, as needs arose.
But as it was, after everything, Harry just didn’t have the energy for that anymore. The war, and the experiences from it, had shifted things for him, particularly his death and resurrection. His once fiery temper had dwindled to a soft glow, and contempt for all those who did not stand by him had waned into something that barely resembled annoyance. And certainly his near-obsessive hatred of the Malfoy heir had faded. In reality, he had barely spared a thought for the blond since the term had started a month ago, and before that he had only expended enough energy to help Draco and his mother stay out of Azkaban during the trials. It was only right, with the way that both mother and son had undeniably affected the tide of the war and the complex web of life-debts the three of them had accrued between each other that would probably never be truly untangled.
Death, war, and the relative peace Harry had found thereafter had mellowed him, for the better.
So it was with mere fascination that Harry watched Malfoy palming himself in the shower while water cascaded down that pale, supple back.
Well, maybe it was a little more than fascination. There was no doubt that Draco Malfoy was beautiful. His body was all smooth, lily-white skin over lean muscle, wet, blond locks clinging to an elegant neck, his sharp features contorted in pleasure. Harry was hard, watching someone that beautiful give themselves pleasure so openly, so shamelessly.
In the back of his mind, there were the faintest traces of guilt, but Harry found them easy to ignore. He would never tell anyone what he was seeing now. And Malfoy would never know he was there, and would never have any cause to be embarrassed.
“Harry.”
He froze under the cloak, unable to breathe. Malfoy had just said his name, right? He hadn’t imagined it? But why? Did Malfoy somehow know he was there? He shifted, slightly, feeling the liquid flow of the fabric of the cloak that concealed him. He was invisible. He was sure of it. And Malfoy had not looked once in his direction.
“Mm,” Malfoy moaned softly, barely discernable over the sounds of the shower. He removed his left hand from the wall and reached behind him, running his fingers along the crack in his arse before letting his index slip inside. He gasped, as though it were a surprise. Harry became, if it was possible, even harder.
“Yes,” Malfoy said, as a second finger plunged inside. “Yes, that’s it.”
Harry had to strain his ears to hear. The blond was hardly shouting. His voice was barely a breath. But Harry could make out most of the words if he listened closely.
“Yes, give it to me. Harder.” Malfoy gasped and writhed, and then he must have found his own prostate, because his knees seem to buckle slightly, and his voice was loud enough that it was easy for Harry to hear, from that distance.
“Yes. Yes. Oh, gods, yes. Harry.”
And there it was again. His name. But Harry hardly had attention enough to spare for the implications, because Malfoy was still going, and it was mesmerizing.
“Fuck. Yes. Gods. Harry.”
Malfoy was close. He was beginning his ascent, upwards, towards the crest of the wave, and he was chanting.
“Harry. Harry. Harry.”
He was there, so close, his face red with the intensity of it, his eyes squinted shut against a torrent of pleasure.
“Harry.” The last was a moan, long and drawn out, as Malfoy finally crested the wave, and it was so erotic that Harry thought he might just come right along with him, though he had made no move to touch himself.
A stream of white cum splashed onto the tile walls of the shower and dripped slowly down as Malfoy wrung the last bit of pleasure from his orgasm and finally released himself, panting. He stayed there, under the spray, not really moving, letting his breath return to normal. Then he reached for the taps and the cascade of water waned into a trickle.
Harry moved aside and well out of the way as Malfoy stepped out of the shower stall, revealing himself to Harry in all his nakedness. For a moment, Harry thought the blond might look in his direction, giving him a sneer and some quip about how he had only chanted Harry’s name because he had known the Boy Who Lived was watching. Maybe it was all some kind of prank.
But Malfoy did no such thing. Instead, he grabbed a thick white towel from the stack by the showers and dried himself thoroughly. He wrapped that towel around his waist and then grabbed another, rubbing it furiously through his platinum locks and making them stick up in odd directions, a look that Harry found unexpectedly charming.
He realized he had ever seen Malfoy this real before, without the expensive tailored robes, signature sneer, and air of superiority. Instead, his face was calm and blank, his grey eyes clouded and distant in thought as he went through the motions of getting dressed. Harry continued to watch in something like awe as his rival pulled on a pair of grey boxer briefs over his sculpted arse, followed by a simple white t-shirt that clung to his defined chest.
Yes, Draco Malfoy was beautiful.
And he was saying my name.
Now dressed, Malfoy gathered his things and left the bathroom abruptly, leaving Harry alone under the cloak with his thoughts.
He was saying my name.
What he had just witnessed was without question the sexiest thing he had ever seen, and this was coming from the man who was currently dating the most beautiful woman at Hogwarts, and was having plenty of sex of his own.
But comparing Ginny’s beauty to that of Malfoy’s was like comparing a sunset to a unicorn. They existed in totally different spheres. Ginny was playful and warm, soft and safe. Malfoy was… none of that.
Hard. Serious. Untouchable.
He sighed, suddenly too exhausted to think more about this. It was too much to take in, the idea that maybe Malfoy could want him. It was not something his brain could reckon with at the moment.
So, when he was quite sure he was alone, he shed the invisibility cloak and his pants, stepping into the very stall that Malfoy had vacated only a few minutes previously. He rubbed the grime from his skin with soap and lathered up his shaggy black hair before finally reaching down to take care of his own, still-throbbing erection.
Draco.
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Say My Name