Harry looked in the mirror, trying to brush his messy mane of hair. Voldemort is finally dead. Dead. He kept saying it to himself, even three months after the fact. The sad thing was, so was Dumbledore, and so many others. Everyone sacrificed so much so that Harry could survive and kill the bastard. He was grateful. He really was. Hermione and Ron were getting together, Hagrid and Olympe, Neville and Ginny. Everyone was finally happy.

Harry looked at his reflection again. "Everyone but you, mate," he said to himself. It was in his seventh year-or what should have been his seventh year that he realized he was gay. No bells and whistles. No thunderclaps. He'd just come to that conclusion at the wedding of Fleur and Bill. That's when he suddenly knew. He had looked at all the girls-many, many very pretty ones-but he couldn't keep his eyes off the men, off of Bill's friends. He wanted them. That wasn't a normal heterosexual reaction, he knew. So he could only draw one conclusion from that. The rest was an investigation through gay Muggle magazines. Somewhat instructive but a bit intimidating. But then it was all put aside to look for those damned Horcruxes.

Harry sighed and put the brush back into the drawer. His hair wasn't going to get better. He left the toilet and picked up the paper again, the one he'd gotten in Muggle London near that gay night club, the night club he was too cowardly to go into.

There was a huge advert for something called a White Party and it was to be in Bermuda. Harry had looked and looked at that same advert for days. Bermuda. He'd never been anywhere like that. And it was so far away. No one was likely to have heard of Harry Potter there. And anyway it was a Muggle party, not a wizard one. Even better. No one would know him. He could be himself, whatever that was. Okay, he could learn to be himself, to be who he was... Who was he kidding anyway? He could get some SEX there! Isn't that what he really wanted?

Harry took note of the hotel's address and decided he would pack his things right away and go there before he chickened out. He had enough money. That was no problem. But he certainly didn't want to tell anyone where he was going. He looked at his desk with its pile of parchment and his quill and he slid into the chair to leave a note.


     To whom it may concern (which probably means you, Ron and Hermione. And what are you doing breaking into my flat, anyway?)
     I just slipped away to be by myself for a bit. So don't worry about me. I'll be back in a week.
     Harry

He stared at his note. Good enough. Time to go. Was he going to attempt to Apparate that far? Not bloody likely. He decided to Floo to the nearest fireplace to the hotel, and with his bag clutched tight to his chest, he stepped into his hearth, tossed down the Floo Powder, and hoped for the best.

* * *

Harry stepped out into sunshine as he had never known it. Sure, there had been sunny days in Little Whinging and even a heatwave, but nothing ever like this! He looked out at the white, white beaches to the water that was an unnatural aquamarine colour. He just stood there on the pavement as traffic whizzed by, gawking like a tourist, when he was bumped by some blokes moving along the street. There were three of them, buff, blond, and either wearing midriff-baring muscle-man tees or nothing on their smooth chests but a deep tan.

Harry gawked at that.

"Oh, sorry," said the man who bumped Harry. His eyes threaded up and down Harry's t-shirt and jeans. "Didn't hurt you, did I?" From his accent and of the others, Harry concluded that they were American.

"No, I'm fine. Wasn't paying attention. Sorry."

The man smiled, a gorgeous collection of white, even teeth. His eyes traveled over Harry again, more slowly this time. Harry swallowed. "Are you here for the White Party?"

Harry felt his face flush hotly. His eyes fluttered to his feet and his old trainers. "Uh...yeah. First time."

The blond man smiled broader and he looked at his friends. "We're staying at the Palms. Room 715. If you'd like, you can join us. It's not fun going to the White Party alone. And you have the cutest accent."

"Ah-I do? I mean...thanks. That's nice of you."

The man looked at his friends. "The Brits. They're so polite." He turned to Harry. "What's your name, cutey?"

Harry had never been called "cutey" before. On one level he thought the man might be playing with him. But on another, he realized that the man meant it. Harry hadn't considered before whether he was good-looking or not. He supposed he was pretty ordinary. Certainly not a "cutey".

"H-Harry."

The man stretched his arm around Harry's shoulders and gave him a squeeze before kissing his cheek. Harry was certain his face was crimson. "Hi, Harry. I'm Kyle, and this is Max and Corey. We'll be back in our room and ready to party by ten tonight. Come on up. I've always wanted to yell 'the British are cumming!'" He giggled.

The others laughed. Harry gave a half-hearted chuckle and Kyle released him. He waved his fingers at Harry. "See you, Harry. Room 715."

Harry watched them go with awe. He had just been picked up. He hadn't been in Bermuda for more than five minutes and he had been picked up. By three men! He smiled when the shock wore off.

This was going to be a great party.

* * *

Harry checked into the hotel and rode the lift to his room. He fumbled with the card key and finally got the door open. It was very nice, decorated with a sea theme of shells and paintings of ocean views. Even the bedroom furniture was designed with a sort of wave pattern. But he also had a balcony and he opened the French doors and stepped out onto it, breathing in the salty breeze gusting up from the beach below. The sky was a deep blue like a blue cloak. The beautiful color of the ocean washed gently to the white shore. It was perfect. Harry decided to make use of that beach since everyone else he saw in the hotel here for the White Party was tanned.

He tore off his t-shirt and looked at himself in the mirror. Scrawny. That best described him. And white. Fishbelly white. There certainly wasn't time and sun enough to go sun-bathing in England. "Oh well. You've come to discover who you are, Harry," he said to his reflection. "And who you are is a pasty-white Brit. At least the Yanks will think so." He shucked his trousers and found his bathing trunks. Grabbing a hotel towel and concealing his wand in it, he left the room and trundled down to its private beach.

Right away he noticed two things. Most men were already tanned, and most of them were wearing very small, revealing bathing suits. It was difficult not staring because one could see exactly what these men's cocks looked like squashed in those tight little suits little better than underpants.

The sun was bright reflected off the sand and Harry realized he needed sunglasses. With his hidden wand, he merely turned his glass lenses darker. That was better. No squinting. And no telling others where his eyes were looking.

He laid his towel on the sand, eschewing the lounges, and plopped down. Everything was great. The men he was surrounded by, the relaxing sound of the waves pelting the shore, the smell of the air with its mix of salt and suntan oil, the blue sky. Perfect. Harry lay down and closed his eyes.

It wasn't long until he was dreaming. But he couldn't see anything. All he could see was the sunlight through his eyelids, the world in red. And a voice.

"That's not the drink I ordered, you stupid Mug-er-waiter. I don't want any ponce drink with a bloody umbrella in it. Ca pice?"

Malfoy. Why was he dreaming of Malfoy? And only his voice. He threw his arm over his face and the sand from it hit his lips. He sputtered a bit and spit it out. His eyes snapped open. He wasn't dreaming! But if he wasn't dreaming...

He snuck a peek through the shade of his arm at the person striding past him. Fishbelly white. Platinum blond hair. Eyes hidden by sunglasses. But a smirk that was as familiar to Harry as the palm of his own hand.

Malfoy! What the hell was Draco bloody Malfoy doing here? Wait. Malfoy. At the White Party. Great. Just great. Harry's one time to be himself-his gay self-and there was Malfoy to bollux it up. And him gay, too? What a bloody mess.

Harry rolled over onto his stomach and peered at Malfoy under his arm. He was moving away down the beach, but he was wearing one of those small, skin-tight swim suits. Could it be? Did Malfoy have a nice bum? No! He wouldn't let himself think that. He had to leave. How could he stay with Malfoy here to mock him? Harry rose to leave the beach when he looked around.

Hang on. There were hundreds of men here. What were the chances of running into Malfoy again? Slim to none, really. And Harry had a date waiting for him later. Three, he supposed. How would it be to do it with three men at once? Harry sunk down to the sand. He couldn't very well walk across the beach and a hotel lobby with a boner the size of his Firebolt.

And who cares, anyway? How could Malfoy taunt Harry when he was here for the same reason? Harry supposed Malfoy was just as happy that Voldemort was dead. He had been brought to trail as a Death Eater, but after the testimony of Remus Lupin, of all people, he was exonerated. "Extenuating circumstances," the Wizengamot had called it. Malfoy had been coerced into becoming a Death Eater. Dumbledore, the Vanishing Cabinet incident: it was all due to the pressures to keep his parents alive. Blah, blah, blah. Harry didn't believe much of it, but he had to admit that Remus knew more of the doings of the Death Eaters than most, having had to infiltrate the werewolves during the war.

So Malfoy had probably wanted escape as much as Harry. Grudgingly, Harry supposed-if all that was true-that he needed it perhaps more than Harry.

So what if he was queer. So was Harry. So they finally had something in common. Not that they would ever talk again.

Harry felt the warmth from the sand on his cheek through the towel. Mmmm. It sure felt good. Maybe he would take a nap. He reached for his hidden wand under the towel and whispered a sunscreen spell. No reason to get oneself lobster red. Especially tonight. If all went well, Harry would have his first sexual experience tonight. He smiled into the towel. That was something Malfoy was not going to interfere with!

* * *

Harry awoke on the sand hungry. After toweling himself off, he wandered toward what appeared to be an outdoor restaurant attached to the hotel. Each table had at least two men and they seemed to be either absorbed in each other or watching the sight of other men. And some even had their eyes on Harry. He felt his face flush again at the smiles directed his way, and he sat quickly at one of the open tables. He laid the towel with his wand in his lap and looked at the menu. Not seeing much he recognized, he ordered the grilled fish and a beer and sat back under the shade of his umbrella to enjoy the view-of both ocean and fellow partiers.

This was certainly different. What would Ron and Hermione say? Hermione would probably try to sound intelligent and worldly, something like, "Harry can be anything he wants to be. And if he is gay, then there's absolutely nothing wrong with that." She'd probably blush a bit and then Ron would say something completely asinine like, "Crikey, Harry! You're not really-that way-are you?"

He took a sip of his much too cold beer and sighed. They'd get used to it. It seems they've been following his lead since they met him. They always came around eventually. And they were as close as three people could be.

Just then the trio of Kyle, Max, and Corey wandered by, waving at Harry as they disappeared into the bar. Well, almost as close as three people could be.

His food arrived and he enjoyed the new flavors of mango chutney on his fish. He finished it all and even had dessert-some kind of pastry-and decided to go up to his room to change. He wanted to go over his wardrobe. He was afraid it wouldn't be up to snuff and he'd have to buy something in the men's shop in the lobby.

Harry laid out his best-jeans and clean t-shirts. He had the feeling that wouldn't be enough. Downstairs he went and marched into the shop, when he drew himself up short. Malfoy was there! Harry ducked behind a mannequin and felt like the biggest fool. Why was he hiding from Malfoy? He was the most famous wizard in England and here he was hiding out from one of the most notorious. So much for the Famous Harry Potter.

He peered around the torso of the mannequin at Malfoy. He was preening in front of a mirror. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt over a tight tank top that revealed just enough of his flat stomach over a pair of very tight low slung trousers. It suddenly reminded Harry of the first time he ever saw Malfoy in Madam Malkins.

The blond turned to the salesman and plucked at the overshirt. "Have you got this shirt in linen? I'm not much for cotton when linen is available."

"Yes, sir," said the salesman, and hurried to find the shirt in question.

Malfoy shrugged off the overshirt and turned this way and that in the mirror. He clearly liked what he saw. Harry looked him over, too. Actually, if you squinted and pretended it wasn't Malfoy, he looked pretty good. His bare shoulders were very fair like ivory and they stood out against the black of the tank. The trousers didn't leave much to the imagination. Harry hadn't seen Malfoy from the front when he was wearing his tiny swim suit, but the trousers were no doubt just as good. Which made Harry realize that the man probably wasn't wearing any underpants.

Harry looked away. This was Malfoy he was gawking at. He had to stop it. This place was getting to him.

He couldn't help but look again. Should he come back later? But there had to be many other men's shops near the hotel. He could take a taxi and find one.

He ducked out of the shop and hailed a cab.

* * *

Harry bought a dark tank top and new trainers. He felt his jeans were fine and maybe another one of his shirts to wear over his tank, but he didn't want to be too extravagant. Besides, he'd never spent so much money in his life with this trip and he'd only ever spent it on Hogwarts books and supplies and the occasional bit of clothes.

But as he was leaving the shop, he noticed a display of cologne bottles. He stopped and looked at it. Grabbing one of the bottles, he brought it up to his nose and sniffed. He raised his brows at it. It was nice.

"Something else, sir?" said the salesman, suddenly behind the counter.

Harry debated with himself. He usually didn't wear cologne. But he usually didn't sleep with men, either. Tonight was a special night. He knew it would be. "I'm not sure. I've never worn cologne before."

"Let's try some out."

And Harry left with one more purchase.

* * *

Harry had been showered and dressed for hours when the clock struck half past nine. He dabbed on a little cologne like the salesman showed him, and decided to head over to Kyle's room early. If they weren't there, he was certain he'd meet other people.

He took the lift to the seventh floor and vaguely wondered why Hogwarts didn't get rid of those damned moving staircases and install a few lifts instead.

He moved down the corridor and found 715. Nervously, he raised his hand to knock and heard laughter on the other side of the door. It swung open and Corey hung in the doorway, all smiles. "Oh Kyle! You're little Brit is here."

Corey moved aside and Kyle replaced him in the doorway. "Hi, Harry! God, you're adorable! Come on in!"

Harry cursed himself, knowing it was ridiculous that he had to blush all the time. It was going to be long night if he blushed at everything everyone said to him. "Hi guys," he said sheepishly.

"Hi Harry!" they sing-songed.

Before he knew it, a drink was shoved into his hand. "Do you want to start the party with something, Harry?" asked Max, leaning toward him. He held out his palm and on it were several different kinds of pills.

Harry looked down at it. "Er...."

"A little X, Harry? It will keep you going all night."

"N-no. I don't think so."

"Oh come on," said Kyle, sidling up to him. He was so close his lips were in Harry's hair, tickling him. "It will make you feel fantastic!"

"I...I don't need drugs for that, thanks." He stepped away from Kyle to prove the point. He was beginning to think he made a mistake joining these strangers.

The others had no problem partaking of pills and white powder and lots of alcohol. With music blaring, they seemed to forget about Harry and began to dance with one another in their room and on the balcony, exchanging some open-mouthed kisses in the process.

Harry clutched the plastic cup in his hand and watched them, feeling a little over his head. Maybe a club would have been a better start than something like this.

When he left, none of them noticed.

He looked down at the cup in his hand and set it down in the corridor outside their room. He felt a little foolish. He could face down and kill dark wizards but he was overwhelmed by some gay Muggles? Oh well. What was he going to do now? Well, he was here. He might as well go downstairs and see what it was all about.

Two ballrooms were transformed into a wall of sweaty men, loud music, laser lights, smoke, confetti, and all manner of lights and sounds.

Harry tapped his foot and moved his shoulders to the music, to the throb beating in his gut. His glasses reflected the light, the dark, the movement all around him. He wanted to be part of it, but he felt a little foolish doing it alone. I thought I could do this.

When it didn't look as if it was going to happen, Harry turned around and headed for the bar on the beach. That was crowded and noisy, too, but it was better than nothing. Harry could at least look at everyone. And there were a lot of very cute blokes there, some still clad only in those irresistibly skimpy swim suits. Harry ordered the well drink-a Margarita, something he never had before-and found it very refreshing. He swallowed it down quickly and ordered another. His head felt lighter and he was feeling a little more relaxed, and by the third one, he was smiling and hooting with the rest of them. Everyone was watching the small dance floor on the beach and boys were pulling off their shirts and sometimes their trousers and danced chest to chest in little more than their underpants or jock straps.

Harry slid off his stool and made his way unsteadily closer to the dance floor. It was stupid to come all this way and not dance. He tossed his empty cup aside and joined the fray, throwing his hands in the air and closing his eyes. He danced. Harry Potter, hero of the Wizarding world, whirled around a Muggle dance floor with fifty other gay men on a resort beach in Bermuda and he suddenly didn't give a damn. For once, once, he was his own man. No one knew who he was. He was with all these other men here for the same thing. No one had to pretend. No one had to blush. They were all gay and all having a great time.

"I love you all!" he shouted into the music. A few boys next to him hooted and one even leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. He'd never been kissed by a man before, and he let it linger, savoring the sweet taste of some well drink on the man's tongue-his tongue! Harry grabbed the back of his head and opened his mouth wide over the other boy's. They kissed, closing the space between them, the boy winding his drink-free arm around Harry's neck. When they pulled apart, the boy smiled brightly at Harry. "You're sweet," he said to Harry's lips.

"So are you," said Harry boldly. He thought the boy really was.

"Do you want to-"

"OH MY GOD!"

Harry spun at the sound behind him and was suddenly staring directly into cold, grey eyes. Above those eyes was a sweaty fringe of platinum blond hair.

Oh fuck! Draco Malfoy!

What were those odds again?

"Oh my fucking god!" Malfoy stared at Harry aghast. "Can't I spend one bloody knut without running into you! For fuck's sake!"

The dancing men around them pushed Harry right into Draco and for a moment they were chest to chest and cheek to cheek. Harry pushed himself away with the bleary thought that Malfoy managed to smell good. He was wearing that dark tank top and linen shirt he purchased today. Harry looked a little bit like him, except Malfoy wore tight white trousers and Harry had on his jeans.

Malfoy couldn't stop staring.

"What's the matter, Malfoy? Ever see a gay man before?"

"Not you! Not fucking Harry Potter! Are you really gay or is this some trick to follow me around and make my life miserable?"

"Why the fuck would I want to follow you around?"

Draco's eyes widened even further at Harry's use of a swearword. But Harry was in a proper drunk now and he planted his fists at his hips. "Didn't think I knew that word, eh Malfoy? 'Fucking Harry Potter', is it? No one seems to be fucking Harry Potter. That's the bloody trouble." He staggered away from Malfoy, thinking that would be that. But Malfoy followed him to the bar. Harry ordered another Margarita and gulped down a big swallow of it.

"How many of those have you had, Potter?"

He licked the salt off the edge of the cup. "This is only my second one. And why are you still here? Sod off. Can't you see I'm trying to be gay here?"

Draco stared at Harry as he drank and slowly slid onto the stool beside him. He motioned to the bartender and got his own Margarita. He drank his thirstily. "You really are gay?"

Harry didn't look at him. "Would I be at a bloody White Party if I weren't? That would be mental."

Draco drank his drink down and ordered another. "I mean...I never suspected...You never looked like...I didn't know Gryffindors could be gay. Hufflepuffs, yes, but not Gryffindors."

He turned his head to look squarely at Draco. "Are you some kind of an idiot? No wait. Don't answer that. Of course you are. Stupid Death Eater."

Draco rubbed his arm. The exposed skin where his Dark Mark used to be was still a bit pink. He drank down his drink. "I was exonerated."

"Don't waste your breath on me, Malfoy." Then Harry giggled and stuck out his palm at Draco. "Talk to the hand 'cause the Boy-Who-Lived ain't listening." He giggled again into his cup. These Margaritas were really good and they didn't make you feel drunk at all. They were very tasty and went down soooo easy.

Draco drank nervously. "Look, Potter. Maybe you should go to your room or something. I assume you have a room in this hotel."

"A room! A room! I went up to the room with Kax and Myle and Morey. But they only wanted to do drugs."

Draco lowered his cup and licked his lips. They were very pink lips. Harry watched that tongue slide over them. "You didn't take any Muggle drugs, Potter, did you? You couldn't be that stupid."

"I didn't take any drugs, Malfoy. I just wanted to get laid." There! He said it. Every other bloke was saying it or thinking it or just doing it somewhere. Maybe even out there on the beach. Wouldn't you get sand up your arse? Harry suddenly thought that was very funny and burst out laughing.

Draco drank, darting his eyes toward Harry and then into his cup. He set the cup aside and turned his stool toward Harry. He seemed a little unsteady himself. "Are you a virgin or something, Potter?"

"Not for long!" He reached for his cup but knocked it over. "Oh damn!" He pulled out his wand and Draco grabbed his wrist and yanked it down to his lap.

"Touch my wand, Malfoy, and I will make you lose that hand."

"I'm not touching your wand, you prat, but you can't go waving it around. These are Muggles, you idiot!"

Harry remembered that and tucked his wand away. "I know! I just...forgot."

Draco was staring at Harry outright now. What was Malfoy's problem? Couldn't he just leave him alone? Harry slid from the stool. "I'm dancing again."

"No you're not. You're going up to your room."

"I am not. Stop bossing me around, Malfoy. I'm tired of people bossing me around. First it's the Dursleys and then it's Hermione and then it's Dumbledore and then it's Voldemort-"

Draco cringed at mention of the Name.

Harry smiled wickedly. "Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort! God, Draco! He's dead. Get a grip!"

"I appear to be the only one with 'a grip'," he whispered harshly at Harry. He took Harry's arm. "Now come on."

"Where are we going?"

"To your room."

"Oh, Malfoy! You naughty boy." Harry leaned into him and smiled up at Draco's face but all he saw was the underside of his jaw. It was a nice jaw.

"Merlin, Potter. You're drunk."

"I'm not drunk. I'm gay!"

"You're fucking drunk. And fucking gay. Now come along. Which room is it?"

"Not telling." He stayed against Malfoy's shoulder and tried to stumble after his footsteps. He tucked his face into Draco's neck. "You smell good, you know that? I smell good, too. New cologne. Just bought it today."

They were heading toward the lifts. "Yes, you smell very good. We all smell very good. Which bloody room is it?"

"Don't know. Something with a 'two' in it."

Malfoy leaned Harry up against the wall as he pressed the lift's button and rummaged in Harry's pockets. "Didn't you bring your room key?"

"That funny card? Nope. I figured I'd just open the door with my wand. Alohomora!"

The lift doors whooshed open but there was no lift. Only the shaft and a quivering set of cables. Draco stared wildly at it and hissed, "Finite Incantatum!" The lift doors closed again and the hum of the machinery continued. "Don't do that!"

"Do what?"

"Magic, you idiot. You're drunk. You'll get yourself killed. As much as I'd like to see that, I don't want to be anywhere near you when you are."

"Oh ha ha. Since when? You've always wanted me."

Draco's jaw fell open. The lift arrived and he threw Harry into it. He walked in behind him and pressed the button to close the doors. "Wanted you? Wanted you dead, you mean."

"No. It's all become clear to me now. You were always a pouf, Malfoy. Always trying to get my attention. Why else?" He pressed his finger into Malfoy's chest and emphasized each word with a poke. "You. Wanted. Me!"

"I should have let you fall down the shaft," he muttered.

They went up to the top floor and the lift doors opened. He tugged on Harry's arm and they went through. Harry looked around at the corridor. Each level had a different colour and he didn't recognize this one. "Where are we?"

"You wouldn't tell me your room number so we're going to mine. It's the penthouse."

"Taking me to your room, eh? And you don't want me. Right. In what universe?"

"Shut up, Potter."

He forced Harry against the wall with one hand and with the other opened his door with the card key. Harry found himself yanked through another door and looked out onto a splendid terrace. "Wow!" He stumbled forward toward the glittering lights below and the shining surf. The stars were sharp points in a painfully clear, black sky. The doors were open to the terrace so he stepped out. The loud music rumbled up to him in echoes and base thumps.

"Potter! Get away from the balcony! For Merlin's sake! You want to fall off?"

Harry was yanked again and he shook Malfoy off. "You know, I'm getting a little tired of you pushing me around. Where do you get off, anyway?"

"Look, if you get hurt and people find out I was here, they are going to assume it was me. And I'd at least like a little credit if I'm going to off the Boy-Who-Lived. And a little creativity. Off a balcony. Where's the art in that?"

"The art of offing Harry Potter. Sounds like a book. You should write it. Make millions."

"No market for it anymore. You killed the market."

"Killed the market. Oh yeah!" He laughed hysterically. It was bloody funny. He doubled over and then just fell to the carpeted floor and rolled to his back. "Oh that's funny!"

"Yeah. Hysterical."

"Malfoy. You're funny. You really are." His laughter slowed and he looked up at Draco from his position on the floor. "Why are you upside down?"

"Because I'm standing on my head. Get up." He reached down and Harry felt hands lifting his shoulders. Malfoy pushed him to his feet and directed him to the bed. Harry sat on the edge, but he teetered from side to side. Nothing seemed to be staying in one place.

"Why is your room swaying?"

"It's not the room, Potter." Draco knelt at Harry's feet and Harry couldn't imagine why until he felt his shoes loosen. Draco pulled off one trainer and then worked on the laces of the other.

"I have new shoes," Harry said conversationally as he watched the other trainer being set aside.

"They're very nice."

"Thanks. You look good. I saw you shopping today."

Draco froze and looked up at him. "You knew I was here and you stayed anyway?"

"Why should I leave just because the Ferret was here?"

Malfoy stiffened. "Don't call me that," he said in a deadly voice.

"Ferret, Ferret, Ferret, Fer-"

Draco stood, arms trembling at his side. But his wand was in his hand. "I said stop it."

Harry felt he was serious and pressed his lips tightly together. He made a zipping motion over them.

Draco turned his back on him. "You can take off your own damned clothes."

Harry began stripping off his overshirt while looking at Draco's back. He hadn't moved and his shoulders were pinched tight. Harry suddenly felt guilty. "Sorry," he said. "That wasn't nice. And you're being very nice to me. And I don't know why."

Slowly, Draco's shoulders loosened and he sighed. "Gods, Potter. Don't you know anything?"

"Because you want me?"

"No, you idiot! Because...because you...." He looked over his shoulder at Harry. "Forget it."

"No. Why?"

"You killed the Dark Lord, that's why! Okay?" Draco left for the balcony and rested his hands stiffly on the railing. Harry took off his tank, then his trousers which got hung up on his feet, and then decided to drop his shorts. He stood shakily in front of the bed wearing nothing but his socks.

"You're welcome."

Draco spun to say something when he noticed what Harry was not wearing. His eyes bulged. "Potter! What do you think you are doing?"

"You told me to take off my clothes."

"Not all of them, you git."

"Why not?" Harry smiled and jutted his hips forward. His half-hard cock flopped against his thigh. "Don't you want me?"

"For the last bloody time-"

"Aren't you gay, Draco?"

"Yes. Be stupid being here if I weren't."

"Then-" Harry slithered sloppily backwards up the bed. He wasn't nervous at all being naked in front of the Slytherin. Vaguely he wondered why as he lay back on the pillows. "Want to fuck?" His hand slid to his cock and caressed it with his fingers.

"WHAT?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Look. You were right. I am a virgin. But these blokes all seem a little out of my league. I know you. So why don't we...you know? Do it."

"You want me to deflower Harry Potter? No way."

"Oh come on, Draco. I can fuck you if you don't want to fuck me. It's all the same to me at this point."

"At this point. You're drunk. I don't take advantage of drunks."

"Since when, Slytherin?"

Draco put his hand to his hip. "Even I have standards, you bloody Gryffindor. No one seems to care that I've changed."

"Draco. Come on."

"What part of 'No' don't you get?" He walked over to the bar and knocked over a bottle reaching for the one he wanted. He shakily poured himself a drink in a crystal glass.

Harry stumbled off the bed and stood behind him. Draco knocked back the drink and then seemed to sense Harry behind him. Without turning around, he said, "Potter, just get into bed and sleep it off."

"No," Harry wheedled. He touched Draco's hair and the Slytherin jumped as if someone set his shoes on fire. He turned to face Harry, glanced at him head to foot, and studiously avoided anything below the waist. Harry stepped forward. Malfoy took a step back.

"Potter-" His voice had raised an octave.

Harry approached again and took a hold of Draco's lapels. "You know, I never noticed this before, but you are quite attractive, Malfoy."

"Potter-"

"No, really. Your lips. I never noticed how pink your lips were. Can I kiss them?"

Draco dropped his glass. "No! Just go to bed."

"Please? Just one kiss?"

"No!"

"Just one and I promise I'll go to bed."

Draco sighed with his whole body. "Just one?"

"Yes. I promise. On my honour as a Gryffindor."

"All right. Make it quick."

Harry smiled. Everything seemed so wicked suddenly. Maybe he was drunk. But who cared? There was Malfoy literally in his clutches and he was dragging him closer, and the closer he got, the cuter he became. Harry leaned in and planted his lips on Draco's, all the while thinking, I'm kissing Draco bloody Malfoy!

And it was like the kiss earlier tonight. That had been Harry's first kiss with a man, but this one was more like something familiar or at least something that should have been. Draco's lips were soft and warm. And gentle. That surprised Harry. Malfoy always seemed like sharp angles and rough edges; fingernails on a chalkboard. But instead, his mouth was surprisingly sensuous. Harry gnawed a bit and then licked the lips under him, opening to the kiss, pressing harder. Draco tried to pull away but Harry fisted his lapels tightly. His mouth worked over Draco's and the blond seemed to reluctantly surrender to it. Hands were at Harry's naked waist and the fingers dug in. Harry pulled Draco up against him and the feel of those clothes against Harry's nude body caused a little thrill to wriggle in his belly and snake up his spine.

On Draco's part, the Slytherin rubbed his pelvis into Harry's and Harry moaned at the feel of it. He liked his lips against Draco's, his tongue mingling with his, his body conforming to the other, the maleness of him. It was so different and new.

He pulled Draco backwards toward the bed.

Draco yanked himself away, their lips making a smacking sound as they disengaged. "No! Potter! I said-" He looked down, and Harry did, too.

Wow. Harry noticed his own upstanding erection. The head was red and shiny. He reached down and gave the shaft a squeeze. "I'm really horny, Malfoy."

"I-I can see that." He tried to back away, but Harry could also see that Draco had an erection of his own. After all, he wasn't wearing underpants and those white trousers were quite tight...

"Draco." Harry panted it. "Draco. Let's fuck. Please. No one has to know. I...I really want you."

"Potter...." But it came out as a rather weak protest. Malfoy was panting too, his chest was heaving, and he looked as if he was having trouble swallowing. Sweat beaded his upper lip. "You...you don't know what you're saying."

"Yeah, I do. I mean...yeah, I'm pretty drunk right now. Must be, to say this stuff to you." He laughed half-heartedly. Really hard to laugh when you had a stiffy like Gryffindor tower. "But it doesn't mean I don't want it."

Draco brushed the blond hair off of his face and sighed deeply. "You are really going to hate yourself in the morning," he said quietly. Harry wasn't certain if the man was saying it to Harry or himself.

"But I'm going to be really appreciative right now. What do you say, Malfoy?"

"Well...." He looked around the room as if the empty space could help him. "Bloody hell, Potter."

"I refuse to sleep with someone who can't even use my first name. Come on, Draco."

"Okay...Harry." Draco slowly approached and lifted his hand. Gently he pushed back Harry's messy hair and caressed his cheek. Harry closed his eyes and nuzzled into the hand. "I guess you aren't bad looking yourself, Pot-uh...Harry. I mean...oh the hell with it." He gathered Harry in his arms and gave him a deep, wet kiss with plenty of tongue.

Harry melted into it, relaxing in Malfoy's embrace. Boy, does he know how to kiss. One arm held Harry as he pulled back and the other touched his cheek, tracing a line from cheekbone to lips.

"Those kisses can be rather addicting," he whispered to Harry's lips.

Harry reached forward and sucked on Draco's neck. God, he smells so good! Tastes even better. Draco moaned. I did that? Harry continued sucking and making small bites to Draco's neck. Draco finally pushed him back and looked at him, really looked at him this time, from his green eyes down to his dick where his gaze lingered the longest. And suddenly, Harry felt gentle fingertips just grazing his cock and he jerked upright at the sudden sensation. "Oh God!"

"Like that, do you? Anyone ever touch your dick before, Harry?"

"No," he answered breathlessly.

"Not even the Weaselette? Pity. You have a really amazing cock. So what shall we do? I can shag you, of course, but I'd feel a bit of a lech doing you in your state. So it really wouldn't be taking advantage if I let you do me, hmm? Want to, Harry? Fuck Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes!" he cried hoarsely. He didn't know how much he really wanted to until the offer was made. He wanted so badly suddenly to drive his hard dick into Draco. His hips gave an involuntary jab at the thought.

"Anxious, aren't you?" said Draco in a thick voice. He was obviously not unaffected. He shed his overshirt and drew the tank over his head and let it drop behind him as he escorted Harry to the bed. His free hand ran down Harry's back to his bum and cupped an arse cheek. "And you have a superior bottom, too," he said quietly, so quietly it was almost to himself. "Nice and round. It's very tempting, but I think...since this is my one and only chance...that I'd rather you bugger me." But it didn't stop him from pinching Harry's bum and leaving his hand there to give the flesh another squeeze.

He released Harry to reach for his trouser zip. Harry filled his eyes with Draco's white chest, the two tiny, pink nipples, the curve of the hollow of his hip over his low slung trousers. The slacks fell to his ankles and Draco stepped out of them. Muscular thighs from Quidditch looked like hard marble dusted with ivory hair, and between them... Harry gawked at the man's penis. It was as hard as Harry's, a dark pink in contrast to the rest of his pale skin. The pubic hair curled around it like a protective nest, and below it hung his tight sac as flushed as his cock. Harry licked his lips. He had never had the urge to suck anyone's cock before, but he certainly had the urge now. But he didn't think he was going to last and he really did want to bury his own length inside Draco. He couldn't believe that he was about to do so.

Draco postured. "Well? What do you think?"

"I think you're gorgeous!" Harry said. He considered that he would have blushed to say that were he in his right mind. But something in the back of his head was telling him that these were special circumstances and that he could be forgiven anything he said or did at this point. Because he was intoxicated, he'd be absolved, just like Draco.

He looked up at Draco's face and was surprised to see the Slytherin looking shocked. Maybe he didn't expect Harry to say that. Hell! Harry never expected to feel that for Malfoy. But he was. Gorgeous. There was simply no denying it.

"Oh," said Draco. "Well. So are you, if comes down to it. Though I don't expect you'll remember all this tomorrow."

"Oh, I hope I do," murmured Harry. "I want to." His hand on its own stretched forward and ran a knuckle across Draco's chest. Harry watched Draco's face as he took a deep breath. Those eyes, those grey eyes, kept a steady gaze on his. He wondered what Draco was thinking and then he asked it aloud.

"I'm thinking that you would never have touched me if you weren't drunk out of your skull."

"Maybe not," Harry said softly, with just the slightest of slurs. "But why is that? I want to touch you now."

"Of course now, with a liter of alcohol floating in your system. But I was always a rather sexy bloke. You just never noticed. Maybe you weren't 'out' yet, Potter. I mean Harry."

"No, I wasn't. Not even to myself. But I am now. To you... You have soft skin."

"You...have a very gentle touch."

"You...you're incredibly sexy, Malfoy."

"Draco."

"I'm not Draco. You're-"

"You're supposed to call me 'Draco', git."

"Oh. Sorry. Draco. Dra-a-co. I never thought about it, but I like that name." His thumb and forefinger closed around a nipple and pinched it. Draco moaned. "I made you moan."

"That's because I like what you're doing."

"You're hard, aren't you?"

"Yes," he sighed. "Very."

"I want to touch your cock. I've never touched another man's cock before."

He grabbed Harry's hand and guided it to his groin. "Then touch it."

And Harry's hand curled around the hot, stiff flesh. It felt familiar but strange. Like his own but definitely not like his own. Draco's was thicker for one. And pinker. Harry liked the look of it, liked better the feel of it. His hand moved down and cupped the sac. Draco was breathing heavily now, almost as heavily as Harry. "Do you like what I'm doing?" asked Harry.

"Yes," said Draco in a coarse voice.

Harry looked up at his face. "We're going to fuck, aren't we?"

"You'd better believe it."

"Good." Harry licked his lips and gave Draco's cock another long, slow tug. "How should we...I mean I've never done this before...."

"I know. Let's get on the bed."

"Brilliant idea." Harry released Draco and flopped back onto the bed. The bed was much bigger than the one in his room, but of course this was the penthouse. The best for a Malfoy, he supposed. "I like this bed."

Draco crawled up the mattress toward Harry. His pale skin was flushed all over. Harry watched his penis bob and his sac dangle as Draco approached him. He thought that his bobbing penis might be funny but he didn't feel like laughing. His dick ached.

"I like this bed, too," said Draco, looking only at Harry.

"It's big, isn't it?"

Draco stared at Harry's cock. "Yes. Very."

"Draco. Do you hate me? I'd hate to sleep with someone who hated me."

"Not at the moment. Though if you continue to chatter-"

"I don't hate you. Not anymore. Not like when we were kids. I thought you should know that."

Draco straddled Harry who was propped up on his elbows. His face was close to Harry's now and his eyes kept darting down to Harry's lips and looked like he was about to kiss them. "That's nice to know," he whispered, and then he did kiss Harry.

Harry opened his mouth right away and sucked in Draco's tongue. He found he rather liked kissing Draco. A lot. The Slytherin had a way with his lips and tongue that Harry found appealing. More than appealing. Draco's kisses reached deeply. He felt a tingle down to his cock and balls. When he gradually pulled away Harry looked up at him. Those grey eyes glittered. "You've had experience at this, haven't you?"

Draco smiled. It was a slow smile with closed lips. But it wasn't a smirk. Harry hated those smirks. This was different. Draco was different. "Uh...yeah, Potter. Lots of experience. Never would have taken you for a virgin, though."

"I'm not innocent," he felt compelled to say. He pushed himself forward until he was sitting upright. "I know stuff."

Draco's hand cupped his face and traveled down his neck to his chest. "I'm sure you do."

"I do! I've studied up on it."

Draco chuckled. It was a rumble deep in the chest that Harry found very sexy. "This isn't a quiz, Harry. Relax."

"I am relaxed." Strangely, he was. Must be the alcohol. He reckoned he really was drunk. "I'm drunk, aren't I?"

"I've been trying to tell you."

"And you didn't want to take advantage of me. That's nice of you."

"Told you I've changed."

"Yeah you've changed. You're starkers!"

He chuckled again. "Harry. Do you want to fuck me?"

Harry lost his smile and licked his dry lips again. "Yeah. Very much. Lie back."

Draco did. His head was at the footboard. He opened his legs and raised up his knees. Harry looked down at the dusky cleft of Draco's arse that the man had opened for him. His arsehole was exposed, a tight pink furl under his sac. "Oh," said Harry, gobsmacked. "That's...that's...."

Draco wiggled his rump at him. "Want it, Potter?"

"Yeah," he breathed.

Draco lifted his wand and whispered. Immediately, Harry noticed Draco's hole was wet with something, and looking down, so was Harry's dick. Neat, he thought. He took his cock in his hand and scooted down the bed toward Draco. "I just shove it in, right?"

"Gently," said Draco. He was breathing very heavily now. He kept tilting his hips up toward Harry. Harry didn't need any more coaxing. He set himself right up against Draco's legs and guided his dick toward Draco's hole. But after a few moments of probing, it was obvious that his intoxication was finally taking a toll.

"Damn it," hissed Harry.

Draco sat up. "Lie back, Potter. I'll show you."

Harry's disappointment was keen. "But I wanted to shag you."

"And you will. Lie back. I'll show you something."

"O-kay." Harry knew he was whining, but so what! His dick was achingly hard. He wanted so much to be inside Draco.

He lay flat on his back on the bed and looked up as Draco hovered over him. His blond fringe fell forward. His eyes were steady on Harry and his pink mouth was curled in a smile. "Don't be so petulant. You don't know what good stuff is coming."

"Oh?" Draco clutched Harry's cock and pointed it straight up from his body like a flagpole. Then Harry watched, amazed, as Draco slowly squatted over the cock. Harry felt the head of his dick press against something soft and tight and finally push through it. "OH!" Draco slowly descended, impaling himself on Harry. Harry's cock slid past the tightness of the anus muscles and reached a place tight and warm and slick from enchanted lubricant. It was impossible to have imagined how good this was going to feel. It was amazing! Draco's flesh was hot and close. It squeezed him exquisitely. Harry wanted desperately to thrust upward.

"Oh Draco. Can I...can I...thrust?"

Draco's face was flushed pink. "Let me pull up a bit-" Draco did and it was incredibly brilliant. Harry couldn't help thrusting up into the man.

Draco made a pleasure noise, somewhere between a purr and a groan. Harry thrust into him again. I'm fucking, he thought, and it was almost the same feeling he had when he first rode a broomstick. But that thought almost made him laugh. Except that it all felt too, too good to laugh. "Draco, you feel so good. You are amazing."

"Yes," he grunted, fucking himself on Harry's dick. "You...you feel amazing, too. I never would have thought...I never imagined...."

"Draco! I could do this forever!" It was brilliant. Draco's tight arse surrounding him, and Draco's hard dick bobbing in front of him, a full and perfect view of it. Harry stretched his hand forward and enclosed his fingers around the hard shaft. Yes. He liked the way Draco's cock felt in his hand. It belonged there. Just like his own cock belonged in Draco's arse. He fucked upward and in, and jerked that cock in his hand in the same sloppy rhythm. Draco arched in front of him, throwing his head back in a soundless scream. And Harry soon saw why. He felt Draco's dick jerk in his hand and long spurts of white jetted into the air, pelting back onto Harry's stomach. He stared at it with wide eyes and suddenly felt an overpowering sensation rumble up his balls. He let go of Draco's throbbing penis to clutch his hips and thrust and thrust. He exploded with waves of pleasure, raising his hips off the bed to get as far inside Draco as he could. Draco took it, pushing back at the pulsating cock inside him.

The feeling began to lessen and Harry was suffused with a warm glow. This was wonderful. Draco was wonderful. Encased in feelings of love and pleasure, Harry purred.

Draco, still arched over him, slowly relaxed. Harry popped free of him and Draco rolled to Harry's side flat on his back, panting. "For a first time, Potter, that was damned good. I mean Harry."

"Yeah." But Harry felt heavy with sleep. He felt Draco's lips nibbling on his ear as he drifted off into slumber.

* * *

Ever since he'd killed Voldemort, Harry didn't tend to dream anymore. At least the dreams were of so little consequence that he never remembered them.

When he awoke, he didn't open his eyes right away. The first thing he felt was a deep lethargy and an ache in his muscles as if he'd just run a race. Then the next was a headache. Not like the kind his scar used to give him but a good enough one to notice. His tongue felt very large and furry and his mouth tasted terrible. Definitely had to watch out in future for those Margaritas.

He turned his head and slowly opened his sticky eyes. There was a blurry image of another face on the pillow beside him, a vague shape of grey eyes and white blond hair. He closed his eyes again sleepily.

Then his whole body snapped upright. He looked down at the blurry man beside him and groaned. "Fuck!"

Draco leaned up on an elbow. "And good morning to you, too."


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