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hpkinkfestTitle: By The Numbers
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mindabbles
Prompt Number: #210 submitted bywho_la_hoop
Kink Showcased: Multiple orgasms
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: Harry Potter doesn't turn twenty-one every day.
Warnings/Content Notes: Nothing that the prompt, "multiple orgasms" doesn't imply, expect perhaps a tiny bit of playful bondage.
Word Count: 8,300
Author's Notes: Thank you towho_la_hoop for the fantastic prompt. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you so much to the mods for this second chance to post and for running this wonderful fest. Thank you times ten to gryffindorj and elizassecret for their help with this.
The sheet cuts across Harry's waist, a dark border against his fair skin. Deep crimson sheets. If Severus Snape could see them now.
Draco loves waking up before Harry. It's a cliché, and Draco avoids those at all costs, but he looks so innocent and unguarded when he sleeps. Draco doesn't take that for granted, because such things were not always so—for either of them.
He loves waking up before Harry does so he can have this moment to watch him breathe, his eyes drinking in the slim torso, broad back, narrow waist. The sheet covers Harry's perfect round arse and Draco loves the anticipation, knowing he's going to wait, but in a moment he will slip his hand under the sheet and trace the curves and angles of Harry's body. And he doesn't know when, or if, he'll be able to let himself look at Harry like this, when Harry can look back. And if anyone ever discovers he's having these sappy thoughts, they'll find themselves clucking like a hen every time they try and speak.
Harry shifts, turning his head on the pillow. Draco counts to three. Harry's dark hair brushes the nape of his neck and Draco can't wait. He leans to press his lips to the curve of Harry's neck. Sleepy, warm skin. He traces one finger down Harry's spine to where the sheet draws its boundary. He moves closer, his thigh against Harry's and leans in to follow the path taken by his finger with his lips. Down to the sheet and back up again to suck lightly on the neck.
Today can only be a good day. Prime numbers always work well for Draco. Not only is there thirty-one and seven, but today's full date reduces to eleven. Prime numbers everywhere.
Harry huffs and shifts in his sleep, moves his hips against the mattress, and Draco moves to pull Harry's ear lobe between his lips. He's half lying on Harry now, pinning hips with hips.
"Mm," Harry sighs and shifts again.
Draco laughs softly. There are few things quite as delicious as Harry just waking up.
It was hard for all of their friends and family at first, understanding how they couldn't do without each other. It wasn't something either of them could explain in words and they never tried. They'd always been two sides of the same coin, after all.
"Draco," Harry says softly.
He turns his head, craning his neck to look at Draco. He blinks, startling green flashes that cut through Draco's thoughts. He splays his hand on Harry's lower back and slides it under the sheet, over Harry's arse. He kisses Harry's neck and shoulders. The air in the room is hot and Harry's skin is so warm.
"Good morning," Draco says. He curls against Harry, letting Harry feel that he's hard, that he wants him, like he has every chance he's had since they first stumbled into a loo at the Ministry, fumbling fingers and eager mouths, nearly a year ago.
Harry turns, all drowsy smiles and tousled hair. "Seems to be," he mumbles, moving his head closer to Draco's on the pillow.
Draco urges Harry's body closer, palming his hip, sliding his hand down Harry's thigh. He kisses Harry, pressing his lips to Harry's warm mouth, teasing open Harry's lips with his tongue. Harry sighs and murmurs nonsense. He's easy and pliant in Draco's arms, responding to every touch with a press against Draco or a soft sound that goes straight to Draco's cock and his heart.
Draco turns his body to press his hard cock into the mattress, enough pressure so he doesn't go mad, but not enough to make him come. He has plans for Harry today, plans that don't including coming at this stage of the game, as difficult as it is for him not to roll on top of Harry and rub against him until they both come.
He reaches between their bodies and takes Harry's cock in his hand. He loves the soft skin and softer head, the way it feels under his hand. He loves the way Harry moans and rocks his hips, slowly beginning to fuck his fist. Draco doesn't stop kissing him, doesn't let up. He slides his tongue against Harry's. He could lose himself in Harry's kisses. The first time Harry kissed him, minutes after Kingsley Shacklebolt had pinned an Apprentice Auror badge on Harry's robes, he knew he was lost. He falls deeper every time, and he believes, from the way Harry watches his mouth when he thinks Draco doesn't notice, that Harry feels the same.
Draco speeds the pace of his hand, stroking from the base of Harry's cock to the head, squeezing every three strokes. Harry gasps into Draco's mouth and grips his shoulders, rocking his hips in counter point to Draco's stroking. Draco lingers over the head, letting his fingers spread the slickness and catch on the ridge. Harry gasps and breaks the kiss. His hips stutter and Draco feels hot come spill over his hand. Harry presses his forehead to Draco's. He looks at Draco, completely unguarded.
"Draco," he sighs, and they kiss again. "You're—" Harry begins, smoothing his hand over Draco's arse and sliding it to press against Draco's abdomen.
Draco stops his hand, grabbing it around the wrist. "Not yet," he says. "There'll be time for me later."
"But we've both work today," Harry says, reaching for him again.
Draco kisses him on the forehead and forces himself to push his body out of the bed. If he stays under the covers with Harry for one more minute, he won't push him away again.
"You might," Draco says, standing by the bed, completely naked and still hard. "But I've a holiday today. Happy birthday, Harry."
"Oh," Harry says. "I thought Professor Vector wanted to finish the book before term starts." He props himself up on his elbows, his bare chest still flushed from his orgasm and his hair even more dishevelled than usual. He looks delicious and Draco bites his lip, hard, to feel something other than desire.
"Go and take a shower," he says. "You have to get ready for work and we've still your birthday breakfast to have."
*****
Draco waits, listening to the water run. He takes a gulp of his tea and looks into the empty cup. He puts it down and unbuttons his shirt. Seven buttons on the front, another two on the cuffs, for a sum of nine, divisible by three.
It's not an obsession, counting things. It's more of a habit that's grown into an occupation. It's a comfort. Equations are predictable. There's a certain balanced elegance. There were always five panes across on his windows in his childhood room. Always five across and four down, no matter what else was going on in the house—one of the many things about himself he doesn't need to explain to Harry.
The steam fills Draco's lungs the moment he steps into the bathroom. Harry takes his showers so hot that he always emerges flushed and breathless. Draco drops his trousers and pants onto the floor and slides past the curtain. The hot water hits his skin and he inhales sharply as he gets used to the burn.
"Did you make me my birthday breakfast?" Harry asks. He looks at Draco over his shoulder. His dark hair sticks to his neck and his cheeks are pink. The water runs in rivulets down his body and over his perfectly curved arse.
Draco's hard again in a second.
"I ordered it," he says. "We have fifteen minutes."
Harry smiles in a way that makes Draco's knees melt. He turns. He's not hard yet. That's good. Draco loves to feel him get hard, loves to hold Harry's cock, heavy and soft, kiss him gently as it fills.
He pulls Harry to him, just out of the stream of the shower. Their bodies slide against each other and Draco has to let himself come this time. Harry looks at him, that intense look that Draco sometimes used to mistake for anger. It's not. Now it makes Draco feel secure and wanted. That's how Harry means it. He wants so deeply, loves so intensely that sometimes it's almost overwhelming to be in his sights.
"Happy birthday," he says again. This is the first birthday they've shared. It was August of last year, the first of August. Not that Draco is counting the days. The first is, obviously, the perfect day to being something new.
"You seem to be doing your best to make it so," Harry says. He kisses Draco, soft and tender. Draco has to open his mouth and pull in Harry's tongue to taste him, and not the hot water and remnants of sandalwood soap. Harry has only ever had ten birthdays that anyone cared to acknowledge. There are so many wrongs to right.
Draco sucks on Harry's tongue, keeping him close, sliding against him. His cock slips against Harry's hip and he gasps. Harry holds him, pulling him in and, fuck, but he wants to be so close there's no distance at all. Their cocks rub against each other, and this, this is so good.
He wraps his hand around both of their cocks. He doesn't want to, can't, lose this contact. He'd thought about waiting him out, not coming until much later in the day, in his plan, but he can't. Their cocks slide against each other. He looks down. Harry's is thick and dark and the muscles in Harry's stomach clench as he rocks against Draco.
Draco gives in and lets himself. He didn't mean to, but the feel, the sight of Harry's cock alongside his own has always sent him over the edge. He squeezes tighter, rocks harder. He clenches his fist every time the head of their cocks press together. Harry is gasping and biting at Draco's neck.
"Harry," Draco says. He loves saying his name.
"Yes," Harry hisses. He sinks his teeth into the tendon at the side of Draco's neck, right in the spot that turns Draco's insides to liquid. Draco keens and the muscles in his stomach, thighs, all around his cock, seize up. He comes over his hand and Harry's cock and he keeps stroking. His cock softens as Harry grips his waist and tips his head back. The water pushes Harry's hair from his face and Harry opens his mouth in a gasp.
"Come," Draco says. "I want to see you come."
His own cock is oversensitive and it's almost painful to keep stroking, pressing his cock against Harry's. He watches Harry come, watches the water wash it away, and listens to the sound of Harry moaning his name three times.
Harry slumps against him. His head falls to Draco's shoulder. Draco smoothes his hand over Harry's hair.
"Happy birthday, yet again," Draco says. He steps away and the hot water rinses him clean. "Your breakfast should be here in a moment. See you in the kitchen."
*****
"This is unusual," Harry says. He leans back in his chair. He always takes the one nearest the range, leaving Draco the one nearest the window, whenever he stays the night. "Are we expecting guests?"
Harry gestures at the spread—omlettes, sausages, kedgeree, tomatoes, fresh bread, fruit, tea, pumpkin juice.
"Certainly not," Draco says. "And it's not so unusual. I've offered you food before."
"But not usually enough for a Quidditch team and you've served it this time."
"Arse. Eat. You'll need your strength."
"Will I?" Harry asks. "I'm on desk duty today. Apparently I haven't passed report writing. It's mental fortitude I need to get through the edits that will be coming my way."
Draco laughs and downs a cup of strong tea. Draco has never sat underneath a table in his life. Today, there will be many firsts.
Draco slides gracefully from his chair. Harry's long legs stretch out under the table. His trousers are tight across his thighs and his white shirt folds over his belt. There isn't one fucking angle from which he doesn't make Draco's mouth water.
"Draco?"
"Yes, Harry?" Draco says. He leans forward and runs his hands up Harry's legs, over his thighs. He brushes his fingers over Harry's crotch and delights at the way Harry's thigh muscles jump.
"What are you trying to do? Kill me?"
"Not at all," Draco says, unbuttoning Harry's trousers—Harry wears trousers with four buttons for the flies and one at the waist—and slipping his fingers inside. "That would interfere with my plans."
"What are you—"
Harry's words are lost when Draco sucks the tip of his cock into his mouth. He's still soft and Draco massages the underside of his cock with his tongue. He laughs when Harry starts to get hard, almost upon contact with his tongue. It's another first—Harry is so eager for Draco's mouth that he's usually hard the moment Draco even hints at a blow job. Feeling Harry soft on his tongue, coaxing him to hardness, is a pleasure he won't forget.
"Oh god," Harry says.
Harry's hand comes to tangle in Draco's hair and he thrusts up into his mouth. Draco's hard again now, too, but he won't touch himself this time. He presses his palms against Harry's thighs and angles himself so he can take Harry deeper. Harry's fingers tighten on his scalp. He's panting and he can't sit still. He's going to come again and much more quickly than Draco ever imagined. Draco closes his eyes and concentrates on the sounds Harry makes as he does. Again, moaning Draco's name three times. Perfect.
Draco emerges from the table and takes in the sight of Harry slumped back in his chair, shirt and tie crooked and cheeks red.
"Time for your birthday card, I think," says Draco.
Harry opens his eyes and blinks sleepily. "My card?"
"It's more of a scroll, really. Accio Harry's Scroll" From the desk in the front room zips the parchment, tied with a huge silver and green bow.
Harry raises one eye brow. "What's this?"
"Don't look so suspicious and open it."
Harry slides the ribbon from the scroll. It's a thing of beauty. Not the art, if you can call it that, and he uses the term loosely. He was never an artist. The beauty is in the symmetry of the rows and columns and the equations that went into the charms. The sum of each row reduces to a number that symbolises something about their time together. Harry won't get it all and that doesn't matter. Harry blinks and leans closer. "This is certainly interesting. I appreciate your artistic skill and very much appreciate the sentiment."
Draco moves behind Harry and, placing his hands on his shoulders, looks over Harry's head at the parchment. Twenty-one not terribly rendered sketches of two men entwined in different positions, one faired haired and one dark, cover the scroll. A few of them, including one in which the fair-haired man sits on the floor, sucking off the dark-haired man, have tick marks over them.
"Your birthday celebration is not over until each one has been ticked off. Prime numbers are special, well just because they indisputably are. Some of them are charmed to be accomplished in groups, series of twos and threes, or they won't tick themselves off. Even numbers involve some risk and sometimes, the drawing might change to offer us instruction if we seem to need a wildcard." Draco moves so he can see the parchment more closely. It's a shame no one but Harry will ever see this.
"That's some impressive charm work," Harry says.
"You likely wouldn't fuck an idiot."
"Well, there was—oh." Harry's eyes widen as he takes them all in. His eyes fairly bulge at number 19. "This is going to be the best, and apparently longest running, birthday celebration I've ever had."
*****
"Not to imply that I don't enjoy every moment we have together or anything, but are you really walking me all the way to my office?" Harry asks.
"I've only seen it once," says Draco.
"It hasn't changed since you were there last."
"That's what I'm afraid of. You haven't done a thing to decorate it, have you? There are likely still boxes in the corner."
Harry frowns at him. "That's not why you're here."
A melodic voice announces that they've arrived at the Atrium level. Draco reaches into his robe and feels the cool silky material. He still feels a thrill of gratitude and amazement every time he touches this powerful object. As the lift doors slide soundlessly open, Draco throws the Invisibility Cloak over both of them. It only just covers them.
Draco backs Harry against the wall, feet away from the Security Witch. Harry laughs and Draco's hard immediately. "I've always wanted to do this," Draco whispers.
"You've always wanted to get me sacked?"
"I've no intention of getting you sacked. You'll only get sacked if you make me scream."
"I always make you scream."
"I guess you'll have to keep my mouth too occupied to scream then, won't you?"
*****
Draco has plans for Harry's office. Number five, being a prime number and for adventure and energy, needs to be, well energetic. Six is even, involving risk. The door can stay cracked. He'll end here with seven, the third prime number and the month number. Harry has his own office now that he's been made a Senior Apprentice Auror, one step from full Auror. His office is number five, which is one of the reasons number five had to happen here. It is also a perfect match with Harry's character number. The privacy has to be good for something other than his attention to detail.
Harry grips the edge of his desk. Draco grips Harry's hips. He looks down and watches his cock slide in and out of Harry's arse. From behind Harry, in the set of his jaw, he can see that Harry is gritting his teeth. Harry's body is hot and tight and perfect. Draco angles his thrusts in the way that drives Harry mad, every single time.
"You're going to come again, aren't you?" Draco asks. He can still taste Harry's come on his tongue from moments ago. He allows himself to close his eyes for a second, not really wanting to miss the view that's in front of him now, and remembers the sight of Harry writhing in his desk chair, thrusting up into Draco's mouth.
"Fuck, Draco," Harry says, ragged and pleading.
A shadow passes the frosted window, pauses outside Harry's door. Draco drags his cock almost completely out of Harry's body. "Maybe they're going to knock," he says. Harry groans and Draco slides back in. Draco presses his body, tight and hard against Harry's arse, his cock as far inside Harry as it can go. "Maybe it's Shacklebolt," he says, reaching to stroke Harry's cock.
Harry moans loudly and grinds back against Harry. He likes it hard when he's about to come.
"More?" Draco asks, fucking him harder. He grits his own teeth. He doesn't want to come again, yet. He bites the inside of his cheek and squeezes over the head of Harry's cock.
Harry's well past words and he makes a sound that rumbles through Draco's chest. He gasps and presses his cheek to the desk. It's all Draco can do to hold on, to keep fucking him and stroking him through it. Harry comes over Draco's hand and the report he'd laid out for himself to write today, before he knew Draco's plans.
Draco smoothes his hands over Harry's back. The sight of his lean, strong body lights Draco up as much as it did a year ago. Draco's hard, achingly, excruciatingly hard. Harry's panting still and Draco keeps moving inside him slowly. He rolls his hips, concentrating on staying inside Harry, and lets his own orgasm slip out of immediate reach.
"Merlin, Draco," Harry murmurs. He turns his head to look at Draco, bottom lip bitten red and eyes dark. "We don't have to clear the parchment in one day." He does not pull away, does not let Draco's cock slide out of him.
"Oh come now," Draco says. He feels giddy as he rocks into Harry. Harry moves his hips, no longer boneless, pushing back. "You enjoy a challenge. Dare you."
"You don't respond to dares," Harry says, with a laugh in his voice. He props himself up on his elbows.
"You do."
Harry closes his eyes and looks almost resigned. He can't help himself.
"Come on, Harry," Draco says. He reaches to fondle Harry's sticky cock, his knuckles bumping up against the desk. "I want to feel you hard again. I want your arse tight around me when you come again. Make me come."
"I can't," Harry groans, but he's responding. Draco can feel under his fingers, Harry's muscles tense, his concentration all right there.
"You can do anything, everyone knows that," Draco says. He bends and kisses Harry's spine. "Last week, you said that your birthday was going to be terribly boring because you were stuck in the office all day. You also said, in the same day, that we'd become a boring old couple. That's two 'borings.' I thought I'd prove you wrong on both counts."
"That seems like an awfully Gryffindor thing to do, Draco." Harry's voice is husky and deep. He moans softly and grinds back against Draco. "Have I rubbed off you?"
"Bite your tongue."
"Fuck me," Harry moans and his cock begins to harden in Draco's hand.
"Yes," Draco moans. "Seven." He bends his knees and pulls Harry back against him. Harry meets Draco thrust for thrust. He braces his hands against his desk and Draco has to hold on to Harry's hips to keep his balance. Harry's taken the dare and Draco's knees threaten to buckle.
"Your turn," Harry growls. He clenches around Draco and reaches back, gripping Draco's hip. "Faster."
Draco reaches for Harry's cock. He just wants to feel that he's hard again. He is and he slams back against Draco again and again as Draco strokes him. There's nothing like fucking Harry when he's about to come, nothing better, nothing that makes Draco feel more right inside his skin than that.
"Harry," Draco moans. He feels it at his centre, building heat and desperation for more—more of Harry, to be deeper inside him, closer against him. It builds and boils over and he comes inside Harry, thrusting, rough and erratic.
He presses his damp forehead to Harry's hot back. He keeps thrusting softly, his cock softening inside Harry. Harry covers Draco's hand where Draco is stroking Harry. He moves Draco's hand just how he wants it, tight and slow and stopping just as their entwined fingers touch the head.
"Just like that," Harry moans. Draco's cock is soft now and it slips from Harry's body and Draco feels a spark again at the sound Harry makes at the new sensation.
"You're amazing," Draco says. Harry comes and Draco holds him through it.
Harry's head drops down between his shoulders and his ribs heave with his laboured breath. Draco presses his cheek against Harry's back, listening to Harry's breathing. He turns his head and kisses the skin he finds under his lips, utterly, hopelessly shattered by how he feels for this man.
"Draco," Harry says, looking at Draco softly.
Draco peels himself away and pulls his robes closed after a cleaning spell.
"Meet outside my work at lunchtime," Draco says, clearing his throat.
"I thought you weren't working today," says Harry, flopping down onto his chair. His shirt hangs open around his beautiful body.
Draco's going to have to force himself to leave. He wants to crawl into Harry's lap and stay there all day.
"I'm not. Shacklebolt said you could have a longer lunch today and I've an errand I'd like you to help with."
"It's my birthday and I've to help you with errands?" Harry smiles at him and, regrettably, rights his clothing.
"Eight is an even number," Draco says, offering no other explanation.
*****
Lunch was not particularly restorative. It was pleasant due to a hand job at the table that started when Colin Creevey came over to prostrate himself before Harry. The subsequent blow job in the loo took some concentration because of the din that some unfortunate fellow hammering at the door, shouting something about the chicken tikka masala not agreeing with him was making. The pumpkin soup and ham sandwiches were delicious.
Harry was looking a little peaky after lunch. He doesn't usually have a sweet after a meal, because he's not that keen on most desserts and you can't get a good treacle tart just anywhere. Given that it is Harry's birthday and, much as Draco hates to admit it, Hannah Abbott does an excellent raspberry sponge, Draco orders dessert for them both, more as an excuse to have a coffee than anything. He whispers “happy birthday” to Harry and kisses him on the ear as he tips a restorative draught into Harry's coffee.
Ten is neither a prime number nor an odd one and it reduces to one, which doesn't hold any of the meanings that Draco is hoping to emphasize today. It is, however, the number of times that Harry has come close to telling Draco he loves him. This makes it a wild card. Draco traces his tongue around the shell of Harry's ear and whispers that next, they'll have to see where the wild card takes them. Harry pulls the parchment from his robes and unrolls it. The little Harry and Draco figures at the end of the second row of five stand and stare out at the world, defiant looks on their faces. The little Harry reaches up and draws a symbol that looks only vaguely familiar to Draco—a red circle with a horizontal blue bar through the middle of it.
"That seems like a challenge," Harry says in a voice that sends a shiver down Draco's spine.
*****
To say that Draco didn't fully appreciate the Invisibility Cloak wouldn't be entirely accurate. He's certainly aware that it saved Harry's arse, something he's become rather fond of, on numerous occasions. Draco has an intense appreciation for magical history and powerful magical objects, but to say that he has never, before today, truly appreciated its potential would be accurate.
The rhythmic click and clack of the train is a perfect pattern of threes and fours, adding up to seven, a number of challenges. Letting Harry lead him down under the city, to the ticket machine, and through the turnstiles had got Draco's pulse racing with desire again. Being in the Muggle world with Harry, where Harry willingly takes total control, always lights Draco up like a flame. Taking the tube back to the Ministry was Harry's idea, with a muttered admission that he's always wondered what the sway of the train would do for a quick one—or three.
A Muggle sits down next to them. His thigh presses against Draco's and the man looks around, startled, trying to see what his body feels. Harry groans softly against Draco's ear and tries to shift over a bit. Draco grinds down into Harry's lap. He's close. Harry's close. Draco can feel the tension building in Harry thighs. The rhythm of the tracks is their rhythm. The train takes a curve, it's fast, and Draco grinds harder against Harry.
Harry comes, looking wild and nearly desperate.
Draco slumps against Harry, the Invisibility Cloak silky around them. He strokes Harry's shoulders and back. People get on and off the train around them, reading papers, searching for signals on their telephones, chatting with friends. Harry and Draco trade lazy kisses, hands touching each other just to touch.
Harry sighs. He blinks at Draco sleepily and Draco's afraid he's going to call a halt for the day.
"Fuck me," Draco says, reaching between them to try and stroke Harry back to hardness.
"We're nearly to Epping," says Harry, glancing at the map over Draco's head.
"I don't see what that has to do with it." He shifts, pressing Harry's cock against his arse, just so he can sink down onto it when Harry's ready. He's still wet and open from Harry fucking him over the conveniently faulty turnstile not long ago.
Draco feels crazy bubbles of laughter. Twelve is a sublime number, divisible by six different numbers.
"You going for a baker's dozen down here?" asks Harry. He doesn't look done in any longer.
"Thirteen is a prime number, Harry."
"I know it is."
*****
The loo just near the Atrium at the Ministry has a creaky door. The benefit of that is that Harry apparently has an exhibitionist streak. Can you call it an exhibitionist streak if it's more about the possibility of being caught? A number of today's orgasms, Draco reflects, have been under the invisibility cloak, courtesy of Harry's apparent kink for getting caught, nearly. Today's plan has delivered untold gifts, really. At any rate, every time the door creaks, signalling that some Ministry employee has come in to have a piss or cry quietly about a missed promotion, believing he's alone, Harry ratchets up a notch.
Fourteen reduces to five, which is a promise of more. Fifteen is divisible by two prime numbers, so Draco pulls Harry out of the stall and hoists him up onto a sink and fucks him in hard, even strokes. Bless the Invisibility Cloak and wait and see what happens when someone tries to wash his hands.
When Harry comes, Draco's name is punctuated by I can't, something Harry doesn't often say. Draco comes so hard that his vision blurs. He catches Harry just as they're both about to fall.
"Well," Draco pants, "One thing is for certain. I am horrified by your colleagues' personal hygiene."
*****
There are many benefits to being Harry Potter's boyfriend. Socializing with Weasley and Granger is not one of them. But needs must and it is Harry's birthday and Draco can behave himself for one night for the sake of romantic tranquillity. They'll have about two hours between when Harry finishes work and they're expected for whatever stodgy fright of a meal Weasley and Granger have planned for Harry.
Draco has replenishing drinks, delicious—light—food and plans for numbers sixteen and seventeen waiting for them at home. During the couple of hours since he left Harry, he's showered and polished off three vials of Pepper Up potion. He's ready for the last leg of their journey.
He's enjoying waiting for Harry in his office more then he should. Weasley, clearly against his better judgement if there is such a thing, let Draco in and then went off to do whatever it is that Weasley Auror Apprentices do. Draco can say many things about Weasley, and he has, but he has to admit that, once Harry made it clear that being with Draco was what he wanted, Weasley came begrudgingly around. Still, the way it rankled Weasley to let him in this office is bringing Draco great joy. What's giving him greater joy is running through the filthy things he's going to say to Harry the moment he comes back from wherever he was summoned unexpectedly.
An Auror hurries by, running down the hallway. Then another and another speed past. Draco hears raised voices. The hallway is a buzz of activity suddenly. Draco goes to the door. It's slightly ajar. Tense-faced Aurors speak to each other in quick, quiet bursts. Draco begins to step into the hallway and ask what is going on, because a nervous pit is being dug in his stomach, when Weasley appears at the door. He's red faced and Draco is about to tell him that's not a good look with the ginger hair, but Weasley doesn't give him the time.
"Stay in here," he says and closes the office door. "Just don't do anything."
Draco opens Harry's desk drawer, and predictably, there in the drawer is one of the Weasley extendable ears. The things are dead useful, as much as Draco hates to admit it. He works the end under the door. There are still too many people going back and forth to hear much. He catches that several Aurors went with a few trainees and apprentices to investigate a report of some wizards harassing Muggles outside a pub in Liverpool. It seems there was an explosion in the alley behind the pub. Several wizards were injured. Draco's heart races. Some of them were taken to St. Mungo's straight away. Fear grips Draco. He's not supposed to be here unaccompanied and he shouldn't be seen. They can all be damned, he thinks, and he steps out into the hallway just as Weasley comes running back toward him.
He grabs Draco's sleeve and, at the worried look on his face, it doesn't even occur to Draco to jerk away from him.
"Come on," says Weasley. Draco never considers not running after him.
"What in the hell is going on?"
"He's here, in the infirmary." Whatever else is going on, all Draco can think is that he's not in St. Mungo's. The door is engraved with the symbol of two entwined serpents topped by spread wings. "Hang on, there's an infirmary in the Ministry?"
"Yeah, of course," Weasley says, as if that's obvious, and he pushes past the door.
Harry is sitting in a chair further down a long corridor. He's white as a sheet, but he looks to be otherwise intact. He's talking to a woman who is kneeling down in front of him. Draco feels dizzy with relief.
"They always meet with a mind healer after an incident in the field," Weasley says, leaning close so he can say it quietly.
If Draco couldn't see Harry in front of him, Weasley’s kindness would unnerve Draco no end.
The woman writes something on a piece of parchment and hands it to Harry. He stands and turns and he smiles when he sees them. Draco wants to run to him.
"Just—" Weasley says as if he's steeling himself. "Just take him home and take care of him." He sticks his hands deep into his pockets. Draco can see this is causing him pain, that Draco will take him home rather than he and Granger. There are so many things he could say, but the sudden panic he felt when he thought Harry might be hurt, and the sudden relief when he found he wasn't, make the little battles with Weasley seem petty for once.
"Thanks, Weasley," Draco says. Weasley claps him on the shoulder and nods.
"Hello," says Harry. "If you two are being nice to each other, perhaps they've not told me something about my condition."
*****
Draco is so relieved to have Harry back safe that he throws his plans for the numbers sixteen and seventeen to the wind. Sixteen is a predictable number, with all its sets of fours and twos, so a quick one in the lift shouldn't work. This one time, it does. Seventeen, on the other hand, is just right for new things and Apparating back to Harry's flat with his hand still wrapped around Harry's softening cock.
*****
"Weasley told me to take you home and take care of you," Draco says. "I'm having a bit of an internal struggle. That is what I'd like to do, but it also means I'm doing as Weasley said. That leaves rather a bitter taste in my mouth."
"Sure that's not my come?"
"Hilarious. I assure you, I know the difference." Draco summons the tray he prepared with drink and food. "I'm sorry you'll miss your Weasley birthday dinner. I hope this will suffice as replacement."
"You are not sorry," says Harry, peeking under the cloth at the spread of his favourite foods. "This looks fabulous."
Harry descends on it as if he hasn't eaten since breakfast.
"I see a brush with death doesn't dampen your appetite."
"It was hardly a brush with death for me," says Harry, taking a huge bite of a ham sandwich.
"Mundane for you?"
"That's not what I meant."
Draco immediately regrets his words. Harry never makes light of the war. He puts his hand on Harry's shoulder and is relieved that Harry doesn't pull away.
"It was worse for everyone else. I was well out of danger," Harry says. He puts down the sandwich and grabs a napkin.
"Harry," Draco says, softly. "You don't have to step in front of every danger for the rest of your life."
"Never mind." Harry takes a drink of the dandelion, nettle, and honey tea Draco brewed. "The upshot is, we don't have to go back out tonight and I'm glad," Harry says. Draco nearly sighs with relief that this is not going to be one of the nights that Harry broods. Harry gives a huge yawn. "Stay the night," says Harry, leaning against Draco and yawning again.
"Oh, I'm staying the night and we're going to bed," says Draco. "But check your parchment before you start yawning."
Harry slips the charmed parchment from his robe and unfurls it. "I was wondering about this one," Harry says. He points to drawing number nineteen.
"You like that, do you?" Draco says, smiling. It should be impossible after the way they've exerted themselves today, but just the look on Harry's face makes his pulse race. "We've to get there first." He takes Harry's hand and pulls him down the hallway to the bedroom. "Accio Pepper Up," he says, reaching out his hand to catch the small bottle. "If you're going to be awake for that," he says as he tosses the bottle to Harry, "Let's keep this close to hand."
Harry flicks the cork off the bottle and downs the potion. "You're doubting your ability to keep me up?"
Draco just laughs and steps closer. Harry leans in and Draco gives him a shove, hard enough to make him topple to the bed.
"Incarcerous," Draco says and silvery ropes twine around Harry's wrists. "Eighteen reduces to nine and is also divisible by nine, a most unique number." Another spell and swish of his wand and Harry's naked. "Leadership and power, giving and receiving."
Draco flicks his wand again and the ropes wind around the headboard, pulling Harry up the bed, a look of delighted surprise and anticipation on his face.
"Merlin, look at you," Draco mutters, almost to himself. Harry's skin is fair against the dark sheets, back where they started the day. His long legs are spread and the muscles in his arms and chest tense as they pull at the ropes.
"Let me look at you," Harry says. "Take off your clothes."
"I'll be giving the direction here," Draco says.
"It's my birthday."
"Hmm. Fair enough." Draco slowly unfastens his robe and lets it slip from his shoulders. He pulls his shirt from his trousers and unbuttons it. He revels in the way Harry watches him. When he's naked except for his pants, he crawls onto the bed. Harry opens his mouth, to complain, Draco's sure of it, and Draco kisses him. Harry strains to press up into the kiss, pulls at the bonds, trying to wrap his arms around Draco. "I think I'm going to like this," says Draco.
"I'm not certain I am," Harry says, flexing his arms again.
Harry loves to touch. He's not so free with words, but his hands and his mouth show Draco everything he needs to know. Draco thrums with anticipation at the thought of all those missed touches, the tension gathering until he's ready to explode with need.
"Oh, let's just see, shall we?"
Draco moves his kisses over Harry's jaw and down his neck, sucking at all the spots that make Harry shiver. He licks along Harry's collar bone and presses his mouth to his chest. Harry sighs and squirms on the bed. "Draco," he breathes.
"Mm," Draco hums. He darts his tongue out to touch Harry's nipple and Harry's body tenses. Draco does it again. Harry's nipples are incredibly sensitive and Draco loves to tease them until Harry's begging. Draco flattens his tongue and licks. Harry whimpers. Draco can't help but think that everyone worships Harry, everyone knows he's the most powerful wizard in a generation, and no one knows that Draco can reduce him to whimpers with his tongue. "Like that?" Draco asks—just so he can hear the shaky tone of Harry's voice—and he pulls the other nipple between his lips.
"I can't believe—" Harry moans. He rolls his hips and Draco moves his body, sliding so they are chest to chest, and he can feel Harry's hard cock against his arse.
He moves his body and Harry thrusts up to meet him. Harry's cock slides against Draco's arse, slips into the cleft and Harry groans. Draco laps at Harry's nipple and rolls the other between his finger tips. His own cock rubs against Harry' stomach. Draco pulls and sucks at Harry's nipples and Harry bucks and groans.
"I can make you come like this," Draco murmurs against Harry's chest. "You can't touch me and I can keep doing this," he pulls a nipple between his teeth, "until you come."
"Please," Harry gasps.
Draco counts it in sets of threes. Three laps at the nipples, three rolls of his hips, pressing back against Harry's cock. He lets the head slide along the cleft, growing slick, but not slip inside. Harry growls with frustration and Draco pinches and bites Harry's nipples—one, two, three more times. Harry comes, covering Draco's arse with it. Draco laps gently at one and then the other nipple. He reaches back and squeezes Harry's softening cock.
"Nineteen is a prime number. It is also the number of surrender."
Harry moaned softly and bit his lip.
"Don't give up on me now." Draco whispers as he slides up Harry's body. He moves until he's straddling Harry's chest. Harry's arms flex and he pulls at his bonds. Draco inches forward again, until his cock is nearly touching Harry's lips. Harry licks his lips and his tongue just brushes Draco's cock.
"Suck me," Draco says, leaning to brace himself against the headboard.
"My pleasure," murmurs Harry. "That I can still do." He opens his mouth licks around the head of Draco's cock.
Draco gasps and pushes his cock into Harry's open mouth. He watches every movement, every slip and slide of his cock between Harry's lips. Harry doesn't take his eyes off Draco. He yanks on the ropes again, flexing his muscles and taking Draco deeper.
"You are so good at that," Draco moans. He rolls his hips just to test what Harry can do. Harry meets him at every move. "You love it."
Harry sucks harder and Draco can feel him trying to move his body. Harry rubs his tongue along his cock and curls it around the head. Draco feels dizzy, looking down on Harry from this angle. He's so beautiful and his gorgeous eyes haven't left Draco's face. Harry's rocking his hips now, helpless to stay still. He moans around Draco's cock and Draco stills, feeling the vibrations of Harry's throat.
"I'm going—" he groans. He pulls out of Harry's mouth, leans back, and fists his cock. "Watch me," he gasps as he comes, decorating Harry's chest.
"Fuck," Harry says, voice gravelly and rough. "Draco."
"I want you inside me for the last one," Draco says. He's still shaking from the force of his orgasm. His body is on the edge and he's lightheaded, but Harry is—miraculously—hard. Draco works his way down Harry's body, leaning to kiss every inch of skin he can. Harry is breathing hard and Draco presses his cheek to Harry's stomach to feel how desperate he's making him. He reaches back to steady Harry's cock and raises himself up on his knees. Draco squeezes Harry as he presses down, presses the head of Harry's cock to his hole. He rocks down, feeling the pressure of Harry against him, the slight burn before Harry enters him. "Do it, the spell," Draco says.
"What?" Harry asks, blinking dazedly at Draco.
"The spell. Do the spell."
Harry smiles and mutters the spell. No wand, hands bound, and Draco feels it, cool and slick, at his entrance.
"Yes," Draco hisses. He lowers himself and Harry's inside him. "Yes," he says again, and he moves, splaying his hands on Harry's chest.
"Untie me," Harry says.
"No."
Draco curls his hands around Harry's ribs and pushes himself up until Harry's cock almost slips out. He clenches his muscles and slides back down, watching Harry grit his teeth. Draco presses his body against Harry and rolls his hips, feeling every inch of Harry inside him. He's not hard again, and he doesn't know if he can again, this soon. It doesn't matter. Harry is staring at him like he never wants to look anywhere else and Draco plans to keep it that way.
"Draco," Harry says. He strains so he can thrust up harder. A flush spreads on his pale chest. "You're so gorgeous. That's it. Fuck, I lo—" Harry says, losing his words to a gasp.
"What," Draco breathes out, moving faster on Harry's cock, grinding down each time, taking Harry as deep as he can.
"Don't stop," Harry moans.
That's not what he was going to say. It doesn't matter. Draco won't say it either. Harry looks at him, green eyes pleading, red lips open around the words that don't make any sense. Draco wants to crow in triumph. Harry is nearly on the edge. They've done it and any equation so perfectly executed can only mean good things.
"Come on, Harry. Come for me one last time."
He does it every time—moans Draco's name three times—and Draco can't help but wonder if he knows how much that means.
He keeps moving on Harry, feeling the last shudders of his orgasm roll through his body. When Harry squirms and gives a breathless laugh, Draco relents and lies down on Harry, head on his shoulder.
"Untie me," Harry says.
"You do look so pretty this way," Draco sighs. He reaches for his wand and releases the spell.
Harry's arms come immediately around him.
"Harry," says Draco. "Back at the Ministry, when I thought you were—" He takes a breath, not sure how he intends to finish this sentence.
"I know, Draco."
There he goes. Saving him again.
"Happy birthday, Harry," he says, instead of what he knows he probably should say.
"Thank you for the most memorable birthday to date." Harry kisses the top of his head and shifts them so that Draco is lying at his side, their arms around each other. "It is an important number." Draco lifts his head to look at Harry. "Don't look so surprised. As I understand it, and you'll no doubt correct me if I'm wrong, twenty-one symbolises new beginnings, unions, and maturity. It can also be seen as a logical way to organise things, being that two and one reduce to three, a number of completeness."
"I'm impressed and stunned."
"Thank you," says Harry. He smoothes Draco's hair back from his face. "My point is that I like it better when you're here than when you're not."
"How was that your point?" Draco asks.
"There's room here for both of us and it's better when you're here," Harry says. He looks a bit like he's in pain.
"Are you asking me to move in with you?" Draco asks. He's truly stunned. He spent weeks working out what the numbers for today mean to him and he missed this. He should owl Professor Vector and resign.
"Not very well if you still haven't answered."
Draco leans to kiss Harry gently on the lips. "I cannot wait to hear what my family and your friends have to say about it. It's worth it just for the reactions."
"Thanks so awfully much."
"Harry," Draco says, softly. "I don't mean—"
"I know," says Harry, pulling him back into a kiss. It's languid and slow and Draco feels a slow burn of desire that is always just there, just beneath the surface whenever Harry touches him. "Here, let's take a look at your handiwork." He summons the parchment and unrolls it. "Uh, Draco," he mutters.
"What?"
There on the parchment is one last drawing with absolutely no tick mark over it. The little Harry number twenty-one is behind the little Draco, riding him for all he's worth. Little Harry turns and waves cheekily at them.
"You're an arrogant prat, even in two dimensions," Draco says.
"You must have made a mistake in the charms."
"No. There is no way I made a mistake."
"Then we miscounted," Harry says.
"I never miscount," Draco says.
"Those are the only options," Harry says. He has a mischievous twinkle that always makes Draco think he should have been in Slytherin. "We haven't gone to sleep yet. That means it's still my birthday."
Draco laughs, incredulous. "You can't possibly be able to do it again after that."
"You dared me," says Harry. He reaches for his wand. "Incarcerous."
Draco yelps as red and gold ropes twine around his wrists and ankles. Harry grins down at him and his pulse begins to race.
"Now who looks pretty that way?"
Harry's heart number is three, the sum of twenty-one. The number of times Harry says Draco's name when he comes, when they're as close as they can be. The number of past, present, and future.
Author:
mindabblesPrompt Number: #210 submitted by
who_la_hoopKink Showcased: Multiple orgasms
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: Harry Potter doesn't turn twenty-one every day.
Warnings/Content Notes: Nothing that the prompt, "multiple orgasms" doesn't imply, expect perhaps a tiny bit of playful bondage.
Word Count: 8,300
Author's Notes: Thank you to
who_la_hoop for the fantastic prompt. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you so much to the mods for this second chance to post and for running this wonderful fest. Thank you times ten to gryffindorj and elizassecret for their help with this. The sheet cuts across Harry's waist, a dark border against his fair skin. Deep crimson sheets. If Severus Snape could see them now.
Draco loves waking up before Harry. It's a cliché, and Draco avoids those at all costs, but he looks so innocent and unguarded when he sleeps. Draco doesn't take that for granted, because such things were not always so—for either of them.
He loves waking up before Harry does so he can have this moment to watch him breathe, his eyes drinking in the slim torso, broad back, narrow waist. The sheet covers Harry's perfect round arse and Draco loves the anticipation, knowing he's going to wait, but in a moment he will slip his hand under the sheet and trace the curves and angles of Harry's body. And he doesn't know when, or if, he'll be able to let himself look at Harry like this, when Harry can look back. And if anyone ever discovers he's having these sappy thoughts, they'll find themselves clucking like a hen every time they try and speak.
Harry shifts, turning his head on the pillow. Draco counts to three. Harry's dark hair brushes the nape of his neck and Draco can't wait. He leans to press his lips to the curve of Harry's neck. Sleepy, warm skin. He traces one finger down Harry's spine to where the sheet draws its boundary. He moves closer, his thigh against Harry's and leans in to follow the path taken by his finger with his lips. Down to the sheet and back up again to suck lightly on the neck.
Today can only be a good day. Prime numbers always work well for Draco. Not only is there thirty-one and seven, but today's full date reduces to eleven. Prime numbers everywhere.
Harry huffs and shifts in his sleep, moves his hips against the mattress, and Draco moves to pull Harry's ear lobe between his lips. He's half lying on Harry now, pinning hips with hips.
"Mm," Harry sighs and shifts again.
Draco laughs softly. There are few things quite as delicious as Harry just waking up.
It was hard for all of their friends and family at first, understanding how they couldn't do without each other. It wasn't something either of them could explain in words and they never tried. They'd always been two sides of the same coin, after all.
"Draco," Harry says softly.
He turns his head, craning his neck to look at Draco. He blinks, startling green flashes that cut through Draco's thoughts. He splays his hand on Harry's lower back and slides it under the sheet, over Harry's arse. He kisses Harry's neck and shoulders. The air in the room is hot and Harry's skin is so warm.
"Good morning," Draco says. He curls against Harry, letting Harry feel that he's hard, that he wants him, like he has every chance he's had since they first stumbled into a loo at the Ministry, fumbling fingers and eager mouths, nearly a year ago.
Harry turns, all drowsy smiles and tousled hair. "Seems to be," he mumbles, moving his head closer to Draco's on the pillow.
Draco urges Harry's body closer, palming his hip, sliding his hand down Harry's thigh. He kisses Harry, pressing his lips to Harry's warm mouth, teasing open Harry's lips with his tongue. Harry sighs and murmurs nonsense. He's easy and pliant in Draco's arms, responding to every touch with a press against Draco or a soft sound that goes straight to Draco's cock and his heart.
Draco turns his body to press his hard cock into the mattress, enough pressure so he doesn't go mad, but not enough to make him come. He has plans for Harry today, plans that don't including coming at this stage of the game, as difficult as it is for him not to roll on top of Harry and rub against him until they both come.
He reaches between their bodies and takes Harry's cock in his hand. He loves the soft skin and softer head, the way it feels under his hand. He loves the way Harry moans and rocks his hips, slowly beginning to fuck his fist. Draco doesn't stop kissing him, doesn't let up. He slides his tongue against Harry's. He could lose himself in Harry's kisses. The first time Harry kissed him, minutes after Kingsley Shacklebolt had pinned an Apprentice Auror badge on Harry's robes, he knew he was lost. He falls deeper every time, and he believes, from the way Harry watches his mouth when he thinks Draco doesn't notice, that Harry feels the same.
Draco speeds the pace of his hand, stroking from the base of Harry's cock to the head, squeezing every three strokes. Harry gasps into Draco's mouth and grips his shoulders, rocking his hips in counter point to Draco's stroking. Draco lingers over the head, letting his fingers spread the slickness and catch on the ridge. Harry gasps and breaks the kiss. His hips stutter and Draco feels hot come spill over his hand. Harry presses his forehead to Draco's. He looks at Draco, completely unguarded.
"Draco," he sighs, and they kiss again. "You're—" Harry begins, smoothing his hand over Draco's arse and sliding it to press against Draco's abdomen.
Draco stops his hand, grabbing it around the wrist. "Not yet," he says. "There'll be time for me later."
"But we've both work today," Harry says, reaching for him again.
Draco kisses him on the forehead and forces himself to push his body out of the bed. If he stays under the covers with Harry for one more minute, he won't push him away again.
"You might," Draco says, standing by the bed, completely naked and still hard. "But I've a holiday today. Happy birthday, Harry."
"Oh," Harry says. "I thought Professor Vector wanted to finish the book before term starts." He props himself up on his elbows, his bare chest still flushed from his orgasm and his hair even more dishevelled than usual. He looks delicious and Draco bites his lip, hard, to feel something other than desire.
"Go and take a shower," he says. "You have to get ready for work and we've still your birthday breakfast to have."
Draco waits, listening to the water run. He takes a gulp of his tea and looks into the empty cup. He puts it down and unbuttons his shirt. Seven buttons on the front, another two on the cuffs, for a sum of nine, divisible by three.
It's not an obsession, counting things. It's more of a habit that's grown into an occupation. It's a comfort. Equations are predictable. There's a certain balanced elegance. There were always five panes across on his windows in his childhood room. Always five across and four down, no matter what else was going on in the house—one of the many things about himself he doesn't need to explain to Harry.
The steam fills Draco's lungs the moment he steps into the bathroom. Harry takes his showers so hot that he always emerges flushed and breathless. Draco drops his trousers and pants onto the floor and slides past the curtain. The hot water hits his skin and he inhales sharply as he gets used to the burn.
"Did you make me my birthday breakfast?" Harry asks. He looks at Draco over his shoulder. His dark hair sticks to his neck and his cheeks are pink. The water runs in rivulets down his body and over his perfectly curved arse.
Draco's hard again in a second.
"I ordered it," he says. "We have fifteen minutes."
Harry smiles in a way that makes Draco's knees melt. He turns. He's not hard yet. That's good. Draco loves to feel him get hard, loves to hold Harry's cock, heavy and soft, kiss him gently as it fills.
He pulls Harry to him, just out of the stream of the shower. Their bodies slide against each other and Draco has to let himself come this time. Harry looks at him, that intense look that Draco sometimes used to mistake for anger. It's not. Now it makes Draco feel secure and wanted. That's how Harry means it. He wants so deeply, loves so intensely that sometimes it's almost overwhelming to be in his sights.
"Happy birthday," he says again. This is the first birthday they've shared. It was August of last year, the first of August. Not that Draco is counting the days. The first is, obviously, the perfect day to being something new.
"You seem to be doing your best to make it so," Harry says. He kisses Draco, soft and tender. Draco has to open his mouth and pull in Harry's tongue to taste him, and not the hot water and remnants of sandalwood soap. Harry has only ever had ten birthdays that anyone cared to acknowledge. There are so many wrongs to right.
Draco sucks on Harry's tongue, keeping him close, sliding against him. His cock slips against Harry's hip and he gasps. Harry holds him, pulling him in and, fuck, but he wants to be so close there's no distance at all. Their cocks rub against each other, and this, this is so good.
He wraps his hand around both of their cocks. He doesn't want to, can't, lose this contact. He'd thought about waiting him out, not coming until much later in the day, in his plan, but he can't. Their cocks slide against each other. He looks down. Harry's is thick and dark and the muscles in Harry's stomach clench as he rocks against Draco.
Draco gives in and lets himself. He didn't mean to, but the feel, the sight of Harry's cock alongside his own has always sent him over the edge. He squeezes tighter, rocks harder. He clenches his fist every time the head of their cocks press together. Harry is gasping and biting at Draco's neck.
"Harry," Draco says. He loves saying his name.
"Yes," Harry hisses. He sinks his teeth into the tendon at the side of Draco's neck, right in the spot that turns Draco's insides to liquid. Draco keens and the muscles in his stomach, thighs, all around his cock, seize up. He comes over his hand and Harry's cock and he keeps stroking. His cock softens as Harry grips his waist and tips his head back. The water pushes Harry's hair from his face and Harry opens his mouth in a gasp.
"Come," Draco says. "I want to see you come."
His own cock is oversensitive and it's almost painful to keep stroking, pressing his cock against Harry's. He watches Harry come, watches the water wash it away, and listens to the sound of Harry moaning his name three times.
Harry slumps against him. His head falls to Draco's shoulder. Draco smoothes his hand over Harry's hair.
"Happy birthday, yet again," Draco says. He steps away and the hot water rinses him clean. "Your breakfast should be here in a moment. See you in the kitchen."
"This is unusual," Harry says. He leans back in his chair. He always takes the one nearest the range, leaving Draco the one nearest the window, whenever he stays the night. "Are we expecting guests?"
Harry gestures at the spread—omlettes, sausages, kedgeree, tomatoes, fresh bread, fruit, tea, pumpkin juice.
"Certainly not," Draco says. "And it's not so unusual. I've offered you food before."
"But not usually enough for a Quidditch team and you've served it this time."
"Arse. Eat. You'll need your strength."
"Will I?" Harry asks. "I'm on desk duty today. Apparently I haven't passed report writing. It's mental fortitude I need to get through the edits that will be coming my way."
Draco laughs and downs a cup of strong tea. Draco has never sat underneath a table in his life. Today, there will be many firsts.
Draco slides gracefully from his chair. Harry's long legs stretch out under the table. His trousers are tight across his thighs and his white shirt folds over his belt. There isn't one fucking angle from which he doesn't make Draco's mouth water.
"Draco?"
"Yes, Harry?" Draco says. He leans forward and runs his hands up Harry's legs, over his thighs. He brushes his fingers over Harry's crotch and delights at the way Harry's thigh muscles jump.
"What are you trying to do? Kill me?"
"Not at all," Draco says, unbuttoning Harry's trousers—Harry wears trousers with four buttons for the flies and one at the waist—and slipping his fingers inside. "That would interfere with my plans."
"What are you—"
Harry's words are lost when Draco sucks the tip of his cock into his mouth. He's still soft and Draco massages the underside of his cock with his tongue. He laughs when Harry starts to get hard, almost upon contact with his tongue. It's another first—Harry is so eager for Draco's mouth that he's usually hard the moment Draco even hints at a blow job. Feeling Harry soft on his tongue, coaxing him to hardness, is a pleasure he won't forget.
"Oh god," Harry says.
Harry's hand comes to tangle in Draco's hair and he thrusts up into his mouth. Draco's hard again now, too, but he won't touch himself this time. He presses his palms against Harry's thighs and angles himself so he can take Harry deeper. Harry's fingers tighten on his scalp. He's panting and he can't sit still. He's going to come again and much more quickly than Draco ever imagined. Draco closes his eyes and concentrates on the sounds Harry makes as he does. Again, moaning Draco's name three times. Perfect.
Draco emerges from the table and takes in the sight of Harry slumped back in his chair, shirt and tie crooked and cheeks red.
"Time for your birthday card, I think," says Draco.
Harry opens his eyes and blinks sleepily. "My card?"
"It's more of a scroll, really. Accio Harry's Scroll" From the desk in the front room zips the parchment, tied with a huge silver and green bow.
Harry raises one eye brow. "What's this?"
"Don't look so suspicious and open it."
Harry slides the ribbon from the scroll. It's a thing of beauty. Not the art, if you can call it that, and he uses the term loosely. He was never an artist. The beauty is in the symmetry of the rows and columns and the equations that went into the charms. The sum of each row reduces to a number that symbolises something about their time together. Harry won't get it all and that doesn't matter. Harry blinks and leans closer. "This is certainly interesting. I appreciate your artistic skill and very much appreciate the sentiment."
Draco moves behind Harry and, placing his hands on his shoulders, looks over Harry's head at the parchment. Twenty-one not terribly rendered sketches of two men entwined in different positions, one faired haired and one dark, cover the scroll. A few of them, including one in which the fair-haired man sits on the floor, sucking off the dark-haired man, have tick marks over them.
"Your birthday celebration is not over until each one has been ticked off. Prime numbers are special, well just because they indisputably are. Some of them are charmed to be accomplished in groups, series of twos and threes, or they won't tick themselves off. Even numbers involve some risk and sometimes, the drawing might change to offer us instruction if we seem to need a wildcard." Draco moves so he can see the parchment more closely. It's a shame no one but Harry will ever see this.
"That's some impressive charm work," Harry says.
"You likely wouldn't fuck an idiot."
"Well, there was—oh." Harry's eyes widen as he takes them all in. His eyes fairly bulge at number 19. "This is going to be the best, and apparently longest running, birthday celebration I've ever had."
"Not to imply that I don't enjoy every moment we have together or anything, but are you really walking me all the way to my office?" Harry asks.
"I've only seen it once," says Draco.
"It hasn't changed since you were there last."
"That's what I'm afraid of. You haven't done a thing to decorate it, have you? There are likely still boxes in the corner."
Harry frowns at him. "That's not why you're here."
A melodic voice announces that they've arrived at the Atrium level. Draco reaches into his robe and feels the cool silky material. He still feels a thrill of gratitude and amazement every time he touches this powerful object. As the lift doors slide soundlessly open, Draco throws the Invisibility Cloak over both of them. It only just covers them.
Draco backs Harry against the wall, feet away from the Security Witch. Harry laughs and Draco's hard immediately. "I've always wanted to do this," Draco whispers.
"You've always wanted to get me sacked?"
"I've no intention of getting you sacked. You'll only get sacked if you make me scream."
"I always make you scream."
"I guess you'll have to keep my mouth too occupied to scream then, won't you?"
Draco has plans for Harry's office. Number five, being a prime number and for adventure and energy, needs to be, well energetic. Six is even, involving risk. The door can stay cracked. He'll end here with seven, the third prime number and the month number. Harry has his own office now that he's been made a Senior Apprentice Auror, one step from full Auror. His office is number five, which is one of the reasons number five had to happen here. It is also a perfect match with Harry's character number. The privacy has to be good for something other than his attention to detail.
Harry grips the edge of his desk. Draco grips Harry's hips. He looks down and watches his cock slide in and out of Harry's arse. From behind Harry, in the set of his jaw, he can see that Harry is gritting his teeth. Harry's body is hot and tight and perfect. Draco angles his thrusts in the way that drives Harry mad, every single time.
"You're going to come again, aren't you?" Draco asks. He can still taste Harry's come on his tongue from moments ago. He allows himself to close his eyes for a second, not really wanting to miss the view that's in front of him now, and remembers the sight of Harry writhing in his desk chair, thrusting up into Draco's mouth.
"Fuck, Draco," Harry says, ragged and pleading.
A shadow passes the frosted window, pauses outside Harry's door. Draco drags his cock almost completely out of Harry's body. "Maybe they're going to knock," he says. Harry groans and Draco slides back in. Draco presses his body, tight and hard against Harry's arse, his cock as far inside Harry as it can go. "Maybe it's Shacklebolt," he says, reaching to stroke Harry's cock.
Harry moans loudly and grinds back against Harry. He likes it hard when he's about to come.
"More?" Draco asks, fucking him harder. He grits his own teeth. He doesn't want to come again, yet. He bites the inside of his cheek and squeezes over the head of Harry's cock.
Harry's well past words and he makes a sound that rumbles through Draco's chest. He gasps and presses his cheek to the desk. It's all Draco can do to hold on, to keep fucking him and stroking him through it. Harry comes over Draco's hand and the report he'd laid out for himself to write today, before he knew Draco's plans.
Draco smoothes his hands over Harry's back. The sight of his lean, strong body lights Draco up as much as it did a year ago. Draco's hard, achingly, excruciatingly hard. Harry's panting still and Draco keeps moving inside him slowly. He rolls his hips, concentrating on staying inside Harry, and lets his own orgasm slip out of immediate reach.
"Merlin, Draco," Harry murmurs. He turns his head to look at Draco, bottom lip bitten red and eyes dark. "We don't have to clear the parchment in one day." He does not pull away, does not let Draco's cock slide out of him.
"Oh come now," Draco says. He feels giddy as he rocks into Harry. Harry moves his hips, no longer boneless, pushing back. "You enjoy a challenge. Dare you."
"You don't respond to dares," Harry says, with a laugh in his voice. He props himself up on his elbows.
"You do."
Harry closes his eyes and looks almost resigned. He can't help himself.
"Come on, Harry," Draco says. He reaches to fondle Harry's sticky cock, his knuckles bumping up against the desk. "I want to feel you hard again. I want your arse tight around me when you come again. Make me come."
"I can't," Harry groans, but he's responding. Draco can feel under his fingers, Harry's muscles tense, his concentration all right there.
"You can do anything, everyone knows that," Draco says. He bends and kisses Harry's spine. "Last week, you said that your birthday was going to be terribly boring because you were stuck in the office all day. You also said, in the same day, that we'd become a boring old couple. That's two 'borings.' I thought I'd prove you wrong on both counts."
"That seems like an awfully Gryffindor thing to do, Draco." Harry's voice is husky and deep. He moans softly and grinds back against Draco. "Have I rubbed off you?"
"Bite your tongue."
"Fuck me," Harry moans and his cock begins to harden in Draco's hand.
"Yes," Draco moans. "Seven." He bends his knees and pulls Harry back against him. Harry meets Draco thrust for thrust. He braces his hands against his desk and Draco has to hold on to Harry's hips to keep his balance. Harry's taken the dare and Draco's knees threaten to buckle.
"Your turn," Harry growls. He clenches around Draco and reaches back, gripping Draco's hip. "Faster."
Draco reaches for Harry's cock. He just wants to feel that he's hard again. He is and he slams back against Draco again and again as Draco strokes him. There's nothing like fucking Harry when he's about to come, nothing better, nothing that makes Draco feel more right inside his skin than that.
"Harry," Draco moans. He feels it at his centre, building heat and desperation for more—more of Harry, to be deeper inside him, closer against him. It builds and boils over and he comes inside Harry, thrusting, rough and erratic.
He presses his damp forehead to Harry's hot back. He keeps thrusting softly, his cock softening inside Harry. Harry covers Draco's hand where Draco is stroking Harry. He moves Draco's hand just how he wants it, tight and slow and stopping just as their entwined fingers touch the head.
"Just like that," Harry moans. Draco's cock is soft now and it slips from Harry's body and Draco feels a spark again at the sound Harry makes at the new sensation.
"You're amazing," Draco says. Harry comes and Draco holds him through it.
Harry's head drops down between his shoulders and his ribs heave with his laboured breath. Draco presses his cheek against Harry's back, listening to Harry's breathing. He turns his head and kisses the skin he finds under his lips, utterly, hopelessly shattered by how he feels for this man.
"Draco," Harry says, looking at Draco softly.
Draco peels himself away and pulls his robes closed after a cleaning spell.
"Meet outside my work at lunchtime," Draco says, clearing his throat.
"I thought you weren't working today," says Harry, flopping down onto his chair. His shirt hangs open around his beautiful body.
Draco's going to have to force himself to leave. He wants to crawl into Harry's lap and stay there all day.
"I'm not. Shacklebolt said you could have a longer lunch today and I've an errand I'd like you to help with."
"It's my birthday and I've to help you with errands?" Harry smiles at him and, regrettably, rights his clothing.
"Eight is an even number," Draco says, offering no other explanation.
Lunch was not particularly restorative. It was pleasant due to a hand job at the table that started when Colin Creevey came over to prostrate himself before Harry. The subsequent blow job in the loo took some concentration because of the din that some unfortunate fellow hammering at the door, shouting something about the chicken tikka masala not agreeing with him was making. The pumpkin soup and ham sandwiches were delicious.
Harry was looking a little peaky after lunch. He doesn't usually have a sweet after a meal, because he's not that keen on most desserts and you can't get a good treacle tart just anywhere. Given that it is Harry's birthday and, much as Draco hates to admit it, Hannah Abbott does an excellent raspberry sponge, Draco orders dessert for them both, more as an excuse to have a coffee than anything. He whispers “happy birthday” to Harry and kisses him on the ear as he tips a restorative draught into Harry's coffee.
Ten is neither a prime number nor an odd one and it reduces to one, which doesn't hold any of the meanings that Draco is hoping to emphasize today. It is, however, the number of times that Harry has come close to telling Draco he loves him. This makes it a wild card. Draco traces his tongue around the shell of Harry's ear and whispers that next, they'll have to see where the wild card takes them. Harry pulls the parchment from his robes and unrolls it. The little Harry and Draco figures at the end of the second row of five stand and stare out at the world, defiant looks on their faces. The little Harry reaches up and draws a symbol that looks only vaguely familiar to Draco—a red circle with a horizontal blue bar through the middle of it.
"That seems like a challenge," Harry says in a voice that sends a shiver down Draco's spine.
To say that Draco didn't fully appreciate the Invisibility Cloak wouldn't be entirely accurate. He's certainly aware that it saved Harry's arse, something he's become rather fond of, on numerous occasions. Draco has an intense appreciation for magical history and powerful magical objects, but to say that he has never, before today, truly appreciated its potential would be accurate.
The rhythmic click and clack of the train is a perfect pattern of threes and fours, adding up to seven, a number of challenges. Letting Harry lead him down under the city, to the ticket machine, and through the turnstiles had got Draco's pulse racing with desire again. Being in the Muggle world with Harry, where Harry willingly takes total control, always lights Draco up like a flame. Taking the tube back to the Ministry was Harry's idea, with a muttered admission that he's always wondered what the sway of the train would do for a quick one—or three.
A Muggle sits down next to them. His thigh presses against Draco's and the man looks around, startled, trying to see what his body feels. Harry groans softly against Draco's ear and tries to shift over a bit. Draco grinds down into Harry's lap. He's close. Harry's close. Draco can feel the tension building in Harry thighs. The rhythm of the tracks is their rhythm. The train takes a curve, it's fast, and Draco grinds harder against Harry.
Harry comes, looking wild and nearly desperate.
Draco slumps against Harry, the Invisibility Cloak silky around them. He strokes Harry's shoulders and back. People get on and off the train around them, reading papers, searching for signals on their telephones, chatting with friends. Harry and Draco trade lazy kisses, hands touching each other just to touch.
Harry sighs. He blinks at Draco sleepily and Draco's afraid he's going to call a halt for the day.
"Fuck me," Draco says, reaching between them to try and stroke Harry back to hardness.
"We're nearly to Epping," says Harry, glancing at the map over Draco's head.
"I don't see what that has to do with it." He shifts, pressing Harry's cock against his arse, just so he can sink down onto it when Harry's ready. He's still wet and open from Harry fucking him over the conveniently faulty turnstile not long ago.
Draco feels crazy bubbles of laughter. Twelve is a sublime number, divisible by six different numbers.
"You going for a baker's dozen down here?" asks Harry. He doesn't look done in any longer.
"Thirteen is a prime number, Harry."
"I know it is."
The loo just near the Atrium at the Ministry has a creaky door. The benefit of that is that Harry apparently has an exhibitionist streak. Can you call it an exhibitionist streak if it's more about the possibility of being caught? A number of today's orgasms, Draco reflects, have been under the invisibility cloak, courtesy of Harry's apparent kink for getting caught, nearly. Today's plan has delivered untold gifts, really. At any rate, every time the door creaks, signalling that some Ministry employee has come in to have a piss or cry quietly about a missed promotion, believing he's alone, Harry ratchets up a notch.
Fourteen reduces to five, which is a promise of more. Fifteen is divisible by two prime numbers, so Draco pulls Harry out of the stall and hoists him up onto a sink and fucks him in hard, even strokes. Bless the Invisibility Cloak and wait and see what happens when someone tries to wash his hands.
When Harry comes, Draco's name is punctuated by I can't, something Harry doesn't often say. Draco comes so hard that his vision blurs. He catches Harry just as they're both about to fall.
"Well," Draco pants, "One thing is for certain. I am horrified by your colleagues' personal hygiene."
There are many benefits to being Harry Potter's boyfriend. Socializing with Weasley and Granger is not one of them. But needs must and it is Harry's birthday and Draco can behave himself for one night for the sake of romantic tranquillity. They'll have about two hours between when Harry finishes work and they're expected for whatever stodgy fright of a meal Weasley and Granger have planned for Harry.
Draco has replenishing drinks, delicious—light—food and plans for numbers sixteen and seventeen waiting for them at home. During the couple of hours since he left Harry, he's showered and polished off three vials of Pepper Up potion. He's ready for the last leg of their journey.
He's enjoying waiting for Harry in his office more then he should. Weasley, clearly against his better judgement if there is such a thing, let Draco in and then went off to do whatever it is that Weasley Auror Apprentices do. Draco can say many things about Weasley, and he has, but he has to admit that, once Harry made it clear that being with Draco was what he wanted, Weasley came begrudgingly around. Still, the way it rankled Weasley to let him in this office is bringing Draco great joy. What's giving him greater joy is running through the filthy things he's going to say to Harry the moment he comes back from wherever he was summoned unexpectedly.
An Auror hurries by, running down the hallway. Then another and another speed past. Draco hears raised voices. The hallway is a buzz of activity suddenly. Draco goes to the door. It's slightly ajar. Tense-faced Aurors speak to each other in quick, quiet bursts. Draco begins to step into the hallway and ask what is going on, because a nervous pit is being dug in his stomach, when Weasley appears at the door. He's red faced and Draco is about to tell him that's not a good look with the ginger hair, but Weasley doesn't give him the time.
"Stay in here," he says and closes the office door. "Just don't do anything."
Draco opens Harry's desk drawer, and predictably, there in the drawer is one of the Weasley extendable ears. The things are dead useful, as much as Draco hates to admit it. He works the end under the door. There are still too many people going back and forth to hear much. He catches that several Aurors went with a few trainees and apprentices to investigate a report of some wizards harassing Muggles outside a pub in Liverpool. It seems there was an explosion in the alley behind the pub. Several wizards were injured. Draco's heart races. Some of them were taken to St. Mungo's straight away. Fear grips Draco. He's not supposed to be here unaccompanied and he shouldn't be seen. They can all be damned, he thinks, and he steps out into the hallway just as Weasley comes running back toward him.
He grabs Draco's sleeve and, at the worried look on his face, it doesn't even occur to Draco to jerk away from him.
"Come on," says Weasley. Draco never considers not running after him.
"What in the hell is going on?"
"He's here, in the infirmary." Whatever else is going on, all Draco can think is that he's not in St. Mungo's. The door is engraved with the symbol of two entwined serpents topped by spread wings. "Hang on, there's an infirmary in the Ministry?"
"Yeah, of course," Weasley says, as if that's obvious, and he pushes past the door.
Harry is sitting in a chair further down a long corridor. He's white as a sheet, but he looks to be otherwise intact. He's talking to a woman who is kneeling down in front of him. Draco feels dizzy with relief.
"They always meet with a mind healer after an incident in the field," Weasley says, leaning close so he can say it quietly.
If Draco couldn't see Harry in front of him, Weasley’s kindness would unnerve Draco no end.
The woman writes something on a piece of parchment and hands it to Harry. He stands and turns and he smiles when he sees them. Draco wants to run to him.
"Just—" Weasley says as if he's steeling himself. "Just take him home and take care of him." He sticks his hands deep into his pockets. Draco can see this is causing him pain, that Draco will take him home rather than he and Granger. There are so many things he could say, but the sudden panic he felt when he thought Harry might be hurt, and the sudden relief when he found he wasn't, make the little battles with Weasley seem petty for once.
"Thanks, Weasley," Draco says. Weasley claps him on the shoulder and nods.
"Hello," says Harry. "If you two are being nice to each other, perhaps they've not told me something about my condition."
Draco is so relieved to have Harry back safe that he throws his plans for the numbers sixteen and seventeen to the wind. Sixteen is a predictable number, with all its sets of fours and twos, so a quick one in the lift shouldn't work. This one time, it does. Seventeen, on the other hand, is just right for new things and Apparating back to Harry's flat with his hand still wrapped around Harry's softening cock.
"Weasley told me to take you home and take care of you," Draco says. "I'm having a bit of an internal struggle. That is what I'd like to do, but it also means I'm doing as Weasley said. That leaves rather a bitter taste in my mouth."
"Sure that's not my come?"
"Hilarious. I assure you, I know the difference." Draco summons the tray he prepared with drink and food. "I'm sorry you'll miss your Weasley birthday dinner. I hope this will suffice as replacement."
"You are not sorry," says Harry, peeking under the cloth at the spread of his favourite foods. "This looks fabulous."
Harry descends on it as if he hasn't eaten since breakfast.
"I see a brush with death doesn't dampen your appetite."
"It was hardly a brush with death for me," says Harry, taking a huge bite of a ham sandwich.
"Mundane for you?"
"That's not what I meant."
Draco immediately regrets his words. Harry never makes light of the war. He puts his hand on Harry's shoulder and is relieved that Harry doesn't pull away.
"It was worse for everyone else. I was well out of danger," Harry says. He puts down the sandwich and grabs a napkin.
"Harry," Draco says, softly. "You don't have to step in front of every danger for the rest of your life."
"Never mind." Harry takes a drink of the dandelion, nettle, and honey tea Draco brewed. "The upshot is, we don't have to go back out tonight and I'm glad," Harry says. Draco nearly sighs with relief that this is not going to be one of the nights that Harry broods. Harry gives a huge yawn. "Stay the night," says Harry, leaning against Draco and yawning again.
"Oh, I'm staying the night and we're going to bed," says Draco. "But check your parchment before you start yawning."
Harry slips the charmed parchment from his robe and unfurls it. "I was wondering about this one," Harry says. He points to drawing number nineteen.
"You like that, do you?" Draco says, smiling. It should be impossible after the way they've exerted themselves today, but just the look on Harry's face makes his pulse race. "We've to get there first." He takes Harry's hand and pulls him down the hallway to the bedroom. "Accio Pepper Up," he says, reaching out his hand to catch the small bottle. "If you're going to be awake for that," he says as he tosses the bottle to Harry, "Let's keep this close to hand."
Harry flicks the cork off the bottle and downs the potion. "You're doubting your ability to keep me up?"
Draco just laughs and steps closer. Harry leans in and Draco gives him a shove, hard enough to make him topple to the bed.
"Incarcerous," Draco says and silvery ropes twine around Harry's wrists. "Eighteen reduces to nine and is also divisible by nine, a most unique number." Another spell and swish of his wand and Harry's naked. "Leadership and power, giving and receiving."
Draco flicks his wand again and the ropes wind around the headboard, pulling Harry up the bed, a look of delighted surprise and anticipation on his face.
"Merlin, look at you," Draco mutters, almost to himself. Harry's skin is fair against the dark sheets, back where they started the day. His long legs are spread and the muscles in his arms and chest tense as they pull at the ropes.
"Let me look at you," Harry says. "Take off your clothes."
"I'll be giving the direction here," Draco says.
"It's my birthday."
"Hmm. Fair enough." Draco slowly unfastens his robe and lets it slip from his shoulders. He pulls his shirt from his trousers and unbuttons it. He revels in the way Harry watches him. When he's naked except for his pants, he crawls onto the bed. Harry opens his mouth, to complain, Draco's sure of it, and Draco kisses him. Harry strains to press up into the kiss, pulls at the bonds, trying to wrap his arms around Draco. "I think I'm going to like this," says Draco.
"I'm not certain I am," Harry says, flexing his arms again.
Harry loves to touch. He's not so free with words, but his hands and his mouth show Draco everything he needs to know. Draco thrums with anticipation at the thought of all those missed touches, the tension gathering until he's ready to explode with need.
"Oh, let's just see, shall we?"
Draco moves his kisses over Harry's jaw and down his neck, sucking at all the spots that make Harry shiver. He licks along Harry's collar bone and presses his mouth to his chest. Harry sighs and squirms on the bed. "Draco," he breathes.
"Mm," Draco hums. He darts his tongue out to touch Harry's nipple and Harry's body tenses. Draco does it again. Harry's nipples are incredibly sensitive and Draco loves to tease them until Harry's begging. Draco flattens his tongue and licks. Harry whimpers. Draco can't help but think that everyone worships Harry, everyone knows he's the most powerful wizard in a generation, and no one knows that Draco can reduce him to whimpers with his tongue. "Like that?" Draco asks—just so he can hear the shaky tone of Harry's voice—and he pulls the other nipple between his lips.
"I can't believe—" Harry moans. He rolls his hips and Draco moves his body, sliding so they are chest to chest, and he can feel Harry's hard cock against his arse.
He moves his body and Harry thrusts up to meet him. Harry's cock slides against Draco's arse, slips into the cleft and Harry groans. Draco laps at Harry's nipple and rolls the other between his finger tips. His own cock rubs against Harry' stomach. Draco pulls and sucks at Harry's nipples and Harry bucks and groans.
"I can make you come like this," Draco murmurs against Harry's chest. "You can't touch me and I can keep doing this," he pulls a nipple between his teeth, "until you come."
"Please," Harry gasps.
Draco counts it in sets of threes. Three laps at the nipples, three rolls of his hips, pressing back against Harry's cock. He lets the head slide along the cleft, growing slick, but not slip inside. Harry growls with frustration and Draco pinches and bites Harry's nipples—one, two, three more times. Harry comes, covering Draco's arse with it. Draco laps gently at one and then the other nipple. He reaches back and squeezes Harry's softening cock.
"Nineteen is a prime number. It is also the number of surrender."
Harry moaned softly and bit his lip.
"Don't give up on me now." Draco whispers as he slides up Harry's body. He moves until he's straddling Harry's chest. Harry's arms flex and he pulls at his bonds. Draco inches forward again, until his cock is nearly touching Harry's lips. Harry licks his lips and his tongue just brushes Draco's cock.
"Suck me," Draco says, leaning to brace himself against the headboard.
"My pleasure," murmurs Harry. "That I can still do." He opens his mouth licks around the head of Draco's cock.
Draco gasps and pushes his cock into Harry's open mouth. He watches every movement, every slip and slide of his cock between Harry's lips. Harry doesn't take his eyes off Draco. He yanks on the ropes again, flexing his muscles and taking Draco deeper.
"You are so good at that," Draco moans. He rolls his hips just to test what Harry can do. Harry meets him at every move. "You love it."
Harry sucks harder and Draco can feel him trying to move his body. Harry rubs his tongue along his cock and curls it around the head. Draco feels dizzy, looking down on Harry from this angle. He's so beautiful and his gorgeous eyes haven't left Draco's face. Harry's rocking his hips now, helpless to stay still. He moans around Draco's cock and Draco stills, feeling the vibrations of Harry's throat.
"I'm going—" he groans. He pulls out of Harry's mouth, leans back, and fists his cock. "Watch me," he gasps as he comes, decorating Harry's chest.
"Fuck," Harry says, voice gravelly and rough. "Draco."
"I want you inside me for the last one," Draco says. He's still shaking from the force of his orgasm. His body is on the edge and he's lightheaded, but Harry is—miraculously—hard. Draco works his way down Harry's body, leaning to kiss every inch of skin he can. Harry is breathing hard and Draco presses his cheek to Harry's stomach to feel how desperate he's making him. He reaches back to steady Harry's cock and raises himself up on his knees. Draco squeezes Harry as he presses down, presses the head of Harry's cock to his hole. He rocks down, feeling the pressure of Harry against him, the slight burn before Harry enters him. "Do it, the spell," Draco says.
"What?" Harry asks, blinking dazedly at Draco.
"The spell. Do the spell."
Harry smiles and mutters the spell. No wand, hands bound, and Draco feels it, cool and slick, at his entrance.
"Yes," Draco hisses. He lowers himself and Harry's inside him. "Yes," he says again, and he moves, splaying his hands on Harry's chest.
"Untie me," Harry says.
"No."
Draco curls his hands around Harry's ribs and pushes himself up until Harry's cock almost slips out. He clenches his muscles and slides back down, watching Harry grit his teeth. Draco presses his body against Harry and rolls his hips, feeling every inch of Harry inside him. He's not hard again, and he doesn't know if he can again, this soon. It doesn't matter. Harry is staring at him like he never wants to look anywhere else and Draco plans to keep it that way.
"Draco," Harry says. He strains so he can thrust up harder. A flush spreads on his pale chest. "You're so gorgeous. That's it. Fuck, I lo—" Harry says, losing his words to a gasp.
"What," Draco breathes out, moving faster on Harry's cock, grinding down each time, taking Harry as deep as he can.
"Don't stop," Harry moans.
That's not what he was going to say. It doesn't matter. Draco won't say it either. Harry looks at him, green eyes pleading, red lips open around the words that don't make any sense. Draco wants to crow in triumph. Harry is nearly on the edge. They've done it and any equation so perfectly executed can only mean good things.
"Come on, Harry. Come for me one last time."
He does it every time—moans Draco's name three times—and Draco can't help but wonder if he knows how much that means.
He keeps moving on Harry, feeling the last shudders of his orgasm roll through his body. When Harry squirms and gives a breathless laugh, Draco relents and lies down on Harry, head on his shoulder.
"Untie me," Harry says.
"You do look so pretty this way," Draco sighs. He reaches for his wand and releases the spell.
Harry's arms come immediately around him.
"Harry," says Draco. "Back at the Ministry, when I thought you were—" He takes a breath, not sure how he intends to finish this sentence.
"I know, Draco."
There he goes. Saving him again.
"Happy birthday, Harry," he says, instead of what he knows he probably should say.
"Thank you for the most memorable birthday to date." Harry kisses the top of his head and shifts them so that Draco is lying at his side, their arms around each other. "It is an important number." Draco lifts his head to look at Harry. "Don't look so surprised. As I understand it, and you'll no doubt correct me if I'm wrong, twenty-one symbolises new beginnings, unions, and maturity. It can also be seen as a logical way to organise things, being that two and one reduce to three, a number of completeness."
"I'm impressed and stunned."
"Thank you," says Harry. He smoothes Draco's hair back from his face. "My point is that I like it better when you're here than when you're not."
"How was that your point?" Draco asks.
"There's room here for both of us and it's better when you're here," Harry says. He looks a bit like he's in pain.
"Are you asking me to move in with you?" Draco asks. He's truly stunned. He spent weeks working out what the numbers for today mean to him and he missed this. He should owl Professor Vector and resign.
"Not very well if you still haven't answered."
Draco leans to kiss Harry gently on the lips. "I cannot wait to hear what my family and your friends have to say about it. It's worth it just for the reactions."
"Thanks so awfully much."
"Harry," Draco says, softly. "I don't mean—"
"I know," says Harry, pulling him back into a kiss. It's languid and slow and Draco feels a slow burn of desire that is always just there, just beneath the surface whenever Harry touches him. "Here, let's take a look at your handiwork." He summons the parchment and unrolls it. "Uh, Draco," he mutters.
"What?"
There on the parchment is one last drawing with absolutely no tick mark over it. The little Harry number twenty-one is behind the little Draco, riding him for all he's worth. Little Harry turns and waves cheekily at them.
"You're an arrogant prat, even in two dimensions," Draco says.
"You must have made a mistake in the charms."
"No. There is no way I made a mistake."
"Then we miscounted," Harry says.
"I never miscount," Draco says.
"Those are the only options," Harry says. He has a mischievous twinkle that always makes Draco think he should have been in Slytherin. "We haven't gone to sleep yet. That means it's still my birthday."
Draco laughs, incredulous. "You can't possibly be able to do it again after that."
"You dared me," says Harry. He reaches for his wand. "Incarcerous."
Draco yelps as red and gold ropes twine around his wrists and ankles. Harry grins down at him and his pulse begins to race.
"Now who looks pretty that way?"
Harry's heart number is three, the sum of twenty-one. The number of times Harry says Draco's name when he comes, when they're as close as they can be. The number of past, present, and future.
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