The Boy Who Lived

This is Dangerous...

A/N Things get a little smutty due to the plot

Harry awoke slowly, the strange bed was inordinately comfortable and despite the slow start, Harry felt like he hadn't slept that well in eons. It was in a hazy lull of contentment that he recalled him and Draco falling asleep in the large bed at Beaumont Hall. He was gratified in the vague awareness that he was sharing his bed with Draco again and now it was in the complete understanding that they were going to make a go of things together.

They had shifted positions during the night so Harry was sleeping on his front, resting his head on his right hand with his other arm down by his side. Even with his eyes shut, he knew his head was turned away from Draco because his side was edged with warmth from the touch of Draco pressed up against him. It felt wonderful to know that was where Draco actually wanted to be. And Draco's cheek resting upon Harry's shoulder, using it as a pillow with his breath ghosting softly across Harry's skin where the duvet had slipped to expose his bare back. It felt amazing. And free.

A slow smile dawned on Harry's face, there were a hundred other sensations to take in without guilt in his half-asleep state; such as the fading smell of Draco's aftershave, wrapping around him in familiar honeyed comfort; the slight scratch of Draco's day-old stubble against his back; that Draco's leg was hooked over his possessively, like he couldn't get close enough; and that his arm was flung loosely across Harry's lower back and his hand was resting lightly on his pyjama-clad right buttock. That sent a pulse of pleasurable magic through Harry's arms to his fingertips which he flexed slightly.

Draco moaned softly in his sleep and that was when Harry shot awake, eyes wide with the horror that pounded through his veins faster than hyperactive Snitch. Only because, in arising alarm, Harry realised that his own left hand, the one down by his side, was palm up, was squashed beneath Draco's body and, oh Merlin! his hand was directly beneath... inadvertently cupping... well, it was better if he didn't think about what was specifically resting in the palm of his hand.

But his magic surged uncontrollably at the knowledge, releasing a familiar pulsating sensation in the pit of his stomach as his fingers and toes began to tingle from the magic that was leaking from all his extremities.

At least he knew Draco was as aroused as he was, even in his sleep. But the magic was asking to be set free. He couldn't stop the next surge of errant magic and Draco moaned sleepily again.

Shit! He needed to escape. In the gloomy darkness, he could sense the windows starting to rattle and there was a loud thud as the door handle left the door and shot against the wall on the opposite side of the corridor. On the inside of the door, the handle teetered slightly before hitting the thick carpet with a dull clunk. 

Shit! Shit! Shit!

He needed to go running, immediately. This was too dangerous.

His body felt like a vibrating bag of angry bees. He tried to push the feelings down, to control it as he started to, very slowly and carefully, ease himself from his bed without disturbing the other man.

However, Draco moved and strong hands gripped Harry's hip, his fingers digging into Harry's flesh, pinning him where he was and preventing him from leaving.

Harry froze as the blond man nuzzled against the nape of Harry's neck.

Right. Control the magic. Control it. Breath it out.

'Where are you going?' Draco's voice was unusually rough.

Shit!

Control the magic, Harry.

Harry groaned, 'Dray, I need to go running.'

'No,' he said throatily. It was a command and suddenly Harry was aware of the magnetism of the Malfoys. In that moment, he was willing to do anything Draco asked...