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His ancestors must have committed such heinous crimes, and angered some god enough to curse his whole lineage .

Really it was the only explanation why the shittiest things happen to him.  

But with the way Draco had acted and decisions he made these past few years, it could be argued he was just as much at fault as his ancestors.

However, he had paid for his mistakes. In blood, tears -and at times he felt like- with his soul. No one who experienced the dubious privilege of the Dark Lord practically breathing down his neck for more than a year, could have said he got off lightly. The things he did, the things he saw and the things he felt… Let’s just say the nightmares he endures these days, barely holds a candle to the reality he witnessed.

In some ways, it was better to have been the tortured, than the torturer. He thinks Granger would beg to differ.

With that said, surely he was entitled to a break now and then.

But oh no,  the universe deemed it fit to punish him for every wrong doing. As if living in fear for the better part of two years, wasn’t suffering enough. He didn’t even have the knowledge of fighting for the right side -the ‘light’ side- to tide him over when the fear for his life and that of his mother’s got so strong that he could barely breathe.  

Thankfully, that was all in the not so distant past. The war was won and the heroes lauded, the villains incarcerated and the dead buried and mourned, and now there was not much to do but to move on with life.

And moving on with life for Draco Malfoy meant going back to Hogwarts as a way to fulfill his sentence. With Potter's testimony- much to Draco's everlasting shock-  he was given a full pardon with the caveat that wrong doings of any kind would see him sent to Azkaban faster than you can say Lumos.  He was also to complete his 7^th  year and take his N. E. W. T. S., after which he was to serve a year in service to the Wizarding world doing Ministry assigned jobs before he was officially free.

Truth to be told,  he would have much preferred to have completed his studies alone, and only return to take his N. E. W. T. S. He knew what he'd face if came back,  but as previously stated,  fate seemed to have it out for him.

For the first two months,  all his suspicions were correct. He was among the only Slytherin of his year to come back (Blaise had run off with his mother while she hunted for new victim/ husband, Pansy had gotten married to a Pureblood in Italy with no plans to return in the near future, and Greg was carrying out his one year sentence in the dreary walls of Azkaban), and those who did, gave him a wide berth. Draco did not blame them.  It would have been stupid to associate with him, what with current climate of society that was decidedly anti-Slytherin and by extension anti-Malfoy.  He was shunned, and a couple of times he was assaulted, though both times he managed to get the best of his assailants. He may have been reformed, but no way in Hades will he allow idiots, too cowardly to stand up for themselves during the actual war, to take it out on him, now that everything was safe.

Draco is sure that they would have tried again, and it was only a matter of time before he was overwhelmed, be it via their numbers, or by catching him unawares.

Thankfully, Headmistress McGonagall showed she was more than deserving of her new post when she swiftly crushed any further malice directed Draco’s way in her explicitly threatening speech about her  desire for tolerance, forgiveness and peace, or else.

Potter too seemed to have taken up the cause, if the rumors of him intimidating Draco's would be attackers had any truth to them.  

Draco tried not to be irrationally resentful of Potter for insisting in saving him, even now.

So really with the state of things, Draco could be forgiven for not being on the look out for even more shit to happen to him.  What more could happen to someone who's practically a pariah, hated by all and pitied by none?

Presenting as an Omega seemed just the thing.

The night he woke up, covered in sweat and leaking slick in places that had his Pureblood pale skin blushing, the only thought going through Draco’s mind was 'fuck' and ‘shit’ and variations thereof. Even as he spent the evening shivering and moaning behind warded curtains, he knew his life would change. And if he held any hope that it would not, his hurried trek to the infirmary in the morning, three days after, and the way the few students he met gave double-takes when they encountered him would have convinced him of the fact. The only bright spot in the whole mess was that he managed to convince his mother not to come rushing back home, when he was lucid enough to write a letter. He did not want her to worry more about him.

It was yet to be determined if the change in the way people regarded him after he presented was for the better or for worse.

That is not to say being an Omega was inherently a bad thing. In fact, it was something coveted, as historically Omegas were the most beautiful, desirable creatures; able to make hardened Alphas swoon and indifferent Betas take notice of them. They we're traditionally nurtures and care takers, the glue that kept a society happy and fulfilled, while Alphas roles were thought to be about being strong keeping everyone safe, and the Betas ensuring the balance of things.

 Having an Omega either as a spouse or child was said to be good luck and showed a sign of good pedigree. Gone were the days when Omegas were thought to be properties, useful only as pretty ornaments and for the purpose of breeding. 

But while the stereotypes have relatively vanished, Omegas were still considered weak by some. But Draco will be damned if he permits anyone one else to think he was weak.  Not after the Dark Lord.  Not after Aunt Bella. And not after his father.

Finding out he was an Omega was not shocking.  His mother was one, therefore there was always a chance he would turn Omega as well, no matter what his Alpha father must have desired at one time.  However presenting as he did could not have come at the most opportune and simultaneously irritating time.

On one hand no matter what people believed him to be, they thought twice before they tried anything with him, for upsetting an Omega - even one as disgraced as he- was generally frowned upon.  On the other hand,  along with the new found tentativeness around him, he gained the attention of people, who just a week ago would not have given him the time of the day.

Yes, this past few months he has truly felt what it was to be lonely, but he'd rather be a lonely depressing excuse for a wizard, than be liked for the pheromones he gave off.  

But all these were minor annoyances he could deal with. What he could not deal with was the alarming fact that Potter had taken to staring at him. Continuously. Almost religiously so.

Before he had even turned Omega, Draco had noticed Potter being around him more often than was strictly necessary.  Instances, where he’d catch the other boy looking at him. It was not all together unusual. They were in this awkward state ,where 7 years of animosity had fizzled out in the face off the true hatred war brought about. But at the same time, unable to be friends or just acquaintances, not after everything they've shared, be it good or bad. 

Needless to say, he does not know how to deal with the dark haired boy.

He's ashamed to admit that he may have practically fled the one time he'd dropped his quill and Potter had given it back to him, along with an wobbly smile.  In retrospect running away might have been the better part of valor when it comes to Potter, especially since he has yet to properly thank the former for saving both him and his mother from the tender mercies of Azkaban. The Dementors may be long gone,  but the Caribbean, that place was not.  

Now weeks into being a newly minted Omega, Potter had upped his staring from vaguely disturbing to I-can-paint-your-face-from-memory territory with the intensity -and frequency- of his gaze.  At this point he wouldn't find it odd to wake up in the middle of the night, and discover Potter staring at him with his damnably green eyes.  

There’s a burning in the way Potter looks at him, a certain avarice and hunger that has goosebumps breaking out on Draco’s skin.

Honestly, he can't take it anymore. It has to stop. Part of his resolution when it came to the second chance at life he given, was to face all his problems head on. As much as possible, while still retaining his Slytherin cunning and self preservation. And in the past, he never gave Potter and inch, no matter what the other boy threw at him. Now was not the time to start.

Draco puts away the book he brought to dinner. He’s taken to reading during meals, since it provided the chance for him to learn and shielded him from the scrutiny of other students. His current favourites are books on Healing. Who knew the body could be so interesting?

With the book gone, he steels himself before he turns to meet Potter’s eye. Sure enough, the blasted boy is staring at him again. He doesn’t even have the decency to look away now that he has been  caught red-handed.  The nerve! Honestly. But it makes everything easier.

Draco stares into Potter’s eyes and gives his head a jerk. Come.

With that done, he stands up, and walks straight out of the Great Hall. No need to look back and check if Potter is following. If there is one thing that boy can’t resist, it’s his curiosity.

Draco finds an unused classroom. If he is going to have a confrontation with Potter, he wants it out of the way, with no chance of people coming upon them and assuming Draco’s the one looking for trouble.

He settles down to wait.

It’s barely a few moments when he hears footsteps. There is a split second of hesitation before the door opens, and in comes Potter.  

It strikes Draco that they’ve not been this alone with each other since that unfortunate night in the girl’s bathroom.

Potter stares at him. And since the prat has no social etiquette to speak of, Draco uses the chance to return his stare.

For a bonafide hero, there is not much change to Potter. If you disregard the new found height and muscle definition, he is still the same scruffy boy he once knew.  A scruffy boy who wore the cloak of power like it was nothing.

But Merlin, was he awkward. It seemed that Draco returning the favor of staring, was enough to shake Boy Wonder in his ratty Muggle shoes, for he’d now looked away. The raven haired boy had migrated to a nearby desk, the top of which he was gripping with such force, his tanned fingers were turning white. He his other hand was fiddling with his bird-nest hair and his breathing was ragged and-

And his fidgeting was driving Draco spare, and he just wanted this over with.

“What do you want, Potter?” The sound of Draco’s voice causes the other boy’s neck to snap in his direction. He is answered with a croaky sounding ‘what’ that nearly distracts Draco from the glint in Potter’s eyes. The sheer hunger in them has Draco taking half a step back.

“ I said, what do you want, Potter? We’ve been back for barely 4 months and all you’ve done is stare at me. Every time I turn, you are there watching my every move. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect we were back in 6^th year all over again!”.

A terrible thought goes through Draco’s mind.

“Is that it, Potter? You think I’m up to something again? Typical, really. You show to the world that you’re all forgiving and kind, when in reality you only spoke up for me, just so you can have the honor of catching me doing something nefarious and dragging me off to Azkaban yourself! You fucking-!”.

Draco has been steadily advancing with each sentence out of his mouth. The sheer anger he feels,  let’s him forget anything he saw in Potter’s eyes. Its only when Potter grabs his raised fist in a warm calloused hand does he realize how close he’s gotten to the other boy.

Potter’s face on the other hand had lost the shock it sported at the beginning of Draco’s speech and was now set in grave lines. The intensity he first noted in Potter’s face was back, and up close, it was even more striking.

“I-I’m not watching you because I think you’re up to something. I know you’re not. It’s something else. I’m sorry that I’m bothering you.”   

Draco’s eyebrows rise at the apology. This was not what he was expecting and he stares into Potter’s eyes. His eyes were always so expressive, one could always find out what he’s thinking through a glimpse of those bottle green eyes. Even the hideous glasses he wore could not hide how vivid and passionate those eyes were.

And right now the other boy seemed to be telling the truth.

“Then why the hell are you watching me Potter?” The said boy grimaces and tries to step away. But Draco is having none of that. No one is leaving, not unless Draco has the answer to his question.

“It’s nothing, Malfoy, I’m just stupid. I won’t do it anymore. Let me go-”. Potter tries to pry his hand out from the grip Draco has now turned on him.

“Potter, you will tell me what is going on, or so help me-”. He really has no leverage on Potter, and if the latter chooses to leave he can’t very well stop him.  But he threatens nonetheless. “It’s the least you can do. “ He says quietly.

And Potter…he gives in. He thought he’d have to come up with drastic measures, but Potter closes his eyes and clenches his jaws. A muscle ticks before in true Gryffindor fashion, he looks into Draco’s eyes and proceeds to decimate Draco’s mind.

“You smell good Malfoy. Even before you presented as Omega but now it’s amplified. And its been driving me insane.  Hermione, told me it’s the pheromones that you give out. But it’s not just that. It’s something else.”

With a horror Draco knows exactly what Potter is trying to say, and he tries to stop the other boy, but it’s too late. It seems that now that Potter has started, there is no stopping him.

“I realized what it was the day you left potions 3 weeks ago and you had a s-stain on your shirt around your chest and it was the most amazing scent I’ve ever encountered in my life.”

“Potter stop.  We can all forget about this. I’m sorry I asked. In fact-”. But there’s a feverish cast to Potter’s face. And he is just. Not. Stopping.  

“Omegas lactate. Every now and then even when they’re not in heat. Its a signal that they’re fertile and and capable of raising young. And Malfoy, I’ve been smelling it on you since that day. It’s been driving me insane. I can’t sleep thinking about it and how  you’d taste. Will it be warm as your body?  Sweet? I want to suck-”.

In all honesty, Draco doesn’t even mean to break Potter’s nose this time. But it does the charm and Potter shuts up in favour of clutch his face and stemming the blood that’s beginning to flow.

He’s breathing hard as he watches Potter.

What the fuck. He can’t believe the things that came out off Potter’s mouth. Everything is so surreal.

He turns back to the other boy, whose head is angled down trying to keep the blood from getting to his shirt. He doesn’t know what to feel.

He’s angry. He’s humiliated. He’s interested.

The last one has Draco firing an Episkey strong enough to mend a broken femur. Potter’s gasp of pain and shock goes a long way in calming Draco.

“Potter. What the fuck.”

The other boy shakes his head, and keeps his head down. He mumbles a mortified sorry, that cracks at the last syllable.

“Do you know what you’re asking? No proper Pureblood would do such a thing with someone they’re not mated to. It’s intimate Potter! On can’t just whip out their tits willy-nilly and- and feed the first person who asks! ”

Potter practically whimpers at his last sentence.

“I’m sorry Malfoy. I am. I’ll stay away. Fuck, I-I’ll go now.”

With that Potter sprints away and is out the door in record time.

He leaves Draco gaping at the empty classroom, wondering what just happened.

.oOo.

He has to hand it to Potter. When he decided on something, he stood by it, and woe betide anyone who sought to dissuade him.

When Potter said he would stay away from him, he thought it meant the other boy would just keep his distance, and time-willing, they’d both forget the bizarre meeting they had.

Except this was not what was happening. Potter literally stayed away from him. Anytime Draco so much as looked at him, he seemed to simply vanish. If Draco so much as glanced in his vicinity, the raven-haired boy was disappears in a blink of an eye.

It’s ridiculous. For an Alpha, the boy was acting so fucking timid. He was the Wizarding Hero for Morgana’s sake, you’d think he’d have more grit. Just a few words from from Draco and the Golden Boy is running scared.

Draco supposes that makes him a hypocrite as well. The mere thought of Potter has him flushing, and a searing heat suffusing his body.

In fact these past few weeks, every time he remembers Potter’s insinuation, his desire to- suckle,  on Draco’s-. Damn he couldn’t even say it in his own head. But for each instance that he recalled Potter and what he wanted, Draco couldn’t help but feel both horrified and to his eternal shame, intrigued.  

Feeding on an Omega was special and intimate. Mostly reserved for between mates and for caring for the off-springs, because the comfort and closeness experienced by the individuals participating in the act was incomparable.

For a Pureblood like Draco, he was raised that all acts like this were to be done in private. Hell, if one was able to avoid engaging in such acts, they were encouraged to do so. Never let it be said that Purebloods did not find ways to complicate life.

Still, even with the way he was raised in the back of his mind, the idea has been planted and Draco can’t help but entertain it.

His body seems to have the same idea, because not only is the thought of Potter keeping him up at night, but his chest has been feeling particularly tender as of late. He feels that he can hardly move without him leaking a little milk. Hes taken to wearing a support -he refuses to call it a binder or Merlin forbid, a brassiere -clothe around his chest that keeps him dry, and stops the flesh from moving too much.

He knows his body expressing milk only happens for a three to five days a month. He also knows that it’s only his inherent need to blame Potter for everything has him fancying that it’s other boy’s perversion that is influencing his body’s cycle, and causing it to be seemingly overzealous in producing milk.

Draco also knows that having someone drink from him, preferably an Alpha, will lessen the days he produces milk.

He wagers Potter’s mouth and rough hands would feel heavenly on his swollen tits right now.

But, with the way he railed on Potter the last time, it he’d look like an complete idiot if he went running to Potter and beg for him ‘to please suck my breast dry’.

Not unless he finds a way to get what he wants without showing his hand.

.oOo.

It is must be destiny, as Potter for whatever reasons, has stayed for the Christmas hols. Why he would choose to stay behind and spend Christmas alone, is beyond Draco. If Draco had the chance, he’d spend it with Mother in France, or somewhere sunny enough to turn him lobster red. Any place but here, where every corner of the castle seems to remind him of his past mistakes. But the Ministry is an ever- looming shadow in his life, and has forbidden leaving Britain for the length of time his sentence was still effective.

But he digresses. Potter staying behind allows Draco the opportunity to send the Gryffindor a discrete Owl, stating that they should meet. If Potter agrees, he’ll have the boy to himself, without the danger of Potter’s nosy friends bursting in on them, and fewer overzealous teachers around to monitor students.

.oOo.

Draco’s nerves are wrecked.

What was he thinking? How could he let his impulsiveness get him into this position? He knows he is on probation. Everything he did would be under close scrutiny, and what better way to violate his probation than offending the Golden Boy himself? The very person to save him? Wrangling with Potter never ended well for anyone. Just look at the Dark Lord.

Fuck, Draco’s an idiot. He should cancel. He should leave right now. In fact, he should stop pacing immediately because Potter has arrived and is now watching him warily.

“Potter.”

“Malfoy.”

They stare at each other. In any other situation, with a different set of people, it would have been hilarious. How did they both manage to survive a war, but when faced with their school-yard nemesis and they instantly regress into snot-nosed brats?

“Malfoy,” Potter begins cautiously, “… I got your Owl. You said you wanted to meet?”

Draco nearly rolls his eyes. Trust Potter to state the obvious. But now is not the time for that.

“Yes, Potter. I did want to meet.” He considers the other boy carefully. “I thought about our last meeting, and I believe we can come to mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“... Go on.”

“You want to nurse from me.” Draco fights not to blush at this. Potter’s eyes skitter away, but not fast enough to hide the hunger in his eyes. Draco swallows hard. “And I owe you a Life Debt. So here’s the deal, you can…have your way with me, and in return, you absolve me of my debt.”

Potter clenches his hands. “No.”

“No? Why the fuck not? Didn’t you say you want this?” Draco is indignant. If Potter is fucking with him…

“I said no, Malfoy. If it’s the Life Debt you are worried about, then you are free, I have no intention of collecting.” Potter’s jaw is set and Draco watches a tick in the pronounced angle of it.

“You were practically gagging for it just last month. What changed?” Draco crosses his arms and tilts his chin in challenge. He watches as Potter’s eyes linger at his chest before the dark haired boy sighs. He seems to slump, all the fight leaving him, and Draco takes notice.

“Nothing’s changed, Malfoy. I still want it. Badly. But I won’t do this if you don’t want it too.”

Draco is confused. Potter never made sense, and he wonders why he ever thought otherwise. “ I don’t understand-”

“It means, Malfoy, that I want what you’re offering. But I wont take it if its just for a Life Debt, or as a payment for anything. I want you…to nurse me because you want to, and not for anything else.”

What? Draco has always been saying from the start that Potter was a self-sacrificing idiot, but no one listened. If only people could hear this now.

He’s still pondering how Potter functions, being such a martyr, when he sees Potter make a move to leave.

“Wait!” Potter hesitates and turns towards him.

“Wait, Potter. What if I tell you…me offering this, is not just about the Life Debt?” Draco nearly cringes with how close to the truth his words are. But there’s a spark of interest in those green eyes, and he forges on.

“What if I say, you are not the only deviant in this room? I’m a Slytherin Potter, I just don’t have a single reason for doing things. Suffice it to say, that- that I want this too.” Somewhere along the line, Draco closes his eyes. Honesty is part of his resolution, but no one told him how hard it would be. How painful it was to admit to the things wanted, and to make himself vulnerable.

Potter proves to be as virtuous as he is said to be, for he pulls Draco to him, fortuitously not making Draco elaborate even more. 

"Sure?"

"Yes , I'm sure Potter."

Potter makes a grateful sound before he slips a large hand on Draco's nape and tilting his chin with his other hand.  

All thoughts fly out of his head when Potter's lips close over his.The kiss is chaste, just a heated press of lips, but it's enough to make Draco's insides quiver.  

Their lips cling to each other when they part. And when he opens his eyes, he finds Potter's eyes,  boring into his.

After a moment, Draco releases a shaky breath and vaguely manages to maneuver them over to the couch he Transfigured earlier.

He pushes Potter down, until the boy is sitting on the dark brown leather, with his legs spread.

He doesn't let himself or Potter question his actions.  

Draco begins striping, starting with his robes, which he folds and place atop a desk.  Just because he's doing something inadvisable doesn't mean he needs to be a slob about it.

The blond has his fingers working on the tiny buttons of his uniform shirt when he hears a squeak of leather.  

Potter's gaze is transfixed. And he finds that it does it for him. Having those eyes unable to look away, is very intoxicating.  

Draco forces himself to meet Potter's eyes loosing himself in the vibrant green. So much so that it's only Potter's gasp that alerts him to the fact that he's shed his school shirt.  

Fuck, he forgot about his support clothe. Shame burns Draco's cheeks. He wants to run away.  

"Malfoy, fuck. Please, can I take it off for you?".

Draco can't speak, so he nods. He shuffles over until he's close enough to climb into the couch and straddle Potter.

It's the most sensible position for this to work. There are others of course, they could lie down on their sides and have Potter suck at him. Or with him on his back with Potter on top of him. So many ways. But straddling Potter seems to be the only way he can feel in control of the situation.

He thinks his plan has failed. He may be above Potter right now, but with the amount of desire in Potter's eyes, any delusions of control Draco has, is rapidly flying out the window.

He settles gingerly in Potter's lap, and nearly over balances when Potter presses a lingering kiss beneath his left clavicle.

 Warm hands settle tentatively on his hips, keeping him secure as Potter starts nuzzling him, his chest, his neck, his jaw.

He feels trembling hands slip up his waist, up his back and finally to his chest. They both look down when Potter’s hands finger the laces on the clothe he wears. The things come in different types, all catering to lactating Omegas, Betas and sometimes Alphas. Most of them have an abundance of ribbons and laces adorning them which Draco finds bothersome. The one he wears, is a cream coloured silk that covers half his chest and back and held up by thin straps. The front is secured by a crisscrossing pattern of ribbons, which Potter is slowly unraveling. Each time he loosens the garment, Potter’s breath gets harsher.

After what seems like both a short and interminable amount of time, the clothe is finally slid off, baring Draco’s chest to the cool air of the room and Potter’s appreciative moan.

He tries to see his chest from Potter’s point of view. His normally flat chest is puffy and swollen, just enough that they shake a little when moved. He knows they’d be warm to touch.

“May I?” Draco nods his assent and his breath catches when Potter’s hand- they are indeed feel heavenly and deliciously calloused- comes up to cup his breast. A thumb comes up to massage the soft mound of flesh and passes over his nipple. Draco can’t stop the shudder that passes over him.

Potter doesn’t let up on his ministrations and it’s only a matter of time before Draco feels something give and then milk slowly trickles out of his nipple.

This time, Potter is seems incapable of asking permission, for he just groans and latches on to Draco’s leaking nipple. Draco cant help the gasp he lets out from the feel of Potter’s mouth. The raven-haired boy gives a gentle suction that goes straight to Draco’s groin.

Being nursed from is incredible. He can feel how his heavy, swollen tits are getting drained. Its simultaneously relaxing and arousing. Potter’s tongue gently coaxes his nipple to giving more and it tips the sensation into euphoria.

His hands have slid into Potter’s unruly hair that turns out to be not as coarse it looks. Draco uses his hold on Potter’s hair to guide him until he’s latching on even better, before curling one hand around the other boy’s neck and down his broad shoulders and back. 

Milk escapes Potter’s eager mouth, but the Gryffindor pulls off his nipple to chase the errant drops. His tongue is hot and wet at it catches the spill, sucking on the trail left of his Draco’s ribs, all the way back to it’s source.

The sensations derived from Potter’s attention are quickly overwhelming. Draco can’t decide what feels better, Potter’s mouth on his breast, the feel of the boy’s hair around his fingers, the firmly muscled shoulder beneath his other hand…all these has Draco writhing wantonly on Potter’s lap and soon he finds he is hard in his trousers.

And if the thick length he feels pressing against his abdomen is any indication, Potter is hard a well. It’s a simple matter to grind into the hardness he feels. The burst of pleasure that runs through him is so good, that Draco does it again and again. Potter does not disappoint, and brings back his hands to grip Draco’s waist, helping him grind down while he lifts up to meet Draco.

He is so lost in sensation that he nearly ignores the tiny hiccups coming from Potter. He pulls away and he forces Potter’s face up to meet his. The boy’s face is flushed and with lips that are cherry red. It almost distracts Draco from the tell-tale glistening of unshed tears. Draco’s heart clenches.

“What’s wrong Potter?” The boy shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s stupid.” Potter gulps, and tries to hide his flushed face.

Draco regards him for a moment, before he speaks. “It’s not stupid. It’s completely normal.”

“It is?” Potter is looking back at him now. Face open and trusting. He could crush Potter’s little heart with a few choice words.

Instead, Draco angles his head down, and kisses Potter’s lips, his cheeks and the corner of his eyes, tasting salt.

“Yes it is.” Draco guides Potter to his other tit and allows him to suckle again. “It’s alright. Don’t worry. Take as much as you want.” His words and the hands that pet Potter’s hair and back go a long way to calming Potter.

Draco did not lie. It was indeed normal. Feeding from an Omega was comforting both for the Omega and the one nursing. Some say even therapeutic. Potter being moved by the act should even be expected. And if there was anyone most in need of therapy and basic comfort, it would be Potter.

So Draco changes track and instead focuses on taking care of Potter, petting him and making soothing noises. He’s still hard, and so is Potter. But that takes a back seat to everything. Perhaps next time…

When Potter is done he slides off his lap, taking care to keep them in contact. He takes a hold of Potter’s arm and pulls him down, until they are both horizontal, with Potter’s head lying on his chest.

“Malfoy?”

Draco shushes him. “Close your eyes Potter. Sleep.” Potter remains stiff, which Draco rides out. After a while, the other boy relaxes.  

Draco runs gentle hands down Potter’s back, the rhythmic motion lulling them both to sleep.

.oOo.

The first blush of sunrise is creeping through the classroom floor when they wake. Draco has a crick on his neck which he rubs as he sits up. He fusses with his hair, his face, his shirt. He might have gone on fussing if the other boy hadn’t cleared his throat.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, Potter.”

He feels strangely shy as he glances beneath his lashes at the Potter. He’s gratified to see that it’s not only him that feels off balance in the light of last night’s actions.

“I want to say…sorry. About last night. You know, with the crying and everything.”

Draco tucks his hair behind his ear and turns away from the Gryffindor, “I told you it’s fine did I not?”. He can’t help the slight sneer in his voice. After all its still Potter, along with the low hum of embarrassment he feels, it is easy to fall back on old habits.

He startles when he feels a warm hand clasp his. He looks back at Potter to find him staring determinedly at Draco.

“Last night…last night was good. Since the war ended, I’ve felt lost. Like I don’t know what my purpose was, now that I’ve done what everyone expected me to do.” Draco watches Potter swallow slowly. His eyes snap up to meet green ones at the next words spoken. “But last night, for the first time in a long time, I felt something. I felt clean and light, like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.”

Potter rubs his rough thumb over the back of Draco’s hands, causing the blond to shiver. Draco finds he can be brave once in a while.

“I liked last night too. If you want…we can do it again.” Draco feels his cheeks burn, but he doesn’t look away from Potter.

“Yes!” Potter shocks them both with his enthusiasm. Draco lets out a chuckle as Potter ducks head. The raven-haired boy visibly rallies himself, and speaks, “Yes, I want to do it again. But not just for -um- feeding. I also want a fresh start. We can also try to be friends?” Potter has such a hopeful expression on his face that Draco is tempted to tease him. He forces himself to behave. Well, not too much.

He slowly runs his tongue along his lower lip, smirking as Potter’s avid gaze tracks its progress. “We can try to be friends, Potter. And if that works out, we can try being more? There’s something there, if we go by last night.” He raises a sleek eyebrow, and hopes he doesn’t look as nervous as he feels. It wont be the first time Potter has refused an offer of his. He doubts that his reaction to rejection now would be any more dignified than the past years had been.

Potter smile is both sensual and soft, illuminated by the sunrise that has reached the couch they are sitting on. It makes Draco’s heart race and the hand in Potter’s- they’re still holding hands- turns clammy.

Potter says yes, and Draco can’t help himself, he wants to kiss this boy. So he does.

The kiss is soft and exploratory with an sour undertone of sleep, but its beautiful nonetheless. The intensity of it ebbs and flows, swelling in passion and hunger,then shifting to calm and tender, and then fervent again.

They separate when they’re both light headed from lack of air, lips tingling and raw from the kiss.

“Yes, I think we can be more…Draco.”

There’s no better way to answer that statement than with a kiss.

This time, when they part, it’s only after a long, long time.

 Maybe Draco is not that cursed after all.