Chapters: 13/13 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Additional Tags: Explicit Language, Fluff, Sexual Content Summary:

Harry's a famous Quidditch player. Draco's the Healer for a Quidditch team. They're both known for their wild ways, but what happens when these two playboys meet after several years apart?

Excerpt:

*** It only took Harry another four minutes to get bent out of shape enough at Weasley to flee. Draco had known that he would—Potter had always hated being cooped up and, over the years, Draco had noticed that when the pressure became too much, Potter always ran to the nearest open, outdoor space. Draco watched from a small bench under an archway of roses as Potter kicked the low wall around a fish pond and cursed under his breath.

“Bloody arsing fucking moron!” he hissed. “I can’t believe I used to be friends with that idiot!”

“Yes, I never could understand what, exactly, you saw in that foul tempered cretin,” Draco drawled.

Harry’s actions ceased at once. He whipped his head towards Draco.

“Malfoy? What the hell are you doing here?”

Draco leaned back on his palms and tilted his head to one side, a teasing smile on his lips. Potter was easy to wind up under the most serene conditions. Catching him with his ire up only made Draco’s life all that much easier.

“Why, Potter, don’t you know? I’m one of the good guys now.”

Harry crossed his arms and stared down his nose at Draco.

“So they say.”

Draco feigned surprise. “You don’t believe them?”

Harry let his arms fall to the side and walked over to Draco, stopping so close to him that Draco had to crane his neck to see his angry face.

“It’s always been hard to tell with you, hasn’t it?”

Draco laughed and patted the bench next to him. “Join me, Potter.”

Harry looked over his shoulder, back towards the party.

Draco sniffed in annoyance. “Don’t worry about him, Potter. He’s a shop keeper. I’m sure he’s used to waiting on others.”

Harry turned back and glared down at Draco before sitting down.

“You might be a good guy now, but you’re not any nicer, that’s for sure.”

Harry leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and fingers laced together. His brow was tightly knit, and up close, Draco could see that permanent lines had already been forged on Potter’s young forehead. He had deep circles under his eyes and his jaw was tight with tension.

“Potter, you’re a mess. You should have Mr. Quality Quidditch take you to the bathroom and give you a quality blow job to release some of that stress. You look like you’re about to explode.”

Harry stood from the bench in an angry, jerky move.

“Sod off, Malfoy. Prick.” He turned and began to walk away.

Draco leapt from the bench and grabbed Harry by the arm, yanking him around so that they were face to face. Without thinking, he started to speak.

“Or you could come home with me, right now. Merlin knows we have several years of unresolved tension we could work on.”

Draco never knew who kissed whom, but suddenly he and Potter were mashing their lips together in the most brutal, beautiful kiss Draco had ever experienced. When it was over, he was breathless, staring into Potter’s eyes.

“Let’s go, Harry,” he managed to puff out.

Harry took a step back, never letting his eyes drop from Draco’s.

“I can’t, Draco. I’m here with someone and everyone is watching.”

Anger rose in Draco like steam in a kettle. Just as he could always get to Potter, Potter always managed to get to him.

“Do you really think that by continuing to play the nice boy you’ll make them keep loving you, Potter? Hmm? Because now that they have what they want from you, now that you’ve done your job, do you really think they’ll give a piss about you? You broke their hearts, Potter. They’re only watching so they know when to start kicking, after you fall.”

Harry’s fists clenched at his sides. “Shut up, Malfoy.”

“Sure, you’ve got your diehards like Granger, but there are a lot like your good friend Weasley, aren’t there? People who would probably rather have Voldemort back than have to feel indebted to a queer.”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry said again, through gritted teeth.

“If you have any sense, Potter, you’ll stop being their boy and be your own man. Do what you want for a change.” He pressed himself against Harry. “And right now, you want to come with me.”

Their lips were dangerously close and, once again, Harry’s eyes locked on Draco’s own.

But then, Harry lowered his eyes and stepped back.

“Fuck off, Malfoy. I’m here with someone and I am not going to start being a dick just because I’m pissed off at a few people. If you want to go, go, but I’m going back inside.”

Harry turned on his heel and marched away.

Draco stood, stupefied for a moment before he unleashed.

“You’ll see, Potter! You and your stupid, Gryffindor optimism! I may not be a nice guy, but at least they taught us a thing or two about human nature down in the dungeons!” Draco yelled at Harry’s back.

Harry whipped around as if he was going to speak, but he didn’t. Instead, he flipped Draco off and went back to the party, leaving Draco all alone in the garden.