#mattharry

ATTENTION: The Gryffindor Quidditch locker room is closed. Please use the Slytherin locker room until further notice. We apologize for any inconvenience.

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How smug Potter is, Mattheo thought bitterly to himself as he scrubbed the rest of his shampoo out of his hair. He gets to prance his naked arse around our locker room right now.

Mattheo shook his head under the heavy spray of the locker room shower-head, as if to clear the lingering thoughts of Harry Potter’s naked arse from his mind.

A couple of second years had stunk up the Gryffindor locker room with their game of gobstones, forcing the teachers to have to consolidate both Slytherin and Gryffindor players to the Slytherin locker room.

As Mattheo turned off his shower, only one other remained running. Harry Potter, a few shower stalls over. With Mattheo’s own shower off, the room had become somewhat quieter, making it easier for him to hear that Potter had begun humming. At some point, this soon turned into quiet singing that echoed throughout the room.

Hey, little train, wait for me

I once was blind, but now I see

But have you left a seat for me?

Is that such a stretch of the imagination?

Annoyed, Mattheo yanked on his jeans, trying to force himself to think of anything other than how surprisingly beautiful and haunting Potter’s voice was.

Hey, little train, wait for me

Was held in chains, but now I’m free

I’m hangin’ in there, don’t you see?

In this process of elimination

Mattheo’s skin prickled.

Was held in chains, but now I’m free.

Not only was that a spot-on metaphor for Potter being freed from his whole “chosen martyr” thing, but in a way, it was also a good metaphor for him gaining his own freedom from his pureblood family and their ideology after his wretched mother and bastard father’s well-deserved deaths.

Hey little train, we’re all jumping on

The train that goes to the Kingdom

We’re happy, Ma, we’re havin’ fun

Beyond my wildest expectations

Mattheo’s skin prickled again, and he grew even more uncomfortable. Was the locker room always this hot? Why was his shirt sticking to his skin so much more than usual?

“Be quiet, Potter!” Mattheo finally snapped, his voice echoing in the otherwise empty locker room.

There was a startled yelp.

“Petrificus Totalis!”

Mattheo fell like a rock.

Potter stumbled out of his shower stall and was fumbling with his glasses, which had fogged up from the steam of the showers and were sitting crooked from him hastily shoving them on. He hovered uncertainly over Mattheo’s prone form, his wand practically sliding out of his grasp from how wet his naked body was from the shower Mattheo had oh-so-kindly interrupted.

Oh, Merlin— Potter’s naked, Mattheo mentally panicked. And he’s hung.

A niggling bit of his brain wondered what it would taste like.

“Stop staring at my dick, Riddle,” Potter snapped as he released the spell’s hold on Mattheo, his cheeks burning bright red under those stupidly oversized glasses. “Why are you still in here?”

For the first time, Mattheo actually bothered to look at Potter. His eyes traced the famous scar that marred the Chosen One’s forehead, then dipped down to his angular jaw, then to Potter’s well-toned torso and arms, sparing another darting glance at his cock before his eyes flicked back up to meet Potter’s. Green, like his mother’s supposedly were. Although, to Mattheo, they more closely resembled the color of the Killing Curse.

“Can I blow you?” Mattheo blurted.

They both stared at each other in awkward silence for a moment.

“I— uh, sure.” Potter looked baffled and beyond confused, but his dick visibly twitched in interest.

They continued staring at each other silently for a moment longer before Mattheo scrambled across the floor to wrap his hand around Potter’s cock.

Bewildered by this turn of events, Potter leaned back against the row of lockers and hesitantly combed his fingers through Mattheo’s dark curls, marveling at how soft his hair was.

Mattheo trepidatiously leaned forward, his tongue darting out to lap at the pre-cum beading at the tip.

Potter gently guided Mattheo’s mouth onto his cock. “That’s it. Go slow.”

Mattheo was timid and hesitant until he got the hang of things.

Harry let out a yelp as Mattheo, without warning, swallowed him down to the root. The boy seemed to have no gag reflex whatsoever.

“Shit— why didn’t we do this sooner?” Harry babbled, petting the other boy’s curls in a daze. “So fuckin’ pretty. Fuck.”

He reached down after an agonizing minute of pure pleasure to tug Mattheo up to his feet. “Please— please, can I fuck you?”

“What?”

Harry hooked his fingers around Mattheo’s belt buckle, tugging the other man forward. “I asked if I could fuck you.”

“I’m the son of the Dark Lord, Potter,” Mattheo spluttered, stumbling forward a step until he was standing between Harry’s lazily spread thighs, hyperaware of Harry’s current hand placement. “My father tried to kill you a billion times. Aren’t you afraid of me?”

“You just had my dick in your mouth like three minutes ago, so not really, no.”

Mattheo scoffed, although his cheeks had significantly reddened. “You’re an idiot.”

“Takes one to know one, Riddle.”

“Don’t call me that, Potter.”

“When you stop calling me Potter, I’ll stop calling you Riddle, Riddle.” Harry grinned cheekily, giving Mattheo’s ass a light tap as his hands moved to grip the boy’s hips.

Mattheo let out an honest-to-Merlin whimper and clumsily smashed his mouth against Potter’s.

Harry responded in kind, kissing him back desperately, as though trying to consume him. His fingers frantically unbuttoned Mattheo’s uniform shirt, shoving it off his broad shoulders.

Freshly revealed by the shirt hitting the floor was the faded-gray Dark Mark. Mattheo squirmed slightly when Potter’s eyes scrutinized it. And when Harry lightly trailed his fingers over the faint twisting snake, Mattheo sucked his teeth as a mild shudder wracked through his body.

“It’s a little sensitive,” he said shortly by way of explanation.

Potter just leaned in to press a kiss to Mattheo’s wrist and moved on, unbuckling his belt. Mattheo’s cheeks turned an even darker shade of red.

“Where’re we going to—?”

“My shower’s still running,” Potter offered. Sure enough, Mattheo could hear the pitter-patter of water across the room. He hadn’t noticed it earlier.

Mattheo impatiently smacked Harry’s hands away when he reached for his boxers, wriggling out of them himself and all but dragging Harry across the room to the shower stall.

Harry offered Mattheo his hand to help him into the shower, casting an anti-slip spell on the both of them. The water—charmed to never run cold—washed over Mattheo delightfully. He combed his sopping wet curls out of his face the second they began to obscure his vision, reveling in the delicious sight of rivulets of water running over Potter’s angular body.

“How do you want me to do this?” Potter asked gently, grabbing Mattheo’s hip and pulling their bodies together. Mattheo gasped as his cock nudged Harry’s, sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine.

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “I’ve never done this before. With a man, I mean.”

“So I’m your gay awakening?” Harry teased lightheartedly.

Mattheo scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yes, yes, you’re the incredibly sexy Bi Who Lived, we get it.”

Harry laughed, a deep sound that made Mattheo’s toes tingle. Harry leaned forward to kiss Mattheo quickly, before gently manhandling him to face the wall with his hands legs spread, hands flat against the Slytherin-green tiles.

Potter then cast a wordless spell, sending an unfamiliar and not all that pleasant sensation through Mattheo’s arse.

“Lube,” Harry explained shortly, hands more occupied with running over Mattheo’s sides and back, feeling up the muscle. “You ready?”

“Go slow,” Mattheo mumbled, resting his cheek against the tiled wall for support. Did Potter really have to choose such a vulnerable position?

Something large and blunt rested against his ass; the head of Harry’s cock. A low noise escaped Mattheo’s throat as Potter began slowly pressing in.

It didn’t hurt, the way it would’ve if they’d used the primitive Muggle ways of lubrication, but it also didn’t feel…good. Meh, at best. Hardly worth sacrificing his name and pureblood status over. Even as Potter sunk himself in all the way to the root, it just didn’t feel all that special, to be honest. Mattheo was a little surprised. Wasn’t hedonism supposed to be lasciviously pleasurable?

But then Potter started to move.

Mattheo’s eyes rolled back in his head.

With every thrust, Potter hit something deep inside of him that had his toes curling, body singing, mouth babbling for more more more.

“That’s it,” Harry grunted, his breathing getting heavier as he picked up the pace, wrapping a hand around Mattheo’s cock to jerk him off in time to his thrusts. “Good boy, fuck—”

“Potter— Potter—” Mattheo keened, fingers scrabbling against the green tiled wall of the shower stall. He’d never felt anything so good in his entire life.

“Shit— so tight— so good—”

Mattheo was in ecstasy, on a whole new plane. Every relentless thrust, every kiss, every touch made him wonder, Why did I ever waste my time with women?

“Potter—” he babbled, “I’m gonna cum— Potter—”

“Nuh uh.” Harry yanked his hand off of Mattheo’s dick. “That’s not my name. Say my name.”

“Harry!”

Harry wrapped his right hand back around Mattheo’s dick, resuming his prior pace, and wrapped the other hand around Mattheo’s left arm, purposely pressing his fingers into the ugly Dark Mark.

Mattheo shrieked at the sudden onslaught of sensations. The relentless pleasure of sex paired with the stinging-burning-aching of his Dark Mark made him cum instantly, splattering the tiles with the evidence of his pleasure. Harry followed seconds later, draping his body over Mattheo’s back to catch his breath.

“You okay, Matty?”

Matty.

“Y-yeah,” Mattheo stuttered. Mentally, he was panicking. What if someone found out he had not only sucked a man off, but had let said man fuck him? He’d be ruined.

“You sure, hon?”

Oh, Merlin— hon.

Mattheo breathed in deeply. He could smell the lavender soap Harry had used. It was… calming.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Okay,” Harry echoed skeptically, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Mattheo’s neck as he pulled out. “Fancy a private tour of the Gryffindor dorms? No funny business, I just— would like to— uh… to-”

“Yes,” Mattheo interrupted. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Harry hummed and picked up his forgotten bar of soap, lathering his hands up before reaching out to wash Mattheo’s body.

“You could just use Scourgify, you know,” Mattheo pointed out.

“I could, yeah.” Harry reached for his favorite bottle of shampoo and began working the soap into Mattheo’s curls.

Instead of questioning his actions further, Mattheo just relaxed against the wall and allowed himself to be pampered. This was nice. This was okay. This was not a sin.

And just for a single tender moment, for the first time since the war ended, Mattheo truly felt free.

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