Chapter 16
In Which We Learn How Privacy, Teenage Hormones and Magic
Can be a Volatile Combination

Harry slammed the door behind him, breathless and panting from more than just the run. Draco was keeping himself on the edge, and Harry was just about there with him. He was greeted by the sight of Draco lying backwards on the bed, head hanging down over the edge, wearing nothing but the very outermost robe of a school uniform. Harry's school uniform -- the red and gold of the embroidery was unmistakable against the black robe, green comforter and pale flesh.

Draco's knees were planted firmly, legs splayed, hand wrapped around his length. His eyes were open, challenging, mouth pink and wet and welcoming above them in his upside-down face. "Caught the snitch?" he asked, voice full of lust and sarcasm in equal measure.

"Had good motivation," said Harry, already stripping out of his Quidditch robes. "Need a hand?"

"How about your ass?" said Draco, one hand fishing the little blue vial of oil out of the folds of the robe while the other continued to stroke. His cock shone in the candlelight, already slick and ready.

Harry moaned and snatched the bottle, hastily opening himself with two slippery fingers. It hurt a little, but he just couldn't wait through all the careful preparations Draco had so kindly performed last night. When he was as ready as he had patience for, he climbed up Draco's body, deliberately sliding his cock over cheek and collarbone, down chest and stomach and through the puddle of oil and precome until he was straddling Draco, facing the headboard.

"Take it if you want it," he growled, bending and spreading enough to expose himself to whatever Draco had to offer. Draco's thighs tensed, and Harry could feel his gaze like a weight on his skin. Long fingers slipped into him, two of them stretching and testing, then pulling out quickly only to be replaced by the blunt head of Draco's cock teasing his ass.

"Mine," said Draco, gripping Harry's hips and arching his own, pulling down and thrusting up to meet in the middle with a jolt. Harry's breath caught somewhere between a scream and a moan, and his hands grasped his own shaft, spreading the oil thinly over his length. Sometime in the night he'd metamorphosed from the nervous virgin into this wanton creature, and he rode Draco's thrusts with passionate intent.

"Yours," said Harry, and Draco thrust up harder, hitting that place inside him and making him cry out again, this time louder, wordless. He was so close, they both were, pulled apart by this shining thing they shared. Everything was so new, felt so right, and then Harry's thumb slid over the head of his cock, nail catching at the slit and sending a bright flash of pain that set them both off.

Draco's nails dug into his hips as they came, filling Harry with heat in more than one way. He didn't know if this side effect would last, if they'd overflow with warmth and power every time they made love for the rest of their lives, but it made his vision sparkle and nerves tingle. He felt Draco moving beneath him, sitting up and curling around him, and Harry relaxed back into those familiar, loving arms.

When he finally opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was his own seed soaking into the cloth of his last clean school robe. "Draco?"

"Mmm?" came the muffled reply; Draco's face was buried in Harry's back.

"How'd you get my robe?" he asked, letting his weight pull him further into Draco's embrace. They were both still hard, another side effect of the magic, and he felt oddly complete like this, with Draco buried in his flesh. He could feel the gentle pulse, his heartbeat and Draco's forever in synch. A strange comfort to know that there was one person that couldn't just up and die on him.

"Look around," said Draco, voice full of humour.

Harry looked. There was a second wardrobe set beside the first. The dresser was wider, too, which seemed impossible until he realized the entire room was a little bigger. Draco carefully manoeuvred them around so he was propped against the pillows, chin on Harry's shoulder as Harry took it all in. There was a second chair beside the spindly table, and actual walking space between the chairs and the bed. A small door led off to the left where no door had been before, and the entire room had small touches of red and gold throughout the previously monochrome decor.

"Evidently," said Draco softly, deliberately ghosting his lips over Harry's ear as he spoke, "There's some old rule from back when wizarding families used to have arranged marriages at the earliest possible age."

"But we're not..." Harry began, and Draco nipped his ear sharply to quiet him.

"Dumbledore has decided that our bonding counts as marriage, and converted my room into our private suite. There's even a bathroom now." Harry squirmed around, amidst much gasping and giggling, until he could meet Draco's eyes. "You don't have to sneak out tonight," said Draco roughly, and then he kissed away any further questions Harry might have had.

Harry found himself flat on his back in a strange echo of Draco's earlier position, head lolling over the foot of the bed, legs wrapped firmly around Draco's hips. "Plenty of time for homework later, then," said Harry, eyes wide, and Draco grinned ferally.

"Plenty," he growled, falling upon Harry like some ravening beast, hips and hands and mouth all moving in a strange rhythm of renewed desire. Harry went limp and submissive beneath the onslaught and let thinking melt to feeling as Draco had his way.

---

The rest of the week went by in a blur of sex, homework, Quidditch practice, and more sex. The students took the change in Harry and Draco's relationship in stride, and their odd habit of eating at whichever House table struck their fancy started an interesting trend of other students doing the same -- Hufflepuffs at the Gryffindor table, Ravenclaws with the Hufflepuffs, and even Gryffindors eating with the Slytherins. It was as though their bonding had broken down some kind of invisible barrier, and suddenly the Slytherins were a part of the school, just another House instead of the future victims they'd been in the eyes of so many students.

Friday night at dinner, after a gruelling Potions lesson in which Snape did everything he could to get Harry in trouble (with no success at all, much to everyone's surprise), they sat at the Ravenclaw table with Hermione, Ginny and two of the other Advanced Potions students, Michael Corner and Lisa Turpin. Whispered comments were still floating about, but much less maliciously than before. The topic of choice for today seemed to be tomorrow's Quidditch match, pitting Draco and Harry against one another for one last time.

"D'you think you'll be able to?" asked Ginny, curious. "I mean, with the bonding and all, won't it be hard to really compete?"

Draco and Harry exchanged glances, then shrugged. It was Draco, surprisingly, who answered her. "We're not really sure, but we think that, if anything, it'll make the match more exciting."

"The bond seems to have improved both our skills pretty much equally," added Harry. Even without the extra motivation that Draco had provided on Monday, both Seekers had caught the snitch quickly and repeatedly during every practice since.

"It's like it makes me more aware of my surroundings," said Draco softly. "And I seem to have gotten quite a bit of Harry's love of flying."

Harry turned a bit pink at that, which got confused glances from the Ravenclaws, and an amused snort from Hermione. "You love it, too," said Harry, giving him a playful shove with his shoulder. They were sitting close, barely an inch of air between their bodies, chairs shoved right up next to one another. "You always did, I could see it when you flew, even that first time."

"Speaking of first times," said Hermione, her voice tinged with amusement, "I found out a bit more about that potion of yours, Harry."

"Really?" said Harry and Draco in chorus, which provoked amused sniggering from everyone in earshot.

"It seems it was actually invented to ease the pain of arranged marriages. The bride and groom were both given the potion three days before the wedding. If love bloomed, then they'd feel it when they kissed at the wedding, and be bound during the, er, wedding night." She smirked and added, "Though you two seem to have skipped straight to that last bit."

"Hermione!" Harry was only feigning shock, but it got another round of snickering from Michael and Lisa.

"You're the one who keeps the Slytherins awake at night, not me," she teased. "Never would've taken you for a bottom, Harry. You were always more of a doer."

Harry blushed very pink, and Draco contrived to look smug. Michael's eyes had gone rather wide, and Lisa looked a little too interested in this new detail. "How d'you know Harry's the bottom?" she asked curiously.

One of the Slytherins leaned back from his table and moaned, "Oh, Draco, deeper, harder, oh god." Lisa had the grace to blush, while Harry resisted the urge to bang his head on the table.

"Speaking of which," he said crossly, "I thought you were going to find me a privacy spell."

"I've got rather more important things than that, and besides, there's rather a large betting pool going as to when Draco will finally give it up. I'd hate to disappoint," said Hermione, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"You're a cruel, cruel woman," said Draco, smirking. "But as it allows the entire student population to properly appreciate my sexual prowess, I'll forgive you."

"Bite me," said Harry.

"Later," Draco replied with a leer.

---

That night, they lay in bed, curled together in a loose tangle of sweat-drenched limbs. "Draco?" Harry asked, nuzzling at Draco's chest.

"Yeah?" Draco's fingers were dancing idle steps across Harry's flank, leaving a shiver of desire in their wake. They'd made love twice already, but tonight it seemed like more than just the newfound love of two hormonal teenagers.

"We'll be all right, no matter who wins tomorrow, right?" He nipped at Draco's collarbone, tasting salt and familiarity.

Draco pulled him even closer, wrapping him up in arms and the warm pulse of affection. "Of course we will. Especially when I win." He kissed away any objections Harry might make, long and sweet and slow, as though nothing mattered but the moment.

"Mmm." Hands began to move, hips rocking together in a strange, leisurely rhythm. He slid along Draco's damp skin, cock fitting into the curve of Draco's hip like it belonged, Draco's beside it like an echo of his own desire. He thought about making love again, but he didn't want to move, just stay there on his side and let things build at their own unhurried pace, slickness accumulating with heat until he felt the warning shiver low on his spine.

"M'gonna," he mumbled between kisses, feeling the tingling spread slowly out.

"Good," whispered Draco, fingers burying themselves in his hair, tongue tracing along his wide-open lips like he was seeking some secret. Their legs were locked together now, holding them close, and Harry's hands curled into bruises on Draco's hips. The explosion this time was in slow motion, white-gold sparks from his centre outward that cascaded back in as they hit the edge, ripples of pleasure that didn't want to end.

A part of him felt Draco's breath catch, his own release half a heartbeat after Harry's, flooding the space between their bodies with warm, wet heat. They lay there, spent and drifting, for long, measured minutes, breathing one another's breath until they were lightheaded and sleepy. Harry licked at Draco's lips, then, down his jaw to lap at the slowing pulse in Draco's neck. He left a perfect ring of teeth around it, not so much a claim as a marker, a statement. This is life, this is me. This is ours.

He travelled down further, slipping in their come as he mouthed his way to Draco's nipples, giving each one its due before moving on to his true goal. Draco's stomach was covered in their mixed seed, and Harry cleaned it all with small, delicate cat-licks, delving in his navel and making him giggle and squirm. He sucked it out of the short, wiry hairs, cleaned the softening shaft until it was hard and shiny and wet with his spit, then took it all in and started again.

The magic was energizing, giving them an endurance even teenage hormones couldn't match, and the candles in their snake holders had burned down low when they were finally blown out. And even then, it was a while before they slept, low voices whispering words of love, promises they might not live long enough to keep floating desperately in the darkness.