After All TBGC

Updated:  September 15, 2005

Summer 3: Part C
July 30, 1993

Harry lay in bed looking at his watch anxiously while trying his best not to move or make any noise.  It was a longstanding tradition of his to stay awake until midnight on his birthday.  If McGonagall knew, she’d have a fit.  If Snape knew, he’d sneer and make some kind of degrading comment.  If Draco knew… Harry felt the bed shift for the fourth time in as many minutes.  Oh, it would be just like Malfoy to ruin Harry’s birthday in his sleep.

Resisting the urge to elbow the other boy, he stayed still, quietly staring at the clock next to his bed, which would soon tick to ‘Happy Birthday.’  The bed shifted again and Harry held his breath, listening for any indication that Malfoy was awake.  After a few seconds of silence, he was surprised by a muffled grunting noise.

Was Draco dreaming?  Harry turned half around and looked at the boy next to him.  Draco was lying on his side and, now that Harry was listening, his breathing was erratic, if quiet.

“Malfoy?” It was scarcely a hiss, but the subtle movements that Harry hadn’t even noticed, stopped.

“Potter?!”

Harry sat fully up, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing Potter.   Why aren’t you asleep?”

Harry felt the bed move again and pulled his wand out from under his pillow, muttering ‘lumos’.  Even in the very dim glow of his wand light, Draco’s cheeks looked distinctly pink and his hair was sticking out on one side.  Harry took it all in - the disarrayed hair, the flushed appearance, the shaky breathing, and the twitchy half motions that had barely moved the bed before he’d caught him.

“You…” It was only a moment before Harry pieced it all together, but once he had, he very much wished he hadn’t.  “In the bed?”

“You were meant to be sleeping.” The pink had fled, leaving Draco’s cheeks distinctly pale.

“That doesn’t matter!” Harry pulled his wand up between them so that he could see better. “This is my bed!  I have to sleep in it.  You don’t go wanking in a bed that someone else has to sleep in.” Never mind that he had done it several times.  At least he had made sure he was alone in the room.

Draco smirked, “Where was I supposed to do it, the shower?”

Even after a week, Draco refused to let the shower incident drop, especially when he’d realised how much it bothered Harry.  Harry, however, despite his resolve not to rise to it, found himself fuming every time the blonde Slytherin mentioned it. “I don’t care where you ‘do it’ so long as it isn’t in my bed.”

There was silence for a moment and, considering the amount of noise they were making and the fact that Snape slept like a nervous centaur, Harry expected the Potion’s Master to come storming in any moment.  He didn’t.   Instead, they continued to stare obstinately at each other until Draco finally broke the silence. “Bet you can’t.”

It was all Harry could do not to gawk like a fish.  Couldn’t do it?  Was Malfoy insane?   Was it even physically possible for a twelve-year-old boy not to be able to?  “What…” But Harry couldn’t get past that.

Draco’s trademark smirk appeared again, but it was quickly wiped away by a mischievous grin that Harry associated with the blonde getting an idea, especially ones that Harry wasn’t likely to approve of.  “Well, can you?”

“Of course I can!” The idea that someone, let alone Draco, thought he was incapable of something as rudimentary as wanking was… insulting.

“Then do it.” The grin hadn’t even wavered.

And before Harry really had time to think about what he was saying, the word, “Fine!” was out of his mouth and hanging between them.  Outwardly, Harry tried to maintain his stubborn anger; inwardly, all he seemed to be able to do was think ‘damn’, over and over again.

Harry watched Draco intently as the silence dragged on.  It was quite clear to Draco from the shocked expression, that the Gryffindor Golden Boy had not meant to say that and, from the ever-broadening grin on Draco’s face, it was clear to Harry that he was not getting out of it.

With a frustrated sigh, Harry crossed his arms over his chest, “I’ll…” he thought desperately, wracking his brain for anything that might get him out of it. “I’ll do it if you do.”

Draco shrugged, “All right, you’re on.”

Oh, bloody hell.  Harry couldn’t take his eyes off Draco as the other boy wriggled out of his pyjama bottoms, saying something about ‘doing it proper’ and then stretched out on top of the quilt, one arm behind his head, the other reaching out to touch himself.

Harry stared.   Draco Malfoy was lying naked on his bed, masturbating while he watched, and he was getting hard.  He was so caught up in the realisation that this, of all things, was exciting him the way that girls seemed to excite the other boys, which he didn’t notice Draco was staring at him.

“You might want to take it out, Potter, unless you know something I don’t, which I doubt.”

Starting at the interruption of his thoughts, he quickly lay down and pushed his pants past his hips, leaving them bunched around his thighs while he tried to feel anything other than awkward and embarrassed.  Draco, however, did not seem to be having the same problem; he wasn’t even trying to conceal the breathy noises he was making practically in Harry’s ear.  “Let’s see who can get off first.”

That just about did it for Harry.  He was so achingly hard that if he didn’t touch himself, he wouldn’t be able to stand the next morning.  Reaching down, he started to stroke his penis, waiting for Draco to pop out at any moment with an insult or to reveal his sinister plan to get Harry into trouble yet again. 

When the only reaction from the blonde was that his breathing became deeper and the slapping sounds of flesh against flesh became quicker, Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on his own pleasure.   Within minutes, he felt the building pressure in his balls.  Draco let out a strangled moan and Harry felt him jerk next to him on the bed.

He opened his eyes and saw Draco, eyes closed tightly and cum spilling over his fingers.   Before he knew what was happening, his orgasm hit him, hard and fast.  He bit his tongue to keep from making the same, undignified noises that Malfoy was making, but couldn’t suppress the quiet whimper that escaped from between his lips.

When he’d finally come down, he saw Draco smirking at him, “I win, Potter.  Get used to it.”  The blond turned away and pulled his pyjama bottoms on before curling up under the covers.

Harry lay panting for several minutes before he could force himself to move.  Wiping his hand on his pants, he pulled them up and turned over as well, staring at the little clock next to his bed that read ‘Happy Birthday’ in bright rainbow colours.  Not bothering to suppress a smile, Harry snuggled into his pillow.

Happy birthday, indeed.

____________________

The next morning, Harry had woken sluggishly to a small stack of presents at the end of his bed.  Even after spending the last few years at Hogwarts, he just couldn’t seem to get used to the idea that when he woke on the morning of his birthday, there would be presents to unwrap and a cake to eat.  It was never a very big cake mind, but the house elves took great delight in baking a very small, chocolate fudge cake and sticking a candle in it that was charmed to sing Happy Birthday in the most obnoxious, shrill tone he had ever heard.  Of course, after the first year, he’d insisted on taking it in the kitchen, away from Snape, who would probably have strangled one of the poor elves for even daring to come near his dungeon abode with something as cheerful as cake again.

Sitting up, it took him a moment to remember the night before and when he did, he found that he wanted to bury his head in the covers.  He couldn’t imagine the kind of ridicule that Draco was going to throw at him.  Not that Harry thought there was anything in particular to ridicule (they’d both done it), but if there was, Draco Malfoy would find it.

Getting out of bed, Harry saw that Draco had already gotten up.  Half afraid that he’d accidentally slept in again, he grabbed his clothes and ran through the living room into the shower.  He stopped long enough to catch Snape glaring at him from his desk and cringed.  Damn, he must have.

Ducking into the bathroom, he turned on the water and jumped in before it was even warm, lathering and rinsing as quickly as possible.  It wouldn’t do to put Snape in a bad mood on his birthday.  Well, a worse mood than usual, anyway.

Every year, he had made it his personal goal not to get into trouble on his birthday, and every year so far he had succeeded.  Of course, Draco Malfoy had never before been present on his birthday and Harry hoped this wasn’t an ill omen.

Knowing that Snape got irritated when he made a mess at the table, he ate very slowly and carefully, and waited as patiently as any twelve-year-old could, for Draco to finish his.  He even managed to keep from tapping his toes against the floor.  As soon as the blond Slytherin had put his fork down, however, Harry couldn’t wait any longer.  “May I be excused?”

Snape scowled again, but nodded and Harry bit back his grin as he left the table to put on his shoes.   Not even the fact that Draco was following close behind was enough to dampen his enthusiasm.  It wasn’t until they were several halls down from Snape’s quarters that Draco finally spoke.

“Where are we going, anyway?”

Harry smiled, “I am going to the kitchens and then I’m going up to the Owlery to see Hedwig.  I’ve no idea where you’re going.”

Draco ignored the last comment, “Are you still hungry or something, and why would you want to go see your owl?  Do you have a letter for her to deliver?”

“No, but she’s owed a treat for making sure my presents got to me; and I’m not hungry, but the house elves like to give me cake on my birthday.”

Draco’s steps faltered, “You take your birthday cake in the kitchen, with the house elves.”

Harry shrugged, “The first year they sent it to dungeons with dinner.  The candle’s charmed to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ until you blow it out and the vein on Snape’s temple was so large I thought it was going to pop.  So, now I go to the kitchens for it.  Dumbledore and Hagrid will be there though, so it’s not as if I’m alone or anything.”

Draco looked repulsed by the idea, but said nothing else as he followed Harry up the stairs and through the familiar fruit portrait.  Harry had only a moment to register that both Dumbledore and Hagrid were already there before he found himself crushed in a hug by the groundskeeper.

“Happy Birthday, ‘Arry!”

Harry managed to wheeze out, “Hello, Hagrid.”

Draco watched from a safe distance as Harry managed to pull himself away and then smiled at Dumbledore, completely ignoring the shoddy state of his now wrinkled robes.  “Good morning, Professor Dumbledore.”

“And a good morning it is, Harry.  Happy birthday.”   The dark haired boy grinned broadly and went to sit at a stool pushed up against the bench.  “Have you opened your presents, yet?”

“No, I woke up late.”

With great trepidation, Draco sat down next to Harry, eyeing the happily twittering house elves suspiciously.  Hogwart’s house elves always gave him the creeps, they were too… happy.  The elves at Malfoy Manor were never this happy.  They were respectful, often frightened, and went about their business as quietly as possible, the way any self-respecting house elf should.

“Is Mr. Malfoy wanting something to drink?”

Draco nearly fell out of his seat in surprise.  No matter how many times they had done it, he never could get used to the way they always managed to sneak up on him.  “A glass of milk, I suppose.”

While he waited for his milk, he watched Harry out of the corner of his eye.  Harry was very much like a house elf.  No matter how bad things got, he always bounced back up and he could always find something to smile about.  Like now, he was taking his birthday cake in the kitchens with only two adults and the house elves, yet he was smiling like it was the most fun he’d had all summer.  Which it probably was.

Draco sipped at the milk that had appeared in front of him.  Harry was peculiar, that’s all there was to it.  Draco was so caught up in that thought, that he was caught off guard by a hand on his shoulder.  Looking up, he found himself staring into the wrinkled, concerned face of Headmaster Dumbledore.

Oh, bugger.  There were only two rules that his father had been adamant about; 1. Play nice - Potter would trust him due to association if nothing else, as long as Draco didn’t bugger it up further; 2. Do not, under any circumstances, catch the Headmaster’s attention.  Albus Dumbledore, while a meddling old fool, was not the sort of man that let things slip past him and Lucius wanted to make certain that he did not have his eyes on the Malfoy heir.

“Good morning, young Mr. Malfoy.  I don’t believe that I have ever had the occasion to speak with you during the summer.  Are you enjoying your time here?”

Draco tried not to sneer, but his lip kept twitching upward.  “Of course.  Why wouldn’t I be?”  He started drinking his milk again, hoping that would deter the man from asking any more questions.

“You seemed distracted.   How is your father?”

He very much did not like where this line of questioning was going.  Looking over at Potter, Draco was distressed to see him deeply engaged in conversation with the groundskeeper.  Really, how interesting could it possibly be?  What could that… that… giant have to say that was more important than keeping his guest from having to converse with the Headmaster of their school?

Luckily, just as Draco was going to have to grudgingly say something (probably that he thought his father was doing well, because it seemed a safe enough answer) the house elves appeared with the cake.   He sighed in relief, even when the cake started to sing in what Draco quickly assessed as the most annoying voice he had ever heard.

As the song ended and the cake was cut and divided, Draco watched Harry carefully for any sign of discontent.  Nothing.  He’d never seen him that happy, never seen his eyes sparkle like that.  It was as if there was an entirely different side to Harry that he’d never seen before, but that couldn’t be right.  Last year Draco had spent every class they had together watching Harry.  He’d watched him eat, he’d watched him study, he’d watched him talk with his friends and there had never been a hint of this.