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Harry's first drink:

The Ministry served champagne at their victory party. At least, Harry thought it was champagne. He hadn't actually had champagne before, but the bubbly liquid in the tall glasses carried around by house-elves sure looked like it.

Harry did not want to attend this party. He had done his part. Voldemort was dead. Harry just wanted to go on with his life, or whatever was left of it. But he'd been pressured by just about the whole Order of the Phoenix that he simply had to attend since he was the guest of honor, and eventually Harry gave in, just to shut everyone up.

Now he was stuck surrounded by people who wanted to praise him, who wanted to pay their respects to an eighteen-year-old because he had killed someone.

It just didn't sit well with Harry.

And since casting Unforgivable Curses left and right was out of the question, Harry decided to do the next best thing. He was going to get drunk for the first time in his life. Merlin knew he'd deserved it.

"Thanks," Harry muttered as he reached for a glass of champagne. The house-elf gave a little bow and hurried to offer alcohol to one of the other guests. Casting a quick glance around the Ministry's atrium, Harry made sure Hermione hadn't arrived yet. The last thing he needed right now was a lecture on the injustice of using poor house-elves to serve guests their drinks.

When Harry was sure the coast was clear, he raised the glass to his lips and took a sip. It tasted... surprisingly good. Not too strong. Fresh. Sweet. Harry took another sip, swallowed, and let out a small sigh. This would do just fine.

"Harry Potter." A plump witch in a flowery, purple gown offered Harry her hand. "Edith Farnsworth. Pleased to meet you, young man. Hell of a job you did."

Harry shook her hand, and downed the rest of his glass, already on the lookout for one of the house-elves. It was going to be a long night.

"Don't you agree that on this night, when we celebrate our freedom, it's the height of insolence and hypocrisy we are using you and your kind as slaves at a victory party?"

The house-elf stared at Hermione with large, damp eyes as Hermione waited for a response.

"I'll take one," said Harry, and reached for a glass of champagne. "Thanks." Harry didn't think he'd ever seen a more grateful look on a house-elf before, right before the little creature fled to the other side of the atrium.

"Honestly," Hermione said, giving Harry a disapproving look. Harry ignored her and sipped from his glass.

"It's a party." Ron crossed his arms, glaring at his girlfriend. "You want to campaign, you do it another time."

"Now is as good a time as ever, Ron." Hermione crossed her arms as well.

Harry took another sip, and just when he thought he'd be stuck with his two best friends fighting all evening, the last person Harry ever expected to see again walked into the atrium. Harry choked on his mouthful of champagne and suffered through a violent coughing fit.

"Is that -- " Hermione started.

"Bloody hell." Ron's mouth slowly sank open.

"Draco fucking Malfoy," Harry said with as much hatred as he could muster considering his throat was still constricted. "What is he doing here?"

"Well, he did help our side during the war," Hermione said, reasonable as ever. Ron gave a loud snort, and Harry shared the sentiment. His wand hand itched. Hermione seemed to notice, and she gave him a stern look. "He was cleared of all charges, Harry. He's no more guilty than any of us. Do remember that."

There were a lot of things Harry wanted to say to that. Like how Draco sure as hell was a lot more guilty than he was. But throughout the years Harry had learned to pick his battles. Voldemort he could defeat. Hermione, once she had made up her mind about something, he could not.

Watching Draco saunter around the atrium, smiling and shaking hands left and right, Harry drained his glass in one big gulp.

After ten minutes of giving hopeful looks to any house-elf that would meet his gaze across the room, Harry realized his plan to get drunk was in grave danger. It seemed the house-elves were determined not to come near Hermione ever again.

"I'm just going to...er...be back later," Harry said vaguely, and left his friends before they could reply.

He quickly located a house-elf with a full tray. This was a very good thing. Unfortunately, this also brought him a lot closer to Malfoy. That was a very bad thing. As Harry wondered when he'd started thinking in such simple terms, he reached for the tray and tried to snatch up a glass.

"Try" being the operative word, Harry soon learned. Somehow his hand-eye coordination was off, and instead of one glass pressing safely against his palm, the entire tray flipped over and crashed to the floor.

The house-elf let out a distraught shriek, which, if the sound of splintering glass hadn't already, drew all attention in their direction.

"Floppy is so sorry!" The house-elf flailed his arms, as though he was about to drown.

For the first time since facing Voldemort two months earlier, Harry wished he'd lost.

"My kingdom for a Killing Curse," Harry muttered, offering the house-elf an apologetic smile.

"My, my, Potter. That seems a bit drastic, doesn't it?"
Hearing that voice not two feet behind him made Harry want to resurrect Voldemort and beg him to finish the job.

"Malfoy." Harry turned around, and was happy to see a second house-elf with a full tray, obviously there to see to his urgent needs. Harry reached for a glass, slowly this time, and took a generous sip before he was able to meet Malfoy's gaze with his own.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Harry said, aware he was probably stating the obvious.

"Funny." Malfoy's lips tugged up in a smirk. "I thought this party was to celebrate our war-heroes. In case you hadn't heard, Potter, I am one."

Harry's grip on his glass tightened, and for a moment he feared it would crack in his fist. He inhaled a deep breath, and then drained his glass. He knew he had to control his temper.

"Opinions vary on that, Malfoy."

"As do they on the term 'dress robes required', as you're so willingly demonstrating, Potter."

Harry's lips tightened. Who did Malfoy think he was, criticizing his fashion sense, which Harry knew was non-existent. Just because his old dress robes didn't fit any longer, and Harry hadn't been in the mood to venture to Diagon Alley while the headlines involving him were still far too plentiful for his liking, didn't mean Draco bloody Malfoy had any right to question Harry's decision to wear simple, black robes.

Shaking his head, Harry wondered why on earth he was getting upset with Malfoy talking about his clothes of all things. Malfoy had almost been a Death Eater. He'd let Death Eaters inside Hogwarts. And Harry didn't really need a reason to despise him. Draco Malfoy was his arch-nemesis. It came with the territory.

Harry stared at his empty glass. He needed another drink. Without saying anything, Harry turned and went in search of the champagne.

Harry had to admit he was wrong. He'd thought the night couldn't possibly get any worse when Draco Malfoy showed up and dared speak to him. But now he knew better.

"I'm not suggesting we run off and get married," Ginny said, making big doe-eyes at him. "I just want to give us another chance. Remember that night we spent together at the Burrow? Didn't you enjoy that?"

Harry remembered. And he hadn't enjoyed it, exactly. He'd been too panicked to enjoy it, even if Ginny had given him a hand-job resulting in one messy orgasm. That hadn't been the problem. Harry could deal with having orgasms, thank you very much. Plenty of practice there. Ginny had invaded his bedroom, insisting they needed one night together before Harry went off to battle. Harry couldn't disagree with that.

Trouble started when Ginny took off her nightgown and Harry was confronted with two of the most peculiar things he'd ever seen in his life.

Breasts.

He hadn't had a clue what to do with them, even though Ginny had urged him to touch them. He had, and the strange sensation of soft yet tense flesh reminded him of overripe fruit. He'd been half-afraid they would burst open if he squeezed too hard.

But that hadn't been the worst of it. After Ginny had freed Harry's reluctant erection, she'd lowered her knickers, and guided Harry's hand between her legs. What Harry found there had shocked him for life. It was warm and wet, and not in a good way. It was all slippery flesh, as though it was one gaping, possibly fatal wound he was driving his fingers into.

Harry had learned a very important lesson that night. Girls just didn't do it for him. He still wasn't sure what did do it, but he knew for a fact it wasn't Ginny.

If he was completely honest with himself, he had to admit that night was definitely in the top three most traumatizing experiences of his life.

Of course, he hadn't said that much to Ginny, and Ginny told him it had been the best night of her life.

"Look," Harry sighed, and then noticed a house-elf nearby. Thank god for small favors. He confiscated a full glass, and emptied it in three long gulps. "I don't think this is going to work. I'm sorry."

Ginny's bottom lip started trembling and her eyes became unusually bright.

"It's not you," Harry quickly said. "It's me. We can still be friends."

That didn't get him the sympathetic response he'd hoped for. Ginny narrowed her eyes, all dampness gone. For a moment Harry was worried she was going to hex him, but she never went for her wand.

Instead she slapped him right across his cheek.

Harry's glasses flew off, and by the time he'd located them, Ginny was gone. Harry managed to mend the broken lenses with a quick spell, and slipped his glasses back on, his cheek still hot. Harry was sure there was a red hand print on it.

Glancing around, Harry noticed, much to his horror, Malfoy standing a few feet away. Malfoy quirked an eyebrow, as though he were silently asking Harry what that had been all about. Harry narrowed his eyes in return, hoping to convey he wasn't going to talk about it with Malfoy even if his life depended on it.

Malfoy shrugged, and turned his back to Harry. Malfoy had seen the whole thing, Harry thought. Just bloody great. His wand hand itched again, and Harry decided to occupy it with another glass of champagne, lest he curse his arch-nemesis into tiny bits.

Ah well. It could have been worse, Harry told himself as he went in search of another house-elf. It could have been Rita Skeeter.

Harry wasn't sure what was making him feel so uncomfortable. Was it the generous amount of alcohol in his system, or was it the subject of the conversation? Perhaps a little bit of both, Harry thought as he sipped his drink and listened to Neville's monologue.

"And Professor Sprout said I could easily combine my apprenticeship with this exciting new research project in the Magical Botanical Gardens in Plymouth."

There was something very sad about his own life when even Neville Longbottom got himself a useful career that fulfilled his every dream, while he was stuck doing nothing at all, Harry mused.

"What are your plans, Harry?"

Ah, there it was. The question, besides 'how did you do it, Harry', he'd been fearing the most in the last two months.

"I'm just taking a break right now," Harry said automatically. He'd learned that answer usually got people to back down. Whenever he tried to explain he wasn't sure yet what he wanted to do with his life and he needed time to figure it out, people tended to want to analyze him and give him heaps of useless advice.

It was just easier to lie.

"Yeah," Neville said, a grave look on his face. "I understand."

Harry offered him a small smile and tugged on the collar of his robes. It was getting hot. His cheeks were burning and for some reason his eyesight was getting a bit blurry around the edges. Perhaps he'd messed up the spell earlier and his glasses were off. Harry blinked his eyes a few times and stared off into the distance to try to focus until the world came back into sharp view.

Malfoy was standing a short distance away, seemingly unaware Harry was looking at him. He was standing by himself for a change, but that wasn't what was odd about him. It was the look on his face. He looked just as lost as Harry felt at that moment.

Perhaps it was the alcohol thinking for him, Harry thought, and looked back at Neville.

"I'll talk to you later. I'm in urgent need of a loo," Harry said, and Neville nodded in understanding. Harry downed his drink, dumped the empty glass on a nearby tray, and took off, grateful to have a moment for himself.

Of course, that moment didn't last very long.

"Harry!"

Dammit. He'd almost made it to the bathrooms unnoticed. Harry turned around, and the first thing he noticed was the brightness of Tonks' pink hair. It was practically glowing. The second thing he noticed was the huge smile on Lupin's face.

"We have such wonderful news," Tonks said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She held out her hand. Harry stared at it for a moment, unsure what she wanted from him, and then he shook it.

"No, silly." Tonks gave him a playful slap against his chest. "Look at the ring!"

"Oh." Harry narrowed his eyes, and indeed, there was a golden ring around Tonks' ring finger. He still wasn't sure what she wanted of him.

"We're getting married," Lupin said, wrapping his arm around Tonks' waist, pulling her closer.

"Ah. Congratulations." Harry managed a smile, though it wasn't really heartfelt.

"And that's not all," Tonks babbled on, her cheeks now flushed with excitement. "Though this news is for a few select ears only for now." She leaned closer so she could whisper in Harry's ear. "I'm pregnant."

Lupin was grinning. He looked as though impregnating Tonks was the single most important thing he'd ever done in his life. Harry didn't quite understand that, as he thought all the undercover work Lupin had done for the Order was far more impressive than him having sex.

"Wow. That's wonderful," Harry muttered.

"Let's drink to that, shall we?" Lupin grabbed two glasses of champagne, and thrust one into Harry's hands.

"I'll have a pumpkin juice," Tonks told the house-elf, and looked up at Lupin. "No alcohol for me," she said, giggling. Tonks and Lupin shared a peculiar look, as though they knew a secret that could possibly rid the entire world of nuclear waste and bring peace to the Middle-East.

It made Harry's stomach turn.

"Cheers," Lupin said, and raised his glass.

"Cheers." Harry sipped his drink, worrying there might not be any more room in his bladder. If he didn't find a loo soon, he was going to have a very embarrassing accident right there in the middle of the Ministry of Magic.

Harry finally made it to the bathroom, his bladder ready to burst. But as he pushed the door open, he saw Malfoy releasing himself in the urinals.

Normally that sight would have had Harry fleeing, but his bladder protested the idea of having to wait until that stupid bastard was done.

Besides, Harry reasoned as he let the door fall shut behind him, this was the perfect opportunity to gather evidence on a suspicion he'd had for a long time. Because if there was any good in this world, any justice in the universe, Malfoy had to have a tiny penis. Positively minuscule. Practically non-existent. In fact, Harry wouldn't be surprised if Malfoy didn't have a penis at all.

And Harry was about to get the answer as he positioned himself beside Malfoy. As casually as he could, Harry flipped open a few buttons, pulled his limp prick free, and heaved a sigh as the pressure on his bladder decreased. And then he glanced to the side, like men always did when peeing together. Not in the 'I'm checking out your merchandise' way, but in the 'Hey, how are you doing, I see you've got all your bits attached, good for you, mate' way.

It was part of being a bloke.

So Harry did just that. He looked at Malfoy's penis.

It was there! It was actually there. Malfoy had a penis, and it was a nicely shaped one at that. About the same size as his own.

That fucking bastard!

Harry felt his cheeks flush with rage. How dare that Slytherin scum have a perfectly normal penis!

"You all right there, Potter?"

Furious, Harry looked up at Malfoy and wanted to yell at him for having intact male reproductive organs, but something held his tongue in place. Perhaps it was the last five braincells in his head that weren't clouded by alcohol yet. Whatever it was, it shook Harry out of his penis-obsessed moment, and he was grateful for it.

He couldn't believe he was getting upset over such a tiny thing. Well, not so tiny, as he now knew. Harry wanted to bang his head against the wall.

"Fine. Piss off, Malfoy," he murmured, and he didn't watch - no, really! -- as Malfoy tucked that stupid thing away, straightened his robes, and strolled to the sink to wash his hands. Harry stared straight ahead at the tiles, and it wasn't until he heard Malfoy open and close the door that he let his shoulders slump, releasing a deep breath.

What on earth was wrong with him? Perhaps he had drunk too much. Or perhaps he just hadn't drunk enough yet. Whatever it was, Harry knew one thing. He had to stay away from Malfoy before he did something really embarrassing. Like almost shouting at Malfoy because he looked like any male.

Harry didn't stop himself this time. He leaned forward and knocked his forehead against the tiles.

Harry was sure if his friends knew what he was thinking, they'd call him delusional and paranoid. And drunk. But Harry knew he wasn't delusional and paranoid. He wasn't sure if he was drunk yet, since he'd never been drunk before and didn't know what it was supposed to feel like in the first place.

No, things were perfectly clear to Harry from his convenient seat on the edge of that monstrosity of a fountain.

The whole bloody world was against him. And it wasn't just an accident, either. They were doing it to him on purpose.

Just look at the lot of them, Harry thought as he gazed around the atrium. They were all so perfectly content with themselves. They were all having such a good time. Happy lives and all that rot.

And they did it just to hurt him. It was obvious, really. Strange he hadn't noticed that before, Harry mused.

There were Ron and Hermione. Girlfriend and boyfriend. Arguing over something or another, and Harry wasn't sure how they did it, but even arguing together made them look like the happiest couple on earth.

And there was Ginny, frolicking with Dean Thomas. She seemed over Harry right quickly with the way she was smiling at that Gryffindor idiot.

Neville and Seamus seemed tied up in a serious discussion, probably comparing their marvelous future careers.

He wasn't even going to think about Tonks and Lupin. If he did, he might need an emergency trip to the bathroom.

A blur entered Harry's line of sight and settled beside him. Harry looked at it, and slowly the blur took shape. The undeniable shape of Draco Malfoy sitting down next to him.

Well, fuck.

Do not mention his penis, Harry told himself over and over again. It became a mantra of sorts while Harry tried to keep those words from spilling off his tongue as he searched for a way to tell Malfoy to piss off.

"Let me guess," he finally managed to say. His voice sounded strange, as if it were playing in slow motion. Malfoy stared at him, face unreadable and just a bit blurry. "You're here to rub it in my face as well, aren't you? You've got a fabulous job waiting for you, you've found some marvelous woman, you've impregnated her, and you're going to live happily ever after, just like the rest of them."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "What's the matter with you, Potter?"

Harry actually had to think about that. "I think I'm drunk."

"Ah," Malfoy said, as though that explained everything. On second thought, it probably did.

A house-elf approached them, carrying a full tray. Malfoy reached for one of the glasses, but Harry hesitated. Perhaps he'd had enough to drink. He needed his wits about with Malfoy's penis so close.

Okay. Perhaps he definitely had had enough to drink. He was about to send the house-elf on his merry way when Malfoy spoke.

"Then I've got some catching up to do. I'm not quite drunk yet."

That was so like that Slytherin bastard to turn everything into a competition. Always had to try to beat him. Well, not this time. Keeping his eyes on Malfoy, Harry yanked a glass from the tray, and downed half of it before Malfoy could even take a sip of his own drink.

There. That would show him.

But much to Harry's surprise, Malfoy didn't accept the obvious challenge. He just sat there and sipped from his glass, occasionally glancing at Harry, as though he was perfectly happy to stay with him for the rest of the evening.

Which didn't make sense at all. Unless Malfoy was like everyone else who wanted to suddenly spend time with him.

"All right. Ask me," Harry said.

"Ask you what?" Malfoy shifted a little, so he could look at Harry.

"Ask me how I did it."

"Did what?"

Harry sighed. Why was Malfoy being so bloody difficult? Ah. Because he was Draco Malfoy, of course. "Ask me how I killed Voldemort," he said, irritation plain in his voice.

"Why would I do that? I already know." Malfoy emptied his glass. Wait a minute. Harry couldn't let him win. He finished off his own drink at once.

"You do?" Harry asked, confused. No one, save Ron and Hermione, knew exactly how he'd killed Voldemort. No one but them knew about the Horcruxes.

Malfoy nodded. "Because I tried to beat you myself many times and failed. I knew the Dark Lord wouldn't stand a chance against you."

"I beat you many times? With what?"

Malfoy sniffed, wrinkling his nose. "Quidditch, what else?"

Harry blinked, and stared at Malfoy, unsure what he was hearing. "So because I caught the Snitch faster than you, you knew I'd defeat Voldemort?"

"Yes," Malfoy said solemnly. "And because you're a stubborn bastard who won't ever give up. And you're far more intelligent than you think you are. And you had a lot of support."

"Wait, you knew I'd kill Voldemort because I could catch his Snitch?" Harry asked, dumbfounded.

Malfoy snorted and looked away from Harry. "Something like that, Potter."

"Right," Harry said, though he still wasn't sure what Malfoy was saying. "Is that why you switched sides?"

The corners of Malfoy's lips tugged up into a familiar smirk. "What can I say? I hate to lose."

Harry couldn't find any fault in that. "Me too," he said. They looked at each other for a few moments, and much to his own surprise, Harry found himself interested in Malfoy. He had fought on their side. He'd betrayed his own family to help Harry and the Order take Voldemort down. He'd done a lot of things Harry never expected he would.

"So," Harry said, plucking at a button on his robes. "Seriously. What are your plans for the future?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Nothing much. I'm just taking a break right now."

That familiar answer hit Harry with so much force, he almost fell backwards into the fountain. Malfoy grabbed him, fingers tight around his arm, and helped him find his balance again.

"Thanks," Harry said once the world stopped spinning. "I really am drunk."

"Yeah." Malfoy grinned at him, and Harry couldn't help himself. He grinned back.

A small crowd was gathering at the other end of the atrium, near the stage. Scrimgeour shook hands with some of the people, while Percy Weasley followed him around like a smitten puppy.

Harry released a deep sigh. The moment he'd been dreading the most was drawing near.

"How many speeches you think there are going to be?" Malfoy asked. The tone of his voice matched Harry's sudden dampened spirits.

"A dozen. Probably more."

"Dear lord," Malfoy whispered.

"Yep," Harry agreed.

Malfoy stayed quiet for a moment, eyes fixed on some point in the distance. Then he turned to look at Harry, an unfamiliar gleam in his eyes. It almost looked mischievous. "Let's get out of here, Potter."

"What?"

"This is the opportune moment."

"For what?"

"Come on, Potter," Malfoy said, leaning closer to Harry. "Haven't you ever wanted to wreak havoc at the Ministry?" He gestured at the gathering crowd near the stage. "Everyone is here at the moment. Which means the rest of the Ministry is deserted."

"Wreak havoc? Now?" Harry rather liked the sound of that.

"Yes, now. Let's go." Malfoy got to his feet and waited for Harry to join him before he made his way through the people towards the lifts on the other side. Harry followed him, not meeting anyone's eyes, pretending he was invisible and hoping no one would stop him for a chat.

They halted in front of the golden gates, lingering on the edge of the crowd. There was one wizard on duty behind the security desk, but he seemed more interested in watching Scrimgeour climb the stage than doing his job.

It dawned on Harry this might not be such a good idea. Malfoy almost had been a Death Eater, after all.

Malfoy tapped a house-elf on her head. "Bring us two bottles of champagne and a couple of glasses." The house-elf disappeared with a soft pop.

After all, Harry told himself, it made perfect sense that Malfoy had risked his own life several times to get information out that helped defeat Voldemort, to only now display his true nature, lure Harry off somewhere quiet, and brutally kill him.

The house-elf reappeared, and handed Malfoy the requested champagne.

"Ready, Potter?" Malfoy pulled his wand out.

Harry's eyes widened, and through the fog in his head he realized there were two things he had to keep in mind. Not mention Malfoy's penis, and keep a close eye on Malfoy's wand.

"Yeah, I'm ready," Harry said. "Just keep that penis away from me." The moment those words left his mouth, Harry knew he'd somehow mixed things up.

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow at him, a faint smile playing around his lips. He muttered something - Harry suspected it was a Confundus Charm - and aimed his wand at the security wizard. Then he grabbed Harry's wrist and dragged him through the gates towards the lifts.

"Don't worry, Potter. I'll just fuck you with my wand."

They were both quiet as they stood side by side in the lift. Malfoy pressed a random button, and the lift started moving down.
Harry wasn't sure what to think about Malfoy's last comment. In fact, he wasn't sure if he'd heard it correctly. He thought Malfoy had mentioned fucking him, but Harry couldn't understand why on earth Malfoy would say such a thing.

It made no sense at all.

So he probably just misheard. Because there was no way Malfoy was queer. Better yet, there was no way Harry was queer, so it was a moot point anyway.

It was the alcohol. Too much champagne made you hear queer things.

The lift stopped, and the doors slid open. Harry saw a sign announcing they were at level 5. The Department of International Magical Cooperation.

"Now what?" Harry asked.

Malfoy handed him one of the bottles of champagne, and then popped the cork on his own bottle. He quickly brought it to his mouth to drink and prevent the champagne from spilling.

"Now we wreak havoc," Malfoy said, wand in one hand, bottle in the other.

Harry nodded, and examined the bottle in his hands. He peeled away the thin metal wire around the cork and popped the bottle. The cork rocketed across the hallway and crashed through the window of one of the offices.

They both stared at the broken glass, champagne spilling over Harry's hand.

"That's a rather pathetic start, Potter," Malfoy said, amused.

Harry glared at him, took a swig from his bottle, and pulled out his wand. "Let's do this."

They stepped inside the first office like a pair of drunken desperadoes, legs spread slightly, wands aimed at the enemies in front of them.

Really, it wasn't hard to imagine the chair and desk as deadly adversaries.

Harry swished his wand and cast a hex at the filing cabinet in the corner.

"What does that do?" Malfoy asked.

"When they open the drawers, all the parchment will fly out," Harry said, pleased with his handiwork.

"Still pathetic, Potter." Malfoy took a step back and made a grand motion with his wand. A second later, all the furniture was gone.

"You banished the furniture? That's rather pathetic, too, Malfoy." Harry was unimpressed.

Malfoy placed the tip of his wand under Harry's chin, and slowly tipped his head back.

Ah. The furniture wasn't gone. It was merely stuck to the ceiling, upside down. Now Harry was impressed, though he wasn't going to admit it. He gave Malfoy a lopsided grin, and hurried towards the next office.

Inside, he cast a paint-flashing charm on the walls, making them change from bright yellow to dark red. Then he cast a locomotor spell on all the furniture, which resulted in the chair, desk and cabinets following each other around the room in a silent dance.

Malfoy observed Harry's work and gave a satisfactory nod. "My turn," he said, and Harry eagerly followed him to the next office.

What followed was an hour of the best mayhem the world had ever seen. They moved from office to office, and when they were done on one floor, they moved to the next one. They charmed quills to only write insulting limericks, spelled offices sealed so tight it would take at least five Aurors to break them open, cast antler-jinxes on toilet seats, hexed all the ink invisible, stuck furniture to walls and ceilings left and right, and filled the entire lobby of the Portkey Office with enchanted snow.

They even transfigured the carpet in the office of the Pest Advisory board into a miniature copy of Hogwarts' lake.

Fred and George would be so proud of them. On several occasions Harry was even tempted to run down to the atrium to fetch the twins and show them this masterpiece. But that meant leaving all the fun and Harry didn't want to do that.

Because he was having fun. For the first time since he'd defeated Voldemort, Harry was having a really good time. And he was having it with Draco Malfoy of all people.

And now they found themselves in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, inside the Quidditch League Headquarters.

"Do you see what I see?" Malfoy asked.

"Yep." Harry saw it sitting on the corner of a desk, taunting them both.

A Golden Snitch.

Harry looked at Malfoy and grinned. "Care for a little game?"

"Hmm." Malfoy frowned. "Just running after it would be a bit boring. Care to make it more fun?"

"How?"

Malfoy sipped from his bottle, and Harry noticed a slight flush coloring Malfoy's cheeks, as though he was suddenly embarrassed. "Well," Malfoy said, and took another sip before continuing. "When I was hiding in the Muggle world, I watched some Muggle sports on one of those telly boxes. There was this one sport that caught my attention. Perhaps it wasn't the sport so much as -- "

"What sport?"

"There was one ball," Malfoy said carefully.

"Football?"

"No, there weren't any feet involved. They hit that ball with a bat of sorts."

"Cricket?"

"I don't think so. There were two players, both with such a bat."

"Tennis?"

Malfoy thought for a second, and then nodded. "Yes, I think it was called tennis. I watched the finals of a very important competition, apparently -- "

"Wimbledon?"

"Yes, that was it."

Harry smiled, and he wasn't sure why. But somehow the thought of Malfoy watching the Wimbledon finals on the telly made the corners of his mouth tug up.

"Anyway, the game itself was rather boring," Malfoy continued, looking serious, "but I did enjoy this ancient Muggle tradition at the start of the game."

Harry frowned, unsure what Malfoy meant.

"I think it was called streaking," Malfoy said with a faint smile.

For a moment, Harry stared at Malfoy in utter surprise, and then he couldn't help himself. He laughed.

He hadn't seen many Wimbledon finals, but he did remember one occasion many years ago. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley had been sitting in front of the telly in anticipation of the start of the game when suddenly a naked woman ran across the tennis court. Aunt Petunia shrieked and clapped both hands over Dudley's eyes. Uncle Vernon turned around to look at Harry, who'd been standing in the doorway hoping to catch a glimpse of the game, and called him a pervert for staring at the woman.

"Yeah, I suppose you can call it an ancient Muggle tradition," Harry said, still snickering. "But what does that have to do with our game?"

"I was thinking of introducing that fine tradition into our world and combining it with our little game."

Harry blinked. And then he blinked again. "Huh?"

"Let's streak and play," Malfoy said, as though he were suggesting they go out for an innocent cup of tea.

"You're kidding."

"I'm not." Malfoy put his bottle of champagne down on a cabinet, and started unbuttoning his robes.

"You're not kidding," Harry said quite redundantly. But he had to hear the words if he wanted to believe what was going on. Malfoy wanted them to run naked through the Ministry in pursuit of a Snitch.

Actually, it did sound like fun.

"But what if we get caught?" Harry asked, because he felt he couldn't just agree. He had to object, at least a little.

"We won't get caught." Malfoy slipped off his robes and tugged on the fastenings of his trousers. He looked Harry right in the eye. "Or are you perhaps too scared to play this game by my rules?"

That did it. Harry put down his own bottle and tore at his robes. There was no way he was ever going to be scared of anything Malfoy suggested.

They kept staring at each other as one by one pieces of clothing fell to the floor. Harry's socks were the last to go, and when he straightened himself again, he got his first good look of Draco Malfoy naked, penis and all.

He didn't say anything for fear of mentioning that specific part of Malfoy's anatomy again, but he nodded to indicate he was ready for whatever Malfoy had in mind. Malfoy moved towards the desk, picked up the Snitch, and tapped it with his wand. The Snitch's wings fluttered open and a few seconds later it zipped up and hovered near the ceiling.

"The first to catch it wins," Malfoy said, just as the Snitch took off through the open door. Malfoy ran after it, leaving Harry staring after him, but only for a moment. Then Harry rushed through the door, only to return almost at once, pick up one of the bottles of champagne, and go in hot pursuit of Malfoy again.

He caught up with Malfoy fairly quickly, and they stormed through the deserted corridors, the Snitch always just ahead of them. Harry started chuckling. He couldn't help it. Just the thought of playing catch the Snitch starkers with Malfoy in the Ministry of Magic was funny. Actually doing it was bloody hilarious.

Malfoy chuckled as well, glancing at Harry as they tore around a corner, and soon their chuckling turned to outright laughter, and they whooped like a pair of drunk hyenas chasing after their prey.

After fifteen minutes of running at top speed they were both out of breath. Harry's lungs were burning and his throat was dry. Malfoy looked to be in a similar state.

"Break," Harry croaked. They both stopped running and leaned against the wall of an anonymous corridor. Harry didn't have a clue where they were.

Malfoy snatched the bottle of champagne from Harry's hand and took a long swig. Harry stared at him, unable to keep his eyes away from a certain part of Malfoy's body. It had been difficult not to notice it while Malfoy was running. It was all dangly and it bounced in a really funny way.

Even though Harry knew he should keep his mouth shut, he couldn't help himself. It had been tickling his tongue all evening, ever since their encounter in the bathroom.

He stared at Malfoy, and said with all the sincerity he could muster, "You have a penis."

Malfoy looked down his own body, as though he had to verify the fact. He nodded, and looked at Harry. "So do you."

This time Harry checked to see if Malfoy was right. He did have a penis. And it was rather larger than it should have been. Harry stared at it. "I'm not sure why it's doing that. I mean, I know why. It wants attention. But I don't know why at this exact moment."

"Like you said, it wants attention," Malfoy said reasonably.

"Well, it's not getting it."

"You're brutal, Potter." Malfoy grinned. "If you don't want to do it yourself, I can give you a hand."

"Huh?"

"You know." Malfoy made a suggestive motion with his hand that clarified things perfectly for Harry.

"Er...I don't think so," Harry said, wrinkling his nose. "The last time someone did that to me was rather traumatizing. It earned me a slap in the face."

"Ah. Was that what that scene with Weasley was all about?" Malfoy took another swig from the bottle, casually, though the act looked carefully constructed to Harry.

"I'm not talking about it with you."

"Fine. How about a blowjob?"

Harry's mouth dropped open. "You're suggesting sucking my cock? Why'd you want to do that?"

Snorting, Malfoy leaned back against the wall, pose again carefully constructed. "Because I want to. Obviously."

Malfoy wanted to suck his cock? But...but...but...

"And you seem to want it too," Malfoy helpfully pointed out.

Staring down, Harry was forced to conclude that yes, at least one treacherous part of himself seemed quite interested in Malfoy's suggestion.

"I don't know," Harry said in weak objection. "I've never -- "

"You've never had your cock sucked?" Malfoy sounded surprised.

"So what if I haven't. I've been busy," Harry said, offended.

Malfoy sidled closer to him. "Then I think it's about time we change that, don't you?"

"Well," Harry started, and then snapped his mouth shut when Malfoy sank to his knees in front of him. This wasn't a good idea. Putting your cock in your arch-nemesis' mouth just couldn't be a good idea. But Malfoy was offering, Harry reasoned with himself when he felt Malfoy's hot breath surround the head of his cock.

Oh god!

Malfoy's mouth closed over Harry's cock, all hot and wet and not at all like poking part of yourself inside a gaping flesh-wound. Malfoy's cheeks hollowed as Harry felt a warm tongue stroke the underside of his cock.

"Oh wow," he sighed, completely overwhelmed by how bloody wonderful that felt.

Malfoy pulled back a bit and licked the head of Harry's cock, eyes cast upwards, staring at Harry, taking in every response he got. While his cock got even harder, the rest of Harry's body went slack. His wand dropped to the floor and his arms hung uselessly beside his body. Malfoy released his own wand, and used that free hand to cup Harry's balls just as he sucked Harry back in deep.

"That's so good," Harry moaned. He really couldn't believe how good that felt, having your arch-nemesis' mouth sucking your cock. They should have done this a long time ago.

A slight scrape of teeth made Harry's knees buckle, and Malfoy smiled around his cock, returning to sucking and licking and slowly turning Harry's brain into mush.

This was better than chasing after a stupid Snitch. This was better than champagne, and enchanted snow inside the lobby, and naked women running across tennis courts, and Christmas, and Easter, and the whole bloody summer holiday, and it was even better than standing over Voldemort's dead body.

This was better than anything Harry had ever felt.

Harry's head lolled to the side, and that angle gave him a better view of Malfoy's body. He saw Malfoy's hand moving over his own prick in time with his mouth sucking Harry's cock. The sight of that made Harry thrust his hips, forcing himself deeper inside Malfoy's mouth. Malfoy let him, even let out an appreciative groan, and stroked himself harder and harder.

Harry gasped for air, unable to voice all the things he wanted to say to Malfoy at that moment. Like how Malfoy really wasn't such a bastard once he got his mouth around your cock, and how Harry knew Malfoy had helped them win the war and he was grateful for that, and how Malfoy's plan to streak while trying to catch a Snitch was the most brilliant plan ever invented and he deserved an award just for that.

Malfoy's mouth - Malfoy's brilliant, brilliant mouth - worked faster and faster, and Harry's orgasm drew near, rose up from his toes, making his legs tremble, and tightening his balls, and forcing his cock all the way inside, and then he came.

He came, and came, and came, and his release burst across Malfoy's tongue. He came inside Malfoy's mouth, and it was by far the best orgasm he ever had.

Harry panted, unaware of his surroundings, only focused on one thing. He'd come down Malfoy's throat. And Malfoy had wanted him to.

There was one word that was impossible to hold back, so Harry said it, softly. "Draco."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, and his nose wrinkled, and he came with a groan. Harry saw strings of semen coat the dark carpet beneath their feet.

This was just unbelievable. Malfoy had stained the Ministry's expensive carpet with his seed, and Harry had stained Malfoy's pretty mouth with his. He wasn't quite sure which was worse.

And as Malfoy drew back, releasing Harry's spent prick with one last lick and giving him a dazzling smile, Harry decided it didn't really matter.

Harry wasn't sure what to say or do. Draco stood in front of him, looking expectant, hopeful almost. And Harry felt like saying something, or running his hand through Draco's hair, but he had no idea if Draco appreciated such things.

Perhaps Draco preferred the people he sucked off to keep their mouths shut and their hands to themselves after he was done.

And when had Malfoy become Draco in Harry's mind? Ah well. Perhaps it was the proper thing to do, call someone by their first name when they'd had your penis in their mouth.

The thick fog in Harry's mind had cleared somewhat, as though some of the alcohol had fled his system while he'd climaxed. That couldn't be a good thing. Harry reached down, picked up the bottle of champagne, and drank as though he hadn't had a drop of water all week.

"So?" Draco asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"So?" Harry repeated. The fog in his mind thickened again, and he drank some more, grateful his common sense was abandoning him yet again. He couldn't handle this sober. He couldn't even handle this only slightly drunk.

"How was it?" Draco sounded just a tad irritated, as though he was somehow disappointed in Harry.

"It was okay." Harry said. He couldn't possibly tell Draco what he really thought. Draco's ego was big enough as it was.

"Okay?" Draco narrowed his eyes. "That's all?"

Harry shrugged, and sipped from the bottle.

"You're lying, Potter."

Ah. So perhaps it was all right to call someone by their last name after exchanging bodily fluids. "Am not," Harry said, not meeting Draco's gaze.

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Tell me the truth, Potter."

"No."

Draco's lips curved up in a triumphant smirk. "So you admit you're lying."

Bugger. Perhaps he couldn't handle this really, very drunk either. Harry knew Draco had him cornered, literally and figuratively. "All right, so it was nice," he whispered, hoping that would get Draco off his back.

It didn't. If anything, it made Draco want to get on his back. Draco took a step closer to Harry, their bodies only separated by the bottle of champagne Harry held against his chest as though it were a secret weapon to fend off excited suitors.

"Just nice, Harry?"

Hearing Draco say his name shouldn't make his skin crawl in a really pleasant way. Harry swallowed. "Very nice."

"I think it was more than that," Draco said, face suddenly very close to Harry's, breath moist against Harry's cheek.

Things started stirring inside him, and Harry had no idea why. He'd never felt like that before. Perhaps it was the alcohol. Please let it be the alcohol. His heart drummed, his stomach was in knots, and his sac tingled. Draco's lips touched Harry's skin, just below the corner of his mouth.

It was too much.

"Okay, so it was bloody brilliant, all right? It was the best fucking thing I've ever felt, and all I can think right now is when will you do that to me again."

Draco pulled back, looking as though he'd just won the Quidditch Cup. "That's all I wanted to hear, Harry." He plucked the bottle from Harry's trembling hands and took a victorious swig.

"Fuck," Harry groaned. He'd just confessed something to Draco, and he wasn't even sure what. But before he could say or do more, the Snitch was suddenly there, fluttering just above their heads.

"We still have a score to settle," Draco said. Harry nodded. This made sense. This he could understand. Catch a Snitch. Beat Draco Malfoy. Simple things.

Harry took off, leaving a surprised Draco behind. But it didn't take long for Draco to catch up with him. Harry glanced to his side and grinned. Yes, compared to what they'd just done, running naked through the Ministry with your arch-nemesis in pursuit of a Snitch made perfect sense.

They ran through corridors, around corners and up two flights of stairs. They ran for close to ten minutes and then Harry's full bladder made itself known. He lost speed, and Draco had the decency to look over his shoulder to see what was keeping Harry.

"Have to piss," Harry said, panting.

Draco stopped as well, trying to catch his breath.

"Let's find a bathroom." Harry turned, but Draco caught his arm before Harry could walk away.

"Look." Draco pointed at the door in front of them. It held a sign that read 'Rufus Scrimgeour'. Draco chuckled, and Harry joined him. This was too good an opportunity to miss. His bladder could wait a few minutes.

Draco tried the door, and much to their surprise it was unlocked. Draco pushed the door open, and they both peered inside. They'd uncovered the lion's den. Now was the time for some truly unforgettable mayhem.

"What do you think?" Draco asked as he strolled inside, Harry on his heels. "Furniture on the ceiling?"

"Sure. And snow. I like the enchanted snow." Harry wanted to reach for his wand, and realized he didn't have it with him. He glanced at Draco, who was only holding the bottle of champagne.

"Ah, hell," Draco said, their wandlessness dawning on him as well.

Harry felt disappointed, and just a tad worried. If they ran into serious trouble now, they had nothing to defend themselves with save for a half-full bottle of champagne. It was funny how Harry didn't think of Draco as a potential enemy anymore. Having your cock sucked did that for you, Harry mused.

"At least we can water his plants," Draco said, moving towards an enormous ficus in the corner of the office. "We'll get our wands back later."

Harry realized what Draco was up to and he started snickering. He quickly joined Draco and assumed the position. His bladder was all too ready to relieve some tension.

And as they stood there side by side, pissing on the Minister for Magic's precious ficus, Harry felt a strange sort of camaraderie he never thought possible between himself and Draco bloody Malfoy.

He glanced at Draco, and smiled when Draco met his eyes. Draco returned the smile, and something warm settled in Harry's stomach. Something that made him wish this strange and surreal evening would never end.

There was no use in wasting empty space, so after they were done, Harry reached for the bottle of champagne. He took a swig, and offered it to Draco. They leaned against Scrimgeour's desk side by side, sipping champagne and contemplating the secrets of the universe, or in Harry's case, wondering how it was possible Draco was a pretty fun bloke to hang out with.

"Do you want to fuck me?" Draco asked out of the blue.

Harry was incredibly grateful he hadn't just taken a swig of champagne, because he probably would have choked to death. "What?"

"You. Fuck. Me," Draco said slowly, looking perfectly serious.

"What is it with you and sex?" Harry realized he sounded a bit panicked, but he couldn't help it. "Why do you want to have it with me?"

Draco stared at him, as though he couldn't believe Harry wasn't agreeing with him. "What is it with me? You were checking me out, Potter."

"I was...when?"

"In the bathroom earlier. You kept staring at my cock. I'm not blind, you know."

"I wasn't..." Harry trailed off. He had been staring at Draco's penis. "I wasn't looking at your penis because I wanted to have sex with you."

"Some bloke checking out my cock means an invitation to a good round of fucking in my book. In most anyone's book, Potter."

Harry didn't know what to say. He hadn't known staring at someone's penis meant inviting that person over for sex, but he didn't want to admit to Draco he was such in ignorant little virgin. He reached down, intent on fumbling with a button on his robes, but he only found his cock and fondling that part of his body wasn't such a good idea.

"Besides, you enjoyed me sucking your cock, didn't you?" Draco's voice was softer now, as though he wanted to plead with Harry.

"Yeah," Harry said, frowning. "But I don't understand why you want to do those things with me. You're my arch-nemesis."

"Your arch-nemesis?" Draco laughed. "I'm flattered, really."

Harry glared at him. "You know what I mean. We've never been friends. And now you want me to fuck you? Why?"

Draco threw his hands in the air. "How thick can you possibly be, Harry? I want you. It's as simple as that. I'm attracted to you. I think about you. A lot. I imagine kissing you, licking your nipples, sucking your cock, you thrusting inside me as often as I possibly can. Is that enough explanation for you?"

It was. It was more than enough. It was also the last thing Harry had ever expected Draco to say to him. Draco wanted him? Draco fantasized about him? Harry stared at Draco. It was all he could do. He couldn't move, he couldn't talk, he couldn't even breathe, but he could look at Draco and wonder why someone as beautiful and smart as Draco Malfoy wanted someone as plain and stupid as Harry Potter.

Draco released an exasperated sigh, cupped Harry's head with both hands, and kissed him.

There was something inside Harry that knew exactly what to do in the situation Harry found himself in. This was a very good thing, because Harry himself was pretty much clueless. There were lips against his, a tongue in his mouth, hands on his skin, and a hard body pressed against his own.

Harry would have panicked, but the thing inside him took over. Perhaps it was his cock. Could a penis have a conscience of its own? It didn't really matter, as long as that thing kept telling Harry what to do. And it did.

Pulling Draco even closer, Harry forced his tongue inside Draco's mouth, wanting to taste every last bit of him. He raked his fingers across Draco's back, and when he felt Draco's growing erection against his own he started thrusting his hips.

"Fuck yeah," Draco moaned against Harry's lips. Draco's fingers curled around Harry's shoulders, his mouth trailing down Harry's cheek and throat and chest until he found a nipple. Harry arched his back, weaving one hand in Draco's hair to press that brilliant mouth closer, and the other hand found its way down, grabbing for Draco's cock.

"Fuck me, Harry." Draco stared up at Harry, eyes shining with desire, and Harry nodded again and again.

"Here?"

"Yes. Over the desk." Draco pulled back for a second, turning, offering his back to Harry. Trailing his palms down all that perfect, pale skin, Harry moved closer, rubbing his hard cock against Draco's arse.

Perhaps now was the time to tell Draco he wasn't really gay, but that didn't seem to matter when all Harry wanted was to shove his prick inside Draco and fuck him through Scrimgeour's desk. Draco pushed back, and Harry felt the tip of his cock press against Draco's entrance.

For a moment he was afraid he'd come there and then.

"Wait," Draco groaned, and grabbed around the items on the desk. "We need lube."

Harry stopped thrusting, and just rubbed his cock up and down between Draco's arse cheeks. An inkwell fell over and spilled ink all over the carpet, parchment and quills flew off the desk, and then Draco stuffed a small jar in Harry's hand.

"What is it?" Harry asked, uncapping the jar and examining the clear contents.

"Does it matter? It's viscous. It should do the trick."

Unable to find fault in that theory, Harry emptied the contents on his hands. He stroked his cock a few times, getting it nice and slick, and then coated Draco's entrance, gently pushing a finger inside.

"Do it already," Draco said, sounding impatient. "No need for any of that."

Again, Draco's suggestion seemed sound to Harry, so he positioned his prick and started pushing. There was a tiny moment when his brain short-circuited and all his senses screamed in panic that he was about to fuck Draco bloody Malfoy and what the hell was he thinking, but that moment was quickly lost when his cock slid into Draco and all he felt was tight and hot and oh so fucking perfect.

"God, yes, that's exactly it." Draco pushed back, hands holding onto the edge of the desk. "Now touch me."

Stilling his hips, marveling in the feeling of being buried inside a body, Harry reached around Draco and curled his slick fingers around Draco's throbbing cock.

"Now move, Harry."

And Harry did exactly that.

Well, he tried to do exactly that. But when he pulled back, his cock stayed right where it was, hidden deep inside Draco's arse.
"Come on. Stop being a tease." Draco glanced over his shoulder, giving Harry an impatient look.

"I'm trying," Harry said, unsure if it was normal for a penis to be stuck during fucking. He wasn't exactly an expert.

"What do you mean, you're trying?"

Harry sighed and wanted to let go of Draco's cock, so he could grab hold of his hips with both hands and use force if necessary. But his hand was stuck as well, and his fingers refused to separate from Draco's erection.

"Fuck," Harry said, something starting to dawn on him.

"Yes, that's this evening's goal, Harry."

"No. I mean, I know, but...fuck, I can't move."

Draco looked over his shoulder again and tried to pull away from Harry. It resulted in the feeling of the skin of Harry's cock being peeled off, and Harry gave a startled cry, echoed by a sharp hiss from Draco.

"Well, fuck indeed," Draco said, his shoulders slumping.

"I think it was glue," Harry whispered.

"Oh, you think?" Draco glared at him as though this was all Harry's fault and he hadn't been the one to suggest using it.

Harry looked at him, and he couldn't help himself. He giggled madly. It was a pretty funny seeing that Harry's clouded mind hadn't caught up with any of the consequences yet. Draco snorted, but Harry was sure he did it to hide a chuckle.

"We need our wands," Draco said.

"Oh, you think?" Harry replied, still giggling.

"Don't be such a smart ass, Potter. This is a -- "

"Disaster," Harry finished for him. "Yeah, I know." He still couldn't stop giggling, though.

"Come on." Draco straightened, and Harry was forced to straighten with him. It was a weird feeling, trying to walk while having his cock buried inside Draco, one hand glued to Draco's prick and the other to Draco's hip.

"Do you remember where we left them?" Draco asked. Harry sighed. "Stop panting down my neck."

"I can't bloody well breathe somewhere else." Harry leaned his chin on Draco's shoulder to make his point. "It's all your fault anyway. You and your obsession with sex."

"Our wands, Harry. That's our first priority. You may lay blame later."

"I don't remember where we left them." Harry sighed again, and then, just to be annoying since this was Draco after all, Harry blew in his ear. Draco whipped his head around, knocking against Harry's glasses, so they balanced almost vertically on his nose. Harry wanted to adjust them, but couldn't since his hands were stuck. He tried rubbing his glasses against the side of Draco's head to straighten them.

"What on earth are you doing back there?"

"Trying not to be half-blind. Your fault. Again."

"Let's just find our wands," Draco said between gritted teeth. "Now move. Left foot first." Harry moved his foot obediently. "Your other left foot, Potter."

They got it right after a few tries and they made it out of the office without crashing into any furniture. Once inside the corridor they stopped.

"I think we left them one floor down," Harry said. He hoped he was right. He wasn't sure how far they could walk in this position before one or both of them broke their necks.

They found a steady pace, bodies moving as one. But every time Draco moved, his muscles tightened in certain places, contracting nicely around Harry's cock. It drew a moan from him, and then another, and another.

"You all right, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry sighed. "Feels so good."

"Are you..." Draco fell silent. "Are you fucking me right now?"

"Think so. Don't stop." Harry rested his forehead against Draco's shoulder. "So good."

"I can't believe you're doing that."

"It's not as if I have -- ah, fuck -- much of a choice." Harry was getting closer and closer with every step they took.

Draco huffed, and started walking faster, seemingly in irritation, but it only increased the pressure on Harry's cock. He couldn't stand much more of this, and just as they rounded a corner and saw the lifts ahead, Harry's body caved.

"Fuck, yes," he moaned, shooting his release deep inside Draco's body, his whole body trembling against Draco's. He'd never had an orgasm before while walking. It was a most curious experience.

"What was that?" Draco glanced over his shoulder suspiciously.

"My virginity," Harry whispered against Draco's throat.

Draco's steps faltered. "In that case, I hope it was better for you than it was for me."

"Huh?"

"That was my virginity too, you Gryffindor git." Draco actually sounded hurt.

"I'm sorry." Harry pressed a sloppy kiss just below Draco's ear. "I'll make it up to you later if you want. My hands are kind of stuck right now."

"I hadn't noticed," Draco said. Harry saw the corner of his mouth twitch, as if he was trying not to smile. Perhaps Draco wasn't really angry with him. Harry hoped he wasn't. Because he had to admit he wanted to do more of this with Draco. Fucking Draco felt great now. Imagine what it would feel like if they could actually move properly.

They reached the lift, and Draco pressed the button. Then they waited in silence. Harry nuzzled Draco's hair; it smelled nice. Draco let him, standing still and composed, as though he didn't have a Gryffindor glued to his body.

Something zipped past their heads, and Draco's arm shot out, seemingly by instinct.

"Ha!" Draco cried, and raised his hand for Harry to see. There was a Snitch fluttering between Draco's pale fingers.

Harry's peaceful, sated mood was gone at once. "You bloody bastard! That's not fair. Is this the only way you can catch a Snitch, when I've got my hand glued to your bloody cock?"

Draco glared at Harry. "Is this the only way you can steal my virginity? When I can't do anything to stop you?"

Harry gasped. "That was low, Malfoy, even for you." Harry pushed against Draco's back with his torso. Draco returned the gesture, bumping against Harry, who lost his balance and tipped over.

They both fell to the floor in a flailing heap, screaming bloody murder at each other.

The lift gave a soft ping and the door slid open. But it wasn't empty. Harry stopped struggling against Draco and stared up at the imposing figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

"I think we've found the culprits," Kingsley said. A man stepped out from behind Kingsley's broad body. The last man Harry wanted to see at that moment.

Honestly, he'd much prefer to see Ron or Scrimgeour or even Voldemort resurrected from the dead.

But he did not want to see Severus Snape.

"Mr Potter," Snape said, glaring down at him with those black eyes. Harry didn't care that Snape had been on their side all along. Harry didn't care that Snape was as much of a war hero as Draco and him. Harry didn't care about any of those things, because he knew Snape was a bastard who would rub Harry's stupidity in his face for the rest of his life.

And well, seeing that Harry was naked and glued to Draco Malfoy, Snape might even have a point. But Harry didn't care about that either.

"Care to explain what's going on?" Snape asked, looking from Draco to Harry and back.

"We're stuck," Draco said sullenly, as though Snape was reprimanding him for a botched potion.

"Stuck?" Snape arched one eyebrow.

"With glue," Draco whispered, plucking at one of the Snitch's wings. "We thought it was something else." He turned his body, forcing Harry to move with him, so their sides were exposed and Snape could see exactly where they were stuck.

"Ah. I see," Snape said. Kingsley turned his back to them, his shoulders shaking, and after a moment Harry realized he was trying not to laugh. Even Snape seemed a bit constipated all of a sudden, lips pursed into a thin line and dark eyes gleaming.

"And you were unable to get unstuck?" Snape stared at Harry. "Surely with Mr Potter's magical talents a bit of glue shouldn't have been a problem?"

"We lost our wands," Harry muttered, glaring right back at Snape.

Kingsley finally turned around again, chest still heaving with repressed laughter. "And where did you lose them? Somewhere in the blizzard currently raging on the sixth level, or down the lake in poor Mrs Blakemoore's office?"

"You saw?" Harry said, only now worried what would happen to them. Did they actually throw wizards into Azkaban for vandalism? He wasn't sure.

"It was hard not to notice an entire department with its furniture suddenly stuck to the ceiling," Snape said, crossing his arms.

"Can I plead Imperius?" Draco asked. Harry glared at him. "Harry pleads Imperius, too," Draco added, giving Harry a smile that said as much as 'follow my lead'. Harry wasn't too sure about that. He'd been following Draco's lead all evening and look where it got him.

"No, Mr Malfoy, you may not. You may give an official statement later. Right now I think it is time to get you two unstuck. I do believe I've seen enough of your interlocking body parts to last me the rest of my life." Snape reached for his wand, aimed it at them both, and muttered something.

And then Harry could move, and he pulled away from Draco quickly. Harry felt a bit lonely as he sat up beside Draco, knees pulled to his chest.

"Scrimgeour's office is warded against burglary," Kingsley said, grinning. He seemed quite amused with the situation so far. "We went to investigate and the moment we stepped inside the lift we sensed magic everywhere. Alastor is convinced there are rogue Death Eaters about in the Ministry. I must say I'm glad to see it was just the two of you."

"We're sorry?" Harry said, giving both men his best innocent smile.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "No, you're not. But you will be. Now come with us."

Kingsley deposited them both in his cubicle, and got them their clothes and wands back. Now Harry and Draco sat side by side behind Kingsley's desk, both holding a steaming cup of coffee. They'd faced Moody, Scrimgeour and Mr and Mrs Weasley, and they'd come out of it without any prison sentences.

They did both have to pay a healthy fine, though, but Harry couldn't really be bothered by that.

"Are you still drunk?" Draco asked, glancing at Harry.

"A bit."

"Are you going to regret any of this when you're sober again?" Draco sounded uncertain.

Harry considered that. Part of him wanted to blame this entire evening on the alcohol. But if he was honest, it was more than that. He'd needed something, and somehow Draco had turned out to be it.

He'd had more fun in this one evening than he'd had during the last year.

"No," he said, offering Draco a smile. "No, I'm not. Are you?"

"No." Draco sounded certain again, and very pleased. He returned Harry's smile. It still warmed Harry's insides.

"So," Harry started, staring down at the mug in his hands. "Do you still want to give it a proper go?"

"Give what a go?"

"You know. Sex."

Draco smirked. "Now look who is obsessed."

Harry wasn't sure if Draco was joking or not. He stared at Draco, and for a moment he was sure Draco was going to turn him down, and strangely, that felt worse than anything Harry had ever felt.

"Of course I want to," Draco said. "You still owe me a good fuck."

Harry released a deep breath. "When? I mean, do we pick a date for this or something?"

Rolling his eyes, Draco put down his mug and turned in his seat. "Once they release us, come back with me to my place. I do have proper lube there. Promise."

Harry nodded and grinned. "Okay."

They stayed silent for a moment, but it wasn't uncomfortable. They glanced at each other every so often. Then Harry couldn't help himself, and he leaned closer and gave Draco a soft kiss right on his lips. "Thanks."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "For what?"

"I had fun tonight," Harry said with shrug. "And I really needed that."

"Yeah," Draco whispered. "Me too." He gave Harry a kiss, soft at first, but when Harry returned it, it became eager and hard and just a bit messy.

"So I've been thinking," Draco said once they broke apart.

"Oh no," Harry groaned, giving Draco a helpless look.

"I still believe we should introduce that fine, ancient Muggle tradition into our world."

"Go on."

Draco's eyes narrowed, gleaming with mischief. "There is a big Quidditch match in London next week."

Harry shook his head. He knew they shouldn't. It would get them into serious trouble.

"I think we should go. I bet no one's seen streakers on a broomstick before," Draco said, giving Harry a daring grin.

Harry nodded, and then grinned right back at Draco. "All right. Sounds like fun."

~~fin~~