Author: phaballa

Rating: NC-17

Challenge: #32. Post-war. Harry and Hermione take Ron to a rock concert where Harry bumps into Draco, whom they haven't seen in the Wizarding World since Voldemort was defeated.

Warnings: Bathroom sex.

Notes: Thanks to petulantgod for the beta.

_____________

"Buggering fuck shit bollucks!" Harry glared out the windshield at the line of cars in front of them and slammed his fist down on the horn, adding to the cacophony of noise that already filled the highway. "What in the name of all that's holy possessed us to drive to this bloody concert rather than Apparate like respectable wizards?" "Harry, don't swear!" Hermione replied, looking utterly scandalized. She glared out the windshield too, though, lips tightening into a thin line. Harry flinched at the sight. Hermione might not swear, but the expression on her face showed her displeasure quite well enough. Sometimes he worried her face might stay that way. "We thought it would be fun for Ron, remember? A truly authentic Muggle experience?"

"I'm twenty-one years old, Hermione," Harry grumbled, taking his foot off the brake to let the car inch forward a few more feet in the seemingly endless line of traffic. "And I'm the hero of the wizarding world. I'm allowed to swear if I want to."

"Oi, you two!" Ron said from the back seat, leaning forward to stare out the window, an expression of rapt delight mixed with confusion on his face. "First off, you're not supposed to bicker. That's me and Hermione, mate. Second off, what happened to the bit where we actually move? Or is this all part of the experience? When does the band come out?"

"We're not there yet, Ron," Hermione explained, crossing her arms over her chest and slumping in her seat. "And this is what we refer to as a traffic jam."

"Is there bread then?" Ron asked, looking around the front seat as if some might magically appear if only he wished hard enough. "Or crumpets, maybe? I like jam on my crumpets."

Hermione rolled her eyes and Harry sniggered, letting his foot off the brake once more to inch forward in the line. Traffic was starting to pick up just a little bit now, and Harry could just make out a row of flashing lights off to the side of the road about a mile ahead. An accident then—and the traffic undoubtedly caused by morbidly curious people slowing down to have a look.

"Not jam, Ron. A traffic jam. It's what Muggles call this lovely incidence we're currently experiencing. Stuck in traffic?"

"Well that's a stupid name for it," Ron said, sitting back in his seat with a disappointed look on his face. "Gets a bloke in mind for toast and jam, and then doesn't come through at all."

"Honestly Ron," Hermione said, shaking her head. "You should've taken Muggle Studies. You're utterly clueless when it—"

"Oi!" Ron interrupted, face pressed against the window as they passed the accident—two cars smashed together on their left. Harry just caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye. A few people were milling about—probably the drivers and passengers—and no one looked seriously injured. "Harry mate, stop the car! I think that's Malfoy over there."

"Don't be ridiculous Ron," Hermione said with a little laugh. "You know Malfoy's been missing since the final battle at Hogwarts. Probably afraid his father's cronies will come after him, if you ask me. That's what he gets for betraying his entire family like that, though. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. If it hadn't been for him—"

"No it really is him!" Harry said, slamming on the brake. Hermione jerked forward, caught by the seat belt, and glared at Harry. But Harry wasn't paying any attention, because just outside their car, talking to a policeman with a disgruntled look on his rather pointy face, was Draco Malfoy. He'd done something odd to his hair—put some sort of strange blue streaks in it that made him look more like a skunk than anything else—but it was definitely him. Harry would recognize that arrogant tilt of his head anywhere.

"Harry," Hermione said, dread laced through her voice, "why are we stopping? We are not helping that foul, racists little maggot—"

But Harry was already rolling down his window, easily tuning out Hermione's rant after years and years of practice. "Hey Malfoy!" he called out. "Need a lift, then?"

"Harry, no!" Hermione hissed, but Malfoy was already climbing into the car without so much as a pause to assess the situation.

"Budge over Weasley. You'd better get this thing moving, Potter," he said amiably, "as I've just Confunded that Please Man and any second he's going to start wondering where I've gone off to."

"Right then," Harry said, pulling back into traffic and weaving deftly between the cars, moving at a slightly faster pace now they were past the accident.

"You Confunded a police officer?" Hermione demanded, turning around in her seat to glare at Malfoy, who stared back at her smugly. Ron scooted as far to the right as he could, trying to put as much distance between him and Malfoy as possible. "That's against the law, I hope you know."

Malfoy dismissed this accusation with a wave of his hand. "Not within city limits, Granger," he told her. "I'm surprised you haven't read at least three books on Chicago, but apparently the mayor is a wizard who doesn't much care about International Wizarding Law. And the Council of International Mugwumps is far too frightened of him to question his laws."

Hermione made a sound in the back of her throat that rather resembled a dying cat, but didn't bother to argue. Harry's eyes flicked up to the rear view mirror, in which he could see Malfoy smirking as he settled back in his seat. Four years, Harry thought to himself. Four years since Malfoy had disappeared, and all this time he'd been living in America, apparently hiding from the vestiges of the Death Eaters that, more than anything else, wanted a chance to spill his blood. Four years hadn't changed Malfoy much; he was still too thin and pointy, and apparently arrogant as all hell, but there was something about him—a sort of confidence in the way he held himself—that was different than the insecure, prat of a boy he'd known at school.

"So what are you doing here, then?" Harry asked, tearing his eyes away from the mirror to watch the road. He could just make out the city in the distance, tall spires of the buildings rising over a fine grey mist. Harry had never been to Chicago before, but it was the only city in which the reunion show was playing, and besides, Ron had never been to a concert before. Harry rather fancied seeing his friend's face when he found out just what sort of concert he and Hermione were taking him to.

"Oh, I've been here for ages. Since the end of the War, actually," Malfoy replied. His eyes met Harry's in the mirror and he raised one eyebrow in question. "Are you here for the concert? Traffic's a total nightmare because of it. I should've just Apparated like a respectable wizard, but I can't do much magic outside city limits these days."

"And why's that?" Hermione asked, curiosity poorly concealed behind a disgruntled look.

"Death Eaters, of course," Malfoy said, giving her a look that clearly said she should've already known that. "They've been tracing my magical signature, trying to get a lock on me for years. Getting bloody tired of it actually. If I thought the Ministry would be willing to help..."

Ron laughed. "Can't count on the bloody Ministry for anything these days," he told Malfoy. "Lot of useless beaurocrats, they are."

Malfoy raised both eyebrows this time. "Isn't your brother the Minster for Magic?"

"Yeah," Ron said with a sigh. "Youngest Minster in the history of the Wizarding world. And worst one too. Doesn't have a clue what he's doing. How's America working out for you? Been thinking about moving. Percy's become bloody impossible to be around."

Malfoy shuddered delicately, as if the very idea of living within a hundred mile radius of Ron disgusted him. "It's alright," he said finally. "Now, what d'you say we make things go a bit quicker? We can Apparate the entire car there if we all do it at the same time."

"Are you coming to the concert then?" Harry asked, surprised to feel that he was actually sort of pleased at the prospect. It would give them a chance to catch up, he told himself, and besides, he wanted to know what had changed Malfoy's mind about joining the Death Eaters. That was all, he told himself firmly. Just to catch up. It had nothing to do with the way his lips curled when he smirked or the smooth line of jaw or the way his throat curved when he tossed his hair out of his eyes. Absolutely not. Just old classmates catching up.

"At a Hedwig-Tommy Gnosis reunion concert?" Malfoy asked, eyes meeting Harry's in the mirror with a sly grin. "Hopefully we'll all be coming."

* * *

Harry was drunk. He didn't know exactly how he'd managed to become so intoxicated so quickly, but he thought it might have something to do with the five—or was it six?—rounds of vodka shots Malfoy had bought him in exchange for helping him out back on the highway. Vodka, Harry decided as he leaned against the waist-high barricade dividing the audience from the stage where the tech crew was just finishing setting up, was the most foul beverage ever created. But on the other hand, it did get him very, very drunk.

So drunk, in fact, that when Malfoy pressed up close behind him and leaned his chin on Harry's shoulder, Harry didn't mind at all. In fact, he rather enjoyed the warmth of Malfoy's body against him and leaned back with a sigh, telling himself it was just the alcohol and nothing more. Ron was giving him a confused look, Hermione a knowing one, but both of them were too far gone to say anything. Harry wasn't sure Ron was even capable of speech at this point, too muddled by the alcohol and the multitude of all things Muggle to say much of anything. And Hermione, damn her, was just giving him that smirk she always had when she knew she'd got something right and had just been waiting for the proof.

"Are you excited?" Malfoy murmured, and Harry couldn't help the shiver that ran through his body. Malfoy's lips were very close to his ear. Very.

"Uh, what? I'm not, I mean... what?"

"About the concert," Malfoy clarified, and this time Harry could feel the other boy's lips curving against his neck. Harry's hands tightened on the barricade. If Malfoy didn't stop that soon, he'd find out just how excited Harry really was.

No, Harry told himself firmly. Get a grip, Potter. This is Malfoy. You are not attracted to him, even if he's not such a git anymore.

"Er, yeah," Harry answered finally, blushing fiercely at the breathless sound of his own voice. "Sh-should be good. Once in a lifetime thing, and all that."

Malfoy was spared from answering by the lights in the club going out all at once, leaving them in pitch black darkness. The crowd went silent and pushed forward, everyone wanting to get as close to the stage as possible. Malfoy was shoved from behind until Harry was sandwiched tightly between him and the barricade. Harry shifted, only to find himself rubbing against Malfoy, who breathed hotly in his ear. Harry felt drowsy and warm and incredibly good. Any semblance of logical thought he'd managed to maintain promptly vanished as the stage lit up to reveal Hedwig and Tommy Gnosis standing in the middle of red-tinted spotlight, glitter raining down upon them.

And they were kissing.

Harry lost track of himself after that. The band started playing, music pounding around them in the tightly packed club and all he could really understand was the press of bodies around him, the music so loud it drove everything else from his mind. For the first time since the war Harry felt completely carefree and he just let go, of all of it. All the pent-up resentment for how things had gone during the war, for everything he had lost and suffered through... all gone in a haze of alcohol and the warm body pressed up against him.

And when Draco's lips pressed firmly against the back of his neck, tongue tracing the indents of his spine, Harry didn't bother to protest, just let his head fall forward with a mumbled groan, lost in the fuzziness of alcohol and the heat surrounding him, the bodies pressing in, Draco's lips and teeth and tongue on his neck, sliding and scraping, sending delicious, shivering spirals of pleasure down his spine. He could feel the hard length of Draco's prick pressing against his arse from behind and he didn't care; more than that, he loved it, wanted to turn around and rub his own achingly hard cock against it, wanted to tangle his fingers in Draco's hair and crush their lips together. But instead he settled for pressing back, grinding himself against Draco, his fingers tight on the barricade in front of him as Draco's fingers slid across his hip to cup his hard length as he shoved himself against Harry even harder, groaning softly in Harry's ear.

Harry could feel his prick twitching in Malfoy's light grasp even beneath the layers of his clothing and he didn't care. He felt loose and yes, free. He rubbed himself against Draco, pushed his cock more firmly into Draco's hand, whimpering at the sensation of cloth sliding over too-sensitive skin, wanting Draco's hand, his mouth, his arse... wanting him so much he was trembling at the sudden need.

"Let's get out of here," Draco suggested, and Harry could only moan in response, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against Draco's shoulder as the other boy's hand shifted to grasp his hip tightly, other hand reaching deftly for his wand.

When Harry opened his eyes a moment later they were in the club's only bathroom, a dim, dingy one-stall affair with a flickering bare bulb hanging above a sink that looked to be made almost entirely of rust. Harry turned in Draco's arms and pushed him firmly into the lone stall, slamming the door behind him and sliding the lock home. Draco's fingers were already at the waistband of Harry's jeans, popping the buttons deftly as Harry shoved him against the stall door, groaning at the feel of Draco's fingers sliding inside his pants, tips brushing against the head of his cock, the palm sliding deftly around it, fingers wrapping around the shaft, warm and firm and tight.

Just that, the feel of Draco's hand around his cock, thumb swiping across the head, calluses rough against the sensitive skin—just that and Harry was lost, utterly and completely. He leaned forward and crushed his lips against Draco's, sliding his tongue roughly into Draco's mouth. And he didn't care that Draco's lips were chapped and chafed slightly against his, or that their teeth clashed together painfully when Draco squeezed and Harry jerked in response. The music was nearly as loud in the bathroom as it was out in the club proper, vibrating around them as Harry pushed himself frantically into Draco's palm.

"I've wanted to do this since fifth year," Draco gasped, pulling away to lean his forehead against Harry's shoulder. Harry braced his arms against the wall on either side of Draco's head and groaned, rutting himself against the other boy mindlessly.

"You're wearing too many clothes," was all Harry could come up with in response. He pulled away from Draco reluctantly, pressing one last kiss on his mouth, hot and open and wet, before sliding down to his knees and fumbling with Draco's flies, now at eye level. Draco moaned and slid his fingers into Harry's hair, tightening around the base of his neck as he looked down.

"Fuck," he muttered. "You look s...so fucking perfect. Just like that."

Harry flashed him a dazed smile, thumbs pressing hard into Draco's hip bones before unceremoniously tugging Draco's trousers down past his knees. Harry could just see the head of Draco's cock above the waistband of his pants and found himself licking his lips unconsciously, wanting to taste that drizzle of precome leaking from the slit. And then he realized he could, and that's probably exactly what Draco wanted, and before he could think about it further, he leaned forward and swiped his tongue across the tip of Draco's prick, the salty-sweet taste of precome warm in his mouth.

Draco groaned and his hips jerked forward involuntarily, which Harry took as his cue to pull down Draco's pants as well, freeing the other boy's straining prick from the confines of his clothing. Draco's fingers tightened in Harry's hair, urging him forward, and Harry complied, palms fitting into the curves of Draco's hips and holding on tightly as he let Draco's prick slip between his lips, the head sliding deliciously across his tongue. Harry loved this part, the silky feel of a cock against his tongue, the noises he could force out of his partner if he curled his tongue just so, scraped his teeth gently as the shaft slid further down his throat and sucked hard. Harry could feel Draco's muscles twitching beneath his fingers, wanting to thrust into Harry's mouth but he pressed Draco hard against the wall instead, holding him immobile as he tightened his lips around Draco's prick and sucked, cheeks hollowing out with effort and throat working, swallowing around the hard, heavy weight in his mouth.

"Please," Draco gasped, fingers pulling hard on Harry's hair now. "Please... I need... god, Ha...rry."

Harry leaned back and let Draco's cock slip from between his lips with one last final suck. "What do you want, Draco?" he asked, rocking back on his heels and standing up slowly. He leaned into Draco, rubbing his aching, leaking cock against Draco's spit-slicked one. He groaned at the feeling, flesh sliding against flesh, and everything so incredibly hot. "Can I fuck you," he asked, not caring that he sounded desperate. "I just... god... I bet you're so fucking tight."

"Yes," Draco whimpered, pushing his hips against Harry. "Do you have...?"

"Yeah," Harry whispered, kissing Draco once, hard, tongue plunging into his mouth and rubbing roughly against Draco's before he pulled away again. Harry could hear the sounds of their breathing, harsh and quick, echoing in the tiny bathroom despite the music still blaring around them. He leaned forward and bit Draco's ear gently. "Turn around," he said.

Draco shifted awkwardly until he was facing the wall, palms braced against it, forehead pressed against the cool tile. Harry couldn't believe this, that he was actually here with Draco Malfoy of all people, and Draco was about to let him... before he could talk himself out of it, Harry's fingers closed around the small bottle in his pocket and he fished it out, thankful that he always carried some with him. He poured some of the lube onto his palm and fisted himself quickly before adding a bit more and tucking the bottle away. He pressed up close behind Draco, tracing the indent in the back of his neck carefully with the tip of his tongue while his fingers moved lower, slipping between Draco's spread legs with slick fingers, tracing the cleft of his arse, pressing one finger against the tight pucker of skin he found there.

Draco groaned and pushed back against the finger, forcing it knuckle deep inside him. And Harry was right—Draco was tight, so fucking tight around his finger as he pressed it in and out before adding another, groaning at the feeling of Draco so hot around his fingers, slowly loosening as Harry twisted them inside the other boy, teeth scraping along the delicate skin at the back of Draco's neck.

"Just... now!" Draco demanded, nails scratching against the tiles as his hands clenched at the feel of Harry's fingers inside him, pressing, thrusting, but not quite enough.

Harry didn't hesitate. He pulled his fingers free and, steadying himself with a hand on Draco's hip, pushed his prick slowly inside. Catching his bottom lip between his teeth, Harry groaned at the feel of Draco's body, tight and hot around him, and resisted the urge to push forward hard, to just fuck into Draco and let his body take over.

"Wait," Draco said breathlessly, resting his forehead against the wall, back trembling with effort. "Just... go slow, alright? I haven't... in a while. Slow..."

Harry let out a shuddering breath and pushed forward a bit more, as slowly as he could, gritting his teeth with effort. He slid into Draco slowly, thighs straining and trembling as Draco's body squeezed hot and tight around him until he sunk all the way in, hips pressed against the smooth, sweat-slickened skin of Draco's arse.

"Alright?" he whispered against Draco's neck, reaching around to wrap his fingers around Draco's cock, stroking the hard, twitching length firmly.

"Yeah," Draco said, rocking back against him slowly. "More..."

With a groan Harry pulled out slowly before pushing back into Draco. It wasn't long before he gave up trying to go slow and Draco didn't seem to mind, meeting his thrusts as Harry's hand stroked him roughly. Draco whimpered with every thrust as Harry pounded into him over and over, loving the feel of Draco around him, tight and slick, loving the heat of him and the sound he made in the back of his throat, the pulsing heat of his prick against Harry's palm, the salty-sweet taste of his sweat as Harry licked it off the back of his neck.

"Harry," Draco moaned thrusting himself forward into Harry's hand. "Please, I'm going to..."

"Come for me Draco," Harry muttered against Draco's neck, voice rough with need. "I want to feel you come."

"Yes!" Draco cried out, body jerking forward as his cock twitched violently in Harry's hand and he came, spilling warmth over Harry's fingers, arse clenching around Harry's prick in exquisite waves of heat and tight and fuck...

Harry wanted to hold out but he couldn't, not with Draco's arse so tight around him, milking him. He pushed forward once more before he was coming too, deep inside Draco's clenching arse, a rush of pleasure so intense that even his teeth clamping on Draco's shoulder couldn't subdue it as it rocked through him, leaving Harry a trembling, vague mess.

* * *

Later, after they'd both cleaned up, sneaking glances at each other all the while, Harry asked Draco the question that'd been on his mind since he'd seen the other boy on the side of the road, talking to a police man.

"Do you ever wish you could go back?"

Draco raised one eyebrow at him. "Back?" he asked, smoothing out his trousers and wrinkling his nose at the spot of dried come he'd missed with his cleansing charms. "Back where?"

"Home," Harry said, watching the other boy carefully. "To England, I mean. Don't you have a manor somewhere?"

"In Wiltshire," Draco said, flicking his wand impatiently at the spot and not looking at Harry. "But that hasn't been my home for years and anyway, I can't see the Ministry offering me protection the way things are right now. And there are still Death Eaters out there, so..." he trailed off, shrugging.

Harry sighed. "I know all that. But... look, Draco. Can we stop pretending for a minute?"

"Pretending?" Draco asked, eyes finally meeting Harry's, wide with confusion.

"Pretending I don't know what you did for me during the final battle!" Harry said, running his fingers through his hair. "Pretending I don't know that you betrayed your father for me."

Draco laughed and Harry felt a momentary surge of anger at the sound. Was Draco mocking him? Mocking the guilt he'd carried around all these years because of Draco's final act of desperation?

"I didn't do it for you, Harry," Draco said, his eyes glinting silver in the dim lighting. "I did it for me."

"Oh," Harry said faintly. Then, "Oh!" as understanding hit home. He bit his lip thoughtfully and took a step closer to Draco. "Would... what if I could get you protection? Ron's brother is Minister, and they owe after the war. Would you think about coming back then?"

Draco grinned. "It would be nice to see the manor again. And get a decent cup of tea."

Laughing, they slipped out of the bathroom and back into the throng of people, music blaring around them as Hedwig and Tommy belted away on stage, sharing a microphone, sweat dripping down their faces. Harry followed behind Draco closely as he weaved his way through the crowd to get closer to the front, stopping when Draco did and sliding in behind him, resting his chin on Draco's shoulder and wrapping his arms around the other boy from behind. Draco turned slightly and gave him a kiss, just a light glide of lips over lips, but Harry could feel him smiling and he couldn't help smiling back.

And there's no mystical design
No cosmic lover preassigned
There's nothing you can find
That cannot be found
'cause, with all the changes you've been through
It seems the stranger's always you
Alone again in some new
Wicked little town

So when you've got no other choice
You know you can follow my voice
Through the dark turns and noise
Of this wicked little town
Oh, it's a wicked little town
Goodbye wicked little town