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Harry didn’t even think about it. He just acted.

It all happened in a coffee shop in downtown London. It was early, ridiculously early, and Harry had been up all night studying for his biology exam later that day. His head felt like it was full of cotton.

Harry was standing in the queue, waiting to order. The man in front of him was tall and elegant and smelled expensive. Truth be told, Harry found himself shying away. He really, really didn’t want this man to even look at him.

Behind him, the door opened. Well, it was thrown open. Harry gave a start and twisted around on instinct. That was when he saw the gun.

A gun.

In London.

And it wasn’t a rusted, old timey thing. No, it was a silver revolver. Thick. As if the bullets it contained were even more lethal. At the end of the gun was a silencer.

Harry picked up on all these details in a split second. Then the hand holding the gun fired it.

Everyone around screamed and jumped out of the way. Harry, realising the gun was pointed past him, jumped in front of it. He hadn’t even thought about the tall, elegant man behind him. He was thinking about the baristas.

Harry cried out when he felt something graze his side. The thick bullet, he thought as he landed on the floor.

Utter chaos exploded around him. There were more screams, more running. A group of three men tackled the gunman. Bodyguards, Harry thought vaguely, staring at their gleaming shoes.

“Are you hurt?” asked someone.

Harry blinked up into hard grey eyes. Cold eyes. They were stunning.

“W-what?”

The elegant man swore under his breath as he swept that hard gaze over Harry’s body. “You’re bleeding.”

“Wow,” Harry said, and laughed.

The man frowned at him. “I’m going to take you with me.”

“Wow, wow.”

Very carefully, the man eased Harry to his feet. Surprisingly, Harry couldn’t feel his wound. He only felt the wet fabric of his jumper.

“Careful now,” the man murmured as he guided Harry out of the shop. The doorway was now clear. The bodyguards had taken the gunman somewhere.

Just as they stepped onto the street, a black Jaguar came to a screeching stop in front of them, one tyre on the pavement.

A team of bodyguards jumped out to help the man.

“Is this him?” growled one.

The team swarmed Harry, already roughing him up, but the man yelled, “Don’t hurt him, damn you! It’s not him. He saved me and I want him, got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

And so on.

The team eased Harry into the back of the Jaguar, right next to the man. The car took off, doing its best to speed amidst the London traffic.

Harry, now feeling a bit woozy, smiled at the man.

“Hi,” he said shyly.

The man didn’t smile back. “Hello.”

“You’ve got stunning eyes.”

The man arched a cool eyebrow.

“Are we taking him to hospital, sir?”

“No, back to Headquarters. Call Dr Gupta.”

“Good choice, I don’t think I need to go to hospital …”

“You’re injured, but you’re not bleeding too much. My doctor will fix you up.”

Harry nodded, but then he felt a sudden whoosh in his head. “I’m terribly sorry, but I need to lie down.” He slumped over into the man’s lap.

The last thing he thought about, right before unconsciousness took him, was how fucking good the man smelled.

When Harry woke up, he found himself in a room with shuttered windows and muted lights. He was in an enormous bed. Underneath his head was a horde of pillows. Gloriously soft pillows.

Harry shifted. Fuck, the bed was like a damn cloud. He had never laid on something so luxurious.

Harry closed his eyes and drifted off again, a smile ghosting his lips.

Then he remembered.

FUCK! He had been shot.

He lurched up—or tried to. He cried out in pain and grasped his side. Fuck, fuck it hurt! Was he still bleeding?

He looked around wildly for his glasses, then sighed in relief when he found them on the bedside table. He slid them on and felt comforted.

Throwing back the soft duvet, Harry inspected his side. He was only in his underpants. His holey underpants. He’d be mortified if he didn’t have bigger problems at the moment.

Fresh stitches trailed down his side, over into his stomach a little. He touched them gingerly. They felt strong. And the wound looked shallow. Good, good. It was a big relief.

The door opened, revealing the elegant man.

Harry yanked up the duvet to hide his semi-nudity. And his holey underpants.

“Hello,” said the man, sitting down beside the bed.

“Hello,” Harry answered shakily.

“I’m glad you’re finally awake.”

“How did you know—?”

Smirking a little, the man pointed to a red dot on the wall. “A camera. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Um.” Harry’s eyes fluttered. “I don’t mean to be rude, but—Um. Where in the bloody hell am I?”

The man’s smirk deepened. It wasn’t cruel. In fact, the man seemed quite delighted with Harry. As if he were a newly purchased pup.

“You’re at my Headquarters. My home. You’re safe.”

Harry blinked again. “Safe from what …?”

The man shrugged. Then: “My personal doctor patched you up. Dr Maya Gupta. I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”

Harry hadn’t.

“Well, no matter. Rest assured she did a good job. How are you feeling?”

“I’m sorry, but who the hell are you?”

The man’s smirk turned into a genuine smile. “My name is Draco, and I’m—”

“OH FUCK, MY BIOLOGY EXAM!” Harry tried to lurch up again, then cried out in pain.

“Easy now,” hissed Draco, grabbing his shoulders.

“Fuck, fuck,” Harry gasped, slumping back. “What’s today? Did I miss my exam?”

“You were asleep for nearly 24 hours.”

“FUCK!”

Draco looked very, very amused. “Who’s your professor? Which college? I’ll speak to him.”

“Her. And she’s an utter twat, if you don’t mind me saying. Her name is Dolores Umbridge.”

“Which school?”

“UCL.”

“University College London?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll speak to her.”

Harry shook his head, but exhaustion overwhelmed him. “Fine, whatever. Do what you want, but she’s not going to listen to you.”

Draco threw his head back and laughed. His teeth were very white. “What is your name?”

“Harry.”

Draco looked at him fondly. “Harry. How common.”

“If you say so …” A literal prince shared his first name but whatever.

He was still looking at Harry fondly. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

“No …? Are you a politician or something?”

“Quite observant of you, Harry! No, I’m not a politician, but I’ve got loads of political power. I am a very powerful man.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

Another laugh. “You really don’t recognise me? Haven’t seen my picture in the press? Nothing?”

Harry squirmed a little. “Um, am I supposed to know who you are? I’ve been really busy with school lately.”

Draco just stared at him, his eyes utterly eating him up. “I’m a businessman. A very powerful one. So powerful that it puts a target on my back.”

Harry blinked. “Oh my god, you’re a mobster.”

Some of the light went out in Draco’s gaze. “Yes,” he said softly.

“Wow.”

“So, you do recognise me?”

“No, not really. I just figured, you know. Like, where’s the police? Someone tried to kill you!”

Another smirk. “Yes, me and law enforcement don’t get along. Well, unless I’m paying them.”

Harry shook his head. “Wow, wow.”

Draco leaned in. “Do you like that I’m a mobster, Harry?” His voice was soft again. “You don’t seem very afraid.”

Harry had to think about it for a moment. “I’m not afraid of most things. Must be my upbringing or something, I dunno.” He sneaked a shy glance at the man. “And, well, you are very handsome. I think it’s probably muddling my brain or something.”

Something hot entered Draco’s eyes. “Do you have a girlfriend, Harry?”

Harry laughed shakily. “No way! I like blokes.”

The heat turned greedy. “Is that right?” he whispered.

“Yeah …”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

Harry dropped his gaze. “No …”

Draco leaned in further, being so eager that his knees knocked against the bed. “Will you let me take you out?”

“Take me out? Um.”

“What?”

“Isn’t that mobster code for like … murder …?”

Draco blinked at him. “Are you taking the piss?”

“No, it’s a serious question!”

Draco levelled a stern look his way. He murmured, “Harry, if I wanted you dead, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh.”

“You kill people often, then?”

“Perhaps.” Draco observed him. “Is that a deal breaker?”

Harry grimaced. “Probably? Not sure. Depends on why you kill them.”

“I kill them because they are a threat. Because they’d kill me if I didn’t get to them first.”

Harry chewed on his bottom lip, thinking. “And what if it doesn’t work out between us? Are you going to kill me too?”

Draco bared his teeth. “How dare you? I don’t hurt my lovers.”

“And how am I supposed to know that? I just met you!”

“You could’ve given me the benefit of the doubt.”

Harry laughed shakily. You’re a bloody mobster, he wanted to say.

Draco still watched him. “You’re not interested, then?”

“Oh, I’m definitely interested. Despite my better judgement.”

Draco remained stern. “You don’t need to fear me, Harry. I’m not going to hurt you. Ever.”

Harry sneaked another glance at him, then another. “I can’t promise not to be intimidated by you, at the very least.”

A raised eyebrow. “And why do I intimidate you? I’m not armed, I promise you.”

“You want the truth?”

“Of course.”

Harry squirmed. “Because you’re hot as fuck. It’s rather unnerving.”

Draco chuckled quietly. “You must be aware of your looks, too.”

“I’m all right.”

“You are very beautiful, Harry.”

Heat flooded his face. “Oh.”

“Come now! Don’t play coy.”

“I’m not! I just … I dunno. I never gave it much thought. I wear old glasses and my hair is always a mess, and my clothes are hand-me-downs. I’m not posh, not even close, and—I don’t know. I’ve been too busy trying to support myself … get myself an education … then think about what I look like.”

Now Draco’s gaze was soft. “You’re beautiful and very brave, Harry. I can’t believe you stepped in front of that bullet for me.”

“I didn’t even think about it.”

“I know. And you weren’t even thinking of me when you did it, right? You just wanted to protect …”

Harry shrugged. “It was instinct, that’s all.”

Draco dragged his tongue over his bottom lip, still eyeing him. “Go on that date with me. Let me spoil you. Show you how grateful I am.”

Harry fiddled with the duvet. “Sure, but take me on a date because you want to, not because you feel obligated or whatever …”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry. If I wasn’t such a gentleman, I’d already have you naked in my bed. I’d already have you head down, arse up.”

Harry was scandalised. Draco laughed.

Draco stood up. “Rest now. Later, I would like for you to join me for dinner.”

Harry shook his head. “But I’ve got to go home. I’ve got homework.”

“For which class?”

“All of them!”

Draco flapped his hand. “Just tell me their names. I’ll speak to them. I promise.”

Still shaking his head, Harry forced himself to get out of the deliciously soft bed. “Sorry, truly, but it’s time for me to leave.”

Draco frowned deeply. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re still injur—Is that a hole in your underpants?”

Harry hid his face. “Oh my god.”

“Are all your underpants in such bad shape?!”

“Maybe,” Harry groaned into his palms. “I’m not a dirty person, I promise. Well, I do put up with a bit of clutter, but—”

“This is not acceptable.”

Harry dropped his hands. He straightened to his full height, which was still a few inches below Draco. “Look, the state of my pants is my own business. Really. I’ll just get dress and be on my way—”

“What is your size?”

“My size in what exactly?”

Draco was circling him. Almost like a predator. “In everything. What’s your size? No, better yet, your measurements …”

Harry was so mortified it was making him angry. “I don’t know! And if I did know, I’m not sure if that would be any of your business!”

Draco’s mouth twisted as if he wanted to laugh. Instead he gave Harry a very stern look. “May I send over my tailor? He’s a nice fellow, I promise.”

“Your … tailor? In my flat?”

“Yes.”

Harry gulped, then gulped again. He couldn’t imagine it. “That’s a very stupid idea, to be honest …”

Draco gave him a sharp smile. “Please?” he said lowly, almost dangerously. It was obvious he was a man who rarely said please.

More gulping. “Are you sure it’s a good idea …?”

“Absolutely.”

Growing more exhausted by the second, Harry gave in. “Fine. Whatever. But I’m rarely at home. I spend most of my time at the library …”

Draco was not bothered. “I’m sure my tailor will make time.”

Harry didn’t look at the other man as he carefully pulled on his jeans and his jumper. He’d found his clothes on a chair beside the bed.

“You should also permit my doctor to visit you.”

“Yeah, sure. Brilliant.”

“And you will need to permit one of my bodyguards to watch over you.”

Harry did a double take. “What?”

Draco shrugged. “I have enemies, Harry. And you just saved my life.”

“I can’t have a bodyguard!”

“Perhaps you should have thought about that before taking a bullet for the most powerful man in London.”

Harry just gaped at him. More powerful than the Prime Minister? he almost asked … except he didn’t want to know the answer.

A team of bodyguards followed Harry out. He realised he was in a skyrise, probably on the top level. London glittered below like a collection of gems. Harry tried not to gape at the view.

At the lift, one of the guards pulled out a blindfold. “For security purposes,” he said when he saw Harry’s expression.

“No, the boss doesn’t want that,” said another guard. “Strict orders.”

“But he just met this kid!”

The other guard shrugged and repeated, “Strict orders.”

Harry gulped as they all stepped into the lift. “Do you not want me to tell people the location of this building? Because I won’t.”

All the guards glared at him. “Not a bloody soul, got it?” one of them growled.

Harry smiled shakily. “I swear I won’t.”

Outside the building, Harry was hurried into the back of another Jaguar. “Keep your head down,” one guard ordered, planting a beefy palm on his neck.

Harry made sure to remain in a crouch on the seat. He had the sneaking suspicion that hiding was less about his own safety and more about him not seeing the details of the street.

After about twenty minutes, they made it to Harry’s flat. He stepped out onto the pavement, relieved, but he frowned deeply when one of the guards followed him into the building.

“Um,” he said.

The guard didn’t smile. “Lead the way, sir.”

“You’re going up to my flat with me?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll be staying?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Outside your door. Don’t open any exterior windows.”

“What the hell do you mean?” Harry cried. “It gets stuffy in my flat! It gets entirely too warm sometimes! I need to be able to open some windows!”

The guard nodded. “That’s good to know.” He began typing into his phone, probably texting someone. “We will station someone on the pavement. You will need to point out the windows of your flat.”

“Oh, bother,” Harry groaned.

The next morning, Harry woke up to his doorbell blaring. Groggy, he fell out of bed, and yelped loudly. His poor stitches.

Not bothering with his glasses, he fumbled his way to his front door. He opened it, then blinked. No one was there.

“Um. Hello?”

“Good morning, Harry!”

He looked down and gave a big start. “Oh, God. Sorry! I didn’t see you down there!”

A very pretty woman smiled up at him. She was also very petite. “I’m Dr Gupta,” she said, shaking his hand. “Mind if I come in?”

“Oh, um. Yeah. Sure. Please do.”

Harry led her into the lounge area, which was also the kitchen area. He had a very small kitchenette. “Um. Would you like a cup of tea?”

She frowned at all his clutter. “No, thank you. Will you lay down on your settee? Yes, perfect. Just like that.”

Harry stared up at the blurred ceiling as she inspected his side. He should have grabbed his glasses.

“Your wound is healing nicely,” she announced brightly. “You are a very lucky man.”

“Yeah … I’m surprised that the bullet didn’t hit me straight on …”

“Angels must have been watching out for you. Truly miraculous.”

“Um. Yeah. Sure.”

“For these stitches, you will want to avoid moisture at all costs,” she said.

“So, no baths?”

“No, and it’s best to avoid showers as well, just for a while. Sponge baths are the way to go. Would you need help with that? I can ask one of my assistants to visit you daily? Twice a day? Whatever you need.”

He blushed. “No, thank you. I can manage by myself.”

“Are you in pain?”

“Sort of …”

She nodded. “Acetaminophen is the way to go. You shouldn’t take aspirin or ibuprofen or naproxen.” She gave him a sly look. “Would you like something stronger than Acetaminophen?”

“No, thanks!” he said quickly.

She smiled as she stood up. “Good, very good. I’ll stop by again in a few days. By the way, did you notice that you have a present on your table?”

“A present …?”

“Yep!” Then: “If you need to contact me, just tell Freddy.”

“Who is Freddy?”

She frowned at him. “The guard standing just outside your front door. He’s nice. Just don’t ask him to get you a coffee. That’s not his job.”

Harry just blinked at her.

A few seconds later, Dr Gupta was gone.

A present?

Still blinking, Harry fumbled his way back to his bedroom, where he nabbed his glasses.

In his kitchenette, he stared at what was on his dining table. There was a smartly wrapped present, yes, but there were also about three dozen red roses crammed into a crystal vase.

The bouquet was enormous.

Hand shaking, Harry reached for the gilded-edged card attached to the roses. The paper was thick and creamy. The writing on it was elegant but sharp, obviously masculine: For Harry.

Harry stared at the roses as if they were going to pounce. It had never occurred to him that someone could give him flowers. He’d always assumed that was what a lover did for a woman, not a man … but he liked it. He liked it a lot. It made him feel special. Cherished.

Now smiling a little, Harry leaned in to smell the roses. They gave off a lovely scent. And their petals were so soft against his fingers.

Harry sighed, more than a little charmed. This Draco bloke knew what he was doing. Oh, yes.

He opened the wrapped present eagerly. Inside was a small box. He thought, Surely, Draco didn’t buy me jewellery …

But, no, inside the box lay a platinum credit card. There was also a note, written in the same sharp cursive: Buy whatever you want, darling. The limit is 10k but let me know if you need more. - D

Harry blinked, then blinked again. Now trembling all over, he set the card down and wandered to his hob. He needed a cup of tea for this.

10,000 pounds???

As his kettle heated up, he rushed back to the table, nearly tripping and falling. He reread the note.

No, no, his eyes had deceived him!

He’d missed a zero.

The limit wasn’t 10k, it was 100k.

A HUNDRED THOUSAND POUNDS.

Harry hadn’t been aware they even made credit cards with such high limits. It sounded illegal!

The roses had been a nice touch—and so romantic!—but the credit card felt like—like manipulation.

No one just gave over that much money without expecting something in return.

What did this mob boss want from Harry?

Harry spent the rest of the day recuperating in his flat. He almost forced himself to go to the library, but, no, he shouldn’t be stupid, not about the wound on his side. He needed rest.

Still, he spent the day studying in bed, trying not to think too much about Umbridge failing him for not showing up for his exam. He was so fucked if he got a zero.

You must believe me! he imagined himself crying. I was shot, really! Do you want to see the bloody stitches!

Several times, he opened his text messages to update his best mates on what happened to him. He struggled getting the words out. He really, really didn’t want to worry Ron and Hermione. And he also didn’t want them barging into his flat, demanding answers from him …

Mate, d’you know you’ve got a big old ugly man standing just outside your door?! he imagined Ron saying.

No, he just needed more time to figure out what he was going to say to his friends.

It was late, probably half past ten, when someone knocked on his door. Harry was slumped over in bed, having fallen asleep studying. A half-eaten cheese toastie was on his bedside table.

The knocking continued.

This time, Harry remembered to shove on his glasses.

“Coming!” he groaned, getting out of bed.

Harry padded to his front door. He threw it open. And gave a start.

Two very, very posh people stared at him. One was a tall, elegant man with pretty dark eyes and lush dark skin. The other was a very petite woman with cunning eyes and very pale skin.

“Um,” Harry said.

The man smirked. “I’m Blaise, and this is Pansy. I believe Draco told you to expect us.”

“Um …?”

Pansy dragged her gaze over him. “Hot bod. Good.”

Harry crossed his arms over himself. He finally located his brain. “Sorry, but why are you here?”

“We’re Draco’s stylists!” Blaise announced. “He wanted us to take your measurements, etc etc.”

“Oh, right. Um. Please come in, then.” Harry stepped aside.

In this lounge, Pansy grimaced as she looked around. Blaise nudged her.

“Don’t be rude, love,” Blaise said. “The poor have feelings, too.”

Harry went red. He managed to mutter, “Would you care for a cup of tea?”

Blaise gave him a cool smile. “No, thank you.”

Pansy got right to business. “All right, take off those ratty pyjamas and stand on this stool.”

“Sorry?”

She rested her hands on her hips. “Are you deaf or something?”

Another nudge from Blaise. “Love, darling, this is what Draco wants, not what you want.”

She huffed. “Obviously.”

“I don’t need new clothes, thank you. I’m fine, really. I wouldn’t want you two to waste your time.”

Blaise and Pansy shared a look. Then they burst into laughter.

Harry’s embarrassment only deepened. What in the world had he got himself into?

Pansy saw his expression and her expression softened. “Draco really likes you. He just wants you to look nice. Don’t you want to look nice?”

Harry looked down at the floor. He didn’t know what he wanted. He was used to old hand-me-downs.

“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity,” Blaise said. “Let us help you.”

Harry sighed. He shuffled his feet. “Okay … but do I really need to remove my pyjamas?”

“No, if it makes you uncomfortable,” Pansy said gently.

Keeping his clothes on, Harry stepped onto the stool. He stared at his grubby wall as they began to measure him.

“Draco tells us you saved his life,” Pansy said conversationally.

“Yeah …”

“Did you really take a bullet for him?” Blaise asked.

“Um … sorta …”

They paused their work to blink at him. “Sort of?” Blaise said.

“Yeah … Well … um … The guy aimed his gun at him, pulled the trigger, and I just sorta jumped in the way …”

Pansy sighed. “How romantic.”

Blaise frowned at her. “Don’t expect that from me any time soon!”

“Of course not, darling. I’d never expect any heroics from you.”

Blaise frowned at her. It was obvious he was trying to decide whether to take offence.

“Are you two a couple or something?”

The confusion disappeared from Blaise’s expression. He beamed. “We’re married. Happily.”

Harry grinned. “Brilliant.”

“We’re primary school sweethearts,” Pansy explained. “That’s when we met Draco, too. All the way back when we were just little babes.”

Blaise chuckled. “My wife had a massive crush on Draco. For years. Even though I was the most handsome boy in school.”

Pansy gasped, scandalised. “I did not! I was his mate. I knew from the moment I met him he was bent.”

“You still had a massive crush on him.”

More gasps.

Harry stared at the wall and tried to imagine it. Draco seemed so button up. Powerful. So in control. He couldn’t imagine him as a child.

“What was he like?” Harry asked.

Pansy’s gaze gleamed knowingly. “Draco liked to whinge. A lot.”

Harry laughed. “Really?”

“Yes, he used to adore his father. Everything was, My father this and My father that.”

“Don’t forget, You wait until I tell my father about you!” Blaise added.

Pansy and Blaise shared a laugh, but Harry was frowning in thought.

“What happened to Draco’s dad? Who was he?”

They blinked at him.

“You really don’t know who his father is?” Blaise asked, as his tape measurer got precariously close to Harry’s balls.

Harry tried not to yelp. “No, I don’t.”

Pansy shook her head and focussed on measuring the circumference of his upper arm. Blaise did the same, but with his thigh.

“Wait … You’re not going to tell me … ??”

They shared another look. A whole silent conversation played out in their eyes.

“Perhaps we should let Draco tell you himself,” Pansy said gently.

Harry shook his head. “Give me his name, at least.”

Blaise said, voice lowered: “Lucius Malfoy.”

“What a name.”

“It’s a notorious name,” Pansy said.

Blaise nudged her in warning.

Harry gave another shake of his head. “I’ll Google him on my own time. Thanks.”

“Lean down for me, I need to measure your neck,” Pansy said.

“My neck?!”

“Uh huh, now lean down—”

Harry did what she requested. She was so very petite. He politely averted his gaze, she did not.

“You’ve got stunning eyes, Harry,” she murmured, staring into his face.

“Yes, we must get you shirts and jumpers in green,” Blaise said. “And this lovely dark olive skin of yours … I’m thinking cream. Aren’t you, darling?”

“Definitely! Cream and perhaps a dusty maroon … Oh, I’d love to see you in a mustard!”

“A … what?” Harry said.

More laughter. Pansy patted his cheek.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” she said with a smile. “We’ll take care of it.”

Harry’s mouth twisted up in confusion.

It was rather late once the married stylists went home. Harry stumbled back to bed, flopping down inelegantly.

He picked up his phone. There were messages from an unknown number.

Hello, Harry. It is Draco.

Then:

Don’t tell me you’re already asleep.

Then:

I’m still working, unfortunately. I can’t stop thinking about you. I hope you don’t mind me saying so. I woke up thinking of you. Aching for you. Well. I’ll stop myself there. I don’t want to get too vulgar.

Harry found that he was smiling. Widely.

Without even thinking about it, he typed out a quick, I like vulgar.

Draco’s response was almost instantaneous. Don’t tempt me. I’m in a meeting.

Harry couldn’t imagine Draco as a child, but he could imagine him as an adult, sitting in a dark boardroom, discussing even darker topics. He imagined his eyes gleaming silver. He imagined his pinkie ring glinting as he raised a glass of bourbon to his lips.

Harry shuddered. He was getting aroused. I’m sure you’re good at multitasking.

You have no idea.

Biting his lip, Harry trailed his hand down to tease himself through his pyjama bottoms. He didn’t want to be fully hard, not really. I might have some idea. My imagination is rather good.

A few moments later, Harry’s mobile was ringing. He answered eagerly. “Hello?”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Just say the word.”

Harry’s breath caught. Fuck, Draco sounded sexy over the phone.

“I thought you were in the middle of a meeting?”

Draco growled softly. “You were making me hard, damn you.”

Harry wrapped a hand around himself, tugging through the fabric. “And how exactly is that my fault?”

More growling.

“You have no fucking idea what you do to me, Harry.”

“You just met me.”

“I know.”

Harry made a soft sound. He tugged harder. “You sound so hot.”

“I do?”

Harry’s breath stuttered. He tried to hide it. “Ah huh.”

A pause. “Are you in pain?”

“No …”

Another pause, this one even longer. “Are you … touching yourself?”

Harry’s eyes fluttered closed. He let out a breathy sound. “I don’t want you to think I’m a slut.”

“Goddamnit, you are. You’re fucking wanking.”

“Yeah …”

“I’m coming over,” Draco said, sounding breathless himself. “I can’t stand it.”

“No, no, don’t,” Harry said. “Go back to your meeting.”

“Sod my meeting. Sod everything. I want to see you when you come. I want to bugger you. Would you let me? I bet you will. Was it the credit card? I bet it was. Do you want more? I’ll give you more. I’ll give you absolutely anything if you just let me inside you—”

“I hated the credit card, actually.”

Draco fell silent. Then: “Oh.”

Sighing, Harry stopped masturbating. “I don’t want your money, Draco. And I don’t want you buying me fashionable clothes.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Harry laughed. “Sorry?”

“I told you to shut up.”

Harry bit his lip. He didn’t say anything.

A part of him was rather annoyed that Draco would be so rude. Another part of him liked it. A lot.

“So, you can take orders,” Draco murmured hotly. “Good, now listen to me. You’re going to let me take care of you. It’s obvious not many people have in your life. You grew up an orphan, didn’t you? I had my men look you up. You grew up in poverty. That all made you self-sufficient. It made you develop strong boundaries. I get that. You can keep your boundaries. But let me spoil you, Harry. Just a little. Because you deserve it. You really fucking deserve it. You are a hero.”

Harry stared up at his shadowy ceiling through lidded eyes. “God, your voice is so fucking hot.”

“Did you hear a word I said?”

Harry nodded even though Draco couldn’t see him. He licked his lips slowly before answering. “I don’t need you to throw thousands of pounds at me. You want to spoil me? Then spend time with me. Get to know me. Rub my shoulders after I’ve spent the last eight hours hunched over one of my uni books. Suck my cock.”

Draco growled low and deep. There was need in that growl. Desperate need. “I’ll come around yours tomorrow night. Be ready for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fuck me,” Draco groaned, and hung up.

The next day, Harry had a big cup of tea and a reheated banger roll for breakfast. He took a couple of aspirin, checked on his stitches, then took himself off to class.

Attendance counted toward his final marks, after all.

Freddy followed him all the way there, then waited outside the classrooms.

It was difficult to pay attention to his professors’ lectures. He kept thinking about Draco’s dark, murmuring voice. He kept thinking about his sexy little pinkie ring. He couldn’t even recall noticing it, but he saw it vividly in his memory.

Harry wanted to smell Draco again. His gorgeous cologne.

After his classes, Harry went to the library, where he ran into Hermione. In the corner of his eye, he saw Freddy. He hoped Hermione didn't see him too.

“Harry,” she exclaimed, and tried to give him a big hug.

He blocked her and instead patted her on the shoulder. “Hiya,” he said with a grin.

Her big brown eyes searched his face. “Is there something the matter? Are you ill?”

“A bit. Still got to study though, don’t I?”

“Yes, and we both know that awful Umbridge won’t let you slip up …”

“Definitely not.” Harry groaned as they stepped into a lift. “I still have to email her and beg for leniency. I missed her exam.”

“WHAT!” Hermione’s exclamation startled several in the lift. She grinned apologetically. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, I did,” he said under his breath. “I’m fucked.”

“What in the world made you miss an exam?”

He almost told her. He almost said, Well, you’re not going to believe this, but I got shot …

Instead, he smiled and shrugged. “I overslept. Really stupid of me. I was studying too long the night before.”

“Oh, Harry,” she whispered, aghast. She responded as if he’d just told her he’d killed a man.

They stepped out of the lift and proceeded down the quiet hallway. The library’s ceilings were low, the windows arched, letting in very little light. The yellow lights were artificial and dim.

Luckily, they located an open table in a back corner. The library was quite crowded. Finding an open table to study was not a guarantee.

They set up their things, and, sighing heavily, Harry opened his laptop.

To blow off steam, Harry pulled up an empty email.

Dear Professor Umbridge,

EAT MY ARSE.

All the best,
Harry

Then, growling, he deleted the email. Oh, how Harry wished he could actually tell that to the wench.

Hermione watched him nervously. “Perhaps you should just drop the course, Harry.”

“No way! I’m in too deep now.”

She shook her head. “You always do this to yourself.”

“What?”

“Suffer.”

Grunting, he shut his laptop and took out a textbook. Instead of answering her in any meaningful way, he began to read.

Several hours passed as they studied together in silence. The chair wasn’t very comfortable, so he had to suppress a grimace every time he shifted. His stitches were aching.

Of course, Hermione clocked this. “Seriously, what is wrong with you? Are you injured or something?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s just a scratch.”

“Just a scratch? Sounds like famous last words!”

“Hermione, I’m okay, really,” Harry said, almost whinging.

“Why are you grimacing? Do you have a haemorrhoid or something?”

He slapped a hand over his mouth so his laugh wasn’t too loud. She laughed, too.

“Christ, I don’t have piles!” he said, now giggling a little.

She giggled, too. “Let’s take a break and get a sandwich or something.”

He nodded. Yes, a break sounded lovely.

They left their things at the table (only taking their laptops) and ventured to the cafe. They ordered chicken sandwiches and sparkling water. Harry also got a bag of crisps. Hermione never let herself buy crisps but she usually ended up eating half of Harry’s bag.

They ate quickly, standing up, gazing out at the busy London street. In a back corner of the cafe, Freddy was enjoying a sandwich, too.

“Ron’s at work, yeah?” Harry said around a bite of food.

Hermione nodded, her mouth full of crisps. She swallowed and said, “Yeah, George is working him to the bone, poor lad.”

“I reckon that’ll teach him not to go into business with his own brother.”

Hermione smiled. “I think he likes it, all things considered. He’s always liked being around family.”

“True.”

Once they finished their lunch, they ventured back up to their table. Luckily, no one was sitting there.

Harry eased back into his chair and opened his laptop. He didn’t feel like jumping back into studying, not right away, so instead he Googled, Lucius Malfoy.

He didn’t know what he expected to see. Nonetheless, he gasped when he saw the images of a bloody crime scene. He gasped loudly.

“What is it?” Hermione asked, startled.

For a moment, he couldn’t answer. He clicked on the images and the accompanying news article. It appeared that Draco’s father had been gunned down in the middle of a London street.

“God, Harry, tell me what’s wrong! You’ve never seen you look so pale!”

He dragged his gaze to her. “What do you know about Draco Malfoy?”

Her expression turned even more confused. “What?”

“Draco Malfoy. Have you ever heard of him?”

She shook her head slowly. “Yeah? I have? But what does that have anything to do with you?”

“Why do you think it has something to do with me?” he said defensively.

“Your reaction. Harry, come on, what’s going on?”

“What do you know about him?”

She continued to shake her head. “He’s … shady, to say the least. He’s one of the kings of organised crime. He inherited the title from his father. It didn’t end well for his father.”

“Yeah, I’m looking at the photos right now.”

She was frowning at him. “Lucius, I think his name was. Died about five years ago. The rumour is he was murdered by Tom Riddle.”

Harry blinked at her. Tom Riddle … Somehow, that name sounded familiar. “Isn’t he that cop killer?”

She looked at him sadly. “Yeah … He’s notorious for killing indiscriminately. He's a leader in British organised crime. Just like the Malfoys.”

He snapped his laptop shut. “My parents were members of the Ministry of Defence Police. They were murdered when I was just a year old.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“They never found out who did it but … this Riddle bloke sounds familiar, somehow. It’s unnerving, I dunno. I haven’t thought about it in years and years.”

“Harry, why did you look up Lucius Malfoy? Do you think he might have something to do with the death of your parents?” she asked gently.

He stood and began to pack up his things. “Sorry, but I’ve got to go. I’m not feeling very well.”

She got to her feet, too. “Harry …”

“I’m okay, I promise.”

He left in haste. Out on the pavement, he spotted Freddy still trailing him. It only made his feet speed up. Tom Riddle killed his parents. He'd known since he was just a little kid. The other orphans liked to tease him about it. After so many years, Harry had just forgotten, but he remembered now. Tom Riddle was a murderer. Just like Draco Malfoy.

The rest of the day was spent curled up in bed. It was true that Harry wasn’t feeling well. His stitches were aching. Exhaustion weakened nearly every part of him.

And his thoughts weren’t holding up, either.

Tom Riddle was a mobster. Just like Draco.

For some reason, Harry had never thought of Riddle being part of organised crime. He did his best not to think of Riddle at all, but when he did, he imagined him as a madman acting alone.

But that wasn’t true. Riddle was one of the Kings of Crime, and he had gone after Harry’s parents because they had been a threat to his business. Riddle’s reasoning was a bit of an assumption on Harry’s part, but why did mobsters do anything? It was all about making money, wasn’t it?

Harry’s parents had been murdered because of business. Pure greed. It was so unfair it took his breath away.

Then there was Draco. Oh, Draco.

Harry didn’t know him. He didn’t. Draco could have a dark side. He probably did have a dark side. Harry didn’t know much about the world, but he knew a man couldn’t be weak and a king in crime.

Draco had killed people. Loads of them. Hundreds, probably.

It was as if Harry was contemplating dating the man who killed his parents.

I need to find a way to end this, Harry thought, huddling under his patchy duvet. I need to, I need to …

Harry was asleep. He was asleep but waking up. Why was he waking up? Because someone was caressing his head, running their fingers through his hair, comforting him. It felt so, so nice.

Murmuring, Harry leaned into the touch, desperate for more.

“Harry,” whispered a beautiful voice. “Won’t you wake up for me, love?”

He managed to open his eyes. Everything was blurry. “My glasses …”

His glasses were eased onto his nose. For a moment, he blinked up at the gorgeous man, utterly dazzled by his gleaming hair, his sharp grey gaze … Who was this man, again?

Harry bolted up. “Draco.”

For a moment, Draco looked highly amused, but then his expression grew sombre. He frowned in concern. “You’re hurting, aren’t you?”

Harry pulled the duvet nearly up to his chin. “W-what are you doing here?”

Draco’s frown deepened. “I told you I would come over tonight. Do you want me to leave?”

Harry dragged his gaze away. He didn’t answer.

Draco watched him quietly. “Was the credit card really that much of a misstep? I thought it’d excite you to have so much money at your disposal …”

Harry shook his head. “You don’t know me.”

“Then let me get to know you.”

Eyes cast down, Harry pulled at a few threads in his duvet. “You looked me up, right? You know about my childhood?”

“Yes,” Draco said carefully.

“You know about my parents, then?”

Draco hesitated. “Yes.”

“And this Tom Riddle bloke … You know about him too, yeah?”

Draco exhaled angrily. “Of course I do. He’s the one who sent a hunchman to kill me in that coffee shop.”

Harry sneaked a glance at him. “Why?”

“Because he wants to take over my business, of course. He doesn’t want the competition. He spent years trying to eliminate my father. Then he succeeded. And now he’s doing his best to eliminate me.”

“He killed my parents.”

“I know.”

For a long moment, Harry didn’t say anything. Then he reached out and grabbed Draco’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry you lost your father.”

Draco stared intensely at him. “I want to kiss you.”

Harry continued to hold his hand, though he kept his gaze down. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

“Yeah …”

Draco sighed. “I can’t blame you. I live a dangerous life.”

Harry sneaked another glance at his beautiful face. “It’s a lot easier to tell myself I don’t want to date you when you’re not sitting next to me.”

Draco leaned in, still holding his hand. “Because you find me rather attractive? Because you want me to take you to bed?”

“Yeah.” It was a shy, breathy response. Harry didn’t mean to act coy. He just found Draco so intimidating. So alluring.

“Harry, I’m not going to hurt you. I promise it. I swear it on my father’s memory.”

He laughed shakily. “It’s good to hear you say so.”

“Are you hungry? You must be. Let me get us some takeaway. What’s your favourite spot?”

“I always fancy a curry,” Harry said shyly. “There’s a place just down the street … I even have a paper menu from them …”

Draco grinned. “Let’s see it, then.”

“Are you sure …? It’s not posh or anything. Far from it …”

“I’m sure.”

Harry eased from bed. He was only wearing his sleeping bottoms, no shirt. Draco stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned on a light so he could see the stitches.

“They seem to be healing well,” Draco murmured, fingers hovering over them, not touching.

Harry sucked in his stomach, nearly trembling. It was doing things to him to have Draco’s hand so close to his bare chest.

“Are you making sure to keep the stitches dry and clean?”

“Yeah …”

“That’s very good, Harry.”

Jesus Christ.

He didn’t think he’d ever get over how bloody hot Draco’s voice was.

Draco seemed to know the effect he was having on Harry, for he was smirking a little. He took a step back and said, “Let’s get out of your bedroom, or else I might do something I regret.”

“Like what?” Harry said in a hurry, nearly gasping the words.

Draco’s eyes darkened. “Like chucking you back onto the bed and mounting you.”

Harry hesitated, biting his lip. “Right, right, because that would be a terrible decision …” He stole a glance of the bed, almost longingly.

Snorting, Draco grabbed his hand. “Come along.” He pulled Harry to the kitchenette.

Harry retrieved the menu from a drawer. Draco stood close and read the menu over his shoulder.

Draco’s body radiated lovely heat. His chest felt broad, sturdy. And like always, he smelled amazing.

“What’s your favourite thing to get?” Draco murmured in his ear.

“Fucking hell, what cologne do you wear? It’s driving me mental.”

Draco let out an amused exhale. “Do you not care for it?”

“It makes me fucking salivate.”

“It’s just Sauvage, Harry. By Dior. It’s rather popular.”

“Oh … Well, it smells fucking brilliant on you.”

Draco pressed closer. “I’m warning you now, if you keep complimenting me, I might just have to kiss you …”

Harry let himself lean back. They stood there for a moment, not moving, both breathing a bit rapidly. Draco was nosing his hair, smelling him too.

“We should look at that menu now,” Draco murmured.

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“I ask again: What’s your favourite?”

“I’m a simple man. I like getting either the Tandoori Chicken or the Paneer Tikka …”

“The lamb chops look good,” Draco said, again reading the menu over his shoulder. “Oh, and we must get some Samosas. Oh, and a bit of Poppadoms and Chutney.”

“I’ll pay,” Harry said.

Draco barked out a laugh. He continued to laugh. He stepped back. “Oh, you’re cute.”

Frowning, Harry turned around. He crossed his arms. “I want to pay! I don’t want you to think I’m your sugar baby or something.”

Draco eyed him. “What’s wrong with being my sugar baby?”

Harry almost threw his arms up. “I actually like you, Draco! That’s what’s wrong with it. I’m not doing this for the money.”

“Yes, I know. And that’s why I want to pay. I want to treat you right. Spoil you. So, let me do it.”

Harry shook his head.

Hot amusement burned in Draco’s eyes. “Let’s make a deal, then. I’ll let you pay for half of it if you let me suck your cock.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open.

Draco’s grin turned wicked. “Right now, in fact. As we wait for the food to arrive.”

“But—but—”

Now Draco studied his neat fingernails. “Take it or leave it, Harry.”

“I thought we were supposed to be getting to know one another!”

“We can get to know each other after I suck your cock.”

Harry was burning up. He was trembling. It felt as if he stood at the edge of a towering cliff and Draco was demanding him to jump.

“You haven’t even kissed me yet,” Harry said weakly.

Staring him down, Draco closed the space between them. He took Harry into his arms. Harry had to tilt his head up to meet his gaze. Somehow he felt small in Draco’s arms.

Draco smoothed a hand up Harry’s neck, stopping in his hair. He curled his fingers around the strands, pulling a little.

For a moment, Draco didn’t act. He observed Harry’s face, looking for something in his expression. Harry stared back, knowing there was eagerness in his eyes. And fear. He was afraid to fall for this beautiful, dangerous man. He was afraid to trust him with his heart.

Then, quite carefully, Draco pressed their mouths together. Harry’s brain flatlined. His last thought was, Wow, he has soft lips.

Groaning, Draco tightened his arms around him, and deepened the kiss. He licked into Harry’s mouth, claiming him, and the faintest traces of cognac were on his tongue.

Harry shuddered and clung to him, afraid he’d lose his footing. He met his tongue timidly. They tasted each other, saliva mingling, their tongues stroking together.

It was a filthy kiss. And it made Harry’s cock throb. As if on cue, Draco reached down to stroke him lightly through his trousers.

“Fuck,” Harry gasped into his mouth.

Growling, Draco shoved him firmly against the counter, and took utter control. This time, there was no kissing him back, no shyly tasting him. All Harry could do was surrender.

Draco kissed him and kissed him, his tongue going deeper and deeper. He captured his bottom lip, tugging it. Then he captured his tongue and sucked it.

Harry moaned into his mouth. This time, his knees did fail him, and Draco caught him in his arms.

“You’re fucking stunning,” Draco growled, thrusting his hips against Harry, grinding slowly. “Do you feel that? Do you feel what you do to me?”

Harry whimpered and thrust, too. Draco felt so big. Bigger than Harry.

“Did you want the chicken or the paneer?” Draco murmured, still rolling his hips.

Harry gasped. “Anything.”

“I’d get you both, but since you’re paying for half, I suppose you’d want to choose one or the other.”

“The chicken,” Harry said weakly.

Draco stepped back. There was a noticeable bulge in his trousers. His pale face was flushed. “I’ll tell Freddy to get it for us. You better have the money up front.”

Harry clutched the counter, unable to say anything. Draco slipped out the door. There were voices. Draco’s voice was deeper when he spoke to his employees.

When Draco returned, he was grinning darkly. “The total was fifty pounds. I want that twenty-five now.”

Gulping, Harry grabbed his wallet from the table next to his settee. He pulled out what he had on him. “Um. I only have eighteen on me. Um. I’ll need to pop over to a cashpoint to get you the rest …”

Draco’s dark grin widened. His teeth looked sharp. “I’ll accept eighteen. If you let me play with your arsehole.”

Harry gaped. His head spun. “Um.”

“Is that a yes?”

“I’m not—Um. I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Yes. And?”

“I’m not—you know. My arse. It’s not. Christ. This is mortifying.”

“Your arse is dirty, you mean?”

Harry covered his face. “Oh my god.”

“How dirty are we talking here?”

“Oh my god.” Harry marched to the bathroom and shut the door. He turned on the shower, not really having a plan.

There was a gentle knock on the door. “Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you need help?”

“I think I’ll be able to scrub my arse all on my own, thanks.”

A deep chuckle. Then: “What about your stitches?”

Harry sighed and opened the door. His embarrassment was making him grumpy. “What do you want to help with?”

“Everything. Anything.”

Harry stared at him for a moment. He thought, I can’t believe this man kissed me. Then he blurted out, “You’re too hot for any of this.”

“For what?”

“For this. I need a shower. I need to prep myself. I need—Christ. This is a mess. I think you should just go home. I don’t have the strength to impress you right now.”

Draco stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. “You don’t need to impress me, Harry.”

“Yes, I do! You’re—you’re—”

“I’m what?”

“You’re hot! The hottest man I’ve ever seen. And rich. And so, so posh. You could have anyone in the world. Anyone. And right now, I’m cranky, and probably a bit smelly, and I didn’t wake up today planning to be buggered, and it’s just a mess, okay? It’s all a mess and we aren’t going to work together, can’t you see that? We’re so bloody different, and you’re a damn mobster, just like Riddle—”

Draco took him into his arms and kissed him. “You’re spiralling, darling.”

“You’re too hot for me!”

Draco kissed him until the fight went out of him. Harry’s knees went weak again.

“Hush, now,” he murmured, thumbs stroking Harry’s cheeks.

Harry hid his face against his throat. “Yes, sir.”

Draco growled, the noise dark and aroused. “You’re going to let me bathe you,” he said, now sounding as if he were speaking to one of his henchmen. “Then you’re going to let me comb your hair. Then put you in silk pyjamas. And once you’re comfortable, I’m going to feed you. By hand. I’m going to worship you. Make you feel safe. Make you feel loved. And then, once you’re bloody drunk off all my affection, I’m going to suck your cock.”

Harry mewled. He burrowed his face even more against Draco’s throat. “Yes, sir.”

Draco’s breath stuttered. Harry felt his thick gulp, the rough bob of his Adam’s apple.

Draco took a step back, not releasing him entirely. He took out his phone and texted something.

Harry watched all this happen, not saying anything. He was done thinking for tonight.

Then Draco helped ease his clothes off, being very careful around his stitches. He grimaced when he reached for the rusty shower head. “You deserve to live in a palace, Harry.”

“I’ve always wanted to live next to the shore, so I could hear the waves,” Harry murmured.

“The coast is brilliant,” Draco said, helping him step into the shower. He made sure the showerhead was pointed down, so it didn’t hit his stomach area.

Draco took up a flannel and soap, and began to wash Harry gently. Harry closed his eyes, sighing, and let him. He also did nothing to stop his cock from hardening.

“You’re so beautiful,” Draco murmured.

“Even with the scar on my forehead?”

“Especially with the scar. How did you get it?”

“Tom Riddle, I think. It was when he came to our home to kill my parents. He left his mark on me. Carved it right into my skin.”

“Fucking hell,” Draco growled.

Harry sighed again. “It was a long, long time ago. The scar doesn’t hurt.”

“From now on, I’m going to kill any person who tries to hurt you, Harry. That is my promise to you.”

Harry shuddered. His cock twitched. “We must have levels, don’t you think? Like, what Umbridge did to me doesn’t deserve death.”

“That wench,” Draco growled. “Do you know she yelled at me when I telephoned her? Me.”

Harry chuckled. “I’m not surprised.”

“Just wait, Harry,” Draco said. “She’ll get what’s coming to her.”

Don’t kill her, Harry wanted to say, but he was done pleading his case. At least for tonight.

“Turn around for me,” Draco said, and Harry, being so shy about it, did what he requested. Draco washed his back, then over his bum, to his thighs and legs and ankles. He even sat on the edge of the bathtub and gently eased up Harry’s feet to wash them, too.

Harry was hiding his face again. Tears threatened to form in his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had made him feel so cherished.

“Is everything all right, love?”

Harry nodded into the crook of his elbow. He couldn’t hide the emotion from his voice when he spoke: “I’m not used to someone taking care of me.”

“I know, love.”

“It feels really, really good. Thank you, Draco.”

“Hush, now,” he said. “No need to thank me. Now, spread your legs a little. Yes, like that. I’m going to clean your hole now.”

“God,” Harry whispered.

Draco scrubbed between Harry’s cheeks, creating a great lather. He used a cup to wash away the suds, then did it again.

“May I penetrate you?” Draco asked gently.

“Yeah,” Harry whispered.

Using a lot of soap, Draco worked a finger inside him. Harry gasped and pressed his hot cheek against the cool, moist tile.

Draco moved the finger in and out, curling. He was doing it to clean Harry, yes, but it was also very arousing.

Then Draco washed away the suds via the cup, and did it again and again. Groaning, he whispered, “Your arse is perfect, Harry.”

“You like it?” he asked shyly.

“Fuck yeah I like it, though your hole is already a little stretched. Who’s fucked you recently?”

“Oh God,” he whined.

“Who, Harry? Tell me.”

“No one, oh my god. I just like to … you know. When I wank.”

Draco let out a heavy exhale. “You like to fuck yourself when you wank? Get yourself nice and open?”

“Oh my god.”

“Tell me, Harry.”

“Yes …”

“With your fingers? Or do you have a toy?”

“Both … just my fingers when I’m trying to be quick about it.”

“God, I can imagine it. I bet you look a proper treat, too. What do you think about? Tell me.”

Harry squirmed, so self-conscious. “I imagine being held down …”

“Just held down? Or forced …”

“Christ.”

“Tell me, Harry. Come on, be good for me. Tell me.”

“Yeah,” Harry said on a shaky exhale. “Sometimes, I like to imagine not being given the choice. Life can be so hard. Uni is so bloody hard. And I’m stressed. I’m always so stressed. I just want someone to make it all go away.”

Moaning, Draco spread his cheeks with two commanding hands, then he leaned in and gave his hole a long, lingering lick.

Harry cried out.

Moaning even deeper, Draco buried his face between his cheeks, utterly devouring his hole. He licked and sucked it and even growled as he ate it. He reached around to wrap a fist around Harry’s erection. Harry grabbed his hand, stopping him.

“I don’t want to come like this,” he gasped.

“Why the fuck not?” Draco asked wetly.

“I’m too knackered—Please, Draco—”

“Right, right,” Draco said, seeming to remember himself. He stood and gave Harry another rinse. “Do you feel any remaining suds?”

Harry squirmed again. “I don’t think so.”

Draco shut off the shower and began to dry Harry with a towel. He helped Harry step out of the bathtub, then lowered to his knees to buff the water from his legs and feet, even between his toes.

Harry looked down at him in shock. One of the Kings of Crime was drying his feet. With the utmost care.

Pausing, Draco looked up at him. His expression was earnest, which was another shock. Harry had expected a smirk full of irony.

“We can’t have you going a bit soft on me,” Draco murmured, gaze now on his erection. He leaned in and Harry sucked in a breath, expecting a lick on his shaft, but instead Draco put his mouth on his bollocks.

“Oh,” Harry gasped, his hands going to his hair. He ran his fingers through the white blond locks. It was the softest hair he’d ever felt.

Draco tongued his bollocks, then pulled at them with his mouth. Harry gasped again, shuddering, his cock indeed going harder.

Draco moaned around his mouthful.

Then Draco tried to fit the entire sac in his mouth. Harry looked down, astonished, and their eyes met. The sight alone made Harry waver dangerously, almost falling back.

Cursing, Draco popped up to grab Harry before there was an accident. “Are you all right?”

Harry clung to him, still so weak on his feet. He nodded and tried to explain, but words were failing him. All he could muster was, “Hot.”

Draco was now smiling. His grey eyes even twinkled. He framed Harry’s face. “Mind if I kiss you, love? I know my mouth has been in some unmentionable places …”

“Please.”

Draco kissed him deeply. His mouth did indeed taste a bit salty, a bit forbidden. Harry moaned.

Draco drew back, breathing heavier. “If it weren’t for your stitches, I’d pick you up into my arms and carry you to the settee. I’d carry you everywhere. So you never have to touch the cold floor again.”

“Oh, Draco,” Harry murmured, hiding his face again.

Draco took his hands and gently guided him from the bathroom. There were several boxes on the table.

“What’s that? Who’s been in my flat?” Harry asked, embarrassed about all the moans the person probably heard.

“Just Freddy, I promise,” Draco said. “I asked him to bring me some items.”

Draco opened one box, revealing emerald silk pyjamas. Harry gaped at them.

“Those can’t be for me.”

Draco grinned. “They are … though let’s forgo underpants for tonight. They’ll just get in the way.”

Harry stared. He was almost afraid to touch the pyjamas. They looked so, so expensive.

Draco knelt before him, positioning the silky trousers. “Come on, love. Step into them for me.”

“Are you sure?” Harry whispered.

“Yes.”

Harry stepped into the trousers, one foot at a time. The fabric felt like cool water as Draco eased them up.

“How does that feel?” Draco murmured.

“Really good.”

“Now for the shirt … it buttons in the front … but can we leave it unbuttoned? So I see your pretty tits?” Draco almost managed to sound a bit shy as he said it.

Overcome, Harry just nodded.

Draco put the shirt on him, keeping it unbuttoned. Then he took Harry’s hand and helped him sit down on the settee.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked when Draco didn’t join him.

“I want to comb your hair, apply a few products to it. Is that okay?”

Harry shrugged. “Go ahead.”

Draco retrieved a few items from the boxes. He stepped up behind Harry and massaged a gel into his wet locks. The gel smelled of grapefruit.

“Hmm,” Harry said. “Smells good.”

“Brilliant,” he answered quietly.

After the gel, Draco eased the comb through his hair. He was so, so gentle about it. He touched him as if Harry was something priceless, as if he were something so, so breakable.

And sometimes Harry was breakable. It felt good for someone to acknowledge it.

Harry whimpered softly, unable to quiet himself. A storm of emotion brewed in his chest. If Draco continued to touch him with such care, he would make Harry cry.

“All right, love?” Draco whispered.

“It just feels so good.”

Draco leaned down and kissed him. He held Harry’s throat as he did it, just a soft possessive touch.

Draco drew back to stare into his eyes. “You’re so beautiful, Harry. So strong. And brave. You deserve to be cherished.”

Harry blinked back tears. Draco kissed him again.

A little while later, they were both on the settee, with boxes of curry opened around them. Draco sat close as he fed Harry, one protective arm wrapped around him.

Harry leaned into him, luxuriating in his scent, in the heat of his body. He diligently opened his mouth for each bite.

Draco broke off pieces of the fried poppadoms, dipped them in the chutney, then fed Harry in little bites. He used his bare hand to do this, his fingers turning a bit greasy and sticky.

Growing bolder, Harry opened his mouth to more of his fingers, taking them deeper with each bite.

Draco’s expression turned hot and aroused, and he moaned lowly when Harry gave his digits a suck.

“You like me feeding you, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Draco captured his lips in yet another kiss.

After eating, Draco and Harry snuggled up on the settee and watched a documentary on the telly. Draco was still in crisp black trousers and an even crisper grey shirt, the sleeves rolled up. On his forearm was a hissing snake with a skeletal face.

Harry touched the tattoo with his fingers, finding it incredibly hot.

“You like it?” Draco murmured.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

The documentary was about World War II. As it turned out, Draco had a lot of thoughts about the war.

“Of course, Neville Chamberlain should’ve had bigger bollocks when dealing with Hitler, but Chamberlain couldn’t see into the future, you know? No one thought Hitler had it in him to start a war in ‘39. Hitler hadn’t even planned for it to start that early. He thought the western world would let him invade Poland. He really thought that!”

Harry rested his chin on his arm and watched him talk. He hadn’t seen Draco become so animated. “Eh huh. And then what happened?”

“What happened! The biggest tragedy of the twentieth century happened!”

“What makes it the biggest tragedy?”

Draco looked at him as if he were mad. “Over 61 million people died in the conflict. The Holocaust. The Battle of Britain! The damned dropping of nuclear weapons!”

Harry played with a bit of his blond locks. “And you care about all those people dying, Draco?”

“Of course!”

Harry smiled gently. “I’m sorta surprised to hear you say so. You're a hardened criminal, aren’t you? You’re ruthless. I wouldn’t expect someone like that to care about people dying in a war.”

Draco watched him, his gaze narrowed a little. “I’m ruthless when it comes to hurting men like me. Innocents shouldn’t lose their lives.”

“Men like you?”

Draco drew closer, his hot breath ghosting Harry’s skin: “Bad men,” he purred.

Harry shuddered and didn’t retreat. “There aren’t any women in your line of work?”

“There’s some. And they are vicious.”

“Good for them,” Harry said.

“Yes … except when they are an adversary. Then, not good for them. It’s very bad for them.” As Draco spoke, his hand drifted down to tug one of Harry’s nipples. He ran his thumb over it, tweaking it, teasing it.

Harry’s breath caught.

Draco pushed back his open shirt, revealing his whole chest. “These pretty little tits,” he murmured, both hands now on his nipples.

Harry squirmed. He tried not to whimper.

Draco lowered his blond head to take one of his nipples into his mouth. It was hot and wet, and his tongue was very insistent.

“Oh, God,” Harry whimpered, arching up. His nipples had always been sensitive.

Draco growled in approval and took his nipple between his teeth, tugging until it began to hurt. Then he chased the pain away with a hot caress of his tongue.

“God, sir,” Harry stuttered.

Draco lifted his head. “Christ, Harry. What you do to me when you call me that.”

He was too aroused to answer. He continued to shudder against the settee, just waiting for Draco to make the next move.

Draco’s hand found his erection. He stroked him through the silky fabric. “I’ve made you hard again,” he murmured.

A desperate nod.

Draco smiled dangerously, his grey eyes sparking. “Do you finally want my mouth on your gorgeous prick?”

Another nod.

“Use your words, Harry. Come on, be good for me. Ask me to suck you.”

Harry whimpered again. He had to gulp a few times before he found his voice. “Please, sir. Suck my cock, sir. Please.”

Groaning, Draco ripped down his pyjama bottoms. Harry thought Draco would play with him some more—thumb his dripping tip or cradle his bollocks—but no, Draco bent down and took him deep into the hot, wet suction of his mouth.

Shocked, overcome, Harry cried out and buried his hands in Draco’s hair. He thrust up desperately, hips leaving the settee. His cock choked Draco. Draco didn’t pull away in anger. He didn’t chastise Harry. No, no, he let himself be choked; then, moaning, he took Harry even deeper, until the tip of his cock entered his throat.

Harry’s mouth dropped open in a silent scream. He couldn’t believe this was happening. The King of Crime was deep-throating his prick.

Draco eased back with a rough cough. He stroked Harry’s shaft, just staring. Strings of saliva dripped down his chin.

“God, Draco,” Harry whispered.

“Hush,” Draco said, voice all gravel. Then he took Harry down again, this time his throat opening up with more ease. He coughed and drooled, but remained down.

Harry yanked his hair, unable to stop himself. He also couldn’t stop himself from thrusting. Oh, that mouth. Oh, that throat. The clench of it was heaven.

Draco, groaning, fucked his mouth on his cock, over and over. He yanked Harry’s sac as he did it. He was making a terrible mess of his face. His lips looked raw.

“Oh, fuck, oh, Christ,” Harry gasped. “Sir, sir, you’re making me come, oh my god, I’m going to come—” All his blabbering was meant as a warning to Draco: Stop now or you’re going to get a mouthful of spunk.

Draco only quickened his bobbing. He slurped greedily. His hand twisted Harry’s sac.

“FUCK!” Harry shouted, probably frightening his neighbours. He came hard, shuddering, his whole world going white hot. He thrust and thrust, and distantly, he felt how Draco gulped down his release, felt how much there was to swallow.

When it was all over, Harry was barely conscious. His head lolled against the cushion.

“You were so good for me, baby,” Draco murmured.

Baby.

Holy fuck.

Harry forced his eyes open. He reached for Draco, wanting to repay the favour, but Draco snatched up his wrist as if Harry were a naughty boy trying to steal a sweet.

“No, no,” Draco murmured.

“What’s the matter?”

“You were so good for letting me take care of you. Let’s leave it at that for tonight.”

Harry’s gaze was on the obvious bulge in Draco’s trousers. “But you’re hard … really bloody hard.”

“I know.”

Harry raised his eyes. “It must not be comfortable for you. Don’t you want to come, too?”

Draco brushed his lips against Harry’s. “I’m aching for you, baby. But … you aren’t the only one who can be good. I can be good, too. I can control myself. Tonight, I just want this to be about you.”

Harry frowned. “But I want to give you pleasure …”

“I know, I know.”

Harry sighed and slumped back again. “Okay, sir.”

Draco’s eyes flashed. He gave Harry another brief kiss. “So, so good,” he murmured hotly.

Draco sat back down and gathered Harry in his arms. They didn’t speak as they continued to watch the documentary, which was almost over now.

Harry closed his eyes and fell asleep with Draco’s fingers brushing through his hair and Draco’s sexy, comforting scent invading his dreams.

Over the next week, Harry went easy on himself as he recovered. He went to his lessons and diligently completed his homework, but he didn’t spend hours and hours studying in the library.

He also used Draco’s credit card to buy himself some groceries. It felt really good to fill his trolley up without needing to worry about the total cost. He even let himself get a few steaks and a tub of Oreo ice cream.

Boxes and boxes of clothes had also arrived for him. Harry avoided them as if they contained poisonous snakes.

It was very sweet that Draco had bought him new clothes, but he was also weary of wearing any of it. He was used to his hand-me-downs. His holey jumpers. His terribly faded jeans. His grubby trainers.

Harry didn’t see Draco, which wasn’t surprising. It made sense that such an important man would be busy. Harry was busy, too, even though he was just a uni student.

He did think about Draco. A lot. Too much. He found himself getting a little hard while in class, doing everything in his power to focus but only able to remember.

The dark caress of Draco’s voice.

The hot, spicy smell of his cologne.

The wet, greedy suction of his sinful mouth.

Oh my god.

He’d called Harry, Baby. He’d comforted him. Taken care of him. Washed him.

And he’d eaten Harry’s arse like it was his bloody job.

Oh my god.

Harry shuddered just thinking about it. And his prick got hard when he let the memories wash through him.

It wasn’t good. Oh, no, no. Harry had to focus. He had to be a good student. His future depended on it, didn’t it?

And he had to grovel to Professor Umbridge.

The corridor that led to her office was dark and silent. All the other professors seemed to be away. To make matters worse, there weren’t even any windows.

Behind Harry, the bodyguard Freddy followed diligently.

At her office door, Harry paused to collect himself. He mustn’t lose his temper with the woman. She was cruel, very cruel, but he had to remember that she held all the power in this situation. She even had the audacity to yell at a powerful mobster.

Harry knocked on the door.

“Come in,” said a toad-like voice.

Harry went inside. He shut the door. “Hello, professor,” he said respectfully.

The entire office was covered in cat photographs. Cats playing with yarn. Cats wearing tuxedos. Cats having a beach holiday. Cats canoodling in front of the Eiffel Tower.

Harry forced himself to block out all the felines. The woman behind the desk looked like a toad, not a cat.

“Potter,” she growled. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to speak to you in person about my missed exam …”

“I told you over email that you cannot make it up.”

“I understand, but the circumstances of that day are worth explaining to you. You see, I was shot. I’ve got the stitches to prove it.”

She glowered at him. “Mr Potter, why do you think I care about your problems?”

His mouth dropped open. Once again, he couldn’t believe her cruelty.

Her glower turned into a smirk. She folded her hands and leaned over her desk, almost excitedly. “You know what you are?” she said softly. “You are a liar.”

“No, I’m not! I can show you right now—”

“SILENCE!”

Again, he just gaped.

“You are a liar, Potter. A no good, worthless student. Do you think I don’t know about your past? The state had to raise you because no one else would. You’ve come from nothing and that has made you devious and lazy. You just expect people to give you the marks you want. Because that is what the state did for you. They just gave you things.”

“I was a minor! An orphan! I couldn’t raise myself! And—and I’m a hard worker. I am a very hard worker.”

“You are nothing but a liar! A deviant liar. And your parents—”

“My parents were murdered,” he said coldly.

She sniffed. “It sounds as if they were misguided. Foolish, even. Just like their lying son.”

Harry almost chucked himself over the desk to strangle her. Or punch her really hard in her toad face. He even stepped forward, utterly not thinking, but the door flew open, startling them both.

Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway. He was flanked by two of the biggest blokes Harry had ever seen.

“Greg,” Draco said softly. “Get her.”

One of the blokes marched into the office, heading right for Umbridge. She screamed and tried to make a run for it, but he caught her easily.

Greg twisted her arms behind her back. She thrashed, her toad eyes bulging.

“Let me go! You’re hurting me!” she yelled.

Draco sauntered into the office. The nameless bloke closed and locked the door.

Draco pulled out a Glock and pointed it at her forehead. Umbridge froze in terror. “You’re going to sit down and shut up, or else I’m going to put a bullet in your head. Do you understand me?” He spoke so quietly.

She nodded, tears flooding her toad eyes. Greg released her and she staggered back to her chair.

Draco sat down in the chair for visiting students. He continued to point the gun at her. Greg and the other bloke stood on either side.

Harry stumbled into a corner. Part of him wanted to flee; another part of him wanted to watch. He didn’t dare interfere. He wasn’t that stupid.

“My name is Draco Malfoy,” Draco said quietly. “I’m a businessman, and a criminal, and a murderer. I’m also the one who has telephoned you on several occasions to speak about your student, Harry Potter.”

“I've heard of you,” Umbridge said, weeping.

“That’s good. Makes this all a lot easier. Since you know who I am, then you understand that I’m not fucking around. I will kill you if you do not follow my instructions.”

Umbridge whimpered. She nodded.

“The first thing you will do is submit your formal resignation to this university.”

“What?” she cried.

He cocked his gun at her. It made an ominous click. “I told you to shut up.”

Umbridge fell silent again.

“Now, listen closely,” Draco said, voice barely above a whisper, “I know you have been stealing money from this university. I have the documents that confirm it. Thousands and thousands of pounds … You don’t want to go to prison, do you?”

Umbridge whimpered and shook her head.

“Good, we are in agreement. You will submit your formal resignation today, pack up your office, and leave, never to step foot on this campus again. Do I make myself clear?”

She nodded desperately. Tears rolled down her puffy cheeks.

“Of course, before you go, you will change Harry’s exam results to 100 percent. A perfect score. You will give him top marks. And you will look him in the eyes and apologise to him. Right now.”

She dragged her gaze to Harry, who stepped out from the corner. Her eyes were full of hate. “I’m sorry,” she gritted out.

“And why are you sorry?” Draco said.

“For—for mistreating you. Targeting you,” she said to Harry. “I knew what I was doing was wrong. I knew you weren’t a liar. I just wanted to hurt you.”

“And why did you want to hurt Harry?” Draco said.

Colour flooded her ugly face. She sneaked a glance at Draco, who still pointed his gun at her. “I hurt him because I found it sexually gratifying. I will never be able to sleep with a beautiful man and—and I hated him for his beauty. I—I liked denying him what he wanted. I liked it a lot.”

Harry blinked rapidly. His knees nearly gave out on him. What a thing to admit.

Draco nodded, not lowering his gun. “That makes perfect sense. And you know why it makes perfect sense? Because you are an ugly person. You hurt others. You steal from a fund that’s meant to support students in need. After your resignation, do take some time to work on yourself. Heal your emotions wounds, as the experts like to say. Just stay away from this university. From all of academia. And stay away from Harry. Got it?”

“Yes!”

“I will expect you to pay back what you stole from the fund.”

“Of course!”

Draco grinned darkly at her. “Good.”

Draco stood and slid his gun back into its hidden holster. He looked at Harry, his eyes glittering dangerously. “Do you have anything to add?”

Harry shook his head mutely.

Nodding, Draco made for the door. He paused menacingly and looked back at Umbridge. When he spoke, his voice was still deathly quiet. “One last thing before I leave: I’ll be watching you. Always. Never forget it.”

Umbridge slumped forward and sobbed. She was a woman utterly broken. Harry felt a little bad for her.

Draco and his henchmen left the office. Harry hastened after him. He tried to grab Draco, propelled by need.

“Not here,” Draco growled.

Harry still pawed at him. “That was—Draco—”

Draco spun on him and grabbed his throat, pinning him to the wall. The act should have been violent, but it wasn’t. Draco held back nearly all his strength.

“We need to talk about what you just did,” Harry gasped.

“Not here,” Draco said, leaning close. “Wait until we’re in the car.”

Harry spared a glance at the two enormous henchmen. He grimaced, imagining trying to talk to Draco in private with all four of them squeezed into a Jaguar.

“No, it can’t wait,” Harry said with urgency.

Something so hot flashed in Draco’s eyes. He raised his head and searched for something in the corridor.

“Ah, there’s a cupboard,” Draco said.

The henchmen opened the cupboard and did a quick search inside. “Empty,” said Greg.

“Good, stand watch,” Draco ordered, and he urged Harry toward the cupboard, pulling him by the throat. Harry tripped over his own feet, so undone. Draco’s hold remained gentle but it was still insistent. And it was cripplingly sexy.

Inside the cupboard, Draco slammed the door shut. He crowded Harry against the wall. “What do you need to say to me?”

Harry had an erection. He was turned on. He shouldn’t be, but he was. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he whispered.

“You don’t tell me what to do.” Draco remained close, so close. His breath had gone ragged.

“I know, sir, but you still shouldn’t have done it. You ruined her, didn’t you? You almost killed her.”

“She hurt you.”

“So?”

Draco grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head. Harry gasped.

Draco closed what little space was left between them. He was hard, too. So hard. Draco rolled his hips. “My, my, I’ve aroused you,” he whispered darkly.

Harry mewled, so overcome. “You shouldn’t have …” The words shivered on his lips.

“Why not, Harry? Because you think you’re not worth it?”

“She was just … fucking with me. I could have failed her class. It would have been okay. I would have survived, but—”

“No, no, you don’t understand,” Draco murmured darkly. “She hurt you.”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“It matters to me, Harry. It will always matter to me. And you know why? Because you are mine now.”

“Hush, please, don’t say that, I can’t stand it—”

Draco spun him around and ripped down his jeans and underpants. Harry gasped and reached down, meaning to cover himself up, but Draco grabbed his throat again.

“Don’t,” Draco whispered.

“God—this isn’t—”

Draco easily undid his own trousers and pulled out his cock. He pressed his erection against Harry’s arse, his hold on his throat tightening. “No more talking from you, do you understand me?”

Harry shuddered and pressed back. He’d let himself be mounted in this dirty cupboard, he would, he would. He wanted to make Draco happy.

Draco spat into his own palm and slicked up his cock. Then he thrust between Harry’s cheeks. “Do you feel me?” he whispered in his ear. “Do you feel what you do to me?”

“Yes.”

Draco thrust roughly. “This is all for you, baby. Every fucking inch. And I’m thick, aren’t I? So fucking thick. And I’m so desperate to be inside you. To claim you.”

Harry moaned, his head tipping forward to thud against the wall.

Draco thrust and thrust. He reached down to pull on Harry’s prick. “I don’t want to hear you say it doesn’t matter when people hurt you. You aren’t expendable, my love, my baby. You are worth everything I have in this world. Every fucking thing. All of my riches. All of my power. You are worth every last bit of it.”

Harry let out a soft cry, his bollocks already drawing up.

“I will kill for you, Harry,” Draco said raggedly, his hips going and going. “I will burn down this entire world for you.”

“Draco.”

“Now come for me, my baby, my darling. Come for me because I demand it of you. Come for me because we both know how much you want to please me.”

“Yes!” Harry cried out, being so loud. The next moment, he was shuddering through his orgasm, his semen splattering the wall. He reached down to touch Draco’s hidden gun, feeling how the sleek metal was warm from being so close to his body. Touching the gun made him hit a second peak.

Draco slammed forward, once, twice, and then he came too, his release making a mess between Harry’s cheeks.

Draco growled and moaned, clinging to him, his pants nearly burning Harry’s skin.

When it was all over, Harry barely kept his footing. Draco held him close for several minutes while he regained his strength.

“Apologies, I’ve left you with a mess,” Draco murmured.

“Worth it,” Harry murmured back, barely awake. He was still trembling with aftershocks.

Draco brushed his lips against his ear. “Unfortunately, I’ve got things to attend to for the rest of the day … but tomorrow, will you let me take you out to dinner?”

“Yes.” His answer came so easily.

Draco tipped Harry’s head back to kiss his lips. “I can’t wait, baby.”

Harry whimpered so softly. “Sir …”

Exhaling shakily, Draco released him. “None of that dirty talk now. I don’t need another bloody stiffy.”

Harry pulled his clothes back up. Draco’s release was drying on his skin. “Christ, I need a bath.”

“Go home and take one. I’m going to leave a car with Freddy. Use it.”

Harry opened his mouth to object, but Draco silenced him.

“No, darling, you don’t understand. I want to keep you safe. Just do this for me, okay?”

Harry hesitated. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes. Of course.” It was too dark in the cupboard to scrutinise Draco’s expression.

Harry frowned. “But—”

Draco opened the door, revealing the two big blokes and Freddy. “You better keep your eye on him,” he growled to Freddy. “No fuck ups, got it?”

Freddy stood tall in front of his boss. “Got it, sir.”

Draco gave Harry a quick kiss on the temple, then disappeared down the corridor with his henchmen.

Embarrassed, Harry could barely look at Freddy. He’d heard Harry moaning and mewling and begging in the cupboard. Ugh.

Freddy looked entirely unaffected. “Ready, sir?”

Harry nodded and followed him out. At the car, Harry paused before getting in. “Do you do this often? Guard Draco’s boyfriends?”

Freddy frowned. “No, sir.”

“Has there been a lot …? Of boyfriends, I mean.”

“Not too many.”

“What does that mean?”

Freddy gave a noncommittal shrug. “You’re special to the boss. That’s all you need to know.”

Harry scrutinised him. “Am I in danger?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not?”

Freddy grinned, showing off a few broken teeth. “Because you’re with me.”

“Right,” Harry said, and got into the Jaguar.

The next evening, Harry mustered the courage to open a few of the boxes that contained his new clothes. He wanted to look presentable for Draco. Draco was probably taking him to a very posh restaurant. He couldn’t wear his old frayed trousers.

The clothes were luxurious. Wrinkle-free. The trousers were crisp and black and felt like silk against his fingers. The shirts were of deep greens and reds and even purples. The stitching on all of it was impeccable.

After a very thorough shower, Harry slid on his new underpants, then an emerald shirt and a black jacket. He thought a tie would be too much but he’d put one on if Draco was wearing one.

Standing in front of his cloudy mirror, he put on his moisturiser and then tried to do something with his wild hair. It was a fruitless effort, but he still made the attempt. He wanted to look perfect for his new boyfriend.

And they were boyfriends, weren’t they? Draco had never explicitly said … but his actions—his words—conveyed that Harry was very important to him.

And Harry really, really wanted to be Draco’s boyfriend. He wanted to be his person. He glimpsed a frown come over his face in the mirror. He didn’t want to share Draco. He knew men like Draco were rarely monogamous but … He would walk away if Draco was unwilling not to sleep with other people. And he would definitely walk away if Draco tried to lie to him about it.

Harry took a deep breath. Then another.

He was getting ahead of himself.

There was a knock on his door. He shivered. Draco was here.

Harry went to answer it. Draco, in fact, stood on the other side.

Draco dragged his gaze all over Harry’s body. Then he whispered, “Fuck me.”

Harry blushed. “Do I look all right?”

Draco strode inside and slammed the door shut. He grabbed Harry. “Sod dinner. Sod everything. I need to have you. Right now.”

Laughing hotly, Harry squirmed out of his grasp. “No, I’m hungry. And I got all dressed up for you. Don’t I deserve a nice meal?”

Instead of answering, Draco looked down at his bare feet. “You haven’t put your shoes on yet. Let me do it for you.”

Harry shivered. “Okay.” He went to one of the boxes and pulled out a gleaming pair of black Oxfords and a pair of silky black socks. He handed them over to Draco.

“Sit,” Draco commanded softly. Harry sat. Staring into his eyes, Draco knelt before him. “First foot, please.” Harry complied.

Instead of slipping on the sock, Draco caressed the offered foot. He held it as if it were something tremendously valuable.

Harry squirmed, embarrassed. His embarrassment deepened when Draco dropped a kiss to his toes, then his arch.

“What are you doing?” Harry gasped.

“I’m appreciating what’s mine,” Draco said, and then he took his big toe into his mouth, sucking on it naughtily.

Harry squawked and tried to yank away. His feet weren’t dainty like a woman's. Thank God he had clipped his toenails.

Chuckling, Draco released his toe. He groaned softly. “Every part of you tastes divine, baby.”

Harry shook his head. He was rendered speechless.

There was more chuckling as Draco finally slid on his socks, then his shoes. The intimacy of it made Harry bite his bottom lip. Draco very carefully tied the laces.

“Thank you,” Harry said, breathless.

Draco raised his eyes. They gleamed silver. “I’m hard, baby.”

Another bite of the lip. “You were naughty.”

Draco leaned up to brush a kiss to Harry’s mouth. “I’m always naughty.”

“No, you’re not. You can be quite respectful when you want to be.”

“I don’t want to be respectful right now. I want to be inside you.”

Harry’s breath caught. Still, he managed to say, “You promised me dinner.”

Groaning, Draco got to his feet. He helped Harry up, too. “Fine, let’s go out. Even though I’ll have half a stiffy the entire time.”

Harry preened.

A few minutes later, they were in the back of a Jaguar, Greg and the nameless henchman in the front seat. Freddy was following behind in a nondescript car. In fact, several guards were trailing them.

“Do you always go out on the town with such an entourage?”

Draco was clutching Harry’s thigh. He gave it a squeeze. “Sometimes. Why?”

Harry shrugged and peered through the tinted window. “I don’t know if I should be on guard or not.”

Draco sighed quietly. “With me, you should always be on guard.”

Harry looked back at him, trying to inspect his features. Draco was very, very good at keeping his expression cool and calm. “Am I in danger?”

“No.” Draco tightened his hand on his thigh.

They arrived at the Ledbury. It was a posh European restaurant. The host took one look at them and ushered them into a private back room. In the room, Harry and Draco were alone, but several henchmen stood on guard at the door.

Trying not to become anxious, Harry smiled and looked over the menu. They were only a few minutes into their date and it was already turning into a bewildering experience.

Draco didn’t pick up his menu. He was too busy staring at Harry. Eating him up with his cool gaze.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Harry asked.

Draco shrugged as a silent waiter poured their expensive French wine. He took a sip of the wine, still staring at Harry. “I’d rather be shagging.”

Harry smiled again. “That’s not what I asked.”

“I’ll get whatever you’re having.”

Harry scanned the menu, looking for something truly revolting, like animelles. Unfortunately, everything he read seemed rather appetising … well, almost everything.

“I think I’ll get the Hay Aged Anjou Pigeon.”

Draco frowned. “Just get the veal. It’s delicious.”

“You can get the veal.” Harry smirked. “I will be selecting the pigeon.”

Snorting, Draco took a gulp of his wine. His gaze remained on Harry, twinkling fondly. “You know, some consider pigeons to be pets. Do you really have the stones to eat someone’s pet?”

“I had the stones to take a bullet for you. Don’t you think I can handle a tasty bird?”

For a moment, Draco didn’t react, but the twinkling in his eyes turned into a smoulder. “What would you do if I crawled beneath the table and sucked you off? Right now. With the entire restaurant just outside that door.”

Harry held his heated gaze. “I’d come. Fast. Embarrassingly fast.”

Again, Draco didn’t react. He seemed to be weighing his options. Then he groaned and looked away. “Fuck, what you do to me,” he muttered.

Harry let out an exhale. He relaxed in his seat, but his cock was throbbing. “I wanted to have dinner with you because I wanted a chance to get to know you more. Talk with you. Have a conversation. Without sex being involved. Do you think you can handle that?”

“I can handle anything,” Draco growled.

“Good.” Then: “Who were those two men in the car? You seem closer to them.”

Draco eyed him. “You mean Greg and Vincent?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“They are my best mates.”

Harry blinked in surprise. “Oh.”

“I’ve known them since we were just tykes. I grew up with them. And their families. Their dads worked for my father. Protected him. Just like they protect me.”

“Do you ever just hang out with them? Get a pint? Go to the cinema? That sort of thing.”

Draco’s expression became guarded. “I used to. Before my father died. Before I had to take over the business.”

“And now?”

“Now I don’t have much time for … amusements.”

“You have time for me. Somehow.”

Draco watched him. He was so still in his seat. So controlled. “I’ve made time for you.”

Harry grabbed his wine glass. His stomach clenched. “And once you’ve properly fucked me … Will you still make time for me?”

Draco swore under his breath. He opened his mouth to bite out a response, but the waiter returned then.

“I shall have the veal,” Harry said, then gave Draco a wink.

“Me too,” Draco growled, not taking his gaze from Harry.

“Very good, sirs,” the waiter said, then disappeared again.

“You’re not just some casual shag,” Draco said.

Harry looked down at his hands. “I’m not?”

“No, damn you. I thought I made that clear?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know how you’ve treated your former lovers. Or if they are even former. You might have other men in your life.”

“I don’t.”

Harry bit his lip. “Why not? I mean … You are so fit. So sexy. And you’re a millionaire.”

“Billionaire,” Draco said.

Harry shuddered. “You are rich. Glamorous. Did I already mention you’re sexy?”

“Yes.”

“I bet there are hundreds of blokes who would kill to sleep with you.”

“I don’t want hundreds of blokes. I want you.”

Another shudder. When Harry picked up his wine, the glass wavered in his hand. “It doesn’t make sense. Why you’d choose me.”

“I already told you that I want to fuck you. I’ve already shown you how much you turn me on. How much I enjoy being in your company. And you saved my bloody life. Don’t I get to be smitten?”

“I’m not looking for a bloke who’s smitten. I’m looking for someone who’s in love with me.”

Draco sat back in his chair. He seemed to take a moment to gather himself. “Look,” he said. “You’re special to me. Very special. I’m not going to lie and say I don’t get around. I do. I like sex. A lot. But you’re the only one in my life right now. You’re the only one I want to be in my life. I’ve never tried to woo the others like I’ve tried to woo you. I’ve given lovers presents, sure, but I haven’t spoiled them like I want to spoil you. How I should be spoiling you. If only you stopped being so stubborn.”

Harry worried his bottom lip and stared down at the white tablecloth, not wanting Draco to see the emotion in his eyes. “I’m scared,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“This is all so bloody weird for me. It’s as if I’m living in an alternate universe. There’s bodyguards standing outside the room. And you’re a criminal. You could go to prison.”

Draco snorted. “I’m never stepping foot in prison. I promise you.”

Harry kept his gaze down. “I like to think of myself as a moral person. Someone who helps others. Protects them, even. But now … now I’m dating the most infamous mobster in Britain.” He flinched. “We are dating, aren’t we?”

“Of course,” Draco said softly.

Harry nodded in relief. Then: “Do you understand what I’m trying to explain?”

“Yes, I do. All I can say is that I only hurt bad people. People who deserve it. And I will never, ever hurt you, Harry. I promise you.”

They both relaxed a bit. For a minute or so, neither of them spoke. Harry drank his wine carefully. Then he managed to lift his head and give Draco a warm smile.

“You fancy history, don’t you?”

Draco blinked. “I do.”

“Did you ever study it? Like in uni?”

A shadow came over Draco’s face. “I never got the chance to go to uni.”

“Why not?”

“Because my father was murdered.”

“I’m sorry.”

Draco gave him a grim smile. “It’s not your fault.”

“Did you want to take over your father’s business? Or were you forced into it?”

Now Draco’s expression hardened. A wall had come up. “Why does it matter?”

“This is me trying to get to know you … Are my questions too personal?”

“Yes, I rather think so. Wait until our tenth date or something before asking me something like that.”

Harry nodded. “Okay. Then what makes you like history?”

“I don’t know,” Draco said, exasperated. “I suppose, deep down inside, I’m just a swot at heart.”

Harry laughed. “I like swots.”

“You do?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely. I’m a student, remember? I’m surrounded by them.”

Draco bared his teeth a little. “You mean, I’ve got competition. Loads of it.”

Harry laughed again, this time in disbelief. “No way! I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re extraordinary, Draco. And sexy, so sexy. You make me weak.”

Draco’s expression softened. “Good.”

“Tell me something about yourself I don’t know.”

Draco sighed. “Do you mean to write a book about me or something?”

“You want to shag my brains out. You nearly did so in a cupboard. Haven’t I earned the right to know some things about you?”

“You’ll learn more about me when my prick is buried in your arse. I’m rather talkative when I’m fucking.”

“Draco.”

He sighed and fixed one of his gleaming cufflinks. “Fine, damn you. Right, let me think.”

Harry sipped his wine and waited patiently.

“Something you don’t know about me is that I’m into bondage. And a bit of ageplay. But just a bit. I’m not into blokes wearing nappies or whatever.”

“Draco.”

“What?”

“Tell me something that doesn’t involve sex. Or your job.”

Draco blinked at him. “My favourite film is Saving Private Ryan.”

Harry beamed. “Because you like World War Two.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve seen it only once. It’s a brutal film.”

“Yes.”

“My favourite film is Steel Magnolias.”

“What’s that about? Guns? Manufacturing?”

“No, it’s about a group of American women in the 1980s or 60s or something. Dolly Parton’s in it. So is Julia Roberts.”

“Christ, she’s hot.”

“Who? Julia Roberts?”

Draco made a face. “No, Dolly.” He held his hands up to his chest, mimicking holding breasts. “Her rack is spectacular.”

“Rack. How American of you.” Harry laughed. “I didn’t know you fancy women.”

“I fancy Dolly. And her rack.”

“I’m more of a Jessica Lange bloke myself. I’ve always had a weakness for blondes who are cool and composed.”

“She has a sexy voice.”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

Still laughing, Harry stood up. Draco frowned at him.

“What are you doing?”

“I need to use the toilet, if you don’t mind.”

His frown deepened. “Why?”

“Um … my bladder is a bit full …”

“Take Freddy with you, damn it,” Draco said, looking unhappy.

“But it can’t be that far away …”

“I said take him with you.”

Now Harry was frowning too. “What’s going on, Draco? What are you not telling me?”

Draco shook his head. “Nothing. I just worry about you. Like I said, you saved my life and—Well. It complicates things.”

“You said I might be in danger.”

Draco merely looked at him.

Harry sighed. “I’ll take Freddy with me.”

Harry peered around anxiously as he made his way to the restroom. The restaurant was very elegant, with earth-toned walls and abstract-shaped chandeliers. All the waiters nodded to him respectfully.

The restroom was deserted. Freddy, like always, waited outside the door.

Harry pissed quickly. He listened for any noise, too. He seemed to be the only one in the restroom.

His heart was beating rapidly. Draco’s protectiveness was getting to him. Making him anxious. Paranoid.

At the sink, Harry took his time washing his hands. He glanced up at his reflection. Fucking hell, I’m flushed, he thought. He was a bit sweaty too. Not a good look.

There was movement behind him. He caught it at the edge of his vision.

Harry spun around but didn’t see anyone. His heartbeat was nearly choking him. Christ, get it together.

Harry moved to dry his hands. Behind him, he heard footsteps. Quick. He made to turn again but someone grabbed him from behind. Violently.

“Don’t move,” growled a dark voice. Then a cloth was pressed to his mouth. It smelled awful like toxic chemicals.

Harry tried to scream but no sound came out. He fell unconscious.

When Harry woke up, he found himself in a dark room. For a moment, he thought he was back in Draco’s secret headquarters, back in the room where Draco had asked him out.

But, no, this room was different. And the bed was awfully uncomfortable.

“You’re awake. Good.” The voice was smooth, very smooth. And dark.

Harry gave a start when he spotted the man sitting against the wall. He blinked several times. Dear Lord, it’s Tom Riddle, he thought.

Riddle stared at him with dark eyes. They were beautiful eyes. His entire face was beautiful. He was older—probably in his fifties. Grey licked at his temples.

“Um,” Harry gulped.

“How are you feeling?”

“Um.” Harry had to think about it. “Weak. A bit foggy. My head hurts.”

Riddle smiled blandly. “Good.”

Harry did some more blinking. Good …?

Riddle rose and went to the bed. He sat on the edge, right next to Harry’s hip. His cologne reached for Harry. It smelled like sexy petrol. Dangerous. Forbidden. A bit stomach-churning.

Riddle watched him closely. He was no longer smiling. “Do you know who I am?”

Harry nodded.

“I want to hear you say it.”

Harry licked his lips. He whispered, “You’re Tom Riddle. One of the Kings of Crime. You killed my parents.”

Surprise flickered in Riddle’s eyes. He let out a dark chuckle. “I did?”

Harry almost hit him. He imagined himself doing it: His fist rocketing into the side of his beautiful face, destroying it. “Yes,” he gritted out. “Their names were James and Lily Potter.”

Riddle frowned for a moment. He was obviously trying to recall. Then he smiled a little and shrugged. “I can’t remember them.”

Enraged tears flooded Harry’s eyes. They made the whole world go blurry. He looked away, wanting to cry in private. Riddle didn't even recognise the scar on his forehead.

Riddle continued to watch him. “Why did you take that bullet for Malfoy? I sent my very best man to that coffee shop. He’s dead now because of you.”

“I didn’t even think about it. I just did it.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that. I want to know who you are. Who you are really. Are you one of Malfoy’s men? Or are you something more dangerous … A spy, perhaps? One who works for the NCA?”

Harry almost choked on his tongue. “What?”

“Answer my question.”

“You think I’m a … spy?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, I’m not!”

“Then what are you? And you better not lie to me.” He said the words slowly, with deadly emphasis.

“I’m his boyfriend! That’s all!”

Something flickered in Riddle’s dark gaze. He leaned closer. “Why should I believe that?”

“I dunno but it’s the truth.”

“You took a bullet for Malfoy and he … What? Bent you over in gratitude?”

Harry felt his cheeks warm. “He hasn’t … Not properly. Not that it’s any of your business, mind! He’s been taking his time to court me, that’s all.”

Riddle leaned even closer. “He should have taken you when he had the chance. Pity.”

Harry wrapped his arms around himself. He tried not to shrink away. “What do you mean to do to me? Why did you abduct me?”

“I intended to torture you until you gave up the truth … but now I’m reconsidering my course of action.”

Harry shuddered. “Please don’t hurt me. I am telling you the truth.”

“Yes,” Riddle muttered thoughtfully, “I do believe you are.” Then he closed the space between them, his mouth nearly brushing Harry’s. Instead of kissing him, Riddle smelled the tender skin of his throat.

Harry’s hands jumped to his strong shoulders. He meant to shove him away but fear made him latch on instead. He didn’t want to anger this man.

“What are you doing?” Harry gasped.

“Smelling you, obviously,” Riddle murmured.

Harry stared at the dark wall. He couldn’t believe how mental everything had become. The man who murdered his parents was sniffing him.

Riddle made a noise of approval, then withdrew. His eyes were a bit lidded when he looked at Harry. “You smell so sweet.”

“Please, don’t,” he whispered.

Riddle gave a heated laugh. “What do you think I’m going to do to you?”

“Please don’t hurt me.”

“I won’t … Unless you fuck me over. Are you going to fuck me over, Harry?”

He blinked at the dangerous man. “I just want to go home.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

He gulped. “I won’t do anything to make you hurt me.”

Riddle leaned in again, his nose almost brushing Harry’s. “Promise?”

He nodded, though a few treacherous tears escaped down his cheeks.

Dear God, how was he going to survive this?

Tom Riddle didn’t leave him alone. It made Harry virtually crack up. They even shared a candle-lit meal together. They were served bloody steaks with mash and thick gravy.

Riddle did more watching than eating. The intensity of his gaze was very similar to Draco’s. Both men seemed to catch every little detail.

There were no windows in the room, but Harry heard a downpour happening outside. It fit his mood perfectly.

“What do you do, Harry? For a profession?”

Harry picked at his juicy steak. “I go to uni, that’s all. I worked in a professor’s lab over summer but not anymore.”

Riddle laughed, somehow delighted. “A uni student? How ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” Harry grumbled quietly, keeping his gaze down.

“I don’t mean to offend you, of course.”

“No?”

“I value education, and—decades ago—I loved being a student.”

“That’s nice.”

“I used to be quite clever. Read every book in the school library. I got top marks in all my lessons.”

“Wow. Congratulations.”

Riddle paused. He said darkly, “Do you mean to be rude, Harry?”

Harry looked up quickly. “No!” he lied.

Riddle eyed him. “You know, I could slit your throat. Right here, right now. I could call in a pack of dogs and have them rip you to shreds. I could take out my gun and shoot you with it. Perhaps I’d aim for your stomach. Just to make sure you bleed out slowly.”

Harry gulped back tears but he met Riddle’s gaze bravely. “I know.”

“Or … I could invite you into my bed.”

Harry’s head spun. “What?”

“I’m a rather excellent lover. Very attentive. My prick will make you sing, you’ll see.”

“I don’t want to sleep with you, I’m sorry.”

“And why not? Do you think I’m too old for you or something?”

“No! It’s just that I don’t know you.”

“And you think you know Malfoy?” Riddle laughed. “Don’t be stupid.”

“I do know him!”

Riddle got in Harry’s face. He hissed, “That boy is a monster.”

“No, he’s not!”

“He’s reckless. And idiotic. And he has killed countless of my men. He should have done what was right when his father died and bent the knee to me. He should have acknowledged I was his superior. In every way. It is I who should own this kingdom, not him!”

“You killed his father!”

“So?”

“So, you’re the monster, not him!”

Roaring, Riddle overturned their table, all the china and cutlery cashing in the floor. He advanced on Harry, who stumbled back.

Riddle grabbed him by the throat and pinned him to the wall. “I don’t remember your pathetic parents. And do you know why? Because they were nothing. Just like you are nothing. Do you think you can ridicule me? Do you think you can outsmart me? You can’t, damn you. And when I’ve finally captured Malfoy, when I’ve finally got him under my control, I’m going to tie him up and make him watch as I ruin you—”

Harry punched him with all his might. It was just like when he’d stepped in front of the bullet. Instincts had taken over.

Riddle roared again and stumbled back. He touched his jaw, eyes wide in shock. Then he yanked out his gun and pointed it right at Harry’s head.

“You shouldn’t have done that, you bloody fool.”

Harry intended to charge at him, tackle him to the floor. There was a chance he’d be shot but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered if he didn’t get away—

A sound made them both pause. It had come from the corridor. Riddle frowned, looking at the door.

A second sound came. It was a quiet shuffle. Maybe even a grunt.

“It’s just my guards, that’s all,” Riddle muttered to himself.

Then the door burst open. Riddle shouted and dove toward Harry. Harry was too stunned to move. He saw blood. Puddles of it. The corridor was covered in it. There were bodies out there.

Draco charged into the room, his gun cocked and loaded, a long silencer at the end of its muzzle. He was encircled by guards. Harry cried out and tried to run to him but something stopped him. It was Riddle.

Riddle yanked Harry by the hair, dragging him back against the wall. He pressed his gun to Harry’s temple. “You make one bloody move on me and I’ll blow his brains out!” Riddle roared.

Draco’s gun was pointed at Riddle’s head. His face was a mask of rage. “You hurt him and you die, Riddle.”

“Tell your men to retreat, now! If you don’t, your boy toy is dead!”

“Put down your gun, Riddle,” Draco demanded, inching closer.

“No! Fuck you!” Riddle was salivating. Harry felt his spittle against his cheek.

Draco took another step closer. “Let him go. This is the last time I will ask you.”

“FUCK YOU!” He pressed the muzzle harder into Harry’s temple. Harry screamed, thinking he had already pulled the trigger.

Draco’s gun went off. Harry felt even more wet against his cheek. Riddle dropped to the floor, dead, his eyes open and staring at nothing. A single bullet hole was in the centre of his forehead. A perfect shot.

Sobbing, Harry ran into his arms. Draco clung to him, trembling. He framed his face and kissed him desperately.

“Are you okay?” Draco whispered harshly.

“Yes! God. What happened?”

“It took every resource I had to track you down, Harry. Christ, I’ve been worried sick. But you’re safe now. And Riddle’s dead.”

Harry buried his face in his shoulder. “I don’t want to be here, Draco. Please take me home.”

Growling, Draco picked him up into his arms. Harry clung to his neck. “Close your eyes, baby,” Draco whispered. “You don’t want to see the mess outside.”

Harry closed his eyes and let Draco carry him out of the building. He couldn’t stop crying. He was just so relieved.

Draco didn’t take Harry back to his lonely flat. He took him to his headquarters. This time, nothing about blindfolds was mentioned.

His headquarters were still at the top of an enormous high rise. Its windows glinted almost menacing from Harry’s view on the street.

“Come along,” Draco growled, one palm planted on the back of his neck. He guided Harry through the glass double doors, through the fancy lobby, to its gleaming lifts.

In the lift, Draco stood close, his strong form vibrating with tension. Harry was almost afraid. There was just so much tension, so much emotion.

Then they were inside the enormous apartments, which took up several levels. Harry couldn’t help but gape at all the opulent furnishings. There were antiques in here.

“Are you hungry or thirsty? Do you need anything?”

Harry shook his head mutely.

“Good.” Draco grabbed his hand and led him deeper into the apartments.

When they reached his personal bedroom, he slammed and locked the door behind them. Harry stumbled back, not really knowing his own feelings.

The bedroom was massive with soaring ceilings. Three of its walls were pure glass, giving them nearly a 360 view of the glittery cityscape.

Draco prowled closer, already unbuttoning his shirt. “Leave now if you don’t want to be mounted,” he said hotly.

Harry stepped back, heart thumping. “You locked the door …”

This made Draco hesitate. “Do you want to leave? Truly?”

Harry shook his head weakly. “No.”

Draco grabbed him. He buried his hands in his hair and kissed him. Shuddering, Harry gasped into his mouth.

“I fucking need you,” Draco growled, lips still so close to Harry’s.

“Yes,” he whispered.

Draco picked him up and carried him to the enormous bed. He dumped him onto the mattress rather inelegantly.

“Take off your clothes or I will rip them off,” Draco said darkly.

Harry scrambled to get everything off. His hands were shaking so much. Still, he was hard for Draco. Throbbing for him.

When Harry was naked, Draco paused at the edge of the bed, just looking at him. Then he said quietly, “Crawl over here. I want you to undress me.”

Harry crawled over to him eagerly. He kept his eyes down as he carefully undid Draco’s belt and lowered his zip. He was attempting to ease down his trousers when Draco grabbed his chin and forced his gaze up.

Draco stared into his eyes. The grey was so dark it looked deadly. “Riddle tried to hurt you, didn’t he?”

Harry gave a small nod.

“Did he try to touch you?”

Another nod.

Somehow, the grey managed to turn even darker. Draco let out an enraged pant. His fingers tightened against Harry’s chin. Harry was pretty sure he still had Riddle's blood on his face.

“But you fought him off, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry whispered.

Draco moaned, then. He sounded so wrecked. He leaned down to brush his burning lips against Harry’s. “You are so fucking brave, baby. The bravest I know. The strongest I know.”

Harry snorted. “I’m not stronger than your guards. No way.”

“There are different types of strength, baby,” Draco murmured, now touching his bottom lip with his thumb.

“Are you saying I was good for you, sir?”

“So good.”

“Does that mean I’ve earned a reward?”

Heated humour flashed in Draco’s eyes. “Perhaps … Depends on what you want.”

“I want to suck your cock, sir. Please? Haven’t I earned it? Haven’t I been good enough to finally get my hot, wet mouth around your throbbing—”

Draco snatched up his throat. He leaned down to hiss, “Shut up—or I’ll come.”

Harry licked his lips, his eyes fluttering. “Please, sir …”

“Christ.”

“Is that a yes?”

Draco bared his teeth, looking very much like a predator. “Yes.”

Holding his breath, Harry eased down his trousers. Draco was desperately hard. It made a tent in his very expensive pants. For a moment, Harry just stared.

“Go on,” Draco ordered darkly.

Harry eased down his pants. His erection was so fucking heavy, the head pulled down by its own weight.

“Your bollocks,” Harry moaned, hand coming up to cradle them.

“You like ‘em, baby?”

Harry squeezed his handful in appreciation. “Yes, sir,” he whispered.

“Look at that,” Draco murmured. “My sac is almost too big for your palm.”

Harry groaned deeply. His own cock twitched needily.

“Go on,” Draco repeated, his fingers entangling in Harry’s hair. “Don’t stop there.”

Harry wrapped a fist around his thick shaft. He stared into Draco’s eyes as he stroked it. His foreskin was silky against his fingers.

Then, still staring into his eyes, Harry dragged the flat side of his tongue up his throbbing shaft, tasting him for the very first time.

Draco’s eyes rolled back. He moaned. Harry moaned, too. Draco’s prick tasted so, so good.

Now hungry, Harry licked him over and over, and he sought out all of his veins, all of his ridges. He even nibbled on a bit of his foreskin, testing its elasticity. This made Draco bare his teeth again.

“Stop teasing me,” Draco growled. “I want you to take me all the way down.”

Harry looked up at him, feigning innocence. “Sir?”

Growling some more, Draco pulled his hair and forced his mouth closer and closer until Harry was forced to take his shaft into his mouth.

Draco began to use his mouth, not being very gentle, not anymore. Harry relaxed into the hold and let himself be used. He moaned deeply, the sound wet, and he did his best to open his throat too.

Draco screwed deeper and deeper, until his tip did breach Harry’s throat. Harry coughed, his gag reflex kicking in, but he didn’t try to get away.

“Christ, baby,” Draco whispered, sounding wrecked. He throbbed so needily. His thighs even trembled.

Draco was the most powerful criminal in Britain, but Harry could bring him to his knees. He could, he could.

Groaning, Draco pulled away, and Harry pouted. He hadn’t been done tasting his cock.

Draco dragged his head up. He kissed him hungrily, tasting his own arousal on Harry’s tongue.

“Please, sir,” Harry whispered.

“I’m going to eat your arse now.”

Harry turned shy. “Are you sure—? I haven’t bathed since last night—”

“Don’t argue with me.”

Harry bit his lip and nodded.

Then Draco manhandled him onto his stomach. He made sure his arse was up in the air.

Harry cried out when he felt the first swipe of Draco’s hot, greedy tongue. It wasn’t the first Draco had tasted his arse, but this time felt more intimate, more meaningful. Draco had killed for him.

“That’s it, baby,” Draco murmured darkly. “Don’t hold back. I want to hear you.” He reached around to tug Harry’s cock, almost mirroring the strokes of his hand to the strokes of his tongue.

Harry cried out and squirmed and blabbered. He pressed back eagerly, loving when he felt Draco penetrate him.

Draco groaned as he tongue-fucked him, in and out, in and out. Then he licked down to taste Harry’s hanging balls from behind.

“Sir,” Harry cried out.

“Are you going to come for me?” Draco growling, his hand stroking and stroking.

“Yes!”

Draco released him and sat up. Harry twisted onto his back, more than a little frustrated. He’d been right there.

“Come on, come on,” Harry urged, pawing at Draco, needing his dick inside him.

Draco laughed and didn’t move an inch. He smirked down at Harry.

Harry wrapped a hand around Draco’s erection, pleasuring him while trying to bring him closer. Still, Draco didn’t move.

“Please,” Harry gasped.

“What do you want, baby?”

“You know what I want!”

Another laugh. “I had no idea you could be so pushy.”

“I’m aching for you, Draco. Please fuck me. Please, please.”

“Oh, it’s Draco now, is it? What happened to showing me some respect?”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. Then, huffing, he forced himself to relax against the mattress, his hands at his side. He forced himself to wait patiently.

“That’s right,” Draco purred, moving to loom over him. “I’m the one who calls the shots here, not you.”

Harry shut his eyes and whimpered. Draco’s voice was just so, so hot.

“I should have tied you up,” Draco continued to purr. “I should have gagged you.”

“Sir.”

Draco grabbed his face roughly. Harry’s eyes shot open to look at him. “One day, will you let me spank you, baby? Get your perfect arse warmed up for me. And, if you were ever naughty, would you let me backhand you? I’d make sure you were nice and hard for me as I did it. I’d hit you across the face, make it sting, and then I’d make your pretty cock come …”

“Please,” Harry cried. Draco’s dark words were making him unravel. He was just so, so desperate for him. He wanted everything. Even the pain. He wanted to be used. He wanted to be commanded. He didn’t want to think anymore, no, no. He wanted Draco to bring him to his knees and make him feel safe.

Draco seemed to see anything Harry was feeling. He seemed to understand completely.

Very gently, Draco kissed him. He paused to take out a jar of lube from his bedside drawer. He stared into Harry’s eyes as he slicked up his fingers. Then, still holding his gaze, he pressed a digit into his arse.

The sensation made Harry squeeze his eyes closed. Draco allowed him to shy away from a few moments, but then he ordered, “Look at me.”

Harry did look up at him, even as Draco fucked his arse open, reaching so deep. He kept looking as Draco brushed over his prostate, that sweet, sweet place inside him.

Harry gasped and shuddered. Draco smirked.

“You like me playing with your arse, baby?”

“Yes,” he cried softly.

Draco’s expression grew serious. “But you need more, don’t you? You need me in you, don’t you? My big dick. You know it’s going to hurt, don’t you? Don’t you?”

“Yes!”

Gulping, Draco eased his fingers out. Then he got into position, hovering over Harry, one hand on his shaft. Harry felt his blunt head edge his hole.

“Are you ready?” he murmured, voice almost cruel.

Harry nodded desperately.

“Don’t you dare look away—” Draco began to press inside, spearing him open.

Harry didn’t look away. He didn’t, he didn’t. It took effort. His mouth dropped open again.

A look of utter heat overcame Draco’s expression. Somehow, taking Harry’s arse made him look furious.

Then he bottomed out, and Harry found himself gasping for air. It hurt. It did. But it was also perfect. It was too much.

Draco groaned. He leaned down to kiss Harry’s open mouth. “Okay?” he whispered.

Harry nodded again.

Draco grabbed his hips and began to pound him. He watched Harry’s swollen cock as he did it. His thrusts were measured. They were hard. Harry felt his teeth knock together.

“Look at you,” Draco said darkly, still pounding him.

“Please!”

“Look how well you’re taking me. And look at how stiff you are for me. You like being my little slut, don’t you?”

“Oh God—Sir.” Harry moaned the words.

Draco thrust and thrust. He urged Harry’s hips up to meet each of his strokes. Sweat began to drip down his heated skin.

“Do you want to know a secret?” he murmured, his prick reaching so deep inside Harry.

“Yes!”

“Are you sure I can trust you with it? Hmm?”

“God, Draco, yes.”

He leaned down to kiss Harry again, now screwing into him. “Tell me I can trust you. Tell me, tell me.”

“You can trust me, please, oh please—”

Groaning, he kissed him again and again. They were both shaking, both on the edge. Then he pressed his mouth to Harry’s ear and whispered: “I’m in love with you.”

“Draco!”

He reached down to stroke Harry. “Come for me, baby. I know you can do it. I want you to do it. Come for me because I love you. Because I would die for you. Come for me and show me that you love me, too.”

Harry cried out loudly. Too loudly. He was sure everyone on the level heard him. But it didn’t matter, nothing mattered. He writhed and blabbered and clung to Draco’s broad shoulders.

The next second, Harry was spurting between them, making a mess, and he felt how he squeezed around Draco. Draco cried out, too. He kissed Harry possessively, snarling into his mouth.

Draco pounded into him. He was brutal. Then he was coming too, filling Harry up, claiming him.

Harry fell asleep with Draco still inside him. It was just too good not to fall asleep. He had given himself over entirely to Draco.

When he woke up, Draco was still inside him. Or, rather, he was inside him again.

“I can’t get enough of you, baby,” Draco murmured, fucking him so slowly he was barely moving.

Harry sighed and let himself be used. Draco tried to get him hard but he stopped him. No, Harry didn’t want to be aroused for this. He didn’t need to be. A cock warmer didn’t need an orgasm.

Draco groaned and kissed Harry. Then he buried his face against his neck and thrust lazily, over and over and over. Harry fell asleep again. Through his dreams, he heard Draco whisper a ragged, “You’re mine.”

A little while later, Harry was cleaned up and wearing a fluffy dressing gown. They both were. Draco was feeding him again, this time little fruit and slices of cheese.

“How old are you?” Harry asked quietly.

Draco frowned at him, looking bemused. “Does it matter?”

A shrug. “Yeah? Sort of?”

Draco looked down at the plate of food. “We are the same age, Harry. Your date of birth came up in my research of you. I was born in June and you were born in July.”

Harry almost teared up. For some reason, he found it heartbreaking. “You are still so young, Draco. I thought you had like ten years on me.”

“No.”

Harry touched his cheek, caressing it. He wished to soothe Draco. He wished to take away all his pain. And there was pain inside him. Harry felt it.

“You were right … I didn’t want to take over my father’s business. I wanted to … I don’t know. Conduct research. Teach. Write books. Fuck around. Play football. Be a playboy. Go on holiday after holiday. I wanted to be free.”

“You don’t think you’re free?”

Draco sighed. “I have obligations now. I’m a business now. My father’s legacy rests solely on my shoulders.”

“Does it need to be that way?”

Draco looked at him for a moment. His expression was inscrutable. Then he dragged his gaze away. “I don’t know.”

“I love you too, Draco.”

This made his grey eyes dart back to him. “What?”

Harry brushed his lips against his. “I do,” he whispered.

Draco grabbed Harry, rolling him over. He made room for himself between his thighs. “I want you to be mine, Harry. I want you to be my family. And I want to have children with you.”

“Will I be safe? Will our children be safe?”

A darkness came over his face. “I don’t know. Am I worth the risk?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, Draco. I think so.” It terrified him to admit it out loud.

Draco smiled brightly. Radiantly. For once, he looked his age. “Baby, I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

“And I love you.”