"Cigarettes"
PAIRING: Harry/Draco
RATING: R to NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter




Harry stared dispassionately at the hardwood floor he was scrubbing. His reflection was fuzzy in the boards, blurred and dull. Harry looked for a long moment, waiting for it to tell him all of life's answers. When the answers didn't come he picked up the brush and scrubbed, just wanting to ignore the obvious; the gaunt cheekbones, the hollow soul.

It was his seventh year, and Voldemort had been defeated. Dumbledore had died a few months ago, leaving Harry alone again, as he had always been. It was funny how, when Hagrid had contacted him seven long years ago, he had thought he was starting a new life. But it seemed it had all the same trappings of his old one. Loved ones die. Harry lives through it all alone. He must be some sort of martyr, he wondered if this is what Jesus felt like. Harry briefly considered if people would worship him after he died.

He heard a sharp staccato, and looked up to see Draco Malfoy lighting a cigarette. Malfoy, the bane of his existence. He was the one who had gotten Harry into this whole detention mess. But Harry didn't really mind, feeling his fist connect with Malfoy's jaw was the only thing that made him feel alive these days. He lived for the sharp tang of blood in the air, the dull thud of fist against flesh, the sharp crack of bone. Harry reconsidered his observation. He wasn't Jesus... just seriously fucked up.

He watched Draco take in the first puff of the cigarette, watched as the slim chest expanded, and Draco's bluish lids fluttered closed as the boy exhaled. Harry wondered if Draco looked like that when he was having sex. Harry watched as the tip of the cigarette turned to ash. "Dust to dust, ashes to ashes." Hadn't someone said that? Harry wondered if they had purposely left the fire part out. He compared life to that cigarette, a blaze of excitement, then the slow fade of the vivid red. All that was left now were the gray ashes, clinging to the paper before Draco tapped the cigarette and they fell to the floor.

"Want something, Potter?" Draco asked, his voice dripping its usual silky coldness.

"Yeah," Harry said, standing up, Draco's eyebrows raised, waiting. "Give a guy a cigarette?" Draco's eyes flickered, amused, before pulling the beaten pack out of his pocket and handing Harry one. Harry couldn't help noticing the gaudy box, one large word displayed across the front in lime green, "Secret". He wondered what the secret was.

Draco flicked the lighter in his hands, his gaze lingering on Harry's face as the disheveled black haired boy leaned in to light his cigarette. Harry relaxed back against the wall next to Draco. It was strange how they stood there, both silent and contemplative. But Harry didn't feel like he needed to be Draco's enemy here. It was just for show now-a-days, Harry didn't have the heart to withdraw from his old life completely. Old habits die hard and all that shit.

Draco cast a sideways glance at Harry, who was busy inhaling deeply. Harry felt Draco's gaze like a weight upon him. Draco was different now, his gray eyes more cautious, more calculated. They had always been cold, but now they were intense. "Why?" Harry asked slowly, breaking the silence between them. The syllable weighed on the tip of his tongue, it felt like molasses.

"The same reason." Draco answered. Harry considered this. It was true, Draco had the same desperation in his eyes as he had watched the blood trickle from Harry's split lip. He had the same ferocious, terrified gleam as they wrestled, as if they were both fighting the past, fighting the future, fate. They were afraid of what they had become, afraid of the friends they had alienated, the cold lifeless features that stared back at them every morning in the mirror.

Harry shifted his weight on his feet, eyes scanning the empty room - unseeing. He inhaled from the cigarette again, watching as the smoke curled in the air. "What do we do?" His question was slow again. They had an eternity stretching before them. Draco shrugged and dropped his cigarette to the floor, crushing it beneath his foot.

"Have sex?" Harry turned slightly, green eyes meeting Draco's. The cigarette drooped between his lips. He smirked a little.

"Think that'll work?" Draco raised an eyebrow and pulled the cigarette from between Harry's lips, finishing the last puff before dropping it to the floor like the last.

"It might." Draco responded. He was already moving closer to Harry, then Draco's hands clutched the sides of Harry's face, and the chapped lips met his own.

Draco was, inevitably, a remarkable kisser. He was rough and fast, just how Harry would have imagined it. Draco's tongue instantly possesed Harry's mouth. Fire welled in the pit of Harry's stomach, as he ran his tongue over Draco's teeth. Harry's lip started bleeding again, but they didn't stop, the taste of blood only heightening the pleasure. Draco ran his tongue across the cut and Harry moaned softly. As they kissed Draco's hand strayed down to Harry's pants, massaging his growing arousal through the thin fabric. Sure, Harry had fucked plenty of girls, including Hermione in some desperate attempt to relocate his former self. But their touch had never felt anything like this. With the girls it was always another place to shove his cock in. There was never foreplay, maybe a little kissing, oral sex, but nothing like this. Harry arched and broke the kiss, his eyes wide and features flushed. He gazed at Draco. The expression on the boy before him was pure sex, as he roughly rubbed the denim over Harry's straining cock. Draco's lips curved into a sultry smile, even as his lips parted in a breathy moan.

Somewhere between their frantic kisses and harsh breaths, Draco was unzipping Harry's pants, and falling to his knees. Harry's eyes were squeezed shut in anticipation as his cock shivered in the chill air. Draco's tongue flickered at the tip, and Harry chanced a look down. The slate gray eyes were desperate with passion as that pouty mouth closed over his cock. Harry groaned, cursing himself for looking. "Fuck!" was what he heard himself screaming as Draco's nose touched his stomach, cock fully engulfed in his throat. And before he knew it he was arching up, green eyes turned skyward as his body twitched and spasmed and he shot his cum straight down the blonde's throat.

Harry tried to regain his wits as Draco stood up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Foul." He said, pretty lips crinkled in a disgusted grimace. "Next time I get the blow job." It was a joke, but Draco said it without a hint of amusement. Harry wondered when he had got to know Draco so well. Maybe it was somewhere around when Draco was sucking Harry off.

"What makes you think there's going to be a next time?" Harry had meant his words to be cold but they just seemed to be breathless. Draco wasn't really listening, he was busy shoving his hand down his pants and stroking his straining prick. Harry was instantly fascinated. He counted the erratic strokes. It was ten and a half before those gray eyes rolled back in his head and his body convulsed. Harry felt his cock stir. Draco just breathed for a moment, before casting a glance at Harry and fishing in his back pocket for the cigarettes.

He handed Harry one and lit one himself. Draco inhaled deeply. "Trust me. There is."