Author notes: This was written as a birthday present for ifihadameadow. This is a pairing I never thought I would write :) Velvetchamber let me poke around in her brain to find the idea for this smutlet. Endless gratitude to my Über-fast beta, Salixbabylon who got this on Friday and returned it on Saturday, despite me telling her that there was no hurry.

Hedonism

Harry stomped into the Quidditch locker rooms, so angry that he felt like spontaneously combusting. Bloody fucking HALFWIT Malfoy. IDIOT. Completely INSANE CHEATING SCUMBAG!!!

He was so angry he felt tears sting his eyes while he tore his Quidditch gear off, uncaring that buttons were flying or that there were loud ripping sounds when seams split because of his temper. The noise of the crowd in the stadium outside sounded like a distant ocean, rising and falling as people screamed or gasped at what was happening on the pitch. He knew that Siobhan, one of Ginny’s friends and the Gryffindor reserve seeker was very good – much better than the Slytherin reserve seeker – but not being able to play the rest of the game himself still rankled.

Never in his life had he expected to be banished from a Quidditch pitch. He cared too much for the sport to cheat or resort to violence in a game.

Of course, what happened hadn’t exactly happened in a game.

Alicia had called a time-out after the Slytherin team had managed to execute a particularly nasty but legit move on Ron, causing him to lose his balance and come crashing to the ground. The whole Gryffindor team was flying towards their goalposts when Harry almost collided with Malfoy. Tensions had been running high and somehow it had ended with fists swinging. Their teams had had to drag their seekers away from each other, and Madam Hooch had been so apoplectic with rage that there was no arguing with her. Both young men had been told in no uncertain terms to get off the pitch and not show their faces for the remainder of the match.

Harry kicked at the nearest object in frustration. That was a bad move, since the nearest object was his bag and it slid underneath the benches in the middle of the floor. As he scrambled to retrieve it, he bumped his head hard on the underside of one of the benches. His eyes were watering in pain as he yanked out his towel, cursed loudly and creatively and stalked towards the showers, fully intending to have a very long shower and wallow in his misery.

He got about five minutes of solitude before he heard footsteps from the direction of the Slytherin door. He cursed inwardly, wondering whose bright idea it had been for Slytherin and Gryffindor to share showers. Any other way of pairing the houses would have worked better.

“Trying to drown yourself, Potter?” Malfoy’s voice sounded silky. Dangerous. He turned on one of the showers on the other wall and stepped under the spray.

“Fuck off, Malfoy.” Harry didn’t feel like continuing the fight. He was tired and still wanted his long shower and his mope to happen in relative peace.

“You could say that, I suppose. It is the best way to burn off frustration. Do you want to join me?” Harry’s head snapped up at Malfoy’s words, and he stared through the steam in the showers at the pale boy who now had a hand wrapped around his own erection.

“No?” Draco looked at him and Harry could only just make out a mild questioning gaze through the mist. “Suit yourself.” He moved his hand slightly, fingering the head of his cock, stroking up his length.

Harry stood still as if nailed to the floor. Draco looked... there were no words for what Draco looked like. He was slender as a reed, but not in the slightly underfed way like Harry, and while Harry was all elbows and knobbly knees and protruding bones, Draco was lean muscle and smooth skin and perfect proportions. And he was pale, Merlin, was he ever pale…

Something hot and feral stirred deep in Harry’s gut and he stared in abject fascination as Draco’s hand settled into a slow rhythm, long fingers curling around his length. Draco’s other hand inched up to flicker over a pink nipple, and Harry felt all the blood in his body relocate to his cock. Draco was leaning against the wall, only halfway under the spray of the shower, his hips arching up to meet his palm.

Harry couldn’t tear his gaze away. Draco looked absolutely hedonistic, the steam in the room somehow making his flesh look as soft as velvet and Harry wanted to touch, to feel, but didn’t dare to for fear that the image might somehow shatter. He was still standing under the shower, rivulets of water streaming down his body, making his senses feel assaulted from all directions.

He watched Draco’s fingers tighten around his cock, saw his thumb roam over the head, over the slit at the tip and he could see that Draco was shaking. He heard a bit-back groan over the din of falling water, and the sound somehow went straight to his erection, fuelling the fire in his groin, making him achingly hard. His breath was coming in erratic gasps as he stared at the motion of Draco’s hand, watching as the strokes tighten and speed up, until Draco came with a shudder and a soft groan.

They stood there, frozen in time, until Draco’s eyelids fluttered open and he took in the sight of Harry, openly staring. Draco’s mouth curved into a smirk when he dropped his gaze towards Harry’s erection. Harry had to stop himself from shivering as he watched Draco’s gaze turn feral, and had to steel himself to not run away when Draco walked toward him. He stepped close, so close that Harry could feel the heat radiating off his body, so close that when he spoke Harry could feel breath ghosting against his cheekbone.

“I always knew you were queer, Potter.” Draco’s eyes flickered briefly down to Harry’s weeping cock. He raised an eyebrow. “You should have taken my offer. Let me know if you change your mind.”

Then he turned around and disappeared into the Slytherin part of the changing rooms, leaving Harry more painfully aroused than he’d ever been before. As the door closed, Harry’s knees buckled and he slumped against the nearest wall.