Author's Notes: This came about during a conversation with my friends Ev and Lise and what made for a really romantic night of hot, sweaty sex. The song quoted is "Control" by Puddle of Mudd. I don't own that either. This is set in the 7th year at Hogwarts. And this is my first HP fic, so please be gentle! Beta'd by MDS. Ta.

Disclaimer: Mine they are not, dream a girl can. They are the propriety of J.K. Rowling. No money, no profit made.


By Starkiller


The leather was chafing and it was tight. Draco bit his lip as he manfully struggled with the zipper on the pants.

When he'd first had this cunning plan, he hadn't thought that a Muggle designed garment would provide him with an opportunity for so much grunting, sweating and swearing. And that had just been when trying it on. He had overheard Harry and his friends discussing their favourite dream date outfits, Harry giving them a rather spectacular description of black leather pants which had mightily impressed him. Sufficiently spectacular anyway to have Hermione agreeing with him and Ron seriously thinking of investing in a pair. The slightly naughty look in Hermione's eye when he'd voiced that idea had almost made Draco vomit. Almost but not quite.

He had found a tailor in Hogsmeade who had agreed to make him a pair of black leather pants, and when he had gone to pick them up, he had to agree that Harry might actually have something there. The leather was soft and smelt... almost primitive. Which was just fine by Draco, because his plans were extremely primitive.

His relationship with Harry Potter had reached an interesting point. No one outside of Hermione and Ron knew about it, and Draco was fairly sure that Ron was in some fairly serious denial. The time had come, however, for Draco to throw caution to the wind. Especially as he eyed his reflection, clad in the leather pants.

Soft, silvery blond hair falling in pale strands down his cheeks and neck, bare chested, the black leather soft and buttery, clinging to his every curve, Draco had to admit he looked positively fuckable. When Harry saw him in these pants...well, Draco was looking forward to a night of outstanding passion.

He'd decided to wear the pants to the Christmas dance. This was a new event for Hogwarts, especially with the outside world being so serious, what with the war, Voldemort, the Death Eaters...things that no-one really wanted to think about at this time of year. Draco wanted to take his lover's mind off things, especially things that were beginning to intrude upon the almost domestic harmony the pair of them had. When he had turned away from Voldemort and his father and the ultimate power they were offering him, he had also managed to effectively orphan himself in one stroke. He now knew, intimately, what it meant to be poor, alone and unloved and unwanted by family.

And then Harry had come to him one night and simply joined him in his bed.

There had been no discussion, no arguments; it had just happened. For the life of him, Draco couldn't explain the hows and the whys of it. Yet he wasn't sad or angry about it. He was actually happy, truly happy for the first time in his life. The horrors of life in an indifferent family home, being groomed for Dark Magic and a life of service to Voldemort had slipped away the first time Harry had touched him. He was no longer alone.

Draco was also very, very glad he'd managed to secrete a stash of money from his allowance over the years, although that stash was beginning to look a little low now. The leather pants had not been cheap and had taken a fairly hefty chunk out of his slowly dwindling cash supply. But they were worth it. Anything that made Harry happy was worth it.

He turned slowly this way and that, looking at his reflection pensively and wondering what to wear with the pants. His eyes fell on the clothes in his closet and he slowly smiled. Perfect.


The First Hogwarts Christmas Dance would be a fine event. The hall had been decorated with bunting of every colour imaginable, the Christmas trees bedecked in ornaments of every kind. The magical ceiling radiated the light of millions of stars, tiny pinpricks of spinning light, adding a subdued, ethereal quality to the room. The music was being supervised by a travelling entertainer, which Hermione had identified to Ron as a DJ. She had been explaining the concept of a DJ to him when Harry had entered the hall.

Everyone had dressed in their best outfits, their sexiest clothes, discarding robes and school tradition in favour of a night of music, dancing and not a little snuggling. He had walked up to Hermione and Ron who were arm in arm, swaying gently to the music. They greeted him enthusiastically.

"Merry Christmas, Harry!" Ron said enthusiastically, pounding his best friend solidly on the arm.

"Merry Christmas Ron, Hermione." Harry grinned at his best friends. They grinned back. "You haven't seen Draco, have you?" He sounded slightly nervous.

Hermione giggled. "Why? Got a special surprise?"

Harry turned red. "You might say that, yes."

She grinned. "What is it?"

He cleared his throat - several times. She tapped one foot gently, and poked him lightly in the shoulder.

"C'mon Harry, what is it? You're blushing!"

Ron was staring fixedly at the ceiling, pretending the conversation was merely background noise, like static. He was humming along absently to the music, giving a fair impression of someone so absorbed in what he was staring at that he had no concept of anything else. Harry cast him a brief sidelong glance.


Hermione grinned naughtily at him. "Well...what is it Harry?"

Harry turned even redder and carefully pulled a silver ring out of the pocket of his jeans. Hermione gaped at it.

"What - Harry! That's beautiful."

"Yes." Was the simple reply. ďAnd so's he."

Both he and Hermione ignored the derisive snort that came from Ronís direction.

"He'll love it, Harry." She said sincerely. "Hell, he loves *you*. Anything you give him he'd love."

Harry smiled, relieved. "You don't think itís too much?"

Before Hermione could reply, Ron responded. "Harry, you're giving Malfoy a fucking ring. What kind of a question is that?"

"I know you and Draco have problems, but..."

"Problems, my arse," said Ron, returning to his rapt contemplation of the ceiling. Hermione rolled her eyes expressively, leaning into the redhead's embrace. Resting her head on his shoulder she smiled at Harry again and winked.

"Don't mind him. I think its lovely."

Harry nodded. "Great. But *where* is he?"


Fifteen minutes later, and Harry's internal tension was at fever pitch. He moved from one foot to the other, eyes glued to the entrance of the hall, ignoring the press of teenage bodies swaying to the music, the whispers and giggles, the soft sounds of kissing coming from the darker corners of the hall.

Hermione and Ron joined him at the side of the room, handing him a glass of punch.

"Thanks" he muttered absently.

Still no Draco. Feeling the first stirrings of panic, he spun quickly to his friends "You don't suppose..."

He got no further. Hermione's jaw dropped open and her expression became astonished, even faintly awed. Ron gaped. They both looked thunderstruck and impressed. Harry turned around again, to follow their gaze. His eyes almost popped out of his head and he suddenly lost the ability to think coherently as all the blood in his brain rushed down to other parts of his body.

Walking casually towards him was Draco, a slight, mysterious smile on his face.

His blonde hair falling like a wave of moonlight down his pale skin, silvery eyes shining with emotions too deep to be expressed in words, Draco cut a path of wolf whistles and sighs through the crowd of dancers. He wore black boots, the black, butter soft tight leather pants and a silken black shirt, open to expose his throat.

Harry let out a faintly strangled gurgling noise as his lover approached. Draco smirked at him as he moved into Harry's personal space, so that only a few inches separated them.

"Hey there lover." he purred seductively.

Harry's response was a high-pitched squeak. Draco chuckled, and Harry whimpered.

"Well I see my outfit had the desired effect," he chortled "although, if I were you I'd want me. Hell I * am* me and I want me. What can I say? I'm a sex god."


Draco laughed again. "Cat got your tongue, Harry dear?" Turning to Hermione who looked stunned, he said "And where is Crookshanks this evening, Granger? I'd like him to return Harry's tongue. I'd like to have access to it later."

Hermione appeared as much at a loss for words as Harry. Ron, however, demonstrated what he thought of that idea by making loud, violent retching noises. Draco's smirk grew broader. He turned back to Harry, who was still ogling him.

"Is there anything you want to say, lover?"


Draco sighed theatrically. "Potter, I do hope you're not going to carry on like this all night. Its embarrassing."

Harry opened his mouth and then shut it again. He couldnít take his eyes off of Draco's black clad form. The leather fit snugly, enhancing rather than concealing every curve of the boy's legs. The shirt cascaded like a river at midnight down his torso, loose, yet clinging to all the right places. He just continued to eye Draco up and down.

Draco moved closer, so that their bodies were touching. Harry could feel the warmth of Draco's body through the silk of the shirt against him. Breathing became a sudden concern. Spots danced in front of his eyes. Draco leaned into him and murmured, "Dance with me Harry."

Unable to resist that seductive, silvery gaze or that soft, husky voice, Harry moved into the arms of his lover. Unaware that the entire school were watching them move in time to the music, unaware of everything except the feel of Draco against him, the sensation of the silk under his fingers, Draco's breath against his cheek. He sighed. He was in heaven.

"If this is a dream I don't ever want to wake up." He murmured. Draco chuckled softly.

"I'm glad you remembered how to talk. And this is not a dream Harry."

"I love the pants. I love shirt. I love the pants. I love you. I love the pants."

Draco began to laugh. "So the pants meet with your approval."

Harry nodded so hard his teeth rattled. "Yes. Oh yes. I love the pants."

"I'm glad."

They were silent then, arms tightening around each other, moving as one, cheeks pressed together, ignoring the stares of their classmates.

"I love the way you look at me, I love the pain you place inside
You lock me up inside your dirty cage; well I'm alone inside my mind
I like to teach you all the rules; I get to see them set in stone
I like it when you chain me to the bed, but then your secrets never show."

"I do love you Harry" Draco murmured into the dark hair pressing against his cheek. "I love everything about you. Even when itís bad itís good."

"I know what you mean" Harry replied, pulling him closer, sliding his hands down to feel Draco's arse through the leather. He sighed contentedly.

"I need to feel you - you need to feel me I can't control you - you're not the one for me, no. I can't control you - you can't control me I need to feel you - so why's there even you and me?"

They moved as one, murmuring words no others could hear or begin to guess at. The secret love of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy was now out in the open for all to see. A great many things began to make sense as pieces of information and rumour fell into place in the minds of their fellow student's with a serious of loud clunks.

"I like the way you rake my skin, I feel the hate you place inside
I need to get your voice out of my head cause I'm the guy you'll never find
I think you know all of the rules, there's no expression on your face
I hope that someday you will let me go, release me from my dirty cage."

//God// thought Draco, //Never let this end. Never let me lose him.//

Almost as if he had heard the silent plea, Harry moved his lips to Draco's neck placing a soft and gentle kiss, loving and sweet, on the pale flesh there. Draco's heart leapt and he sighed gently, moving his head slightly so that he could kiss Harry's soft and waiting mouth.

"I love the way you look at me, I love the way you smack my ass
I love the dirty things you do, I have control of you.
I need to feel you - you need to feel me
I can't control you - you can't control me."

Feeling the heat growing in his heart and head, the blood rushing to his groin, Draco reluctantly pulled back from Harry's lips. His lover looked at him almost petulantly. "Why don't we go somewhere a bit more private, Harry?" He winked suggestively at him.

For the space of five heartbeats, Harry stared at him. Then he grabbed Draco's hand and almost dragged him out of the hall.


Once they were alone, in Harry's dorm room, the door locked securely behind them, Draco found himself the object of a predator in the shape of Harry Potter. His lover circled him, hungrily eyeing him up and down. Draco grinned, enjoying the way that Harry was undressing him with his eyes. From behind him he heard a voice, rough with desire say to him "Take off the shirt."

Draco complied, absently kicking off the boots as an afterthought. Bare foot, bare chested, he stood, waiting for Harry to make his next move.

He didn't have to wait long. He found himself being grabbed from behind as Harry slid his arms around his waist and up his chest, his mouth against his shoulders, nibbling gently, even as he pushed himself against Draco's body. Harry's hands roamed at will over the slender body, making Draco whimper in spite of himself. As those roaming hands slid down towards his groin, he leaned back completely in the embrace of his lover, closing his eyes and sighing contentedly.

"I need to feel you, Draco" Harry whispered, as he slowly rubbed his own hardness against Draco's back.

The blonde turned in Harry's arms and kissed him, passionately, tongue sliding with practised ease over his lips, into his mouth, running gently over his teeth, finally melding and meshing with the other, delving as deep into the other's mouth as possible, conveying passion, want, need and love.

Draco's hands busily helped divest Harry of his clothes, pulling his mouth away from Harry's just long enough to remove Harry's own shirt before returning to the business of kissing him with a thoroughness that took Harry's breath away. As one, they moved clumsily towards the bed, Harry slowly easing the zipper of the leather pants down. Pushing the pants down Draco's hips, he paused.


"Going commando. Very observant. Now shut up and kiss me."

Harry wholly complied.

Falling together onto the bed, hands caressing each other's soft flesh, mouths locked together, Draco rolled his hips against Harry's, rewarded with soft wail. He repeated the action, grinning through the kiss as Harry grabbed his buttocks and held him pressed against himself. Cocks aching with want, rubbing together, they kissed feveredly as the crescendo built up within them and they came, gasping each other's name.

Harry gently pushed Draco's mouth off of his own. "I was sort of hoping to last a little longer than that, Draco."

Draco shrugged. "We've got all night, lover."

Harry's smile was radiant. "Yes we do. Wait - I've got you a present." He leaned down, searching for his jeans on the floor with one hand, grunting with effort. Draco remained lying on top of him, unhelpfully not moving. Harry finally found his jeans, pulling them up onto the bed, and rummaged in the pockets for a moment, before pulling out a silver band.


Draco eyed it. "What is it?"

"It's a ring, Draco. Did your brains dribble out of those pants?"

"Very funny."

"Merry Christmas Draco."

With a strange expression on his face, Draco took the proffered ring and slowly slipped it on his ring finger. It was a perfect fit. There was a slight tingling in his finger and then a sudden burst of silver and gold light.

The light subsided and Draco looked at Harry with a raised eyebrow that quite clearly asked for an explanation.

"It had a Soul Mate Charm on it. Designed for you. No one else can wear that ring. Wherever you go, whatever you do, you'll always know I love you. Forever."

Draco's eyes filled with tears and gently cradling Harry's face in his hands he softly kissed him. "I..."

ď... know." Harry smiled up at the blonde boy.

The rest of the night passed in a long, slow, loving blur.

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