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“Eighth Years will room in pairs,” McGonagall had said. “To encourage school unity,” she’d said. “You are all mature adults,” she’d said. She did not say anything about having to hear your roommate wanking across the room in the middle of the night without even bothering to conceal it.
“Oh,” came Harry’s whisper from the opposite corner of their dorm room, and Draco had just about had enough.
First of all, he’s not sure when he stopped being Potter and started being Harry, he guessed sometime around when they silently agreed to no longer pull each other’s pig tails. Too much had happened between them, between Harry and the rest of the damn Wizarding World for it to be worth it. But for the idiot – Harry, as he now apparently went by in Draco’s mind – to lay in bed in the dark, only illuminated by the moonlight spilling over him, and touch his dick while Draco was in the room was utterly ridiculous.
What was even more ridiculous, was that Draco couldn’t seem to stop watching.
And listening, and thinking, and maybe doing a little bit of dick touching of his own, but he’d never admit to it. It was just that- Well. Harry was there, and he was beautiful. Bathed in moonlight with the sheets covering his bent knees, making them look like sloping mountaintops with his feet planted firmly on the mattress. And the sounds, Salazar, the sounds Harry made. The tiny moans, the squeaking of the mattress, and, if Draco listened hard enough, the slide of skin on skin.
“Fuck,” Harry breathed out, just as Draco breathed in. “Oh, God.”
When this had started, because this was certainly not the first time Draco had listened to Harry rub one out, Draco had been confused, and a little worried. He’d heard Harry breathing vast, making little frustrated noises, and thought he was having another nightmare. But when Draco had lifted his head, he saw Harry’s head thrown back, his jaw dropping open in pleasure, and his hand working himself over beneath the sheets.
That was weeks ago.
If Draco was honest, which he wasn’t often, and certainly not about this, he would say he’d almost come to look forward to Harry’s bouts of exhibitionism. Fuck almost. Draco had come to crave them, staying up far later than he ought to nearly every night, straining his ears for the smallest sound, the first clue that Harry was at it again.
“Dear, Merlin,” Harry whispered from across the room.
Draco watched as Harry rolled onto his side, the sheets bunching up around his waist. He reached into his bedside table and took out a vial filled with a clear substance, which Draco quickly realized was lubricant, when Harry dribbled some into his palm and promptly stuck his hand right back underneath the covers.
Draco dropped his head back onto his pillow as quietly as he could, still listening to the sounds coming from the other side of the room, now slick and even more enticing. “Oh, fuck me,” he whispered at the ceiling.
“Yeah, yeah,” Harry chanted, and Draco couldn’t resist lifting his head once again to look at Harry.
Harry was now lifting his hips rhythmically, no doubt thrusting into his hand, though Draco still couldn’t see it with the sheet in the way.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” Harry moaned then, and not quietly, either. He moaned loud enough that he should have been concerned about waking Draco up. But he obviously wasn’t.
Harry simply writhed on the bed, lost in pleasure as he orgasmed. And Draco watched, watched as he came down, as he let his body collapse against the mattress once more. Draco’s heavy breathing mingled in the room with Harry’s, and he wondered if Harry could hear it.
Draco suspected he did. And that that moment, it made sense. This was Harry’s new means of torturing Draco, obviously. The git.
Suddenly, Harry rolled out of bed, pulling his briefs up as he went, before Draco could get a peek at what was underneath. He walked to the door, opening it carefully, like the spell would be broken if it were to squeak, and left their dorm.
Draco sighed and flopped back against his mattress, his mind reeling and his dick achingly hard. He could hear water running from the washroom down the hall. It sounded like Harry had decided to indulge in a post-wank shower.
Draco smiled, and got out of bed.