Work Text:
It was soon after Harry defeated Voldemort that he had a little crisis.
Well, it was not that little. It was quite large. But since most people didn’t see the effects of it on his psyche, it was widely acknowledged to be a small one.
The instigator was one Ronald Weasley. He was sitting with Harry, looking at Auror trainee pamphlets when he said: “Mate, this will put us in the spotlight even more than we already are. I might be fine with that. But are you?”
Harry had frozen instead of answering. Apparently, his face must have given something away. Because Ginny had walked in and, after asking a confused Ron what he said, had sighed in relief.
“This idiot,” she began affectionately, “doesn’t even realize he’s bi. It’s good that you brought this up now instead of after him suffering in the Ministry after a decade or something.”
That set off another tangent in Harry’s internal crisis. But instead of dealing with it like a dubiously mature adult, he decided to apparate to the middle of one of the woods they’d hung out in during the Year of Doom.
He immediately almost smooshed a sun-bathing snake, who cursed him out quite creatively. Harry realized that despite his scar being gone, he could still understand (and probably also speak to) snakes.
That set off another crisis.
Long story short, he’d moped about till Hermione figuratively sat on him and forced him to confront his feelings. And then he’d used his considerable (even after paying the goblins restitution) wealth to open a little shop at one of the entrances to Knockturn Alley.
Apparently, snakes had a variety of sad feelings and vehement thoughts on being used as chopped up bits in potions. And his “saving people thing”- as Hermione called it- reared its ugly head. Harry’s new life mission was to find ethical ways to get snake parts for potions without actually killing or otherwise harming snakes.
It was peaceful. It was out of the public eye. And he didn’t have to socialize much. Except when Hermione and Ron made him dinner while playing parents in their quaint countryside home. Or when Ginny forced him into weekly tea times while she ranted about her latest lover and Harry absently nodded along. Or when Neville-
Ok, so he had lots of friends. Except for the ones that abandoned him when he left the public eye and (Harry usually forces those thoughts into a very dark corner of his mind and continues going about his day)
All this leads to the five years later, with Harry staring at the person who just entered his store. He never gets physical customers. Potions Masters are as reclusive as Harry, and prefer correspondence by owl. And everyone else has their own offices Harry can go to.
Harry stares, and feels a blush rising in his cheeks. Because standing in front of him is the handsome form of Blaise Zabini. Harry should have known better than to roam around Diagon Alley the previous day. There was no way Zabini would have known where he was otherwise.
And then he feels like he’s 16 again, glancing at his Slytherin year-mate out the corner of his eye on that train compartment, wondering why he was feeling the way he did. Wondering why his stomach felt all tumble-y during Slug Club meetings when he caught sight of that delicious chocolate skin. Wondering how it would feel to run his hands though that low-cut hair as the other’s hands wandered down and down-
Harry shook his head and glared at the man (who had somehow become more beautiful, how is that even possible-?) who he’s pretty sure left Hogwarts when so many were defending her with their lives.
He forced a scowl on his face, “Zabini, right? What are you doing here? What do you want?”
Zabini grinned playfully, “Can’t catch up with a Hogwarts’ classmate after all this time?”
Harry’s scowl deepened and Zabini’s grin turned into a smirk.
“A classmate who was on the other side of the war?”
Zabini sighed, “Not all of us were blessed with the best choices. Couldn’t do much with grandmother being threatened so easily.”
Harry winced, “Sorry…wait, no! You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”
“Well, I saw you roaming around Diagon yesterday-” Harry cursed in his head “-and thought to myself: well, I couldn’t get to know you at Hogwarts. Maybe I can now.” Zabini’s smirk faded into a soft smile and Harry felt himself melting inside.
Ugh.
Well, Hermione had told him to make some new friends. And if worse came to worse, he could always sic Ginny on the man. But first, a little test.
“Well, if you can handle all the snakes, you can see my workshop for a few hours.”
Zabini’s eyes lit up, “I’d be delighted.”
What followed was a three-month whirlwind of snark and teasing. Somehow, Harry could never think of a comeback when Blaise (and when had that happened) poked his buttons in a way that was, dare say, flirty. He felt like a blushing maiden from the 1700s. But it made Blaise happy for some inconceivable reason.
Ginny was delighted when he told her about it. Ron and Hermione (who were a solid unit now, as most happily married people tend to be) were slightly exasperated, but kept saying “we support you”.
And then one night, the two were sipping on a glass of wine after making pasta for dinner together, when Harry had a spectacular idea. He would later claim it was because of the wine, but really, they were barely a quarter way through one glass each. Blaise would tease him about it endlessly.
Harry set his glass down on the coffee table and looked seriously at Blaise, who had turned to look at him with some confusion. And then Harry leaned forward and pressed his lips to those of the gorgeous man in front of him.
It was a bit like a car crash. And Harry suddenly felt embarrassed, pulling back. He was stopped by a hand on his nape, pulling him forward. And soft lips pressing into his own. A spark connected with another in his brain, and he could feel the hand gently pressing his waist more keenly than anything he’d felt before.
A bit of tongue pressed against his lips, and he opened his mouth obligingly, moaning at Blaise’s expert maneuvering. He clutched the back of Blaise’s shirt, gasping as the man’s hand pulled him so close their chests were flush against each other.
They parted after a minute, and Harry was just this side of dazed. He grinned dopily at the smirking face in front of him.
“I was wondering if I’d have to make a move myself soon,” Blaise whispered, tracing Harry’s cheek with one long finger.
Harry blinked, suddenly realizing what his actions (and Blaise’s endless flirty teasing all these months) meant.
“Oh.”
Blaise laughed lightly, “Are you just now getting it?”
Harry blushed terribly, “I’ve been told I’m a little dense on the romantic front.”
Blaise leaned in closer than ever, “I think that’s one of my favorite parts of you.”
Harry was pretty sure his ears were red now too. He stuttered a bit, unsure of what to say.
Then Blaise said, “Do you want to continue?”
“Yes, please.” And continue they did.
It was a week later, after many rolled eyes and congratulations from friends, that Harry realized making out wasn’t enough. He’d been too shy to ask Ginny about how to approach Blaise about it. And the magazines he’d bought from Muggle London were more wank material and any bit helpful. Why the writers added smut to advice about sex was beyond him. Perhaps he should just be blunt about it. Ron always said it worked wonders when Hermione was in a snit about something he couldn’t fathom.
Still, he wasn’t sure when to bring it up. And then Blaise, wonderful boyfriend that he was, grinded up against him as they were, once again, snogging their brains out. Harry let out a breath and copied the motion, and soon, the delicious friction was chasing away all thoughts in his head.
He whined just a bit when Blaise slowed down, pushing himself away and then close to whisper in his ear, “Do you want to go a bit further today?”
Harry let out a little moan before replying, “Maybe a lot more further. I- um,” he paused, the earlier sense of bashfulness returning.
“You want me to fuck you,” Blaise stated plainly, with a slow grind against Harry’s front. Harry let out a breathy moan, fingers scrunching the fabric of Blaise’s shirt. He could feel his cock hardening, blood rushing away from his head and making him work to remember to answer.
“I- ha. Yes. Yes, please. Ah!” he arched a bit as Blaise grabbed a handful of his arse, feeling his nipples pebble under his shirt and brush a bit painfully against Blaise’s chest. His mind was halfway gone as he heard Blaise chuckle breathily, and then let out a groan as Harry grabbed some of his hair.
The man had grown it out some. Harry would have to convince him to buzz it down to his style in school sometime. But right now, he wanted more.
“More. Please, Blaise.”
“Your wish is my command.”
Soon, they were slowly undressing each other. Harry placed open mouthed kisses onto Blaise’s neck. And Blaise continued kneading Harry’s behind and running another hand over his chest. When he flicked at a nipple, Harry shuddered, and felt just a little more hot and bothered.
At some point, they had moved to the bedroom. Harry should probably be worried about not remembering that, but he was too busy choking off a moan as Blaise languidly stroked his cock.
Some hidden well inside him began to fill up with emotion. As though the pleasure was feeding into his desire to just be himself without any outside pressure or expectations. A peaceful and happy life. He felt like-
“I don’t want this to stop,” Harry whispered.
And Blaise had replied: “I can do that.”
Which led to two hours later, with Blaise edging him to the brink but not letting him fall again and again and again and again.
Harry couldn’t think of anything beyond Blaise and his long fingers and his mouth and oh-
“Blai-ah! AH! Please!”
He heard that low chuckle again, and felt another finger wiggle its way into him, spreading him wide open again. And then a long press against a round bud. Harry whined when the fingers moved away.
For all his complaints and begs, Harry was enjoying it. His mind was delightfully empty of anything but Blaise. He wanted more. And Blaise was giving it all to him.
“Please,” he sobbed, writhing against the sheets, hands grasping at bunched up fabric for purchase. A palm wrapped around the base of his cock, gave a divine squeeze, and moved away. He arched up, chasing the feeling, and was pushed back down onto the mattress.
“Come now, Harry,” he felt hot breath tickle his upper ear, “Don’t you want more?”
“Yes. Please. More please. Blaise, fuck me, please. I can’t-”
Those wicked fingers pulled out of him, but somehow that drove him further. He felt his balls throb, his body clenched, and he was coming even though Blaise’s hands were nowhere near him. Harry whimpered as he came, white jets shooting across his chest. He breathed in quick breaths, stars bursting across his vision and moaning loudly when Blaise stroked his cock. It hadn’t softened at all.
“I didn’t know you liked me this much,” Blaise grinned against his neck, and sucked the skin harshly. Harry’s eyes rolled back, and he thrust against Blaise’s muscled thigh. He clenched Blaise’s hair again when he bit down, choking out a groan when the man’s own cock brushed against his own. Blaise squeezed them together as he sucked another mark onto Harry’s neck.
Harry tugged his hair gently, his other hand lightly scratching at Blaise’s back. “Blaise. Please, please. Fuck me. I want you in me. I-uuuuh.” His thoughts scattered for a while as Blaise rutted their cocks together between their bodies.
And then Blaise pulled up and away, looking down at him, pupils blown wide. He licked his lips and let out a harsh breath. “I suppose you’ve begged enough,” he said with a grin. Harry’s felt like he was having heart palpitations.
And then he placed a pillow under Harry’s lower back, pulling his legs up and apart, and moved in.
Harry whimpered and groaned as Blaise slowly sunk it, taking his time with each inch. Blaise kept up a steady stream of praises that went straight to his cock. And then he was all the way in.
Harry wiggled a bit, making Blaise groan, and felt the length within him. He could stay filled up like this for hours. A distant part of his mind noted that down. And then he took a shuddery breath and nodded.
At first the pace was slow, and Harry got accustomed to sensation. And the Blaise picked up speed. All Harry could do was let out choked moans as Blaise buried himself to the hilt and back out in a fast yet steady rhythm. He arched his back unconsciously, pushing his arse forward and upward. Blaise groaned and his hands clenched around his thighs tighter.
Harry’s mouth was open, panting as he watched Blaise’s furrowed brows and the line of sweat down his neck. He couldn’t get enough. He felt drunk of the sight.
Then their eyes met, and Harry dazedly stared into pools of deep brown. He wanted to drown in them. He wanted to feel so full of Blaise’s cock and stare into those eyes till he lost himself.
Blaise’s tip started brushing against his prostate at every thrust, making Harry’s eyes roll back. He felt another rush come over him, his body shuddering. And he came. It was like his mind had exploded. Blaise pushed into him once more and stayed buried within. And Harry felt Blaise filling him up as another spurt jolted out his cock.
A final spurt later, he was melting back into the sheets. Blaise was shuddering above him, hands beside his head, breathing deeply.
“Beautiful,” Blaise whispered, and Harry hummed.
His mind had brought forth that well of emotions again. And mixed in was that little bit he usually kept locked away. Those odd clenches in his chest when another who claimed to be his friend walked away. He blamed that for what he said when Blaise moved to remove his cock from where it was softening in Harry’s hole.
“No. Don’t go.”
Blaise gathered him up gently, leaning over the side of the bed to grab his wand. He summoned a few items that Harry couldn’t make out, fucked out as he was. He barely realized what he had just said, mind floating off in the aftermath of endless pleasure.
He came back to himself a bit as the feeling of a warm cloth wiping down his front. Blaise pressed a kiss to his forehead, and Harry sighed, leaning into the man’s warmth.
“Now that I have you, why would I ever want to leave?”
Several minutes later, Harry was slipping into a dream of a future of peace and pleasure and warm eyes gazing into his own.