Warnings: DomxDom, power struggle, smut, degrading, violence, mentions of blood, NO fluff, hate sex
Context: The sixth year bathroom scene going a little differently
(Edited September of 2023)

As Harry entered the bathroom, rounding on Malfoy's location, he anticipated many things. Maybe a fight, an ambush, a wand at his throat- he was prepared to face anything that could possibly be thrown his way.

And still yet, he found himself regretting entering the bathroom almost immediately.

There was no fight, no duel, no threat- and really, Harry was a fool for ever thinking Draco Malfoy could be a threat.

Malfoy hunched over the sink, leaning heavily on his forearms and breathing so heavily his back conformed with every breath, forcing his shirt tight against his skin. His Slytherin vest was crumpled in a heat on the floor next to him and he looked a bit like he was going to collapse or cry or both.

Harry quickly decided it wasn't his place to be here- to witness Malfoy like this- and moved for the door. The urge to knock the git down when he was already kneeling was prominent, but sympathy and preemptive guilt kept him from acting on it.

His move to leave was interrupted by Malfoy's voice. "Stalking me again, Potter?"

His voice was harsh, echoing against the bathroom walls. The bathroom itself was already cold and damp, reeking of mildew and rot, but it was the edge in Malfoy's voice that made Harry's blood run cold. It felt spiteful and unrestrained.

Malfoy continued. "What is it this time? Come to kill me?" He scoffed. "Finally end this game we've been playing all year?"

"I'm not going to kill you," Harry snapped, glaring at the blond even as he took a step forward. He grimaced when a drop of gathered precipitation landed on his face from the ceiling, splattering across the lenses of the glasses. "You know we're both incapable of that."

Malfoy bared his teeth, his lips twisting into a snarl as he stalked towards Harry, wand in hand. His face showed nothing but heartless malice, but the way his wand hand trembled, his knuckles pale with strain, showed his fear. It was an unexpected side effect of stalking Draco Malfoy- being able to tell when he was scared. He, very often, was.

"You think I wouldn't kill you?" Malfoy snarled, lifting his wand to point directly at Harry. "You think I'm weak?"

Even with Malfoy's wand at his throat, Harry didn't draw his wand, confident that he knew Malfoy wouldn't cast. Not without Harry drawing his own wand first, at least.

"No, I don't think you're weak, Malfoy. I know you've got enough hate in that horrid heart of yours to kill me." Harry took a step forward, letting the tip of Malfoy's wand dig into his throat, tilting his head back as if inviting Malfoy to curse him. "The problem is that you're a coward."

Malfoy faltered for half a second, surprise flickering across his features, and that was all the time Harry needed to seize Malfoy's wand hand, disarming him with a wandless Expelliarmus and pushing him back, seizing Malfoy's other wrist and pushing him hard up against the wall. Malfoy choked out a gasp, pain and anger contorting his features as his head slammed against the stone. He struggled against Harry's unyielding gasp, but the bash to his head had clearly hurt, and he was sluggish.

"Let me go, you bastard!" Malfoy shouted, thrashing and gnashing his teeth like a cornered coyote. "What do you want from me? Why are you following me?"

"I want to know what you're up to," Harry demanded, pressing Malfoy further into the stone wall. Malfoy winced, shifting as his shoulder blades were forced into the stone.

"I'm not up to anything," Malfoy snarled, thrashing against Harry's grasp. "Release me!"

"Not until you tell me!"

"Fuck off!"

A wandless electrical charge from Malfoy shocked Harry for long enough that Malfoy could writhe out of Harry's grasp and kick Harry, spinning him around so that Malfoy could press him against the wall, Malfoy's forearm digging into Harry's throat, his sneer back on his lips rather than the pained grimace he had once donned. Another second later, Harry felt Malfoy's hand taking the wand from Harry's pocket and then heard it clatter to the ground next to him. Harry's body still thrummed with the electrical force, making him weak and disoriented- three of Malfoy's sneering faces bobbed before his eyes, which crossed slightly while Malfoy smirked, clearly cocky now that he'd reversed the situation.

"You're so fucking weak, Potter- you act tough and play the fucking hero, but we both know, when it comes down to it, you're nothing." Malfoy's voice was a cruel hiss in Harry's ear, and Harry squirmed to get away from it.

He was already gasping for air with Malfoy's arm still pressed against his throat, hardly able to breathe. Harry reached his arms up and weakly tried to push Malfoy off of him, but Malfoy crowded closer so they were pressed up against one another, Malfoy's feet braced so his hips were pressing firmly into Harry's.

Somewhere within Harry's brain, something went horribly, horribly wrong. Because in reality, Malfoy had him pinned, disarmed, and was slowly choking him out. Maybe that was it, the lack of oxygen to his brain, that made him think, 'this is kind of hot, isn't it?'

Harry, panicked at his first clear indication of insanity, thrashed- an ended up thrusting his accidental, horribly timed, partial stiffy right into Malfoy's groin.

Harry swallowed thickly, face going red as he looked at Malfoy, praying to every powerful wizard and witch that Malfoy hadn't noticed.

No such luck, he realized, as a shocked look took over Malfoy's expression. Luckily, the shock was enough that Malfoy let off his throat, and he coughed with how abruptly he gasped for air.

"Harry Potter, the boy who lived, flustered under a male touch?" Malfoy's voice broke through Harry's coughs, nothing short of utterly bemused. When Harry was finally done coughing and opened his eyes to glare, he saw Malfoy's smirk, shifting his weight to press more firmly against the cradle of Harry's hips, causing his breath to hitch somewhat. "I wonder... What would happen if I were to..?"

With Malfoy's hands now pinning Harry by his hips, he leaned forward until his mouth was pressed against Harry's ear (no fucking fair, Harry's ears were sensitive, damnit), letting out a sharp, hot breath that made Harry squirm again- and then Malfoy, clearly also gone insane from when he'd hit his head against the wall earlier, flicked his tongue out to lap at the shell of Harry's ear, trailing weirdly soft lips down until he got to Harry's earlobe and nipping softly. Harry's shaky breath, so close to a fucking moan, had Malfoy's grip releasing slightly, if only out of shock.

Harry got the opportunity to push Malfoy away, then- and he did, full force.

Malfoy stumbled back several feet before he got his footing, panting heavily and the two of them eyeing each other warily.

Harry was half-hard, and Malfoy was certainly getting there, if the strain in his trousers said anything at all. Which it did. Namely that the two of them were fucking insane.

Harry could have left. Malfoy was already half-way to the fucking door to leave. So why Harry took a step towards Malfoy, and why Malfoy did the same towards him, neither of them attacking each other, made no sense.

"We've gone barmy," Malfoy choked out, his gaze flickering towards Harry's groin for a moment.

Harry couldn't agree more, and blamed his new 'barmy'-ness when he took another step forward, fisting the front of Malfoy's shirt and tugging him forward until Harry's lips latched onto Malfoy's throat.

Malfoy's cry out was nothing short of appetizing, his boney, slender fingers hurting as they dug into Harry's waist.

Still, Harry's lips, teeth and tongue latched onto Malfoy's throat, biting none-too-kindly at the sensitive tendons, tracing the rivets of Malfoy's esophagus with his lips as the blond gasped. Harry's tongue left wet trails of saliva across his pale skin that shone in the dim lighting of the bathroom, making it look like he had some sort of gloss to him.

Malfoy suddenly tensed, like he wanted to leave, and for some reason Harry knew he couldn't let that happen, so he pushed his hips forward and forward until they met Malfoy's. Even through four layers- their trousers and pants- Harry could feel the heat of his rivals arousal pressing against his own. Malfoy somewhat melted, conceding to stay- even pushing his hips back against Harry's slightly, almost imperceivable, had it not been against the most sensitive part of Harry's body.

Harry gasped as he tore his lips away from Malfoy's throat. Not allowing time for either of them to think about what they were doing or why or who they were doing it with, Harry grabbed Malfoy by the hair and pulled the git's lips against his own.

A low, rumbling groan crawled out from Malfoy's throat as he kissed Harry. It was nothing but fire and fury with an undertone of passion that Harry knew they only felt for each other, whether it be while bickering or dueling or, evidently, snogging. That passion drove them to grasp, claw and dig at anything of the other boy they could grab, their bodies hot and yet still striving for the warmth of the foreign body across from them.

Malfoy's hands settled- one in Harry's hair, the other gripping firmly at his hip. Harry, much more boldly, had one in Malfoy's fine, pale white locks and his other gripping the blond's arse.

Lips parted and met, and Harry quickly knew that this was no kiss like Harry had ever felt. It wasn't love or affection like the ones with Cho or Ginny; this kiss was a fight of it's down. They fought to dominate each other, grasping for the upper hand, to make the other submit as they sucked and bit until Harry knew both of them were bleeding. He didn't even care- the blood made their kiss slicker, tinged with a copper taste that Harry somehow knew he'd never forget.

"Arsehole," Malfoy spoke first, a gasping insult at a particularly hard nip of Harry's teeth, though he hauled Harry forward with his grip on his hip, slotting their matching hardness more firmly against each other.

"Prat," Harry snapped back, pressing back more firmly against Malfoy.

Fuck, was he really frotting against Draco Malfoy right now?

The blond desperately pulled Harry closer, and Harry used his grip on Malfoy's arse to assist in that goal, hauling them impossibly closer to each other. Malfoy bit down on his lip so hard he wanted to cry out in pain, but the blond quickly conceded with a soft lick that left his tongue coated in red.

A tingling heat seared at the base of Harry's spine as he rocked his hips slightly, wanting to sigh in relief as Malfoy rocked his own hips in return.

Neither of them had moaned, or made any noise out of anything other than shock or pain- and neither of them wanted to be the first to do so- to make this real. Moaning meant you enjoyed it, and neither of them were quite ready to admit that in any way other than mutual grinding.

Who wanted to admit they enjoyed frotting in an old, out of order bathroom with their same sex arch nemesis, after all?

Harry released his grip on Malfoy's hair so that he could focus all of his attention on his arse, forcing Malfoy to time his thrusts with him- it was good, but trousers were in the way of greatness, and they both knew it.

"Fuck," Malfoy cursed, abruptly reaching between the two of them and pushing at his trousers until the button came undone. He cursed again as the rest of the buttons refused to come apart and removed his hand down from Harry's waist to undo the final three.

Harry watched, entranced, as Malfoy spread the front of his trousers and hastily shoved the waistband of his pants down, his prick coming up to slap at his stomach. It was just like the rest of him- long and slender and a soft pink just like Malfoy's lips and cheeks and the tips of his ears. Harry wasn't surprised to find that, just like everything else about Malfoy from his face to his arms to his stomach, he was virtually hairless. He had half a mind to tease Malfoy, to ask if it was some kind of disease, but considering their circumstances, he didn't want to risk losing the privilege he'd been bestowed.

Harry didn't have much time to properly look at the first cock that wasn't his own, because Malfoy was fumbling with Harry's trousers now, pulling at the button and ripping the zip apart, pushing Harry's pants down out of the way like he'd done his own but still leaving the both of them dressed- save for their cocks, which Harry did quick work of making sure they met.

Malfoy hissed a breath out through his teeth as they brought their pricks together, so warm and wet without the cloth of their clothing absorbing all the precum they'd been producing.

"Fucking-" Malfoy cursed again, rocking his hips desperately forward and nearly overbalancing the two of them.

"Eager much?" Harry couldn't help but tease, though his voice was so low he suspected it wouldn't have much effect.

Whether it was the fact that he was clearly affected himself or the simple fact that Malfoy was too aroused to care- which was an entire possibility on its own- Malfoy simply narrowed his eyes and rocked his hips forward again.

This time, Harry cursed out. Their pricks were sliding against each other in tangent now, and Harry brought his hands back to Malfoy's arse while Malfoy's boney fingers dug into Harry's hips, using each other to push and slide and dizzyingly grind against one another.

Harry was almost painfully hard, his precum sliding down with each consistent throb of his prick, either dripping between him and Malfoy's cocks to prove more lubricant for them or back towards himself, wetting his front and the dark trimmed curls at the base of his cock.

The pleasure was almost too much- a heated, coiling thing that settled deep in his groin, making him hiss and throb and shift. His skin was so hot, overheating, and their grinding was rough and desperate and messy but so fucking perfect that Harry could hardly remember to breathe.

"Fuck," Harry grunted, unable to help himself. "Fuck you, Malfoy... Hate that it- Fuck- feels s'good..."

"Fuck you too," Malfoy choked out, cursing under his breath as their pricks slipped out of alignment, pulling away to take himself in his hand then then pushing forward, grasping Harry's cock now too and oh, fuck.

Harry cried out as those long, slim fingers wrapped around him, cold yet slick to the touch, keeping them together as they continued to rock, the tip of Harry's cock catching on the rim of Malfoy's crown, excess skin bunching around Malfoy's fingers.

"I'm- I'm-..." Harry couldn't properly manage to get his words out, but the blinding pleasure that washed up from his toes to the tips of his ears was unmistakable. The pressure in his groin superseded and plans he had of making Malfoy cum first out of pride, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Not only because he was coming, but because he was coming over Malfoy's knuckles, spurting thick ropes of white, sticky cum over Malfoy's perfect hands, so soft and white and unblemished, now coated in Harry's spunk. It felt wrong and sacrilegious and so fucking perfect to defile something so nice and pristine.

Malfoy cried out into his own free hand, biting down on his knuckles and smearing them with blood from his lips as his grind stuttered, burying himself closer to Harry as he came, messing up his own cock with both his and Harry's own cum, his cock throbbing aggressively against Harry's own.

They didn't move for several minutes, the smell of sweat and blood and cum surrounding them as they simply breathed. And then Harry got uncomfortable on his feet, shifted, and Malfoy withdrew entirely.

He snagged his wand from the floor, casting twin cleaning charms at the two of them and then tucking himself into his trousers, refusing to look at him. Harry tucked himself away, feeling the heat in his face and chest, feeling somewhat akin to shame.

"I fucking hate you," Malfoy finally snarled as Harry turned his back to pick up his own wand.

"You too, Malfoy," Harry sighed, not having quite the energy to be as cruel as Malfoy.

Orgasms always made him tired. Malfoy, however, looked uptight and flighty, glancing around and flicking his tongue across his bottom lip, fingers dancing across the grip of his wand.

"I... Enjoyed this," Malfoy blurted out, his cheeks flaming red.

Harry looked up at him, allowing himself to look confused. "I did too."

"But I hate you," Malfoy quickly added afterwards, eyes still flickering around the room as if looking for something.

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "So you've said. Didn't stop you from coming."

"No," Malfoy admitted, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Friday. After the match..."

"Gryffindor vs Slytherin," Harry recalled, nodding.

"Yes. After. We'll... I'll meet you. Locker rooms. Yes?"

Harry blinked, stunned that Malfoy was asking to meet him somewhere, possibly to do this again. "... Yes. I'll meet you."

Malfoy gnawed his bottom lip and nodded, and before Harry could even think about anything else to say, he was rounding the doorway, the last thing Harry saw of him being the heel of his well-polished shoe.

Harry sighed, remaining in the bathroom for a long time before deciding to finally return to Gryffindor Tower for the night.

When he slept, he dreamt of Draco Malfoy.