bixgirl1

“Malfoy, wait. Come here,”

The hours slipped by: seven o’clock, eight, nine. At ten-forty-four, Harry held Malfoy’s bandaged hand in his and murmured, “I’ve been an orphan for twenty years and twelve minutes, and I swear if you turn me into a widower on Halloween too, I’ll follow your pasty arse to hell and make you pay for it.”

Wanting to wake him, to touch him, wanting more than a lonely wank under the spray of the shower. Wanting more from Draco, and alarmed by how much he wanted, by how aroused he was.