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“See something you like, Potter?” The voice was deep and hoarse. Harry closed his eyes for a moment and tried to calm himself before he looked up at his unexpected companion.
More fragmented memories from the night before flooded his mind and he groaned.
His head was pleasantly fuzzy from all the Firewhiskey.
“Fancy meeting you here, Potter,” a deep voice drawled somewhere to his right.
Theodore Nott.
What’s with all those Snakes here tonight?
As if it wasn’t enough that Hermione’s been all over Malfoy... so much so that he left them in their booth and decided to drink himself into oblivion alone.
Now him.
“You just look like you need some company, is all,” he said. His voice stirred something inside Harry. He had seen him a couple of times recently due to the whole ‘Hermione dating Draco fucking Malfoy’ situation.
He’d changed since Hogwarts - they all had. He was not the lanky quiet boy any more. He was the perfect picture of a bored aristocrat gone rogue. Sharp lines of his tattoos were poking out from the collar of the white muggle oxford shirt he wore. Norse runes were etched on his hands and forearms that were exposed by his rolled-up sleeves. The silver rings on his fingers shone in the dim light of the pub and black nail polish contrasted with his alabaster skin.
Nott wore his signature smirk as his midnight blue eyes bore into Harry’s.
Had he always been so good looking, or was that all the alcohol coursing through Harry’s system?
He chose not to answer and instead, waved the bartender down and ordered two Firewhiskeys.
“Cheers, Potter,” Nott drawled, picking up one glass and clinking it leisurely against the other one before Harry picked it up.
He watched, entranced, as Nott’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he took a hearty swig of his drink.
“Yes, erm, cheers,” Harry managed and swallowed the lump in his throat. He busied himself with sipping his whiskey.
They sat in silence and drank for a while and Harry couldn’t stop himself from admiring the sharp features of the other man’s face, the slight bow of his patrician nose, his perfectly styled dark brown hair, his pink lips...
“See something you like, Potter?” he asked amused. Harry cleared his throat and looked away embarrassed.
Drinks flowed and the conversation became easier.
The room spun. Everything was blurred.
“Do you want to get out of here?”
Harry couldn’t remember who asked who.
They stumbled into the bathroom stall in a frenzy of heated kisses.
A hand on his neck. Hot breath in his ear.
“Do you want it, Potter?”
He couldn’t remember if he replied.
Harry was on his knees. His tongue teasing Theo’s toned abdomen, tracing the swirling lines of black ink that covered his lean body. Harry’s fingers made quick and sloppy work of the other man’s trousers.
Hands in his hair, guiding his head back and forth.
The bittersweet taste of Theo’s release hitting the back of his throat.
The strangled groan of ecstasy reverberating through the cubicle.
The urgency. The need. The desire.
Split-second decision and the pull in his navel. “Let’s go to mine.”
Theo’s weight on top of him.
Heated kisses. Heavy breaths.
The bite mark on his neck.
Hot tongue on his chest and abdomen.
His fingers tracing the delicate lines of Theo’s tattoos before his eyes grew too heavy.
Shit.
He slept with Theodore Nott.
And he loved every minute of it.
Or, at least, he guessed he did, based on what he could remember.
And the man was still in his bed, looking like he owned the damn place.
Well, fuck.
“So - So about last night,” Harry managed; his throat was dry, begging for a glass of water. And coffee.
Definitely coffee.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Theo sounded amused.
Good question. Did he want to talk about it?
He risked another glance at the man in his bed. He was lounging casually against the pillow propped up on his elbow and watching Harry with casual interest. He looked positively ravishing and completely unbothered by the ridiculousness of the situation.
Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
Bloody snakes and their confidence.
“No, not right now,” he decided. “How about some coffee, Nott?” he asked after getting out of bed and locating his boxers.
“I don’t get it, Potter. Do you want the coffee, or do you want Nott ?” His voice was deliciously dark and Harry felt the desire pool low in his belly.
Theo's smirk was positively sinful when he got up and stretched in all his naked glory. Harry's mouth watered at the sight of the lean muscles of his torso and the shape of his biceps, as well as the intricate Norse designs that covered them. His brain short-circuited as his eyes raked over the two snake tattoos coiling around Theo's hips, dipping into the ridges of the perfectly shaped 'V' of his abdomen. He felt a blush covering his cheeks at the memory of running his tongue along the inked lines.
Theo was in front of Harry in seconds, pinning him to the wall.
His blue eyes were feral. Hungry.
Harry whimpered. “Coffee. Coffee first,” he breathed and shivered when Theo’s lips grazed his ear.
“As you wish.” His voice was a low growl and Harry almost lost all his resolve when he felt Theo’s teeth tease at his earlobe. “Lead the way.”
Harry tried to busy himself with preparing the drinks in his Muggle espresso machine. His fingers shook slightly as he loaded the portafilter with freshly ground coffee.
This was one of the weirdest situations he’d ever found himself in.
Theodore Nott was perched on his kitchen island and eyeing the process with mild distrust. He only wore his boxers, and Harry desperately tried not to steal sideways glances at the man. He was unashamedly good looking.
His breath hitched when he approached his overnight guest with a steaming mug of black coffee.
Harry’s skin prickled and his stomach somersaulted at the deep rumble of Theo’s voice as he accepted the coffee with a quick ‘Thank you.’
“So, what are we -” Harry started.
“I don’t want to analyse it,” Theo muttered looking up at him. In one swift motion, he hooked his leg around Harry’s waist and pulled him between his parted thighs.
Harry was entranced; he lost himself in that blue gaze.
Without thinking, he placed his cup on the counter by Theo’s side and kissed him soundly. He let his hands wander along the other man’s hips, he skimmed his fingers over the hard muscles of his stomach and planted them firmly on his shoulders.
Memories of their heated kisses and laboured pants from last night flashed in his mind’s eye again. Theo wove his hands into Harry’s mussed bed-hair and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.
Harry was breathless.
His head spun.
But not because of alcohol. This time he was drunk on Theo and he wanted this state of mind to last. It was liberating.
“Do you - Do you want to get a drink someday?” Theo breathed into the kiss.
“Yes, I think I would like that,” Harry whispered and pushed the other man to lay him down on the kitchen counter.
He devoured him. Swallowed his needy moans and low growls as he buried himself in Theo over the course of the morning - coffee long forgotten - he thought that he could get used to Sundays like those.