Harry's elbow bumped an overfull cabinet when he stumbled back against the wall. He tensed up as the glass jars rattled, turning his head slowly to stare at a dozen newt eyes swimming in brine.
"Honestly, Potter, do you want to be found out?"
Beside him, a cabinet of Snape's classroom stores. In front of him, Draco on his knees. He did not have to think about what to look at. Long, pale hands reached for his ankles, pushed his robe up over non-uniform boots and muscled calves and knobby knees and thighs that shook every so slightly.
"God. Hurry," he said.
Draco pinched his hip and swallowed his cock.
Draco held his arms rigid over his head, clutching Harry's robes in tight fists and keeping them out of his way while his mouth moved all over, Harry's inner thigh, his balls, the base of his cock, licking the head and swallowing down and tonguing up the inside again.
Harry didn't think to take hold of the robes until Draco's arms shook, and even then he only used one hand, letting the other fall to Draco's head, his fingers tangling in, clutching at, the soft, fine hair.
He'd seen this in a filthy painting once, a woman holding her skirts up around her waist while a man sat between her thighs, pleasuring her. He wondered, if he let his robes fall, would a hidden Draco be able to carry on for the full hour?
As if Harry could even imagine he could last.
"Come, damn you, we've got a lesson," muttered Draco, and wormed a pair of fingers in behind Harry's balls as he sucked him down again. That mouth, that tongue, that hand. Impossibly wet and hard and swift.
Harry panted and gulped and hit the wall twice with the back of his head and he was sure if Draco wanted him to come all he would have to do was keep doing what he was doing for another three... two...
"Aw, fuck," moaned Harry as Draco pulled his mouth off again, breathing cool air over him. And kept it off, two fingers all but pressed into Harry's backside, the other hand curling around the base of his cock and slick and tugging. "Aw, fuck!"
He spurted on Draco's lower lip, his cheek, his chin, the slight curve of his jaw, as Draco tilted his head back and looked positively blissful.
Harry stared and stared and finally tugged on Draco's hair, tugged up, tugged closer, till Draco was on his feet and pressed up tight. "Fucking brilliant," he said, and licked that jaw, that chin, that cheek. Held him close and licked him clean until nearly every drop was gone.
The door creaked and laughter sounded from up the hall. Harry dropped his robes to his feet again and brushed away the suspicious wrinkles as though it would make a difference.
Draco nipped his ear and stepped away. "... and if you think that's going to frighten me, Potter, you're as witless as the Headmaster."
As Theodore Nott walked past them into the room, Draco swiped his tongue around the corner of his mouth.