"Believe it— like you believe the sun rises each day, git-for-brains. Believe it! Like you believe in magic, arsehole! I love you. I fucking well love you! What’s more, I’d die for you and—and I’d live for you and I want you in my own home, for ever more, until we both should die! Say you will and no palavering, Potter. Say you will be mine. Stay with me! Be mine!”

Loki laughed. “Of course not, but hey I won the rigged game and won this,” he put the bear in Tony’s arms. “For you.”

Tony’s face turned as red as his Iron Man suit as accepted the giant stuffed animal. “God, I really think you are my boyfriend.”

“I am.” He kissed his forehead. “Now why don’t we go back to your place?”

His lashes were dark and impossibly long and they framed his eyes like a Michelangelo behind his glasses. The color seemed darker now than they had a day ago when they’d met for the first time in years. He remembered the girls in the common room giggling over Potter and how gorgeous they all thought he was. His dark, messy hair, his angst ridden attitude, and those eyes. They compared them to emeralds and Slytherin green. To Draco, they looked like growing things, promises of spring, like the endless fields of the Sheep’s Head.

You are my flower, Harry. I cannot deny you are. In my head, you are. But I shan’t press it and you’ve no need to fret.

But you still seem to want me about in some small way, maybe because you are Harry, and I’ll always want you, in all ways, so this is a pretty fair compromise. Really, it is.

‘Draco. You’re dressed like a biker. You came here on a— holy shit, is that the bike?’ 

Draco nods excitedly. ‘Want to ride her?’ 

Harry glances at him. ‘Maybe… after I ride you. Definitely’

"Professor Malfoy has graciously agreed to serve as your faculty guide."
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the portrait of Severus Snape become truly animated for the first time that day as an expression of unholy delight stole over the man’s sallow face.

“I… Er… I’m going out to dinner tomorrow with this bloke, and I think it may be a date. I mean… he titled the letter ‘Dear Harry’, but he only signed his name, so I don’t really know…”

"If I don’t clean up, will you send me…away?” Harry whispered.

Draco almost choked on his mouthful of food.

Swallowing with some effort, he said, “Of course not. You…I would never,” he finished, unable to form a rational sentence without saying outright that he would never want to send Harry away from him.

He suddenly sounded very disgusted as a thought seemed to enter his mind. “I’m not milking him!”