wip... er, wednesday! harry's never had good sex. malfoy is obviously bafflingly concerned about this.
It wasn’t that they didn’t get on. Or—they didn’t, but they weren’t duelling every time they exchanged words anymore. It just didn’t feel right to have their relationship shift into anything friendlier. The half of his school life that hadn’t been about Voldemort had been about hating Malfoy, and then the two had been the same until Malfoy didn’t have the stones to kill Dumbledore but did to save Harry, somehow, and then Harry’d testified for him and gotten him and Narcissa out of serving any time at all and—there was just too much between them. Too much said and unsaid. One time he and Malfoy had been alone together for five minutes and Harry’d said er and Malfoy’d sneered and gone scintillating conversation once again, Potter, and that was the end of it.
Which was fine. Everyone had someone they couldn’t really talk to. It just made it sort of weird when Malfoy showed up at his doorstep at two in the afternoon and said: “Has no one ever—really?”
Harry stared at him blankly. “That’s…” He paused. “I don’t think I understand the question.”
“I mean,” said Malfoy with a large flourish like he was delivering a lecture to an audience and not beginning to rave like a lunatic, “obviously you’re not totally horrible looking—”
“Appreciate the compliment, Malfoy; you’re too kind as always, but—”
“And you’re you; you should be able to get anyone to do anything,” continued Malfoy, and Harry remembered: the pub, that awful conversation, Malfoy’s blank face when he’d looked at Harry and murmured must be in his low, strange way. He pulled Malfoy inside before his neighbours could overhear.
“Are you crazy?” he asked as soon as the door clicked shut. “Have you actually gone—”
“I just don’t get,” said Malfoy, his tone rising now, incredulous and—and angry, though Harry couldn’t begin to fathom at what, “how you of all people haven’t had a good shag.”
Harry felt wretched, suddenly, and tired and horribly annoyed at how everyone seemed to expect that he’d have more experience than he did, be something different than he was, so without thinking he snapped, “If you’re so bloody obsessed with it, you might as well show me what a good shag is like.”
Malfoy fell silent. He was flushed from his ears to his throat. He opened and closed his mouth, then did it again, then replied, his voice just barely wavering: “Fine. I will.”
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Dunno if you're still taking requests regarding the slytherin boys, but I'll try my luck soo I was thinking like maybe something about spending time with Enzo in one of the dorms while all the other slytherins are out in hogsmeade or whatever and just cuddling and all that sappy stuff??
In case you do write it, thank you so much <3
pairing; lorenzo berkshire x fem!slytherin!reader
tags; established relationship, disgusting sappy toothache inducing fluff, very much calm!boyfriend x dramatic!girlfriend trope, shitty writing (sorry!)
The dorm is blissfully quiet; your rowdy bunch of friends have taken a day trip to Hogsmeade and Enzo has essentially glued himself to you, coaxing you to the common room to spend the day together.
And, well, you’re not going to complain. An entire uninterrupted day with your favourite boy in the world? How could you possibly object to that?
You sigh exaggeratedly and roll on the bed where you're sprawled next to him, pushing your lips out into a pout and blinking owlishly in that wide-eyed way you tend to when you want something; Enzo has always been particularly fond of your flair for the dramatic. His smile is soft in comparison, half-moon dimples pushing out of his perfect cheeks as he mimics your movements and comes to a stop mere inches from your face.
"What is it, my lover," he drawls in an awful attempt at some sort of Southern cowboy accent, a crooked finger tickling underneath your chin as though you're a cat. You seem to approve regardless.
"It's just not acceptable, Enzo!" you whine, throwing yourself onto your back in a mess of limbs and hair. He tilts his head, eyebrows raised and awaiting the continuation of your theatrical outburst. "We are not nearly close enough together. Look how much room there is between us!" You gesture wildly to the two inch gap separating you and him and feign distress, a hand clutched to your chest in faux shock.
"Come here then, sweet girl," he coos, hands reaching out to tug you up and into his arms. You settle between his thighs, chin propped against his chest as he gazes at you, tucking flyaways behind your ears when you wrap your arms around him. You scrunch your nose as he grazes it with the tip of his thumb devotedly and laughs.
"I love you." His fingers trail the expanse of your face; every crease and crevice, each bump and ridge and slope. He leaves nowhere without his gentle touch, his reverent worship.
You soften and rest your cheek against his warm shoulder, arms coming up to hook around his neck. You never feel like you're quite close enough with him, always wanting more, wanting to burrow inside of his very soul; everywhere you go, you always hunger after his touch- fingers interlinked, knees brushing chastely, a modest peck before you ever part from his company.
"I love you more," you murmur, promptly serious at his declaration. Your face gravitates towards him almost unconsciously and you're slotting your lips between his for a kiss. Once, twice, and then a long, lingering one before you rest your forehead against his, noses brushing.
"Don't ever leave me," you say suddenly. "I've never loved anyone like this."
This time he's the one to break the tension, squeezing you so tight you wheeze and pressing open mouthed kisses to every inch of skin he can reach. They're half-moon shaped, just like his dimples.
"Never," he mumbles into your skin, pulling the duvet over you as you snuggle further into his warmth. Your eyes are heavy.
By the time the rest of the group return from their outing, you're both sound asleep, wrapped in each other's arms. Enzo snores quietly and you're completely still, calm and content. It's the quietest your friends have ever seen you.
Enzo's your person. And your person calms the racing thoughts that spin in your mind. He allows you to relax in the cocoon of safety he's formed around you.
Pansy forces them all out of the dorm to let the pair of you sleep, and for that you are grateful.
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