Archive of Our Own

Draco woke up to the sound of birdsong and the unpleasant sensation of dried semen between his thighs, at which point the realisation of what they’d done the previous night struck him like Thor’s hammer.

He’d had sex without a condom with Charlie Weasley.

With Charlie Weasley, who’d bedded half the men in Eastern Europe and a significant proportion of those outside it.

Being fucked bareback by Charlie Weasley might just be the stupidest thing Draco had ever done, including all the bits with werewolves and the Dark Lord. At the time Snape had - rather hypocritically in Draco’s opinion - accused him of making 'an incomparably foolish error of judgement' , so it was just as well that Snape hadn’t lived to witness the apogee of Draco’s stupidity.

The human immunodeficiency virus might be coursing through his bloodstream at this very moment, slipping past his immune system to invade his cells, and no mediwizard in the world would be able to do anything about it.

All it had taken was one mistake. Well, sleeping with Charlie Weasley initially was the first mistake, he supposed, and there had been a few opportunistic repeat occasions, not least the time Weasley bent him over the consulting table and opened him with the hospital’s latex gloves, slicked with KY, until Draco was raw and desperate.

But the single biggest mistake was losing his brain last night when Charlie was leaning into him and murmuring dirty promises that made his cock surge. Somewhere on the way back from the bar - when they were frotting against the streetlight perhaps, or in the alley where Charlie has scraped his teeth over Draco’s cock through his jeans - Draco had stopped caring about anything except needing the burn of Weasley’s cock inside him. At the time it had seemed worth dying for.

Draco opened his eyes.

The sun was streaming through the blinds, streaking Weasley’s freckled skin in warm light and shadow. Weasley was sprawled on the bed beside him, muscled and addictively fuckable as ever, and clearly awake because he was watching Draco’s face. “Morning,” he said.

Draco closed his eyes and said the first thing that came to mind: “I’m an idiot.”

“Why’s that?”

This was sufficiently infuriating to jolt Draco out of his self-reproach, so he opened his eyes and glared at Weasley. “You realise that what we’ve done could kill us both?”

“I’m clean,” Weasley said calmly, “had all the tests a few weeks back.”

“What the fuck use is that?” Draco snapped. “It takes weeks after infection for HIV to even show up in the tests, and you could have acquired it from anyone else in the meantime. And, besides, how do you know I’m clean?”

“You’re a healer,” Weasley said, stretching lazily and causing his chest muscles to ripple impressively. “You’re responsible about this stuff, aren’t you?”

“Healers have higher incidences of smoking and drug use than other professions. I could be having unprotected sex with dozens of men,” Draco said crossly, because it was technically true - and anyway what damn right did Weasley have to make assumptions like that?

“Are you?” Weasley asked, and for a moment concern was written across his face.

“Am I what?”

“Having sex with other men?”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “That’s none of your business.”

“Well, since we’re talking about infection risks -”

“I’m certain that I had no communicable diseases prior to last night,” Draco said icily, “which is more than can be said for you.”

“I thought so,” Weasley said, and the calm satisfaction in his voice made Draco’s hands itch to curse some sense into Weasley’s atrophied brain. “Actually, I bribed your secretary to tell me.”

“You what?” Draco hissed, turning the full force of the Malfoy rage on Weasley, who didn’t have the sense to flinch. “You went into my private medical records to -”

“No, I just asked her about your calendar,” Weasley replied, unflappable as always, which might have had something to do with years of working with dragons but in this context simply meant that Draco was going to kill him.

“Why is it any of your business if ...” Draco paused and sucked in a breath as the realisation hit him. “You planned this!”

“Going to curse me if I say yes?”

“I’m going to curse you anyway!” Draco said, in sheer unbridled fury. “You had absolutely no right to presume -”

“Draco,” Weasley said intently, his hand touching Draco’s shoulder, and Draco twisted away.

“- selfish, irresponsible behaviour -”

“Draco, I really am safe,” Weasley said loudly, “I haven’t fucked anyone else in months. Not since the weekend in Budapest.”

“- nerve to endanger me -” Draco ranted, carried by the momentum of his anger, and then Weasley’s words sunk in and he was stunned into silence.

“I probably should have told you beforehand,” Weasley said redundantly, reaching out to brush his hand over the nape of Draco’s neck, “but I’m not one for talking. More about practical demonstrations.”

“And what was this supposed to demonstrate?” Draco said, mustering a contemptuous drawl to replace his fading anger.

“That I want to fuck you,” Weasley said, leaning in closer and his voice dropped to the husky tone which had melted Draco’s brain last night. “I want to feel you naked and trembling.”

Draco felt Weasley’s fingers land on his cheek, calloused skin against his morning stubble, and the thumb dragged over Draco’s lip.

“I don’t want any barriers between us,” Weasley muttered against the skin below his ear, and Draco fought to stop his body responding to this ludicrously unsubtle manoeuvre.

“Then, you imbecile, if you’re going to do anything that could endanger us both, you have to ask me beforehand,” Draco said crossly.

“Got it,” Weasley said, his chest pressing against Draco’s back, and yes, that was his cock nestling against Draco’s arse and really how was anybody supposed to conduct a rational conversation like this? “I’d really like to fuck you without a condom,” Weasley said, breathing the words hotly into Draco’s ear.

It was a close thing, but Draco managed to stifle the whimper in his throat and say, “I’ll think about it.”

“Could you think fast?” Weasley said, his teeth were nipping at Draco’s neck, which had always been one of his erogenous - fuck, yes - zones. “‘Cos your secretary said your diary’s open this morning.”

Draco squirmed round to face Weasley and protested, “You’re too fucking presumptuous.”

“That’s a yes?” Weasley asked, which was the last sentence that either of them uttered for some time. Unless you counted “Fucking Merlin, more!” as the head of Weasley’s cock pushed inside where Draco was still sticky from his come and then fucked him teasingly, thick and slow as honey, until Draco’s throat rasped from begging.

Draco called the hospital at midday to announce that he wouldn’t be coming in to work after all. He scowled at Weasley when his secretary didn’t sound in the least bit surprised, but since Weasley was engaged in licking his way up the inside of Draco’s thigh he probably didn’t notice.