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Draco watched as Potter chewed on his quill, his eyes riveted on his full lips. He swallowed and cleared his throat, looking away briefly before swinging guarded eyes back. “That's disgusting Potter.”
Potter looked up from the book he was reading, tilting his head as he met Draco's gaze. “Hm?”
“Putting that in your mouth, it's disgusting. Do you know where that thing has been?” Draco asked with a sneer.
Potter pulled the quill away from his face, looking briefly at the feather before refocusing on Draco. “Yeah, my mouth.” He shrugged.
Draco made a noise of disgust and quickly stood. “I can't sit here and watch that any longer."
Potter furrowed his brows as he watched Draco pick up his Charms homework and head for the stairs to his room. “No one's making you watch Malfoy.”
Draco didn't turn around to acknowledge him, instead muttering under his breath that his stupid mouth was forcing him to watch as he stomped up the stairs.
After that interaction, Potter continued to nibble on his quill any time Draco was in the common room, and he began to think it was just to spite him.
When he returned for Eighth Year and learned he'd be sharing a house and common room with the rest of the returning class, Draco assumed the most difficult thing he'd have to tolerate would be idiotic Hufflepuffs. Instead, he had to deal with Potter's mouth.
After a week of suffering, he began shutting himself up in his room to avoid the distraction. Unfortunately for him, Pansy still forced him into public more than he would have liked, which meant he was in the common room to witness a new kind of torture weeks later.
Potter sat in his usual spot on the sofa, not that Draco knew where that was mind you, and instead of a quill in his mouth, he was running his index finger over his bottom lip. Draco tried not to, but he couldn't help but watch its progress as the digit slowly moved back and forth while Potter stared into the fire.
“Honestly Harry,” Granger began as she sat next to him, yanking Draco's focus away from the man and back onto his Runes paper, “When are you going to listen to me?”
From the corner of his eye, Draco saw Potter turn his head toward her, finger still on his lip. “About what?”
“Skincare!” She said exasperatedly.
“What?”
Draco saw Granger wave a hand at Potter's mouth, and he dropped his hand. “If you don't want dry lips, you have to wear some kind of protectant while you're flying! And if you keep picking at them, you're going to make yourself bleed.”
Draco forced himself to tune them out so that he could finish his homework, but his eyes were still frequently drawn to Potter's mouth as he plucked at his lips after Granger left.
He endured an entire week of watching Potter destroy his delicate lips before he couldn't take it any longer. It was a Sunday, and Potter had just come back from his weekly pick up Quidditch game. He and Draco were the only ones in the common room, Pansy having just left to meet someone or other, and Potter was once again peeling the cracked skin with his fingers. Draco huffed and stood, walking quickly up to his room to retrieve an unopened pot of lip moisturizing potion he brewed for himself and heading back down the stairs. Before he could rationalize himself out of it, he approached Potter and held out the jar.
“Here.”
Potter had watched him approach with a furrowed brow and was now flicking his gaze between Draco's face and his hand. “What is it?”
Draco sighed, “It's moisturizing potion, so you'll stop picking at your stupid lips.”
He glanced away as Potter smirked, waving the pot until it was removed from his hand. “Thanks Malfoy.”
Draco huffed and turned back toward his seat. “Whatever Potter. I'm just sick of seeing that disgusting habit.”
Potter shook his head with a grin and unscrewed the jar, smelling the ointment inside before dipping his finger in. “It smells nice.” Potter glanced across the common room, “Where did you get it?”
Draco shot him a glare and raised his book to cover most of his face. Undeterred, Potter couldn't resist asking Draco another question as he gathered a small amount of the salve with the tip of his finger. “Did you brew this yourself?”
“Shut up Potter, I'm trying to learn over here.”
Potter laughed and shook his head, turning back toward the fireplace, and Draco smiled behind the safety of his book. He had been discreetly peeking through his eyelashes, but he tilted his chin up to watch as Potter rubbed the potion onto his lips with a gentle finger, and damn if it wasn't even more enticing than the plucking.
After a few days of watching Potter apply the ointment, Draco was beginning to regret giving it to him. It seemed like the only time he applied it was when Draco was near, and he couldn't stop himself from watching the slow progression of Potter's fingertip, even though he tried every time.
It felt to Draco that Potter made it a point to either be touching his lips or have something in his mouth every time he was in a position to see it, and by the time the next Hogsmeade weekend rolled around he thought he might go mad. He'd gone with Pansy to the Three Broomsticks in order to get some space, only to have Potter and his friends take a seat at the next table over not more than ten minutes later. He growled under his breath as he looked over to see Potter twirling a toothpick between his lips.
“Hope he chokes on it.” Draco muttered, looking away as he felt his face start to heat.
Pansy looked up from her Butterbeer, “What was that dear?”
Draco shook his head, “Nothing. I'm going to go to the loo.”
Draco slid off his stool and quickly made his way across the pub, turning his head away as he passed Potter's table and missing the sly grin on Potter's face as his eyes tracked Draco's movement. He entered the loo and took a calming breath, relaxing his shoulders as he realized the room was empty. He leaned over the sink, one hand wrapped around either edge, and shook his head.
“Get a hold of yourself Draco. It's just a stupid bit of wood.”
He sighed into the sink, wondering how long he could realistically hide out in the loo before either Pansy sent someone to find him, or someone came in organically.
The door creaked open, and Draco looked up into the mirror with a huff to see the intruder. He scowled as he saw Potter reflected in the glass, a white candy stick protruding from his lips. He pulled the Blood Pop from his mouth, wrapping his lips around the confection as it was slowly revealed.
“Oh, hey Malfoy.” He said nonchalantly, licking his lips before returning the sucker to his mouth.
Draco's threadbare self-control finally snapped, and he growled and spun around. He quickly closed the space between them and shoved Potter in the chest, backing him against the closed door. Potter let out a muffled oof as he made impact, raising his hands in surrender as he stared at Draco with amused eyes.
“What is your issue Potter?” Potter frowned in confusion and Draco stepped closer, shoving him again on the shoulder. “Why do you always have something in your bloody mouth?” He pulled the blood pop from between Potter's lips, “Do you even like these?”
Potter blinked at him for a few seconds, then smirked. “They're not so bad, once you get used to them.” He glanced down at Draco's lips and licked his own. “You should try it.”
Draco furrowed his brows, eyeing the red treat before shifting his suspicious gaze back to the man before him. He briefly considered what Potter's motivation could be, then threw caution to the wind and popped the sucker into his mouth. Potter took a sharp breath through his nose, and Draco lifted a brow. He slowly pulled the treat from between his lips, mimicking what Potter had done minutes before, and licked his lips. “This is disgusting.”
Potter laughed and shrugged, “I'm sure there are plenty of better things I could put in my mouth.”
Draco's throat went dry as that statement spawned several thoughts, and he started to harden as they all flashed through his mind. “I can think of at least one.” Draco said before he could filter himself.
He gasped as soon as the words left his mouth, and his eyes widened as he quickly tried to think of a way to backtrack. He took a step back, and Potter stepped forward to follow.
Potter's gaze roamed down Draco's body, and he quirked a grin when he reached the obvious bulge at his groin. “I thought you'd never ask.”
Draco's mind ground to a halt, blanking completely as he struggled to understand what Potter had just said. “W-what?”
Potter met his startled gaze and held it.
“I thought,” Potter slid down to his knees on the floor, and Draco sucked in a startled breath.
“You'd never,“ Potter reached out and began to unbutton Draco's robes, and Draco was frozen in shock and disbelief as he watched Potter part them to reveal his trousers.
“Ask.”
Potter unbuttoned Draco's trousers and slid his pants down, allowing his erection to spring free.
Draco gasped and quickly placed his hands on the door in front of him. The last coherent thought he had before Potter's lips closed around him was, ‘This Hogsmeade trip turned out to be pretty great after all.'