Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven, @ 2007-08-08 20:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | hp fic better than revenge, hp fic draco/harry |
HP fic: Better Than Revenge, ch. 10: At the Barn [Harry/Draco, general]
Title: Better Than Revenge
chapter 10, "At the Barn"
Author: celandineb
Fandom: HP
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: general
Summary: Draco tries a little bit of seduction, but his attempts are frustrated.
Much to Draco's relief Harry seemed to accept that Draco was telling the truth about liking him, though he did look a little wild about the eyes still. If it was disappointing that Harry would not explain his mysterious summer plans right now, he did hint that he might do so later on, and Draco could wait. He knew that he would never betray Harry to Lord Voldemort. Harry would someday believe it too.
But asking Draco about Pansy Parkinson and pure-blood marriage arrangements? Every time Draco forgot for a while that Harry was not just half-blood, but raised by Muggles to boot, the other boy came out with something that showed his woeful ignorance of the wizarding world. Not that Draco blamed him. It was simply disconcerting to have to explain things that were so taken for granted in Draco's experience.
For instance, when Draco mentioned that with himself on the run and his father in Azkaban, it seemed unlikely that he would end up in an arranged marriage, and then added, "If it's my decision, I doubt I'll marry at all," Harry said it was odd that Draco would even consider marrying, given his preference for boys. Draco found it hard to explain how important his family, and the continuation of the family, was to him. Not that he was close to his parents, that was beside the point. It was the blood itself that mattered, not some mystical connection between those who bore it. The pure-blood line – how could Draco convey the significance of that to someone who did not share it? Despite Harry's own half-blood status, despite having to admit that even a Mudblood like Hermione Granger could be an extremely talented witch, Draco still felt that there was value in maintaining the old families intact, not diluting them by marriage to Muggles. He struggled to find some way to express his feelings, and ended up telling Harry about one of his family's most valued treasures, a tapestry that showed their family tree, dozens of generations of Malfoys back to a distant Norman ancestor.
"Sounds impressive," was Harry's casual response. It made Draco wonder if Harry could ever understand how he felt. Not that he expected Harry to agree, necessarily, but it was disheartening to talk about something so important and have it dismissed in such a cavalier fashion. He was sufficiently irritated to remain silent as they left their things at Skirfare Bridge Barn and walked down to the local pub for some dinner.
Drinking tonight seemed like a bad idea. Draco did not want to lose control again as he had now done twice around Harry. So he ordered a lemonade, and was glad when Harry made a similar decision.
Gradually the pub filled up with Muggles. A noisy question-and-answer game of some sort began, and Draco asked, "Shall we leave?"
"There's nothing much to do around here at night," Harry pointed out. "Let's stay for a while."
Listening to quiz questions about people and events he had never heard of was not terribly thrilling. Bored, Draco watched the Muggles instead, and soon noticed that one of them – one of the Americans also staying at the barn, he thought – was looking back at him with an interested expression. In fact, the bloke had the audacity to smile and cock his head towards the empty seat beside him, plainly inviting Draco over. Draco shook his head, the tiniest of motions, and moved his chair a little closer to the completely oblivious Harry. The sandy-haired man shrugged his shoulders, made a regretful face, and turned back to his friends.
Most peculiar, Draco considered, to have had such an exchange with a Muggle. Despite fancying blokes since he could remember, he had never considered anyone but a wizard worthy of his regard – not that he had never done any looking at them, mind, but nothing serious. This almost-encounter had ended all right, but Draco was glad to hear Harry say, "Perhaps not such a good idea after all. I'm bored. Let's go."
There was nowhere to go except back to the barn and indeed to their room, since a number of the American group were hanging about the common room. Draco was not keen on lingering there; they might be friendly, in an over-exuberant puppyish way, but he could not think of anything he would want to say to one of them. He definitely wanted to avoid the bloke who had been in the pub. Luckily Harry seemed equally disinclined for Muggle company, and with a few polite noises they escaped.
Surprisingly, the first thing Harry said when they had shut the door to the room behind them was, "Can I look at your arm?"
Of course, the Dark Mark. The reason they were here, and they had never yet talked much about it. Draco began to roll up his sleeve, then realized that this was a prime opportunity, and instead pulled the shirt off completely. He saw Harry's eyes flicker over his torso briefly, and hid a pleased smirk as Harry sat down on his cot and bent to examine the Mark.
"Has Voldemort summoned you through it, since the night Professor Dumbledore died?" asked Harry.
Draco was astonished that Harry knew about that method of communication, but admitted that he had been thus summoned, adding, "It's not pleasant." That was an understatement. If he had not been warned about it, he would have screamed the first time he felt the touch, like flames licking along each line of the Mark. He did not know just how it was done, though, nor how Lord Voldemort might be able to track him through the Mark if he stayed in one place for long. Professor Snape had not explained the technique, if he had known it himself, and Draco told Harry so.
Nevertheless Harry seemed certain that either they would figure something out, or that Hermione Granger would. His confidence was astonishing under the circumstances, but Draco found it a comfort. To try to lighten the mood further, he said, "I hope she has some useful ideas. I don't fancy spending an unlimited time on the run, you know, not even in the enchanting company of the famous Harry Potter."
Harry looked nonplussed by that statement, so Draco grinned at him to show it was a joke. Harry said, "Never thought I'd hear Draco Malfoy call me enchanting. Blood-traitorous, more like."
There was far more truth to that than Draco wanted to remember. From the first time he had seen Harry to know him, almost, he had been rude or worse. He hardly knew anymore how it had started, except that he had been so annoyed that Ron Weasley had already managed to suck up to the Boy Who Lived that he, Draco, had spoken without thinking and managed to get off on the wrong foot.
Why had he been so angry about Weasley befriending Harry? Just because his father had told him to try to get to know Harry Potter if he could, and Weasley interfered with that plan? Surely it could not have been jealousy, not when he had really known nothing about Harry then. Harry had seemed annoyingly cocksure for someone who had been raised as a Muggle, though, and of course when he was Sorted into Gryffindor and Draco was put in Slytherin, House rivalry made it nearly impossible to alter a pattern of behavior that had already begun in mistrust and insult.
And yet there had been something about Harry that fascinated Draco, so that he was always aware of where Harry was and what he was doing, wishing that he were part of Harry's charmed circle, even when he was saying the worst possible things about Harry to the Slytherins. Draco tried to explain this now, saying, "Crabbe and Goyle were loyal, but not clever. You and your friends were both, Harry, and that's why I watched you, even if I acted like a complete bastard most of the time."
"I wasn't any better," Harry said. "I'd hate you a little more every time, but I wasn't as good at getting you back. You had the best of it there."
"Maybe I won more of the battles, but I think I lost the war," Draco mused. "Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm not trying to seduce you or anything," Draco began. But he was. And Harry would know it. He might as well be honest. So he laughed and went on, "Okay, never mind, I am. Anyway, you said you'd never been keen on boys, so why'd you kiss me those two nights?" He was genuinely curious. His own feelings for Harry might have always been more complex than he allowed anyone else to realize, and especially so in the past couple of years, but he was a Slytherin, he was not going to do anything unless there was some advantage in it for him somewhere, not if he could help it. Gryffindors were not like that; they were like dragons hunting in a forest, with a good chance they would destroy half the place without realizing it on the way to their goal, only to regret it later. Harry had plainly always loathed Draco, their whole time at Hogwarts, and equally clearly all his crushes had been on girls. Why had he kissed Draco?
Harry was actually blushing. "Er. Well. Would you settle for 'it seemed like a good idea at the time'?"
"Not if you leave it at that," Draco said. "I don't believe I was the first bloke you ever snogged, you wouldn't have done it if I had been, but what made it seem such a good idea?"
"The first time I thought it might calm you down a bit, and it did," Harry said.
Draco could believe that reason, recalling how panicked he had been that first night, almost crazy with weeks of relentless apprehension, but it did not explain Harry's behavior yesterday. "And last night? Don't give me any rubbish about being half-pissed, if that were it you wouldn't have cared about stopping."
"You're not so bad-looking yourself, Draco, and you'd kissed rather well the first time," Harry said, to Draco's amazement. He had always fancied himself talented when it came to serious snogging, but no one had actually told him so before. Well, Blaise was far too self-centered to even think of complimenting someone, and he was the only one whose judgment Draco would be likely to trust on such matters. And although Draco knew himself to be attractive, it was astonishing to hear Harry say so. Judging from the company Harry kept, Draco would never have guessed Harry cared at all about appearances.
"I wanted to see if I remembered that right," Harry finished.
"Did you?" Draco asked, not sure if he was asking if Harry had really wanted to see, or if he had remembered correctly. Harry's response – "yeah" – could be an answer either way. Draco tried to pin him down by inquiring, "Need another demonstration?"
"No, I don't need one," Harry said, and Draco's hopes plummeted, only to leap up again when Harry went on, "But I'd like one."
Ah ha. True Gryffindor – the direct approach had worked on Harry, where a more subtle ploy might have failed.
That did not mean Harry gave in easily, though. He said, "It still has to be my rules, or I won't play. I'm not up for being your boyfriend."
"Did I ask you to be?" Draco was less indignant than his words might sound. Step by step. If Harry had to think he was in control, Draco would let him. Rules were made to be bent, as long as one was willing to risk the consequences. Draco was sure that he could judge Harry's reactions well enough to convince him to alter his rules; maybe not tonight, but sooner or later.
"As long as that's straight between us," said Harry.
"Harry, whatever happens between us, I don't think 'straight' is how we've ever played," said Draco, a host of altercations running through his memory. "But for tonight I'll do whatever you want." He made no promises for the future.
The other boy's eyes widened. "And if I say I want to go to bed?"
Draco caught his breath. "You want to go to bed?" This was unexpected: Draco had been sure that Harry would again set strict limits.
"To sleep, I mean," Harry qualified hastily.
Oh, dragon pox. Too good to be true. "I said I would do what you want," Draco repeated. "If you really just want to go to sleep, then that's what we'll do."
But Harry had been teasing, it seemed, because he now leaned over and pushed away the hair from Draco's ear, nipping at the lobe where the skull earring nestled silver.
"That's not really what I want," Harry breathed.
The warmth of his lips sent shivers down Draco's spine. He took Harry's left hand and slowly, giving Harry time to draw back if he wanted, brought it to his own lips, sucking at the tip of each finger and then running his tongue across the palm.
"What do you want?" Draco asked.
"It doesn't matter. I want more than I'm going to do, if that's any consolation to you," said Harry.
"Why not do what you want?"
"Because what I want isn't what's right to do," Harry said. "Chalk it up to Gryffindor honor, or something, but..."
Draco pulled away. "Is it because it's me, not someone else? Or because I'm a Slytherin? Or because I'm a bloke, or what?"
"A bit of all those," Harry said, rumpling up his hair. "Sorry, but that's how I feel just now."
Now. Draco held onto that word. Now did not have to mean always. But wait: Harry had not denied it earlier when Draco had said Harry must have snogged other boys before. Before he could censor the words, Draco said, "But you've kissed a bloke before, how can that bother you?"
"Have you considered that maybe it wasn't what I wanted then either?" Harry sounded almost cross. "It was just... experimenting. Fooling around. Practicing, you know? Didn't you ever snog a girl, because you were there and she was too and you were curious about it all? But it wouldn't necessarily mean you were seriously interested in her, or in any girls for that matter."
"I've kissed a couple of the Slytherin girls," Draco admitted. The recollections were not appealing. Pansy Parkinson had more or less trapped him after the fourth-year Yule Ball, and then there had been Daphne Greengrass in the Potions dungeon in fifth year. But it had never been more than a few kisses and fumbles, just enough so that he did not get whispered about in the corridors. The Malfoy family had a long reputation for being extremely fastidious when it came to sexual encounters, and Draco had taken full advantage of the fact to avoid them – with a few notable but still discreet exceptions.
"So you can see why a snog or two won't necessarily change your mind about wanting to be with boys rather than girls, or the other way around. Did you even like the girls?" Harry had pulled up his legs and wrapped his arms around his knees.
"Not all that much. Silly cows, they were," said Draco. He figured that Harry would guess that one girl was Pansy, just as he suspected that Harry's bloke must have been Weasley, but he did not want to use any names. It gave him a moment's interesting speculation, though, to think that Harry had probably snogged a brother and sister, and he wondered if Harry had ever compared the two. "But hang on a minute. You're saying that kissing another boy bothers you, but you want to do more than that with me, maybe, and yet you're not going to? I don't understand you at all, Harry."
Harry unclasped his right hand from his knee and touched Draco's arm just below the Mark. "No, I don't suppose you do. Does it matter?"
Of course it mattered. Didn't it? Draco looked at Harry, whose dark hair was as messy-looking as ever, whose glasses were perched askew on his nose, whose clothes were baggy and untidy. He was a half-blood, a Gryffindor. It was Harry who had put Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban – well, Dumbledore had done it really, but it was because of Harry. But it was also Harry that Draco had dreamed of for years, imagined every time he kissed someone else, fantasized about at night when he touched himself. It was Harry who had offered to help Draco at risk of his own life, and Draco wanted to understand why Harry acted as he did. "Yeah, it matters," he said, and he put out his hand to Harry's face and carefully lifted off his glasses.
He half-expected Harry to resist or protest, but Harry did not. Instead he took his glasses back from Draco and leaned over to set them on the floor, nearly overbalancing and having to unfold his legs to keep from falling off. Draco clutched at him too, without thinking, though when Harry had pushed himself upright again Draco relaxed his grasp and waited.
"All right," Harry said. "If you don't understand, now isn't the time to explain. Wait a few days and I think you just might have an idea, Draco. For now... well, would you rather have something, even if it's less than what you want, or nothing at all?"
"Something, of course." Draco shrugged. "Tell me the rules."
"Nothing below the waist." Harry looked pointedly at Draco's hands, still resting on Harry's thighs, and Draco hastily removed them. "And no more clothes off than this."
Draco shook his head. "No, you have to take your shirt off if mine is." Besides, he had plans – as long as Harry did not turn out to be ticklish, that is.
A small grin danced across Harry's face. "Thought you'd say that. Right, fair's fair." He hauled the flapping t-shirt over his head and tossed it towards his own cot. "Satisfied?"
"Evidently I'm not going to be," Draco spoke lightly. "I suppose this'll do for now." He was once again struck by Harry's appearance: the Gryffindor had always seemed on the scrawny side in his school robes, but Harry was in fact quite nicely muscled. Realizing that he was staring rather, he quickly brought his eyes back up to meet Harry's gaze.
"Good," said Harry softly, and reached out for Draco. "We'll want to be quiet..."
"Yeah." Draco was not sure he trusted the Muggle lock, but he was not about to stop and dig out his wand to put a Colloportus on the door. Not when Harry was running his hands over Draco's chest as if it were parchment and he were trying to feel the inked words with his fingertips. Draco's cock was stone hard already, trapped by the solid fabric of his Muggle jeans. Wizarding robes were much more convenient for this sort of thing. He shifted, trying to relieve the uncomfortable pressure of the metal zip, and pulled Harry down so that they lay facing each other. That was a little better. He pushed long strands of hair out of his eye and propped himself up on his right elbow, bending his head forward to bite Harry's neck just at the spot where he had imagined doing this two days before.
Harry gasped, and his thumbs which had been rubbing over Draco's nipples pinched hard as Draco mouthed the skin of Harry's neck. Draco's triumph at Harry's reaction translated itself into a wild surge of lust. He reminded himself that if he tried to go further than the bounds Harry had set, he would never get this much again, very likely. So he eased off without even leaving a bruise on Harry to match the one that purpled his own neck. Instead he slid his arm under Harry's shoulders and brought them closer, running his left hand up and down along Harry's bare back, careful to neither dip below the waistband of his jeans nor to press his aching groin against him.
His lips met Harry's and opened, their tongues darting out to taste each other. Nothing at all like kissing a girl, this. Girls were so tentative, so tender, whereas Harry was not ungentle but there was force and power there too. Harry was not the very best at kissing that Draco had ever encountered, but definitely number two, with potential. And Harry was making enthusiastic little noises, his hands threading into Draco's hair – he had not been just flattering Draco before by saying he thought Draco was good too.
They kissed for quite a long time before Draco drew back a bit and began to trail his way along Harry's neck and down his chest. He was about to flick his tongue over Harry's nipple – whatever fooling around Harry had done with Weasley or whoever it was, Draco would bet it had not been more than practice snogging and hand jobs, and he hoped this would be rather more of a turn-on – when agony seized him.
"Fuck!" Draco grabbed at his arm and rolled away, almost falling off the cot, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to keep down the howl that wanted to escape his throat.
"Draco?" Harry was pulling him back from the edge. "Is it..." He had pried Draco's hand away. "Voldemort, yeah. The Mark's turned black, he's summoning the Death Eaters, isn't he?"
Draco could just nod, sweat breaking out on his forehead as he strove to master the fiery pain. This was the worst he had yet felt it, and he wondered if that meant Lord Voldemort was nearer by than before.
"How long does it last?" said Harry, concern evident in his voice.
With an effort Draco opened his eyes to Harry's worried face and said hoarsely, "A few minutes, usually."
Harry nodded, holding Draco's hands in his own for the next ten minutes as the sharp burning slowly faded and Draco relaxed a little.
"Great timing, huh?" Draco grimaced. "My apologies."
"Not your fault," said Harry absently. "Well, it is since you agreed to become a Death Eater to begin with, but you know what I mean. You didn't pick that minute for Vol... sorry, for You-Know-Who to summon you."
"Right." Draco was unsure whether Harry was blaming him, but on the whole he thought not. Still, this had put an end to any more fooling around for tonight; such a clear reminder of Draco's former allegiance was not going to keep Harry in the mood, and Draco was feeling rather less than sexy himself after enduring the Dark Lord's touch. "I suppose the best thing to do now would be to try to go to sleep."
"Probably. And move on early tomorrow, before breakfast even," Harry agreed. He got off the bed and stood looking down at Draco. "Are you going to be okay?"
Draco tried to smile with his usual assurance. "Sure. If you don't mind bringing me that t-shirt to sleep in."
When he had put it on, wincing, and pulled off his jeans with some difficulty, he wriggled his way down into Mr. Granger's sleeping bag. Harry had gone off to the toilet; Draco considered it but decided it would not be necessary till morning. The Mark still throbbed intermittently as he lay waiting for Harry to return.
Harry came in, quietly shutting the door behind him. After he finished changing out of his clothes and flicked out the light, Draco spoke.
"Still sure you want to help me, Harry?"
"Accio wand. Lumos." Harry's wand-tip glowed palely and the light reflected off his glasses, giving him an oddly blind appearance as he padded on bare feet towards Draco.
"I gave you my word," Harry said, kneeling down by the cot. "You don't think I'd go back on it, do you?"
"No, but..."
"No," said Harry firmly. He bent over and kissed Draco, hard and fast. "We're in this together, Draco."
ch. 1 / ch. 2 / ch. 3 / ch. 4 / ch. 5 / ch. 6 / ch. 7 / ch. 8 / ch. 9 / ch. 10 / ch. 11 / ch. 12 / ch. 13 / ch. 14 / ch. 15 / ch. 16 / ch. 17 / ch. 18 / ch. 19 / ch. 20 / ch. 21 / ch. 22 / ch. 23 / ch. 24 / ch. 25 / ch. 26 / ch. 27 / ch. 28 / ch. 29 / ch. 30 / ch. 31 / ch. 32 / ch. 33 / ch. 34 / ch. 35 / ch. 36 / ch. 37 / ch. 38 / ch. 39 / ch. 40