HP fic: Better Than Revenge, ch. 16: In the Cave, Still [Harry/Draco, adult]
Title: Better Than Revenge chapter 16, "In the Cave, Still" Author: celandineb Fandom: HP Pairing: Harry/Draco Rating: adult Summary: Draco and Harry zip their sleeping bags together to keep warm; some serious fooling around occurs.
When the young woman at the hostel in Bangor told them that there were no empty beds available that night, Draco was dismayed, and grateful that Harry did not seem disposed to blame him for having insisted on not booking in advance. He had not realized that even in a small Muggle city a hostel might be a popular place on a Saturday evening. Although sleeping in the mountain cave sounded cold, dank, and filthy, Draco went along with Harry's idea. It would at any rate be both free and indisputably private, a plus after sharing last night's room with Ron and Hermione. And Harry's reminiscences of the good time he had had camping at the Quidditch World Cup with the Weasleys made Draco feel that perhaps he had missed out. He had been sent off into the woods when his father had decided to indulge in a spot of Muggle-baiting, and after the excitement was all over he had simply gone back to the Malfoy pavilion to sleep.
They decided to get fish and chips for their dinner before going back to the cave. Draco, as usual, ate his without vinegar. Harry said that that was terribly boring, but nevertheless kept stealing chips from Draco's plate to eat, glancing at him as if daring Draco to do something about it. So Draco held Harry's gaze as he ate a couple himself, thinking of how he would like to nibble on assorted bits of Harry's anatomy in much the same manner, licking his fingers when he had finished. Something of his thoughts must have gotten through to the other boy, because Harry blushed furiously and choked on his fish.
Pounding on Harry's back, Draco resolved to stop flirting for the time being. If he made Harry too uncomfortable now, his chances of getting Harry relaxed later on would diminish considerably, and he had some schemes in mind already of how he might manage that. His first and simplest idea was to get some alcohol into Harry. Draco might have let himself go a bit in Bristol with that cider, but the Malfoys served wine regularly with dinner, and Draco was much better at gauging his consumption of that. Besides, he liked the way wine tasted. He suspected that Harry would too, without entirely realizing its strength. In the off-licence that he dragged Harry into, the clerk suggested a red Spanish wine that was well-rated but modestly priced, and Draco bought four bottles. Together they cost a good third of his remaining Muggle money, but it was worth the investment, Draco decided, since Harry might take a lot of persuading.
Before anything else Draco made sure that the cave was clean enough by his standards. Camping like a Muggle was all very well in theory, but he was not going to sleep – much less do anything more interesting – with dirt and dead leaves and Merlin-knew-what underneath him. As Draco cleared away the rubbish, Harry conjured a fire and then suggested that they try a Cushioning Charm under their sleeping bags to make things more comfortable. Afterward he followed Harry outside to enjoy the last of the light.
"This would be a great place to fly, it would be really challenging to weave through the trees," said Harry, sitting on a boulder above the cave.
Draco sat down next to him, not quite so close that their legs touched, but a little wriggle would bring them into contact. "Yeah. I've missed flying. No broom, and it wouldn't've been safe even if I'd had the old Nimbus 2001 with me." That might sound like showing off, he realized, but after all Harry owned a Firebolt, he was hardly going to envy Draco's broom. Not being able to fly had been quite a blow. Draco loved the feel of the wind against him, the sense of total control he had on a broomstick. He had had to give up playing in a couple of Slytherin's matches last year, when he needed every moment to try to mend the Vanishing Cabinet, and it had been a struggle with his conscience to do so. Draco sighed and rested his chin on his knees, hugging his legs to him. He closed his eyes, but the light that edged the western peaks still shone redly through his lids.
"Look there, Draco!" Harry's voice broke in on his thoughts.
"What?" Draco's eyes flew open. "Where?"
"There, you see?" Harry was pointing across the valley, a little to the left. Against the faded scarlet of the sky Draco could make out something flying – a dragon! It had to be a dragon, nothing else looked like that. Thankfully the creature flew onward, disappearing off to the north rather than swooping down into the valley where they sat.
"Hagrid would've loved to see that," said Harry.
Draco could not help letting out a snort at that remark. Of course Hagrid would. He was half a monster himself, like called to like.
The snort must have been too easily understood, because Harry said, "Look, he may be a half-giant, but he's a friend of mine and there's nothing wrong with him. It was really uncalled-for when you tried to get him dismissed."
Now that was just too much to let pass without a word, even to avoid a quarrel that might disrupt all Draco's plans for tonight. "Harry, you have to admit that giants are not exactly an estimable bunch, on the whole. But leaving that aside, Hagrid himself may be a decent fellow and a fine gamekeeper, but he's a wretched teacher. I learned hardly anything about Care of Magical Creatures from him, and his idea of a good lesson was liable to cause bodily harm. It was perfectly reasonable of me to do what I could to try to get him sacked and replaced with someone who might teach us enough to pass our O.W.L.s."
"That's just not true, he's a great teacher," Harry protested. "His classes were brilliant."
Draco stared at him and said sarcastically, "That's why you've gone on for a N.E.W.T., right? And so has everyone else in our year?"
Harry could not deny that not a single person had opted to continue Care of Magical Creatures at N.E.W.T. level, but he still defended Hagrid, saying that he would not even have pictures of his parents if Hagrid had not given him some.
"I'm not saying he's not been good to you," said Draco, holding on to his patience with an effort. He regretted having allowed himself to make that snort in the first place. This conversational trend was unlikely to lead anywhere he wanted to go, and might well leave Harry too annoyed to be in the mood even for a bit of snogging, much less anything more. "All I've said is that he's not a good teacher, and that's undeniable, really. And he may be fond of dragons and hippogriffs and other dangerous beasts, but I have to say that I'm not, and I'd rather go back in the cave. It's nearly dark anyhow."
"The Welsh Green isn't nocturnal," said Harry, but nonetheless he jumped up and followed Draco back inside with considerable alacrity. For all his bravado, he did not seem too keen to hang about in the open after having seen a wild dragon in flight.
Now, thought Draco, would be a good time to open one of those bottles, shift the atmosphere a bit. He picked up the corkscrew that the clerk had insisted they would need. Totally unnecessary, of course, since a simple spell would remove the cork, but...
"D'you know how to work this thing?" Draco hoped Harry would volunteer to demonstrate, but unfortunately Harry merely explained how to do it. It was not terribly difficult after all. When the cork had slid out with a resonant pop, Draco tilted the bottle to taste the wine. Not bad, for the price, although it would be better once it had breathed a little. He licked a stray droplet from his lips and passed the bottle over to Harry. "Here, have some."
He watched as Harry first sniffed at the bottle and then drank thirstily. Draco repressed a grin; as he had thought, Harry was not accustomed to wine, he was drinking it as if it were butterbeer. Harry gave the wine back and stretched out on his sleeping bag. The blue light of the magical fire glinted off his glasses, and his hair, as rumpled as ever, stuck out through his fingers as he propped himself up on one hand.
Picking up the bottle again, Draco glanced at Harry. He was so scruffy, always – how did he manage to make that sexy? It was not as if he looked like he had just rolled out of bed and would like to get back in, more like he had been flying and then changed hastily out of his Quidditch robes and raced in late to a class. If he were anyone but Harry Potter, Draco would not have given him a second glance. Should anyone have asked him, Blaise Zabini was much more Draco's style when it came to look – slim, dark, polished. But nevertheless Draco could hardly keep his eyes off the Gryffindor. He made himself look down at the bottle as he raised it to his mouth, and was about to drink when Harry spoke.
"Why don't you like girls, Draco?"
Draco paused, thankful that he had not yet taken that next mouthful, because he was sure he would have choked on it. "I'm sorry?" he said, carefully setting the bottle down. "Why don't I like girls?" He did not want to hurt Harry's feelings, but Harry had said so many peculiar and unexpected things that day that Draco could not help chuckling.
Harry's face went more scarlet than a Gryffindor banner. "Er, yeah," he muttered.
"I do like them, some girls anyway, I just don't fancy them," Draco said, puzzled. "Why is this suddenly a burning question?"
Shoulders hunched, Harry avoided Draco's gaze and took another long drink of wine. Draco tilted his head to evaluate the level remaining in the bottle. No, Harry had not drunk nearly enough for the alcohol to have loosened his tongue yet. So what had prompted this? Then it came to him – Harry must be so uncertain, on some level, that even the least relaxation and his concerns popped out. "You want to know if I'm really queer, and how I decided I was, because you're starting to think maybe you prefer blokes too." He stated it all as fact, confident of his deductions.
After a minute Harry nodded. "Yeah, that's basically it."
Draco was afraid that if Harry could see his face, the emotions Draco felt would be too blazingly clear to hide. He was not ready to give up that much of himself, so he fixed his eyes on the bottle's label as if reading it. "I've always known, more or less. None of the girls that everyone else said they wanted to shag ever got me hot, at least not like thinking about..." he caught himself before saying "you" and substituted, "certain blokes. It would've been tough not to realize. I did snog a couple of girls, like I told you before, but when this one bloke, well, when he made a move on me, it became very clear. There was never anything serious between us, but he and I had some good times."
Mostly after Quidditch practices, those good times had been. Miles Bletchley had been the Slytherin Keeper, and had used the excuse of working out game strategy with Draco as Seeker to work out some other things with him as well. When Miles became interested in one of his fellow seventh-years while studying for his N.E.W.T.s, though, he and Draco had parted amicably and Draco had taken up for a while with Blaise instead.
"So then it didn't seem strange to you to be turned on by another bloke," said Harry.
"No, it seemed natural," said Draco, but something about how Harry had phrased that statement caught his attention. Did Harry mean what Draco thought he might? The only way to know was to ask, he just hoped not to sound too eager. "Are you saying that I turn you on, Harry?" He held his breath, waiting for Harry's answer.
"Yes," Harry said.
Draco breathed again. If Harry was willing to acknowledge that, Draco was confident that he could get Harry to go at least as far as they had gone before, maybe further, despite what Harry was saying now.
"But I'm not sure that I know you well enough," Harry was explaining earnestly. "I've known Ginny for ages, and we didn't even..." he broke off, but Draco could guess the rest.
So Harry had not gotten it on with little Ginny Weasley after all? Not surprising, not at Hogwarts. The teachers were much more alert for that sort of thing between boys and girls than between boys and boys. Old-fashioned of them, but Draco had been glad to take advantage of their obtuseness. And perhaps Harry had not really wanted Ginny, just thought he did? Which gave Draco more of a chance than he could ever have guessed possible a few months ago.
He leaned forward and touched Harry's knee. Time for some encouragement, not to say charm. "I swore that I'd be loyal to you and help you in any need, right?"
"Right," said Harry," managing somehow to look both wary and trusting.
"So what if this is what you need, now?" coaxed Draco persuasively. He let his hand drift higher up Harry's thigh. "It doesn't have to mean anything you don't want it to mean." Although Draco hoped that it would mean something to Harry, because it did to Draco. Imprudent and incautious as it was – practically Gryffindor-like, in fact – he realized that his feelings towards Harry were moving far beyond admiration for the Boy Who Lived or simply fancying a shag with him. Not that he was prepared to let Harry know that, not yet. Confessing such things only put one at the other person's mercy and he was already too dependent on Harry for his own comfort.
Harry took Draco's hand and tugged him over. Draco exploited the momentary imbalance to push Harry onto his back, while Draco knelt over him.
"No, it needn't mean anything," Harry agreed, taking off his glasses.
"Where were we before we were interrupted the other night," Draco said, half to himself, and slid up the loose fabric of Harry's shirt to reveal a nicely muscled expanse of torso. "About here, I think?" Quickly, not wanting to give Harry a chance to rethink his acquiescence, Draco leaned over and swiped his tongue over Harry's right nipple. Harry gasped.
Draco settled himself more comfortably between Harry's legs. He could feel the bulge in Harry's jeans, pressing against his own hip, and the plain evidence that Harry was so turned on already made Draco far more excited himself. There was something much more arousing about knowing he was having this effect on Harry than had ever been the case with Miles or Blaise, inventive and skilled as Blaise, especially, had been. Draco licked again, then blew across the wetness, causing Harry to squirm and press against him.
"What do you want, Harry? Not going to hold me to those limits you set at the barn, are you?" Draco ran his right hand across Harry's chest and downward, stopping at the waistband of his jeans.
There was a hint of panic in the green eyes, but as Draco waited Harry's expression hardened into cautious determination. "No, I'm not."
Still, Draco decided, better to go carefully for now. There were four days before they were supposed to meet up with Hermione and Ron again, so even if the Mudbl... even if Hermione came up with a solution to hide Draco by then, he would have several more nights alone with Harry for certain. And he did not at all want to have the only friend he had at present feel anything but glad to be around him.
Slowly he undid the button and slid down the zip of Harry's jeans. "Lift," he muttered, and Harry raised his hips enough to let Draco slide the fabric down to his knees.
It was a sight Draco had imagined a hundred times, wanking in the showers or in bed: Harry naked, or nearly so, just waiting for Draco to touch him. If Draco had never envisioned this encounter as taking place in a remote Welsh cave while on the run from Voldemort, well, the unlikeliness of it all made it more real, and more exciting. Draco reached out, using all his own experience to touch and tease, until Harry had come, pulsing sticky wetness across his stomach, looking at Draco with wide eyes. Draco ignored the way the damp patch transferred onto himself as he stretched up to give Harry a kiss. He liked what it represented – that Harry had had this pleasure from him. And it pleased him that Harry showed no hesitation in snogging him back quite thoroughly.
They had to break off after a while to catch their breaths, and Draco reached for the wine bottle. Sitting up to drink pulled his jeans uncomfortably tight, so when he had passed the bottle to Harry he started to undo the zip in order to adjust himself.
"Let me," Harry stopped him, putting his hand over Draco's.
Draco was more than happy to oblige. Harry's touch was fumbling at first, and the rhythm that he set was both slower and harder than what Draco usually preferred, but he was in no mood to criticize, not when he was finally getting what he had wanted for a very long time.
Harry had kicked his own jeans off completely and he pulled Draco around so that he was leaning against Harry's chest. Draco could feel Harry's cock nudging against his buttocks. Maybe sometime... but not tonight. Harry bit down on Draco's neck, sending him over the edge.
"Oh, fuck, yeah Harry," Draco shuddered. Harry's fingers lingered on him for a moment, almost painfully, and Draco squirmed with discomfort. Harry let go.
"Yeah, Draco?"
"Yeah." Draco let himself rest against Harry for a minute, then pushed his hair back from his sweaty face. "Accio wand." The piece of boxwood, hardly longer than the span of his hand, was the only thing other than the clothes he stood up in that Draco had brought out of Hogwarts on the night he had fled with Professor Snape, and he held it like a talisman, spelling them both clean with a quick "Scourgify." He rolled over to face Harry.
"Thanks," he said. It felt strange to say that, but Draco could think of nothing better.
"Er, you're welcome," said Harry, clearly embarrassed. "And thank you, too. That was... good. Really good." He smiled crookedly, his face odd and vulnerable without his glasses.
Draco smiled back. It had worked out rather well, all things considered. Harry might have declared that what they did need not mean anything, but Draco suspected that Harry was not going to be able to hold to that. He was a Gryffindor. He would plunge in first and come up with reasons afterward to justify what he had done. But if Harry felt pushed into something, he was stubborn enough to resist out of sheer contrariness, even if it was what he really wanted. So best to keep things casual now.
"I could stand something to eat, how about you?" Draco asked. He stood up and, still naked, went over to where they had left the sandwiches, kneeling down and turning his head toward Harry. "What d'you fancy?"
"Did we get any roast beef and salad?" Harry had sat up and put his glasses on again. He looked better like that, the specs were so much a part of Harry's appearance that even when he was wearing nothing else Draco liked to see them on him.
"I think so." Draco pawed through the half-dozen containers and pulled one forth in triumph. "Here, catch," he tossed it to Harry and took the cheese and pickle sandwich for himself. Instead of rejoining Harry, though, he went back to his own sleeping bag and slipped into it. He was at a bit of a loss for what to say or do now. At Hogwarts there had never been a lot of time to spare after any encounter, not with the very real chance that a teacher or another student might happen by. So Draco did not quite know how best to deal with the fact that Harry and he would be alone in each other's company for the rest of the night, especially with Harry's insistence that their messing around was not going to mean anything. Otherwise, he thought, he might have suggested actually sleeping together. But what Harry had allowed in Godric's Hollow and at the Grangers', when there were no alternatives, would bear an entirely different import if they did it on purpose. Draco bit into his sandwich, reflecting gloomily that perhaps getting what he wanted was not an unmitigated positive after all.
Harry was eating in silence in his sleeping bag. When he had finished he tossed the container towards the wall and said, "Er. Draco?"
"Mm?" Draco was still chewing, enjoying the sharp rich taste of the pickle as a distraction from his thoughts.
"Maybe tomorrow we should first look into finding a hostel for the night, d'you think? I mean, this is fine and all but we can't stay here for another night, not two in a row anyhow. And if you wanted... if we wanted... to try for having a two-person room, you know?" Harry's words stumbled to an inelegant halt.
The knot of uncertainty in Draco's chest warmed and loosened. He was nearly sure that Harry was suggesting, in a backhanded kind of way, that he was willing to make an effort to have privacy with Draco again the next night, rather than risk being in one of the larger dormitories of a hostel. "Yeah, I'd like that," he said, trying to keep his elation in check. "Find a place for the night, have breakfast, then do some more Transfiguration work, I guess."
"That'll be good," said Harry. Draco could see that he had pillowed his head on one arm, facing inward. "I'd make the fire smaller so it wouldn't be so bright, but I think it might get cold before morning," he added. "Unless..."
"Unless what?"
"We'd be warmer if we put the sleeping bags together," said Harry. "I'm pretty sure they can zip to each other. Only if you want, though."
Ha. Only if Draco wanted. "Oh. Well, sure. It'll be easier to sleep if there's not so much light," said Draco, glad that Harry was no Legilimens and could not pick up just now on his thoughts, which were both exuberant and indecent.
They had a little trouble getting the two bags zipped together, but managed it eventually and climbed in, bringing with them a couple of bags of crisps and a second bottle of wine. Harry spelled the magical fire down to a flame little greater than three candles would have been.
"Is this more like when you were at the Quidditch World Cup, then?" Draco asked.
"Ron and I were in separate bunks," said Harry, "but up late, eating and talking? Yeah. No big Quidditch match to discuss today though. And he and I talked about girls... don't think we'll be doing that either." Harry reached over and put his hand on Draco's bare chest. "Will we?"
"No, said Draco, barely breathing. "No, I don't believe we will."