Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven, @ 2007-08-08 20:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | hp fic better than revenge, hp fic draco/harry |
HP fic: Better Than Revenge, ch. 23: In Saffron Walden [Harry/Draco, adult]
Title: Better Than Revenge
chapter 23, "In Saffron Walden"
Author: celandineb
Fandom: HP
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: adult
Summary: Another night in a hostel, a few pints, and Harry tells Draco about Grimmauld Place before they do a bit of messing around.
"Why shouldn't I be upset if you were looking for Ginny?" In the moonlight through the window Draco's eyes looked as hard and cold as the granite they had seen in Aberdeen.
"Come on, sit down," said Harry, pulling him towards the bed and sitting cross-legged at the foot of it. "I think you're leaping to conclusions. I wasn't trying to see if she was still awake so we could sneak off and snog somewhere, if that's what you had in mind."
"What were you doing, then?" said Draco, his voice suspicious and unhappy.
"I just wanted to talk to her, you..." Harry kept himself from calling Draco an idiot by the narrowest of margins. "I couldn't sleep."
"You could've come to talk to me."
Yes, he could have, except that it was Draco that he wanted to talk about, because it was Draco who he couldn't get out of his head. Not that it made a lot of sense to talk to Ginny about him, Harry realized. Except that Ginny knew that Harry felt something towards Draco, even if she thought it was just pity, and he had grown used to talking with her about his hopes and fears, last spring. He admitted, "Yeah, but you're the reason why I couldn't sleep."
Was that too much to say? Draco had a big enough ego as it was. Hearing that Harry could not stop thinking about him was bound to puff it up more. But it was the truth, and Harry was too tired to think of a lie even if he had wanted to.
Telling the truth provoked a mini-confession from Draco in return, who said that he had been thinking of Harry, too, that he was glad that he had come to Harry for help although it had turned out not to be necessary, that he enjoyed being Harry's friend.
A friend. Draco Malfoy as a friend – now that was a strange thought, although Harry could not deny that it was as good a word as any to describe what had developed between them these past days. Both more and less than a friend, really. Harry in his turn was glad that he had not hexed Draco as had been his first instinct in Godric's Hollow, that instead he had tried to help. Things now might be confusing and awkward and unpredictable, but there had been some definite positives to traveling around alone with Draco, sex unquestionably being one of them.
And Draco clearly had the same thoughts about Harry, because he had rested his hand on Harry's leg and was stroking it lightly with his thumb, each movement sending unmistakable signals straight to Harry's cock, which was hardening in rapid response.
Harry could see that Draco's lips had parted slightly, as if ready to kiss him, and his impulse was to kiss back... but they were in Percy Weasley's old room, Ginny was asleep upstairs... he couldn't do it, not now, not here.
"Please, don't," was all he could manage to say, and was grateful when Draco stopped the caresses. "Not when we're guests, please."
"All right," said Draco," and pulled back so that he was no longer touching Harry anywhere at all.
It felt lonely, somehow.
Harry said, "I'll see you at breakfast," and hastily slid off the bed and went over to the door before he could change his mind. "Goodnight, Draco."
In the loo, he wrapped his hand around his aching cock and wanked desperately, thinking first of Ginny, then of Draco. When he had come he was able to piss. He made sure there was no sign of what he had been doing before tiptoeing back upstairs to Ron's room. He thought he heard someone else moving around, but did not stay to find out who it might be.
It took a good deal of fast talking in the morning to dissuade Ron from coming to Little Hangleton to help search the Riddle house. Luckily Hermione helped him out, suggesting that Ron, and Ginny if Mrs. Weasley permitted her, could go talk to Tonks and Mad-Eye about Horcruxes. Like Harry himself, Ron fancied the idea of becoming an Auror, and an excuse to go and talk with two of them was not something he would turn down.
Hermione had also come up with an idea that Harry was much less enthusiastic about. She was careful not to identify the Black house or the Order of the Phoenix by name, but she thought that because the house was Unplottable and also hidden with a Fidelius Charm, it might be a safe place for them to try removing the Dark Mark from Draco's arm. Harry thought it might well work. He really did not want to return to Sirius's old home; however, since it seemed the best chance for Draco, he grudgingly agreed that he would go along with her plan. Draco looked confused by Hermione's cryptic allusions, but gave her his permission to tell Professor McGonagall everything so that the Headmistress would help them get him in. Harry resolved that later he would explain to Draco just where it was that Hermione had in mind. For now he let it go, wanting to get on with the search for the Horcruxes.
By the end of the day he was frustrated and gloomy. They had had no success – which was not too surprising, given that it had taken Dumbledore months to track down just two Horcruxes – and being in the Riddle house, where he had dreamed of Voldemort, became more and more depressing the longer they were there.
At least he had been sensible enough today to ring ahead and book a hostel room for the night, and found a twin room for them in Saffron Walden, surely one of the oddest town names he had ever encountered, but a place where the chance of inadvertently running into any witch or wizard, and especially a Death Eater, seemed remote indeed.
They had a decent supper in a pub. Nothing to touch Mrs. Weasley's superb cooking, of course, but better than most of what Aunt Petunia made. Draco suggested staying for a drink afterward. Harry rather suspected that the Slytherin had ulterior motives... every time they had had a drink together, things had happened. Not that that had been all bad. But Harry wished Draco would make a move without thinking he had to get Harry drunk first. Or was it Draco who needed to find courage in a cup? Harry thought about the fact that last night at the Burrow neither of them had drunk anything but hot chocolate. Maybe it was an innocent suggestion after all, maybe Draco just felt like having a pint with a friend, as anyone might.
Draco was talking about the Quidditch game yesterday, which was perfectly fine with Harry. Nothing too personal in that, and Draco was even being careful to keep his voice low enough not to be overheard. Harry ordered another couple of pints of cider and began to relax. They could just hang about here for the rest of the evening and get sufficiently pissed not to do anything but collapse into sleep once they had gone back to the hostel. That would suit him.
When their second pints were finished, Harry was ready for another round, but Draco declared that he did not want to drink any more that night and intended to return to their room. Harry gave serious thought to staying on alone. In the end, though, he decided that if he got as drunk as he would like, he would need someone to help him get back, and he was not prepared to trust a Muggle stranger – he had heard too much on the news at the Dursleys' to be that stupid. So, rather reluctantly, he went along with Draco.
"Are you all right, Harry?" asked Draco as they walked a trifle unsteadily along the narrow pavement.
"I'm fine." He knew he sounded surly, but he did not care. And it kept Draco silent the rest of the way, until they were in the little room that smelled vaguely of mildew and disinfectant.
Once there, Draco pulled out his wand and cast spells to lock the door and prevent them from being overheard. Harry suspected why, but could not be bothered to ask. He stretched out on the narrow cot without even taking off his trainers.
Draco came and sat by his legs, frowning. He started unlacing Harry's shoes and pulled them off, setting them neatly at attention next to the rucksack Harry had dumped on the floor.
"You're acting like I'm going to jump at you and bite you."
"It feels like that."
A predatory grin – feral, Harry thought, not sure from where the word came into his head – spread over Draco's face, and he gave a mock snap of his teeth at Harry before turning serious.
"No. I was going to ask you about this mysterious place that Hermione mentioned this morning, actually. Unplottable and under a Fidelius, both? And somewhere that..." Draco hesitated, "...bothers you for some reason."
"You could probably guess, if you tried; I've sort of mentioned it. It's the house I inherited from my godfather Sirius, along with Kreacher... and frankly I could do without both. It was empty for years. A couple of summers ago we spent weeks working on making it more or less inhabitable... Sirius lived there that year, in hiding, until he died." Harry laughed mirthlessly. "He's another one who might still be alive if it weren't for me, just like Cedric. Still sure you want to stick around with me, Draco?"
"Yes." Draco said it simply, as if he could not conceive of any other reply. "But why's the house so heavily spelled for protection?"
"Sirius told me that his family had done a lot of it years back, the Unplottable spell for instance. It's in a Muggle street, they didn't want visitors of the wrong sort even by accident. Then Dumbledore put the Fidelius Charm on it later, because..."
Harry stopped. Should he finally tell Draco about the Order of the Phoenix? There was no reason not to trust him now, and no way to explain without doing so. Could he tell him? Perhaps, in a roundabout fashion. Draco knew about the existence of the Black house already, had done so even before Harry mentioned it, since he was related to the Blacks. It was the precise location that was a secret, more than the fact that the Order met there. Harry decided to try. If he found himself unable to speak, he would know why.
"Because?"
"Okay, this is a secret, and it's not really mine to tell. In fact I might not be able to. If that happens, you'll know it's the Fidelius preventing me. But you still have to promise not to tell anyone."
"I promise. On my family's good name, I promise," said Draco.
"Better pick something else to swear by," said Harry dryly, and saw Draco flinch. "Sorry. But I don't think too much of that good name."
Draco glared at him. "It's all in how you look at it, isn't it?"
"Yes, but you're the one who wants to know."
"All right, all right. I swear by my wand – will that do?"
Nodding, Harry said, "Dumbledore was the head of a secret group that he organized to resist Voldemort, a group called the Order of the Phoenix. It goes back to when Voldemort first had power, and Dumbledore reconvened it when he returned. The Black house became their headquarters a couple of years ago. Since he was the Secret Keeper, no one could get in unless he gave them the knowledge of its exact location. That's why Hermione has to talk with Professor McGonagall, who may be the new Secret Keeper, or would know who is. I know where it is, and how to get to it, but you wouldn't be able to see it or enter, even with me."
"I understand how the Fidelius works. But then why don't you want to go there, once McGonagall or whoever tells me how? If it's such a safe place and you own it?"
"There's still plenty of not-so-nice things there," said Harry darkly. "Dark magic and Dark creatures both. Most of all the portrait of old Mrs. Black, Sirius's mother, in the front hall. She shouts and curses at everyone who walks by, calling them blood traitors and worse."
"Can't you just take the painting down? That's what I'd do."
"Of course I would, if I could. Unfortunately it's up there with a Permanent Sticking Charm, at least that's what Sirius thought it was. No one was able to remove it, the best that could be managed was to put curtains over the thing so she couldn't see when anyone walked past, and to tiptoe so she wouldn't hear either. There's other really delightful things in the house too, like the row of stuffed house-elf head, the doxy-infested curtains, the miscellaneous Dark Magic items – you name it, if it's nasty, it's probably there."
"You know," said Draco, propping himself up on his elbow, "I wonder if that trick we played on Kreacher might not work on the portrait. It would be worth a try, I think."
"What, pretending that I was your hostage, or something, that you'd made me take you there against my will? So that she'd quit yelling, figuring that someone she approved of had taken over the house again?" Harry thought about it. "It's possible. There'd be no way she could guess otherwise, not to begin with, not if there was no one else around at the time."
"If I could convince her initially that I'd taken charge, maybe I could find out how the portrait could be taken down," Draco said.
"Now that would be wonderful. You'd have the undying gratitude of not just me but every member of the Order if you managed that."
"Are there a lot? Are you one?"
"I'm not, no. They won't allow anyone underage to join, they say it's too risky. I'm not even sure how many members there are altogether, I only know who some of them are," Harry confessed with no small measure of resentment. "But don't ask me who. I'm sure you can guess some likely candidates, but I'm probably going to be in trouble for telling you this much."
"What can they do to you? You're the Boy Who Lived, the hero of everyone who doesn't support You-Know-Who," said Draco.
"Hardly. The Ministry is against Voldemort, but they were claiming I was deluded or lying when I said he'd come back, remember? Umbridge – you know she did that, and Minister Fudge." He refrained from mentioning that Lucius Malfoy, who had known very well that Voldemort had returned, had supported the Ministry's position – and that Draco had helped Umbridge in her campaign to discredit Harry. There was no point in dragging that up again; they had both done a lot to hurt each other, in six years. Better to forget the past, or forgive it.
"The Order might not let me join if they thought I'd been revealing their secrets, and I want to join. Without their work, Voldemort would have a pretty easy time of it."
"Do you really need to be a member, though?" Draco asked earnestly, tapping his finger on the mattress for emphasis. "I mean, you're working on your own to defeat him, by searching for the Horcruxes, and isn't that the most important thing?"
It was, that was true, but... how could Harry explain that he wanted to belong, that being the Boy Who Lived didn't give him any special privileges, it made him an outcast, without sounding like he was just whinging, pathetically in need of acceptance? He shrugged and said nothing.
"Anyway... thanks for telling me," continued Draco. "I was a little bit worried about what this place might be like, Hermione was so mysterious about it, and you seemed so bothered too."
He had stretched out so that he was lying beside Harry, not quite touching him anywhere – and that was a feat considering how narrow the mattress was – but close enough that Harry could feel the warmth of him radiating across the few inches between them. Draco's face was a bit fuller than when he had arrived in Godric's Hollow, he did not look like he was hungry now... or not for food. The expression in his eyes was a different matter. Harry realized he was staring and glanced away, looking at the dingy fixture on the ceiling instead..
"A Knut for your thoughts," said Draco softly after a few minutes' silence.
Harry chuckled. "That's a Muggle saying too, 'a penny for your thoughts.' I wonder which came first? But either way I'm not sure mine are worth even that much."
"They are to me." Draco touched a fingertip to the scar on Harry's forehead. "Don't you know that?"
The touch seared through him, not like the pain he felt through the connection with Voldemort, but like the magical fire Hermione had taught him, burning without consuming. This was just what Harry had thought, had feared, had hoped would happen. He could tell Draco no, not now; or not ever – but he knew that the last would be a lie, and his body betrayed him before he could summon the will to deny it. He reached for Draco.
"Wait," Draco whispered. "Are you doing this just because you're lonely, because you want a shag and I'm the one who's here?"
He could say yes. It would be so easy to say yes. Harry hesitated, torn.
"Never mind. It's all right if that's all you want," Draco said, but Harry could see the shadow on his face as he spoke the words.
He thought of Ginny. He visualized of her long red hair and freckled face, imagined her triumphant and gleeful on a broom, saw the look of defiant determination on her face as she insisted on going to the Ministry to help Sirius, remembered her fierce pride when he told her he had to break up with her. Ginny was everything he had ever thought he wanted. She was part of him, and that would never change. He loved her... but he could not have her now, and to wait alone was unendurable. A pang shot through him, and he looked at Draco.
"No. That's not all I want."
A smile like none Harry had ever seen lighted up Draco's face.
"Harry..." Draco pulled him into a tight embrace, and he could feel the other boy's heart beating as if it would come out of his chest.
Had he made the right decision? But there was nothing else he could have done, thought Harry hazily as Draco kissed him. Somehow Draco had managed to place himself squarely alongside Ginny in the center of Harry's world, and there was no denying that, unless he wanted to lie to himself as well as Draco.
Draco was peeling off his shirt now, reaching toward Harry to tug at his. "Come on."
He was too eager to worry about clothes, undoing the zip of his jeans with hasty fingers but not bothering to push them down past his knees, his cock already straining to be free as he pulled at cotton and elastic. He groaned as Draco's fingers worked him, he wasn't going to be able to wait... but Draco didn't seem to mind, he was just as frantic, rubbing against Harry's hip without even taking his own jeans off, though the metal of the zip had to be uncomfortable. Harry felt the fabric grow damp as Draco came and was obscurely pleased that he had held out longer, though within another minute he had made Draco's jeans wet from the outside, too.
"I wonder how Muggles cope," was Draco's comment as he belatedly undressed and cast a quick cleaning spell.
"They just live with it... or use a towel, I expect," said Harry, watching Draco fold his clothes in precise rectangles and stack them on the other bed before walking back over to Harry's. Draco was slim, not quite as bony as Ron, but less muscular than himself, Harry observed. He seemed unembarrassed to be naked in front of Harry, except that he kept his left arm turned to hide the Dark Mark as much as possible. Even the scars on his torso did not appear to bother him. Harry traced those as Draco lay down next to him again.
"I did that, didn't I? I hadn't really looked before."
"Yeah, those were from you." Draco shivered.
"I'm sorry," Harry murmured against Draco's neck. He felt Draco's arms slide around him and squeeze as Draco shrugged.
"Just don't do it again, okay?"
"I wasn't planning to."
"Oh, did you have other plans?" Draco sounded amused and curious. "Long-range ones, perhaps?"
"Some... you know what they are. Find the Horcruxes, destroy them, kill Voldemort." Harry made himself say it without emotion.
"And then?"
The same question Ginny had asked – what will you do when You-Know-Who is defeated, Harry? And he had no real answer.
"I wanted to try to become an Auror. Although if I don't go back to Hogwarts and take my N.E.W.T.s, I guess I won't have much chance of that. What about you?"
"I never really had to think about it," said Draco. "My father doesn't work, you know. I expected the same would be true for me. But now that's not so likely."
"Because he's in Azkaban?" Harry supposed that might make a difference. Did someone who was sent to the wizarding prison get to keep his property? Perhaps it was confiscated by the Ministry.
"No, not because of that." Draco's fingers trembled slightly as he brushed them across Harry's chest. "Because... because of you."
"Me? Oh, the Unbreakable Vow? You mean your parents will cut you off because you took that?"
"Perhaps. Although if you defeat V- Voldemort, I think they'll forgive me for something that links the family to the winning side. But not if I stay with you afterward."
Harry shook his head, confused. "But the Vow won't end just because I win. If I win. And there wouldn't be another side to choose, then. So how could you help staying with you?"
"I mean," Draco enunciated each word carefully, "if I stay with you, Harry. Like this. Tonight. Permanently."
"Wait a minute. Permanently?" Harry twisted his head so that he could look Draco in the eye. "I never said anything about permanently. You didn't either."
"You said this wasn't just you wanting a shag for the night," said Draco.
"And it wasn't. Isn't. But it's a long way from saying that I wanted to be with you tonight for reasons beyond loneliness and horniness to saying that I want to be with you forever, don't you think?"
Draco was stubbornly quiet, and Harry grew angry.
"Don't make assumptions like that, Draco. I mean it. I like you. Merlin knows why, but I do. I like having sex with you, a lot." Harry felt his face growing hot as he said that. "Right now, that's where I stand. Who knows what'll happen tomorrow or next week or next month? Maybe we'll get bored with each other, you know that happens all the time. Maybe I'll get killed, or you will. So just... don't assume anything."
"Okay, Harry. I apologize." Draco sounded sincerely sorry as he spoke. "That was stupid of me, I admit it."
"Yes, it was." Harry held his glare for a moment longer, but could not stay cross. It was flattering, after all, to have Draco wanting more for them than just a few sweaty encounters, even if Harry was taken aback that Draco seemed to be already thinking in terms of months or years. He changed the subject.
"Anyway. If you did have to work, for some reason, what would you do?"
"I never gave it much thought, as I said."
"Well, what do you like? What're you good at?"
"Besides this?" Draco's hand wandered down Harry's stomach.
"Don't try to distract me."
"Well, Potions, you know that. I got an O in my O.W.L.s in Potions."
"What else?"
"I'm not bad at Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Quite good in Charms, so-so in Herbology."
"Did you take anything else for N.E.W.T.-levels? Divination? Arithmancy? Muggle Studies?" Harry tossed in the last purely as a joke.
"My parents would have thrown a fit if I'd taken Muggle Studies... but I've read the textbooks each year."
At Harry's look of surprise, he shrugged. "Crabbe and Goyle both took it, it's supposed to be dead easy, you know. I read the books so I could quiz them. Besides, if I ever wanted to go into politics – the upper levels of the Ministry, not the dull office jobs – it could be useful. I've heard Fudge complaining about the amount of liaising with Muggles that his job sometimes requires. Not sure I'd enjoy it either."
"No, I can't quite see you liking that," said Harry, feeling that was the understatement of the year. Draco had managed to be polite enough to Hermione's parents, but he still clearly thought that Muggles were far inferior to wizards. "Nor running a shop, for instance."
"Certainly not. It wouldn't be suitable, anyhow. Quidditch... I'd like that, but I don't think I'm good enough to fly professionally," Draco said. "I do know my limitations... most of the time. I suppose I'll wait and see what happens. As you said, maybe I'll get killed, then I won't need to think about it. I'd rather think about other things." The same devious grin he had had earlier was back on his face. "Such as whether you're ticklish here, for one." He tickled Harry's side.
"Nope, not ticklish at all," said Harry, "but since you're trying it on me, I suspect you might be, yourself." He tickled back, with great success: Draco nearly fell out of the bed, writhing and laughing.
"St... st... stop, Harry, please," he wheezed.
Harry continued for another minute, just to show Draco he could, but then he did stop.
"I think the last time someone did that to me I was about six years old. My father, it must have been."
The notion of Lucius Malfoy playing tickling games with a young Draco startled Harry, although he supposed it should not seem so peculiar. Mothers and fathers did play with their children. Even Death Eaters, evidently.
"No one ever tickled me like that, not that I can remember," said Harry. "Maybe my parents when I was a baby, but certainly not Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon."
"They sound awful."
"They are. But I'm not planning to ever go back and live there again, if I can help it... and I can, now. They'll be happy to be shut of me, and the feeling's mutual."
Draco opened his mouth and shut it again without speaking, instead kissing Harry on the temple and curling up next to him. Harry was again very aware that neither of them was wearing anything as he felt Draco's warm body press against his own.
"We're going back to the Weasleys' tomorrow night, right?"
"Yeah, that's what I said this morning."
"And if Hermione gets permission or information or whatever's needed from McGonagall to get me into the Black house the next day, then what?"
"What do you mean? I suppose we'll all go there and try to Transfigure the Mark, see what happens."
"No, I mean, it's your house, right, even if the Order uses it as a headquarters? Would you want to stay there."
"Not really. I told you, it's not a nice place... Sirius hated it. I don't like it myself."
"Oh." Draco sighed.
"Why, do you want to stay there?"
"I was just thinking that it would be... private. And Thursday's your birthday, isn't it? I wanted to do something nice for you. I missed getting to celebrate my own coming-of-age birthday this year."
The feel of Draco's cock, once more hard and prodding against him, told Harry just what sort of nice thing Draco probably had in mind, but he asked anyhow.
"Such as?"
Draco laughed. "If I told you, it wouldn't be much of a surprise, would it? And gifts are better when they're surprises, I think."
"Hmph. I suppose we could stay there for a night and see how awful it is... assuming we can go there at all, that is." Harry snaked his arm around Draco's waist. "Those privacy charms you cast here should still be working just fine, though. Fancy a shag?"
"Direct son of a siren, aren't you?" With surprising strength, Draco rolled over on top of Harry and pinned him to the bed. "I think I could come to like that Gryffindor trait."
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