HP fic: Better Than Revenge, ch. 24: Back to the Burrow [Harry/Draco, adult]
Title: Better Than Revenge chapter 24, "Back to the Burrow" Author: celandineb Fandom: HP Pairing: Harry/Draco Rating: adult Summary: Draco finds Harry's ambivalence about their interactions frustrating. He has a talk alone with Hermione, and later has a clever idea to get some of what he wants.
Persuading Harry to leave the pub had been difficult. Persuading him to do anything else looked like a far greater challenge. Harry had practically snapped Draco's head off as they walked, and now he was lying on his bed, sulking. He had not even removed his shoes.
Draco repressed a sigh and cast a couple of quick spells to ensure their privacy, even though Harry did not seem to be in a mood where that would be necessary. But perhaps he could be distracted...
"I wanted to ask you about the mysterious place that Hermione was talking about this morning," Draco said, sitting down and unlacing Harry's trainers. No need to be uncivilized, after all.
When he had met Kreacher, it had struck him as odd that Harry did not stay in the Black house. There had to be some reason. So he was only half-surprised when Harry told him it was the house he had inherited from his godfather that was Hermione's suggested safe place.
"Sirius is another who might still be alive if it weren't for me," Harry said. "Just like Cedric. Still sure you want to stick around?"
"Yes." Draco let the "of course" remain unspoken and steered the conversation in a less painful direction. "But why's the house so well-protected?" After all, a building that was already Unplottable should hardly require a Fidelius Charm on it as well.
Harry seemed reluctant to explain, asking Draco to promise to keep the secret. That did not bother Draco too much, although Harry should have realized that the Unbreakable Vow covered this information... at least, it would keep Draco from passing it on to Voldemort or any Death Eater. Not that he had any intention of doing that. No, what made Draco angry was that Harry refused Draco's oath on his family name, something that was far more meaningful to him than the wand he substituted for it in his promise. A wand was merely a piece of wood, after all – special, but utterly replaceable. Family, on the other hand, was part of oneself, unique and abiding; without one's family, one would be nothing. Draco swallowed his annoyance for the moment, reminding himself that Harry had never had living family that mattered anything to him. One of these days, though he would have to convey just what family meant and ought to mean. He listened as Harry went on.
Evidently the Black house was the headquarters of a secret group organized by Dumbledore to counter Voldemort's attempts to regain power – a kind of anti-Death Eater cabal. Dumbledore had placed the location of the house under Fidelius to protect this group.
Harry described the house as being full of Dark magic and Dark creatures. That was only to be expected, there were a number of Dark magic items in the Malfoy mansion as well, but the portrait of his great-aunt – or was she a cousin? It was only by marriage in either case – Black did sound dreadful, shrieking at the members of the Order as they walked by. Dreadful, but very like what he remembered hearing about her from his mother. A thought struck him.
"I wonder if the trick we played on Kreacher might work to deceive the portrait of Mrs. Black?" He stretched out on the bed next to Harry, careful not to touch him. Harry still seemed somewhat aloof and Draco had decided it was best not to push him quite yet.
"Pretending I was your hostage, so she'd think someone she approved of, someone who supported pureblood dominance, had taken possession of the house? That might work," said Harry, his expression softening a little, looking almost admiring. "You'd have the gratitude of the whole Order, I expect."
"Aren't you a member?"
"No. They wouldn't let me join, I'm underage. And if they find out I've told you all this, they'll probably refuse ever to let me join."
Why Harry would care about belonging to the Order of the Phoenix escaped Draco, when Harry was doing much more direct work against Voldemort by searching for the Horcruxes. But Harry said nothing further, only looking at Draco, the tightness around his eyes and mouth that Draco was learning to read as defensiveness or misgiving appearing once more.
After a while, Draco said, "A Knut for your thoughts, then."
"My thoughts aren't worth a Knut," Harry replied, turning his face away from Draco to look at the ceiling. The movement caused his ever-unruly dark hair to fall away from his forehead, revealing the jagged scar that marked him as Voldemort's rival.
Draco ran a gentle fingertip over the pale line. "They are to me."
Harry hissed in a breath, and Draco feared that by touching the scar he had caused Harry pain. But he was wrong: Harry was reaching out to him, trying to pull him close.
His first thought was to resist. "Is this just because you're lonely, Harry, because I'm here and you want a shag?" He did not want to be Harry's second prize, used because Ginny was unavailable.
When Harry did not answer immediately, though, Draco decided that tonight he would settle for what he could get. "Never mind. It's all right if that's all you want."
"No. That's not all I want," said Harry, his voice almost inaudible – but he would not have said it at all, if he did not mean it, would he? Harry was no good at dissembling.
Relief and joy washed through Draco. Murmuring Harry's name, he began to kiss him, knocking his glasses askew. Harry somehow managed to shove down his jeans; Draco licked his palm to ease the friction and fisted Harry's cock, too impatient to match Harry's urgency to do anything more for himself than rub up against Harry's hip. The thought that Harry wanted him, for himself, not just for sex, was ironically unbearably arousing, and Draco came with a rush, sticky inside his jeans, even before Harry did. He did not mind the mess and discomfort and haste, not this time, not now that he knew there would be a future for them.
They talked, afterward, about what each of them had thought to do after Hogwarts. Now it would be after Voldemort's death, of course, since Draco could not and Harry would not return to school. Harry wanted to become an Auror. That was no surprise. Draco had never expected to have to take any job, but now... if his parents survived the war, they would not likely be keen on supporting a son who was openly the partner of the Boy Who Lived, and he told Harry so. He did not anticipate Harry's anger when he said it.
"Don't make assumptions that this is permanent, Draco," Harry warned him. "I like you, I like having sex with you, a lot. But that's where it stands – who knows what will happen? We could get killed, or injured, or just bored with each other. Who knows? Just don't assume."
He had rather jumped to conclusions, Draco realized in dismay, vexed with himself. He should have known better. Just because he had spent six years pretending to despise Harry, wishing things were otherwise, did not mean Harry had done so. And beside those years of enmity, there were Harry's feelings for Ginny to reckon with too. He might like being with Draco, but he had never said anything to indicate that he was through with Ginny... in fact, the way he had been talking with her the previous night suggested otherwise. Unfortunately.
"I apologize, Harry, that was stupid of me." That was the best he could do to smooth things over. He would try to be more reticent from now on, until and unless Harry gave some indication that the depth of his feelings matched Draco's.
Harry accepted the apology and returned to talking about careers, a topic that did not exactly hold Draco's entire attention. He tried the tactic of tickling Harry to distract him, but it backfired: Harry proved not to be ticklish at all, and he turned the tables on Draco very effectively by tickling back, something that Draco had not experienced since he was a small child. His father had used to chase him and sweep him up in his arms to tickle him until Draco could not breathe for laughing. It was a good memory... he had not thought of his father so in far too long, and felt a rush of gratitude towards Harry for making him recall it.
What could he do for Harry in return? Something for his birthday perhaps, something that he was sure Harry would enjoy and that might also, Draco hoped, strengthen his feelings for Draco. Sex was not the only thing between them, but it definitely mattered to Harry... and to Draco too. But in case Harry needed some persuasion, it would be pleasanter if they were really alone, not in a hostel and certainly not at the Weasleys'. So he asked Harry if it might not be possible to stay at the Black house, assuming Draco could go there at all, since it was Harry's now. He pressed up against Harry, exerting all the charm he could muster, and Harry gave a reluctant assent to the plan.
He was distinctly receptive to the idea of more fun in bed tonight, however. "Fancy a shag?" he inquired, with one arm sliding around Draco's waist and the other hand dropping his glasses to the floor.
Direct and forthright had its attractions. Draco rolled them both over until he had Harry pinned underneath him – not that the Gryffindor could not squirm away if he tried, but he made no such effort as Draco began to lick his way down Harry's chest, nibbling at the smooth and slightly salty skin.
When Draco reached one nipple with his lips and pinched the other between his fingers, Harry gasped. Ah... if he liked this, well, his birthday ought to be a real pleasure. Draco licked, then blew out his breath softly, watching gooseflesh appear as the nipple tightened. He used his left knee to push Harry's legs apart far enough that he could kneel between them, leaning forward to let their cocks rub together.
"Mm... yeah..." Harry was arching his back, thrusting up against Draco, his hips rocking, dark eyelashes nearly obscuring those so-green eyes, mouth barely open and temptingly snoggable.
Shameless, Draco thought. If it were only about the sex, he was sure that Harry would give up Ginny Weasley in a heartbeat. But he knew that sex wasn't the only thing that was important to Harry. It wasn't the only thing Draco cared about either, for that matter, and he reluctantly had to acknowledge that Harry's ambivalence was understandable... but that did not mean he had to like it.
Irritated with himself for dwelling on the negatives when there were so many positives – like the fact that Harry's hands had found their way down to grip Draco's arse and pull him closer – Draco kissed Harry more roughly, perhaps, than he intended, but oh it felt good to ride him like this, sweat beginning to slick both their bodies as they moved, and Draco could tell that Harry's need for the physicality of it to blot out all thought for a while matched his own.
Harry broke from the kiss, panting, and sucked fiercely at Draco's neck. Merlin, did he know how much that turned Draco on? He must, Harry was groaning now – no, that was himself, he couldn't tell them apart any longer, in this tangle of limbs and sounds and sweat, and when orgasm took him he didn't know if he had come, or Harry, or both.
"That was..." Harry's voice trailed away.
"Yeah. It was," said Draco, rolling off to one side without breaking contact. He could feel his hair clinging to his forehead and neck.
"Can you reach my glasses?"
Draco felt around on the floor and handed them to Harry.
"How much can you see without those?" he asked, suddenly curious as he watched Harry settle them on his nose.
Harry took the glasses off again and squinted. "I can see you, but the other bed's a bit dodgy, and the door's completely blurred. Why?"
"Just wondered." Draco stretched, feeling more content than he had done in ages, sticky dampness notwithstanding. He supposed it was being with Harry that did it. "It must be getting late."
"Yeah. We should probably get some sleep."
Draco waited to see if Harry would send him off to his own bed again, as he had done in Aberdeen, but Harry made no such suggestion. Instead he passed his glasses back to Draco.
"Goodnight, Draco." A pause. "Oh, blast, the light's still on."
"I'll get it," Draco said, since Harry was on the side of the bed by the wall. He hopped out and switched out the light, then crawled back in next to Harry, who twisted slightly to fit their bodies together better on the narrow mattress. Draco smiled and closed his eyes.
Their third day of searching the Riddle house in Little Hangleton yielded no better results than the first two had. By the end of it they had gone over every square inch of walls, floors, and ceilings, every scrap of furniture, and had found nothing at all that could possibly be a Horcrux. Not if Dumbledore's ideas about what objects Voldemort would choose were correct. Draco had watched Harry's mouth set into an increasingly grim line with each room that they left empty-handed.
"It would have been too easy if it were here," he offered as they finished the last room. "Surely there were other Muggles living in it after his family. Didn't you say it was sold?"
"I think it was. You're right, but..." Harry's face was twisted with frustration. "I just want to find one of them, you know? If I can just find one Horcrux, I'll feel that I've made the right choice, that eventually I'll find them all. I really hoped one of them would be here, and there aren't any, are there?"
"No, it doesn't seem so. I'm sorry, Harry."
Harry exhaled a gusty sigh. "Yeah. Well. Back to the Burrow, then? Maybe the others'll have had more success."
Once again they Apparated into the Weasleys' back garden, where Ginny was sitting alone, looking bored and irritable.
"Mum wouldn't let me Floo in with Ron," she explained, "but he should be back soon, he managed to arrange to speak with Tonks today. And Hermione met with Professor McGonagall yesterday – she's been holed up in Dad's study with a tremendous stack of books from the Hogwarts library ever since, muttering over them. Every time I go in to ask if she wants help or even just a cup of tea, she either snaps at me or doesn't seem to know I'm there. Both, usually. So I came outside to wait for you. I'm totally useless, Harry."
"You're not," said Harry.
"I am," Ginny insisted. "I'm not being of any help at all."
"Well, we haven't exactly had any ringing successes, so you needn't feel bad about it, at any rate. There were no signs that any Horcrux had ever been hidden in the Riddle house. I suppose Hogwarts is the next place to try, but that'll be nearly impossible to search thoroughly. There's the whole castle, the grounds, the forest – not to mention that surely Dumbledore searched there, or had someone else looking – so any Horcrux wouldn't be in an easy or obvious place, it'll be very well-hidden. This could take years."
Discouragement was plain on Harry's face. Draco wanted to wrap his arms tightly around the other boy, to promise him that it would all work out somehow, but he could not. He had no idea whether Harry could really manage to find and destroy Voldemort's Horcruxes, although he agreed that it was the only chance to defeat the Dark Lord. Ginny's being there kept him from giving Harry any tangible sympathy. It was an odd and troubling realization that very likely Ginny felt equally inhibited by Draco's presence, even without knowing that Draco and Harry were rather more than friends, now.
"Shall we go in and see if Hermione's willing to knock off for the day and talk about whatever she's found?" Draco suggested.
Ginny pulled a face. "You interrupt her, then. But she'll bite your head off."
"Harry'll do it."
When Harry looked at him dubiously, Draco shrugged. "She's doing the research for you, so you're the one she's most likely to talk to, right?"
"I suppose so."
"You're both mental, but it's up to you," said Ginny.
"Mrs. Weasley," Harry called as they walked into the house, "Any chance you could show us where we could wash our clothes tonight? Mine are getting a bit rank."
"Oh, goodness, give them to me. I'll take care of it, dear," Molly Weasley said, appearing through a doorway. She looked at Draco and held out her hand. "I imagine yours will want doing as well, won't they?"
"Thank you," said Draco, surprised, and let her take his rucksack along with Harry's. His mother would never have remarked on whether a guest's clothing needed laundering; she would simply assume that the house-elves would take care of such matters as needed, as their standing orders required. And of course they would, efficiently and unobtrusively. Having Mrs. Weasley offer to wash his clothes herself made Draco feel welcomed yet embarrassed at the same time. He put the feeling aside to think about later, following Ginny and Harry along the hallway.
"Hermione?" Harry knocked at a closed door. There was no response. He opened the door and beckoned to the other two to follow him. "Hermione?"
Hermione was nearly hidden behind a pile of books so tall that Draco wondered why it didn't topple over.
"What is it?" Her voice was muffled and impatient. "I'm in the mid... oh. Harry." There was a scraping sound and Hermione emerged, her bushy brown hair looking even more disordered than usual. She stretched and winced, one hand going to the small of her back. "Is it that late already? I thought it was only mid-afternoon."
"It's nearly six o'clock, Hermione," Harry said.
"Oh... is Ron back yet?"
"Any time now," said Ginny. "I'd've helped you, you know, if you'd asked."
"I'm sorry, Ginny," Hermione said, although Draco thought she looked more impatient than sorry. "I'm used to doing this sort of research by myself. Harry and Ron aren't usually very helpful."
"Hey!" Harry protested. "That's unfair. Draco and I did pretty well working out possible Transfiguration spells, you know."
One narrow shoulder moved up and down. "True enough, but based on past experience at Hogwarts..."
Draco found himself pleased by Harry's giving him due credit and annoyed by Hermione's criticism of Harry, both at once. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that Harry and Hermione had been friends since their first year at Hogwarts and Hermione knew how far she could go. "Did you find out if you can take me to this secret place you were talking about?" he asked, trying to divert her.
Hermione nodded. "Tomorrow morning several people will be coming to escort you, Harry, Ron, and me there."
"Leaving me out, I notice," Ginny said. "As usual."
"It could be dangerous. If it were up to me, I wouldn't have Ron or Hermione there either," said Harry.
Silently Draco agreed, about Ron at least. He could not imagine how Ron's presence would be helpful, but the decision was not his to make.
"If you can persuade your mum and dad, Ginny – I'm sure we'll be Apparating, flying would be too risky in the daytime, and you can't Apparate on your own. Someone would have to agree to bring you. Besides, the Headmistress only named the four of us," Hermione said.
Ginny glared at them all, then turned on her heel and walked out.
"Harry?"
"I'll talk to her," Harry agreed, and left too.
Draco remained alone with Hermione, who put her head to one side and looked at him intently.
"What?" Her stare made him uncomfortable.
"I asked Harry this," she said slowly. "Now I'll ask you. Do you know what you're doing?"
He did not pretend not to understand what she was talking about. "Yes... and no."
She lifted her palm, inviting him to go on.
How much did he trust Muggle-born Hermione Granger? Enough to let her cast the Unbreakable Vow for him, enough to let her try to Transfigure the Dark Mark tomorrow. So why was he reluctant to speak now? Because he had not even told Harry all of how he felt, that was why.
"I want to be with him," Draco said finally.
"Whatever it takes?" Hermione's eyes were shrewd, intent on his. "Even if he doesn't want to be with you?"
"No." He was clear on that. He would accept being second best – for a while – but if Harry genuinely did not want him after all... well, Draco did not want anyone's pity. "Don't meddle in my, our, business, Hermione."
"You don't see it, do you? Harry needs to be strong, focused. This can only distract him. Confuse him. I'm his friend – I don't want anything to make it harder for him to do what he must. He's the only one with a chance to defeat Voldemort." Her face paled, but she said the name unflinchingly. "If you being with him does that, I will do whatever is necessary to get you away."
"Maybe Harry needs someone to distract him. He's told me that when it comes down to the end, he'll have to kill Voldemort or be killed by him. That would terrify me. Wouldn't it you? And it certainly distresses Harry. Don't you think that maybe having someone around who'll keep his mind off that would be a benefit, not a hindrance?" Draco argued back.
"And why not Ginny, then? Why you?"
"Ask Harry that, not me," said Draco. "He broke up with Ginny weeks ago. I had nothing to do with it."
"He doesn't like to hurt people. You might be keeping him from changing his mind, going back to her," Hermione said.
"Not ruddy likely. I'm supposed to help him, or don't you remember the Vow? To 'help and protect him in any need' is what I swore. If he needs Ginny, that's that. I'm out of the picture. But it hasn't happened."
She smiled unexpectedly. "All right. I believe you. And your secret's safe with me... but I think you should both be careful. Around Ginny, that is. Ron wouldn't notice unless the two of you were snogging in front of him, and maybe not then. And their mum already knows."
"What?" Draco's hand clenched around the wand in his pocket. "How?"
"I told her. Don't be a fool, Draco, why do you think the Weasleys were so willing to have you to stay here, when you've never even been polite to them in public, much less a friend of any of ours? Ron told them about the Vow, but Mrs. Weasley asked me later if there was some other reason to take you in... so I told her that Harry's opinion of you had changed rather significantly even before the Vow. I don't think she really was keen on the idea of Ginny and Harry together... I'm not sure why," Hermione said thoughtfully. "In any case she seemed quite all right with you being with Harry."
If it had been someone else, Draco would have assumed she was quite all right with him being with Harry because it was a potentially valuable piece of information – the Malfoy heir, a queer. All sorts of profitable ways to use that, from blackmail to simply selling the news to the Daily Prophet. But somehow he could not believe that Molly Weasley would ever think that way, now that he had met her. He had no more idea than Hermione did why she would not want to see Ginny with Harry, he was just pleased that Hermione thought it was so.
He let out a long slow breath. "Okay."
"Now that's settled, I expect Ron must be here by now, and his dad too. Which means dinner. Come on," Hermione said.
At dinner they were arranged differently from how they had been on Monday. Tonight Hermione sat between Ron and Ginny on one long side, Draco and Harry on the other, with Mrs. Weasley at the foot of the table between her daughter and Draco. He felt peculiar about it, but she gave no hint of her knowledge, alternately talking about a sweater she was knitting for her new daughter-in-law and pressing him to take more helpings of everything within reach.
"Mum," Ginny interrupted a stitch-by-stitch description of a neckline, "please, can't I go with the others tomorrow?"
Mrs. Weasley looked flustered. "I shouldn't think so, dear. I don't really see what you could possibly do, so there's no reason for you to go. And it doesn't sound very safe, from what Hermione was telling us last night."
"But Ron's going, and it's not as if he'll have anything useful to do," Ginny complained. "You and Dad want to keep me wrapped up in cotton wool all my life."
"Ron's of age, Ginny."
She turned a look of pure frustration on her mother, then bent her head over her plate. Draco felt sorry for her, but he had no desire to interfere with what he thought was the right decision. He swallowed a bite of potato, and asked, "What was that about a double seed stitch, Mrs. Weasley?"
When everyone had finished eating, Draco helped Harry to clear the table, although Mrs. Weasley shooed them out of the kitchen when Harry made a half-hearted attempt to begin washing up.
"She never lets me or Ron do that," Harry said in an undertone to Draco. "Thinks we'll break the dishes, I expect."
And the Weasleys would be hard-pressed to replace anything broken beyond the ability of a Reparo spell to fix, thought Draco.
"So, Ron, did Tonks have anything to tell you about Horcruxes?" Hermione inquired when they were back in the other room.
"A bit." Ron leaned against the battered sofa cushions and stretched out his legs. "She said that historically, the few wizards who have created Horcruxes made them from valuable objects, things that wouldn't be discarded or destroyed by accident and wouldn't decay with time. No one would make a jug of pumpkin juice into a Horcrux."
"But did she say anything about how to tell if an object is one?" asked Harry. "That's what we really need to know."
Ron screwed up his face. "Apparently there's a spell that can check for the presence of a wizard's soul in an object. But it's difficult and you have to have something else of the wizard's already, to match it up with."
"Match the resonances?" said Hermione.
"Yeah, that was the word Tonks used. So we'd need something that You-Know-Who has handled."
"How can we possibly find an object like that?"
"Could we use the Mark on my arm?" offered Draco. "He's touched that."
"I don't know," said Hermione. "Since you're alive, and another wizard at that, it might make it difficult to distinguish his resonance from yours. But we can try. Ron, did Tonks tell you what the spell is, or where to find it?"
"She didn't know it herself, said she'd never needed it, but she thought Professor Flitwick might."
"If we're going to try to use Draco's Mark as the source of Voldemort's resonance, though, I'll have to learn the spell as soon as possible. We won't be able to attempt altering the Mark until we've tried that first. I'd better see if I can get through to Professor Flitwick tonight by Floo." Hermione hurried out, Draco presumed to use the Weasleys' fireplace to contact Hogwarts.
"She didn't ever tell us what she was searching for in all those books today," Harry grumbled. "Do you know, Ron?"
Ron shook his head. "No, but I can tell you who'll be here tomorrow to go with us. Lupin and Tonks. Kingsley was supposed to meet us there, but he's been working at the Muggle Prime Minister's office and can't get away. So either McGonagall or Moody, most likely. Tonks wasn't sure which of them."
Draco hoped it would be McGonagall. She might be the head of Gryffindor house, but she was scrupulously fair and far less intimidating than Moody. He doubted that she would hold him up to shame for having taken the Dark Mark, when he had had very little choice in the matter. And with her years of experience teaching Transfiguration, if the spells that he and Harry had come up with to remove the Mark failed to work, she might have better ideas on how to proceed than the Auror.
To pass the time until Hermione came back, Harry suggested a game. Draco declined, opting instead just to watch as Harry, Ron, and Ginny played a noisy few rounds of Exploding Snap. Ginny was very good at it, and seemed to lose some of her gloominess as she beat her brother and Harry in hand after hand.
It was close to an hour before Hermione returned and sat next to Draco on the sofa, while the other three were engrossed in their game.
"Was Professor Flitwick able to tell you about the spell?"
"Yes. And by sheer good luck one of the books I brought back from Hogwarts yesterday has the information; I went and looked at it, and I think I can do it. I really don't know if using the Mark is going to work for matching the resonances, but if I can distinguish Voldemort's from yours, there's a way to copy it to another object. So we'd still be able to try to remove the Mark afterward. Anyway, I think it's more important to do that, there's bound to be something else somewhere that Voldemort has handled and that we could use to help locate Horcruxes," said Hermione. She shifted her shoulders and twisted her head from side to side. "My mum always warns me about studying so much, and I think she's right. I'm all stiff."
"Sit here." Draco indicated the floor in front of him.
"Why?"
"I used to give Pansy shoulder rubs when she'd been studying for a long time. Come on. She said I was rather good at it."
Hermione looked dubious, but she came and sat cross-legged between Draco's knees. He pushed her hair out of the way and started by pressing his thumbs along the vertebrae in her neck, using his other fingers to dig into the knots of muscle in her shoulders. She gave a little sigh after the first several minutes, and he could feel her begin to relax.
He had not forgotten who else was in the room, and rather as he expected, not ten minutes had passed before Ron called out, "Oi, Malfoy, what do you think you're doing?"
"Giving Hermione a shoulder rub," he answered calmly, not stopping.
"If anyone's going to do that, I should."
"By all means." Draco lifted his hands from her back as the other three left the game and came over.
"Ron, don't be an idiot," said Hermione crossly. "What, do you think Draco's chasing after me, or something?"
"Not likely. No offense," said Draco.
"None taken."
"Why, isn't she good enough for you?" snapped Ron.
"She's not my type, that's all, any more than I'm hers," Draco said. "Go on, Hermione, let Ron give it a go. It's not as easy as it looks to do well. Ginny? Harry? I'd be happy to do someone else instead."
Ginny shook her head. Draco caught Harry's eye and raised his eyebrows, tacitly asking if Harry was willing to let Draco touch him in front of the others.
"Why let Hermione get all the benefit?" said Harry, moving to sit in front of Draco as Hermione shifted over to Ron. "Here, Ginny. I'll do what I can."
Not quite what Draco wanted... but good enough. And no one else would be paying attention if he occasionally slipped from massage to caress. He would go no further, not here, tonight.