Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven, @ 2007-08-08 20:45:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | hp fic better than revenge, hp fic draco/harry |
HP fic: Better Than Revenge, ch. 27: Downstairs, Upstairs [Harry/Draco, adult]
Title: Better Than Revenge
chapter 27, "Downstairs, Upstairs"
Author: celandineb
Fandom: HP
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: adult
Warnings: explicit sex, rimming, schmoop
Summary: Despite pressure from Ron to spend his birthday night at the Burrow, Harry returns to Grimmauld Place where Draco has a birthday present for him.
Hearing Draco say that he thought his heart might stop if Hermione kept trying to alter the Mark worried Harry, and he meant to talk to Draco about it while they ate lunch. But in the fuss of sorting out the sandwiches Tonks brought back, Harry had ended up sitting next to Remus Lupin, discussing Sirius, and he could think of no polite way to disentangle himself from conversation with his late godfather's best friend.
"He would have been proud that you managed to get that portrait down," said Lupin. "I know, I know, you told me Draco was the one who cast the spell, but nonetheless."
"I expect he would have appreciated getting it out of the hall, whoever did it. I know Sirius hated this house and everything in it, his mother's portrait especially," Harry said.
"Very much." Lupin sighed and his eyes went soft, staring through Harry as if seeing a remembered Sirius across the room. "It's a shame he never had much of a chance after Azkaban to enjoy life again. Ironic, that. Wormtail, Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs... two of us dead, one turned traitor. Who would have ever thought that it would be the werewolf who'd still be around after all these years? A bit battered, but alive and mostly well. I feel guilty sometimes, thinking that it should really have been James or Sirius that made it through... but I ought not to be telling you this." He peered anxiously at Harry.
"It's all right, Remus," said Harry. "I expect I'd feel the same if Ron were killed. Like it was my fault, or if not that, then just guilty that I was still alive, enjoying life even, when he wasn't."
"Yes. Although you mustn't think that Sirius would have done anything but what he did, even if he had known what would happen. He was so unhappy, trapped here, I'm certain going to rescue you was the best thing he'd done in ages," Lupin said. "I'm not saying that he wanted to die, but if he had to, I'm sure that dying to help his godson, the only child of James and Lily – that's what he would have wanted."
"I suppose," Harry agreed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione go over to Draco, who had been eating alone, and he relaxed a little, listening to Lupin talk more about Sirius until Professor McGonagall reappeared.
She had brought the ring with its cracked black stone, and this time Hermione's attempt to capture Voldemort's magical resonance worked. Lupin suggested that with that success, there was no reason to stay any longer in Grimmauld Place.
"I'm not leaving," Harry stated it as a simple fact. "I'm going to stay here tonight. Draco, you'll stay too?"
Draco sat silent as a sphinx next to Harry as everyone except Hermione tried to argue him out of his decision. The only one who came near to having a chance at success was Ron. Harry did feel badly about not going back to the Burrow for the birthday cake Mrs. Weasley had said she would make him, but he had promised Draco first. Just because he had forgotten to tell her was no reason to break that promise. Besides, there was that present Draco kept teasing him about... a present that he was persuaded he could not receive at the Weasley house. Eventually, faced with Harry's intransigence, Professor McGonagall threw up her hands and stalked out, the rest following.
"Well," said Draco, looking at Harry, his expression as relieved as Harry himself felt.
"Yeah... d'you want to see the rest of the place now?"
They wandered around through most of the house, at length ending up in the first-floor drawing room that Harry had helped to clear out two summers before. Draco seemed especially interested by what was left in the cabinets, though Harry assured him that both Sirius and Mrs. Weasley had checked everything over and nothing remaining had any curses or hexes on it.
"What about that locket?" Draco pointed at the ugly gold necklace.
The locket... something clicked in Harry's mind. Draco thought Regulus Black was R.A.B. R.A.B. had taken the locket Horcrux from the cave. And here was a locket in the Black House, where Regulus could well have left it. "Do you think...?"
Draco brought the glass bowl that Hermione had used to capture Voldemort's resonance. When Harry tested the locket, green light flashed blindingly.
"It has to be the Horcrux," Harry whispered, and was irrationally annoyed when Draco pointed out that it could simply be an object that Voldemort had owned or handled at some point, thereby imbuing it with his magical signature.
"She didn't say that it only responded to Horcruxes, it sounded like anything that a wizard had charmed would cause a reaction. Is there a more specific test, I wonder? And if this is the Horcrux, then how do we destroy it? How did you destroy the other one you said you'd found?"
"Used a basilisk fang to stab the book," said Harry, his mind roiling with possibilities, most of which he discarded immediately. "But gold's a different proposition from paper. When Professor Dumbledore ruined the ring as a Horcrux, it injured him terribly. I'd rather not have that happen to me, thanks."
"Perhaps you should try to contact Hermione and see if her test can be used to identify a Horcrux, not just anything..." Draco paused.
"Handled by Voldemort? Right, but the problem is that I don't have Hedwig here to take a message." Harry frowned. "I could go myself, but after saying I was going to stay here tonight with you, it'd be more than a little awkward for us to turn up at the Burrow after all. Mrs. Weasley's bound to have been upset, and she doesn't exactly hide her emotions." He winced, remembering the Howler she had sent Ron in second year.
"Well, you could go for dinner, and pacify Mrs. Weasley, and I could stay here," Draco offered. "You should take the locket. Then if Hermione can help you could test it right away, not have to wait till tomorrow or next week. I won't go and be in the way, I'll stay here and maybe see if the portrait of my great-aunt has anything useful to say."
Harry caught his breath. "Would you mind? I do want to find out if it's the Horcrux."
"Just be sure to come back tonight, that's all," said Draco, looking down at the carpet.
"No fear. D'you think I wouldn't want to find out what this present is you keep promising?" Harry asked, and grinned back at the smile that spread over Draco's face. "Oh... would you mind making up a bed while I'm gone? The Order hasn't used the house much lately, and I doubt any of the beds have sheets on them. Choose whatever room you like."
"I'll do that. I still have some Muggle money too, so I can buy myself some dinner," said Draco.
"Thanks for being willing to stay," Harry said. He wanted to say something more, do something to show his gratitude, but Draco preempted him, stepping closer and pulling Harry in for a rapid but thorough snog. If he hadn't been so keen to find out about the locket, Harry would have succumbed to the temptation to drag Draco down to the floor right then.
"I will definitely be back for that present... but the sooner I leave, the quicker it'll be." Before he could change his mind, he picked up the locket and bowl and Apparated to the Burrow. Tucking both of them discreetly under his arm, he steeled himself and knocked at the door.
"Harry? Ron said you weren't coming back tonight." Mrs. Weasley was red-faced and sounded flustered. "Is Draco here too? Really..."
"I'm sorry," Harry broke in before she could work up to full volume. "I should've said something before I left this morning, but I really want to stay in Sirius's house tonight. It seems only proper on my birthday to think about what he and my parents did for me. But it was awfully rude of me not to have told you that, and left you expecting me, us, back here. So I thought I'd better come and apologize."
Mrs. Weasley looked somewhat mollified. "Well, thank you, Harry. When Ron told me you had stayed... I had baked a birthday cake... but Draco didn't come with you?"
"No, he's going to talk to Mrs. Black's portrait. We managed to get it off the wall," Harry added proudly. "Draco's doing, mostly. And I am going to back tonight, but I could stay for dinner...?" He looked at her hopefully.
"Of course you have to have dinner here. Oh, drat, the potatoes." She hurried across to the stove where a pot was boiling over in clouds of steam, continuing, "Ron and Ginny and Hermione are all around somewhere, go find them, I need to look after dinner."
Harry tried the sitting room first, but no one was there. Then he heard raised voices from Mr. Weasley's study.
"Not to interrupt," he interjected into Ron and Hermione's argument, "but..."
"What are you doing here?" snapped Ron. "Thought you were planning to stay at Grimmauld Place with poncy Malfoy."
Harry tensed at that, but Hermione said, "Is there something wrong?"
"No, quite the contrary. I think – maybe – I've found a Horcrux. But I'm not sure." He pulled out the locket and held it up. "When I tested this, the bowl flashed green light, really bright. So Voldemort handled it, that's definite, but how can I tell if it's a Horcrux or not?"
Hermione screwed up her face thoughtfully. "You brought the bowl, good. Cast the spell again so I can see."
The light was just as blinding this time as last.
"It's a Horcrux," said Hermione with assurance. "An ordinary object that he'd handled would just glow a bit. The stronger the link to the wizard, the more something is imbued with his magic, the brighter the light. That locket's been in the Black house for years, only touched when Sirius was testing it for hexes – any ordinary magical signature would have faded, for one thing, and how likely is it that something of Voldemort's would simply show up there?"
"Good, that's what I hoped," said Harry. "But then the trouble is, how can I destroy it? I'd prefer not to be injured like Professor Dumbledore was... there's still several more to find and deal with, after this."
Ron seemed to have got over his temper for the moment. He reached out and picked up the locket, setting it swinging. Harry's eyes followed the back-and-forth motion as they all contemplated the problem.
"If you destroy the physical object, that'll ruin it as a Horcrux, I should think," Ron said.
"Dumbledore cracked the stone of the ring, though I don't know how, and I stabbed through the diary with the basilisk's fang," Harry agreed.
"Clearly it takes something pretty powerful to accomplish the destruction of a Horcrux," said Hermione. "I don't think just going to a jeweler's or a goldsmith's to have the locket melted down would turn the trick."
"When you destroyed the diary, you weren't really hurt, were you?" asked Ron.
Harry frowned. "No... not like Dumbledore's hand was anyhow. Although I was in pretty bad shape already, and Fawkes's tears healed me from the poison, so it's hard to say."
"But surely if phoenix tears could help, Professor Dumbledore would have known and used them himself," Hermione pointed out. "Perhaps the fact that the destruction of the diary was indirect – you didn't use your own magic, it was the basilisk poison – was what kept you from being injured like he was?"
"That would make sense, Harry," said Ron excitedly. "So then you'd need to figure out something you could use on the locket in a similar way. A Dissolving Potion, maybe? Fred and George were experimenting with some pretty strange things over the years, bought loads of weird ingredients when they could scrape together the Sickles to do it, so perhaps they'd have ideas."
"I'd rather try to work it out ourselves first. I'll ask Draco, too. If we don't have any luck then we could see what the twins might be able to suggest," said Harry. He stretched and glanced around the room, belatedly realizing, "Where's Ginny?"
"She was still sore that she wasn't allowed to go with us today, she's out flying, I think," Ron said. "But I expect she'll be back soon." He grinned at Harry. "It's almost dinnertime... I can smell it. And Mum doesn't appreciate it when anyone's late for that."
Dinner was a determinedly cheerful affair. Ginny seemed to be trying to put aside her bad mood, chattering about nothing in particular. Mrs. Weasley had evidently forgiven Harry for initially having refused to come back for his birthday meal, if the smile she gave him along with a third helping of lamb stew was anything to judge by, and Mr. Weasley had never known that Harry had intended any such thing, though he expressed dismay that Harry insisted on returning to the Black house that night.
"It worries me, you boys alone there," he said, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.
"We'll be fine," Harry assured them. "There's nothing dangerous left in the house, not since the Order's been using it, and with all the protective spells there's no chance anyone could get in from outside."
Mrs. Weasley passed around slices of cake, covered in cream and absolutely delicious, but after Harry had eaten two servings he was obliged to say that he needed to go, he had promised Draco. "Neither of us took along our things this morning – I'd better fetch them now," he added to Ron.
He had left his own stuff strewn about Ron's room, he remembered, so he decided to collect Draco's first. The only things not packed neatly in the rucksack were the green t-shirt that Draco slept in, and his toothbrush. Harry caught a whiff of the scent that was distinctly Draco as he folded the shirt, but Ron was watching and he felt too embarrassed to raise it to his face as he would have rather liked to do. Carrying Draco's rucksack, he went up to Ron's room to gather his own things.
"Do you have to go right now?" asked Ron abruptly as Harry was shoving pants and socks into his bag. "I mean, we could have a game of wizarding chess or something, hang about with Hermione and Ginny."
"I did say I wouldn't be too late," said Harry, fastening the flap of the rucksack and looking around to see that he hadn't missed anything out. "So not tonight, Ron. Another time."
"Look, you're my best mate, help me out here. If you're not around the girls stick together, I can hardly get Hermione on her own. It'd be a real help if you stayed and talked with Ginny. You can explain to Malfoy in the morning. C'mon, Harry, you've spent the past fortnight traveling around with him, and I know he took the Unbreakable Vow and all but he's still Malfoy, still a git, and he can perfectly well stay there alone for one night. He'd probably be happy about it," Ron argued. "It's your birthday, Harry, you shouldn't feel obligated to him, you should do something you want to do."
I am, Harry thought but didn't say. "Look, I made a promise, and I'm going to keep it."
"So you'd rather be in Grimmauld Place with Draco-fucking-Malfoy than here. Right. Guess I know where I stand, then," said Ron, and turned his back.
"Ron..." Harry started, but there was nothing more he could say when Ron was being so unreasonable. "I'll be back at the weekend." He didn't bother to wait for an answer he knew would not be forthcoming, simply picked up both rucksacks and Hedwig's empty cage and headed downstairs to thank Mr. and Mrs. Weasley before he left. He was glad when he reached the sitting room that Ginny was not in evidence; he wasn't sure what he could say to her just now.
"Hermione," he nudged her shoulder.
"Yes?" She put her finger in the book she was reading and looked up.
"Could you send Hedwig on to Grimmauld Place tomorrow? She's out flying, or I'd take her now," he explained.
"All right. Are you not coming back here?" she asked, her voice concerned.
"Not tomorrow, I don't think. Maybe Sunday." Harry did not want to tell her about his argument with Ron, not when she and Ron were evidently not getting on so well either. "But if Hedwig's there with me, I can let you know if anything changes. I'd better get going." He felt Hermione's eyes on him as he went over and made his farewells to the elder Weasleys, and hoped she would keep any speculations she might have to herself.
The whole evening had been pretty much a washout, Harry thought glumly, except that he'd found out that the locket was a Horcrux. Arguing with Ron had been uncomfortably like being back in fourth year and being blamed for having his name come out of the Goblet of Fire when he hadn't put it in there in the first place. The dank smell of the street as he Apparated to Grimmauld Place did nothing to cheer him up. He concentrated hard to overcome the Fidelius charm, and was relieved to see number twelve appear.
"Draco?" he called once he was inside with the heavy door closed behind him, grateful that with Mrs. Black's portrait gone he no longer had to be silent in the hallway.
Emerging from the library, Draco said, "Something wrong?"
"No," Harry started to deny, then admitted, "Yeah. Ron and I had a row, that's all. He was trying to get me to stay there tonight. Don't worry about it. Here, I brought our stuff along – we completely forgot it this morning. I guess it was a good thing I went back."
A smile quirked Draco's lips as he bent down and rummaged through his rucksack. "Look what I have here – that last bottle of wine. Fancy a drink?"
"I fancy you," Harry told him, taking the bottle and putting it aside so that he could grab onto Draco without chancing that it would fall. "I fancy having that present you've kept promising."
"You'll have it, no fear," Draco assured him. "In due course." He gave Harry a quick kiss before disentangling himself. "Let's take all this upstairs first, I've found us a room, and I think a celebratory birthday drink is in order before anything else."
Harry followed him up to the second floor, scuffing along the threadbare rug that covered the steps, and went along the corridor towards the back of the house.
"I wanted to be well away from that portrait, just in case," said Draco, opening a door with a flourish and gesturing Harry inside. "So here we are. Oh, blast it, no glasses for the wine. Hang on." He set down the bottle and his rucksack and disappeared. Harry could hear his footsteps drumming down the stairs.
The bed was made up with fresh sheets, the blue duvet just slightly askew so that it hung lower on one side than the other. Harry tried to remember who had been using this room two summers before. Lupin, he thought. Or perhaps it had been Tonks? Not that it mattered. He pulled off his trainers and flopped onto the bed with a sigh, his eyes drifting closed.
"Harry?" Draco's voice pulled him back from the edge of sleep. "You'd better wake up or I'll drink this all myself."
He shoved himself upright and leaned back against the elaborately carved dark wooden headboard. "Ouch." A piece of ornate foliage had jabbed him in the ribs, and he snagged a pillow to shove between himself and the offending protrusion. Accepting a glass from Draco, Harry thanked him.
"You're welcome." Draco touched the rim of his glass against Harry's. "Happy birthday, Harry."
The wine was fragrant on his tongue as he drank.
"Did you find out about the locket?" Draco asked.
"I did." Harry swallowed a mouthful of wine. "Hermione said that the brighter the light, the more of the wizard's magic is in the object, and the light on this was so bright that it has to be a Horcrux," Harry told him, grinning. "So you were wrong."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Happens to the best of us at times. But I'm glad I was. That means you've done what you wanted, you've found one of them. Three down, then, three to go?"
"Once this locket is destroyed, yes," agreed Harry. "Hermione believes that finding an indirect way to do it, not attacking the locket directly with my magic, would be safest. Ron thinks a Dissolving Potion of some sort might work. Do you have any ideas?" He took another gulp.
"Not about that, just at the moment. We can discuss it tomorrow." Draco reached out and took the nearly-empty wineglass from Harry's hand, setting it on the table beside the bed. Then he carefully removed Harry's glasses and put them aside too. "But I have some other ideas... if you're interested."
"Like what?" Harry felt his heart pounding.
"You seemed to enjoy that back rub last night. How about starting there? Except that you might find it nicer if you took off some of those clothes."
Hastily Harry tugged his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor, and at Draco's sweeping gesture he stretched out prone across the mattress to let Draco kneel over him.
"I found this in the bathroom," Draco said, and Harry felt something cool drip between his shoulder blades. "Don't know whose it is, or was, but it didn't smell too sickly sweet. Cucumber, the bottle says."
Firm hands kneaded along Harry's spine, starting at his neck and going all the way down to his sacrum before sweeping upward and repeating again. Draco was sitting on the backs of Harry's thighs, but he wasn't too heavy for comfort.
"All right?" Draco's voice drifted into his ear, and Harry nodded against the smooth fabric under his left cheek.
"Is this my birthday present?"
Draco chuckled. "Only part of it. In fact... I think perhaps it would be best if you just stripped right now, rather than later." His weight shifted off Harry's legs. "There you are, you can sit up again."
Harry levered himself up and swung his legs around so that he could tug his jeans down.
"Everything," said Draco, watching.
"Aren't you going to, as well?" Harry asked, looking pointedly at Draco, who was still fully clothed.
A wolfish grin spread over Draco's face. He shrugged and rose to undress, taking his wand out and setting it down on the bed within reach. Harry briefly wondered what Draco could need it for, but was distracted by seeing all that expanse of pale skin. Draco's cock was hard already too, jutting upward from a thatch of blond curls.
"Before you lie down again though," Draco murmured, stepping closer. He raised a hand and traced the line of the scar on Harry's forehead, then put one hand on either side of Harry's jaw and drew him in for a kiss that tasted of wine and set the blood pounding through Harry's veins, a kiss full of teeth clicking and tongues thrusting with urgent need. Harry pushed his hips against Draco's, wanting more, now, but Draco pulled back to say breathlessly, "Patience. You'll like what I have planned, I promise."
"And if I don't?" Not that Harry thought that likely.
"Then tell me and I'll stop," said Draco, smirking a little. "But I'll wager Knuts to Galleons you won't want to do that. Go on, back on the bed."
Harry stretched out again, feeling his cock throb against his stomach as he lay down. Draco resumed kneading, now focusing on Harry's legs, and his erection subsided somewhat as he relaxed under the firm touch. He hardly noticed how much time passed, or Draco moving to massage his shoulders and arms, then back down to his lower back and arse, until Draco began to speak quietly.
"If someone had told me three months ago that I'd be in the old Black house tonight, with you, like this, I'd've called them a nutter, you know."
Yes, thought Harry. Even three weeks ago, he would have said the same.
"Not that I didn't imagine being with you..." Draco's voice faded for a moment, "but you know that already. I never thought it would actually happen, though, not in my wildest dreams." His hands stilled for an instant, then resumed moving in what was unmistakably a caress, running over the curve of Harry's arse. "Probably I shouldn't say this. You'll laugh, maybe, or think I'm lying or saying it with ulterior motives or that it's the wine talking. But it's your birthday, and you're here with me, you had a fight with your best mate Ron tonight because you wouldn't break your word about coming back, so I might as well say it and get it over with because it's not going to change. And I don't expect you to reciprocate, don't worry about that. I love you, Harry. Maybe it's crazy, but I do. I had to say it. If you don't want to know it, though, tell me and I can put a memory charm on you so that you won't remember... I got rather good at them this summer, putting them on Muggles who saw me when I needed to be hidden."
Harry had listened to Draco's rambling confession with a certain amount of embarrassment, glad that he could not see him. Draco loved him? Fancied him, yes, that had been amply demonstrated, and Harry was even willing to accept the improbable truth that they had become friends, but love? That was a different cageful of nifflers altogether. Draco's offer to Obliviate what he had said from Harry's memory, though – that was no good. It wouldn't change anything, it would just leave Harry ignorant of the truth. He tried to sort through his own feelings and decide how he should respond, but Draco was still talking.
"So if you want that, tell me, because I'll do it for you. Later. What I want to do for you now is to make you feel really, really good. Will you let me, Harry?"
"Yeah." His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and repeated, "Yeah, I will. And about the rest..."
"Don't say anything now," Draco broke in. "Please. As I said, I don't expect you to feel the same, you've made it pretty clear that you don't want to be seriously involved, and that's all right. Well, not all right, but I understand."
"Okay," Harry said, relieved not to have to answer. There had been too many ups and downs today and he could not cope with any more. The thought that Draco Malfoy loved him, or was in love with him, and what was the difference anyhow? – it was too much to handle right now. "Go ahead then." He sighed and shut his eyes.
Draco was muttering something that Harry couldn't quite hear.
"No memory charms," he said sharply.
"I wouldn't do that unless you asked," Draco replied, sounding insulted. "Relax, Harry. This is to make you feel good, remember." He said something else under his breath, and then it seemed that he blew gently over Harry's arse before shifting and beginning to press kisses onto his neck, soft and wet at first and then turning more insistent.
There was a faint scrape on his skin as Draco rubbed his cheek against Harry's shoulder blade, working his way down Harry's right side. Harry was glad that he was not ticklish, because he was sure that he would have been rolling and laughing uncontrollably if he were. As it was, what Draco was doing felt wonderful – each lick and nibble seared into his skin and set up an answering throb in his cock. He shifted, trying to ease the pressure. Draco's fingers curled around his hip but did not reach any further. Instead he began kissing along the crease between Harry's arsecheeks and thighs, pushing Harry's legs apart and lying between them.
Smooth fingertips stroked along his arse, dipping into the crack and nudging him gently open. Harry gasped into the pillow when Draco's tongue licked a wet stripe from bottom to top.
"D'you like that?" Draco lapped against Harry again without waiting for a reply.
Harry groaned, unable to form any more coherent response as Draco pressed his tongue against Harry's hole and circled it. If he had expected anything specific as Draco's present to him, it had been a blow job, not this. If Draco had asked him, he would have refused, the idea of it too dirty to be comfortable, but oh Merlin it felt so much better than he ever could have imagined, and Draco seemed to be enjoying doing it, humming in his throat. Harry heard himself making strangled grunts and involuntarily he pressed his arse upward, longing for more. All of a sudden Draco's tongue was inside him and Harry whimpered. His cock was leaking onto the duvet, the damp spot sticky underneath him, but he couldn't summon up the will to move his hand to relieve the ache, all his attention focused on the incredible sensations Draco was provoking in his arse.
When Draco pulled away, Harry wanted to protest, but Draco was saying, "Roll over," and when Harry did within seconds his cock was in Draco's mouth, wet heat and suction and this was nothing like anything he had ever done with Ginny. Draco's hands seemed to be everywhere at once, circling the base of his shaft, stroking his balls, teasing his hole. Looking down, Harry watched Draco's head moving, fair hair brushing over Harry's stomach and thighs – when had Draco's hair grown so long? Harry mused irrelevantly. He reached down to stroke the fine strands back, suddenly wanting to see Draco's face, or as much of it as he could.
The familiar feeling of oh-god-I'm-about-to-come tightened Harry's balls and clenched his buttocks over Draco's searching fingers, and he thought perhaps he should warn Draco, but only managed to gasp out "I'm going to..." before he was, gloriously, with Draco's mouth still on him and swallowing his spunk like pumpkin juice, lapping up every drop.
Grey eyes looked up to meet his and Harry breathed, "Oh, Merlin, where'd you learn that," reaching down to pull Draco up.
"Oh, here and there," Draco evaded smugly. He snaked one arm under Harry's waist. "I'd've given you a more... permanent... present, but..."
"It was perfect," Harry said. "Perfect. But shouldn't I... you know... I mean, it doesn't seem quite fair to you." He glanced down to where Draco's cock pressed hard against his hip.
"This was supposed to be your present. But I'll tell you what." Draco wriggled slightly, turning. "Sit up a bit against the headboard. There, yeah." He lifted Harry's hand to his mouth and licked the palm, then wrapped it around his cock, already damp with sweat, and placed his own hand over Harry's, setting a fast irregular pace. It took only a moment before he was pulsing in sticky spurts through Harry's fingers and relaxing bonelessly against Harry's chest.
Harry wiped his hand off against the duvet – a Scourgify would take care of it later just as well as sooner – and wrapped his arms around Draco, inhaling the smell of sweat and sex with hints of the cucumber lotion Draco had been using. He thought about what Draco had said earlier. "I love you, Harry." He couldn't have been saying it to get anything from Harry; if anything the statement was likely to have had the opposite effect. Which suggested that Draco really meant it. Whatever he meant by it.
"Harry," Draco interrupted his private musings.
"What?"
"Perhaps under the covers, if that's all right with you?"
"Oh, sure." He didn't much want to move, it was too comfortable lying here like this, but since Draco had asked... Harry managed to shove the duvet and sheets over enough to slide underneath, pulling Draco with him.
"That's better." Draco settled against him again, his breath slowing.
Thin moonlight shone in through the uncurtained window, making patterns across the bed and floor. Harry lay awake for a long time, thinking of Draco. Of Ginny. Of himself. He looked at Draco's face, slack and peaceful and shadowed, and whispered, "I think I love you, too."
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