HP fic: Better Than Revenge, ch. 28: In Harry's House [Harry/Draco, adult]
Title: Better Than Revenge chapter 28, "In Harry's House" Author: celandineb Fandom: HP Pairing: Harry/Draco Rating: adult Warnings: explicit sex including rimming Summary: Draco wishes Harry could make up his mind, but something is better than nothing. He suggests that Harry get Dobby to take care of the house, and they look over books of potions recipes to find ideas for destroying the Horcrux.
He led Harry to the room he had chosen for them on the second floor, realized belatedly that he had forgotten to bring wineglasses, and went to fetch some. It was one thing to accept a temporary expedient in a cave, quite another when one was in a proper house.
Harry was sprawled on the bed with his eyes closed when Draco returned. The wire rims of his glasses neither hid the dark circles under his eyes nor concealed the scar slashed across his forehead. His shirt had come untucked, creeping up to reveal a strip of skin above the waistband of his jeans and Draco's fingers itched with the urge to unbutton the button, unzip the zip and have at Harry. No. Slow and easy was the way to do it... or as slow as he could stand. Although... Harry could be surprised into certain responses. Draco hadn't intended to tell Harry that he wanted to kiss him, that first night in Little Hangleton; it had been weariness and carelessness that had led to his confession. But it had worked. Harry had kissed him. Draco pondered that even as he nudged Harry and handed him a glass of wine.
"Cheers, Harry. Happy birthday," he said, clinking his own wineglass against Harry's. "Did you find out about the locket?"
The expression of satisfaction that settled on Harry's face as he said that the locket was a Horcrux and that Draco had been wrong was only saved from complete insufferableness by Harry's obvious delight that he had at last found one of them. The proper next question, of course, was how to destroy the wretched thing, but Draco could not force an interest in that tonight.
"Let's discuss possible ways and means tomorrow, shall we?" Harry had nearly finished his wine, and so had Draco. He took Harry's glass and set it aside with his own on the table, removing Harry's spectacles as an afterthought. He rather liked how Harry looked without them – not that he looked better, but something about the way those green eyes fringed with dark lashes looked over at Draco, blinking softly in the attempt to focus – Harry seemed more ordinary then, just a friend with his own troubles, not The-Boy-Who-Lived as captured in the photos of The Daily Prophet. "I have some other ideas about what to do now... for instance, starting where I left off last night, with a back rub. You might want to take off some clothes," he added when Harry simply turned around.
When he was going through the rooms Draco had located some cucumber-scented hand lotion in the bathroom and had prudently decided to place it handy. It smelt a bit old, but luckily not rancid. He dribbled some onto Harry's back and began kneading the muscles along his spine, sweeping from top to bottom. It was flattering to feel Harry relaxing under his hands, trusting Draco completely. Draco had taken the Unbreakable Vow and that could explain that surrender, but somehow Draco doubted that Harry had the Vow consciously on his mind just at the moment.
Having any clothes on Harry's body, though, was not going to work well for Draco's plans. "I think it would be best if you stripped down completely now, rather than later," Draco suggested.
Obediently Harry began to do so. "Aren't you going to as well?"
Well done, Harry. Draco grinned as he took his clothes off, watching Harry watch him. He briefly considered making it into a bit of a show, but that might just embarrass Harry if he did it with no warning, and embarrassment would ruin the mood he was hoping to create. Come to think of it, his plan for what to do with Harry tonight might be more than Harry was up for. Hm. Draco made certain that his wand was within reach. Harry's mouth tempted him, and before he resumed the massage, he couldn't resist giving Harry a long, thorough snog to tease him with thoughts of what might be happening later. When Harry started rubbing up against him, however, he pulled back. "Patience – I promise you'll like what I have planned."
Harry's lips were flushed and swollen, his breathing unsteady. "What if I don't?"
"Tell me you don't and I'll stop, but I'll bet you won't want me to," said Draco, thinking that Harry looked eminently shaggable in this state. "Go on, get back on the bed."
He had a moment's regret when Harry lay down, hiding that delicious cock from sight, but reminded himself to take the long view. A relaxed, willing, and happy Harry was the desired outcome here. Draco began again, massaging his legs from thigh to ankle and even the feet, using the cucumber lotion lavishly. Harry sighed and murmured and his legs spread apart temptingly, but Draco willed himself to ignore that, moving on to Harry's arms and shoulders next before finally returning to his lower back and kneading the firm contours of his arse.
Draco had been thinking of how he could introduce the idea of something a little more permanent than this partnership of convenience. It was tricky, given that Harry had made clear his reluctance to think of Draco as more than someone to have a bit of fun with on long summer evenings. The truth, he decided, might just work. The most effective manipulation of someone else's emotions was to tell the truth when you could – lies could be too easily found out, with negative consequences.
"I'd've never imagined this three months ago, you know. Not that I didn't think about being with you, you already know I did that," Draco said, recalling the kinds of fantasies he had once wanked to. The memory stilled his hands for a moment, and when he resumed he drew them along the tender skin caressingly, wanting Harry to stay relaxed but to start thinking about sex again.
"Perhaps I shouldn't say this, you'll think I'm doing it from ulterior motives," which he was, but saying so ought to convince Harry of the exact opposite, because who would admit to that? "And maybe you'll laugh. But you did fight with your best mate Ron to come back here tonight, and my mind's not going to change, so I might as well tell you even though I honestly have no expectation that you'll reciprocate," and that was certainly true. He hoped, was all. And he was babbling. Time to come to the point. "I love you, Harry. Crazy but true. But if you hate the thought so much you don't want to know about it, I can cast a memory charm to keep you from remembering afterward that I've even said this. Tonight, though, I want to make you feel really, really good... if you'll let me?"
When Harry didn't answer immediately, Draco experienced a moment of panic. What if he had misjudged Harry, and instead of being flattered despite himself, the other boy was exasperated at having to deal with an unwanted confession of love? He had had those often enough at Hogwarts, where half the female population was obsessed with the Boy Who Lived.
After what seemed like ages but was probably less than a minute in actual elapsed time, Harry replied, "Yeah, I'll let you. About the rest..."
Draco interrupted. "Don't say anything now. You've said before that you don't want to be involved, and I understand. Just... think about it."
"Okay." Harry pushed his head against the pillow. "Go on, then."
Picking up his wand, Draco began to mutter a quick cleaning spell. He had considered whether Harry might be willing to let Draco inside him tonight, and decided not to try that just yet. The first time – and Draco was virtually certain it would be Harry's first – was nearly always uncomfortable at best, not the kind of memory Draco wanted Harry associating with a statement of love. But there were other possibilities, things Draco had tried with Miles and with Blaise that he thought Harry might enjoy.
"No memory charms," warned Harry.
"Do you think I'd do that without you asking?" Draco couldn't quite keep the edge of irritation out of his voice. Someday, he hoped, Harry would relinquish those last lingering suspicions that Draco might do something to his detriment, which were patently foolish, given the Vow. At this point Draco had no intention of doing anything Harry didn't want anyway. "Relax, Harry. You're supposed to be feeling good here." Under his breath he finished reciting the spell.
The back of Harry's neck was half-hidden under curls of dark hair, which Draco pushed aside so that he could lick the skin there, tasting of salt sweat and the flavor that was uniquely and undeniably Harry. He rubbed his cheek against Harry's shoulder blade and inhaled the scent of him as he nosed the joint of his arm. Then he began to slowly move along Harry's side, using his teeth now to bite gently at the pale skin, thankful that Harry was not ticklish. When Miles had tried to do this to him Draco had laughed so hard that the mood that night had been utterly ruined and Miles had left in a huff.
Harry's hipbone jutted under his fingers, and Draco tilted his head slightly to brush his lips over the swell of Harry's arse. He nudged Harry's thighs further apart and knelt between them, using his thumbs to spread Harry's arsecheeks wide. Now. Bending his head, Draco gave a long, slow lick, starting just behind Harry's balls and continuing up past his wrinkled pink hole. He felt Harry quiver and paused to ask, "Like that, do you?" rhetorically before lapping at him again.
The taste was still Harry despite the cleaning spell, musky-tangy here as Draco licked and kissed teasingly. Harry was groaning and bucking his hips up when Draco slipped his tongue past the tight ring of muscle and inside. The cries Harry made as Draco sucked at him were almost enough to bring Draco off right then, rubbing against the duvet. He was making Harry react like this... he wanted nothing more than to replace his tongue with his cock and come into that tight hot hole. With an effort he pulled his face away and muttered urgently, "Roll over." As soon as Harry did Draco's mouth was fastened on his cock, its foreskin sliding back, the slick bitterness of pre-come spilling onto Draco's tongue. He didn't want to risk choking – he'd never been very good at getting his throat to relax enough to accept a cock at full length – so he used his right hand to stroke the base of Harry's shaft and the left on his balls, forefinger sneaking back to titillate his entrance again.
It couldn't be long, and Harry was enough of a gentleman to gasp out, "I'm going to..." before his pulsing cock spilled into Draco's mouth. Draco swallowed it all eagerly, savoring the essence of Harry, making sure not a drop was left before he looked up to see Harry watching him wonderingly.
"Where did you learn that?" Harry asked, and Draco allowed himself a smile as he wriggled upward. He was a little surprised that Harry had never done this with Ginny Weasley... or perhaps he had, and it hadn't been as satisfying. Giving good head took practice... and that went double for rimming.
"Here and there. I'd've given you a gift that was more long-lasting, but..."
"It was perfect," Harry broke in. "But," he gnawed his lip, worrying it between his teeth, "shouldn't I... it seems a bit unfair to you." His hand moved a few inches towards Draco's cock.
"This was your birthday present," Draco said firmly, but he could tell that Harry was going to feel guilty and unhappy if he didn't do anything for Draco, so he lifted Harry's wrist and licked his palm thoroughly, then wrapped both their hands around his aching length. He moved them hard and fast and it took only a few strokes before he came and relaxed back into the curve of Harry's arm.
The window stood open to the night air and moonlight, and after a few minutes Draco shivered in the draft cooling the sweat from his body. "Harry? Perhaps we might get under the covers?" He was surprised Harry wasn't cold too.
"Oh." Harry tugged at the duvet, pulling it out from under his body and flipping it over them as Draco hastily cast a cleaning charm.
"That's better." Draco curled up next to Harry again, feeling Harry's heartbeat as he rested his head against Harry's chest. A tentative hand stroked his hair and he smiled at the sheer tactile pleasure of it as he drifted into sleep.
He woke languorously, stretching until he could feel his spine pop, and rolled over. Green eyes gazed into his own. "Good morning," said Draco. "Sleep well?"
Harry shook his head.
Draco had meant it as a rhetorical question. "Why not?" Surely Harry had been sufficiently relaxed to have done so. At least when Draco had drifted off, he had been.
"I was thinking..." Draco saw Harry swallow.
"Well, you know thinking is dangerous," Draco said lightly. "Best to avoid it if you can."
"Don't laugh," said Harry vehemently. "I'm trying to be serious here."
"Sorry." Draco sobered. "What's the matter?"
"You are. That is, what you said last night. I was thinking about that most of the night."
"And?" The way Harry was now looking at his own hands, biting at the ragged edge of a nail, made Draco worried. Had he misjudged Harry's temper, should he not have mentioned what he felt for Harry at all? But there was no one Draco admired more in the world, not even his father, for all that Harry sometimes drove him crazy too, and the lust he felt was equally undeniable. Altogether "love" was the only word Draco could use to describe his emotions, despite it seeming inadequate or inaccurate at times.
"And so that's why I didn't sleep well. Because I do love Ginny, you know, but I think... I think I love you too. And I don't know what to do now." Harry looked miserable, still staring at his hands as if some answer would be written there. "I thought finding the Horcruxes would start solving my problems. Find them all, destroy them, then go after Voldemort. Lose or win, at least things would be over. And now there's all this complicating matters."
Draco's impulse was to argue his own case, but he thought better of it. Instead he said carefully, "If there's something you want me to do...?"
Harry sighed. "Not really. It's not as if it's your fault, you've only been honest about what you feel, and I should be too. I just wish it made things easier instead of more confusing, that's all."
Relieved that Harry seemed to harbor no regrets about the night before, Draco said, "I told you last night that I wouldn't demand that you feel the same way I do... and that's still true. If you want not to, well, mess around anymore for awhile..."
But Harry was shaking his head. "That wouldn't make any difference. I know. At least it never did with Ginny."
"Good. I mean... I'd miss sleeping with you. That is..." Draco floundered, trying to find the right words. "Never mind, we can talk more about this later, right? Were we supposed to meet anyone today, or go anywhere?"
"No. I told Hermione we'd probably stop by the Burrow on Sunday. I was thinking that you and I could try to think of ways to destroy the Horcrux. Although I expect she'll be working on that too, knowing her," he grinned wryly. "There's nothing in the house for breakfast, I'm pretty sure. I think there's a café in the next street though; we can eat there and then pick up something to cook later. Can you cook?"
"I know a kettle-boiling spell, but that's about it," Draco admitted. "Can you?"
"Oh yes." Harry grimaced. "Aunt Petunia made certain of that. I did quite a lot of cooking and washing-up at the Dursleys'. But it's not exactly my favorite thing, so I was hoping you could help."
"If you'll tell me what to do, I'll do it," offered Draco. "It can't be all that different from making potions, can it? Or – wait. I know you wouldn't want Kreacher here, he's not trustworthy, but would Dobby come? I think it's awfully queer to have to pay a house-elf, but if it means neither of us would have to worry about this sort of thing and could focus on the Horcruxes and all that?"
"That's an idea," Harry said. "Hermione's supposed to send Hedwig to me here today, so I could have her take a message to Dobby to see if he wanted to work for me here. I don't think he gets on very well with the other house-elves at Hogwarts. They think he's a bit mad to enjoy his freedom so much and want a salary. Although... if he comes here, he can't keep an eye on Kreacher."
"How important is that? If Kreacher doesn't know we're here, there's not much he could tell my aunt Bellatrix even if I hadn't specifically ordered him not to tell anyone that he'd seen either of us," Draco pointed out reasonably.
"True." Harry screwed up his face in thought. "I guess I'll ask Dobby, then. It would be nice not to have to do any cooking or cleaning for however long we're here. Only... he'll know that we're sharing a room, and a bed."
"So what?"
"So won't he know that we're, well, you know." Harry's face was bright red. "Shagging."
"But he's a house-elf." Draco was baffled. "They all know perfectly well not to mention things like that to anyone. Not even a freed elf would do that." Harry still looked uncomfortable. "Believe me, Harry. I don't think they even think about it, any more than you'd think about gnomes going at it in your garden, especially if you weren't actually there to see. Just no interest."
"If you say so," said Harry doubtfully. "I'm starving; Mrs. Weasley's dinner was a long time ago. Let's go find some breakfast."
Less than two hours later they were back at Twelve Grimmauld Place, sitting with cups of tea in front of them and talking about the Horcrux.
"Right, as I was saying last night, in Hermione's opinion..."
"And Hermione always has an opinion," Draco interjected, "and it's always right."
Harry flashed him a smile. "Not always, but more than often enough to be worth listening to. At any rate she thinks I ought to try some indirect method to destroy the locket as a Horcrux. Her thought was that the reason Dumbledore was injured was probably because he worked a spell on the ring directly, and there was some sort of resistance. Which makes sense. Ron's idea was to try a potion. He says Fred and George might have run across something that would work, with all the experiments they do to come up with their Wizarding Wheezes. I told him I'd rather try to solve it ourselves before asking the twins, though. What do you think?"
Poking a finger at the locket, Draco pondered. "I think Hermione has something there. It might or might not work, but at least it's a safer way to start. And for indirect magic, yeah, a potion of some sort is the obvious first choice. There are some books in the library here that might be useful for finding possible potions; I was looking at one last night while you were away."
"Great." Harry began to stand up.
"Let's read them in here," suggested Draco. "The library's awfully dim and musty. I know where I saw the right books, I'll go and fetch them."
"We both can," Harry said. "They're mine now, and I ought to know what's here."
Draco showed Harry the shelves that seemed to hold most of the potions books, and Harry knelt down to peer at them, pulling out one after another and glancing through them, putting aside what he thought would be useful. Draco piled the ones that Harry chose in a neat stack on the library table; in between, he studied Harry's face from the side, thinking.
They spent most of the rest of the day going through the books, taking a break for lunch, and marking those recipes that might be useful with strips of paper torn from an ancient copy of The Daily Prophet. By the end of the afternoon, they had over two dozen marked.
"I haven't even heard of some of the ingredients in these," Harry complained.
"Yeah." Draco rubbed at his eyes with the back of his wrist – without a house-elf taking care of things, the books were all filthy and his fingers were positively black with dust – and sat back. "Weren't you going to see if Dobby would come work for you?" He held up his grime-streaked hands. "This is disgusting."
"Oh, all right," said Harry, and scribbled a note on a scrap from the newspaper's margin. His owl Hedwig had arrived just after lunch; now he went over to her cage and lifted her out. "You're going to go to Hogwarts tonight," he told her, stroking her feathers. "To the house-elf Dobby."
The owl hooted softly as Harry tied the note to her leg, then took off through the open window. "I asked him to come here tomorrow morning, if he was willing," Harry said, watching her disappear into the cloudy night.
"Good. We'll have to think of what to do about that portrait of Mrs. Black, you know. Probably best not to have Dobby around it," suggested Draco.
"He wouldn't deliberately give away to her that you're not the one in charge, not if I asked him not to," Harry said, "but you're probably right. Safer to avoid the possibility altogether. Maybe I'll just tell him to stay out of that room." He stretched, then took off his glasses, wiped them on his shirt, and resettled them on his nose. "I think I've had about enough of this for now. After dinner we can go through what we've marked down as likely and see which we might be able to try making without too much difficulty. Anything that has to brew for months or has ingredients we can't obtain pretty easily should go to the bottom of the list."
"Is there a room we could use for the experiments? I didn't notice any," Draco remarked.
"There's a couple of rooms in the cellar, below the kitchen, that might work. Rather spidery, of course." Harry made a face. "As long as Ron doesn't have to go in there it'll be all right. He hates spiders."
Draco automatically filed away that bit of information – having a familiarity with someone's weaknesses could be useful at unexpected times, even if he had no particular need to know those of Ron Weasley at the moment. "Shall we look?"
The room Harry chose was not actually too cobwebby, although Draco thought that having Dobby around to clean it would be a good thing. It seemed to have been used for storage at one time, judging from the crates piled in one corner, but it also contained a fairly sturdy large wooden table that would be useful for working on.
"Sirius would've had some basic potions ingredients around somewhere, I expect," said Harry. "I'll take a look upstairs. But for some of those recipes I'll have to go to Diagon Alley."
Draco nodded. He wished he could go too, but it would be too dangerous. There were bound to be witches and wizards working for Voldemort there, any of whom would be delighted to curry favor by reporting the whereabouts of Draco Malfoy, if not actually capturing him for the Dark Lord. For some reason Draco thought then of Professor Snape and wondered how he was doing. The man had, after all, almost certainly saved his life... and had kept him from having to kill Dumbledore. And he would surely know of a potion to do what they needed. Draco doubted, however, that Harry would want anything to do with Snape unless it gave him the opportunity to exact some kind of revenge for Dumbledore's death.
"Tomorrow's soon enough for that," Harry decided. "It's nearly closing time for the shops anyhow. Since Dobby won't be here until tomorrow, assuming he does come, and you say you can't cook, I guess I'd better do it."
"I'll help if you like," Draco repeated his earlier offer. He would have suggested going out, or bringing in a takeaway, but he was nearly out of Muggle money and didn't want to owe Harry until he could have more Galleons changed.
"Don't worry." Harry's smile was infectious. "I'm not going to do anything difficult. Beans on toast I think – can't go wrong with that."
It was an odd and rather starchy combination, Draco decided forty minutes later as he was chasing a last forkful around his plate, but not bad. He had watched with interest as Harry had lighted the stove and toasted the bread. The tin opener was a peculiar Muggle device, far more trouble than the simple opening spell Draco would have chosen, but Harry was evidently accustomed to such things from the dexterity with which he wielded it. All Draco had had to do was to set the table and keep Harry company as the beans heated.
Dinner over, a long evening stretched out in front of them. Draco thought about going to talk to the portrait of Mrs. Black, but the idea made him tired. He could do that tomorrow or the next day, while Harry was buying potions ingredients and he was stuck alone in the house. Harry suggested a game of wizarding chess. That didn't appeal much to Draco either, and he looked along the library shelves, hoping to find some interesting book. The Mark on his arm itched and he scratched at it. Harry looked worried.
"Does it hurt?"
"No, it's just itchy," said Draco, scratching harder. "Especially where Grang... Hermione made that change."
"I wonder..." Harry bent forward to peer more closely. "I wonder if Voldemort is trying to summon the Death Eaters? If maybe that small change was enough so that he can't reach you any more?"
Draco felt a wild flare of hope, but he shook his head firmly. "Honestly, I don't think it can have been enough for that. But he rarely went as much as a fortnight without calling us, these last six months. If a month goes by and no summons, then maybe we can assume it's worked, but I think it'll be safer if Hermione tries a few more times to alter it." He shuddered. "Painful though that was."
"This doesn't hurt, does it?" asked Harry, stroking his fingers lightly over the marked flesh of Draco's arm. The little hairs there rose up in gooseflesh.
"No." It felt good, actually, to have Harry touch him like that.
"Good." Now Harry was tracing the veins of his arm up to the elbow, the shoulder, the neck, pushing fabric aside... and then he leaned over to fasten his mouth at the hollow of Draco's throat. His glasses bumped, cold, against Draco's skin. Draco gave a little groan, surprised but not at all displeased, and threaded his fingers into Harry's hair. When Harry let up on the love-bite, Draco tugged gently to tilt his head up.
"Are you sure... I mean, do you want to do this, really? It's not going to bother you later or anything?"
Harry shook his head, his green eyes almost luminous. "I think... I need more information to sort things out."
"You're making me feel like I'm the subject of a History of Magic essay," Draco complained, but his protest was cut off when Harry's mouth found his. Harry tasted of the tomato sauce from the beans, and unfamiliar but not unpleasant flavor. His hands curved around Draco's neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.
"Maybe we should go somewhere besides this sofa," Harry said eventually, and Draco nodded agreement.