Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven, @ 2007-08-08 20:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | hp fic better than revenge, hp fic draco/harry |
HP fic: Better Than Revenge, ch. 17: Inside the Sleeping Bag [Harry/Draco, adult]
Title: Better Than Revenge
chapter 17, "Inside the Sleeping Bag"
Author: celandineb
Fandom: HP
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: adult
Summary: In between bouts of kissing and more, both Draco and Harry open up a little about how it feels to be who they are.
Draco had stopped. Why had he stopped? Harry squirmed, his body sending clamoring messages to his brain that it wanted to continue, and that whatever was necessary had better be done to make sure that happened.
"What do you want, Harry?" Grey eyes looked into his own. "You're not going to hold me to the limits you set before at the barn, are you?"
As Draco trailed his fingers feather-light across Harry's chest and downward, then paused as Draco waited for a reply, Harry bit his lip. He could only guess what Draco might think of to do if Harry did not keep him in check, but surely he would stop if Harry objected to anything? Harry's mouth was dry. Every part of him seemed to be focused on those few square inches of skin where Draco's fingertips rested.
"No, I'm not," Harry managed finally to say, and then Draco was unzipping Harry's jeans and sliding them down and, oh, touching him, the way he touched himself except that he never knew just how Draco would move next, and the uncertainty only made it more wonderful. Harry's eyes were half-closed but he could still see Draco's head bent down over him, his expression intent, fair hair hanging in curtains past his cheeks and making him look oddly vulnerable as he stroked Harry, hand pumping faster now, and oh yes and Harry was embarrassed at how fast he had come, and it had spattered not just over himself but onto Draco's face as well. But Draco did not seem to notice or care, since he had moved up to press his lips against Harry's without saying a word.
Harry kissed him hungrily, tasting the slight sweetness of the wine lingering in Draco's mouth, a counterpoint to the acrid smell of his own come. This was a lot better than his experiments with Ron had encouraged him to expect, and that led his mind to Ginny. He did like her, he was sure of that, not only as his best mate's sister and as a friend herself, but as a girl. Hadn't he enjoyed kissing her just as much as Draco now? But these thoughts were distracting... he pushed them away to concentrate on how Draco's tongue was finding unexpectedly sensitive places, and all other concerns vanished for the time being.
After awhile they had to pause to catch their breaths. Harry was taking another mouthful of wine when he saw Draco trying to adjust his own jeans, and was struck with guilt that he had let Draco get him off without even thinking about reciprocating. He reached out to stop Draco. "Let me."
It was awkward, figuring out how to touch him. The angle seemed all wrong and Harry could not tell if the little noises Draco was making meant that what Harry was doing felt good or bad. He solved the first problem by pulling Draco back against him so that he could reach down, just as if he were wanking. That made it much easier. As for the second – well, surely Draco would say something if Harry was doing it wrong, wouldn't he? Harry opened his legs wider so that Draco fit between them more comfortably, and speeded up his stroke a little, trying to think of how fast he would like it and hoping Draco would feel the same. Draco's hair was in his face and Harry blew the fine pale strands away. He bent his head to the juncture of Draco's neck and shoulder, replicating the love-bite he had so futilely charmed away in Bath.
Draco groaned, "Oh, fuck. Yeah, Harry," and came in Harry's hand. Harry mentally filed away the information that Draco liked it a little rough, at least when it came to kisses, although he was wriggling his hips as if Harry's touch on his cock had become painful.
Hastily Harry let his hand fall away, saying, "Yeah, Draco?"
"Yeah," said Draco, and leaned back against Harry's chest. The weight and warmth of him felt good, and Harry was sorry when Draco summoned his wand, cleaned them both up with a spell, and rolled away. "Thanks, Harry."
Oh, no – was this some piece of sex etiquette that Harry was ignorant of? He had not said anything at all to Draco after getting off. Better do it now. "Er, you're welcome. And thank you, too. That was... really good." Which sounded completely idiotic, as if he were thanking Draco for passing him a biscuit or something, but Harry's toes curled at the thought of telling Draco that it was the best sex he had ever had, if it counted as sex which he didn't know, so all he could do was to smile at Draco, squinting because his glasses were still sitting on the rocky floor a couple of feet away
Draco smiled back, but then to Harry's dismay he got up to fetch them both sandwiches. Dismayed not because he was not hungry – that fish and chips had been a while ago – but because Draco went and ate on his own sleeping bag. Harry wondered why Draco did not come sit by him, if he had offended Draco somehow. He put on his glasses so that he could see Draco's expression clearly. The other boy was now chewing his sandwich and looking glum. Why? Surely he was not regretting what they had done, when he had been the one who had made the first moves, and not just tonight either. Unless Harry had been terrible at it... but Draco had said "thank you," so that could not be the trouble. Was Draco worried that Harry might regret it? But he did not, not at all, even if he was uncertain whether enjoying getting off with Draco meant he was actually queer, given that he did still like Ginny too.
The only way Harry could think of to convince Draco that he was quite willing to let them go on with the sex another time, without actually saying so right out – he could not think of any words that would not make him sound too vulnerable and weak – was to suggest that first thing in the morning they ought to try to book a two-person room for that night. Draco seemed to guess what Harry meant, because his face lit up though his reply attempted to be casual.
His transparent pleasure made Harry decide it was worth risking a little more. When they had shared a bed in Godric's Hollow, and again at the Grangers', it had discomfited him to have Draco so close, but now he thought that it might be rather nice. Goodness knew that the beds at whatever hostels they ended up at over the next several days were not going to be wide enough for that, not with any comfort. But without actually saying, "Will you share a bed with me?" what excuse could he use? The fire, that was it. It was bright, maybe too bright to sleep easily, but if he made it smaller then it would be colder in the cave... Harry said as much to Draco, and suggested that they would stay warmer if they zipped their sleeping bags together. It worked surprisingly well.
When they were both snuggled down inside the double bag, Draco asked, "Is this like when you were at the Quidditch world Cup?"
"Ron and I were in separate bunks, but we stayed up late to eat and talk," said Harry. "No match to talk about today, though, and he and I discussed girls too. I don't think we'll be doing that either." He moved his hand forward a few inches to brush against Draco's bare chest. "Will we?"
"I don't believe we will," said Draco, his eyes wide and dark, all his muscles tensed under Harry's touch as if he might leap away.
It felt strange to be looking at Draco like this and thinking about him, not as the enemy he had been for so long, not as a person who Harry had promised to help only out of loyalty to Dumbledore, but as someone who was now both more and less than a friend. If Harry had ever seriously considered that he might want to have sex with another boy, it would not have been Draco Malfoy. Draco was too supercilious, too cocksure, too pureblood. And yet... here they were, naked and in bed together, and Harry was already hard again. He wanted more, but he wasn't sure he wanted to want that, not yet.
"What would you like to talk about, then?" said Harry. He did not take his hand away, but neither did he stroke Draco's skin as had been his first impulse. "Where to go tomorrow? How we might try removing the Mark? What it's like to be a Death Eater?"
"How about what it's like to be the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One?" Draco shot back.
Fair enough, that last question of Harry's had been a bit of a foul blow. "It's awful, actually," said Harry, and pulled away from Draco to roll onto his back, tucking his hands under his head. "People, wizards and witches that is, knew who I was before I did, and they made all kinds of judgments and assumptions about me based on the fact that Voldemort had tried to kill me and failed. I don't know why he failed. I was a baby. Even what the prophecy said didn't make it clear."
"The prophecy?"
"Yeah. What your father and the rest of them were after at the Ministry of Magic last year, when he was caught." Harry heard Draco's breath catch. "You can't repeat this to your father or Voldemort or anyone, you know," he reminded Draco. "Not with the Vow."
"I know that," Draco sounded impatient. "What did the prophecy say?"
Harry thought a minute, trying to remember the words as precisely as he could. "It was made before I was born, and I only heard the whole of it once. The prophecy said that the one with the power to defeat Voldemort approached, and would be born at the end of the seventh month to parents who had defied him three times. That Voldemort would mark him as an equal but he would have power that Voldemort did not. And that one of us would have to kill the other." Harry shivered. "The strange thing is that it could have been Neville, not me; his parents resisted three times, just like mine, and he was born only a day before me. If Voldemort had tried to kill Neville instead, it would be him, Dumbledore said. Then he would be Voldemort's enemy, and the one who has to kill him."
Draco laughed.
"It's not funny," Harry rounded on him. "How would you like to know that you have to kill someone, someone terrifying and powerful and dangerous, because otherwise he'll kill you?"
"I wouldn't, Harry, I didn't mean that it's not an awful thing to have prophesied about you," said Draco, sobering quickly. "It was the idea of Neville being the Chosen One that struck me as ridiculous. I think you were a much better choice, really. There's no chance I would have gone to Neville for help, and I would definitely not be in bed with him like this." He gave Harry a smile of such glittering ardor that it was almost a kiss in itself.
Now Harry grinned too. "Anyhow. So being the Boy Who Lived isn't that wonderful in itself, and certain people" – he raised his eyebrows at Draco – "didn't exactly make it easier by deciding to tease me about it. Not to mention the kinds of articles the Daily Prophet liked to run, where one week I was lauded as the savior of the wizarding world and the next I was dismissed as a lying poncy git with a swelled head. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"
"I suppose so," Draco said, "but I think you left out the part where the girls all chased after you because you were famous."
"Oh." Harry reddened. "Yeah, well, that wasn't something I enjoyed. It was creepy. They were giving me chocolates spiked with love potions. And I thought we weren't going to talk about girls?"
"We weren't. But I thought that meant you wanted to talk about boys, and then you didn't," said Draco. "Somehow discussing Neville Longbottom doesn't seem to qualify. Unless I missed something?"
"Not exactly," said Harry. "Well, no, not at all. Er. I never thought of talking about boys..."
"The same way you've done about girls?" Draco finished Harry's sentence. "I haven't either, not really." He smiled a predatory kind of smile. "Despite any rumors to the contrary, most Slytherins are quite as straight as your average Gryffindor. And those who aren't tend to be... careful about whom they trust with that knowledge. Not something one wants to give away, so it's not as if I ever broke into the endless late-night dormitory talk about which girl would be most desirable to shag and started discussing which blokes were the most shaggable instead. A bit too obvious, that."
"I can see so," Harry agreed, "but I don't think I can talk about boys with you anyhow, because I wouldn't have anyone in mind. Even though you're not the first one I've ever snogged, I never actually considered getting off with another bloke before, not seriously that is. I was obsessed with Cho Chang for ages, and then of course there was Ginny. That's why Hermione was so surprised."
He had not intended to tell Draco about that, and regretted the final words as soon as they had slipped out. Draco's face went slack with astonishment first, but rapidly his expression became furious.
"You told Granger?"
"No – wait," Harry held onto Draco's arm to keep him from climbing out of the sleeping bag. "I didn't tell her. She guessed."
Draco's voice was skeptical. "Right. She guessed. How?"
"Because I spelled away that love-bite on your neck. She'd noticed it, I guess, and then it was gone, and she figured out that we'd only have bothered if it was something we were trying to hide. So it's my fault," Harry concluded ruefully. "If I'd just left it alone, or not given you the bruise to begin with, she wouldn't've guessed it. But I could hardly deny that she was right. I'm sorry, Draco, honestly. I can see it upsets you, but if it helps, I'm pretty sure Ron hasn't guessed, and Hermione won't say anything, I don't think."
"You don't think," repeated Draco sarcastically, but he did not look quite so angry and was no longer trying to pull away from Harry. "Merlin, Harry, what if she does say something? I'm already persona non grata to your friends, except maybe for her and Weasley, and can you imagine if that piece of gossip got out? The Daily Prophet would have a field day. I can just imagine the headline: 'Chosen One In Love Nest With Hogwarts Headmaster's Murderer'."
"She won't say anything," said Harry again, although he was less certain than he tried to sound. Hermione did speak before she thought sometimes. She was undeniably clever, but not always sensible. "And you didn't kill Dumbledore."
He frowned. "Why are you so worried about Hermione knowing, anyway? You say you've always known you prefer boys, so why should it bother you if someone else knows you fancy me? It ought to bother me, not you."
Draco said, "My parents don't know, though. Remember what I told you about pureblood marriages? If by some chance the Malfoy family isn't completely ruined and discredited after Voldemort either wins or loses for good, I'll be a valuable potential alliance, from a pureblood perspective. But if I'm known to be queer – not so much. And my father would be furious and my mother upset, and believe me, you don't want either of those things to happen, because that tends to result in the kind of outburst that flattens Muggle villages and requires Ministry Obliviators to clear it up."
"But your father's in Azkaban. Even in the unlikely event of a Prophet headline, I somehow doubt that prisoners get the paper," Harry said.
"He would hear, believe me," said Draco darkly. "If nothing else, if my mother found out, she would manage to contact him somehow. So I hope you're right and Granger is trustworthy."
"I've trusted Hermione with my life," said Harry. "Come on, let's not argue about something that isn't going to happen, all right?"
Draco nodded, although he still looked disgruntled.
"Wouldn't you ever tell your parents, though? Obviously a newspaper article wouldn't be the way you'd choose to do it, but won't you tell them yourself, someday?" Harry asked, curious. "I mean, what if you met someone and wanted to, you know, settle down with him permanently. Before they marry you off to some pureblood girl. What would you do?"
"I don't know," said Draco. "It might depend on what he was willing to do, or wanted. If he was from a pureblood family he'd understand, probably be in the same sort of situation. If not..." Draco shrugged. "Then it might depend on how much I wanted to be with him, if he wasn't willing to wait. I don't know how Muggles think, but the wizarding world is not all that keen on its queers. Pureblood families the least so, proper ones anyhow. Perhaps the Weasleys would see things differently, though you might be surprised, Harry. Announcing that one prefers one's own sex is not the way to achieve a successful life, nor a quiet one; discretion is a much more workable approach."
"It seems dishonest, to hide what you are," Harry said.
"Dishonest maybe, but practical. Right now, if my parents found out, if my father weren't in Azkaban that is, they might try to shrug it off as adolescent experimentation and hope I'd get over it," Draco continued. "I doubt I'd disabuse them of the notion. It wouldn't be worth the arguments and recriminations – if my father were convinced that I meant it, he might even go so far as to disinherit me, and I'd really prefer not to have that happen. Besides, I feel I owe it to my family to continue the bloodline, regardless of whether I'm interested in girls for sex, and I'd rather my children be legitimate. It's easier all around to marry for that in the first place instead of fixing things up afterward. My preference for blokes is really irrelevant when it comes to all that sort of thing."
Harry still thought this pureblood insistence on not letting the family line die out was just as ridiculous as the previous time Draco had mentioned it, but he could tell that it was not something about which the other boy was going to change his mind.
"I wonder what my parents would've thought," Harry said.
"About what?" Draco moved a little closer, one of his legs bumping against Harry's.
"Well," said Harry, "About you. That we'd... you know. Not that messing around means anything much in the long run, necessarily, but if it did eventually." He floundered, not wanting to think of Draco as he had been used to thinking of Ginny, as someone he could be with for a long time, but not able to deny that it was possible. Because he was beginning to like Draco, albeit reluctantly, not just as someone he was finding unexpectedly fun to fool around with, but as something more. "I guess I wouldn't have told them anything yet, anyway. Would you? Tell your parents about someone you were seeing, before it was really serious I mean. Assuming it was a girl, someone they would approve of, would you want them to know about it before anything was definite?"
Draco gave a sardonic little chuckle. "Only if it were a girl from a family they would be happy to be allied with, and only maybe even then. What if we broke up afterward? I'd never hear the end of it, and they'd hold me responsible for their disappointment. So no, I don't think so." He sat up and reached for the wine bottle.
"Aperio." The foil untwisted and the cork popped itself out into Draco's hand.
"You git, you didn't need that corkscrew before at all," said Harry. Draco only grinned at him and tilted the bottle up. "Give me that." The warmth of the wine seemed to flow all through his body as he drank, breathed, and drank again.
Long cool fingers plucked the bottle away when Harry lowered it, and Draco said, his voice unsteady, "If you were serious about someone, even if things weren't completely settled yet, do you think you'd tell your parents, if they were here to tell?"
Harry peered at Draco. What was he trying to get at? Draco never asked anything without some reason, of that Harry was certain.
"I think I'd want to," he hedged slightly. "I'd probably let my friends know, so it seems like then I should tell my parents too. Even if I wasn't sure how they'd react, maybe even if I thought they wouldn't like it. I mean, they're my parents."
Draco murmured something that Harry could not quite hear.
"Sorry, what'd you say?"
"Nothing," said Draco. "Really, it doesn't matter," he repeated when Harry let his disbelief show. "That's very... admirable of you."
"Hm," said Harry. The wine was making him feel a bit light-headed, and the sleeping bag seemed very warm. The only thing he was able to focus on was Draco's face and it was swaying back and forth across his field of vision as elusively as the Golden Snitch at a Quidditch match. He reached out to steady it and found that he had somehow wrapped his arms around Draco and was kissing him again.
His glasses were in the way until Draco pulled them off. He twisted slightly in Harry's embrace and all at once Harry realized that Draco's cock was the hardness that pressed against his own, and Draco's hands were locked around Harry's arse, rocking them together. Harry could smell the sharp scents of sweat and lust, dizzying him as he breathed, or was that just the wine?
"Harry..." Draco's urgent voice recalled his attention. "Here, yeah," and his hand was taken and guided between them, Draco moving their hands together so that Harry could hold both of their cocks at once, hot and damp and quivering-hard, and he could hardly tell who was touching whom when Draco's mouth fastened on his throat.
It felt like nothing Harry had known, better even than earlier because this time it was skin to skin all over. Draco was rubbing against him, making sounds of encouragement, and Harry bit back, remembering how Draco had responded before. Draco thrust hard against him and Harry's hand was unexpectedly slick with Draco's come, a fact he had hardly time to register before Draco had teased him to the same point, the release bringing both relief and regret that it was over.
Sweaty, sticky, Harry wiped his palm off on his hip and pushed the hair out of his eyes. Draco wore a smile of languid satisfaction as he tilted his head towards Harry.
"Better than even a really good wank, isn't it?" Draco said, and Harry had to laugh at the cockiness of him, so self-assured even when his world had crumbled around him, lying here in this remote Welsh cave.
"Definitely," said Harry. "But messier."
"So, clean us up," replied Draco. "You know how."
Harry Accio'd his wand and performed the spell. Setting it down, he yawned.
"Not bored with me already?" said Draco lightly.
"No, just," Harry yawned again, "just tired." He rolled over, facing away from Draco. "I sleep better on this side, I'm not ignoring you."
"That's all right." Draco put his arm over Harry's waist and pressed close behind him. "Me, too."
The blue light of the tiny fire was not enough to disturb Harry as he fell asleep. He woke once during the night, startled to find Draco beside him before he remembered what had happened and relaxed into sleep again. In the morning the air of the cave was chill, making Harry glad that his excuse for sleeping together had been justified. They ate the rest of the food they had bought last night for breakfast and packed up their gear.
"Where d'you want to try going for tonight?" Harry asked.
"Oh, I don't care. Open that guide book at random and see what comes up," said Draco.
The book fell open at Aberdeen, in Scotland.
"Will that be all right? Last time we were in the north was when you thought Voldemort might be close by," Harry said.
"Aberdeen is a long way from Yorkshire," said Draco. "Might as well see what happens."
Harry put out the fire and they walked out of the cave. "It was a good place, this. Maybe sometime we can come back," he said, stealing a sideways glance at Draco.
"I'd like that," Draco said. He adjusted the straps of his rucksack and reached out to take Harry's hand. "But for now we'd better go."
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