hd365_mod (hd365_mod) wrote in hd_365, @ 2006-06-20 12:54:00 |
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Current mood: | stressed |
Original poster: rurounihime
Title: Break
Author: rurounihime
Rating: R
Word count: 2,276
Summary: Draco's nice night doesn't go as planned.
Notes: This one's for luciology. She said I should tackle the Oliver issue once more with feeling. ^_^ I have been a little harried, so it may have a few mistakes in it. Suggestion of prior non-con. Thanks to Coffee for the feedback.
...
Draco was in the midst of licking tandoori from his thumb when he heard the front door slam. Well, then. Potter had walked home. Draco could feel himself smiling softly, but he wasn’t particularly inclined to stop it tonight. “In here, Harry.”
There was no verbal answer, but Draco heard loud thunks as Harry kicked off his shoes against the foyer wall. Bad day, it seemed. No matter; Draco had stopped in at the corner restaurant – hole in the wall, really – and charmed his way into possession of the last of Harry’s favorite Indian dish. Never mind that he’d had to forgo his vegetable samosas to get it. He could do with a bit of tandoori tonight as well.
Harry’s footsteps echoed up the hall to the kitchen door – and went right on past it toward the bedroom. Draco frowned momentarily, then shrugged and picked up the two plates. Drat, he’d put his thumb in the sauce again. He’d have to lick that off later. Or have Harry do it.
“Harry! Tandoori. Come on, I’m hungry.”
The bedroom door opened again. A moment later Harry entered the kitchen, barefoot. Draco held out the nearest plate, and Harry snatched it from his grasp and strode to the table, leaving him standing in the middle of the cramped room, blinking.
“Bad day?” he ventured, moving to the chair across from his lover.
Harry stabbed at his chicken with a fork. “Could say that,” he muttered tersely.
Draco savored the lingering spices on his tongue. “What happened?”
“Well. Why don’t you take a shot at answering that question?” Harry snapped.
Draco stopped mid-chew and lowered his fork. Harry was not looking at him, but he might as well have been. The room felt suddenly larger than it had before. Draco took a slow breath, reorganizing his thoughts to deal with the revelation that Harry’s anger was not just a passing fury, but directed at him. For some reason. “I would… if I had any idea what was going on,” he said carefully.
Harry did look at him then. He put his fork down on the side of his plate, wiped his mouth calmly with his napkin, and looked at him. Draco looked back, still at a loss. He hadn’t even seen Harry once today at work. They’d had no lunch date, and they’d left the house together that morning, in good spirits. He had absolutely no idea what he’d done.
“I went out to lunch today. Alone. Do you know why?”
In spite of himself, Draco quirked an eyebrow. “I’m sure I have no idea why, Harry.”
Emerald eyes continued to pierce into him. “I actually asked someone to come with me, but he quite blatantly turned me down. And then he avoided me for the rest of the day, even though we were only an office or two apart.” Harry sat forward. “Draco. Do you happen to know why Oliver Wood might be refusing lunch with me?”
Draco bristled at the mere mention of Wood’s name, but successfully kept it from showing on his face. “What are you talking about?”
Harry’s hand found his fork again and clenched around it. “You’re not even going to admit to it, are you? Fuck, Draco, I thought we were over this. A long time ago!”
Draco frowned. Gritted his teeth. “Over what, exactly, Harry?”
“Oliver seemed to have the impression” – Harry was seething now —“that you might not appreciate me being around him. Maybe you’d like to explain why you find it necessary to warn my friends off of me now!”
It took him a moment to process Harry’s words. Then a cold sliver threaded its way into his gut. “I… what—”
Harry’s hand slashed through the air, cutting him off. “Did you say anything to him, Draco? Yes or no?”
That cold sliver edged over the rim into guilt, uncomfortable and hollow. Draco closed his eyes. Rubbed the bridge of his nose. “That wasn’t… Harry, that wasn’t what I intended. I swear.”
“Draco—” Harry sat back. He’d gone white around the lips. “What did you intend then? I didn’t know you had an issue with which friends I spend time with!”
“It wasn’t about that!” As soon as he’d spoken, Draco snapped his mouth shut and considered just clamming up. Letting Harry stew in his own juices for a while. Who cared if Harry thought him a possessive fool? It wasn’t the truth; this was all, all wrong, but suddenly, devastatingly, the whole of it seemed far too complicated to explain all at once, especially if Harry insisted on jumping to his own conclusions and exploding again before he could finish. “It wasn’t anything like that.”
“Then what was it about, Draco, because I think that there has been some serious miscommun—”
“Harry!” he cried, and the other man fell silent. Draco took a deep, shuddery breath. “I’m going to explain. Alright? Just… let me explain before you…” He gestured helplessly.
The silence in the kitchen was so charged, Draco fully expected Harry to skip right over the build up and move on to the exploding. But finally, his lover nodded and slumped back in his chair, watching him.
And now… well, Draco had no idea where to begin.
“He was interested in you, Harry,” he finally said in a rush. “Wood— Oliver was interested in you. He told me as much a few weeks ago.”
Confusion settled over Harry’s face, edging out the anger. “What are you talking about?”
“You heard me,” he snapped. Took a deep breath. Anger wasn’t where he needed to be right now either. He stared at his cooling plate of tandoori and wondered how things had gone so pear-shaped so quickly. “He practically fucking asked me how he should go about asking you out. What was I supposed to do?”
“I…” Harry’s expression whirled from the confusion back into anger, then to a blank, stunned look. “At the club? Was that why you were…” He dropped his head into his hands with a small moan, and then snapped it back up to look at Draco. “Why didn’t you say something to me? Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Harry… I couldn’t— Gods, I don’t know! You seemed so happy. To see him again, and he always seemed to catch me at my worst… And then it just sounded foolish, even to me, and yes, it sounded possessive, alright? Bloody hell. And I didn’t tell you! Alright?”
“Draco, how could you—”
“Oh, spare me the accusations about why I confronted him, Harry!” Draco glared at the man sitting across from him. “I don’t have any answer that you’ll like anyway, so just leave it. You liked being around him, I could see it from the day he first arrived, and he’s a charming bloke, and it just didn’t seem so farfetched then, especially when he fucking told me he was planning on seducing you!”
Harry was quiet for a moment. Then he spoke slowly, in a measured voice, “I was going to ask how you could think I’d ever leave you for Oliver, Draco.”
Draco’s mouth dried. He stared at Harry until it was impossible to do so any longer, and then looked down at the table. A hand crept into his vision, inching across the surface to touch his. Draco resisted the urge to snatch his own hand away. He was no coward; he would not let himself behave like a child.
“Harry, I wasn’t trying to break up your friendship. That never crossed my mind. I just…” But there was nowhere to go now, except into a place he desperately did not want to go. Draco could only shrug weakly.
“Why, Draco?” Harry repeated in the same soft voice. A concern that had not been there before lent a fullness to the words. “Have I ever made you think I wasn’t happy with you?”
Draco shook his head miserably. “No, Harry, no, it’s— not you. It’s nothing you did. I… I can’t explain it.”
“You can’t, or you won’t?”
“I can’t,” Draco retorted irritably. The look on Harry’s face grew even more troubled. He sought Draco’s fingers.
“Draco, tell me. Please. Did I ever do anything around Oliver that—”
“Fuck, Harry, no! Why can’t you just accept that it’s my problem?”
“Because I didn’t think you had any problems!” Harry licked his lips worriedly. Swallowed. “I didn’t think we had any problems, but obviously something’s going on!”
Draco stood up, jerking his hand away from Harry’s. “I don’t want to discuss it tonight. Suffice it to say it’s not you.”
Harry followed him up out of his seat, and then out into the hall behind him. “That’s not enough. What could possibly make you so insecure in our relationship? Draco, you can’t just put this off, this needs to be dealt with.”
“No, it really doesn’t, Harry. It’s resided just fine where it is for years. I’m tired, and I want to slee— no, I want to fulfill our requirement for the day and then sleep, because I’m too fucking tired.”
“Fuck our daily requirement, Draco, tell me what’s the matter!” Harry came down the hall after him, footsteps an uneasy rush behind. “I’m not going to go to bed with this hanging over us. It’s…”
His footsteps faltered. A hand grabbed Draco’s arm just as he made it into the bedroom. Harry spun him around and glared at him. “What do you mean, years? Draco, for Merlin’s sake, tell me—”
Draco snapped before he could stop himself. “Excuse me for having my own, personal issues with our relationship! I’m so sorry I’m not perfectly at ease with myself anymore, Potter. Things happen! Don’t you think I wish I could just believe I’m still good enough for—”
It was the widening of Harry’s eyes that silenced him. Draco caught his breath – couldn’t breathe – as what he’d just said came back to him. He turned away from Harry, concentrating on the wall behind him. On the sound of Harry’s rapid breathing.
Fuck.
“Draco,” Harry whispered. More of an exhalation. “What?”
“Nothing,” he muttered. “Never mind.”
Harry’s face spasmed frighteningly into something haunted. “You think— that you’re damaged?” And very quietly— “Damaged goods, Draco?”
Not tonight. Gods, not tonight; he couldn’t deal with this as well. “Stop. Harry. Just stop.”
His lover stared at him, still breathing hard. The concern, the fucking pity – was it really pity? – in his eyes made Draco want to break something. He jerked a hand through his hair and turned away, walking across the room. “And don’t look at me like that.”
Harry didn’t answer. But he did approach, on slow, cautious feet. One hand came out and touched his arm. Draco shivered uncontrollably and hated himself for it. He grabbed Harry’s hand to stifle the words he could practically feel forming in the air between them. “Come on, Harry.”
Harry allowed himself to be pulled down onto the bed, but the minute Draco pressed against him, kissed his lips, he stiffened and shifted back. “Wait, Draco.”
Draco ignored him, feeling for Harry’s shirt buttons with one hand, tilting Harry’s head for a deeper kiss with the other. Harry’s mouth opened under his sluggishly, and for a moment, he returned the fervent slide of his tongue. Then he pulled away. “Draco, stop. We’re not just going to—”
Draco let out a harsh groan. “Harry, can’t you just give me what I need tonight and stop finding reasons for it?”
Harry blinked at him. His expression darkened. “No, it isn’t going to happen like this, Draco. This isn’t what you need tonight.”
“Harry…” He sighed, bent and sucked lightly at Harry’s throat. “Just drop it. Let me be the judge of what I need. I need this, I need you. I don’t need to talk, and I don’t want to talk. I just want you. Alright? Can’t you accept that and just do it because it needs to be done?” he whispered. “Please.”
Harry’s eyes swam in too many emotions to count. He stared at Draco mutely, and Draco could feel him breathing, chest expanding and contracting against his. So many words there. Lurking, unspoken. Draco held his own breath and waited for Harry to let them all roll out.
But Harry only gave a single, tense nod. His eyes dropped, and then he was guiding Draco toward him, into a kiss. Draco’s relief made him lightheaded. He scrabbled for Harry’s trousers, then gave up and unbuttoned his own. But Harry’s hands closed around his and pulled them away.
“What?” Draco breathed.
Harry shook his head and eased him down on his back, meeting his lips in another probing kiss. Draco hesitated, then kissed him back, letting him take charge of it, and went back to his trousers again, but Harry only pulled him away once more. He cupped his hands around Draco’s and squeezed. Broke the kiss to look at him intently.
“Draco. I never have sex with you because it ‘needs to be done.’”
Draco stared into Harry’s eyes and saw the questions and demands waiting below the surface, but knew that they would not be spoken tonight.
There would also be sex tonight, he saw, but not for some time. Not until Harry was good and ready.
“Alright?” Harry whispered against his lips.
Draco felt himself shudder. Felt Harry’s fingers ease through his hair to cradle his head. Felt Harry roll him gently closer, until he was pressed all along a firm, warm body. “Harry…” he murmured.
Harry nodded. “Alright.” And sank back into the kiss.
Draco went with him.
~fin~