Entry tags:

2008, character: charlie weasley, character: draco malfoy, fic, pairing: charlie/draco

Fic: Good Breeding (2/4) (Charlie/Draco, NC-17) for lilyseyes
Author: joanwilder
Recipient: lilyseyes
Title: Good Breeding
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Charlie/Draco, Surprise/spoiler pairing—highlight to see* Harry/Snape*
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters engaging in sexual activity are 16 years or older.
Summary: A year after the war, the Ministry takes steps to reverse the dwindling pureblood population by enacting the Pureblood Marriage Law. A year later, they introduce the Male/Male Pregnancy Program. No one is exempt.
Warnings: Highlight to see: * forced magical bonding, semi-public sex, rimming, mpreg (not detailed or graphic)*
Word Count: 31,000
Author's Notes: I've incorporated four of your six kinks, lilyseyes. Although the mpreg is not graphic or detailed, it's a significant part of the story. I want you to know I thought of you the entire time I was writing. Hope this tickles your fancy. Thanks to my partner-in-crime beta reader; what would I do without you?

Good Breeding


°°°°°°Part Two°°°°°°


Draco knew he didn't have much time. He leant closer to the mirror and squinted. Using the tip of his wand, he drew it along his face, murmuring the words of a healing spell. He watched as the blue along his jaw line faded and the puffiness under an eye flattened to near normal. He turned his face from left to right, eyeing himself critically. Good enough.

Stripping off his Ministry robes, he changed into jeans, wincing when he cinched them up tight. He'd already done what he could for his sore arse, and since it wasn't an area of his anatomy that he'd be baring for at least a few days yet, he didn't waste any time on cosmetics.

He was still angry, though; he should've known that his 'keepers' might react to his newlywed status with a celebratory fuck. He'd believed that the reason they'd not 'sexually experimented' in so long was because the novelty had worn off, but today they must've known there might not be many more chances. Even so, Draco'd learnt long ago that this was one time in his life that fighting only made matters worse. Infinitely worse. Death Eaters paled in comparison to Unspeakables-gone-wrong.

Well, not all of them. Some of them were decent enough. But others…Draco was convinced that they'd mutated into something subhuman…or superhuman. The net effect was the same.

He shuddered, then told himself that it wouldn't be for much longer; he'd find something else, he was certain of it. At least, he hoped he would…. Truth be told, he had no idea where to even begin to look.

The clock on the church down the street began to chime the hour, and Draco used his wand to work the wrinkles out of his clothes, and had just tied his shoes when the knock at the door came.

He froze for an instant, forcefully reminding himself that he wasn't about to face an enemy, and to adjust his expression to reflect that fact. He wasn't exactly certain what Charlie was right now, but he certainly didn't qualify as an enemy.

He threw the door open decisively and then had to struggle not to slam it.

"What's he doing here?" he asked tonelessly, looking at Harry.

Harry placed the flat of his hand against the door to keep it open. "Listen. I had an idea, and I knew you'd never go for it on Charlie's word alone. So, Charlie agreed to let me come."

Draco wondered if he'd managed to hide all the bruises, because Harry was looking at him strangely. He worried what the man's reaction to his flat would be, then was suddenly overcome by weariness—the weariness that comes when one knows that the game is all but over anyway.

He motioned them back into the hallway, then stepped out after them and closed the door. Crossing his arms in front of him, he nodded to Charlie. "You tell me."

Charlie looked hesitantly at Harry, who nodded slightly, then turned back to Draco. "I got a job at the Ministry; money's good, dragon-related, so that's all set. I did stop to see a few people about one for you, but…"

"I can't work at the Ministry in any case. It's forbidden," Draco bit out. "I'm an undesirable."

"I knew that." Charlie seemed to realize what he'd said, and was quick to clarify, "I mean about the Ministry. No, I looked up some friends who work in the Alley." He looked down at his feet. "Nothing for now…maybe later."

"Yeah, when they see I don't slit your throat while you're sleeping," Draco said snidely.

Harry sighed heavily. "This is going nowhere. Would you just tell him? Or honest to god, I will."

Charlie smiled slightly at Harry. "Sorry." He turned to Draco again. "Harry's offered to let us stay at Grimmauld Place. He's got plenty of room, Kreacher takes care of the house, and Harry's not there all that much."

"Some weeks I'm not there at all, others about half the time."

"Grimmauld," Draco said slowly, remembering the old house from childhood visits. "Why would you?" he asked Harry with a frown. "I can understand Charlie, but me?" He shook his head. "Doesn't figure."

Harry stared at him, seeming almost hostile. "Because Charlie's family, and now it seems that you are too. Hard as that is to believe."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Draco said softly, wondering why Charlie looked so miserable, then realized there must be more.

"There's something else, isn't there?" he demanded.

Charlie's eyes slid up to meet his. "Promise me you'll stop and consider it—not just reject it out of hand."

He'd been right, Draco thought smugly. "All right, I'll consider it. Can we please finish this up? I've not had supper yet."

Harry glanced from one to the other, then seemed to come to a decision. "I have a position for you, one that will earn you and Charlie room and board."

Draco stiffened. "Doing what? Aren't you writing books? And backing Snape's shops?"

"I am, but this is something different. It's been a while that I've known the three libraries at Grimmauld need an archivist. They've been neglected for decades. I suppose I could hire someone to do it, but don't like the idea of having a stranger there all that time when I'm not."

Draco's mind raced. "Archiving. I did that for my father. But there's only one library at Grimmauld," he said, puzzled.

"No," Harry shook his head, "there're three. One off the master bedchamber—mostly private volumes, many of them Muggle, and then an attic one in wizard space, only recently found by…someone I had appraising the place."

"You're going to sell?" Draco asked.

"Not really, just curious what it's worth. But back to the libraries. I have some how-to resources on private archiving, and some Ministry guides on what's not allowable. It'll be a huge undertaking. A single person—months, at least, probably longer." He shoved his hands in his pockets, then nodded at Draco. "So, living there wouldn't be charity; you'd be earning both your keeps, with a very small stipend for yourself in addition."

"That way we could bank my earnings," Charlie finally spoke up. "Not too far down the line, we might want a nicer place of our own, and seeing how you finding anything else right now…" He didn't finish, his face flushing.

It was tempting, Draco had to admit. Compared to his present nightmare at the Ministry, he knew he should jump at the chance. And archiving…he'd always enjoyed the hours he'd spent in the library at the Manor, how rewarding it'd been to catalog and organize, decide when and what to buy, who and where to sell, all subject to his father's approval, of course.

He felt his heart beat a bit faster. So much had changed this past week…and so much more was about to change. But…this was still Harry Potter, and Draco didn't know if he had it in him to bend quite so far, even to escape his horrific circumstances. He looked up almost sadly at Charlie, and was about to open his mouth when Harry held up his hand.

"One more thing." Harry took a step forward, easing himself in so that he blocked Draco's view of Charlie. "So far as you and Charlie, it seems like he's the one who'll be carrying the two of you. I remember how you always liked to show what a man you were. Must be hard, not being able to pull your own weight, hmm? So, here's your chance. We both know I wouldn't offer if it were only you. You're the lucky one here, not Charlie." He leant in so close that Draco felt his breath on his face. "But don't throw it away because of things that happened between you and me. It's you and Charlie that're important now. Surprise me, and be a man," he challenged softly, holding Draco's eyes as he took a step backward.

Draco was speechless. Of all the self-centered, conceited, patronizing…

He swallowed once, hard. As much as he hated to admit it, Harry was right about most of it, except for the part about Charlie not being lucky. Charlie'd looked at what he might do to improve his situation, then had made his own luck. Unlike Draco, who'd sat on the floor, waiting for the next nail in his coffin.

Stepping back, Draco looked at Charlie's face. Freckled and tan, brown eyes resigned, but…warm. Swallowing again, Draco nodded once.

°°°°°°°°

He thought he might save a bit of his dignity by taking them up on their offer to return for him the next evening, to allow him time to pack, and even started to turn to the door, then decided it was such a moot point anyway…preserving his dignity.

"No, wait. I'll be ready in a few minutes. If you don't mind…"

They'd waited outside the building, leaning against a tree; Draco knew because he'd furtively parted the curtain to look down at them. Harry was talking earnestly to Charlie, who seemed to be listening, with his eyes downcast.

In ten minutes' time (five of them spent at the window), Draco was out on the street, suffering through another Side-Along Apparition, as he didn't precisely recall Grimmauld Place's location.

Dinner was a quiet affair with just the three of them, the house-elf shooting him wary looks as he served each course. Afterward, there was a short tour of the house, mostly to acquaint Draco with the libraries. The one on the ground floor was the largest of the three by far, but not quite as gloomy and forbidding as Draco remembered it.

They ended on the upper floor, where Harry turned to them.

"There are four bedchambers—mine's at the far end. Pick whichever you want. The ones on attic level haven't been…neutralized yet, so steer clear of those." With a nod, he set off down the stairs to the ground floor again.

°°°°°°°°

They chose the room farthest from Harry's, which happened to be the largest as well. As Draco unpacked his few belongings into the wardrobe, Charlie sat on the windowsill and watched him.

"Listen," he said suddenly, making Draco turn warily, "for what it's worth. I didn't ask him for anything."

Draco made a face. "Well, you know Potter. Always riding in on his white horse."

"Yeah, that's Harry." He paused for a moment, then stood to open the window wider. "But I think it was more that he…"

When he didn't finish, Draco asked, "That he what?"

"More that he could put himself in our shoes. And imagine what it'd feel like, you know, to be forced."

Throwing his duffel to the side, Draco shook his head. "They'd never do it to Potter."

"You're probably right, but he'd still think about it."

Draco'd had plenty of time to wonder about Potter, and the fact that the most sought after bachelor in wizardom was apparently unattached. He'd read it all in the Prophet. That wasn't all he wondered about, though, but these were things he'd never admit to anyone.

"I'm taking a shower," he mumbled as he picked out the cleanest set of boxers, then with a nod to Charlie, headed down the hallway.

°°°°°°°°

"You're all right with this, then?" Charlie asked when Draco returned. He was already on the left side of the bed, propped against the headboard, reading a slim leather-bound book.

Noting that the light was low in the room, Draco pulled his tee shirt over his head and dropped in his boxers on the other side of the bed. "Yeah, it's all right," he said. "Makes sense what you said. Best get used to it before Monday." Lifting the sheet, he slid into the bed, staying on the very edge of it.

"Draco…" Charlie said as he closed his book, keeping his place with a finger. "Harry popped back up—he's already sent an owl to the Ministry to let them know you're gainfully employed. So, you're through there. How about that?"

He managed to mumble, "Didn't waste any time," just as his heart began to pound in his ears. "S'good," was all that he said, as he rolled to his side away from Charlie.

The realization struck him hard. He bit his lip, and fought the inner swell of emotion. I never have to go back again.

Never again. Never again. Never again, he thought over and over as his eyes stung and his chest heaved. He could suddenly see his face in the mirror of the wardrobe door, and hoped that the dim light would make it indecipherable to Charlie, because it was all he could do to control himself.

He was grateful, and the list of what he was grateful for almost overwhelmed him. Rolling back over, he lay on his side, one arm under his pillow, then stretched his leg out and nudged Charlie with his foot, provoking a look of surprise.

"I…I…." He wanted to thank him for looking at the damn list and picking him off of it; he wanted to thank him for getting him through those uncomfortable days at the Burrow, for rescuing him from Snape, for acting like getting married to him wasn't the end of the world. He wanted to tell him…to thank him for rescuing him from that hell-hole in the wall…and he had absolutely no words to explain what not having to return to the Department of Mysteries meant to him.

So, he met Charlie's eyes, knowing the man couldn't understand it all. The best Draco could do at the moment was blink rapidly and manage a husky, "Thanks."

Charlie looked at him for a moment, then slowly nodded. Setting the book aside, he muttered, "Nox." The bed shifted, then a warm muscular body pressed close to Draco, gentle hands helping him turn, so that Charlie lay with his chest to Draco's back. For a moment, Draco couldn't breathe, until a warm breath at his neck murmured, "Relax."

Relax. Draco tried to obey, startling when Charlie's hand rested on his hip; it stayed there, a warm, comforting weight that made Draco relax even more.

They lay still, listening to the creaking of the old house as it cooled from the heat of the day, along with the undercurrent of Harry's voice as he talked with Kreacher on the floor below.

Draco's eyes were almost shut when Charlie whispered, "You're safe now."

And with those words, Draco was able to identify the alien feeling: safe, for the first time in years.

°°°°°°°°

When Draco awakened, there was a moment when he didn't remember where he was. Daylight was filtering into the room from the window behind him, a soft yellow light that held no heat as of yet. He was so relaxed that he knew he'd fall back to sleep again if he closed his eyes and refused to think. Then he realized that part of the reason he felt so relaxed was that Charlie was running his fingers gently along his shoulders, across the muscles of his back, over and over in a soothing motion.

He felt the bed shift as Charlie moved slightly away from him, then the sheet was slowly pulled down from his waist, over his hip, then stopped to rest on his thigh. The fingertips grazed over his shoulder again, pausing here and there to rub at a spot, then drifted lower, stopping on their descent to prod and push at his spine. When they did the same on his uncovered hip, Draco realized what Charlie was doing. He couldn't help but tense when he felt Charlie sit up in the bed behind him.

"I know you're awake. Roll over, please."

Fuck.

Draco sighed and rolled over. Charlie reached out with a hand, then seemed to catch himself, and froze in midair. After their eyes locked, Charlie gently brushed the hair from Draco's face, then drew his hand back.

"We have some hard times ahead; if we're going to get through them, we have to decide now not to lie to each other. If you don't want to talk about the past, that's fine. But from now on…" He reached out again and lightly touched Draco's collarbone. "All these marks…they look fresh. You didn't have them at the Burrow."

It wasn't as if he could deny they were there; Charlie'd seem them all…well, most of them. "No…well…I didn't…have them then," he admitted softly.

Charlie's face was like a stone. "So, since we were married…."

"Yeah, so?" Draco tried for mild belligerence, but knew he'd failed when he saw the spark of comprehension in Charlie's eyes, just before they softened.

"Draco."

Draco tried to roll away, knowing he'd not get away with it, and wasn't surprised when Charlie reached out and stopped him, this time keeping his hand on Draco's shoulder, thumbing gently over the bruise there. "They did this to you at work, didn't they?" His eyes hardened. "No lies, remember."

Looking at Charlie's chest—anywhere but his eyes—Draco answered shortly, "Yeah, Thursday…and yesterday."

Charlie hesitated. "I know you said you're not supposed to talk…"

Draco closed his eyes as he felt Charlie kick away the sheet entirely, and kept them closed as the fingers found and traced every one of the bruises, as if committing them to memory. Draco remembered them all too; they were dotted over his ribs, his hips, his thighs. He'd healed the ones on his neck, anything that would show outside of his clothes….

The darkness in Charlie's voice made Draco's eyes fly open. "This wasn't work, was it? It was at work, but this was something else?" Charlie twisted in the bed so that he could sit back on his heels. "What else did they do? Draco?" he asked insistently.

When he tried to roll away again, Charlie reached out and stopped him, this time none too gently. "Tell me," he growled. "I have a right to know."

Draco laughed bitterly as he sat up suddenly on the edge of the bed, his back to Charlie. "What right? You think because you have a piece of paper that's three days old, you have a right? Where were you—where was anyone, come to think of it, for the months and months that…this went on?" He turned to look at Charlie. "In the beginning I fought, but then I learned…better to let them have me and have it over with." He lay back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. "They got tired of it after a while…mostly. This time…it was because they figured I'd be leaving soon."

There was silence for a long moment, then Charlie said flatly, "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

"In a way, this last time was."

Turning his head, Draco said, "No, it wasn't. And you've got to promise me you'll let it alone."

Charlie shook his head. "They can't get away with this."

As he came up on his elbow, Draco told him emphatically, "They can and they will! Don’t you understand, I don't ever want to go back there again. There'd be an inquiry, and they'd make me…. No, it's over—what's done is done and I'm not going back."

Sitting quietly for a moment, scrutinizing Draco, Charlie then got up, sliding backwards off the bed. He looked angry as he pulled on his jeans and shirt from the day before. "All right. It's your call. But there's something you don't understand. We're responsible for each other now. So I can't just let it slide and do nothing. At the least, I'm telling my father."

Draco opened his mouth to protest.

"Do you want them to get away with doing this to someone else?"

"I don't care," Draco said wearily.

Buckling his belt, Charlie shot him a scathing look. "Well, I do. I promise you won't get dragged into it, but I'll do what I have to do."

Draco reached down and pulled the sheet up, then rolled away from him as he shut his eyes. "Fine. Just don't tell me about it."

Charlie was at the door, when Draco decided to use the momentum of the moment and say what he'd wanted to say from the outset. "Just want to say, this pregnancy thing…."

Turning back to Draco, his hand on the latch, Charlie waited.

"It's not going to be me."

Seeming surprised, Charlie leant against the door. "We haven't even had sex yet. Why don't we wait a while and then decide—"

"Which one'll be the freak? What's the matter with you? Why aren't you as outraged as I am?"

Charlie crossed his arms. "The difference between you and me is that I've always been…pragmatic. I don't want to be banned or put in prison, not able to see my family. The war made me understand how important that is. I would've thought you'd learnt that as well."

"Yeah, my father's dead and my mother's as good as," Draco said bitterly. "If you're so damn practical, then you can do the pregnancy bit."
"It's been a long week, we don't have to decide that now. Besides, I'm not so sure that that you'll even be up for sex on Monday. Considering."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Well, stop considering, I'll do my part, come Monday. But I've said my piece on the other, just so you know."

°°°°°°°°

That day, they went in to Diagon Alley together, armed with a list of supplies that Draco would need to start out in the libraries, as well as an advance on his stipend to augment his wardrobe with something casual. For the latter, Charlie finally convinced Draco that he'd do better in Muggle London.

Well after lunch, they returned and for the remainder of the day. Draco worked to clear the clutter from the large desk in the main library, having been given permission from Harry to pitch what he saw fit.

In the evening, he was lured out to a Muggle bar by Charlie and Harry. Sitting in the corner, listening to the two of them talk, it suddenly occurred to Draco that he could've refused to come. But what else would he've done? He certainly didn't want to show his face on his own in a wizarding bar….

At Sunday breakfast, Draco looked from Charlie to Harry, and then back again. "But why? We were just there…Thursday?"

Charlie and Harry exchanged looks.

"Ah. True," Charlie said. "But Sunday afternoon and supper—Mum won't take no for an answer."

"Come to think of it, she never really asks," Harry pointed out, amused.

"Also true. But unless you're out of the country, it's expected." Charlie's smiled faded as he considered Draco. "You know, you don't have to come. Our circumstances aren't like the rest of the family's. They'll understand."

Suddenly, by the silence that fell, and the curious looks on both their faces, Draco sensed this was some sort of test, and inexplicably he felt an intense longing to pass it. Within limits, of course.

He shrugged, then said, "I'll go. Nothing pressing here. Books have been waiting for years, so…."

Harry smiled, then warned, "You'll be drafted for Seeker. They're a rough lot—"

"No," Charlie said as he put his hand up to stop him. "We'll be sitting this one out. I love my brothers, but I don't trust them just yet." He caught Draco's eyes as he finished.

°°°°°°°°

It was one of the most idyllic afternoons of Draco's life. No awkwardness this time, except for a few curious stares from Ron, who quickly hid it when caught. Well, who could blame him? Although Draco secretly enjoyed that he could still make the man blush.

Draco was treated to the same greeting routine as everyone else when they arrived, almost squeezed to death by Molly Weasley, then his arm nearly shook from its socket by her husband.

And by the time they were ready to leave that evening, although Draco was still bemused by the sheer number that made up the family (he wasn't exactly sure they all were family), he found that he was no longer on edge, waiting for the snide remark or glance of judgment, both of which failed to come.

He braced himself, though, when at the end of the evening, Molly pulled him to one side, expecting a lecture on the yet to occur consummation. He was surprised when, instead, she pressed a small box of chocolates into his hands, telling him they'd been a gift at May Day and she certainly shouldn't be eating them, and since he'd mentioned he was fond of chocolates….

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley. Very nice of you," he said awkwardly.

The woman smiled. "Molly."

Draco swallowed. His pride, he realized. "Molly."

°°°°°°°°

Of all the things that Draco'd thought he might one day end up doing, archiving was never one of them. But despite this, he was fascinated by the books. There were thousands of them between the three libraries. He spent his entire day on Monday walking from one to the next, carrying his ledger. For the first several weeks, he more than likely wouldn't touch the books at all, as the first part of the project would be to inventory and assign each book to its appropriate category. This was accomplished with a spell that required that he simply touch the spine of a book, then tap the ledger for the volume's identifying information to be recorded there.

He was amazed by the variety of books. The official library on the ground floor held the most and 'safest' books: typical works on magical subjects that any wizarding library would contain. There were books on history, politics, spells and potions, transfiguration, warding strategy, prophecy and even a few books on divination and astronomy. Then there were volumes that were one of a kind, biographies and auto-biographies, treatises on wizarding philosophy and sociology, many of them pureblood propaganda. The latter, Draco recognized from his family library.

The two smaller libraries were the more interesting. He was surprised to discover that Harry didn't occupy the master bedroom, and wondered if that was because Draco would need access to it. This was the library that was mostly Muggle, and it was a stunning collection of fiction and non-fiction, along with a smattering of wizarding fiction, for some reason a rare genre in wizardom. There were graphic novels with pictures, and self-help books, along with travelogues and literary anthologies. Draco selected a few volumes to take downstairs with him, ones he thought he might like to read on his own.

The attic library looked deceptively normal. It was wizard space, so Draco's head spun slightly when he first entered, but then the feeling passed. Smaller than the other two, the shelves were so dusty that he knew he'd have to clean before even an inventory could be done. He blew the cobwebs and dust away from a shelf, and his eyes widened at the titles he saw there. Definitely Dark Arts books, and no doubt there would be volumes here that were forbidden to private collectors. He realized he'd have to consult with the owner of the house on how he wanted to handle those.

When it was time for supper, it was only then that he realized that the day had flown by. And for the first time in a long time, he had that feeling of looking forward to something. He couldn't even remember the last time….

He was headed for the kitchen when he heard voices coming from the library. Slowing his steps, he treaded silently and close to the wall for the last few feet. Almost to the door, he identified the voices as Charlie and Harry. Knowing he shouldn't, but certain he would, Draco drew as close as he dared, and flattened himself against the wall to listen.

"…and I don't think I'd be able to forget that, I guess," Harry said.

There was silence for a moment. "Well, I'm willing to try. You know what his father was like—how would he even know how to think for himself, coming up that way? He never had a chance," Charlie replied

Draco felt the heat rise in his face.

"I'm not sure I buy that; there's a point where you're old enough to think for yourself."

"Respectfully, Harry, how do you know that? Look, you know what I told him when he asked me why?"

There was a low response that Draco couldn't hear.

"I told him we both know how important family is. I wish you could've seen his face. Like I'd gut-punched him." Another moment of silence. "See, if we'd been switched, and he'd been in my family and I'd been in his, I don't know. It might've made all the difference."

"Maybe, maybe not." Harry still sounded doubtful.

"The point is, either one of us could've ended up like him. And if it'd been me, I'd hope someone would give me half a chance, throw me a lifeline."

"I hope you're right; you're a good man, Charlie. I think part of what you feel is pity."

"Maybe some of it, but remember, I was going to end up with someone. Better him than what else was there. And besides…and I swear, you laugh, you're dead. There was something—I don't know what it was—about his eyes. Something that told me he was the right one."

"Well, there you have it," Harry simply said.

There was rustling, as if they were standing, so Draco kept to the shadow of the wall and headed for the kitchen without looking back.

°°°°°°°°

Draco was quiet at dinner, and he knew that his silence would be misinterpreted. He caught Charlie looking at him worriedly, and finally said, "I'm fine, just…thinking about library stuff." Charlie didn't look convinced, but gave up trying to draw him into the conversation. After supper, when Charlie and Harry set off to sit in the square across the street, Draco begged off, saying he needed a shower to get rid of the attic dust.

What he needed was time to himself, time to think about what he'd heard that afternoon, and perhaps a bit of time to mentally prepare himself for that night.

He wasn't afraid, he hadn't been a virgin for years. And considering his sexual experiences since the end of the war, tonight would be child's play. What he dreaded most of all was the humiliation of being forced—not physically, of course—but by circumstance.

In all fairness, though, he wasn't the only one being forced. He thought of what Charlie'd said, of how he'd seen something in him and that he deserved a chance. Fighting a sudden urge to cry, Draco realized that Charlie had shown more care and consideration than his father ever had. Where had Lucius been his entire seventh year? What had he done when his son had been forced to do and submit to unspeakable things?

Standing in the shower, Draco relaxed and let the hot water unknot his stiff muscles. He prodded gingerly at the critical places and pronounced himself fit as he'd ever be.

°°°°°°°°

When Charlie was in for the night, and stepped into their room after his own shower, Draco suddenly felt shy. Perplexed by this emotion, he frowned for a moment until he identified the source of it: the fear of saying what he had to say before there was incredible awkwardness.

He watched as Charlie sat on the edge of the bed, then went to stand against the wall opposite him. "I've been thinking…"

Charlie leaned back on his hands. "All right."

"This is neither of our faults. So…why don't we just make the best of it?"
The brown eyes were warm. "What I hoped we'd do."

"So…what do you prefer? I mean, have you ever been fucked?"

Charlie smiled slightly. "A few times, but it's not my preference."

"Mine neither….but…"

Standing suddenly, so that there was only a foot between them, Charlie began to undress, pulling his shirt over his head and pushing his boxers down and kicking them away. Draco watched, admiring how graceful and muscular he was, and felt a stirring in his cock.

Sitting back on the bed, Charlie smiled up at him. "You're interested, I see. Come here."

Draco hesitated, but then took the step to stand in front of him. Charlie leant forward and rubbed his face over Draco's cock through his boxers.

He should hate this, Draco thought to himself, as he groaned and jutted his hips forward, bringing his hands up to Charlie's head, but he didn’t hate it at all. He felt a reflexive twitch in his arse as hands reached around and cupped his cheeks. When Charlie lifted his head, he also brought his hands to the elastic waistband and carefully slid the boxers down Draco's thighs, as Draco slipped his t-shirt over his head.


With a tug forward, Charlie pulled Draco so that he straddled his lap. They both gasped at the contact; Draco was so aroused that his cheeks were flaming red. He hesitantly buried his face in the crook of Charlie's neck while they rocked and rutted against each other.

Finally unable to bear it any longer, Draco pulled back, panting, his eyes taking in the flush of Charlie's face and the want in his eyes. "Fuck me," Draco murmured.

Charlie looked alarmed. "Wait, no, I think it should be you who—"

Draco shook his head, pushing at Charlie's shoulders with his hands, so they both fell to the bed. "No, I'm fine. Honestly, I am. Fuck me," he repeated, his mouth finding Charlie's.

There was an explosion of passion, just as there'd been at the ceremony, only this time they made hungry noises as they feasted on lips and mouths, ears and necks, their hands touching and prodding, starting and stopping, until Charlie rolled them both in the bed. He lay atop Draco, desire burning in his eyes. "Draco…"

Licking Charlie's lips once, Draco pulled back just enough to see his face. "Fuck me. It's been so long since I've wanted…the person who fucked me."

They rolled in the bed a few times, arousal heightening each time they pressed and ground their hips together. Charlie sat back, sitting atop Draco's hips, watching his face as his lubed his cock, then bent in to prepare his partner.

"Don't need much," Draco said, suddenly embarrassed, as he was reminded of why this was true.

"But I want to," Charlie said as he slid to Draco's side, leaving his hand in between Draco's legs. "I want to watch you," he breathed against Draco's ear as he pushed the first finger in.

Draco let his legs fall entirely open, and huffed out a breath. He relaxed, telling himself that it felt good, over and over, until suddenly it felt incredibly good, and he was pushing down on the insistent fingers. He rolled his head to the side and found Charlie watching him, his mouth half open. Draco lifted his head far enough to kiss him.

"Enough," Draco mumbled into his mouth. "Do it."

His legs were suddenly atop Charlie's shoulders, as Charlie settled in between his legs, his cock pressed to Draco's hole. As he leant in, he smiled, and the thought drifted through Draco's mind, how beautiful he was, with his hair framing his freckled and rugged face, now a rosy pink.

He was gentle, Draco realized gratefully, sliding in gradually, taking care to hold Draco's eyes and read any signs of distress as he penetrated him. "All right?" he asked breathily when he was balls-deep. When Draco only nodded, Charlie slid back and then forward in one fluid motion, stopping at the end of it to give Draco a chance to…

"Oh for fuck's sake, will you just fuck me?" Draco mumbled as he pushed forward forcefully with his hips. "I'm not a china doll, and you're driving me insane!" He rutted forward again, this time with the result that Charlie almost folded him in half before he began to pound into him, beat after beat, with no hesitation in between.

Draco sighed, as much as he was able, his lungs being short of air; he'd not felt so damned horny and aroused in years. He threw his head back, and grabbed for the rails of the headboard, and let Charlie ride him, rough and rhythmically, until the creaking bed was banging against the wall as they fucked back and forth. Draco had a passing thought for what Harry might be hearing, then smiled lazily at the thought. Poor sod, I finally have something he doesn't.

He couldn't help himself; the thought of Harry listening, and the stimulation of Charlie's belly against his cock had Draco spurting spunk up onto his chest. As he gasped out a long wheeze, his body stiffening, he felt Charlie accelerate and dig his fingers into the flesh at his shoulders. Draco was barely aware when he heard Charlie groan out a long, "Ahhhhhh," then felt the warmth spread through his arse.

When they both recovered at last, and were clean and clothed, Charlie apologized. "I didn't get to jerk you off, sorry."

Draco's eyes were heavy, but he kept them open long enough to watch Charlie's face as he told him, "I thought about Harry hearing us, and I was a goner."

Charlie laughed. "I'll remember that." He motioned with his hand for Draco to roll over, then pulled him back to his chest in the bed. At his ear he said, "You were incredible."

His throat constricted, and for a moment Draco couldn’t speak. When he finally did, all he said was, "So were you."


Part Three