What Can I Do? - Chapter 15: Return
Feb. 1st, 2015 12:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
create_serenityTitle: What Can I Do?
Rating: R/18
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters.
Warnings: H/D slash, very smutty
Author's Notes: I managed to get this chapter up a bit quicker :) Not long now before Draco recovers!
Chapter 1 here
Chapter 15: Return
“You’re an idiot, you know that right?”
Draco fought his way back up through the darkness and tried to open his eyes, only to squeeze them shut again when he finally managed it and found that the light was painfully bright.
“What’s going on?” he muttered, before memory came rushing back and he snapped his eyes open, trying to scramble to his feet. A firm hand stopped him and he was forced to subside more because a sudden wave of dizziness overtook him than because he was willing.
“You hit your head, Draco, you need to take this potion before you go anywhere.” A goblet was held out in front of him, Draco blinked and then managed to scowl up at Potter who was the one holding it.
“Fuck off, Potter, I don’t need your charity.”
There was a sigh and the potion goblet was put down. Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Please don’t you start, Draco,” he said, which was so completely not something Draco was expecting him to say that he just blinked stupidly for a moment.
“What?” he asked finally, when he found his voice again.
“Acting like I’m some wonderful person who always does the right thing and acts so selflessly all the time.”
Draco snorted, in spite of the pain in his head. “You’re not a wonderful person, Potter.”
“No, exactly, so don’t act like it,” he said shortly.
“I’m not acting like it.”
“Yes, you are, you’ve got some stupid idea in your head that I hate you and I’m only spending time with you because I feel sorry for you. Only a pretty selfless and wonderful person would do something like that.”
Draco tried to work that one out, but his head hurt too much, especially when he jerked his neck to try and stop Potter dabbing at his forehead with a wet cloth.
“Draco I need to clean the blood off you, I healed the cut but you need cleaning.”
“Tergeo.”
“What?”
“Honestly Potter call yourself an Auror? Tergeo. It’s the spell to clean up blood.”
“Oh right.” Potter took the hint and picked up his wand instead of the cloth, muttering the spell under his breath. At least the git could actually perform the thing properly. Draco could feel the blood being cleaned away.
“There, are you going to stop being stupid now?” Harry asked wryly, putting down his wand again and picking up the potion goblet instead.
“You told Weasley…” Draco began and then trailed off, realising he had just admitted to eavesdropping on a private conversation. When Harry simply sighed though he frowned and decided that obviously he didn’t care whether Potter knew he’d been eavesdropping. Why did he care about what Potter thought?
“I told Ron what?” said Harry shortly, and yet without any anger in his voice. “That you’re an insufferable prat? You know that, I tell you all the time.”
“I don’t care what you think about me, Potter,” Draco said stiffly, trying to sit up a little straighter and subject Potter to his best glare, “I’m not some charity case for you to look after and fawn over. I don’t need you putting yourself out for me.”
Harry gave a short laugh, though it was one without malice. “You really are mental, Draco,” he said, eyeing him as if this was merely a point of interest about him and not an insult. “You think I’d invite you to a Quidditch match if I hated you? We’ve just established I’m not perfect, and I’m certainly not so unselfish as to subject myself to a day of torture.”
Draco furrowed his brow, opened and shut his mouth and then simply looked at Potter with widened eyes.
“Look, Draco,” Harry caught his face gently between his hands and held his head in place even when Draco trembled slightly and tried to pull away. “Me feeling ever so slightly guilty? That gets you a place to stay and a house-elf to look after you. Me feeling sorry for you? That gets you a bit more. Me actually finding your company tolerable and not nearly so bad as I expected? That’s what gets you everything else. You are an insufferable git sometimes, but most of the time I can put up with that. I wouldn’t spend time with you if I didn’t want to. Like I said, I’m not the wonderful, giving person some people would set me up to be. Now are you going to stop being stupid and actually come with me to the match? I would like you to.”
Draco swallowed once and then again for good measure. Those words had been so sincere and so heartfelt that Draco thought for a moment he was going to cry. No one ever said they actually wanted to spend time with him like that before. No one actually wanted to make friends with him. The few he had were there simply because they had a shared past that bound them together and they found each other tolerable company, not because there was any great mutual affection between them. That Harry of all people, the boy whose life he taken every opportunity to make a misery, had suddenly decided he was worth bothering about made his heart feel like it would burst in his chest.
Eventually when he’d got himself a bit more under control he swallowed one last time and drawled, “Well, since you seem so eager for my company, who am I to deny it to you?” lifting his head so he could look disdainfully down at Harry, who was still kneeling at his feet like some sort of slave. A second later his expression faltered and his eyes widened because Harry had smiled at those words, and his smile had been like the sun.
“Good, now drink your potion,” he said after a minute of smiling and bathing Draco in a light he hadn’t realised actually existed before this moment. Draco did, because to refuse to do anything for a smile like that would actually have caused his own heart to break. Afterwards Harry put his shoes on for him and then stood up as Draco shuffled forwards to the edge of the chair.
Just for a moment Harry gazed down at him and automatically Draco tilted his head towards him and ran his tongue over his lips. It took him a split second to realise what he was doing and then he whipped his head around and tried to pretend he was very interested in checking that Harry had done his shoes up properly.
“I’ll get our coats,” Harry muttered and departed, leaving Draco to flop back in the chair and curse inwardly. Draco never asked for kisses, if he wanted to kiss someone he just did it, he did not tilt his head back like that and submit himself to another’s will. And what’s more, he absolutely did not want to kiss Harry Potter.
Merlin, he was going mad. It must have been the bang to the head he decided as he stood up and let Harry put his coat on.
Yes, that was definitely it. If it happened again, when Harry apparated them back from the Quidditch match and had to catch Draco when he stumbled then that must be the head injury too.
Draco slept in his own bed that night. He felt it was safer that way.
**************
Sunday passed pleasantly. Harry woke him up the next morning with breakfast and an insistence that he repeated the exercises from the day before, as well as some new ones that involved Draco swinging his arms around and reaching for the ceiling. The latter felt strange, since only really his shoulders reached for the ceiling, whilst his lower arms dangled uselessly down his back in a way Draco was sure he should have found humiliating, but which was made slightly less so by Harry’s amused smile. Why being laughed at by Harry made it better Draco couldn’t quite work out, but he supposed it was better than pity, which Draco found more demeaning than anything.
After that Harry did consent to showering him and dressing him and then, bizarrely insisted on dragging Draco out to a muggle market being held in the local park. Draco had no idea what the hell was going on for most of the morning, but Harry held his hand as if he might otherwise get lost, dragged him from stall to stall ogling things that Draco didn’t recognise and then finally bought and ate an ice cream in what Draco considered a completely unnecessary way.
The little episode resulted in Draco insisting Harry did exactly the same thing to his cock once they finally got home.
After that things settled down, Harry seemed content to read and play wizarding chess for the rest of the day, and by the time bedtime came around Draco had manage to convincingly beat him four games to one, something which he spent a good deal of time gloating about as Harry undressed him and shoved him onto the bed in revenge.
“You’re such a bad loser, Harry,” he grumbled, when he managed to turn himself over and start trying to work his way under the blankets.
“No,” said Harry, grabbing hold of them and pulling them up properly around Draco’s shoulders, “You’re just a bad winner.” He was grinning, so Draco just huffed at him and stuck his tongue out, wondering when he’d become quite so childish.
“Goodnight, Draco,” Harry said firmly before he could say anything else. The lights went out and the door clicked closer. Draco fell asleep feeing strangely content with life.
**************
The feeling of contentment stayed with him all the next day, and the next. That he was feeling happier than he had most of the time he wasn’t cursed was something that disturbed him slightly, but only enough that he kept well away from Harry’s bed and didn’t allow him anywhere near his cock. He had got used to not getting off everyday now so it wasn’t particularly hard to do and it helped that Harry was still insistent upon feeding him and making him do exercises and generally behaving like Draco was the single most important thing that had his attention right now.
For the first time Draco thought he knew what it was like to be the centre of someone’s world. The sheer intensity of the experience was almost dizzying.
Of course it couldn’t last.
On Wednesday morning, only two hours after Harry had left for work Draco heard the Floo activate and he padded into sitting room barefooted to see who had arrived. Harry was standing on the hearth looking harassed, though his mouth dropped open the second he saw Draco.
Draco grinned smugly, suspecting the reaction was something to do with his appearance. He had been hot so he had got Kreacher to roll up his sleeves and undo the top buttons on his shirt and then he had allowed the house-elf to cut his hair. It had taken a long time, with endless, slightly impatient instructions from Draco, but Harry had been right, the disaster that he called hair was not Kreacher’s fault. He’d done an extremely good job of Draco’s and now it hung properly again, barely grazing his eyes and making him look a whole lot better than he’d looked in weeks.
“What are you doing?” he asked, when it seemed Harry was simply going to continue staring with his mouth slightly agape.
Harry blinked. “You’ve cut your hair.”
“Full marks for observation Harry, now what are you doing home?” He paused and a sudden thought occurred, causing him to add, “Are you ill?” with slightly more concern evident in his voice than he’d intended.
That at least seemed to jerk Harry back to reality. He sighed and stated to make his way to the door, brushing past Draco and now apparently refusing to meet his eyes.
“I’ve got to go away again,” he said, in a tone that suggested to Draco he was trying to keep his voice as even as possible.
“Oh.” Draco couldn’t think what to say. He felt his heart thumping dully in his chest as his stomach lurched so hard he thought he might be sick. “When till?”
“Only till Friday.”
Harry was at the door now, he left the room, presumably to pack a suitcase, and Draco didn’t bother to follow him, instead he sank down into a chair and wished he could drop his head into his hands.
What the hell was he supposed to do without Harry for three days? And why did he even care?
“Look it really is only till Friday.” Harry was back, when Draco glanced over at him he was standing gripping his suitcase so tightly Draco was surprised the handle didn’t break. “You’ll be fine until then.”
“How do you know?”
Harry looked surprised at those words and if he was honest with himself Draco was equally surprised. Where the fuck had that come from?
“Draco,” said Harry warningly, though what he was warning him about Merlin only knew.
“Fine, Potter, whatever. Off you go. See you Friday.”
He was dismissing him again, and just like last time Harry sighed, shook his head and the next moment had disappeared through the Floo. The second he was gone Draco sank back into the chair and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, willing himself not to embarrass himself by crying. It was only till Friday. He could last until Friday. The fact that he was more bothered about going without Harry’s company than anything else only made him want to cry even more.
************
Draco didn’t know how long he’d been sat in front of the fire. The hours seemed to have blurred together until Draco wasn’t sure if it was one, or ten. He was hungry, but he’d refused Kreacher’s offer of lunch and Kreacher hadn’t yet tried to feed him dinner, so Draco supposed it was somewhere between the two meals. He really couldn’t be bothered to care.
The Floo flared. Draco blinked at it but didn’t stir. It was probably going to be Peterson, sent by Harry to check on him. It was unlikely he’d ask Ron to do it after what had happened on the Floo call.
“Stop sulking Draco it doesn’t suit you.”
“Harry!” Draco jumped to his feet and took one hopeful step towards Harry before he realised that actually the man had probably only returned because he’d forgotten something. He subsided, and knew his cheeks were colouring as he looked down at the floor.
“Don’t fucking look at me like that, Draco,” Harry said quietly, his tone determined. Draco heard the thud of something hitting the floor and then Harry was in front of him, so close Draco could practically feel the warmth coming from his body. “I came back ok?”
Draco said nothing. What the fuck was Potter on about now?
“I came back because I couldn’t bloody stand the way you looked at me when I left,” Harry’s voice sounded high and unnatural, like he was on the verge of laughing, or quite possibly crying. Draco looked up in confusion. “You know what that means, right? It means I’m the one who’s bloody mental here and you better be bloody grateful because I had to call in every favour Robins owes me to get me off that case when we’re so short staffed. But I did it and I came back so don’t you dare give me that fucking look, Draco.”
“What look? What are you on about Potter?” The man was right, he was mental. Draco quirked a questioning eyebrow at him.
“Don’t you bloody Potter me, Draco. My name’s Harry.”
“Fine, Harry,” Draco said, his voice heavy, “I don’t remember asking you not to go.”
“No, of course you didn’t, that’s the bloody problem isn’t it?” Harry ran his hand through his hair clearly frustrated. “Too proud to tell me you can’t stand the thought of spending three days alone so instead you just torture yourself for no reason when all you had to do was fucking ask me not to go.”
“You wouldn’t have stayed just because I asked you to,” Draco pointed out, his mind whirling at the thought of that possibility.
“Yes, I fucking would.”
There was an odd second where they stared into each other’s eyes, and then Harry was on him, kissing him frantically, shoving against him so hard that they tumbled down onto the couch even as Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s back and pulled him close.
“Fuck you, Draco Malfoy,” he mumbled between the kisses, before starting on Draco’s neck and licking and sucking a trail down the pale skin until he reached the shirt collar and settled for biting at whatever flesh he could reach.
“Fuck, Harry!” Draco gasped, wishing harder than he’d ever wished before that he could do something. Run his hands through Harry’s hair, or wrap his arms around him too, or just reach up and rip his Auror issue robes from his back so that he could access the skin beneath.
Almost as if he could read his mind, Harry sat up with a frustrated growl, tugged off his boots and then yanked off his robes before lying back down on top of Draco wearing only his trousers and a thin t-shirt. Immediately his hands were in Draco’s hair and his tongue was back in Draco’s mouth and Draco groaned into the kisses, not really caring hot they’d got to this point.
At some point Harry rolled them over so that Draco was on top and though he wasn’t sure how he’d got there, just as he wasn’t sure about a lot of things right now, Draco used the opportunity to sink his own teeth into Harry’s neck causing him to gasp and pant and buck his hips upwards into Draco’s. Draco grinned and repeated the action again and again as he felt Harry wriggling and squirming, trying to achieve goodness knows what with his wand.
A moment later he knew. There was a tearing sound and then cool, lubricated fingers slipping over his arsehole.
“What the fuck? Did you just tear my trousers, Harry?” he said, using his shoulders to flex himself up a little and stare down at Harry incredulously.
“I’ll repair them later,” Harry mumbled distractedly, and then successful distracted Draco too by shoving two fingers inside his arse at once.
“Fuck, what happened to starting slowly?”
“Can’t,” Harry panted, now desperately using his other hand to tug at the fastenings on his own trousers, “Need to fuck you now.”
“Bloody hell.” If he hadn’t been fully hard before, he definitely was at those words. Draco let Harry line him up and then lower him far too quickly onto his cock. “Merlin, Harry,” he breathed, pain flooding through his mostly unprepared muscles. Harry hesitated for a second and then reached up, pulling Draco down into a sloppy, heated kiss. Draco hadn’t even realised he’d relaxed until he felt Harry start to thrust with his hips and he broke the kiss in favour of trying to maintain his balance.
It was difficult with him on top like this, but Harry gripped his hip with one hand and braced his shoulder with the other and Draco’s knees were firmly wedged against the cushions so that he could help set the rhythm, and somehow it all worked. Somehow it felt amazing.
The only problem was that the shallowness of Harry’s thrusts meant he wasn’t hitting Draco’s prostate most of the time. Or maybe it isn’t a problem, Draco thought vaguely as he surrendered himself to the sensation of being stretched and filled and fucked. He was enjoying this just because of those things, just because this was Harry and Harry felt wonderful inside him anyway.
It was clear Harry wasn’t going to last long though and Draco’s cock was throbbing painfully in his trousers, begging to be released. There was nothing he could do about that, but he gasped, “Harry, please,” and Harry snapped his eyes back into focus and reached out with trembling hands to undo the fastenings on his pants.
He managed to at last and Draco gave a groan of relief as his cock sprang free and Harry immediately grabbed it with a hand that was a lot more steady now, pumping in hard, rough strokes that had Draco moaning and writhing and losing his rhythm in seconds.
It wasn’t long before Draco felt the heat build and rise and explode in his groin, shooting long ribbons of come all over Harry’s chest. Harry pushed and thrust through his orgasm until he came too, his eyes widening and his neck arching in a way Draco refused to tear his gaze away from until he couldn’t hold himself up any longer and a spasm in his stomach muscles sent him tumbling down onto Harry’s chest.
Harry ran a hand through his hair and Draco realised he was well and truly fucked in more ways than one.
****************
It was a few moments before either of them spoke or moved. Harry was the first to do so; he touched Draco’s cheek with fingers so gentle Draco wondered if he thought he might break.
“Are you ok?”
Draco sighed. Something had changed and he wasn’t altogether sure he liked it. The way Harry was looking at him was enough for him to know that. Or maybe not, Draco thought when he’d studied him silently for a bit longer. Maybe that subtle light in Harry’s eyes had always been there, he’d just never troubled to notice it before. I’m here and I care, it seemed to say. It made Draco’s insides glow in a way he’d never expected.
“Am I ok?” he repeated, putting the drawl into his voice, because whatever else had changed he was still Draco Malfoy and this was still Potter asking the question. “I can’t move my arms and you’ve damaged my favourite pair of trousers and I’m sticky. Oh yes, everything’s perfect.”
There was a chuckle from underneath him and he felt Harry wriggle. A moment later the stickiness disappeared and there was a fairly decent Reparo charm performed on his trousers.
“Better?” Harry asked casually.
“I suppose two out of three isn’t bad,” Draco conceded. There was a pause. “Actually I’ve thought of another problem.”
“What’s that?”
“I can’t get up unless you help me.” He was sprawled out over Harry’s chest, only managing to look at the other man at all because he was half propped up on a cushion that had wedged itself against Harry’s side.
Harry really did laugh then, and though it wasn’t malicious there was certainly a good deal of amusement behind it. Draco thought perhaps some things hadn’t changed after all as Harry gripped his shoulders, set him upright and then attended to his own trousers.
“Time for dinner, I think,” he announced the moment he had smoothed down his clothes,” I’ll let Kreacher know.” He picked up his suitcase before he left the room, leaving Draco to sit on the sofa and contemplated exactly how pleased he was that Harry hadn’t gone away after all.
He gave it up in the end. It was something he just couldn’t put into words.
Rating: R/18
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters.
Warnings: H/D slash, very smutty
Author's Notes: I managed to get this chapter up a bit quicker :) Not long now before Draco recovers!
Chapter 1 here
Chapter 15: Return
“You’re an idiot, you know that right?”
Draco fought his way back up through the darkness and tried to open his eyes, only to squeeze them shut again when he finally managed it and found that the light was painfully bright.
“What’s going on?” he muttered, before memory came rushing back and he snapped his eyes open, trying to scramble to his feet. A firm hand stopped him and he was forced to subside more because a sudden wave of dizziness overtook him than because he was willing.
“You hit your head, Draco, you need to take this potion before you go anywhere.” A goblet was held out in front of him, Draco blinked and then managed to scowl up at Potter who was the one holding it.
“Fuck off, Potter, I don’t need your charity.”
There was a sigh and the potion goblet was put down. Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Please don’t you start, Draco,” he said, which was so completely not something Draco was expecting him to say that he just blinked stupidly for a moment.
“What?” he asked finally, when he found his voice again.
“Acting like I’m some wonderful person who always does the right thing and acts so selflessly all the time.”
Draco snorted, in spite of the pain in his head. “You’re not a wonderful person, Potter.”
“No, exactly, so don’t act like it,” he said shortly.
“I’m not acting like it.”
“Yes, you are, you’ve got some stupid idea in your head that I hate you and I’m only spending time with you because I feel sorry for you. Only a pretty selfless and wonderful person would do something like that.”
Draco tried to work that one out, but his head hurt too much, especially when he jerked his neck to try and stop Potter dabbing at his forehead with a wet cloth.
“Draco I need to clean the blood off you, I healed the cut but you need cleaning.”
“Tergeo.”
“What?”
“Honestly Potter call yourself an Auror? Tergeo. It’s the spell to clean up blood.”
“Oh right.” Potter took the hint and picked up his wand instead of the cloth, muttering the spell under his breath. At least the git could actually perform the thing properly. Draco could feel the blood being cleaned away.
“There, are you going to stop being stupid now?” Harry asked wryly, putting down his wand again and picking up the potion goblet instead.
“You told Weasley…” Draco began and then trailed off, realising he had just admitted to eavesdropping on a private conversation. When Harry simply sighed though he frowned and decided that obviously he didn’t care whether Potter knew he’d been eavesdropping. Why did he care about what Potter thought?
“I told Ron what?” said Harry shortly, and yet without any anger in his voice. “That you’re an insufferable prat? You know that, I tell you all the time.”
“I don’t care what you think about me, Potter,” Draco said stiffly, trying to sit up a little straighter and subject Potter to his best glare, “I’m not some charity case for you to look after and fawn over. I don’t need you putting yourself out for me.”
Harry gave a short laugh, though it was one without malice. “You really are mental, Draco,” he said, eyeing him as if this was merely a point of interest about him and not an insult. “You think I’d invite you to a Quidditch match if I hated you? We’ve just established I’m not perfect, and I’m certainly not so unselfish as to subject myself to a day of torture.”
Draco furrowed his brow, opened and shut his mouth and then simply looked at Potter with widened eyes.
“Look, Draco,” Harry caught his face gently between his hands and held his head in place even when Draco trembled slightly and tried to pull away. “Me feeling ever so slightly guilty? That gets you a place to stay and a house-elf to look after you. Me feeling sorry for you? That gets you a bit more. Me actually finding your company tolerable and not nearly so bad as I expected? That’s what gets you everything else. You are an insufferable git sometimes, but most of the time I can put up with that. I wouldn’t spend time with you if I didn’t want to. Like I said, I’m not the wonderful, giving person some people would set me up to be. Now are you going to stop being stupid and actually come with me to the match? I would like you to.”
Draco swallowed once and then again for good measure. Those words had been so sincere and so heartfelt that Draco thought for a moment he was going to cry. No one ever said they actually wanted to spend time with him like that before. No one actually wanted to make friends with him. The few he had were there simply because they had a shared past that bound them together and they found each other tolerable company, not because there was any great mutual affection between them. That Harry of all people, the boy whose life he taken every opportunity to make a misery, had suddenly decided he was worth bothering about made his heart feel like it would burst in his chest.
Eventually when he’d got himself a bit more under control he swallowed one last time and drawled, “Well, since you seem so eager for my company, who am I to deny it to you?” lifting his head so he could look disdainfully down at Harry, who was still kneeling at his feet like some sort of slave. A second later his expression faltered and his eyes widened because Harry had smiled at those words, and his smile had been like the sun.
“Good, now drink your potion,” he said after a minute of smiling and bathing Draco in a light he hadn’t realised actually existed before this moment. Draco did, because to refuse to do anything for a smile like that would actually have caused his own heart to break. Afterwards Harry put his shoes on for him and then stood up as Draco shuffled forwards to the edge of the chair.
Just for a moment Harry gazed down at him and automatically Draco tilted his head towards him and ran his tongue over his lips. It took him a split second to realise what he was doing and then he whipped his head around and tried to pretend he was very interested in checking that Harry had done his shoes up properly.
“I’ll get our coats,” Harry muttered and departed, leaving Draco to flop back in the chair and curse inwardly. Draco never asked for kisses, if he wanted to kiss someone he just did it, he did not tilt his head back like that and submit himself to another’s will. And what’s more, he absolutely did not want to kiss Harry Potter.
Merlin, he was going mad. It must have been the bang to the head he decided as he stood up and let Harry put his coat on.
Yes, that was definitely it. If it happened again, when Harry apparated them back from the Quidditch match and had to catch Draco when he stumbled then that must be the head injury too.
Draco slept in his own bed that night. He felt it was safer that way.
**************
Sunday passed pleasantly. Harry woke him up the next morning with breakfast and an insistence that he repeated the exercises from the day before, as well as some new ones that involved Draco swinging his arms around and reaching for the ceiling. The latter felt strange, since only really his shoulders reached for the ceiling, whilst his lower arms dangled uselessly down his back in a way Draco was sure he should have found humiliating, but which was made slightly less so by Harry’s amused smile. Why being laughed at by Harry made it better Draco couldn’t quite work out, but he supposed it was better than pity, which Draco found more demeaning than anything.
After that Harry did consent to showering him and dressing him and then, bizarrely insisted on dragging Draco out to a muggle market being held in the local park. Draco had no idea what the hell was going on for most of the morning, but Harry held his hand as if he might otherwise get lost, dragged him from stall to stall ogling things that Draco didn’t recognise and then finally bought and ate an ice cream in what Draco considered a completely unnecessary way.
The little episode resulted in Draco insisting Harry did exactly the same thing to his cock once they finally got home.
After that things settled down, Harry seemed content to read and play wizarding chess for the rest of the day, and by the time bedtime came around Draco had manage to convincingly beat him four games to one, something which he spent a good deal of time gloating about as Harry undressed him and shoved him onto the bed in revenge.
“You’re such a bad loser, Harry,” he grumbled, when he managed to turn himself over and start trying to work his way under the blankets.
“No,” said Harry, grabbing hold of them and pulling them up properly around Draco’s shoulders, “You’re just a bad winner.” He was grinning, so Draco just huffed at him and stuck his tongue out, wondering when he’d become quite so childish.
“Goodnight, Draco,” Harry said firmly before he could say anything else. The lights went out and the door clicked closer. Draco fell asleep feeing strangely content with life.
**************
The feeling of contentment stayed with him all the next day, and the next. That he was feeling happier than he had most of the time he wasn’t cursed was something that disturbed him slightly, but only enough that he kept well away from Harry’s bed and didn’t allow him anywhere near his cock. He had got used to not getting off everyday now so it wasn’t particularly hard to do and it helped that Harry was still insistent upon feeding him and making him do exercises and generally behaving like Draco was the single most important thing that had his attention right now.
For the first time Draco thought he knew what it was like to be the centre of someone’s world. The sheer intensity of the experience was almost dizzying.
Of course it couldn’t last.
On Wednesday morning, only two hours after Harry had left for work Draco heard the Floo activate and he padded into sitting room barefooted to see who had arrived. Harry was standing on the hearth looking harassed, though his mouth dropped open the second he saw Draco.
Draco grinned smugly, suspecting the reaction was something to do with his appearance. He had been hot so he had got Kreacher to roll up his sleeves and undo the top buttons on his shirt and then he had allowed the house-elf to cut his hair. It had taken a long time, with endless, slightly impatient instructions from Draco, but Harry had been right, the disaster that he called hair was not Kreacher’s fault. He’d done an extremely good job of Draco’s and now it hung properly again, barely grazing his eyes and making him look a whole lot better than he’d looked in weeks.
“What are you doing?” he asked, when it seemed Harry was simply going to continue staring with his mouth slightly agape.
Harry blinked. “You’ve cut your hair.”
“Full marks for observation Harry, now what are you doing home?” He paused and a sudden thought occurred, causing him to add, “Are you ill?” with slightly more concern evident in his voice than he’d intended.
That at least seemed to jerk Harry back to reality. He sighed and stated to make his way to the door, brushing past Draco and now apparently refusing to meet his eyes.
“I’ve got to go away again,” he said, in a tone that suggested to Draco he was trying to keep his voice as even as possible.
“Oh.” Draco couldn’t think what to say. He felt his heart thumping dully in his chest as his stomach lurched so hard he thought he might be sick. “When till?”
“Only till Friday.”
Harry was at the door now, he left the room, presumably to pack a suitcase, and Draco didn’t bother to follow him, instead he sank down into a chair and wished he could drop his head into his hands.
What the hell was he supposed to do without Harry for three days? And why did he even care?
“Look it really is only till Friday.” Harry was back, when Draco glanced over at him he was standing gripping his suitcase so tightly Draco was surprised the handle didn’t break. “You’ll be fine until then.”
“How do you know?”
Harry looked surprised at those words and if he was honest with himself Draco was equally surprised. Where the fuck had that come from?
“Draco,” said Harry warningly, though what he was warning him about Merlin only knew.
“Fine, Potter, whatever. Off you go. See you Friday.”
He was dismissing him again, and just like last time Harry sighed, shook his head and the next moment had disappeared through the Floo. The second he was gone Draco sank back into the chair and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, willing himself not to embarrass himself by crying. It was only till Friday. He could last until Friday. The fact that he was more bothered about going without Harry’s company than anything else only made him want to cry even more.
************
Draco didn’t know how long he’d been sat in front of the fire. The hours seemed to have blurred together until Draco wasn’t sure if it was one, or ten. He was hungry, but he’d refused Kreacher’s offer of lunch and Kreacher hadn’t yet tried to feed him dinner, so Draco supposed it was somewhere between the two meals. He really couldn’t be bothered to care.
The Floo flared. Draco blinked at it but didn’t stir. It was probably going to be Peterson, sent by Harry to check on him. It was unlikely he’d ask Ron to do it after what had happened on the Floo call.
“Stop sulking Draco it doesn’t suit you.”
“Harry!” Draco jumped to his feet and took one hopeful step towards Harry before he realised that actually the man had probably only returned because he’d forgotten something. He subsided, and knew his cheeks were colouring as he looked down at the floor.
“Don’t fucking look at me like that, Draco,” Harry said quietly, his tone determined. Draco heard the thud of something hitting the floor and then Harry was in front of him, so close Draco could practically feel the warmth coming from his body. “I came back ok?”
Draco said nothing. What the fuck was Potter on about now?
“I came back because I couldn’t bloody stand the way you looked at me when I left,” Harry’s voice sounded high and unnatural, like he was on the verge of laughing, or quite possibly crying. Draco looked up in confusion. “You know what that means, right? It means I’m the one who’s bloody mental here and you better be bloody grateful because I had to call in every favour Robins owes me to get me off that case when we’re so short staffed. But I did it and I came back so don’t you dare give me that fucking look, Draco.”
“What look? What are you on about Potter?” The man was right, he was mental. Draco quirked a questioning eyebrow at him.
“Don’t you bloody Potter me, Draco. My name’s Harry.”
“Fine, Harry,” Draco said, his voice heavy, “I don’t remember asking you not to go.”
“No, of course you didn’t, that’s the bloody problem isn’t it?” Harry ran his hand through his hair clearly frustrated. “Too proud to tell me you can’t stand the thought of spending three days alone so instead you just torture yourself for no reason when all you had to do was fucking ask me not to go.”
“You wouldn’t have stayed just because I asked you to,” Draco pointed out, his mind whirling at the thought of that possibility.
“Yes, I fucking would.”
There was an odd second where they stared into each other’s eyes, and then Harry was on him, kissing him frantically, shoving against him so hard that they tumbled down onto the couch even as Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s back and pulled him close.
“Fuck you, Draco Malfoy,” he mumbled between the kisses, before starting on Draco’s neck and licking and sucking a trail down the pale skin until he reached the shirt collar and settled for biting at whatever flesh he could reach.
“Fuck, Harry!” Draco gasped, wishing harder than he’d ever wished before that he could do something. Run his hands through Harry’s hair, or wrap his arms around him too, or just reach up and rip his Auror issue robes from his back so that he could access the skin beneath.
Almost as if he could read his mind, Harry sat up with a frustrated growl, tugged off his boots and then yanked off his robes before lying back down on top of Draco wearing only his trousers and a thin t-shirt. Immediately his hands were in Draco’s hair and his tongue was back in Draco’s mouth and Draco groaned into the kisses, not really caring hot they’d got to this point.
At some point Harry rolled them over so that Draco was on top and though he wasn’t sure how he’d got there, just as he wasn’t sure about a lot of things right now, Draco used the opportunity to sink his own teeth into Harry’s neck causing him to gasp and pant and buck his hips upwards into Draco’s. Draco grinned and repeated the action again and again as he felt Harry wriggling and squirming, trying to achieve goodness knows what with his wand.
A moment later he knew. There was a tearing sound and then cool, lubricated fingers slipping over his arsehole.
“What the fuck? Did you just tear my trousers, Harry?” he said, using his shoulders to flex himself up a little and stare down at Harry incredulously.
“I’ll repair them later,” Harry mumbled distractedly, and then successful distracted Draco too by shoving two fingers inside his arse at once.
“Fuck, what happened to starting slowly?”
“Can’t,” Harry panted, now desperately using his other hand to tug at the fastenings on his own trousers, “Need to fuck you now.”
“Bloody hell.” If he hadn’t been fully hard before, he definitely was at those words. Draco let Harry line him up and then lower him far too quickly onto his cock. “Merlin, Harry,” he breathed, pain flooding through his mostly unprepared muscles. Harry hesitated for a second and then reached up, pulling Draco down into a sloppy, heated kiss. Draco hadn’t even realised he’d relaxed until he felt Harry start to thrust with his hips and he broke the kiss in favour of trying to maintain his balance.
It was difficult with him on top like this, but Harry gripped his hip with one hand and braced his shoulder with the other and Draco’s knees were firmly wedged against the cushions so that he could help set the rhythm, and somehow it all worked. Somehow it felt amazing.
The only problem was that the shallowness of Harry’s thrusts meant he wasn’t hitting Draco’s prostate most of the time. Or maybe it isn’t a problem, Draco thought vaguely as he surrendered himself to the sensation of being stretched and filled and fucked. He was enjoying this just because of those things, just because this was Harry and Harry felt wonderful inside him anyway.
It was clear Harry wasn’t going to last long though and Draco’s cock was throbbing painfully in his trousers, begging to be released. There was nothing he could do about that, but he gasped, “Harry, please,” and Harry snapped his eyes back into focus and reached out with trembling hands to undo the fastenings on his pants.
He managed to at last and Draco gave a groan of relief as his cock sprang free and Harry immediately grabbed it with a hand that was a lot more steady now, pumping in hard, rough strokes that had Draco moaning and writhing and losing his rhythm in seconds.
It wasn’t long before Draco felt the heat build and rise and explode in his groin, shooting long ribbons of come all over Harry’s chest. Harry pushed and thrust through his orgasm until he came too, his eyes widening and his neck arching in a way Draco refused to tear his gaze away from until he couldn’t hold himself up any longer and a spasm in his stomach muscles sent him tumbling down onto Harry’s chest.
Harry ran a hand through his hair and Draco realised he was well and truly fucked in more ways than one.
****************
It was a few moments before either of them spoke or moved. Harry was the first to do so; he touched Draco’s cheek with fingers so gentle Draco wondered if he thought he might break.
“Are you ok?”
Draco sighed. Something had changed and he wasn’t altogether sure he liked it. The way Harry was looking at him was enough for him to know that. Or maybe not, Draco thought when he’d studied him silently for a bit longer. Maybe that subtle light in Harry’s eyes had always been there, he’d just never troubled to notice it before. I’m here and I care, it seemed to say. It made Draco’s insides glow in a way he’d never expected.
“Am I ok?” he repeated, putting the drawl into his voice, because whatever else had changed he was still Draco Malfoy and this was still Potter asking the question. “I can’t move my arms and you’ve damaged my favourite pair of trousers and I’m sticky. Oh yes, everything’s perfect.”
There was a chuckle from underneath him and he felt Harry wriggle. A moment later the stickiness disappeared and there was a fairly decent Reparo charm performed on his trousers.
“Better?” Harry asked casually.
“I suppose two out of three isn’t bad,” Draco conceded. There was a pause. “Actually I’ve thought of another problem.”
“What’s that?”
“I can’t get up unless you help me.” He was sprawled out over Harry’s chest, only managing to look at the other man at all because he was half propped up on a cushion that had wedged itself against Harry’s side.
Harry really did laugh then, and though it wasn’t malicious there was certainly a good deal of amusement behind it. Draco thought perhaps some things hadn’t changed after all as Harry gripped his shoulders, set him upright and then attended to his own trousers.
“Time for dinner, I think,” he announced the moment he had smoothed down his clothes,” I’ll let Kreacher know.” He picked up his suitcase before he left the room, leaving Draco to sit on the sofa and contemplated exactly how pleased he was that Harry hadn’t gone away after all.
He gave it up in the end. It was something he just couldn’t put into words.
