Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Muggle Technology and Heroism	By : Tommy-Lane Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6913 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters and I am not making any money off of this.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
There was a horrible sense of deja vu when Harry awoke the next morning to find the other half of the bed empty.

He jolted upright with his hands planted behind him and his eyes blinking in the soft light filtering in from the window as he glanced quickly around himself with his heart easing back into his chest from where it had leapt into his throat. But this time there was no mug of coffee sitting on the bedside table, no Post-it to indicate where his flatmate had run off to. There was nothing and as Harry fumbled his glasses back onto his nose he quickly took in the fact that the clothes he had peeled from Draco's body were no longer strewn on the floor, the doors to the wardrobe no longer hanging open but shut firmly.

There wasn't a single thing out of place and Harry let out a sigh as he rubbed a hand over his forehead, his eye catching on Draco's desk sitting in the corner - with his books stacked neatly, parchment arranged symmetrically, one quill sitting beside an ink well, and three ball point pens aligned next to the cheeky bobble head of James Bond that Harry had gotten him for his birthday two years ago. His chair was tucked, the drawers were shut, and Harry found his fingers trailing over the deeply polished oak as he neared - his gaze zeroing in on the three picture frames sitting exactly two inches from each other.

He hadn't been in Draco's room much in the past. It was the man's private place, somewhere Harry typically never followed him into despite the fact that Draco had no such qualms in barging into his room any time of the day or night for any reason whatsoever. The bedroom smelled like him - neat and clean and a bit like ginger and parchment - the color scheme cool and inviting and sparse with the desk sitting beneath the lone window and taking up most of the free space.

Harry wasn't exactly sure why seeing the three photos was a surprise considering he could still remember Draco's first camera purchase and the mayhem that had followed. But it was, a bit like when Harry had first come to the realization that Draco wasn't a completely unfeeling, racist git - but rather funny (in a sarcastic sort of way), somewhat nice (in a prickly manner), and not at all greasy and slimy upon closer inspection. It seemed the blonde was destined to constantly force Harry to see new sides of him, to take in the deeper angles, and force them to merge inside his head.

The first photograph was enchanted, it moved and flowed with the wind that blew silently and the small dainty smile that could barely be called such on Narcissa's severe face. She was sitting on a veranda, a book in hand, her gaze downcast and a shallow pallor to her skin, her cheeks slightly sunken and drawing sharp lines and deep shadows across her features. Yet she was still somehow beautiful even though Harry could see it now - see her illness in the little details that made her up.

He frowned at it, unnerved by the transformation from the woman he could remember on the day of the final battle, and quickly shifted his gaze to the next photo. The second one was a landscape, one Harry readily recognized. It was the sprawling meadow and towering oak that stood sentinel on the man's plot of land. The color of the sky was a rich blue, the ground a vivid green, the tree almost whispering through the glass of the frame and its long branches waving even though there was no movement - no enchantment to give it that added layer of life. It was breathtaking.

It felt like looking into the future Draco wanted but wouldn't let himself have.

He stared quietly at it for several long moments, remembering how his life had changed so suddenly on that very piece of land only two days ago. The last photograph held no enchantment either but neither did it bleed any sort of color outside of the realm of blacks and whites and every shade of gray in between. And it was of him. Of them. Sort of. Harry was pretty sure the picture had initially been an accident, back when Draco was still trying to figure the thing out and ended up with most of his pictures having big black blotches from his thumb or blurry from not keeping it steady or out of focus and improperly framed from lack of natural talent.

This one was blurry, out of focus, and oddly positioned but Harry could still recognize it.

It was of his legs, stretched out and looking endless and clothed in his baggy sweatpants that looked gray but were really green, and resting on his thigh was his hand, fingers pinching a martini glass with the twist of lemon tipped against the side. And beside him were Draco's legs, his feet shoved under Harry's, trousers rolled up past the ankle and knees angling towards Harry's chest, one pale arm looped around them with his fingers halted blurry in midair like he was halfway through a gesture of some sort.

Harry knew without a doubt that it was them on their couch, watching Bond, Draco no doubt fiddling with his camera during one of the scenes he liked least and turning to ask Harry yet another question about how it worked (despite Harry constantly reminding him that he knew about as much as Draco on the subject). The photograph was a fluke, it was never meant to be captured and yet...it felt alive. Like someone had found a way to scrape down their life together and pour it into a single image. Harry felt his face grow hot as he stared at the innocent picture, his gaze tracing up Draco's legs to his sharp knees and how they nudged into Harry's side, bunching up his sweatshirt.

He felt slightly feverish looking at it because Draco had a picture of them. On his desk. In a frame.

Harry had a picture of them in his room also, in his bedside drawer, hidden like a shameful thing even though it was anything but. It was just of them, smiling and sitting across from each other at a table during some ministry event that had a professional photographer going around snapping pictures. Harry had purchased it impulsively afterwards without Draco knowing and had snuck it into his drawer, because he had a feeling that his secret would have been spilled if the man ever knew about it. Like the picture would give him and his feelings away - like all Draco would have to do was look at Harry in the photo and he'd know.

And now, standing in Draco's room with his aching heart and brain still trying to fit everything he was learning together, he couldn't help the prickling thought that this spilled Draco's secret. That maybe there had been some truth in what Pansy had said. Maybe Draco had been wanting him for months...years…

A door opened and shut and Harry startled out of his thoughts, his eyes snapping up to Draco's closed bedroom door. He bit his lip as he tried to fight down the flush that had spread over his face, dragging a hand through his hair and muttering a quick spell to freshen his morning breath. His eyes slid along the wall as his thoughts raced until he caught sight of himself in the mirror hanging beside the man's wardrobe and Harry paused as he stared back at his own reflection.

Merlin he was a blight on the pristine room.

He looked rumpled and a little like his clothes had swallowed him whole - the thick black jumper too big around his chest and too long on his arms, hiding his fingers from view. His sleep pants were old and checked, the thick flannel worn down into the perfect level of warmth and comfort, the ends tucked into his thick wool socks the color of the sky on a warm summer’s day. He frowned at his own mess of curls and the shallow pallor of his skin but at least the dark circles under his eyes were gone thanks to the deep sleep he had found himself in while knotted tight around Draco.

Pushing his glasses up his nose, Harry squared his shoulders, and looked away. He had never been all that handsome or put together. He always felt like a bit of an old stain next to Draco, like someone had just spilled their cup of paints when putting him together. But it was odd, the blonde had this uncanny way of making him feel a little less like a disaster. He didn't quite understand it, how Draco's eyes could slip over his body and Harry would immediately feel better, stand taller. It made even less sense when it would happen when he looked like he did now.

Merlin, he didn't even know why he was thinking about this now. Except...there was a framed photo of them on the man's desk, and he'd fallen asleep with the man's lips against his skin, and Draco had a habit of looking at him with slipping eyes even when he was wrapped in thick bunching clothing - and Harry couldn't help but wonder what else he'd been missing, what other things he hadn't noticed that would have given the other man away sooner.

If he'd known, could he have prevented this marriage contract from ever being written up in the first place? Or had Draco only come to realize his feeling after, when he'd been forced to let slip through his fingers his own plans for his future?

So many questions unanswered.

Before Harry could second guess himself, he was snatching up the pad of Post-it notes and two pens from the desk before striding across the room and out the door. He followed the soft noises he could hear coming from the kitchen and paused in the archway, his thumb absentmindedly clicking the pen.

Draco was gulping down a glass of water, one had pressed against the counter top with his head tipped back and throat working. His skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his jogging pants and tee-shirt clinging to him, his platinum hair slicked back with water that dripped down onto his nose as he lowered the glass. He set it by the sink, turned on the cold tap, soaked his hand and ran it through his hair in a motion that Harry bet had happened a dozen times already - his cool, wet fingers falling to rub over the back of his neck.

Harry took a step, the damn floorboard creaked, and Draco's head snapped to the side - his gaze sliding down the length of Harry's body and back up in the span of a second, almost like it was second nature to him, like his body knew what to do before he even thought about it.

"Harry-"

"Before you tell me that you should go, I have a proposition for you." He interrupted him, smiling softly and watching a line of water run in a rivet down the man's cheek. His chest clenched and Harry took a steadying breath as he waited for Draco's response.

"Alright." Draco said slowly, his body tensing slightly as Harry neared until he was trapped between the darker man and the counter.

Harry hated seeing it - the tautness of his body, the rigid lines, every muscle pulled tight when normally they were so carefree around each other. Draco rarely polished himself around Harry, he was relaxed, he was free tongued, he pulled on him and ordered him about and laughed freely. And now...now he was utterly still and Harry could swear he saw a flicker of deep unease skirt across his irises.

This wasn't them and it fucking hurt to know that this was what their kiss had led to.

"Turn around." Harry smiled softly at him, noting the skeptical look that pulled itself across Draco's face before the other man complied and Harry wound his arms around him, pressing his front to the blonde’s damp back as he set the pad of Post-its on the counter. He breathed in the scent of excursion on his pale skin and brushed a kiss to the back of his wet neck. "I talked to Pansy yesterday." He started softly, one hand pressing flat against Draco's stomach and holding him against him as he clicked open the pen with his other. "She told me about your mother. I'm sorry Draco."

The other man didn't reply but Harry could feel him suck in a sharp breath, relax, and then tense up even tighter.

"If you want to talk it, about her, I'm here okay? I'll always be here for you."

"Thank you." Draco said softly, his head hanging a little, fingers tightening against the counter and Harry instantly knew the movements for what they were. Draco didn't want to talk about it, perhaps ever, the topic wasn't up for conversation and it would be best if Harry steered away from it completely.

"I want to ask you something." He peeled off the top Post-it and stuck it to the counter top, three more quickly following it until there were four blank blue squares lined up in a row. "Do you regret what happened? Between us?"

Draco was quiet for a moment, his eyes glued to the blank Post-it's. "No...yes...I don't...both I suppose. We are a bit fucked now aren't we?"

Harry chuckled, a tad darkly perhaps, but it rose up inside him and past his lips before he could stop it. Fucked was a great word for it, he supposed. "It does seem so." He whispered as he clicked the pen twice - shut, open - his chin propping itself on Draco's shoulder. "But just so we're clear, I don't. I don't regret a single moment I've spent with you."

"Potter -"

"I know, don't, right? I get that you don't want to talk about this but...you're planning on moving out, aren't you?"

Draco nodded. "Yes. I don't see how I can stay."

"Thought so." Harry closed his eyes tightly and sucked in a breath through his nose. "So here's my proposition." Lifting the pen, he touched the tip to the first Post-it and started writing. "This...this awkwardness between us is driving me mental, so if you're going to go I want this day to be for us, like we used to spend it. Just...one more day."

"You want to spend today together." Draco clarified, pausing briefly with his teeth biting into the side of his cheek until Harry could see the unnatural indent it caused. "As friends?"

Harry nodded and moved his pen to the second Post-it. "Yes, exactly. But I also want some answers, I need to understand...you have to know that I can't just let you go. Pansy mentioned your mother and that a child has to come through a marriage but I just...I need to know why Draco. So throughout the day I want you to answer some questions, whenever you want, however you want, and you can ask some of your own if you have any." His pen flowed to the third Post-it, Draco's eyes moving right along with it like they were magnets.

"And these are your questions?" Draco asked as he watched Harry move onto the fourth and final Post-it. Harry nodded again and Draco touched the first one with a long bony finger. "And I can answer them at any point throughout the day without you debating with me?"

"Yes." Harry set the pen down and pulled half of the Post-it’s from the top of the pad before placing them and the second pen next to Draco's hand. "You don't have to fill them out now but if you think of anything -" Harry trailed off as Draco picked up the pen and started writing - quickly and off center and very much in a manner Harry wasn't used to seeing from him. Like he was trying to get the words onto the paper before he could talk himself out of them.

Does this mean we are going to pretend it never happened? Or are you going to kiss me first?

Harry felt his heart thump in his chest as he read the scrawled words, Draco's hand stilling on the last word with the pen leaking a spot of black against the paper. "Which do you want?"

"I thought we weren't debating the questions." Draco answered quietly and Harry watched the edge of the pen, pressing deeper, leaking a bigger blotch with Draco's stomach still and hard beneath his hand like he was holding his breath.

"No...I did say that, didn't I?" His throat felt dry and tight and he had to quickly squash the little voice in the back of his head reminding himself that when he had hastily formulated this plan he had firmly told himself not to do anything like this. He was to keep to his old rules. He wasn't to touch. He wasn't to kiss. This was to be a day of finding their footing again and giving into their mutual attraction wouldn't help in that endeavor.

It would only wind them up, would only cause their emotions to spike, would inevitably blow away their rational questions with rational answers.

But then again...

Turning Draco slowly, Harry caught his stormy gray eyes for a brief moment before his hands were cupping Draco's face - his long black sleeves stark against his smooth, pale skin - and tugging him into a gentle kiss despite the little voice telling him not to. It was instantly electric, like flint and stone, sparks colliding as Draco sighed into his mouth, his hand flying up to cup Harry’s elbow as the other one gripped his side, and Harry couldn't make himself regret it - even with the knowledge that it would end all too soon. Because regret couldn't take root inside him as long as Draco's mouth was warm and wet with him kissing him back so eagerly.

"Harry." Draco breathed as he pulled back, his hand running up Harry's arm until his long fingers touched the Auror's scruffy cheek. He rubbed against the grain and Harry shivered, his mouth open and sucking in shallow breathes that mingled with Draco's exhales from his lips that hadn't gone more than an inch away.

Harry tipped forward, his lips seeking the others back out only to feel a gentle rush of air instead as the blonde stepped back, the click of the pen loud in the quiet room as Draco turned and started writing with quick, jerking movements. "Draco?" Harry bit his tongue as the man stopped, pressed the pen into the counter with the palm of his hand and turned back towards him - one of the Post-its Harry had written on first held lightly in his hand.

Reaching out, Draco stuck the note to Harry's jumper - right over his heart - a small sad smile on his lips as his fingers splayed wide before falling slowly away. "Just so we're clear, you were right." He muttered, staring at the square on Harry's chest before darting his gaze up to lock with Harry’s, his wet hair fringing his eyes. "Since he came back I could always picture myself with someone else." His smile twitched, the corners of his eyes crinkling just slightly as Harry's breath caught in his rib cage. "There was always someone else I wanted to argue over watching Bond with." With one last long look, Draco turned and left, his feet padding softly down the hall until Harry could hear the shower sputter to life in the bathroom.

Blinking at the newly vacant spot, Harry listened to his thrumming heart, the answer to the question he'd asked Draco at the tailors curling hotly inside him and spreading out in both excited wonder and dull heartache with the knowledge that even with Draco wanting someone else - wanting him - that he still couldn't have him. Merlin, he didn't know how many times he could take having these revelations, how many times he could handle having his feelings returned and dashed in the same breath.

But he'd asked for this, he needed this, he couldn't just walk away. Seems they both were rather good at tormenting themselves. Of course he was pretty sure there was some golden rule about this - about not chasing after someone pledged to someone else - but he supposed it was in his blood to break the rules like they were nothing but insignificant twigs anyway.

It only took a gentle tug to detach the note from his baggy jumper and with a deep breath, Harry quickly dropped his eyes and read it.

ETHAN?

The top of the Post-it note read in his own handwriting, the thick black scratch crossing it out confusing him for a moment. The question was the simplest one he'd written down for Draco to answer and only took one word - one name - to ask. But he needed it answered, he needed to know for some reason if Draco was still thinking about attaching himself to the other man. His brow furrowed as he stared down at it, trying in vain to understand what Draco meant by it - how crossing out his ex-boyfriends name answered anything. Did it mean he wasn't going to get back together with him despite the fact that Ethan was willing to keep their relationship always in the backseat? Or was that just wishful thinking?

In a moment of confused desperation to understand, Harry quickly turned it over, his eyes landing on the neatly printed words marring the backside with eagerness despite the initial shock of seeing something written there.

And so being young
and dipped in folly,
I fell in love

Harry quickly reread the few lines several times, the words sparking a little memory that he couldn't form fully even though he knew he had heard them somewhere before. But really, that wasn't the important thing at all, because who the fucked cared who had penned them first? Harry had asked about Ethan and Draco hadn't even saw fit to answer but instead left this, a little fragment of a poem that spoke of...of, fuck.

That spoke of foolishly falling in love.

Harry couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face as he reread it over once more - hope tingling through him. Real, live hope, because for the first time since Draco uttered those fateful words of what his future held Harry hadn't allowed himself more than a shred of desperate hope and longing. But now, well now Harry held in his hand something akin to a confession - as close to one he was sure he was ever going to get anyway.

Love.

Foolish, hopeless love. But love nonetheless. And Draco was his for today. His. Harry's. There was no contract that could steal that away from him. And no matter how much his head told him it was hopeless he had absolutely no intention of letting him go and maybe when all was said and done he wouldn't have to. Maybe their folly would turn out to be their saving grace.

Glancing at the three other Post-its holding his questions on the counter top, Harry pressed a hand to his wildly beating heart and squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted answers to them, he really did, but at the same time...

Young…folly…love.

Maybe their folly wasn't their love, maybe it was their insecurities, their waiting, their bending to the way life wanted to push them instead of going after what they wanted.

Spinning on his heel, Harry marched down the hallway, flung the door to the bathroom open and gave Draco absolutely no warning before he was ripping the shower curtain aside - his eyes landing on the blondes dripping, naked form with a burning heat in his gaze.

"What are you doing Potter?" Draco demanded, his voice gruff with shock, a bar of soap held tightly in his sudsy hand.

"I'm not giving up on us." He blurted out, clutching the curtain in a fist as he tried to calm the painful thump in his chest. He felt out of breath just standing there, holding Draco's fragmented poem in one hand like it was a hot wire pumping electricity through his veins. "I don't want to be just friends. Not even for a day."

"But you said-"

"I know what I said. But I love you and I don't want to hide that anymore."

Draco blinked quickly, water running down his face and collecting in his eyelashes, his cheeks pinking from the hot water or Harry's confession he couldn't be sure. "I told you, there isn't a way." He said tightly, uncertain and dead serious at the same time.

"You know who I am right?" Harry asked, slapping the Post-it to the wall before stepping into the shower, his baggy clothes soaking in an instant and sticking to his body. "You know I'm stubborn as all fuck, you like to remind me of that, and you know what? I’ve just decided, I'm going to be the goddamn hero of this story Draco." Something was blazing through him, catching up all his emotions and sending them careening, and he found himself throwing everything into this moment, because this was starting to feel like it was his last chance to get it all out and change the course of their future - his glasses wet and fogging and his curls plastered to his head as he crowded the other man against the slick tiled wall.

"What?" Draco breathed, staring at him like he'd gone slightly mad, a shiver prickling over his skin as Harry reached forward and roughly placed a hand against the wall.

"You like the hero's don't you? Bond and Han Solo. I watch you watch them more than actually watching the films you know. You told me once that heroism was the sexiest thing but you know what Bond does? Yeah, he saves the day at the end of it all but he also just takes what he wants. And you know what I want Draco."

"If you start singing I Can Be Your Hero Baby you will regret it Potter." There was something breaking in Draco's face, like the shutters he was trying to fling up were being ripped down in the same second and despite the lightness of his sarcastic drawl Harry could feel the tension radiating off of him - and he knew in that moment that Draco could feel him too. Could feel the current rushing through Harry and pushing out against him wildly.

Ignoring the sarcastic comment that just told Harry how flustered Draco was becoming, he tipped closer and breathed over the other man’s pursed lips as he spoke in a demanding voice. "I told you Draco, I've been wanting this for years and now it's your turn. You're going to tell me, when was it that it changed for you? Was it before or after you signed the contract?"

"Before." Draco snarled like he was mad at himself for answering, mad at Harry for asking, his hands rising and placing them against Harry's shoulders - pushing with his palms, bunching into the sopping material with his fingers.

"And the men? Were you trying to kill me with that parade of one night stands that has been tramping through our flat all year?"

"No, you git, I didn't know for sure that you...you never said!"

"Neither did you!" Harry bellowed back, tears pricking his eyes to mix with the too hot shower water.

"This doesn't even fucking matter!" Draco growled, his head knocking loudly back against the tile, his face tipping up into the spray like he was trying to wash his rising emotions away. "I can't have you."

"You're not listening to me Draco." Harry pressed, slipping his hand to the back of Draco's neck and pressing till the man was forced to look back at him. "You're getting a damn hero if you want one or not."

"We are not in some inane movie Potter, you can't just fix everything just because you want to." Draco snapped, looking both fierce and tired, not even bothering to blink the drops of water out of his eyes any longer.

Shaking his head, Harry snatched the glasses from his nose that he couldn't see through anymore anyway and tossed them towards the washbasin, his thumb pressing harshly into Draco's jaw as he turned his focus back towards him. "You're right, we're not, this is our lives. We both have to live with the choices we make now and until you give me a damn good reason not to, I'm not going to stop fighting for this, you are the love of my life Draco Malfoy and to me that's worth everything."

"What?" Draco was stumbling inside his own head again, his body going slightly slack against the tile, his wet eyes searching Harry's face - his gaze prying deep. "I...I can't do this Harry, it's too late. I shouldn't have come back, I should have -"

"Stop it." Harry commanded as his grip tightened. "Hasn't your incessant obsession with Bond taught you anything? There's always a way." And with a wary smile and before Draco could respond, Harry pressed forward and fastened their lips together. The kiss was wet and hot and tasted like water and soap and Harry half expected to be shoved away at any moment. But Draco’s lips just parted on a broken groan and he melted forward like all his strength had been siphoned out of him.

"I can't make you any promises." Draco murmured between kisses, his hands wrapping around Harry's shoulders, gripping tightly, and bunching in the water heavy jumper. "I don't know...God Harry, I don't bloody know...but this is going to end badly. We will be nothing but fools."

"Then dip me in folly because I will not let you go." Pressing Draco into his arms, Harry captured his mouth once more, the roaring blaze inside him still screaming higher until he could feel it catch inside the other man as well.

He could feel it suddenly and intensely in the curl of the blondes pale fingers in his jumper, the press of his hips harsh and desperate, a groan on his tongue that Harry swallowed. Harry's back hit the wall hard, the shower sputtered and burned hot, but neither of them moved - their embrace blacking everything else out around them, Draco pushing out of his mind his duty and Harry pressing his wants into the empty space that was left behind. Their kiss, their touch, everything in that moment felt like an argument, an agreement, a standstill, and Harry knew that they still had a long way to go - there was still so much to figure out but he hadn't been joking, he'd been perfectly serious.

Draco was his heart and he wasn't letting go.

Fucking marriage contract be damned.

A/N: Hello all! So sorry for the lateness of this, life has been kicking me while I'm down lately ;(
So we are nearing the end *gasp*! I'm almost sad about that, I'm getting a bit to attached to this version of Harry and Draco ;( I know these last few chapters have been a bit emotionally heavy but I hope you all are still enjoying it and I had totally planned for Harry to be all calm and logical and in control this chapter but well...you know Harry, he just wasn't having it!
Oh! And the bit of poem that Draco writes if from Romance by Edgar Allen Poe
I have to post and run but I just wanted to THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who comented!!!
- 10
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Muggle Technology and Heroism