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Acts of Life	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 21189 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter Thirteen—Posturing
            Draco scowled for a moment at the wardrobe, then sighed and stepped back. He didn’t need to worry about what he was going to wear in front of Harry, he reassured himself. It wasn’t like he was going out in public. And he would show Harry how to stand today, not how to dress.
            Except he still wanted to model appropriate behavior in front of Harry, behavior that would get Harry thinking more about the clothes he wore and the impression he made on other people.
            He thinks too much about that already.
            Draco snorted and removed a shimmering blue robe from its hook. No, he wouldn’t get into arguments with himself over what he meant when he knew perfectly well what he meant. Harry cared a great deal about his words and his policies and what he supported, and what those things said about him.
            He didn’t pay much attention to fashion and the way that he could influence someone with expressions and gestures. He had shrugged the one time Draco asked him about it, when they were first discussing politics, and said that Granger had told him his emotions showed themselves honestly all the time anyway. It was no use trying to manipulate people when they would know it was false.
            Draco shrugged himself carefully into the robes and turned so he could look at his reflection over his shoulder. Yes, the deep blue silk shone, and it moved easily over his skin, and it was comfortable. Draco smiled. He would have to show Harry that dress robes weren’t all starchy, scratchy cloth with lace at the cuffs.
            And I’ll have to show him really soon now, Draco added to himself, with a glance at the clock. He grabbed his wand and ran downstairs to the drawing room where he and Harry had taken to sitting lately.
            His mother stopped him on the way, although only by glancing at him from the door of her own rooms. Draco stopped and waited obediently, concealing his smile. His mother really did think she was being subtle.
            “Your Mr. Potter is coming over today?” she asked.
            “I don’t know about mine,” Draco said. “When you think about it, he belongs to everyone in the wizarding world, surely.”
            Mother pursed her lips, but didn’t give him the same freezing reception that that joke would have got, once upon a time. She only said, “Then I’ll have the house-elves prepare a special meal.”
            Draco grinned at her, and dared to make an open remark about it. “It’s all right to admit that you like him, you know, Mother.”
            “I’m sure that I don’t know what you mean,” his mother said, drawing serene dignity about her like her own robe. “I’m sure I’m thankful that he saved us all from the Dark Lord. I wouldn’t have wished him to fail.”
            Draco smiled once more at her, and continued down. He wasn’t going to push it. His mother would adapt to events at her own pace.
            Especially if…
            Draco entertained the thought that danced along the surface of his mind like fizz on the surface of a drink for just a moment, and then put it reluctantly aside. He honestly couldn’t think about that now. He had to give Harry lessons in reality, not haunted by the specter of what could be.
*
            Harry’s tongue felt dry and shriveled, clinging to the roof of his mouth as though someone had cursed him. He and Draco had talked about the politics of the moment—quiet enough right now, although Harry thought that was only because some members of the Wizengamot were trying to drum up enough support to pass their latest bill unhindered—the weather, and the goodness of the food that “the house-elves” had brought them.
            Other things lay on the floor between them, deliberately ignored. Or hovered overhead on delicate lacy wings perhaps, Harry thought. He sneaked another look at Draco’s robes.
            He had thought he’d find them handsomer than the dress robes he’d worn in the past, because Draco did have good taste sometimes. He hadn’t known he would be overcome by a desire to reach out and run his hands over them.
            And the limbs beneath them, and the shoulders, and the curve of Draco’s neck, and—
            “Harry?”
            His face stung with a worse blush than when he’d confronted Snape, sometimes. Harry coughed and met Draco’s eyes. “Yeah?” he whispered.
            Draco had a peculiar smile on his face. Harry couldn’t call it smug, but it was closer to than that anything else. He stood up. “It’s time for the first of those lessons in posture that I told you you’d have,” he said.
            “Yeah.” Harry stood up and said the first thing that came into his head. “I did come over here intending to have them, you know. I wasn’t trying to make you forget about them.”
            “The suspicion never entered my mind,” said Draco, with another one of those sweet smiles that made it almost impossible for Harry to tell if that was the truth or not. “Now. Come here. I want to see what I have to work with.”
            Harry walked towards him, trying to move slowly enough that Draco could see whatever intangible qualities he was looking for. Draco nodded and made a few considering noises, then held out his hands. “Turn your back to me,” he said.
            Harry was almost glad to do it. He still had to look at a faint reflection of Draco in the face of the polished ebony clock on the mantel, but even that was easier than looking at Draco face-to-face right now.
            “Yes,” Draco said. “Not as bad as I thought, honestly. A bit stiff-shouldered, but you hold yourself well.” His hands descended gently on Harry’s shoulders and began to move him into different positions.
            Harry shivered. Those hands were so much firmer than he’d thought they’d be, pressing down, turning him slightly, holding him motionless while Draco clucked his tongue thoughtfully, and Harry’s skin burned under the touch. He finally bowed his head and whispered, “I think we need to start the lessons again. Or do them in a different way.”
            Draco’s hands were brittle on his shoulders in an instant, although Harry didn’t know exactly how he knew that, when they hadn’t moved or fallen away. “Oh?” he asked, and his voice was definitely a puff of bitter cold.
            “Yeah,” Harry whispered, and turned around to stare at Draco. “I can’t concentrate on anything you’re telling me when you touch me like that.”
            Draco’s eyes widened. Then he reached out and laid one hand on the nape of Harry’s neck. “What about here?” he whispered.
            “That’s—it’s not as distracting as when you were rubbing your hands all over me, but it’s pretty distracting,” Harry admitted, and let his head fall forwards as he struggled to catch his breath.
            “I wasn’t putting my hands all over you for no reason, you know. I was trying to teach you something.”
            If Draco had sounded honestly offended, Harry would have whirled around and apologized. But Draco’s voice was a little unsteady, and his breath puffed over the side of Harry’s face in a particular pattern again. Harry dared to turn around and try to catch his eye.
            Draco gave a quick swallow and said, “Oh, hell,” as he ducked his head. Harry reached out and took his hand.
            Now that the possibility was alive and hovering in the room between them, acknowledging it made Harry’s heart ache and pound all the faster. He nodded and said, “Well. It’s a distraction. The point is, what do we do about it?’
            And he never doubted that Draco was the one who would know what best to do about it. He simply said that and then waited, calm and patient, eyes fixed on Draco’s.
*
            He’s—he’s not coming up with a solution. He wants me to be the one to do it.
            He really wanted Draco to do it.
            Draco sat back, a little dazed. Then he reminded himself that Harry was still holding his hand, and Draco couldn’t exactly retreat into his head and wait for things to change. He breathed out quickly to give himself courage, and then said, “Well. We could ignore it, you know.”
            “That hasn’t worked today.”
            Harry’s eyes were deep and steady and the brightest, brightest green, and Draco would humiliate himself if he spoke like that aloud. He looked off to the side instead and murmured, “All right. We could continue the lessons today, and speak about this in the future.”
            “Do you want to do that?”
            “Desire might have nothing to do with it,” Draco said, and used another blast of his gathered courage to glance back at Harry. “It might be what’s best for other people. You need these lessons in posture and clothes if you’re going to charm some of your enemies who find you insufferable right now, you know.”
            “I wouldn’t say desire has nothing to do with it.”
            If Harry knew what he was doing with that smile, Draco wouldn’t need to give him lessons ever again. But right now, he did, and so he gave a quick shiver and said, as casually as he could, “I know. Do you think we can put it off, though? Because you came here for one set of lessons, not—another kind.”
            “I think that I’m not going to expire tomorrow for lack of proper posture,” Harry murmured, and eased closer. “Besides, I haven’t felt exactly like this before, you know? I’ve only ever dated two girls, and the first one was a disaster.”
            “Who?” Draco breathed. He might have known at one point. He honestly couldn’t remember now, not with the way his head whirled around when Harry was near.
            “Cho Chang.” Harry ran a finger around the line of Draco’s mouth. “She was still mourning Cedric at the time.”
            “Oh,” Draco said again, and closed his eyes. It felt like the only word left to him. Standing here with Harry’s finger on his mouth felt like the only action he would ever need to perform.
            “Yes,” Harry whispered. “And then Ginny…well, you know that I’m not going to marry her. I thought, when I left the Burrow, that maybe we could wait, and then we could get married later. But I know that’s not going to happen now.”
            As uncomfortable as he felt talking about Weasley’s sister, Draco had the feeling this was important. He eased his eyes open and peered into Harry’s. “Because you’re too different from her?” It was most of the way Harry had explained his move into Number Twelve.
            “Because I found someone else I think I like more,” said Harry.
            If he had said that a year ago, when Draco was still shaking daily from being in Azkaban, he never would have believed it. But this had been a year of gaining confidence and knowledge of Harry, both. He could only say, dazedly, “Oh.”
            “You make the most entertaining sounds,” Harry said. “I wonder what else I could get you to make.” He leaned in.
            Draco stood there with his brain turning tiny flipping circles, and he had no idea—with some parts of him—what Harry intended to do until his lips actually brushed Draco’s. Then Draco gasped, and the bottom of his brain fell out as Harry gripped the back of his neck with gentle nails, and kissed him some more.
            It was a lot more chaste than Draco had exchanged with some girls in the Slytherin common room or hidden corners of the dungeons. Maybe even more chaste than what Harry had had. But it was enough to make Draco want to hide. He didn’t recognize the fierce golden feeling unfolding in his chest. He cowered.
            He opened his eyes to see Harry nodding to him. “I feel some of the same way,” he said, and touched his mouth and gave a shaky laugh. “I think—we need to wait, because otherwise it’s just going to be too much for us.”
            Draco nodded and shut his eyes. “Then should we go on with the lessons in posture?” Amazing. My voice is steady.
            “Not—today,” Harry said, and his voice was strained and rich and low at the same time. Draco glanced back at him, then hastily away. If the kiss was much too much, the staring was even more so. “I hope you won’t think badly of me, Draco, if I say that I need to spend some time recovering.”
            “So do I.”
            Harry graced him with a single brilliant smile, and a touch to the top of his cheekbone, and then left. Draco leaned back on the wall and hoped, absurdly, that his mum wouldn’t be disappointed. Harry had only eaten half a piece of cake.
            But considering what other gifts he’d given Draco today, Draco didn’t think he and his had come out losers in the deal.
*
starr: Yes, actually faster than I’d expected.
SP777: It’s not the only step, but it is one, yes.
Kain: Thank you!
Yes, the Wizengamot thought Harry would object when they increased Lucius’s sentence. But they underestimated Harry, or guessed wrong about what would matter to him. It’s not Lucius he’s interested in, but principles of justice and right, and Lucius for Draco’s sake. If they push it, though, doing something like adding on another crime entirely, then they’re going to get Harry going up against them again.
moodysavage: Thanks! I think the zaps have jumped up to lightning.
moon: Well, they’re on their way.
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Acts of Life