Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

An Offering of Dragons	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 8786 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
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- 13
Thank you again for all the reviews! This is the last chapter of An Offering of Dragons. Thanks for coming along to the last chapter with me.
Chapter Thirteen—Coming Home
            “I just realized something,” Draco said in a low voice as he and Harry stepped into Harry’s house.
            “What is it?” Harry leaned against the wall and slowly stretched one leg out in front of him. Floo travel shouldn’t take that much out of anyone, he thought. It ought to be simple. You tossed powder, stepped into one set of flames, whirled around a little, stepped out at another one. They’d spent more time waiting for a fireplace to become available, or sometimes for a Portkey to be cleared on the last few stages, than doing anything active.
            But he ached anyway. He yawned and missed Draco’s next words. He opened his eyes and found Draco looking at him with his head cocked and one eyebrow raised.
            “Sorry,” he muttered.
            Draco only nodded as if to say he expected some rudeness, and then went on, “You didn’t collect any souvenirs. I don’t think we brought one thing back with us that’s going to remind you of the journey.”
            “Of course we did,” Harry said, and felt anticipation flood his body and soothe away some of the aches. “The memories, for one thing. I think I’ll remember this for the rest of my life, and I’m pretty sure you will, too.”
            “Er, yes,” said Draco, staring at Harry with steadily blinking eyes. Harry suspected he was wondering about the way Harry stalked towards him now, smiling all the time.
            “And I brought you, and the strength that this has given our relationship,” Harry murmured into his ear, and caught Draco close with one arm around his waist. “If you only knew the way I feel now when I look into your eyes, and I know that you petted a Peruvian Vipertooth and an Antipodean Opaleye and you talked down Dragon-Keepers who didn’t understand what they’d done wrong…”
            “So you like me because I’m more like you.”
            Draco’s voice was breathless, but Harry made sure that he pulled back, looked him in the eyes, and smoothed a hand down his face. “Of course not. I like you because you share memories with me and you’re strong and I think you’re more you after going to see the dragons than you were before.”
            “That’s ridiculous, Harry. You can’t be more you. You’re you at the moment of your birth, and you don’t change.”
            “Do forgive me,” said Harry, and gave him a little bow with his hand splayed open on his chest. “I forgot to make sure of that in between dealing with the Horcrux and dying and coming back to life and then making a life with someone I thought was one of my worst schoolboy rivals.”
            Draco swallowed, but didn’t apologize. He must have been able to tell that Harry was joking. Well, if he can’t then I’m officially worried about him, Harry thought, as he watched Draco pull back and stare at him from still-blinking eyes.
            “You really want to make a life with me.”
            Oh. Although Harry wasn’t wrong very often, it had been known to happen. And of course Draco would care more about that than about Harry’s other words.
            “Yes.” Harry picked up one of Draco’s hands, which flexed and twisted in his grasp for a second as though Draco was going to pull away, but in the end, he didn’t. Harry kissed each of his knuckles and then laid Draco’s hand gently back over his arm. “I do. I’ve learned enough about you now to realize how well we complement each other, and that’s what I want. Someone who’s strong and centered in himself and who I can love and who loves me.”
            Draco’s throat bobbed, even though he’d already spoken the words himself. “What makes you think I’m strong?”
            “You faced your fear. You took a chance. You came with me even though you didn’t know what you would find on the journey.” Harry crowded Draco a bit more back into the wall, and Draco went with it, his eyes wide and wondering and his face almost dazed. “All of that’s brave, Draco. So brave it hurts me.”
            “Hurts?”
            “In a good way.” Harry slid his hand up Draco’s cheek. “Now, I think I’ve made my intentions more than clear. It’s time to hear about yours. Do you want to make a life with me? Or not?”
            The way Harry felt at the moment, he was ninety percent sure he knew what Draco’s answer was. But he was also sure that he could go on if Draco needed more time or even if he denied him. All the aches had vanished. There was a singing golden strength in him, beating like the wings of dragons.
*
            Draco stared at Harry with his mouth open, a little shaken. Maybe a little awed, which was not the way he had expected to feel at all when Harry made a proposal to him like this.
            He hasn’t explained what it’s going to be like, being his lover.
            Then Draco shook his head. He was intelligent enough to imagine that for himself.
            It would mean that some of the small, comfortable things they had shared would vanish. He hadn’t ever thought that he had to stay the night with Harry. It hadn’t mattered more than a slight, stinging moment if they made plans and then something came up that meant one of them had to miss it. Draco had accepted that he didn’t know much about Harry’s Auror cases, just as Harry didn’t show much interest in Draco’s work.
            All of that would wither and fade away. Draco would expect more attention from someone who was a permanent fixture in his life. He would have to hear more about those Auror cases. He and Harry would—
            Maybe not die for each other. I don’t know if that’s true even now.
            But it did mean that they would be closer and he couldn’t walk away if something simply went wrong. Of course, neither could Harry. And Draco had a humming memory in his head of the moment when Harry had walked a Hebridean Black’s spine for him.
            Maybe Harry would die to keep me safe, at that.
            Draco took a deep breath and focused on the beloved face so near his own. Harry didn’t look upset that Draco had taken the time to consider. He simply waited, his chin on Draco’s shoulder and his eyes focused on Draco’s face. Draco reached up and slid his hand over the faded scar on Harry’s forehead.
            “I’ll be with you,” he whispered.
            Harry’s smile was triumphant. He grabbed Draco and drowned him with a kiss, and then whirled him around and started dragging him in the direction of his bedroom.
            Draco went with him, his emotions stirred to a brilliant roil in his belly. On the one hand, he wanted to grab Harry and slow him down and ask some questions.
            On the other hand, sometimes it was mesmerizing to act like a Gryffindor. And he truly didn’t fear falling. He knew Harry would always catch him on the way down.
*
            Harry kissed Draco again when they got into the bedroom, and again just inside the door, and again against the wall. By then, Draco was starting to look cross-eyed with pleasure. Harry smiled and kissed him against the pillows of the bed, before he let him lie down and stepped away to start undressing.
            Draco’s eyes burned like dragonfire as they followed him. Harry had to admit that he liked the way Draco looked at him. It made even the simple act of taking off his robes and his pants and his socks gratifying.
            When Harry was naked, even though Draco had seen that plenty of times before, he leaned his elbow on the bed and sat up, staring. Then he reached out and made a little beckoning gesture with his hand.
            Curious, Harry walked towards him. He wondered what Draco was going to do when he got close. Maybe start undressing himself, or just go on staring?
            He didn’t expect it when Draco caught Harry’s cock roughly in one hand and began to stroke it. Groaning, Harry knelt on the bed, swaying. All the strength seemed to have gone from his legs. He ended up crashing to the side like a fallen tree with Draco kneeling over him and kissing him until his mouth ached.
            “You’re—”
            Harry didn’t get the chance to tell Draco how wonderful he was, because Draco had kissed him silent and sat up, pulling his own robes over his head. Harry watched as all the scars he had seen before shone out again, before Draco spelled the fire in the grate even brighter. Then Harry got to see the shadows melt from under Draco’s chin and elbows and all the other places they seemed to linger.
            “You’re beautiful.”
            At least he got to say it this time, and watch the blush racing down Draco’s chest to his groin, before Draco shook his head a little and knelt over Harry. Then he turned into a tease, bobbing his groin up and down until Harry reached for him. Only then did Draco raise an eyebrow, mutter something that might have been, “Impatient,” and bring his cock squarely into contact with Harry’s.
            It felt better than the fire. Harry put an arm over his face. It was too intense not to. It felt like his eyes were going to be boiled out of his head with the heat of Draco’s stare.
            Draco reached out and took Harry’s arm off his eyes, kissing him again. At least he didn’t object when Harry closed his eyes. He also reached out and gently wiped some of the sweat off Harry’s scar.
            “Come on,” Draco said a minute later, and rolled Harry over.
            Harry went with it, a little surprised. This was rarely Draco’s favorite position for sex. He claimed that he liked to see as much of his partner’s face as possible.
            But maybe Draco wanted to do this because they’d seen each other’s faces last time. He kissed the back of Harry’s shoulder and moved down towards his arse, muttering to himself the whole time. Harry propped himself up on his elbows and grabbed a pillow, handing it to Draco. Draco nudged him. “Lift up.”
            Harry did, and Draco slid the pillow into place, petting Harry’s hips and hole as he did so. Harry dropped his head back and sighed. “There’s lube in the drawer of the table you can use, you know.”
            “I like making my own.”
            Harry closed his eyes and smiled. He heard Draco conjure the lube with a simple spell that Harry had taught him. It seemed before he knew that spell, Draco had relied on complex potions. That might be fun in its own way, Harry thought.
            Draco warmed the lube between his fingers, only dripping it on Harry’s skin when maybe five minutes had passed. Harry didn’t mind. He had drifted into bliss, just knowing Draco was there and with him, and their relationship had survived the dragons intact after all. Even deepened.
            “Harry? Still with me?”
            “Always,” Harry murmured, and lifted his hips again so that Draco could readjust his arse and enter him. He grunted a little, but Draco immediately moved, and after that, Harry was concentrating more on settling his erection comfortably and getting as much pleasure as he could out of Draco’s fingers.
            Draco prepared him for Merlin knew how long. Harry didn’t bother counting the minutes this time. He was safe and warm and nothing could hurt him here, and if Draco was impatient, it was certainly impossible to guess that from the way his fingers slid and skated around on Harry’s skin.
            “Let me know if something hurts.”
            Harry dropped his head onto his elbows in acceptance, and felt Draco slowly begin to enter him with his cock. It caused a bolt of shock up his spine at first, the way it always did, and then Draco shifted him around again and adjusted his posture, and Harry tossed his head back and gasped.
            “Feel good?” Draco was smiling against the back of Harry’s neck, which he had leaned in to kiss.
            “Oh, yeah,” Harry said, and his words trailed off into a moan that he knew was more convincing than anything he could actually say. Draco laughed and began to move in a languid way. Harry was the one who thrust back his arse, and Draco rolled his eyes—Harry knew he did that without looking or hearing him, because of course he did—and picked up the pace.
            The pillow stayed in place this time, at least, not like the last time they’d done this and Harry ended up shooting it out from under his thighs. Harry closed his eyes and felt the melting bliss take him over once more, turning his spine into mush and relaxing muscles in his thighs that always felt tense unless Draco was inside him like this.
            This was pleasure, and happiness, and being with Draco. He reached back, found one hand when Draco was in the middle of changing position, and squeezed his wrist once.
            Draco kissed the back of his neck again and began to thrust more frantically. Harry tried to lift his arse and help. He knew Draco was close, and he always liked to make Harry come before he did, or not long after.
            It worked. The pillow slipped against Harry’s groin and shot him over the edge with a sharpness that made him actually cry out; a second later he’d slumped down and become limp enough to let Draco ride him as hard as he wanted.
            This time, Draco used his teeth on the back of Harry’s neck, which made Harry bury his head in the pillow in front of him, because he would make truly embarrassing noises otherwise. And then Draco was over that edge, too, and lying on top of Harry a second later, panting in what sounded like surprise.
            “We’re good together.”
            Harry chuckled tiredly and reached back to bat at Draco’s hand. “Did you think we would get worse because of knowing each other better? Budge up, you’re heavy.”
            “I’m not, you’re just less capable than usual of bearing weight on your arse,” Draco retorted, but he rolled to the bed and around to Harry’s side. “And no, not that. I wanted to know how good this would be, along with everything else.”
            Harry flung an arm around Draco’s shoulders and began the long, slow process of rolling on his side to face him. The pillow he’d been lying on promptly went shooting over the side of the bed. Harry rolled his eyes in turn. At least this time it hadn’t happened in the middle of the sex.
            “You’re the one who has to clean up the stains tomorrow,” Draco said, and curled harder than ever into Harry’s side, as if he thought Harry would take the chance to get up and clean right now.
            “Of course I will,” Harry said.
            He wanted to say something else, something more profound, about what Draco meant to him and how the sex was fantastic and Draco was fantastic, but by the time he had thought up the right words, Draco was making tiny snoring sounds. Harry stared at him, then snorted a little and curled up pretty hard himself.
            They were technically back a day before they were supposed to be, thanks to a few early Floos and Portkeys. Harry didn’t have to go in to work tomorrow, although he thought Draco would probably want to go home and check on the owl post he’d received during his absence. Well. That was fine. Harry would tell him in the morning.
*
            “Harry? Oh…”
            Draco turned slowly away from the bacon sizzling on the plate in front of him. He’d got up first that morning and decided to make breakfast, since Harry was still asleep and house-elves were nowhere in evidence. He’d worn one of Harry’s battered Auror robes that he still kept out of sentiment as much as anything. At least it covered all the important bits.
            Although Draco wasn’t sure if it was enough important bits, considering it was Weasley who had just come into the kitchen.
            Weasley cleared his throat and looked around as if he was seeking some support in the spoons and knives. Draco waited, only flicking the plate a little when one strip of the bacon seemed about to slide off it. He was fascinated, despite himself, with the thought of what Weasley might come up with to escape the situation.
            “I thought Harry was here.” Weasley had his head turned carefully away, apparently contemplating the pattern of the paper on the walls.
            “He is. Asleep. I was going to wake him up so he could have some breakfast.” Draco glanced at the counter where more bacon and toast waited, under a Warming Charm. “Would you like some?”
            “What? No. I mean, it’s not—no. I’m not hungry.”
            Draco, remembering the way Weasley had always attacked breakfast at Hogwarts, barely managed not to snort. But he converted that into a nod and a sip from his orange juice. “Then let me go wake Harry up, and you can talk to him.”
            “You don’t need to.” Weasley’s voice was soft, his face a little green, and his eyes fastened on the robes around Draco’s legs, as if he thought they would swish open to show him Draco’s cock at any moment.
            Oh, this is interesting, isn’t it? Draco held back the temptation to stand up and really flash Weasley. That would only engender ill will between them for no reason. Draco had become accustomed, since the war, to not thinking of his wish to indulge his temper as a reason.
            “It’s no trouble,” he said. “I’ll just get him.”
            “No, really, you don’t have to—”
            “Harry!” Draco called cheerfully down the corridor, standing up so his back was to Weasley. He sneaked a glance over his shoulder after a second, and found Weasley sitting at the table with his eyes tightly shut. Draco held back his snicker and sat down again instead, tackling his bacon. It sizzled and popped in his mouth, done more perfectly than Draco ever remembered doing it before.
            But then again, he thought as he glanced at Weasley, he didn’t usually have this kind of seasoning to go with it.
*
            Harry yawned and stretched, wondering for a blinking second as he reached for his glasses why he felt so cold. It was as if there should be some warmth in the bed with him that wasn’t there…
            Oh. Of course.
            Harry grinned a little and sat up, listening. Ron’s voice was saying something in distress in the kitchen. There was also a steady crunching. Apparently Draco had made a breakfast palatable enough that he could eat it.
            “All those lies about not being able to cook,” Harry muttered, and stood up and gathered his robes around him. He had had enough of accidentally scandalizing Ron when they shared the same flat after the war. Ron seemed perfectly fine with other boys wandering around not fully-dressed while they still lived in Gryffindor Tower, but he’d been upset about it with anyone after that.
            Well. Maybe not Hermione.
            “Good morning, Draco, Ron,” Harry said, coming out with a nod. He looped an arm around Draco’s waist and kissed him, then glanced at Ron behind Draco’s head. Ron’s face had turned so red all his freckles were invisible. “What is it, Ron? Kingsley assign you a case?”
            Ron cleared his throat desperately. Then he said, “He wanted me to come and see whether you were back…but you know what?”
            “No, what?” Harry glanced up from Draco’s throat, which he’d been regarding because he felt like it could really use a lick or a kiss.
            “It can wait until tomorrow. You’re not supposed to be working today, anyway.” Ron glanced at Draco in a way that made Harry wonder if that was something Draco had said to him. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
            He made his way to the Floo and out, hardly leaving Harry enough time to say goodbye. Harry looked at Draco. “Did you do something to him?”
            “Only wear one of your robes in front of him and offer him breakfast and be here when he obviously didn’t expect me to be.” Draco shrugged one shoulder, his eyes so intent that Harry couldn’t have looked away right then if he wanted to. “Is that enough to qualify as doing something to someone in your book? Is this going to be a problem?”
            Harry could feel Draco withdrawing from him even though he didn’t move. It was the sort of distance he had tried to put between them when he thought Harry valued challenging dragons and risking his life more than he valued his relationship with Draco. Of course he wouldn’t want to care about Harry more than Harry cared about him, or risk his heart.
            Harry lifted Draco’s chin with one hand and kissed him, long and soft and slow, until he felt Draco relax against him. Then Harry pulled back and smiled.
            “No. Ron has a problem with nudity now. Or semi-nudity,” Harry corrected himself when Draco rolled his eyes. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but that’s the way it is. And I think he’s reacting strangely because I haven’t had someone in my life in such a long time. Someone serious. Someone he knows is going to stay.”
            Draco leaned further back, and there was a soft sheen in his eyes that told Harry this was the right tactic to take. Harry snatched a piece of bacon with his free hand and munched on it, because he was hungry, but that wasn’t a distraction or a reason to take his eyes from Draco’s face, so he didn’t.
            “You haven’t had that before?” Draco whispered.
            “Not in a long time.” Harry didn’t want Draco to have to think about Harry’s past relationships and how serious they had been or hadn’t been. The important thing was that he was with Draco now.
            Draco gave a little choking sound and leaned his head on Harry’s shoulder. Harry kissed his ear and cradled Draco against him.
            “You want to stay?” Harry finally whispered, when he thought the silence had gone on long enough.
            Draco looked up.
            The fire in his eyes was answer enough, Harry thought, enough for a dozen dragons. And the way Draco kissed him was fiercer than that, one hand gripped around the back of Harry’s head as though he was trying to make sure Harry couldn’t run away from him.
            It was good. So good.
            But not as good as the words Draco whispered a few minutes later, when he had calmed down and sat with his back to Harry’s chest, eating bacon and the toast Harry had Summoned from the counter.
            “I want to be with you forever.”
            “Me, too,” Harry said, and Draco turned to him with a faint smile that became a bigger and bigger one as Harry watched.
            “Well, then. If we’ve both decided, what can stand in our way?”
            “Not even dragons,” Harry said, and kissed Draco again. Draco was bent backwards over the table by the time they finished, still panting, with a bit of bacon grease in his hair and eyes wild with desire.
            He had never looked more beautiful to Harry.
            “Not them,” Draco said, and once again he pulled Harry into a kiss, and Harry realized they weren’t going to get to finish breakfast.
            It didn’t matter. Not when they could simply heat everything up with a Warming Charm later.
            And not when Draco was waiting for him, robe falling open in the way that would have so embarrassed Ron, his expression taunting, enticing, savage. Harry kissed him again and knelt in front of Draco on the floor, because it was going to happen here.
            I’m so happy.
            Once again, the gladness beat in him like dragons’ wings.
            The End.
*
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An Offering of Dragons