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A Secondary Education	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 27880 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
A/N: Wow. It really has been since August that I last posted. That's just insane and totally not the speed at which I want to be writing! I'm sure you can guess that RL has been busy, but I also swear that I was writing this whenever I could. This chapter just took a lot of time and energy. I wanted to get it right, because some important things happen in here. Also, it's an absolutely massive chapter, I think the longest one in the fic. So I hope that makes up for the wait, somewhat.
It goes without saying that my amazing reviewers are the reason I pushed myself to finally finish this chapter, but I'll say it anyway! I would be nowhere without you. I will give it everything I have to not keep you waiting so long for an update. I will always be writing, I promise!
Lesson 13: What Matters Most
Draco felt steam enter his lungs as he stepped into Harry’s bathroom at Grimmauld Place. He’d been wondering what was taking the brunet so long to be ready for the day, but he saw, upon entering, that the man was busy shaving. The Muggle way, no less. Most of his jaw and neck was coated with thick white cream and his head was tilted to the side, finding the right angle to effectively shape his sideburns with a safety razor.
He wore nothing more than a plush blue towel wrapped around his waist as he stood before the mirror, leaving his torso deliciously bare and flecked with beads of moisture left over from his hot shower. Coming up behind him, Draco placed his mouth on Harry’s shoulder and sucked off a few droplets, enjoying the heat of Harry’s skin against his lips.
Looking up, he met Harry’s eyes in the mirror.
“Getting impatient?” the brunet asked.
“I thought we were having breakfast,” Draco replied, an arm snaking around Harry’s abdomen. Secretly, he loved the intimacy of this, the chance for them to be together for these small, mundane moments. They were getting to have them more and more at Hogwarts, given how frequently they now slept in each other’s rooms. But it was Easter break now, which presented the opportunity for another wonderful week at Grimmauld, passing the time much as they had over the Christmas holiday. An opportunity for even more intimacy of all sorts.
Harry hadn’t even properly invited him this time. It was just understood that they would spend it together.
“I’ll just be a few more minutes,” Harry promised him.
“Why do you shave the Muggle way?” Draco asked, watching the process in the mirror with a mild fascination.
Harry tapped his razor on the side of the sink and began working on his left cheek. “Never really got the hang of shaving charms. They make me nervous.”
“As opposed to a sharp metal blade swiping down your face?”
Harry laughed. “At least this I can see.” He held up the razor. “With the charms, I could never figure out how close I needed to get.”
“But the charms protect you against cuts.” Draco didn’t know where this compulsion to argue was coming from. He supposed it was just that many of Harry’s habits still flabbergasted him.
“I rarely ever cut myself anyway,” Harry said smugly. He was doing part of his neck now, and Draco almost wanted to look away.
“That razor makes me nervous,” he admitted.
Harry gave him a tender smile, and they remained silent for a bit while Harry finished the underside of his jaw.
“There was something I wanted to talk to you about, actually,” the brunet said.
“Oh?”
Harry rinsed his razor and tapped it on the sink again. “Yeah. I was going to wait until breakfast, but now’s as good a time as any.”
“All right.” Draco noticed a distinct squirming in his gut, as if he had a sudden bout of nerves.
“My friend David’s throwing a birthday party at his place for his boyfriend in a couple of weeks. I’ve been invited, and I thought… Well…” Harry paused in his shaving, his chin only half finished. “I know we agreed that we wouldn’t… go out. I mean, be seen out together. But, you know, it’s a Muggle party. I mean it will all be Muggles. None of the guests will be anyone we know, from the wizarding world. And it will be at David’s apartment, not a public place, so there’s really no risk.”
Draco hesitated, waiting for Harry to actually ask a question. But when he didn’t, Draco decided to prompt him. “Are you asking me to go with you?”
The brunet’s partially shaved face broke into a nervous smile. “Yes. That’s what I’m asking.”
“As your date?”
Harry stared at him in the mirror. “Yes.”
“I… well…” He hadn’t been expecting this. It was true that it went against their original agreement, technically. Though Harry also made a good point. If they knew they weren’t going to run into any mutual acquaintances, if Harry was just going to be thought of as a normal fellow Muggle and Draco the same by everyone present, then what was the harm?
“I just thought it would be nice to go out in some form, sometime,” Harry said, when the silence had dragged a bit. “I mean, we spend so much time cooped up in our rooms. But, you know, if you’re uncomfortable… I mean, I understand-“
“No,” said Draco. “No, it’s a good idea. I think that sounds nice. I’ll go with you.”
Harry beamed. “Great. You’ll have a good time, I think. They’re good people. You’ll like them.”
“All right. Sounds good.”
He watched Harry some more in silence as the brunet resumed his shaving. Harry was clearly relieved that they’d had the conversation and that Draco had said yes. His eyes were calm as he followed the movements of his razor. Draco almost opened his mouth to mention something he had been wanting to bring up for a few weeks now. Harry was willing to put himself out there, even when he was nervous. So Draco could too.
I want you to fuck me. Draco tried the words inside his head, deciding they sounded too blunt.
I’ve been thinking about switching roles for a while, since that first night with the vibrator. What do you think? Do you want to try? Yes. That was better.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Harry was rinsing his face in the sink now, then grabbing a washcloth and patting himself dry. Draco looked on, his heart beating rapidly, as Harry took a bottle of amber liquid out of his medicine cabinet and splashed a little on his face. A masculine scent filled the room, sandalwood and vanilla, and Draco realized he already associated that scent with Harry. It filled his nostrils a few seconds, overwhelming him.
Harry’s aftershave potion. It aroused him a little, just smelling it.
Harry turned to him. “All finished,” he said. He brought Draco closer for a kiss, and Draco couldn’t help but cradle the smooth, soft jaw with one hand, breathing in deeply. Harry’s mouth was full and soft too, and Draco took a few seconds to suckle on it, savoring it. Harry’s lips broke into a smile. “How about some breakfast, then?”
Draco looked down. “Going to cook for me in your towel?”
Harry laughed. “Prat. I’ll get dressed first, of course.”
“Or you could just go naked,” Draco joked with a grin. “That would be a sight to see. Or maybe just an apron, so at least I can enjoy staring at your arse while you fry the bacon.”
“Pervy bastard,” Harry murmured. “Just can’t get enough of my arse, can you?”
I’ll never have enough, he almost blurted, before catching himself. He kissed Harry again. “Something like that,” he said.
***
“You really don’t want anything stronger than a butterbeer, Draco?” Francesca asked him as she poured Harry some whiskey. “I have other liquors besides Ogden’s, if you prefer, or wine…”
“No, this is best,” Draco said, holding up the bottle and toasting her generosity. “I have a meeting with a student at eight o’clock. We’ll be brewing, so it’s best that I have my wits about me.”
The term was back in full swing now that everyone had returned from the Easter holidays, meaning he had to keep up with all of his professorial duties, even those he had invented himself, like overseeing Raisie McNeal’s NEWT level research. Still, he had been glad to take Francesca up on her offer for him and Harry to enjoy some social time in her quarters, even if he would have to cut it a bit short. He was craving any opportunity he could get to be around adults, as teenagers were currently taking a large part of his time and energy.
“This is more research with McNeal?” Harry asked, accepting his firewhiskey from Francesca with a thankful smile. Draco nodded. “How is that going?”
“Quite well. She’s testing the reversal affects of concentrated liquid Asphodel on different complexities of poisons. The potential applications are numerous. She could very well revolutionize the production of antidotes, if she sticks with it.”
Francesca sat herself next to Draco on the sofa. “It sounds intriguing,” she said. “And there’s no question that McNeal has talent. But it does surprise me you’re letting a 4^th year begin something so complex. Don’t you worry about her ability to handle it?”
“She’s given me no reason to be concerned so far,” Draco said. “Though I am keeping a close eye on her work, closer an eye than I keep on my NEWT students. If I need to slow down her research or put it on hold, I will. But at this point there have been no problems.”
“Well, it’s above and beyond what I would do,” Francesca admitted. “I haven’t got a single 4^th year who can even manage transfigurations as advanced as OWL level, let alone NEWT. Their intuition is severely lacking.”
“Oh, but you have Nakamura, don’t you?” Harry said.
“He’s a 5^th year,” Francesca reminded him.
“I know that,” said Harry with a roll of his eyes. “But as a 4^th year he was already doing OWL level, remember? You were raving about him last year.”
“I think I might lose him to Charms,” Francesca said, an edge of bitterness coming into her voice. “His interests seem to be leaning that way. And it’s just that his spell work is so good, so he does exceedingly well in both subjects. I suppose Flitwick and I will have to squabble over him when it comes time for his mastery.”
“My money’s on you, without question,” Harry said affectionately. “And a bit of squabbling would be worth it, don’t you think? For the right student?”
“Easy for you to say,” Draco said. “You never have to fight over the favor of your students.”
“That’s not true!” said Harry, indignant.
“It is true,” Francesca said soberly. “Because your subject is unique by its very nature. Anyone who is passionate about Defense isn’t going to find that interest fed by another subject.”
“And all your bloody Gryffindors worship the very ground you walk on,” Draco added. “And Flint, too.”
“And O’Brien, that Ravenclaw,” said Francesca.
“And Stone. And that Beauxbatons transfer, what’s-her-name… Laurent.”
“All right, all right,” said Harry, an attractive blush stealing across his cheeks. “You’ve both made your point.”
Draco sat back, satisfied, and enjoying the actually rather adorable sight of an embarrassed Harry. He didn’t get to see it very often anymore.
Francesca turned to him. “Do you think you and Neville will have to squabble over students, when he joins us next year? There is a fair amount of overlap between Herbology and Potions.”
Draco grinned widely and looked at Harry, whose expression was mirroring his own.
“What?” Francesca asked, looking between the two of them.
“Nothing. Only Harry owes me five galleons.”
“For what?” the witch asked, confused.
“Draco bet me that you’d find some way to bring Neville into the conversation within the first half hour of our being here.”
Francesca’s jaw dropped, and it was her turn to blush. She closed her mouth again. “You did not.”
“I did,” said Draco. “Harry disagreed. He thought it would take an hour, at least. He thought you needed a bit of liquor in you first.”
“You two,” Francesca said, crossing her arms and looking away, trying to recover some composure.
In the meantime Draco tossed a wink Harry’s way and then held out his hand, looking to collect. Rolling his eyes, Harry dug around in his pockets and then dropped five coins into Draco’s outstretched hand.
“I’ll collect the rest later,” Draco murmured to him. The wager had actually been five galleons, plus a very thorough rimming and blow job to be received at a time of the winner’s choosing. But Francesca didn’t need to know that second bit.
Harry licked his lips, as though anticipating the deeds in question, and Draco couldn’t help but imagine himself spreading for Harry, waiting for that pleasure to be delivered. Maybe I’ll cash in tonight, he thought, his cock twitching at the prospect.
Harry turned back to Francesca. “Well, how is it going with Neville, then?” he asked her. “Any progress?”
“We’ve been writing quite a bit,” the witch replied demurely, her cheeks not quite back to their natural shade of olive. “It’s all been very friendly, though. Nothing obviously romantic.”
Harry nodded. “The breakup with Hannah has taken its toll. So keeping it friendly is wise, at this point. Give him some time to move on.”
“That was my thinking as well,” said Francesca.
“What happened between them?” Draco found himself asking, out of mere curiosity.
Harry eyed him, almost admonishing, then turned to Francesca to find her expression avid as well. “Bloody gossips,” he said, shaking his head.
Francesca scoffed. “You’re one to talk, Harry. You’re always gossiping.” Draco nodded in agreement.
Harry looked disbelievingly between the two of them. “Very well then,” he said. “If you’re going to gang up on me like that, maybe I shouldn’t gossip.”
“No!” both Francesca and Draco exclaimed at once, making Harry smirk.
“Tell us, please,” Francesca added, suddenly doe-eyed and pleading.
Harry sighed. “I won’t go into all the details. There’s really nothing specific that happened anyway, it was just… I don’t know. It was strange. They’re two of the kindest, gentlest people I know, and you think between them it would all sweetness all the time. But they had a way of… sniping at each other, but nicely. I don’t know how to explain it. It was all rather passive aggressive and, frankly, difficult to be around. They just didn’t handle conflict well, between them. And there was a surprising amount of conflict. Little things, mind you. I think it just came down to that they got on each other’s nerves a lot and they didn’t know how to handle it.”
“Sounds like they just weren’t well-matched,” said Draco.
“Definitely that,” agreed Harry. “I think Neville could use someone with a bit more fire in her, someone who will stand up to him properly.”
“Good to know,” Francesca said with a half-smile, taking a sip of her drink.
“I hope that hasn’t put you off him,” Harry said to her. “He’s a great bloke, really. Hannah just didn’t bring out the best side of him, is all.”
“It hasn’t,” she assured him. “No one’s perfect. It’s a relief, really. I was beginning to think there was nothing wrong with him. Now I can come in a bit more prepared. And better matched.”
“It’s always better to not put your lover on a pedestal, I say,” said Draco.
Harry gave him a soft smile. “I agree.”
They stared at each other a moment as Draco felt his cheeks flush. He turned to Francesca.
“To answer your question from earlier,” he said, to change the subject, “I don’t imagine Neville and I will have to do much squabbling over students. Herbology and Potions may have a lot of overlap in subject matter, but the skill sets required are very different. We will probably have all the same NEWT students, but as far as masteries go, I think it will be obvious what direction each student should head in, once it’s time for them to choose.”
Francesca nodded. “I think you’re quite right.”
Conversation turned back to their current students and how they were coming on in preparation for their exams. Draco was quite enjoying himself and was disappointed when he glanced at the clock and saw that it was only ten minutes until eight. He needed to leave.
“That’s me, I’m afraid,” he told his friends, standing up. They both made noises indicating their disappointment as well.
“You’re too good to your students, really,” Francesca told him.
“If it’s still early when you finish up, come find us here,” said Harry. “We may still be at it, only considerably drunker.”
Draco laughed. He would actually rather like to be witness to that. He bent and gave Francesca a kiss on the cheek, which she returned, and thanked her for the drink. Then he went to Harry, where he bent and gave him a kiss full on the mouth without even thinking about it.
He felt Harry take a surprised breath, but then the Gryffindor kissed him back fully.
“I’ll see you later,” he said softly, when their lips parted.
“Later,” Draco agreed. He nodded back to Francesca, then took his leave.
They were probably talking about him now that he was gone, Draco realized as he made his way to his classroom. They were bloody gossips, after all, all three of them. He couldn’t help but wonder what Harry would have to say about Draco, about the two of them together, when Draco wasn’t in the room.
Probably not much, he told himself, to squash the curiosity that was bubbling up in him. It wasn’t like their arrangement was anything special, after all. For Harry, it was just like all the others.
Probably. Right?
Draco arrived at his classroom to find it empty. His prized student hadn’t yet arrived. He glanced at the clock and saw he was a few minutes early, so he sat down behind his desk, figuring he could make a small dent in the never-ending pile of marking he had to do. His 6^th years had just handed in essays on Polyjuice Potion, and, while most of them had their facts right, they often missed the more nuanced details of how the potion functioned. He was going to have to write a lecture on it for their next lesson, that was clear. He pushed Harry and Francesca both from his mind as he set himself to his task.
Temporarily absorbed in his work, it took him a while to realize that time was passing and McNeal hadn’t yet arrived. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was almost twenty minutes past the hour, and his brow furrowed. Where was she? She was never late. Should he be concerned? He decided that no, he needn’t jump to conclusions. If something serious had happened another student would have reported it. McNeal was simply late.
He found himself growing mildly annoyed. He’d cut his time with Harry and Francesca short for this, and she didn’t have the decency to be on time? They would have to have a talk when she finally arrived.
The clock was about to strike half past eight now, and Draco decided he was wasting his time waiting around. He could go back to Francesca’s and pass his evening much more enjoyably than this. He was just organizing the papers on his desk and preparing to leave when he heard the sound of rushing footsteps in the corridor. Only a moment later McNeal’s flushed face appeared in the doorway. She was breathing heavily, making it difficult for her to speak clearly.
“Sorry… Professor… I got… I was… Sorry I’m late.”
“Miss McNeal,” Draco replied, glancing up pointedly at the clock. “We said eight o’clock, didn’t we?”
“I…” McNeal took a few more ragged breaths. “Yes, sir. We did.”
“That was half an hour ago.”
McNeal sighed. “Yes, sir. I’m… I’m sorry.”
Draco stared at her, taking in the full picture of her appearance. She looked flustered, and not just from running through the castle, either. Her hair was disheveled, like she, or someone else, had had their hands in it. Her cheeks were a dusky pink and her lips swollen and red in a way Draco immediately recognized.
He arched a brow, believing he understood the situation. The Hogwarts gossip mill had been abuzz with the information regarding McNeal’s current love life, the fact that she’d just spent the afternoon in Hogsmeade with Cole Hammond, a Gryffindor Quidditch star and by all accounts the most fit 6^th year in the school, the day before. Draco had been surprised by the news, since in his eyes McNeal was far too young and small to start dating, let alone some sixteen-year-old jock who was likely more experienced than she. Hammond was also not nearly in McNeal’s league, in terms of intellect, and Draco had a hard time imagining what they could possibly have to talk about.
Though it appeared perhaps they weren’t doing much talking.
“What do you propose we do, Miss McNeal?” he asked her.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, Professor,” she said, her voice meek and pleading. “But I’d still really like to work, if that’s all right with you.”
It was Draco’s turn to sigh. She was here now, and it seemed a waste to not go ahead with their plan, at this point. “Very well,” he said. “Take out your research and set up the cauldron, then.”
She immediately sprang into action, obviously wanting to make up for lost time. Draco continued his marking while she composed her brewing station and organized her notes.
The sound of shuffling papers ceased suddenly, and Draco found himself looking up from his work. McNeal stood very still in front of her cauldron, staring at her notes.
“Miss McNeal? Is something wrong?”
She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “I… um…” She licked her lips. “I’ve just realized that I haven’t yet done notes on the…” She shuffled through the sheets of parchment in her hand a moment. “…on the interaction of Asphodel with the Blue Hepatica, which is a key ingredient of the version of Weber’s Deadly Triad that I was supposed to brew to… you know…” She swallowed. “…to test.”
Draco watched her a moment. “Meaning?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.
“I really should research that before I add Asphodel to this particular poison,” she said, “as the effects might be…”
“Problematic?” he finished for her.
“Yes, sir.”
“Mm, well then.” Draco steepled his hands together on the desk. “It seems you really have wasted my time, then.” They wouldn’t be brewing tonight, that much was clear.
“I… I didn’t mean to, Professor. I just… it’s been a busy time. Things got away from me, and I forgot to research this one component-“
“I see. And Cole Hammond had nothing to do with it?”
She was silent.
“Is that not where you were, who you were with, moments before you arrived here… late.”
McNeal’s eyes glistened, and Draco sighed. It was not his intention to make her cry.
“Miss McNeal, there is nothing at all wrong with wanting to have a social life. It is healthy, in fact. Balance in one’s life is a good thing. But not at the expense of what matters most to you.” They regarded each other a moment. “This kind of work has to matter to you. It is not simple; it is not easy. It will not happen overnight, and it will not happen without an investment of time and energy. Perhaps…” He sighed, thinking of Francesca’s concerned words from only an hour ago. “Perhaps this was too soon for you. Perhaps you’re not ready, and if that’s the case-“
“I am ready, Professor,” she insisted, taking a few steps towards him. “I want this. I want to do this.”
He stared at her, seeing the determination shining hard and glinting behind the residual tears. “Words are not enough. You have to show me that it’s true. So far, tonight, you haven’t. You show up half an hour late, unprepared for the work. What am I supposed to think?”
“It wasn’t my intention-“
“I’m sure it wasn’t. Time got away from you. You were distracted. Mr. Hammond effectively-“
“It’s not his fault,” she cut in, a surprisingly protective edge to her voice.
“No, you’re right. It’s yours. You are responsible for yourself. I only meant that your… relationship, or whatever it is, with Mr. Hammond has to be something that’s good for you, not something that will keep you from your work. Otherwise, what are we doing here?”
She looked down at her shoes a moment. “I understand. But it’s not like that. I promise it isn’t.”
“Not like what?”
“Everyone thinks Cole is just… just some popular Quidditch player who doesn’t care about anything else, but he does. He cares about a lot of things. And he cares about me. He would never keep me from my work on purpose or keep me from doing what matters to me. He wouldn’t.”
Draco half expected her to follow this speech with something like “No one understands him like I do” or “We were made for each other and no one can keep us apart” or something equally teenager-esque. But she didn’t, thank Merlin. She only stood there, waiting for Draco’s response.
“Very well,” he said. “I shall take your word for it. As I said, you are responsible for yourself and for whatever relationships you choose to engage in. However, I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that he is two years older than you, and sixteen-year-old boys-“
“’I’m fifteen already,” McNeal cut in, her jaw setting momentarily in defiance. “My birthday was in February.”
Draco fought a smile. “And is Mr. Hammond not about to turn seventeen?”
She shifted on her feet a moment. “In May,” she admitted.
Draco gave a self-satisfied nod. “As I said, there is a two year age difference and teenage boys, well… suffice to say I know because I used to be one, aren’t always… thinking with their brains. So if he is pressuring you-“
“Oh, Gods,” McNeal cried in mortification, burying her face in her hands. “Professor, please tell me we aren’t really having this conversation.”
Draco couldn’t help it; he laughed aloud. McNeal glared at him through her fingers, her face a deep, blotchy red.
“I sort of can’t believe we’re having this conversation either. I just wanted to be sure…“
“As I said, it’s not’s like that. It’s not about… We haven’t…” Her face became, if possible, even redder. “It was just a bit of snogging, Professor, that’s all. I swear.”
“I believe you,” he said. “But know that if he does pressure you, if he hurts you in any way, he and I will be having words.”
She looked at him over her hands, her mouth almost a smile. “You sound like my dad.”
“Yes, I imagine I do,” said Draco. “That’s because I… care about what happens to you, Raisie. I care about your education. You have a mind for Potions, the best I’ve seen in a long time, and I’m trying to give you opportunities to take advantage of it. Obviously I can’t force you to do something you don’t want to do, but you tell me time and again that you do want to do this work…” He trailed off as he saw her nod vigorously. “I will do everything in my power to make sure that I give you the best education in Potions that I possibly can. I will invest whatever time is needed. But I won’t allow my time to be wasted. It is as valuable as yours.”
She was looking at him wide-eyed again. “Of course, Professor, I didn’t think-“
“No, you didn’t.” McNeal was certainly bright, not to mention mature, in some ways, for her age. But she was still a teenager. And Draco was learning that even the best of them tended to be a bit self-absorbed sometimes. It was something she would grow out of. But at the moment she had plenty of lessons she still needed to learn. “I didn’t give much thought to my professors when I was in school either,” he admitted to her. “I didn’t think about the fact that they might have families, friends, social lives, troubles, passions, interests, outside of the education of their students. But every teacher does. We do not sit around behind our desks after hours waiting for students to show up and give us a purpose. We have plenty else to do.”
McNeal stared at the floor a moment, then nodded.
“I didn’t return to my classroom directly after dinner and mark essays until you arrived, you know,” he went on. “Do you want to know where I was before I came here to meet you?”
“Yes, Professor,” she said softly, as though she knew that was how she was supposed to answer.
“I was with friends. I was having a drink in Professor Bianchi’s quarters, along with Professor Potter. I was talking and laughing and enjoying myself with people whose company I value, because I’d had a very long day and I wanted to unwind. Do you know what that feels like?”
She nodded more slowly this time, as though finally getting it. “Yes, sir, I do.”
“Do you also know what it feels like to be required to cut an enjoyable social event short because of other obligations?”
“Yes, sir,” came the soft reply.
“Do you know the frustration of following through on an obligation that is important to you only to discover that the other person hasn’t bothered to show up, hasn’t bothered to have the same respect for your time as you have for theirs?”
She closed her eyes. “Yes, sir.”
“Well, then you know how I feel.”
She sighed heavily. “Yes, sir. I’m very sorry.”
Draco nodded. He truly believed her this time. “Very well. Do the research required for the next phase of the experiment. When you are ready we will schedule another meeting, and not any time before. And if you show up for one of our meetings again late or unprepared, then bear in mind that that’s it. No third chances. No special treatment. You’ll have to wait until seventh year to do your research just like the rest of my students. Are we clear?”
“Yes, Professor. Perfectly clear.”
“Good. Then I shall see you in class on Tuesday.”
“Thank you , sir.” She waved her wand, banishing her cauldron and other brewing accoutrements back into the student’s storage cupboard. She then gathered her notes under her arm and turned to go. “Have a good night, Professor,” she managed.
“You as well, Miss McNeal. And do mention to Mr. Hammond that I’m going to be keeping a close eye on him from now on, would you?”
She looked over her shoulder and gave him a look that was half embarrassed, half amused. “Yes, sir. I will.” Perhaps Draco was imagining it, but he almost thought she sounded a bit pleased.
He smiled to himself, and when she was well gone he organized the papers on his desk in earnest, stood, and decided he would return to Francesca’s and see if his two friends were still enjoying themselves, and if he would be welcome to join them.
***
The evening of the Muggle birthday party arrived, and Draco was more nervous than he cared to admit. While it was true that they he was merely going to be meeting a bunch of Muggles that he would likely never see again, they were Harry’s friends, and this was the first time they were going to be out together since the inception of their… whatever it was they were doing. Arrangement? Friendship with benefits? Temporary relationship?
Either way, he found that he really did want Harry’s friends to like him. He wanted to be able to get on with them, make it a pleasant evening for him and Harry both. He also found himself both curious and nervous about how Harry would be presenting Draco to them. As his date, surely, but what did that mean? Harry probably brought dates to parties and get-togethers all the time. His friends probably wouldn’t think twice about it.
But what if Harry was trying to present them as more? What if Harry made it seem like they were… a couple? How would Draco feel about that?
Honestly, he didn’t even know where to begin.
“You look sexy,” Harry told him with a kiss when he came by Draco’s quarters to pick him up for the party.
Draco looked down at his outfit: tight gray trousers, a green v-neck jumper over a white button down, finished off with well-tailored charcoal sport coat.
“Do I? I wasn’t sure if this was the right way to go.” Was this how Harry’s Muggle friends would dress? He had no way of knowing. Harry, for his part, was a bit more dressed down, wearing a pair of black jeans, a red graphic t-shirt, and a simple but sexy black leather jacket. He looked fantastic, as he always did, but it was making Draco feel a bit over-dressed.
“I like it,” said Harry. “It’s very… you.”
Draco arched a brow. “And is that a good thing?”
Harry laughed and kissed him again. “I told you I thought you looked sexy, didn’t I?” His eyes were warm and bright, looking at Draco. “Are you nervous?”
Draco gave him small shrug in response.
“It’s all right,” Harry said softly, the brightness never leaving his eyes for a moment. “So am I, a bit.”
What reason would Harry have to be nervous? Draco wondered as they left his rooms and made their way through the castle. He was just going to see some of his friends.
Draco was going to ask but was suddenly surprised when he felt Harry’s warm and calloused hand in his. He looked down at it a moment, the folding of tan fingers around pale ones swinging between them, before he spoke.
“Um, Harry?”
“Yeah?” Harry looked over at him, and Draco nodded towards their hands. Harry blinked, and then his eyes widened. “Oh. Right. Sorry.” He dropped Draco’s hand as if it had burned him.
Draco felt the loss of that touch more than he thought he would. “It’s not that I mind, you know,” he said quickly. “It’s just, you know, we’re still in the castle, so…”
“No, right…” said Harry, shaking his head. “Of course. It’s… yeah. Wouldn’t want anyone to see. I get it.” He put his hands in his jacket pockets.
Draco felt like an arse. He never wanted Harry to feel like Draco was rejecting his touch. But then again, Harry had always been careful before now, had always managed to avoid public displays that would give them away. This was a momentary lapse in judgment obviously, but it was also a risk they couldn’t take.
They were silent as they left the castle and went out into the pleasant April night. Draco kept trying to find something to break the silence he felt that he had unwittingly caused, but he couldn’t think of anything. He’d already grilled Harry up and down about the party and what his friends would be like and what sort of thing Muggles liked to talk about. And they already talked all the time about their students and classes and were both well-apprised on how things were going in that area. And Draco hardly thought bringing up a heavier subject like either of their families would be much appreciated. So, at the moment, Draco was at a loss.
Until he remembered that there was one thing he kept meaning to bring up with Harry and just hadn’t yet had the courage to. But was this the right time or place for that? It would probably seem a little strange to say something right at this moment.
But as he looked over at Harry walking beside him, whose hands were still in his pockets and who was looking straight ahead, his face blank, Draco realized that he couldn’t stand it anymore. He wanted Harry to look at him, to smile at him. He wanted that connection he normally felt between the two of them. So he spoke.
“Harry?”
“Yes?” The tone of Harry’s voice was friendly enough, but he hadn’t looked at Draco yet.
“Would you…” He began, then realized he wasn’t sure where he was going to go with that sentence. “I’ve been thinking…”
“About what?” Harry did turn to him now, the pace of his stroll slowing perhaps a little.
“About… switching,” Draco said. When Harry didn’t immediately reply he cleared his throat and continued. “Positions. Or maybe ‘roles’ is the better word. I mean…”
Harry stopped walking altogether, his body turning fully to the blond. “Draco…”
“I want you to fuck me,” he blurted. The brought a hand to his mouth as it broke into an involuntary nervous grin, but dropped it quickly. “If you want, I mean. I mean…” He chuckled. “I know you want to, because you’ve said. But, I mean… I’m ready if you’re ready.”
A slow, delighted smile spread across Harry’s face. “Really?”
“Really.”
“When?”
“Tonight,” Draco found himself saying. He was feeling bold, something he supposed he had picked up from Harry. “After the party.”
Harry took a step towards him. “You are full of surprises,” he said. He leaned in a moment, hands half-reaching for Draco’s waist, but then seemed to recover himself. With a look in the direction of Hogsmeade, where the lights were glowing warm and low not too far in the distance, he pulled away.
But that wasn’t what Draco wanted, not now. “Oh, come here,” he said, pulling the Gryffindor to him.
“We’re still on Hogwarts grounds,” Harry said as Draco pressed their bodies together. “There’s still a chance someone could see.”
“It’s worth the risk,” said Draco, and he put his mouth on Harry’s.
Harry hummed happily and kissed him back, consuming Draco’s mouth with exquisite slowness before dipping his head and finding that hotspot behind Draco’s jaw that always sent a jolt of lust through him.
“I can’t believe you’re bringing this up now.” Draco could hear the smile in Harry’s voice. “Now all night I’m going to be thinking about this, about you. About being inside you.”
Another nip at his jaw and Draco was truly melting, a soft moan escaping him.
“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” Harry said, pulling away to look at Draco. “Devious Slytherin that you are.”
Draco gave him a coy smile. “Perhaps.” In truth, he hadn’t done it on purpose. He’d thought the timing rather awkward, actually. But now he could see its advantages. It gave them something to anticipate.
Harry let out a small growl and kissed his mouth again. “You make me mental, you know,” he said against Draco. “In the best possible way. I’ve half a mind to drag you back to the castle and skip the party altogether.”
“But we can’t do that,” said Draco, looking at Harry with deliberately wide eyes that he hoped conveyed pure innocence. “It’s your friend’s birthday. You’ve gotten him a gift and everything. Everyone will be expecting you.”
Harry shook his head in disbelief, his eyes never straying from Draco. “Devious Slytherin,” he repeated. “You’ll be the death of me.” After one final, searing kiss he pulled away, taking Draco’s hand and leading them towards Hogsmeade. “Come on, let’s get this over with,” he said, making Draco laugh.
The tension was broken, and when they crossed the gates into Hogsmeade and Harry dropped Draco’s hand once more, it felt completely different this time. Harry offered his elbow and Draco took it, and only a moment later he was being spun and squeezed and spat back out in an alley somewhere in Muggle London.
Both men blinked and got their bearings, and then Harry reached out his hand. “Shall we?”
Draco took it without hesitation, enjoying the way their fingers could intertwine and rest happily against each other without fear of being spotted. As they stepped out onto the street Draco realized how liberating anonymity was, and he took a moment to enjoy it. He wondered if that was one reason Harry had cultivated himself a group of Muggle friends. It allowed him to be normal; it allowed him to do what he wanted without feeling that everyone was watching his every move.
He found himself leaning into Harry a bit as they walked, seeking out the natural comfort of his warmth and weight. Harry turned and smiled at him, leaning over to give him a peck on the lips.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” he said. “Being out? Like this?”
Draco nodded and kissed him back, lingering a moment. “It is.”
Harry’s friend’s flat was on the fifth floor of a high-rise, and they had to take a Muggle lift to get there. Draco had been in wizard lifts before, like at the Ministry of Magic, and they were always rickety things with metal cages for doors and an overwhelming sense that they would fall apart entirely if not held together by magic. This lift, on the other hand, was sleek and metallic, dinging loudly at them to alert them of doors opening or their requested floor arriving.
“Muggles just like things rather shiny and new, I suppose.”
Harry laughed beside him, and Draco realized he’d said the thought aloud.
“A lot of the time,” the brunet said, pulling out a couple of small items from his jacket pocket. When he unshrunk them Draco saw that one was a gift wrapped in blue paper and a silver bow, and the other was a bottle of red wine. “Here,” Harry said, handing Draco the wine. “Something to contribute.”
“Thank you,” said Draco, genuinely grateful for the gesture. He hadn’t thought. But it made sense. One should never arrive at a party empty-handed.
Of course, that was Harry. Always thoughtful.
When they arrived at the correct door Draco could already hear voices and music on the other side. Harry didn’t bother knocking, but rather strode on in. They were immediately greeted with a welcoming cheer, many faces turning to them at once.
Those in the kitchen, right by the door, immediately came up and starting giving Harry hugs and kisses galore. Harry immediately introduced Draco to the room, and he found his hand being shaken as well, people seeming genuinely happy to meet him.
“So glad you could come,” said a stocky black bloke to Harry, who Draco had to assume was David. He just had that air of “host” around him. He clapped Harry on the shoulder with familiarity and grinned a wide, white grin. “Jack’s excited to see you.”
“And where is the birthday boy?” Harry asked. “We come bearing gifts.” He pointed to Draco’s wine and then held up his own package.
“Cheers. That’s mighty generous,” said David. “I’m sure you’ll want to give that to Jack in person. As for the wine,” he turned to Draco, “I can take that, mate. In fact, that’s open that up and get you a glass, yeah? Unless you’d rather have something else.”
He led them farther into the kitchen, where Draco saw a vast array of alcohols all lined up on the counter.
“Full service tonight,” David said. “What’ll you have?” He looked at Draco first.
“Wine is great,” said Draco. “Whatever’s open.”
“Excellent. And for you…” He pointed at Harry. “Whiskey soda?”
Harry shrugged. “You know me too well.”
As David was preparing their drinks Draco took a moment to look around the room. It was quite a nice flat: an open space, clean and warm, earth tone colors punctuated with reds and deep greens. The furniture looked new and comfortable. David had good taste.
The party was well-attended but not overwhelmingly full, and the guests were an eclectic bunch. While many were styled similarly to Draco, the men in button-downs with trousers or jeans and the women in simple knit dresses, some looked outright bohemian in printed, flowing fabrics and chunky, beaded jewelry. Draco found his eyes drawn to one woman in particular who somehow managed to be strikingly beautiful while sporting a shaved head. It was boldness Draco had never seen practiced by any witches before, but it suited her, thanks to the symmetrical bone structure of her face and the large, eye-catching earrings she wore in contrast.
It made him realize how homogenized wizarding Britain was, even seven, nearly eight, years after the war. In fashion, certainly, but in other things as well. He hadn’t thought about it much before, because in the pureblood world homogeny was a good thing, without question. It left little room for dissent, and very little room to make mistakes.
He was pulled out of his thoughts as he was handed a glass of wine.
“Thanks,” he murmured, his eyes flitting about the room again.
“Shall we make the rounds, then?” Harry asked him as another guest came through the door and David was pulled away to greet them.
“Do you know all of these people?” Draco asked.
“Most of them,” Harry said. “They’re not, you know, my best mates or anything. There’s a lot they can’t know about my life, for obvious reasons. But most of them are all friends with each other and end up at the same parties and events, so I see them quite a bit. And there are a fair few that I’ve…” He trailed off, though it took a few seconds for Draco to figure out why.
“Dated?” he ventured with an amused cock of the eyebrow.
“Uh, yeah.” Harry actually looked a bit sheepish, which made Draco snort.
“I figured as much, Harry,” he said honestly. He knew there was a good chance he’d be running into some of Harry’s exes at this party. But they were Muggles, and it had all been casual. And he and Harry were casual. So really, what was the harm? “I mean, you’ve slept with most of the gay men in London, haven’t you?”
Harry elbowed him, a bit hard actually. “Prat,” he said.
“Hey, I’m not judging. I happen to quite enjoy your sexual prowess. I’ve benefitted quite a bit, I would say.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, well…”
“I thought you weren’t ashamed of it,” Draco said, watching Harry’s expression closely. For some reason, Harry was uncomfortable. But he couldn’t surmise why.
“I’m not, but…”
“But…?”
He sighed. “Nothing. You’re right.”
“Shall we make the rounds then?”
Harry put a hand on Draco’s back. “Let’s.”
Harry was greeted with kisses and friendly smiles by everyone, unsurprisingly. Just like at Hogwarts the brunet walked around like he had a glittering sign reading “well-liked” hanging above him at all times. What Draco did find unexpected was how happy they also seemed to meet him as well. Many shook his hand and a few women even gave him kisses on the cheek, like old friends.
It helped, he was sure, that Harry kept describing him as a “brilliant and devoted teacher” and one of his “closest friends,” the latter of which warmed Draco’s gut better than a glass of wine ever could.
He found himself smiling a lot and mostly just trying to listen and get his bearings. While the social dynamic was much like any party Draco had ever attended, many of the topics of conversation were well out of his frame of reference. He knew essentially nothing about Muggle politics, religion, art, or literature, and apparently there was a lot to know.
The Muggle world was just so big, he realized. He was used to a world where just about everyone had attended the same school and knew each other, if not personally than at least by association. It was widening a little with the influx of Muggleborns in recent decades, but in pureblood circles everyone still knew all of each other’s business and took great enjoyment in gossiping about each other as if they were still teenagers back at Hogwarts. That hadn’t changed at all.
Draco was again struck by the heady freedom that anonymity could give you. A person could remake themselves in this world, start fresh, leave their history behind.
Conversation ebbed and flowed as the guests did, as Draco and Harry made their way around the flat, from the kitchen into the living room where most guests were congregated. Draco was starting to pick up certain details the more he listened, like how these Muggles were clearly a bit fed up with their current prime minister, some bloke named Blair who was apparently a lapdog of the current American president. Or how there was some film coming out soon featuring a well-known spy character named James Bond, and did they think this Daniel Craig would be up to the task? Draco listened, nodded, and laughed when appropriate, all the while collecting information piece by piece to try and understand what it was like to live in the Muggle world.
Harry was clearly adept at it already, comfortable in a way Draco wasn’t ever sure he could be. Then again, Harry had been raised Muggle, even if it was by those awful Dursleys, so there was a naturalness to his demeanor that Draco watched and tried to mimic.
They got separated after a while. Harry went to fetch another drink, and since Draco was content with his half glass of wine he didn’t follow. He was too busy in a discussion with a mousy-haired Muggle who worked in technology about the recent phenomenon of what he referred to as “social media” and the way that Muggles around the country and around the world were able to connect with each other in new ways. There was so much in it that was completely novel for Draco that he found himself entirely engrossed, losing track of his brunet lover for a while.
When said mousy-haired bloke had to excuse himself to answer to a device beeping in his pocket which he referred to as his “mobile,” Draco found himself alone and looked about the room, wondering where Harry had got to. He didn’t spot him right away, though, and wondered if he had stepped out to the balcony for some fresh air. No matter. Draco would top off his glass of wine and join him there.
He poured himself another glass of red and looked around the flat once more. A few guests who he had met earlier made eye contact and smiled at him, and he nodded in return.
“Having a good time?” said a voice behind Draco, and he turned to see that David had come up beside him.
“Yeah, I am actually,” said Draco.
David laughed. “You sound surprised.”
Draco gave him a sheepish grin and took another sip of wine. Apparently the alcohol was making him a bit honest. “It’s only that I don’t know anyone except Harry, so I had no idea what to expect.”
“Fair point. I like to think we’re a decent bunch but some of us have known each other a bit too long, I think. So, in fact, we welcome fresh blood. Keeps things interesting.”
Draco laughed. “Happy to oblige.” He took a sip of wine and decided he could make conversation for a bit and find Harry later. He hadn’t had much chance to get to know David yet. “How long have you and Jack been together?”
He kept David talking about his boyfriend, which was unsurprisingly easy to do. The two men had met cute a couple of years ago, and since then, from the sound of it, they’d had quite a few adventures together, going out, traveling, and meeting and trying to win over disapproving parents (interracial gay couples could draw as much ire among some Muggles as they could among purebloods, apparently). Draco nodded along, genuinely interested and still trying to glean as much information as he could about the Muggle way of life, for future reference.
“We’ve survived it all so far,” David said. “Thankfully. Now there’s talk of moving in together.” He gave Draco a nervous grin. “I’ve never lived with a partner before. It’s a big step for me.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Sounds like you know from experience.”
“A bit.”
“We’re already arguing about it, in classic David/Jack fashion. The question right now is, who has to give up their flat. Neither of us want to.”
Draco looked around. “If it were me, I’d vote this one. I meant to say something before, but I really like the way you’ve done it up. It’s quite sophisticated. But, you know, comfortable at the same time.”
“Thank you! I’m going to tell Jack you said that,” said David. “No really, I am. He thinks the place looks too stuffy and grown up. I told him, we’re twenty-seven years old, for Christ’s sake. Shouldn’t we be grown up by now? ‘Course, he still has his old futon from his flat at Uni. Never gets rid of anything, Jack. God help me.”
Draco laughed, though he had no earthly idea what a futon was, or what “Uni” referred to. He understood the sentiment, nonetheless.
“Oi, I know you,” said a vaguely familiar voice. Both Draco and David turned their heads and there was that tall, bearded bloke from the Muggle gay club many months ago, the one Harry had taken him to in order to pick up men, pouring himself a glass of amber liquor. Draco racked his brain a moment, trying to remember.
“Paul, was it?” he said.
“Good memory,” said the man, actually sounding impressed. He held out a hand, and Draco shook it. “Mine’s not as good, I’m afraid. I know the name was unique, but that’s it.”
“Draco.”
“Right. Draco. Family name?”
“Something like that.”
“You two have met before?” asked David.
“He was out with Harry at… where was it… Heaven?”
“Sure,” said Draco, because he honestly didn’t remember the name of the club. In fact, he wasn’t sure if Harry had ever told him the name.
“Yeah, I think that was it. ‘Cause I went out there right after I split up with Colin. I remember that.”
Draco only nodded.
“Anyway, yeah, him and Harry were out together, looking to pull,” Paul said to David. “Looking fit, too, from what I remember.”
Draco shrugged and took a sip of his drink.
“Oh. I thought you and Harry were… you know… together,” said David.
“Nah, just old school mates, they are, yeah?” said Paul.
“And we work together now.”
“Right, right.”
Draco was about to add that yes, in fact, they were currently sleeping together, to clear up some confusion, but Paul was already talking again.
“Stephen just left, so you know,” he said to the host of the party. “Didn’t want to bother you about it. But it was… you know.” He nodded his head in Draco’s direction.
“Really? Bugger,” said David. “Should have seen that coming, I suppose.”
Draco looked between the two of them, confused. “Did I… do something wrong?”
David laughed. “Oh, no, sorry, love. It’s not you Paul’s talking about. He means Harry.”
“Harry?” Draco asked, confused.
“Yes,” Paul simpered, putting the back of his hand to his forehead in a mock swoon. “It’s just that it’s so painful, to see him here now, with someone else, even after all this time. He just can’t bear it.”
“Bloody drama queen,” David grumbled.
“This bloke dated Harry, I suppose?” said Draco, cottoning on.
“Yeah. Over a year ago now. ‘Course, they were only together a few months.” Paul looked at David.
“A few months is all it takes, apparently,” David said drily.
“All it takes…?” Draco asked.
“To fall madly in love with Harry,” David clarified. “Happens all the time. In fact, I always have to be a bit careful with my guest list, whenever I invite Harry to a party. There are always those that would rather avoid him. I thought Stephen would be fine. I warned him and everything. But apparently he wasn’t ready.”
“You’re exaggerating,” said Paul incredulously. “Who did you have to avoid inviting because Harry was coming tonight?”
“Michael,” David said. “Andrew. Lars.”
Paul rolled his eyes.
“John. Kieran,” David went on.
“Not Kieran.”
“Yes, Kieran. And Eric.”
“German Eric or Skinny Eric?”
David thought a moment. “Both, actually. I meant German Eric, but now that I think about it, Skinny Eric just refuses all of my invitations, at this point.”
“Well he’s a prat, that’s why. It has nothing to do with Harry.”
“I’m only saying, there are a lot of blokes.”
“They all refuse to come to an event if Harry is going to be there?” Draco asked, finding that hard to believe. Yeah, Harry dated around, but he didn’t strike Draco as the heartbreaking type.
“They always get over it eventually,” Paul said. “Andrew told me he was coming tonight, whether Harry was coming or not.”
“He was going to, actually,” David said, “but his sister went into labor and he had to miss it.”
“Well, there you are then,” said Paul.
“I don’t know. A part of me is convinced he was relieved.”
Paul rolled his eyes some more. “And I really think you’re exaggerating.”
“So why do you keep inviting Harry to things, if there are all these other potential guests who won’t attend if he does?” Draco asked, hoping for some clarification on the situation.
“Because it’s not Harry’s fault,” Paul said, cutting off David’s answer. “I mean, you know him as well as any of us. He’s the most honest, up-front bloke you’ll ever meet. Everybody knows he dates multiples at a time and he never gets serious with anyone. If you’re looking for monogamy, you have no business sleeping with Harry in the first place.”
“A person can’t help who they fall for,” said David.
“Maybe, but you can head yourself off at the pass,” countered Paul. “You can get out before it gets serious. Those blokes you just listed chose not to and ended up falling hard for Harry because they convinced themselves they were somehow special even when they knew deep down they weren’t. That’s on them, not Harry.”
“It’s really that common of an occurrence?” Draco asked.
“You know how he is,” said David. “I mean, even as his friends we feel this way. Harry makes people feel special. He makes them feel like they matter.”
“It’s a good thing,” Paul interjected vehemently.
“Yes, it is,” David agreed. “But if you’re a certain kind of person-“
“Low self-esteem,” Paul inserted.
“My God, Paul, must you be so… judgey?”
“Yes,” replied Paul.
“Some people,” David pressed, turning his attention to Draco and ignoring Paul, “find it hard not to… get swept up in Harry. Because he makes them feel so good. Physically and… emotionally.”
“He just loves everyone,” Paul explained. “He thinks everyone is wonderful and lovely, and you know… special snowflake people, or whatever.”
“Special snowflake people?” David repeated drily.
“You know what I mean,” Paul addressed Draco. “He really believes everyone is special and wonderful in their own way. He’s not faking it. That’s part of his charm. But a bloke also can’t let himself…” The redhead sighed. “Harry’s good for the ego, and he’s good for a raging libido, but a bloke can’t expect him to stick around. Those that do always wind up disappointed. But it’s their own bloody fault because Harry always makes it clear he’s not intending to stick around. He never lies about it or leads them on.”
“Sounds like you know from experience,” said Draco. He had wondered if Harry had slept with Paul. It seems like maybe he had, although Paul was clearly not in the camp pining away for Harry, like the others.
“Of course,” said Paul. “It was ages ago, though. I mean, the sex was brilliant.”
“It’s always brilliant with Harry,” David said, and Draco realized it sounded like he was speaking from experience too.
“I definitely don’t regret it,” Paul went on. “But, after a while…” He shrugged. “What can I say? I like monogamy. Harry was never going to give me that, and even if he was I didn’t think we were much compatible. Better as friends.”
“Pretty much the same for me,” said David. “Everyone should experience Harry Potter at least once, just for the sake of…” He trailed off, not seeming to know how to phrase it.
“Future fantasy material,” said Paul.
“Right, something like that. You know, like eating a slice of really good chocolate cake. It won’t sustain you in the long run, but it’s satisfying in the moment.” Draco arched a brown at David as he spoke, unsure of how to respond to that. “There is something to be said for commitment, is what I mean. Something sustainable. Especially at our age.”
Paul scoffed. “You make us sound old.”
“Before you know it we’re going to be thirty,” said David. “That’s when you’re supposed to settle down and have a partner and a mortgage and all that, yeah?”
Paul made a face. “Oh God, you’re right.” He sighed. “I never should have let Colin move to Edinburgh.”
And this set the two men on a totally new topic altogether of Paul’s breakup with his most recent boyfriend, which was clearly still a bit raw, even now. Draco, not nearly as interested in this subject matter, let his mind wander, considering all that Paul and David had just told him.
It didn’t really seem fair, actually, he thought. They’d obviously known Harry for a number of years, but did they really know him? They didn’t know his history, what it took to even reach the age of twenty-five, the hell that was fighting a war and the daily slog of rebuilding their world in the aftermath.
After hardship like that, a person deserved some fun. Just because Harry wanted to have some fun before he eventually settled down didn’t make him a slice of fucking chocolate cake. There was so much more to him than that. There was substance. There was depth. Why couldn’t they see that?
His eyes found Harry on the other side of the room. He had appeared, suddenly, without Draco noticing, and was talking with Jack and the woman with the shaved head that Draco had been admiring earlier. He was sipping on another whiskey soda and nodding along to whatever story Jack was telling, laughing as Jack gestured wildly.
Their eyes locked and Harry immediately smiled at him with that all-too-familiar warmth in his eyes. Draco had no choice but to smile back. He saw Harry bite his lip, his gaze raking Draco’s body briefly, and the blond knew exactly what the other man was thinking about. He twisted his smile into a knowing smirk. Harry met his eyes again, somehow managing to look both sheepish and lustful at the same time.
“I thought you said you two weren’t sleeping together.” David’s voice broke the spell and Draco turned back to him.
“What?”
“You and Harry eye-fucking each other from across the room?” David said, looking amused. “I thought you said you weren’t sleeping together.”
“Actually, that’s what Paul said,” Draco replied calmly before taking a sip of wine. “Which I never confirmed or denied.”
To his surprise, David glared at Paul, who was looking confused. “You bloody idiot. After I said all that…”
“How was I supposed to know?” Paul said defensively.
David looked at Draco, an apology in his eyes. “Look, we didn’t… we never would have said all that about Harry and those other blokes if-“
“Don’t worry about it,” Draco cut him off. “It’s not like that.”
“You mean you’re not sleeping together?”
“No, we are,” said Draco. “But it’s a… you know. It’s a fling. It’s not serious. Just like you were saying. Harry isn’t all that interested in monogamy, and neither am I, at the moment.” He decide to leave out the bit about how they were technically monogamous right now, not thinking that either Paul or David would understand. Circumstantial monogamy was different than the intentional kind, and he didn’t think it was wise to get too much into their circumstances right now, how isolated and insulated Hogwarts was. That would give too much away about their world.
“How long have you two been at it?” Paul asked bluntly.
“Since October,” said Draco, then tried to ignore the look that Paul and David exchanged. Yes, it had been six months now, and that seemed like a long time. But it wasn’t a big deal, not really. “We started not long after we saw you at that club, actually. Harry was trying to help me meet… well… I wanted something casual so we were, you know…” He remembered Paul’s phrase. “Looking to pull. But then I sort of realized that Harry would serve just as well for my purposes so we… started sleeping together.”
David laughed. “For your purposes? Of getting laid?”
Draco chuckled, realizing the phrasing was rather funny. “Of getting over my ex-wife, actually. I got divorced about a year ago. I was a bit messed up for a while.”
“You’re bi,” said Paul.
“Yeah.”
“Oh. I hadn’t realized that.”
Draco watched Paul a moment, wondering if there was some subtext he wasn’t getting. But then David interjected.
“Great. That’s fine, you know. Bi is fine.” He gave Paul a warning look. “Go on. I want to hear the rest of the story.”
“Oh, well, there’s honestly not much story to tell. I mean, it was a messy divorce. Quite awful actually. She cheated on me, you see, with my best friend.”
“Ugh, that’s awful,” said David. “How did you find out? Did she tell you? Did he tell you?”
“No actually,” said Draco, and he found he was almost smiling. Paul and David were suddenly listening to him with rapt attention, and he actually found himself rather looking forward to shocking them with the sordid details of his failed marriage. “Astoria was pregnant. And of course I thought the baby was mine-“
“No!” said Paul, sounding shocked.
“It was your friend’s?” David asked avidly.
“Exactly. That was how I found out about their affair. They’d been sleeping together the entire time Astoria and I were married.”
Both men’s jaws dropped.
“So how did you find out the baby wasn’t yours?” David pressed. “Did you suspect? Make her take a paternity test or something?”
Draco shook his head. “It was obvious the day he was born. You see how blond I am?” He pointed at his hair, and the men nodded. “Well Astoria is nearly as blonde as I am. And she has blue eyes and is almost as pale as I as well. My best friend, Blaise, on the other hand, is black.”
“Oh, shit,” said David.
“Indeed,” said Draco. “It was immediately obvious. The baby came out and…” Draco paused, remembering the moment. “Well… I knew.”
“That is so fucked up,” Paul said, almost awed.
“Yes, it is,” Draco agreed, really enjoying himself now. “So you can see why I needed some time to get over that. I wanted sex but I didn’t want anything serious. I’m not exactly… emotionally available at the moment, if I’m honest.”
“Well, then you and Harry really are perfect for each other,” David said cheerfully.
“Rude,” Paul accused, giving him a look. “Honestly.”
“I mean it in a very loving away, of course,” David said lightly. “You asked why I still invite Harry to my parties?” he asked Draco, who nodded. “It’s because I adore him. He’s wonderful. And a lot more fun than any of those other blokes who are supposedly in love with him. He’s a good friend and has always been there for me in my time of need.”
“Same here,” said Paul, looking placated.
“He’s a good person. But you have to admit he’s also a bit closed off. You can only ever get so far with him, about his past, about his feelings, hell, even about his job. And I’ve never met a single person who has ever been invited to his home. I don’t even know where he lives. Is it a flat? A house? A fucking Scottish castle? A yurt in the middle of the Gobi Desert? Who knows? It’s a complete mystery.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “He has a house in Islington,” he said without thinking. Paul and David stared at him, and he realized he probably shouldn’t have spoken up. There was a reason Harry could never invite Muggles over. They’d see the house elf and all the magical objects and have to be obliviated.
“You’ve been there?’ asked Paul.
“Yes,” said Draco cautiously. “But I’ve known him a long time, remember? That’s… you know, probably why.”
“What’s it like?” David asked eagerly.
Draco shifted uncomfortably, wishing he hadn’t opened his big mouth. “It’s a house, you know. Just a normal house. I mean, he’s hardly ever there. We’re at school most of the year, which is likely why he never invites anyone over. And he’s in the middle of renovating it, and he does a lot of the work himself. It’s taking him forever.”
“He’s renovating his own house,” said David in disbelief. “You see, this is exactly what I’m talking about. I just learned more about Harry’s life in five minutes than I’ve ever learned in the three years of knowing him. He just… doesn’t share.”
“Now you really are exaggerating,” said Draco.
“Maybe, but David does have a point,” Paul said, pointing to his friend. “For all that I love about Harry, for all the time I’ve ever spent with him…” He shrugged. “He never talks about himself. I mean beyond surface level, beyond what he would share at a party with someone he just met. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
“It’s not-” Draco began, then realized he had nowhere to go with that. “Look. If you…” He sighed. How did he say this without breaking the Statute of Secrecy or betraying Harry’s confidence? “Harry’s been through some shit, all right? His whole life has been… If you knew what he’s been through, you wouldn’t question why he doesn’t talk about it. Because he doesn’t want to. He wants to leave it in the past. But it’s hard. It’s hard for those things not to haunt you, all the time.” Draco realized he was talking as much from his own experience as he was from Harry’s. But he was on a roll, with the two other men hanging on his every word, so he went on. “So he focuses on other people because it’s easier and because he genuinely does care. It’s like you said, he’s a good person. It’s really rather amazing he is, at that, given everything. But you have to…” He sighed. How did he explain this? “It’s not enough for you to see him now and again at parties and come to him with your problems when you need him. If you really want his trust you have to stop assuming that all he is is a gay bloke who dates around and shags like a god and doesn’t know how to commit. Because he’s a hell of a lot more than that. But if you want to know that, you have to be willing to listen. You have to be someone he would want to open up to.”
Both men stared at him, and Draco became convinced he had gone too far. What business did he have telling off friends of Harry’s he’d just met, or implying that Harry’s past was riddled with tragedy, for that matter? It was out of line on many counts.
“Look,” he began, “I’m sorry-“
“You care about him,” Paul said, cutting him off. “More than you implied before.”
“I never implied that I didn’t care about him,” Draco said quickly. “I care about him deeply, as a friend. I owe him my life, in fact. And I mean that quite literally.”
“We’re not saying there isn’t more to him that we don’t see,” David added, his tone more gentle now. “Actually, I’m making the opposite point. I know there’s more to him than what we get to see. But you have to admit, you knowing him since you were children clearly has its advantages. You know his history better. Would you know so much if you didn’t have that, that longevity?”
Yes, Draco wanted to insist, because most of what he knew about Harry, about the real him, was what Harry had shared with him these past six months, not what he had gleaned over the course of being his boyhood rival. But, at the same time, Harry had shared much of that out of circumstance, and maybe also because Draco had been there in those early years, had seen the worst of Harry as well as the best of him. So, in the end, it was impossible to know.
“I’m not sure,” he said finally, after giving it some thought. “Maybe our history is part of it. But I don’t think that’s the only way to connect to Harry, if that’s what you really want. My point was you can’t simply stand around and talk about it when he’s not listening in. If you want to know more about him, tell him so. Part of the reason he doesn’t share is that deep down he isn’t sure anyone actually cares. If you actually do, if you want more from him, than tell him so. Otherwise, how is he supposed to know?”
“You make a very good point,” David conceded. “I’ve just never known how to get over that line with him. Most people are the opposite. They share more than you want them to.”
“I would try asking,” said Draco with a small shrug. “I’m not saying that’s all it takes, but it’s a start.”
Both men absorbed that silently. Draco felt awkward, afraid he had interfered in Harry’s life in a way that would not be appreciated. He knew Harry had good reasons for the choices he made. It was likely he was purposefully keeping his Muggle friendships surface level, as that made it easier to avoid problematic slip-ups.
Still, what was he supposed to do, stand around listening to these blokes blame Harry for something they couldn’t begin to understand? He rolled his shoulders, trying to relax.
Luckily David had found a natural segue out of the conversation, reminding Paul about an acquaintance of theirs who had actually lived in a yurt in the Gobi desert and was now a photojournalist traveling around the African continent. Draco listened politely and occasionally inserted his own knowledge into the conversation. Soon they were joined by another friend, a woman with strawberry blonde hair and an inordinate amount of freckles.
Draco felt himself easily able to slip away, nodding a quick goodbye to Paul and David both. He was ready to go find Harry again; he’d been too long without him.
He was not hard to find. One turn of the head and there he was, leaning against a doorframe and listening to some dark-haired bloke tell a story. Their eyes met. Harry quickly excused himself, his eyes barely flicking to the other man before returning to Draco. Something about that made the blond grin, spurred on by the two glasses of wine coursing through his system.
Harry crossed the room and, to Draco’s surprise, kissed him full on the mouth.
“Hi. I missed you.”
Draco laughed. “You could have come over and joined me.”
“It looked like an intense discussion. I didn’t want to intrude, though I thought about it.”
Draco watched him a moment, trying to determine if Harry had any sense that the conversation in question had actually been about him. But Harry’s eyes were simply warm and perhaps a bit eager as he looked at Draco.
“It was nothing,” said Draco. “Just me giving them a bit of my history. Altered, of course. But I did tell them the basic circumstances of my divorce, and they were riveted.”
Harry laughed. “Of course they were. Bloody gossips. They love a salacious tale.”
“As do we all,” Draco reminded him. “We’re all bloody gossips, remember?”
“True enough,” Harry conceded before taking the final sip of his drink. “What do you think? Stay for a bit, or are you ready to head home?”
“I can go whenever it suits you,” said Draco.
Harry grinned, something glinting in his eyes that Draco readily recognized. “It suits me to have you all to myself, if I’m honest.”
“Let’s go then,” said Draco without a second thought. He drained the dregs of his glass as well. “Do you need to say your goodbyes?”
“I’ll take care of it quickly,” the brunet assured him, “and meet you back here.” Another peck to Draco’s lips and he turned away.
True to his word, it was only a few minutes later that Harry was escorting Draco out the door, a hand resting between the blond’s shoulder blades that felt almost protective.
“Well, did you have a good time?” Harry asked Draco once they were in the elevator.
“I did,” said Draco. “I like your Muggle friends.”
There was a pause as the elevator began to descend, and as it reached the ground floor Draco turned to see Harry looking at him expectantly.
“What?”
There was a chime and the doors opened. Harry gestured for Draco to go first, and he did so.
“What?” he asked again as they made for the lobby doors. “You’re giving me a look.”
“Just seemed like you had more to say is all,” said Harry, and though his tone was light Draco could tell that Harry was more than simply curious.
He considered what he was going to say as the two walked side by side down the street, making for their Apparition point.
“I was thinking, on our way over here, about…” Draco began. He could feel Harry’s warm and expectant presence at his side, a shoulder brushing gently against him. “About how it would be sort of liberating, having Muggle friends. They don’t know who you are. I mean, you know, what you did. In the wizarding world, I mean.”
“Sure,” said Harry. “That’s part of the appeal. It’s a lot of the appeal, actually. And being able to avoid the press.”
“Of course,” Draco agreed. “It makes complete sense to me. But, at the same time… everything has a cost.”
“In what sense?”
“Well, the problem with none of them knowing who you are is that then they… don’t know who you are. You have to hide parts of yourself. You have to obfuscate. You can never fully share yourself.” Harry was silent next to him as they walked, and Draco found himself babbling on. “I suppose I’m realizing, even just for myself, that I’m made up of all the things that happened to me, even the things I want to hide, the things I wish no one knew about. The things I wish had never happened. I’m not sure a person can fully be themselves, without that. And I just wonder how much it affects your friendships with those Muggles I just met, because there are huge parts of yourself that they can never know about.”
Harry was silent still as they turned into the alley, away from the prying eyes of London at night. In the shadows of the alley Harry turned to Draco. He didn’t yet offer an elbow for Apparition, but instead simply looked at him.
“You make an excellent point,” he said. “It is hard. With some of them, sometimes I think I might like to tell some version of it, so they get some sense of… I don’t know… where I come from. But something always holds me back. In the end, I like that I can go to those people and have a much simpler persona, a much simpler history, than I ever have in the wizarding world.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Maybe that’s wrong. I don’t know. The truth of it is, even in our world I don’t actually get to be myself, not with most people. Even those who think they know the whole story. They don’t, not really. And I don’t want to tell it.”
“So you’re content with only sharing yourself with a very small group of people.”
Harry thought about that, staring at the ground. “Yes,” he said. “And I think that’s actually something that makes me just like everyone else. In the end, do any of us let most of the world see who we are? I think most people only feel truly understood by a select few. How many people do you think really know and understand you, for example?”
Draco considered that a moment, though he knew the answer immediately. “Not many.”
“Exactly,” Harry said. He offered his elbow and drew his wand. “Shall I?”
Draco took the elbow, and they Apparated back to the gates of Hogsmeade. They turned and started walking towards the castle.
“Is it a trust thing, do you think?” Draco asked, wanting to prolong the conversation. “That keeps us from sharing who we are with most people? If we don’t know them, we don’t trust them to understand us?”
“Maybe,” said Harry. “For me, I just know how easy it is for things to get distorted, twisted around. There’s so much of my story, and myself too, I guess, that isn’t exactly pretty. And people react unpredictably to unpleasant things.”
“Mmmmm,” Draco hummed, finding truth in that. “They bring their own baggage to it.”
“Exactly.”
“Then it’s not even about you anymore. The truth about you gets lost in all of their rubbish.”
“Something like that.”
“It’s a shame.”
“Perhaps.”
“It is,” said Draco, and he didn’t know why he was so sure all of a sudden. “Because parts of your story may not be pretty, but it’s still amazing. You’re amazing.”
He realized he was flushed, thanks in no doubt to the wine and his loose tongue. He could feel Harry staring at him, but he looked straight ahead as the castle loomed above them. “It’s just a shame, is all.”
“I wish I could take your hand right now,” Harry said. “I wish I could kiss you. I hate that I can’t kiss you, sometimes.”
Draco turned to look at him. They were shrouded mostly in darkness. The moonlight was blocked by one of the turrets and they were engulfed in Hogwarts’ shadow. Draco took Harry’s hand and planted a swift but heartfelt kiss to his lips.
“Some things are worth a little risk, right?” he murmured when he pulled away, harkening back to the start of their evening.
Harry let out a small laugh. “Yes.” He squeezed Draco’s hand, then let it drop as they approached the main doors. “Your rooms or mine?”
“Yours are closer.”
Harry smiled and changed the subject, asking Draco what he had thought of some of the Muggles he had met at the party, and Draco was happy to tell the brunet his impressions. Harry was especially entertained when Draco described Paul and David. Apparently they always became loose-lipped and bickering when they’d had a few to drink. Harry spoke of them with pure affection, including their tendency to be “a bit bitchy” sometimes, and Draco held his tongue about the nature of the conversation he’d had with the two men. What good would it do for Harry to know that it was he the two men were being bitchy about, in that particular instance?
Their talk was relaxed and happy as they approached the door to Harry’s quarters, but as soon as Harry let them inside and the door was closed Draco found himself being grabbed and kissed with a desperation he could feel all the way to his toes.
Draco hummed happily and smiled against Harry’s mouth. “Been waiting to do this all night, haven’t you?”
“You’ve no idea,” said Harry. He maneuvered them farther from the door. “Bedroom,” he said.
“Yes,” Draco replied, finding Harry’s lips again.
They kissed consumingly, fumbling their way through Harry’s bedroom door, nearly knocking each other over a few times and chuckling into each other’s mouths. When they were properly inside Harry pulled away, breathing heavily.
“Do you still want…? Can I…? I mean…” He let out a laugh that almost sounded nervous, and it made Draco’s insides tighten in pleasure. It was rare for Harry to not know what to say when it came to matters of sex. But he was looking at Draco pleadingly, hoping Draco would finish the thought for him.
“Fuck me, Harry,” he said, mostly because he wanted it, but also because he simply wanted to watch Harry’s reaction. “Please. Fuck me. Tonight. Now. Right now.”
Harry didn’t disappoint. His face broke into an expression of unadulterated, intoxicated joy, and for a moment Draco felt like the only other person in the universe. He kissed Harry for all he was worth and Harry moaned Draco’s name against his lips.
In a flurry of movement Draco’s jacket was off and his top was pulled over his head, the jumper and shirt together, leaving his chest bare. Draco returned the favor, and soon there was flesh on flesh as they pressed together, consuming each other’s mouths like men dying of thirst. But it didn’t quench the need, only drove it higher.
Speedy, trembling hands undid belt buckles and pushed trousers to the floor, eager feet shuffled out of their shoes and socks, and the two bodies collided again, almost entirely naked. Only the thin cotton of their pants separated Draco and Harry now, pulled taut over the evidence of their mutual arousal.
Harry practically tackled Draco onto the bed.
“Wanted this for so long,” Harry murmured against pale skin as his hand caressed possessively down Draco’s side, to his hip. “Been thinking about it forever.” A mouth latched onto Draco’s nipple.
Draco grinned as he moaned. Forever was more than a bit of an exaggeration, he knew, but he liked the sentiment anyway. He pulled Harry up for another thorough snog.
“Being inside me?”
“Yes.” Harry’s mouth went to Draco’s pulse point.
“Pounding into me?” Draco’s voice was barely breath.
“Gods, yes.”
“Emptying into me? Filling me to the brim with your cum?”
Harry had no words to respond to that, only an obscene moan as he ground his erection against Draco’s. Draco moaned in return. Harry’s desire for him was so thick and potent around them, Draco felt he was drowning in it, making it difficult to breathe.
“Then do it,” he gasped. “Take off my pants and do it.”
Harry hovered above him, separating their bodies by a couple of inches so he could look down at Draco properly. Draco looked up at him, watching as needy green eyes slowly softened into something else, something he couldn’t identify. Harry kissed him, but tenderly this time.
“All those things,” he said. “All those things. But we can take our time. We don’t have to be in a hurry.”
“I want you, Harry. I want you so much.”
“I want you too, Draco. Gods, I’ve never…” He kissed Draco deeply. “But that’s exactly why we should make it last, right?”
Draco let out a small sigh but returned Harry’s kiss. “Take off my pants, at least,” he said. “And yours.”
Harry chuckled.
“Please,” Draco continued. “I want to feel you against me. All of you.”
That was all Harry needed to hear, apparently, because he climbed off the bed, divesting himself of his underwear. Then, naked, he stared down at Draco, until the blond started to writhe with need under that gaze.
“If you don’t do it for me I’ll do it myself,” Draco warned him.
“The taking off your pants or the fucking?” Harry asked, his voice a heady mix of lust and amusement.
“Both,” Draco replied with a grin. “But it won’t be nearly as good on my own, so…”
“You’re damn right,” Harry said, his gaze darkening. His hands gripped Draco’s underwear and pulled them down, and Draco groaned in approval. Harry climbed onto the bed again, lowering himself over Draco once more. “I’m going to take such good care of you,” he promised.
“You always do,” Draco replied.
And then they were kissing again, the deep, probing kind that Harry always used to make Draco lose himself, to make him forget everything but their lips, their tongues, their breath. It was how he kept Draco present, in the here and now, in all the good that they were feeling rather than anticipating or worrying about what came next.
Draco loved this, loved the way Harry put everything into those kisses, but he realized he didn’t need it. He didn’t need to be lost, distracted, or lulled this time. Because he wasn’t afraid of what came next. He was sure. He was excited.
He was ready.
“Harry,” he moaned. “Please. I want you inside me. Now.” A part of him couldn’t believe he was uttering these words, words he’d heard women say to him in some form or another, words he always welcomed hearing but would never let himself speak.
But the other part of him reveled in it, reveled in the shape of them on his lips, in the breathiness of their sounds, and in the way they made Harry utter a needy cry that was almost like a sob as one of his hands reached down to Draco’s entrance.
The blond heard the whispers of spells and felt the wetness of heavy lubrication inside of him, and then a finger began to probe, gently at first, before pushing forward and breaching him properly.
“Yes,” Draco breathed, and the finger went deeper, already brushing his sweet spot. “Yes, there. Harry.”
A second finger joined the first, and Draco felt that now-familiar sensation of being stretched and released, stretched and released, as Harry scissored inside his passage. Draco breathed through it, his lips rubbing lovingly across Harry’s cheek and jaw. He grunted when the third finger was added. This, in the past, was always the most uncomfortable bit, though he found even now that the burning stretch wasn’t nearly as intense, now that he’d had some practice with toys inside of him.
“You all right?” Harry asked him, his voice only a murmur.
“I’m wonderful,” Draco said honestly. “Keep going.”
Harry separated himself, rocking back on his heels, and Draco was about to protest. But Harry’s fingers never left him, and he realized what Harry was about to do just as he scooted back a bit on the bed and lowered his head to Draco’s pelvis and the semi-hard erection that was waiting there.
Draco looked down at him, watching lazily as Harry licked him further into life. He hadn’t been thinking about how hard he was before then, honestly. He’d been so focused on Harry, on the feel of him, that he hadn’t paid attention. He felt so good that he would have assumed he’d be fully erect.
He nearly was now, actually, under Harry’s ministrations. It was getting twitchingly good, this teasing, and he started to squirm, arching to encourage his erection to dip properly into Harry’s mouth. The brunet let out a slow, dark chuckle and took Draco in further. Draco whimpered in approval, running a hand gently through Harry’s hair to encourage him.
He loved that he could be wanton and needy for Harry, that that was exactly what Harry wanted from him. This was a kind of freedom in itself, and he couldn’t get enough of it. So he writhed, and curled his toes into the sheets, and thrust a little into Harry’s mouth, and said Harry’s name over and over, like a prayer.
Harry moaned loudly around his cock, sending Draco higher. The three fingers plunging inside him and the mouth around him were doing so much for him already that he was in danger of coming. And he didn’t want to come, not yet, and not like this. He wanted to come from Harry’s cock tormenting his prostate.
“Gods, Harry,” he said, when he really didn’t think he could take it. “Fuck me. Gods, please. Fuck me now. I need you.”
Harry pulled his mouth and fingers away simultaneously, leaving Draco suddenly, painfully bereft. He stared at the brunet who was staring at him, wondering what was going through his mind, wondering if this was hesitation or simply savoring the moment. When he couldn’t take it anymore Draco said, weakly, “Please.”
As though this were the signal he had been waiting for, Harry came closer, crawling towards Draco, rocking forward on his knees until he was directly above him, suspended. He lifted a hand and parted Draco’s legs even wider, then grabbed a pillow to place under Draco, at the small of his back.
“This all right, like this?” he asked.
Draco nodded vigorously, his heart pounding away with adrenaline and arousal. He needed this to happen, and he couldn’t wait any longer to haggle over positions. He didn’t care. “Go on.”
“You’re so bloody gorgeous,” Harry said. “I need to look at you while I’m fucking you.”
Draco swallowed. “Go on,” he said again. “Do it all, then. Anything you want.”
Still Harry just stared down at him, and Draco didn’t know what to do, growing increasingly bewildered. He could feel Harry’s erection bumping against his perineum, yet the brunet made no move to properly position himself. What was he waiting for?
“Harry?”
“There’s a chance I may not last very long,” Harry said, rather quickly. “With you, like this. And I’m so… I just might not… last. Just so you know.”
It really was, Draco realized, as if Harry was… nervous. Which was inexplicable. Because Harry had probably done this literally hundreds of times. And yet, here they were. After all this talk of wanting this so much, Harry was dawdling.
“It’s all right, Harry,” he said, finding it hard to believe that he was the one who had to be reassuring in this scenario. “We’ll just go slow, yeah?”
Harry smiled and leaned down to kiss Draco softly. “Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, of course.”
He didn’t pull away, only pressed on Draco’s thigh to roll him into position and then aligned himself by feel alone. All the while he watched Draco and Draco watched him, the subtle changes in the brunet’s expression as he teased along Draco’s opening and then, finally, began to push inside.
He went slow, inch by inch, giving Draco enough time to breathe and relax and be ready before entering further. With Draco’s eyes locked on Harry’s this became his only reality: deep green irises that never left him, the steady rhythm of breath followed by breath, and the burning sensation of being slowly filled.
His breaths were shaky, he knew. His hands were trembling as they ran along Harry’s shoulders. But he didn’t shy away; he didn’t close his eyes or turn his head. For this, he just let himself exist, open, exposed, and full.
“Draco,” Harry said when he was finally seated inside him fully. The brunet’s head dipped, placing a kiss at his neck. Draco kept running his hands down Harry’s biceps and then back up to his shoulders, feeling the lean muscle, the smooth skin. He was almost aching with the intrusion. It was more than he had ever felt in his life. Yet still he was not afraid. He could feel the heat of Harry’s cock inside him, feel the twitching, pulsing need of it, and that alone was so arousing, so incredible, that he had no room in his heart or in his head for anything else.
Harry was inside him. They were connected by the most intimate parts of themselves. It had never struck him this way before. But now…
“Draco,” Harry said again, and there was true need straining his voice.
“Yes,” said Draco, knowing exactly what Harry was waiting for. “Yes. Move. Please.”
Harry lifted his head and looked at him again. Then he pulled out, only by a few inches, and pushed back in again. Draco gasped and clutched him. Harry did it again.
“Is this…?” Harry didn’t quite finish the question, but Draco knew anyway.
“Yes. More.” He reached, straining his neck for a kiss, and Harry met him halfway. Their tongues slid along each other lazily for a moment before Draco pulled away. “Deeper,” he said. “Please.”
Harry obliged him, speeding up only a little but penetrating oh so thoroughly. The heat of this friction was strange, wonderful, and new, and Draco found himself meeting Harry’s steady thrusts, arching just so in a silent plea for more. Harry groaned and his thrusts sped up by another small increment. Harry’s left hand grabbed Draco’s right, intertwining their fingers together and then pinning them to the bed. Draco was momentarily distracted by that, how unexpectedly it connected him even more to Harry. But then Harry hit his prostate dead on, and his focus was pulled right to that spot. He cried out.
“There, Harry!” he whined. “Just there.”
Harry moaned and aimed again, and it was perfect. Draco closed his eyes against the acute pleasure coursing through him.
“Oh, Gods,” he said. “Oh, yes. Harry, that’s… Gods, Harry, you’re so…”
But he couldn’t finish. He didn’t even have words for it.
“Open your eyes, Draco,” Harry commanded. “Please. Let me see you.”
The words didn’t quite penetrate at first, all his attention still focused on the way Harry moved so deliciously inside him. But they finally registered, enough that he could pry his eyelids open and get his fill of Harry’s flushed cheeks, vibrant eyes, ecstatic, gaping mouth.
“Harry.”
“Draco.”
Their mouths collided again, consuming each other messily as Harry thrust more forcefully inside him. Draco could feel Harry rolling his hips, going as deep as possible, and it made that hot, sizeable cock brush along Draco’s sweet spot over and over. Pleasure built on top of pleasure, getting sweeter and sweeter, more intense with each hit, so good he almost couldn’t take it.
Draco’s mouth broke away from Harry’s, gasping for air. He was paralyzed with pleasure. It lived in every cell of his body, and he couldn’t move for it. He wasn’t even sure he was breathing.
It can’t get better than this, he thought in a daze as he stared, disbelieving, into Harry’s eyes. It’s almost as if…
“Harry,” he gasped. “I think… I-I think that I-“
He came, shuddering, his nerves alight and every limb clutching himself to Harry, trying to find some way to ground himself in it, absorb it somehow, so he wouldn’t simply combust and melt into a pile of goo.
Though abuzz with his recent, earth-shattering orgasm, he was still aware of Harry driving into him erratically, crying “Oh Gods, Oh Gods, Oh Gods!” in his ear before stilling inside him and holding him until it hurt. Draco grinned at the ceiling and found the will to grip him back, helping him move through his pleasure as the brunet came in a series of tight, trembling thrusts.
“Draco,” he murmured, his lips hot on Draco’s neck. “Draco.”
Draco really had melted, he felt. He was just sticky liquid, like glue, fused with everything around him: the sheets, the pillow under his back, and, most importantly, Harry. Olive skin had merged with pale ivory as they lay there, a single, tangled creature.
“You never cease to amaze me,” Harry said, after they’d had a few minutes to simply pant their previous exertions into the air. “You came untouched, your first time.” There was true awe in his voice.
“Is it a good thing, then?” Draco asked.
“Is it a good thing,” Harry repeated, the question so rhetorical that it didn’t even sound like a question. “It’s a bloody brilliant thing.” He lifted himself enough to look at Draco. “It’s a rare thing, in my experience. I’ve never been able to do it. But it’s unbelievably hot. You have no idea.”
Something I can do that Harry Potter can’t? Draco thought smugly for a moment. Although, in truth… “Seems like more an indication of your skills than mine,” he said, because he felt he had to. Harry had just given him a whole new understanding of the phrase “shagged senseless.”
Harry just laughed and kissed him. “No,” he said, sliding himself off Draco, just enough that the blond was no longer bearing his weight. “No, baby. That’s all you.”
Their legs stayed entangled as Harry sat up and grabbed the duvet. He pulled it over them, up to the middle of their waists, then nuzzled back into Draco, their bodies so close it was like they were fused again.
“Amazing,” Harry breathed, a hand coming to rest over Draco’s heart.
Draco was just able to reach his wand to cast the cleansing charms that Harry seemed to be forgetting, then extinguished the lamps with another wave. Harry hadn’t moved at all while he did this, perfectly content to be plastered against Draco’s side. Draco put a hand over Harry’s and closed his eyes.
Amazing.
emeraldeyes: Thank you so much! I hope you continue to enjoy as I finally get back into the swing of writing this!
Redbecksy: Here’s another update for you! I promise I will do my best to start updating more quickly. I love that you’re enjoying all that Draco is discovering. I hope this chapter lived up to that :)
goddess-of_dragons: I imagine you’ll find this one pretty intense too! But I hope in a good way :) Everything is all right in my world, just super busy, way busier than I thought it would be. It still means so much that you anticipate my updates though and I am definitely working to make them happen faster! Thank you so much for your continued support <3
TheMixter: Thanks, and welcome to the party! I’m so glad all the elements are working for you. I will certainly be keeping up with this story, don’t worry.
Nowsthethyme: Your review made me wonder what you would think of this chapter too, given how Draco is so ready to let Harry inside now. It is a lot, for sure. Still too soon? We’ll see the results of this in the next chapter.
Teddy-Potter95: Thanks so much for taking the time to review even though you read it a while ago. It’s great to know you’re still reading along and enjoying! And (patiently, I appreciate that!) waiting for new updates. I will do my best to keep you from having to be so patient :)
Interesting to think about how my work has evolved. I’m sure it has. I’d love to know your thoughts on that!
DebraRose: I am back, I promise! Thanks for checking in and continuing to read!
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A Secondary Education