Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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

Chapter List
- 13
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Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Fourteen—Thinking
            Harry shut his eyes and sagged back against his bed, panting. It was several days since he’d last seen Draco—Harry’s functions at the Ministry and Draco’s increasing customer base he had to brew potions for had separated them—and the memory of Draco in those robes was still getting him worked up.
            If Draco wasn’t an idiot, he’d noticed.
            Harry sat up, shaking his head and glancing down at himself. He was an absolute mess, and he flicked his wand to clean up his groin and the sheets before he got out of bed. He didn’t think he’d live down the humiliation of Kreacher finding stains like those in his laundry.
            He needed a shower before he went to the Burrow this afternoon, though. The Weasleys were having a combined late August party for both Ginny and Percy, whose birthdays were eleven days apart. Percy had been busy with some sort of internal Ministry crisis on his actual birthday, and Ginny had flung herself ferociously into Quidditch training and hadn’t wanted to come home so early in the month.
            She was on the verge of being recruited into the Holyhead Harpies, from what Harry had heard.
            Harry was thinking how he could congratulate her for that without sounding spiteful or like he was envious, when an owl hurtled through his window. Harry hissed a little when he recognized the white parchment, bound with gold and cream, that the owl carried.
            So much for a peaceful shower, he thought, and flung open the letter as the owl tossed it at him and then landed on the perch in the corner of Harry’s room, hooting anxiously.
            Dear Harry, said Kingsley’s hurried scrawl, which was so bad Harry only knew what it said because it was how Kingsley always began his letters.
            We have a problem on our hands, one that concerns the goblins. Can you come to my office as soon as possible?
            Harry frowned a little. He knew how the goblins felt about him breaking into Gringotts, because they’d made it perfectly clear. He had apologized formally and there’d been a formal ceremony of forgiveness, but he doubted his presence at Kingsley’s side could do much good, no matter what the crisis was.
            Unless this is something the goblins have specifically asked for because they specifically want it. From me.
            Harry sighed. That was more likely. But he was determined that it wouldn’t make him miss the Weasleys’ party. He wrote a quick announcement to send with the owl and then hurried to the bathroom to change his clothes and cast another Cleaning Charm.
            Kingsley is going to get me at my best. But if it turns into another maze of talking and requests that people should be able to take care of by themselves, then I’m going to leave the minute I’d have to Apparate to the Burrow anyway.
            Harry hadn’t visited the Burrow often since he’d moved out, and only when Ginny wasn’t there, but he still valued his friends and adoptive family, and he wasn’t about to let them down.
*
            Harry looked around the office as he stepped inside. Kingsley stood in front of his desk, wearing a calm expression. Harry didn’t think it fooled anyone in the room, though. The goblins were standing off to one side, and although there were three of them and two were impassive, the other one smirked. They also wore white uniforms with gold buttons, of a kind Harry had never seen before.
            Off to the side was a tall woman in the robes of the Wizengamot. She looked stuffy and uncomfortable, but nodded when Harry looked at her. Harry hoped that meant she would at least be polite.
            He turned to Kingsley and said, “What is this about, Minister?”
            Kingsley tried to smile around what seemed to be a slice of lemon pickling his tongue. “These—gentle-goblins,” he said, and waved his hand at the goblins, “claim you have stolen property that belongs to them.”
            “Really,” Harry said, and turned to face the goblins. “What would that be?”
            The center goblin looked back and forth between the other two, as if he hadn’t expected such a direct attack. The smirking one said, “The Sword of Gryffindor, of course.”
            “Ah.” Harry nodded. “Well, I don’t have it. I don’t own it, you know. The last thing I knew, it was hanging in Headmistress McGonagall’s office in a place of honor. You should contact her and ask if you can have it back.” He turned to Kingsley. “Is that all you needed me for? Only I have a party to attend, you know.”
            The goblins were all smirking now, and the woman in the Wizengamot robes shifted uneasily. Harry glanced at her. He thought, after a second, that he recognized her face from the latest ensemble picture of the Wizengamot that had appeared in the papers. She had been near the front and center, and her name, he thought, was Julia Turpin.
            “What do you think of this issue, Madam Turpin?” Harry asked her. “Are you here to supervise giving the Sword of Gryffindor back to the goblins?”
            Madam Turpin’s eyebrows flickered, and Harry had the impression she would rather have been anywhere else—which was probably why she was here. It was her turn to handle the disgusting or troublesome politics of the day. Still, she answered gamely. “I did hear something about a promise you made to turn the Sword over to the goblins of Gringotts, Mr. Potter. If you didn’t keep that promise and give it to them, I think that was wrong of you.”
            “Oh, they had it for a while,” Harry said casually. “But then it popped out of the Sorting Hat when Neville Longbottom needed it to kill Nagini.” He turned back to the goblins. “You can interview a lot of people who were there and saw it happen. I’ll give you a list of the names if you like. Before I leave.”
            All the goblins had stopped smirking now. The one in the center stepped forwards and said, “You made a promise, as Madam Turpin states. And you didn’t keep it. We do not have the Sword. That means we have the right to claim a forfeit for you.”
            “What kind of forfeit?” Harry asked, cocking his head and smiling in a way that he knew was charming. Or at least a lot of people thought it was, including reporters and Witch Weekly. “I don’t remember that being mentioned in the terms of our original agreement.”
            “Say, half the money in your vault?”
            “I don’t know. You’re the one setting the terms of the forfeit. I wouldn’t know how much the Sword of Gryffindor is worth.”
            That prompted a distinct growl from the largest goblin, standing at one end. Another one hastily cleared his throat and said, “We mean that we’ll take half the money in your vault if you don’t present us at once with the Sword of Gryffindor.”
            “And I told you where it was,” Harry said. “That means I don’t have it.”
            “You should have kept the terms of your original bargain,” said the goblin who hadn’t spoken so far, in a growling tone.
            Harry raised his eyebrows. He’d perfected a look of disdain for people like the ones who stopped him in the middle of Diagon Alley and wanted to know all about his personal life. That had been another thing Draco had helped him with. “And you should have kept to yours. Since no one did, the bargain is utterly worthless as far as I’m concerned. Approach Professor McGonagall if you insist on having the Sword back. In the meantime, you can tell the goblin who currently handles my account that I’d like to speak with him.”
            “To pay us the forfeit?” asked the goblin with the raspy voice.
            “No,” Harry said. “To make arrangements for moving my money to the branch of Gringotts that operates in France.”
            The goblins leaped as though someone had shocked them with lightning. Kingsley opened his mouth, but in the end said nothing. Madam Turpin was the one to speak, in a faint voice. “That is—extreme, Mr. Potter, surely?”
            “I don’t see why.” Harry turned back to the goblins. “They don’t like me. They don’t want to deal with me, or they only want to do it through transparent political ploys focused on bargains that they never intended to honor in the first place.” He ignored the hoarse murmurs of denial from the goblins. “And they’re wasting my time. I don’t see why I should have to leave my money in the custody of people who feel that way. Others will be more than happy to take care of it.”
            The three goblins seemed to exchange a lot of silent communication through eyebrow wriggles and ear twitching. Then the goblin in the center turned towards Harry and cleared his throat again.
            “Mr. Potter, we’ve—thought about it.” Harry would have laughed at the way his voice was strangled if he hadn’t been fed up with the whole thing, and he kept quiet. The goblin went hastily on. “We have decided that we will ask the Headmistress of Hogwarts for the Sword of Gryffindor, and your forfeit can be—forgiven, considering the good you’ve managed to do for the wizarding world.”
            “Good,” said Harry. “Then I’ll leave my money in the English branch of Gringotts.”
            “That would be—pleasing.”
            “Good,” said Harry, and turned to Kingsley and Madam Turpin, although he couldn’t imagine they would want to be here any longer than he wanted to stay. “Was there any other pressing business that needed to be taken care of?”
            “No, Harry.” Kingsley sounded as though he was concealing a smile. “That was all.”
            “Good,” Harry repeated, and turned and strode out of the office. He kept his pace calm all the way to the lifts, when he sneaked a glance at the watch Mrs. Weasley had given him.
            Thank Merlin, he still had time to get to the party. And maybe he had taught the goblins a lesson about manipulating him. At least they wouldn’t present this as a triumph that would inspire someone else to try.
            Harry grinned. I’ll have to remember to tell Draco how helpful all his lessons are.
*
            This is ridiculous, Draco decided, from where he’d spent long minutes holding his head low while he stared at the floor, and he raised it and stared at Harry in a way that didn’t involve looking sideways or glancing at his reflection in the polished surface of the silver teacups. “I wish I could have helped you with the goblins,” he said.
            Harry glanced up, and although his face turned scarlet immediately, he did clear his throat and begin something like a normal conversation. “I wasn’t aware you’d heard about what they were trying to pull. I thought it would be too minor for them to take to the papers.”
            Draco snorted a little, happy when Harry smiled at him instead of turning away to nurse more embarrassment in private. “For them, maybe, but not for Madam Turpin. It was probably the most exciting thing that happened to her since Lisa’s Sorting.”
            Harry chuckled. “That’s mean, but not untrue.”
            “So.” Draco leaned forwards. “You handled them yourself, obviously, but I—wish I could have been there.” You can act normally, and not like a schoolgirl with a crush. And you don’t have to worry about messing this up with a single comment about him or his friends. Harry likes you now, remember?
            “You were there,” Harry said. “Metaphorically.”
            Draco hoped that he didn’t look as stupid with his lips forming the word “What?” as he suspected, but Harry must not have thought so. He reached out and took Draco’s arm, the first time he’d touched Draco today since shaking hands when he came in. Draco flushed all up and down his body, but at least he could listen to what Harry was saying.
            “I remembered what you’d told me, and taught me,” Harry said quietly. “About politics, and the way that I do need to be firm with people, because sitting back and letting them have what they want all the time will encourage them to use me the way Dumbledore used me during the war. It might have been necessary then. It’s not now. And the goblins were only looking to take revenge, not even asking for something that might have benefited them. So. You were right there with me. I thought about you all the time.”
            Draco sat up, and felt his blush diminish. He didn’t—he didn’t need to worry, he thought. He wasn’t a burden to Harry just because he hadn’t been a war hero, and he didn’t have the kind of fragile friendship they could dent with a single argument.
            He might even have more than friendship.
            “I’ve thought about you since you went home last time,” he confessed quietly. “Come here.”
            Gratifyingly, Harry was the red one this time as he stumbled into Draco’s arms. Draco put his arms around Harry and studied him once, but Harry only looked steadily back. Draco leaned in and kissed him.
            It got hotter faster than it had last time, especially when Harry seized Draco’s head and repositioned it the way he wanted it. Draco took another chance and opened his mouth, and Harry’s tongue was inside it almost before Draco knew what he wanted to do with it.
            Draco closed his eyes. His hands were full of warm skin and muscle, Harry had more muscles than Draco knew what to do with, and then there was his spine, and Draco wanted to stroke it, and there was more of Harry’s own determined stroking of his tongue inside Draco’s mouth, and shit…
            Draco pulled away before he could embarrass himself further. Harry closed his eyes and panted in silence for a second. When he opened them again, his cheeks looked as if they were on fire, and he nodded to Draco.
            “Next time?” he asked. Said. Demanded.
            Draco nodded and put out his hand, carefully shifting in the chair so he wouldn’t sit on something vital. “Of course, Harry. I—we still need to figure out how to do this.” He lowered his voice. “Maybe in a bedroom?”
            Harry grinned. “I still haven’t seen yours, you know.”
            “Then we need to take care of that.” Harry’s eyes immediately snapped to his groin, and Draco felt himself grow harder, even as he drew up his knees and shook his head. “I mean. You seeing my bedroom. Later.”
            “Yeah.” Harry grinned at him, and picked up his cloak. At least he was limping, too, as he departed the room, Draco noted.
            Then Draco went to reintroduce himself to the inside of his bedroom, and imagine Harry on top of him, grinding down on him, whispering in his ear about how much he wanted Draco, until the tension spiraled and snapped and he came down hard, panting at the ceiling.
            Yes. It’s going to be so much more wonderful when we’re finally in the same place when I do that.
            And Draco ignored even the thoughts that suggested it might not go well. Once again, what he and Harry had couldn’t be damaged by a simple argument or one thing going wrong.
            If it doesn’t go right, we’ll try again. Draco reached for his wand and cleaned himself off with a quick swoosh. And I’m looking forward to how much we’ll have to try.
*
starr: Well, I was also trying to suggest that they needed time to wank! It seems I didn’t imply that well enough.
moon: Thank you!
SP777: Well, Harry isn’t in much of a position to notice clothes yet, when he can notice mouths and so on, instead.
I might consider a story like that, yes.
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Acts of Life