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The Same Species As Shakespeare	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 16108 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Seventeen--Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made On

Harry had never been in such a daze.
He had never wanted to wake up less.
Before him appeared silver flagons of a thin, delicate wine that cooled his mouth and soothed his mind, seeming to condense out of the air and light, rather like the illusion of the Keller house Draco had created. They were joined by heavy pies of seasoned meat that made him close his eyes when he bit into them, as the spices swarmed through his throat one by one and burst in his nostrils and behind his eyes like tiny, brilliant bubbles. He followed them with whole roast birds, though what kind of birds he didn�t know; they had feathers of shining silver, replaced after they were cooked, and their flesh melted and dissolved at first, then struck the back of his tongue with heavy flavor. And there were plates of fruit, red berries that gleamed as if plucked straight from the bush and huge purple plums that Harry chewed through slowly, because so much sweetness must be countered by one hell of a stone.
No hands but motes of magic served the meal, and phoenix song rose and fell in the background, alternating between low and high. More than once, Harry glanced up, expecting to see Fawkes heading towards them. He hadn�t seen the phoenix since Dumbledore�s death, but that didn�t change the nature of his expectation. This was a place in which anything might happen.
Draco ate, too, but he spent most of the time sitting across from Harry and staring at him. The touch of his eyes was more pleasant than the taste of the wine. Harry found himself leaning back in his chair and arching his neck, turning his head slowly and deliberately from side to side, because he saw that made Draco�s expression hungrier and hungrier.
Dancing shadows circled under the trees. Blue and green lights flared in the water and vanished, and sometimes they sat in darkness broken by nothing but the blaze of the moon and stars, and the tiny, silver flowers on the hills around them, which seemed to shed their own light. Harry shivered, overcome by the sheer presence of them.
�This is part of what you fought to protect, isn�t it?� he asked Draco, almost timidly. His voice didn�t seem to fit with the hushed wonders of the place.
Draco understood him at once, as only happened in Harry�s dreams. Still, this was a place of dreams, so why not? He reached out and smoothed his thumb over the back of Harry�s hand before answering, and Harry felt fire trail the touch. He closed his eyes and sought to breathe, heavy puffs of air breaking past his lips.
�Yes,� Draco said at last. �Magic like this, places like this, beauty like this. I wouldn�t say that people like your friend Granger are less intelligent than pure-bloods, but they know less of beauty. How can they comprehend or appreciate a place like this?� Passion grew beneath the surface of his voice, and Harry felt a twinge. He could have wished to inspire passion in Draco in a different way right now. �It needs an acceptance of magic that can be laid in childhood alone.�
�And yet, you brought me here.� Harry leaned forwards, sorry to disrupt the mood. But even if he was enchanted, literally, by the magic around him, he could not be enthralled by it. He could not abandon the defense of the friends who had saved his life again and again, the friends who had made him what he was. �What makes me so different from Hermione? I still carry the blood of a Muggleborn woman in my veins.�

*
Draco felt then as he had never felt before.
The world around him hovered, pausing. The silver motes of magic darted to the sides and then ceased to move. The circling shadows beneath the trees dropped out of his sight. The tastes of the food became meaningless on his tongue. His vision narrowed to Harry Potter, staring at him with determined eyes, asking a question that could change everything depending on how he reacted to it.
Draco looked at Potter�s lips, still glistening with the tomato-red sauce spread over one of the birds� wings. He thought of the food he had gathered in his room beneath the Manor, the place where he kept the relics of Potter that would bear witness to his eventual triumph. He had kept the food, and the portrait, and the things Potter had touched, and mementos of the places he had been, because he had thought they would content him, in some manner, for not defeating Potter yet.
Now he knew they never could have, because this was the moment of his revenge.
He had only to subdue his natural inclinations for a moment, since those inclinations were to snap out the difference that Potter�s celebrity and magical power created between him and Granger, and then the moment would be past, and Potter would be his.

He lowered his eyelids and took a deep breath. He heard Potter�s own breathing quicken, and wanted to smile. So many people took the lowering of eyelids for the lowering of eyes, and thought the gesture meant that Draco was going to act demure.
�I had not thought--� he whispered. He shook his head. He had to make a token protest, or else Potter would suspect something was wrong, but he had to show that his own principles were going down fighting before a superior force. He coaxed himself to blush, and reached helplessly across the table to take Potter�s hand again. Potter clasped it and held on tightly, gazing into his face.
�What is it, Draco?� he whispered. �What are you thinking?�
�That there are not such differences as I thought, between me and someone like Granger.� Draco was grateful for his long practice in lying, so that the words slipped out of his throat without catching and choking him. �I didn�t think twice about bringing you here. What�s important to me with you is the personal connection, not blood status.�
He caught a glimpse of Potter�s face from under his lowered eyelids. A glimpse was enough. The idiot was devouring this more eagerly than he�d eaten the pies.
�I never thought anything would be so important,� Draco said. It was as if he had taken his mind away from behind his eyes and the words were spilling from his lips thanks to the person who now possessed him. He tugged on Potter�s hands, pulling him across the table. The flagons and plates that had been in the way had already vanished in a whirl of moonlit dust, as the magic of Avalon sensed what they wanted and responded accordingly. �I never thought someone like you could break the walls I built around myself and make me--more than I am. I am more, you know, when I�m with you. New thoughts rush through my head. New desires plague me.�
�They don�t have to plague you,� Potter said, and his lips were open, his eyes mostly shut, and filled with drowning black, as his pupils dilated. Draco took a moment to wonder at how easily it was for this hero to surrender to him, when he hadn�t surrendered to Voldemort, a far more overwhelming presence, and then he bowed his head and pressed his lips to Potter�s.
His doom came out of that mouth and claimed him.

*
Harry gasped and slung an arm around Draco�s neck. The pressure of his mouth was far greater than it had been the last time they kissed, and that had been great enough to bring the blood from his wound. But this�
This made Harry�s teeth cut into his lips. It drove his tongue backwards until he thought he might choke on it as if he were having a seizure. It filled his mouth with thick splendor, and muffled his gasps until he wondered if Draco would think him passionate at all, so thoroughly were his noises stifled.
But when he opened his eyes fully enough to gaze into Draco�s face, he found that Draco wasn�t about to notice anything out of the ordinary. His eyes had slammed shut, and he looked as if he were in pain.
I never want him to be in pain, Harry thought, as he planted a knee on the table and shifted his position so that he could kiss Draco more strongly. I want to protect him, to shelter him, to lend him my strength and guard him.

The realization made the starry sky that had swollen around them as they fell on the broom seem to expand behind his eyes in turn.
This isn�t temporary. I don�t want Kingsley to pull me off this assignment and force me never to see him again. My strength to protect him, my body to shield him. I want that, for ever and always.

Even if he doesn�t feel the same way.

It was wonderfully freeing, in a way, the epiphany of how powerful his own desire was. He wanted this no matter what Draco wanted, which meant he was unconstrained by the selfish nature Ron had warned him about, if it even existed. Harry kissed and kissed and felt as if he could laugh and yell aloud with the world of possibilities that had suddenly opened for him. Draco made him more himself with this kiss, whether or not that was what he had intended.
That was how Harry knew he had fallen in love.

*
Draco was trembling all over, and he could not figure out why.
He bore Potter to the grass, not to the table; despite the decadence which taking Potter on the table would have implied, and which appealed to him deeply, it wasn�t stable enough for him to be sure that he could maintain his dignity whilst they had sex. And dignity was all-important. It was the thing that would save him when Potter looked at him with soft eyes and assumed he had bound Draco to him as he was bound to Draco.
But Draco Malfoy did the claiming. He was not claimed. He was a creature of sharp edges, of ice and darkness. And the more fool Harry Potter that he should lie on the soft, warm grass of Avalon, a place where pure-blood wizards had come for centuries to celebrate their triumphs, and think he had conquered.
He undressed Potter, of course. No use letting him think that he had enough initiative to do even that. And wounds he had waited years to heal healed now, as he swept his fingers over the crooks of Potter�s elbows, over the bumps of his shoulders, down the ridges of his spine. Potter lay beneath him, eyes shining until his face resembled a star or a silver flower, and played with Draco�s hair, stroked his cheeks, traced the line of his jaw. Draco caught himself enjoying it with eyes shut, and shook his head, opening them. No, it would not do, either, to make Potter think he could be seduced, when in fact he was the one in control here.
Yet I feel so strangely out of control, he told himself as he gazed down at Potter, who had risen on one elbow now and was playing with the buttons of Draco�s robes. Potter�s own clothes were cast off to the side, not folded and not even folded beneath them, because the grass of Avalon was soft enough. Draco�s throat burned as if he had been running for miles through snow. His eyes stung hard around the edges, as if someone were forcing needles beneath the lids. His mouth was dry and he licked his lips repeatedly, but he was not thirsty.

Except perhaps for a taste of Potter�s mouth, as he found when he lay down on top of him and pressed his lips to Potter�s again.
Potter accepted it for only a moment this time, and ignored Draco�s sharp shift of displeasure as he pushed himself away, laughing. �You need these off,� he said, and tugged Draco�s robes from his shoulders; when had he opened them? �You don�t want to ruin them if you come in them.�
Draco could have told him that most of the time he did make his lovers orgasm whilst he himself was clothed, more than once, and then undressed himself and took his pleasure from their limp and sated bodies. But Potter was too delicate in both his emotions and his understanding. He would react badly if Draco drove him too far now. So Draco reared back on his knees to remove the robes and the white shirt he wore beneath them, followed by his boots, trousers, and pants.
And Potter gaped at him.
Draco turned his head to the side, preening, letting his hair fall along the line of his jaw in a way that he knew made him look even more handsome than he really was. Potter promptly reached up and gathered a handful of hair.
�I can hardly believe you,� he whispered. �It�s as if you�re a dream that I had one morning and I woke to find you real. That�s how hard it is to think you�re not just a creation of my own mind.� He shook his head, as though he had realized how much like babble his words had sounded, and drew Draco down to kiss him.
Draco allowed that for only a few seconds. Potter did not control things around here. It was time he learned that. He drew his wand, pulled his head back from the kiss, and cast a modified Incarcerous. Ropes snaked around Potter�s wrists and drew them over his head, binding them to a convenient rock that of course was where Draco needed it to be, thanks to the magic of Avalon.
Potter arched his back as though Draco had just stroked his cock, and, for the first time, really drew Draco�s eyes to his naked skin. It was--fine, Draco thought grudgingly. More tanned than he usually preferred, but then, most of his lovers had been pure-bloods like himself, with no need to work a job and a high aversion to physical labor. His muscles were more than fine, and Draco reached out and touched one of his nipples before he realized what he was doing. He usually did more talking before he condescended to touch his lovers.
�Oh, yes,� Potter said, his voice so low that Draco almost couldn�t hear him. He wriggled his hands in their bonds, and nodded in satisfaction when the knots tightened around his wrists. He tilted his head back, and Draco�s heart gave one enormous beat when he saw the fire glimmering in his green eyes. �Take me, Draco.�
Draco hesitated for a long moment. He had planned to taunt Potter with his helplessness, anger him, and then melt him until he was gasping and begging in spite of himself. He would not obey Potter�s commands. But Potter was demanding exactly what Draco wished to do.
Potter stared at him and opened his mouth. Draco thought he would laugh. But instead he breathed, a gust of hot air, scented with the meat and wine he�d drunk, that struck Draco right in the face.
Draco leaned down and kissed him, all sense and all thought gone.

*
It was the most intense lovemaking Harry had ever experienced.
He�d been with sweeter people--especially thoughtful Amanda, his second lover after his sexual orientation had been announced to the press, who laughed at him and with him and taught him not to be afraid of his own desires. He�d been with people who spent a longer time arousing him, and who made love with their eyes on his face, as if to miss one of his expressions would be to commit blasphemy.
But Harry had never been sure how much of that came from affection for him and how much came from their gathering material on the Savior of the Wizarding World that they later sold to the papers. Draco, he knew, at least was obsessed with him for himself; it was the history Harry had shared with him that mattered, not the fact, or not the fact alone, that Harry had defeated Voldemort.
Harry could almost hear Ron whispering that he was making excuses for the bastard.
But Harry didn�t care. Didn�t Ron make excuses for Hermione, apologizing to the people she offended with her brusqueness but also defending her investment in her studies? Didn�t everyone make excuses for the people they loved?
And he loved Draco.
The mouth on his neck, keen teeth cutting his skin, a sharp tongue soaking up the blood from the mark�Harry arched his head back and tilted it to the side to try and pin Draco to the spot with his chin, since his hands were bound.
The press of Draco�s knee between his legs, glimmering as a part of the pale wash of skin in the dusky green and purple night, the rocking motion as relentless as the pace of the sea�Harry clasped his thighs about Draco�s and thrust against him, his cock rustling and his blood aching.
The mouth fastened about his cock, sucking and then retreating, never letting him fall over the edge but reclaiming his interest each time he might have been driven to distraction with a darting lick�Harry wept at last with the pleasure of it, tears of fury and frustration, and then Draco swallowed around him and he almost came, but cruel fingers pinched about his erection and held back his orgasm.
He was panting by the time Draco eased one finger into him, and then that thrust in and out until Harry howled with impatience. Draco laughed and said, �Patience, Harry. I count a hundred between the introduction of each finger.�
Harry closed his eyes and thought he would die.
Somehow it passed, the count of three hundred. Draco pushed into him, not easing as he had the fingers, his breath harsh as a dying man�s by the time he was seated. Harry flung his head back again and felt the cushion of grass beneath his hair, and pictured the starry sky and the moon wheeling around the island in the center of the ocean, which in turn wheeled around this flower-starred, moonlit island in the center of the inlet, until images multiplied and expanded in his head and he felt that he lay at the center of the universe.
Draco�s hips drove forwards with sharp snaps. The thumps of his hips, and of Harry�s arse as it hit the grass again and again from the pace, grew rhythmic. The phoenix song dipped and turned husky and urgent, matching them as they rose towards their climaxes.
Harry closed his eyes. The purple and the green followed him behind his eyelids, blooming and opening, and he fell into darkness and fireworks as his orgasm started to tear through his body.
Draco caught his breath, and his movements became ragged. Harry forced his eyes open in time to see his expression change, becoming fearful, full of wonder. He bent forwards, his hands, which had rested so far on his own hips as if to guide them the more in the plundering of Harry�s arse, fluttering forwards, resting on Harry�s hips as if he needed the support.
�What--� he panted. �What--� Harry had the impression he wanted to say more, but couldn�t find the breath to finish the sentence.
He sagged as he came, and the warm rush made Harry�s muscles tighten and pushed him into freefall at last. He felt his wrists chafing as he yanked at his bonds. That didn�t usually happen, but so intense was his orgasm that he felt the need to move, to reach down and touch himself, and of course that couldn�t happen when his hands were held helpless.
But if anyone was helpless at the moment, Harry thought it was Draco. His hair hung disheveled around his head, and he just kept staring at Harry, his eyes flickering between Harry�s face and his arse, as though somewhere on his body he would find the answer as to why he was affected like this.
Harry offered him a sleepy smile. Draco was shaking like a butterfly new-come from the cocoon, and Harry understood why.
He had fallen in love with a Draco partially of his own creation; he understood that. He saw the potential in Draco for more, for stronger emotional commitment and for translating his talent at art into a talent for dealing with human beings. He knew how to do it; that much was there in the way he spoke with Keller. Now he needed to reach beyond the closed-in world of pure-blood wizards and learn to relate to others. Now he was coming to know his own ability to expand his soul and send his thoughts flowing into the heads of others so as to mingle with their minds.
He could be so much more than he was. He could be the high and haughty pure-blood aristocrat and the genius that his talent implied, the disdainful man who had kept the Daily Prophet from writing degrading stories about his life since the war with pure temper alone and the lover who relaxed his guard inside carefully-protected walls. Harry saw the Draco he could be lingering like a shadow behind his gestures, like an aura around his head and his lips and his eyes.
From the shattered expression in Draco�s eyes, he had seen the wall separating him from his newborn self break for the first time. Harry was willing to wait for him to recover from that. Hands still tied above his head, he pressed his lips against Draco�s throat and closed his eyes.

*
Draco closed his eyes and held Potter tightly--he had called him Harry, hadn�t he, during the fucking?--and waited for his heart to stop beating as wildly as it was.
It did not stop. Instead, the pace increased until he was sure Potter could see the skin of his chest quivering if he looked down.
This was--
This was unacceptable.
What he had felt during the sex was unacceptable.
He had never fallen that deeply into another person before. Normally, he held off the other�s orgasm until he had climaxed, then tormented and teased until they were driven to the point of begging. It was the best way to make sure he had won the encounter.
This time, he had not. They had achieved mutual triumph, or mutual defeat. From the sated smile on Potter�s face, and the way he shifted as if the welts opening on his wrists were something to be proud of instead of a sign of weakness, he thought it was triumph.
The action Draco had planned as the first step in his destruction, by making him see how deeply he had surrendered himself to Draco and how dependent he was on Draco�s continuing good will for mental and emotional survival, had somehow turned like an asp and stung him.
Draco shut his eyes because he had to; it was better to show Potter a small sign of emotion than reveal all the specific emotions in his gaze. He lay still, panting, and then sank his hands into the grass around them and gave a sharp yank. Potter gave a soft laugh, as if he imagined the violent gesture were some sort of tribute to him.
The laugh rushed a revelation towards Draco, and for a moment he saw what would happen if he accepted the conflict in the way Potter had, saw what he might become, saw how he might change--
No!

Ominous clangs erupted in his head. His thoughts snarled at him. If he turned his back on Potter, if he betrayed him, then he would regret it. The fall he had planned would be his fall. Potter�s defeat would spread to encompass him and swallow him as fully as the abyss that spanned the other side of Avalon would, if he fell into it.
But the alternative to that betrayal was the soft future he could feel spreading in front of him, the change he would have to make in his ideals and his behavior, because he would have to stay with Potter, and Potter would demand no less.
Caught between a loss of honor and dignity, and a loss of all he was, Draco twisted on the grass, feeling as though a hook had stabbed deep into his guts, and Potter lay beside him, face limp with pleasure.
There was only one decision he could make, of course, and towards morning he made it.
*
fallenangel1129: That scene is very odd, isn�t it?
linagabriev: Well, remember that the Aurors think this is someone imitating Draco, not a clone or twin. They don�t have any reason not to think so.
As for whether this is a concealed twin son of Narcissa�s, the biggest problem with the theory is why he waited until seven or eight years after her death to make himself known.
Draco does not know what Avalon is, exactly. Probably another dimension, but inside wizardspace, not ordinary space.
And I�m glad you�re enjoying the story!
Dena: My recipient for this story specified one about betrayal, sacrifices, and forgiveness, so that�s what I�m going for here. I also chose obsession in all its forms as a theme. I think that leads to greatly flawed characters (at least, when obsession is treated as a fault instead of a sign of how much one character �loves� another). As for what Draco deserves, well, I think he deserves a bit better than spending the rest of his life in pain, but that�s because so many of his problems come from lack of self-knowledge. He thinks he has a grand plan to hurt Harry, but so far all he�s done is plan. Of course, that may change with the next chapter�
Thrnbrooke: Thank you!

MewMew2: Thank you! This Avalon is of course not exactly like the Arthurian one, but I thought it appropriate for the kind of fic this is turning out to be.
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The Same Species As Shakespeare