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Contracted	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 18657 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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Chapter Seventeen--The Spinning Clock

            Draco felt the first warm touch of Potter's lips on his, the insistent hand on the back of his neck, the rub of callused fingers over his soft skin--

            And he surprised himself with the rush of fierce excitement that blasted through him and made him lean forwards, pressing Potter into the wall by the window, bringing his own hands into play on Potter's hips and his own tongue into play in the kiss. He was making soft grunting noises in the back of his throat, and that inspired him to make the kiss even better. That way, he wouldn't have to pay Potter to forget that he had made noises like that.

            Potter broke off once and seemed as if he would mumble something against Draco's lips, but in the end he dived back into the kiss. Draco smiled against him, exhilarated, and thrust his tongue straight ahead, touching the tip of Potter's, which made him stiffen. I like this.

            It was a simpler thought than many of his, and all the more valuable for being so rare. He twisted his leg and brought his knee into position between Potter's legs, rubbing gently against his groin. Potter uttered a grunt of his own that somewhat evened the score and rose onto his toes.

            It occurred to Draco suddenly, bursting over him like an eclipse, that he was probably the first one in seven years to receive Potter's true passion. Potter had held himself back from showing any once he became Sandborn's slave, and his relationship with Callia had never been about such things.

            He had something special, something unique, something no one else would ever have even if Potter went on to numerous lovers after this.

            That made Draco ache even more strongly to make this good for him. He cupped his hand flat over Potter's hip, rubbing, then curved his nails down to create stinging scratches that would complement the pleasure with a touch of pain. He shifted so that Potter was pressed less flat against the wall and softened the kiss, gentled it, rubbing his tongue back and forth until Potter moaned. He reached for his shirt, intending to pull it over Potter's head and reveal the expanse of a bare chest. His mouth watered to bite and chew and mark.

            Potter was the one who hopped away, his hair wild and his mouth mussed and red. Draco licked a bleeding split in his own lip and smiled in what he hoped was an inviting manner and probably wasn't, if the suspicious way that Potter cocked his head was an indication.

            "What the hell?" Potter demanded. "I know that you didn't really mean the flirting, it was just a ruse to fool the ones who might be paying too much attention to us, you said so--"

            "I didn't really mean the flirting as long as you didn't mean it," Draco countered, stifling a sigh as he realized this was going to be another conversation with someone who didn't understand the way his world worked. "You were committed to freedom before anything else, or so I thought. So I did what was necessary to secure that and amuse myself at the same time. But if you are serious, then I'm serious."

            "You--change based on what other people want?" Potter asked, staring at him.

            Draco laughed at him. "What, and you don't? What else would you call your contract with Sandborn?"

*

            Harry winced. The words hit him like a blow.

            But then, everything Malfoy had done so far had hit him like a blow. The unexpectedly enthusiastic response to his kiss, the flirting, the offer of help in the first place, challenging Sandborn to his face--

            There was no one else like him. Harry thought he could easily get lost in Malfoy if he didn't have their past history to keep him committed to resistance, and if he didn't know that most of the reason that Malfoy was involved with him in the first place came from the debt that he felt he owed.

            Yet, at the same time...

            "That doesn't make sense," he said thickly, and cursed the state of his lips as Malfoy looked at them and gave one of those private smiles. "Otherwise, you wouldn't seem as self-involved as you do. You would be like me. Selfless."

            "Well, that's because you phrased the question in the wrong way." Malfoy seemed as happy to discuss the matter as he had been a few minutes before to kiss Harry, striding back and forth as he lectured. Harry didn't let himself look to see if Malfoy was hard, although he badly wanted to. "I don't change based on what random people want, or even what the Minister wants. But if someone I find attractive offers me choices, or one of my friends does, or even one of my enemies who invites me into an alliance, why not? I can at least try it and see what happens. It might not work out. In fact, it's worked out fewer times than it's crashed." Malfoy gave him a flashing smile. "But the times it's worked, it's been good enough that I keep going. I had a wonderful year with Astoria before she realized that she would never be able to compete with me. I've made allies of a few people who hated me before the war, and that was worthwhile, if only for the complementary tickets to Quidditch games." His eyelids lowered, and he shot Harry a smoldering glance. "I have the feeling that you could be worthwhile, too."

            "Stop it," Harry said, flinging out one hand as though that would convince Malfoy. Malfoy did let his eyes dart to it, and then brought them back to Harry's face with what seemed a gesture of politeness.

            "What and why?"

            "This--this dance of yours," Harry said. He felt disgusted now, his ardor rapidly cooling. He should have known the kiss wouldn't change anything, wouldn't make Malfoy stop blowing hot and cold. "You act as though you want me, then you don't, and now you've made it clear that you could take or leave me, based on my own reactions. That's not the way an ally or a friend should act."

            "What about a lover?" Malfoy asked, leaning forwards in interest.

            "I haven't had one in long enough to make me incapable of answering that question," Harry said. "And I shouldn't have tried to make you one. Sorry, or whatever rubbish you'll accept in place of a proper answer." He glared at Malfoy and moved away, aiming for the door.

            Malfoy danced around in front of him, not seeming to notice how embarrassing that motion could be. "I didn't mean to chase you off," he said. "I should have realized that you would be uncomfortable with honesty, surrounded by as many lies as you have been."

            "That's not it, either," Harry said, and struggled hard to keep his mask of frozen calm. He was not going to give in and do what Malfoy wanted. Too many people did that, which would explain why he got away with as much as he did. "I don't want you, Malfoy. Amazing as that is."

            "You kissed me like you wanted me."

            The intense glow, the serious one, was back in his eyes. Harry folded his arms and glared. "I kissed you because I wanted you to act like a normal human being for once," he said. "And you won't. So why don't we just quit and go our separate ways?"

*

            Ah.

            Yes, Draco should have understood. Potter had been emotionally constipated for so long that he couldn't relax and enjoy the free interplay of personal energies in the way that Draco wanted him to. He would be too stuck, too serious, insistent on seeing his personal perceptions of the world as truth.

            So Draco reached out and drew him closer by the arms, kissing him lightly, so that Potter could break free at any time.

            And he did, making a huge show of wiping his mouth. Draco grinned. Potter couldn't lie about the flush in his cheeks, about the mussed state of his hair that had resulted from fingers other than his own.

            "Are you mad?" Potter demanded. "Didn't you hear what I just said?"

            "Yes," Draco said. "I just didn't really care."

            Potter took a step away from him, and the angle of his body told Draco that this was more serious than he had anticipated. Of course it was. Potter was always more bloody serious than anyone needed to be. "I don't want you as a lover when you take life that lightly," Potter said. "Sorry. That's just the way it has to be. You can still help me and get rid of this debt if you want, and so can the rest of the Slytherins. But I need someone whose main goal in life is not irritating me. At least, I need that kind of person in my bed."

            Draco watched him thoughtfully. "I don't mean to irritate you," he said, when Potter clenched his jaw and stared through him. "But on the other hand, I think you could use someone who irritates you because you've slid through most of your life since the war avoiding irritation and trying to make life smooth and perfect for everyone else. And you could use someone who teaches you to laugh." Not to mention that you look magnificent with your fire blazing through your eyes, but you probably wouldn't thank me for saying so.

            "It's too--" Potter made a sharp gesture with one hand. That apparently expressed all sorts of things that he thought Draco should understand, because he went on without explaining what he meant. "For me, at least. I'm sure that it could work for someone else, and I hope you find someone who wants to be with you." He gave Draco a temperate smile. Draco wanted to applaud. It was one of the gentlest versions of fuck off he'd ever heard. "But even when I kissed you, you didn't do what I wanted--"

            "And that's important, isn't it?" Draco nodded. "I understand. That was why you didn't object strenuously to marrying Callia. She would always do what you wanted, provided that what you wanted was a limp fish and someone who would never surprise you."

            "That's not it, either!" Potter's eyes had that dangerous shine again. Draco reckoned that what he was doing was rather akin to standing in the middle of a storm and waving around a piece of sharp metal, but he couldn't resist. "I want someone I can fight beside, someone who will guard my back, someone I can trust."

            "You can trust me to support you," Draco said. "But not forever. Astoria and I were together, and I couldn't always support her the way she wanted me to, either. She needed someone more boring."

            "Stable," Potter snapped. "At least, from what I saw of them the other night, that's the case."

            "Boring," Draco insisted. "She didn't like chaos and excitement in her life. There were other reasons, too, but it would be impolite to discuss them with you. That's to reassure you that I wouldn't betray your secrets to the press if we became lovers and then decided to end it," he added virtuously.

            Potter buried his head in his hands. "You don't have any idea of the real source of my objections, do you?" he muttered.

            "I think most of it comes down to honesty," Draco said. "I'm honest with my lovers about the sort of person I am. I can give them a good time, and loyalty while I'm with them, and I tell them jokes and make them laugh and irritate them and argue with them and let them know if I'm getting tired of them or if there's some other problem. But you prefer lies. You don't want pain. You want people to smile and smile and drift away from you. Look at the way you had to come to me for reassurance after this conversation with Callia, even though you didn't want to marry her and you must be glad that she's gone and you can't seriously fear that this rumor about you having stone children--not one of Pansy's more believable efforts, I must say--is going to prevent anyone from falling in love with you. You're not built for confrontation anymore. You want someone to soothe the sting."

            Potter had dropped his hands from his face in the middle of that speech and was staring at Draco. Draco smiled serenely back and tipped his head to the side, wondering if Potter was considering murder. Astoria would have, if Draco had ripped into her like that, and Potter's nerves were apparently made of tissue. "Honest, remember? I'll always tell you what I mean, because that's more fun and I only lie to my enemies."

*

            That--

            That hurts.

            Harry felt as though Malfoy had reached into his head and performed Legilimency on him, exposing all his secrets to himself the way that Harry had seen the secrets of Snape's past when he looked into the bastard's Pensieve. No, on second thought, Legilimency would have hurt less.

            He wasn't really like that. He couldn't be. Harry shuddered and wanted to reject the thoughts that Malfoy's words sent fluttering up in him.

            Unfortunately, those thoughts seemed more powerful than the confusion he had scrambled through after the kiss, and all of them confirmed what Malfoy had said. Why had the conversation with Callia upset him so much? He hadn't said anything to her that was particularly jarring, and she had accused him of lying and nothing else. Her words had been mild. He wasn't sure that she was capable of the depth of outrage that someone like Ginny or Hermione would have been.

            But it had still hurt, still scored him, still driven him to Malfoy.

            And what had he expected from Malfoy? Comfort? His friends would have been better at dispensing that, especially since they would have no reason to think that he wasn't in the right. Someone patting him on the back and telling him that he would find someone else? Again, Ron would have been an expert at that.

            What had he come here for, but honesty?

            Only he had thought he would hear honesty directed at Callia, and not him. Which...seemed like a bloody stupid thing to assume, after the way that Malfoy had challenged him, laughed at him, taunted him, and flirted with him in front of his boss.

            "All right," Harry said at last. His voice creaked. "Thanks for...saying that. I reckon I needed to hear it."

            "You did," Malfoy said. He seemed no more or less composed than he had been before. He watched Harry with shining grey eyes that could have been called compassionate or hard with equal truth. Not that I would know what truth is, if I listen to him, Harry thought, and flinched again. "Now, you have to decide whether you only kissed me to provoke a reaction to me, or something else."

            "Yes, that was the only reason," Harry said. He found a flaw in Malfoy's logic then, and straightened to glare at him. "And if you're honest all the time except with your enemies, then how come you keep changing the way you flirt with me in private, where there's no one to be impressed with our ruse? You act as if you want me, then you laugh, and I can't be sure."

            "Oh, is that all," Malfoy said, in the same tone someone would use to say, Oh, yes, I cleaned the toilet this morning. "Yes, I want you. But in the ways I told you about, not in the 'I've fallen in love with your heroic manliness and love you for that and I'm waiting for you to sweep me off to bed' way that I think you want. And you're so uptight that you've taken every other sort of advance wrong. So I didn't think that telling you would help much."

            "I don't want someone in love with my heroic manliness," Harry muttered. He was sure he was blushing.

            "Yes, you do," Malfoy said, with maddening cheerfulness. "You want someone you can love and marry. And I really don't think that I'll ever be that person. If you want me back enough to go to bed for a casual good time, or because you want me to tease you and poke holes in that puffed-up pride of yours, that's fine. If not, then the kiss was just a test, and I passed it by baffling you more." He sounded incredibly pleased with himself.

            Harry clenched his hands. He wondered how he could explain what he meant, how he could use words that were honest enough--or, maybe, knowing Malfoy, simple enough--to get his point across without having it mistaken.

            Malfoy leaned on the wall and watched him calmly in response. Harry ground his teeth and said, slowly, "I want someone who can do those things, but I have to know they mean it. This started because of the debt you feel you owe me. Is it only that?"

            "No," Malfoy said, voice softer now. "But that's a part of it, and I'm not going to pretend, like I said, that I'm in love with you and there's something deep and special and unique between us. It can grow beyond the debt. The debt will always be at the bottom. Tolerate that now, or walk away." He reached out and picked up the glass that Harry had set down, taking a sip from the drink left in it.

            What am I doing? Harry asked himself as he moved a slow step forwards. Something stupid, he answered himself. If I have sex with Malfoy and it doesn't work out, it's going to have consequences I don't want.

            But on the other hand...

            The confrontation with Callia shouldn't have rattled him so much. He should have been readier for change. He shouldn't have dreaded confronting his friends so much that he'd dreamed about running away from them instead.

            I need to take a risk. And if it doesn't work out, at least I'll have new consequences to deal with, and maybe that will allow me to live again.

            He leaned forwards and kissed Malfoy again, and this time he put all the strength and warmth he could call up into it.

*

            Draco smiled against Potter's lips, and hoped he wouldn't take it the wrong way. That had been the choice that he'd hoped Potter would make, but he couldn't control that, and after some of the things that Potter had said and done, Draco didn't even know for certain that he could persuade him. Potter had his head not in the clouds or up his arse, but in some strange region unknown to the rest of humankind.

            None of that decreased Draco's desire to make his brain vibrate in his skull.

            He slid his hand down Potter's hip, cupping and stroking, aiming for his groin and the insistent erection he could feel. Potter only shifted closer to make it easier for him, a low, eager sound breaking from his throat.

            Draco bit his lip, and when Potter opened his mouth wider, perhaps to protest, swept his tongue in at the same time moment as his fingers worked Potter through the cloth. He had always found it interesting to combine his pleasures, not to mention that he might make his lovers more excited.

            Potter made the low noise again and then reached down and pressed the back of his hand against Draco's cock. Draco broke away to gasp, but buried his face in Potter's shoulder so that he wouldn't sound embarrassing.

            "I've never done this with a bloke before." Potter's voice was softly rough, as though he assumed there was anything he could ask that Draco wouldn't be tempted to grant him. "If I do something wrong, just tell me."

            "Doing fine so far," Draco said, and then began kissing his way down Potter's throat. From the way Potter arched against him, he both rather liked that and hadn't known he liked it. Draco muffled soundless laughter again and nipped hard, but decided from Potter's flinch that that wasn't as much of a successful experiment.

            His hands were learning Potter's, his body was learning his, and Draco had the impression that this would be a pleasure in more ways than the obvious. He looked up to smile at Potter, wanting him to know that.

            Potter was bending over him with an intense expression--of course, Draco should have expected the intensity, even if Potter was a little less serious than usual at the moment--and his eyes were a shade of darkness that Draco hadn't known green could attain. His mouth set into a firm line when he saw Draco looking. Part of him, Draco suspected, still wanted to hide.

            But he shook his head a moment later, and joined their mouths together for a sucking nip that made Draco moan in approval. Yes, that was much better than some of the things that he had planned. He curled a leg around Potter's hip and stroked his foot up and down his arse. Potter jolted at that, and for the first time, started to attack back, biting at Draco's pulse point.

            "Yes, that's right," Draco gasped, and various other nonsensical things that he didn't bother to remember. He let Potter press him back against the wall and open his shirt. His pulse was fluttering in front of Potter, tender, vulnerable, and when Potter's teeth closed over it as if they would tear it out through Draco's skin, Draco arched up hard enough to make his hair fly back.

            "Like that, noted," Potter said, and his capable, dangerous hands folded back Draco's trousers and pants. Draco looked down to watch his cock bob a few inches from Potter's mouth as he knelt. He wondered if Potter was the kind to use teeth, and if he should be worried.

            Potter didn't. He only stayed there, staring as if he didn't know what to do. Draco started to smile and say that he could do anything he wanted, only move, please.

            Then Potter moved. He leaned in until his nose rested on Draco's cock and rubbed it up and down, breathing out a wash of hot breath at the same time.

            Draco laid his head back on the wall and came, simply and sweetly, a coruscating rush that weakened his legs and made him have to sit down. Or slide down. Anyone could have used either word, and Draco wouldn't have been picky.

            Potter pulled back, wiping semen off his face, and off his glasses. Draco forgot about his tiredness and lunged at him.

            Oh, this was the latest wonderful thing in an evening full of wonderful things, pressing Potter to the floor, feeling those muscles contract and flex beneath him, knowing Potter could throw him off and was choosing not to, feeling Potter squirm beneath him as Draco applied his fingers directly to his groin.

            "Rock against me," he gasped, and slid one knee down and into position.

            And Potter clasped his legs around it and rode it as if he had always done such things.

            Tipping his head back. His throat gleaming with sweat. His chest heaving as if he were fighting his breath, as if he didn't want it to come out fast, and Draco reached down and pressed in just the right place, over his heart--

            It was hot and wet when Potter came against him, which was more than fine. Draco curled around him and yawned into the face of the universe that might try and part them, resting his cheek against Potter's shoulder. Potter reached up and clumsily patted at his hair.

            "That," said Potter. He faltered and fell silent, of course.

            Draco smiled, knowing Potter couldn't see him from this angle, and remembered to raise the wards around their particular room so that Pansy and Theo couldn't intrude. The wards would break if blood was spilled in the room or if he screamed in true pain, but not for any other reason. Pansy would know why and draw the right conclusions. Theo would probably need it explained to him.

            Potter rolled back and forth beneath him for a moment, uneasy. Draco reached for his wand again, cast a Cushioning Charm on the floor, and then slung himself more stolidly across Potter's stomach.

            After a moment, Potter gave in and wrapped his arms around Draco, settling--something he was used to doing, Draco thought.

            But this time, it's in a good cause.

*

            SP777: Depends on what you mean by a casualty. Harry might end up regretting it, but Draco really won't, no matter what happens.

            Nubia: Thank you!

            Night Owl: Thank you! This is about the only really humorous story I'm writing right now, and I do look forward to updating it.

            polka dot: Draco's house-elves know better.
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