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A Series of Malfoy Events	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 11220 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Chapter Eighteen—When It Was The Morning After
            “You’re still here,” someone said into his ear, in a stunned voice.
            Harry turned his head and blinked. He had thought for a second that he would be somewhere else, that perhaps someone had kidnapped him when he was sleeping and carried him out of Malfoy Manor. It had happened before, and it was one of the reasons Harry always slept with his wand close at hand.
            But no, it was just Draco bending over him with his eyes so wide and shocked that Harry couldn’t resist. He lowered his voice to the point that Draco leaned down to hear him and said, “No, I think I’m a—
            “Ghost!” he shouted, and Draco leaped entirely off the not-silver sheets and ended up crouched next to the bed, staring at him.
            Harry sat up and stretched, casually. He’d been curious about whether he would find Draco attractive when he wasn’t overwhelmed with desire, and he was pleased to see that he did. He wanted to reach over and press some of Draco’s skin so his chest scars stood out better, actually. Harry could start apologizing for them with his tongue.
            “You’re ridiculous,” Draco hissed. He slammed his hands flat on the bed, making Harry bounce but not much more, since the mattress was already so taut. Harry smiled at him, and Draco lowered his head and butted one of the pillows instead. “I meant—I didn’t think you would stay next to me because you would probably wake up, get upset that you had sex with a man, and leave.”
            “Draco.” Harry reached out and clasped his shoulders. “You need to know something.”
            “Yes? What?” Draco twisted to the side and looked at Harry’s hand as if he was expecting some kind of trick from that, too. Well, considering what Harry had done so far, he reckoned he couldn’t blame him.
            “You need to learn how to love yourself.”
            There was a long, long moment before Draco’s teeth met with a click. It was one of the most satisfying moments of Harry’s life.
            Then Draco shoved him back onto the bed and straddled him. That brought his scars a lot closer. Harry eyed them and felt himself stirring. That had happened before, of course, but it was interesting to know that, this time, if Draco moved just right, Harry’s erection would touch another erection, instead of the soft skin or breasts he was more used to touching.
            “Why didn’t you?” Draco pounded his hands beside Harry’s head this time. “Anyone else would have. Every time I think I’ve found someone I can really be with, it turns into this dream and fades away. And you’re—you need to understand. I thought you were straight. You said you were straight.”
            “Sort of short-sighted of you to try to make me into your fiancé, then,” Harry told him. He yawned. He had slept wonderfully, but one of the things that happened when he slept like that was that he would wake up and want to snuggle back into the blankets and sleep some more.
            “I wanted—I wanted you, and I didn’t care what I had to do to get it.”
            “Well.” Harry reached up and cradled Draco’s wrists. Draco was staring down at him with the same devastated, lost expression he seemed to think went with being honest, and Harry didn’t want him to wear it. He reached up and traced his fingers back and forth across Draco’s collarbone. “Right. Now you have me.”
            “What happens if you decide tomorrow that you like women and then walk away from me?”
            “I do still like women. The way that Cassel told me you did, too. Although maybe I shouldn’t trust her, since she turned out to be a crazy murderer.”
            Draco shook his head. “She was only a murderer on my orders. And I know that she would have come to rescue me herself before she would have let me fall to my death.”
            Harry rolled his eyes. “How comforting.”
            “Listen to me. What guarantee do I have that you’re not going to leave me tomorrow for some Quidditch player who catches your eye?”
            “You’re the only Quidditch player who’s caught my eye in months. And I suppose that I can’t do anything that will make you more certain, except stay here and kiss you. Because, I promise you, I’m not about to do any sort of Unbreakable Vow nonsense. I know the kind of trouble that that got Snape into.”
            Draco still looked lost, and Harry reached up and kissed his collarbone and then rolled him back down on the bed. Draco went, but his grunts were forced, and he kept looking Harry in the eye, not even reacting when Harry ran his hand across Draco’s stomach.
            Annoyed, Harry finally ducked his head and traced his tongue across one of Draco’s scars the way he’d been envisioning. At least that made Draco jump as though someone had cast a lightning bolt at his arse. And he groped for Harry, and his hand was strong on the back of his neck, shoving him down.
            Because he felt like being contrary—he did most of the time, around Draco—Harry didn’t let Draco shove him down far enough to reach Draco’s cock. Instead, he ran his tongue consideringly along those silvery scars, and then used his teeth when his tongue no longer seemed enough. Draco fell back on the bed. Harry followed, using his hands on Draco’s hips now.
            It seemed to go on for a long time, as Harry learned all the different ways that those scars could taste, and Draco’s breathing became more rapid and shallow. When Harry drew back to consider him, he looked as though he’d run a few miles.
            “And I thought Quidditch players were in better shape,” Harry muttered, before diving back down.
            “I’m the Seeker, I don’t have to—”
            Then Draco gave a sound that Harry was going to tell him was a yowl later, because Harry’s mouth had found his cock this time.
            Harry was a little used to the taste and the feeling now, and he sucked carefully mostly because he thought Draco’s heart would explode if he didn’t. When he darted a cautious glance up, he saw Draco lying there with his lips parted and his eyes glazed.
            I did that to him. I did!
            Harry felt the smallest of jumps in his chest. He hadn’t pictured that to himself before, or hadn’t admitted it. He was really as powerful as he had thought he was. He could affect Draco even if Draco affected him by making him angry or happy.
            It was so easy to suck Draco’s cock when he was watching the changes that happened to Draco’s face as a result. His jaw falling open and his eyes staring into the distance as though he expected someone to come down to him were funny. The way his hand touched Harry’s head and then latched onto the side of his neck was satisfying.
            But the way he moaned Harry’s name was tender.
            Harry found out he was good at sucking cock, and while it was a little embarrassing to know that was a talent he had, he thought it was even more embarrassing that he hadn’t known about it until now. Surely he should have found that out when he was a teenager or something, and then maybe he could have used a spell to lengthen his neck so he could suck his own cock.
            Draco made a pathetic noise, and Harry realized that he’d stopped sucking and let Draco’s cock just lie there in his mouth while he thought about that. He smiled and went back to licking and breathing gently on Draco, while he slid his hand down to wank himself.
            It didn’t take long after that. Draco arched his hips back and pulsed into Harry’s mouth; Harry felt himself follow in between one stroke and the next; and the minute that Draco slumped back and reached for him, Harry drew his wand and cast a certain specific spell.
            There was a muffled thump and a squeal even more pathetic than Draco’s. Draco blinked and looked around. “What did you do?”
            “Put up a ward around the room so that Semeny can’t get in,” Harry said firmly, and curled up next to Draco with his cheek resting on Draco’s shoulder.
            “What about Blankety? She’ll need to take care of the sheets and the other wet spots while we take a shower.”
            “A shower sounds nice. But later.”
            “What do you have against my house-elves, Harry?”
            Harry shook his head. There were some things—not as many as he’d once thought, but still plenty—that were too hard to explain to Draco. Besides, as long as the house-elves weren’t upset about their names or their functions, Harry thought he didn’t have to try too hard to explain.
            When Draco tried to talk about Semeny and Blankety again, though, Harry closed his eyes and faked snores. It was easy enough to lure Draco into sleeping beside him when he did that, it turned out.
*
            “She’s confessed.”
            It was so far from the first thing Harry had expected to hear when he walked into his office that morning, he paused with one hand on the doorway and stared at Ron. Then he had to leap, because his teacup and his reports were both trying to fall everywhere.
            “She has,” Ron said, watching tolerantly. Harry gave him a dirty look, but Ron was blind to “Help me clean up” looks from everyone except Hermione. “Cassel admitted that she’d hexed Malfoy on his instructions—which can’t be a crime, because what can you do when someone is that crazy they tell you?—but she also sent those other notes to the lovers he had before you, pretending to be Malfoy. She thought you were a dangerous rival, and she wanted you dead.”
            Harry shook his head and finally got his reports settled on the desk. At least the teacup hadn’t spilled more than a few drops on them, and they were easier to clean than the carpet. “I’m sorry for the Falcons. It’s going to be hard for them to find another Chaser.”
            Ron paused. “That’s the only thing you can think about?”
            Harry tried to hold onto his expression, but he burst out laughing a second later and put his hand up. “Yes, fine. I’m sorry. I was experimenting in seeing the world as Draco sees it for a little while.”
            “It’s disturbing,” Ron said, bowing his head with a shudder. “Don’t do that again.”
            “I’ll only do it around him,” Harry said. “Anyway. Thanks for telling me, Ron. I’ll go by and make sure that Kingsley doesn’t need me to sign any paperwork or interview anyone else.” There shouldn’t be much paperwork over the people he’d captured on Malfoy Manor’s grounds, he thought, because there had been direct evidence of wrongdoing there.
            “Um. So.”
            Harry looked up, wondering if Ron had another case he wanted Harry to work on, or knew something else about this one. “What?”
            Ron stood up, made his way to the door, shut it, locked it, cast the most powerful Silencing Charm on the gaps under it and around the keyhole that Harry knew, and then turned back and folded his arms. “Where did you go last night?”
            Harry flipped his eyebrows up and down.
            “Oh, honestly.” Ron was staring at Harry as though he thought he had grown a second head and shoved it down his shirt collar. “You did?”
            Harry shrugged. “Yes. It turns out that I’m not as straight as I thought.”
            “But—how can you get used to that so fast? I mean, you weren’t even thinking about—sex with Malfoy a little while ago and now you’re fine with it?”
            “Draco is so crazy that he makes it seem sane when you’re around him,” Harry said honestly. “But also, I really enjoyed myself, and it seems strange to decide that I’m never going to enjoy it again just because I was mistaken about only liking women.”
            “But that doesn’t mean you’re going to stay with Malfoy for the rest of your life.” Ron sounded like he was talking to someone about to jump out a window, and that person was himself. “Right?”
            Harry had to laugh. “Draco’s so unpredictable that I don’t know about that, either. Half of me thinks that we’ll break up tomorrow. Half of me thinks that we’ll stay together for sixty years and then he’ll ditch me for someone who plays Quidditch better.”
            “No one plays Quidditch better than you, mate.”
            Harry laughed again. He felt giddy. “Well, maybe that’s one reason he chose me over Cassel.”
            Ron paused, apparently realizing he’d been drawn into a serious discussion of Harry and Draco dating, or at least treating it as though it was serious. He spent a minute gazing off into the distance, then turned back. “You just need to tell me if you’re unhappy, and I’ll make sure I have a talk with Malfoy.”
            “I’ll tell you,” Harry said solemnly.
            If only because watching you try to threaten Draco into behaving better would get rid of whatever unhappiness I was experiencing right then.
*
            “There’s one thing that we haven’t discussed,” said Draco, at dinner that night, when he had insisted that Harry leave the reports in his suite—well, their suite—and come down and eat around the table in the formal dining room without them.
            There was no huge elephant statue in the middle of this particular room, only a table and chairs polished until they looked like they were made of light. Harry had been a little disappointed.
            “You’re right,” said Harry, and leaned back from his plate, his stomach full and content with lobster-stuffed salmon and all sorts of green vegetables cut as thin as the chair legs and scattered all over them. “Why do all your house-elves have such bizarre names?”
            Draco had risen to his feet and was lifting his wineglass with a serious expression. The light slanting in through the enormous western windows shone through the glass and painted Draco’s cheeks and hair with shining beams of purple and red and orange.
            Draco almost dropped his glass in shock, and glared. “That can’t be what you think is important.”
            “Yes, it is. Blankety I might have accepted. Even Kitcheny. But Icy? And Semeny?” Harry shook his head, then propped his chin up on his fist and put his elbow on the table precisely to see Draco’s eyebrow twitch. “Why not just have one house-elf for each room or general function in the Manor? And that would prevent me from ever having to think about Semeny again.”
            “You don’t need to think about my house-elves. They get their own food. They run the Manor efficiently. They’re one of the reasons I can offer you all this. What I mean is—”
            “But you name them like machines. They’re not machines. They’re living beings.”
            “Have you been listening to Granger again?” Draco sat down hard enough to make his wineglass ring off the edge of the table, and gave Harry another affronted look.
            “I always listen to Hermione,” Harry said. “She often has good ideas.” Not in the owl she’d sent him earlier that day, admittedly. She’d outlined all sorts of potions Draco could be slipping him that would make Harry think having sex with him was a good idea. Harry had read the list of potions, admired it, and then carefully burned the letter in case Draco ever saw it and got ideas.
            Draco shook his head. “You kept complaining that I would never be serious. I’m trying to have an important discussion with you at the moment. Will you please listen?”
            Harry bit his lip and bowed his head in penance, sitting there with as serious an expression as he could muster on his face.
            “Good,” Draco said, after an uncertain pause. “Listen. It’s about whether you’re going to be my fiancé or simply date me.”
            Harry leaned thoughtfully back in his chair. “What do you want?”
            “To have you.”
            Harry had to smile. “You can do that either way. Do you actually want the commitment of an engagement? Or is dating more to your liking? I mean, at least dating would be more flexible.”
            Draco abruptly gulped the remaining wine in his glass and moved towards Harry around the edge of the table. Harry sat up and stared. This was new.
            Draco came to him, pressing him back into the chair when he tried to rise, and got down on one knee in front of Harry. He didn’t try to touch him, and that made Harry tingle more than if he had. He watched Draco, aware that his own breathing was shallow, not caring that much about why.
            “I want you,” Draco whispered. “I want to see what else this can grow into. And I can’t believe that you weren’t dating someone before me, someone who would seize you and hold you for all the value you had.”
            “Hey, I’ve hardly been celibate. I’ve dated—”
            “But not lately. And yes, I did go back and look at what the editions of the Prophet had to say. I know you wouldn’t conceal a breakup. It’s been months, hasn’t it?”
            Harry tilted his head to concede the point.
            “Right.” Draco nodded slowly, then tilted his own head as if he wanted Harry to see the light at its best, glinting off his cheekbones. “So. I want to know if you can marry me, with a promise to become mine permanently.”
            “What’s the matter? Afraid someone else may snap me up now?”
            “Yes.”
            Harry sat in silence after that word. Then he said, “I think I need to go home and think this over. Staying here is wonderful, but I can’t give you an answer while I do it.”
            Draco’s mouth tightened as if he thought Harry would go running off into the arms of a lover right then. But he stood up and nodded. “All right. I’ll do my best not to Floo or owl you tomorrow.”
            “I’ll come tomorrow evening,” Harry said, and kissed him once before he turned away.
            He had a decision to make.
*
sparklewitch182: Heh. But would you have the same motive for it as Harry?
Severus1snape: Harry, too.
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A Series of Malfoy Events