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Say My Name	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 30143 -:- Recommendations : 10 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 17
- 18
- 19
A/N: Woohoo! It's finally here! This was a fun one and I wanted to get right to it, but I had projects to grade and reports to write, so that had to come first. Stupid job...
You might have noticed that a number of tags got added to the story this week. That's because this chapter has a mild D/s scene and I felt like having some fun with it. It's pretty tame by D/s standards (but hopefully sexy all the same :) ), so even if you're averse to the more hardcore stuff you shouldn't find anything offensive about it. Just thought I'd keep it interesting.
As always, I am just blown away by the love I receive from you all in the reviews. That last chapter was an intense one for me (I know a little something about illness and loss) and I poured a lot of myself into it. Hearing that you enjoyed it made it all worth it to me. Thank you so much!
And now, onto a more lighthearted chapter.
Chapter 18: Second Nature
“Your friend is doing very well,” Draco observed to Harry as they both glanced at Vesper from a few tables away. All of the 8^th years had decided to go out to the Three Broomsticks to let off some steam after an intense week, and as promised Harry had invited Vesper along. He had been wondering how she would do being the new person in a situation where everyone had known each other for years, but she was holding her own, especially among the boys.
He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. She was an extroverted person, the kind who seemed to get on with just about everybody. It helped that she was dressed much more sexily than usual as well and had done something with makeup that made her skin look smooth and her eyes dark and smoldering.
“Quite well, I’d say,” Harry agreed. All of the single 8^th year men, including Terry Boot, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Seamus Finnigan, were flocking to her like moths to a light. “She looks good tonight. I hadn’t realized before how pretty she actually is.”
This earned an arch of a brow from Draco, and Harry rolled his eyes.
“Oh, it was just an observation,” he said, exasperated. “It’s just that she’s always dressed down at work and I’ve never seen her like this. That’s all. Surely you know better than to be jealous.”
Draco pursed his lips, and then sighed. “Yes, I do. But I think she might be attracted to you.”
As if to prove his point, Vesper chose that moment to glance up from her conversation with Justin to throw a wink Harry’s way. Harry knew it was just her way of conveying that she was doing fine and he shouldn’t worry about her, but Draco took it a bit differently.
“See what I mean?”
“That’s how she is with everyone. And I’ll have you know, she thinks you’re more attractive than I am. She’s told me outright. She called you a ‘tasty blond morsel,’ once.”
That had the desired effect of making Draco smile. “Maybe so, but I’m gay. She knows she doesn’t stand a chance with me.”
“She knows she doesn’t stand a chance with me, either.”
“Yeah, but she could,” Draco countered. “Because you’re bisexual.”
“Yes, but I’m happily taken.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t stop her fantasizing about the possibility.”
“Do you get the feeling we’re talking in circles?” Harry asked. “You’re so convinced it’s true that there’s nothing I can say to make you believe otherwise.”
“I suppose it’s just now dawning on me that because of your sexuality I basically have the whole of humanity to compete with.”
Harry scoffed. “Not the whole of humanity. Not the straight men or the gay women.”
“When it comes to you, I’m not even ruling them out,” Draco said darkly.
Harry sighed. “You do realize you’re being ridiculous, right?”
“Yes, I’m aware,” Draco admitted, but he was still scowling.
“She may be pretty, but you’re much prettier.” Harry poked Draco in the cheek, hoping to make him laugh. His tone became simpering as he said, “You’re the absolute prettiest person in the world.”
“Sweet Merlin, you’re annoying,” Draco replied, but he was fighting a smile.
Harry leaned in so his mouth was only a breath away from Draco’s ear. “There’s no competition, Draco,” he said, his voice quiet and husky. It made Draco shiver, an effect Harry liked very much. “I already have exactly what I want. What I will always want.”
When he pulled away to meet Draco’s eyes, he found them scorching, and it made his heart pound in his chest. It took all of his willpower not to pull Draco into a heated snog then and there.
“Oi, when you two are finished eye-fucking each other,” Ron called to them across the table, making the other 8^th years laugh, “I was thinking about getting another round. Do you want anything?”
Harry broke the gaze and turned to Ron, raising his half-full glass of beer. “I’m all set, mate, thanks.”
“Draco?” Ron asked politely.
“Firewhiskey would be great.” Draco produced a few coins from his pocket.
Ron asked around the rest of the room, getting a couple more orders, including one from Vesper, who wanted “a double whiskey, up,” which earned her impressed looks from her male counterparts.
“Be still my heart,” Seamus said dramatically. “I think I’m in love.” Vesper laughed, and he looked pleased.
More drinks were ordered and enjoyed, darts were played, and songs were sung. Harry entertained himself by watching Vesper flirt her way through the 8^th year men, leaving more than a few obviously smitten in her wake.
Who knew she was such a heartbreaker? he thought to himself, amused.
He and Draco remained entwined most of the evening, observing the goings-on around them and occasionally making quiet and snarky commentary on it to make each other laugh.
“Look at Blaise,” Draco said in Harry’s ear later on in the evening.
Harry followed Draco’s gaze to the Slytherin sitting in the corner, sipping a brandy. He was next to Pansy and Theo, who were talking quietly to each other, but he wasn’t paying them any attention. Instead his impassive gaze was fixed on Hannah, Neville, and Vesper, who were talking about the major differences between Hogwarts and Ilvermorny.
“What about him?” Harry asked.
“Just look at who he’s looking at, and how he’s looking at her.”
Harry furrowed his brow. “That’s how Blaise always looks,” he said.
“No, it’s not,” Draco said. “Look at his eyes. He’s thinking very hard about something. Or someone.”
“Who?”
Draco gave him a look. “Who do you think?”
Harry looked at Blaise again. Well, it was unlikely he was fixated on Hannah or Neville, since he didn’t have more than a friendly interest in either of them. And that left…
“Blaise… and Vesper?” Harry said skeptically. “Really?”
Draco shrugged. “Why not? You were the one who said Blaise should branch out.”
“Yeah, but… I just don’t see it.” It seemed quite an odd idea to him. “I agree he shouldn’t be with someone exactly like him, but it’s like you said, they should have some common interests, at least.”
“Blaise was very impressed and intrigued by her accomplishments as a duelist,” Draco said.
“And how do you know that?”
Draco’s eyes looked shifty for a moment. “I may have mentioned her to him earlier this week, told him a bit about her.”
“You did? Why?”
“To gauge his interest, to plant the idea in his head.”
“Sneaky,” Harry accused. “When were you going to tell me about this?”
Draco shrugged. “I wasn’t sure anything would come of it.”
“Well, it seems to me that not much has. He hasn’t spoken to her all night.”
“That’s just how Blaise operates. He has to work his way up to it.”
“Well, I don’t think Vesper has a lot of patience for that sort of thing. If he’s interested, he should do something about it before one of these other blokes does.”
“Feel free to tell him that,” Draco replied smoothly.
Harry glared at him. “You are meddling. You are meddling big time,” he scolded. “This is exactly what I told Vesper I wouldn’t do.”
“Oh, let me have my fun, Harry. Blaise has been so down since the Hermione thing, it’s good for him to have a distraction.”
“Not if that distraction is my friend who I invited along to have fun, not to get her heart broken.”
Draco snorted. “Why do you assume Blaise will break her heart?”
“He dates around enough.”
Draco grimaced. “It’s not like that, and you know it.”
Harry sighed. He didn’t want to cause a row. “All right. Fine. Blaise will do what he wants. But if he plays around with Vesper and then hurts her-”
“I get the impression that she can take care of herself,” Draco said, before Harry could finish. “Maybe she’ll break Blaise’s heart instead.”
“And you’re all right with that? After what happened with Hermione?”
“No, I’m not all right with it. I’d rather it didn’t happen. But…” He shrugged. “If it does, at least Blaise will know he tried again, put himself out there. The path to happiness includes a few broken hearts.”
Harry laughed. “I suppose you would know. Merlin knows how many hearts you’ve broken over the years.”
Draco gave him a disbelieving look. “This, coming from the Vanquisher of the Dark Lord and wizarding Britain’s resident heartthrob? Please. I have nothing on you.”
It was then that Dean and Seamus plopped into the two seats beside them, effectively ending their conversation.
“Your American friend is really something, Harry,” Seamus said.
Harry grinned at that. “I know.”
“I wish Ginny could be here tonight,” Dean added somewhat wistfully. “It’s absolute rubbish they let us go out whenever we want, but not the 7^th years. They’re of age, too!”
Harry agreed. It seemed like a bit of a double standard.
“We have our own dormitories, though,” Draco pointed out. “Whereas the 7^th years still live with their houses. I suppose the headmistress doesn’t want them stumbling in drunk and setting a bad example for the younger students.”
“You know, I heard that the headmistress considered not letting 8^th years play Quidditch this year,” said Seamus. “Because we don’t live in the house dormitories and all.”
Harry raised his eyebrows at that. Things would have looked quite different for the Gryffindor Quidditch team had that rule been put into effect.
“But then she changed her mind,” Seamus added.
“Because she realized that if that were the case Harry couldn’t play Quidditch?” Draco asked with a smirk.
“Or Dean, or Ron,” Harry said. “And that would have been awful.”
“Yeah, Slytherin would have had the cup in the bag this year,” Dean said. “Their team’s all 7^th years and below, and they’re quite good.”
“I would say we have it in the bag anyway,” Draco replied, then grinned into his whiskey while the three Gryffindors around him scoffed in protest.
“Please,” Harry said with a roll of his eyes. “You wish.”
“You’re mad,” said Seamus.
“Slytherin’ll give us a run for our money, I’ll give you that,” Dean added. “But it won’t be enough. Not with Harry playing Seeker.”
“The point margin’s in our favor,” Draco said. “And we have the best Chasers. All we need is to pull far enough ahead-“
“You have the best Chasers, are you kidding?” Harry said. “Have you seen ours? Did you not watch our game against Hufflepuff?”
“I didn’t put much stock in it, considering you were playing against Hufflepuff. Our strategy is totally different. And by different, I mean ‘better.’”
“And you think we haven’t been preparing for it?” Harry countered. “What do you think we’ve been doing for the past three months?”
“Setting yourself up to lose.” That made Harry scoff some more. “I’m not saying you won’t put in a good effort,” Draco added in a tone that Harry found annoyingly condescending. “But we’ll still win, in the end.”
Harry shook his head. “I can’t wait to see your face when you realize just how wrong you were.”
“Oh yeah, care to bet on it? 100 galleons says Slytherin takes the cup.”
Their mild bickering had garnered some attention now from the other 8^th years, but Harry hardly noticed. He was too busy rolling his eyes.
“Betting with money is boring,” he said. “I’ll happily take the wager, but not with galleons.”
“With what, then?”
Harry shrugged, an idea forming in his head. “Something else. Something you really want that the other person wouldn’t readily give you.”
“Well that rules out blowjobs,” someone in the crowd said (Theo, from the sound of it), and everyone laughed.
“Hmmm,” said Draco, looking intrigued. He was eyeing Harry carefully. Harry waited, deliberately making sure he appeared unflustered by Draco’s appraising gaze. “Very well,” he said. “Your wardrobe.”
“You want my wardrobe?” That, Harry found hard to believe. Draco was always complaining about Harry’s clothes and their lack of any semblance of style.
“Please,” said Draco dismissively. “I want control over your wardrobe.”
“You want to be able to tell me what I can wear? For how long?” Harry wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.
Draco looked him over again. “If Slytherin wins, I get to go through your wardrobe and throw away anything I want to. Oh, don’t worry,” he said in response to Harry’s panicked expression. “I won’t get rid of any of your precious Weasley jumpers or anything. Just pretty much everything else.” He was all out grinning now. “And then you have to go clothes shopping with me and buy for yourself everything I tell you to. And then you have to wear them, only the clothes I picked, for a month.”
Harry chewed that over. “Why only a month?” he asked.
“Because by the time you’ve spent a month wearing what I’ve picked out for you, you won’t want to wear anything else. Trust me.”
“You want to remake my wardrobe.”
“Yes.”
“Hmph.” If Gryffindor lost, he wouldn’t particularly be looking forward to what Draco had in store for him, but he could live with it. And Draco did have much better fashion sense than he did. He knew the blond wouldn’t make him look ridiculous. “Fine,” he said. “Deal.”
“Now you,” said Draco.
Harry thought it over. What did he really want? In truth, Draco would happily give him most things he would think to ask for. And Harry had no interest in humiliating Draco or making him do something embarrassing, either, not that Draco would likely take a bet that involved such a thing. But was there something Draco was reluctant about, something Harry had asked for…? And then it clicked. Harry grinned and leaned into Draco to say something in his ear.
“If Gryffindor wins,” Harry said, his voice barely a murmur, “then you have to top for me.”
He pulled away to get a good look at Draco’s blush, which was considerable.
“Just once,” he added quietly, his eyes locked on Draco’s. “That’s all.”
“What’s the bet?” Seamus asked.
“Something sexual,” Dean chimed in. “Look at Draco’s face.”
But Harry ignored them, his eyes on Draco as the Slytherin thought it over. Harry wondered if Draco would go for it. He’d claimed that he was resistant to topping because he lacked confidence, but, as far as Harry was concerned, that was simply a mindset thing that could be overcome. And it wasn’t like Draco wasn’t interested in being inside him. He had been helping Harry explore “the wonders of the prostate,” as he had so aptly put it, for a month now, an endeavor both men had found intensely pleasurable. It had left Harry undeniably curious about what it would be like if Draco fucked him, and he couldn’t help but think that Draco might be a bit curious as well but was feeling tentative. Maybe a wager like this would be enough to tip the scale.
“Very well,” Draco said finally. “You have yourself a bet.” He reached out a hand for Harry to shake, and Harry did so.
“We don’t even get to hear what the bet is?” Seamus complained. “What bollocks.”
“I’m not sure we want to know,” Ron said darkly.
“Speak for yourself,” Vesper chimed in, and everyone laughed.
But Harry knew there was no way he or Draco would reveal that part of the bet. Harry was fairly private about his sex life to begin with, and while Draco tended to be a bit more open, Harry knew that on this particular issue, Draco would want to keep it between the two of them. Some things just stayed between partners, and didn’t belong to anyone else.
***
“Thank you for making time for me, Mr. Potter. I know you’re very busy,” Naomi Thickett said, shaking his hand and gesturing for him to have a seat across from her. They were meeting in the same café in Hogsmeade that Draco had taken Harry to, since it was out of the way and mostly empty on a Wednesday afternoon.
“No problem,” Harry said, meaning it. He’d been somewhat looking forward to this meeting since he had scheduled it, curious as to how this conversation was going to go. “I read last week that they’re postponing the vote on the Heirloom Act indefinitely. It seems like just the right time to initiate this project you were talking about, while public opinion seems to be swinging your way.”
“A very astute observation,” Naomi said. “You have a mind for politics, it seems.”
Harry chuckled. “Hardly, Ms. Thickett. I’m just close to multiple people who have political minds sharper than mine, and I listen to them.”
Naomi looked at him skeptically, but with a trace of amusement. “Rumor has it you’re the modest sort. You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your self-assessments at face value.”
Harry shrugged at that. “I can only say it how I see it.”
“Indeed. Would you care for a drink?”
“I’ll have a butterbeer, thanks.”
Naomi signaled to the waiter, then turned her attention back to Harry. She had a notebook out on the table, as well as a pen, and Harry took a moment to register surprise that she was using Muggle items, before she started speaking.
“Well, now that you’re here, I’m sure you’re wondering a bit about what to expect.” She folded her hands in front of her. “This is essentially research, when it comes down to it. I want to hear your perspective on the particular issues I intend to ask you about, but I like it better when it feels more like a conversation rather than an interview. I find people are able to be more relaxed and honest that way. And it’s very important that you be honest with me. Otherwise the research is for naught. But I hope you will believe me when I say that no matter what opinions you share, I will neither judge you nor share them with anyone else. This is solely so I can get a clearer picture of what needs to be accomplished in our world and how best to accomplish it. Does that make sense?”
The waiter arrived with a butterbeer for each of them, and Harry took a sip before answering.
“Sure,” said Harry. “I understand. Although, I don’t think I hold any opinions that I wouldn’t feel like I could share publically. I don’t really… well, I suppose I’m not all that concerned about that sort of thing. I like to think I’m honest with most people about what I think in any given situation.”
She furrowed her brow. “That’s quite admirable. But you’re not the least bit concerned with your public image? I wouldn’t blame you if you were, since you’re so conspicuous in the press.”
“Honestly, no. I don’t really worry about what the public thinks of me.”
She was smiling at him warmly, but as though she was simultaneously confused. “In either case,” she said finally. “This conversation stays between us.”
Harry nodded his understanding.
“Tell me a bit about how your perceptions of purebloods have changed since you became involved with Draco Malfoy.”
Harry thought a bit about that, one finger circling the rim of his butterbeer bottle. “Well, to be fair, one of my best friends is a pureblood. Ron Weasley. But his family has always been in the ‘blood traitor’ camp, as in, they don’t concern themselves much with blood status and they’ve always believed that Muggleborns ought to be taught magic the same as anyone else. So I didn’t have attitudes about purebloods, per se, but I did have opinions about those who seemed to want to keep blood ‘pure,’ and were anti-Muggleborn. I still hold those opinions. I think that kind of discrimination is wrong. Being with Draco hasn’t changed that a bit.”
“Do you two disagree on that issue?”
“No, we don’t. If he had something against Muggleborns, I wouldn’t be able to be with him. But he’s outgrown those attitudes. It was one of the things I learned about him that changed my opinion towards him, when we were first really getting to know each other. But we do have differences of opinion on the issue, even so.”
“And what would those be?”
“Draco still believes that there is something about pureblood culture that has to be preserved. He’s not concerned about blood status, exactly, but he… well he thinks that Muggle culture is diluting us a bit. He believes that Muggleborns, once they enter the magical world, should be more thoroughly integrated.”
Naomi smiled. “I’ve heard my partner, Beth, say something similar. She focuses a lot on certain customs and traditions she is concerned would be lost if Muggle culture becomes too prominent, though she’s not inherently anti-Muggle. There are a lot of things about Muggle culture that she likes that have become an integral part of our lives. Like television, for example. And cooking. We never cook magically anymore, because the food tends to taste better when cooked the Muggle way.”
“Yes, that’s very much how it is with Draco,” Harry said. “He even wears Muggle clothing, most of the time, when he’s not required to wear robes. And I don’t blame him. Robes are awful. Jeans and jumpers are far superior.”
That made Naomi laugh. “I agree. Some things are just better Muggle.” She held up the pen she’d been writing with. “Why in Merlin’s name would you carry around a quill and ink when you could just use a Muggle pen? Honestly.” Harry grinned and nodded his agreement. “So what’s your take on the issue of pureblood traditions being diluted?”
Harry shrugged. “I understand where he’s coming from, sure. But at the same time… well, I don’t know if it’s that since I was raised by Muggles I don’t much care about pureblood tradition, but I’m not sure I see the point in trying to preserve it in any kind of formal way. Draco seems to want it to be part of the culture of being magical. But I don’t think that’s quite right. Because not all magical people are pureblood. So why should they have to conform? Why should a Muggleborn have to embrace traditions that have no meaning for her? Especially when there are plenty of Muggle traditions that are a part of her heritage that she might want to preserve instead.” Harry paused, thinking about what he had just said. “At the same time, though, if a person is a pureblood, they should also have the right to preserve certain traditions within their own family. I don’t think there should be laws restricting that either, or forcing a pureblood to embrace any form of Muggle culture if they don’t want to. I guess I just don’t see why we can’t have both. It’s like I said at the memorial dedication: we ought to be free to make our own choices about that sort of thing. If you’re a pureblood that wants to marry another pureblood and follow strict traditions, you ought to be able to do that. If you’re a Muggleborn who wants to embrace that part of your heritage, go for it. If you want to keep some things, but reject others, as Draco essentially does, then that’s fine too. You get to choose, and no one else has the right to choose for you. And you don’t have the right to choose for them.”
Naomi was smiling at him. “You’re talking about pluralism.”
“Sorry?”
“The idea that modern culture does not consist of one cultural framework or set of traditions; cultures and traditions that are quite different from each other can exist simultaneously within a single population.”
Harry thought about that. “Sure,” he said. “With the way the UK looks, now, in these times, how could it be any different?”
Her smile was wry now. “How, indeed?”
“You don’t agree?”
“Oh, no, I agree completely. I’m a pluralist, through and through. But I ask myself certain questions because it helps me strengthen my arguments for my opinions and make sure that any opinion I hold on an issue is the best one. So, I’ll ask you a question I often ask myself: what is the value of pluralism? Why should we strive for it?”
Harry didn’t know what to say at first. It was like with most things for him, it simply felt true. Of course it should be that way. But Naomi wanted more than that, so he took a stab at it. “Because… because it’s a reflection of the way things are, the way people are. They come from different backgrounds, so of course the culture should reflect that.”
“But what’s the value in it?” Naomi pushed. “Why is that important?”
“Because no person should be forced to be someone they’re not. No person should be forced to be something other than what they want to be.”
“So you believe that the individual’s rights are more important than the cohesion of a society.”
Harry furrowed his brow. “Is that wrong?”
She laughed. “This isn’t a civics lesson, Mr. Potter. There is no right or wrong. There is only what you believe. I’m not asking these questions to lead you towards a particular conclusion. I’m asking to get better clarity about your perspective.”
“All right,” Harry said. “Then, yes, I suppose I believe that an individual’s rights are more important than society being… whatever it was you said.”
“Cohesive,” she filled in. “Always working in harmony. And also with a distinctive identity all its own.”
“Hm,” said Harry, thinking that over. “I mean, that would be nice. We’d have fewer disagreements that way.”
“Yes, it would be nice. But at the expense of the individual? If you can’t have both, what is more important?”
“Choice and freedom,” Harry said simply.
She nodded and wrote something in her notebook. “Then let me ask you this, because this is a particular question I struggle with a lot. If we live in a society in which individuals come from different backgrounds and make their own choices about how they want to live their lives, what unites us? What does it mean to be magical and be from the UK? Because on the one hand, we are vastly different from each other, in many ways. On the other, there must be something that makes us who we are, that connects us to other British witches and wizards, beyond just geography and magic. So what is it?”
“Draco said something about that,” Harry said. “The first time I asked him about the whole pureblood thing. He said that there was more to our culture than just the fact that we happened to be able to do magic. He said that there was more that distinguished us from Muggles than that.”
“Did he happen to mention what those things were?”
“No,” said Harry with a grin. “Conveniently, he left that part out.”
Naomi grinned in return. “How unfortunate. What do you think he would say, if he were here?”
Harry sighed and thought about it. “I suppose he would bring it back to the bit about pureblood traditions. He believes the history is important. The history of magical people I mean. That was part of his argument for why it should all be preserved in the first place.”
Naomi looked quite pleased all of a sudden. “Well, then we’ve really hit a snag, haven’t we? Because it can’t be the pureblood traditions that unite us, can it, because we aren’t all pureblood. I’m not; you’re not. In fact, the majority of wizarding Britain is some mix of bloods.”
“Yes,” said Harry. “You’re right.”
“So,” she said, still smiling, “what does unite us, then?”
“I… don’t know.” He was confused by how happy she looked, considering they’d hit a dead end. Shouldn’t she be disappointed that he didn’t have an answer for her?
“I hit this wall just about every time,” she said, almost wistfully. “This question comes up for me a lot, because of the kind of work that the Foundation does, generally speaking. We’re meant to help Muggleborns find their way in wizarding culture. But what that really means, well…” She twirled her pen between her fingers. “It looks a bit different for every person, and that always gets me thinking about what makes us, us, when all is said and done. Sometimes I think I almost have it, when I least expect it. You know, when I’m in the shower or something. And then I rush to get my thoughts on paper and it never sounds quite as good as it did in my head. It’s the reason I decided to start this little task force, really. Well, the troubling legislation that’s come up recently is a part of it, too. But mostly I realized that it might not just be the Muggleborns that are stuck trying to navigate our society as it is now. Because we are pluralist, and power shifts from one group to another on occasion, and the culture evolves, people from many different backgrounds and blood statuses might find themselves at a loss. They might find themselves being discriminated against for whatever reason. I didn’t want anyone to feel like our services were closed to them simply because of their blood status.”
“I think that’s very forward-thinking,” said Harry. “I don’t imagine a lot of people working in politics today are thinking like that.”
“No, they aren’t,” Naomi said, eyeing him carefully. “But you are, it seems.”
“Yes, but I’m not involved in politics.”
Her gaze never left him. “Except for when you give interviews coming out against certain laws you don’t think should be passed.”
Harry smiled sheepishly. “All right, sometimes. But that was a one-time thing, really, because I felt so strongly about the issue.”
“You don’t think there will be other political issues in the future that you will feel strongly about?”
“There probably will be,” Harry admitted, “But whether I’ll do something about it… that’s on a case by case basis I think. I’m not cut out for full-time politics, honestly.”
“What makes you say that?”
"I’m too blunt,” Harry said simply. “I would offend people.”
“You’re authentic and honest,” she countered. “Which is a bit different. But you understand nuance. You know how to frame things in a way that will allow people to be receptive. Jalil Safar’s article is proof of that.”
“Draco helped me figure out what I wanted to say.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “But they were still your opinions.”
“Yeah, sure, but…” He trailed off, not knowing how to counter that. “Look, is this really what you wanted to talk about?”
She laughed. “No, I suppose not, though I am curious…” She picked up her pen. “Well, we’ll leave it for the moment. Tell me a bit about what particular social justice issues you believe purebloods are facing right now.”
Harry did, mostly focusing on what he had observed at school with the way purebloods from dark families were sometimes treated, as well as some of the anti-pureblood rhetoric he’d been reading in the paper since the end of the war. Naomi nodded and wrote furiously in her notebook, occasionally stopping to get him to clarify something or rank any given issue in terms of importance.
When he was finished, she asked, “Are there any aspects of pureblood culture that you think should be abolished?”
Harry was surprised, but thought about the question. “I don’t know about… abolished. That seems a bit… well, severe, I suppose. But there are things I wish weren’t a part of pureblood culture.”
“Like what?”
“I think parents have a bit too much control over what their children do,” said Harry. “Purebloods have expectations put on them from a young age, about who they marry and what they do for a living and who they associate with, and it’s very hard in that culture to go against your parents' wishes. It was something that was hard for me to understand, because I’ve essentially never had real parents and I’ve basically made all of my own choices about my own life. But listening to the way Draco talks about it, what his father expected of him, how it felt to feel like he wasn’t good enough if he didn’t live up to those expectations… I’m not saying all pureblood families are like that, but according to Draco it’s very common.”
“And if you had the power to change that, you would?”
“Yes,” said Harry. “Because it all comes back to choice. A person has a right to choose their own life.”
Naomi nodded. “And legally, they already do. There are no laws on the books right now that allow a parent to force their child into an arranged marriage, for example.”
“Sure, but there doesn’t have to be a law,” said Harry. “Because the social pressure, the pressure from the family, is hard enough to overcome.”
“What about the argument that a parent has a right to raise their child however they see fit, which might include selecting a spouse for them, as the traditions of their heritage dictate?”
Harry thought about that, and then huffed a bit in frustration. “I don’t know. It just feels wrong to me. Obviously laws should protect parents, but they should protect children as well.”
“Do you think there should be a law banning arranged marriages?”
Harry chewed on his lip. “That seems extreme. And it does technically restrict freedoms.”
“And yet you’re against arranged marriages, because you also think those restrict freedoms.”
“Yes,” said Harry. “It’s sort of a no-win situation, really. Because either way, someone’s rights are violated.” He sighed. “I guess, in the end, it’s just one of those things I wish didn’t exist at all. It would be so much easier.”
Naomi smiled. “But they do.”
“Yes, I know.”
“I agree with you, personally,” she said. “Of course, I was raised in a mixed blood household and I was raised understanding I could marry whoever I wanted, including a woman, if I swung that way, which it turned out I did. But for my wife, Bethwyn… well, she gave up a lot to be with me, as far as a relationship with her family went. You’re right, the pressure is extraordinary. And I’m not sure it’s something you or I could even begin to relate to. I can only understand it through Beth’s experience, and you only through Draco’s.” She paused, putting her pen down on top of her notebook. “And yet, it’s hard to justify the idea that we can legally restrict certain traditional practices, simply because we don’t like them. It sets a bad precedent.”
“Yeah,” said Harry. “That’s true. So maybe it can’t be done legally. But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with educating children about other options, exposing them to other ideas, and encouraging them to question what they’ve been taught. That way you’re not telling them what to think, you’re getting them to think for themselves. And that’s the best thing, really. That’s how Draco was finally able to break away from the expectations of his father. He started thinking for himself, and let go of the prejudices he had been taught to have.”
“That’s interesting,” Naomi said, writing furiously in her notebook again. “Because while the pressure to follow pureblood traditions might still exist for that young person, at least the idea of taking a different path would not be so foreign or so frightening, and they might feel more free to do so, if they wish.”
“Exactly,” said Harry.
“Very interesting,” Naomi said, still writing. “I hadn’t thought about something like that. I wonder if the Foundation could get involved with that kind of education in some form. It’s like… diversity education, sort of. Exposure to many different ways of thinking and living.”
“Kids get a bit of it at Hogwarts, of course, since students come from many different backgrounds,” said Harry. “But I think it gets limited sometimes because of how we sort students into houses. They can be very insular, sometimes, and the rivalries between houses can become pretty toxic. I’ve learned that since living in the 8^th year dorms with people from every house. A lot of my misconceptions were corrected.”
Naomi nodded. “Good. This is good. I like this. I’ll have to think more about what we can do…” She looked up at him. “Thank you. This has been really helpful.”
“My pleasure,” said Harry.
“I know you don’t have much more time, Mr. Potter, so there’s just one other thing I want to talk to you about.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“I want you to come work for me.”
Harry paused, his half-drunk butterbeer halfway to his mouth. He put the bottle back on the table. “Really? Is that was this was the whole time? A job interview?”
To his surprise, she laughed. “Hardly,” she said. “I wasn’t planning on hiring any new people for this project, actually. I was just going to recruit from within. But having talked to you… well, what can I say? I can see what all of the fuss is about.”
Harry blushed and took a sip of his drink to cover it.
“You’re guileless, and I mean that in a good way. Unpretentious. Real. You have no idea how rare that is in the circles I work in. You would be a huge asset to me, and to the cause.”
“Because of who I am,” Harry clarified.
“Well, sure,” Naomi said. “Being Harry Potter will get you in a lot of doors and open a lot of minds. But it wouldn’t matter how well-known you were if you were no good at the job. I wouldn’t offer it to you if I didn’t think you would be good at the work.”
Harry thought about that and decided he appreciated her honesty, at least. “What would the job involve, exactly?”
She frowned. “Honestly, I’m not sure. It all depends on what sort of shape this task force ends up taking, and what you would like to do for the cause. We would sort of make up the position as we went along, I would think, playing to your strengths. You’d be helping me create the task force, so I imagine there would be many discussions not unlike this one where we would decide what our mission statement is and such. And it would probably involve meetings with our solicitors, politicians, legislators, people with influence, our clients, that sort of thing. Whatever you like, really.”
Harry sat on that, feeling a bit blown away. It sounded interesting, and yet not really anything he had considered before.
“Take some time to think about it, obviously,” Naomi said. “I’m sure when you leave Hogwarts you’ll have hundreds of job offers to choose from. I have no reason to believe that you would take mine over any other. But I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t at least try to snatch up talent when I find it.”
Harry nodded. “All right. I’ll think about it.”
She smiled. “Good. In the meantime, I will take your very interesting thoughts to heart and see where it takes me. I really do appreciate it.”
They shook hands and said their goodbyes, and Harry made his way back to the castle. Checking his watch, he saw that he had about twenty five minutes until Transfiguration. Just enough time to swing by his room and grab his books.
He ran into Draco in the common room, and was greeted with a smile and a kiss.
“You made it, just in time,” the blond said. “I was wondering if you would.”
“As if I would risk Khatar’s wrath for being late. Not on your life.” Harry summoned his bag and he and Draco headed out of the portrait hole.
“So, how was it? The interview?”
“It was… interesting. Honestly, I just felt like I was spouting the things you’ve told me most of the time, but she didn’t seem to have a problem with that. She’s smart, though. A bit out of my league. I just tried to hold my own.”
Draco smiled. “You’re smarter than you think you are.”
“Hm,” Harry said skeptically. “Anyway, after we were done she offered me a job.”
Draco chuckled. “Of course she did.”
“I was quite surprised, actually.”
“Well, I don’t know why. At this point, most people you meet either want to sleep with you or hire you. Or both.”
“Well, considering she’s a lesbian, I doubt it’s the former.”
“Exactly. She’s got to get her hands on you some other way.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “If you say so.”
“So, are you thinking about it?”
“The job?”
“Yeah.”
“I… well, yes, I said I would, so I am. But… well… I don’t really know if I’m cut out for it. Or if I would like it.”
“I wouldn’t worry about if you were cut out for it. Most work is on the job training anyway,” Draco said sagely. “You’d figure it out. As to if you would like it… well, only you can answer that.”
“Yeah,” said Harry.
They walked in silence for another minute until Draco spoke again. “So, the fish is on the hook, so to speak.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Blaise and Vesper.”
“What? You’re still fixated on that?”
“Blaise told me today that he likes her.”
Harry sighed heavily. Here we go again, he thought. “Did he even end up talking to her that night? Or is this based purely on his observation of her while she flirted with all of the other men in the pub?”
“They spoke,” said Draco. “She told him about a tournament qualification she has coming up, and he told her about an uncle of his who was a duelist.”
“Well, there you go,” said Harry. “Practically engaged, they are.”
“Smartarse,” Draco said under his breath. “I’m not saying it will work out, but it’s nice to see Blaise moving on. And he did genuinely like her. He noted that she was very well-spoken but not pretentious, and he liked her warmth and sincerity.”
Harry had to admit, that did give him pause. Because that was quite a good description of his friend. “Fair enough,” he said finally. “But I want nothing to do with it.”
“Well, that’s too bad. Because I was sort of hoping you would mention to Vesper-“
“You have got to be kidding me!” cried Harry. “No. No way. Why doesn’t he just send her an owl or something?”
“It’s too early for an owl; that would be presumptuous. They barely know each other. He needs to interact with her again. But it’s not like she goes to school here. When would he run into her?”
Harry threw his head back in frustration.
“I think we should just plan another outing,” said Draco. “In the next couple of weeks. I know this weekend’s no good, with the Quidditch final, but sometime soon. Maybe a smaller group this time, more intimate.”
“I swear to Merlin, Draco, if I didn’t love you so much I’d curse you where you stand.”
Draco grinned. “Good thing you love me, then.”
“It’s NEWTs coming up,” Harry protested. “It’s insane enough already, without trying to-“
“Just mention it to her, Harry, that’s all,” Draco urged. “Just mention Blaise, and maybe ask what she thought of him, and would she maybe want to get together again next week.”
Harry grumbled the rest of the way to Transfiguration, which luckily wasn’t far. Draco walked beside him, looking cheerful, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze before they entered the classroom.
***
The morning of the Quidditch final dawned gray and wet. Really, Harry thought as he stared out of the window from his four-poster, it was so dark it didn’t seem like the morning had dawned at all. It had been raining all night, drops clattering onto the windows while he tried to sleep, and Harry had no doubt that the pitch would be muddy and the visibility terrible for the match.
“What a nightmare it would be to play in this weather,” said Draco with a grin when he awoke, earning a glare from Harry. Draco then tried to make up for it by cozying up to Harry and offering to give him a blowjob to take the edge off, but Harry refused him.
“No sex before matches,” Harry said. “As a general rule. I need to be alert and focused, not relaxed. A bit of nerves is a good thing, you know.” He pulled back the covers and got out of bed, seeking out his Quidditch robes.
“So you are nervous then,” Draco said. “You were playing it quite cool and collected.”
“Of course I’m nervous,” Harry said. “And I wasn’t playing at anything. I just don’t always show my nerves, that’s all.”
“Don’t worry, Harry. I’ll love you even if you lose. In fact, I’ll love you even more, because it means I will win the wager.”
Harry laughed. “You’re counting on that, are you?”
“I’ve already planned what I’m going to make you buy first. I’m thinking some new pairs of jeans. Tight ones, to show off that fine arse of yours.”
“Merlin help me,” said Harry. “What you should be planning is what you’re going to do to this apparently ‘fine’ arse of mine that you will have all to yourself tonight.”
“Tonight?” Draco asked, his voice tightening. “We’d do it tonight?”
“Of course,” said Harry. “I’ll be feeling victorious and horny and I’ll want to collect on my end of the wager.”
Draco didn’t say anything, and Harry knew immediately what was wrong.
“There’s no need to be anxious about it, Draco, honestly. It’s just for fun. If it doesn’t work and we don’t like it then we’ll move on. No harm done. I won’t be upset.”
“I want it to be good for you,” Draco said quietly.
“And if it isn’t? If I don’t enjoy it?” Harry asked.
“Then I will have failed you.”
“No,” Harry said patiently. “You won’t have. All it will mean is that I will have learned that I don’t like bottoming. I’ll learn something new about myself. And then we’ll know for sure. That’s all.” He walked up to the bed, where Draco was still lying on his back looking miserable. “This isn’t all on you, Draco. Sexual pleasure is about two people together, not just one doing all the work while the other person just lies there, experiencing it. The things you do when you’re bottoming for me… what you say, the way you move, the way you touch me, it makes all the difference for me. You bring me as much pleasure as I bring you. That’s how sex is supposed to work. It’s a give and take.”
“Even when I’m submitting to you?” Draco asked with an arch of his brow.
“Yes, even then.” Harry felt his face warm. “Especially then.” He met Draco’s eyes. “The sense of power you give me… it makes me feel, well, if I’m honest, it makes me feel like… a god or something, like I can do anything. You really should try it sometime. It’s quite heady.”
“Hm,” said Draco, sounding skeptical.
“You like fingering me, don’t you?”
“Yes. Very much.”
“It brings you pleasure? It turns you on?”
“Of course.”
“And that’s just using a finger. Imagine doing that, imagine that feeling, but times a hundred. Imagine getting those same reactions out of me, using your cock.”
That made a light turn on behind Draco’s eyes, and Harry smiled. He was almost sure that if he did some feeling around he would find Draco erect under the covers. But he resisted the temptation. No sex before matches.
“See?” said Harry. “I’ve intrigued you now.”
Draco schooled his face to hide his reaction, but Harry wasn’t fooled. He leaned in and kissed the blond soundly, earning a moan from him. Draco reached for him, to pull him closer, but Harry pulled away instead.
“No, no,” he said. “Not until tonight.”
“It’s just a bit of snogging, Harry,” said Draco with a pout.
“With how much we’re both obviously turned on right now, it won’t turn out to just be a bit of snogging, and you know it. I’ve got to save my strength.”
Draco sighed. “Tonight then,” he said.
“Tonight.” Harry grinned, suddenly. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I’ve got you secretly rooting for Gryffindor, now.”
“In your dreams, Potter.”
Harry laughed. “Hardly. My dreams about you are a lot more creative than that.”
That made the curiosity light up on Draco’s face again, and Harry chuckled.
“Come on, get up. It’s time for breakfast.”
***
Harry barely heard Madam Hooch’s whistle over the roar of wind in his ears. He lowered his altitude to be able to see more of the action through the haze, but it was the student commentator that informed him of what was going on.
“And that’s another penalty by Slytherin, and Chaser Weasley will take the shot.”
Harry sighed and soared higher again, his eyes ever-searching for the golden Snitch. Yes, unsurprisingly it had been a dirty game. He’d already narrowly avoided three potentially quite painful injuries by Bludgers, aimed at him by a Slytherin Beater whose only role seemed to be trying to take the Gryffindor Seeker out of commission. Luckily Harry and his Firebolt had been fast enough to thwart such attempts so far.
He knew why the Slytherins had employed this strategy, though. In many ways, the success of the game rested on Harry’s shoulders. The Slytherins had a seventy point margin against Gryffindor, meaning that if Harry caught the Snitch when Slytherin was over eighty points up, Gryffindor would still lose. The best thing Harry could do for his team was catch the Snitch early, before Slytherin had had too many chances to score.
Unfortunately, the tiny winged ball had been quite elusive so far. Harry had spotted it once about half an hour in, but had been successfully distracted by two Bludgers aimed at him at once, ruining the trajectory of his dive and drawing his focus long enough for the Snitch to disappear again.
He heard the high keen of another approaching Bludger and dove rapidly, irritated. At this rate, he would never have more than a few minutes at a time to focus on his search for the Snitch. Of course, that’s exactly how Slytherin wanted it.
The snakes were slowly pulling ahead. Gryffindor was giving it everything they had but the Slytherin Chasers were strong defensively, being generally huge, hulking types, as they were, and that made it very hard for Gryffindor to score. Possession of the Quaffle turned over frequently, the Gryffindors using their speed to intercept passes and the Slytherins using their aggressive flying to steal the Quaffle right back.
Another roar of approval from the Slytherin end informed Harry that the snakes had obviously scored again. As he weaved to avoid the approach of another Bludger he listened for the commentator’s voice, and heard that the score was now Gryffindor twenty, Slytherin fifty.
Dammit, he thought. He needed to catch the Snitch now.
He licked his lips, tasting the raindrops that had collected on them. He was soaked to the skin, now, the Impervious Charm he cast on himself at the start of the match having worn off quite some time ago. He swiped his drenched fringe out of his eyes, annoyed that he hadn’t cut his hair before the match, as he had intended to do. Draco had been so against him cutting it, and when Draco wanted something…
A flash of gold caught his eyes and he acted quickly, diving toward the lower tier of spectator seats where the ball was now zipping about, waiting for him.
He didn’t worry about if the Slytherin Seeker was giving chase as well, or if a Beater had knocked another Bludger his way. Neither would be fast enough for him, at the speed he was diving now. All his focus was on getting his hands on that Snitch.
Suddenly, a sharp pain in his jaw had stars bursting before his eyes, and he barrel rolled out of the way, his arms instinctively protecting his face from another attack.
Had that been a Bludger? He hadn’t heard it coming.
But he could hear, suddenly, as the pain in his jaw started to dull, an angry roar from the Gryffindor end, and the student commentator magically shouting over it. “That’s an illegal elbow to the face by Ewan Campbell. That’ll be another penalty shot for Gryffindor; looks like Thomas will take this one. But Potter looks disoriented, and he’s bleeding a bit. The Snitch is nowhere in sight.”
Was he disoriented? Harry shook himself and flew upward again, taking in his surroundings. His tongue darted out to the side of his lip, which still stung, and he tasted blood. In fact, now that he was paying attention, he could feel a small stream of it dribbling down the side of his chin. He wiped it away and then spat out the metallic taste that was still in his mouth. He didn’t have his wand with him, so there was no healing the small gash now. He would just have to live with it, for the time being.
Back to business, he thought, as his gaze took in the location the Slytherin Seeker and Beaters while simultaneously ready to spot even the faintest of golden glints in the sea of gray around him. Campbell had returned to his duties as Chaser, but Harry found himself unconsciously keeping tabs on him, too. Obviously the Chaser had found some way to come at him from below as he was diving, and Harry hadn’t been expecting that. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. The Slytherins were obviously perfectly willing to commit a few penalties against him, since the cost of doing so was outweighed by the benefit of stopping Harry from getting the Snitch.
There were cheers from the Gryffindor end, but Harry hardly noticed, too intent on his search. Only a few meters away the Slytherin Seeker, Shawna Caffrey, was searching as well, obviously wanting to keep close to Harry in order to keep up with his Firebolt. Harry didn’t like that at all, but there wasn’t much he could do about it, for the moment.
And then he spotted it, on the other end of the pitch. Caffrey hadn’t seen it yet, and Harry decided to shake her off his tail before he went for it. He arched his broom upward and then tilted it down into an incredibly steep dive, knowing that Shawna would try to follow but would have a hard time at this speed. He ran parallel to his target for a moment and then twisted out when Caffrey was least expecting it.
He grinned widely, feeling the stream of blood that had caked on his chin crack, but he ignored it, his focus turned upward on the ball that was zigging and zagging only a few dozen meters away now. It was aiming right for the Slytherin stands, and Harry refused to let it get away this time.
He saw a shadow above him and knew it had to be another Slytherin Chaser coming for him. There was no way that Caffrey had caught up already. With a sudden move sideways and a shot upward, Harry was able to avoid the body that wanted to crash down on him.
Nice try, he thought gleefully as he heard the Chaser curse at his failure. He zoomed forward again, his arm outstretched, reaching for the ball before they both hit the stands. Two meters, one meter, the faces of startled looking spectators were coming ever closer, but Harry stretched that extra inch and his hand wrapped tightly around the Snitch, just in time for him to pull up before he crashed into the sea of green and silver.
An ecstatic tidal wave of noise erupted from the other end of the pitch, but Harry took a moment to search the faces in front of him, looking for one in particular. And then he spotted him, seated between Pansy and Blaise, who were both gazing up at him indifferently. Draco, however, was shaking his head, his face an amusing picture of pride and disbelief. Harry gave him a wink, and the Slytherin had to fight a smile.
He wanted to do more. He wanted to snog his boyfriend in midair. He wanted to celebrate his victory with Draco, and Draco alone. But his robes were drenched and his chin likely smeared with blood, and his team was congregating below, waiting for him. So with one final grin he turned away, holding the ball high in the air and sparking another round of enthusiastic cheers from most of the spectators.
I’ll have this now, he thought. And Draco later. It’s a win-win.
***
The party in Gryffindor tower would most likely continue on well into the night, Harry knew. But for him, this party was definitely coming to a close. Not that he hadn’t taken the time to enjoy it for most of the day. The cup had been passed around from one delighted lion to the next, so everybody could get a chance with it. Embraces were shared and photographs were snapped, and Harry and Ron both were accepting exuberant congratulations on a continual basis.
But as the afternoon faded into evening, Harry found his thoughts straying more and more to Draco, who he knew was waiting for him in the 8^th year dormitories. Though his stomach twisted a little with nerves every time he thought about what he was in store for when he went back, most of him was heart-poundingly excited. He just had a feeling that he was going to enjoy himself.
It took him a while to inch his way out the door. No one really wanted him to leave, and he kept getting sucked back in to some conversation or another. Finally, though, he was able to extricate himself with one final wave to Ron and Hermione, who were looking cozy on a loveseat by the fire, looking like they might be about ready to sneak out soon, too.
When Harry arrived at the 8^th year dormitory, he was greeted by another round of congratulations by the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who were hanging out in the common room. Harry smiled and accepted it all graciously, one eye looking out for Draco. But he wasn’t there. When the small crowd had dissipated, Harry went searching for him.
He better not have gone out, he thought ruefully. Maybe Draco had chickened out and was hiding somewhere, like the Slytherin dungeons, until Harry had given up looking for him. He has to know I’ll be collecting sooner or later.
When he approached Draco’s bedroom door and knocked, though, he heard Draco’s clear, strong voice immediately call, “Come in.” Harry opened the door to see a shirtless Draco standing near his four-poster bed, his arms crossed over his pale, bare chest.
“You’re late,” said the Slytherin, and there was something in his tone that sent shivers through Harry’s entire body.
“Am I?” Harry asked with an arch of his brow. “I didn’t realize we had an appointment for this.”
“Cheeky,” Draco said, his voice low and dangerous. He came closer to Harry. “I let you get away with it most days, but not tonight.” He stopped only a foot away. “What I say goes. And if I say you’re late, then you’re late. Do you understand?”
So this was how Draco wanted to play it. Harry wondered what had brought this on. Perhaps it was Draco’s way of giving himself confidence. Or perhaps he’d been intrigued by Harry’s description of how good it felt to be submitted to, and he wanted the full experience. Whatever the reason, Harry was happy to play along. He liked Commanding Draco, and he didn’t get to see him all that often anymore.
“Yes, sir,” Harry said pointedly.
Draco smiled, ever so slightly, then lifted his hand to cup Harry’s jaw. He turned Harry’s head slightly, his eyes raking over the side of Harry’s face. Harry realized that Draco was looking at where Campbell had elbowed him during the match.
“Not even a scar,” Draco said approvingly. “Did Pomfrey heal you?”
“I healed myself,” said Harry. “Sir,” he added, after a look from Draco.
“It looks perfect,” the blond said. “I’m glad. Not that I mind that you have scars, but I told Campbell that if he had marked you permanently, I would make him pay. So now I don’t have to.”
Harry looked up into Draco’s slate gray eyes and wondered if he was serious. Then he decided he didn’t care. It was enough to imagine that he was. The way Draco defended him so avidly did something to Harry, something wonderful, deep in his insides.
Draco’s gaze softened for just a moment, and he leaned into Harry, planting a kiss at the corner of his mouth where the gash had been. Harry’s breath hitched, and Draco pulled away, eyes hard and blazing.
“Take off your clothes for me. Slowly,” he said. He moved away from Harry to stand at the foot of his bed. “Go on,” he said coaxingly, after a moment. “Start with your shirt.”
Harry gulped and raised his hands to the top button of his shirt. He was shaking slightly, and he didn’t even understand why. There was just something about the way Draco was standing there, watching him, that made his whole body tingle with a mix of nerves and arousal. He undid the first button, and then the next, and then the next.
“Slowly,” Draco reminded him.
He undid the last three as instructed, taking his time, until the whole of his abdomen was exposed.
“I love that shirt on you,” Draco commented.
“I know,” Harry said. “Sir.” He’d worn it deliberately. It was a royal blue button down, one of Draco’s favorite colors on him. He was also wearing what he suspected were Draco’s favorite pair of Harry’s jeans. They were black ones, the tightest that Harry owned. He’d caught Draco checking out his arse in them numerous times.
“But it will look even better off,” Draco said. “You know what to do.”
Harry did, shrugging so the fabric slipped off his shoulders and down his arms. He let the shirt drop to the floor, then awaited his next instructions.
“Well,” said Draco. “I never said you could stop. Undo your belt.”
Harry smiled, reaching down to the buckle, and did as he was told. Then, thinking Draco wanted him to keep going, he started on his button and fly. Draco watched in silence, his eyes fixed on where Harry’s hands were working. Harry was about to pull his jeans down to his ankles when Draco said, “Stop.”
Harry paused.
“Jeans before shoes? Really?” Draco asked.
Harry laughed, then bent down to undo his trainers. He was so wrapped up in the stripping, he’d forgotten he was even wearing shoes. He pulled them off, and then decided to go ahead and take off his socks, too, for good measure. Draco hummed in approval.
“Now the jeans,” he said, his voice dark.
Harry pulled them down and stepped out of them, then stood before Draco, wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs.
Draco looked him up and down. “Fuck,” he said, under his breath.
That’s the idea, Harry almost retorted, but then remembered he wasn’t supposed to be cheeky.
“Go on,” Draco’s voice was rough now. “Take them off.”
Harry reached for the band of his underwear, but Draco stopped him again.
“No, wait,” he said. “Turn around.”
Harry turned so he was facing Draco’s bedroom door.
“Now take them off.”
Harry grinned and did as he was told, knowing that Draco was watching him bend over. He stood upright again, now completely naked, and he wondered if he should turn again. But movement behind him was telling him that Draco was coming closer.
He felt a cool finger run down his spine from neck to tailbone, and he shivered. He could feel Draco’s solid presence only a few inches from him, but he didn’t turn. A puff of breath tickled his ear.
“I don’t have to ask if you trust me,” Draco said softly. “I already know you do. But I do need to know if you want to do this this way. If you don’t, I understand. If at any point you want to stop, just say so, and we’ll stop. You’re safe with me, always.”
“I know,” said Harry.
“Turn around. Look at me.”
Harry turned slowly, meeting Draco’s eyes.
“You have to say it,” Draco said.
“I want this,” Harry said immediately. “I want you to do whatever you want to me. I want to do whatever you want me to do.” Harry hadn’t even realized he was going to say the words until he said them, but he was glad he did. He rarely ever gave Draco this kind of control, and it was liberating, exhilarating. It was totally different from the power he felt when he was dominant, but it was a kind of power nonetheless.
And the effect the words had on Draco was palpable. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, they were harder, like steel.
“Get on all fours, on the bed, facing the headboard,” he commanded.
Harry complied immediately.
“Grip the headboard with both hands.”
Harry did, feeling the soft antique wood against his palms. Draco whispered something from behind him, and ropes appeared, wrapping around his wrists and attaching magically to the headboard. They were not the usual ones Harry saw with the Incarcerous spell, he noted. These were larger and softer, and as Harry pulled against his bindings to test them, he found they didn’t chafe.
Well, he thought. Here we go. He’d never been tied up before. Not in a sexual situation, anyway. He had no idea if he would like it, though he had to admit that the thought of Draco behind him, thinking about what to do next, the idea of Draco touching him while he was completely at the blond’s mercy, made Harry’s cock go from semi-tumescent to fully hard.
So maybe I’m into this sort of thing after all. He smiled to himself and waited. He felt the weight on the bed shift, and knew Draco was climbing on.
“How do you feel?” he asked Harry.
”Ready,” said Harry.
A sharp slap to his right buttock had him hissing. It wasn’t terribly hard, but it was enough to sting.
“Ready, what?” Draco asked.
Harry grinned. He’d forgotten. “Ready, sir.”
“Good,” Draco said, rubbing the globe he had just slapped soothingly. “I’m not intending to punish you tonight,” Draco said. His voice was almost matter-of-fact, save for the dark thread of arousal that ran through it. “Even though you were late. I’ll forgive you, this once. But if you don’t do as I say, and if you don’t call me ‘sir’ or ‘master,’ I will punish you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Harry’s cock hardened further. Damn, he thought. He didn’t realize this would have such an effect on him, but he liked it.
“Good boy.” Draco ran one hand up Harry’s back while the other continued to play near his arse. Draco was taking his time, feeling Harry out, and Harry was content to let him, for now. His arousal had not yet become unbearable.
Draco muttered a cleansing spell and Harry felt that strange scrubbing sensation inside him that he was just starting to get used to. But this time he welcomed it, because it meant that Draco was about to focus some of his attention there.
He could feel Draco kneeling behind him, still in his jeans, but the erection Harry could feel against his arse was unmistakable. Draco leaned forward, flattening his chest against Harry’s back, while one arm reached around to run a hand across Harry’s pectoral. He found one of Harry’s pebbled nipples and pinched, then teased, then pinched again. Harry bit his lip to stifle his moan, but Draco said, against his skin, “Let me hear you.” So when Draco rubbed the nipple again, then pulled on it, Harry let himself let go. Draco teased him some more, all the while kissing his way down Harry’s back, venturing into areas where Harry he knew he had scars, both from the war and from his childhood. Those parts of his flesh were more sensitive than the rest, and Draco paid them extra attention. Harry gripped the headboard, his lust-addled brain trying to contend with the sensations on his chest and those on his back all at once.
Draco let his hand drop, leaving Harry’s nipples bereft, as his lips inched closer and closer to Harry’s arse. Harry struggled against his bindings, writhing a little.
“Keep still,” Draco commanded, then, without warning, licked a stripe all the way up his arse.
Harry moaned loudly, partially from surprise, but also because, fuck, that was arousing. Neither he nor Draco had explored anything like that before, though he knew other gay men did.
A surprise slap to his arse, the left cheek his time, made him jump.
“Keep still, Harry,” Draco said, his voice darkening. “Or I will punish you.”
“Fuck,” Harry breathed. But then he said, more loudly, “Yes, sir.”
He tried to keep still, but Draco was coming at him with his tongue again, this time focused on his entrance, and it was bloody exquisite. He’d never felt anything like it before. Draco’s powerful tongue was wet and hot as it delved inside him, and it took all of his willpower not to push back against Draco’s face and drive him deeper. The frustration of it had his head swimming and his cock weeping.
He felt Draco chuckle against his skin. “You are pushing it, Harry,” he said. “This is your last warning.”
Harry bit back the retort that was already halfway out of his mouth, knowing it would land him in a heap of trouble. Keep still, dammit, he told himself. He didn’t particularly want to get punished. He just wanted Draco’s tongue again.
But he didn’t get his tongue. Instead he got a lubricated finger, pushing inside him slowly. He welcomed it with a groan, but gripped the headboard firmly in determination. He would not move again, no matter how good it felt, no matter how much he wanted to encourage that finger to brush against his prostate.
But Draco didn’t need any encouragement from Harry on that front, it turned out, because he found Harry’s sweet spot easily all on his own. He brushed over it, slowly, and Harry cried out, jerking involuntarily in pleasure and then clutching the headboard to stop himself. His grip was so tight he almost thought the wood would splinter in his hands.
“Does that feel good, Harry?” Draco asked.
“Yes, sir,” Harry said.
Draco pulled out, then slipped two fingers inside, filling Harry up. “You can move now, Harry,” he said. “I want to see you fuck yourself on my fingers.”
Harry groaned, then pushed back against Draco’s hand, pulling the fingers further inside. His prostate was brushed again. “Oh, Gods,” he breathed. “Fuck, Draco.”
He got another slap to his arse, but this one he was expecting. He knew the moment he let the name slip. “I’m sorry, master,” he breathed, still riding Draco’s fingers, totally lost. It already felt so good.
“Stop,” Draco said suddenly, and Harry groaned in disappointment. “You look so hot doing that, Harry,” Draco said in his ear. “But let’s save some of that for my cock, shall we?”
Harry groaned again. “Yes, sir.” Draco’s cock. His anticipation was mounting.
Draco began scissoring his fingers, stretching Harry. The Gryffindor took deep, slow breaths, letting himself relax. He knew how important that was. He’d never had more than two fingers inside him, and he was going to be welcoming something much bigger this time around.
But, he realized, the thought didn’t scare him, or even make him nervous. He just wanted it, badly.
Draco removed his fingers and reached over to one of the bedside tables. Harry watched him from under his arm as Draco took out something long and red from one of the drawers, and Harry realized it was a dildo. He didn’t get a good look at it, but he didn’t think it looked quite as big as Draco’s cock.
“I’m going to put this inside you, Harry,” Draco said, running the tip of the toy along the rounds of Harry’s arse. “It will help stretch you more. It will help get you ready for me. Is that all right?”
“Yes, sir,” Harry said.
He heard the squelch of Draco applying lubricant, and then he felt the tip of the toy at his entrance. He took a breath and let it out, and Draco pushed forward, letting it breach the ring of muscle and go further.
There was a burning sensation, not quite painful exactly, but a little uncomfortable, and Harry kept breathing. He would adjust. He knew that.
“How are you, Harry?” Draco asked gently. “Can I keep going?”
Harry nodded. “Please, sir,” he said.
He heard Draco chuckle at that, his voice going back to dark and commanding one he had been using most of the night. “Such a good boy,” he said. “Look at how well you take it. I can’t wait to be inside you.”
The dildo brushed his sweet spot and Harry cried out again. It was fairly deep within him now.
“There’s something else,” said Draco, and Harry was just wondering what he meant when he felt the dildo come to life inside him, vibrating rapidly.
“Fuck!” He almost had the feeling he could come right then and there, if only his erection could get just a little stimulation. He fought against his bindings on instinct, but they didn’t budge. So he took to trying to rock against the dildo instead, but Draco stopped him with a strong hand.
“No riding,” Draco said. “That’s for later. Just feel it.” He eased the vibrator in and out of Harry, ever so slowly, and Harry was outright whimpering now.
“Please!” he cried. “Please, master, I need to… fuck, I need...”
“I know, Harry,” Draco said soothingly. “Soon, I promise. Just feel it.”
Oh, Harry felt it all right. It was almost too much. The vibrations of the toy reverberated through his legs and his back, and when they hit his prostate he was pure sensation, but without any promise of release.
He was about to beg again, when he felt Draco ease the toy out of him for good. Part of him was relieved as the intensity subsided, but he could still feel a pleasant tingling inside him, making him want more. And the need in his aching cock was unbearable.
He felt Draco climb off the bed and heard the sounds of his jeans being removed.
Finally, he thought. Merlin willing, he’s going to fuck me soon.
The bindings around Harry’s hands released from the headboard, though they remained wrapped around his wrists. He felt Draco pull on him suddenly, and then flip him onto his back. With a wave of his wand he had the ropes entwine, binding Harry’s wrists together above his head.
Draco looked down at him, now completely naked, his cock red and waiting. There was an expression on his face that Harry thought might be awe. “Look at you,” Draco said. “You are so fucking beautiful. I can’t believe you belong to me.”
Harry gave him a small smile, and Draco’s expression hardened, just a little.
“Tell me,” he said.
“I belong to you, master,” Harry said. “I will always belong to you.”
“Yes,” Draco breathed, so softly Harry almost didn’t catch it. “It’s time, don’t you think?” he asked, more loudly.
You tell me, master, Harry almost said. “Yes, sir.”
Draco reached for the lube, rubbing a handful into his palm and then stroking his cock, his eyes never leaving Harry’s. Harry watched it all, his heart pounding away in his chest.
This is it, he thought.
Draco scooted closer, lifting Harry’s legs to wrap around him. Draco leaned down so he was on his elbows, hovering above Harry by only a couple of inches. His mouth closed the distance and he kissed Harry tenderly. Harry’s chest constricted almost painfully as he kissed Draco back, his tongue flitting out to taste him. It was such a simple, gentle thing, but for some reason, it had a stronger effect than anything else had that night, and Harry almost felt like weeping.
Draco pulled away as their eyes stayed connected. Draco was positioning himself at Harry’s entrance by feel, and then he started to push. Harry, open and ready, welcomed him as he slipped slowly inside, filling him so completely that he forgot how to breathe for a moment.
“Oh, Harry,” Draco said, his voice full of wonder as he sheathed himself fully.
Harry wanted to respond, but he didn’t know how. This was different. This was so different than a finger, or a dildo, or a tongue. This was… convergence. It took his voice from him.
Draco started to move, and Harry arched against him, encouraging him. There was still a bit of a burning sensation but the adjustment he had done with the dildo had helped a lot with that already. Soon discomfort was gone altogether, and all he felt was the pleasure of fullness and the warmth of Draco’s skin on his.
Draco began moving more confidently, driving deeper into Harry, and at the first touch of his prostate Harry found his voice again, crying Draco’s name. In the back of his mind he registered that he had not been given permission to do so, but Draco seemed too far gone to care. He had wrapped Harry up in him completely and was moving inside him with abandon, his breath hot and wonderful on Harry’s neck.
“Yes,” Harry said as he felt his pleasure mounting. “Yes, right there.” He wished he had his hands free so he could touch Draco, or maybe touch himself, but they were still bound above his head. So he moved the rest of him instead, working himself against Draco, increasingly the friction.
“Gods, Harry,” Draco breathed in his ear. He pulled his head up to look at Harry, his thrusts slowing so that he could kiss him again. “You feel so fucking good.”
“So do you,” Harry replied. He was surprised at how sweet this was, after everything else that night, but he liked it. “Faster, Draco, please.”
“I believe you mean, master, don’t you?” Draco asked with a smirk, increasing his speed, and Harry laughed and moaned simultaneously.
“Yes, master,” he said, and Draco growled, driving into him harder.
Oh, this was good, too, like this. It hit his prostate hard, giving him spikes of pleasure that he tried to absorb. They built and built, until he wasn’t sure he could take it anymore.
“Please, sir!” he cried, knowing it would drive Draco wild. “Please let me come! Let me come around your cock like a good boy.”
“Fuck,” Draco ground out. He reached down for Harry’s cock, and Harry silently rejoiced. “What a good boy you are, Harry,” he said. “Come for me.”
He stroked once, twice, three times, and then Harry came with an explosion so powerful inside him that he was paralyzed and shivering. He knew he had clenched tightly around Draco, and only a moment later he felt jets of warm cum filling him, adding to the pleasure of his release.
He relaxed under Draco’s weight, enjoying it, wishing again that he had his hands free so he could run them along Draco’s sweaty back. But he could wait. Draco appeared to need a minute to recover.
“Holy fucking Hippogriffs,” Draco said into Harry’s neck, and Harry burst out laughing. Draco lifted his head to look at Harry with a grin, but the smile faltered suddenly.
“What?” Harry asked, as Draco pulled off and reached for his wand. “What is it?”
His bindings were suddenly undone and Draco was eyeing him carefully. “Harry,” he said. “You’re crying.”
“What? No, I’m not.”
Draco reached out and stroked a hand across Harry’s cheek and Harry was surprised to feel a cool wetness smear there. Draco pulled his hand away to show Harry, the tips of his fingers glistening with moisture. “See?”
Harry shook his head. “I don’t understand.” How could he have been crying without even realizing it? And he wasn’t even sad. That had been absolutely wonderful.
“It’s ok, Harry, it’s natural,” Draco said, his voice calming a bit now that he could see that Harry wasn’t hurt or upset. “It’s just the adrenalin from the foreplay, and the endorphins of your orgasm, probably.”
“It was intense,” Harry admitted. “But I liked it.”
“Yeah?” Draco asked, his smile suddenly shy. “You’d want to do it again sometime?”
“Sure,” Harry said. “I’m not sure about the bondage stuff all the time, but on occasion.”
“Variety is the spice of life,” replied Draco. He began massaging Harry’s wrists, making sure they got blood flow back into them.
“Would you let me do it to you?”
Draco looked at him. “Are you kidding? I would fucking love it.”
Harry grinned. “Really,” he said, his voice lascivious.
“Really.”
“Why didn’t you ever say anything before?”
Draco shrugged, then rested his chin on his hands, which were folded over Harry’s chest. He gazed at Harry with large, gray eyes. “I figured we were working our way up to it.”
“And then you just decided to dive right into it tonight, but with roles reversed?”
Draco shrugged again. “I was inspired by what you said this morning. And I… well… I needed to get into a certain mindset, to let go of my insecurities.”
Harry nodded. He figured it might be something like that.
“You have nothing to be insecure about, you know. You were perfect.”
Draco rolled his eyes, but preened nonetheless. “I made you cry, though.”
Harry scoffed. “Cry with pleasure. There’s a difference.”
“Mm,” Draco agreed. “That there is.” He moved his hands and kissed Harry on his solar plexus. “I love you.”
“I love you,” Harry replied with a soft smile.
“Thanks for making this wager,” Draco said, and Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. “And thanks for winning.”
Harry laughed. “Anytime.”
“And just so you know, I’m going to figure out some way to get you to redo your wardrobe anyway. Don’t think this lets you off the hook for life.”
“I have no doubt,” said Harry. “What Draco wants, Draco gets.”
“You’re damn right.” Draco kissed Harry’s stomach again. “Thankfully, I already have what I’ve always wanted most of all.”
Harry lifted a hand and ran it through Draco’s soft locks. “So do I.”
SickPuppy: Thanks, glad you’re enjoying it! And Harry has definitely shifted perspectives since he started “doing” a pureblood lol. He can see things from two sides now.
djaddict: Lol you’re definitely not required to like Kemp just because he has some tragedy in his past. He is still a prickly dude. And he and Harry will never be besties, but at least they understand each other a bit better now.
Harry’s confrontation with Rita was my favorite part! Glad you found it epic!
serpensprincess: Thanks!
Dedicated_Reader: Gee thanks :) That chapter took a lot out of me. I wanted it to have humor and lightness along with the harder stuff so I’m glad I accomplished that!
smn: Thank you for saying so! I’m definitely getting some sniffles thinking about this fic coming to an end. I enjoyed it so much I just might have to write a sequel…
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