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White Roses	By : Lena18 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 1791 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, and I hold no legal claim
over Harry Potter or any associated characters. This piece of fan fiction is
merely for my own amusement, and possibly others. No profit is being made, and
no copyright fringe is intended.

Rating: M

Author�s Note: I�ll warn you right now, the story I�m telling isn�t
going to follow a strict timeline. I�m sort of jumping around here. So I�ve
made sure to specify the time in italics before every new scene. Hopefully,
there will be no confusion.

Chapter 2: Home, Sweet Home

Flashback. July
23, 2006. Two years into the war.

The trees were crying gently,
and a drop of morning dew landed softly on Draco�s cheek, mixing with his own
tears. He had been reluctant to part with those tears, but they had spilled
nonetheless. He was glad that no one would see them, at least. Harry stood a
few steps behind him in silence. They didn�t talk, but Draco could feel his
presence and was grateful that he was there. They been standing in front of
this grave for the past 40 minutes, and Harry hadn�t complained once. Draco
took one last shuddering breath, and knelt. Slowly, he reached a hand out to
feel the cold granite of the stone that marked his mother�s final resting
place.

�Hi Mum,� Draco said quietly.
Normally, he would have felt a little bit silly squatting in a graveyard at six
o�clock in the morning, talking to a woman who had been dead for over a month
now. Draco hadn�t found out until yesterday. He�d been in Peru, attempting to
convince a couple of well-respected dignitaries there to provide support for
the war effort in Britain. He�d succeeded, and had returned home feeling both
satisfied and quite pleased with himself. The letter was waiting for him on his
window sill, having been dropped off by a ministry owl weeks ago.

�I�m sorry,� he choked. �I�m
sorry I wasn�t there.�

Harry�s hand was on his
shoulder then, and Draco exhaled loudly. He endeavored to compose himself, and
found that he didn�t have anything else to say. Nothing he said could change
this. So he placed the dozen white roses on her grave with care, and stood up shakily.

�I�ll be fine.� Draco said
quickly, in an attempt to convince himself more than Harry. �Thanks for coming
with me.�

�Of
course.� Harry replied. They stood
together for a few minutes, listening to the sounds that could only be heard
first thing in the morning, before the reality of a world at war had truly
crept into the day. The rustling of the bushes, or the quiet
chirping of a bird somewhere near. Little noises that had been taken for
granted in the past.

�What was she like?� Harry
asked quietly.

�Who, my
mother?� Draco sighed. �She
was�cold. Not cruelly so, just indifferent somehow. But she wasn�t there very
often.�

�Did she travel?�

�Oh. No, I guess that�s not
what I meant. She was there physically. But her spirit was always somewhere
else.� Draco wiped at his face, embarrassed suddenly to realize that his tears
had begun to dry there. He finally met Harry�s eyes, which had been observing
him carefully. �She was�hollow.�

�I�m sorry.� Harry said
softly. Draco acknowledged this with a wry smile.

�When I was little I used to
imagine that she was a porcelain doll. She was always so beautiful and perfect
and fragile. And Lucius treated her like a doll. He would admire her, play with
her, and then just put her on a shelf when he was done with her.� Draco
pronounced these words bitterly. �But he didn�t put her away carefully enough.
Each time she would find herself closer to the edge of that shelf. I guess I
always knew that one day she�d fall off.�

The concern was evident on Harry�s
face. Draco was sounding far away now, almost like he was falling himself.

�Fall and smash. Shattered porcelain, all over the floor.� Draco shook his
head abruptly, startling Harry. �I don�t want to think about it anymore.� He
insisted.

�Draco-�

�I don�t want to think about
it anymore!� Draco repeated angrily. He turned around without warning, and
headed quickly down the path they had come from. Harry followed him, jogging a
little at first to catch up. When he was beside the other boy again, Harry
grasped his hand. Draco squeezed it tightly until his knuckles were white with
strain. But Harry didn�t let go.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Present day. June 12, 2008. The war was declared won
approximately one month ago.

Draco emptied yet another one
of his bags out onto the bed in front of him, and groaned at the task that lay
ahead. He had absolutely no idea what to do with all of this stuff. His
clothing felt out of place in this room. His set of two hundred galleon robes
completely overshadowed the simple plaid bedding that they�d been dumped on. If
Draco was going to be staying here indefinitely, he would need a new wardrobe.
Draco scoffed. What an absurd idea. He�d just make Harry redecorate instead.

Draco had been surprised when
Harry asked him to move in. It wasn�t that it was too soon. They had been
together throughout the majority of the war, which meant almost four years. Of
course, their time spent together during the duration of the war had been
limited and sporadic at best, but that was to be expected. It wasn�t that
moving in was too much of a commitment either. In such desperate, dangerous
times people tended to hold on to the ones around them. As a result of this,
and their semi-frequent assignments together, Draco and Harry had grown close
surprisingly fast. As far as Draco concerned, there wasn�t and hadn�t been
anyone else for a long time. In truth, he was quite pleased that Harry had
asked. Draco had to agree that it made a great deal of sense in many ways.
After all, he was practically spending every night with Harry as it was. He
couldn�t sleep without him anymore, something he would never admit to anyone
but himself.

No, the real reason Draco had
been surprised didn�t have anything to do with time or commitment. It had to do
with the tiny, insignificant detail that continued to prickle as the symbolical
thorn in Draco�s side. The fact that, despite almost four
years with the savior of the wizarding world, their
relationship was still very much a secret. Hidden from
even Harry�s closest friends. Of course, Draco�s alliance with the Order
of the Phoenix had effectively removed any standing childhood hostility between
himself and the soon-to-be Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. They
had come to regard each other as friendly acquaintances (well, sort of), and
yet the two were completely oblivious to the true nature of Draco and Harry�s
relationship. Draco�s stance on this issue changed on a regular basis,
sometimes even hourly. He didn�t necessarily want to pull this �thorn� out,
because it was very likely that doing so would open a can of worms that was
best left undisturbed. Media attention, spending time with
the friends, etc. No, he liked having Harry all to himself. But he
couldn�t help but wonder sometimes what it was that prevented Harry from
telling them.

The more he thought about
this, the more he began to feel nervous about what they were doing. When Harry
had brought up the idea of moving in, he�d presented it as the next logical
thing for them to do. Now Draco wasn�t sure. What was Harry waiting for? He�d
have to tell his friends at some point. Unless he just didn�t think that Draco
was important enough to mention at all.

Draco was fuming at this
point. The fact that he could not find any place for his clothes in Harry�s
closet wasn�t helping matters any. Harry�s closet was an absolute disaster
area. Draco flung another hideous set of Harry�s robes across the room in an
attempt to clear some space. He must remember to go shopping with that boy this
weekend. That is, if their relationship lasted the week.

He heard the door to the flat
open, and looked at the clock on the wall. It was 8:12 pm � Harry was late. Again. Draco stubbornly began to place his robes on the
hangers he�d managed to disentangle from the mess.

�Hi,� Harry said, appearing
at the door of the bedroom. Draco continued with his work, pretending he hadn�t
heard.

�Hey,� Harry repeated again,
wrapping his arms around Draco from behind. Draco jumped,
unaware that Harry had crossed the room to him.

�Don�t do that!� Draco told
him off. Harry just laughed.

�Sorry, I�m just happy to be
back. Today was awful.�

�Huh,� Draco grunted,
unwilling to show any interest. Harry had been working furiously these past few
weeks, wrapping things up with the Ministry and going over case files with the
other Aurors for those Death Eaters that were to be
tried and, hopefully, convicted. He had been asked to appear at numerous
post-war gatherings of all kinds, although he had only attended two. One had
been a charity ball held in hopes of raising money for those left homeless
after the destruction that had been wrought on Britain. The other was the
ceremony in which he had been presented with the Order of Merlin, First Class.
He had refused to attend that one at first, but eventually Professor McGonagall
had convinced him that Dumbledore would have wanted him to be there for the wizarding world. For the sake of the
countless faces, all looking to their hero.

Draco was slightly resentful.
He was currently under house arrest, so to speak. Through the duration of the
war he had posed for Voldemort as a spy among the
Ministry. In reality however, it had been the other way around. He had managed
it quite successfully for some time. That is, however, until that night in
August of the year 2007. Draco immediately stopped. He didn�t want to think of
that. The short version involved an awful lot of torture, a miraculous escape,
and a sudden change of plans. He began work as an official Auror,
and was admitted into the inner circle of the Order of the Phoenix. Growing up
in the house of Lucius Malfoy had taught him a trick
or two, and his knowledge of dark arts had proved quite useful. However, even
though the war was now over, there were still quite a few Death Eaters walking
free. Aurors were working around the clock in an
attempt to discover their precise locations, but so far the search had been
fruitless. Not surprisingly, his fellow Death Eaters had been less than
thrilled with his betrayal. It was suspected that they would exact revenge if
given even the smallest chance. Draco was a target, and would continue to be
until every last Death Eater was back in Azkaban.

��and then they made us go
over that file on Dolohov again. You�d think that if there was something there we�d have
caught it the sixteenth time they told us to look at it again. But apparently a
seventeenth time was required.� Harry grimaced. �Oh well, thoroughness is
important I suppose.�

Draco just grunted again. He
hadn�t really been listening, although normally he would have been lapping it
all up eagerly. Harry rarely told him this kind of information, mainly because
most of it was highly classified. But today he wasn�t in the mood.

Harry squeezed his waist
slightly. �How�s the unpacking coming?�

�Fine,� Draco lied smoothly.
He stiffened as Harry began to kiss the line from Draco�s jawline
to his collarbone. Draco shrugged out of the embrace.

�Don�t do that.� He mumbled.

�Do what?� Harry asked,
looking hurt.

�Don�t act like that.�

�Like what?� Harry asked
again.

�I don�t know! Just stop it!�
Draco shouted at the former Gryffindor, who now appeared concerned more than
anything.

�What�s wrong?� Harry
prodded. They had been together long enough for Harry to know that Draco used
anger as a defense mechanism.

�Nothing!� Draco exclaimed, turning and walking over to the
closet where he began frantically shoving aside boxes and throwing hangers.
Harry stood in the room awkwardly, waiting. Draco whirled around again a second
later. �Why is there no closet space?� He demanded.

�We can make some closet
space, Draco.� Harry said quietly. Draco ignored him.

�Do you realize that your
dress robes are mixed in with your everyday robes? You have no system at all! It
is absolute chaos in here! If you wanted me to move in so badly you could have
at least cleared out some space for my stuff!� Draco shouted, somewhat
hysterical at this point.

Harry shook his head. �Okay,
calm down. We�ll deal with it. I can move some of my everyday robes into the
dresser.� They both stood there for a moment, Draco panting slightly from his
outburst.

�I�m going to make dinner,�
Harry said finally. �I was thinking pork chops, okay?� Draco loved pork chops,
and Harry knew it.

�Do whatever you like!� Draco
said snottily, and stormed out of the room. A moment later, Harry heard the
front door of the flat slam behind him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Present day. June 16, 2008. Four days later.

Harry and Draco lay serenely
in the bed that they now shared. Harry rested his head comfortably in the crook
of Draco�s neck, while Draco traced patterns on the skin below the other boy�s
navel. Harry breathed in Draco�s scent; a mixture of honey and apple crumble,
with a musky quality. He loved now that they had time to simply be. Suddenly, they had all the time in
the world.

Harry had made the pork chops
after Draco had left that night, and the blonde reappeared in time to eat them.
As usual, they hadn�t talked about what had happened. They always talked about
things when it was Harry who was bothered. Draco had never let him get away
with �Nothing�s wrong� or �I don�t want to talk about it�. They would talk it
through until Harry was certain that he had been concerned about nothing and he
would fall asleep perfectly content with the conviction that everything would
be alright. It hurt that Draco didn�t trust him enough to let him in, to let
him be there in the same way that he was there for Harry. But Draco had spent
years erecting a complicated set of walls that he surrounded himself with. Although
he had let Harry through some of them there were others that he had grown so
attached to that letting them down now would mean exposing himself completely.
Harry understood. But that didn�t mean that it hurt any less.

�Draco?� Harry asked, craning
his neck to look up at the preoccupied ex-Slytherin,
who was gazing dreamily into the fireplace.

�Yeah?�

�What are you going to do?�
Draco looked at him funny, obviously confused. �I mean, as a job. Now that the war is over.� Harry tried again, clarifying.

Draco sighed and shook his
head. �I don�t know. I don�t think I was ever really Auror
material. But I don�t know what I would do instead.�

Harry thought about this for
a moment. �You would make an excellent Potions Master. They�re planning on
reopening Hogwarts in September.� He said finally.

Draco chuckled. �Can you see
me teaching a bunch of bratty first-years how to brew a simple confusing
concoction? I don�t have enough patience for teaching, Harry.� He scoffed. �I�d
be better than Snape though, that�s for sure.�

Both boys froze briefly as
Draco�s words settled in the air.

�Sorry.� Draco said wearily.
�I didn�t mean to-�

�It�s okay,� Harry told him,
the tension that had found its way into his jaw releasing.

�I just wish that not every
conversation had to lead back to the war, or death, or both.� Draco said
miserably.

�I know,� Harry said,
enjoying the feeling of Draco running his hands through the raven hair soflty.. �Me too.�
They lost themselves in their own thoughts again for awhile, before Draco
turned back to Harry.

�What was the name of the
charity that threw the ball we went to last week?� He asked. The two had not
actually gone together, but had
managed a �casual� conversation at the punch bowl once or twice during the
night.

�Um�� Harry screwed up his
face, trying to remember. �WISHES, maybe? It was an acronym though I think.
Don�t remember what it stood for.�

�Right. I remember, it was �Wizards
Insist on Safe Housing for Everyone � Soon!� Kind of catchy,
actually.� Draco said, amused.

Harry grinned. �I don�t know, the exclamation point in the title kind of scares me.� He
examined Draco thoughtfully. �Why are you asking?�

�Well, I want to be where I�m
needed. I�m sure they could use another volunteer. You know, even if I wasn�t
getting paid it would be great to be involved.� Draco said. Harry just stared
at him, the surprise evident on his face.

�That�s actually a really
great idea, Draco.� Harry said, pleased.

�You don�t have to sound so
shocked.� Draco grumbled half-heartedly.

�My
apologies.� Harry replied, and
then yawned loudly. It had been another long day.

�Tired?� Draco asked.

Harry smiled,
content. �A little.� He admitted, closing his eyes.

�Too tired?� Draco pressed on, now grinning in a slightly evil
fashion now.

Harry�s eyes immediately flew
open again. �Never.� He replied, and before Draco
could respond Harry was on top of him, and his mouth was being gently teased
open by another pair of lips. Draco smirked into the kiss, and bit down gently
on Harry�s lower lip, requesting entrance. It was freely given, and they both
allowed themselves to melt into each other, their limbs entangled and their
hearts pounding as one. They shed their clothing quickly, and skin touched
skin, then lips on skin, and lips on lips once more. Soon, Harry found himself
being stroked slowly into a torturous frenzy of quiet whimpers and sparks of
pleasure. He moaned helplessly as Draco nipped at his earlobe.

�Like that, huh?� Draco asked, his face just as flushed as Harry�s at that point.
The words struck a certain chord within Harry, and he gripped the sheet almost
desperately as he remembered, as he came violently into Draco�s hand.

�Do you remember the first time
you said that to me?� Harry asked a minute later, slightly breathless. Draco
appeared puzzled for a moment, and then recognition dawned on his face. He
smirked widely.

�Do you remember what you
said in response?�

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Flashback. April 2, 2005. Nine months into the
war.

�Like that, huh?� Draco asked
cockily, smirking all the while as he moved his lips against Harry�s shoulder,
licking languidly along the place where his shirt met his skin.

�Oh Gods, Malfoy. Don�t
stop!� Harry pleaded, as he rocked his hips with Malfoy�s.
Both boys were still fully clothed, and Harry was afraid that if he made a move
to change that then this, thing, would
end. The small of his back was pressed painfully into the edge of the desk that
the other boy had pushed him up against, but he wasn�t going to complain. He
wasn�t going to do anything but writhe against this gorgeous body in front of
him, and take this moment for all it was worth. This moment�

Harry wasn�t going to pretend
that he hadn�t imagined this moment in his head over and over. He�d seen it
happening in his head in a million different ways. Perhaps in an abandoned
corridor, where no one would be able to find them? Or a deserted Quidditch Pitch � Malfoy would
come looking for a fight, but he�d settle for a fuck instead. Possibly even in
the Shrieking Shack, a bathroom in a Hogsmeade shop,
the old Room of Requirement back at Hogwarts. He�d never imagined it this way,
but somehow it was ten million times better.

They had been sent on yet
another assignment with one another, following the trail left behind by one of Voldemort�s most prized servants: a man named Mulciber. They had been on the road for days, and when
they�d finally made it to the motel, Harry had been in desperate need of a
nice, hot shower. When he�d finally exited the bathroom 20 minutes later, he�d
found Malfoy lying on the couch, staring at him
quietly. There had been something in his eyes that Harry hadn�t been able to
identify. He wasn�t sure who had started it, but the insults had begun to fly
seconds later. Since the beginning of the war they had given up the silly
childish animosity that they had held at Hogwarts. For the
most part. But the tension had been building for at least a month now. A
different kind of tension than Harry was used to. Harry wasn�t really sure when
it had started. But one minute they were screaming and the next they were,
well, doing this.

Malfoy�s hands were on his back now, clutching firmly at the
damp t-shirt that Harry had thrown on when he�d stepped out of the shower not
even five minutes ago. Harry�s grip tightened on Malfoy�s
waist as the former Slytherin thrust one last time,
muffling his scream of release in Harry�s shoulder. Harry followed three
seconds later, unable to hold himself back any longer. Then Malfoy
stiffened against him, and before Harry knew what was happening the other boy
had removed himself from the situation, and was headed
towards the bathroom.

�Malfoy!� Harry
called after him. As soon as the name slipped out of his mouth, he regretted
it. He had no idea what to say now. The blonde halted in his tracks, and turned
to face the Harry expectantly.

�What, er,
I�um, we�� Harry trailed off helplessly. Malfoy
smirked, which only served to irritate Harry further.

�What was that?� Harry
demanded, finding his voice.

�Don�t know,� replied Malfoy nonchalantly, unconcerned. �Feel like finding out?�

He said the last part almost
playfully, before disappearing into the bathroom and shutting the door behind
him. Harry merely gaped at the spot where he had just been standing. And
suddenly, he knew something. He felt it in his gut.

Things were going to be quite
different between him and Malfoy from now on.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Feedback in any form
is always appreciated. I�d love to get a review from you � nothing makes me
happier! Well, maybe a few things�but it�s in the top 10 for sure. Thanks for
reading!
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White Roses