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Aerodynamic	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6744 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Aerodynamic
- 2-Part Two
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Thank you for all the reviews!
Part Two
            Harry thought about tearing his hair out. But that wouldn’t solve any of the problems he saw in having some sort of bloody Veela bond to Malfoy, and would probably only exacerbate them. After all, why should Malfoy care whether he tore his hair out? And Harry might need it to warm the back of his neck after he ran away from home and hearth so he wouldn’t ever have to see Malfoy again.
            Currently, at least, he was in the sanctuary of his home. And there was a rather large bottle of Firewhisky sitting invitingly on the table, close at hand. Harry seized it and tilted it back and forth, admiring the way that the light shone through the warm amber liquid for a moment.
            He drank a huge gulp of it, and dealt with his burning eyes and throat in silence. Well, okay, no, in spluttering noise. But at least it was a distraction from his stupid brooding about Malfoy.
            What am I going to do?
            Harry sighed. He knew what he would probably have to do, he just hated to, because it would mean exposing his problems to Hermione and her worry. He loved her. He did. But she worried even more about him now that he was an Auror than she did about Ron. According to her, Ron had some common sense, and Harry didn’t.
            His Floo chimed. Harry sat up with wary confusion. It was after ten at night. Had Hermione somehow sensed that he was thinking about her and called him? She had scary intuition, at times. She might do that.
            But when he reached out and tapped the bricks that made the Floo open, it was to see Malfoy’s head, of all people’s, hovering in the flames. He looked at Harry and opened his mouth, and Harry, frozen in place by an utterly inappropriate pulse of warmth, didn’t manage to speak in time to stop him from speaking.
            “So,” said Malfoy. “We need to discuss certain things. For example, you having a reaction to a vaccine doesn’t change what happened between us this afternoon.”
            Harry put a hand over his face. If he couldn’t see Malfoy, it helped, he found. He wasn’t as transfixed by the—
            Beauty. You can call it that.
            Maybe someone else, some stupid infatuated Veela, could call it that, Harry thought. But it was impossible for him. He breathed out and reminded himself how he had beaten Malfoy up at Hogwarts, and how Malfoy had tricked him into nearly getting caught by Filch first year, and the time he had dressed up as a Dementor, and all sorts of other things that made them far from ideal mates for each other. The recollections crowded his mind, and he concentrated on them, hoping Malfoy would get bored of his rudeness and go away in a second.
            But then Malfoy spoke again, and that illusion broke. “What are you doing, Potter?” he murmured, sounding fascinated and amused at the same time. “Waiting until someone hits you over the head and puts you out of your misery?” He paused, and his voice dipped and took on a new note. “Is it that bad, being bonded to me?”
            “You must be out of your mind, too,” Harry whispered into his arm. “I mean, this is brand-new, for both of us.” And already his skin was burning from the touch of his own whispering lips, a silent argument that it should be Malfoy’s lips there instead erupting in the back of his head. “Listen. Malfoy, can you listen to me?”
            “If you’re going to be sensible, maybe,” said Malfoy. “And look at me.”
            Harry tensed himself. The reminder of all the things he and Malfoy had done to each other was still there, behind his thoughts, like a lingering bad taste on his tongue. He lowered his arm and looked at him.
            The need struck him like a slap. He surged forwards, out of the chair, and nearly reached into the fire before he remembered that Malfoy wasn’t right on the other side of it. A whimper broke through his lips, and Harry flopped back into his couch and controlled the impulse to reach for his cock. Barely.
            “Don’t ask me to look at you,” he whispered, and turned his head away again. “Being sensible and looking at you are opposing dictates.”
            Malfoy was silent for so long that Harry thought he had gone away, but didn’t dare risk looking at the fire to check. Then Malfoy said, “The situation is a little more urgent than I thought. Open your Floo to me, so I can come over and we can discuss things like adults.”
            Yes, said a thrum in Harry’s bones and blood stronger than even instinct. It was pure, untamed desire, and it flooded him and lapped fiercely back and forth.
            But Harry shook his head, and kept his eyes firmly closed. “If you come over here, we’re going to discuss it like randy teenage boys, instead,” he muttered. “Stay there.”
            “Open up for me,” said Malfoy, and his voice was low and ringing and conjured all sorts of things, all sorts of states and promises, in Harry’s mind.
            “Malfoy—”
            “Open.”
            Harry couldn’t resist. He turned and met Malfoy’s eyes, and even the impulse to lunge at him now was less. He extended his hand and twitched his fingers through the sequence of movements on the bricks that would open the Floo connection. Although he didn’t think Malfoy could see every one of them, he must have decided on what Harry had done, because his face had relaxed in a gentle smile.
            “Thank you,” he said, and then his face wavered and withdrew. Harry had only a moment to catch his breath and his hope that Malfoy wouldn’t come over after all when the flames snapped straight and a spinning figure appeared in the center of them.
            Harry scrambled up and stood there, tense and trembling. He didn’t want to be this way, he didn’t, but the stupid vaccine…
            Malfoy stepped neatly out of the fireplace on the end of his last spin, as if he’d been doing this all his life. Of course he was, Harry reminded himself, wondering if slapping himself would bring his lost senses back, and dropped his gaze to the carpet. He grew up in the wizarding world and not in a cupboard, remember?
            That last thought gave him some strength that anchored him to reality, for a moment. How the fuck was Malfoy going to react when he found out how deep the differences between them really ran?
            “Malfoy,” he began, seriously.
            Malfoy reached out and laid a warm hand on Harry’s cheek, and the heat from his hand blended with the heat already glowing like a brand in Harry’s face. Harry moaned and nuzzled his head into Malfoy’s palm.
            “Hush, Harry,” Malfoy whispered.
            Harry didn’t have any choice but to hush, really, with the way he had buried half his mouth in Malfoy’s palm. His tongue shot out, and he licked the bare skin with an uncontrollable craving that at least felt as if it was for salt instead of what it really was. Malfoy’s eyes fluttered as he made a quiet sound of surprise. And then he stepped in and bent down and kissed Harry on the lips, and Harry abandoned inferior kisses for these superior, more easily obtainable ones.
            Malfoy kissed as if he were the one who was starving for it, and his hands were strong and exactly in the right place to prevent Harry from using his tongue to poke Malfoy’s teeth out. Harry had to stand there and let Malfoy kiss him instead of just being able to do exactly what he wanted. To his astonishment, he found that he preferred it this way. His hands came up and encircled Malfoy’s wrists, and his heart trembled and pounded and fluttered like a bird alighting on a branch.
            You are a bird, now. Bloody Veela vaccine.
            But even that thought didn’t bother him as much as it would have an hour ago. He murmured something soft that probably also sounded confused, and Malfoy bent down, soothing him with lips and fingers and even the bloody sweep of his eyelashes. Harry was in his arms, or Malfoy was in his. It bothered him, for a second, that he couldn’t remember who had moved first, or even really identify the point where his embrace began and Malfoy’s ended.
            Malfoy drew back long enough to whisper into his ear. Harry found that he didn’t mind. His head was leaning against Malfoy’s chest, and for the moment, his tingling mouth had had a surfeit of kisses.
            “I want this because it’s so strange, so rich and strange,” Malfoy whispered, sounding almost as if he was quoting something. Or someone. Harry didn’t know, his head spinning and pounding and buzzing. “Listen. I’ve lived my life since the war in a very nice but also very orderly and predictable way. I am willing to risk the immense change that this promises to be for a little newness. Are you?”
            Malfoy paused, and Harry knew what he needed to say. Malfoy wanted to know his reasons, or lack of reasons, for going through with the bond.
            Harry lifted his head. His mouth was already beginning to twitch uncomfortably again. He needed Malfoy and his lips back there, damn it.
            But this was important, and Malfoy only lifted his face further away when Harry tried to chase him. Right. Harry shut his eyes and tried to concentrate.
            “Right now, I want to bond with you because I need you more than I’ve ever needed anything in my life,” he began.
            Malfoy made a strange, muffled sound. Harry jumped, eyes opening, hands already reaching out. If that announcement scared Malfoy and he tried to retreat—
            But Malfoy had reared back and was giving him a long, slow look instead, hands furiously tight on his shoulders. His hands shook, though. Harry, after a long, hesitant, slow scan, decided that he knew what the problem was, after all.
            Malfoy was so aroused it was taking him a lot of self-control not to just dive at Harry.
            “You need me,” Malfoy whispered. His leg slid up, and at first Harry thought he was somehow trying to take a stride forwards with Harry in the way. Then he understood as the thigh slid between his and began to brush up and down against his rigid cock. He understood a lot of things. “I never thought I would…hear you say that.”
            Harry arched his back and tried to think, clawing after his thoughts the way a normal Veela would claw someone who had taken his mate, his mind darting around randomly. But he found what he needed, a second later.
            “I think I could live with this bond,” he whispered. “You’re not some stranger, some adoring fan. I can’t say—it’s not going to be perfect, the way that a destined love affair is supposed to be. But I could live with this.”
            “I didn’t even know I was waiting to hear you say those words,” Malfoy murmured, sounding awed.
            Harry opened his eyes, thinking that was awfully odd, and then realized that Malfoy had referred to his words of need, not the last ones he spoke. He swallowed. “Malfoy?”
            “Yes?” Malfoy was back in an instant, focusing on him as though he was the only thing in the universe, his head bent down and his lips a few breaths away from Harry’s.
            “Do you think you could live with it, too?”
            Harry held his breath even through the pressure of the ridiculous need that now felt as if it was squeezing his throat shut. No matter what, if Malfoy said he didn’t want this, Harry would force himself to back off. He—
            Malfoy’s smile was so richly dazzling that it stole all of Harry’s common sense the way a bolt of lightning on a dark night could interrupt his vision.
            “More than that,” Malfoy whispered, and leaned down to kiss Harry again.
            And all that was left for Harry to do was to open his arms and welcome in his future.
*
            They did make it to the bedroom. Draco was a little surprised about that, but he also thought that rutting on the floor in front of the fireplace was a bit of an undignified beginning to what could be a lifelong bond.
            Lifelong.
            God, maybe Harry was right and Draco didn’t have the slightest idea of what he was doing. He did hesitate and think about that for a moment.
            But Harry paused in the doorway to the bedroom and turned his head to see what had caught Draco’s attention, and Draco felt his resolve crumble. The slightest movement from Harry—he had stopped calling him Potter somewhere around the middle of the stair where he had melted against the wall while Draco kissed his elbow—was unfairly seductive.
            Not as seductive as his words about needing Draco, but then, even Draco hadn’t known how much that would reach into him and yank him to attention.
            “You’re still good,” Draco murmured, and placed a hand in the middle of Harry’s back, propelling him a little ahead. Harry tilted his head back as though reveling in the attention, and his dangling hair brushed Draco’s knuckles.
            Things got a little hazy after that.
            There was the flinging off of constricting cloth, and the kisses that grasped and tugged on Draco’s mouth as firmly as hands, and the way that Harry tripped him into bed and then sucked on his neck until Draco wanted to make some joke about how it was probably vampire vaccine and not Veela allure that Harry had got infected with. Only he couldn’t find the breath.
            “Draco,” Harry said, into the corner of his collarbone.
            That meant they had both got on the first-name basis Draco desired. That was good. Draco knew it was good, and in a second he would be able to answer in a clear, firm voice if someone asked him, exactly why it was good and how good it was.
            But then Harry bit him, gently, on the skin above the collarbone, and Draco decided that clear firm explanations and looking people in the eyes and shaking their hands like he so often had to do as a liaison could wait until later.
            Harry was twisting restlessly on top of him, his face blazing red and his eyes blazing green. Draco was glad that their shirts had already gone, and all that remained were the trousers. He had shed his formal robes before he firecalled Harry, and Harry had apparently done the same thing with his Auror robes.
            Draco reached down and worked his hand into Harry’s trousers, and then his pants, and Harry uttered a breathless exclamation and went very still.
            Draco smiled and rolled his hand back and forth, and Harry reared back and gave him a swift look.
            “I want to wait,” Harry said, in a high, strained voice.
            Draco was shocked at how that announcement seemed to dump cold water on him. An actual ice bath would have been less painful. He winced and couldn’t think of anything to say. He started to sit up, pull back, the way Harry wanted.
            But Harry seemed to have figured out what he had said, and also what he had said wrong. His glance at Draco was stabbing. “No, you idiot,” he said, as if it was Draco’s fault that Harry had been less than clear. “I didn’t mean I wanted you to walk away from me. I meant I wanted to wait to come until you can fuck me. Not come—in your hand.” He was turning so red that Draco, passing him in the corridors at the Ministry, would have been sure he had a disease.
            “Well, maybe I’ll have you come in my hand anyway,” Draco said, in a tone of soft menace that made Harry freeze and quiver, and then rolled them both so that Harry was beneath him on the bed and they were panting into each other’s faces again.
            But he did take his hand off Harry’s cock, and put it on his wand, casting the spell that would unroll their trousers and pants neatly down their legs and fold them into a corner. He didn’t use it often, wanting that sense of taking off his lover’s clothes and letting his fingers brush their skin. But he’d already had it with Harry when it came to their shirts, and he honestly didn’t think either of them could wait much longer.
            “Yes,” Harry said the minute he was free of clothes, and spread his legs. His cock was darker than his face.
            Draco bent down to lick it, once, because he didn’t think Harry was that close to coming and he wanted to taste it, and Harry bucked and neatly stabbed him in the eye with it. Draco chuckled and pulled back, stroking Harry’s hips softly as he conjured the lube.
            “You’ve never done this before?” he asked, sliding his fingers into Harry’s arse. There was a satisfying start and shiver and a widening of Harry’s thighs in the next moment, so Draco must have done something right.
            “It’s been—a bloody long time since I had anything up there,” said Harry, and his voice was almost slurring with eagerness. He tossed his head back and spread his legs until his feet were dangling over the edges of the bed. “Come on!”
            Draco could have made a pun about his choice of words. He could have teased and hesitated and held back even more, because he thought teasing Harry was one of the most fun things he’d done in years.
            But they were both ready in a few minutes, so a few minutes of teasing was all he got before he entered Harry for the first time.
            He looked down at Harry’s parted and panting mouth, his twitching toes, his shuddering hands that reached up and clutched Draco’s hips, and knew it wouldn’t be the last.
            For now, though…
            Draco reared back, and thrust in, and buried himself in pleasure.
*
            Harry hadn’t known it would be this good, or he would have tried to get some Veela allure of his own before now.
            His world was slowly spinning around him, his hands reaching out for a constant in the dizzy dance, and finding Draco. Draco’s skin and flesh, bone and blood, now that he wasn’t wearing any clothes. The sweat beneath Harry’s fingers as he moved and thrust, and the soft washes of breath over Harry’s face when he bent down to kiss him. And then Harry would feel the next dazzling thrust inside him, and lose track of where Draco’s face and shoulders were for another moment.
            It was strong enough, wild enough, that Harry felt as though someone had set him bouncing on the rapids of a river. He rose and fell, and his awareness sizzled out in a static of pleasure. At one point someone urged him to tilt his head to the side and open his mouth, and he did that just because it was so good.
            And then he realized that wasn’t someone, that was Draco, and he did it eagerly.
            Draco mimicked his thrusts into Harry’s arse with the thrusts of his tongue into Harry’s mouth. Harry welcomed it, laughed aloud, and Draco laughed back, and the laughter danced and brewed between them.
            It was so good.
            Harry’s mind soared, it reached out, and he thought he brushed for a second against another mind, against different emotions. Well, that was what a Veela bond was for, wasn’t it? He pushed further, and found himself in the midst of Draco’s awareness.
            Draco gasped in shock, but his body was past the point where he could comfortably stop, and he continued thrusting. Harry cried out softly and reached out, trailing his fingers through Draco’s emotions the way he would through a soft, slow-moving river.
            The softness, the sleekness, coiled around him, moved with him.
            And there was the wonder that Draco had promised him, and the enjoyment of a situation where he would get to have something new and different, and the intense arousal when Harry had said that he needed him.
            It was all there. Surrounding Harry, making him feel as if he was being made love to in the heart of a star.
            And knowing that, he could come. And it was more than contentment that burned him as he lay there, Draco wrapped around him. It was a bond.
*
            Draco didn’t remember the moment of his own orgasm. It was lost somewhere in the burning power that had consumed his mind when Harry had his. But he knew they were lying comfortably together, and he wasn’t sure that he wanted Harry to speak up and destroy the moment.
            Harry shifted, though, stirred, and lifted his head. Draco looked down at him. He had to wonder if Harry was going to want to do this again, now that his intense craving was fulfilled.
            But Harry was grinning.
            “You know,” he said, “I could get used to sex like that.”
            Draco had to smile. “Just the sex?” he asked, despite being afraid of the answer.
            “And sharing your mind,” Harry said. “It wouldn’t be the same without that.” He hesitated, then reached up and laid a hand on Draco’s brow, in the place where Draco would have a lightning bolt scar if—
            If he was Harry Potter. And for one blinding moment, Draco really had felt as if he was.
            “You can go along with this?” Harry whispered. “You’re not going to need to retreat again when you wake up fully and realize what you’ve done?”
            Draco pulled the hand down from his forehead and kissed the palm. In the center, where lifelines crossed, and then in the wrist, where he could feel Harry’s pulse.
            “No,” he said. “It’s different. It’ll take some time to get used to this. But I want to.”
            Harry nodded, and closed his eyes. “Isn’t that strange when it started as a coincidence, a reaction,” he muttered. “So do I.”
            Draco smiled. Someday he would ask Harry to make a confession like that while looking into his eyes.
            But for now, it was more than enough to lie down, and close his eyes, and give thanks for Veela vaccine, and how swiftly and neatly it had propelled them into each other’s lives.
            The End.
*
staar: More than okay!
moodysavage: Thank you!
SP777: Yes!
IndigoCarter: Thank you!
Anon: I got sick and then lost my job last week. I didn’t feel I could update. Hopefully I can tomorrow, although I may lose power and so wouldn’t be able to.
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