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A More Worldly Man	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 10960 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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.

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Chapter Twenty-Two—The Profits of Love

            “What will happen to my mother?”

            Harry marveled that Draco could ask the question without emotion in his voice. God knew he wouldn’t have been able to do that if it were Lily in prison. Of course, he would have hoped that Lily Potter would never be involved in something like this, but who knew what his parents would have been like if they had lived?

            They were standing in the middle of the Minister’s office, facing Kingsley’s desk. Kingsley sat behind it, looking tired and toying with a quill as if he wished he would have no heavier occupation than that for the next hour. Harry stood with his arm slung around Draco’s shoulders, whilst Hermione hovered behind them, proud as proud. Harry doubted she would feel that way if he’d chosen to reveal the spell she cast on Diggory to the Minister, but he didn’t particularly want to make Hermione angry at him or add to Kingsley’s burdens.

            Well, all right, he admitted in the privacy of his own head. I really don’t want to spend more time dealing with Diggory and the consequences of his actions than we have to. Hermione didn’t pull a false confession from him, and he won’t go to jail for it. That’s as much compassion as I can spare for him.

            “She’ll be tried, Mr. Malfoy,” Kingsley said quietly. “For use of Dark magic and illegal entry into the Ministry.” He looked up, his eyes moving back and forth between the two of them before he spoke again. “It’s likely that both of you will be called as witnesses in the trial. Harry, you’ll need to describe your experiences, and Mr. Malfoy, you’ll need to corroborate the testimony you gave me of your mother’s magical skills.”

            Harry nodded. He thought he could face the trial, particularly if it was in a few days. Right now, he just wanted to go home and show Draco how much he loved and admired him, something he’d had no opportunity to do in the past week.

            “Thank you,” Draco said, voice still flat, and turned towards the door. He stumbled on the way there, as though there was a slight imperfection in the wood under his feet. Neither Hermione nor Kingsley would have noticed, most probably, but Harry did, and he understood what it meant. Draco was tired, pushed almost beyond his strength. He needed someone to comfort and take care of him.

            He wouldn’t thank Harry for scooping him up in his arms and carrying him out the door, however. There was a difference between needing comfort and looking weak in front of an audience. Harry squeezed his shoulder with his arm instead and looked properly sympathetic when Draco glanced at him. A moment later, and Draco’s lips lifted into a weak smile.

            Hermione accompanied them to the doors of the Ministry, providing an effective guard against the people who might have stopped Harry and tried to speak to him. Shortly after they passed through the doors, Skeeter climbed out of Harry’s hair and flew off with a faint buzzing noise. Hermione looked around suspiciously, but then relaxed, evidently satisfied that the noise wasn’t a curse coming at their backs.

            Harry debated telling her for a moment, then shook his head. No, he didn’t think he would. She had sprung the spell upon Diggory as a surprise. She could deal with Skeeter’s article as a surprise.

            He spent a short space of time imagining how Diggory would deal with it. He was likely to figure out what had happened, but he couldn’t do anything about it; Skeeter had registered as a legal Animagus some time after Hermione first blackmailed her. And the Wizengamot had performed an illegal act in any case, trying to close the trial to anyone but themselves and Harry. Diggory deserved every ounce of pain and embarrassment that would come out of Skeeter’s report.

            “I’ll see you later, I suspect,” Hermione said, her eyes moving knowingly back and forth between Harry and Draco. “You look like you want to snog the life out of each other or speak dozens of sentimental words, and I’d just as soon not be present for either.” She took a step backwards. “I’ve got to tell Millicent when she missed in any case. She’s going to be furious we didn’t have time to firecall her.”

            She Apparated before Harry could argue. He rolled his eyes and looked at Draco, who was leaning more heavily on him now, his lashes fluttering.

            “Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s go home.”

From the faint smile Draco gave in response, he didn’t even object to Harry calling his flat a home belonging to both of them, the way he once might have.

*

            Draco woke slowly, and more deliciously than he had known he could wake up without having consumed a Bliss Potion the night before. A Bliss Potion gave a general feeling of well-being, and lasted until the memories reappeared. This time, he opened his eyes and rolled over, stared at the ceiling, and didn’t flinch even when the memories spread vicious claws through the middle of his brain. He was wrapped in a pair of warm arms, and he’d had no nightmares. The bed seemed softer than normal, too.

            Of course, when he rolled his head to the side, he discovered that he was lying partially on Harry’s chest and legs, cradled as if Harry didn’t trust the bed alone to keep him safe. Harry had his head tilted back, probably to avoid Draco’s smothering him. He snored through an open mouth and nostrils that actually fluttered. Draco felt a smile tug irresistibly at his lips, and leaned forwards to kiss him.

            Harry kissed back for long moments before he properly awakened, his tongue poking lazily at Draco’s, his lips fluttering up and down like his nostrils. Then he opened his eyes and smiled, his hand rising to lock in Draco’s hair. His face was still flushed and soft with sleep, and Draco found he barely minded the taste of morning breath. The kiss remained sloppy, lazy, warm, and Draco pulled himself a little closer so he could have still more of it without thinking beyond that. Snogging could come later.

            Harry murmured at last, pulling his head away, “Hmmm. I should brush my teeth so we can do this properly.”

            It was ridiculous, Draco told himself, that the small and simple word we could create such a tightening in his chest. Daphne had never said anything like that to him, true, but Daphne had never done many things. He splayed his hand possessively flat across Harry’s chest. “I don’t think we need to move,” he whispered. “Are you a wizard or not?”

            Harry looked momentarily startled. Then he laughed. Draco grinned up at him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared laughter in bed with someone who wasn’t Harry.

            Harry rolled over enough to grasp his wand and murmured a Scourgify, wincing as the spell stung his lips. Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid enough to use magic meant for cleaning vomit off clothes on my mouth,” he said. “Here.” He took Harry’s wand, noting absently the welcoming tingle from the holly wood—it was doubtless because he was madly in love with its owner—and held it towards his mouth. A moment later, a layer of dust and morning gum flew away from his teeth.

            “You cheated,” Harry objected, his brow furrowed. “You didn’t say the spell aloud so I could learn it.”

            Draco dropped the wand on the bedside table where Harry used to place his meals when he was recovering from the collapse of his shop and tugged him closer with a hand behind his neck. “It’s my evil plan,” he said. “As long as you don’t know that spell, you’ll have to come to me to clean your mouth out, and that means you’ll stay with me forever and ever.”

            “You only need to be you to make me want to do that.”

            Malfoys, Draco told himself, do not cry over sickly sweet sentimental statements. There were a few elements of his parents’ training that he didn’t intend to abandon. He leaned his head on Harry’s shoulder and muttered, “Careful. Anyone who heard that might tell the entire world you’re in love.”

            “Why would I worry about someone telling the entire world the truth?”

            Draco nipped the side of Harry’s neck in response, and Harry’s whisper broke into a groan. He tilted his head, his eyes vague and glazed, and said, “Again. Oh—again.” As Draco obliged him, his voice broke into a shuddering cry. “Draco! What did you touch—oh, God, that feels so good—“

            At least he wouldn’t be the only one receiving surprises and new sensations from this love affair, then, Draco thought smugly. He spent a moment sucking fiercely at the side of Harry’s neck, then moved down to his collarbone. Harry arched off the bed as Draco sucked again, crying out with wonder.

            “I didn’t know I had a sensitive neck,” he muttered, when Draco released him and sat back smugly to observe his reaction. “No one else ever made me think I did.”

            “Well, you do,” Draco said firmly, and leaned down to scrape his teeth over Harry’s shoulder. Both of them had fallen asleep in their robes from yesterday, and he was already finding that inconvenient for a variety of reasons. He kept his mouth busy on Harry’s shoulder whilst he fumbled after Harry’s wand again. At last he grasped it and managed to flick it in the proper motion; their clothes undid themselves and flew to the far side of the room. Other than a mouthful of cloth when Harry’s robe peeled upwards and Draco didn’t manage to move his face in time, this process was entirely satisfactory. He dropped the wand on the table again and bent to continue biting and licking Harry’s chest.

            Harry surprised him by rolling on top of him and pinning him to the bed. “You were the one who risked and suffered yesterday,” he whispered. “I’m the one who should be making you feel good.”

            Draco swallowed and stroked the nape of his neck. “It’s entirely mutual, Harry,” he said. “Or, at least, it should be. Of course, if you’re from a world where you can spoil me exclusively, far be it from me to challenge your customs.” He let his limbs fall across the bed and smiled up at Harry.

*

            Harry reached out a hand that trembled and ran it down Draco’s cheek. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this tender towards anyone else. His belly filled with warmth like tea and the only good use of his mouth was to kiss.

            He did manage to say, “You can spoil me later,” before he bent to kiss his way down Draco’s chest, so Draco wouldn’t think his words had been rejected.

            Draco would just have to wait his turn, though, because once he began to use his mouth, Harry found it impossible to stop. He paused to suck every scar, every curve of muscle, every patch of skin that bore an interesting wrinkle or stretch mark. He compared the taste of sweat along Draco’s ribs to the taste just above his navel, moving back and forth several times. Draco writhed and hissed and bent his head backwards until the curve of his neck looked as if it were taut with pain. Harry knew it couldn’t be so, because Draco would have made some warning sound and he would have stopped at once.

            He laid his cheek on Draco’s inner thigh and regarded his erection with calculating eyes. Draco was squirming as much from the proximity of Harry’s tongue and lips as anything else now, and his cock bobbed back and forth, an extreme pink with the flush of blood. Harry had forgotten how pale he was.

            Of course, he’d last sucked Draco’s cock more than a week ago. All sorts of things could happen in that time, and Harry was determined to renew all his memories.

            “Would you like me to touch you?” he whispered. “How?” He was determined to do what Daphne had never done, and give Draco a choice.

            Draco took some moments to recover his senses. Harry waited patiently, one hand tracing patterns across the leg on which his head rested. Draco’s legs tensed and trembled, and he sucked in a long breath, as if this question was the thing that would finally break him. Harry turned to look up at him and found him bracing himself on his elbows, his eyes so intent and so full of longing that his gaze hit Harry like a physical blow.

            “I want you to use your mouth on me,” Draco whispered, “the way you did once before, but more slowly.”

            Harry smiled at him and ran a hand over his knee for a moment before he bowed his head to do as he was told. His mouth was watering already, from nothing but the closeness and warmth of his partner.

*

            Draco’s head fell back on the pillows. He told himself he could relax, finally. Harry was free from prison and the danger of going to Azkaban. Diggory was defeated. They would be able to brew more Desire and have a successful potions business. Daphne, and the consequences of all she had done to him, stood a chance of moving out of his life at last. They were not completely gone, but—

            For a moment, his thoughts scattered in a dozen different directions like a flock of startled birds as Harry mouthed him. And then he woke to a consciousness of sensation he’d never had before, not even the other time Harry sucked him. He’d been unable to concentrate on anything but the newness of the experience then; now he could actually tell and evaluate what Harry was doing.

            Harry pushed him about with his tongue as if he’d never done this before, but eventually secured Draco’s erection between his gums and cheek—amazingly without touching his teeth—and hummed. Draco thrust helplessly, the feeling so deep it almost tickled. Then Harry hummed again, swallowed around him, and shoved him back to the center of his mouth. Draco breathed shallowly, sweat breaking out like dew on his stomach and hips. He would surely choke Harry if he thrust as hard as he wanted to.

            Harry let a hand wander down to his balls and back to his entrance, then lifted his head up entirely. Draco started to shout out a protest, but Harry whispered, “Go ahead. I don’t mind,” and began to suck him once more.

            Draco lost track of time then. Dazzling golden and silver stars burst across his vision from squeezing his eyes too tightly. He thrust like an automaton for long moments, managed to regain control of himself for a single one, and then began again before he quite realized he had. So good. He’d lost the power to distinguish individual kinds of goodness from the rest. He was so sensitive that the thought of more heat, more wetness, than he’d already received was actively painful. He panted, his chest rising and falling so fast it added more pain, and the muscles in his legs locked. When he flexed them, he felt Harry’s shoulders beneath them.

            Then the spiral began, pleasure taking him closer and closer to his orgasm. Draco squirmed, fighting it as much as he could. He was half-sure he would crack when he got there. Could any human being bear this?

            His thoughts scattered once more as he came. The pleasure whipped through his brain and tore apart some of the worse memories that had begun to rise, memories of Daphne doing this. Daphne’s mouth was inhumanly perfect, and could carry the pleasure into pain. She would use her teeth without mercy, and had more than once caused Draco to think that she’d castrated him.

            But this—



            The awful thoughts fled into the darkest corners of his mind and were quiet. At some point, Draco thought, he’d even manage to lift his head from the pillow and tell Harry that.

*

            Harry coughed. Draco’s orgasm had caught him by surprise. But he’d ridden the thrusting without gagging himself, and swallowed the semen without spitting it out, and pleased Draco without forcing him out of his mouth. Maybe he was getting the hang of what it meant to have sex with a man now.

            He squirmed up Draco’s belly and found him breathing deeply, peacefully. Harry blinked. Had he fallen asleep? Well, it was a compliment to his skills in some ways, but he would have to take care of his cock by himself then—a prospect that didn’t sound as pleasant as having Draco do it for him.

            A sudden grip on his cock made him startle back, but then he recognized the tightness and warmth of Draco’s grip, and relaxed. He settled back above his boyfriend, smiling into Draco’s lazy, barely-open eyes. “Want to bring me off?” he whispered, pressing his lips to the skin behind Draco’s ear. “I can rub against your hip if your hand is getting tired.” The angle was awkward for a wank, he had to admit.

            “Um,” Draco said, and squeezed his eyes shut, moving his free arm in a luxurious stretch. “No.”

            “To which?” Harry teased, and licked at a strand of Draco’s hair. It tasted strange, feathery, but no worse than the semen.

            “To both.” Draco opened his eyes further, and now Harry saw that the dangerous gleam in them had been hidden by the lowered lids. “I want you inside me when you come. It’s too long since I’ve had that from someone I loved and trusted instead of from the hands of someone I hated, and too long since it’s been living flesh instead of steel.” He shuddered and jerked his head to the side suddenly, as if to escape the impact of a blow.

            “Do you want to do this?” Harry asked quietly. “I can leave the room and we can wait. You know that. You’ve already done something so courageous I’m having a hard time describing it as it deserves in my head. You don’t have to—“

            “The only way those memories will go away is if I create new ones to replace them,” Draco said firmly. “But I don’t want to let you do all the work.” He shoved at Harry’s shoulders and then at his hip, regrettably letting go of his cock to do so. “Here, lie back.”

            Harry complied, nervous and excited and wondering what was going to happen. He’d certainly fantasized about sex with blokes before; he’d even sneaked the odd book out of the material that Hermione had sent him when he first told her he was bisexual. But there was a world of difference between printed words on a page and a lover staring at him with flushed cheeks and hair hanging loose and a wand in his hand—

            Harry started up, about to offer to do the magic, especially since he saw Draco was holding his wand. Draco gave him an indulgent look, and said, “Relax. Of the two of us, I’m the one who’s done this before.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, a slight frown of concentration marring the effect. Then he flicked the wand twice to the right and spoke what sounded like a mishmash of Latin words to Harry. He had never been good at picking up spells immediately, especially when he was concerned about his partner overdoing it.

            You’re lying in your own bed worrying about Draco bloody Malfoy, an incredulous part of his brain snapped. Did you ever think you would be doing that? Did you ever have the slightest idea?

            No, he hadn’t had the slightest idea, but he was doing it now, and he had become reconciled to it weeks ago, when he and Draco had used the mind-reading potion. Being surprised by it now was a bit childish.

            The spell made Draco twitch as it touched him, and again Harry opened his mouth to inquire anxiously about his readiness for this. But Draco looked at him before he could speak, smiled, and shook his head. That made Harry fall silent and try to calm himself. Draco shifted and lifted his body to his heels in a squatting posture, and this time Harry could see a gleam of wetness around his arse that definitely hadn’t been there before.

            Draco aimed the wand at his cock this time. Harry shifted defensively before he could stop himself, then wondered if he should apologize. But Draco shook his head again, his eyes joyous. “Every bloke feels that way the first time,” he said. “Especially when they’re Muggle-raised innocents like you and have never even heard of wanking charms.”



            “You have a lot to teach me, I see,” Harry said, and only shivered a little when a cool, shimmering liquid doused his cock. He reached down to smear the wetness around, but Draco had already lent his expertise to the process. Harry groaned as his hand smoothed up and down, swift and sure and back where it belonged.

            “Good,” Draco murmured. “It’s already warming, isn’t it?” Harry nodded, overwhelmed by the simple touch and hardly able to imagine what would happen when he was inside Draco’s arse. “Good,” Draco repeated, sounding slightly breathless, and then he was raising himself in the air again and sinking to straddle Harry’s hips.

            Harry shivered and strained upwards as Draco slowly took him inside, then clenched his hands into the sheets as he remembered that he stood a chance of hurting Draco if he did that. Draco chuckled, and that sound was even more breathy than his last word had been. He leaned forwards enough to sweep a quick kiss over Harry’s brow.

            “Almost there,” he whispered. He paused, as if gauging time or distance, and then seated himself completely.

            Harry thrust with a broken movement, and then Draco pushed him gently back into the blankets and kissed him again, on the mouth this time. Then he began to ride Harry, legs crooked so that their knees tapped occasionally, Harry could also feel Draco’s arse bouncing off his thighs, and the fine, small hairs on the backs of his legs brushing against Harry’s.

            The strange sensations provided the perfect counterpoint to the tight, squeezing perfection of being inside someone else male, and prevented Harry from coming too soon. He struggled hard to lie flat and breathe shallowly, not as if he were running up a hill. Only when Draco whispered in some amusement, “You can push,” did Harry realize he’d been clenching his teeth, refusing the kiss.

            Harry kissed back and began to jerk his hips as best he could, fiercely. He reckoned it was the same sort of thing Draco had felt when Harry was sucking him, but better, because if anything could compare to this Harry didn’t know what it was.

            Then Draco began to whisper, and Harry knew things actually could get better, just as they could always get worse if he was in trouble.

            “You’ll—you’ll b-burn what she did to me away.” Draco had his head thrown back now, his neck forming one long arch with his chest, his hips making small circles. His cock rubbed against Harry’s stomach, hard again. Harry reached down to stroke it, and Draco’s eyes flew open, pinning him. “No matter how many t-times we have to do this, I’ll r-recover, survive, and you’ll-you’ll help me—I love you—“

            And Draco came, the only recognizable words in the stream of sound he uttered curses. Harry followed before he could even form thoughts about how close to the edge he was, panting out what he hoped was Draco’s name. Draco tipped forwards like a toppling tree and came to rest with his nose pressed against Harry’s neck.

            They breathed noisily and stroked each other’s necks and hair until Harry felt as if he could speak without stopping to gasp for breath every few seconds. “That was brilliant,” he said.

            “Yes, it was,” Draco muttered. “And soon it will go beyond brilliant, and then higher. We’ll never reach perfection, but I never intend to stop trying.” He started to say something else, but a yawn interrupted him. “And I don’t care what Diggory does now, because he’ll never be able to stop this.”

            Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and held him. Draco was asleep moments later, his nose wrinkled and his mouth open, so that a small stream of drool escaped to touch the heel of Harry’s palm.

            Harry had no impulse to move.

*

            LadyTreason148: Thank you!

            nomdeplume: Here’s hoping Chapter 22 answered your expectations! As for Rita, yes, I think she’s redeemed herself, at least somewhat.

            Mangacat: Rita is now at home working feverishly on her article.

            Dragons Breath: Thank you! I’m glad that Rita is a character of note for you, along with Hermione.

            Lucius is going to get what’s coming to him in Chapter 24.

            Yume111: I think Diggory managed to fool so many people for so long because he had a lot of charm. Even in our world, people often excuse others their mistakes or lies if they approach things gracefully.

            In this case, the trial wasn’t really for Diggory, and a lot of what he did was despicable but still legal (like buying up Draco’s debts). If Kingsley can gather up evidence, he may try Diggory at some point in the future.

            And that’s a very big insight about Harry being involved in the political world whether he wants to be or not.
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A More Worldly Man