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The Serenity of His Rage	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 16982 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Chapter Twenty-Nine—Starlight

            “Thank you. I know it was hard for you to resist them.”

            Harry sighed and bowed his head. He and Draco were still in Snape’s quarters, with Draco massaging his shoulders on the couch, even though Harry would have thought Snape would come back now and kick them out. And they had survived the discussion with Ron and Hermione.

            “It was hard,” Harry admitted, rubbing his hand against his cheek. “I understand why Hermione wanted to bond with me—us.”

            “Did you also understand that Weasley didn’t?”

            “I picked up on that, yes,” Harry said dryly. “Somewhere around the time when I had to admit that Hermione made a good point with one of her arguments and I caught sight of Ron shaking his head frantically behind her.”

            Draco made a rough sound, while the bond dumped more emotions on Harry. They were so thick and mingled that Harry couldn’t make sense of them all at once. He could feel relief and fear and exasperation and…

            “You know,” Harry said, rolling over so that he could take one of Draco’s hands, “you haven’t told me if you’re okay.”

            “I wasn’t hurt in the same way you were,” said Draco, his gaze aiming somewhat over to the side of Harry’s head.

            Harry tapped him on the nose, which apparently was unexpected enough to make Draco jerk his head around and stare at him. “Listen to me,” Harry said. “I can feel when you’re disturbed. Given that, do you think it’s wise to act like you can lie to me?”

            Draco opened his mouth as if he was going to rebel for a second, then gave a complicated noise, and the emotions in the bond cleared out a little. “Mostly, I was afraid of what you would say if I told you the real reason that I didn’t want us to bond with Granger and Weasley.”

            “Try me.” Harry squirmed around so that he was facing Draco, and resisted when Draco tried to start massaging his shoulders again. “Look, that’s nice, but I can’t relax completely as long as my bondmate is feeling bad.”

            Draco started to answer, then paused. Even though the bond vibrated clear and bright with amusement, his expression was one of outrage. “You sneaky little manipulator. That sounds like something I would say.”

            “What can I say? I have a mentor in the fine art of manipulation, one I’m rather—close to. It would be strange if none of the lessons had rubbed off.”

            Draco gave him a temperate smile, and massaged the back of his own neck for an instant. Harry waited. He had grown used to the techniques that Draco used to put conversations off, too, and he knew Draco was never patient enough to outwait someone determined to talk to him.

            “Fine, then,” Draco said. “I didn’t want to have you share bonds with them because the bond we have is important to me.” He gestured between them before Harry could open his mouth, and added, “And it’s important in a selfish way. I want to be the only one to have a soul-bond with you.”

            “Well,” said Harry as gently as he could, “there is that little problem with Voldemort, you know.”

            “Why do you think I’m so determined to see him dead?”

            Harry pulled on Draco’s arm, and Draco ducked his head. “All right,” he said, in a muffled voice. “It was mostly for my mother at first. But for a long time now—” and he raised his head in a way that made Harry unexpectedly freeze, pinned with those bright eyes “—it’s also been because of you.”

            Harry shook his head. He wanted to say all the things that applied with Ron and Hermione, too. He wanted to say that he didn’t want to risk Draco, that this didn’t have to be his war, that just because they were friends didn’t mean Draco had to fight the same battle.

            But the situation was different with Draco, of course. He would probably die if Harry died. He would certainly feel it. They were linked at the soul. And Harry didn’t think he would hide any longer from what that meant.

            There was nothing he could say that would change or damage that, at least not more than he had already accidentally damaged it with little insinuations. There were ways he could put it right, though, and Harry leaned forwards and put one of them into practice.

            Draco froze and made a blurting noise as Harry kissed him. One of his hands rose as if he was going to caress the back of Harry’s neck and burrow his fingers into the hair there, the way Harry wanted him to, but then it froze, too. And Harry felt the bond snap as taut and tense as Draco’s thighs suddenly felt under him.

            Harry pulled back and tried to smile as calmly as he could, although he thought his burning eyes rather destroyed the image. “Well? Don’t I get a kiss back?” He pouted and lowered his head a little. “Or are you not that kind of man?”

            He was teasing, of course he was teasing, but Draco’s eyes still took fire before he pressed Harry back and down and began to kiss him so hard that Harry felt his lips numb a little instead of swell.

            At least this was something they could both do, instead of having to talk about facing the Horcrux one by one, and Harry got his hands under Draco’s shirt and hissed a little as he felt the skin there. He’d felt it before. Apparently it made no difference to his sense of touch.

            Or maybe that was partially Draco, absorbed in wrestling with Harry’s shirt, too, and projecting satisfaction and lust down the bond.

            Then Draco broke free again, and Harry looked up, ready with some choice words for Ron and Hermione if they’d dared to come back and interrupt them. But it was Draco who had interrupted himself, and he had his hand over his face and his skin going such a bright red that Harry glanced at the door anyway.

            “We can’t do this here,” Draco whispered.

            “Yes, we can, Draco,” Harry said, and started at the sound of his own voice, thick and rough and rich with resonances that poured down the bond. He concentrated on the bond, on making sure Draco could feel all he felt, and saw with satisfaction the slight glaze that took over his eyes. “We can—”

            “These are Professor Snape’s quarters, though.”

            Harry froze, and then scrambled off the couch, pulling down his robes so that they covered his groin. Draco followed, laughing quietly, and put an arm around his shoulders to guide him to the door.

            “We need to go somewhere that we can’t be disturbed,” Draco whispered, his voice making little hairs on Harry’s earlobe that Harry had never known about stir. “I’d like that very much.”

            Harry nodded to him, and then considered. Gryffindor Tower meant Ron and Hermione might walk in. There was no one else in the Slytherin dungeons right now, and they were closer, but Harry still felt reluctant to try sleeping together in a bedchamber gloomy from the lake being so close and probably with snakes crawling around the bedposts.

            “Let’s go back to the Room of Requirement,” he said.

            Draco tensed his shoulders, but Harry projected reassurance, calm and golden as honey, down the bond, and Draco finally nodded.

*

            Draco hadn’t fully absorbed that the Room of Hidden Things could become other rooms until he watched Harry pull open a door made of thick ebony, banded with iron, and saw a softly blue and green room with tapestries of lions and knights on the walls, and a huge bed in the center, in front of a fireplace that stretched the length of the room.

            “You like some decadent luxury after all, I see,” Draco said in a stunned voice as Harry urged him inside.

            “Well, when I’m about to get naked I like to be warm.”

            That spun Draco around before he could even think about it, and he kissed Harry hard enough to make his own tongue sting from where it was driven against his teeth. Harry looped his arms around Draco’s neck, too, and his eyes were brilliant, his neck arching as he begged for another kiss.

            Draco sent as much joy as he could down the bond. Harry’s eyes rolled back in his head, and Draco had to catch him as he almost fell.

            “Let’s wait…until we get on…the bed.”

            Harry couldn’t get that much breath into his lungs, but Draco knew what he meant, and agreed entirely. He pulled Harry over to the bed and settled him, his fingers skimming the sheets for only a minute before he shook his head and told himself not to be an idiot. He’d almost undressed Harry in Professor Snape’s quarters anyway. He could do more than that here, now that they were alone.

            “I trust you.”

            “I know that,” Draco snapped, and tried to accompany it with a haughty glare back. It didn’t work very well when Harry’s eyes were so patient and so bright, so on him, his hand reaching out to give Draco’s a small squeeze.

            Draco swallowed and finally pulled Harry’s shirt off. Then he tried his trousers. Those at least came off more easily. And then the pants were down, and Draco froze and stared in spite of himself.

            “You saw it before.” Harry was twisting, breathless, sleek as a snake.

            But I didn’t intend to do then what I intend to do now. Draco shook his head and sent more reassurance down the bond. He didn’t want Harry to think his nerves were Harry’s fault.

            But his hand still trembled as he reached out and stroked Harry’s groin, his erection down to the tip, making Harry hum and press closer, rubbing himself against Draco’s hip. Draco was shaking with desperate longing, and he finally decided that the only way to deal with this was to get naked as soon as possible.

            He pulled his robes off. Harry tried to help, but Draco gave him such a fierce glare and blast of emotions that he raised his hands and lay back, only his eyes moving over Draco’s body. That was still enough to make Draco hot and ready to burst. He sat on his heels and closed his eyes until he calmed down a little.

            Then he said, “You know what I want to do.”

            “I think I do.”

            And you don’t need to spell it out more than that. Draco had never been so relieved. He gave Harry another shaky smile and looped his hands in his pants, tugging them off. He knew some wizards swore by wearing nothing under their robes, and that certainly would have been an advantage now, but on the other hand, Draco had never been able to bear that much itchy fabric on his skin.

            I’m babbling. Can you babble in your head? Well, if the bond between me and Harry was telepathic, then we would probably find out. He’d be babbling all the time…

            And I’m doing it again.

            Harry’s hand finally reached out and squeezed his. “It doesn’t matter if some things go wrong the first time, Draco. Do you know how many chances we’re going to have to practice to get it right?” His voice was threaded with laughter. “How many times did you have to practice Quidditch before you got it right?”

            Draco opened an eye. “That comparison isn’t as comforting as you think it is, Mr. Natural-Talent-on-a-Broom.”

            “Oh, I’m sorry.” Harry rolled his eyes and pressed his hand against his chest. “Should I deny my natural talent to make you more comfortable?”

            And then he abruptly changed tones, and flopped back on the pillow, and lay with his eyes all hot and bright and there. His voice lowered until it sang along Draco’s nerves. “Show me your natural talent, Draco. It’s your turn to win now.”

            “It was always my turn to win,” Draco snapped back, but he couldn’t help but feel a little more unnerved. He ran his hands slowly down Harry’s shoulders, because nothing there was unsafe or could give a direct comparison with the time before this, when they’d sucked each other off.

            “It’s all right, Draco.”

            Harry’s voice was deep, but not serene. His hands were reaching out, urging Draco down, to press down harder, take what he wanted. Draco finally swallowed, nodded, and did as Harry was asking, or commanding.

            The bond thrummed between them, sparking with desire. Draco grew more and more confident as he watched the way Harry shifted towards his hands, uttering little moans when Draco found some particularly sensitive patch of skin. Some of those patches were where Draco would never have thought they would be, scattered in random places on Harry’s hips and the side of his legs and the side of his arms. There was one near his left elbow that nearly sent him into spasms, and made him grab Draco’s hand with his and hold it there.

            Somewhere between feeling Harry’s intense pleasure down the bond and watching him writhe under Draco’s touch, a new thought came to Draco.

            No one else knows this about him. No one else has ever touched him this way or found these places. He might not even know about them himself.

            Draco leaned over after that and fastened his lips hungrily on Harry’s, because the thought energized him like nothing had. He found himself kneeling on the bed, straddling Harry’s hips, and panting because it was so good, so hot, the burning center just beneath him was what he wanted—

            And Harry’s gaze caught his, and shivers vibrated through Draco, making him arch as if that gaze was a hand.

            This is what it can be like between us. And I don’t give a damn any more if this would have happened without the bond. What I know is that I want it, and Harry wants it, and no one can stop us from taking it, and we’re going to have it.

            Draco’s first attempt to conjure lube was ruined because his hand was shaking too hard to cast the spell the right way. Harry reached up and clasped his wrist, guiding the wand in the slow, wide circle required. Draco’s lips still formed the words of the incantation by themselves, but Draco could almost sense Harry’s voice echoing down the bond, holding and supporting his, cradling the words in both their intentions.

            This is the way it should be. With both of us, doing exactly what we want to do.

            That reminder that Harry wanted this as much as he did steadied Draco’s hands. He leaned in and kissed Harry, and Harry kissed back, wriggling as if he was seeking the lube out with his arse. Draco laughed and restrained him with one hand in the center of his chest. Harry relaxed long enough to flutter his eyes at Draco a little.

            “I want it,” he said.

            “Yes, I know,” Draco said, and he reached down and back. In the end, he had to let his hold on Harry go so he could reach properly. He wouldn’t have thought Harry was that long when he was covered up by robes that seemed to dwarf him, but apparently he was.

            Harry only arched his neck and looked interested as Draco slowly parted his cheeks. There seemed to be another sensitive spot for Harry right near the outside of his hole, and a second later, he wasn’t watching Draco because his eyes had drooped shut and he was uttering little hisses between his teeth.

            Draco covered his fingers with lube and slid them into Harry while he was doing that.

            The little hisses stopped. Harry tilted his head and held it there, at such an unnatural angle that Draco winced and nearly pulled out again. “Harry? Are you all right?”

            “Just—getting used to a new sensation.” Harry’s words were strangled, and he blinked several times as he opened his eyes again. “It’s so—new.”

            Draco smiled at those words, although his heart beat fast enough and the bond shook hard enough that he waited until Harry had relaxed a little. Then he slid his fingers back in and deeper, carefully probing. He had no idea, not really, how to make this less painful for Harry. It wasn’t like they’d had time to read about sex instead of Horcruxes.

            But Harry seemed to have reached the point where he could do it on his own. He spread his legs wider, held his thighs up with his hands when Draco asked him to, and submitted to Draco’s fingering without a murmur. At least, he did until Draco touched something else he had known was there but not made a point of searching out.

            “Oh.”

            Draco touched Harry’s prostate again and again, and Harry finally tossed his head and said irritably, “Don’t keep doing that unless you want me to come before you even get inside.” His breathing was heavy, sweat forming under his eyes.

            “I might want that,” Draco said, shocking himself with how low his own voice sounded. He prodded with another finger, and Harry curled up tight, his feet leaving the bed as if he wanted to kick an invisible attacker.

            Draco paused, but didn’t take his finger out, because the bond was so bright that it felt as if a star had exploded in his temple and was beaming the light down into his mind. “Harry?”

            “Sorry,” Harry said, not sounding sorry at all. He unbent his legs and rested them on the bed again, then opened blurry eyes to stare at Draco. “But I give you permission to continue going, because that feels really, really good.”

            Draco could smirk now, confident and back in control, and stretch out his fingers to prod around once more. The inside of Harry’s arse felt as hot as coals, and Draco added another finger, then smeared some more lube on his own cock. He bucked, but almost absently. His hand felt good, sure.

            But he was mostly thinking about how good it would feel to finally be inside Harry.

            When he lined himself up at last, Harry reached out and gripped his own legs again. His eyes were bright but weary and hazed, and Draco paused, making sure that his cock was in place and that Harry was focusing on him.

            “Oh, this is another attempt to make sure I’m fine with something I’ve already shown I’m fine with?” Harry asked suddenly. He rolled his eyes and lifted his legs higher and wider, making his hole shine from the lube in a way that caused Draco’s breath to stutter uncomfortably. “Do your worst.”

            Of course, what Draco really did was his best, sliding slowly forwards and down, cushioning himself with his hands on Harry’s hips and a rest against his arse when it felt too sudden, too overwhelming, even despite the pace. He bowed his head, panting, and the bond flared brighter and brighter with what felt like the light of that star.

            “Draco.”

            Draco opened his eyes. Harry’s were mostly closed, although Draco could see a little flare of green under the lids, and his face ablaze with delight.

            “It feels good, it feels good, it feels good,” Harry half-chanted to himself, sounding like the words were a revelation.

            “Yeah, it does,” Draco whispered, and went with the motion of his hips, the natural thing they wanted to do, which right now was a mad rut against Harry’s arse. Harry didn’t seem inclined to stop him, with his eyes tumbling back in his head and his hands dancing weakly on the blankets of the bed.

            And the bond…

            The bond was the reason this felt so good, Draco thought, dazed and fighting his way through what felt like waves of great golden dizziness. There was the bond not at the edge of their minds but all the way in the center now, and whips of crackling, shared sensation striking through them.

            Draco almost thought it would never end, that he and Harry would simply rut and rock back and forth like this for as long as the Room of Requirement would let them, for as long as the fire burned.

            But then Harry squeezed Draco, hard, down and beside him and all around, and began to come. Draco did it at the same instant, taken entirely by surprise. The bond pulled them after each other, as if their souls had the experience instead of their bodies.

            After Draco finished falling through intense white radiance and reached the bottom and found Harry waiting there for him, there was soft silence for a little while. Draco lay on something and honestly didn’t know what it was, Harry or the blankets. His own panting was hoarse in his ears.

            “Draco?”

            Draco let out a soft little grunt. He didn’t know what Harry wanted, but he wanted to be left alone.

            This time, the bond was blue-green like the sea with amusement. Harry pushed his hair gently back from his forehead and murmured, “We don’t have to leave yet, but I want to send a Patronus to let the others know where we are. Can you move so I can reach my wand?”

            Draco started to respond, and then a sharp yawn split his lips. “Don’t know,” he said sulkily, rolling to the side and letting Harry pick up his wand. “How much movement is it going to involve?”

            Harry chuckled and kissed his forehead. “No more than this,” he said, and conjured the Patronus. Draco couldn’t help but notice, and feel smug, about how quickly the Patronus came out. No question about what memory he’d used for this one.

            As Harry gave the message to the stag to carry, Draco closed his eyes further. He was exhausted, and so was the bond, which felt thick and dull, like it couldn’t carry any more emotion after the intense ones it had been.

            But when Harry cuddled close to him, Draco felt the contentment, all rose and gold, and smiled without looking at him.

            Yes, this was good. I knew it would be.

*
            SP777: I think the ending will have some unexpected elements. However, the title originally referred to how calmly Draco used his rage to his own advantage.
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The Serenity of His Rage