Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

A Different Kind of Hero	By : JunjouSlashGirl Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 53263 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters. All rights belong to J. K. Rowling. I do not earn any money with this story.

Chapter List
- 29
- 30
- 31
Chapter 30: Going Shopping
DM
Draco frowned as he stepped once more into the former bedroom of his supposed submissive's relatives. He sneered at the double-bed; it was much smaller than the one he had at home and it looked cheap and uncomfortable.
What had made him insist on this particular room? It wasn't as if one room was better furnished or more spacious than the others in this house, and now he would have to sleep next to Potter. Turning around, he saw him bending over the bag he usually used for school, probably searching for his pyjamas.
"I will just go change," Potter said when he came up again and he nodded quickly as a sign that he had to heard, before watching the smaller teen leave. Really, how could any fifteen year old boy be so small? He would feel ashamed of himself if he was in the Gryffindor's shoes.
He decided to quickly change as well and pulled his wand out to summon the silk pair which was neatly packed inside his trunk. Normally he slept only in boxers, or even naked. He was not shy about his body, indeed it was more of the opposite. He knew he looked gorgeous. Sure, his shoulders were not as broad as his father's, but his abs were perfectly proportioned, his legs were long and strong and his face looked like that of a Greek god. There was a reason why he was not only the Prince of Slytherin but also the sex-god of his house. But still, he didn't need to present his perfect body to Potter, especially not as long as the stupid boy thought of him still as his mate. Who knew, maybe that would only encourage scarhead to molest him in his sleep. He quickly changed with a spell and with another swish of his wand his disregarded clothes were folded neatly and on top of his trunk.
The door opened just when he was pocketing his wand again and Potter strode in.
He watched as the other boy made his way over to the bed and climbed in, before scooting over to the far end.
"Are you coming?" Scarhead asked and threw him an expectant look.
For a moment Draco pondered saying no and leaving for his manor, he could fly back the next day after all, but something held him back and it was not the voice of his father reminding him of their contract this time. Sneering at Potter and the situation in general, he stepped closer until he stood directly in front of the bed, which (in his opinion) was far too small to be called a double bed.
"Won't you lie down? You know, we might have to share a bed more often if your father and Severus get their way," Potter said and pet the free space next to him. With a wrinkle of his nose, Draco climbed in, noticing that the mattress was even more uncomfortable than it had looked. His fiancé turned onto his right side so that he only saw Potter’s back now. With a scowl, he turned to his left and flicked his wand to turn the lights off, before closing his eyes. However, sleep didn't come to him. The knowledge that Potter was sleeping only a few feet away from him was all too present in his mind, and it filled him with a strange inner restlessness.
What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he sleep? He was only laying next to scarhead, a boy, and he was not attracted to boys. A sudden movement made him turn around to sneer at the boy who was keeping him awake, but as he looked down at Potter, he saw that the small Gryffindor had only turned on his back in his sleep. His eyes wandered over the small figure and suddenly he wasn't able to tear his gaze away.
Potter’s unnaturally huge emerald green orbs were currently hidden behind pale eyelids and long black lashes. His ebony hair looked even messier than usual, surrounding his head like a dark unholy halo of a fallen angel. His eyes slowly wandered lower, until they stopped again at those blood red pouty lips, which looked perfect for ravishing. Draco gulped and quickly forced his treacherous eyes away from them, but they only landed on a slender, white neck and beautiful, fragile looking collarbones. Potter’s white t-shirt outlined every dip and curve of his frail body perfectly. His torso looked so small, as if he could surround it completely with only his hands. He imagined water running down those protruding ribs and gathering in that beautiful pit that was the boy's stomach.
Without thinking about what he was doing, he carefully lifted the Gryffindor's cover and glanced further down. Potter wore a soft pyjama pants in the same offending red that was the colour of his house, but that wasn't what interested him at the moment; instead, he searched for Potter’s lower midsection, but to his disappointment he could see nothing that would indicate more about Potter’s private parts. Frowning, he continued to stare unashamedly. He did not know a single boy in their age group of who you could not see the outlines of their most private parts. Maybe when they had still been younger, but not now. Of course, he himself had always been large and drawn the attention of females and males alike, even though he had never let a boy touch him. And that thought suddenly jolted him from his dazed state and he dropped Potter's cover back down, before sneering at the sleeping boy. Why had he been staring at Potter? He was not interested in boys, at least not anymore. He might have had a deluded phase during his first year, but since then, many years had passed. Maybe he should check himself for mind altering curses? Growling lowly, he forced himself to turn back around and finally closed his eyes, but as soon as he had done so, images of Potter's pale skin and red lips haunted his dreams.
The next morning he was awoken by Potter timidly climbing out of their bed at the foot of their shared sleeping space. He glared at the slim back and sat up. What had caused him to be so fascinated with Potter the evening before? At least in the light of day and Potter acting as annoyingly gryffindorish as always, it would not happen again.
"You're awake?" Potter asked suddenly.
Draco blinked, in his mental rage he had not noticed that his fiancé had turned around to face him and was now openly staring.
"Of course I am, no one could continue sleeping with the riot you were causing," he sneered and watched with satisfaction as Potter flinched a little. Feeling much better, he pulled the blanket from his legs, swung them out of the bed and stood up, before summoning his toiletry bag and a new set of clothing, before stalking out of their shared bedroom and making his way to the bathroom. Beaver was just leaving the room and greet him with a small nod, but without any friendly expression on her face, which of course didn't trouble him. He gave her a sneer in returned and earned himself a roll of her eyes, which he commented on with an elegant lifting of his left eyebrow, before disappearing into the small bathroom.
How he was supposed to dress and ready himself in this room, he couldn't fathom. Even the storage rooms at his manor were bigger. His blue eyes wandered over the white tiles, the tasteless bath tub and the even less tasteful shower curtain with stupidly smiling dolphins. Not trusting that the ugly woman that called herself Potter's aunt had cleaned the bathroom properly (she was a muggle after all and muggles were only slightly more intelligent than animals), he pulled his wand out and cast a cleaning and freshening charm on himself, before changing with another flick of his wand.
Stepping in front of the small, round mirror, he checked his appearance. The silver long-sleeved angora shirt clung perfectly to every muscle of his torso, giving all viewers a good idea of the hidden perfection beneath. Unfortunately the mirror was not large enough for him to be able to see his legs, but he knew that the black trousers would only outline his long, slender, but still very strong legs. Satisfied and sure that no one would steal his show, he left the bathroom again, sent his toiletry bag back to his trunk, and went downstairs. He was just entering the kitchen, when he unwillingly froze in the doorway. Potter already stood there and was talking to his little nuisance of a House Elf. But that was not what had made him falter in his steps. He had never seen Potter in anything besides his school uniform (which of course were quite exquisite as his father was providing them), or those old rags he had preferred in the past. Today however he wore neither. The black pants seemed to be from a muggle store, if he recognized the fabric correctly, but they hugged the boys thin legs and round behind perfectly. Unconsciously, Draco gulped and his fingers twitched. This backside looked so perfect for digging his nails into possessively, to lick and to nip until bruises formed on the surely soft mounds of flesh. His upper body was covered with a green turtleneck, which fitted so snugly, that it even showed off his fiancés unnaturally slim waist beneath the thick woollen material. Unfortunately, that was all the pullover showed off. He would have much more preferred a thin shirt that clung to Potter’s small chest and showed his nipples. He was sure they were a beautiful pink colour and perfectly shaped buds.
A loud pop pulled him harshly out of his daydreams and he quickly changed his blank look into a sneer just in time, before Potter turned around to face him.
"I just asked Oscar to bring us breakfast. Did you sleep well?"
"I slept as well as any human can in the poor excuse of a bed," Draco replied and turned on his heels, intent on fleeing into the living room where he would not be able to goggle stupidly at Potter. Once he was back at school, he would check himself for mind altering curses, this reaction to the skinny Gryffindor was not normal and definitely not a reaction of his own. He didn't really trust the boy to know such advanced curses, but maybe his father had done something to help with the courtship. His father was definitely knowledgeable and cold-blooded enough to use such Dark Spells.
Apparently, Potter's elf had already set up breakfast, because in the middle of the otherwise empty room, now stood a huge dining table with all sorts of food. Scanning the table, he found two seats with golden goblets as opposed to the other crystal ones. Sneering at the goblets, he leisurely strode over and sat down, before levitating his fiancé’s goblet to the far end of the table, he had already spent enough time in close proximity with Potter to last him a lifetime, he didn't need to sit next to him as well.
The goblet didn't sit down a second too soon, because at that moment the whole bunch of Gryffindors came in. From the corner of his eyes he saw his fiancé noticing where his goblet stood, but the pale face didn't show whether the boy had noticed that he had changed its position or not, while the youngest weasel had already flopped onto a seat and motioned wildly for his best friends to join him.
What Draco hadn't calculated was that now that the places next to him were free, the weasel twins would get the idea of sitting down on each side of him. He glared at them, but as he had suspected they were not impressed. Weasels, after all, were too dense to realize when their company was not appreciated.
"Good morning Malfoy," they said in unison as if they had all been friends for many years. "How was sharing a bed with our sweet Harry?" They winked suggestively, probably not knowing that their beloved golden boy would soon spend the rest of his nights in bed with him and his father.
"I slept well enough," he answered nonchalantly and picked his goblet up in an attempt to signal that he was busy and not in the mood for talking.
"Did you hear that George?" One of them grinned. "Malfoy slept well. I can remember the last time when I slept very well."
"Of course I can remember it; that was the night when I slept like a baby as well," the other grinned back suggestively and Draco decided that he did not wish to know why both twins could remember that night. A shudder went down his spine; he had always known that those two were too close to each other, even for twins.
Loud laughter fortunately relieved his mind from some very disturbing images, but as he looked up, his eyes only landed on Potter once more. The boy was laughing alongside his friends, his eyes shining like the purest emerald, his plump, red lips stretched in the most beautiful smile Draco had ever seen. Suddenly jealousy rose in his stomach and coiled like a poisonous snake around his heart. Why wasn't he the one who had brought that smile onto that beautiful face? Who had it been who had dared to make his Harry smile so brightly?
Draco flinched as he realized what he had just thought. His Harry? What was he thinking? He did not wish Potter to be his, Potter was the bane of his existence, an annoying nuisance, and nothing more, and he wished that their marriage contract would disappear and not for the boy to become his. He did not like Potter and he definitely did not find anything about him attractive, neither his eyes nor his small, delicate hands that held the silverware so tenderly as if they were...
He gritted his teeth and forced his mind to stop that particular train of thoughts. To make sure, he even drew his eyes away from those dainty hands and back onto his goblet of blood.
"Oh Fred," an annoying voice interrupted his peaceful scowling a moment later, "I believe our sister's heart will be broken soon." The twin to his left sighed exaggeratedly.
"Who would have thought, my dear brother," the other twin sighed just as annoyingly. "But love blossoms in the unlikeliest places."
Draco held his goblet more tightly to stave off his anger, but when one of the redheads opened his mouth again, he finally snapped.
"Shut up!" He hissed and glared at them.
The two lifted their hands simultaneously in a calming gesture, but they did not stop grinning.
"Touchy, are we?"
Draco did not answer and instead drained the contents of his goblet.
The rest of the breakfast he watched good-for-nothing-Longbottom, Looney-Luna, the baby weasel and the Mudblood.
Longbottom actually managed something close to a conversation for once, although it could not be said to be a very intelligent one, but then again, Looney-Luna was not known for being especially demanding.
The weasel was mostly eating, while Granger talked none-stop.
Potter was actually listening as well, but he of course did not notice that, because he was not looking in Potter’s direction.
Finally, the breakfast was over and the empty plates disappeared.
"The bus arrives in 20 minutes, we should get going," Potter said as he stood up and looked at his watch.
Draco sneered again, for a moment he contemplated just staying at the house, but for some reason, that idea felt even more wrong than getting onto a muggle bus.
"Well, then let's get going," one of the twins announced and the Gryffindors left the living room. He saw Potter throwing a quick look at him, but he gave no sign that he had noticed it and the small raven quickly looked away again with a slight frown. Only when everybody else had left the room, did he follow as well.
Potter must somehow have saved his old and dirty trainers from his father, because as he stepped into the room, he saw his fiancé sitting on the steps and pulling them on. How the boy had managed to hide them from his father, Draco could not fathom, normally Lucius could smell bad clothing from a few miles away, but apparently not in this instance.
Pulling out his wand, he flicked it quickly and summoned his pair of expensive dragon-hide boots from the bedroom, before elegantly slipping into them.
"Let's go," Potter announced and opened the front door.
The weasel family looked stupidly excited as they left the small house and stepped into an equally distasteful neighbourhood. He sneered at the pitiful front gardens with their plain flowers, they were nothing like the gardens he was used to from home, and hopefully this would be the only weekend that Potter would force him to stay here.
He also sneered at the muggles they passed. Normally he liked attention, but not from muggles. He shifted his gaze away from the surrounding and fixed it instead on the group of Gryffindors in front of him. He walked slightly behind them all, not in the mood to socialise. Longbottom and Lovegood were directly in front of him, while Potter along with his two friends, led the way and the weasel twins walked in between, sometimes leaning over the trio's shoulders to make a comment. Potter even remembered to included Longbottom and Lovegood every so often, the role of the social worker seemed annoyingly natural for the raven.
Finally, Potter came to a halt in front of an shabby looking glass hut.
"Now, we only have to wait five more minutes," the Gryffindor said and sat down on one of the wooden benches. Draco wrinkled his nose, how could anybody sit down on such a dirty seat? He would not even have used it after a couple of scourgifies.
"Dad would really love this!" The weasel suddenly exclaimed sounding as excited as his Mudblood-loving father probably would.
"But I bet it won't be nearly as much fun as the rides with our old Ford Anglia would have been," the twins sighed in memory.
Draco did not make the effort in suppressing his glare. The story with the weasel's flying car had been one of those stories which had shown how much extra treatment Potter and his little friends always got. He had been so infuriated back then, because normally such an incident should have been enough to guarantee an expulsion, leaving him finally free of at least two-thirds of the golden trio, but no. Gryffindor-friend Dumbledore had to step in and save their arses, it had been so unfair.
Thinking about it, if the old coot of a Headmaster had been fairer with his treatment of Potter, he would not be in this situation right now. The Dark Lord would have already won, Potter would most likely be dead or at least hidden in the muggle world, and his father would never have started an affair with the boy and, most importantly, their marriage contract would not exist.
"Maybe we could take our father on a ride in the bus for Christmas?" The weasel suggested, loud enough pulling Draco from his little fantasies.
"That would be a great idea!" The twins cheered and Potter added: "And a cheap present. Bus riding is really not that expensive."
"Maybe they should rather get him a ticket for an airplane?" The Mudblood suggested.
"Airplane?" Longbottom questioned and to everybody's surprise, it was Looney-Luna who answered: "A device with which muggles are able to fly."
Draco could already see the headline in the Daily Prophet: "Ministry Worker for Muggle Affairs reveals the wizarding world to the muggles!"
If it ever came to this present, he should probably inform his father so that somebody could stop the man with a well-aimed killing curse and save them all from the herds of muggles who would want to examine them and then steal their magic.
"But Mione or I should probably tag along," Potter suddenly mused and Draco had to admit that his fiancé possessed at least some brain cells.
"That probably would be wise," Granger agreed, but her voice was drowned out by a loud roar that quickly came closer.
Expecting an attack, Draco quickly drew his wand and turned around.
"That's only the bus," Potter's voice suddenly said next to him. He turned his head in time to see the boy rolling his eyes, but had no time to shoot back with an insult or snide comment before a shadow fell upon him and the roaring stopped. Potter stepped away from him and into the monstrosity that had just halted next to them.
"Eight tickets please," Potter said, earning himself a suspicious look from the dark-skinned driver. Draco watched Potter pay before stepping further into the vehicle, closely followed by his group of friends. As he followed them, one glance was enough to decide that he would not go; the floor and the seats were so dirty that he doubted that anybody had ever cleaned the bus, and it smelled worse than the changing room of his Quidditch team in the summer. But of course if he was not going, then no one else was, because for some reason he still was not able to leave Potter out of his sight, which annoyed him even more. Glaring fiercely, he stopped in the middle of the narrow gangway and announced in his most superior commanding voice:
"We will not do this. It is disgraceful for us to use such a vehicle; even you should realize that Granger."
Seven pairs of eyes turned to him, disbelief and annoyance clearly written in them.
"And why do you not simply stay behind then Your Highness?" One of the twins (he could still not tell them apart) questioned in a mockingly arrogant voice.
Unfazed by the mockery, Draco only straightened and drawled: "Because I will not stay at a filthy muggle house by myself."
He saw Potter frown from the bench next to him, and for a split second he believed that the boy would give in for the sake of peace, or their marriage contract, or some other reason that did not matter, but then the Gryffindor's dainty hand shot out and pulled him onto the seat next to him.
"Don't make the same mistake as your father and stay there until the bus starts again," his fiancé snapped, and Draco wanted to ask what one thing had to do with the other, when the bus started and he was violently pushed into the seat by the sudden speed. He gasped in shock and glared at the driver, about to say something, but Potter, who must have guessed what he was about to do, merely said: "All bus drivers drive like this, so no need to waste your breath."
Huffing, Draco turned his head away from his fiancé and opted on watching the passing landscape. Slowly the suburb turned into one of those disgusting muggle cities with those tasteless gray buildings. Around him the others were chatting animatedly, all apparently very excited about the bus ride, but he paid it no attention.
After about half an hour of staring outside, the landscape changed once more. The buildings grew more modern and neatly plastered streets with shops flew past them. The bus stopped for a rather long time at a train station, but Potter gave no sign that they should get up. When the bus started again after about ten minutes, they left the city centre and the houses grew less again. They were driving on a broad and very busy street when Potter suddenly asked: "Could you press that button next to you?"
Shocked that Potter had once again addressed him, despite his clear show of disinterest in their journey, he looked up, saw a red button and pressed it before he had properly thought about what he was doing. Disgust overcame his features and he wiped his hands on his trousers in an attempt to get the dirt off, which had to have clung to the button and now to him, but of course his trousers could not help with it much, he needed water and soap or at least a cleaning spell.
The bus halted again and Potter stood up. Getting to his feet as well, Draco went ahead, wanting to leave the dirty muggle car as soon as possible.
"So, where is the shop?" One of the twins asked from somewhere behind him.
Draco, of course, had already spotted the shop, it was impossible not to. The blue monster with the yellow sign rose not far from them, but of course he did not answer, it was not necessary either, because Longbottom did:
"I... I believe it is over there," the fool stuttered, probably pointing at said building.
The group started to walk on the narrow path up to the parking lot, which they crossed as well, always careful to not be run over by a car, apparently not only bus drivers drove like mad Draco concluded.
From up close the building looked even more bright and colourful than it had been from 300 meters away. Draco strolled once more behind as Potter led the way into a huge entrance hall.
"Everybody grab a cart," Beaver commanded and of course, the others obediently did as told, evoking another sneer on Draco's part. How anybody could listen to a Mudblood was beyond him, but he certainly would not, and definitely not push a stupid cart around.
"I would suggest starting separately on the second floor; Harry, would you go with Ron and the twins into the elevator first? I will take the second with the others... and maybe Draco can accompany you as well..." Beaver continued, having silently forgotten about him for a moment.
"Yeah, no problem," Potter said and pushed the bottom next to the elevator. After a few seconds the doors slid open, revealing a plain looking, windowless rooms, even muggle-elevators looked worse than the wizarding ones.
Potter and the weasels barely fit inside with their carts, and for a moment Draco pondered taking the third elevator on his own, but he truly did not fancy riding a muggle-elevator all by himself, and then squeezed in next to Potter. The boy pressed the button with the number 2 on it, and with a jolt the elevator rose. A wide hall with beds everywhere greeted them on the second floor. As they excited the elevator, they waited for the others to arrive as well, which fortunately didn't take long.
"So, how do you want to furnish the bedrooms: Each individually, or all the same?" Granger asked.
Potter looked around for a second, his green eyes sparkling brightly.
"I would say each individually. Maybe two people can share a room, some with double beds, and some with two single beds."
Granger nodded and weasel asked: "How many double beds do we need? They are for the couples, am I right?"
Granger and Potter nodded, but the witch said: "We don't have many couples if Privet Drive will only be for younger members."
"I doubt that mom really won't show up," the weasel said and his twin brothers nodded.
"Okay, then we need..." beaver started musing. "... a double bed for Harry and his mates... er... mate," she quickly corrected herself with a blush, but Draco had heard the slip-up and narrowed his eyes. What had Potter told the girl? It was clear by the weasel's snickering that the redhead knew nothing, but the Mudblood clearly did and he did not like it. The thought of Potter talking behind his back, insulting him, entered his mind and the green monster coiled in his stomach again. What was wrong with him? He did not feel like himself anymore, not since he had left Hogwarts with Potter.
"Hadn't we decided on ten bedrooms? Why not make half of it with double beds and half of it with single beds?" The weasel suggested, stopping Draco's mental rage.
"You are right, Ron," beaver said and all the Gryffindor's turned their eyes expectantly at Harry, who scratched the back of his head in a nervous gesture; Draco had already noticed that the raven was making that gesture quite often.
"Er... let's just look around and when someone finds a bed that looks good, just tell Mione, you have something to note the order number down, don't you?"
"Of course I have," the witch said and pulled a notebook and a muggle pen from her bag.
They divided into smaller groups; at least the Gryffindor's did whilst Draco followed Potter and his two best friends at a safe distance. This was the perfect opportunity to get away from his annoying fiancé for a while, but he felt as if something was pulling him towards the boy, it was as if someone had fastened a leash around his heart and given Potter the other end of it to pull him along. His eyes were constantly fixed on the small form. Now and then the boy stopped to down bend a bit to look more closely at a one bed or another and his t-shirt would rise up a bit, revealing that pale smooth skin at which he had already stared the previous night. At other times those delicate hands stroked over the smooth surface of a nightstand or a blanket and his skin started to tingle in anticipation, but what he was waiting for, Draco did not know. He only knew that by now his throat and mouth was awfully dry and that his wand had slipped into his hand at one point, still hidden in his sleeve, but ready to strike if the weasel or the beaver were to dare come even closer to the petite Gryffindor.
Beaver bent down a bit, he had never noticed how much smaller Potter truly was, even in comparison to a girl. She whispered something into the ear of her friend and a moment later Potter's laugh sounded through the hall, clear like the song of silver bells. Draco's hearts started to race, his eyes could only see Potter, everything else vanished in an uninteresting blur and he took a step closer. He wanted to hear that clear laughter again, wanted to be the one who bent down, took in the boy's deliciously sweet scent and evoke that laughter with his words. His mind had blanked with the exception of that single thought.
His hands started to itch, wanting to touch and not merely to look.
He took a second step forwards, but suddenly the spell was broken by a loud exclamation:
"Harry, come over here, this one looks great!" One of the twins shouted and in the next moment Potter was gone from his sight and his heart stumbled. The realization what he had just thought and nearly done, mixed with a disturbing feeling of loss, as if he had just lost the most precious treasure there was on earth.
Clenching his fists, he tried not to run after Potter like his two friends had done, but the task was nearly taking all his energy. It was as if he was fighting the imperious, his leg muscles were even cramping with the wish to start running after the small boy, but he would not give in. He was no sappy, lovesick fool, and Potter was not his mate, therefore there was no reason why his heart should feel as if it just had lost a part of itself.
"This really looks good!" He heard Potter's voice exclaim and his head instantly snapped around.
"The Slivys will love the wood," Looney-Luna's dream voice reached his ears, but the other's ignored her with confusion written over their faces; why they had even invited the girl Draco could not fathom.
"I will write it's order number down," Granger announced, before asking: "Shall I note down the night stands as well?"
Potter looked around the bed in question was standing in an alcove which was furnished like a small version of a bedroom.
"Write down the cupboard as well, if it looks good, we will take the whole set, otherwise we will spend days in here and ten rooms are just too many to put together separately," Potter decided and returned with the weasel to the section were they had been earlier, while the Mudblood stayed behind and noted everything down.
Making sure that the space between him and Potter would be even greater this time, Draco followed the raven again. Potter and his friends were pointing at different beds, but none seemed to draw their attention particularly. The next ten minutes went by in this manner, until they rounded a corner and Potter's eyes suddenly lit up.
"I want this for my room!" His fiancé exclaimed and with two quick steps, the boy jumped onto the huge, light-coloured wooden double bed. As the boy collided with the mattress, his t-shirt rolled up, exposing the flat stomach and his prominent hipbones. The weasel laughed next to his friend as Potter sighed with a broad smile, turned onto his stomach and pressed his entire body into the blanket, nuzzling the soft material. Draco's eyes were drawn to the suddenly exposed, round arse as his fiancé’s legs came up to wind themselves around the cover. His heart started to race again and he could practically feel how those slim, but strong legs would feel wound around his hips, hugging them firmly together in and delicious friction. Something stirred inside of him and an unbearable hunger rose inside of him.
"Harry, what are you doing?" Granger's voice floated to his ears, but it sounded distant as his blood rushed through his suddenly heated body. He saw the girl stepping closer and grabbing Potter’s wrist, but instead of pulling him up, his fiancé made a quick motion and the girl fell on top of him, still giggling.
Draco' vision flashed red; no one touched his Harry, neither boy nor girl! No one! Quicker than humanly possible he stood next to the bed and yanked the girl roughly up. Only when he saw her wide eyes staring confusedly at him, did the redness vanish and he could think clear again.
"What disgraceful behaviour," he sneered to cover up his mistake. "But I should not have expected anything better from a mere Mudblood."
In an instant Potter was on his feet as well, growling with a meaningful look: "If you have a problem, than say it, but don't insult my friends as I will not allow it!"
Baring his fangs, Draco growled as well, much more threateningly than the smaller boy had done and to his satisfaction, Potter flinched and looked hastily away, but only a second later the fierce glare was back in place.
"I mean it Draco," Potter said, sounding as if he had wanted to say something else or something more, but with the weasel and the beaver were now watching them with shock and confusion, so he couldn't.
"There is nothing I want to talk to you about!" Draco hissed before turning on his heels and disappearing down the gangway. This weekend was turning into a nightmare with the weasels, thought as he let himself fall down ungracefully onto a couch. Something was definitively wrong with him, by now he was sure of it, and as soon as he was back at Hogwarts he would find out what spell or curse his father had cast on him and dissolve it.
He sighed and leaned back feeling exhausted like never before, he was hungry too, but regardless of whatever blood he tried, it did not satisfy him. Maybe that was the reason why he did not feel like himself anymore, maybe it had nothing to do with Potter. He had just come to the conclusion that it had to be this, when an inner restlessness overcame him and his eyes started to search for the bane of his existence without his permission, but of course he could not see Potter from where he sat as he had moved too far away in his search for solace. And that was where he wanted to stay, not to return to Potter’s side.
Despite his determination, the restlessness only grew stronger with every second. His mind was providing him with all kinds of absurd images, like Potter laying with the weasel on a bed, or sitting between those unbearable twins on a sofa, their freckled hands combing through his fiancé’s messy locks.
He shook his head fiercely to chase the images away, but they were only replaced by pictures of Potter’s bright smile and emerald green eyes, and his hunger and restlessness grew even further. The silver laughter once again echoed in his ears and he couldn't take it any longer, he needed to stand up and get rid of the feeling, move around a bit, lose this restlessness and distract himself.
Standing up, his legs automatically carried him into the direction of happy laughter, and before he knew where he was heading, he saw Potter standing between all his friends, surrounding a bed made from black lacquered wood.
The boy was talking animatedly once more, his eyes huge and shining with joy, as if he had never done something as fun and as exciting as furnishing a muggle house. His friends looked equally happy, infected by his good mood, but none of their faces shone as brightly and none of their lips stretched into such a beautiful, breathtaking smile.
As if hearing his thoughts, Potter suddenly looked around and their eyes locked. Draco felt as if he was falling into Potter's green pools and drowning in them. The smile was also still there, the lips as plump and red as they had been the night before, and then the small raven blushed and Draco's breathing would have hitched if he had still been breathing. As it was, his heart only stopped for a long moment, until starting to race again; he had never seen something as beautiful as the rosy tint dusting the boy's baby-cheeks. He held Potter's gaze, not able to let it go and the blush deepened even further until it had grown into a full body flush, making him think of a whole different scenario that would bring this flush to his small fiancé’s body.
Finally, Potter looked away, apparently not able to hold the intense gaze any longer, and it left Draco confused and once more angry at the boy, himself and his father. But regardless of how much he did not wish to feel drawn to Potter, he found himself following the group again, his eyes never leaving the raven. He felt like a stalker, always standing a few feet away from the group, often hidden behind a cupboard or another piece of furnishing with his eyes ravishing the small frame. He could not get enough of those slim hips, which moved teasingly as Potter walked, or of those slim but long legs, and especially not of the boy's pale and slender neck. When they finally left the section with the beds and entered the one with the kitchens, his eyes were not able to leave Potter's neck anymore. They were glued to the piece of skin, always roaming it as if searching for something.
A picture of a bluish, pulsing vein flashed through his mind and his stomach gave a hungry growl. He growled back at his body; he hated that it acted so independently.
Potter had come to a halt in front of a modern, white kitchen. Some cupboard doors had a bright red surface, giving it a much more stylish appearance than the many wooden ones they had already passed.
As Granger stepped next to her friend and the boy smiled again, Draco's heart hammered in his chest, as if Potter's smile was a drug and he the addicted. A voice had started to whisper inside of his mind telling him:
"Claim him, claim your mate, before someone else takes him away," but it had to be his stressed out mind, because as he had told himself and his father and even Potter so often, he had no mate and he was not into boys either. He did not fantasize about pushing that petite body onto one of those beds they had passed, ripping all of clothes off of him and kissing and licking every inch of the smooth looking skin. He also had no desire to lick along the boy's loins and kissing a trail up Potter's small, but surely beautiful penis and sucking on it until the boy exploded in ecstasy. No, he did not wish to do all of those things, because he wasn't into boys anymore, he had overcome that phase in his second year and now the only thing he wanted was to marry a Pureblood witch and live within a proper marriage like his parents had done.
He blinked as he realized that the group of Gryffindors stood not in front of him anymore, but were already quite a distance down the hallway. He followed them with long strides, careful to not look as if he was hurrying, and he wasn't; there was, after all, no reason to rush after Potter, surely even the golden boy would not be able to manage to get into trouble in a muggle shopping centre.
Their last stop on that floor was to pick out the furniture for a living room. Potter was apparently planning on enlarging the small living room of his dead relative's house because he picked out two three-seaters and one two-seater, all in a dove gray colour. He also decided on a light wooden coffee table and a matching wall-unit, before they left for the elevators again.
Draco joined him in the elevator by accident (of course), and they excited into another huge hall, but this one looked entirely different. In front of him spread a section with glasses of all kinds, diverse sets of plates, bowls, coffee and tea pots, and many other kitchen utensils he could not even name, which came as no surprise; he had after all never cooked in his life, his family owned house elves for that. The only reason he could tell the difference between a plate and a slat was because of his love for potions and nothing else.
The group had apparently gotten some more orders from his fiancé or beaver (he had not paid them attention) because they split up once more, Potter and the weasel going to the plates and bowls, the twins to the glasses and Granger, Lovegood, and Longbottom going to the kitchen utensils.
Draco, of course, followed his fiancé once more, who was pointing at some plates in the upper row, while the weasel stretched to get them down.
"Manual labour suits you, weasel," he drawled as he stepped closer. Unfortunately, the redhead decided to ignore him for once and simply continued with his task.
"You know, you could help him," Potter said without even turning around. "I certainly am too small."
Wrinkling his nose in disgust at the idea, Draco sneered back: "Certainly not Potter, you have your farmer for that kind of labour."
Draco was sure that he saw Potter’s jaw muscles clench, and leaned against a shelf with a satisfied smirk. At least, he was not yet so far gone in his confused feelings that anybody would notice it; that was good enough until he could get back to school. He watched as the weasel struggled further with the high shelf and bumped ungraceful against it. The plates rattled loudly and the redhead cursed like only a Weasley was able to. Not able to watch the sorry sight any longer (and of course not to help his worried-looking fiancé), Draco pulled his wand out and summoned twenty plates, bowls, and coffee mugs, directing them carefully into their cart.
Potter turned around and gave him a small, thankful smile, which made his heart flutter in a way that the organ should not be allowed to do.
"Let us go, I wish to finally get out of this store," he merely said, and turned around before his face or eyes could grow treacherous as well and show something of the confusion he felt to Potter.
He couldn't see whether his fiancé had nodded or not, but a moment later he passed him, pushing his cart happily and walking to where the other's were already waiting.
To Draco's horror, their next halt was in a section with countless, horribly colourful pillows, blankets, and duvet covers.
"Each of you pick two covers out that you like," Potter announced before the boy himself went over to a section with pillows for sofas and started to collect quite a lot of them.
"Don't you want to pick your own cover out as well? You probably know better what you and your father would like than I do," Potter said as he noticed him, "I will be fine with whatever you choose."
Only a few days ago he would have accused Potter of being arrogant and have told him that they would never share a bed, but unfortunately with their marriage contract, he couldn't do that anymore, so instead he only sneered and said: "I will send a house elf to fetch some of my family’s covers. Neither I nor my father will ever sleep under one of those."
For a second Potter's face fell, even though Draco could not fathom why of all things he had thrown at the boy in the last two days, this would make him sad, but the raven collected himself quickly again and gave him another smile and a nod.
Draco did not know why, but somehow seeing the false smile on his fiancé’s face made his heart clench painfully and the sudden urge to go and do as Potter had asked him to, overcame him. But being the proud Malfoy he was, he squashed the feeling before it could fully bloom and strode off.
After only a few seconds Potter caught up to him, and from the corner of his eyes Draco could see that a few simple white sofa blankets had joined the pillows.
"I think when the other's are back, we can pay and finally go," Potter said and for some reason, the boy gave him something of an encouraging look.
"Good," he only drawled back, not knowing how to react to a Potter who was trying to be friendly and start a conversation.
"You don't need to help me with the installation when we get back," Potter said awkwardly, apparently his fiancé had set his mind on starting a conversation and maybe, if Draco had not been so confused in that moment, he would just have picked the topic up, but right now he felt as if every exchanged word with Potter would make the curse his father had put onto him worse, therefore he sneered: "How gracious of you Potter, but you don't really think that I would help you, even if you would want me to?"
He had hoped to start one of their famous fights, he at least would feel comfortable with an argument with Potter, but the boy only sighed, shook his head and said: "You know, I was totally confused in the beginning as well. It wasn't as if I liked your father. True, the bond helped and at least I was not afraid of him anymore, but still, I had not known him before and we only barely agreed on a truce as we were hiding at Privet Drive. To tell the truth, I still am still fairly confused, before I could completely figure out my first soulbond, you appeared."
"As I recall, it is your own fault that I did appear, as you put my resurrection so nicely," Draco sneered, the topic of conversation had turned from uncomfortable to unbearable in a split second and he wanted to end it. He had never been the type who appreciated a good heart-to-heart-conversation, no Slytherin was, and Potter was the last person he would talk about his feelings with.
"I know," Potter hummed, "and I only want to tell you that it is normal and that I would listen if you wish to talk about it. We will not get out of this..."
Fortunately Granger appeared in the next moment and saved Draco from an answer, otherwise he would not have known what to say in reply or how to shut the boy up, and Potter had clearly not been about to drop the conversation.
"Don't you want to buy some covers as well?" The beaver asked and pointed at Potter's cart, who shrugged.
"Yeah, but seeing as Draco and I will probably keep sharing a room, I told him he could pick some out and he wants to bring some of his own. I guess they will be of a better quality."
Beaver gave Potter a sympathetic look and said: "Maybe you can set up your own room one day. You will have your opportunity, Harry."
At this, Draco could not suppress the snort. "Why so melodramatic? It isn't as if this bedroom will be the first bedroom Potter ever possessed."
He would have bet on many reactions, a command to shut up, an insult or plain ignorance, but not the long, meaningful looks the Gryffindors exchanged. However, he waste another second to think about it as they finally reached a huge warehouse section.
Granger disappeared into the isles and to his surprise; she called for him a moment later.
"Malfoy, would you lend me a hand to put these things away?"
Remembering that besides him and Potter (who no one was aware of) was allowed to use magic and thus could not shrink their purchases, he followed the witch who held a stack of price labels in her hand and pointed at a whole shelf full of huge cardboard boxes with beds, coffee tables and nightstands printed on them.
"We need all with the exception of that desk," she told him, pointing at the lowest box.
Giving her a curt nod, he pulled out his wand, checked that no muggle was in sight, and swung it once. The boxes shrank to the size of shoeboxes and Granger opened her handbag and put everything inside.
He did not ask if that was all because he knew that it could not be, and instead waited patiently until she led him to another isle.
Ten minutes later they had shrunken and packed everything and joined the others who had already lined up at the end of a rather long line in front of a cash desk.
When it was finally Potter's turn to pay, the young cashier eyed his fiancé with disbelief.
"Are you sure you have enough money for all of this?" The muggle girl asked stupidly, and Draco could not stop himself from drawling: "No, we are not sure; we thought it would be fun to wait in line for thirty minutes, to then get told that we cannot take all of our purchases with us."
The girl looked up with an angry frown at the backhanded insult, but her angry expression turned into a blush as soon as her brown eyes landed on him, but he was not in the mood for blushing girls right now, especially not muggle ones and snapped: "Will you scan these items sometime today, or shall we come back tomorrow? And I believe that you still have to add those." Without looking he took the price labels from Granger, making the muggle blush even more, but the stupid cashier finally started scanning and five minutes later Potter paid with what the boy had called a credit card.
The other's put everything back into their carts and Granger started to head for a secluded corner.
"I think we will not be seen if I pocket everything back there," she mused and waved for the others to follow her, but Potter only pushed his cart over to the twins and said: "I will fetch us all something to eat, Ikea has the best hotdogs, just come to the exit when you are finished," and left.
Not thinking about leaving the small boy to run off on his own, Draco followed him without a second thought. It was getting unnerving, this need for safety, it almost felt like a misplaced protective instinct.
As he caught up to his fiancé, Potter already stood in front of a long counter and was ordering.
He watched in disgusted fascination as a young man put six sausages in long bread rolls and put two different sauces on top of them, before covering everything with onions and slices of pickles, before handing Potter the food on a tray. His fiancé paid and finally spotted him as he turned around.
"Sometimes I really miss eating with my friends, I have always loved just sitting with them in the Great Hall, talking and enjoy the food," Potter said with another of his small smiles which made Draco's heart always flutter annoyingly.
"Well, you still can sit with them, talking and drinking," he replied as they walked to the exit.
Potter shrugged, jostling the hotdogs a little. "I know, but it isn't the same, I have always just loved eating. The food at Hogwarts is really delicious."
Draco noticed that a thoughtful expression had entered his fiancé's face and frowned a bit. What was it with Potter and his strange comments? Granger had made one earlier as well. For a moment he contemplated asking his father; Lucius would surely know more about it, but then remembered that he wasn't interested in Potter and that he was only currently acting so strangely because of his father's spell.
They stepped into the sunlight and Potter walked over to a wooden bench across from the exit where he proceeded to sit down and place the tray next to him.
"I guess you don't want to sit?" He asked, but apparently did not expect an answer, because in the next moment he leaned back, closed his eyes and said with a soft smile.
"I really like this weekend, this was only the second time I went shopping, really shopping I mean, not the short outings to Hogsmeade on the weekend. The first time was with your father, we went to London. Or rather I dragged him to London because he didn't want to go."
Despite himself, Draco felt curiosity rise inside of him and checking that the others were not yet coming, he asked: "Why did you force my father to go shopping in London? It was muggle-London, I guess."
"It was," Potter nodded, his eyes still close and a dreamy expression had joined the smile on his face.
"You know that we were stuck at my relatives’ house. Severus took Lucius' wand and I wasn't allowed to do magic, and he needed some clothes. Of course, your father would rather have stayed in his Death Eater robe for the two weeks, but after two or three days, the scent grew unbearable; it was summer after all."
Draco wrinkled his nose, truth to be told (which he, of course would not do) he had no idea what he would do in that situation. The thought of wearing muggle clothing was repulsing, but so was the thought of spending two whole weeks in the same set of robes without any means to clean them.
Glancing over to his fiancé, Draco wondered if he should even be curious over the time Potter had to spend with his father. It was unsettling to hear the boy talking about his father as if they were all old friends and he feared the feelings that might arise if he would start thinking more about the time those two had to spend together. He needed to get rid of the curse and then he would finally be able to think about everything more objectively, but right now he wasn't able to. There was once again the monster coiling in his stomach, that green, evil monster, but not as badly as it had done when he had seen his fiancé with his friend on the bed.
Voices from the exit alerted him about the other's arrival, and as he looked back to his fiancé, he saw the boy happily waving them over and handing out the bought food as they came to a halt in front of him. He remembered what Potter had told him about the social aspect of food and he scoffed. As a Malfoy he knew all about social evening meals, his parents had always held a lot of parties, but it was nothing he would miss particularly. Of course, he was perfectly educated in the art of hosting, as it was expected of him and he could neither say that he liked nor hated those occasions; they were part of a Pureblood's life, a way to build social and political relationships. In fact, even the meetings with his friends could be viewed more under that category, they had never met like this group of Gryffindors to simply do something together and have fun. Slytherins worked like this: even an affair was a well plotted move to reach one goal or another; he would never delude himself into thinking that Pansy or Daphne came to their little visits without any goals. He knew that they were not advised to satisfy his needs, his good looks made sure of that, but first and foremost both wanted to become the next Lady Malfoy. They were even aware that only one of them could gain that title, but that was part of the game.
Pushing the thoughts about the two girls to the side, he noticed that the Gryffindors were about to leave for the muggle vehicle again. Potter was currently walking between the weasel and one of the twins and was talking animatedly.
"... Mione has looked up some spells and they should help with the setting up of everything. We can furnish our bedrooms today and do the rest tomorrow; it is already getting rather late."
Draco could not see much from where he stood, but he was sure that the twin was grinning right now as he placed an arm casually around Potter’s shoulders and said: "So, no kitchen and cooking again? Does that mean we get another of pizzas?"
The growl rose in Draco's throat without his permission as he saw the familiar and fairly intimate gesture. It had not been loud, but to his surprise, his fiancé's head had snapped up and in the next moment the boy was casually ducking out of the embrace, but the twin must have noticed it regardless.
"Oh sorry Harry, I forgot. Guess it's logical that you wouldn't like to be hugged if our dear Ronnikins isn't allowed to call you mate anymore."
Potter's ears gained a beautiful red finish and Draco was sure that the same beautiful pink dusting covered the boy's cheeks right now, as it had done earlier in the shop, and despite himself he found that he wished that he could be closer to the Gryffindor and see it.
"Yeah, I am sorry, but I can't help it..." the boy mumbled and ducked his head endearingly.
The twin chuckled and shook his head. "Nothing to be sorry about, you are in a difficult situation, but I really wish you would introduce your sugar daddy to us."
Draco nearly choked on his own spit. Did his father know what the twins were calling him? And how had they found out anyway? Potter had clearly not told them much, but something must have slipped the boy's mouth. The other twin joined the conversation and said: "I bet it is a hot Latino lover... maybe we should start trying to find out who it could be, George? I mean, we at least know that it cannot be someone from England. At least your pompous Council robes are good for something," the redhead snickered.
Draco lifted one of his elegant eyebrows. So, the twins had noticed Potter's robes? Well, he supposed that those two were the most intelligent of the entire redheaded bunch, and of course, they had instantly dismissed the idea that Lucius could be their friend's lover (he still refused to call himself or his father the boy's mate). But it was not really surprising that they would have dismissed the possibility, he would have as well if he had not known better.
His fiancé sighed loudly and he decided to listen again:
"I honestly would like to introduce you to him, but I can't..."
"Why not?" the one his brother had called George asked.
His fiancé shrugged. "He is older, and male and as famous as I myself am, and there is more of a reason why I can't tell you, but I am afraid everybody would freak out."
"Well our parents, and we, and I guess our dear Mione, at least know that you are the submissive, so there will be no surprise on that front, with the exception of Ron and our love-sick sister, of course," the one who had to be Fred mused thoughtfully. His brother nodded and added: "And we all know that you are some kind of creature, what else could there be?"
"Believe me, enough. But could we change the topic please?" Potter pleaded in an adorable tone of voice.
"Sure," the twins agreed in unison and one of them instantly changed the topic: "So, what is it with that Pizza, now?"
"I thought we could order Chinese takeout today, but we can order Pizza tomorrow for lunch if you want," Potter promised, and Granger, who had hung back joined in by saying: "Oh, I would love some Chinese food. As good as Hogwarts is, they never serve anything other than traditional English cooking."
The group turned left and Potter stopped next to a huge traffic light with some colourful lights at the top.
"We have to get to the other side of the street to take the bus back," he explained and pushed a button on the traffic light. Draco glared at the device and shuddered at the memory of the button he had thoughtlessly touched; he hated everything muggle and that would never change. Muggles were so primitive, it was simply disgusting.
A green manikin sprang to life on the traffic light opposite of them and his fiancé started walking again. As they were halfway across the street one of those ‘busses’ came into sight and suddenly Potter began running.
"Harry?" the Weasel called out questioningly, clearly confused about the behaviour of his best friend.
"Quick, our bus is coming!" He exclaimed and instantly everyone started running as well, like a group of stupid dogs which were blindly following their owner. Draco's mood dropped even further, but he quickened his pace as he saw the other's already entering the bus, he would not be forgotten somewhere in a muggle town. Potter was still paying for everyone as he entered as well, but the boy turned his head with a relieved smile on his face as he noticed him.
"I was afraid that I had lost you," he said and something deep inside Draco started tingling at the caring words, but outwardly he merely huffed. "No need to worry, Saint Potter, I know how to apparate," he sneered and walked to the far end of the bus where he chose the least dirty seat he could find, hoping for some peace, but luck was not on his side, because Potter, who obviously was afraid he would start feeling lonely, joined him a moment later. His fiancé only smiled at him and leaned back onto his own seat, before closing his emerald green eyes and silently started humming. Despite not wanting to, Draco felt himself relax after a moment. The warmth was radiating from the smaller boy, making his body tingle comfortably. For a moment, he wondered if he had also felt it on their first bus ride, but he had been too annoyed so he couldn't remember anything.
A small sigh escaped his lips and the urge to scoot closer to that heat overcame him. He had been feeling cold for nearly eight weeks now, since his involuntarily return to the living and had already given up on feeling different again, but here, next to him sat Potter, radiating heat as if the boy was a normal human being. Scoffing, he told himself that this was only more proof that Potter was in fact still human and could not be his mate. Nodding, he decided that he needed to concentrate on more of those facts again, or he would fall victim to his father's curse. The stupid spell was turning out to be stronger than he had realized in the beginning and he would need all of his concentration if he wanted to stay who he was, and not change into a love sick idiot.
Unfortunately, only a second later he found his eyes wandering over the delicate pale hand of his nemesis that lay perfectly casually on the boy's left knee; it was so easy imagining how that hand would softly and shyly grab his own. Scowling, Draco quickly closed his eyes to prevent them from ogling at Potter even more.
He was not sure how the Gryffindor managed it, but just before they finally needed to get out of the bus again, Potter nudged him. The raven looked somewhat sleepy and very cute (but Draco had of course not thought that), with his now even messier hair, slightly drooping eyelids and a tired, red flush on his round baby-cheeks, making him wonder even more how Potter had managed to wake up in time.
They were the last of their small group to exit, but as the others knew the way back to Potter's house by now, it did not matter that they strolled slowly behind them.
"I hope you were able to enjoy the day at least a little... or that it was at least not unbearable," Potter told him, his green eyes fixed on the pavement in front of him.
Draco only scoffed in return and said: "You forced me to drive in a horrible muggle-device twice and we spend nearly the whole day in an muggle shop, so what do you think?"
Truth to be told, the day had not been entirely horrible. True, the shop and the bus had been horrific, but... without his permission his mind wandered back to the smiles and laughter he had witnessed from Potter and a voice told him that those things would be worth much more than a day spent in an muggle shopping centre. His thoughts were interrupted by said raven saying:
"I am sorry, but you can just relax when we are back and I will deal with our bedroom."
Draco merely nodded, relieved that he would not have to do more manual labour, that kind of work was simply disgusting and beneath him.
Potter's terrifying pet awaited them in the front garden, lying lazily in the sun. How the 12 foot long, black creature had not yet drawn the attention from any neighbours was beyond Draco. He had honestly been terrified when he had first seen the creature at his fiancé's side. Normally he was not afraid of snakes, and the incident with the Hippogriff had been an act to harm one of Potter's beloved friends, but Nagini had been the Dark Lord’s familiar and he had heard many stories about the reptile devouring grown men in only a few minutes from his friends.
At the beginning of the last holidays, he had been angry that his father had not taken him to their resurrected Lord, and even though he denied it, he was glad that Lucius had not done it. He had seen the madness in the Dark Lord's eyes as he had called for him and his mother and tortured them to death and he was glad deep down, that he would not have to serve that mad man, but he still hated muggles because they destroyed all the old Pureblood customs. Instead of coming to their world and getting acquainted with the traditions of the wizarding world, the Purebloods had to abandon their traditions to make all the Mudbloods feel more welcome, and that was the main reason why there were so many who hated the Muggleborn and Halfbloods, and why he did not want to be fighting on Potter's side either.
Stepping into the small muggle house, he forced his mind to focus on the present again and ended his brooding. His fiancé was currently talking with his beaver friend while they pulled the many items they had bought from her handbag and laid them out on the floor of the living room.
Potter turned to his friends and once more instructed them; Draco had to grudgingly admit that his fiancé was a natural leader. He was instructing, but kind and answered many question before they had any chance of arising, and it slowly showed Draco why so many people trusted the small youth with their worries, fears and even lives. Potter was surrounded by an aura of trustworthiness, and in contrast to that old, meddling, barmy coot of an Headmaster, Potter was straight forwards and did not play games of riddles with the people who came to him, but simply started to do what had to be done.
As he watched the hoard of redheads, Lovegood and Longbottom pick up different boxes and slowly going upstairs into their bedrooms to start working, he gritted his teeth. He had to admit that his father's plan was brilliant; the spell Lucius had cast on him that forced a general attraction to Potter on him, combined with the days of close proximity to his fiancé, made him slowly see the Gryffindor in a different light, even though he tried to fight the end result.
Suddenly Potter stepped up to him, his small arms full of boxes and told him:
"I will go up into our room and start building everything up. If you want you can go into the garden or read or, I don't know; just feel free to do anything you would like to do." Potter blushed again and Draco's right hand twitched in an effort to lift up and cup the boy's soft looking cheek, but he clenched them into a fist and nodded stiffly before turning to the backdoor. Behind him, he heard Potter's soft steps fading away and his hand on the door handle twitched as the need to follow the boy overcame him once more.
Sneering at himself, he pushed the backdoor open and stepped into the garden. Potter's nightmare of a familiar still lay there, or maybe again, because she looked as if she might have been hunting in the time they had been away. How anybody would be willing to take the Dark Lord's familiar in he could not fathom, however, Potter at least seemed to have her under control. Eyeing the huge reptile, he carefully made his way over to the garden stretcher that stood to her left. The snake did not even open her eyes and he finally sat down with an annoyed huff as the piece of furniture groaned under his weight; it had probably been damaged by that whale of an uncle.
Closing his eyes, he tried to relax and enjoy what had to be one of the last warm days of the year. True, he did not feel the sun's heat anymore, but he had always enjoyed lying in the sun and relaxing. He shifted a little, trying to find a more comfortable position in the hard seat so that it would finally allow him to relax and forget Potter for a while, but neither his mind nor his body calmed down.
Potter would be alone right now, building up their new bedroom, or maybe he would not be that alone. The picture of beaver falling giggling onto the bed far too close to Potter flashed in his mind and he sat up with a jolt, his fangs already bared. In Slytherin House, they had always made jokes over the closeness of the golden trio, but those jokes suddenly seemed not so funny anymore. He himself had always been of the opinion that beaver would choose Potter in the end, for the many obvious facts such as fame, power and money, but Potter was his fiancé now... he was his. A low growl left his throat, but he squashed it quickly as he realized that his father's curse was once more acting and pushing him to react in ways he would normally never do. But still, that did not change the fact that he and Potter were engaged and any scandal with the beaver would reflect back on him as well.
With two determined strides he was back inside the small house and on his way up the stairs. Chatter and laughter came from the rooms to his left and right, but he ignored them as his mind was set on preventing a scandal that would ruin his name for all eternity.
He flung their bedroom door open and came face to face with a surprised raven who was holding one long side of their new bed with his right hand, while a foot was stabilizing another side as he helplessly tried to tighten the screws. Potter had to stretch and raise his head to even be able to see him over the bed parts and his thin arms looked all too fragile trying to hold them up. A pang of guilt (a feeling he chose to never experience) made Draco's heart stumble as he saw his small fiancé in that position. Was it not the man or dominant's duty to help their spouses with physically straining tasks? He might not be happy about this engagement to Potter, but he honoured the old Pureblood ways and the education his father had given him.
"Do you not know a spell for this?" He asked, motioning to the bed Potter was trying to build up for them.
"No, or I would be using it already," Potter huffed, clearly annoyed. Before the boy could ask what he wanted, Draco had already pulled his wand out and swung it once. The numerous pieces of the bed all rose into the air, placed themselves correctly together while the screws automatically fasten themselves in their holes. The spectacle was over in a minute and he directed the bed to the place where Potter had already banished the old bed.
Potter blinked stupidly a few times, as if not able to fathom that he had just helped him. Draco stared back, not knowing what he should say next; he never had helped his fiancé, at least not without an order of his father first. Luckily the decision was taken from him by Weasel's loud voice shouting:
"Dinner has arrived!"
Without saying anything in the end, Draco turned on his heels, bracing himself for yet another meal with the redheaded horde; at least he would not need to eat anything.
Downstairs he found Potter's friends already unwrapping many medium-sized boxes with strange looking food.
"Asian after all?" Came Potter's voice from behind him, and a moment later the boy flopped down directly next to him; the position felt oddly natural, to have the small boy sitting at his feet.
"The guy's wanted pizza again, but I thought a change would be good," the beaver explained with a smile before sitting down as well.
There was a silent pop as Potter’s House Elf appeared with two golden goblets, offering one to his young Master and the other to him. Draco sniffed absentmindedly at the blood, he still could not distinguish the scent of animal blood very well. Generally, whenever he compared himself with his father, he noticed how much weaker he still was, but maybe the vampire powers needed some time to build up.
"So, how far are you with your bed, Harry?" Longbottom's shaky voice pulled him from his musing.
"Draco helped me with a spell," his fiancé grinned as if he had saved the world and not helped with a bed.
"Don't tell me ferret did physical labour," the Weasel snickered, and Draco quickly snapped:
"Are you too stupid to listening? I used a spell. Besides, it was your undersized friend that was struggling with a huge double bed and not mine."
Satisfied, he saw the redhead shrink under his accusation and a strained silence fell over all of them until one of the twins cleared his throat and asked:
"So Harry, Hermione, what is this?" The twin pointed to the food, a frown on his face.
"It is Chinese takeout. We have fried noodles and rice, duck, shrimp, friend bananas with honey, Chop Sue and Satay Sauce," the beaver listed happily, before grabbing a pair of wooden sticks that lay in front of her. The others eyed her wearily as she started to eat with the things, of course, no weasel would ever know what chop sticks were, but he had been present at some business meetings of his father’s and had come to know important wizards from all over the world.
He was just contemplating whether he shouldn't eat something as well just to show off, when something pulled at his trousers' leg. Looking down, he met round, green orbs staring up at him.
"Won't you sit down, please?"
Without thinking about it he nodded and gracefully sat down on the floor next to his fiancé, his eyes still captured by the other's brilliant emeralds. They swirled like a million crystals, reflecting the light in a thousand shades of green as they innocently stared up at him. He felt himself falling into those green oceans, drowning in them. A strange, transcendent calmness settled over his body, freezing his mind and body. Then his heart thumbed painfully and an overwhelming hunger rose inside of his chest, he felt his sight getting sharper, taking in every smooth detail of Potter's beautiful, pale skin, every curve of his slender neck and every slight vibration of the boy's blood rushing through his carotid.
And then Potter shifted and the moment was broken. Draco blinked rapidly and quickly looked away, checking if anyone had seen them, but the Weasel-clan, Looney-Luna and good-for-nothing Longbottom were all eating and chattering. Turning to his goblet, he started sipping at the now cold blood, careful not to turn to Potter again during the whole meal. Unfortunately the Gryffindors were not as tired as they should have been after their long day and the evening stretched over the next two hours, and as he finally stepped into his and Potter's bedroom, he was annoyed with them all and especially with himself and his father.
Potter immediately rushed into the bathroom, his ugly red pyjamas in his hands and he used the time to quickly change as well, turn the lights off and climb into bed; he’d had enough of this day. His thoughts and emotion were like a whirlwind it was making him cranky. As his eyes started drifting close they were suddenly caught by the light from the door as Potter came back, but the boy closed the door quickly again and came over to their bed. He felt the bed dipping as the smaller teen climbed inside and settled down next to him. For a moment silence was all that could be heard, but then Potter softly asked:
"Draco, are you still awake?"
Draco contemplated simply not answering, but something inside of him forced his mouth to speak. "Yes, Potter," he answered, trying to sound like his usual, sneering self, but he suspected that he did not quite manage it. Bracing himself for another attempt of his fiancé at starting another heart-to-heart-conversation, he was taken aback when the Gryffindor simply said:
"Thank you for your help earlier. Good night, Draco."
Too shocked to react in any other way, Draco simply echoed, "Good night, Potter." Apparently the boy thought that they had gotten closer to each other during the past two days, but of course, that wasn't the case, and he swore he would rectify it the next day.
Soft breathing sounded to his left and despite the promise he had just made to himself, he turned around and looked at Potter. The boy was truly beautiful.
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A Different Kind of Hero