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The Stag and The Snake	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9713 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
- 30
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- 32
Chapter 19 – Spontaneity
Harry fell back onto Draco's bed, immediately grabbing a pillow and burying his face in it. “I can't take it anymore,” he mumbled, his words muffled, “either we're gonna have to elope, or I'm gonna murder your father.” The past weeks had been less than fun, the majority of it being he and Draco trying to keep the ceremony's guest list as short as possible, while Lucius was more interested in inviting every member of the Ministry of Magic. Narcissa, Remus, and Sirius had to intervene several times before they came to blows.
“Come on, we'll work it out,” Harry felt the bed dip as Draco stretched out next to him, and plucked the pillow from his hands. Harry turned and smiled halfheartedly at him, while Draco watched him with a look of amusement. Draco had not been exempt from the shouting matches, and Harry had walked in on more than one heated argument between him and his parents, though they had been quick to quiet down whenever Harry appeared. It was strange, but he was too worn out by his own arguments to bother feeling overly curious.
Draco leaned in and kissed him gently, then reached for his side table and pulled out a small glass bottle from one of the drawers. He coaxed Harry onto his stomach, while Harry enthusiastically peeled off the T-shirt he wore, tossing it in the general direction of his trunk.
Harry grabbed the pillow again and rested his head against it as Draco drizzled warm, scented oil along his spine. Harry let a soft moan escape his lips as Draco's hands went to work, massaging out the knots of stress his future Father-In-Law had caused earlier that day. “He's just used to things going his way,” Draco said after a moment, his hands slowly moving up towards Harry's shoulders as he spoke, while he was perched lightly against Harry's jean-clad buttocks. “People don't stand up to him often—he's not used to it.”
“Yeah well, if he doesn't get used to it soon I swear I'll drag you to a Muggle chapel and get the whole thing over with.” Draco chuckled above him, but didn't comment one way or the other. Harry relaxed into the soft coverlet, his eyes fluttering shut. To say his last few weeks had been mad would be a massive understatement.
Following the publication of the article, Harry and Draco were bombarded with owls from complete strangers as well as old classmates and friends. Each letter extended their heartfelt apologies for what the couple had gone through, each one more sappy and apologetic than the next. After a point, they began to turn away the owls, lest the Malfoy Manor, as well as Sirius and Remus's flat begin to resemble the Hogwarts Owlery. Of everything that had happened following the article, Harry felt that Ron's attitude turnabout had to be the best part of it. Harry had a feeling that Hermione had something to do with him finally coming to his senses.
“Mate, I...I just, I thought Malfoy was exaggerating when he told us about...y'know.” Ron had been sitting on the sofa in Sirius and Remus's flat, Hermione next to him, with Harry and Draco occupying the armchairs. Harry had known that Draco had given Ron and Hermione an abridged version of what Harry had gone through, leaving the details for Harry to share or not after he'd more or less recovered. The article saved Harry having to tell them more of the gory details in person, though he was still not entirely sure if that had been a good move or not. Draco's fingers tangled with his, and while Ron had cast his ring a fleeting glance, to his credit he was trying, or as much as Ron reasonably could, and didn't comment.
“Yeah, I wish,” Harry had replied with a bitter smile. “No, the whole article is true, every word.” At this admission, Ron had blanched, while Hermione had looked on with a small frown. The exchange confused Harry, and his expression shifted to a scowl.
“Why would you think I'd make anything like that up? Do you seriously think I'd trust someone who was a Dark Wizard in any capacity? Seriously?” Ron's ears went rather red and he looked away, but Hermione nudged him sharply, and his gaze snapped back to them.
“No, I know you better than that, at least, I thought—think I do. I think part of it was the whole thing with Hermione, sort of—er—made me not really see clearly.”
“That is an understatement, Weasley,” Draco's comment got him something of a halfhearted glare, Ron's hand jerking as though he wanted to go for his wand, but thought better of it.
At the memory, Harry felt a little more of his tension fade away. While the conversation was far from fun, it had at least cleared the air, and Ron was back to being halfway decent to his fiancé. Harry's mind shifted back to the present, the warm weight of Draco on him, and his hands on his back. He let out a soft moan, his thoughts shifting to the more immediate past, as well as the stacks and stacks of plans they'd attempted to go through that day. Most of the planning had devolved into verbal boxing matches between Harry and Lucius, while everyone else looked on with varying levels of interest. It occurred to Harry that while they'd been at the planning for some weeks, Draco hardly put in his opinion.
“When you think of our ceremony,” Harry said following the sudden thought, his words slow and almost slurred; from Draco's practised hands effectively turning him to jello, “what do you picture?” Draco's hands paused momentarily, then resumed their gentle movements.
“In the past, I may have been with my father,” Draco began, his thumbs rubbing slow circles against the small of Harry's back. “Something big, flashy. But now...” his paused again, Harry felt him shift slightly in a way that made him guess that he probably shrugged. “Our track record with big parties isn't exactly a great incentive to have another. I'd be happy if it was just us and our respective parents.” Draco's oil-slicked hands slipped beneath the waistline of Harry's jeans, and he moaned softly.
“At least we're on the same page.” He lifted his hips to help Draco peel him out of the garment.
“We could always just curse my father until everything's over, instead of murder. Less paperwork.” Harry chuckled as he rolled over to meet Draco's lips in a kiss.

~*~

Even after being back at the Manor for several weeks, Draco was still unaccustomed to waking to the sight of the dark canopy of his bed, instead of the pale white and blue of Harry's bedroom. While part of the reason of moving to the Manor was more space to plan—the flat had felt uncomfortably full with six people crowded around the tiny kitchen table. The disdain his parents showed for the space made it no easier, and Draco decided it might be best to move their so-called base of operations over to the Manor. The other half of it was for Harry to re-acquaint himself with Draco's parents.
Draco had no idea what his father expected to see in Harry, but his meek shyness was completely gone, and he stood up to his father's manipulation attempts at every turn. Draco suspected it had something to do with having to deal with Snape for five years, the perfect embodiment of Slytherin house if he'd ever seen one. Lucius was most displeased that he couldn't get his way, and while Draco always held deep respect for his father, seeing him being taken down a peg or two was highly entertaining. For all the arguments and temper-tantrums however, they could all agree on one thing: They wanted the Bonding to take place as soon as possible. He and Harry had waited for this for five years after all, and they saw no reason to wait.
Now in the haze between sleeping and waking, Draco's gaze fell on the naked and delightfully dishevelled form of his fiancé. Harry was curled almost in a foetal position, his glasses leaving red indentations against his temples, and his hair sticking up much more than usual. The entire sight made Draco's heart speed up, and he shifted forward to comb his fingers through the thick, dark locks.
The gentle contact was enough to rouse him, and after blinking several times, his brilliant green eyes found Draco. He smiled sleepily, and shifted closer to him. “Morning,” he said, while Draco enjoyed the delightful feel of skin against skin.
“You ready for another shouting match with my father?” Harry chuckled softly at the question, but instead of answering properly, he buried his face in Draco's chest and promptly went back to sleep. Or, at least Draco thought he was asleep, until he felt Harry begin to press gentle kisses across his chest, pausing to suckle on his nipple, causing Draco to tilt his head back and groan softly. The contact caused his cock to stir, and press half-hard into Harry's thigh.
“Well it is a good morning after all,” Harry said against his chest, his hand trailing down his abdomen and towards his hardening member.
“You're insatiable,” Draco muttered, his peaceful smile fading from his face when he gasped sharply, bucking feebly into Harry's hand.
“You say that like it's a bad thing,” Harry chuckled as he slowly stroked him, and Draco groaned in frustration at Harry's deliberate leisurely pace. Harry's mouth attached itself to his nipple again, twirling over the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue. Draco reached up and clutched at Harry's hair, whimpering from the sensations running through him. Then just as suddenly, Harry stopped.
Draco's eyes flew open, and his mouth dropped open to utter an angry protest. He realized suddenly that Harry had other plans this morning than just a casual hand job between lovers. Breaking his hold on the nipple, he gently coaxed Draco onto his stomach. He turned enthusiastically, gasping sharply as he felt the distinctly uncomfortable sensation of a lubrication and preparation charm rush through him. Much less enjoyable than other methods of stretching, but Draco could tell Harry had lost all his patience in the fog of his arousal.
Draco groaned as he felt his entrance breached by Harry's delightfully thick cock, and he buried his face in the rumpled bedsheets, slightly muffling his noises of pleasure. Harry groaned behind him, moving his hips in awkward, hurried thrusts. Draco moved his hand to his own erection and stroked himself in time with Harry's delicious assault on his backside, and it took very little time for their intermingled cries of orgasm to reverberate around the room.
The pair fell into the bed in a tangle of limbs, both breathing deeply as they came down from the high. “A very good morning,” Harry said with a grin, and Draco chuckled.

~*~

After showering and dressing, they joined Lucius and Narcissa for breakfast. It was much more formal than what Harry was used to, and the conversation was always stiff and uncomfortable.
“Draco, Harry.” Lucius nodded to each of them in turn as they sat across from the older couple at the antique oak table. Harry still felt a little strange at hearing Lucius refer to him as 'Harry' instead of 'Mr Potter', but he also hoped that maybe it was a sign that the man no longer saw him as a child.
“Good morning Mr—Lucius,” Harry felt his face grow slightly warm. Lucius had asked that Harry address him by his first name more than once, but he was still trying to break the habit of referring to him as Mr Malfoy. “Narcissa,” Harry nodded to her, and she offered a small smile in return.
“Did you sleep well?” She asked, as simple but rich breakfast fare appeared in the centre of the table. Lucius served himself, then everyone else followed.
“Er—yes, thank you.” Harry helped himself to a crumpet and black coffee, hyperaware of his sub-par table manners as he watched everyone else. He knew they weren't trying to make him feel out of place, but it was difficult to not feel like that in a place like the Malfoy Manor.
“Narcissa and I have been discussing your wishes for a small celebration,” Lucius said suddenly, wiping blackberry compote from the corners of his mouth with a napkin, “we will concede to your request, provided you agree to perform your bonding in accordance to the Old Ways of the Malfoy line.” The phrase gave Harry pause, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Draco roll his eyes.
“And what do these...Old Ways entail?” The term sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it.
“You will not be asked to sacrifice a virgin or eat a live squirrel, so you can stop looking so nervous Mr Potter,” though Lucius spoke evenly, there was a distinct edge to his tone, and Harry barely managed to stop himself flinching at the harsh words.
“Sorry, I didn't mean any offence,” for once, Harry genuinely meant it. Lucius's expression seemed so soften somewhat as he watched him.
“The Old Ways are simply the procedure in which the Bonding ceremony is performed. A Priest and Priestess will be present, and you will be required to memorize a few lines of ritual verse. We can go over the specifics of the ritual with you, and I doubt that your parents will have any objections to it. As I recall, their own Bonding ceremony was rather similar.” At the reference to Remus and Sirius, Harry's head snapped up in surprise.
“Really?” Remus and Sirius rarely talked about their own Bonding, save what Sirius had blurted out the night that Draco had proposed.
“It is a rather common practice among old Wizarding families,” Narcissa said patiently. “It is not difficult, nor is it uncomfortable.” Harry turned to Draco, and arched a brow as though to ask, what do you think? Draco paused for a moment, then nodded his head minutely.
“All right, that's fine with me.”
Finally getting Lucius and Narcissa to agree to a small ceremony seemed almost like the break they had been waiting for, and the plans ran so smoothly following the agreement that it left Harry feeling a little thrown. Things never went so well for him, and Harry kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never did. That in itself was suspicious, though he had a feeling that much of the lack of argument may have been one-sided, as he occasionally caught Draco having heated, whispered arguments with his parents. Whatever it was about, Draco brushed Harry off muttering, “it's not important, don't worry.” Except the sentiment only heightened his concern, instead of the reverse.
Whatever it was about, it came to a head a week later.
Harry was walking down the stairs to the main level, intent on seeking out a House Elf for a snack to fortify him for the afternoon ahead, when he heard Narcissa Malfoy's voice shriek, louder than he'd ever heard it. “YOU DID WHAT? THAT IS ABSOLUTELY UNACCEPTABLE! HOW DARE YOU—DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY, STOP RIGHT THERE!” Draco burst out of the parlour, his mother's shrieks following him into the hall, though he looked rather pleased with himself, instead of distressed. He looked up and saw Harry, and his eyes lit up in a very Fred and George Weasley sort of way.
“Harry,” Draco grabbed him by the upper arm and turned him around, “come on, we need to talk.” He hustled Harry back up the stairs and into his bedroom, Harry's sputtering of questions falling on deaf ears.
“What is it?” He said breathlessly as Draco pulled him inside, closed the door, and locked it with a flick of his wand. “You're making me nervous,” Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek, falling into a sitting position on the bed. Sure, there were a number of available chairs scattered around the large room, but Draco's bed was sinfully comfortable.
“No, it's nothing bad, I mean, not really.” Draco still looked mildly anxious but pleased with himself about something, and his words did little to comfort Harry.
“Okay, then what is it?”
“Well,” Draco sat next to him, reaching out to briefly squeeze Harry's thigh. “my parents informed me that they expect us to move in here semi-permanently, following the honeymoon.” He pressed his lips into a thin line, and Harry felt his gut twist uncomfortably. It was a small comfort that Draco looked no more pleased about this than he did. “So I er...did something.” He smirked a little, and Harry felt some of his tension drain away. In recent weeks, it seemed as though Draco had made it his life's mission to infuriate his parents at every turn.
“What did you do this time?” Harry grinned as he said it, and Draco mirrored the expression.
“Well...” Draco's grin widened, and he reached into his trouser pocket, and pulled out a simple silver key on a ring. “I may have bought us a house.” Harry felt his eyes bulge and his jaw drop open. A house?! “If you don't like it we can annul the contracts and look elsewhere,” he added quickly, “but...yeah, my parents aren't too pleased.” Following his words his face went a little pink, and Harry couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out of him.
“You're too much. I mean, what possessed you to buy a house? Most compulsive shoppers buy shoes, Draco.” His blond partner chuckled, and he flopped back against the coverlet. Harry joined him at once, more amused that annoyed at him. Some aspects of his rich-boy upbringing were ridiculous, but strangely endearing at the same time. They both reached over at the same time and twined their fingers together. Draco's thumb gently danced across the back of Harry's hand.
“Pretty much you. I didn't want you to be forced into living here. And I know you well enough to know that you wouldn't want to. I mean, I love my parents, but I know how they are.” Harry nodded, more in understanding than agreement, while he draped his free arm casually across Draco's chest. “I just wanted to have a place that was really ours. It's nothing insanely extravagant, but there's a backyard and space for guests to stay over, and maybe...rooms for children?” He sounded nervously hopeful, and Harry leaned up to kiss him.
“It sounds perfect.” He didn't want to spoil the moment by objecting to the tentative question. Of course, he wanted to be a dad...someday. Definitely not yet.
The following day, Draco took him to their new house. As promised, it was nothing over-the-top. If Harry were to label it, he'd call it upper-middle class. It was a simple two-storey redbrick house with a slanted roof, dark brown shutters, and thick flowerbeds all around the perimeter. The cobbled walkway up to the door was lined with country mallow and alkanet, and Harry marvelled at how the floral scents did not disturb him as much as they once would have. That fact alone made Harry feel extremely proud of himself.
“Come on,” Draco said with an excited grin. He grabbed onto Harry's hand and led him up to the front door and tapped it with his wand, and it yielded to him at once. They stepped over the threshold, and Harry felt as though he had walked into a photograph from one of Aunt Petunia's interior design magazines.
The main level was open concept, with a front room to one side with two plush sofas around a coffee table before a white fireplace, where a fire was already crackling merrily. The floors were herringbone hardwood, and the walls a rich maroon. The front hall in which they stood held an ornately carved wooden cloak hanger, and the walls were a mixture of white and forest green, with light fixtures attached to the high ceilings similar to a chandelier, but not as ornate.
On the left-hand side of the main level Harry could see a set of french doors that led to a dining room and kitchen, as well as a curved staircase that led to the second floor.
“God Draco, it's gorgeous.” Harry breathed the words as he kicked off his shoes and stepped forward. He could feel Draco watching him as he rested a hand against the mahogany banister. Even with the sleek, varnished wood under his fingers it didn't seem real. He turned back to him, “It's really ours?” Draco's face split into a smile.
“It really is.”
Draco spent the next hour giving Harry the grand tour. Harry wanted to ask how much the place had cost, but he kept the question to himself. The rest of the house was just as spectacular, as Draco showed him around the dining room, kitchen, bathrooms, and bedrooms. Everything seemed to teeter between extravagant and middle-class, as though Draco wanted to spoil him with the best of the best, but also took into consideration what sort of place would make Harry feel at ease. The thought alone filled him with a delightful warmth that made him grin from ear to ear as he was dragged from room to room. The last thing Draco showed him was the backyard.
They stood on a wide wraparound porch stained a dark, reddish brown, with a set of steps that led down to a wide expanse of green grass. A high fence of similar wood encased the property, keeping the spying of any muggle neighbours to a bare minimum. The farthest third of the yard had been filled with a garden, but what it normally contained Harry couldn't be certain. Given that it was almost December, it was little more than hard-packed dirt. Closer to the house was a towering alder tree, which cast a comfortable shade over half of the porch.
“Do you like it?” Draco's tone carried the faintest quiver of worry. “Because if you don't we can just—” But whatever Draco had intended to suggest was cut short as Harry drew him in for a kiss, overwhelmed with the gift that his fiancé had impulsively bought for them.
“I love it.”
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The Stag and The Snake