Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Ancient and Noble Houses	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 29877 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfic.

Chapter List
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Chapter Thirty-Three—Stirrings of Rebellion
            “Where are you going, Potter?”
            Harry closed his eyes. He had hoped that he would have some time to himself after they had left the library. Nothing in the books so far had looked like a retelling of the ordeal of the Black house, and Hermione had said firmly that she had homework to do. Ron had trailed after her, giving Harry an apologetic smile.
            And Harry could finally go flying. It was the only thing he could think of that might soothe the crashing, colliding cacophony in his head.
            Instead, Malfoy was behind him. Harry told himself to think of him that way, not as Draco. Malfoy the rival, Malfoy the pain in the arse. Then there was the chance that he would manage to escape this tormenting feeling of longing, and escape dragging Draco—Malfoy, damn it—further into the web.
            “To the Quidditch pitch,” he said, his voice rising. Not that it wasn’t easy to raise it, from the deep growl that seemed to have taken it over, when he thought of the way Draco had rejected the chance to go free. “You don’t have to come.”
            “But I might want to,” Draco said, as neatly as if he had expected Harry’s response and prepared the counter, and fell into step beside him.
            Harry set up off the corridor, keeping his eyes straight ahead. The less time he spent looking at Malfoy, the more time he could spend with his mind free. He was already considering ways that he might be able to confront the house. Persuade it to free its hold over him.
            He didn’t think burning it down would work. It had its own magical defenses, and it would probably twist his thoughts around and convince him that he had to burn it with himself inside or something. But Kreacher might be an option. Harry wouldn’t even have to torture him, he thought; Kreacher would be eager and proud to share the information on how to become a proper Black heir with Harry.
            “Potter.”
            Harry whipped around. He hadn’t been ignoring Draco deliberately. He had only walked along and done what he could to withdraw into his own head. How dare Draco sound as if Harry had committed some great crime by not hanging on his every word, or responding to his inane line about wanting to come with him?
            Draco stood in front of him, his hands locked behind his back. He tilted a little backwards when Harry loomed up into his face, but didn’t retreat. He didn’t even seem intimidated, if the laughter that danced in the back of his eyes was any indication.
            Harry started to reach out, and felt as though there was a web yanking at his hand. He pulled it back with a grimace. That bloody vow. Make the attempt to touch Draco without permission, and it had to remind him of its existence.
            But it hadn’t reacted when he reached out with the house’s influence, Harry was almost certain. That had been all Draco. That might make the house’s influence the best weapon he had left in this unequal contest.
            A second later, Harry closed his eyes and put his hand to his forehead. But he didn’t want to influence Draco. He didn’t want to use the house as a weapon. He didn’t even want, with all of himself, for Draco to see that he would be better off without Harry and leave him alone. He wanted him close, wanted to touch him, wanted to convince Draco that they belonged together and he could worship Draco…
            But he didn’t want that at the price of Draco’s life, or sanity, which seemed to be what the Black house was preparing him for. He wanted Draco free, laughing, with his mind intact and his future secure. That would be worth all the treasures that the Black house might give him, or a single moment of Draco pinned beneath him with fear in his eyes.
            “Potter?”
            Draco’s voice was gentler, softer, and he had come closer. Harry made himself lift his head, and speak before he thought. It was true that he had no idea about what should come next, but it was possible that Draco could help him, as long as Harry didn’t do something stupid within the next few minutes.
            “I want you gone, so you can be safe. I want you near, so that you can help me. And be with me.” Harry turned his head, and whatever Draco saw in his eyes, it wasn’t what he had been expecting, because he froze and stared at Harry. “And I want you in my bed, and in the house with me, and here at Hogwarts with the ordeal over with and the house consuming me, if that’s what’s necessary to make you happy. I don’t understand what I feel. I don’t want anything right now except a clear head.”
            Draco stared at him. Harry couldn’t be sure, not with the miasma swimming across his perceptions, but he thought he was stunned.
            Harry turned around to walk away. He had to do it now, while he still could.
            And then—Draco touched him.
            Of his own free will. Reaching out so that Harry didn’t have to be the one to initiate the touch and risk the wrath of the vow. Harry came to a stop and rocked in place, his eyes shut. The warmth from Draco’s hand spread through him and spiraled up to his heart, and there was no chance, now, that he could call Draco Malfoy. There was nothing left but the connection between them, sweet and sounding in his ears like a great bell.
            Harry turned around. He had no idea what was in his face this time, either, but Draco crowded closer instead of away, and that was the greatest blessing Harry could ask for right now. He found himself tilting his head back, opening his mouth, begging without words for Draco to touch him, bless him, pour something into him.
*
            Draco had never known he could have Harry Potter like this, all but begging for Draco to take him.
            The many, many meanings of the word take had never occurred to him before this, either.
            With his skin tingling, his fingers almost shaking with the sensation, Draco touched Potter, curving a hand around his arm, around his shoulder. Potter leaned towards him, sideways like a pendulum, his mouth fluttering further open. Draco thought of what he could stick in there, and licked his lips, face hot.
            “Please,” Potter whispered.
            Does he have any idea what he’s begging for? Probably not, Draco had to answer himself. For that matter, he wasn’t sure how this had developed so fast, Potter swaying into him and practically pleading for a kiss, while Draco stood next to him, furiously interested and trying not to be.
            “Let me stay with you,” Draco whispered. If Potter was in the mood where he would agree to anything right now, Draco would be a fool not to use it to press his own advantage. “Let me help you with the quest to break free of the house.”
            “The…quest…”
            Draco raised his eyebrows. Maybe Potter didn’t recognize the word in the trance state he was in. “The quest to help you free, find some version of the ordeal in fairy tales, and learn to recognize it so it doesn’t consume you,” he all but murmured in Potter’s ear, his fingers sliding up this time to Potter’s jaw. It was unexpectedly soft. Draco had thought he could break his fist on that firm chin, but right now it was as shaky as the rest of him. “Let me stay.”
            “What—why?” Potter looked as if he was trying to gain some mastery of himself back, but it was hard when his eyes were half-closed and he needed Draco’s help to stand.
“Because I want to,” Draco said. And no one tells me what to do. That part could remain unspoken.
Potter swallowed, or tried. Draco didn’t even think the motion went all the way down his throat, it was so dry. Fascinated, he drew Potter closer and closer to him, one hand on his shoulder, his eyes locked on Potter’s face. He couldn’t look away.
Potter took a long, dusty breath and opened his eyes to look up at him. Draco leaned nearer.
“Let me stay,” Draco whispered. “Let me stay and I’ll touch you again.” He didn’t think he had to be any more specific than that. He was the one with the power at the moment. Potter was the one who wanted Draco to touch him. That meant Draco could ask for whatever he wanted and Potter would grant it, as long as Draco stood with at least one hand on his shoulder.
            Potter’s eyes flickered to Draco’s lips, and the longing in them made Draco remember that odd little dance in the Slytherin common room. He licked his lips, and Potter’s gaze, this time, followed the motion of Draco’s tongue.
            “Come on,” Draco whispered. “It’s not so hard, is it? To do what I want? To let me join you?”
            And the moment trembled, flickered like light off the pendulum that Potter so resembled at the moment. Hung.
*
SP777: I usually get e-mails for reviews, although not always. I don’t get them for a story being rated.
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Ancient and Noble Houses