Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Smoke Among the Stars	By : WinterRaven Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 7501 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
“Take the virtue of the evening rain, but not its gossip...” – Terrance Hayes

Chapter Five – Firewhiskey

The night was chilly and bitter cold, the wind nipping at Harry’s flushed, worried face. He had been standing outside of the Hogs’ Head Inn for nearly half an hour, debating whether or not to enter its gloomy depths, to face Malfoy again. It was already past ten, and he was certain Malfoy was waiting inside. Harry imagined the blonde’s slim form bent over the dank bar, his refined fingers clasped over a mug of beer—no, something more sophisticated, perhaps a martini or a whiskey on the rocks—the liquid running smoothly down his throat, burning, burning…

Harry felt as though he were burning, feverish. He paced back and forth down the empty Hogsmeade street like a mad person, clicking his teeth together in cold and frustration. He was grateful it was so late into the evening, that few Hogwarts students were old enough to be allowed into bars, that no professors would be present either.

And as he paced, Harry cursed himself for the night before, feeling intense embarrassment at what he had said and done. Though he knew he shouldn’t regret it, he felt foolish and impulsive. He didn’t like that he had breached that invisible, unspoken physical barrier between he and Malfoy—

I touched him.

A touch, not in desperation, not in a life or death situation like they had been in months ago… a touch, not like in the Room of Requirement… a touch that wasn’t violent, but one that was meant to heal, meant to mend. The thought caused a jolt in Harry’s chest, his heart beating a little faster and his mind whirled, confused. But he made his decision in that cloudy moment. He didn’t know where the decision would put him and Malfoy, but he gritted his teeth against the chill and took a deep breath.

He turned around and moved with deliberate steps, one foot in front of the other pressing to the ground strongly. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his coat as he opened the door to the Inn.

~*~

The inside of the Inn wasn’t as Harry remembered it all those weeks ago—musty, dirty and unkempt. Like the entire Wizarding world, the establishment had undergone a facelift, enough of an improvement so that Harry was momentarily halted in his determination to step fully inside. The bar itself was cleaned and glossy; there were new stools, new flooring though it was still dim and mysterious. Harry glanced around quickly, soaking in the new surrounding.

There were two men sitting at the bar and the bartender behind serving them (though it wasn’t Aberforth Dumbledore. Harry did not recognize this new man—short, stocky, black hair and a face full of wrinkles), and the other two men were certainly not Draco Malfoy. A cluster of witches sat at the table nearest to the door, cackling and clinking their glasses together. Harry sighed, frustrated. Had Malfoy been messing with him? Playing a joke on coming to the Inn? He glanced around again, searching, searching…

And then he saw him. Harry felt his breath hitch inexplicably in his throat.

Draco was at the table in the most isolated corner of the bar, sitting so far away from the dim lighting that he was nearly cloaked in shadow. There were a few small candles littering the surface of the table, illuminating the blonde’s ivory skin, his high cheekbones. He looked more put together than the night before—his blonde hair slicked back as usual, his clothing all black and regal, a full suit. Harry suddenly felt underdressed, with his simple Gryffindor sweater and Muggle jeans, his old, ratty hand-me-down coat.

He approached Malfoy slowly, fidgeting nervously with the buttons on his coat.

Malfoy, however, did not acknowledge Harry immediately. Instead the blonde continued staring at his slender fingers, as if trying to find something hidden there.

“Punctuality isn’t your thing, is it, Potter?” Malfoy finally sneered in greeting. To Harry’s surprise, he held in his hand a pint of frothy brown beer.

“Sorry,” Harry grunted and he was lost for a moment—Malfoy had looked up and the two held each others’ gaze for far too long to be normal or comfortable. Harry mastered his breathing as he stared into Draco’s eyes, those intense eyes, almost on fire.

Harry blinked himself back to reality. He kept on his heavy peacoat and sat down in the chair opposite Malfoy. The table was so tiny that their knees touched underneath. Harry recoiled slightly but Malfoy merely smirked and took a long gulp of his drink.

“Care for something?” Malfoy asked as he polished off his pint.

“Er—” Harry started but Malfoy gave him a devilish grin. Harry noted the blonde’s face was slightly flushed, as though he had been drinking for a while, and Draco raised his hand in the air to call attention to the bartender.

The man came over quickly and Malfoy commanded for a bottle of a vintage drink that Harry didn’t catch the name of.

“Hey! I hope that isn’t expensive—” Harry started but Malfoy held up his refined hand.

“What does it matter? I’m paying for this Potter.”

Harry frowned and began to protest but Malfoy cut him off, his eyes flashing.

“I’m paying and that’s it. I invited you here. It’s only good manners that I cover the bill.”

“Fine,” Harry said stiffly, growing more uncomfortable. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, glancing around, watching as the bartender disappeared into a back room to find their bottle. Harry nervously asked, “What the hell did you order?”

“A bottle of 1911 Firewhiskey,” Malfoy murmured, pushing his empty pint aside. “Can you handle it, Potter?”

Harry snorted in annoyance but did not respond. Can I handle this?

The bartender returned quickly, clutching a dusty amber bottle and two shot glasses. He set them down on the table unceremoniously and walked away without another word.

“You know,” Malfoy said, leaning over so that his hand brushed close to Harry’s body, “this place might be cleaned up, but the service is still shit.”

Harry let out a small chuckle, watching carefully as Malfoy examined the bottle, uncorked it with expert skill and poured two full shots. He pushed a glass in Harry’s direction and Harry watched it with fear and disdain, almost regretting the fact that he was there. Did Malfoy expect him to get drunk? How could he expect them to bond so quickly? Harry blinked at the glass and up at Malfoy’s expectant face. The blonde was clutching on to his, holding the drink in the air as if ready to make a toast.

“Well?” Malfoy whispered.

Harry shakily grabbed his glass and clinked it with Draco’s; their eyes did not leave each other.

“To a new beginning, yes?” Malfoy said such a soft voice that Harry barely heard him over the other sounds and conversations in the bar.

He nodded and snapped his eyes shut as he tipped the alcohol to his lips, feeling a stream of burning liquid flowing down his throat. It settled in his stomach and sloshed there as he slammed the glass back to the table. When he opened his eyes again, he was stunned to see Malfoy pouring them another shot each. Draco gulped it down without a second thought and Harry reluctantly followed suit.

Fuck, he thought, feeling the burn intensify. Malfoy’s face was slowly turning pinker.

“You’re a novice at this, aren’t you?” Malfoy said in a cutting way, as he sat back in his chair, crossing his arms now.

“So what if I am?” Harry spat back.

“This'll be an interesting evening then,” Malfoy said, his eyes wandering to the bottle.

“You expect to drink this whole thing?” Harry asked incredulously, staring at the medium sized container awaiting their consumption.

Draco shrugged.

“I’m not sure what I expect anymore, to be honest,” the blonde whispered. “Not after last night’s little display of affection.” He put his slender hand over his chest in imitation of Harry the evening before.

“Fuck you,” Harry said dryly, but the words were automatic and he and Draco could not help but smile at each other. To Harry’s shock, Draco blushed deep crimson and hastily poured himself another shot, clearing his throat as he did so.

Am I…having fun?

“Pour me one too,” Harry commanded and Draco obliged him, smirking.

They toasted to nothing this time and drank quickly, knocking their glasses back to the table within seconds. The atmosphere between them had suddenly changed—the tension was seeping away and was becoming replaced with an odd sense of camaraderie and to Harry’s disbelief, comfort. It was almost as if this was so natural for both of them, to be sitting there, staring at each other with goofy, slightly drunken smiles on their faces, their eyes roaming each other greedily, taking in the sight.

“Tell me something about yourself,” Draco finally said, breaking the silence between them.

“Something,” Harry said stupidly and the two laughed out loud.

“C’mon, seriously, Potter—”

“Okay, okay,” Harry said hastily, uncrossing his arms. He took off his coat, feeling a sudden heat envelop him. Definitely the liquor, he thought. Harry cleared his throat and said, “My favorite animals are owls.”

“Owls?”

“Yeah. They’re such wise, majestic—”

“I ask you to tell me something about yourself and you tell me about owls?” Draco said in mock rage; a huge smile made his face glow and Harry felt his breath stop in his throat again, taken away with the joy before him.

“How come I’ve never seen you smile like that?”

“Like what?” Draco asked quickly.

“I… I don’t know… I mean, you just look… happy.”

Draco smirked. “Believe it or not, I am.”

“And why would that be?”

The blonde gave him a strange look.

“You and I have hated each other since we were kids,” Draco whispered. “So it’s nice to finally get to talk to you without trying to curse your face off.”

“You’re the one who started it!”

Draco snorted and averted his gaze, reaching out to the bottle again and pouring another drink. They both drank without questioning it and the burning in Harry’s body had turned into a numbing warmth, radiating through his skin, causing his cheeks to redden pleasantly, his pupils to dilate, his body to relax and move in toward Draco’s. He felt the fuzziness taking over—and while he had never been drunk before, he liked what this was turning into, this talk, this witty banter. He wished it had always been like this between them.

“You apologized last night, so now it’s my turn,” Malfoy said, thumbing his glass in clear nervousness. His eyes met Harry’s. “I’m sorry for my stupid behavior… I… I hope things can be better now.”

Harry nodded.

“I think that deserves another shot,” he whispered, his words slightly slurred.

Malfoy eyed him curiously.

“You’re going to end up puking all over my suit if we don’t take it easy.”

Harry laughed again.

“Probably,” he admitted, sighing deeply. He and Draco’s gaze caught once again and did not let go. “This might just be fun tonight.”

“Let’s hope so,” Draco said with a slight smile. He cleared his throat. “So any questions for me, Potter?”

Harry’s grin fell slightly. Even in this haze, even through the slowly seeping influence of the alcohol, he knew what question had been bugging him for weeks, what he had experienced nightmares over, constant thoughts.

“I do,” Harry said quietly; they were both leaning in to the point of seeming as though they would kiss, but they did not break the few inches of space between them. Their breathing was slow, labored and Draco’s eyes kept glancing down at Harry’s parted lips. “What did you do after the war?”

Draco blinked in surprise.

“What?”

“After the war,” Harry repeated in a small voice. “What did you do? What happened to you? You just…you disappeared.”

“I guess I did... My parents and I decided to lay low for a few months before making any public appearances,” Draco said slowly. “I mean, we were pretty shocked we were alive not to mention we…we weren’t sure how the public would receive us, given our pasts.” He sighed and ran a shaky hand through his slicked blonde hair. “I’m happy to say that most people were forgiving.”

“That’s…that’s good,” Harry whispered feebly.

“What about you?”

Harry rolled his eyes as he poured himself another shot. He had lost count quite a while ago. He swallowed the Firewhiskey first.

“Oh you know how it is for me,” Harry said, not bothering to contain the bitterness in his voice, eased out by the booze. “The ‘Boy Who Lived’, savior of the fucking world, followed everywhere. I had people throwing themselves at me, practically worshipping me in public. It was embarrassing and objectifying. I hated it.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco whispered.

Harry shook his head.

“No need to be,” he said quietly and felt a sudden urge to get up, to go. He didn't realize it came across on his face.

“You want to leave,” Draco said, matter-of-factly.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, wondering how on earth Draco could have figured it out, but the blonde smiled softly at him and to Harry’s utter surprise, the blonde reached over and rested his hand over his own.

“Don’t worry about it,” the blonde said kindly. “We can walk back and call it a night.”

He released his hand from Harry’s and called for the check. And as he paid, Harry said in his seat, numb and confused. His heart was racing wildly and the only thing he could think was, Why does Draco do this to me?

Make me nervous like this? Or make my heart hurt a little too much? Why does he make my breath stop?

“C’mon, Potter,” Malfoy said, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. The blonde stood up, buttoning his wool blazer. “Let’s go.”

Harry stood automatically and the two walked out of the Inn, Harry wrapping his coat back around himself. The two emerged into the cool night and the wind blew hard against them as they made the trek back to the Hogwarts grounds. Both were walking unevenly, and without realizing it, had latched arms with each other, as though they had always been that close.

Harry’s mind was strangely blank as the campus materialized before them, as they trekked back up the empty grounds, the only sounds of the wind in the night and their even breathing. Neither said a word to each other until they reached the entrance hall and Draco turned to Harry, his eyes flashing again.

“Come with me to my room?” the blonde asked.

“You have your own room?”

Draco nodded.

“Long story,” Draco said.

But Harry said nothing more. He let Draco lead him up flights and flights of stairs, down winding passages filled only with torchlight. When they reached the sixth floor corridor, Draco murmured a password to a suit of armor and it jumped aside, leading down a narrow hallway littered with closed doors.

At the end of the hall was Malfoy’s room. He magicked the door open with his wand and invited Harry in but before Harry could even soak in the space, Draco spoke again.

“Do they still bother you?” Draco asked suddenly as he closed the door behind him, and Harry glanced around the small, but cozy room, with its high windows and green curtains. Malfoy’s bed was in the left corner, as was his trunk and at the opposite end was his desk and another door leading to a bathroom. There were candelabras on the walls, lit and causing slight illumination.

“Who?”

“The people,” Draco said, leaning against a wall. “You know, the people you mentioned before. That would harass you on the street for being their ‘savior’.”

“Not really,” Harry said, staring down at his hands, pale and white in the dim light of Malfoy’s room. “I’ve made a point to keep to myself.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Harry’s head shot up.

“You’ve been alone a lot this year.”

“You have too,” Harry whispered.

“Looks like we have something else in common,” Draco said softly, his eyes boring into Harry’s. “But you’ve been quite alone. What happened to your girlfriend?”

Harry blinked, stunned.

“Girlfriend?” he asked.

“The Weasley.”

Harry frowned.

“She’s not my girlfriend—”

“Wasn’t she?” Draco pressed.

“A long time ago, yes,” Harry said in a gritted tone. “Not anymore.”

“It must have been more difficult for you then,” Malfoy said, with an odd trace of sympathy in his drunken voice. “Not having her, or anyone.”

Harry sighed.

“It’s been a lonely few months,” he said softly, staring directly into Draco’s eyes. The blonde nodded, his head swaying harsher than usual under the influence of excess alcohol.

“You know what solves that though,” Malfoy said back.

“What?”

“Fucking.”

Harry laughed before he could help himself—the sound of his laughter rang off the walls and bounced off his bones. In that moment, he had never heard something so funny, so absurd. Him? Fucking? He barely had time to think. The closest he had ever come to fucking was the fumbled session he had with Ginny that summer…

“Yeah, right,” was all he said but his laugh stopped in his mouth when he noticed how close Draco had gotten to him.

The blonde was peering at him curiously, nervously and with a twang in his heart, Harry saw Draco was suddenly overcome with a rare bout of shyness. His pale face was flushed and he was averting Harry’s gaze.

“Can I ask you something?” Draco whispered, the feel of his words rushing onto Harry’s skin.

“Go ahead,” Harry murmured, not blinking, waiting with bated breath.

“Have you ever?” Draco whispered as he moved closer. “Have you ever fucked?” The words were against Harry’s lips and Draco’s hands were now trembling, resting onto Harry’s hips. His breath was hot and burning with the remnants of their last drinks.

“No,” Harry murmured, his eyes locking with Draco’s dark grey ones. And before he could stop himself he confessed, “But I want to with you.”

“I want to with you too,” was Draco’s abrupt response.

“You do?” Harry gasped in disbelief.

Draco nodded, his blonde hair falling about his forehead.

“I want to kiss you so badly,” Draco murmured close to Harry’s mouth, but they did not seal the space quite yet. “I’ve wanted to for years.”

“Why haven’t you?” Harry asked, his hands now finding Draco’s and resting over them. They were both shaking.

“I didn’t think you were gay.”

“I… I don’t know what I am…” Harry said uncertainly. “But…but that doesn’t matter to me right now.”

Draco sighed and Harry closed his eyes.

“It’s up to you,” was what Draco finally said. Harry couldn’t help but smile—even in this state, Malfoy was being cautious. Old habits die hard.

Harry opened his eyes, was met with that beautiful, fiery gaze, with a burn as strong as the Firewhiskey that tore through him, that told him exactly what he wanted, perhaps what he had always wanted.

“Then kiss me,” Harry whispered. “Kiss me.”

TBC

A/N: Thanks to all for the many ratings and reviews. I want to particularly thank Silverkitten for your lovely review! That made my day! More soon.
- 4
- 5
- 6
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Smoke Among the Stars