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The Volunteer	By : mrsmilfoy Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 11615 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all affiliated characters are property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit from my drabbles.

Chapter List
- 4
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Chapter Five: Bloody Always

Having an affair, Harry discovered, was an intoxicating and intimidating experience. He felt at the whims of fate, most days, effectively cowed by their situation to await Narcissa's beckoning. Not that her beckoning was lacking. In fact, he often wondered if he wasn't truly equipped to maintain her pace.

They spent most evenings together in her room, the arrangement being Harry came after supper and so long as the corridor was clear. He still didn't stay the night, but at least she didn't toss him quite so roughly out on his arse. In fact, more often than not, she seemed rather reluctant to let him go; her arms lingered around his neck, and her lips lingering near his own. He didn't encourage or discourage the lingering. He could feel in her a need to maintain distance, but that need seemed to struggle with a desire to feel tenderness.

And Harry had to confess his own desires were shifting dangerously, as well, so he tried to maintain their affair as she desired it. Quiet. Quick. Secret. Anonymous.

On a Wednesday afternoon, she found him in an abandoned consultation room on the fifth floor. He'd just finished dusting it when he felt the tingle of wards raising behind him. She was already shedding clothes when he turned, and possible discovery was a non-issue when he took her violently on an abandoned examination table.

Private luncheons in her office – those wherein no eyes saw them pass the conservatory – consisted of pleasantly acrobatic sex on the desk, her chair, the guest chair or the windowsill.

They took the occasional risk, yes, but Harry felt that if she'd been truly concerned with propriety she would have avoided kissing and groping in the lift, or letting him hike her in the conservatory's doorframe til her legs wrapped round his hips, or brushing her fingers across the front of his trousers while she covered the action with a strategic parchment. She wasn't stupid. She was just…

"In lust," she breathed.

Harry slowed his thrusts. "Is that what this is?" He kissed her arched neck. These were his favorite encounters. The scheduled evening visits in her bed, quiet and intimate and blessedly horizontal. This way, he could take his time, experience her every reaction to the fullest, enjoy every inch of her body and momentarily pretend they were making love.

She stroked his buttock with her foot. She was able to caress him with nearly every part of her body, agile and compact, making Harry feel like he could contain all of her within his embrace. And he held her very tightly when he fucked her, afraid at any moment she would escape like a nymph. But she curved to him with no intentions of escape.

"Gods, you make me feel…"

He cradled her face, looked down on her straining, pleasured features. "I make you feel what?"

She kissed his lips sweetly – something she rarely did even at the height of her enjoyment. "Everything," she whispered.

"Yeah?" He angled to nudge her thighs a bit wider and shallow his thrusts.

"Yes!" She tossed her head.

"Then come for me," he growled.

And she did.

After, she stretched like a cat beside him, groaning and punctuating the action with a mew. He smiled at her, stroked the round of her left breast. "You're really beautiful when you come, you know."

She chuckled. "You say the sweetest things. All people look like their closest ape cousin when they come, Harry."

"Do I?"

She considered. "Not exactly. You always look like…like an explorer who's found the lost city of Something-or-Other."

"I've never heard of Something-or-Other." She was amenable to some cuddling tonight it seemed, so he sidled up against her casually. "But I do feel like that. Sort of. It just feels so different every time, I guess."

"What does?"

"This. Us."

She turned against him and his hip felt the stickiness of her thigh. "It does, doesn't it?" Her gaze was wistful, and her fingers traced his features delicately. He closed his eyes, the touch making him peaceful and sleepy. "Don't do this to me. Please."

His eyes opened to find tears in hers. "What?"

But she only shook her head. Collected herself on a deep breath and rolled away. He propped as she cinched her dressing gown around her waist. "It's quiet," she murmured. "You should go."

He'd gotten too close to something again. It had happened more than once in the last few weeks. But he knew better than to argue. "Right." He pulled on his clothes, listening to water running in her bath. At least now she bade him a proper good-night.

Sure enough, she emerged from the loo to kiss him at the edge of his mouth. "Good evening, Harry."

"You, too."

"Perhaps lunch tomorrow?"

He smirked. "Of course."

"We'll meet in the office, then. Just in case."

He nodded. 'Just in case' meant 'just in case any of the girls are about.' A few times they'd had to avoid a liaison if any of the other volunteers saw him malingering. Harry was fairly certain they were safely secretive. Fairly. Sometimes, Cho looked at him in a way that said she suspected something…

As always, he entered his room with a sigh of relief. Another night undetected. He rubbed his face tiredly. His fingers still smelled like her, but he didn't mind, and he was too tired for a shower. He stripped and climbed into bed, set his wand on the bedside table.

Ginny's latest letter fluttered to the floor when he withdrew his hand. He rolled to retrieve it, held it for a moment before setting it back on the table. Tomorrow. I'll answer her tomorrow. He set his glasses atop the missive. She knows I'm busy…If he hadn't been so damned exhausted, the guilt might have kept him awake.

The next morning he worked deliveries with Cho. Bulk potions were often too sensitive for elf magic, so it took caring hands to make sure they arrived at their destinations. The fact that there were so many was a sad testament again to the war's toll.

They worked steadily together and were quiet for the most part, so it was a surprise when Cho cornered him with their cart in the potions storeroom. "Harry."

"Yeah?" He was holding two bottles of Boil-Eeze and probably looking ridiculous.

"I want to ask you something."

Oh fuck. He nodded calmly despite the pattering nuisance in his chest. "Alright."

She bit her lip and looked nervous. "I don't want to offend you."

Definitely oh fuck. "It's alright, Cho. You know you can ask me anything." He put the potions on the cart and turned to retrieve the next ones on their list. Hoped she didn't hear the nerves in his voice.

"Right. Kay." She sighed. "Are you…sleeping with Rachel?"

He'd never felt such an odd combination: relief, disbelief, humor and relief. And he couldn't have withheld the laughter if he'd tried. "Oh, gods Cho!" He looked at her, able to meet her eyes with truth. "No. Absolutely not."

She blushed. "I'm really sorry, Harry. I just –"

"Why would you think that?"

Cho shrugged. "Just the way she is. And she's sort of sneaky, anyway. Plus, she's said some things –"

"What things?" The idea of Rachel implying he'd done anything with her was most retrograde to his desires.

"Oh nothing outright." Cho joined him in pulling potions. "She talks about trying to get you alone. Stuff like that."

"Bollocks." Harry chuffed laughter. "I don't think I've ever been alone with her. And I don't intend to be."

"Good." She smiled at him. Such a genuine smile. "I don't like her much. I think she's…"

"Been in more laps than a napkin?"

A bubble of laughter burst past Cho's lips. "That's one way of putting it, I guess. She's always rubbing in how she's so experienced and had all these boyfriends. Says guys like older girls because they know what they're doing. You know." She hedged shyly. "In bed."

Harry tried not to think of all the incredibly salacious things Narcissa had taught him. "Well. This guy isn't interested." He playfully punched Cho's shoulder. "But thanks for watching out for me."

"I stuck up for you, actually." Her blush deepened a little. "Last night. I told her to lay off talking about you like that because you were devoted to Ginny. I told her I knew the type of person you are and that you'd never hurt the girl you're with. Then I sort of stormed out of the conservatory." She shrugged and checked the last potion off their list. "It was all very over-dramatic and Gryffindorish. If I must say so myself."

He couldn't even produce a fake laugh. A lead ball thunked into his gut and melted. "Thanks for that, Cho," he muttered.

"Well. It's true." She checked their cart. "I think we're good here. Ready?"

"Ready." His legs felt numb as they traversed their stops, and he barely remembered exchanging pleasantries with the healers, staff and patients they encountered. I'm not that person. Not anymore.

He was still thinking on Cho's words come lunchtime. Still thinking what a terrible person he was when he passed the conservatory. Padma smiled and waved at him. Rachel scowled a little. It looked like everyone was either absent or distracted, so he headed down the corridor to Narcissa's office. Knowing he was a guilty cheating bastard didn't stop him thinking about wrapping his coordinator's legs around his hips for the next hour. Guilt, he would deal with later. Like everything else.

He gave her door two brisk raps. Her answer was equally brisk. "Yes. Enter."

The door swung open, and for the second time that day, his heart nearly stopped beating forever.

There stood Lucius Malfoy, inches away from Narcissa who leaned against her desk. The look on the blonde wizard's face said Harry'd interrupted something rather tense. But her face… Her face when she looked at him was pure terror. He thought perhaps he'd seen it before – that expression. But Voldemort had been involved.

"Mr. Potter," she said. Her voice was steady and crisp.

Harry had to find his. "Mrs. Malfoy." His eyes flicked to her husband. Lucius stared, but without the vitriol Harry expected. Instead, the man's expression read surprise and perhaps…resignation. "Mr. Malfoy."

"Mr. Potter." Had Lucius' speech always been so cracked and hesitant? Harry remembered it being smooth and poisonous…until Azkaban. Now, he sounded much like he had then: broken. "You look well."

Did Lucius Malfoy just compliment me? Harry glanced at Narcissa. She was staring out her window. "Thank you…sir." That word tasted like too much salt. "You do, as well." And that much was true. If nothing else, Lucius had restored his former carriage. He was tall and well-built, hair glossy again and cut to the shoulder, sharply dressed and possessing a new cane with the head of what appeared to be…a dragon.

Bile rose in Harry's throat. He was suddenly very aware that he was a rather thin awkward boy of nearly eighteen compared to this man who stood stately and proud despite his current status as a recently pardoned Death Eater. Pardoned because of me. He couldn't help imagining for a moment if he'd let Lucius Malfoy be imprisoned…

His eyes drifted again to Narcissa. She was now looking at him expectantly. Harry fished in his back pocket. Produced the list he and Cho had filled. Lucky he'd held on to it. "We're done with the deliveries. I just wanted to let you know…before lunch. And…see if there were more."

She took the list. Her hand was shaking slightly, and her wedding ring flickered in the sunlight. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. I've nothing yet, but I'll let you know. Do enjoy your lunch."

He gave her a quick stiff bow. "Yes, ma'am. You, too."

"And Mr. Potter?" At the door, he turned to her. "If you would please let the others know I shall be…indisposed for the rest of the day. I would appreciate it."

Did his lip curl? He hoped not. His throat was too tight, so he nodded.

He managed to not slam the door to his room. Pressed against it. Heaving. Why am I angry? I've no right to be. He paced. Threw his oxford onto his bed and rubbed his bare arms. He's her bloody fucking husband. She told me that. Lucius Fucking Malfoy. He leaned on his desk, aware that he was practically quaking.

I should have let them put him away. I shouldn't have spoken for them… He squeezed his eyes closed. Another one of those vexing hidden truths was pushing to the surface and curling into a sprout. I did it for her, though. He sat on the bed, dropped his head into his hands. I bloody did it for her.

Ginny's letter caught his eye. He slid it from the bedside table. Read it for the fourth time.

Dear Harry,

I miss you. I know the last months have been hard on you. Hard on all of us. I know that maybe I didn't always seem all there for you. And I'm sorry. Because you were certainly there for me. I know you're away now because you're trying to find some peace, like I am. And I hope it's working for you. I'm feeling better myself. Starting to see each new day as just that – a new day and not another day without Fred. Mum's starting to laugh again. And cook, if you're interested. And Ron's taken the broom out. George mostly stays away, but we are giving him time. Hermione and I have gotten very close. I suppose that's best since she'll most likely be my sister soon. Anyway, I imagine you're very busy. I love you and hope to see you soon. Write me, okay?

Always,

Ginny

The letter crumpled in his fingers. Always. He chuckled ruefully. Bloody always.

He went to his desk. Took up the quill. Wrote to his girlfriend. It was strange to feel like a user and feel used at the same time. He wondered as he penned words of love to Ginny if Narcissa was feeling the same things right now. If she was smiling at her husband and feeding him placations. If she would kiss him today. If she would…

He signed his letter 'Yours – Harry.' Always felt like a great damned lie. Then he threw himself headlong into work for the rest of the day. He didn't want to be anywhere near the 'indisposed' Narcissa and her husband. He felt a strange urge to punish her; could confess it was unfair and undeserved, but couldn't control it. She'd hardly known her husband was coming. Surely she would have told him had she expected her bloody husband.

She'd looked so frightened in her office… Yes, she would have told him.

It was far past supper when Harry returned to his quarters. The elves had been almost suspicious of his presence in laundry all evening, but they hadn't questioned his desire to work. In the empty lift, he leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment. He wondered if Lucius Malfoy would stay the night. Would he take Harry's place in Narcissa's bed?

It didn't seem right.

Whether Lucius Malfoy stayed or not, Harry knew he would not be seeing Narcissa this night. It wasn't the first time, no. But the thought of her husband's hands on her body practically made Harry seethe.

He slipped into his room and shed his clothes, tossed them about carelessly and showered. He toweled himself off and found a clean pair of briefs in his chest. Thus prepared for bed, he grabbed The Metamorphosis from his desk. He hadn't had as much time for reading since he'd taken his demanding lover.

But he wouldn't think about her tonight. In fact, best to start practicing not thinking about her. Make it easier to leave behind – easier to walk away when the time comes.

He'd just cracked open Kafka when the knock sounded at his door – very light. He could have missed it were his room not so quiet. His brow creased. Probably Cho checking on him since he didn't see anyone today. Hopefully not Rachel…

He stood concealed behind the door when he opened it, prepared to tell his well-wisher he was off to bed. But platitudes died in his throat when he saw her face. "Uh…"

Her eyes were wide and wet. She was tense as if ready to bolt. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"No!" He gathered himself. "I just wasn't…"

"May I come in?" She whispered.

He held open the door and she slipped past him. Her spicy scent now filled his room, and it occurred to him this was only the second time she'd been here. "I didn't expect to see you."

Narcissa touched his desk absently. He watched her take in his messy space. "Would you rather I left?"

"Of course not." He gestured to the chair with one hand and his bed with the other. "Please have a seat."

She sat on the bed, giving him a slow once-over. "You were going to sleep."

"Read, actually. But I'd rather see you." Something lingered between them – invisible, but powerful. Harry stood half-naked and awkward, watching her finger his bland duvet. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." She tried a reassuring smile. Failed. Looked down again. "I had no idea he was coming today. I wanted you to know –"

"I guessed that." What did she want? He let the silence carry.

"Harry…" A deep breath. "I'll be going home soon. In a week or so."

His heart lunged. "Because he wants you to."

Her eyes plead for understanding. "He's trying very hard. He needs me. As does my son. My place is there, Harry. I've avoided it long enough." She reached for him, stroked his forearm. It was all she could reach. "I think we've both avoided it long enough."

Harry turned away. "For someone who makes me call her Mrs. Malfoy unless we're shagging, you know me pretty well."

He reached again into his chest for a shirt, wanting to conceal himself from her eyes. The sound of parchment ruffling made him turn. "Give me that!" He crawled onto the bed, plucked Ginny's letter from her fingers.

"She writes you every day," Narcissa murmured. "I know that much." She stood, walked toward the door. "So does Lucius. I'm sorry, Harry." Her hand was turning the nob.

"What did you come here for?" He asked. "Just wanted to deliver the news in person? Remind me of my underwhelming sense of duty? Of yours? Or was there more? Were you going to tell me you'd had fun, at least? That you'd miss me? Miss my co –"

"Yes, I wanted to tell you in person!" She snapped, whirled to regard him with a flush and shaking hands. "Because you're my lover and I owe you that! But it seems I underestimated your ability to converse like an adult at the moment."

He leapt to his feet, awareness of his state of dress dissipating in his anger. "Converse! You come in here after a day with your husband to tell me you're leaving in a week? How d'you think I feel?"

"You're angry."

"You're damned right! And jealous and ridiculous! Over you!" He took a breath. "And you feel nothing, I suppose. Stuck to your guns, of course. No feelings, right. 'No more than this,' isn't that what you saidwhilst we fucked?" Mocking her felt good. Her crumbling face felt good. The tears streaming down her cheeks felt good.

Her hand crossing his face on a resounding smack did not feel good.

"Fuck you, Harry." She hissed. "You think I've been immune? Why do you think I made all those rules? I had to protect myself from falling in love with a boy my son's age! And now that boy presumes to tell me my feelings? You are the one who doesn't know me, Harry. And that surprises the hell out of me."

"Why?" He asked, rubbing his cheek. "Why should it surprise you? You never let me in."

She sagged against his wall, covered her face with her hands. Harry watched her shoulders shake and felt the lump in his own throat heat and threaten to melt. She finally looked back to him with a face wearing naked emotion. "Oh, Harry. Yes, I did."

"Bloody hell." He reached for her and she let him pull her to his chest, wrap his arms tight round her. She sobbed against his chest and he felt tears and mucus and her teeth as she cried with the abandon he'd only seen previously in sex. "I'm so sorry," he whispered in her temple. "I'm so fucking sorry."

"I tried not to!" She wept. "I tried so hard, but…" Her fingers clutched at him. "Harry, what am I to do?"

He pushed her away to look at her, tilted her face up to his and kissed her. She tasted of tears and regret and sorrow and guilt. He imagined she tasted the same on his lips. "I love you," he murmured against her mouth. "I fucking love you so much!"

"Shhh!" She stopped his mouth with another kiss. "Don't. Don't say it. I can't…" She bit back a fresh wave of tears. Stroked his chest. "Can I stay here tonight?"

"Here?" In his bed?

"Please." She bit her lips. "I'd like to make love to you tonight, Harry. As many nights as I can before –"

It was his turn to hush her with his mouth. He undressed her slowly, peppering the process with more gentle, lingering kisses. Her hat tumbled to the floor and Harry removed the pins from her hair, curling his fingers in the length of it.

On the bed, she peeled his briefs from him while he turned down the duvet. They crawled underneath the blankets, smiling at secrecy. The smallness of his bed forced them closer than ever, and they smiled at that, too.

They were in no hurry. Harry took his time worshiping her breasts and body. She seemed to be memorizing the angles of his back. He tented the duvet over them while his mouth worked her, and she was quieter this time. Sighs and mewls, whimpers of pleasure. Her usual storm of poorly muted lusty babble was absent from this encounter.

This encounter saw magic unfold between them.

When Harry finally slid inside her, watched her close her eyes and focus on the feeling, he felt at home. As if every other place he'd been before was only temporary, this witch seemed the end of a journey. And this ending heard him crying into her neck.

He didn't let her go and she didn't make him. They lay spent and sticky against one another with two inches on either side. Harry kneaded her back and she sighed. "You'll stay tonight?"

She nodded. "Tonight. Yes."

"I'm off tomorrow. We can have a lie in."

"Mm-hm."

He kissed her crown. "You wouldn't leave him, would you?"

At that, she pushed up on his chest to meet his eyes. She looked very tired, and older than he'd ever seen her look. "Harry…I can't."

"I know. But I had to ask."

"I have a duty to him. I'm his wife. We have a child together. I made him a promise that I've already broken."

He swallowed. "Does he ever make you happy?"

"It's been a long time." She frowned. "But maybe now… I hope things can be different. He wants to try."

Harry stroked her eyes and the lashes fluttered closed. "He damn well better."

"Harry…" She kissed his fingers.

"I'll always be there, you know. If you ever need me. Or just…want me."

Hope brightened her eyes and a tiny smile broke free. "Always?"

He pulled her to him. "Bloody always." And the word should have felt like a lie, but it didn't.

AN: One more chapter to go. As 'always,' thank you, intoxicatedminds for the diligent Britpick.
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The Volunteer