Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Say My Name	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 30143 -:- Recommendations : 10 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
A/N: Thanks as always for the reviews!
This one took a bit longer than usual (life got in the way), but here it is, finally, fresh baked just for you. Arguments, resolutions, Quidditch, flirting, all finished off with a squeeze of lemon. Bon appetit!
Chapter 5: Resentment
The match with Ravenclaw was only days away, and Harry was really starting to get nervous. The Gryffindor team dynamics had only gotten worse, as now the other members had started to take sides or were simply fed up with the dysfunctionality of it all. Harry wondered how he had let it get like this, how he had not seen this coming. Not that he would have stayed with Ginny just for the sake of team unity, but if he had considered the consequences more thoroughly, he would have at least been prepared for the fallout.
He also realized, thanks to a letter he received from Andromeda Tonks, that he wasn’t doing too well in the godfather department either. According to Andromeda, Teddy was missing him (although how Andromeda could really know that, given that her grandson was only six months old and couldn’t talk, Harry was not quite sure). While he had said before he left for school that he would try and come for a visit towards the end of September, that hadn’t happened. School, life in general, got in the way.
Harry wanted to be available for his godson in any way he could be, and over the summer he had made the time. Even with all of the other events going on, he visited Andromeda and Teddy’s little house at least three times a week, spending many hours holding, feeding, changing, and playing with the little boy. What attention wasn’t given to Teddy was fixed on Andromeda, as they chatted and got to know each other. Since they were both going to be permanent fixtures in Teddy’s life, they understood they had to build their own relationship as well.
Harry had really enjoyed those quiet afternoons. They provided solace at a time when the world was still in upheaval, and everyone was looking to him for answers. Sometimes he would just lie down on the sofa, Teddy’s plump little cheek resting on his chest, and listen to his godson breathing. He would stroke a hand up and down that small back soothingly, and the rest of the world would fall away.
But coming to Hogwarts had changed everything. His days were full to the brim with class, studying, and captaining, and it was easy to get wrapped up inside the bubble of the Hogwarts grounds and forget about the outside world. He realized he hadn’t seen his godson in almost two months. Something really did need to be done about that, and he returned Andromeda’s letter speedily.
And, as if he didn’t have enough on his plate already, he found that his attraction to a certain blond Slytherin was only increasing. Since the night of the fireside chat, the two of them found a rapport that went well beyond the awkward and tentative interactions of those first couple of weeks, and at this point was downright chummy. Harry would even go so far as to describe it as a flirtation, from his end of things anyway. And the more time he spent with Malfoy, the more he became convinced that the feeling was mutual. The blush on Malfoy’s cheeks, and the smile on his lips, and the glint in his gray eyes were becoming occurrences of increasing frequency.
Malfoy was now a regular feature in Harry’s wanking fantasies, which were currently his only outlet for release now that he and Ginny had broken up. He had never been with a man before, and he wasn’t entirely sure exactly what he wanted to do to Malfoy, or have Malfoy do to him, but he could take a guess. Usually images of Malfoy naked and hard, with his lips on Harry’s neck and their pelvises grinding together, was enough to send Harry over the edge, Malfoy’s first name barely a whisper on his lips as he climaxed.
He kept this attraction strictly secret, for obvious reasons. Telling Ron would surely only increase the redhead’s ire, and he didn’t think Hermione would take it too well, either. It was one thing for her to agree that he should be civil to his former enemy. It was another thing entirely for Harry to want to start dating him.
And to tell Ginny… well… he had already cheated death twice. He wasn’t about to risk having to do it a third time.
Despite having Malfoy as a distraction, Harry knew he had to take some action to save his Quidditch team from an embarrassing defeat. He ruminated for a day or so about how to handle it, before a run-in with Ron in the empty 8^th year common room gave him just the right opening.
Ron was all set to ignore him, that was clear, making for the portrait hole silently. Like Harry was just another piece of furniture. But Harry wasn’t having any of it. He was sick of his best mate acting like he didn’t exist, and he was sick of not having the backup as Quidditch captain he had been relying on all term.
“Hey,” Harry said as Ron brushed past him. “Can we talk?”
Ron looked at him briefly, and Harry saw the hesitation, the moment where Ron decided if he wanted to ignore Harry or respond to him. Unfortunately, he chose the former option, starting to turn away again, and Harry felt a surge of annoyance. Before he realized exactly what he was doing, he spoke again.
“Look, I know you’re angry with me, but there are two sides, you know.”
Ron paused at the portrait hole, and there was a brief silence. But, finally, he turned back to Harry. “You dumped her.”
“It wasn’t like that. Merlin, Ron, you think I would…” Harry took a deep breath, realizing that his best move was to try and explain. “Look, I’ve been thinking for a while that I don’t want to be an Auror after all.”
Of all the things Ron was expecting, this certainly wasn’t it, at least based on the confounded look he gave Harry.
“And when I said that to Ginny, she didn’t take it well.”
Ron gaped at him, then recovered, crossing his arms over his chest. “And when were you going to tell me this?”
Harry sighed. Of course, he knew which part Ron would fixate on. “It was something I realized that same weekend I broke up with Ginny. You haven’t exactly been talking to me for the past couple of weeks. When would I have had a chance to tell you?”
Ron didn’t seem to have a good answer for that, so he simply glared. “So you were just going to let me go it alone?”
“Yes,” Harry said simply.
“Bloody hell. Well, at least I know where we stand, now.” He made to turn away again.
“Oh, don’t give me that shit,” Harry said, and Ron paused. “Don’t tell me you want to be an Auror just because I wanted to be one. That’s sure as hell no reason to go through all that training, to put your life at risk. It’s a tough job. One of the toughest. But you can do it, and you can certainly do it without me. If you want to be an Auror, bloody do it. Or don’t. I honestly don’t care, as long as you’re happy.” Ron turned back to him, blinking, and let that sink in. “That’s the point, Ron, don’t you see? We’re free. We did it. Voldemort’s dead, we survived, and we have our whole lives in front of us. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do, and neither do you. And I don’t want to be an Auror. I’m tired of making my life about being a hero, and hunting dark wizards, and risking my life. I’m bloody tired, Ron. I want to do something else. And when I shared that with Ginny, she told me that I had to become an Auror, because if I didn’t, I wasn’t being true to myself.”
Ron scoffed. “She didn’t say that. You’re twisting her words.”
“She did say it, Ron. It’s practically word for word. You can ask her.”
Ron kept his arms folded across his chest and stared at Harry. Harry knew that this meant he was listening, at least, and thinking things over, and maybe needed just a little more prodding to tip him over the edge.
“If you decided you didn’t want to be an Auror after all, how would you feel if Hermione told you that you had to be, that she would be disappointed if you weren’t?”
Ron shook his head. “Hermione would never…”
“Yes,” Harry said, pointing at Ron’s chest. “Yes, exactly. She would never say that. Would you ever tell her that you didn’t want her to be a solicitor? Would you ever tell her not to devote her life to creature rights, even when you think she’s going a bit overboard?”
“No,” Ron said quietly.
“Why not?”
“Because she cares about it, and I love her,” he said.
“Yes. And she would never tell you what you had to do because…?”
“Because she loves me,” Ron finished the sentence begrudgingly.
“Yes,” Harry said, feeling like maybe he was finally getting through. “And I never for a moment would have told Ginny not to pursue playing professional Quidditch, even though it would mean that she had to travel a lot, and would make it harder to raise a family. Because I care about her happiness, and it’s what she loves, and what she wants. I would never have stopped her. And yet she sat there and… I swear to Merlin, Ron, she sat there and told me that I would never be happy unless I was being a hero, and that the only way to do that was to become an Auror. So yeah, it got me thinking, and I realized that it wasn’t going to work out, because I wasn’t going to become an Auror, and that’s what she wanted, no, needed, me to be.”
Ron stared at the floor for a long time. “You love her?” he said finally.
“Yes,” Harry said, with caution in his tone.
“So, she said a stupid thing,” he said. “She shouldn’t think that way. But what if she came around?”
“What?”
“What if she came around to your way of thinking, and realized it was all right if you didn’t become an Auror, and supported your decisions? Would you get back together with her?”
“No,” Harry said automatically, and he was surprised at himself. He hadn’t even needed to think about it.
Ron scowled. “Why not?”
Harry tilted his head back and closed his eyes. How did he put into words what was simply a gut feeling? How did he explain that he simply knew it wasn’t right for him to be with Ginny? “Because…” he began. “Because, even if she accepted that I wasn’t going to be an Auror, she would still…” He sighed. “She has expectations of me. No matter what I chose to do, she would have certain expectations of the kind of person I needed to be, and I would never be able to live up to those expectations, because her perception of me is inaccurate. It’s idealized. She doesn’t really see me at all. I’m not sure she ever did.”
The silence seemed to go on forever, but Harry let his final words hang there, knowing that Ron was thinking them over.
“You may have a point there,” he said finally.
Harry sagged in relief, yet he knew he still had to tread lightly. “I know you see it from both sides, Ron, and I hate that I hurt Ginny. I really do. But this… it’s not helping anyone. You can still be furious with me if you want, but it’s affected the team long enough. We’ve got to get it together, or we’re going to lose the match on Saturday. It’s that simple.”
Ron nodded. “Yeah.”
“I don’t know what to do about Ginny,” Harry admitted. “I don’t know if I should try to talk to her or-“
“No,” Ron interrupted. “I’ll talk to her. It’s better if I give it a try.”
Harry allowed himself a small smile. “Thanks, Ron.”
“Yeah, well,” Ron rubbed the back of his neck, looking awkward. “It might not do any good. But I have to try, don’t I?”
“You don’t have to,” Harry said. “But I would appreciate it if you did.”
“Yeah,” Ron said, not meeting Harry’s eyes. “Yeah, all right.” And with that, he left the common room, and Harry stood there looking after him, feeling that went about as well as he could have hoped.
***
Things did improve, with Ron at least. Ginny, not so much, but at least it hadn’t gotten worse. At this point, she was simply ignoring him and anything he had to say during practice.
On the eve of the match, Harry had too much nervous energy to sit still, and was unexpectedly happy to take Malfoy up on the notion that they should finish the research phase of their Potions project. Unfortunately, the ogling and flirting from a good portion of the female student body had not died down entirely, and their research in the library was continuously interrupted by young witches approaching him to bat their eyelashes and wish him good luck on the match the next day. Tired of the intrusions, and the merciless teasing it incited from Malfoy, Harry suggested they check out the few books they still needed and finished up their work in the 8^th year common room, where such attentions would be nonexistent.
“I have to admit,” Malfoy said as the pair made their way through the castle, “that there was a time when I was jealous of all the attention you received. Not from the girls, of course, but from people in general.”
Harry grinned, amazed at the admission. It said a lot about how far they had come in the last few weeks. “And now you see what a bloody nuisance it actually is?”
“Yes,” Malfoy replied, sounding surprised. “I never thought I would get tired of being the center of attention, but if I were in your shoes I think I’d be serving a lifetime sentence in Azkaban for mass murder by now.”
“I’m not sure it’s ever been this bad before,” Harry said. “Sixth year, when there were all those rumors flying about that I was the Chosen One, it was nearly like this. Excessive flirting, witches trying to slip me love potions… there was that ridiculous Quidditch tryout where half the people who showed up didn’t even care about getting on the team, they just wanted to get a good look at me. This, though…”
“Love potions,” Malfoy said. “I hadn’t thought about that. You should watch what you eat and drink from now on.”
“Trust me, I already am,” Harry said darkly. “I have to worry about it in my post, too. That wasn’t a problem before.”
“Well, before you were just the Chosen One. Now you’re the Savior.”
“Ugh, don’t use that word,” Harry said, grimacing.
“Just the thought of it is enough to get most witches drenching their knickers for you.”
“Stop talking. That’s bloody disgusting,” Harry said with a laugh.
Malfoy’s voice rose an entire octave as he taunted. “Oh, Harry, you’re so dreamy. Will you sign every possession I own? Oh, Harry, won’t you sign this creepy photograph I took of you while you were sleeping? Will you sign my breasts, please, Harry?”
Harry shoved Malfoy, knocking him off-balance, but the Slytherin quickly recovered and saw no reason not to continue.
“Harry, I’m getting your name tattooed on my arse. Harry, I’m getting a tattoo of your face on top of my face, so I see you every time I look in the mirror. Harry, I’m taking polyjuice so I can turn into you and touch myself all over.” The blond rubbed his hands all over his own torso with absurd lasciviousness.
“That’s a sick and twisted mind you’ve got there, Malfoy,” Harry said, still unable to contain his laughter. “Remind me never to use Legilimency on you. I will undoubtedly see things I can never unsee.”
“I’d like to see you try, Potter,” Malfoy said with a smirk, clearly pleased that he had managed to taunt Harry relentlessly and yet still make him laugh. “My Occlumency shields are ironclad.”
“Thank Merlin for small mercies,” Harry said, and Malfoy chuckled.
Just then, Harry spotted a familiar streak of red hair coming down the corridor, and his stomach gave a lurch. Ginny. At the same time, though, he had been hoping for a moment like this, a chance to get her alone and talk to her, since whatever conversation she had had with Ron had clearly not accomplished much.
“Ginny!” he called, before he lost his nerve.
The redhead paused and looked in his direction, and as Harry approached he could make out displeasure and apprehension in her features. Harry advanced swiftly, hoping she wouldn’t run. He was aware that Malfoy was behind him, and would get to watch this scene unfold, but seeing as the match was the very next morning, he hardly had time to worry about such things.
“Can we talk, please?” he said. He was within a few feet of her now, and it seemed she was at least willing to stay put, for now. “It’s about the match tomorrow.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Of course it is,” she said coldly.
Harry resisted the urge to scoff. “It’s important to you, too. Don’t pretend that it isn’t.”
Ginny flipped some of her hair back in a haughty gesture. “Maybe, but it’s not the only thing I think about. Unlike some people.”
“I have to think about it. I’m captain,” Harry said, aware that he was getting sucked into her game. He steered the conversation back to the reason he had approached her in the first place. “Did Ron have a chance to talk to you, about how things have been going with the team?”
Ginny gave one dry bark of a laugh. “Yeah,” she said. “I really appreciated, by the way, you having my brother do your dirty work.”
“He volunteered. He thought it would be best-“
“Saving you from actually having to talk to me.”
“Ok,” Harry said, his patience already wearing thin. “I think we both know that’s a load of bollocks. It’s you who won’t talk to me, and while I understand why, and I have been trying to respect it, you can’t let it keep us from winning tomorrow. It’s bad for all of us.”
“You think I’m trying to keep us from winning? Don’t be a moron, Harry.”
“Nice,” Harry said under his breath. He forced himself to meet her eyes again. “It’s not that I think you’re doing it on purpose. But you are doing it. And I don’t understand why. It’s you who wants to play Quidditch professionally. How do you think a loss like the one we’re in for is going to look when the scouts come sniffing in the spring?”
Ginny’s laughter was derisive and forced. “Please, don’t pretend you give a kneazle’s arse about my career. This is about you not wanting to bollocks things up as captain.”
“I’m not pretending, Ginny,” Harry said. “Just because we’re not together anymore doesn’t mean I don’t care.”
“Funny. I think it’s exactly what it means,” Ginny replied with a holier-than-thou tone that was nothing short of maddening.
“Please, Gin, I’m begging you,” he said. “Just get it together and execute the plays like we practiced. If you want to keep ignoring me, that’s fine. But do it for everyone else, at least, and for yourself.”
“It’s not just me,” she said. “And it’s unfair to say that it is. The whole dynamic of the team is off, now, Harry, and that’s on you. I will do my best tomorrow, I can promise you that. But I’m not the problem here, so stop being such a condescending prat and take a look in the mirror.”
And with that she stormed off, leaving Harry standing stiff, his face burning with a wretched mix of anger, embarrassment, and guilt. Because her words did have a stinging truth to them. He had let everything get bollocksed up. And he had no idea how to fix it.
A subtle cough behind him reminded him that he was not alone, and he turned back to see Malfoy regarding him impassively.
“What a spectacular show, Potter,” he said, but his voice was free of cruelty. “Remind me why you dated the she-weasel again?”
Harry sighed and ignored the question. “There’s a very good chance I’ve just made things worse, isn’t there?”
Malfoy sighed as well. “That’s hard to say. You certainly have not endeared yourself any more to her, but you at least reminded her that the match is important for her career. That might have an effect.”
Harry decided to hold onto that optimism, even if he didn’t really believe it.
***
Another eruption of cheers sounded from the Ravenclaw end of the pitch, and Harry signaled to Madam Hooch for a time out. They were an hour into the match, and dread was already battering away in his stomach. They were down by one hundred points, with no end in sight. Ginny’s promise from the night before rang false, but Harry couldn’t say why exactly, because she seemed to be going along with the plays they practiced. But her heart didn’t seem to be in it, and very few Gryffindor possessions had been converted into goals.
Ravenclaw, on the other hand, had an excellent set of Chasers, and were giving Ron all he could handle. It didn’t help matters that the Gryffindor Keeper seemed to be off his game as well.
“What the hell is going on out there?” Harry said, once they were assembled. He pointed at Chaser Xandra Pierce. “You’ve been missing Ginny’s assists.”
“She’s not throwing like she usually does!” Xandra said defensively, crossing her arms. Ginny gave the short-haired brunette a withering look. “Sorry,” she said, “but it’s true.”
“Ginny, throw hard and aim straight,” Harry said, and saw his ex roll her eyes.
Harry turned to Ron.
“I know,” Ron said immediately. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t even know how that last goal got past me.”
“Sylvester is faking you out,” Harry said. “She lifts her elbow like she’s going to throw overhand and then she switches it up. She’s telegraphing her moves on purpose, so watch out for that. Erlich always aims for either side hoop, so keep that in mind.”
At this point, Ron seemed to know better than to argue, and simply nodded his head in understanding.
Harry turned to his Beaters, who were, frankly, the only members of the team pulling their weight at the moment. “Nice work guys. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
He heard Hooch’s whistle blow and knew that was it. They had to get back in the air. He grabbed Dean’s shoulder.
“At this point, mate,” he said in the Chaser’s ear, “just try to get your hands on the fucking Quaffle and do what you can with it. I can’t figure out what Xandra and Ginny are doing out there.”
Dean smirked but nodded his assent. And with that, play resumed.
Things did improve for Gryffindor on both the offensive and defensive ends. Dean was playing more aggressively and was able to steal possession multiple times, and they were able to turn that into two more goals. And Ron had caught onto Dana Sylvester’s game, and didn’t let the Ravenclaw Chaser fake him out again. Still, they were eighty points down, and Harry found himself watching the Chaser dynamics closely, trying to figure out where they were going wrong. Dean and Ginny seemed to do fine, and so did Dean and Xandra, but passes between the two female Chasers were resulting in turnovers. Harry found himself biting back growls of frustration.
“Watch her!” Harry yelled at Ginny, as she dropped a pass from Xandra. But Ravenclaw had taken possession of the Quaffle again, and was soaring towards the goal. Harry was watching Ron, waiting to see what he would do, when he heard a gasp, and then the student commentator saying over the loudspeaker, “Is that the Snitch?”
Harry whirled around, panic already turning his blood to ice. Sure enough, there was the Ravenclaw Seeker, coming in for a dive. Though the Snitch was still halfway down the pitch from her, she was well ahead of Harry as he dived too, cursing his own stupidity. He had spent too much time being a micro-managing captain and not enough time being Seeker.
If Ravenclaw caught the Snitch now, they would not only win, but win by a painfully large margin, making Gryffindor’s bid for the cup nigh impossible. Harry knew he had to do everything in his power to least make sure the opposing Seeker, Evangeline Robbins, didn’t catch the Snitch at this moment.
He pressed himself flat against his Firebolt, urging it forward with all the power he had. He was gaining on Robbins, but he wasn’t sure it was going to be enough. She was within only a few yards of the Snitch now, and was positioning herself to grasp for it once it was within reach.
Come on, Harry urged his trusted broom, but knew, instinctively, that he wasn’t going to catch up in time. The end of his broom was nearly in line with her feet, but the Snitch was only a foot away from her outstretched hand.
Suddenly he heard a yell, and then a Bludger whizzed a few feet in front of him, hitting Robbins broom and throwing her off course. She barrel rolled and tried to recover, but Harry had taken advantage, dodging another Bludger with a quick duck of his head before closing his hands around the tiny trembling ball.
The stadium erupted in cheers as Harry pulled out of the dive, holding the Snitch up for everyone to see. The commentator was shouting the victory. “Gryffindor wins! Harry Potter catches the Snitch, with help from an excellently aimed Bludger by newcomer Ben Talbott!”
Harry descended towards the pitch, where the rest of the Gryffindor team was already congregating. Ben was clearly the man of the hour, as every member of the team patted him on the back, grinning their gratitude. Gryffindor spectators were entering the field now, too, and Harry took a moment to clap Ben on the shoulder and say, “Congratulations. You won this for us. You should be proud,” before he left the field and his excited teammates behind.
In truth, he felt very little elation in the victory, because he knew that it had not been his doing. In many ways, he felt the win was in spite of his efforts. He entered the team locker room feeling dejected and confused. He had lost matches before, but it was always due to unforeseen circumstances or bad luck. Harry had come away from a match disappointed before, but never feeling like he had let his team down. He had even gotten over the incident with the Dementors in his third year, knowing it wasn't really his fault (winning the cup that year had helped with his guilt, too). This was different, though. He couldn’t help but feel that he had let his team down, as both their captain and their Seeker.
What am I doing? he asked himself, leaning his forehead against one of the lockers as his mind raced.
“Hey,” a masculine voice said from the doorway, and Harry turned to see Ron standing there, his expression one of sympathy.
“Hey,” Harry said, aware of the obvious misery in his tone.
“We survived it, at least, painful as it was.” Ron seemed to be going for a lighthearted tone, and Harry managed a small smile. “Look,” Ron went on, “you were right. Ginny was bang out of order. She wouldn’t listen to me, either. This isn’t your fault.”
Harry sighed. “Thanks, mate, but I think… well… I can’t help but feel partially responsible. I was trying to watch what was going on and I wasn’t looking out for the Snitch like I should have been.” He hung his head, and the glittering captain’s badge on his Quidditch robes caught his eye. He looked at the badge, and then at Ron, and realized what he had to do.
“You did the best you could,” Ron argued. “We should have been handling things on our end so you could do your job.”
“Still,” Harry said, as he made to unpin the badge from his chest, “you would have done a better job.”
Ron scoffed. “Hardly. Whatever is going on between Ginny and Xandra, I don’t think I could figure it out any better than you.”
Harry gave his friend a smile, and held out his hand. Ron, looking confused, mirrored the gesture. “I think you’ll do a great job figuring it out,” he said, as he placed the badge in his friend’s unsuspecting hand.
“What the…” Ron said, staring down at the badge between his fingers. “What are you on about?”
“I’ve been thinking about it since term started,” Harry confessed. “I should have done this weeks ago. But better late than never.”
Ron stared at him, bewildered. “You’re giving up captain?”
“I’m giving it to you,” Harry said, feeling lighter than he had in weeks now that the badge was no longer attached to him, “because you deserve it, and you’ll be a better captain than I could ever be. You’re better at strategy, and designing plays, and recruiting, come to that. Most of the best decisions we’ve made on this team have been on your advice, and that includes Talbott. You’ve been carrying me through this term so far. It’s about time you got the credit.”
Ron seemed to be at a loss for words, and they stood in silence for a good minute, while Ron stared at the badge and Harry waited for a response.
“You don’t have to do this,” Ron managed, finally. “We’ve got through the winter holidays to get the team back on track. It’s not all your doing.”
“But we’ll be better with you in charge,” Harry said with certainty. “And I know I don’t have to do it. I want to. It’s the right thing.”
“You’re not quitting the team are you? Because you’re still the best Seeker Gryffindor’s ever had.”
“No, I’m not quitting as Seeker,” Harry said. “I like Seeking. And now I can really focus on it, instead of trying to wrangle my ex-girlfriend all season.”
“Ah, leaving me to handle Ginny. I see how it is,” Ron said with a smirk, and Harry gave him a grin in return.
“I’ll let McGonagall know of the change as soon as I can,” Harry said.
“I don’t know what to say, Harry,” Ron replied. “This is… well… I’ll do my best, I suppose.”
“I know you will.” Harry gave his best mate a brief hug, glad they had found their way to being on good terms again.
***
As expected, there was a victory party in the Gryffindor common room that lasted through the afternoon and into the evening. Elves happily supplied the celebrants with food and drink, and Ben Talbott’s genius last-second play with the Bludger was the topic of much conversation.
Harry’s heart wasn’t in it, even after he had assuaged his guilt by passing on the captaincy to Ron (which they decided not to announce until it had the official go-ahead from McGonagall). His head was still full of his own mistakes, and all the choices and actions he wished he had made differently.
They had won, but not by a sizeable margin, and Slytherin was sure to flatten Hufflepuff in the match in November. This meant they had a lot of catching up to do if they wanted to overtake Slytherin for the cup. And Ravenclaw was still in the running, even with the defeat, if they did exceptionally well in their upcoming matches in the spring. It was still anybody’s game at this point, and Harry was kicking himself for not giving his team a wider edge as he sipped on his butterbeer and quietly watched the festivities.
He was happy to finally escape the celebration and make his way to the 8^th year dormitories alone. Hermione had already dragged Ron away for a private celebration of their own, and Dean had chosen to remain with the other Gryffindors, talking up a sixth year that Harry didn’t know well. But Harry was enjoying the solitude. It gave him a chance to clear his head, and maybe put all of the stress and drama of the match behind him.
He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t see the tall Slytherin lounging in the doorway of an empty classroom, watching him as he passed.
“All right there, Potter?” came the familiar drawl. “That was almost painful to watch. Thank Merlin for third year Beaters, eh, or that would have been really humiliating.”
Harry turned to see Malfoy smirking at him, his body relaxed like he hadn’t a care in the world. Harry was immediately transported back to their old rivalry, seeing Malfoy like that and hearing his taunts. But while years ago he would have gathered all his wits for a snide comeback, things had changed, and Harry felt a stab of betrayal instead.
“Really, Malfoy,” he said. “After everything? I thought you weren’t going to take low shots like that anymore. I guess I was wrong.”
Malfoy’s expression immediately shifted to surprise, and he held his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “Hey, mate, I didn’t mean it like that.” Harry looked at him skeptically. “No, really,” Malfoy went on. “I thought, since you’d still won and all, you’d be able to handle a good ribbing. I guess I was wrong.”
“Yeah, well,” Harry said, shuffling his feet a little in embarrassment. “I guess it’s a bit of a sore spot even so, since I nearly lost us the match and all.”
“Oh, don’t go being a martyr as usual,” Malfoy said. “Everyone knows it was the She-weasel that bungled it for you. She looked more spaced out than Loony Lovegood. And the He-weasel wasn’t much better.”
“The Ravenclaw Chasers are really good,” Harry said defensively.
“Even so,” Malfoy said. “That’s on him, not you.”
“It’s all on me, seeing as I’m captain,” Harry said, before remembering. “Or was.”
“Was? What do you mean, was? They didn’t sack you, did they? Because that’s bloody uncalled for.”
Harry realized he liked the indignation in Malfoy’s words a little too much. “No, they didn’t sack me. I resigned.”
“Resigned?” Malfoy looked appalled. “Why would you resign?”
“It was the right thing to do,” Harry said. “I gave it to Ron.”
“You gave it to… the right thing to…” Malfoy huffed, incensed. “Why on earth would you go and do a thing like that?”
“Because Ron would be a better captain than me, and because I didn’t want to be captain anymore.”
Malfoy simply stared at him.
“It was outright stressful, if you want to know the truth,” Harry said. “And not in a good way. There was no fun in it anymore. I’ve had enough leadership thrust upon me. I didn’t need this on top of everything else. And besides, I’ve started to get it in my head that I should start thinking about what I really want.”
He met Malfoy’s eyes then, and saw the Slytherin swallow visibly. “What you want?” he said, his voice cracking, just a little.
“I haven’t got it all figured out yet,” Harry said, and he found that he was unconsciously stepping closer to the blond, drawn in by the unexpectedly helpless look Malfoy was giving him. “But I figure, if I want to do something, I do it. And if I don’t want to do it, I don’t.”
“Good rule of thumb,” Malfoy said, seeming all too aware that Harry had stepped into his personal bubble, but making no move to create distance between them.
“I think so,” Harry replied.
The energy between them had changed drastically. Looking at Malfoy’s exquisite features, the elegant shape of his neck, and the masculine breadth of his shoulders, Harry couldn’t help but be reminded of his fantasies: images of Malfoy pressed against him, moaning his name in his ear. Harry’s eyes flitted to Malfoy’s mouth, and he found himself nearly panting.
Those lips. I want to taste those lips.
“So, what do you want to do?” Malfoy asked, and Harry’s eyes met the gray ones that were watching him closely.
“I think you already know the answer to that,” Harry said, and, before he could overthink it, he found himself closing the distance, placing his lips on Malfoy’s.
They were soft, and pliable, and Harry breathed in and pressed further, waiting for a response.
It was only a second, with Malfoy frozen in surprise, and then he responded, his mouth returning the pressure and his tongue flitting out cautiously. Harry parted his lips and let that tongue all the way in, and barely stifled a moan at the sweet taste. He brought his hand up to cup the back of Malfoy’s neck, pulling him closer.
Malfoy’s hand ran up Harry’s stomach and over his chest, and Harry was sure that the blond would be able to feel the unrelenting pounding of his heart. But he didn’t care, because he was flush against Malfoy now, pressed groin to groin, and it was good.
Malfoy only had about an inch on him, height-wise, and Harry found this perfect, allowing all the right parts to connect, while he was still easily able to get up under Malfoy’s jaw, trailing kisses along the soft skin before descending to that neck he admired so much, and the pulse that was thrumming just below the surface. Malfoy’s breathing was ragged and desperate, and it made Harry’s cock harden further in his trousers.
He could feel Malfoy’s hardness pressed against him, too, and it was dizzying, knowing the effect he was having on the normally collected Slytherin.
Let’s see how far I can unravel him, he thought, and felt a new surge of lust shoot through him at the idea.
But they were still in an open corridor, and anything more than snogging would land them in serious trouble. Without a second thought Harry grabbed Malfoy by his green and silver necktie and pulled him into the empty classroom, closing and locking the door behind him. He then set to loosening the tie further, all the while letting Malfoy ravish his lips raw.
Harry wanted to get his hands on anything he could, and Malfoy seemed to be feeling the same, because Harry suddenly found his outer robes being undone and tossed to the floor.
Harry returned the favor, then slid a hand up under the white shirt that had come untucked from black trousers, feeling the taut skin that stretched over the lean muscle of Malfoy’s abdomen.
“Fuck, Draco,” Harry said in the Slytherin’s ear, knowing if there was ever a time for first names, it was now. He heard Malfoy gasp, and was satisfied with the response. Instead of traveling upward, his hand moved down, hitting the rim of the trousers and sliding onto Malfoy’s belt buckle. “Can I…”
“Yes,” Malfoy said against his neck.
Harry needed no further prompting, working on the belt with shaking hands and making quick work of the zipper. He plunged his hand past Malfoy’s underwear without preamble, thrilled at the sizeable erection he found waiting there. His fingers wrapped around it gently and Malfoy – Draco – whimpered seductively.
Harry was beyond thinking now. He needed Draco to feel what he was feeling, and vice versa. He fumbled left-handed with his own belt and zipper, finally freeing his erection and pressing forward so that their naked cocks rutted together.
“Merlin, fuck, Harry,” Draco said, nipping at Harry’s ear.
Harry groaned in response, the friction between them sending molten jets of pleasure through every nerve. He continued to rut against Draco with abandon, allowing his hand to give added stimulation that sent him to another level of need. He was nearly there, approaching climax faster than he ever had in his life. He didn’t know that this kind of activity could feel so good; he was running purely on instinct. But the way Draco was responding to him, clutching him almost painfully, it seemed his instinct was right on the money.
They had been breathing heavily into each other’s necks, but Harry realized he wanted Draco’s mouth again, and so he lifted his head and took it, nipping at the full bottom lip before delving his tongue inside. Draco moaned into Harry’s mouth, never missing a beat as they ground together.
Harry was reaching for climax, but Draco got there first, by only a few seconds. All it took was feeling the hot splash of cum on his hand and Draco shuddering against him, and Harry found he was joining him in bliss, clutching that hard body against him as pleasure ripped through him, concentrated in his cock but reaching to the tips of his fingers in the aftershocks.
They did not move for what felt like a very long time, their breathing slowly getting under control. Harry took these few moments to bury his face against Draco’s neck, memorizing the scent of him. He placed a couple of light kisses there, and felt Draco shudder slightly.
Harry slowly came back to his senses, and realized it had to be curfew by now, or close to it. While 8^th years did not have to abide by the curfew like the younger students, Harry knew there would be staff and prefects patrolling the corridors, and they were bound to be discovered if they lingered long enough.
He wasn’t sure what to say now, if anything really had to be said. One glance at Draco found him glassy-eyed and sated, and Harry felt it right that they should leave it there, for now. There would be plenty of time for discussion, and decisions, in the light of day. The entire encounter had been too wonderful for words.
Their eyes met, although Draco still seemed far away, in some sense, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. Harry gave him a warm and gratified smile, and a soft kiss to the lips, which was returned lazily.
“Goodnight, Draco,” Harry whispered against that sweet mouth. He pulled away, cast a quick cleaning charm on himself, redid his zipper, and grabbed his robes from off the floor.
“Goodnight, Harry.” The voice was barely audible.
Without another word, Harry gave Draco another soft peck, unlocked the door, and slipped into the quiet of the castle.
djaddict: Thanks! I’m not a big Ginny fan either, but I’m mixed about Ron. When things get real, he steps up, but it’s so easy for him to get hung up on the petty stuff. I’m trying to write him in this story as less insecure, though. He’ll get it together soon.
Dedicated_Reader: I’m glad you’re feeling the burn! Lol. Of course, all tension must finally snap. I hope this wasn’t too soon for you! Don’t worry, we’ve still got a ways to go until all is worked out. And I’m very much looking forward to writing Ron’s reaction :)
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