Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

What Remains	By : Sasunarufan13 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6084 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor make profit of it. J.K. Rowling owns it.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Author's note: This chapter was supposed to have been posted earlier, but I still had to finish it and well, it grew out way longer than I expected O_O So yes, my apologies for the wait!
Thanks to the following reviewers: Jan; ANON and Whitmore
Have I mentioned already how much I appreciate your reviews? They really make me happy!
Warnings: Angst; lemon; self-esteem issues; insecurity; form of breakdown
I hope you'll like it!
Part 7
They want to restart negotiations for a marriage.
Those words kept echoing in his mind and wouldn't leave him alone since he had heard them when he had stumbled upon Draco and Zabini talking about it. It had been three days since then and Draco hadn't once mentioned the letter. For all intents and purposes it was like he had never received the message.
But he had and now Harry couldn't get it out of his head. It refused to leave his mind and haunted him throughout the entire day and even in his dreams.
He wished he had stayed long enough to hear the rest of the conversation, but he had stumbled away to his office where he had hidden himself until Draco had found him two hours later. He berated himself for being so stupid, but truth be told, even if he had remained to eavesdrop on the rest of the conversation, he probably still wouldn't be able to recall anything what was said after those words. It was like his mind had shut down after hearing those words leave Draco's lips and there had been nothing but ringing in his ears and the sound of his harsh breathing.
He could ask Draco. Bring up the fact that he had heard the other man talking about it and ask him what he was planning to do with it. Whether he was going to reject it or … accept it. Normally Harry would have no qualms about confronting Draco about something, but this time he couldn't bring himself to do it, afraid of what he would hear. Afraid of the answer he would receive.
Because let's face it, it was a good proposal. It made sense. The Greengrass' were a prestigious Pureblood family and had managed to climb up high on the social ladder, aligning themselves with influential people. They had a lot of money and one of the most important arguments favouring them: they had the beauty and the grace that Harry was definitely missing.
He had never been particularly graceful – he had already been happy if he didn't make a fool out of himself during a gathering – but before the attack he had had at least the knowledge that he looked rather well. He had never quite believed Draco when he told him he was beautiful, but he hadn't been too shabby looking either.
Now …
He thought he had got better. After the trial he had finally started to gather the pieces that had been his life before the attack. He had become more relaxed around Draco, had cautiously started to believe that Draco wasn't disgusted with him or pitied him and had started enjoying the intimacy between them again.
He had been getting back on track – or so he thought.
Just one simple sentence had been enough to shatter the little self-esteem he had managed to build up these past few weeks and niggling doubt lingered in the back of his mind, offering no escape from it.
He was acting ridiculous he knew. He was being an idiot, but that didn't stop the doubt from taking over, didn't make him stop wondering at night whether Draco would be really happy if he stayed with him.
Made him question whether it wouldn't be better for Draco if he could spend the rest of his life with someone who wasn't damaged, who knew their way around Pureblood society, who wouldn't be a constant embarrassment for him.
"Damn it," Harry cursed, staring blankly at the knife he had been using to chop the carrots. He had arrived home an hour ago; the case of the illegal potion trafficking having been solved in the early afternoon.
He had figured that instead of trying to decide which new case to take on he would go home and look through the information Hermione had gathered so far about a possible organisation. Like always she had been quite thorough and she had assured him she was still looking into things. It made Harry question what on earth could still be there to be looked into, considering the file with information was already rather thick.
It had been a good plan; reading the information would perhaps finally take his mind off the damned letter, but after rereading the same paragraph for the fifth time without the content of it getting absorbed in his brain he had given up on it. He was feeling too restless, too on edge, and staring at the same page without making any progress only agitated him more.
Eventually after staring out of the window for a while he had dragged himself out of his study, downstairs to start preparing dinner. He didn't know exactly when Draco would arrive home, but he figured that making preparations for dinner was a better way to pass the time than staring blankly out of the window.
But even with his attention focused on the task in front of him, thoughts about the letter kept swirling in his mind and he wondered despondently when he had become so pathetic. His insecurities had already been hindering his relationship for a while now – he couldn't keep drowning in them, couldn't let them snatch away one of the few good things left in his life.
However that was all easier said than done.
His inability to overcome his insecurities was aggravating him even more, because he knew he was better than this. He had never let insecurities get the best of him before, so why was it different now? Why couldn't he just get past them? He had been doing so well …
He nearly jumped three feet in the air and almost sliced open his thumb when the door of the kitchen suddenly swung open. Heartbeat quickening, he whirled around, hand already slipping down to grab his wand, before he relaxed and slumped back against the counter with a sigh as he realised who was standing in the doorway, watching him bemused.
"Sorry, you surprised me," Harry smiled wryly, tucking his wand back into his pocket. "I didn't hear you coming home."
"Not really something an Auror should admit, hm?" Draco murmured teasingly and drew closer, dropping his potion stained robes on one of the kitchen chairs.
Then suddenly he was next to Harry and he bent down to kiss his mouth; one hand casually coming to rest on Harry's right hip.
The dark haired man flinched before he could stop himself and he realised the mistake he had made when he felt Draco tense against him before taking a step back with a sigh.
"Harry …"
"Just … It's nothing," Harry fumbled, turning around to face the carrots again so he wouldn't have to look at Draco's disappointed face. Why couldn't he just stop fucking up?
"It's not nothing, Harry," Draco remarked quietly and a heavy silence descended upon the two men.
Biting his lower lip, Harry sought desperately for a way to change the topic, to lighten the oppressing atmosphere in the kitchen. Anything that would distract Draco from the fact that his own lover couldn't even properly kiss him on the mouth without flinching.
Fuck, he had been doing so well lately …
"Harry … There is something I need to talk about with you," Draco broke the silence finally, but his words made something heavy drop into Harry's stomach.
Those words usually didn't lead to anything good, right? Or was he just being too pessimistic?
"What do you want to talk about?" Harry asked, praying that his voice wasn't trembling as much as he thought it did. His hand was still gripping the knife, but he hadn't made a move to cut the carrots in a while now. The knife hung uselessly above the cutting board; a half sliced carrot resting underneath the sharp blade.
"Can you turn around?"
Steeling himself – for what he didn't know – Harry dropped the knife on the counter and slowly turned around, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He remained leaning against the counter while Draco was standing next to the kitchen table, one hand resting on the back of a chair.
"What?" he asked apprehensively; his nails digging into his arms.
Draco sighed and the empty look in his grey eyes made Harry feel cold all of a sudden. "I got a letter from the Greengrass' family a few days ago. Asking me whether I would reconsider marrying Astoria," he said, voice flat, devoid of any infliction. His face was a blank mask, leaving Harry to wonder what the other man was really thinking.
Harry's heart clenched and he took a shuddering breath. Despite already knowing about it, he hadn't been prepared to hear those words leave Draco's mouth again. "Wha- what do you think about it?" The words escaped him in a whisper; the lump in his throat preventing him from speaking harder.
"I've been thinking," Draco started uncomfortably and Harry's heartbeat doubled its speed at Draco avoiding his question. "It's been three months since the attack."
Harry remained silent, not knowing what to say.
"And I've supported you from the start. I love you and that hasn't changed."
But. There was a 'but' there, Harry could practically hear it. He was right.
"But no matter what I do, no matter what I say, it's like you don't trust me anymore," Draco continued and he sounded pained; his hands clenching into fists next to his hips.
"Of course I trust you!" Harry protested immediately, balking at the absurd statement. Draco was one of the few people left in his life who he trusted unconditionally.
"No, you don't. At least not like you used to," Draco retorted and he sounded miserable. "It's like there's this wall between us and nothing I do breaches it. You're keeping me at a distance and that honestly hurts, Harry. I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know what I still can do to make you realise that nothing has changed for me."
"I …" Harry closed his mouth, lost as to what he could say.
Did Draco really feel like that? Did he really think Harry didn't trust him anymore? Because that wasn't true; he did trust Draco. He just couldn't trust himself to actually believe what the blond told him. He wanted nothing more than to just go back to how they used to be; back to the time when it was easy to touch and kiss Draco without fearing he would be disgusted by the scars. The time when he just laughed off Draco's insistence on calling the green eyed man beautiful while secretly revelling in the compliment without a dark voice in the back of his mind hissing at him that Draco had to be lying.
Back to the time when it was just them.
"Harry …" Draco trailed off, looking incredibly uncomfortable and miserable at the same time and Harry wanted nothing more than to cross the remaining distance between them to embrace the older man, but his legs refused to move. "I think – I think it's best if we take a break."
"A break?" Harry repeated; shock making his body numb. "What do you mean, a break?" His voice caught at the last words and his breath hitched; his eyes pricking traitorously with tears.
"I can't – I'm tired, Harry. I try so hard, but I just can't reach you anymore. I feel like I'm fighting a lost battle and that's not how I want us to be," Draco said softly; the light in his eyes that had always been there when he looked at Harry dimmed. "I don't want to lose you, Harry, but I can't do this any longer. I don't want to be the only one fighting anymore. So maybe we – we should take a break, at least until we figure ourselves out again."
Every cell in his body screamed that he didn't want a break, that he would do his best to become better, if only Draco stayed with him, but what left his mouth was, "Are you – are you going to accept the proposal?"
Draco didn't answer, his face didn't change, but his silence was enough of an answer.
He had lost him. For good this time.
His heart shattered.
Green eyes shot wide open; his heart thundering madly in his chest and he shot up, covering his face with his trembling hands as he tried to calm down. His breathing was ridiculously loud in the silent room; only the faint buzz of early morning traffic accompanied it.
Toes curling into the mattress he stared with wide eyes at the wardrobe; his fingers tugging at his hair. A violent shiver raked through his body and for one moment he thought he was going to throw up; nausea making his stomach churn.
The moment passed. The nausea abated and he lowered his hands, staring at them blankly as they laid on the crumpled sheets.
Next to him the other man stirred. "Hm, Harry? Something wrong?" His voice was heavy with sleep, cracking in some places and a leg brushed against Harry's thigh as the older man shifted around, coming to lie on his back.
Harry slowly breathed out and turned his head; emerald green catching stone grey, softened with sleep. The nightmare had felt so real that it jarred him to see Draco lying next to him, blond hair mussed, eyes not empty but regarding him with worry.
"Harry?" A hint of concern leaked through Draco's voice and his eyebrows furrowed.
"Nothing." Harry shook his head and smiled faintly, holding out his hand.
Draco grasped it without question, entangling their fingers together, and used it to pull Harry back down on the bed.
"Just a bad dream," Harry sighed and didn't resist when Draco slung his arm around his waist, pulling him closer.
"Good thing I'm here to chase away the bad dreams, hm?" Draco murmured, voice trailing off as he fell asleep again; nose pressed against Harry's shoulder.
"Yeah," Harry mumbled and remained awake as sleep eluded him, watching how the early May sun slowly fought its way through the curtains and trailed over the ceiling and the walls, spreading its soft morning glow in the room.
It might have been just a bad dream, his subconscious showing him what he was most afraid of, but he had made his resolve.
He was going to do everything he could in order to make sure that that nightmare would never come true.
Perhaps it was time to pay Grimmauld Place Twelve – more specifically its library – a visit.
Even though he had decided that Sirius' old home would be most likely to contain the books he needed, he hadn't actually held out much hope that he would find what he was searching for. But he had to try.
So on a Saturday afternoon after saying goodbye to Hermione and Ron he left their home and Apparated to Grimmauld Place. Draco had some sort of potions conference going on in Ireland today and wouldn't be back until very late in the evening. He had met up with Ron and Hermione to discuss his plans for the organisation and his idea was finally starting to take real form. He would still need to submit the required documents and find people who were willing to work for the organisation, but he was cautiously optimistic about his chance of succeeding. Narcissa had already informed him he would have the Malfoys' support and with them support of some other Pureblood families.
At least something in his life was going right completely.
Harry hadn't told his friends nor Draco where he was going now. As far as they were concerned, he had gone back home to work in the garden a bit to take advantage of the beautiful, soft weather they had been having lately. He didn't need them questioning him as to why he was going back to Grimmauld Place after not having set foot in it for a couple of years.
The wards were still in place so when Harry arrived in the street he was looking at houses number eleven and thirteen with no sign of the Blacks' ancestral home. Training his gaze on a spot right in the middle of the two houses, he thought, The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.
Grimmauld Place Twelve wiggled itself into place between number eleven and thirteen, greeting him with dark windows. Casting a glance left and right, he hurried across the street and slipped into the house without anyone else being the wiser.
The umbrella stand made of a troll's leg, the one Tonks had constantly stumbled against, still stood by the door with one lonely umbrella in it, long forgotten by its owner. The curtains in front of Mrs. Black's portrait had been spelled shut for eternity by Hermione, who had taken a vicious pleasure in shutting up the old, vile insults spitting woman for good. They had wanted to take down the portrait, but until this day they hadn't managed to figure out a counter spell for the spell that caused the portrait to be stuck to the wall.
Dust coated every surface, but there was no real grime to speak of. From Harry's position he could see a chair thrown over in the kitchen as if someone had shoved it backwards with all their might, causing it to topple over.
"Master is back. What is Master doing here?" A voice croaked; the tone not at all welcoming.
Harry flicked his gaze upwards, to the top of the staircase. "Hello, Kreacher," he greeted the ancient house elf calmly.
After the war was finished, he hadn't known what to do with the house elf Sirius had given to him in his inheritance. He didn't want the elf near him but he also didn't want to risk setting him free, not trusting what the creature would do. He had decided to leave Kreacher in the Blacks' home, figuring the house elf would be happiest here.
"Master is scarred," Kreacher remarked and narrowed his eyes; his long, thin fingers wrapped around the banister of the staircase.
"Yes. I'm here to search some books," Harry told him, keeping a careful eye on the house elf.
Kreacher smirked. "For the scars?" he hissed and his eyes glinted viciously. "Well, if Master wants to look for books, who is Kreacher to stop him?" He bowed; the action mocking instead of a sign of respect.
"Does the Black library have anything that can help me?" Harry asked, pointedly ignoring the satisfaction lingering in Kreacher's eyes.
Immediately Kreacher stiffened, some of his bones cracking with the movement, and he appeared thoroughly offended. "The Black library is one of the best in the world," he hissed displeased. "There is nothing you can't find there."
"Good to know. Then I'll go looking in the library," Harry said flatly and ascended the staircase; his hand lingering on his wand.
"Shall Kreacher prepare some tea?" the house elf asked; big eyes fixated on his master.
"You do that," Harry muttered, thinking it was best if Kreacher was occupied with something.
The house elf bowed once more, his long nose brushing against the ratty carpet, and disappeared with a soft 'POP'.
The library was still like Harry remembered it, filled to the brim with books. Recent ones which had been added by the Order of the Phoenix when they had still been occupying the house. Older ones, thick tomes which looked ready to fall apart at the slightest hint of mistreatment, brought into the library by various members of the Black family.
Needless to say, considering the history of the Blacks, most books had at least some dealings with Black magic. There were books here which no law abiding bookstore would ever think to sell unless they wanted a visit from the Aurors. Old books which couldn't be found even in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library because of their dark content.
Harry stood still in the middle of the chaotic room, breathing in dust particles and the scent of old books, as he surveyed the towering bookcases and tables which groaned underneath the weight of the piled up books. He should have alerted the Ministry about these books, let them empty the room and take the ones dealing with Dark magic away, but he had never managed to convince himself to actually do it. He knew what Dark magic was capable of, but it had never felt right to let Sirius' old home be invaded by the Ministry. Even though Sirius had hated this place, Harry couldn't bring himself to get rid of the books, consoling himself with the thought that maybe one day he would need one of these books to crack a case.
A flimsy excuse, but he just hadn't wanted to be bothered with the questions that would arise if he told the Ministry about the books. To be honest, he hadn't thought he would ever find himself back in this place.
But now here he was, hoping to finally find the answer that all the other books at home had deprived him from.
He didn't have time to go through each book, so he pulled out his wand out of his pocket and pointed it at the only remaining spot on a nearby table that hadn't been taken over by books yet.
"Loco books dealing with healing of scars," he stated clearly, figuring that a spell to find every book revolving around scars and the healing of them would make his search easier.
There were some heavy 'thuds' as if various books were being thrown on the floor, the sound of pages rustling, and then he had to duck in order to avoid being brained by four books flying at him at high speed.
They came to an abrupt halt above the remaining empty space on the table, trembled slight in the air, their covers cracking, before they plopped down, causing dust to fly up and making Harry sneeze.
He rubbed his nose and stared at the small pile surprised. He had expect more books, considering the vast amount available in the library. A snort escaped him when he realised why there were only four available. Healing something wasn't Dark magic, so it made sense that the Black library wouldn't have many books about Light magic.
"Let's hope I have more luck with these ones," he muttered, casting the books a dubious glance. The one on top had a cracked cover and looked ready to fall apart. The three others were in a slightly better state, but there were still tiny cracks in their covers and their pages heavily yellowed, so Harry knew he had to be careful when transporting them to his house.
His visit would be for naught if the books fell apart before he even had the chance to look through them.
When he returned home twenty minutes later, his bag filled with the heavy books, Andromeda's owl was waiting for him on the kitchen table with a letter.
'Dear Harry,
I know you've been busy with the planning for your organisation, but would it be possible for you to play some Quidditch with Teddy today? He's feeling quite restless due to the upcoming full moon and you've always been good at getting him to calm down.
Love,
Andromeda'
A smile curled around his lips, a spark of amusement lightning up in him, as he read the letter. The full moon didn't affect Teddy always. There were months when Teddy wouldn't react to it and they would only know the full moon was there if they looked at the night sky. Other months, like this one apparently, Teddy felt incredibly restless, the full moon seemingly hyping him up with a lot of energy. Teddy wasn't a werewolf and didn't transform during the nights of the full moon, but he clearly had inherited some lycanthropy tendencies from his father.
Harry had taken to spending those days with Teddy, coming up with anything that would tire out the boy long enough to sleep peacefully through the night. Quidditch was one of their favourite things to do, because it provided a good outlet for the energy buzzing around in Teddy.
The books could wait a day longer. First he was going to spend some time with his godson.
Everything went to hell only a few weeks later at the end of May.
After nearly two weeks of searching through the books, reading them in his study whenever he found a moment, he had finally found a ritual that could help him reduce his scars. He had been practically delirious with happiness when he stumbled upon the page and realised that this ritual would help him gain some normalcy back. It would reduce his scars significantly and would finally have him looking normal again. He would still have some scars, but the promise of not having to feel the jagged edges of his scars and the molten mess that was his forehead anymore was already more than he could have dreamt of.
The only problem was that the ritual teetered closely to the Dark side, given some of the ingredients necessary for it – his blood for example and some skin tissue. But if this ritual could give him a normal face again, he would take that risk and balance on the fine line between Light and Dark.
The ritual had given him hope and that was more than he had had in months.
It would take some time to gather all the ingredients and he would have to wait for the right phase of the moon to conduct the ritual, but he was willing to wait a bit longer in exchange for finally looking normal again.
What he hadn't counted on was Draco finding the book.
"What the hell is this?" Draco snapped, pointing at the Cicatrices et Curas accusingly.
The book was open on the page explaining the ritual with drawings of people with scars accompanying the instructions.
Harry froze in the door opening, his hand resting on the clasp of his robes. He had only just returned home from a case dealing with the theft of rare potions and had gone upstairs to his study when he had caught the sound of footsteps there. He hadn't expected Draco to have found the book – or for him to be so furious. "How did you find it?" Harry stammered, certain he had put the book away before he went to bed last night.
"I was looking for another book when this one fell out of your bookcase," Draco answered impatiently and his eyes were ablaze with anger. "Care to tell me why the fuck you have marked this page?"
Irritation surged up in Harry before he squashed it down, not wanting to get into a screaming match with the blond. "Isn't it obvious? I finally found something that can help me reduce this scars. I thought you would be happy too, because - "
"Happy?!" Draco snarled and Harry paled, the rest of his sentence stuck in his throat as he stared right into glaring eyes. "Why the fuck should I be happy with a ritual that can cause you to end up as a Squib or worse?! Didn't you read all the information?!"
"Of course I did!" Harry snapped back, irritation flaring up again, and he took a step closer, ripping off his robes with an impatient jerk and throwing them on the floor. "But the book clearly states that the chance of something like that happening is small, so I figured I would -"
"You call having sixty-three percent chance at losing all your magic or even your life small?" Draco asked, voice shrill, and he slammed the book shut. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! Why the hell would you even think that this ritual would be a good - "
"Because I'm sick and tired of not feeling good enough anymore for you, okay?!" Harry shouted, the words bursting out of him before he could stop them, and Draco stared at him in shock.
"Harry, what …"
"I want to look normal again, all right? I don't want you to wake up one day and be done with me because you're disgusted with how I look," Harry continued, voice thick; tears trickling down his cheeks, leaving a fiery trail behind. "I don't want to be the one who holds you back. I don't want you regretting staying with me. I don't want to take away your chances of climbing up in society because of the way I look. I don't – I don't want to see you choose Greengrass in the end because she looks better than me and knows her way in Pureblood society and is beautiful and doesn't look like a freak. I just – I don't want to lose you."
Tears were freely pouring down his cheeks now, obstructing his sight, and his chest hurt with every intake of breath; his sobs tearing through his throat. Every insecurity, every thought, every fear he had had during the past few months poured out of him and that only made the shame burn brighter; his skin prickling with heat as he realised he had just shown Draco what an insecure wreck he was.
"You know about the letter," Draco said, breaking through the heavy silence.
Harry just nodded, not trusting his voice, as he clenched his fingers around the folds in his shirt, trying to stop crying, but the tears just kept coming.
"I don't know how you heard about it, but let me make one thing clear: I'm not and will never be interested in marrying Greengrass," Draco stated strongly, his gaze steadfast as he looked at Harry. "Nor am I interested in marrying anyone else. When I marry, it's going to be you who I meet at the altar and it's going to be you who's going to wear my ring. Nobody else. There is nobody in this world who can even hope to come close to who you are. I love you, Harry, and that's not going to change. You're still beautiful to me."
"But I - "
"I don't want you to perform this ritual," Draco continued, his voice becoming even stronger. "Just as you don't want to lose me, I don't want to lose you. I can't have you taking that risk, Harry. It's not worth it. We're going to get through this without you having to resort to dangerous rituals. You don't have to change a thing about you, okay? I don't care that you don't know your way around the Purebloods; I fell in love with you because of who you are, not because you know how to act around Purebloods. Don't be stupid. I don't care that you have scars – to me they're just proof that you're stronger than anyone else, that nothing and nobody can take you down. If I have to spend every day of the rest of our lives convincing you that you are beautiful and desirable then I'll do it. Because you are."
Suddenly Draco was standing in front of him, tenderly brushing away the tears with his thumbs as he cradled Harry's cheeks in his hands. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen, Harry," he whispered lovingly, sincerely, and bent closer. "Will you allow me to show you how beautiful you are?"
One word. He just had to say one word and Draco would retreat, Harry knew. He wouldn't force himself upon Harry, would never hurt him, but left the choice up to Harry. They were both teetering on the edge of the cliff, Draco's words spinning around them.
Harry let himself fall, trusting Draco to catch him.
A soft breeze slipped through the cracked open window, made the curtains rustle and tickled across bare skin. The sun was slowly setting, casting red orange rays across the wall.
The sheets on the bed were pushed back, nearly falling on the floor, draped haphazardly over the back of the bed.
Harry was lying on his back with Draco hovering above him; both completely naked for the first time since months.
"Let me take care of you," Draco had whispered as he slowly removed every article of clothing that had kept Harry's skin hidden from his eyes. The clothes – both his and Draco's – had been carelessly dropped on the floor before the blond man had pushed him back on the bed, coming to kneel between Harry's spread legs.
At first they did nothing but kiss. Their lips slowly rubbing against each other, tips of tongues occasionally peeking out, wetting their mouths, before they gradually deepened their kiss. Lips parted with a soft gasp and tongues tentatively met each other in the middle before growing a bit bolder and curling around each other. A surprised moan was torn out of Harry's throat when Draco sucked lightly on his tongue and he felt the blond man smile against his lips.
They broke apart with a wet sound and Harry was left softly gasping for air as Draco pressed tender, light kisses all over his face: lips landed on his forehead, smoothing out the faint frown there, before dipping down to place a playful kiss on the tip of his nose. Then lips brushed across his right cheek and then his left, seemingly not bothered by the rough ridges of the scar there. A tongue lapped up a few stray tears escaping green eyes before a mouth slipped lower, kissing Harry's chin. Another soft kiss was pressed on Harry's lips before Draco changed his track to Harry's neck where he licked and sucked on the places he knew to be very sensitive.
By the time he released Harry's neck, the younger man was breathing harshly; blood rushing loudly through his veins and he felt his cheeks warm at the look of pure desire burning in grey eyes.
Fingers caressed his face lovingly before dipping down to stroke his neck, shoulders and arms. Harry raised his arms, intent on returning the sentiment, but Draco shook his head with a smile and pressed his arms down again.
"No, not now. Tonight I want to make you feel good," Draco murmured; his fingernails raking teasingly over Harry's chest, leaving goose bumps in their wake.
"But I feel good when I touch you," Harry blurted out, blushing fiercely when his brain caught up to what he had said.
A hint of laughter shone through Draco's voice as he said, "I'm glad to know that. But for tonight, you just have to relax and let me make you feel good."
He brushed a kiss on Harry's closed eyelids. "I love your eyes. I love the way they change colour depending on how you feel. I especially love how dark they become when I'm making you feel good," Draco smiled and his smile deepened when Harry reddened.
"I love your lips. They're perfect for kissing and I love arguing with you," the blond continued with a chuckle, pressing a deep kiss on Harry's mouth.
Before Harry could deepen the kiss, Draco pulled back and the dark haired man felt helpless under the onslaught of compliments and hands brushing and stroking and caressing his skin.
"I love your cheekbones." A kiss on each cheek. "I love your face, how expressive you are."
Hands caressed his arms, dancing across muscles. "I love your arms, how strong you are. I feel safe when you wrap them around me."
Kisses pressed on each hand. "I love your hands. They're hands of an artist, delicate yet strong. I love seeing you cast magic."
A wicked grin played around Draco's lips as his tongue licked a path between Harry's nipples; they pebbled right underneath his touch and Harry couldn't supress a moan as the buds each were lavished with attention. "I love your chest. I love how sensitive you are here. I like knowing I'm the only one who can make you scream with pleasure."
Hands dipped down to his stomach, stroking and caressing the skin there, teasing him, before those devious hands skipped his hardened cock, and instead focused on his legs. Fingers dug into his thighs, his lower legs, pressing against the muscles there before they caressed him lightly making him shiver with pleasure.
"I love your legs. They're strong and fast." Draco smirked. "I especially love it when they're wrapped around me as I thrust in you."
A loud moan escaped Harry when hands slipped underneath him and grabbed his arse cheeks, kneading them softly. "I love your arse. It's a very fine one and I love knowing I'm the only one who's allowed to grab it and have my way with it," Draco whispered and came back to steal another kiss from Harry.
At this point his mouth felt quite swollen and bruised and Harry loved it.
Fingers dipped down into a jar of lubrication and came back up with the glistening substance. Draco gripped Harry's right hand with his own left one as his right hand disappeared between Harry's legs, dipping between his cheeks and circling around his hole, brushing teasingly over it.
"I love the sounds you make," Draco murmured as Harry gasped softly when one finger slipped inside, breaching his body for the first time in months. "I love feeling your body move when I touch you. I love seeing your skin flush."
Harry was going out of his mind. Draco's fingers were gently opening him up, slipping deep inside so they could stretch his muscles and the sensation of having those fingers move in him was driving him mad.
Pleasure was wrecking his body, his muscles tensing and relaxing as Draco kept murmuring compliments, kissing him whenever he could, stealing his breath away.
Then those fingers disappeared, leaving him empty, and Harry whined, arms shooting out to wrap around Draco's neck in case the blond had any ideas of leaving him like this.
"I'm here," Draco murmured as he gently pulled Harry's legs around his waist; the tip of his cock resting against Harry's stretched opening. "I'm not leaving you. Not ever."
Green eyes shot open, staring wide eyed at the ceiling as Draco sank in him, filling him up completely, stretching him even more than the fingers had done. Filling Harry so thoroughly that the dark haired man had no choice but to accept him, let him inside in him, both his mind and body.
"I love knowing that I'm the only one who can see you like this," Draco started to pant as his thrusts picked up speed. "I love knowing that I'm the only one who can drive you crazy. That I'm the only one who has the privilege of having you like this."
Harry couldn't answer even if he had wanted to. He could only whimper and moan, eyes closed as the pleasure crashed into him, overloading his senses.
His mouth dropped open, no sound escaping him, when it all became too much and he exploded, his body trembling and shivering violently as he coated both him and Draco's stomach with his essence.
Green eyes, pupils blown out, caught burning grey and Draco cursed, his hips stuttering to a stop, as he filled Harry with his seed; their mouths sloppily moving against each other.
They laid there panting, their hearts beating madly, until they finally got their bearings back and Draco pulled back carefully, dropping down next to Harry and pulling him into his arms, heedless of the way their sweaty skin stuck together.
"I say it again and again and will proof it over and over again, as many times as you need me to," Draco said softly, a hand cupping Harry's left cheek tenderly. "I love you and nothing is ever going to change that."
This time the tears that escaped Harry no longer carried a trace of sorrow and shame.
He had let himself fall off the cliff and Draco had been there to catch him.
Just like he had promised he would.
AN2: So what do you guys think? I'm a bit worried about the last scene, but I wanted to portray that Harry is finally starting to allow himself to actually believe Draco. He still has a way to go before he's entirely at ease with himself, but he finally took the first step here.
At least that's what I wanted to portray and I hope that came across *winces* Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
Next chapter will be the last and will feature the epilogue.
I hope to see you all in the last chapter again!
Cuddles
Melissa
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