Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Ad Pavonem	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4188 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Eight—Free the Resistance
The kiss was extraordinary.
Harry had spent so much time daydreaming, anticipating, what it would be like. And then he would wake up from the daydream and tell himself not to be a fool. Draco was either straight or would want to get married and have children so as not to destroy his family line. Fantasizing like this was…misguided at best, stupid at worst.
It seemed that, for once, the daydream was closer to reality than Harry’s pessimism.
Draco’s hand was in his hair and pressing down, rumpling up little curls that made Harry’s scalp tingle. His other hand clasped Harry’s shoulder and pulled him in, and his tongue shot sparks up Harry’s spine just from being in his mouth, and his panting huffed gently across Harry’s cheeks, and even his breath smelled good.
Harry moaned. He couldn’t help it. Draco was just overwhelming all his senses, and it was so…
Draco froze for a moment at the moan. Harry jerked his head back, panicked. If Draco changed his mind, if he suddenly woke up and realized what he was doing and that it might not be a good idea, Harry didn’t know what he would do.
But it seemed the moan had been a different kind of signal, because Draco gave a guttural noise and seized hold of Harry’s throat and reeled him back into the kiss. Harry went, melting with relief, smoothing his hands up and down Draco’s arms. God, even his muscles seemed to bulge and ripple under his fingers differently than the muscles of any other man he’d ever touched.
Then again, I wasn’t in love before.
Harry shuddered and pressed closer. For just a few minutes, he wanted to forget the rest of the world existed.
*
Draco finally broke off the kiss because it became obvious that Harry wouldn’t, even when he was swaying from lack of air and making exhausted sounds. He gently traced the curve of Harry’s cheekbone and watched his dazed eyes flutter open.
“You are something, you know that?” Draco whispered.
“That’s—what I wanted to hear.”
“Why those specific words?” Draco became aware he was whispering, even though there was really no reason to do so, and shook his head a little at himself.
“Because I spent so many years thinking I would be nothing to you, out of necessity.” Harry touched his shoulder as if the curve of the bone was a miracle. “Because of course your loyalty to your family would have to come first.” He looked up, and his eyes were misty. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that I was wrong.”
Draco grabbed Harry’s hand and kissed the palm. Even the slight touch of his breath made Harry whimper, so Draco decided to try the tip of his tongue. Harry shifted and dropped one hand as if he either wanted to prevent Draco from seeing the line of his cock or wanted to wank right here and now.
The thought made Draco so hot that he regretted they were in the middle of the Ministry. He contented himself with catching Harry’s other hand and saying, “Later, I promise, I’m going to make you feel so good.”
Harry swallowed, concentrated, and let his shoulders relax, nodding. “All—all right.” He tilted his head at the door then, and his eyes flickered with concern. “Ron and Hermione are probably wondering what’s going on.”
“Let them wonder.” Draco held Harry’s eyes until he smiled, a small one that seemed more genuine than the big ones Draco occasionally saw in photographs on the front page of the Prophet.
“Maybe they can,” said Harry. “But we need to figure out where the smugglers in your Manor are actually coming from, and whether your father’s contacts are involved. And your friends.” His hand caught Draco’s and squeezed a little.
Draco sighed. Harry was right. He was being sensible. Draco was the one who supposedly had the kind of brainpower that meant he would make a sensible decision. That meant not doing things like having sex with Harry right in the middle of the Ministry.
But he wanted to promise himself something first, before he actually put it off.
“You’ll let me make you come if we’re in some place other than the Ministry tonight?” he asked softly.
Harry’s eyes widened. Then he said, “Only if you make me the same promise.”
Draco had to close his eyes and breathe hard for a few seconds to throw off temptation. Then he nodded tightly, and Harry nodded back and went and opened the door, calling cheerfully to his friends.
*
We have this to look forward to.
Harry held his temper and his lust tightly under control as he spoke with Ron and Hermione, making them laugh even as he talked about the way that his transformation back from peacock to human had been so simple. And the whole time, he had to fight against looking at Draco, who strolled down the corridor beside them with his hands in his pockets.
I'll get to look at him later. I'll get to make him come later. He promised.
But Harry only managed to shake the image of what he would get to do later off when he remembered the danger the smugglers posed to Draco.
I'll get to do nothing at all if he's in prison because some misguided Auror weighed the evidence against him up wrong.
"Do you think we ought to go to your house and catch them in the act?" Harry asked, interrupting Ron as he started to make a joke about peacocks and cocks that Harry was, quite frankly, not obliged to listen to. "Or should we contact one of your friends and make them think you've reconsidered about joining them in smuggling?"
A thoughtful look crept over Draco's face, and he nodded. "I don't perform a Patronus well, so I would have to send them owl. That would give us some more time to set up an ambush, don't you think?"
"You don't perform a Patronus well?"
Draco gave him a long, smoky look. Ron and Hermione just stopped walking and waited, oblivious. Harry knew they'd stopped walking because he and Draco had, not because they sensed the undercurrent that was flowing past them.
"I usually don't think I have a memory that's happy enough. But we can work on fixing that later."
Harry's lips tingled, his hands ached, and he barely managed to break the gaze and look away to nod. "Of course. Of course that's something we can talk about later." He broke off his speaking then, because he was babbling.
"Harry? Are you okay?"
Hermione, of course. Harry gave her a faint smile and said, “Yeah. It’s just overwhelming to be back in human form, you know?”
“I know! Your senses must have been so different as a peacock. How did you cope with not being able to smell anything? I know most birds don’t have much of a sense of smell. Or did you? If there was only a way to talk about some of this with Muggle scientists who could believe us instead of having to—”
“Granger,” Draco interrupted firmly. “We were discussing ways to catch the smugglers in the act, not make use of Harry’s experience in Muggle investigations.”
Hermione blushed in mortification. Harry caught her hand and squeezed it. “It’s fine. I’ll talk with you about it later.” Then he faced Draco, and tried to ignore the glint and the heat in his eyes. He’d been waiting without hope for years; this was only a few more hours. “Which friend do you think we should send it to?”
“Pansy,” Draco said, after a perceptible hesitation. “She’s the one who has the more profound betrayal. Unless it was Blaise alone. But I don’t think so.”
“Why more profound?” Ron asked.
“Because she kept trying to get me to date her. If she thinks she can get away with asking that, when all the time she was deceiving me…”
Harry wanted so badly to take Draco into his arms and show him why he didn’t need to worry about Pansy ever again. But he held back his impulse and nodded. “All right. What are you going to say in the letter?”
“That I’m reconsidering the opportunity she talked about, but I don’t want to leave the Manor’s grounds because that’s the only place I’m protected. That should convince her I don’t know about the hole in the wards that let the smugglers in, either. Let her show up and give me her best pitch.”
Draco’s eyes were narrowed, the muscles in his arms and legs surging. Harry swallowed back the temptation to touch his shoulder and turned to Ron. “Can you convince a detachment of Aurors to be in place by—would eight be enough time, Draco?”
Ron raised his eyebrows as if asking why he was calling a Malfoy by his first name, but nodded even as Draco did. “There are a few blokes who owe me favors and a few others who are really frustrated by this case. They’ll come for a chance of catching the guilty ones. Not all of them are convinced Malfoy is innocent, though.”
“That’s all right. I’m perfectly willing to remain in the house or do whatever else I need to convince them,” said Draco, his voice soft and sincere.
“And I’ll go and talk to Robards and Calzade, so they can stop thinking Draco turned me into a peacock on purpose.”
“I don’t think Calzade ever believed that, mate.”
“Anyway, they need to see.” Harry turned and held out his hand to Draco. “I’ll see you tonight, then. Or in a few hours, once you get an answer back from Parkinson.” He paused. “What happens if you don’t get an answer?”
“She will,” said Draco, in a voice as dry as a summer riverbed. “She’s been trying to persuade me for too long to turn her back on this.” He touched Harry’s hand and met his eyes. “And if I hint that I’m coming around on the matter of marrying her, too, then she’ll come running.”
Harry clenched his teeth, acknowledging both his own jealousy and Draco’s expert manipulation of it. “All right. We’ll be there. I’ll Floo you in a couple of hours to discuss our positioning.”
“Looking forward to it,” Draco said, in another smoldering voice, and turned and left the Ministry with long strides.
“Oh, Harry, I hope you know what you’re doing,” Hermione muttered, falling into step beside him as he made his way towards the Minister’s office. Ron had gone to gather the Aurors they would need.
“What do you mean?”
Hermione gave him a stern stare. All right, she wasn’t oblivious to the undercurrents then. “I know he’s not exactly evil, but he’s not exactly nice.”
“That’s for me to deal with,” Harry said quietly, and braced himself for the confrontation with Robards. He barely saw Hermione’s nod out of the corner of her eye.
“I know. I just hope Ron and I won’t have to pick up the pieces afterwards.”
Harry gave her a smile that he hoped was more convincing than it felt, and knocked on the office door.
*
Harry had to clench his fingers into his knees and breathe a little. He was still remembering the way Robards had reacted to the news that Harry had come back to human form. Calzade had been more understanding and had acted as a restraining manacle on the Head Auror’s reaction as best he could, but it still stung.
“Harry. Mate. If any of the smugglers have wards that sense strong emotion up, then we’re going to get revealed.”
Harry shook his head and leaned back against the gnarled tree that he and Ron stood under, with the rest of the detachment of the Aurors a few steps behind them. Ahead, the walls and wards of Malfoy Manor shimmered. “It’s just Parkinson coming tonight. No one else.”
"That's what we think may happen. But Malfoy couldn't guarantee she wouldn't contact anyone else."
That, at least, was true, and Harry spent a little more time breathing softly through his nose, gaze fixed on the walls in case something changed. Idly, he tried to trace the line of the defensive spell that had turned him into a peacock, but it was far too well-buried in the general clutter of magic over the gardens.
"All right there?"
"Yeah, Ron. Thanks."
"I reckon being a peacock and dating a Malfoy messes up your systems for a while."
Harry paused, then twisted around to face Ron. "So you know that I'm dating him, then. Or I want to."
"That's clear enough." Ron was the one watching the gardens this time, so intently that Harry thought he was probably trying to hold off a blush. "I mean, I can't understand why. But I've dealt with trainees who can't understand why I married Hermione. So I'm trying to be gentle with you, too."
Harry grinned, seeing an opportunity to get some of his own back. "Well, I could describe the way his back muscles bunch when my hand's resting on them, or how he gasps when I kiss him, or--"
Ron's scandalized groan made Harry lower his laughter, since some of the other Aurors were grumbling behind them. And then he saw the swift flash of a pink light near the top of a window, just visible beyond the wall, that was the signal they were waiting for.
"Pink," Ron expressed as they crept in.
"Hard to mistake for anything else. He's not going to use white with all these peacocks about."
Ron started to complain again, but a different person hissed them silent, and Harry lifted his wand. Even though he would never have revenge on Lucius, the person who had actually turned him into a bird, he could feel the enjoyment fizzing like champagne in his chest anyway.
She could have got Draco arrested. She could have got him captured and maybe disbelieved unless he wanted to take Veritaserum, if it was any Auror other than me who came here.
Yes, I'm ready.
*
"Thank you for coming, Pansy."
Draco hoped his voice was holding the proper balance between haughty and graceful as he turned away from her to pour the wine. At least he had linked the rose light he flashed for the Aurors to another spell long before this meeting. All he'd had to do when Pansy entered via the Floo was tap his wand on the table, and the light flashed outside.
"I want to know how you changed your mind, Draco."
Draco was also prepared for this, and turned around with a tight smile. "Did you know I went to see my father in Azkaban today?'
"I—no."
"He told me that I was wasting my life," Draco said, in the sure and certain knowledge that Pansy wouldn't have had any spies lurking on the island who could contradict him. "At least he'd done what he wanted, he said, and he'd known the price before he began. But he said I was wasting away, neither taking my pleasure nor enjoying being good." He swallowed a gulp of his wine and only then saw Pansy touch her glass to her lips. "He's right."
Pansy smiled in the way Draco used to like, as if the sun was rising, and put her glass aside. “He is,” she said. “You really need to think about yourself more, Draco, not the rules and laws of the society that exiled us.” She held out her hand, and Draco came and took it. “They won’t have us, so we have to make our own way.”
“Can you, though?” Draco let doubt slip in. “I mean, what does this get you that’s so much better than what you’d have otherwise?”
“A lot more money, for one.” Pansy winked at him. “And the thought of tricking the Ministry all the time. You ought to see the look on those Aurors’ faces when they lose track of us again.”
“Oh, you actually went on the missions yourself?” Draco pulled at the collar of his robes a little. “I’m not sure that I’m actually—able to do that.”
“I did it because it’s fun. But you don’t have to. As long as you can lend us some of your money, and the safe place you were already giving us without knowing it.”
Pansy had a little secret smile on her face. Draco lowered his head, and then nodded after a second. “I did figure that part out. Of course, I feel stupid for not figuring it out before.”
“Dear Draco, why should you?” Pansy caught his hand again. “Come out and I’ll summon a few of the others and introduce you. They’ll be just as pleased they don’t have to sneak around anymore. It was fun sometimes, but tiresome more often.”
Draco gave her a tight smile he hoped she would think was due to nerves, and pretended not to see that she was leaning towards him as if hoping for a kiss. He urged her gently to the side and had her stand up when she yawned. “Come on, then. Let’s go outside and summon them before you fall asleep.”
Pansy laughed. “You’re still as witty as ever, Draco.”
Draco didn’t think it was particularly witty, but he kept a frozen little smile on his face as they moved outside and towards the far walls where the Aurors would be waiting for him to drop the wards. They couldn’t come through them without injuring themselves or getting turned into peacocks.
In a few minutes, this will all be over. One way or the other.
*
Thunderbird: Thanks! And Draco would not admit it, but he kind of misses Harry's peacock form, too.
SP777: But I already wrote one! There's a wedding at the end of There's a Pure-Blood Custom For That, and the whole fic is about their courting.
- 7
- 8
- 9
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Ad Pavonem