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Learning Life Over	By : Meander Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 69712 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Thank you again for all the reviews! I�ve answered some of
the questions at the end of this chapter.

Chapter 9- A Normal Day, If You Don�t Count the Sexuality
Crisis

�� Harry lay
in his bed, staring at the ceiling. It was a nice bed, perhaps not as deep or soft
as Malfoy�s, but so similar that no one sane could make a fuss. Harry had slept
his regulation seven hours in it without a problem.

�� He had
awakened at the end of them, and spent the time since staring at the ceiling
and trying to find some sort of explanation for the way he�d reacted to
Malfoy�s kisses last night.

�� I had
the nerve-deadening charm. I had the fact that he�d threatened me into sitting
there. I had the knowledge that he�s a smarmy git to remind myself of. And
still he managed to make me feel- good with that kiss. Why?

�� I am not
gay. I know I am not gay.

�� Finally, he
had to accept that a kiss like that would have felt good from anyone, woman or
man. And perhaps the cake had had some house-elf magic added to it to make his
mouth more sensitive still, or hypnotize him. Harry liked that theory. It meant
that he would have a more normal kiss, in every respect, if he could
just find a woman to kiss.

�� Unfortunately,
the only candidate he knew of in the immediate vicinity was Narcissa, and Harry
doubted she�d be open to experimentation.

�� But, either
way, he wasn�t gay. It was a combination of deprivation and magic that had
landed him on the verge of giving in to Malfoy.

�� And he only
had twenty-nine more days in their bargain. At least, he counted yesterday as
the first day of the month. He only had to resist a few hundred more attempts
to flirt with him, get his blood up, arouse him, and make him interested.

�� It does
sound hopeless.

�� But it
isn�t, because I am not gay, he reminded himself again, and then Trippy
appeared in the corner of the room, squeaking that Master Malfoy was awake and
would like to know if Master Harry was wanting breakfast?

�� Harry
nodded, and waited until the house-elf was gone before he cast another
nerve-deadening charm on himself again, making sure to cover his mouth this
time, followed by a patience charm. If he could respond with nothing more than
a smile or a roll of his eyes to Malfoy�s advances, he would have to give up at
some point. Harry was fairly sure that an indifferent partner wasn�t
what he wanted.

*

�� Draco
narrowed his eyes as he watched Harry clumsily eat his cornflakes, the bland
breakfast he�d selected when offered his choice. He was sure Harry had been
more graceful yesterday, at least when he wasn�t deliberately upsetting his
food during dinner. What had changed?

�� It�s
almost as if his lips were numb, but-

��

�� What are
we going to do today, Malfoy?� Harry asked, crunching through some flakes as he
looked up. Draco rolled his eyes and gave in to the suspicion that Harry had
some genuine bad manners of his own.

�� Exercise,�
he said. �I did promise you that, Harry. On the other hand, the bargain isn�t
intact if you call me by my last name.�

�� Draco,�
said Harry, and flicked his tongue out at him. It was probably meant to be an
insulting gesture, but Draco felt his heartbeat pick up anyway. He�d had plenty
of interesting dreams last night, which almost made up for Harry�s absence in
his bed.

�� Harry,� he
said, and lowered his voice. He didn�t miss the minute hesitation Harry�s hand
made before he lifted the next spoonful of cornflakes to his lips. My voice
affects him. Well. Draco smiled slightly as he remembered the two kisses. Perhaps
I should say my mouth does.

�� That still
doesn�t tell me what we�re doing,� Harry pointed out, and then lipped at his
food like a cow lipping at grass. Draco kept his lip from curling as he ate his
own eggs, but it was a near thing. He�s eating like his tongue and his lips
are under a nerve-deadening charm-

�� Draco sat
up abruptly. Harry gave him a wary glance, but didn�t stop eating, and simply
shrugged when Draco said nothing.

�� That�s
it. He�s cast the charm on himself. That�s the reason none of my touches worked
on him last night.

�� Draco had
to figure out what he wanted to do with the information, though. Simply negate
the charm, or put one on Harry that would make him more sensitive? And when
should he do it? Given their activity for today, it might be dangerous if it
was done before they started exercising.

�� Flying,�
Draco said absently, when Harry rolled his eyes at him. �We�re flying.�

�� Harry put
his spoon down so abruptly that its impact with the side of the bowl echoed.
�No,� he said. �Absolutely not.�

�� Draco
blinked. Of all the things he�d had planned, he�d been sure this was the one
Harry would object to least. �And why not?� he asked.

�� Harry just
shook his head. That, of course, only increased Draco�s stubbornness, and
insistence that they would get up on brooms, and that Harry would enjoy
himself.

�� You
promised to give every lesson I wanted to teach you a chance,� he said. �You�ll
do it, Harry, or I�ll demand another month added in to the bargain.�

�� Harry
clenched his teeth for a moment, then said curtly, �Fine.�

�� Now that he
thought of it, Draco couldn�t remember any evidence that Harry had flown since
becoming an Auror, even though the Ministry had an amateur Quidditch team that
surely would have been happy to acquire such a talented Seeker. �Why don�t
you fly?� he asked. �I would have thought that was the one exercise you would
take the most delight in.�

�� I�m too
heavy to be a good Seeker,� Harry said, gaze fixed determinedly on his food
now, as if he wasn�t going to look at Draco.

�� No one
said anything about chasing the Snitch. Why don�t you just fly?�

�� It�s too- there�s
no time for it.� Harry clenched his hand into a fist briefly. Draco
leaned forward and subjected him to an inquisitive stare. It seemed to take
longer for Harry to break than normal, making Draco wonder if he�d also cast a
patience charm on himself, but he finally snapped, �I�m afraid that I wouldn�t
want to stop if I started again, all right? Afraid that I�d be addicted to it.
And I couldn�t afford to take that much time off from work.�

�� Draco sat
slowly back in his chair, shaking his head. �Your problem is rooted even more
deeply than I expected,� he muttered. �Not only did you ignore pleasure, you
actively denied it. And yet you claim that you�re not punishing yourself
for the deaths of your friends. Of course, Harry, whatever you need to tell
yourself.�

�� Harry
looked up at him and snarled.

�� And, for
the first time since he�d been at the Manor, his magic came out.

�� Draco sat
very still as the pictures on the walls of his bedroom began to vibrate, and
the same thing happened to the legs of his chair. Even though he felt as if it
would dump him on his arse at any moment, he couldn�t move. His fascination and
wonder had paralyzed him where he sat. He�d never known that Harry�s accidental
magic was this powerful, but then again, Harry hadn�t expressed enough strong
emotions in the past few years for him to see it.

�� It only
increased his lust the more. Now, Draco knew manifestly that Harry could
resist him, could in fact snatch him up and spin him around the room like a rag
doll if he wanted to. That meant his submission, when he gave it, would be all
the more profound a gift and sacrifice. The thought of taming something this
beautiful and powerful made Draco�s hands itch for a touch of Harry�s skin, and
he shuddered, excitement coiling in his belly.

�� Harry must
have mistaken the motion for a shiver of fear. Abruptly, the magic stopped
moving around the room, and he sat back, a sick look on his face. Suddenly he
shoved his chair back and made for the door.

�� Draco
followed him, catching him easily around the waist with one arm and capturing
his neck with the other. Harry, frozen in an awkward position, had no choice
but to stand there, huffing, and remain still even as Draco caressed his face
and crooned into his ear.

�� You have
nothing to apologize for, Harry. It�s all right. I promise. I wasn�t
frightened. And if your magic emerges when your emotions are high, then we�ll
just work on controlling the magic. You�ve controlled your emotions long
enough. It�s all right. You didn�t hurt me, didn�t frighten me.�

�� Harry
pushed at his arms, and Draco released him. Harry had already shaken his head,
and the calm mask had fallen back into place over his green eyes.

�� Don�t
worry about it,� he said. �It won�t happen again.�

�� Yes, it
will, Draco thought, and added another task to his mental list of them. He
gave Harry a small, neutral smile, and said, �I have two Flameflare brooms next
to the Manor�s pitch. Go and change into something more suitable for flying,
and I�ll meet you there. Hoppy,� he added in a high voice, and the house-elf
popped into view. �Guide Harry, if you would.�

*

�� Harry
scowled at the sky. It was a brilliant day- at least, over the Malfoys�
enchanted garden- and the blueness was high and vast, one of those skies that
looked as if he could fall into it and never stop falling. The grass of the
Quidditch Pitch was extremely short, as if cropped by sheep, and green as hope.
And Malfoy was such a ponce as he stood there in his cream-colored robes and
raised an eyebrow at Harry, even though he was wearing a set of robes that had
come from the wardrobe in his room.

�� Harry
shrugged. The robes were red, like the ones he�d worn when he was on the
Gryffindor Quidditch team- and weren�t those memories in need of
squashing- and perfectly suitable. If Malfoy thought they would show too many
grass stains, or some other snobbish worry, then he shouldn�t have put them in
Harry�s reach.

�� Here are
the Flameflares,� Malfoy said, turning around and bending down to retrieve the
brooms from the shed behind him. Harry found himself watching the smooth bend
of his shoulder and flank, and immediately shook his head.

�� I�m not
admiring them, because I�m not gay.

�� Malfoy held
out the brooms then, and Harry had to lose himself in admiration. They were to
Firebolts what swans were to quail. They had bristles worked with a shimmer of
magic that Harry knew instinctively would lend both speed and control, and the
wood they were made of, white with swirls of gold, shone as if polished with
oil. When Harry took the one Malfoy held out into his hand, he could feel the
handle was smooth but not slimy, as the sheen might have suggested. The broom
trembled and then adjusted its balance to his weight and height, suddenly
lighter in his hand.

�� You�ll
want to go up slowly at first,� Malfoy said condescendingly, as he swung a leg
over his own broom. �After all, you haven�t been on a broom in eleven years,
Harry.�

�� Harry gave
him a grin, unable to resist doing so. What he had dreaded happening if he came
into contact with a broom again was happening to him now; he felt a giddy joy
flooding him. But the worry seemed a faint and distant thing now, against the
reality of the Flameflare in his hands.

�� I hate to
shatter your precious pure-blood illusions, Draco,� he said, as he mounted his
own broom, �but I hadn�t been on a broom in eleven years the first time I rode
one, either.�

�� He had the
chance to laugh at Malfoy�s shocked expression before the Flameflare,
responding either to the weight of a rider or to Harry�s own innate desires and
magic, surged upward.

�� And then
Harry was gone.

�� He wrapped
his legs around the broom and leaned close to it, sending it spinning around in
a dizzy spiral. Sky rolled into ground rolled back into sky, and Harry had the
impression of tumbling out of the middle of a shaking rug. He didn�t care. His
balance and his grip were perfect, he knew that, and he laughed through the
whole of the turn.

�� Upright
again, he shot higher, impatiently seeking the wind and the cold he remembered
from his days of playing Quidditch. There it was, thin and piercing as it
coated his ears with frost, and his lungs heaved in his chest, trying to
remember the work of breathing at this height. His body swayed from side to
side with the intensity of the flight, but God, it didn�t matter, nothing did,
this was perfect.

�� The
Flameflare danced beneath him, sensitive as a horse to the touch of the rein.
Harry practically had to imagine something, and the broom did it. He reached
the far end of the Pitch and curved back around, hearing the bristles give a
sharp sound rather like a whinny as he turned. He laughed aloud, and couldn�t
stop laughing.

*

�� Draco
followed Harry at a lesser height and speed, shaking his head as he watched
Harry zip through daring maneuvers that professional Quidditch players wouldn�t
have tried. He hadn�t stopped laughing since he entered the air, other than
brief pauses for breath, and his voice was growing hoarse. He didn�t seem to
care. He existed in the midst of pure joy, mad bliss.

�� It awed
Draco, and, in a way, humbled him to see Harry like this. This was what he
should be like all the time. He shouldn�t have to give himself special
permission to achieve this happiness, and Draco shouldn�t have had to intrude
into his life to get him to do it, either. When Harry was finally free from his
preoccupation with work and his past, then he would be like this.

�� Draco found
himself content to do nothing more than watch, until it was almost noon and he
knew the house-elves would be bringing out a picnic lunch. Then he landed on
the grass under a large oak and called, �Harry!�

�� He had to
shout his name seven times before Harry deigned to pay attention. Then he
turned his head down, oriented on Draco as if he were a Snitch, and descended
in a dive that made Draco�s heart catch in his throat. To make it worse, Harry
spun himself upside-down during the dive and let his robes brush against the
grass before he flipped back over, dug his feet into the dirt, and plowed a
long furrow as he landed.

�� Draco was
breathing harshly, and not just with the beauty of the sight. Harry could very
easily have broken a leg, the idiot.

�� Of course,
when Harry came jogging towards him grinning like the idiot he was, Draco
couldn�t bring himself to scold. But he could take his revenge another way, and
he did. He murmured a charm that would not merely negate the nerve-deadening
charm Harry was wearing, but increase the sensitivity of the skin it had
numbed.

�� What,
Malfoy?� Harry halted in front of Draco, if you could call the half-stamping,
half-dancing pose he adopted halting. His grin was wide and bright across his
face, and the wind had made a ruin of his hair. His green eyes flashed with
defiance, just daring Draco to say something about the use of his last name.

�� Draco
reached out and brushed the back of his hand across Harry�s cheek.

�� It�s time
for lunch,� he said.

�� Harry
tossed back his head and stood there for a moment, trembling. Draco ran his
hand back the other way again. He�d used the spell on himself before. It felt
like being touched with gauze made of fire. He ran his fingers down Harry�s
neck, and Harry stepped closer to him, following the pleasure, his mouth
half-open, his eyes shut so tightly that Draco wondered if he was trying to
keep tears from falling.

�� Lunch,�
Draco said again, leaning in far enough that his breath scraped Harry�s ear,
and Harry�s hips gave a single thrust.

�� Then he
pulled away, his lips firming, and muttered, �No, it isn�t- �

�� The meal
appeared on a cloth under the oak then, banishing Harry�s protest. Harry gave
him a glare anyway, and sat down on one side of the blanket. Draco grinned and
sat on the other, satisfied to let Harry re-cast the nerve-deadening charm on
himself. He�d reminded Harry of his existence, and that was all he really
wanted at this point.

�� Tomorrow,
of course, is another case.

*

�� Harry had a
very stern talk with himself as he ate the sandwiches that the house-elves had
prepared, full of chicken so tender it fell apart if touched and flakes of a
sauce Harry didn�t recognize but which made his mouth water from the mere
smell.

�� He cast
a spell that increased the sensitivity. That�s all he did. No wonder you felt
like you�d kill to have him touch you again. It was magical.

�� You�re
not gay. You would much prefer to have a nice, normal wife, and nice, normal
children, if you had time for that. You don�t like men.

�� He shot a
glance at Malfoy, who�d taken his place across the blanket, and had paused in
the middle of his eating to sigh. Harry focused his gaze on the parted lips for
a moment, and the tongue that traveled across them, then looked sharply away.

�� I�m
still not gay. I only have to remember that for twenty-eight more days.

��

�� A touch of
pure happiness crept into his thoughts as he glanced back out onto the Pitch.

�� And
after lunch, I get to fly.

*******

Melodelic: I wanted to read a hurt-comfort story, but all
the ones I could find either a) involved Harry�s friends turning against him
(which I just can�t see happening), or b) centered around a specific issue like
cutting or an eating disorder (which usually becomes an issue!fic, which I
can�t stand). Finally, I decided that I should write one if I wanted one so
badly, and thus, this story.

toriew: Narcissa and some of Draco�s friends do know
that Draco kidnapped Harry. They hope he gives up his insane ideas soon.

Isinuyasha: I have an ending in mind for this story. Now to
see whether the plot will actually let me get there.

SLQ: Yes, Harry�s relationship with Narcissa is going to be
a problem, isn�t it.
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Learning Life Over