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
- 8
- 9
- 10
A/N: Thank you for the reviews! You guys are the best!
Lemon alert for this chapter! It's a pretty big one, so I hope it was worth the wait :)
Chapter 9: That’s How You Like It
Harry heard the shrill screech of Ron’s whistle and tilted his broom downward, aiming for the pitch. He dismounted gracefully and joined the other members of his team, who were all gathering around their captain. Harry had been given free reign to practice on his own all evening, since he knew what he needed to work on. He was curious to hear how the practice had gone for the rest of the team.
“Good work, you three,” Ron was saying to the Chasers as Harry approached. “Dean, watch the way you flank Xandra’s left side on that last play. Make sure you’re covering her. Ginny, give me a little more speed with the last-minute upward approach. It needs to be a surprise.”
Dean and Ginny both nodded, and Ron moved onto his Beaters, before turning to Harry.
“Looked good up there, mate,” he said. “Any problems?”
“Nope,” Harry said. “Visibility will be a little trickier now, with the snow, but nothing I can’t handle.”
“Maybe we'll get lucky and it will clear up come February,” said Ron.
And with that, they were done for the night, and they all started heading back up to the castle. Harry was relieved to see his team back in working order. Ron had done an exceptional job getting Ginny to refocus, and it was doing the entire team a world of good. Ginny was still ignoring Harry, however, and Harry, though he very much wanted to talk to Ginny and apologize, was taking Ron’s advice to heart and giving her as much space as he could.
So he was surprised when he saw Ginny glance over her shoulder at him and then automatically slow her pace so he could catch up with her. He did so, after a few seconds, and their eyes met.
“Hey, Gin,” Harry said. “How are you?”
Ginny sighed. “I’m fine, Harry.”
Harry nodded. “Good, I’m glad.”
“How are you?”
Harry managed to keep his smile small. It wouldn’t do to express the full extent of his happiness, considering Draco was the cause of it. “I’m really good,” he said.
“Good.”
They walked in silence, and Harry debated if he should say what he wanted to say. It might ruin this tentative peace that was forming. On the other hand, he might not get another chance.
“I want to apologize,” he said finally, deciding to take the plunge. “I handled this all really poorly. I never would have wanted you to find out I was dating someone by seeing it in the papers.”
Ginny bit her lip and said nothing, her eyes straight ahead.
“If I had known that story was going to come out, I would have made sure to warn you beforehand. I hope you know that.”
Ginny sighed again, even heavier this time, and Harry waited, hardly daring to breathe.
“It really hurt,” she said, “seeing that. I mean, of course it did. But in the end I don’t… I’m not sure it would have been any better coming from you, honestly. It’s not the way I found out that has me hurting, Harry. It’s the fact that it’s happening at all.”
Harry nodded, understanding the truth of her words.
“But I knew, before that article, that there was something going on between the two of you,” she went on. “I know my brother is blind as a bat and all, but I’m not, and neither is Hermione.” Harry felt his face grow hot at the thought of one of his best friends and his ex-girlfriend talking about him behind his back. But he had to remind himself that Hermione was Ginny’s friend, too, and it was only fair that Ginny have someone to vent to. “Anyone who knows you well and is paying attention can see that you’re in love with him.”
The words shocked Harry, partially because he would never have expected Ginny to be able to name something that painful aloud, and also because he had yet to use the word “love” with Draco. It seemed a bit soon for that. He didn’t want to obsess over putting a label on his feelings at that point. He was enjoying the actual relationship too much to concern himself about it.
“Still,” said Harry, glossing over the “love” issue altogether, “you deserve better from me, and I will try to be better. More respectful, I mean. If you want to be left alone, then I’ll leave you alone. If you want to talk, then we’ll talk. Whatever you want.”
Ginny gave him a wry smile. “Well, not whatever I want,” she said. “What I want, you can’t give me. Or you’re not willing to, at any rate.”
Harry blushed and nodded.
“But if there is something I need from you, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks,” said Harry, relieved at how cordial this all was. Maybe Christmas at the Burrow would manage to be peaceful after all.
They entered the castle, and Harry was about to turn to Ginny to say goodnight when he saw that Draco was standing in the entrance hall, waiting for him. His heart pitter-pattered in his chest for a second or two, aware that this was the first confrontation between Ginny and Draco since the start of Harry’s new relationship. He saw Draco’s eyes narrow briefly, before his face smoothed into blankness.
“Good evening, Weasley,” Draco said flatly.
Ginny stared at him for a second, then turned and started walking towards Gryffindor tower without a word. Harry turned to look at Draco, giving him an apologetic smile.
“She didn’t hex you, at least,” he said. “That’s a start.”
“Mm,” Draco hummed in vague agreement. “You two were talking?”
Harry eyed him carefully, hoping Draco knew better than to be jealous or worried. “I’ve been wanting to apologize for a while, about the way she found out about us. She finally gave me a chance to.”
“I see,” said Draco. He didn’t seem upset, but he was often hard to read.
“She accepted it, thankfully. Hopefully she’s starting to move on.”
“Hopefully,” Draco echoed.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here. You were waiting for me?”
Draco shrugged, his telltale pink blush appearing. “I was at my apprenticeship all day, as you well know, and I hadn’t seen you since yesterday.”
“You missed me,” said Harry, his face breaking into a wide smile.
Draco was obviously biting back his natural inclination to argue. “I thought that if I didn’t meet you after practice, that I wouldn’t see you until tomorrow.”
“You missed me,” Harry repeated, with certainty. “You can admit it, you know.”
“You’re an annoying git,” the Slytherin replied.
“So are you.” Harry couldn’t stop grinning. “I guess we’re made for each other.” He kissed Draco, who despite his small scowl returned it readily, and with a satisfied hum.
“All right, fine,” the blond said begrudgingly when Harry pulled away. “I missed you. Happy?”
“Very,” said Harry. “I missed you, too. How was your apprenticeship?”
He took Draco’s hand and started them in the direction of the 8^th year dormitories, and Draco answered him, giving him the details of his day as they ambled together through the quiet castle.
***
“It’s been an eventful few weeks for you, Potter.”
Harry smiled into his tea, taking a sip before nodding and placing his cup in front of him. “Yes, ma’am, it has.” As far as Harry was concerned, that was an understatement. But with McGonagall, understatements were quite common.
“How is Mr. Malfoy’s hand?”
“It’s fine, as far as we can tell,” Harry replied, sobering at the reminder. “No lasting damage, no scarring.” He was very glad of this, not just for Draco’s sake but selfishly as well. He loved Draco’s hands, their elegance, and what he could do with them.
“That’s good to hear. The safety of my students is my primary concern. I knew about the Howlers, of course, but I wish I had known he was receiving letters with curses as well.” She gave Harry an admonishing look, and he felt a small stirring of shame.
“There weren’t many with curses,” Harry said. “It was mostly Howlers, and some normal letters as well. We thought we had it under control.”
“Still, Mr. Malfoy should consider having his post screened by a professional.”
Harry sighed. He had suggested that already, but Draco had been adamantly opposed. “I don’t want some resentful Auror assigned to me,” he had said. “Looking over my shoulder all the time, going through my post. They hate me, all of them, and I don’t particularly like them either. Besides, they wouldn’t do anything for me that I can’t do on my own.” Draco’s tone was so definitive that Harry knew better than to argue.
“I’ve encouraged him to consider it,” Harry said. “But I have a feeling he will continue to insist that he do it on his own.”
The headmistress sighed. “Very well. It is his choice.”
“As he constantly reminds me,” Harry said, unable to stop some affection from slipping into his tone.
McGonagall eyed him for a moment, and Harry wondered if she was going to say or ask more about his relationship with Draco. So far they had pointedly avoided the issue, which Harry was quite grateful for. Thankfully, she moved on.
“Have you given any more thought to next term, Potter?” McGonagall asked.
Harry nodded. He knew to what she was referring. The last time they had met, McGonagall has asked Harry if he was interested in an apprenticeship or internship, since he was sure he no longer wanted to enter the Auror Academy. “I think an internship might be a good idea,” he said. “I don’t know exactly what I want to pursue at this point, so I think it would be a good idea to start exploring some options.”
The headmistress nodded, clearly satisfied with the answer, and reached down to open a drawer in her desk. With some difficulty she pulled out a large stack of parchment, placing it on the desk between the two of them with a thunk that rattled the teacups.
Harry’s eyes widened. “Are those all applications?” he asked. “I’m not sure I can complete all of those by the end of the term, with everything else on my plate.”
“Not applications, Potter,” McGonagall said with a small smile. “Offers.”
Harry blinked. “Offers?”
“From masters and business owners and Ministry department heads and many others, all who are willing to take you on as an intern or apprentice.”
Harry stared at the stack some more, taking in its massive size. “You can’t be serious.”
“Are you really surprised?”
“How did they even know I was considering something like that?”
“I’ve had most of this stack since the start of term,” McGonagall said. “As soon as the 8^th year curriculum was decided on, and we indicated that we would be allowing 8^th years to venture off the ground for hands-on experience, requests have been coming in, for you. You had told me at the beginning of the term that you weren’t interested, so I kept them here in case you changed your mind.”
Harry thought about that. It made him uneasy. It was the Savior special treatment, all over again. “They all want me for one reason,” he said, quietly.
“Yes,” McGonagall agreed. “You’ve shown what an exceptional wizard you are. Talented, powerful, and resourceful. They all want a piece of it.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Harry said, and immediately had to remind himself that he was talking to a Professor, and to not sound so sulky. “They want me because I’m famous.”
McGonagall sat back in her chair and looked Harry over. “Potter…” she began, then paused. Harry waited. She leaned forward again, clasping her hands in front of her. “I hope you know that I have the highest respect for you, and your humility, and your desire to be treated like everyone else. I understand it. But there comes a point in a young person’s life when they have to come to terms with the reality of their circumstances. Accepting reality is part of becoming an adult.”
Harry remained still, listening.
“You saved the world. Not without help, as I know you will insist, and not without some good fortune as well. But you did. You showed the world what you are made of. And that means that things like this,” she indicated the stack in front of her, “are never going to go away. There will always be people who want a piece of you. That is the reality of your circumstances. It may not seem fair, and it may not seem right, but it’s what is.” She paused, watching him carefully for a reaction. Harry stared at her impassively, but she could tell that he was absorbing her words. “The question is, are you going to spend your life punishing yourself and ruining opportunities for yourself, because you don’t believe you deserve the special attention, or are you going to wield your power as a force of good in this world?”
Harry’s eyes widened. They were getting into much deeper territory than he expected. Wield his power as a force of good? The idea almost frightened him. “I don’t want to… I don’t know, wind up like… like Lockhart, or someone. Addicted to the fame and the attention, obsessed with myself and how others see me. And I don’t want to wind up like Voldemort, or Grindelwald, thinking that because I have power that it makes me better than other people, giving me the justification for taking whatever I want for myself and destroying anyone who gets in my way.”
“Harry,” McGonagall said, leaning across her desk towards him. “Do you honestly believe that you will succumb to such baseness of character? You, who walked into death to save us all? You, who willingly gives up power and attention on a regular basis? You, whose capacity for compassion is so great that you can forgive so thoroughly a young man that tormented you for seven years and actually begin a relationship with him?”
Harry stared at her. She made him sound so… extraordinary. She made it sound like those deeds were great challenges. But she didn’t understand that they weren’t, that they were easy. “I did all of those things without consciously thinking about them,” he argued. “Or because I had no choice. I simply knew I had to, so I did.”
“Exactly my point,” said McGonagall, looking satisfied. Harry continued to look at her, dumbfounded. “In your very nature, Potter, you are already diametrically opposed to all of the men you just mentioned.”
Harry glanced up at the portrait of Dumbledore to find him snoozing away in his frame, or, at least, pretending to. “Dumbledore once told me that it is our choices that make us who we are, more than our abilities,” He told McGonagall.
“And Albus was, as with most things, right,” she replied. “And look at the choices you’ve made so far. I’d say it paints a very clear picture.” Harry didn’t say anything. He was going to have to ruminate on that for a while. “If you want some off-campus work for next term, you have a multitude of options,” she continued, and Harry’s brain scrambled to return to the original point, his eyes automatically falling to the stack of parchment. “Take these with you, look them over, talk about it with those you trust, and decide what you want to do. The choice is up to you, of course. But there are some wonderful opportunities in here for you. Please don’t keep yourself from them merely because you believe you don’t deserve them. You do. Everyone deserves the opportunity to be exceptional, including you.”
Harry carried the stack out of McGonagall’s office, thanking her as always for the tea. He shrunk them so they would fit in his jeans pocket and made his way back to the 8^th year dormitories, his head full of what McGonagall had just said.
He had been expecting to have to fill out applications, just like anyone else. But, if he was honest with himself, he knew that wherever he applied was likely to take him on without even reading his application. Was there really any point in getting worked up over that inequity? It seemed more useful for him to simply move on, and choose something that would be a worthwhile endeavor.
But what will that endeavor be?
When he entered the 8^th year common room he was pleasantly surprised to find Hermione, Zabini, Draco, Ron, and Ron’s Potions partner, Susan Bones, all sitting together, working away. He had to admit that it warmed him to see that kind of unity. None of them were treating it as though it were odd or unnatural, which made it all the more incredible. It was beautiful for its ordinariness.
Not wanting to disrupt their work, Harry sat down quietly next to Draco. He needn’t have bothered to be subtle, though, because Hermione noticed him immediately and greeted him with a smile.
“Hi, Harry. How was your tea with McGonagall?”
“Fine, as usual,” he said. He pulled the shrunk stack of parchment out of his pocket, reverted it to its original size, and plunked it onto the table. “She gave me these. I have to go through them.”
“What are they?” Draco asked.
“Internship and apprenticeship offers,” Harry said. “Apparently, I’m quite popular. Can’t imagine why.”
“I know this sort of thing makes you uncomfortable, Harry,” Hermione said. “But you really shouldn’t let that-“
Harry held up a hand, interrupting her. “No need, ‘Mione. McGonagall already gave me a big speech about not giving up opportunities or punishing myself for my fame. It’s already covered.”
“She knows you well, then,” Draco said with a grin, and Harry nudged him.
“Well, let’s see, then, Harry,” said Susan. “What sort of offers did you get?”
It was all over the map: internships in Ministry departments ranging from Games and Sports to Law Enforcement, apprenticeships in any subject imaginable, even ones, like Arithmancy, that Harry had never taken, and several paid part-time positions in foundations, orphanages, and private offices.
“Look at this!” said Ron, holding up a piece of parchment in disbelief. “Firebolt wants you as a design consultant!”
“Celebrity endorsement, more like,” Draco said darkly.
“I already ride a Firebolt,” Harry said. “They basically already have my endorsement. And I’m not going to design brooms for a living. Just being able to fly now and then will be enough for me.”
“Zonko’s International wants you as a product tester,” said Susan. “That could be fun.”
“And I repeat,” said Draco, with a raise of the eyebrow, “celebrity endorsement.”
“Here’s a master duelist, Harry,” said Hermione. “He sounds quite good. Wins all sorts of tournaments.”
“Do I really want to be a duelist, though? I only learned how to duel in order to protect myself. I don’t want to just go around winning competitions. I want to actually contribute something to society.”
“It says here that the majority of his work is teaching self-defense,” Hermione countered. “Not dissimilar to what you did with the DA. And you were a very good teacher, Harry.” Ron and Susan both nodded their heads in agreement.
“All right, put it in the ‘yes’ pile, then,” said Harry.
The “yes” pile in question was turning out to be quite small. As it turned out, though Harry still had no idea what he wanted to do with his life, he had a very good sense of what he definitely did not want to do.
“This narrows it down a lot, guys, thanks,” Harry told them when they were finished. “I’ll have to look these over more closely and see what appeals.”
They were done just in time for dinner, too, and the group made their way down to the Great Hall, walking in pairs with Harry and Draco lingering in the back.
“McGonagall asked about your hand, by the way,” Harry said.
“Did you tell her I was fine?”
“Yes…”
Draco gave Harry a look. “Yes, but…”
“She agrees with me that it’s a good idea for you to have your post screened by someone,” Harry said rather quickly, knowing it was going to irritate Draco for him to bring this up again.
“I see,” he said, in that careful voice that meant he was on the verge of becoming annoyed. “And did she volunteer that opinion, or did you just happen to mention it?”
“She said it without my prompting,” Harry insisted.
“It’s not going to happen, Harry. It would be pointless.”
“It wouldn’t be pointless,” Harry argued, unable to help it. “You may not want to do it, but there would certainly be a point to it. With someone else screening the post it would completely remove the risk of you even being close to a cursed letter.”
“Perhaps, but at what cost? I don’t want an Auror constantly interfering in my life, Harry.”
“It wouldn’t be-“
“Harry,” Draco cut him off, his voice firm, but surprisingly calm. “If you bring this up again I swear to Lady Morgana herself that I will hex your bollocks off. And you know what a shame that would be for both of us.”
Harry understood that he had pushed Draco to his limit on the issue, and acquiesced. “Well, I do like my bollocks where they are,” he said, fighting a smile.
Draco grinned and stood aside to let Harry pass him into the Great Hall. “That makes two of us.”
***
Harry knew Draco was determined to handle things on his own, without the help of the Ministry or any Aurors, but Harry wasn’t going to let up completely on solving the problem. He had written to Kingsley Shacklebolt the afternoon after Draco’s attack and throughout the weekend was eagerly anticipating the reply.
It came, finally, Sunday evening while most of the 8^th years were in their common room, cramming all the last-minute work they could. The following few days of class were jam-packed with project due dates, since they were now at the end of November and heading into the final weeks before exams. Stress was at an all-time high, knowing that even when all the projects were complete, they still had loads of studying to do to finish out the term.
So it was no surprise that Harry received a few dirty looks as a loud tapping at the window disrupted the thick working silence of the common room and he stood immediately to see to it, recognizing Kingsley’s gray owl. He gave the frazzled 8^th years an apologetic smile as he passed by again, letter in hand.
“Shacklebolt’s replied?” Draco asked him as Harry seated himself again, already undoing the seal and opening the letter.
Harry nodded, his eyes on the paper as he read:

Harry,
Thank you for your letter. I’m always happy to hear news of how you, your friends, and your fellow students are faring at Hogwarts, given everything. Minerva keeps me apprised, but it’s nice to hear from students as well. As always, your honesty is refreshing.
Your description of what had happened to Mr. Malfoy was very disturbing, and I am relieved that there will be no lasting damage. I agree with you that no person should endure this kind of harassment, whether he is the son of a convicted Death Eater or not. Mr. Malfoy certainly has some options here, including Auror protection, in some form, if he wishes it. I will personally see to it that he is treated fairly and with respect by the Aurors, if he chooses to take that route. And if there is any other help I can provide, please let me know.
As to the favor you’ve already asked, I have looked into it. I know that this isn’t what you want to hear, Harry, but I’m afraid Hermione is right that these sorts of crimes are very difficult to investigate. Unfortunately, our ability to trace the source of a letter is well behind a writer’s ability to avoid detection. There are charmed quills, ink, and parchment that when used render our tracking charms inert, and that is what the writer of the letter you sent me has used. On top of that, they clearly wore gloves when they wrote the letter, as none of my detection charms have picked up a whiff of skin contact with the parchment. I’m very sorry, Harry, but there is simply no way to find who sent the curse to Mr. Malfoy with this letter alone.
I realize that this is frustrating, and that you want to everything you can to keep it from happening again. But bear in mind that the cursed letter and the person who sent it is really a symptom of a much larger affliction that our world is facing right now. People are angry, frightened, and traumatized from a long and difficult war. They want someone to blame for what they have suffered, and a man who took the Dark Mark but is still walking free is an easy target. Putting one culprit away for sending him a curse won’t take away the public’s anger or fear. In fact, it could make it worse. What we really need to move forward is a paradigm shift. We must heal, and we must stop thinking of our world as divided between those that are good and those that are evil. Rather we must unite under the fact that we survived.
This is a process, and I have a feeling it’s going to be a long one. But you have a strong voice in this world. Perhaps it’s time to really use it.
Just think about it.
All the best to Ron and Hermione.
Yours sincerely.
Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic

Harry sat back against the sofa with a heavy sigh. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but somehow he had held out hope that Kingsley would have some unexpected solution to their problem. But no, of course, it wouldn’t be that simple.
“May I?” Draco asked, pointing at the letter.
Harry handed it over and was silent as Draco skimmed it.
“As I thought,” the blond said simply.
“He’s sympathetic to the issue,” said Harry. “He would help if he could.”
“To the point that it is appropriate,” Draco said delicately.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s the Minister. He is beholden to the whims of public opinion, whether he wants to be or not.”
“I rather think he has the power to shape public opinion,” countered Harry.
“To some extent, perhaps. But it’s clear from this letter that he wants you to take up the mantle as well.”
Harry snorted, though he knew Draco was right, and that was what Kingsley was suggesting. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m not exactly built for politics. I’m too honest, and I’m not very diplomatic, and I don’t care much about pleasing people or making them like me.”
Draco responded with silence, and Harry looked at him. He expected the blond to be wearing a knowing smirk, but he looked thoughtful more than anything.
“What are you thinking?” Harry asked.
Draco gave an elegant half-shrug. “You could be political, if you wanted. You have the clout. People listen to you.”
“But I don’t want to,” said Harry. “I like the way I am.” This was followed by more silence. “You don’t agree?” he asked with the arch of an eyebrow. “You think I should become a politician?”
“I’m not talking about running for office,” said Draco. “That would be awful. You’d be pants at it, for one thing. And I mean that as a compliment.” That made Harry chuckle, and Draco smiled. “But there are many ways to be political. That’s all I meant.”
Harry thought about that for a moment. During the war, he’d done everything he could to avoid being political. He simply didn’t have the stomach for it, since it seemed all of the politicians he encountered were more concerned with appearances than they were about actually helping people, and he wanted nothing to do with that.
Kingsley’s not like that, though, he told himself.
He snapped back to the present as he felt a set of gentle fingers smoothing out his furrowed brow. “It was just a thought, Harry,” Draco said, fingering a lock of Harry’s hair before resting the hand against the back of Harry’s neck. “If you don’t want to do it, don’t.”
Harry gave his boyfriend a small smile, reaching out a hand to rest on the blond’s trouser-clad knee. They remained that way for a minute, as a wave of fatigue hit Harry and he closed his eyes. The war was over, and yet there was still so much to worry about.
It never ends, he thought. And speaking of which…
“We should finish the conclusion for our Potions paper,” he said to Draco.
“Already done,” the Slytherin replied, his fingers kneading Harry’s neck and his thumb running up and down Harry’s pulse point. “And it’s damn good, too. We’re going to get full marks on this. I can feel it.”
Harry smiled a real smile now, and closed his eyes again, his focus slipping away from Kingsley’s letter and the angry public and settling instead on the sure brushes of Draco’s fingers on his skin.
***
Draco’s prediction turned out to be right, and then some. When they finally received feedback on their Potions projects that Friday afternoon, Harry and Draco eagerly opened their parchment and then stared dumbly at it.
“Extra credit,” Draco said, his eyes wide with shock. “We got full marks plus another ten percent.”
Harry couldn’t believe it either. “That’s the best Potions grade I’ve ever received. Hell, scratch that, that’s the best grade I’ve ever received period.”
Draco laughed. “Ha! This is bloody brilliant.” He looked around the room, Harry did the same, to see that there was a diverse range of emotions being expressed around them. “I think it’s safe to say we’ve got the best in the class,” Draco said conspiratorially.
Harry nearly pointed out that they probably received extra points from Slughorn because Harry was Harry, but immediately thought better of it. They had worked their arses off on the project, and had produced amazing results. Draco, at least, certainly deserved the one hundred and ten percent score.
“How did you two do?” Hermione asked on their way out of class. “Blaise and I received a ninety-seven. There were a couple of hiccups with the final brewing process but we improved the potion overall so…”
Harry rolled his eyes, accustomed to Hermione fishing for grade comparisons. He was also not surprised when Draco revealed his and Harry’s score with small, but still rather smug, smile.
Hermione’s eyebrows rose straight up into her hairline, but she said nothing.
“Hear that, Harry?” Draco whispered in Harry’s ear. “We even beat the brains of the Golden Trio. I believe this calls for a celebration.”
Harry fought a smile. “What did you have in mind? Dinner? Drinks? Remember, if we go to Hogsmeade we’ll probably just get photographed and harassed again.”
Draco gave Harry a heated look. “I was thinking something a little more private, actually.”
Harry felt himself go red. “What did you have in mind?”
“Come to my room after dinner,” he said suggestively, “and you’ll find out.”
Harry was jittery all through dinner, his stomach clenching with excitement and nerves. He had been dating Draco for a few weeks now, and they had certainly found some time to fool around when no one was looking. But they had not yet stayed the night together. In fact, Harry hadn’t even been invited up to Draco’s room before, which meant they hadn’t had any real opportunities to take their time and enjoy each other. Harry hadn’t invited Draco to his room either, wanting to let Draco set the pace after he had been so pushy with their first encounter. The last thing he wanted was to make Draco feel rushed.
But he was ready. More than ready. He had been fantasizing about this for a long time. He wondered, as he picked at his food, what Draco had in store for him.
It took a couple of hours for them to call it a night. Pansy had sucked Draco into some drama regarding Theo and Harry played a couple of games of chess with Ron while he waited. His focus was so poor that he lost spectacularly both times, even worse than usual.
Finally, though, he heard Draco announce to his friends that he was going to bed. Harry caught his eye and saw that heated look again. He swallowed.
“Check,” Ron said, and Harry turned back to the game.
He made a move, and Ron scoffed.
“Come on, Harry. You’re not even trying.”
“I’m knackered,” said Harry. “I think I’m just going to go to bed.”
Ron gave him a knowing look. “Bed at half past nine on a Friday night? Yeah, right.”
“I’m sure you don’t want to know what I’m actually getting up to,” Harry pointed out.
“All too right, mate,” Ron agreed.
Harry laughed and shook his head, making for the boys dorms and practically bounding up the stairs once he was out of sight of the common room.
When he knocked on Draco’s bedroom door he was pulled inside without preamble. Draco didn’t even bother to greet him, pulling him into an intense kiss without a word.
Harry smiled against Draco’s lips. “Of course it would be great Potions marks that get you going.”
Draco chuckled darkly as his lips descended along Harry’s jaw and down his neck. “It’s you who gets me going, Harry.” His voice was deep and hoarse in Harry’s ear, and Harry shivered in response, making Draco chuckle again.
In one swift motion Draco pulled off Harry’s jumper and the t-shirt underneath it, exposing Harry’s skin to the cool night air. He felt a tingling wave of gooseflesh overtake his chest as Draco touched him with cautious fingers, their mouths locked together once more. Harry reached for the top button of Draco’s shirt but the blond batted his hand away.
“No, no,” he said, grinning wickedly. “Not yet. I want to see all of you first.”
Harry was going to argue, but his voice was lost as Draco cupped his growing erection through his jeans. Then with nimble fingers Draco made quick work of the button and zipper, sliding the denim down Harry’s legs without ceremony. Harry automatically stepped out of his jeans, looking down at the blond head that was now level with his groin.
Draco remained kneeling, and the sight of it made Harry’s heart pound frantically, especially when that beautiful, ethereal face looked back up at him with fathomless gray eyes. Draco licked his pink lips and then smirked, ever so slightly. Harry assumed it was at what must have been open lust on his face.
Harry’s breathing was getting heavier and heavier, and when Draco buried his face in Harry’s pelvis and let his nose run along the length of the underwear-clad erection, Harry couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped him. He closed his eyes, but only for a moment. He reminded himself that he wanted to watch this.
Draco was looking up at him again, looking nothing short of intoxicated. “Get on the bed,” he said, his voice rough, but commanding.
Harry complied, reveling in the heady vulnerability of being almost completely exposed while Draco remained fully clothed. He watched as Draco stood for a moment at the foot of the bed, his mouth neutral but his eyes hungry as they traveled all over Harry’s body.
“Come here,” Harry said, and it came out more like a plea than a command. Draco smirked again.
“But I’m having such a good time looking at you,” he replied.
“I can think of even better things you could be doing,” Harry said, his lips twitching.
Draco climbed onto the bed, looking like a large jungle cat stalking its prey. “I’m not sure it gets much better than this,” he said, his breathless voice betraying his excitement. “You are…” he ran a hand across Harry’s ribs, “the most beautiful thing…” the hand descended lower, to Harry’s hip, and then down his thigh, “I have ever seen.”
Harry couldn’t help huffing a small, disbelieving laugh. Have you ever looked in a mirror? he wanted to retort. But he had no words. He barely had breath. Draco was descending upon him, situating groin against groin, chest against chest, and mouth against mouth. Harry gave in, opening his mouth willingly to Draco’s tongue, enjoying the weight of Draco’s body on his.
Draco pulled back a little, and Harry took advantage, slipping a hand between them to start undoing the buttons of Draco’s shirt. “I need to touch you,” he said against Draco’s mouth, and Draco remained still, letting him separate button after button until the shirt opened fully, exposing the chiseled white contours of Draco’s chest. Harry ran a reverent hand up the stomach to the sternum as Draco hummed in appreciation.
But Harry was suddenly distracted, feeling the uneven bumps of scarred skin under his fingers, and he pulled away from the kiss to look down at Draco’s chest.
It was almost unnoticeable, the scar that ran up the center of Draco’s chest in a jagged bolt. Harry could barely make it out in the lamplight. But he could feel it, and he knew it was there, a stark reminder of one of his greatest mistakes.
“I did this,” he said, his voice sounding shocked to his own ears. “I did this to you. I can’t believe-”
“Harry,” Draco’s voice was gentle. “Look at me.” Harry tore his eyes from the scar, trying to swallow his shame. The gray eyes he met as he looked up were full of determination. “I did much worse than you ever did to me.” Harry swallowed and started to shake his head, but Draco held him still, his hand coming to rest on Harry’s forehead. “The past is the past, remember?”
Harry let out the breath he was holding and, after a moment of deliberation, nodded. They had agreed. Forget the past. Begin again.
“We’ll forget it all, Harry,” Draco whispered, their faces only an inch apart. “I’m going to make you feel so good.” And with that he kissed Harry hard, no longer holding back, and Harry groaned, feeling his erection returning with full force.
Draco was clearly ready to up the pace, as his head descended down Harry’s body, lips caressing, tongue licking, and teeth nipping at nearly every inch of Harry’s skin. Harry was panting harshly by the time Draco reached the edge of his pants, feeling like if he didn’t get some relief from the delicious torture that he would lose his mind.
Luckily for him Draco seemed just as ready, and his underwear was removed in one deft yank and tossed to the floor. Harry’s painfully hard cock stood at attention, waiting. Draco took a moment to admire it with carnal delight before he licked a wide stripe from base to tip, making Harry shudder and groan. More. He needed more.
“Draco…”
Draco cupped Harry’s bollocks with one hand while his mouth slipped over the tip of Harry’s cock, and Harry had to resist the urge to plunge himself into Draco’s mouth. The sensation was so powerfully pleasurable but at the same time not nearly enough. A sweet, molten need was building in him, nearly unbearable in its intensity.
Draco’s mouth slipped further down, taking in more of him, and Harry writhed, trying to control himself.
“Gods, Draco. Please.”
Though his eyes were shut tight he knew from feel alone that Draco was smiling around his erection, clearly enjoying the begging. But Harry didn’t have the focus to worry about that. All of his thoughts were concentrated on the building pleasure that came in waves as Draco moved up and down with exquisite slowness, his tongue swirling over and around the head, adding another layer to the sensations.
This was certainly not the first blowjob Harry had ever received. Ginny had pleasured him this way many times, and he had always enjoyed it. But there was something about Draco’s technique, or perhaps Draco himself, that took it to another level. Draco’s mouth was bigger, and could take in more of Harry, but that didn’t account for all of it.
Harry opened his eyes and looked down at the man who was so deftly pleasuring him, and the sight before him almost made him come on the spot.
Yes. There was just something about Draco.
The blond was speeding up his rhythm, one hand still gently kneading Harry’s bollocks and the other exploring the rest of Harry: caressing his arse, stroking his stomach, pinching a nipple. It all built the heat inside Harry bit by bit until he could hardly stand it.
He was on the precipice, about to fall. “Fuck, Draco. I’m going to come. Don’t fucking stop.”
Draco hummed happily in response, and that was enough. Harry came hard, vaguely aware of the embarrassing moan that escaped him as he did. But he couldn’t find it in him to care, as the last waves of his orgasm stole through him and he watched Draco taking all of it, his eyes closed and his tongue busy.
Harry relaxed his head back on the pillow and couldn’t help but smile. “Damn, Draco,” he said. “You know what you’re doing.”
Draco loomed over him, licking his lips in a satisfied way. “I told you I would make you feel good.” He leaned down for a kiss, and Harry could taste himself on Draco, and smell the intoxicating musk of sex.
“I never doubted you for a moment,” said Harry. He was aware of the erection that was digging into his hip, a reminder that Draco had yet to be taken care of. His stomach gave a little lurch of nervousness, wondering what Draco would want from him and if he would be any good at it. He had virtually no experience pleasuring a man (other than himself, of course). Or maybe Draco wanted something else entirely.
“What now?” Harry asked, his stomach fluttering. “Is this the part where you fuck me?” He tried to smirk in a way that made him look both brave and nonchalant, but he wasn’t sure if it was translating, especially since his voice was shaking.
Draco stilled above him, looking down at him with a discerning expression. “I’m not quite… ready for that, yet,” he said, and sounded a bit nervous himself.
“That’s ok,” Harry said quickly. “I just wasn’t sure… I’m not really… well, you know I’m not experienced-“
Draco put a finger over Harry’s lips to stop his babbling, which Harry was quite thankful for. “We’ll know when it’s right,” he said, sounding much more calm now, perhaps even amused. “Besides, when the time comes, I want you to fuck me.”
Harry’s eyes widened, just a little, and his limp cocked twitched at the thought.
“That turns you on, doesn’t it?” Draco asked with the arch of a brow. “The idea of being inside me?”
“Yes.” There was no point in denying it.
“Me, too,” Draco said, biting his lip. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Harry placed a hand on Draco’s chest, letting it travel down his stomach and stop at the threshold of his trousers. “But for now…” he began, his stomach writhing again with the return of his performance anxiety. He wanted to make this as good for Draco as it had been for him.
Draco flipped them over suddenly so that he was lying on his back with Harry straddling him. “For now,” the blond said, his voice and face taking on an imperious quality that Harry imagined he must use with his house elves. “Suck me, Potter.”
Harry burst out laughing and Draco grinned up at him. Harry felt his anxiety leave him in one fell swoop. This was Draco; Harry already knew which buttons to press and which games to play. This is going to be fun, he thought.
“Just for that, Malfoy,” he said. “I’m really going to make you squirm.” He watched as a mix of trepidation and excitement lit up behind those gray eyes.
He began with the chest, trailing feather-light kisses along the sternum, his lips ghosting torturously over Draco’s already pebbled nipples, making the light hairs that dusted his chest stand on end. Harry could tell that Draco was trying to appear unaffected, but his breathing was getting harsher by the minute, and Harry smiled to himself knowingly.
He had Draco sit up so he could finally remove the shirt, then made Draco lie back so he could get a good look. He had seen the Slytherin in less clothing than this, but this was different. This was real. This was for him. His hands roamed over Draco’s torso, and then down each arm. He saw Draco flinch and quickly realized why.
The Dark Mark. They hadn’t talked about it. Harry hadn’t even caught a glimpse of it the few times he had seen Draco’s bare arms. He lifted Draco’s left hand, turning it over to look at the inside of the forearm. The mark was gone, and in its place there was a rough and vivid scar that vaguely resembled the shape of the skull and the snake. It was as though the mark had collapsed in on itself, and Harry realized that was probably exactly what had happened.
“Harry…” Draco said, his voice weak. Harry looked at him, taking in the self-conscious and pained expression.
“Draco,” Harry replied simply, then lifted the arm and placed his lips on the mark. Draco whimpered, then released a shaky breath as Harry trailed kisses down the length of the forearm. “The past is the past, right?” he said.
Draco stared at him for a moment, then nodded infinitesimally. Harry released the arm and leaned over Draco, kissing him softly. “Now,” he said. “Where were we?” His hand dipped a few inches into Draco’s trousers, making the blond’s breath hitch. “Oh, right. I remember.” He undid the belt buckle and zipper with a slowness that made Draco groan in frustration, and Harry couldn’t help a small chuckle. “So impatient,” he admonished, finally beginning to tug the trousers down, deciding to take the pants down with them, freeing Draco’s hard cock, which was already a deep red with arousal.
Once the clothes were discarded, Harry did as Draco had done, getting a good look at the blond in all his naked glory. He really was something to behold. “Perfect,” he said in a whisper. “And all mine.” He hovered over Draco, his hands roaming lightly, freely, occasionally brushing the erection and causing Draco to spasm underneath him. “Mine,” he said again. “Isn’t that right, Draco?” He was aware that his voice had taken on a dark, almost possessive quality, but by the way Draco was reacting to him, this was not a problem.
“Yours,” Draco breathed, and Harry felt himself starting to harden again.
Unable to hold back anymore, he kissed Draco with abandon, delving into every crevice of his mouth before moving lower to suck on his neck. All the while his hand was lightly stroking Draco’s cock, making it leak magnificently. Draco was panting and moaning, nearly sobbing with need.
“Harry…”
“What do you want, Draco? You have to tell me, or you won’t get it.”
“Your mouth.”
“My mouth?”
“On me.”
“My mouth is on you.” Harry smiled against Draco’s neck as the blond growled without restraint.
“On my cock. Please. I need you. Please.”
Harry was back to full hardness now at the sound of Draco Malfoy begging for him. He wasn’t sure there was a sweeter sound to be heard anywhere, and he knew it was time to comply and reward the Slytherin for being so fucking sexy.
He started slow, as Draco had done, kissing the tip and tasting the light salt of Draco’s precum. But Draco was already so far gone, writhing and whimpering with need, that Harry soon let him go deeper, taking as much of him as he could. Draco threw his head back and moaned with relief. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, that’s it.”
Harry worked him up and down, using his intuition and knowledge of his own preferences to guide him. He let both his hands roam, determined to begin learning all of the major hotspots that would turn Draco into putty in his hands. The delicate skin inside his hips seemed to get a strong reaction, as did a light graze over the side of his ribs. His perineum, no surprise, made him buck wildly, as did running a hand up the crack of his arse. It gave Harry an idea.
With one finger he began to explore the area around Draco’s entrance, listening closely for Draco’s reaction. It seemed to be acceptable, but he wanted to be sure it was ok for him to go further. He released Draco’s cock and looked up at him. “Is this all right?” he asked, wiggling the finger that was lingering at Draco’s arse. “Can I…?”
“Yes,” Draco said quickly. “Yes. Fuck, yes.”
Harry smiled, grabbed his wand, and cast quick cleansing and lubrication charms before returning his mouth to Draco’s erection. With dual focus he carefully began easing a finger inside, breaching the tight, warm space in slow increments. Draco moaned, clamping around him before relaxing and letting him in further.
Harry hadn’t realized he could get any harder, but this was too erotic. All he could think about was what it would be like when he entered this part of Draco a different way. It was going to be incredible.
He knew from the feel of the cock in his mouth and the sounds coming from his boyfriend that Draco was close, and he really wanted to make this count. Wiggling the finger around, he began to explore, crooking the finger and pressing until he hit a spot that made Draco cry out, a mix of Harry’s name and a bunch of gibberish. Harry hummed and pressed the spot again, and that was enough. Cum flooded Harry’s mouth and he did his best to swallow it, though he had to admit the combination of the salty taste and slimy texture wasn’t what he would call enjoyable. But it was tolerable, and the pleasure he had obviously given Draco made it well worth it.
He stroked Draco to full completion with one hand, working on his own throbbing erection with the other. He hadn’t expected to come again, but the whole experience was just too arousing. He looked down at Draco, who was watching him stroke himself through hooded eyes. It didn’t take long for Harry to find his second release, coming onto Draco’s stomach. He wanted to collapse right there, but he mustered the wherewithal to cast a cleansing charm on both of them before he flopped down next to Draco with a satisfied sigh.
He leaned in for a kiss, and was surprised when instead Draco rolled towards him and curled around him, burying his face in Harry’s neck. Harry smiled and kissed the top of Draco’s head.
“I guess I did all right, then?” he said.
Draco snorted delicately and lifted his head. “You’re a fucking natural. Was that really the first blow job you’ve ever given?”
Harry nodded, and Draco shook his head in disbelief. “If there’s anything I’ve learned about sex,” said Harry, “it’s that it’s all about communication, both verbal and non-verbal. It was easy to pick up on what you liked.”
“Physical things have always come easily for you,” Draco said. “You’re a physical being.”
“I suppose that’s true,” said Harry with a yawn.
“Don’t yawn,” Draco said. “You’ll make me yawn and then…” He gave in, though, his mouth stretching wide. “And then I’ll get all sleepy.”
“There’s nothing wrong with getting sleepy,” Harry said.
“But I was going to ask you something.”
“What were you going to ask me?” Harry replied, amused by the drowsy lilt to Draco’s voice.
“About your scar.”
Harry furrowed his brow, a hand automatically going to the lightning bolt on his forehead.
“Not that one,” said Draco. “The one on your chest. It’s sort of oval in shape.”
“Oh, that,” Harry said. “That’s from a cursed locket I was wearing. It burned me.”
That was met with silence, and Harry wasn’t sure if Draco was just thinking, or if he had drifted off to sleep. Finally, though, he spoke.
“You were wearing a cursed locket?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Hm.” Draco turned to face Harry again. “And this?” He brushed a hand along Harry’s forearm.
“Basilisk fang.”
“Now that’s a story I want to hear.”
Harry laughed. “I’ll tell you, but not tonight. I’m sleepy as well.”
“Mm,” Draco agreed.
“Come here,” Harry said. He wanted Draco wrapped around him again. Draco seemed happy to comply. Harry reached for his wand and then extinguished the lamps, plunging them into darkness. “Goodnight, Draco,” he said softly. Draco’s breathing was already smooth and even, so he wasn’t expecting a response. But then Draco’s voice came out of the dark, sounding thoroughly content.
“Goodnight, Harry.”
LLHati: Wow, thanks! It feels quite nice to be someone’s favorite :)
I would continue this fic regardless, because I’m having so much fun with these characters, but knowing someone is reading and appreciating gives me the energy to produce at this pace. The reviews make a big difference!
Dedicated_Reader: Thank you!! That is, in all seriousness, the greatest compliment I could ever receive!
djaddict: Thanks! I had a feeling you would enjoy that chapter :)
Yeah, Harry is all for that, at this point, even though no one else is. But, as you can see, easier said than done…
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