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A Secondary Education	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 27880 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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: Wow!!! Thank you for the incredible response for the last chapter. It just warms me all over. Please keep the love coming!
We're covering a lot with this chapter, and things are rolling right along. Enjoy!
Lesson 9: Other Places Mouths Can Go
Draco unsealed the letter clutched in his hand with a familiar dread in his stomach. The seal itself was green wax stamped with the Malfoy crest, a sure sign that the letter was from his father rather than his mother. Only Lucius Malfoy could be that pretentious when sending a letter to his own son.
He read it quickly, wanting to glean the main points of it without being subjected to the indirect criticism in the language that his father had been plaguing him with so much lately. Lucius did not approve of many of Draco’s recent choices, and they both knew it. So why the Malfoy patriarch felt he had to keep hinting at it was beyond the son’s understanding.
The letter was about Christmas plans, as Draco knew it would be. He’d made the mistake of informing his mother that he wouldn’t need to stay at Hogwarts for the holiday break. So few students were staying and there was plenty of staff that preferred to stay as well to oversee them. Draco had been pleased at first. A few weeks off from his Hogwarts duties would be welcome.
But then he’d remembered that he’d be returning to an empty manor with very little to do except go visit Pansy, which he couldn’t very well do every day. Not to mention that his parents would surely insist on seeing him for a few days over Christmas. It made him wish he’d thought the thing through properly, as neither of those situations were particularly appealing.
He considered sending a reply saying he’d been wrong and he was going to have to stay at Hogwarts after all, but his parents would know he was lying, and that would only make things worse. There was simply nothing for it. He was going to have to go to France for Christmas.
“Is that hatemail or something?”
Draco lowered his parchment to see Harry looking at him across the staff table.
“I thought it might be, what with the way you were scowling while you read it.”
Draco would have asked the man what he thought Draco had done to deserve hatemail in the first place, but with the way Harry had one eyebrow cocked to match his lopsided smirk of amusement, Draco knew he was joking.
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” he replied. “Though ‘hate’ is too strong a word. Is there such a thing as ‘passive-aggressive-disapproval-mail,’ do you think?”
Harry grinned. “There is now, apparently.”
“Then that’s what it is.”
“From your father?”
“How’d you guess?
Harry shrugged one shoulder. “I pay attention.”
Draco had to look away from the glint of affection in Harry’s eyes. It wouldn’t do to appear the blushing paramour while surrounded by the students and their fellow staff.
It had been a bit more difficult to hide lately. With what the two had shared so far there was no denying that Draco was feeling a particular closeness to the Gryffindor, and this had carried over into their interactions outside the bedroom. He hoped that from the outside it simply looked like the development and deepening of a friendship, a mutual platonic kindship between two teachers. But if they started making eyes at each other over the breakfast table all the time people were bound to notice. And that just wouldn’t do.
“He expects me to come to their estate in France for Christmas,” Draco explained, returning his eyes to the letter. “And I can’t think of any way to get out of it.”
“Ah,” Harry said in understanding. “Yeah, I can’t imagine a reasonable excuse for that.”
“No,” Draco agreed. “What are you doing for Christmas, then?”
“I’ll be at the Burrow with the Weasleys on the actual day as usual,” said Harry between bites of sausage. “And otherwise I’ll probably just spend time with Ron and Hermione, and Teddy a bit, and perhaps see some other friends, you know.”
Draco nodded, believing he could read between the lines of that. He was sure Harry would see his two best friends and his godson, true, but it was likely he would also be spending time with his other lovers. It wasn’t something they really talked about, the fact that Harry was also seeing other people. It would just be bad form to bring it up while in the throes of their own weekly trysts. Draco didn’t even know how often Harry left the grounds to go on other dates. But now that Harry was about to have some time off, it made sense that he would take advantage and have some fun with others.
Which is perfectly reasonable, Draco reminded himself. It was what they had agreed to. In fact, it was for the best, really. Things had gotten a bit intense between them. This holiday would help create some distance, and that was a good thing.
Maybe I could go out and find another lover for myself, he thought. Was he ready? Not to fuck anyone; he intended to wait on Harry for that, to make sure he knew what to do. But he had enough experience in other ways that he could hold his own with a male lover.
“Do you have to go to France for the entire holiday?” Harry asked him, interrupting his wandering thoughts.
Draco let out a dry laugh. “Sweet Merlin, no. I refuse. I’m not subjecting myself to them longer than I have to. I’ll just stay at the manor. It’s not ideal, but I’ll be free to visit friends as well, which will be nice. I promised Pansy I’d visit her family. Her son is my godson, you know.”
“Mm, right,” said Harry.
The Great Hall was beginning to stir with motion, a sign that the first classes of the day were going to be starting soon as students stood to make their way there. Draco folded his letter and put it in his pocket, then stood.
“I’ll see you later,” he said to Harry.
“Sure,” Harry said, giving him a small smile. “See you.”
***
But it wasn’t all that much later that Draco saw Harry. In fact, it was right before lunch, in Draco’s classroom after his 6^th year NEWT class had just released.
Harry closed and locked the door behind him and even put up a silencing charm, and Draco watched him do it in confusion. It had been weeks since they’d done anything in a classroom, including even discussing their secret arrangement. But Harry obviously wanted to discuss it now.
“I’ve had a thought,” the brunet said, coming to stand in front of Draco’s desk.
“Oh?” Draco asked, sorting through some papers, doing his best to appear nonchalant.
“How attached are you to spending the majority of your holiday at your manor?”
Draco blinked at him a moment. “Not even remotely attached. I don’t even really want to stay there.”
Harry nodded, as though he had been expecting that answer. Well, he probably had, given the way Draco talked about the place these days. “What would you think about spending it with me instead? You know, stay at my place.”
Draco froze in the middle of the stacking of his 6^th year essays. “Stay with you.”
“Right,” said Harry. “I mean, we wouldn’t be able to have the entire time, obviously. You’ll still have to go to France and me to the Burrow for Christmas. But before and after… why not?”
“Won’t you…” Draco was trying to find the right question he wanted to ask, his brain still trying to process this unexpected invitation. “I thought you were planning to spend time with friends.”
“Yeah, and I’d still like to do some of that. But we can coordinate our schedules. You wanted to visit friends too. I’ll just go see Ron and Hermione when you’re off visiting Pansy.”
“But don’t you… have…”
“Don’t I have what?” Harry asked, watching Draco with his head tilted.
“Other people you want to see? Other… you know, lovers, I mean.” Harry stared at him, and Draco pressed on. “That was something I understood, you know. And I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that, of you spending time with them as well.”
“Oh, um…” Harry scratched the back of his head, a half smile on his face. “Well, to be honest… I haven’t really… been seeing anyone else lately.”
Draco felt his brow furrow. “You haven’t?”
Harry laughed. “When would I have the time, Draco? Usually, during the school year, I go out once a week at the most. I’ve been seeing you more often than that. Between classes, and other duties, and you… well, I’ve been kept rather busy, haven’t I?”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Apparently he’d been monopolizing Harry’s time without realizing it.
Harry laughed again, and for longer this time. “You’re sorry,” he repeated. He looked at Draco, his eyes full of mirth. “The last thing you should be is sorry.”
Draco wasn’t sure what to think. “Oh.”
“If I wanted things to be different, they would be,” Harry said. “But this is working for me right now. So long as it’s working for you?”
Draco watched him a moment, then nodded. Of course it was working for him. There was no way he could pretend otherwise.
“Great,” said Harry. “Then I don’t see why we’d have to put it on hold for the holiday, especially if we’d enjoy it more together than separate. It could be really relaxed, you know. We’d just stay in do whatever we feel like, and go out and visit our own friends when we want, and have space from each other when we want, and, you know… continue our lessons, when we want…” He trailed off suggestively, looking at Draco with obvious bedroom eyes.
Draco had to fight a grin. Harry was rather dangerously seductive when he wanted to be. Of course, Draco already knew that. How else had he wound up in Harry’s bed in the first place?
He hadn’t been expecting the invitation. After all, he’d just been thinking about how it might be good for them to be separate for a little while. On the other hand, was he really going to pass up nearly three weeks of sex with Harry in favor of sitting around his manor alone? Of course he wasn’t.
“All right, then. I’m in.”
“Excellent.” Harry’s grin was wide and unabashed. He leaned forward and kissed Draco. “My holiday plans just got considerably more appealing.”
Draco couldn’t help the smile in return, or the honest reply as he kissed Harry back. “So did mine.”
“Shall we go to lunch, then?” Harry asked after he pulled away.
“Let’s.”
As they walked through the castle Harry entertained him with a stories of his 3^rd year classes’ first encounters with a boggart, and Draco smiled and laughed and made disbelieving noises at the most outrageous bits, as he knew he was expected to do. But part of him was also thinking back to what Harry had just revealed, the thing that Draco hadn’t been able to make room in his mind for at first.
He’s not seeing other people. Only me.
It didn’t really mean anything, he knew, other than that Harry was simply too busy to date around at the moment. But still, to know he was satisfying Harry as he was, that the man felt no need to seek elsewhere…
I must be doing something right.
It made something sweet tug and warble in his chest, something he figured must be pride.
Yes, pride. That’s what it was.
***
Draco was only at the manor about five minutes before he had to snort in amusement and be glad he would be spending a majority of his holiday with Harry. The place was… not gloomy exactly, as it was quite clean and airy. It was just so… quiet, lifeless. It needed a family to live in it, not simply a lonely bachelor.
Someday, he told himself, with much more determination than he’d felt a few months ago, I will have a real family here with me.
But today was not that day, and he would just have to live with that.
He’d only come by briefly to check on the estate, as was wise to do every now and then with him away at Hogwarts most of the time now. He had one of his house elves, Nixie, walk him through the main floor of the house and debrief him on any recent maintenance that had been necessary. There hadn’t been much. The wards on Malfoy Manor were ancient and well established, which meant little could be done to damage the house from outside forces. And the elves in the estate’s employ were plentiful and hardworking enough that things rarely ever fell into disrepair out of neglect.
“It all looks to be in order,” he told the elf. “Excellent upkeep, as usual.”
Nixie beamed at him and bowed low. “Would Master be liking anything else? A cup of tea, perhaps? An early supper?”
“That’s very kind of you, Nixie, but I won’t be staying long. I’m going to be staying with a friend. I will likely come by again on Boxing Day, just to check that any packages have arrived. So feel free to hold anything for me here until then. No need to forward them to me.”
“Very good, Master,” said the elf. “We will be most glad to be seeing you again.”
Draco smiled and nodded thanks to the elf. He actually believed her when she said that, mostly because he made a point of being kind and generous to his elves, unlike his father. He had learned early on that respect, rather than fear, was the best incentive for the elves to give good service. He certainly noticed a marked improvement on the maintenance of the estate after he became lord of the manor, though his father would never acknowledge as much.
But you don’t have to think about him, he told himself. Not for another week, at least.
He had Harry to think about instead, where he was going next, and what it would be like when he got there.
***
When he arrived by floo to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place Draco had to wonder for a moment if he’d somehow garbled his words or gotten the address wrong. The sitting room he’d tumbled into didn’t look anything like he’d expected a room in the Ancient House of Black look. For one thing, it was very clean, and last he’d seen or heard of it the very neglectful house elf that “kept up” with the place didn’t clean very much at all. For another, the furniture was new, or at least only a few years old. The sofa and armchairs were upholstered in gray suede that matched, but not overly so, the patterned blue and white carpet. The walls were a soothing, understated green, and the room was finished with a sleek coffee table in dark wood and matching side tables for the electric lamps.
It looked like the sort of sitting room Muggles might have, essentially.
But after he’d absorbed all that he’d realized there was something familiar in the room. Or rather, someone, as the case may be.
Harry was sitting in one of the armchairs, looking through stack of parchment and chewing on his bottom lip. He looked up at Draco after a moment.
“You’re here.”
“I am.”
Harry stood and strode over to him, giving him a light kiss. “Welcome to my home.”
Draco looked around the space some more, though he’d taken it in quite effectively on first glance. “You’ve obviously redone the place,” he noted. Not that he could blame Harry for wanting to. The house had been nothing short of depressing before the end of the war, as far as he knew.
“All of this floor and most of the second,” said Harry. “The important bits of the second floor, anyway, like my master suite and a couple of guest rooms. But it’s a work in progress.”
“Haven’t you had this property for going on seven years now?” Draco asked, before realizing his tone sounded a bit… incredulous, if not also judgmental.
But Harry simply gave him a wry smirk and said, “Nine years, actually, though I didn’t start renovating until after the war. But I’ve been so busy, and not here as much as I thought I would be, and that makes progress very slow. I try to accomplish a thing or two when I am here, at least.”
“You do the renovations yourself?” No wonder progress had been slow.
Harry shrugged. “Some of it, but I also hire people for a lot of it. I just have to handle it… delicately. Kreacher is sensitive to new people being in the house, and he can sometimes interfere with the renovations.”
Draco blinked a moment, wondering whom Harry was referring to, before realizing that Kreacher must be the house elf.
“He’s protective of the estate?”
Harry chuckled. “Something like that.” He picked up the stack of parchment and shrunk it, putting it in his pocket. Then he kissed Draco again, longer this time, though it was still relatively chaste. “How about a tour then?”
“That would be lovely.”
The main floor of the house turned out to be a tasteful and seamless mix of magic and Muggle, in both form and function. The furniture and appliances were modern and top of the range, but there were marks of magic all over the house, in wizard photographs and portraits hanging on the walls and glass cases of Black family heirlooms and various enchanted objects on shelves and in corners.
Draco had seen this sort of thing before. While pureblood estates always had that unmistakable air of pure magic that had been many centuries in the making, the homes of half-bloods and Muggleborns that he’d had reason to visit over the years tended to be some kind of blend. But he’d always found the integration awkward and a bit disjointed, like you were standing in two very different rooms simultaneously. This, though, he had to admire for its utter naturalness.
Although there were some things that stumped him. Like the fact that Harry had a wizard phonograph, with which he could play his extensive record collection, that was charmed to be able to “throw” the music it was playing into whatever room on the main floor a person might be standing in. Though this seemed like quite a nice and useful thing to have, what Draco didn’t understand was that for some reason Harry also felt a need to keep a small white box called an “iPod” in a cradle in the kitchen, which was apparently also full of music, somehow, and which was connected to something called a “sound system” which also played music throughout the main floor. As far as Draco could tell, it served the exact same function as the phonograph and was therefore perfectly redundant.
“Why do you have both?” he asked Harry while Harry showed him how the iPod thingy worked, his thumb rubbing in circles along a gray wheel on the front that made part of the box glow with a faint blue light.
“Well, some of my music is in my record collection, and some of it is on my iPod.”
“You have a lot of records,” Draco pointed out. More than any person really needed, he thought. Why did Harry need more music on top of that?
“Yeah. But the iPod can hold up to ten thousand songs, you know. Anything I buy on CD I put on here, so it’s consolidated.”
Draco only raised a skeptical eyebrow and stared at Harry. The brunet gave him a sheepish smile.
“I just like having both,” he said. “They’re both incredible in their own way.”
“But they do the same thing.”
“Yes, but… differently.”
Draco looked away and smiled, unwilling to admit that he found even this little bit of irrationality charming. Harry had a way of being gracefully obstinate about his choices that was hard not to admire.
After showing him the main floor Harry took him upstairs, and it was immediately apparent which parts had been renovated and which hadn’t. Harry’s master suite, the guest bedrooms, and both of the bathrooms looked fresh, new, and homey, while down the hall, towards what Harry called “the dreaded study,” the walls were dingier, the carpet shabbier, and a trace of some dark family magic still lingered in the air.
“That’s my next personal project,” said Harry, waving a hand in the study’s general direction. “Cabinets in there are full of doxies and booby traps and Merlin knows what else. I’ve been putting it off a bit for that reason, and because even once it’s cleaned out I’m not sure what I’m going to do with it. I have a study downstairs and don’t really need the space, but Hermione’s always harping on me about letting too much dark magic linger in the house, so…” He shrugged.
“What about the third floor?” Draco asked, purely out of curiosity. “Has that been touched yet?”
Harry’s face brightened. “Now that I’m quite excited about. I’ve got magical renovators coming in and wiping out the entire floor. It’s just a couple more bedrooms and a parlor, anyway, which I don’t need. So I’m turning it into a training center. Partially for me, since I like to stay in shape and keep my dueling skills up, but also because I’ve been thinking about taking on some students during the summer as well, Hogwarts graduates who want to refine their skills before they try for the Auror Academy.” He patted his pocket. “The renovators just sent me the initial plans. That’s what I was looking at when you arrived.”
“I didn’t realize pre-training for the Academy was common.”
“It’s not,” said Harry. “But the Academy has gotten a lot more competitive in the last few years. Interest is very high, and I have a whole group of NEWT students who are planning to go into the Corps once they graduate. Not all of them will be accepted, and some of them want additional training so their chances are improved. I told those who expressed an interest that I would be willing to help them.”
“So you’ll be teaching in the summer as well as the rest of the year?”
“Why not?” Harry shrugged again, his a mouth a half-smile. “It’s what I love. Besides, I think of it more as taking on some apprentices rather than students. They already know a lot, and will be able to do a lot of their work on their own or together. I’ll be more of a supervisor.” He rubbed a hand across Draco’s back. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”
Draco raised his eyebrows, surprised, but followed Harry anyway. He was getting his own room? He’d rather assumed he’d be staying with Harry.
“I thought you might like to have your own space,” Harry said, in that strange Legilimency-without-eye-contact thing he could often do. Draco had to wonder if his body language was really that much of a giveaway. “In case you want to work or read or relax on your own.” He opened a door and gestured Draco inside.
The room was spacious but cozy, with a desk, an armchair by the fire, and a large canopy bed with simple but soft-looking blue linens and duvet.
“The bed’s quite comfortable, if you would prefer to sleep here as well.” Draco turned to see Harry watching him, his face relaxed. “But know that my bed is always open to you. I quite enjoy having you in it.”
Draco huffed a laugh, catching the knowing glint that had come into Harry’s eyes. He turned away and looked around the room some more. “This is very considerate. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Harry stepped closer to him, closing the distance enough to put a hand on Draco’s waist. “It makes me happy to have you here. I think we’re going to have quite a nice holiday.”
Draco closed the distance even more, enough that their lips were nearly touching. “So do I.” He kissed Harry, using just a bit of tongue, eliciting a contented hum from the Gryffindor. Draco smiled against Harry’s mouth. He could already feel that familiar heat in his gut starting to kindle, and one of his hands snuck down to grab Harry’s arse, pulling him closer.
Maybe I should make it clear he’s always welcome in my bed as well, he thought between the kisses and soft moans. Maybe I can show him that right now.
But then came the popping sound of an elf Apparating, and the two men pulled away automatically, their heads turning in the same direction.
The oldest house elf Draco had ever seen stood before them. His back was hunched practically in two, his gray skin wrinkled and spotted. His eyes were cloudy and there were large tufts of white hair sticking out of his large ears. But he was clean, Draco noted, and the pillowcase he wore was freshly laundered, if not a bit worn.
“Hello, Kreacher,” Harry said conversationally to the elf. “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Draco Malfoy. He’s going to be staying with us for most of the holiday.”
The elf bent low (though, with that hunched back it didn’t really take much) and said in a high, scratchy voice, “Kreacher is being deeply honored to be serving a noble descendant of the House of Black. If Master Draco Malfoy is needing anything, he is only asking.”
Draco was somewhat surprised at the graciousness, and he turned to Harry, who merely grinned at him.
“Very good, Kreacher,” he said, trying to make his tone match Harry’s but aware that it still had a haughty edge that he couldn't really help. “I will certainly take you up on that.”
The elf turned to Harry. “Will Master and guest be wanting dinner?”
“I think it’s about that time, yes,” Harry replied. He looked at Draco.
“That would be fine.”
The elf vanished with another pop. Harry gave Draco a light peck on the lips.
“I should go down and help him. He’s… a bit slow nowadays. I imagine you want to get to eat before eleven o’clock tonight?”
Draco smirked at him. “You cook?”
“I cook,” said Harry. “And very well, I’ll have you know.”
Draco laughed. “I guess I’ll just have to see that for myself, then.”
“Won’t even take my word for it,” Harry grumbled, but he was fighting a smile, and his mouth reached for another kiss. Draco obliged him, wondering if he could convince Harry to leave the elf to the dinner preparation and stay here with him to christen the bed instead.
But Harry pulled away after only a moment and said, “Why don’t you stay and get settled in, then come join us in the kitchen when you’re ready?”
Draco almost argued, before remembering that they had the whole night, the whole week, ahead of them, and there would be plenty of time for him to enjoy all the different ways he liked being with Harry.
“Yes,” he agreed. “All right.”
It didn’t take him long to unshrink and unpack his trunk. He’d packed light, assuming he wouldn’t need much for this first part of his holiday. It wasn’t like he and Harry were going to go out to dinner, or to a bar or club, or to go flying, or even out to the park for a stroll, come to think of it, lest somebody see them together. The realization troubled him a moment, at least until he remembered that this was his choice, and that he had no interest bringing the disapproval of his family, friends, and most of the wizarding world down on his head by revealing himself as one of Harry’s lovers. It just wasn’t worth it.
Especially since it was just sex anyway.
As he made his way to the main floor again he was greeted first with sound rather than sight: a catchy, staccato beat, cheerful horns, and a man belting in a soulful voice:
“Our hearts were ringing, in the key that our souls were singing, as we danced in the night remember, how the stars stole the night away.”*
And as he walked into the kitchen there was Harry, moving about to the beat while seasoning something in a pan on the stove.
Draco wasn’t entirely sure what to do. The music was loud enough that he wasn’t even sure Harry or the elf heard him come in. So he sat himself at the table, figuring he could at least watch the show if nothing else.
Harry did see him, though, and put a glass of sparkling wine in front of him with a smile and a wink before returning to work.
Not that it looked much like work, really, Draco observed as he sipped on the crisp, bubbly drink, tapped his feet to the music, and followed Harry with his eyes. The brunet was doing something Draco could only classify as “cook-dancing.” He glided around easily, rocking and swaying as he chopped garlic, spun around to tend to the duck breast on the stove and render the fat, and then slid sprouts into another pan with a dash of said fat, tossing them effortlessly with a flick of his wrist. All the while his hips moved and his feet did this little shuffle as he sang along to the song when he knew the words.
“Ba de ya, say do you remember, ba de ya, dancing in September…”*
Draco rested his elbows on the table and his mouth against his clasped hands to hide his grin. As if he needed more reasons to find Harry charming. This was almost too much.
How could something so silly in theory be so sexy in practice, he wondered. Perhaps it was the easy grace with which Harry moved, or the fact that he didn’t care that he was being watched. It could have been either, but then there was also that he just seemed to so competent as well. He didn’t appear to be following a specified recipe, but rather his own intuition, or perhaps simply working from memory. He didn’t use magic at all, but then, as Draco saw the Gryffindor dice a shallot quickly and efficiently like he’d done it a million times, he obviously didn’t need magic for this. It seemed like it would just slow him down, break the flow he had created with the music and his natural understanding of the tools in front of him.
Draco was aware that his mouth was watering, but whether it was because of the wine he was slowly sipping, or the delicious smells wafting from the range, or the sight of the man in front of him, it was impossible to say.
Oh, who was he kidding? He knew which one it was.
Kreacher was almost an afterthought, puttering about and sometimes tending to the potatoes as they roasted in the oven. Mostly, though, it seemed to be his job to not get underfoot of Harry as he danced the food along to its completion.
It was sort of sweet, though, the way Harry would stand aside when Kreacher had it in mind to open the oven and prod the potatoes on occasion, as if to prove he was somehow contributing, if only in an honorary way.
Being considerate of that Kreacher wanted to feel useful, that was what Harry was doing. It wasn’t a way that Draco had ever seen a wizard interact with a house elf before, and it gave him one of those odd bouts of homesickness he could get sometimes when he was with Harry. It didn’t make any sense, but it was there.
“Come here,” Harry said over the music, and Draco looked to see that it was he Harry was talking to. Harry beckoned with a finger. “I want you to try this.”
Draco obliged him, standing and approaching the brunet as he stood at the range, holding out a spoon of the cherry sauce he’d just concocted.
“Tell me if this has enough salt,” he said.
Draco wanted to argue that he wouldn’t know, before remembering that even though he wasn’t a cook, he had a pretty good palate nonetheless. He parted his lips and sucked a bit of sauce from the spoon.
A wonderful symphony of flavors filled his mouth: the tang of cherries, tart and sweet, the subtle bite of garlic smoothed out by the butter Harry had just swirled in, a kick of black pepper on the back end, all rounded out with just the right amount of salt.
“It’s perfect,” he said, licking his lips.
Harry looked at him through hooded eyes in a way that made Draco’s face warm, but he looked right back. Then Harry kissed him, dipping his tongue in as though Draco were a delicious sauce that needed tasting.
“It is, isn’t it?” he murmured, and Draco smiled softly.
All right, he could admit to himself. This isn’t just sex.
It was more than that, something that couldn’t really be defined or known, something that didn’t need to be. It didn’t have to follow a recipe, a set path. It could just be what they made it, with all the tartness and sweetness and richness and bite and kick they wanted to give it.
It wouldn’t last forever. Draco knew that. It would last as long as it lasted. It would run its course, and they would go their separate ways.
But damn if it wasn’t delicious in the meantime.
***
“And I told her she was wasting her time with that ambitiousless gopher from the Goblin Liaison Office, but does she listen to me? Of course not. She absolutely let her chance with Emmanuel pass her by, and she has no one to blame but herself.”
Draco nodded absently, aware that he was only half listening to Pansy. The rest of him was watching Theo and Gideon on the other side of the room, playing with one of Gideon’s many toys.
“I don’t know when I became resident matchmaker and Mind Healer for everyone, but it appears as though that’s what I am.”
“Oh, you love it,” Draco replied, rolling his eyes and returning his attention to the witch. “You love meddling in other people’s affairs. Especially when it comes to love and sex. Don’t deny it.”
She looked away with a soft smile, refusing to answer. Draco watched as Gideon explained something to his father in his broken, lispy English while Theo leaned in, trying to understand.
“How has it been, being back at the manor?” Pansy asked him.
“It’s fine,” Draco said, deciding to avoid mentioning he wasn’t really staying at the manor at all. Pansy would undoubtedly assume he was staying with his mystery lover and start asking all sorts of questions with the hope that Draco would let something slip. Draco didn’t trust himself not to, so he kept mum on the whole thing.
A part of him was dying to tell it all, though. Not only because being with Harry Potter was so surprising and novel it would undoubtedly entertain Pansy on a level she had not been entertained by anyone in a long time, but also because things between them were just… good, and the time he was spending with Harry was becoming a large and important part of his life.
He wanted to tell Pansy everything he had learned – not the bits about how to please a man; Pansy already knew plenty about that, Draco had no doubt – but rather what he had learned about the give and take of pleasure, indulgence without guilt, the openness Harry encouraged in him, and how much Draco found himself able to let go of the resentment towards Astoria and what she had done to him.
He was happy, and while he could tell her that truth all day, he had no way to explain why. He wished he did.
You chose this, he reminded himself.
“I thought it might be… painful for you,” Pansy ventured.
“I’ve been spending a lot of my time out of the house, and that helps.”
“With your secret lover?”
Draco sighed. He should have seen that inference coming. “Doing various things,” he hedged.
Various things, like watching Harry cook them dinner while dancing, enjoying said dinner over conversation as sparkling and refreshing as the wine they were sipping, and falling tipsily into bed afterward so he could grope and lick and caress just about every inch of Harry’s skin he could find, paying special attention to his most sensitive areas, of course.
Not that he’d spent every minute with Harry over the past few days. He’d had some marking of final exams to do, as did Harry, and the brunet was also spending some time in the “dreaded study” cleaning and decontaminating, leaving Draco free to find his own diversions. He’d ventured into Diagon on his own to do some shopping, and read by the fire, and went out once a day for a bracing walk through the neighborhood in the cold December air.
But he’d had dinner with the man each night, followed by a romp in Harry’s spacious bed, followed then by sleep. He could have played it coy and gone back to his own room after sex, he supposed. Harry would have respected the choice. But Draco didn’t much see the point. Waking up next to Harry meant they could enjoy round two in the morning, and why pass up opportunities like that?
“The thing about being a teacher,” Draco went on, to distract his friend from conversation about his secret lover, “is that the work never ends. I’ve had exams and final papers to mark, as well as lessons to plan for next term. I’m not even really getting a proper holiday. There’s too much to do.” All right, this wasn’t strictly true, but Draco’d never had any discomfort with a little hyperbole.
“Hmmm,” Pansy said, as though she knew exactly what he was up to (which, come to think of it, she probably did). “If you say so.”
Draco nodded but said no more on the subject.
“Will your parents come to the manor for Christmas?”
“I’m going to them,” Draco said.
“Oh, well that will be nice, to visit France.”
“Sure,” said Draco drily. “It will be quite lovely. We’ll sit around sipping on mulled wine, making conversation, exchanging gifts, while my father finds every opportunity possible to just so subtly mention all the ways I am a failure as a man. What fun.”
Pansy stared at him a moment. “All pureblood parents, at least on some level, are horrible. We’ve always known that.”
“And you just accept it?” Draco countered. “You’re a pureblood parent now, you know. Are you going to do to Gideon what our parents did to us?”
“Of course not,” said Pansy. “Times are different now. The world has changed, is still changing. I’ll admit I was… willing to go along with my parents’ beliefs when we were in school, because I was young and stupid, and I didn’t know any better. But now…” She glanced at her son, who was playing with a train set and babbling to himself while Theo looked on. “We’ve already agreed we won’t be arranging a spouse for Gideon. He will be free to choose, and someone of any blood status, or any gender for that matter, that he so desires.”
Draco was floored a moment, more on the gender commentary than the blood commentary. “Really?”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Yes, really.” She put a hand on her chest subconsciously, right where her heart lay underneath. “He is a part of me. His happiness is everything to me.”
As if the little boy knew he was being talked about, he stood and made his way over to his mother, a red train engine that looked much like the Hogwarts Express clasped in his small hand.
“’Ook, Mummy,” he said. “I have tain.”
“I see that, love,” she replied, her face softening until it was almost unrecognizable. “You have a train. Do you want to show your godfather?”
Gideon climbed onto the sofa and into Draco’s lap. “’Ook, Daco,” he said. “Tain.”
“A train,” Draco echoed, taking it from his godson and looking it over. “It’s a very nice one.”
Gideon went on to tell Draco all about his train. Or, at least, that’s what Draco assumed. He couldn’t really understand most of what the boy was saying. Still, he nodded and hummed and encouraged the talking, all the while looking at the boy’s sweet face and dark hair, seeing bits of Theo and Pansy both in his features.
Eventually their stomachs all began to rumble, and Pansy suggested they have some lunch.
“Food! Food!” cried Gideon, excited.
“Food!” Theo roared. He scooped his son from Draco’s lap, tossing him about and blowing a raspberry on his belly, making him giggle uncontrollably.
“’Gain, Daddy. ‘Gain!”
Draco had to swallow and look away. It didn’t really bother him to see Pansy with her son, or to spend time with Gideon on his own. But there was something about seeing that, about seeing the love in Theo’s eyes, and the pride. It was hard to watch.
That could have been me.
Sometimes he wondered if it was the loss of a son that hurt him more than the loss of his marriage. Perhaps that was true.
But it did no good to dwell. That could still be him someday, once he’d recovered from his heartbreak fully and met the right woman. He could have everything that Theo and Pansy had. In fact, he was determined to.
***
When Draco arrived back at Grimmauld that afternoon there was a commotion going on upstairs. He drew his wand and was about to Apparate up there and to the rescue when Kreacher came hurtling down the stairs at surprising speed, some kind of bundle clutched against his chest. He was cackling madly, paying Draco no mind as he passed him and made his way down the hall.
Stomping on the stairs alerted Draco that Harry wasn’t far behind, and sure enough the brunet appeared only a moment later, wand in hand and an expression of determination on his face.
“Which way did the little bastard go?” Harry asked Draco.
Assuming he could only mean Kreacher, Draco pointed towards the kitchen. To his surprise, Harry didn’t immediately take after the elf, but instead stood there and let his shoulders slump.
“He’s taking it to his hidey-hole, no doubt.”
“He got ahold of an artifact?” That was the only explanation Draco could imagine. He was aware that the elf had quite mixed feelings about the prospect of Harry going through the desk and cabinet in the second floor study, convinced that Harry was going to get rid of some precious Black family heirloom in his cleaning frenzy.
“A few things, I think,” said Harry. “I didn’t see what. I don’t even care, really. It’s just that some of that stuff is dangerous. Just this summer Kreacher took an old baby blanket into his little hole and it nearly strangled him in his sleep. Thank Merlin I was home at the time, or Kreacher likely would have died. He doesn’t seem to care, though. Even ratty old blankets are precious to him.”
“The Blacks had baby blankets that were cursed to strangle people?”
“Apparently. A deranged lot they were, the Blacks,” said Harry.
Draco raised his eyebrows but silently acknowledged the point. He’d heard tell of the Black madness from his mother. Not all of them had it. Both Narcissa and her sister Andromeda had avoided the condition, though Bellatrix had not been exempt.
“Makes my life more difficult,” Harry continued. “Even more so because Kreacher is so devoted to this house and everything in it. He’s a bit deranged himself, but then, who can blame him?”
“What will you do?”
“Wait for him to calm down, then convince him to let me test what he took for curses. If it’s all safe then he can keep it, for all I care. He might, at some point, release it to me to get it appraised and displayed, but that sometimes takes a few months.”
“Why do you bother with all that?” Draco asked him. “You could just order him to hand everything over to you. Doesn’t he have to obey?”
Harry sighed. “Yes, technically. But I don’t like giving direct orders like that, and Kreacher is… he finds a way around things like that. And he and I have a complicated relationship as it is. It’s important that I maintain a level of transparency, a level of trust. He goes a bit… barmy, otherwise, and that’s no good for either of us.”
Draco stared at the man a few seconds, wondering what series of events led to such a complicated relationship with a house elf of all things. But he quickly remembered that Harry often didn’t do things like other people, and this situation was only further evidence of that.
“How is the dreaded study coming along?” he asked.
Harry blinked and looked at him, as though coming out of some kind of reverie. “Fine, I suppose.” He seemed to realize for the first time that it was Draco standing before him. He gave the blond a chaste kiss. “I’ve got through the desk, at any rate. And how was your day? How is Pansy?”
“Very well. She still wants to know the identity of my mystery lover, but I’ve given nothing away.”
“Ah,” said Harry. “Of course not. She probably assumes it’s a woman.”
“Yes, of course. I’ve given her no indication otherwise.”
Harry didn’t say anything a moment, glancing down the hall as if waiting for Kreacher to reappear.
“Harry?”
The brunet turned back to him. “Have you ever…” he began.
Draco blinked at him, waiting for him to go on. But Harry just shook his head.
“Never mind.” He leaned in for another kiss, and Draco obliged. “I’m well done with the study for the day, and I want to give it a few hours before I talk to Kreacher. So, do you want to play chess or something before I start dinner?”
Draco smiled. Harry was a decent chess player, enough to keep the game interesting, though Draco had beat him every time so far. Harry never seemed to mind, though; he just enjoyed the game itself.
“Yeah, all right. Let’s play.”
***
“Yes,” Draco breathed. “Mmmmm, yes, Harry.” He was gasping for oxygen already, though Harry hadn’t even properly taken Draco into his mouth yet. He was still merely kissing and licking the shaft, warming him up. But that was wonderful in its own way, with Harry doing it. Draco had learned to love the sweet tension in his cock, pleasure pulled taut like the strings of a harp waiting to be plucked. Harry always knew which notes to play first.
But then the sensations were gone altogether, and Draco let out a whine of protest.
“Why are you stopping?”
He could make Harry out in the dim lamplight of the room. The man rested on his elbows as he looked down at Draco.
“I want to try something new.”
“All right. Go on, then.”
Harry chuckled at the poorly masked urgency in Draco’s tone. “You haven’t heard what I want to do yet.”
“Has anything you’ve done to me not been pleasurable?” Draco countered. At this point he had no reason to doubt Harry in anything, not when it came to sex.
“No,” said Harry. “And I think you’ll like this one too. But, given how you reacted at first when I wanted to finger you, I wasn’t sure if you would be open to it.”
Draco stared at him a moment, his mind flipping through the possibilities. Harry was implying it would have something to do with Draco’s arse, but seeing as how they’d already agreed that Harry wouldn’t be fucking Draco anytime soon, the blond couldn’t think of what it might be. “What is it?”
“Have you ever heard of rimming?”
Draco went on staring.
Harry licked his lips. “I want to put my mouth on your arse and... lick you. I want to fuck you with my tongue, essentially.”
A hand brushed lightly over Draco’s cock, making sure the erection didn’t flag as Draco absorbed what Harry was saying.
No fair, he thought idly. If Harry had presented this to him before he’d started his ministrations to Draco’s cock, Draco would have been too baffled to be able to consider it. But now I’m so turned on even that prospect sounds appealing. The prospect of him putting his tongue in my arse.
A peal of laughter escaped him, his aroused state lending a slightly hysterical edge to the sound.
“Harry Potter wants to eat my arse,” he said aloud, and this was followed by more laughter bubbling up and out of his throat.
Harry stared down at him indulgently, letting Draco come to terms with that.
“It’s just…” Draco giggled. “It sounds like a taunt I would have given you in school. ‘Eat my arse, Potter.’ Only…” The laughter was in his belly now, coming from deep within him. “Only you would have wanted to.” The hilarity of that idea had fully taken over, and he put a hand over his stomach, feeling it shudder against his palm.
Harry allowed him another half minute of that before he squeezed his ribs, making the blond yelp.
“Oi,” said Draco, breathing heavily. He tried to make his voice as snarky as possible – difficult, through the amusement – as he repeated, “Eat my arse, Potter.”
Harry snorted, giving in and laughing in earnest. He huffed a moment, then said, his mouth twisting with mock anger, “Suck my dick, Malfoy.”
Draco cackled, unable to help it. “Then kiss my bollocks, Scarhead.”
“So lick my taint, Ferret-face.”
Draco threw his head back and roared with laughter. He could feel that Harry had buried his face in the blond’s chest, his whole body shaking.
“Slurp my cum.”
“Tug my knob.”
“Get buggered.”
“Get fucked.”
“Wanker.”
“Tosser.”
Draco tried to pinch Harry in the ribs, but his hand was captured and a very loud, unpleasant raspberry was blown against his stomach.
“Bastard,” said Draco, still laughing.
“Prick.”
“Git.”
“Prat.” Harry had Draco properly pinned and was still laughing down at him with a wide grin. After a moment his face softened, his mirth waning into a few chuckles. “A ridiculous, sexy, irresistible prat, that’s what you are. But I know how to make you stop laughing once and for all.”
“Oh, you do, do you?”
The amusement in Harry’s face flickered out entirely, and something much hotter came to life beneath it. “Turn over,” he said.
Draco arched a brow. “You’re really going to do this?”
“I am. And you’re going to love every second of it. You’re going to be begging me for more, in fact.” He rocked back and forth a couple of times, his hardness brushing against Draco’s and bringing the blond’s erection back in full force.
Draco had no idea why Harry would want to do such a thing, or what in magic’s name would make it that pleasurable for Draco, but who was he to argue? If Harry really wanted to lick his arse – he suppressed another wave of laughter at that – then he could have at it.
“Challenge accepted,” he said, and rolled over onto his stomach.
The first thing he felt was that gentle cleaning charm inside him, tickling him into a couple more giggles. Those subsided, though, as he felt a hand come to caress his arse, running along the smooth skin a moment before skimming the crack gently, making Draco shudder. He ground against the sheets below him, enjoying the soft friction on his erection. He wasn’t sure how he would feel when the licking commenced, but being touched by Harry always felt good.
Harry nipped at the back of one of his thighs, and Draco couldn’t help a small yelp of surprise. But Harry did it again, farther up the thigh this time, and Draco gasped instead, more prepared for it now.
“Spread your legs a bit for me,” Harry murmured against his skin.
Draco bit back a moan, the request making him feel wanton and exposed in the sexiest way possible. He did as Harry asked, and was rewarded with a light breath ghosting along his perineum.
“Mmm, yeah, like that,” said Harry, his tongue flicking out to taste the spot, applying a light bit of pressure with the very tip.
Draco bucked and ground into the mattress again with a moan.
How was this so hot already? He could feel Harry hovering right there, at one of his most sensitive areas, but he couldn’t see the man, and had no idea what he was going to do next.
Harry kissed his flesh and licked again, his tongue traveling down the back of his sac a moment before moving up again, over his perineum, and farther still. The strong, wet muscle kneaded lovingly against his skin, working his way up Draco’s crack.
“Fuck,” Draco mumbled into the pillow below him. Harry was really doing this, and it was foreign, and odd, and… erotic as hell.
Harry paused at Draco’s entrance, and the blond realized he was holding his breath in anticipation. Hands came up to his cheeks to pry them apart, and then Harry’s face descended, his lips finding Draco’s hole and giving it a deliberate kiss. Draco released a shaky breath as he felt that tongue venture out again, running a small, tight circle around the edge of his opening.
“Gods!” Draco barked out before biting his lip hard. He didn’t want to give Harry satisfaction just yet by admitting how sexy he found this experience already. He’d never be able to live it down.
But then Harry moaned, like he was enjoying Draco’s taste, and his tongue dipped in and started circling, and Draco was suddenly aware that he was matching those sounds with needy sounds of his own.
Harry Potter is eating my arse, he thought with depraved fascination. He rocked his hips back and forth in tiny thrusts, gaining some sharp, much-needed pleasure for his weeping cock. And he likes it.
Harry’s tongue plunged further inside, brushing and playing at the edge of Draco’s internal pleasure center, and the blond had no choice but to give in.
“Fucking hell!” he cried, pushing back against Harry’s face. “Fuck yes.”
Harry’s tongue started to work more enthusiastically, and Draco could do nothing but grind against him and spur him on.
“That’s right, Harry. That’s it. Fuck me with your tongue. Bury yourself in me.”
Harry groaned long and low in response, the throaty sound one of undeniable appreciation. Draco was working himself hard against the mattress, building the molten need with every thrust, but Harry kept right up with him, not letting the powerful massaging of his tongue on Draco’s inner walls falter.
The tongue inside him was so close to his prostate that it was almost there, but this only made Draco reach harder for pleasure. He was aware of just how lewd he must look, humping the bed shamelessly while Harry ate him out, but that realization only drove him closer to climax. There was no one here to see it but Harry, and Harry loved it. Of that there was no doubt. And Draco loved it too. He loved what Harry could turn him into.
“I’m gonna fucking come!” Draco told him as he felt his pleasure peaking. “I’m gonna come from you tongue-fucking me, Harry! Oh, Gods!” He was amazed, and incredulous, and so completely turned on by the idea that his announcement alone was enough to send him over the edge. He came right into the sheets, gripping them tight with his hands while he rode out his pleasure. He moaned and moaned into the pillow as his cock’s pulsing crested before starting to wane.
The high of his orgasm was so heady that it wasn’t until the fog cleared that he was aware of Harry’s cock rubbing along his skin. He turned his head to look behind him, and saw that Harry was using his hand as well as a globe of Draco’s arse to give his own cock some friction, looking as wanton as Draco felt as he ground against the blond. Their eyes locked.
“That’s it, Harry,” Draco rasped, his mouth dry. “Come for me. Come all over me.”
“Fuck,” Harry bit out, and did just that, spurting onto Draco’s arse and lower back with rope after rope of cum. “Gods,” he groaned, his eyes shutting as he reveled in his climax.
Draco collapsed against the bed, not caring about the cooling, sticky mess below him. He could hear Harry’s harsh panting a moment, then heard the muttering of a cleaning charm that removed the streaks of cum from Draco’s body.
“Budge up,” Harry said, nudging him with a knee.
Draco groaned but complied, giving Harry the space to clean the sheets with another spell. He rolled over onto his back and felt Harry plop down next to him after a moment. An arm wrapped around him, and Draco hummed in approval.
“I told you,” said Harry, his tone smug.
Draco opened one eye to look at him. “Yes, all right,” he admitted finally. “That was bloody fantastic. I suppose that this point that I have no good reason to doubt you anymore.”
“Glad you’re finally learning,” Harry replied, sounding satisfied.
“Believe me, I’m learning plenty.”
“Good.”
They were quiet for long enough that Draco started to drift off, the shelter of Harry’s warmth around him pulling him slowly into sleep. But then he was suddenly aware of Harry’s lips on his neck, bringing him back into consciousness.
“When do you have to leave for France?” the man asked him.
“Not until the morning of the 24^th,” Draco replied. “I have a portkey scheduled for 10 o’clock.”
“And when do you get back?” Harry was up under his jaw now, sucking gently.
“Afternoon, Boxing Day. I’ll go by the manor briefly and then come back here.”
“Mmmm.” Harry nibbled on Draco’s earlobe a bit. “So only two nights without you in my bed. I suppose I can live with that.”
Draco smiled. “How will you survive without me, I wonder.”
“Lots of wanking,” Harry replied without missing a beat. “Lots and lots of wanking.”
Draco chuckled, choosing not to point out that Harry went plenty of nights without him when they were back at Hogwarts. He liked what Harry seemed to be implying, that he just couldn’t get his fill of Draco.
Draco was starting to feel something similar about Harry.
“Well, when I get back, we’ll have two whole weeks more, won’t we?” he said.
Harry hummed and finally settled his face against Draco’s neck for sleep. “Good. I’ll be savoring every minute.”
Draco felt his stomach flip at that confession, finding it impossible to reply aloud.
So will I.
*Words from “September” by Earth, Wind & Fire. Lyrics by Maurice White and Allee Willis, 1978.
Redbecksy: Thank you!! I really like this version of them too. I’ll keep the chapters coming, don’t you worry. Kind words like yours always help!
goddess-of_dragons: Thanks!! I was going for intense, so…hurray! Hope you like this one too!
Nowsthethyme: Thank you so much. This is my favorite Harry ever and it’s super fun to write him, but it’s really Draco’s personal journey that’s driving this fic for me. It means so much to hear it’s working!
emeraldeyes: Thanks! Trust me, I have no intention of stopping.
LadyShire: It wasn’t a cliffy, I swear! Please no time out for me *puppy eyes* I can’t promise no cliffies in the future, though. As things get more intense between our two boys I may have to leave you hanging for a bit now and then. *grins nervously*
Please keep feeding the bunnies! They need it, and I need them! In all seriousness, your weekly feedback means so much to me. Thank you!
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A Secondary Education