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The Language of Love	By : Sasunarufan13 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 2681 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor make profit of it. J.K. Rowling owns it.

Chapter List
- 1-The Language of Love
- 1
Author's note: A good friend of mine asked me yesterday whether I could write her a fluffy Drarry oneshot, because she was in need of one. Well, I unearthed an idea from my notebook and while I'm not sure it's fluffy, it's definitely lighthearted and I hope you'll like it!
Warnings: Harry's pov; set after the war but doesn't follow the epilogue; established slash; implied mature content (for full version, visit my profile for more information); no angst or drama - shocker, I know LOL
Dedicated to: babyvfan
I hope you'll like it!
The Language of Love
Draco could speak French.
That particular fact was something Harry had discovered after dating the blond wizard for four months. The first time he had heard him speak French had been during a rainy, dreary afternoon in the middle of April. By a stroke of good luck, the both of them hadn't had any work to do that day and they had taken advantage of that reprieve by holing themselves up in Harry's house and blocking any Floo calls and visits. Initially Harry hadn't understood what exactly the older man had been muttering; dazed as he had been by the many kisses and caresses they had exchanged, he had at first thought that Draco had merely been muttering something in incomprehensible English. When he had started listening closer, however, he had discovered that that had definitely not been their mother tongue leaving Draco's lips.
"Tes yeux sont incroyables," Draco murmured, brushing his lips across Harry's right cheekbone.
"Hm?" Harry blinked, the strange words filtering through the haze which had captured his brain. His fingers were dancing across Draco's back underneath his shirt, tracing the muscles which shifted underneath his touch. They were in Harry's bedroom, his blanket hiding most of their bodies from view. They weren't naked yet, but they were inching towards that; their shirts unbuttoned and their belts long gone with the buttons of their trousers opened.
"Je ne peux pas croire que tu es mon copain," Draco sighed, dipping his head to lavish attention towards a certain spot right underneath Harry's left ear, which the bastard had discovered was quite sensitive.
As soon as lips started worrying at that spot, Harry couldn't supress a shiver and his fingers briefly dug into Draco's shoulders, tugging him even closer as he wrapped his right leg around the blond's thighs. His own hands drifted towards Draco's chest, caressing his stomach and thumbing his nipples teasingly, feeling them pebbling underneath his touch.
"Regarde-toi. Tu es très magnifique," Draco breathed in his ear as his hand cupped Harry's hip before kissing him deeply.
The foreign sounding words settled themselves in Harry's mind and he surfaced from the kiss with a sense of bemusement as the words meant nothing to him. They certainly meant something to Draco, though, judging by the gleam in his darkened grey eyes as he pulled back to gaze at the dark haired man.
"What kind of language is that?" Harry asked, peppering kisses along Draco's jaw, his cheeks, nose and collarbone.
"Figures you wouldn't recognise that," Draco snarked, but his tone was affectionate and amused enough for Harry to not take any offense to it.
Still he delivered a sharp nip to Draco's lower lip, eliciting a surprised gasp. Couldn't let the other man get away with too much after all; not even now they were dating.
"It's French," Draco supplied, tilting his head to the left once Harry honed in on his neck. His hands tightened around Harry's hips and he uttered a small sound when Harry sucked at the junction of Draco's neck and shoulder.
"Didn't know you could speak French," Harry murmured, pausing to cant his hips upwards, bumping his groin against his lover's.
A mixture of a moan and a chuckle left the older man as he pushed his hips down in response, leaving no space between them. "My ancestors came from France actually," he explained, a bit breathless as they started moving together slowly, circling and bumping their hips; their fingers leaving blazing trails of heat behind on their bare chests.
"So," Draco released a shuddering breath as their movements started to become a tad more frenzied. "So every Malfoy child is taught French."
"Never heard you speak French before, but I like it," Harry confessed and sighed in pleasure when a mouth met his in a deep kiss, tongues slipping out and meeting each other as heat spread out from his lower belly, filling every inch of his body. Every cell in him sang with pleasure and he had a hard time keeping his eyes open as the sensation got more and more intense.
"I can tell," Draco whispered against his swollen lips and smirked. "Penses-tu que je peux te faire jouir en te parlant en français?"
Something in the timbre, the cadence of his voice as he spoke those words caused a jolt of pleasure to go through Harry and he moaned embarrassingly loud, flushing as the smirk on the older man's face grew more pronounced.
"Yeah, I think I can," Draco murmured to whatever question he had just asked.
Whatever was on the tip of his tongue was lost as pleasure started mounting and they were almost desperately rubbing off against each other, chasing after their climax.
Harry was almost there; he could feel himself nearing the edge, getting closer and closer as their kisses sparked heat and their hands danced over taut skin. Almost there; it wouldn't take too long …
"Tu es à moi et je suis à toi." Those words were whispered against his mouth, grey eyes glinting like steel, and that was all it took.
His back arched and white flashed across his eyelids like lightning bolts as he shuddered and shivered through his orgasm, his nails digging into supple, pale flesh. The sensation of being sticky didn't even get the time to register in his mind as he felt more than heard Draco groan and then the older man was thrown over the edge as well, shaking slightly as Harry held him.
Their breathing was loud in the room when Draco dropped down exhausted next to him and Harry's ears rang with the sound of his thundering heartbeat. This was definitely a good use of their time together – even if he couldn't contain a grimace when he shifted his legs slightly. He'd need to get rid of his clothes because they were starting to become too uncomfortable, but for now he was too tired to move.
"What were you saying in French?" he asked curiously; his voice, rougher than he expected, cutting through the peaceful silence.
Draco hummed. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
Now six months later Harry still hadn't figured out just what exactly Draco had been saying to him at that moment. His use of French hadn't been restricted to that time only either. Since then he spoke French more casually, slipping in some sentences a couple of times every week. Sometimes it happened when he was muttering to himself as he was reading some old tome about potions; other times it was aimed at people who had pissed him off and Harry didn't have to understand French to know that when his lover talked in that language then, he wasn't saying any nice words. His glare and tone of voice were more telling then, than his words could be.
Most of the times, though, he spoke some French to Harry when they were having sex. He had clearly taken note of the fact that his use of that language drove Harry wild and he wasn't shy about using that particular titbit of knowledge to drive the dark haired man insane. It worked every single time too, damn it.
Occasionally he said something in French to Harry during the mornings before they each departed to work and his comments were either accompanied by a genuine smile or a devious smirk.
He always refused to tell Harry what exactly he was saying, even if Harry tried to coax it out of him by teasing him and touching him in just the right places.
It was maddening.
"Why don't you just use a dictionary?" Hermione sighed exasperatedly, pushing a stubborn lock of her brown hair behind her ear. Her brown eyes were gliding over the parchment in front of her and whatever was written on there was enough to make her frown and purse her lips.
"You think I'd remember all the words he used by the time I got my hands on a dictionary?" Harry shot back, balancing on two legs of his chair. He received a disapproving look for that and years of practice allowed him to ignore that particular look.
"Surely, you would remember some words," she muttered, rolling her eyes and scribbled something down on the paper before turning to the next page.
He opened his mouth to reply, but Ron was quicker and snickered, "Don't think Harry has the brain capacity left to remember the words after Malfoy uses them."
It was remarkable how Ron could speak Draco's name without sneering or grimacing once if he was making fun of Harry at the same time.
In retaliation Harry crumpled an empty sheet of parchment into a ball and threw it at his friend's head; the ginger haired man laughed as it bounced off him, landing on the desk.
"It's just frustrating that he can distract me by talking in French while I can't do the same to him," Harry complained, only flushing slightly as he thought in what kind of situation they usually were when the blond wizard distracted him by talking in French.
"It's not a contest, you know," Hermione hummed, plucking a file from the pile next to her. "But if you want to get back at him, why not speak in another language too?"
"Yes, because I have so much time to learn a new language now that Kingsley is preparing me to become the Head Auror," Harry retorted sarcastically. He was still ignoring the large tower of files on his desk which required his signature. Maybe if he refused to acknowledge it long enough the tower would disappear on its own.
One could always hope and wish after all.
"Eh, mate," Ron piped up, looking uncomfortable for some reason. "You don't have to learn another language to one up Malfoy."
"I have to if I want to get back at him in the same way," Harry grunted, trying to figure out which language he could attempt to study. Despite his earlier protest, he figured there was no other way for him but to study a new language if he wanted to get back at Draco in the same manner.
"Nobody says you have to get back at him, but eh, you do remember that you already know a second language, right?" Ron muttered; the tips of his ears turning a tomato red.
"That's right!" Hermione burst out, looking up from her file with a beaming face. "You still know Parseltongue, right, Harry? That counts as a language! And it's hardly one Malfoy will be able to understand." She turned thoughtful. "Unless of course there is some sort of dictionary for Parseltongue, but how would one put Parseltongue into written script?"
As she descended in a monologue about possible spells which could be used to create a Parseltongue dictionary, Harry mulled the idea of using the snakes' language over in his mind.
His defeat of Voldemort hadn't taken away his ability to speak and understand Parseltongue, which occasionally came in handy during missions when enemies used snakes as part of their defence. He had never thought, however, of using that particular skill in the bedroom …
"Thanks, Ron, that's actually a good idea," Harry grinned and clapped the taller man's shoulder.
Ron grimaced, holding his hands up. "Yeah, yeah, just – I don't need any details," he groused, shuddering.
"And here I was planning on doing a whole recount of it afterwards," Harry smirked and ducked out of reach of the incoming punch; his mind already trying out lines he could use on his unsuspecting lover.
He had his opportunity a couple of days later.
It was Friday evening and after dinner they had relocated to Harry's bedroom, rather impatient to feel each other again after nearly a week of being too busy to spend much time together.
The both of them finally completely naked – a process that had taken way too long if you asked Harry – the dark haired man clambered on top of his lover, straddling his thighs. They were both breathing quicker already as their fingers continued to map out skin which was becoming increasingly more familiar with each moment they spent together. Admiring the reddish pink marks already blooming up in Draco's neck and on his chest – courtesy of his mouth and teeth – Harry leant back slightly, steadying himself with his hands behind him on Draco's firm thighs.
"God, I missed you," Draco said breathlessly; his steel grey eyes tracing Harry's chest before landing on his cock, which was standing proudly up, leaking a bit of pre cum. A smirk danced across his mouth as he traced his index finger up and down Harry's shaft, causing the younger man to moan and thrust his hips forwards.
"Missed you too," Harry muttered, leaning forwards to share another heated kiss with the blond, as he riffled through the top drawer of his nightstand for the lube. As soon as his fingers closed around it, he snatched it out of the drawer and popped off the lid impatiently.
Draco was already reaching out to squeeze some lube on his fingers, but Harry fended him off gently and coated three of his fingers on his right hand. Supporting his weight on his left hand on the mattress next to Draco's shoulder, he leant forwards even more and raised his arse slightly so that he could slip his fingers between his cheeks.
When green eyes met grey ones, they glowed with lust; the pupils expanding visibly. "I like the way you're thinking," Draco murmured, tracing Harry's lower lip with his thumb before he rose up a bit to kiss him properly.
"Yeah, figured you would," Harry mumbled against his mouth, returning the kiss eagerly. He barely paid any attention to the slight sting as he slipped one finger inside; instead he focused on the lips worrying his own between them before a tongue slipped out and stroked and sucked on his own. There was the almost inaudible 'squelch' sound of the lube as he impatiently added another finger and started spreading his entrance more firmly, slipping his fingers in and out. The soft smacking sounds as their mouths left each other for a few seconds before returning for another deep kiss; their breaths escaping them in silent gasps.
One of Draco's hands rested on his hip while the other stroked gently up and down across Harry's side, pausing sometimes to briefly thumb over his nipple.
Some time and three fingers later, Harry tore himself away from those irresistible lips with a gasp, feeling his own lips tingling as if electricity was surging through them.
"All right, I'm ready." He licked his lips and slathered Draco's cock – which by now was pressing insistently against his stretched opening – with some lube before throwing the tube to the side and lifting himself up a bit to get into the right position.
As luminous grey eyes stared transfixed at him, Harry slowly sank down on Draco's hard prick, holding his breath against the pressure and the way he was being stretched just a little bit more. When he bottomed out, he remained still for a moment, blinking as he adjusted to the sensation of being filled in this kind of way.
They had done it several times before, but each time still seemed to steal his breath away and made heat pool in his lower stomach.
"You okay?" Draco asked roughly and his thighs twitched a bit with the effort of remaining immobile while Harry adjusted to the intrusion.
"Never been better," Harry quipped and before the other man could say something in response, he started moving. First he rocked back and forth a bit as he got used to feeling Draco inside him again and then he rose up on his thighs, pulling off Draco until the tip of his cock barely rested inside anymore and then slammed back down, eliciting a surprised choked yell out of the blond.
Grinning Harry started moving up and down faster; his muscles tensing up with the effort and the back of his neck was already pricking with the sheen of sweat. After a bit of rolling and rotating his hips, he found the perfect position where Draco's cock would end up pressing against his prostate every time he thrusted down. Small bursts of pleasure shot through him as he felt the head of Draco's cock brushing against his sweet spot and he moaned rather loudly, throwing his head back as he started to move faster. His muscles were starting to protest the exercise they were being put through, but that was merely background as he chased after his pleasure; the heat in his belly expanding more and more with every thrust and roll of their hips.
Too warm hands clamping down around his hips and forcing him down harder, so that Draco ended up being even deeper inside of him, had him opening his eyes – when had he closed them? – and looking down as he panted noisily through his open mouth.
"Wh-what?" he questioned breathlessly; his skin pricking with the heat of Draco's gaze.
"C'est si bon d'être en toi," Draco groaned; his voice already hoarse, but a light smirk graced his lips as he took in the way Harry shivered.
Shaking his head – Draco speaking French and having him simultaneously fucking him roughly was always a sure-fire way to melt Harry's brain into mush – he briefly imagined a snake – a cobra like the one he had encountered during his latest mission – and opened his mouth, "I love the way you feel insssside me."
The second the hissing syllables left his lips, he felt Draco stiffening up underneath him. For a brief moment Harry worried that he had made a mistake. Maybe Draco wouldn't like hearing Parseltongue after having had to share his home with Voldemort; perhaps he could only associate the sounds with bad things happening …
But then grey eyes widened, the pupils expanding even more, and Draco's lips parted as he suddenly thrusted up; his hands like vices around Harry's hips now.
"Fuck, Harry," Draco moaned throatily; the lust and awe in his voice making Harry unconsciously preen.
Yeah, the blond man didn't appear traumatized by his use of Parseltongue – far from it, judging by the way his hips were almost desperately thrusting upwards.
"You like that?" Harry asked; the hissing sounds feeling as natural on his tongue as English. "Yeah, I can feel that you like this."
"Ke-keep going," Draco muttered, sounding almost feverish by now. All of a sudden the muscles in his arms bulged and his legs tensed up and then Harry was spread out on his back on the bed; the sudden switch in position knocking the wind out of him.
His legs were grabbed and thrown over strong shoulders before his lover settled upon an almost brutal rhythm, battering against his arse.
Green eyes rolled back and it was all Harry could do to hold on as the pleasure steadily built up; every thrust against his prostate making him whimper and keen loudly.
"I want to hear more," Draco murmured, panting against his cheek. "Tu me rends fou."
The French words spurred Harry on and before he could stop himself, he hissed, "I love your eyessss; they're gorgeoussss. I love being the only one you let your guard down for."
An especially sharp thrust had him gasp and he swallowed before continuing between feverish, heated kisses, "Nobody hassss ever made me feel sssso good assss you."
Draco started rolling his hips, practically grinding against Harry's arse by now and Harry knew they wouldn't last long anymore.
"Pleasssse Draco, pleasssse. I want to feel you come insssside me; I want to feel you," his voice trailed off, changing into a deep moan as a hand wrapped around his cock and started stroking up and down firmly.
Draco grunted something in French, but Harry was too far gone now to even pick up a single word. That didn't matter, though. The pleasure suddenly exploded and his legs spasmed as he came, his arms shooting up to wrap around Draco's neck in an attempt to ground himself. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out as wave after wave of exquisite pleasure wore him down.
A sudden burst of heat inside of him had him blinking his eyes open, right in time to witness Draco shudder through his own climax, burying his head against Harry's shoulder.
They stayed in that position for another moment until it started to feel as if a thousand needles were pricking his arms and legs and he unwound them from Draco's body, dropping them heavily on the bed. They felt loose, like rubber and there were still shivers dancing over his spine as he tried to calm down.
Draco sank next to him with a soft sigh, tracing circles on Harry's soaked stomach. "You're going to tell me what you were saying?"
"Hm, wouldn't you like to know?" Harry replied teasingly and laughed when Draco bit his shoulder in retaliation.
"Git," Draco retorted without heat, throwing his arm around Harry's shoulder and tugging him closer.
Right when Harry started dozing off, his head on Draco's chest, the older man pressed a kiss on his forehead and murmured, "Je t'aime."
This time Harry didn't have any trouble understanding what Draco said; the emotion laced through his voice was all the translation the dark haired man needed.
He smiled, tightened his grip around Draco's waist and hissed, "I love you too."
They both fell asleep with a smile lingering across their lips, tangled in a loving embrace.
The End
AN2: So while not entirely fluffy, at least it didn't contain any angst :P Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
Translation of the French lines:
Tes yeux sont incroyables: Your eyes are amazing
Je ne peux pas croire que tu es mon copain: I can't believe you're my boyfriend
Regarde-toi. Tu es très magnifique: Look at you. You're incredibly beautiful
Penses-tu que je peux te faire jouir en te parlant en français? - Do you think I can make you come by talking in French?
Tu es à moi et je suis à toi - You're mine and I'm yours
C'est si bon d'être en toi - It feels so good to be inside you
Tu me rends fou - You drive me crazy
Je t'aime - I love you
I hope to see you all in my future fics!
Cuddles
Melissa
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The Language of Love