FIC: Benevolence (Part Four)
Oct. 5th, 2011 11:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dysonrulesI meant to post this yesterday, but I had to restock my wine supply. PRIORITIES, I HAVE THEM. This is still not beta-ed...
~~~
Harry lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling. It had been an eventful day and a rather life-altering week. He had parted ways with Ginny, discovered Draco Malfoy, given away his two favourite dragons, kissed a man, and had a very strange conversation with his ex-girlfriend. He should have been exhausted, but instead his thoughts were whirling, leaving him unable to sleep.
Ginny had been shockingly understanding after witnessing him kissing Draco.
“All this time I thought it was me! I thought there was something wrong with me that you didn’t like! I thought I was too much like my mother, or that I was not girly enough—boy, was I wrong there—or I wasn’t smart enough, like Hermione. Bloody hell, Harry, this is such a giant relief, I can’t even tell you.”
“You’re not upset?”
“Of course I’m upset! I came here tonight to try and talk sense into you and win you back, but I can see that’s probably not going to happen, is it?”
Harry rolled over at the memory and tried to get more comfortable. He had tidied the kitchen while Ginny had sat at the table and asked him what seemed like ten thousand gruelling questions. How long have you known? Have you ever had sex with a man before? Have you ever kissed a man? Which boys were you attracted to at Hogwarts? Were you attracted to Malfoy at Hogwarts? And how did you and Malfoy get together? And really, Harry, Malfoy? What are you thinking?
Other than the incredible discomfort he felt at answering all of her questions, Harry had to admit it was the best he had got along with Ginny in quite some time. Of late, their time together had degenerated into pointless bickering, but now she seemed genuinely fascinated, if a bit too amused, at the idea of Harry with Draco. She had finally gone home, but only after making him promise he would report back to her regularly with Malfoy Progress Reports.
What are you thinking?
Harry sighed. What was he thinking? He was thinking he would like to see Draco again. He was thinking he would really like to kiss him again. Harry licked his lips, wishing he could taste Draco there, as he had for a fleeting moment.
“Stop thinking about him and go to sleep,” he muttered to himself.
It was easier said than done.
~~**~~
Three days later, Harry was in agony. There had been no word at all from Draco. Not an owl, not a message, not a single bloody thing. Harry had paced every room in his house at least twice over, trying to talk himself out of throwing on his invisibility cloak and Apparating to Willoughby's Boarding House.
Hundreds of scenarios had crowded his mind. Draco had hated the kiss. It had shocked him and he planned never to see Harry again. Draco had liked it and expected Harry to contact him; Harry had screwed up by waiting for Draco to make the first move.
Harry had written note after note and crumpled them all. They had ranged from mundane “How do you like your dragon?” to flirty “I’ve been thinking about you” to desperately needy “I would really like to see you again”.
Ginny had been no help at all, constantly popping in to pester him with questions and then expressing supportive anger at Draco’s lack of contact.
Finally, on the fourth day, Harry could stand it no longer. He slung on his cloak and Apparated to the boarding house. It was just before noon, and Harry suspected Draco was no longer inside, a feeling that grew until he decided to walk to Daisy’s house. Once there, an Extendable Ear slipped under the door revealed nothing more than an overly-loud television set tuned to a home improvement channel.
Harry sighed and decided to walk to the market for some lunch. After ducking into a convenient gap between hedges, he took off the cloak and stuffed it into his knapsack. He checked an interior pocket to make sure he had some Muggle cash (left over from his days of fleeing Voldemort and hunting for Horcruxes) and then started walking. He was close enough to smell frying fish when he caught sight of a familiar white-blond head of hair. Harry’s heart made a curious lurch at the sight and he realized he had reconciled himself to not seeing Draco.
Harry quickened his pace and walked towards the pair. Draco stood with Daisy, looking out over the river.
“Hello,” Harry said as he approached. Draco’s eyes widened, but he quickly recovered his aplomb.
“Potter,” Draco replied.
“Who is it?” Daisy asked. She was bundled up in a heavy wool coat and clutched a canvas tote bag.
Draco sighed. “His name is Harry Potter. He is an old… friend from my school days.”
Daisy stuck out her hand and Harry was not surprised to see that it was almost perfectly placed for shaking. He took it. “I am very pleased to meet you, Daisy.”
“Hello, Mr Potter.”
“Please, call me Harry.”
Daisy grinned. “Harry.”
“Harry is the one who made your dragon,” Draco added.
Daisy sucked in a breath. “You did? You made Garnet? Oh, thank you! I love him so much!” She clutched the straps of her tote with both hands and bounced in place, and then smiled so brightly that Harry felt his heart melt into an enchanted puddle.
And then a small head tipped with golden horns popped up from the tote bag and Harry found himself staring into the glassy red eyes of a very familiar, and very much animate, dragon.
“Garnet, no,” Daisy admonished and shoved the dragon’s head back into the bag.
Harry turned on Draco. “You didn’t.”
Draco had the grace to flush and look away.
Harry was instantly seething. “Daisy, will you excuse Draco and me for one minute? We will be right over there having some adult talk.” Daisy nodded, looking uncertain, but Harry grabbed Draco’s arm and dragged him a few meters away so that Daisy could not, hopefully, overhear.
“Are you completely mental?” Harry demanded in a hushed tone.
“Calm down, Potter, it’s not the end of the world.”
“Not the end of the world? Do you have any idea how much trouble we can get into over this? He is a magical dragon! He can fly! He breathes fucking fire!”
“He breathes fake fire.”
“Muggle toys do not breathe fake fire!” Harry snapped, fairly dancing with ire in the face of Draco’s placidity. “They will send in Obliviators, take Garnet away, and make Daisy forget him and forget you. Is that what you want?”
“You are overreacting,” Draco retorted. “Daisy was supposed to keep him in her room. She’s just a bit attached to him right now. I’ll talk to her.”
Harry could hardly believe his ears. Draco was like a permissive parent who allowed his precious child to smash the toys of all the neighbourhood children and then explain it away as a case of over-exuberance. It brought Dudley horribly, achingly, to mind. Harry shook his head.
“This is completely irresponsible. I can’t believe you did this. Why did I give you the activation code? Oh yes, I remember, I thought you were an adult now. I thought you would behave in a rational manner! I thought you would—”
Draco reached out, snagged a fist in Harry’s coat, and pulled him forward into a bruising kiss. Shock overwhelmed Harry’s righteous anger, at least until the warmth of Draco’s mouth penetrated the cold of his lips. For a moment he could feel nothing but the thudding of his own heartbeat, and then he felt the warm swipe of a tongue brushing over his lips. He gasped and Draco’s tongue pushed inside.
Harry’s senses tangled into a knot. Anger and surprise twisted with core-melting desire that weakened his knees and caused him to reach out and clutch at Draco with both hands. Harry knew what he had been saying was important; it was vital that he make Draco understand… something.
His tongue… bloody hell, he kissed like no one Harry had ever been with. Draco kissed like he had been born for it, tongue tasting, teasing, taking everything Harry could give him, and leaving more behind. Harry felt like a parched flower suddenly drenched in rain. Everything was immediately upside down.
“Are you still there?” Daisy called plaintively and Draco broke the kiss.
“We’re here, darling. I just had to shut Harry up for a moment. He was getting a bit ranty.”
Harry knew he should protest, but his brain could not seem to catch up to his erratic heartbeat and he was still holding helplessly to Draco’s coat, staring into amused grey eyes. At least Draco did not seem completely callous—his arms were wrapped tightly around Harry, holding him close. His tone had been teasing, but his expression was anything but.
“Why did you do that?” Harry asked.
Draco smiled. “I wanted to.”
Fuck. Harry could hardly argue with that, nor could he argue with anything else, apparently, because Draco released him and walked back to Daisy, where he casually looped her hand into the crook of his arm and announced, “Come along, Harry, we’re taking Daisy back home where she will put away her dragon as she was supposed to.”
Daisy pouted, but walked docilely next to Draco, as did Harry, who trailed behind them and wondered just when he had lost control of everything.
After a few moments of silence, Daisy asked, “What is Bliviators and can they really make me forget you?”
Harry’s footsteps faltered and he caught sight of Draco shooting him a pointed look. Daisy had remarkable hearing.
“Harry speaks loudly when he rants, doesn’t he?” Draco said. “Don’t worry about it. No one could make me forget you, Daisy.” Draco patted her on the head and she seemed somewhat appeased.
“I’m sorry I brought Garnet out. I didn’t want him to get lonely, but I’ll keep him in my room from now on.”
“That will be for the best. We don’t want him to fly away, do we?”
Daisy scoffed at that. “He wouldn’t fly away!”
“Probably not. But someone might try to take him and then he would bite them, and then there would be questions and your grandparents would be worried.”
“Oh. All right. Are you sure he won’t get lonely?”
“He’s made of wood, darling. I’m sure.”
They reached the small house and Harry halted and tugged at his hair. “Um. I’ll wait out here for you.”
Draco nodded and took Daisy inside. Harry was heartily bored by the time Draco finally reappeared, but Draco made no comment as he strode down the street in the direction of the boarding house, after a single glance at Harry. Draco’s long legs set a fast pace that had Harry pushing himself to keep up. Finally he reached out and snared Draco’s arm to stop him.
One pale brow lifted questioningly and then Harry was kissing him, devouring his cold lips until they turned warm beneath his onslaught. Finally Draco pulled away with a chuckle. “What was that for?”
“I felt like it,” Harry replied.
“Not here, idiot. Muggles don’t always go for this sort of thing. Do you want to get stoned?”
“We’re wizards. I think we can deflect a few rocks.”
“You’re the one worried about attracting attention, remember?”
Harry smiled and gave in. It was easy with Draco standing so close, looking at him with grey eyes full of soft amusement. Harry supposed it wasn’t farfetched to imagine he would grant Draco just about anything at that moment. Draco shook his head with a snort and continued on. He held the gate open for Harry at the boarding house.
“Have you ever been inside?” Draco asked, alluding to Harry’s invisibility cloak.
Harry shook his head, for once glad of the fact.
“Well, then, I suppose you’ve earned a tour.” They traversed the short walk to the front door and Draco opened it by poking a series of numbers on a keypad.
“Is this a Muggle establishment?” Harry asked in surprise. It was one thing to see Draco mingling with Muggles and behaving charitably, but actually living in a Muggle household seemed completely incongruous.
“Half and half,” Draco replied. "The wizard guests are requested to be discreet and remain on the upper floors. There are a few Muggle-repellent Charms, but for the most part everyone lives here together without issue.”
Harry did not bother to ask why Draco had chosen this place over a more typical wizarding residence, or even why he stayed here at all. Harry admitted he was enjoying the slow revelation of the enigma that was Draco Malfoy.
A short climb to the third floor left Harry feeling out of breath and a bit out of shape; he resolved to get more exercise in the future and stop eating random sweets. Draco did not seem to notice as he unlocked the door marked with a brass number 7 and pushed it open.
“My humble, occasional, abode,” he said and gestured inside with a flourish. Harry preceded him inside.
It was much larger than he expected and he suspected Wizarding Space-Enlarging Charms were at work. The single room contained a small kitchen area, a round dining table with two chairs, a medium-sized sofa and comfortable-looking chair cosied up to a standard-sized fireplace, and one large, curtained bed tucked into a corner. The colour scheme was pale yellow bedecked with lilac-coloured flowers, in a subtle enough pattern that it was not quite cloyingly feminine.
When the door shut behind them, a flutter of movement had Harry reflexively reaching for his wand, but a surprised grin tugged at his lips when he saw that it was only Draco’s dragon. The green blur landed on Draco’s arm and then climbed up to his shoulder. It rubbed its face against Draco’s jaw affectionately. Harry grinned, never having witnessed one of his creations behaving in quite such a lifelike manner.
“Malachite seems to like you,” Harry commented.
Draco coughed and reached up to stroke the green head. “Yes, well, what’s not to like?” Despite his flippant words, Harry noticed a pink blush staining his cheeks before he hurried into the kitchen area. “Tea?”
“Please,” Harry replied and walked forward to look through the window nearest the fireplace. A large tree blocked most of the view, leaving only a small square of garden and a single white chair visible below.
He turned away and sat on the sofa, trying not to glance too obviously at the bed. The curtains had not been drawn, giving Harry a clear view of four large pillows. Harry allowed his imagination to run rampant, imagining Draco’s blond head nestled there, and his lean body stretched out over the yellow coverlet…
“Sugar?” Draco asked. “Sorry, I have no milk.”
“Sugar is fine,” Harry replied. A moment later, a plain white mug was placed in his hand and Draco sat next to him on the sofa, close enough that their knees brushed. Malachite crawled down Draco’s arm and hopped onto Harry’s lap.
“Silly dragon,” Harry said affectionately and stroked his wings. He could pick out small flaws in his workmanship – a nick on the edge of one wing, several scales that were not quite even… He wondered if they were noticeable to anyone else.
“I can hardly believe you made him, Potter,” Draco said. “I never would have considered you to be the artistic sort.”
Harry grinned at him. “I never really had time for it in school. There was always Quidditch and classes, and being hunted by a mad wizard, and all.”
“I have been listening to the wireless.” Draco gestured at a radio perched on one window ledge. “Did you write the one for Andover Moving and Relocation?”
Harry nodded.
“It’s truly awful.”
“Hey! I liked that one!”
Draco laughed aloud. “I agree it is effective. I could not get the dreadful thing out of my head for days. I nearly tracked you down and hexed you for that alone.”
Harry drank his tea. “Why did you activate Daisy’s dragon?”
Draco gave him an unreadable look and set his teacup on the table. He held out his hands and Malachite jumped into them, and then balanced on Draco's palms easily with wings outstretched. “Malachite is really remarkable, Potter. I might have to order several dragons for Christmas gifts. Pansy would love one and Blaise would pretend he cared nothing for it, and secretly adore the bloody thing.”
“Like you do yours?”
Draco snorted, but did not deny it. After a moment of unstrained silence, Draco said, “Daisy was the catalyst for my current Muggle altruism. It happened shortly after Dumbledore’s death. I fled Hogwarts with Professor Snape, as you know, and was taken before the Dark—before Voldemort. Snape expanded on my role and made it seem that I was more instrumental in the headmaster’s death than I actually was. I was supposed to be the one who killed him and I… couldn’t. Did you know?”
Grey eyes met Harry’s and he nodded, trying not to return to those dark moments on the tower, but he remembered Draco’s anguish and Snape’s appearance, and Dumbledore falling while Harry couldn't move...
"Anyway, that was the start of a very dark time for me. My seventeenth birthday was eventful only because I was gifted with the Dark Mark." Draco's lips twisted and his hands tightened on the dragon. Harry swallowed and clamped down on the urge to put a sympathetic hand on Draco's arm. "Mother wanted to do something for me, of course, but Father refused to allow anything that would draw attention. I know my father's actions seem unconscionable, and even evil, to outsiders, but the fact that he could do nothing to protect us occupied his thoughts at all times. If he had dared to resist, Mother and I would have been killed. We were tortured more than once, just to keep my father in line. That summer, that awful summer, nearly unhinged him completely. He was barely the man I remembered at that point, hardly more than a terrified sycophant clinging to what little he had left."
Harry's throat felt tight. He had known Draco had gone through hell with Voldemort living in his house, but his matter-of-fact mention of torture gave Harry a fresh surge of empathy. To find that he also had compassion for Lucius was a disturbing revelation.
"Anyway, the time between my birthday and yours was a fretful waiting period for Voldemort. We all knew that adulthood would end the protection charms surrounding you. It was the topic for weeks; much planning went into determining when, where and how your supporters planned to save you. In the meantime, lack of reliable information made Voldemort lash out in frequent, unpredictable rages. The Death Eaters found it prudent to stay out of his way, and therefore concocted many horrible acts of violence and mayhem, not only to escape the Dark Lord, but also to win his approval.
“I was dragged along on several of those ‘missions’, especially when Fenrir Greyback was involved. He seemed to take a particular interest in me, or perhaps that was simply my paranoid impression. My father always accompanied me when Fenrir was involved. Father said it was to ascertain that I upheld the family values and did not disgrace myself, but in actuality I am certain he was trying to protect me. Such a thing became less of an option once his wand was taken. From that point on he was trapped in the house unless he borrowed my mother’s wand.”
Draco sighed heavily and Harry was torn between wanting to know the story and a desire not to force Draco to relive it. He knew from experience that renewed nightmares were often the price one paid for dredging up the past. In fact, Harry suspected he would have nightmares of his own, merely from the recollections of that time swirling through his mind.
“Shortly before my father’s wand was snatched by the Dark Lord, and sometime before your seventeenth birthday, I accompanied a group of Death Eaters to a Muggle park. They had no plan; it was simply an excuse to escape the Manor and the mad presence of the Dark Lord and my insane aunt. The Carrows were unofficially in charge and there were four others, enough to encourage them to more deplorable behaviour than they might otherwise have got up to. Daisy was there at the park. With her parents.”
Draco’s voice cracked and Harry reached out and touched his wrist, unable to halt the movement. Draco’s hand clutched at his and their fingers entwined. Malachite climbed up to Draco’s shoulder and wrapped his tail around Draco's neck.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Harry whispered.
“I want you to know,” Draco said simply. He took a shaky breath and continued. “Daisy was on the swing set and her parents were sat at a small table nearby, holding hands. The Carrows and the others—we—approached. The Death Eaters began to taunt them, acting drunk. A couple of them probably were. Daisy’s mother called to her. Daisy’s father yelled that he wanted no trouble. They were terrified. He said he would give us money if we would just leave; let them alone. Amycus grabbed Daisy and that’s when…” Draco shut his eyes and took a shuddering breath. Harry clenched his hand, hard. “The Carrows tortured them. Not just with the Cruciatus, but with other things, as well. It sickens me to remember it. I should have stopped them. I should have—”
Draco released his hand and bolted through a nearby door, dislodging Malachite, who took wing and fluttered over to perch on one of the bedposts. Harry heard water running and he debated for only a moment before following. Draco hunched over the sink, splashing water over his face. Droplets clung to his hair; his sleeves were wet.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said, touching him gently between the shoulder blades. “Don’t say any more. There is no need.” Harry could imagine the rest; Daisy’s parents were gone. It was obvious what had happened.
“They were planning to give Daisy to Fenrir. One of them sent for him. They tortured Daisy’s parents to death and they were going to give her to Fenrir. If I had ever wanted to escape, to quit, to run away and never look back, it was at that moment. Only the thought of my mother stopped me. How would Voldemort take my defection? My cowardice? He would have killed her without a thought.” Draco’s voice was muffled and echo-y, spoken into the sink as he shut off the water.
Harry rubbed small circles into his back. “You did the right thing. You know they would have turned on you like rabid dogs, and likely killed you and Daisy, as well.”
“Maybe she would have been better off dead,” Draco said flatly.
“You don’t mean that,” Harry whispered.
Draco sighed. “Before Fenrir arrived, the Dark Mark burned on our arms. Voldemort was calling everyone back. Amycus was annoyed at the Dark Lord for spoiling their fun. He was going to kill Daisy, but one of the others stopped him. I can’t remember who, but I doubt it was for the sake of compassion. Daisy was screaming and screaming. Alecto said, ‘Don’t want to see your nasty, dead parents anymore, dearie? I’ll fix that.’ And she blinded Daisy with an irreversible spell. Just like that. And then we all left her there, alone in the park, blind and with her parents dead beside her. She was five years old.” Draco retched into the sink, shaking as he heaved, but nothing came up. Harry stopped patting and wrapped an arm around him, holding tightly as he strove to bear some of the weight of Draco’s terrible memories.
“I sent an owl to the Ministry later, anonymously, to let them know Daisy was there. I’d hoped they could do something to help her. I couldn’t forget her face…”
Harry swallowed hard and blinked against the sudden sting pricking his eyes. “You did all you could,” he murmured.
“Did I?” Draco asked bitterly. “I wonder. You would have done something. You would have protected her.”
“You don’t know what I would have done. Hell, I don’t know what I would have done in that situation, with my parents’ lives on the line! I made just as many mistakes, lost people I should have been able to save. You can’t look back and keep asking yourself ‘what if’, because there is no way to go back, Draco. You can only move forward, as you have done. You are helping her now, and that is the important thing.”
Draco lifted his head. His eyes were vivid as they bore into Harry’s. Water droplets sparkled on his pale lashes and clung to wisps of hair that lay over his forehead. Harry reached up and brushed it back with his free hand. Draco straightened and then leaned forward and pressed their lips together. The kiss was wet and somewhat frantic, but Harry was patient and let Draco take whatever he needed, matching stroke for stroke when Draco's tongue dove inside. Harry's hand was gentle in Draco's soft hair, caressing in a soothing manner until Draco's assault calmed.
Draco pulled away with a sigh. "How do you always make everything right?"
Harry snorted. "Hardly that. The opposite, maybe."
"Don't be modest. You are the Chosen One, after all."
“Stop it. I never wanted that. Not ever.”
Draco seemed to sense that Harry was serious, and he rested his forehead against Harry’s for a moment. “I believe you. But for the record, I am very glad that you were.”
Harry closed his eyes and his arms tightened around Draco, more affected by the simple statement than he had been by hundreds of silly fan letters, declarations, and even the heartfelt statements of friends and family. This time he initiated the kiss. While it was far less frantic and desperate, it was just as intense, and long minutes passed before Harry was able to break away and attempt to breathe properly.
“Draco,” he said.
“Still here,” Draco replied with a chuckle.
“Can we maybe… go back to the couch?”
“Is my bathroom not romantic enough for you?”
“Not unless you’re planning to shower,” Harry replied and then blushed at his own temerity.
Draco laughed and his arms tightened around Harry as he pressed a kiss into his neck. “Tempting, but I think I need something a bit stronger than tea right now. I’m not used to baring my soul or displaying such emotional weakness.”
Harry shook his head. “Not weakness.” He took Draco’s hand and squeezed it before leading him back to the main room. “But I could use something bracing. Where do you keep your alcohol?”
“Kitchen cupboard left of the sink.”
Harry looked pointedly at the sofa and Draco obediently sat while Harry entered the small kitchen. The cabinet was stocked with several bottles: wine, Firewhisky, brandy, vermouth, and a thick liqueur made of black currant. Several limes sat in a basket, protected with the visible glow of a Preservation Charm. Harry smiled and set two glasses on the counter. He Conjured ice and poured two fingers of Firewhisky over the cubes before adding a splash of vermouth and then squeezing lime juice over it all.
Malachite had followed them from the bathroom and flew to the kitchen counter, apparently happy to watch Harry mix drinks. Harry patted him on the head and then carried both glasses to the sofa.
Draco lifted a brow as he took the drink and then sipped at it. He made a noise of approval and took a longer drink. “It’s good.”
Harry smirked and sat down next to him. “It’s call the Godric,” he admitted and then chuckled at Draco’s expression before taking a sip of his own cocktail.
“I should have known.” Draco snorted and stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. He leaned his head back and then swivelled it to look at Harry. “Do you like me now because I’m a do-gooder and friend to Muggles?”
Harry’s lips curled with amusement, although he sensed the serious undertone beneath the words. “I like you now. Not because you are a do-gooder and friend to Muggles, but because that is part of who you are . I would like to get to know you better and see what other fascinating parts might be uncovered.”
“Was that meant to be an innuendo?”
Harry shook his head. “Not really, no. I’m pants at this, aren’t I?”
“Yes.”
Harry stared and then burst out laughing. Draco’s blunt response and mischievous grin were too much for him to take. His heart did a curious beat-skipping thing in his chest and he realized he wanted to see that grin more often, possibly every single day. His laughter died and he leaned in impulsively to place a soft kiss on Draco’s lips.
Draco barely moved, other than to open his mouth to accept and return the kiss, lapping languidly at Harry’s tongue as it grazed over his, tasting of sharp citrus and mellow liquor. When Harry pulled away, a smile curved Draco’s lips. “You’re pretty good at that, though.”
Harry nearly spilled his drink in his haste to get back to the kissing. Instead, he set both glasses on the table and settled more comfortably next to Draco. The ice in their drinks melted while they snogged on the sofa, each kiss growing deeper and more passionate, breath catching and hands beginning to wander.
Finally Draco pulled away, catching at Harry’s hand as it threatened to move a few inches from Draco’s thigh, just that small distance that would push them to the next level.
“I think I drank too much,” Draco said. He sounded as breathless as Harry felt.
“You barely touched your drink,” Harry replied and leaned back in, hoping to drown in that incredible, hot mouth. He knew he was lost, but he had little interest in finding his way out. Whatever tangled maze Draco Malfoy had woven around him was fine with him, as long as there was more kissing and touching within.
Draco avoided his eager mouth. Harry’s lips skated across Draco’s cheek and settled somewhere next to his earlobe, which was just as well. Harry opened his mouth and nibbled on it. “Wait, Potter. This is… all rather surprising.”
The words were like a splash of cold water. Harry sat back and looked at him, trying to rein in the blood pounding through his veins, most of which had settled in Harry’s groin. “Surprising,” Harry repeated. He supposed it was, but he was more than willing to explore the possibilities.
Draco looked thoroughly mussed and tantalising. Harry wanted to straddle his lap and press himself against Draco, and then slowly undress him and kiss every visible inch of skin. The strength of his desire shook him and he tore his eyes away to focus on his glass, which now sat in a puddle of condensation.
Harry reached down and picked it up. He drained half the contents, grimacing at the watery taste of the diluted alcohol. Liquid dripped from the bottom of the glass onto the front of his shirt. He gulped a couple of melted ice bits, but the drink did not cool his libido in the least. He set the glass down and looked at Draco.
“I don’t want to be your experiment,” Draco said quietly.
Harry’s breath caught, but he bit back an angry retort. He supposed it was a logical conclusion, considering no one but Ginny even knew he was attracted to men. Harry frowned, wondering if he really was experimenting. Was he only testing the waters? Was he using Draco to determine what he really wanted? Right now, at this very moment, he wanted Draco desperately, but what if his feelings were nothing more than momentary lust?
Harry didn’t think so, but he didn’t want Draco to doubt him. The mere fact that Draco was backing away, rather than taking everything Harry offered, lifted him another notch in Harry’s opinion. Not so long ago, Draco Malfoy would have run straight to the press with the news of Harry’s inclinations while shining the worst possible light on Harry’s experimentation, but this Draco was not the same person who had fed lascivious gossip to Rita Skeeter. This Draco had, quite literally, gone through the fire and emerged a different person.
“Okay,” Harry said.
Draco’s brow wrinkled. “Okay?”
Harry nodded. “How much, do you think?”
“How much what?” Draco looked even more perplexed.
“How much experimenting should I do before I can come back to convince you I’m done experimenting?” Draco gaped at him and Harry nodded in a serious fashion. “You probably need to do some calculating or whatnot. I’ll let you get to it. Would it help if I made a list of the people I’m willing to experiment with?”
Draco only blinked at him as if he’d gone mad, so Harry nodded again. “I’ll do that, then. Goodnight.” Harry leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss on Draco’s lips before standing and striding to the door. Despite his flippant words, his erection was giving no sign that it intended to ease any time soon. He shut the door to Draco’s flat, stepped out of range of the wards, and Disapparated straight to his bedroom at Grimmauld Place. Once there, he shed his clothing, threw himself on the bed, and wanked frantically to the memory of Draco Malfoy.
When the streams of pale fluid were cooling on his abdomen, Harry stared up at the ceiling and realized he’d never been half so turned on after kissing Ginny. Whatever doubts he may have had regarding his sexuality were gone.
“Experimenting,” he muttered. “Right."
:D
~~~
Harry lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling. It had been an eventful day and a rather life-altering week. He had parted ways with Ginny, discovered Draco Malfoy, given away his two favourite dragons, kissed a man, and had a very strange conversation with his ex-girlfriend. He should have been exhausted, but instead his thoughts were whirling, leaving him unable to sleep.
Ginny had been shockingly understanding after witnessing him kissing Draco.
“All this time I thought it was me! I thought there was something wrong with me that you didn’t like! I thought I was too much like my mother, or that I was not girly enough—boy, was I wrong there—or I wasn’t smart enough, like Hermione. Bloody hell, Harry, this is such a giant relief, I can’t even tell you.”
“You’re not upset?”
“Of course I’m upset! I came here tonight to try and talk sense into you and win you back, but I can see that’s probably not going to happen, is it?”
Harry rolled over at the memory and tried to get more comfortable. He had tidied the kitchen while Ginny had sat at the table and asked him what seemed like ten thousand gruelling questions. How long have you known? Have you ever had sex with a man before? Have you ever kissed a man? Which boys were you attracted to at Hogwarts? Were you attracted to Malfoy at Hogwarts? And how did you and Malfoy get together? And really, Harry, Malfoy? What are you thinking?
Other than the incredible discomfort he felt at answering all of her questions, Harry had to admit it was the best he had got along with Ginny in quite some time. Of late, their time together had degenerated into pointless bickering, but now she seemed genuinely fascinated, if a bit too amused, at the idea of Harry with Draco. She had finally gone home, but only after making him promise he would report back to her regularly with Malfoy Progress Reports.
What are you thinking?
Harry sighed. What was he thinking? He was thinking he would like to see Draco again. He was thinking he would really like to kiss him again. Harry licked his lips, wishing he could taste Draco there, as he had for a fleeting moment.
“Stop thinking about him and go to sleep,” he muttered to himself.
It was easier said than done.
~~**~~
Three days later, Harry was in agony. There had been no word at all from Draco. Not an owl, not a message, not a single bloody thing. Harry had paced every room in his house at least twice over, trying to talk himself out of throwing on his invisibility cloak and Apparating to Willoughby's Boarding House.
Hundreds of scenarios had crowded his mind. Draco had hated the kiss. It had shocked him and he planned never to see Harry again. Draco had liked it and expected Harry to contact him; Harry had screwed up by waiting for Draco to make the first move.
Harry had written note after note and crumpled them all. They had ranged from mundane “How do you like your dragon?” to flirty “I’ve been thinking about you” to desperately needy “I would really like to see you again”.
Ginny had been no help at all, constantly popping in to pester him with questions and then expressing supportive anger at Draco’s lack of contact.
Finally, on the fourth day, Harry could stand it no longer. He slung on his cloak and Apparated to the boarding house. It was just before noon, and Harry suspected Draco was no longer inside, a feeling that grew until he decided to walk to Daisy’s house. Once there, an Extendable Ear slipped under the door revealed nothing more than an overly-loud television set tuned to a home improvement channel.
Harry sighed and decided to walk to the market for some lunch. After ducking into a convenient gap between hedges, he took off the cloak and stuffed it into his knapsack. He checked an interior pocket to make sure he had some Muggle cash (left over from his days of fleeing Voldemort and hunting for Horcruxes) and then started walking. He was close enough to smell frying fish when he caught sight of a familiar white-blond head of hair. Harry’s heart made a curious lurch at the sight and he realized he had reconciled himself to not seeing Draco.
Harry quickened his pace and walked towards the pair. Draco stood with Daisy, looking out over the river.
“Hello,” Harry said as he approached. Draco’s eyes widened, but he quickly recovered his aplomb.
“Potter,” Draco replied.
“Who is it?” Daisy asked. She was bundled up in a heavy wool coat and clutched a canvas tote bag.
Draco sighed. “His name is Harry Potter. He is an old… friend from my school days.”
Daisy stuck out her hand and Harry was not surprised to see that it was almost perfectly placed for shaking. He took it. “I am very pleased to meet you, Daisy.”
“Hello, Mr Potter.”
“Please, call me Harry.”
Daisy grinned. “Harry.”
“Harry is the one who made your dragon,” Draco added.
Daisy sucked in a breath. “You did? You made Garnet? Oh, thank you! I love him so much!” She clutched the straps of her tote with both hands and bounced in place, and then smiled so brightly that Harry felt his heart melt into an enchanted puddle.
And then a small head tipped with golden horns popped up from the tote bag and Harry found himself staring into the glassy red eyes of a very familiar, and very much animate, dragon.
“Garnet, no,” Daisy admonished and shoved the dragon’s head back into the bag.
Harry turned on Draco. “You didn’t.”
Draco had the grace to flush and look away.
Harry was instantly seething. “Daisy, will you excuse Draco and me for one minute? We will be right over there having some adult talk.” Daisy nodded, looking uncertain, but Harry grabbed Draco’s arm and dragged him a few meters away so that Daisy could not, hopefully, overhear.
“Are you completely mental?” Harry demanded in a hushed tone.
“Calm down, Potter, it’s not the end of the world.”
“Not the end of the world? Do you have any idea how much trouble we can get into over this? He is a magical dragon! He can fly! He breathes fucking fire!”
“He breathes fake fire.”
“Muggle toys do not breathe fake fire!” Harry snapped, fairly dancing with ire in the face of Draco’s placidity. “They will send in Obliviators, take Garnet away, and make Daisy forget him and forget you. Is that what you want?”
“You are overreacting,” Draco retorted. “Daisy was supposed to keep him in her room. She’s just a bit attached to him right now. I’ll talk to her.”
Harry could hardly believe his ears. Draco was like a permissive parent who allowed his precious child to smash the toys of all the neighbourhood children and then explain it away as a case of over-exuberance. It brought Dudley horribly, achingly, to mind. Harry shook his head.
“This is completely irresponsible. I can’t believe you did this. Why did I give you the activation code? Oh yes, I remember, I thought you were an adult now. I thought you would behave in a rational manner! I thought you would—”
Draco reached out, snagged a fist in Harry’s coat, and pulled him forward into a bruising kiss. Shock overwhelmed Harry’s righteous anger, at least until the warmth of Draco’s mouth penetrated the cold of his lips. For a moment he could feel nothing but the thudding of his own heartbeat, and then he felt the warm swipe of a tongue brushing over his lips. He gasped and Draco’s tongue pushed inside.
Harry’s senses tangled into a knot. Anger and surprise twisted with core-melting desire that weakened his knees and caused him to reach out and clutch at Draco with both hands. Harry knew what he had been saying was important; it was vital that he make Draco understand… something.
His tongue… bloody hell, he kissed like no one Harry had ever been with. Draco kissed like he had been born for it, tongue tasting, teasing, taking everything Harry could give him, and leaving more behind. Harry felt like a parched flower suddenly drenched in rain. Everything was immediately upside down.
“Are you still there?” Daisy called plaintively and Draco broke the kiss.
“We’re here, darling. I just had to shut Harry up for a moment. He was getting a bit ranty.”
Harry knew he should protest, but his brain could not seem to catch up to his erratic heartbeat and he was still holding helplessly to Draco’s coat, staring into amused grey eyes. At least Draco did not seem completely callous—his arms were wrapped tightly around Harry, holding him close. His tone had been teasing, but his expression was anything but.
“Why did you do that?” Harry asked.
Draco smiled. “I wanted to.”
Fuck. Harry could hardly argue with that, nor could he argue with anything else, apparently, because Draco released him and walked back to Daisy, where he casually looped her hand into the crook of his arm and announced, “Come along, Harry, we’re taking Daisy back home where she will put away her dragon as she was supposed to.”
Daisy pouted, but walked docilely next to Draco, as did Harry, who trailed behind them and wondered just when he had lost control of everything.
After a few moments of silence, Daisy asked, “What is Bliviators and can they really make me forget you?”
Harry’s footsteps faltered and he caught sight of Draco shooting him a pointed look. Daisy had remarkable hearing.
“Harry speaks loudly when he rants, doesn’t he?” Draco said. “Don’t worry about it. No one could make me forget you, Daisy.” Draco patted her on the head and she seemed somewhat appeased.
“I’m sorry I brought Garnet out. I didn’t want him to get lonely, but I’ll keep him in my room from now on.”
“That will be for the best. We don’t want him to fly away, do we?”
Daisy scoffed at that. “He wouldn’t fly away!”
“Probably not. But someone might try to take him and then he would bite them, and then there would be questions and your grandparents would be worried.”
“Oh. All right. Are you sure he won’t get lonely?”
“He’s made of wood, darling. I’m sure.”
They reached the small house and Harry halted and tugged at his hair. “Um. I’ll wait out here for you.”
Draco nodded and took Daisy inside. Harry was heartily bored by the time Draco finally reappeared, but Draco made no comment as he strode down the street in the direction of the boarding house, after a single glance at Harry. Draco’s long legs set a fast pace that had Harry pushing himself to keep up. Finally he reached out and snared Draco’s arm to stop him.
One pale brow lifted questioningly and then Harry was kissing him, devouring his cold lips until they turned warm beneath his onslaught. Finally Draco pulled away with a chuckle. “What was that for?”
“I felt like it,” Harry replied.
“Not here, idiot. Muggles don’t always go for this sort of thing. Do you want to get stoned?”
“We’re wizards. I think we can deflect a few rocks.”
“You’re the one worried about attracting attention, remember?”
Harry smiled and gave in. It was easy with Draco standing so close, looking at him with grey eyes full of soft amusement. Harry supposed it wasn’t farfetched to imagine he would grant Draco just about anything at that moment. Draco shook his head with a snort and continued on. He held the gate open for Harry at the boarding house.
“Have you ever been inside?” Draco asked, alluding to Harry’s invisibility cloak.
Harry shook his head, for once glad of the fact.
“Well, then, I suppose you’ve earned a tour.” They traversed the short walk to the front door and Draco opened it by poking a series of numbers on a keypad.
“Is this a Muggle establishment?” Harry asked in surprise. It was one thing to see Draco mingling with Muggles and behaving charitably, but actually living in a Muggle household seemed completely incongruous.
“Half and half,” Draco replied. "The wizard guests are requested to be discreet and remain on the upper floors. There are a few Muggle-repellent Charms, but for the most part everyone lives here together without issue.”
Harry did not bother to ask why Draco had chosen this place over a more typical wizarding residence, or even why he stayed here at all. Harry admitted he was enjoying the slow revelation of the enigma that was Draco Malfoy.
A short climb to the third floor left Harry feeling out of breath and a bit out of shape; he resolved to get more exercise in the future and stop eating random sweets. Draco did not seem to notice as he unlocked the door marked with a brass number 7 and pushed it open.
“My humble, occasional, abode,” he said and gestured inside with a flourish. Harry preceded him inside.
It was much larger than he expected and he suspected Wizarding Space-Enlarging Charms were at work. The single room contained a small kitchen area, a round dining table with two chairs, a medium-sized sofa and comfortable-looking chair cosied up to a standard-sized fireplace, and one large, curtained bed tucked into a corner. The colour scheme was pale yellow bedecked with lilac-coloured flowers, in a subtle enough pattern that it was not quite cloyingly feminine.
When the door shut behind them, a flutter of movement had Harry reflexively reaching for his wand, but a surprised grin tugged at his lips when he saw that it was only Draco’s dragon. The green blur landed on Draco’s arm and then climbed up to his shoulder. It rubbed its face against Draco’s jaw affectionately. Harry grinned, never having witnessed one of his creations behaving in quite such a lifelike manner.
“Malachite seems to like you,” Harry commented.
Draco coughed and reached up to stroke the green head. “Yes, well, what’s not to like?” Despite his flippant words, Harry noticed a pink blush staining his cheeks before he hurried into the kitchen area. “Tea?”
“Please,” Harry replied and walked forward to look through the window nearest the fireplace. A large tree blocked most of the view, leaving only a small square of garden and a single white chair visible below.
He turned away and sat on the sofa, trying not to glance too obviously at the bed. The curtains had not been drawn, giving Harry a clear view of four large pillows. Harry allowed his imagination to run rampant, imagining Draco’s blond head nestled there, and his lean body stretched out over the yellow coverlet…
“Sugar?” Draco asked. “Sorry, I have no milk.”
“Sugar is fine,” Harry replied. A moment later, a plain white mug was placed in his hand and Draco sat next to him on the sofa, close enough that their knees brushed. Malachite crawled down Draco’s arm and hopped onto Harry’s lap.
“Silly dragon,” Harry said affectionately and stroked his wings. He could pick out small flaws in his workmanship – a nick on the edge of one wing, several scales that were not quite even… He wondered if they were noticeable to anyone else.
“I can hardly believe you made him, Potter,” Draco said. “I never would have considered you to be the artistic sort.”
Harry grinned at him. “I never really had time for it in school. There was always Quidditch and classes, and being hunted by a mad wizard, and all.”
“I have been listening to the wireless.” Draco gestured at a radio perched on one window ledge. “Did you write the one for Andover Moving and Relocation?”
Harry nodded.
“It’s truly awful.”
“Hey! I liked that one!”
Draco laughed aloud. “I agree it is effective. I could not get the dreadful thing out of my head for days. I nearly tracked you down and hexed you for that alone.”
Harry drank his tea. “Why did you activate Daisy’s dragon?”
Draco gave him an unreadable look and set his teacup on the table. He held out his hands and Malachite jumped into them, and then balanced on Draco's palms easily with wings outstretched. “Malachite is really remarkable, Potter. I might have to order several dragons for Christmas gifts. Pansy would love one and Blaise would pretend he cared nothing for it, and secretly adore the bloody thing.”
“Like you do yours?”
Draco snorted, but did not deny it. After a moment of unstrained silence, Draco said, “Daisy was the catalyst for my current Muggle altruism. It happened shortly after Dumbledore’s death. I fled Hogwarts with Professor Snape, as you know, and was taken before the Dark—before Voldemort. Snape expanded on my role and made it seem that I was more instrumental in the headmaster’s death than I actually was. I was supposed to be the one who killed him and I… couldn’t. Did you know?”
Grey eyes met Harry’s and he nodded, trying not to return to those dark moments on the tower, but he remembered Draco’s anguish and Snape’s appearance, and Dumbledore falling while Harry couldn't move...
"Anyway, that was the start of a very dark time for me. My seventeenth birthday was eventful only because I was gifted with the Dark Mark." Draco's lips twisted and his hands tightened on the dragon. Harry swallowed and clamped down on the urge to put a sympathetic hand on Draco's arm. "Mother wanted to do something for me, of course, but Father refused to allow anything that would draw attention. I know my father's actions seem unconscionable, and even evil, to outsiders, but the fact that he could do nothing to protect us occupied his thoughts at all times. If he had dared to resist, Mother and I would have been killed. We were tortured more than once, just to keep my father in line. That summer, that awful summer, nearly unhinged him completely. He was barely the man I remembered at that point, hardly more than a terrified sycophant clinging to what little he had left."
Harry's throat felt tight. He had known Draco had gone through hell with Voldemort living in his house, but his matter-of-fact mention of torture gave Harry a fresh surge of empathy. To find that he also had compassion for Lucius was a disturbing revelation.
"Anyway, the time between my birthday and yours was a fretful waiting period for Voldemort. We all knew that adulthood would end the protection charms surrounding you. It was the topic for weeks; much planning went into determining when, where and how your supporters planned to save you. In the meantime, lack of reliable information made Voldemort lash out in frequent, unpredictable rages. The Death Eaters found it prudent to stay out of his way, and therefore concocted many horrible acts of violence and mayhem, not only to escape the Dark Lord, but also to win his approval.
“I was dragged along on several of those ‘missions’, especially when Fenrir Greyback was involved. He seemed to take a particular interest in me, or perhaps that was simply my paranoid impression. My father always accompanied me when Fenrir was involved. Father said it was to ascertain that I upheld the family values and did not disgrace myself, but in actuality I am certain he was trying to protect me. Such a thing became less of an option once his wand was taken. From that point on he was trapped in the house unless he borrowed my mother’s wand.”
Draco sighed heavily and Harry was torn between wanting to know the story and a desire not to force Draco to relive it. He knew from experience that renewed nightmares were often the price one paid for dredging up the past. In fact, Harry suspected he would have nightmares of his own, merely from the recollections of that time swirling through his mind.
“Shortly before my father’s wand was snatched by the Dark Lord, and sometime before your seventeenth birthday, I accompanied a group of Death Eaters to a Muggle park. They had no plan; it was simply an excuse to escape the Manor and the mad presence of the Dark Lord and my insane aunt. The Carrows were unofficially in charge and there were four others, enough to encourage them to more deplorable behaviour than they might otherwise have got up to. Daisy was there at the park. With her parents.”
Draco’s voice cracked and Harry reached out and touched his wrist, unable to halt the movement. Draco’s hand clutched at his and their fingers entwined. Malachite climbed up to Draco’s shoulder and wrapped his tail around Draco's neck.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Harry whispered.
“I want you to know,” Draco said simply. He took a shaky breath and continued. “Daisy was on the swing set and her parents were sat at a small table nearby, holding hands. The Carrows and the others—we—approached. The Death Eaters began to taunt them, acting drunk. A couple of them probably were. Daisy’s mother called to her. Daisy’s father yelled that he wanted no trouble. They were terrified. He said he would give us money if we would just leave; let them alone. Amycus grabbed Daisy and that’s when…” Draco shut his eyes and took a shuddering breath. Harry clenched his hand, hard. “The Carrows tortured them. Not just with the Cruciatus, but with other things, as well. It sickens me to remember it. I should have stopped them. I should have—”
Draco released his hand and bolted through a nearby door, dislodging Malachite, who took wing and fluttered over to perch on one of the bedposts. Harry heard water running and he debated for only a moment before following. Draco hunched over the sink, splashing water over his face. Droplets clung to his hair; his sleeves were wet.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said, touching him gently between the shoulder blades. “Don’t say any more. There is no need.” Harry could imagine the rest; Daisy’s parents were gone. It was obvious what had happened.
“They were planning to give Daisy to Fenrir. One of them sent for him. They tortured Daisy’s parents to death and they were going to give her to Fenrir. If I had ever wanted to escape, to quit, to run away and never look back, it was at that moment. Only the thought of my mother stopped me. How would Voldemort take my defection? My cowardice? He would have killed her without a thought.” Draco’s voice was muffled and echo-y, spoken into the sink as he shut off the water.
Harry rubbed small circles into his back. “You did the right thing. You know they would have turned on you like rabid dogs, and likely killed you and Daisy, as well.”
“Maybe she would have been better off dead,” Draco said flatly.
“You don’t mean that,” Harry whispered.
Draco sighed. “Before Fenrir arrived, the Dark Mark burned on our arms. Voldemort was calling everyone back. Amycus was annoyed at the Dark Lord for spoiling their fun. He was going to kill Daisy, but one of the others stopped him. I can’t remember who, but I doubt it was for the sake of compassion. Daisy was screaming and screaming. Alecto said, ‘Don’t want to see your nasty, dead parents anymore, dearie? I’ll fix that.’ And she blinded Daisy with an irreversible spell. Just like that. And then we all left her there, alone in the park, blind and with her parents dead beside her. She was five years old.” Draco retched into the sink, shaking as he heaved, but nothing came up. Harry stopped patting and wrapped an arm around him, holding tightly as he strove to bear some of the weight of Draco’s terrible memories.
“I sent an owl to the Ministry later, anonymously, to let them know Daisy was there. I’d hoped they could do something to help her. I couldn’t forget her face…”
Harry swallowed hard and blinked against the sudden sting pricking his eyes. “You did all you could,” he murmured.
“Did I?” Draco asked bitterly. “I wonder. You would have done something. You would have protected her.”
“You don’t know what I would have done. Hell, I don’t know what I would have done in that situation, with my parents’ lives on the line! I made just as many mistakes, lost people I should have been able to save. You can’t look back and keep asking yourself ‘what if’, because there is no way to go back, Draco. You can only move forward, as you have done. You are helping her now, and that is the important thing.”
Draco lifted his head. His eyes were vivid as they bore into Harry’s. Water droplets sparkled on his pale lashes and clung to wisps of hair that lay over his forehead. Harry reached up and brushed it back with his free hand. Draco straightened and then leaned forward and pressed their lips together. The kiss was wet and somewhat frantic, but Harry was patient and let Draco take whatever he needed, matching stroke for stroke when Draco's tongue dove inside. Harry's hand was gentle in Draco's soft hair, caressing in a soothing manner until Draco's assault calmed.
Draco pulled away with a sigh. "How do you always make everything right?"
Harry snorted. "Hardly that. The opposite, maybe."
"Don't be modest. You are the Chosen One, after all."
“Stop it. I never wanted that. Not ever.”
Draco seemed to sense that Harry was serious, and he rested his forehead against Harry’s for a moment. “I believe you. But for the record, I am very glad that you were.”
Harry closed his eyes and his arms tightened around Draco, more affected by the simple statement than he had been by hundreds of silly fan letters, declarations, and even the heartfelt statements of friends and family. This time he initiated the kiss. While it was far less frantic and desperate, it was just as intense, and long minutes passed before Harry was able to break away and attempt to breathe properly.
“Draco,” he said.
“Still here,” Draco replied with a chuckle.
“Can we maybe… go back to the couch?”
“Is my bathroom not romantic enough for you?”
“Not unless you’re planning to shower,” Harry replied and then blushed at his own temerity.
Draco laughed and his arms tightened around Harry as he pressed a kiss into his neck. “Tempting, but I think I need something a bit stronger than tea right now. I’m not used to baring my soul or displaying such emotional weakness.”
Harry shook his head. “Not weakness.” He took Draco’s hand and squeezed it before leading him back to the main room. “But I could use something bracing. Where do you keep your alcohol?”
“Kitchen cupboard left of the sink.”
Harry looked pointedly at the sofa and Draco obediently sat while Harry entered the small kitchen. The cabinet was stocked with several bottles: wine, Firewhisky, brandy, vermouth, and a thick liqueur made of black currant. Several limes sat in a basket, protected with the visible glow of a Preservation Charm. Harry smiled and set two glasses on the counter. He Conjured ice and poured two fingers of Firewhisky over the cubes before adding a splash of vermouth and then squeezing lime juice over it all.
Malachite had followed them from the bathroom and flew to the kitchen counter, apparently happy to watch Harry mix drinks. Harry patted him on the head and then carried both glasses to the sofa.
Draco lifted a brow as he took the drink and then sipped at it. He made a noise of approval and took a longer drink. “It’s good.”
Harry smirked and sat down next to him. “It’s call the Godric,” he admitted and then chuckled at Draco’s expression before taking a sip of his own cocktail.
“I should have known.” Draco snorted and stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. He leaned his head back and then swivelled it to look at Harry. “Do you like me now because I’m a do-gooder and friend to Muggles?”
Harry’s lips curled with amusement, although he sensed the serious undertone beneath the words. “I like you now. Not because you are a do-gooder and friend to Muggles, but because that is part of who you are . I would like to get to know you better and see what other fascinating parts might be uncovered.”
“Was that meant to be an innuendo?”
Harry shook his head. “Not really, no. I’m pants at this, aren’t I?”
“Yes.”
Harry stared and then burst out laughing. Draco’s blunt response and mischievous grin were too much for him to take. His heart did a curious beat-skipping thing in his chest and he realized he wanted to see that grin more often, possibly every single day. His laughter died and he leaned in impulsively to place a soft kiss on Draco’s lips.
Draco barely moved, other than to open his mouth to accept and return the kiss, lapping languidly at Harry’s tongue as it grazed over his, tasting of sharp citrus and mellow liquor. When Harry pulled away, a smile curved Draco’s lips. “You’re pretty good at that, though.”
Harry nearly spilled his drink in his haste to get back to the kissing. Instead, he set both glasses on the table and settled more comfortably next to Draco. The ice in their drinks melted while they snogged on the sofa, each kiss growing deeper and more passionate, breath catching and hands beginning to wander.
Finally Draco pulled away, catching at Harry’s hand as it threatened to move a few inches from Draco’s thigh, just that small distance that would push them to the next level.
“I think I drank too much,” Draco said. He sounded as breathless as Harry felt.
“You barely touched your drink,” Harry replied and leaned back in, hoping to drown in that incredible, hot mouth. He knew he was lost, but he had little interest in finding his way out. Whatever tangled maze Draco Malfoy had woven around him was fine with him, as long as there was more kissing and touching within.
Draco avoided his eager mouth. Harry’s lips skated across Draco’s cheek and settled somewhere next to his earlobe, which was just as well. Harry opened his mouth and nibbled on it. “Wait, Potter. This is… all rather surprising.”
The words were like a splash of cold water. Harry sat back and looked at him, trying to rein in the blood pounding through his veins, most of which had settled in Harry’s groin. “Surprising,” Harry repeated. He supposed it was, but he was more than willing to explore the possibilities.
Draco looked thoroughly mussed and tantalising. Harry wanted to straddle his lap and press himself against Draco, and then slowly undress him and kiss every visible inch of skin. The strength of his desire shook him and he tore his eyes away to focus on his glass, which now sat in a puddle of condensation.
Harry reached down and picked it up. He drained half the contents, grimacing at the watery taste of the diluted alcohol. Liquid dripped from the bottom of the glass onto the front of his shirt. He gulped a couple of melted ice bits, but the drink did not cool his libido in the least. He set the glass down and looked at Draco.
“I don’t want to be your experiment,” Draco said quietly.
Harry’s breath caught, but he bit back an angry retort. He supposed it was a logical conclusion, considering no one but Ginny even knew he was attracted to men. Harry frowned, wondering if he really was experimenting. Was he only testing the waters? Was he using Draco to determine what he really wanted? Right now, at this very moment, he wanted Draco desperately, but what if his feelings were nothing more than momentary lust?
Harry didn’t think so, but he didn’t want Draco to doubt him. The mere fact that Draco was backing away, rather than taking everything Harry offered, lifted him another notch in Harry’s opinion. Not so long ago, Draco Malfoy would have run straight to the press with the news of Harry’s inclinations while shining the worst possible light on Harry’s experimentation, but this Draco was not the same person who had fed lascivious gossip to Rita Skeeter. This Draco had, quite literally, gone through the fire and emerged a different person.
“Okay,” Harry said.
Draco’s brow wrinkled. “Okay?”
Harry nodded. “How much, do you think?”
“How much what?” Draco looked even more perplexed.
“How much experimenting should I do before I can come back to convince you I’m done experimenting?” Draco gaped at him and Harry nodded in a serious fashion. “You probably need to do some calculating or whatnot. I’ll let you get to it. Would it help if I made a list of the people I’m willing to experiment with?”
Draco only blinked at him as if he’d gone mad, so Harry nodded again. “I’ll do that, then. Goodnight.” Harry leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss on Draco’s lips before standing and striding to the door. Despite his flippant words, his erection was giving no sign that it intended to ease any time soon. He shut the door to Draco’s flat, stepped out of range of the wards, and Disapparated straight to his bedroom at Grimmauld Place. Once there, he shed his clothing, threw himself on the bed, and wanked frantically to the memory of Draco Malfoy.
When the streams of pale fluid were cooling on his abdomen, Harry stared up at the ceiling and realized he’d never been half so turned on after kissing Ginny. Whatever doubts he may have had regarding his sexuality were gone.
“Experimenting,” he muttered. “Right."
:D