FIC: Benevolence (Part Six)
Oct. 16th, 2011 09:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dysonrulesI LOVE YOU GUYSSSSSS. :D I'll try to answer comments today, but I HAS BEEN WRITINGS. WOOT! Oh hey, guess what? THIS FIC ISN'T FINISHED YET. That's a surprise, Y/Y? *snickers*
ON TO THE PERMA-WIP... Why, hullo thar, NC-17 rating. I wondered where you'd got to... :D :D :D
~~~~~
“Are you two even listening?” Hermione demanded.
Harry started guiltily and looked away from Draco’s eyes, into which he had been dreamily staring. In truth, he had lost track of Hermione’s droning voice several minutes ago and had instead focussed on the length and paleness of Draco Malfoy’s eyelashes.
“You were reiterating Wizarding Secrecy Statue Number Three, Subsection Five, Paragraph Eighteen, in which it clearly states that Muggles with no familial ties with wizards shall be permitted no exposure to the magical world,” Draco said dryly.
Hermione’s eyes narrowed, but Harry thought she looked impressed, all the same.
“That doesn’t make sense, Hermione,” Harry said, making an effort. “What about people like Andromeda Tonks? She married Ted and he certainly knew she was a witch before they were married.”
“In the case of marriage, formal charges and Obliviation requirements are waived once the couple is wed. The marriage itself is considered a ‘familial tie’.”
“What if the Muggle half of the couple has an existing child?” Draco asked. He was seated across from Harry, who had intentionally not sat next to him lest he be too tempted to reach out and touch. His plan only slightly backfired when Draco began to slide the toe of his shoe over the outer side of Harry’s trainer. It was barely a caress, with leather and canvas between, and yet it still managed to scatter Harry’s thoughts and send his heart racing into an uneven stutter.
Hermione sighed. “Then the child is subject to the same laws, bound to the wizard—or witch—when the marriage is performed. The ceremony itself places all types of magical restrictions on the Muggles involved. You know this has no bearing on the case you are trying to make for Daisy.”
Draco’s foot withdrew from Harry’s. “There has to be something! Why is it impossible for a wizard to offer protection to a Muggle child? If she were an adult, there would be no question of Obliviation!”
Harry glanced at Hermione, knowing the opposite to be true. If Daisy were an adult, she would already have been Obliviated. Draco would have been fined, and that would have been the end of it. Wizards dating Muggles had to be particularly careful; any revelation of magic prior to marriage could be considered illegal and result in having the object of their affections forget them completely.
“There are cases of wizards adopting Muggle children, but only if the children are orphans. That won’t work here, as Daisy still has living relatives who care for her. And Draco probably doesn’t want to adopt a Muggle child, anyway.”
Draco scowled, but said nothing, focussing on the papers before him, although he shuffled them in such a way Harry thought he wasn’t seeing them at all.
They were all silent for long moments. Harry wanted to reach across the table and still Draco’s hands. Hermione kept glancing furtively between the two of them and then dove back into the words on a page to keep from being caught staring.
“What if I do?” Draco asked finally.
Harry blinked at him. Hermione asked, “What?”
“What if I want to adopt a Muggle child? Daisy’s grandparents are old; they can’t care for her forever. Her parents had no siblings. Daisy has no uncles or cousins, or anyone at all that I know of. What will happen to her when her grandparents die?”
“You can’t kill her grandparents!” Hermione burst out.
Draco gave her such a look of horrified astonishment that Harry burst out laughing. Draco’s glare turned on him immediately. “God, Hermione, Draco would never kill her grandparents. They bloody well love him, and he them, most likely, although he’ll never admit it.” Harry wiped at a stray tear. “Honestly. He meant eventually.”
“It’s nice to know your opinion of me has not improved, Granger,” Draco said dryly, and Harry was glad to note that his feathers seemed to have been smoothed by Harry’s hilarity.
To her credit, Hermione looked abashed. “I’m sorry. I guess old habits die hard. Of course you meant eventually.” She snatched at another book and flipped it open to a marked page. “I’m sure there must be some precedence for a similar case somewhere, although these are generally cases of relation by blood.” She babbled on for a bit, talking mostly to herself in an obvious attempt to cover her embarrassment.
Harry’s foot stole out and nudged Draco’s gently, caressing with the edge of his trainer and wishing he had given in to impulse rather than rationality and sat next to Draco.
“Wait, you mentioned fostering,” Hermione said. “Maybe there is something there. Just because there is no precedent doesn’t mean it isn’t possible.” Her eyes locked with Harry’s and he recognized the fire of excitement therein. Harry felt an immediate sense of relief. She had an idea. Finally. Everything would be all right.
~~**~~
Several hours later they Flooed back to the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. Draco walked to the sink, turned on the water, and washed his hands with an almost ritual care. Harry leaned against the table, amused.
“Washing off the Hermione taint?” Harry asked, refraining from using the word mudblood at the last moment, not wanting to start an argument.
Draco snorted. “Hardly. I love books, but they do leave grit on your hands, especially ancient, dusty tomes full of rhetoric and legal nonsense.”
Despite his flippant words, Harry sensed Draco’s frustration and suspected the hand-washing was an attempt to expunge more than simple dust. He pushed away from the table and went to place his hands on Draco’s shoulders, kneading gently. Draco stiffened for a moment and his hands stilled beneath the water, and then he relaxed and sighed. “This isn’t going to work. They will refuse and Daisy will be Obliviated, and I will go to Azkaban, and you will…”
Harry kissed the side of Draco’s neck, trailing feather-light pecks from his earlobe down to the collar of his shirt. Draco leaned back into his hands. He turned off the water and tipped his head to the side, allowing Harry to kiss him properly, if a bit awkwardly, on the mouth. They nibbled each other’s lips for long minutes, gentle kisses with more suction than tongue. Harry pressed himself tightly to Draco’s back and his hands stole around to pull him even closer. Draco fit against him so perfectly he felt as though a missing piece of himself had been found and locked into place.
Draco’s wet hands wrapped around Harry’s and clenched tightly. “Will you… Will you come with me? To talk to Gail and Quentin?”
Harry kissed him once more, basking in the warm glow of having Draco in his arms. “Of course, I will,” he said, pleased to be included. He had expected Draco to want to go alone. Draco had seemed so strong and confident lately, in all of his dealings with various Muggles. When it came to Daisy, however, his uncertainty was touching. The fact that he allowed Harry to see it was somehow more intimate than the kissing. “Shall we go, then?”
Draco blinked at him. “What, now?”
Harry was curious to know what else Draco had planned for now if they did not go sort Daisy’s matter, but he dared not ask. Harry had to stay focussed. “Yes, now. Kingsley only gave us 48 hours and we’ve used nearly half of that doing research. We have the papers Hermione drafted—thank goodness she works in Law Enforcement or it would have taken us a week to get those—so let’s go do this.”
Draco swallowed heavily, but nodded. Harry dried their hands with a quick spell and then pushed reluctantly away from Draco, who turned round and then frowned. “I’ll need to pop home and change—”
Harry snorted and shook his head. “Draco. You look fine. Gail and Quentin will not care what you are wearing and Daisy can’t see you. And I think you look bloody gorgeous, so let’s get on, shall we?”
Myriad emotions played across Draco’s features, including annoyance, uncertainty, and then a hint of a smile, but he nodded. He held his hands out to Harry. “Side-along?”
Harry knew where they were going, but he was not about to pass up an opportunity to touch Draco, so he stepped forwards and took his hands. Draco leaned in and kissed him as they Apparated; it was a strange, but not unwelcome, sensation.
They appeared in Draco’s room at the boarding house. Draco released his hands and Harry sighed, knowing he had been outwitted. “Draco…”
“Shush, I’m not changing my clothes. This is the safest place to Apparate to without drawing attention, plus it’s raining and Impervius Charms tend to draw attention. You might want to grab that Muggle umbrella by the door.” As he spoke, Draco walked towards the bathroom, pausing only to allow Malachite to land on his shoulder. He reached up to stroke the dragon and continued into the small room. Harry heard water running and the muted sound of Draco crooning to the wooden beast. He smiled and walked to the door to pick up the sturdy black umbrella.
Draco looked the same when he exited the bathroom, except his hair seemed to have been combed and fell into place perfectly over his brow. Harry shook his head in bemusement and threw him a grin. Draco took the dragon from his shoulder and dropped him onto the back of the sofa. Malachite flapped his wings and spat out a burst of fake fire.
“Stop that. I can’t take you with me. I’ll be back soon enough. Don’t knock anything over and stay away from that plant. I’ve seen you eyeing it.” He shook an admonishing finger at the dragon, who drew himself up haughtily and wrapped his tail around himself before looking through the window, as though dismissing Draco completely.
Harry blinked at the dragon, who seemed to have acquired much more of Draco’s personality than anticipated. He followed Draco through the door and down the stairs.
“What does Malachite do when you’re gone?” Harry asked.
“I don’t know, but I assume the usual pet-like things. He frequently acts like he’s sleeping. He doesn’t actually sleep, does he?”
“Well, it simulates sleeping. I put a Self-Repairing Charm on the dragons and the diagnostic and adjustment spells can take several hours. The spells are set to run when the owner is absent or asleep.”
“Tricky magic.”
“I had help.”
“Granger?”
“Luna Lovegood, mostly.” Harry had gifted Luna with his first custom dragon, a rainbow coloured creature with glittering scales and eyes of opal.
Draco raised a brow, but said nothing as they pushed through the door and headed out towards the street. They walked together beneath the umbrella, arms brushing. The rain was minimal, but steady enough to warrant the protection. Malfoy surreptitiously cast an Impervius just to ensure they would stay extra dry, or more likely to keep his hair perfect, Harry suspected.
Daisy flung herself at Draco the moment the door opened. Gail invited them in and then admonished Daisy to stop smothering Draco. She looked at Harry appraisingly as they sat upon the sofa. An older gentleman walked out of the kitchen. “Draco, if you’re here about the fence, I told you I would take care of it.”
“No, it’s… it’s not about the fence, Quentin.” Draco looked pointedly at Daisy, and then at Gail and away.
“That’s a very serious face, dear. Daisy, you go off and play now while we talk about adult things.”
“But Draco just got here,” she protested with a pout.
“I was here just yesterday, imp, and we went out for ice cream. Now go on, I’ll come and speak with you before we leave.”
“Oh, all right.” She sighed as if heavily put-upon, and then dragged her way slowly into her room. She closed the door, but Harry thought he heard it creak open again. He had little doubt she was listening.
Quentin sat in a well-worn chair that looked broken-in and comfortable. “How about that last United game, Draco? And who is this, then? Are you a football fan?”
Gail gave Quentin a disapproving look. “Be polite, Quentin. No need to bend the ear of everyone you meet with talk of that infernal game.”
“This is Harry,” Draco said. “He’s my…” He looked at Harry, then, and obvious panic widened his grey eyes.
“Boyfriend?” Harry supplied helpfully.
“Boyfriend,” Draco repeated in a rush. “Yes. That.”
Gail clucked her tongue. “Is that what you came to discuss with us, Draco? You should know we don’t mind that sort of thing, not like some others. My best friend Maribeth has a son, remember young Jack, Quentin? He’s been here plenty of times and even brought his beau over on Boxing Day last year. Lovely boys, both of them.”
Quentin waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah, we don’t care about that none. You a Manchester United fan, Harry?”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow football, sir,” Harry replied.
Quentin looked crestfallen, but he perked up. “Like a beer?”
Harry grinned. “That I would.”
“Good man. I know Draco won’t touch the stuff, although he’s had a nip of whiskey now and again. Draco?”
“No, thank you, Quentin. I’m here to talk about Daisy.”
The elder couple shared a look and Harry felt sudden tension fill the room.
“I think I’ll fetch that beer,” Quentin said and got to his feet. He walked into the kitchen.
“Is it… bad news, Draco?” Gail asked tremulously. She glanced at Harry as though his presence had become somehow ominous.
“No!” Draco said hastily. “No, of course not. I just have a proposal for you. I mean, something I would like you to consider. You don’t have to agree.”
Gail relaxed slightly. Quentin returned from the kitchen with two bottles of beer. He handed one to Harry, who took it and noticed it had already been opened. It was a courtesy in the Muggle world, where one seldom had to worry about random potions being slipped into it at a stranger’s house. He took a quick drink and nodded his thanks.
“It’s like this,” Draco said haltingly. “I like Daisy very much. Every day that I don’t see her I feel like something is missing. I wish she was my own daughter. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, and then I thought…” Harry reached out and put a hand on Draco’s knee, touching lightly. It was somewhat shocking to see the normally cool and collected man completely flustered. “I mean… that is to say…”
“Draco would like to foster Daisy, with your permission. And if anything should happen to you, then Daisy will be well taken care of, assuming you do not have other kin that you’ve already selected to care for her in that event. Not that anything will, of course, but only as a safeguard.”
“This is very sudden, Draco,” Gail said into the surprised silence.
“I’ve been thinking about it awhile,” Quentin said and took a long pull at his beer.
Draco had been about to speak, but he looked at Quentin with a brow lifted. Gail looked at her husband, obviously astonished.
“You have?” Gail asked.
“Yeah. If anything happens to us, Daisy would go to that no-good cousin of yours. The druggie. Probably sell Daisy on the streets for a hit, that one.”
Gail wrinkled her nose and frowned, but she did not deny it.
“I would take excellent care of her,” Draco said fervently. “She could go to the best schools and have opportunities I’ve wanted to provide for her, but did not dare. I have not wanted to overstep my bounds.” Draco coughed, but powered on. “Anyway, now that I’ve made up my mind there is a bit of a timing issue. I’ll be out of the country starting tomorrow evening and since I despise… flying, well, I would like to draw up the necessary papers to provide Daisy access to my not-insubstantial financial assets should anything happen to me.” At Harry’s gasp of surprise, Draco’s lips thinned into a line. “Well, planes crash, you know.”
Harry nodded. They had worked out the explanation with Hermione to account for the hurry, but Draco had not mentioned giving Daisy access to the Malfoy fortune. Such a thing went beyond Muggle fostering and stepped into the murky realm of wizarding law and pure-blood prejudices.
Harry shook off his surprise. It was possible Draco meant something else. He might have funds in a Muggle bank that he would be willing to provide to Daisy; it didn't mean that he was planning to adopt her as an official heir or anything. Such a thing would probably kill Lucius, which might not be a bad thing. Harry slanted a glance at Draco, momentarily ashamed at the thought, since Lucius was Draco’s father, after all.
Draco pulled an envelope from the coat he wore. He opened it and extracted a sheaf of papers. "I realize there is a lot to go through, but feel free to have a barrister look it over if you have questions. I'll be back for your answer tomorrow at 2pm. Do you mind if I go and speak with Daisy? I won't mention any of this to her, of course."
"Don't be silly," Gail said. "Go." She waved him off with a smile and Draco rose and went down the hall to Daisy's room. Gail looked at Harry. "What do you think of all this?"
Harry swallowed. "I've never seen him care for anyone the way he cares for Daisy. It's... really special."
"How long have you known Draco?" Quentin asked over the edge of his beer bottle. Harry suddenly felt like a teenager being grilled by the parents of his first crush.
"Since we were eleven, actually. But it's only been in the past few weeks that we rediscovered one another." Harry smiled and glanced down the hallway before pitching his voice lower. "I quite like him now."
"And how would this," Gail gestured to the papers, "affect your relationship?"
Harry shrugged. "It wouldn't. Draco means for Daisy to be a part of his life, regardless of your decision, and whether that involves occasional visits and walks to the local market for treats, or something more parental and complex, then I will accept either option as part and parcel or who he is. Really, I only want for him to be happy." Even as he said it, Harry realized it was true.
Draco returned with Daisy hopping behind him like a bunny, feet together and thumping on the carpet. "Draco is going now, but he promised to come and see me tomorrow and maybe bring me chocolate, as long as I don't eat it all at once. Is that okay?"
"Yes, Daisy." Gail's voice was doting, but she seemed somewhat tired to Harry. He wondered how difficult it would be for an older couple to raise a young, exuberant child, especially one with Daisy's special needs. He hoped they would be willing to accept Draco's help, and not merely because Harry wanted to keep them out of trouble with the Ministry.
“Are you coming back tomorrow, too, Harry?” she asked.
“If Draco would like me to. And you, of course.”
“I certainly would.” She paused and added, “Draco probably would, too. If you get ranty again, I’m sure he would like to shut you up some more.” She smirked.
Harry blushed and looked at Draco, remembering the first time Draco had kissed him. Draco grinned, seeming relaxed for the first time since their arrival.
“Goodbye, Daisy,” Draco said with a warning tone.
“Bye, Draco.” She hugged him and then turned in Harry’s direction and flung her arms wide. “Hugs, Harry.”
Harry smiled in bemusement and then bent down to wrap her in a solid embrace, doubting she would appreciate a weak hug.
“You’re a good hugger, Harry. And you smell almost as nice as Draco,” she said. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow, Daisy.” Harry straightened, bid good evening to Gail and Quentin, and followed Draco out the door.
Without preplanning, they started back towards Draco’s flat, but Harry suddenly did not want to face the awkwardness that would doubtless ensue once they reached the confines of the boarding house, with memories of slow kisses and an aborted love scene fresh in his mind.
“Let’s go to dinner,” Harry said impulsively.
Grey eyes slid over to meet his. The rain had stopped and they were not walking quite so closely together as before. “You mean out somewhere?”
“Yes, I don’t feel like cooking and you look as though you might go home and mope.”
“Malfoys don’t mope.”
“Lounge about artfully in a depressed funk?”
Draco snorted an almost-laugh. “Fine. Where do you want to go?”
“I know a place,” Harry said. He happily reached out and took Draco’s arm, then looked around carefully for watchful Muggles before Apparating them away.
~~**~~
“That was truly awful,” Draco said when they pushed through the glass doors an hour later.
“I know!” Harry protested with a groan. The place he had chosen had apparently changed ownership or management and their formerly flavourful food had become nearly inedible. They had spent the entirety of the meal poking at unrecognizable meat chunks swimming in various off-coloured sauces and eating little but naan dipped in one of the less-offending gravies.
“What do you think that green stuff was meant to be?” Draco asked.
“I’m afraid to speculate. At least the bread was good.”
“Thank Salazar, or we might have starved.”
“I promise it was better before.” Harry laughed, impressed anew that Draco was amused instead of offended at Harry’s bad choice. “Can I make it up to you with dessert?”
“What do you have in mind?” Harry didn’t think he imagined the seductive slant to Draco’s voice and his blood rushed through his veins, making his reply slightly breathless.
“I happen to have a chocolate cake at home in my cupboard.”
“Are you luring me into your domain with chocolate cake?”
“Maybe. Is it working?”
“Does it have those fancy curls on top?”
“It might have.”
Draco shoved him into the next alleyway they passed and then pushed him up against the rough stone wall. For a moment, Harry thought he meant to kiss him, but Draco only leaned close and then smiled, all pearlescent teeth and gleaming silver eyes. “All right, then,” he purred.
When Harry got his wits back, he Apparated them to Grimmauld Place.
The cake did not have chocolate curls, but instead tiny chocolate flowers that mollified Draco, who ate with a minimum of pornographic sounds. Harry could only assume Draco was secretly worried about the outcome of the morrow’s events, because the cake was sinful.
Harry had suggested they eat in the study. It was more intimate than the kitchen, and also seemed cosier thanks to the proximity of a crackling fire that battled with the sound of the renewed downpour outside. Harry was proud of the cream coloured sofa he had purchased for the room. It was stylish and comfortable, with plenty of room for two grown men to stretch out on its length and cuddle. Not that any such thing was happening at the moment.
He and Draco sat almost-facing one another, shoes off, bodies angled inwards and knees touching. Kreacher had thrust a dessert wine into Harry’s hand whilst Draco had visited the loo, and they sipped at the liquid and talked about some of the Muggles Draco had met. He seemed to be full of stories, and full of life. Harry was enchanted with the way his pale eyes danced, and the way the wine gleamed upon his lips after every sip.
“And then the fabric tore straight down the middle—you know, instead of staring at my mouth, you could just kiss me,” Draco said and then smiled beatifically at Harry’s intake of breath. He did not need additional incentive. Harry leaned forward and pulled at Draco’s lips with his own, licking at the residue of sweet wine before following the flavour inside.
Draco’s kisses tasted of wine and chocolate, and were better than both together. Harry pulled away to take both glasses and set them on the table before resuming a more comfortable position. He slid one leg between Draco’s and settled in, intent on spending hours at the task, if necessary. With each gentle flick of Draco’s tongue and each hot, panted breath on his face, Harry thought kissing Draco could be the best thing in the world. His hands clenched into the fabric of Draco’s shirt.
Draco pulled away and Harry let go immediately. “We can… take it slow,” Harry said. “No pressure.”
Surprisingly, Draco smiled. “While it’s admirable of you to rein in your libido, Potter, I was only going to say that it’s a bit warm in here.” With that, Draco’s hands moved to the buttons of his shirt and began to unfasten them. Harry watched, unable to speak, or even to think, though the near-electric shocks that were travelling through his body, centred in his groin. They grew in strength and intensity at each new glimpse of pale flesh revealed.
“I—” he tried.
“You look warm, too. Let me help you.” Draco’s shirt gaped open as he leaned forwards and dragged the hem of Harry’s shirt from his jeans. He paused for a moment, but Harry nodded, and Draco pulled the t-shirt over Harry’s head with a careful movement that only mussed his hair a bit. His glasses, however, snagged in the fabric and ended up lost inside the shirt.
“Um…” Harry said and instantly forgot what he was going to say when Draco’s hand touched his bare chest. It drew down, down, over his ribs and then around to his back before gliding upwards over one shoulder blade and down once more, long fingers bumping slowly over the bones of his spine, palm brushing in a gooseflesh-inducing trail. It wasn’t until then that Harry noticed Draco was quite a lot closer, practically straddling him in order to reach round him. The straying hand pressed against the small of Harry’s back, urging him even closer.
“Can you see me?” Draco asked in a teasing tone.
“I’m short-sighted, not blind,” Harry said with a snort. In fact, he thought Draco’s eyes looked larger and even more beautiful without the sharpening quality of his lenses. “I can see you just fine.”
“Pity. I was hoping you might need to feel your way.”
“I think my vision just degenerated,” Harry said breathlessly and put his hand out to touch Draco. His skin was warm and smooth, and so very bare. Harry loved to be touched, to feel a hand on his skin, awakening nerve endings and tingling over unexpected sensitive areas, but he had not realized that it was brilliant to touch, as well. Those same nerve endings were in his hands, feeling each ripple and dip and rise of Draco’s flesh, warmth radiating back from warmth, curling into Harry’s skin as his hand ventured into each new place.
Draco was more solid than Harry had expected, not overly-slender and bony, but fit and covered with surprising muscle in interesting places. It was different than touching Ginny, more erotic somehow and just… more.
The kisses developed an urgency that translated to their hands, longer caresses, fingers tightening convulsively before falling away, breath catching, gasping for air before they dove back in for the next play of tongue on tongue. Harry thought he might combust.
“Up… upstairs,” he offered. “Bedroom?” He pulled away then, processing the words that had just crossed his lips. “I mean. If you want to.”
Draco laughed, low and sexy. “Yes,” he said simply.
Harry exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He linked his fingers with Draco’s and tugged, pulling Draco to his feet. The bedroom had never seemed so far away.
Harry’s nervousness returned once they were upright. Would Draco change his mind and insist that Harry was only experimenting? He decided not to chance it by dragging him into another kiss. Draco couldn’t protest if he couldn’t speak. Of course, that made it nearly impossible to travel. Thankfully, Harry remembered that he was a wizard.
“Hold on,” he murmured and Apparated them upstairs to his bedroom.
“Resourceful,” Draco murmured, sounding appreciative. Harry flushed with pleasure, thinking it might have been the nicest thing Draco had ever said to him.
“I try,” Harry replied and then moved his hands down to cup Draco’s arse and pull him closer. Exquisite hardness bumped against him, sending a jolt of want straight down to his toes. Draco’s answering moan compounded it.
Harry brazenly slid one hand around to the front, pulling away only enough to push a hand between them and toy with the waistband of Draco’s trousers. He almost forgot to breathe, choking on the fear that Draco was only toying with him and would depart at any moment.
Instead, he felt Draco’s fingers against the top button of his jeans, undoing the round bits of metal with more grace than Harry was managing. He was tempted to tear away the stupid little fancy buttons, but they gave way just as his patience reached its end, and just as Draco’s hand slipped into his jeans to push against his erection; only the fabric of Harry’s pants stood between his warm fingers and Harry’s bare flesh.
“Oh,” Harry said and leaned forwards to kiss him again. Draco's fingers stroked in time with his tongue lapping against Harry’s, and it was long moments before Harry realized that his own hand had frozen on the waistband of Draco’s trousers, gripping like a lifeline. He let go of the fabric and touched in turn, sliding his fingertips over Draco’s hardness and earning a gasp as Draco bucked into his questing hand.
It was enticing beyond reason, and very much not enough. He pushed at Draco’s trousers, barely noticing them slide down bare, slender legs. “May—” He stopped, mouth so dry he had to swallow in order to form words. “May I?” he asked and brushed his fingers over the edge of Draco’s pants, the last obstacle between him and what he desperately wanted.
“Yes,” Draco replied and Harry felt his own jeans fall to the floor around his ankles. He lifted the edge of Draco’s pants and pulled them gently away before tugging them down. His eyes moved downwards, unable to stop himself from staring. Harry had come to grips with his preference for men, but rationalizing it was a far cry from having an actual cock in front of him, hard and full of promise and… He trailed his fingers over it gingerly and felt a visceral rush like nothing he had ever experienced. He suddenly wanted to touch it, kiss it, taste it…
Steadying himself, he did so, touching it gingerly, breath catching at the velvety softness of it, which seemed strangely different from his own. He noticed Draco had stilled and the knowledge boosted his courage; he wrapped his hand around it as though claiming ownership.
Draco made a sound low in his throat and then kissed Harry once more. Draco’s hands slid over his arse and pushed down Harry’s pants before returning the favour, taking Harry’s cock in hand and running his thumb over the tip. It was brilliant.
They spent quite some time standing in one spot stroking one another and kissing languidly, until Harry thought he might come right there without moving. It didn’t seem like a bad thing, but since a nice, comfortable bed stood just feet away he thought he should at least make the effort.
“Bed?” he breathed between wet kisses that had become sloppy from distraction.
“Yes,” Draco replied, and wasn’t that an amazingly lovely word? Harry had never fully appreciated it before.
He tried to kick himself free of his pooled clothing while Draco did the same, all without releasing their grips on each other’s cocks. They moved backwards towards the bed and had almost made it when Harry’s foot slipped and sent them both sprawling. He landed atop Draco, who was mostly on the bed.
Surprised gazes locked and then Draco chuckled. “Graceful.”
“It was taking too long to get you here,” Harry said and kissed him hungrily once more.
Draco made a sound of agreement and then pushed at Harry, who lifted himself away. They broke the kiss only long enough for Draco to make himself more comfortable in the centre of the bed and for Harry to crawl over him like a predator. The tip of his cock caught on Draco’s as he moved and they both froze. Harry repeated the motion, and then again, rubbing their cocks together until the friction drove him half mad. When Draco’s hand wrapped around both hard pricks, Harry’s eyes nearly rolled up into his head from the sensation.
He quickly shifted his weight and put a hand down to join Draco’s. They stroked in unison and Harry quivered. He was going to come and this barely qualified as sex, except that they were both naked and in bed and, fuck, it didn’t even matter because it felt amazing.
And then a horrible thought occurred to Harry and he stopped moving with a gasp. “Oh god,” he said. “This isn’t… You aren’t doing this out of a sense of… You aren’t doing this as repayment, are you?” Harry winced as soon as the words tumbled out, because Draco was here and they were having sex, albeit vague, fumbling handjob sex, and it shouldn’t matter, except that it did matter.
“What?” Draco asked, blinking at him as though having difficulty focussing.
“Your note. You sent me a thank you note and mentioned repayment.” Harry tried not to sound frantic, but if Draco was only here out of a sense of gratitude, then he would leave tomorrow and possibly forever, and if they managed to stay out of Azkaban, then Harry would feel wretched, because—
“You are an idiot.”
Harry scowled. “Thank you, that’s not—“ His words were cut off as Draco gripped a fistful of his hair and dragged him down into a bruising kiss. His pained protest was drowned by Draco’s lips. After a few moments of seemingly trying to devour him, Draco used the grip on his hair to pull him away. “Ow,” Harry managed.
“Of course this is not about repayment. I’m here because I want you and it’s obvious, very obvious, that you want me, so let’s get back to it, shall we? Unless you prefer that I bring myself off while you watch, out of some misguided sense of morality?”
“Um…” Harry’s relief warred with the erotic thought of watching Draco pull himself off and for a moment he couldn’t reply as his brain fought to choose, but then the hand still holding his cock squeezed and everything became clear again. “Back to it, yes, um… sorry.” He moved his hand again helpfully, pushing Draco’s fist up the length of their cocks in an attempt to return to their former exquisite rhythm. Thankfully, Draco seemed amenable to the endeavour.
Draco’s other hand released from his hair and trailed down his back, pulling him closer. Harry fell into bliss once more and stopped thinking as his world narrowed to his nerve endings and the tingling shocks that were beginning to quiver through his body.
“Close,” he murmured.
“Me, too,” Draco said, panting against his lips. They had given up trying to kiss when their movements became more frantic. Harry’s arms ached, but he wouldn’t have stopped for the world, especially when Draco’s harsh breathing ceased entirely and he felt Draco’s cock pulse against his and jolted in his hand. As the first drop of warmth hit his fingers, Harry lost control. His orgasm rocked through him. The knowledge that his come mingled with Draco’s seemed suddenly, stupidly romantic. He might have felt like a sap if there were room for any feeling besides ecstasy.
He wanted to collapse on Draco and sleep forever, but instead he sprawled next to him, arms like noodles, panting like he’d run a marathon. Draco’s eyes were closed and he gleamed with sweat that Harry suddenly wanted to lick from his body. He grimaced at his own thoughts and found Draco’s eyes open and watching him.
“That bad?” Draco asked, voice laced with amusement.
“You know it was brilliant. I was just thinking that we should clean you up,” Harry said and lifted his hand to trail it through the mess on Draco’s flat stomach.
“I don’t have the energy to Summon my wand.”
“Good. That means you don’t have the energy to leave, either.”
“I wasn’t planning to.” Draco’s matter-of-fact tone took Harry’s breath away. He swallowed and pressed a kiss onto Draco’s shoulder, unable to speak. Draco went on, “Only because of your superior breakfast-making skills, of course.” Harry’s kiss turned into a playful bite and Draco’s laugh washed over him, filling him with pleasant warmth.
“Prat,” Harry said teasingly. “Accio wand.” He caught his wand and cast a quick Cleaning Charm on them both. “Up, you,” he said, “Under the blankets. I’m getting cold.”
They manoeuvred beneath the covers and ended up with Harry spooned around Draco, holding him tightly and trying to keep strands of blond hair out of his mouth. Draco said nothing more and soon his breathing became slow and even. Despite the hair in his mouth, his slowly numbing right arm, and the fact that he was becoming too warm from the heat radiating from Draco’s body, Harry couldn’t remember ever feeling so contented.
I could get used to this, he thought happily and drifted off to sleep.
ON TO THE PERMA-WIP... Why, hullo thar, NC-17 rating. I wondered where you'd got to... :D :D :D
~~~~~
“Are you two even listening?” Hermione demanded.
Harry started guiltily and looked away from Draco’s eyes, into which he had been dreamily staring. In truth, he had lost track of Hermione’s droning voice several minutes ago and had instead focussed on the length and paleness of Draco Malfoy’s eyelashes.
“You were reiterating Wizarding Secrecy Statue Number Three, Subsection Five, Paragraph Eighteen, in which it clearly states that Muggles with no familial ties with wizards shall be permitted no exposure to the magical world,” Draco said dryly.
Hermione’s eyes narrowed, but Harry thought she looked impressed, all the same.
“That doesn’t make sense, Hermione,” Harry said, making an effort. “What about people like Andromeda Tonks? She married Ted and he certainly knew she was a witch before they were married.”
“In the case of marriage, formal charges and Obliviation requirements are waived once the couple is wed. The marriage itself is considered a ‘familial tie’.”
“What if the Muggle half of the couple has an existing child?” Draco asked. He was seated across from Harry, who had intentionally not sat next to him lest he be too tempted to reach out and touch. His plan only slightly backfired when Draco began to slide the toe of his shoe over the outer side of Harry’s trainer. It was barely a caress, with leather and canvas between, and yet it still managed to scatter Harry’s thoughts and send his heart racing into an uneven stutter.
Hermione sighed. “Then the child is subject to the same laws, bound to the wizard—or witch—when the marriage is performed. The ceremony itself places all types of magical restrictions on the Muggles involved. You know this has no bearing on the case you are trying to make for Daisy.”
Draco’s foot withdrew from Harry’s. “There has to be something! Why is it impossible for a wizard to offer protection to a Muggle child? If she were an adult, there would be no question of Obliviation!”
Harry glanced at Hermione, knowing the opposite to be true. If Daisy were an adult, she would already have been Obliviated. Draco would have been fined, and that would have been the end of it. Wizards dating Muggles had to be particularly careful; any revelation of magic prior to marriage could be considered illegal and result in having the object of their affections forget them completely.
“There are cases of wizards adopting Muggle children, but only if the children are orphans. That won’t work here, as Daisy still has living relatives who care for her. And Draco probably doesn’t want to adopt a Muggle child, anyway.”
Draco scowled, but said nothing, focussing on the papers before him, although he shuffled them in such a way Harry thought he wasn’t seeing them at all.
They were all silent for long moments. Harry wanted to reach across the table and still Draco’s hands. Hermione kept glancing furtively between the two of them and then dove back into the words on a page to keep from being caught staring.
“What if I do?” Draco asked finally.
Harry blinked at him. Hermione asked, “What?”
“What if I want to adopt a Muggle child? Daisy’s grandparents are old; they can’t care for her forever. Her parents had no siblings. Daisy has no uncles or cousins, or anyone at all that I know of. What will happen to her when her grandparents die?”
“You can’t kill her grandparents!” Hermione burst out.
Draco gave her such a look of horrified astonishment that Harry burst out laughing. Draco’s glare turned on him immediately. “God, Hermione, Draco would never kill her grandparents. They bloody well love him, and he them, most likely, although he’ll never admit it.” Harry wiped at a stray tear. “Honestly. He meant eventually.”
“It’s nice to know your opinion of me has not improved, Granger,” Draco said dryly, and Harry was glad to note that his feathers seemed to have been smoothed by Harry’s hilarity.
To her credit, Hermione looked abashed. “I’m sorry. I guess old habits die hard. Of course you meant eventually.” She snatched at another book and flipped it open to a marked page. “I’m sure there must be some precedence for a similar case somewhere, although these are generally cases of relation by blood.” She babbled on for a bit, talking mostly to herself in an obvious attempt to cover her embarrassment.
Harry’s foot stole out and nudged Draco’s gently, caressing with the edge of his trainer and wishing he had given in to impulse rather than rationality and sat next to Draco.
“Wait, you mentioned fostering,” Hermione said. “Maybe there is something there. Just because there is no precedent doesn’t mean it isn’t possible.” Her eyes locked with Harry’s and he recognized the fire of excitement therein. Harry felt an immediate sense of relief. She had an idea. Finally. Everything would be all right.
~~**~~
Several hours later they Flooed back to the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. Draco walked to the sink, turned on the water, and washed his hands with an almost ritual care. Harry leaned against the table, amused.
“Washing off the Hermione taint?” Harry asked, refraining from using the word mudblood at the last moment, not wanting to start an argument.
Draco snorted. “Hardly. I love books, but they do leave grit on your hands, especially ancient, dusty tomes full of rhetoric and legal nonsense.”
Despite his flippant words, Harry sensed Draco’s frustration and suspected the hand-washing was an attempt to expunge more than simple dust. He pushed away from the table and went to place his hands on Draco’s shoulders, kneading gently. Draco stiffened for a moment and his hands stilled beneath the water, and then he relaxed and sighed. “This isn’t going to work. They will refuse and Daisy will be Obliviated, and I will go to Azkaban, and you will…”
Harry kissed the side of Draco’s neck, trailing feather-light pecks from his earlobe down to the collar of his shirt. Draco leaned back into his hands. He turned off the water and tipped his head to the side, allowing Harry to kiss him properly, if a bit awkwardly, on the mouth. They nibbled each other’s lips for long minutes, gentle kisses with more suction than tongue. Harry pressed himself tightly to Draco’s back and his hands stole around to pull him even closer. Draco fit against him so perfectly he felt as though a missing piece of himself had been found and locked into place.
Draco’s wet hands wrapped around Harry’s and clenched tightly. “Will you… Will you come with me? To talk to Gail and Quentin?”
Harry kissed him once more, basking in the warm glow of having Draco in his arms. “Of course, I will,” he said, pleased to be included. He had expected Draco to want to go alone. Draco had seemed so strong and confident lately, in all of his dealings with various Muggles. When it came to Daisy, however, his uncertainty was touching. The fact that he allowed Harry to see it was somehow more intimate than the kissing. “Shall we go, then?”
Draco blinked at him. “What, now?”
Harry was curious to know what else Draco had planned for now if they did not go sort Daisy’s matter, but he dared not ask. Harry had to stay focussed. “Yes, now. Kingsley only gave us 48 hours and we’ve used nearly half of that doing research. We have the papers Hermione drafted—thank goodness she works in Law Enforcement or it would have taken us a week to get those—so let’s go do this.”
Draco swallowed heavily, but nodded. Harry dried their hands with a quick spell and then pushed reluctantly away from Draco, who turned round and then frowned. “I’ll need to pop home and change—”
Harry snorted and shook his head. “Draco. You look fine. Gail and Quentin will not care what you are wearing and Daisy can’t see you. And I think you look bloody gorgeous, so let’s get on, shall we?”
Myriad emotions played across Draco’s features, including annoyance, uncertainty, and then a hint of a smile, but he nodded. He held his hands out to Harry. “Side-along?”
Harry knew where they were going, but he was not about to pass up an opportunity to touch Draco, so he stepped forwards and took his hands. Draco leaned in and kissed him as they Apparated; it was a strange, but not unwelcome, sensation.
They appeared in Draco’s room at the boarding house. Draco released his hands and Harry sighed, knowing he had been outwitted. “Draco…”
“Shush, I’m not changing my clothes. This is the safest place to Apparate to without drawing attention, plus it’s raining and Impervius Charms tend to draw attention. You might want to grab that Muggle umbrella by the door.” As he spoke, Draco walked towards the bathroom, pausing only to allow Malachite to land on his shoulder. He reached up to stroke the dragon and continued into the small room. Harry heard water running and the muted sound of Draco crooning to the wooden beast. He smiled and walked to the door to pick up the sturdy black umbrella.
Draco looked the same when he exited the bathroom, except his hair seemed to have been combed and fell into place perfectly over his brow. Harry shook his head in bemusement and threw him a grin. Draco took the dragon from his shoulder and dropped him onto the back of the sofa. Malachite flapped his wings and spat out a burst of fake fire.
“Stop that. I can’t take you with me. I’ll be back soon enough. Don’t knock anything over and stay away from that plant. I’ve seen you eyeing it.” He shook an admonishing finger at the dragon, who drew himself up haughtily and wrapped his tail around himself before looking through the window, as though dismissing Draco completely.
Harry blinked at the dragon, who seemed to have acquired much more of Draco’s personality than anticipated. He followed Draco through the door and down the stairs.
“What does Malachite do when you’re gone?” Harry asked.
“I don’t know, but I assume the usual pet-like things. He frequently acts like he’s sleeping. He doesn’t actually sleep, does he?”
“Well, it simulates sleeping. I put a Self-Repairing Charm on the dragons and the diagnostic and adjustment spells can take several hours. The spells are set to run when the owner is absent or asleep.”
“Tricky magic.”
“I had help.”
“Granger?”
“Luna Lovegood, mostly.” Harry had gifted Luna with his first custom dragon, a rainbow coloured creature with glittering scales and eyes of opal.
Draco raised a brow, but said nothing as they pushed through the door and headed out towards the street. They walked together beneath the umbrella, arms brushing. The rain was minimal, but steady enough to warrant the protection. Malfoy surreptitiously cast an Impervius just to ensure they would stay extra dry, or more likely to keep his hair perfect, Harry suspected.
Daisy flung herself at Draco the moment the door opened. Gail invited them in and then admonished Daisy to stop smothering Draco. She looked at Harry appraisingly as they sat upon the sofa. An older gentleman walked out of the kitchen. “Draco, if you’re here about the fence, I told you I would take care of it.”
“No, it’s… it’s not about the fence, Quentin.” Draco looked pointedly at Daisy, and then at Gail and away.
“That’s a very serious face, dear. Daisy, you go off and play now while we talk about adult things.”
“But Draco just got here,” she protested with a pout.
“I was here just yesterday, imp, and we went out for ice cream. Now go on, I’ll come and speak with you before we leave.”
“Oh, all right.” She sighed as if heavily put-upon, and then dragged her way slowly into her room. She closed the door, but Harry thought he heard it creak open again. He had little doubt she was listening.
Quentin sat in a well-worn chair that looked broken-in and comfortable. “How about that last United game, Draco? And who is this, then? Are you a football fan?”
Gail gave Quentin a disapproving look. “Be polite, Quentin. No need to bend the ear of everyone you meet with talk of that infernal game.”
“This is Harry,” Draco said. “He’s my…” He looked at Harry, then, and obvious panic widened his grey eyes.
“Boyfriend?” Harry supplied helpfully.
“Boyfriend,” Draco repeated in a rush. “Yes. That.”
Gail clucked her tongue. “Is that what you came to discuss with us, Draco? You should know we don’t mind that sort of thing, not like some others. My best friend Maribeth has a son, remember young Jack, Quentin? He’s been here plenty of times and even brought his beau over on Boxing Day last year. Lovely boys, both of them.”
Quentin waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah, we don’t care about that none. You a Manchester United fan, Harry?”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow football, sir,” Harry replied.
Quentin looked crestfallen, but he perked up. “Like a beer?”
Harry grinned. “That I would.”
“Good man. I know Draco won’t touch the stuff, although he’s had a nip of whiskey now and again. Draco?”
“No, thank you, Quentin. I’m here to talk about Daisy.”
The elder couple shared a look and Harry felt sudden tension fill the room.
“I think I’ll fetch that beer,” Quentin said and got to his feet. He walked into the kitchen.
“Is it… bad news, Draco?” Gail asked tremulously. She glanced at Harry as though his presence had become somehow ominous.
“No!” Draco said hastily. “No, of course not. I just have a proposal for you. I mean, something I would like you to consider. You don’t have to agree.”
Gail relaxed slightly. Quentin returned from the kitchen with two bottles of beer. He handed one to Harry, who took it and noticed it had already been opened. It was a courtesy in the Muggle world, where one seldom had to worry about random potions being slipped into it at a stranger’s house. He took a quick drink and nodded his thanks.
“It’s like this,” Draco said haltingly. “I like Daisy very much. Every day that I don’t see her I feel like something is missing. I wish she was my own daughter. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, and then I thought…” Harry reached out and put a hand on Draco’s knee, touching lightly. It was somewhat shocking to see the normally cool and collected man completely flustered. “I mean… that is to say…”
“Draco would like to foster Daisy, with your permission. And if anything should happen to you, then Daisy will be well taken care of, assuming you do not have other kin that you’ve already selected to care for her in that event. Not that anything will, of course, but only as a safeguard.”
“This is very sudden, Draco,” Gail said into the surprised silence.
“I’ve been thinking about it awhile,” Quentin said and took a long pull at his beer.
Draco had been about to speak, but he looked at Quentin with a brow lifted. Gail looked at her husband, obviously astonished.
“You have?” Gail asked.
“Yeah. If anything happens to us, Daisy would go to that no-good cousin of yours. The druggie. Probably sell Daisy on the streets for a hit, that one.”
Gail wrinkled her nose and frowned, but she did not deny it.
“I would take excellent care of her,” Draco said fervently. “She could go to the best schools and have opportunities I’ve wanted to provide for her, but did not dare. I have not wanted to overstep my bounds.” Draco coughed, but powered on. “Anyway, now that I’ve made up my mind there is a bit of a timing issue. I’ll be out of the country starting tomorrow evening and since I despise… flying, well, I would like to draw up the necessary papers to provide Daisy access to my not-insubstantial financial assets should anything happen to me.” At Harry’s gasp of surprise, Draco’s lips thinned into a line. “Well, planes crash, you know.”
Harry nodded. They had worked out the explanation with Hermione to account for the hurry, but Draco had not mentioned giving Daisy access to the Malfoy fortune. Such a thing went beyond Muggle fostering and stepped into the murky realm of wizarding law and pure-blood prejudices.
Harry shook off his surprise. It was possible Draco meant something else. He might have funds in a Muggle bank that he would be willing to provide to Daisy; it didn't mean that he was planning to adopt her as an official heir or anything. Such a thing would probably kill Lucius, which might not be a bad thing. Harry slanted a glance at Draco, momentarily ashamed at the thought, since Lucius was Draco’s father, after all.
Draco pulled an envelope from the coat he wore. He opened it and extracted a sheaf of papers. "I realize there is a lot to go through, but feel free to have a barrister look it over if you have questions. I'll be back for your answer tomorrow at 2pm. Do you mind if I go and speak with Daisy? I won't mention any of this to her, of course."
"Don't be silly," Gail said. "Go." She waved him off with a smile and Draco rose and went down the hall to Daisy's room. Gail looked at Harry. "What do you think of all this?"
Harry swallowed. "I've never seen him care for anyone the way he cares for Daisy. It's... really special."
"How long have you known Draco?" Quentin asked over the edge of his beer bottle. Harry suddenly felt like a teenager being grilled by the parents of his first crush.
"Since we were eleven, actually. But it's only been in the past few weeks that we rediscovered one another." Harry smiled and glanced down the hallway before pitching his voice lower. "I quite like him now."
"And how would this," Gail gestured to the papers, "affect your relationship?"
Harry shrugged. "It wouldn't. Draco means for Daisy to be a part of his life, regardless of your decision, and whether that involves occasional visits and walks to the local market for treats, or something more parental and complex, then I will accept either option as part and parcel or who he is. Really, I only want for him to be happy." Even as he said it, Harry realized it was true.
Draco returned with Daisy hopping behind him like a bunny, feet together and thumping on the carpet. "Draco is going now, but he promised to come and see me tomorrow and maybe bring me chocolate, as long as I don't eat it all at once. Is that okay?"
"Yes, Daisy." Gail's voice was doting, but she seemed somewhat tired to Harry. He wondered how difficult it would be for an older couple to raise a young, exuberant child, especially one with Daisy's special needs. He hoped they would be willing to accept Draco's help, and not merely because Harry wanted to keep them out of trouble with the Ministry.
“Are you coming back tomorrow, too, Harry?” she asked.
“If Draco would like me to. And you, of course.”
“I certainly would.” She paused and added, “Draco probably would, too. If you get ranty again, I’m sure he would like to shut you up some more.” She smirked.
Harry blushed and looked at Draco, remembering the first time Draco had kissed him. Draco grinned, seeming relaxed for the first time since their arrival.
“Goodbye, Daisy,” Draco said with a warning tone.
“Bye, Draco.” She hugged him and then turned in Harry’s direction and flung her arms wide. “Hugs, Harry.”
Harry smiled in bemusement and then bent down to wrap her in a solid embrace, doubting she would appreciate a weak hug.
“You’re a good hugger, Harry. And you smell almost as nice as Draco,” she said. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow, Daisy.” Harry straightened, bid good evening to Gail and Quentin, and followed Draco out the door.
Without preplanning, they started back towards Draco’s flat, but Harry suddenly did not want to face the awkwardness that would doubtless ensue once they reached the confines of the boarding house, with memories of slow kisses and an aborted love scene fresh in his mind.
“Let’s go to dinner,” Harry said impulsively.
Grey eyes slid over to meet his. The rain had stopped and they were not walking quite so closely together as before. “You mean out somewhere?”
“Yes, I don’t feel like cooking and you look as though you might go home and mope.”
“Malfoys don’t mope.”
“Lounge about artfully in a depressed funk?”
Draco snorted an almost-laugh. “Fine. Where do you want to go?”
“I know a place,” Harry said. He happily reached out and took Draco’s arm, then looked around carefully for watchful Muggles before Apparating them away.
~~**~~
“That was truly awful,” Draco said when they pushed through the glass doors an hour later.
“I know!” Harry protested with a groan. The place he had chosen had apparently changed ownership or management and their formerly flavourful food had become nearly inedible. They had spent the entirety of the meal poking at unrecognizable meat chunks swimming in various off-coloured sauces and eating little but naan dipped in one of the less-offending gravies.
“What do you think that green stuff was meant to be?” Draco asked.
“I’m afraid to speculate. At least the bread was good.”
“Thank Salazar, or we might have starved.”
“I promise it was better before.” Harry laughed, impressed anew that Draco was amused instead of offended at Harry’s bad choice. “Can I make it up to you with dessert?”
“What do you have in mind?” Harry didn’t think he imagined the seductive slant to Draco’s voice and his blood rushed through his veins, making his reply slightly breathless.
“I happen to have a chocolate cake at home in my cupboard.”
“Are you luring me into your domain with chocolate cake?”
“Maybe. Is it working?”
“Does it have those fancy curls on top?”
“It might have.”
Draco shoved him into the next alleyway they passed and then pushed him up against the rough stone wall. For a moment, Harry thought he meant to kiss him, but Draco only leaned close and then smiled, all pearlescent teeth and gleaming silver eyes. “All right, then,” he purred.
When Harry got his wits back, he Apparated them to Grimmauld Place.
The cake did not have chocolate curls, but instead tiny chocolate flowers that mollified Draco, who ate with a minimum of pornographic sounds. Harry could only assume Draco was secretly worried about the outcome of the morrow’s events, because the cake was sinful.
Harry had suggested they eat in the study. It was more intimate than the kitchen, and also seemed cosier thanks to the proximity of a crackling fire that battled with the sound of the renewed downpour outside. Harry was proud of the cream coloured sofa he had purchased for the room. It was stylish and comfortable, with plenty of room for two grown men to stretch out on its length and cuddle. Not that any such thing was happening at the moment.
He and Draco sat almost-facing one another, shoes off, bodies angled inwards and knees touching. Kreacher had thrust a dessert wine into Harry’s hand whilst Draco had visited the loo, and they sipped at the liquid and talked about some of the Muggles Draco had met. He seemed to be full of stories, and full of life. Harry was enchanted with the way his pale eyes danced, and the way the wine gleamed upon his lips after every sip.
“And then the fabric tore straight down the middle—you know, instead of staring at my mouth, you could just kiss me,” Draco said and then smiled beatifically at Harry’s intake of breath. He did not need additional incentive. Harry leaned forward and pulled at Draco’s lips with his own, licking at the residue of sweet wine before following the flavour inside.
Draco’s kisses tasted of wine and chocolate, and were better than both together. Harry pulled away to take both glasses and set them on the table before resuming a more comfortable position. He slid one leg between Draco’s and settled in, intent on spending hours at the task, if necessary. With each gentle flick of Draco’s tongue and each hot, panted breath on his face, Harry thought kissing Draco could be the best thing in the world. His hands clenched into the fabric of Draco’s shirt.
Draco pulled away and Harry let go immediately. “We can… take it slow,” Harry said. “No pressure.”
Surprisingly, Draco smiled. “While it’s admirable of you to rein in your libido, Potter, I was only going to say that it’s a bit warm in here.” With that, Draco’s hands moved to the buttons of his shirt and began to unfasten them. Harry watched, unable to speak, or even to think, though the near-electric shocks that were travelling through his body, centred in his groin. They grew in strength and intensity at each new glimpse of pale flesh revealed.
“I—” he tried.
“You look warm, too. Let me help you.” Draco’s shirt gaped open as he leaned forwards and dragged the hem of Harry’s shirt from his jeans. He paused for a moment, but Harry nodded, and Draco pulled the t-shirt over Harry’s head with a careful movement that only mussed his hair a bit. His glasses, however, snagged in the fabric and ended up lost inside the shirt.
“Um…” Harry said and instantly forgot what he was going to say when Draco’s hand touched his bare chest. It drew down, down, over his ribs and then around to his back before gliding upwards over one shoulder blade and down once more, long fingers bumping slowly over the bones of his spine, palm brushing in a gooseflesh-inducing trail. It wasn’t until then that Harry noticed Draco was quite a lot closer, practically straddling him in order to reach round him. The straying hand pressed against the small of Harry’s back, urging him even closer.
“Can you see me?” Draco asked in a teasing tone.
“I’m short-sighted, not blind,” Harry said with a snort. In fact, he thought Draco’s eyes looked larger and even more beautiful without the sharpening quality of his lenses. “I can see you just fine.”
“Pity. I was hoping you might need to feel your way.”
“I think my vision just degenerated,” Harry said breathlessly and put his hand out to touch Draco. His skin was warm and smooth, and so very bare. Harry loved to be touched, to feel a hand on his skin, awakening nerve endings and tingling over unexpected sensitive areas, but he had not realized that it was brilliant to touch, as well. Those same nerve endings were in his hands, feeling each ripple and dip and rise of Draco’s flesh, warmth radiating back from warmth, curling into Harry’s skin as his hand ventured into each new place.
Draco was more solid than Harry had expected, not overly-slender and bony, but fit and covered with surprising muscle in interesting places. It was different than touching Ginny, more erotic somehow and just… more.
The kisses developed an urgency that translated to their hands, longer caresses, fingers tightening convulsively before falling away, breath catching, gasping for air before they dove back in for the next play of tongue on tongue. Harry thought he might combust.
“Up… upstairs,” he offered. “Bedroom?” He pulled away then, processing the words that had just crossed his lips. “I mean. If you want to.”
Draco laughed, low and sexy. “Yes,” he said simply.
Harry exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He linked his fingers with Draco’s and tugged, pulling Draco to his feet. The bedroom had never seemed so far away.
Harry’s nervousness returned once they were upright. Would Draco change his mind and insist that Harry was only experimenting? He decided not to chance it by dragging him into another kiss. Draco couldn’t protest if he couldn’t speak. Of course, that made it nearly impossible to travel. Thankfully, Harry remembered that he was a wizard.
“Hold on,” he murmured and Apparated them upstairs to his bedroom.
“Resourceful,” Draco murmured, sounding appreciative. Harry flushed with pleasure, thinking it might have been the nicest thing Draco had ever said to him.
“I try,” Harry replied and then moved his hands down to cup Draco’s arse and pull him closer. Exquisite hardness bumped against him, sending a jolt of want straight down to his toes. Draco’s answering moan compounded it.
Harry brazenly slid one hand around to the front, pulling away only enough to push a hand between them and toy with the waistband of Draco’s trousers. He almost forgot to breathe, choking on the fear that Draco was only toying with him and would depart at any moment.
Instead, he felt Draco’s fingers against the top button of his jeans, undoing the round bits of metal with more grace than Harry was managing. He was tempted to tear away the stupid little fancy buttons, but they gave way just as his patience reached its end, and just as Draco’s hand slipped into his jeans to push against his erection; only the fabric of Harry’s pants stood between his warm fingers and Harry’s bare flesh.
“Oh,” Harry said and leaned forwards to kiss him again. Draco's fingers stroked in time with his tongue lapping against Harry’s, and it was long moments before Harry realized that his own hand had frozen on the waistband of Draco’s trousers, gripping like a lifeline. He let go of the fabric and touched in turn, sliding his fingertips over Draco’s hardness and earning a gasp as Draco bucked into his questing hand.
It was enticing beyond reason, and very much not enough. He pushed at Draco’s trousers, barely noticing them slide down bare, slender legs. “May—” He stopped, mouth so dry he had to swallow in order to form words. “May I?” he asked and brushed his fingers over the edge of Draco’s pants, the last obstacle between him and what he desperately wanted.
“Yes,” Draco replied and Harry felt his own jeans fall to the floor around his ankles. He lifted the edge of Draco’s pants and pulled them gently away before tugging them down. His eyes moved downwards, unable to stop himself from staring. Harry had come to grips with his preference for men, but rationalizing it was a far cry from having an actual cock in front of him, hard and full of promise and… He trailed his fingers over it gingerly and felt a visceral rush like nothing he had ever experienced. He suddenly wanted to touch it, kiss it, taste it…
Steadying himself, he did so, touching it gingerly, breath catching at the velvety softness of it, which seemed strangely different from his own. He noticed Draco had stilled and the knowledge boosted his courage; he wrapped his hand around it as though claiming ownership.
Draco made a sound low in his throat and then kissed Harry once more. Draco’s hands slid over his arse and pushed down Harry’s pants before returning the favour, taking Harry’s cock in hand and running his thumb over the tip. It was brilliant.
They spent quite some time standing in one spot stroking one another and kissing languidly, until Harry thought he might come right there without moving. It didn’t seem like a bad thing, but since a nice, comfortable bed stood just feet away he thought he should at least make the effort.
“Bed?” he breathed between wet kisses that had become sloppy from distraction.
“Yes,” Draco replied, and wasn’t that an amazingly lovely word? Harry had never fully appreciated it before.
He tried to kick himself free of his pooled clothing while Draco did the same, all without releasing their grips on each other’s cocks. They moved backwards towards the bed and had almost made it when Harry’s foot slipped and sent them both sprawling. He landed atop Draco, who was mostly on the bed.
Surprised gazes locked and then Draco chuckled. “Graceful.”
“It was taking too long to get you here,” Harry said and kissed him hungrily once more.
Draco made a sound of agreement and then pushed at Harry, who lifted himself away. They broke the kiss only long enough for Draco to make himself more comfortable in the centre of the bed and for Harry to crawl over him like a predator. The tip of his cock caught on Draco’s as he moved and they both froze. Harry repeated the motion, and then again, rubbing their cocks together until the friction drove him half mad. When Draco’s hand wrapped around both hard pricks, Harry’s eyes nearly rolled up into his head from the sensation.
He quickly shifted his weight and put a hand down to join Draco’s. They stroked in unison and Harry quivered. He was going to come and this barely qualified as sex, except that they were both naked and in bed and, fuck, it didn’t even matter because it felt amazing.
And then a horrible thought occurred to Harry and he stopped moving with a gasp. “Oh god,” he said. “This isn’t… You aren’t doing this out of a sense of… You aren’t doing this as repayment, are you?” Harry winced as soon as the words tumbled out, because Draco was here and they were having sex, albeit vague, fumbling handjob sex, and it shouldn’t matter, except that it did matter.
“What?” Draco asked, blinking at him as though having difficulty focussing.
“Your note. You sent me a thank you note and mentioned repayment.” Harry tried not to sound frantic, but if Draco was only here out of a sense of gratitude, then he would leave tomorrow and possibly forever, and if they managed to stay out of Azkaban, then Harry would feel wretched, because—
“You are an idiot.”
Harry scowled. “Thank you, that’s not—“ His words were cut off as Draco gripped a fistful of his hair and dragged him down into a bruising kiss. His pained protest was drowned by Draco’s lips. After a few moments of seemingly trying to devour him, Draco used the grip on his hair to pull him away. “Ow,” Harry managed.
“Of course this is not about repayment. I’m here because I want you and it’s obvious, very obvious, that you want me, so let’s get back to it, shall we? Unless you prefer that I bring myself off while you watch, out of some misguided sense of morality?”
“Um…” Harry’s relief warred with the erotic thought of watching Draco pull himself off and for a moment he couldn’t reply as his brain fought to choose, but then the hand still holding his cock squeezed and everything became clear again. “Back to it, yes, um… sorry.” He moved his hand again helpfully, pushing Draco’s fist up the length of their cocks in an attempt to return to their former exquisite rhythm. Thankfully, Draco seemed amenable to the endeavour.
Draco’s other hand released from his hair and trailed down his back, pulling him closer. Harry fell into bliss once more and stopped thinking as his world narrowed to his nerve endings and the tingling shocks that were beginning to quiver through his body.
“Close,” he murmured.
“Me, too,” Draco said, panting against his lips. They had given up trying to kiss when their movements became more frantic. Harry’s arms ached, but he wouldn’t have stopped for the world, especially when Draco’s harsh breathing ceased entirely and he felt Draco’s cock pulse against his and jolted in his hand. As the first drop of warmth hit his fingers, Harry lost control. His orgasm rocked through him. The knowledge that his come mingled with Draco’s seemed suddenly, stupidly romantic. He might have felt like a sap if there were room for any feeling besides ecstasy.
He wanted to collapse on Draco and sleep forever, but instead he sprawled next to him, arms like noodles, panting like he’d run a marathon. Draco’s eyes were closed and he gleamed with sweat that Harry suddenly wanted to lick from his body. He grimaced at his own thoughts and found Draco’s eyes open and watching him.
“That bad?” Draco asked, voice laced with amusement.
“You know it was brilliant. I was just thinking that we should clean you up,” Harry said and lifted his hand to trail it through the mess on Draco’s flat stomach.
“I don’t have the energy to Summon my wand.”
“Good. That means you don’t have the energy to leave, either.”
“I wasn’t planning to.” Draco’s matter-of-fact tone took Harry’s breath away. He swallowed and pressed a kiss onto Draco’s shoulder, unable to speak. Draco went on, “Only because of your superior breakfast-making skills, of course.” Harry’s kiss turned into a playful bite and Draco’s laugh washed over him, filling him with pleasant warmth.
“Prat,” Harry said teasingly. “Accio wand.” He caught his wand and cast a quick Cleaning Charm on them both. “Up, you,” he said, “Under the blankets. I’m getting cold.”
They manoeuvred beneath the covers and ended up with Harry spooned around Draco, holding him tightly and trying to keep strands of blond hair out of his mouth. Draco said nothing more and soon his breathing became slow and even. Despite the hair in his mouth, his slowly numbing right arm, and the fact that he was becoming too warm from the heat radiating from Draco’s body, Harry couldn’t remember ever feeling so contented.
I could get used to this, he thought happily and drifted off to sleep.