All You Need Is A Little Jealousy
Summary: Draco is not gay—he has a girlfriend after all. But when his good friend, Harry Potter, gets a boyfriend, why does Draco feel like going on a killing spree? Oneshot.
Warnings: Some Oliver Wood/Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy/Astoria Greengrass
Author's Note: Written for prompt #100 from badcook for dracotops-harry. Livejournal 2012. Oh how I love jealousy - so much so that my first oneshot fic has 'jealousy' in the title.
Prompt: A jealous!Draco fic from Harry's point of view. Draco and Harry are friends and Draco recently acquires a girlfriend and Harry is starting to come in to terms with his not-so-platonic feelings for Draco. I'd like Harry to be extremely subtle and not show his feelings. Like maybe thinking that Draco is 100% straight and not do anything about it, stupidly supporting Draco in his relationship with the girlfriend. Oblivious!Draco comes to him with all sorts of problems with his girlfriend and expects Harry to help him out every single time. Until Harry himself acquires a boyfriend and comes to Draco with his own set of problems expecting Draco to help. This in turn induces Draco into silently simmering in anger at Harry being with someone else, not realising why until later. Quiet!Shy!Harry and an outgoing, not a player, Draco.
"She's bloody irritating!" Draco exclaimed before downing another bottle of Firewhiskey. Harry nodded sympathetically and took a sip of his butterbeer, patting Draco on the back. Here, in Hogshead (since Draco was not allowed in the Three Broomsticks due to the events in his Sixth Year), sat Hogwarts' Potions and Defence of the Dark Arts teachers respectively, having their regular drinking session.
It was weird, really. Harry had never expected to become friends with Draco Malfoy.
In fact, if someone had told Harry a few years ago that he would be all chummy-chummy with Draco Malfoy a couple of years later, he would have immediately stupified them before sending them straight to St. Mungo's to spend the rest of their life in the Janus Thickey wards. But now, not only were they the best of friends (Draco was just behind his friendship with Ron and Hermione by this much), Harry might be harbouring the tiniest of crushes on the tall blond. Just a little crush. Very insignificant…
Oh who was he trying to kid? His 'tiny' crush was as huge as Hogwarts!
How did Harry get himself into this mess?
When Harry had received an invitation to teach Defence Against The Dark Arts on his nineteenth birthday, he had been so excited at the idea of going back to his old and first home that he jumped at the opportunity. Ron and Hermione were happy for him and encouraged his choice, especially since after the death of Voldemort, Harry's life had basically consisted of staying at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, with the occasional shopping trip (though Harry rarely did that either, preferring to ask Kreacher to shop).
Saying that the war took its toil on Harry was the understatement of the century.
Apparently, Headmaster McGonagall had heard of his predicament from a little birdie (read: Ron and Hermione) and decided that she had the perfect plan to pull Harry out of his isolation.
But she had conveniently forgotten to mention the major deal breaker. The bane of Harry's existence (apart from Voldemort)—Draco bloody Malfoy —was the Head of Slytherin and teaching Potions!
No way Harry was going to work with him.
After listening to Harry's hour-long rant session, McGonagall finally had enough.
"Harry," she said, "Draco's changed. He's really not the boy you knew anymore. Just please, give him a chance."
Harry was dumbstruck. He had never heard his former Transfiguration teacher speak with such conviction for someone—especially a slimy Slytherin—before and decided that if Malfoy had managed to convince McGonagall, the strictest person Harry had met in his life by far, that he was different and repentant, then he deserved a second chance.
The first year teaching together had been…cold. That was the only word Harry could think of to describe it. Whenever they had passed each other in the halls, a cool nod of acknowledgement was given before they rushed away back to their separate lives. Harry was willing to bet his entire fortune (both the Potter and Black vaults, as well as his personal one) that even the students could feel the tense atmosphere whenever he and Malfoy were stuck in the same room.
However, this icy indifference did not last past the second year. Harry had been hurt badly when (this was embarrassing!) two stray curses had hit him in one of the seventh years' class, and no spell could fix it. The curses must have made a terrible combination because addition wounds would appear on Harry's body every time Harry attempted to take a Healing draught. It had been terrifying and oh so painful that Harry would almost prefer fighting Voldemort again to suffering the random deep cuts which would appear all over his body. Almost.
It was Malfoy who saved the day. He had spent three sleepless days working relentlessly on a potion that would help purge the curses from Harry's body. And it worked.
From that day onwards, Harry and Draco had started a tentative friendship that had formed into a strong bond. They would go to the pub together, chat whenever they had free time, eat their meals together... Their friendship was uncomplicated (surprisingly devoid of the fights that made up their Hogwarts' years).
Well… that was until Harry started getting butterflies in his stomach whenever Draco was in close vicinity.
Merlin, Harry was fucked.
Draco had recently gotten a girlfriend, Astoria Greengrass. The very thought sent pangs of hurt through Harry's heart but since Harry knew that he did not have a chance with Draco, he thought that he might as well try to keep his jealousy under wraps and try his best to be the supportive friend that Draco needed.
Draco still had friends; Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass being a few of them. However, Parkinson and Zabini were overseas (having their honeymoons with their respective spouses), Nott was too busy playing professional Quidditch, and it was just too weird to complain about Astoria to her sister. So that was where Harry came in.
In fact, this was the third time this week that Draco has approached Harry with his girlfriend problems. Harry honestly thought that this was an obvious sign that they would not work out. But he had made a promise to himself that he would not—would not—let his feelings for Draco affect the advice he gave.
"Draco, you must understand that some women want a sign of commitment before they hop into your bed. Try to be more patient," Harry advised, though he was a bit distracted by a strand of hair dangling temptingly over Draco's face.
"But Haaarrrrrry! Y'know how I feel about commitment! And I haven't had a good shag in weeks!" Draco complained, his words slurred, his hands flying to Harry shoulders. Draco shook him hard before letting go, returning to his drink with vigour.
"Come on Draco, it can't be that bad…" Harry said, rubbing his sore shoulders and winced (Draco had a tight grip), though he honestly wouldn't know himself.
"You don't understand! After all, you aren't in a relationship! You can shag whoever you want, whenever you want! I can't! I feel so deprived!" And now Draco was yanking on his own hair. Okay, Harry thought, he's definitely drunk. Draco would never willingly mess up his hair.
"It's okay, it's okay," Harry tried to comfort him but knew he was fighting a lost cause. Draco drunk was a hysterical drunk. If Harry didn't get him away in time, Draco would cause a huge scene, which he would later deny ever causing. Malfoys don't get drunk, Draco had said once when Harry accused him of puking on his shoes. Harry snorted. Never get drunk, my arse. "You could always uh—wank or something. It'll help."
"When was the last time you got laid?" Draco asked suddenly, and the glazed look in his eyes cleared a little.
Harry didn't know what to say. He could feel blood rushing to his face at an alarming pace. "Um… well…uh?" Harry stuttered, trying to answer but failing miserably.
What exactly was he supposed to say? "Never, since I'm secretly in love with you and don't want to give myself to anybody else"? Right, that would go smoothly. Harry really didn't want to answer.
How pathetic am I? Twenty-three years old and still a virgin? Draco would definitely laugh his head off.
"Well? Aren't you going to answer me? Or are you going to keep gaping like a goldfish?" Draco's words broke Harry out of his reverie. Harry could only smile weakly in return; inwardly praying to Merlin that Draco would connect his red face to the summer heat and not to his utter embarrassment.
"Oh." Draco finally realised the reason he wasn't getting a reply. "You're a virgin, aren't you?"
Harry could only nod, trying and failing to will his blush away. Harry closed his eyes and braced himself, waiting for the onslaught of Draco's teasing.
But it didn't come.
After a pregnant pause, Harry slowly opened his eyes. He almost jumped when he noticed that Draco was a hairbreadth away from his face, staring intently into his eyes, a serious expression on his face.
Draco was so close. So, so close. If Harry leaned forward, they would be kissing. Just an inch away…
Stop! Harry chided himself. Stop torturing yourself! It's never going to happen. He's straight and has a girlfriend. It's never going to happen.
"Harry, it's okay that you're a virgin, you don't need to be afraid. I won't taunt you. Promise. I just can't believe it—that's all. I mean, you're so beautiful, so smart, so…" Draco was mumbling incoherent words now and Harry's heartbeat sped up.
Draco thinks I'm beautiful? Hope was blossoming in his chest but Harry squashed it almost immediately.
No, Harry thought, he's just drunk. I refuse to let my hopes up.
Harry shook his head fervently, wanting to forget his previous thoughts. He paid for the multiple bottles of Firewhiskey that Draco had ordered, as well as his butterbeer, before turning back to a snoring Draco.
"Get up Draco. You're drunk. We've to go back to Hogwarts." Harry said flatly, tugging Draco's arm, trying to get Draco to the Hogshead's Floo. But Draco was larger and taller than Harry, which definitely posed a problem.
Oliver Wood—former Puddlemere United's Keeper and the recently hired Flying Coach—noticed Harry's struggles from across the bar and decided that Harry could use some help.
"Harry! Fancy meeting you here," Oliver greeted.
Harry dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement, still focused on the task of bringing an inebriated Malfoy to the floo.
"You need some help with that?" Oliver offered, gesturing towards Draco's limp figure.
Harry, in his surprise, let go of Draco and looked upwards at Oliver. It put quite a strain on his neck because Oliver, like Draco, was at least a head taller than him, which made it hard to look him in the eyes. Sometimes, Harry really hated his height, or lack thereof. That aside, Harry has never noticed how brown and warm—like melted chocolates—Oliver's eyes were. Harry's eyes did a silent (and completely involuntary) appraisal of Oliver's figure. He was well-built and burly, courtesy of many hardcore Quidditch practice sessions, his skin a nice golden brown. His hair looked windswept, though there wasn't any wind around, and his eyes sparkled. Harry swallowed, his throat dry all of a sudden.
He has never been attracted to another guy besides Draco before but maybe that was because he didn't leave the castle much and when he did leave, he was usually accompanied with Draco. Maybe, just maybe, Harry might be able to have an actual relationship and finally stop pining for his blond friend.
Harry's train of thought was broken when he heard a groan from his friend on the floor. Right. This was not the time to be contemplating relationships. Oliver was still looking at Harry expectantly, waiting for his reply.
"Sure. Thanks for offering."
Oliver smiled, before bending down to pick Draco off the floor. Harry couldn't keep in a snigger. Draco was being held bridal style; his head flung backwards, a sliver of drool hanging from his open mouth. Oh, Draco would be horrified if he remembered this tomorrow. Harry almost suggested taking a picture to preserve this rare moment of a dishevelled Draco.
Once the party of three got to the floo, Harry threw some floo powder and cried out "Hogwarts, Potion Master Draco's rooms!"
After settling Draco into bed (with Harry pointedly ignoring his delectable pale skin), Oliver and Harry turned to leave.
But, in a flash, Harry was yanked upwards by the front of his T-shirt and soft lips were pressed roughly to his own.
Harry's only coherent thoughts were 'Wow' before he melted into the kiss. Oliver's hands wrapped themselves around Harry's slender waist, pulling him closer, while Harry threw his arms around Oliver's neck, shifting his head to a better angle so Oliver could plunder his tongue deeper into the willing warm cavern beneath, causing both men to moan. Before it got too intense, Harry pulled away, staring up at Oliver, hands still hanging on his neck. "What was that?" he asked, not knowing how they got from helping Draco to snogging.
Oliver just grinned and asked Harry out on a date.
Harry's eyes darted discreetly towards Draco, who was sleeping blissfully on his bed, before answering with a "Yes, I'll love to."
That night, Harry tossed and turned in his bed, thinking about the date he had just agreed to and feeling a twinge of irrational guilt. He felt like he was betraying Draco by accepting to date someone else.
No, Harry thought as he shoved down his guilt, you do not belong to him. It's not betrayal of any kind. Besides, it's high time you moved on.
Harry nodded determinedly to himself, before turning to his side one final time and fell into deep slumber.
"You're going on a what?!" Hermione squeaked excitedly.
Harry rolled his eyes at his friend's antics. Really, he had repeated the same sentence seven times already.
"Hermione, this is the last time I'm going to repeat this. Okay?"
Hermione nodded eagerly, her face betraying her obvious delight.
"I am going on a date with Oliver Wood," Harry stated.
His bushy-haired friend let out such a loud squeal at that statement that Harry instinctively brought his hands up to cover his ears.
"Yikes Hermione. You should squeal louder, I don't think people in China has heard you," Harry quipped.
"Oh shut up!" Hermione said as she playfully slapped his arm. Then her expression turned serious. "You know, maybe Oliver would be able to help you get over Malfoy."
"What? I—I don't like Draco. Not like that," Harry chuckled nervously, his voice an octave higher than usual. Was he really that easy to read? If he was then…then did Draco know?
"Harry. Don't lie to me. I'm your friend you can trust me. You know that," Hermione said in a gentle tone.
But Harry did not want to talk about it. It hurt even thinking about it. He shook his head hard. The message was clear: this subject was closed.
Hermione looked like she wanted to press on but decided against it, knowing not to push Harry to far. She could still remember the first few years after the war. She shuddered slightly at the thought. No, she did not want Harry to return to that state.
So she changed the topic.
"Ron wanted to come but…"
Harry and Hermione continued their weekly chat, neither person bringing up the earlier topic, ignoring the tense atmosphere around them.
"Hey Harry! Do you want to go to Hogshead for a drink?" Draco asked flippantly.
It was the day of Harry's date with Oliver and Harry had put on his best clothing (which still wasn't very appealing), and had spent the better part of his morning prepping. He was just so nervous! The only people his has ever dated were Cho and Ginny. Both girls. And neither had ended very well. Harry was really lacking in the experience department.
How exactly will a gay date go? Harry wondered. Was it the same as a normal one? Harry didn't know, but he wanted this date to be perfect. He was so worried that something would go wrong and with that, all his chances of having a proper relationship.
So when Draco had asked him to go with him to the Hogshead with him, he had almost accepted, just because of his fear. But before he could, Oliver ran up to him and gave him a smoldering hug.
"Oliver!" Harry protested, trying to sound annoyed but ended up giggling like a schoolgirl. Draco observed all this with an irritated look on his face.
"Wood," Draco greeted smoothly, nothing on his face showed irritation, unless you knew him as well as Harry did. "May I ask what you are doing?" He arched an eyebrow, eyeing the scene before him warily.
"Hullo Malfoy, nice to meet you in your sober state." Oliver snickered a bit at that and Harry pretended to cough, trying to hide his own snigger as he remembered that night. Oh he really wished he had taken a photo now! He continued, "And to answer your question, I believe I'm giving my boyfriend a hug."
Boyfriend? Harry thought, a giddy smile appearing on his face, He already thinks of me as his boyfriend?
"Boyfriend." Draco said, mirroring Harry's thoughts. He turned to face Harry, silently asking for confirmation.
Harry felt flush rising up his neck under Draco's heated gaze and ducked his face into Oliver's neck.
"Uh…ya." Harry muttered, still blushing. "I can't go to Hogshead with you today. I've got a date with Oliver."
"Oh. You never mentioned that you had a boyfriend Harry," Draco said, staring pointedly at him.
"I—I guess it slipped my mind," Harry said, a little uneasily. He did not like how moody Draco was looking.
"Okay. I'll leave you lovebirds to your date then," Draco said, somewhat viciously, and turned on his heels, heading back into the castle.
"Geez, what crawled up his arse and died?" Oliver joked. Harry was not amused. Something seemed to be bothering Draco and he didn't know what. Maybe Draco had another falling out with Astoria and needed his help? Harry was getting more and more worried as each second passed.
"Uh hello? Earth to Harry?" Oliver waved his hand in front of Harry's face, trying to get his attention.
"Oh. Sorry about that Oliver. I must have spaced out," Harry replied coyly.
Oliver let out a hearty laugh, which made Harry feel all warm and fuzzy inside, mirth shining in his eyes. He made Harry forget all about Draco and the problems he might or might not have. "I know. So, date?" Oliver asked, offering his arm for Harry to take.
"Let's go," Harry confirmed, accepting the proffered arm, a breathtaking smile on his face.
The pair walked away to Hogsmeade, neither noticing the pair of grey eyes glaring darkly at them from above.
Harry felt light-headed, he felt like he was on cloud nine. Harry was currently lying on his four-poster bed, a goofy grin plastered on his face.
The date had gone wonderfully. First, Oliver had brought him to a newly opened restaurant called Wizarding Wonders (We serve what you deserve!), which had the most mouth-watering food Harry had ever eaten. Harry was definitely going back there again. Maybe on the next date? Harry had voiced this suggestion, before scolding himself for assuming that Oliver would want to go out with him again. He had been afraid that Oliver would have laughed at him for his presumptions but his fears proved unfounded when Oliver had agreed. After lunch, they had went window shopping and when Harry had stared a bit longingly at a pendant embedded with tiny emeralds, Oliver had purchased it for him before putting it on him. It felt right, the cooling sensation of the pendant, resting on his chest. He was still wearing it.
They had spent the rest of their date flying on broomsticks—Harry on his Firebolt, Oliver on his Nimbus 2100. Harry had not ridden on a broom since his days playing on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team and after the date, he had wondered why. Harry resolved to fly more often. He hadn't felt so free in years.
Oliver had kissed him when the date ended, and unlike their first kiss in Draco's bedroom, this one was soft and sweet. Oliver had tasted of nutmeg and pasta sauce (which he had eaten for lunch).
Harry had decided that he quite liked the taste.
The best thing was that, during the date, not once had he thought of Draco. All in all, the date had gone well. Harry believed that, if he continued dating Oliver, he would eventually stop yearning for Draco's affections and start falling for Oliver. Then he would be able to live happily ever after. He deserved happiness after all the shit he has been through with Voldemort, right?
And he refused to be left behind pining when Draco inevitably married Astoria—or if that did not work out, another pureblood girl.
Yes, things were coming together well…
Harry did not understand why Draco was avoiding him. It has been a week since his last date with Oliver and the last time he had spoken to Draco. Harry was getting more and more worried. Was Draco disgusted with his sexuality? No, that couldn't be the reason. Draco had already known Harry was gay. But then why was Draco avoiding him like he had the bleeding plague?
He couldn't take it anymore! Harry needed to know what was going on in Draco's thick head. Needed to know exactly what he had done to make Draco mad.
So, that was why Harry was standing outside Draco Malfoy's bedroom, hammering impatiently on the door.
"What?" Draco practically yelled as he yanked open the door. "Oh, it's you." Draco's face went from irritated to indifferent within a second. That indifference made Harry want to wring Draco's pale neck.
"'Oh, it's you'? That's all you can say after avoiding me for an entire week? Really?" Harry had to rein in his urge to slap the Potion's professor silly.
Looking at Draco's downcast eyes, Harry's rage quickly dissipated.
He questioned Draco again, this time using a softer tone, "What's wrong Draco? What did I do wrong?"
Harry stood outside Draco's door, awkwardly shifting his legs, waiting for Draco's answer.
Draco let out an exasperated sigh before gesturing for Harry to come in. After they were comfortably seated opposite each other on either one of Draco's dark green cushy armchairs, Draco started to speak.
"I'm really sorry for avoiding you for the past week. It's just—I was hurt," Draco admitted.
"Hurt?" Harry repeated, feeling confused.
"Yes hurt. I was hurt that you didn't tell me that you were dating Wood. I'm your friend, aren't I? I told you when I was dating Astoria, didn't I?" Draco explained, frustration radiating from every pore of his body.
"Of course you did. You needed someone to help you solve your plethora of problems," Harry muttered under his breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
"So, are we good now? I'm sorry for avoiding you and everything. I was just upset. Plus, without you, Astoria has been absolutely unbearable!" Draco threw his arms up for exaggeration, the expression of mock tragedy forcing a bout of laughter out of Harry. It was moments like this that reminded Harry of the reasons for his attraction to Draco.
Harry subconsciously sighed. Why couldn't he just get over Draco?
"Yeah, we're good," Harry replied.
Since Draco did not say anything, Harry decided that he had to be the one to continue the conversation.
"Um… so, how's Astoria doing?" Harry inquired, going for a safe topic.
"I wouldn't know, we broke up a few days ago," Draco replied.
"Oh—I'm sorry," said Harry.
"Doesn't matter," Draco dismissed, "Like I said before, she was getting annoying. Without your advice, I was lost."
They continued small talking until dinnertime and Harry was so glad that Draco was talking to him again that he did not realise Draco had steered clear of all mentions of Oliver. Harry was just happy to get his friend back.
Harry and Oliver have been dating for two months now and Oliver has been getting more and more physical.
Harry was terrified.
Perhaps two months was the appropriate time to partake in some sexual activity but inexperienced Harry was going out of his mind with worry.
He wasn't ready.
He'd even made up a ton of excuses in his mind, to be used at his disposal when the question was eventually popped. Harry wasn't stupid; he knew that a couple of kisses (no matter how nice) were not enough to sooth a randy man. But he was afraid, he couldn't do it, he wasn't ready—
I bet you would be ready if Draco was the one… His inner voice interrupted.
Oh yes, and then there was that. Harry hated that, even after two months, he still wanted Draco. Oliver has been sweet, caring, fun…the perfect boyfriend, but Harry's heart kept yearning for something it could never have.
Thanks a lot heart, Harry thought sarcastically.
People should really reconsider the idea of following a piece of muscle when it concerned major life decisions.
But that aside, Harry was still losing his mind at the problem at hand.
He needed to ask someone for advice.
The first name that popped into his mind was Draco. After all, he had been in the same position before; he could probably give a bit of insight to Oliver's perspective.
However, Draco has not been very forthcoming in the advice department
Subsequently after The Confrontation, Harry and Draco's friendship was back on track. Even so, whenever Harry had come to Draco for advice, he would either shrug it off or point out that if they had problems, they should just break it off. Each time, Draco would look extremely annoyed and angry, as if he was wondering how Harry had the gall to come to him for advice. Harry had been irritated at first; after all, he had had to give Draco guidance in the past, but brushed it off later, associating Draco's lack of good advice with Draco's bitterness towards his own failed relationship with Astoria. With time though, Harry convinced himself it would be different. Not only was Harry in dire need of help, he believed that Draco would feel empathetic to Oliver's plight, and would therefore point Harry in the right direction.
Conveniently, they had a pub date set up for tonight where Harry could easily bring up the topic.
Nodding to himself, Harry took out a stack of First Year essays that needed to be graded, ticking and crossing while his mind was anxiously waiting for nightfall.
"What?" Draco exclaimed a bit too loudly, causing the few people in the Hogshead to throw him strange looks.
Harry rolled his eyes at Draco's dramatics. Really, was it so unbelievable that someone found him physically appealing? He looked down at his baggy clothing. Okay, Harry conceded, maybe it was.
Harry sighed.
"I said I needed your advice. What should I do when Oliver asks for—you know, but I'm not ready? Should I just give the go ahead? Or should I tell him to wait? Would he start to get bored of me? What should I do?" Harry whined, not caring if he sounded like a spoilt child. He really needed the advice.
Draco was glaring at an empty space near Harry's head, not saying a word. Harry wiggled in his seat. The stony silence was unsettling.
"Hello? Draco? Please, I really need you advice," Harry tried once again, getting more uncertain as the seconds progressed without a reply from Draco.
"You should only do it when you're ready," Draco finally answered, shifting his heated gaze to Harry's face. Harry fidgeted uncomfortably under the intensity. His mind couldn't stop supplying images of Draco's heated gaze in a different setting. Ones where Harry was pinned under Draco, writhing and begging.
Harry shook those fantasies out of his head. I have a perfectly willing boyfriend to do this with, he reminded himself.
"If he does get bored of you, or worse, if he forces you to have sex with him, dump him. He doesn't deserve you," Draco continued, his voice solid and sure.
"But you—just a few months ago, you were telling me how stupid Astoria was for not letting you screw her. What's so different between that and the situation now?" Harry retorted.
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed, the absolute personification of exasperation. "It's different."
"How?"
"Because! Because—" Draco hesitated for a moment, leaving Harry to wonder what was going through his mind, before stating in a cool tone, "Because, you're a virgin and Astoria wasn't. Plus, didn't you make up an excuse for Astoria? What was it? 'Women need a sign of commitment'?" Draco said, in a poor imitation of Harry's voice.
"I'm not a woman!" Harry sniffed at the insult. Then his expression softened as he palmed the pendant that was hidden underneath his shirt. "He's already proven his commitment," whispered Harry.
"What?" Draco's head shot up, eyes landing on the spot Harry was caressing.
"Oh." Harry realised he hasn't shown Draco the pendant yet. He briefly wondered why before removing the pendant, handing it to Draco.
"Here. Ollie gave me that on our first date," Harry was now in danger of sounding too sappy. He might still secretly love Draco but he also cared deeply for Oliver. He couldn't keep the dreamy tone out of his voice.
He was brought out of his daze, however, when he heard a loud 'THUD!'
Harry looked up in horror. Draco had thrown his pendant forcefully onto the ground. And judging by the half-crazed, half-malicious look in his eyes, it wasn't an accident.
"Why would you do that!?" Harry cried out, bending down to pick up the shattered pieces of his pendant. He was aware that tears were threatening to spill from his eyes. His heart ached. Why?
"I—I—you're just so sickening! It's always 'Oliver this, Oliver that.' I'm sick of it! You're like some lovesick puppy!" Draco spat, not even bothering to defend his actions.
Harry's hand flew, landing with a resounding 'SMACK!' on Draco's face. Draco didn't seem to realize what had happened, holding his now red left cheek in his hand, staring astonished at Harry.
All eyes were on them now.
"Fuck you Malfoy," Harry hissed through gritted teeth, trying to hold back his tears, not wanting to show weakness.
He fled, leaving a shouting Draco behind, running away from him, away from the hurt, away from the pain.
Only when Harry reached his bedroom did he allow the tears to flow, clutching the broken token of Oliver's love to his chest. It was a reminder that, no matter how much Draco hated him; at least he was still loved by someone.
"Harry!" Draco yelled. He had been pounding on Harry's bedroom door for a while now but Harry ignored it. He was still furious with Draco.
"Come on Harry! Hear me out… please," Draco's voice broke at the end, pleading, desperate, vulnerable. Harry's resolve faltered and he went to admit Draco into his room.
Mindful of his red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained face, Harry swiftly turned his head away from the door when Draco burst in.
"Harry," Draco breathed; worry and fear could be heard in his wobbling voice, "I'm sorry for saying those things to you. I—I…" He drifted off then and Harry waited for his explanation.
Draco took a deep breath, and started hesitantly, "Harry, I was j-jealous." Misinterpreting Harry's silence for disgust, Draco's next words tumbled out in a jumble. "I know you don't feel the same way b-but I need you to know." He stared at Harry, trying to gauge his reaction, before lunging at Harry, pulling him into a deep and desperate kiss.
It was rough, teeth clanking, and the coppery tang of blood mixed with Draco's unique flavour of vanilla. It was painful, Draco nipped angrily at Harry's bottom lip, seeming to vent all his frustration into this simple kiss. It was adrenaline-inducing, heart-racing, nerves-wracking. It was nothing like the kisses Harry had shared with Oliver.
It was perfect.
"I love you. I don't know how and I don't know when it started but I love you." Harry's heart skipped a beat at Draco's pronouncement.
"I love you so much. It hurts to see you snogging Wood all over the school, hurts to see him get to hug you, touch you, when I can't. I—It makes me so mad. I feel like killing him when he makes you smile, it kills me to hear you laugh when it was not me who caused it. I'm sorry for breaking your pendant, but watching you think of him while you were with me, smiling so brightly for him, I wasn't thinking, I just acted." Draco interjected each statement with a searing kiss, smouldering eyes blazing the entire time.
Harry's heart was racing and palpitating uncontrollably as he listened to Draco's words, words he'd been wanting to hear for so long.
"I love you too," Harry returned his sentiment, green eyes wide, staring into grey. "I thought I could move on, thought I could forget but…I couldn't. You were stuck in my brain you prat." Harry said teasingly.
Draco didn't reply, his mouth detached itself from Harry's, moving towards the pale column of flesh, biting, sucking, wanting to claim Harry as his for the world to see. As he did so, his hands shifted to Harry's rear, making its way underneath Harry's frayed navy blue jeans, cupping his arse and squeezed hard. One of his fingers slipped between the arse cheeks, brushing and teasing Harry's tight, virgin hole.
Harry, in the meantime, was going crazy under Draco's ministrations. He was hard, so painfully hard, and he could feel Draco's own erection poking at his hip through two thin pieces of cloth. Harry would probably have fallen over; his knees were so weak, if not for Draco holding him tight. Pleasure seized him and he was on the verge of coming into his pants like a horny teenager. Oliver has never—
Harry's snapped open and he mustered up all his strength and willpower to push Draco away. Draco's brow furrowed in confusion.
"What's wrong Harry? Don't you want this?" Draco said with a tiny thrust of his hips, a suggestive leer on his face.
"I—I do," Harry huffed, trying to catch his breath after that fantastic session, "It's just… Oliver…"
Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously at the mention of the Flying coach's name and a sneer replaced his smile.
"What?" Draco snapped.
"I love you Draco, but I do care for Oliver. If we're going to do this then I've got to tell Oliver first. I don't want to cheat on him."
Draco offered a scoff at that. "I'm pretty sure what we just did," Draco pointed his index finger from himself to Harry, "constitutes as cheating.
"Yeah, but it's the principle of the thing. Plus," Harry could feel his face burning! "You caught me by surprise." Harry said sheepishly.
"Sure, sure. The Great Draco Malfoy jumped the poor, defenceless saviour of the Wizarding World." Draco took a bow before raising his head; a mocking eyebrow arching upwards and the signature Malfoy smirk on his face.
"Oh shut up," Harry tried to swat that arrogant smirk off his…lover's? face but he ducked away just in time.
"I really do have to tell him though. But after," Harry grabbed one of Draco's hands and led it to his backside, "maybe you can show me how great Draco Malfoy really is." The promise in Harry's eyes went straight to Draco's groin.
Draco gulped, his head subconsciously nodding to Harry's suggestion.
Harry laughed. Everything was turning out great! Then he looked at the broken locket on his bedside table and his smile disappeared, a frown taking its place.
What was he going to tell Oliver?
"Hey Harry! Guess what?" Oliver greeted.
Harry gave a weak smile, and said, "I give up. What?"
"I've gotten a job offer at the Falmouth Falcons! Can you believe it?" Oliver announced ecstatically, spreading his arms for a hug.
Harry didn't accept it.
"What's wrong Harry?" Oliver looked worried now and he inched towards him, hand outstretched.
"Nothing's wrong Oliver. I'm glad you made it." Harry didn't look very glad. He placed something in Oliver's outstretched hand and on closer inspection; Oliver realized that it was the broken remains of the pendant he had given to Harry on their first date. His heart clenched fearfully, not comprehending the full extent of this action.
Harry took a deep breath before speaking the dreaded words. "Oliver, I'm sorry but I—I don't think we're right for each other. I think we should break up."
"Why?" was the reply.
"It's not of any fault of yours…it's just…" Harry couldn't seem to continue, the words were lodged in his throat.
Oliver understood, he had known when he had first asked Harry out on a date.
"You love Draco," Oliver finished.
Harry choked at that statement, said so blatantly with such finality.
"How did you know?" Harry managed to get out.
Oliver sighed. "I knew it was a risk. I saw how you looked at him." Oliver gave Harry a sad smile. "I saw how he looked at you."
Oliver noticed how despondent Harry was and tried to muster an encouraging smile but to no avail.
He put a finger under Harry's chin to lift his head up, so that he could look into those greens emerald pools. They were filled with unshed tears of guilt and regret. Oliver didn't want that.
Swiping the tears away, he gave Harry a tiny grin.
"It's okay Harry, don't torture yourself with guilt. It's okay." Oliver comforted, voice soft and soothing.
"Can I just ask one question?" Oliver requested.
"Anything."
"Our relationship was real, right?" Oliver asked hesitantly.
"It was." Harry confirmed, "It was."
Oliver nodded, before gesturing towards the door.
Harry went out, his parting words were "Bye Ollie. The Falcons are lucky to have you."
Those words caused a twitch at the corner of Oliver's mouth.
Harry was a good person and Oliver wanted him to be happy, even if it was not with him.
"So how was it?" Draco felt compelled to ask, even though he wasn't really interested in the answer.
"It went well I think. Oliver was very calm and sweet about it. I didn't deserve him." Harry replied, evidently still shaken up by the break up.
Draco sat up and wrapped his strong arms around Harry, supplying him with an abundance of body heat.
Harry cuddled up into the warmth and sighed.
Everything will be alright, Harry thought contentedly, as long as I'm in Draco's arms.
The End.
Author's Note: So I made quite a few edits to make the story a bit more readable. I think I probably won't be writing a sequel for this story :P Sorry. I still have a plot for one though, so it's still a slight possibility