A Long Way From Surrey
. . .
For a long time, we've been marching off to battle.
There were some things in the world that Draco Malfoy wouldn't understand. One; why he was completely and undeniably in love with his archenemy. Two; why the said Gryffindor Golden Boy loved him back. Three; the reason Harry left without a word and enlisted in the muggle military.
Draco sat for a long time in the middle of the Malfoy Manor. The plush maroon red carpet was perfectly warmed beneath folded legs as he propped on a low stool. He leaned against the soft cushion with a book at hand and read the Daily Prophet at hand.
The front page read; Puddlemore wins by Plumpton Pass. He let a breath escape his lips. There was nothing interesting in the newspapers—not with Potter gone. He threw the said broadsheet onto the floor. Not even the Quibbler, Witch Weekly or Wizarding Wireless Networks published anything acutely attention-grabbing since Potter's disappearance. He flipped the paper away and left the library.
Voldermort—he still shuddered at the name of a man long dead—had been vanquished nearly half a decade ago. Since then the death eaters under his ranks were captured, those under the Imperius curse were taken to St. Mungo's and those who joined willingly were sentenced to live the remainder of their natural life in Azkaban.
He remembered the night of Ha—Potter's desertion. It wasn't actually a desertion, the boy had said goodbye. That was four years ago, just as the muggle war erupted and the heroic young man went charging to play savior for a third time.
Draco was now twenty-one, a reasonable age to be married—pureblood or not. Yet he remained single for unknown reasons. His mother asked, pleaded and finally ordered him to at least entertain witches sent by the family matchmaker. Reluctantly he did, submitting himself once again to his family's wishes.
Despite the defeat of the Dark Lord, the Malfoy affluence never faltered. They cleared their names as spies for the light and garnered gallant recognition for their efforts. The family retained its supremacy in the hierarchy of purebloods. However the single curse that plagued their ancestry was only a sole heir in almost every generation. The Malfoy line was in his hands.
The café he sat in was by no means humble but it wasn't extravagant either. He received disapproving remarks from both parents but he shrugged them off. Even with riches at hand, he was a fool to spend precious Galleons on a witch who would not be his wife. Still, she wasn't a stupid half-blood either. He made sure the café was at par with his standards as not to tarnish reputations.
"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy" The receptionist greeted him as he arrived. Of course it was breakfast; it was always breakfast. Unfortunately for him, his body snapped awake at exactly 5am every single day and refused to be drawn back to sleep. He tried once, ending up frustrated and terribly awake.
He briefly nodded to the elderly man politely. He was ushered to his usual seat—on the slightly elevated partition at the center of the room with clear view through the café's vast ceiling to floor windows. From here, he could see the outside and any potential candidates that arrived.
He watched behind lowered lashes the way they had interacted with others. He observed subtle mannerisms which gave him a good look at the person's upbringing. Most of the time, he already knew them before them reached the table. His latest interview wasn't any different.
"Good morning" The woman addressed him courteously if somewhat nervously. She had honey blonde hair and subtle blue eyes. She was pretty, that was to be expected from any prospective bride. She had a good facial structure, curvaceous body and high upbringing.
"A pleasant morning, it is" Draco spoke out, standing up to full height and outstretching a hand. She was a head shorter then him. He took her hand and graciously placed a kiss. She would undoubtedly make a good spouse, but she was not the one he was looking for.
Her soft fair skin was not the rough tanned flesh he wanted to feel. Her supple voluptuous body was not the lean hardened muscles he wanted to touch. Her straight light blonde hair was not the messy dark black locks he wanted to entangle his fingers in. Her charming blue eyes were not the sharp emerald green he wanted to see.
She wasn't Harry Potter.
"The usual for you, sir?" the youthful attendant inquired, handing a menu to the female and fishing out an enchanted piece of parchment and quill. He a charming man, Draco admitted, he would have been an obedient assistant if he were only purebred.
"And a glass of water for the lady" Draco added, before turning to his newest companion. "Ms. Greengrass, I'm thrilled that you've graced me with your presence this morning." He said the words with practiced diction and self-confidence that fooled everyone.
"Astoria, if you please." She said, with a faint red hue painting her cheeks. "I'm delighted that you've even considered me, Mr. Malfoy."
"Why ever would I not? You're linage is impeccable!" He stated in a matter-of-fact tone just as the server arrived. He flashed the girl a smile that would ease his words. He really didn't want to be here but his pride kept him seated. She nodded.
She was young, younger that most of his suitors. She looked like the epitome of perfect youth. Her mouth was delicate and cherry red, color of her cheeks and eye lids. It was very natural though, seemingly making her features glow. But she was not what he wanted.
"I've met your sister, Daphne if I'm correct?" He asked, making light conversation. It was a perfectly good breakfast; he saw no need to waste it. "I believe she was my housemate, but we never really interacted much. I think you are too, am I correct"
She nodded on the first statement and answered the second one. "I was two year behind you—" she kept her face passive as she sipped water. "I highly doubt you would remember me"
This was where his experience to reading people worked. Draco knew the exact calculated words he would use next. "You are wrong there" He denied "I do remember you. You would read quietly in the common rooms during free periods"
If she was surprised by his answer, she didn't show it. Perfect, she already knew how to maintain as mask. Perhaps he should test it some more?
"I'm flattered you remember, Mr. Malfoy" She quipped through lowered lashes in a display of modesty. Draco was quick to recognize a well-trained gesture; if she were sincere, he would never have known. He gave sound signaling approval but said nothing as the food was served. He had no intention of allowing her to use his first name—yet.
She did have the breeding that would be suitable. Her posture was perfectly straight not the slouched back he longed to see. She was refined when eating not the brutish way he longed to remember. Her dainty hands held the silverware, barely making noise as she ate. Yet she was not what he longed for. It was not small slender fingers he wanted intertwined with his—
"Excuse me, Mi'lady" the voice came from behind him. From her seat across him, he saw Astoria giving the stranger a placid smile. "Would you be ever so kind as to lending me Mr. Malfoy for a few minutes?" Draco jerked when a heavy hand came to rest on his shoulders.
—it was strong calloused.
Any thoughts running through his mind instantly evaporated when she simply wrinkled her nose. How could she? The ignorant wrench motioning him away like he was much less than a half-blood! He was pulled to his feet but he didn't care. She would surely pay for this! He'd never see her again! He'll do what it takes to mock her family! He'll, he'll—
"Draco…" the hum flooded his ears. He abruptly shut his mouth and refrained from speaking. "—if you make a sound, I'll be forced to leave—" Then in dawned on him, crashing into him like an Aguamenti to the face. It was a voice he knew so well. It called from the back of his memories, stopping his breath. How could he not identify the person it belonged to?
"Harry!" He blew as he whipped around. Silver eyes growing wild with anticipation to see the man he had been waiting for. His chest tightened and he was sure that there was a big un-Malfoy like smile painted formed on his lips. At the moment, he couldn't have given a damn as he came face to face with his long-lost lover.
"Harry bloody Potter" it was left to fade into the open air. There were no words to say at the moment, instead they stared each other in the eye. Draco, on his part, was afraid to blink for the fear that Harry would immediately face away. While Harry didn't blink because he'd missed far too much already, he didn't' want to miss anymore of the blonde man.
Gone was the mop of long messy black hair instead it was short, spiky and still uncombed. He was taller now with broader shoulders adding to his frame. It was a far cry from the scrawny kid who managed to defeat the dark lord. Under the wizarding robes, Draco noted, were unfamiliar muggle clothing.
"Hello, Draco" Harry greeted a bit awkwardly. He had a toothy grin on his face hoping to appease the blonde's outrageous banter. It would come any second now—
"Hi" was Draco's timid reply. He saw Harry's lopsided grin and couldn't help but smile back. It had been so long. There were cauldrons full of thoughts bubbling inside his head and he couldn't decide where to start.
"How about we move somewhere more private?" Harry suggested, offering his elbow when he sensed the other man's inner dilemma. He would have had a lot of questions too if they're positions had been reversed.
"That's a brilliant idea" Draco barely noticed that they were still in the middle of town. A curios group of gossipers were starting to gather around at the odd looking pair. He gratefully draped his arm over the extended elbow and joined Harry in side-apparition.
Crack!
They entered through the wards with apparent ease. Harry brought Draco through the threshold of the medium size cottage by the hand. They passed the small wood covered corridor and into a humble expanse. It was nothing Draco had expected—it was bland.
"Let me take this for you" He heard Harry was from behind him. Hands clasp around his stiff shoulders, pulling the thick set of outer robes he forgot he was wearing. With a snap of the fingers, Harry spelled the said garment onto his dark wooden rack by the entrance along with his own.
"Thanks" Draco took in his surroundings without a word while Harry followed him with fascination.
Unlike him, blonde locks grew just above pale cheeks. His face was no longer rounded with youth but now possessed strong angles. Draco kept the height he had when they last saw each other, cover with leans muscles—a seeker's body. Harry briefly wondered if the man had kept playing after school.
Draco used the trip to compose himself and gather his thoughts. He would start the inquiry when he had a completed list of questions formulated. "Where exactly are we?" He asked civilly. He was not sure how much changed apart from what he had seen—muggle war hardened the man who was looking back at him.
"Godric's Hollow, number seven specifically" Harry stated, voice dead and Draco understood why. The name rang signals in his head the moment he heard it—it was Harry's birth home, where Lily Potter tried to save her baby boy and where Harry got his infamous lightning bolt scar.
"Harry, I—" Draco tried, feeling the sadness well within him. Harry had taken a chance bringing him here. This place held deep-rooted significance to the other much like the Malfoy Manor had with him. He hushed when Harry shook his head.
"No" Harry looked away, finding a small enchanted picture suddenly important. He handed the relic to Draco. It showed his family, both parents alive and moving with him as a toddler. "I wanted to show you… "
"Why here?" Draco couldn't help himself; he was being filled to the brim with questions. But he held his tongue; he would get his chance to ask all of them.
"It's my parent's home" Harry stated without much explanation. "I wanted you… to see it"
Draco pushed away his uncharacteristic shyness. He stepped forward, tentatively reaching a hand to touch the chiseled face in front of him. "This is where you've been?" He frowned dismally at the new scars marking the tanned flesh. His fingers idly traced over the line starting on Harry's neck and disappearing into his top. "You've been living in this muggle village all along?"
Harry shook his head.
"Then where?" The hand dropped.
This time Harry responded "Muggle England; wherever the war my troops needed me, wherever the war needed me to be."
"Why couldn't you have gone home with me? To the manor?" The issue hit Harry straight home. He was taken aback by the probing question. Hands fisted and unclench on his sides. But Draco was silent, gazing at him like those silver orbs were searching for something.
"I couldn't—" Harry tore his eyes away. He didn't have the courage to straight into those questioning eyes. He finally released a sigh "the war needed to me to be in places, far off places away from the manor—and away from you. Sometimes the call came earlier than dawn and sometimes deeper in the night. Every night I came back was a blessing and a curse; I was never sure if I would return the following day. I couldn't let you suffer that dread day and day again. I—I left… I'm sorry"
The last three sentences meant the most, Draco realized. He was startled by the other's great confession—Harry words were laced with so much care, so much tenderness that he didn't know how to reciprocate. "Then why?" He needed to know. "Your war was over—you, just as was prophesied, defeated the darkest wizard of history yet you go out and to partake in another one? It was a muggle was not yours! You didn't have to play hero in it too!"
Draco was shouting and his voice was equally menacing but Harry didn't fight fire with fire. He was aware of the rushing emotions which the blonde was currently releasing. Instead, he forced his voice to sound steady and composed. "The muggle world was my mother's world as well it is mine. My mother was a muggle-born, it was the world she was raised in, and for a great part of my childhood it was the only world I knew too."
A pregnant silence fell around them.
"I'm not that bullocks at potions. I could have healed you, ya know?" Draco declared without so much thought to the meaning behind his words. He knew they were there, he hoped the Gryffindor would be able to find them.
"These would never be here." He pointed out the dominant scar on Harry's neck again, lighting brushing it under his finger tips. "Look at the blasted muggle war has done to you…" He whispered; face inching closer to look at the marred skin. Harry held his breath at their proximity.
"I know" was Harry's simple reply.
"You stupid, stupid bloody Gryffindor! You could have stayed; you didn't have to leave me!" Draco's hands fisted when they reached the thick dark green fabric of Harry's clothes. "Do you know how agonizing it was? Waking up the next morning knowing that you were gone! It was torture. I waited every single day for you to come back… You could have owled, fire-called, sent a patronus, or left me with a goddamn two-way mirror! But you sent nothing! You're a wizard not a forsaken squib! You would have been able to apparate back and forth! You! You—!"
He was cut off for the second time since their reunion.
Harry's lips covered his own, effectively stopping him from speaking. Large warm hands cupped his cheeks and a calloused thumb brushed away tears that he barely registered shedding. He didn't notice the wetness when they first fell because all he could think about was Harry's lips on his.
He was crying and it felt so damn good.
He kept on crying even after they parted. His breath was uneven and hollow. He shuddered profusely as the intense sobs rocked his body. It wasn't weakness—it was humanity; having Harry back meant he no longer had to bottle his emotions like stone. He let himself feel; the sadness, the desperation, the contentment to feel his lover holding him again. In Harry's arms, he allowed himself to weep.
It seemed like ages for Draco to calm down. Harry stood quietly waiting for the sobbing to pass. He stayed silent, arms draped over shaking shoulders until they stilled. There were so many things between them now, things much greater then what they had before.
"I'm sorry" He felt the other shrug in his embrace. Pale, white-knuckled hands ceased gripping his front and wound themselves around his waist. Draco didn't say anything but Harry knew he had just been forgiven. For a long time they didn't move from where they stood.
"I'm sorry" The apology slipped out a second time when the dampness on his jackets seeped to his skin. He was, for all he was worth, sorry. He bit his lip. "I can't honestly say that I regret fighting in the muggle war. I can't honestly tell you that I wish I had never done it… but I am sorry for leaving you like that—" he squeezed the warm body to him. "—Draco, I sorry. I should have never let you go"
For Harry, he could have never said enough apologies in the world for making Draco sad. He hated himself for causing his lover pain. He hated himself for forcing Draco into the Malfoy-mask that he had worked so hard to free the blonde form. He hated himself for disappearing and allowing Draco to slip back into his stone-cold demeanor. But in spite of all this, Draco forgave him.
"But you're staying? For good?" Draco's question caught him off-guard but nonetheless he nodded. Automatically his arms tightened on the blonde. "You won't leave again?"
Harry opened his mouth to initiate another string of apologies but Draco hushed him.
"You talk too much" Draco mumbled jokingly before trapping Harry lips with his again. It was slow and languid much like the previous one. Close lips touched, engulfing them in a warm feeling of butterflies. They saw no need to hurry; they had all the time in the world now. Nothing and no one could come between them except—
"Oh shit, Greengrass" Draco broke the kiss cursing when he remembered his recent marriage interview with the young witch. "Mother will surely hear of this and ask father to send me another howler! When we left she was seated on the table. She must still be in the—"
Harry kissed him again to halt his ramblings. "Now who talks too much?" He teased playfully. "Greengrass is fine. I sent her a message before we disapparared. I'm sure she'd found herself some decent company by now."
Before Draco could utter a retort he was kissed again and again, and again, and again—until he finally gave up and lost count. Harry kept kissing him several more times. The man trailed kisses on his face, along his jaw, down one side of his neck then the other until his robes hindered his path. Then he started all over again.
Harry wiped away the last few drops of his earlier tears. He saw watery silver eyes staring back at him. He kissed the slightly swollen lips tenderly. He removed the stray strands of platinum blonde hair from Draco's face. "I love you" he murmured in the most earnest way he can.
"I think—" the other replied with an affectionate smile "—I love you more"
That was all it took for another series of kisses to begin.
At first it was innocent kissing, occasionally nipping and sucking. Draco looped his arms behind Harry's neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. The fabric of Harry's cothes was definitely strange; it was rough unlike the soft silken robes he was used to.
It was years since Harry enjoyed the warmth of human touch that didn't include blood. The final battle then the muggle war—he missed touching human flesh without it having to be violent, blood-soaked or dying in his arms. He tensed as a cold sensation climbed through his spine.
It was over now; Voldemort was vanquished and the muggle-foes were defeated. He didn't have to live with bloodshed anymore. Draco was here, right here beside him. He basked in his lover's scent. It was different; smooth, spicy, eccentric—it was alive. They were alive, Draco was alive, and he was alive.
"Draco fucking Malfoy" He nearly growled, itching to touch more of the delectable skin which the blonde offered. Did the man hear him? He wasn't sure because Draco made no more to acknowledge his name. Instead the Slytherin merely sighed his contentment.
Draco heard his name being called—being growled—and moaned. Harry's mouth left his. He could feel the heat the man's hands etched on his flesh. It felt hot, he felt hot like he was engulfed by flames torturing his body in pleasure. He tilted back his head giving Harry room to move.
"Harry…" He mewled over and over. Saliva came in contact with his skin, teasing off the heat for a moment before the ecstasy doubled. He sensed strong tan hands gliding over his robes. If those hands just slipped inside, he would find paradise but they didn't.
"Shit Harry…" Draco began to please when the stubborn Gryffindor refused to remove his robes. Suddenly muscled arms draped over his waist, pulling him into a near bone-crushing hug. "What the—?"
"Hold on" He heard Harry command. Instinctively he stiffened his hold on the man's neck. He wasn't a fool—that voice meant business, he would never refuse.
Crack!
He wasn't ready when the pinch came. He trusted Harry not to hurt him; he wasn't splinched but relatively uncomfortable at the sudden apparition. His back was pressed against something soft and padded—he guessed it was a bed when his head hit a pillow, he was correct.
The mattress dipped with their weight. He gripped his lover's back tighter, watching as the brunette prowled over him. His hands slid over the span of rippling back, feeling the coarse cloth come in contact with his palms. He hissed in displeasure, annoyed at the foreign texture.
But he didn't stop. He was not going to let his temper ruin their time. He returned to his earlier task; running hands over Harry's back, solid neck, contoured side, rock-hard arms, hesitantly touching the unfamiliar shoulder patting until—
"Ouch! What the hell—?" The cut on his finger stung instantly, making him howl in pain. Harry detected his change in behavior and paused. It took all his resolve to put his hands on a muscled chest and push the man away.
"Where are you hurt?" the concerned inquiry came. He was far too annoyed with jagged fabric to answer. He grunted, disgusted at the muggle clothing. Trust Harry to make love to him in such, such—filth!
"What the in Merlin's name are you wearing?!" he demanded, fully separating there bodies. It was only then did he get a full view of his lover's body. Harry was clad in a dark green tunic, pants a slightly darker shade, black leather below the knee boots.
He surveyed the brunette from feet to head. He immediately spotted the cause for his cut. His eyes darted on a bloody golden star; he glared at the offending metal. He was not a big fan of muggle studies, but he did know a thing or two. Realization hit him—on Harry's shoulder pads were four small stars.
'Merlin's bead—' Draco thought "You're a general!" He gasped in astonishment. A hand flew to his mouth in attempts to cover his beaming smile. His chest swelled in pride at the man before him—wizarding war hero, defeater of the dark lord and now a frigging muggle general!
"Yeah" Harry solely cocked his head, unimpressed by his own feat. It was just markings; they didn't mean anything to him.
"How the hell did you manage that? Surely those stars don't just fall off the back of a broom!" Wasn't he a lucky bastard? To be loved and in love with such a fanfuckingtastic man; words couldn't express his happiness more. Harry was one-of-a-kind, special and spectacularly—
"amazing" he breathe out the word. "You're undeniably amazing, Harry Potter" He'd gotten use to the clothes by now. He acknowledged that it was a notch higher than the lazy pair of muggle jeans and t-shirt that Harry usually sported. This looked—refined, classy and absolutely authoritative.
He decided that he liked it and found himself getting aroused by the sight. It was certainly different from schoolboy-Harry. In front of him stood a more commanding man; Harry looked like he was about to pounce when he noticed the tent forming through Draco's robes. He swiped a hand over it. Draco moaned delightfully.
Harry moved in for the kill. He planted another kiss on Draco's lips. The blonde accepted him as he crawled onto the bed. He concentrated on the man before him. So many things were different now, yet it still felt the same. Draco's scent flooded his nostrils; he sighed at the sensation. This was real. He missed this scent, sweet and musky at the same time. It was uniquely Draco.
"Depulso" Harry muttered before Draco could protest. Draco was quick to recognize the spell—a banishing charm. He felt the trickling awareness of Harry's magic ghosting over his skin. He shivered in anticipation but his robes never vanished. Rather, he realized that he lay spread out on the bed stark naked except for his robes. It fueled his excitement more.
His lower half received delicious friction when his undergarments were spelled away. He groaned loudly. He arched his back, wantonly seeking Harry's attention. He parted his legs, giving his lover room between them. The material of the robes rubbing against him delectably and his eyes darkened with lust.
Harry was obedient; unclasping, unbuttoning and untying the front of Draco's robes. He did so—torturously dawdling. He kissed the newly exposed skin with each hook, button and knot released. It was growing too much. 'Merlin if he stops now' and Harry did stop, retaining five fasteners attatched near Draco's abdomen. It effectively kept the tempting blonde bush hidden.
Draco disagreed with the decision but Harry hushed him quickly.
"Patience love" Harry told him. "I want you to enjoy this" Draco whimpered response, not trusting himself to sound comprehensible. The cool air scarcely made contact with his skin. Trousers gone, shirt gone, undergarments all gone but it didn't lessen the heart from his body. It feels like he would melt.
"Feeling hot, Draco?" Harry asked while working calloused palms caressed pale flesh through the robes. The material was soft to the touch, typical of Malfoy wardrobe. He grinned inwardly—some things never change. "Well?" He urged when the other refused to answer. Teasingly, he slipped fingers along creamy legs to barely part the lower half of Draco's robe.
"Yesss" Draco hissed at the contact. He subconsciously lifted his hips, buckling to Harry's touch. It was infuriating; the heart of their bodies colliding between them. "Please" He begged. He wanted Harry to touch him—he needed Harry to touch him now, else he might explode while his erection grew harder.
"frigusempra" Harry whispered quietly. The charm was unknown to the blonde. Draco racked his braint rying to figure it out. It was Latin, Sempra meant 'always' and frigus meant—
"—cold" Draco shivered as cool palms stroked him. "Hmm that feels good" He found himself saying unconsciously. It travelled along his side, slipping into his robes. "Oh!" cold hands met with hot flesh—it was paradise. Harry worshipped his body.
After a while, the charm would wear off. Harry would cast it again, teasing him into oblivion. He was Draco Malfoy, sole heir to the Malfoy name and family fortune, the Slytherin Ice Prince of his generation, current Potions expert at the Ministry of Magic—he did not succumb to bodily pleasures.
"Oh Harry!" He yelled when something cold crept behind him, touching his cheeks and parting him. Harry slid a cool finger between the crack, pressing against his entrance. His pristine white robes were fully open now. He grew uncoordinated, thrusting his hips greedily for Harry to touch him.
His legs were heaved onto Harry's shoulders. He grew wide-eyed in surprise, staring up at the man above him. The charm had worn off; his thighs were spread, he could sense Harry's heated palms fingers parting him. "Harry what are you—?"
"—ohh!" He gasped, feeling a wet muscle plunge into him.
"Tergeo" he heard. That was a familiar spell, instinctively his body tensed with expectation. This was the part he least liked when making love—Harry had to clean him. The tingle of the spell slithered into his insides, wiping his walls with a chilly contact. Harry's hands rubbed behind his thighs, easing him until he was comfortable with the sensation.
Harry's tongue glided along his entrance. Swiping over the tight ring that was closed and slipping between it. "Ahh!" Draco groaned, arching his back when it penetrated him. It was too much, it had been to long—he'd come without being touched in a few minutes.
"Harry!" Draco shouted trying to catch the man's attention. It had no avail. With the help of another unidentified charm, Harry conjured a bottle of lubricant in a small glass jar. He dipped his fingers into container until two were fully coated. After one last lick, he slipped one inside of his lover.
Draco wiggled with the intrusion but promptly welcomed it. It was strange but soothing; it felt good to have Harry touch him there. Malfoys never bottom, Draco never bottomed even if he had a taste of male before Harry. Harry was the only one, Harry introduced him to the wonderful vibrations—only Harry had him like this.
Sweat covered their bodies. How long have they been going? He couldn't remember. It faded into a blur. Harry captures his lips again while fingers stretched him. The kiss was fierce, deep and strong. Their tongues collided, fighting for supremacy. He won, taking control of the kiss while Harry controlled the other side of their actions.
Draco drove those fingers—three now—deeper inside of him. He swung his hips almost violently, his erection driving onto Harry's abdomen, the coarse dark green fabric making for wonderful friction, while they kissed. Harry curled his fingers and Draco instantly saw a million stars. The blonde arched in a nearly impossible angle as pleasure exploded from within him.
Harry smiled into the kiss as Draco came—a gush of white, hot fluid marked their chests. Their bodies shook in orgasm. Harry came inside his pants when Draco's nectar coated him. They broke apart, panting, sweating and sated. He slumped forward, covering his naked lover as they were perfectly aligned.
"That was—" Draco breathed heavily with the brunette's head on his chest. The heavy body on top of him was oddly calming. He felt safe, like no one could harm him.
"—only the beginning" Harry finished with a wicked smirk, rolling off his lover for them to lie side by side.
"Maybe later" Draco mumbled sweetly. He crawled over Harry until half his body was over the wet garments. He frowned in disapproval. He banished the said clothes, feeling the prickle of magic float around them. Eventually, they were skin to skin—nothing separating them. He rested his head on Harry's shoulder and sighed in contentment.
Harry lovingly draped an arm around the blonde, pulling his lover closer. Smooth legs nudged between him so that their legs were tangled together. A blanket floated above them, covering them under the silken linen. Draco hummed beside him. He traced over the peaceful looking face, brushing away blonde strands that were astray. He kissed the top of Draco's head.
It was a long way from Surrey, but he was finally home.
. . .
Author's notes:
By far, this story had the most dialogue that I've ever used. This is an experiment. Usually, I tend to narrate the happenings of a story instead of having the characters say it. For this one, I wanted the opposite; I wanted conversation to flow through the entire length.
The original title was supposed to be For A Long Time, but midway through writing I decided to change it. A Long Way from Surrey commemorates the origin of our lovable Harry Potter.
This first line is actual partial lyrics to the song "A Girl Worth Fighting For" from ©Disney's Mulan. It was the entire inspiration for the story.
I hope that you guys enjoyed it! Review it you like!
Also please check out;
31 Days
Falling in Love with the Rain
Return to the Platform
-Arh.
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