"Do you have the Portkey, Ron?" Hermione sighed wearily, hoping the summer vacation would lift Harry's mood.
"It's over there," Ron said absently, pointing to the shelf which had the least books.
Hermione walked towards her personal library, hoping Ron hadn't decided to transform one of her favourite books into a Portkey.
"It's the bookend shaped like a gargoyle."
"Thanks." Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "You've packed all your things?"
She fingered the sharp edge of the wooden beak as she hefted the menacing-looking bookend, and walked to the sofa.
"Yeah, mostly." Ron looked up from the Daily Prophet and gazed at his girlfriend. "Hope the vacation does Harry good."
She took out her wand and waved it at the gargoyle, checking that it would really transport them to Provence. Harry's admirers were not above playing dastardly tricks.
"So do I," she said shortly whilst she stabbed the wand at the bookend and cast her spell. "It's quite strange, isn't it? Harry should be eagerly looking forward to Auror training. Maybe he feels lonely?"
"Don't think so," mumbled Ron as he glared at the photo of Victor Krum, preening at him on top of his broom. "Neville drops by frequently; Dean and Seamus too, and Luna and her friends."
Ron read the headline, mumbling low under his breath, "Krum set to lead Bulgaria to win the Quidditch World Cup!"
"What did you say?"
"Nothing," he answered as he laid the newspaper on the floor. He hoped Krum's smirking face would soak up the bit of tea he'd spilt earlier, but the Bulgarian Seeker made him think about Durmstrang.
"Reckon Malfoy speaks German now," he said loudly as he crossed his arms. "Or whatever language they speak at that school!"
"Perhaps." Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. "You remember after the trials? I told you Andromeda received an owl from her sister; Narcissa wrote that she and Draco were moving to the Continent. She hinted Draco would finish his schooling there."
"And learn more Dark Magic," huffed Ron.
Hermione thwacked his shoulder. "We testified for him at his trial, remember?"
The redhead grinned widely. "The smarmy git even thanked me! Should've taken a photo."
oOoOo
The girl laid her hand on her chic robe as she whispered huskily in Harry's ear, "J'attends votre plaisir, Monsieur Potter."
She walked away, swaying her hips whilst she looked back at Harry with a flirtatious glint in her eyes.
Harry shuddered. She was pretty, slim and blonde. Her hair appeared to be woven out of silky strands of wheat; it was the wrong shade of blond though, not platinum enough. Besides, Cecily - or whatever her name - was the wrong sex.
"What did she say?" He raised his eyebrows at Hermione, who was staring with dismay at the dilapidated villa near Antibes. Her father had recommended it, and she mused that the restoration of his memory hadn't been quite successful.
She looked sideways at Harry. "Cécile looks forward to hearing from you; I know you prefer blokes, but we could use her help."
"Bollocks! I've watched mom enough times," Ron said loudly. He took out his wand and pointed it at the crumbling wall which was covered with moss. The redhead shuddered because that shade reminded him of the slick skin of the odious Nagini.
Hermione exchanged a look with Harry, and both friends shrugged. If Ron's spells turned out to be less than adequate, they would have to contact the coquettish witch.
oOoOo
"You're bored, Harry?" Ron muttered; he eyed hungrily the creamy fish soup, his nostrils flaring wide as he breathed the garlic scent.
"Reckon I miss something," Harry said whilst he looked at the passersby. Hermione had insisted they had to come to Cannes. She'd been here before with her parents, and she gushed all afternoon about the city and the film festival until the men relented. She had hinted what Harry needed was an entertaining film.
Truth to tell, what Harry missed was the sarcastic tongue of his arch-rival. The way his heart pulsed faster when he looked at that mop of blond hair. He had thought that with the war over and the Malfoys cleared, Draco would return to Hogwarts for their Eighth Year. In vain, as it turned out to be. No sign of Draco in the Hogwarts Express, no platinum-blond hair to distract him, and no barbed remarks to lighten up his days.
In the aftermath of the war, Harry had realised that all his fights with Draco were mere posturing; that the blond had been relentlessly trapped by his family's past just like Harry was caught by the Prophecy. He had wanted to tell Draco this, but now he doubted he would ever see the blond again and that made his heart heavier.
Meanwhile, Hermione looked up from her glossy tourist guide, her eyes glittering with curiosity. She said brightly, "Let's go to La Malmaison!"
"Another museum?" Harry scrunched up his face. "Reckon I've had my share of them. I'll wait for you at the villa."
"Actually, I don't want…" Ron shivered at the glare his girlfriend was directing at him. Finally, he gulped and pushed away the empty plate. "… any more food."
He waved at the Nicean salad. "But I'll finish this, all right?"
"Fine, Ron," muttered Hermione as she bent down to pick up her bag. She rummaged inside for her notebook, mentally planning which exhibits to see first.
oOoOo
Harry meandered through the streets of the French city; his hands stuck in the pockets of his woollen trousers. He looked down at the wet cobblestones which were as grey as his mood. He sighed, regretting the lost opportunities he'd never have to act on his attraction for his erstwhile rival. Looking around the bustling street, he squinted at the concrete facades of the buildings. On a rounded curve he stood still and stared at the lettering above the glass display which said 'Boucheron'. The jewel that was set prominently on a silver collar behind the thick glass reminded Harry of Draco's eyes, sparkling angrily at him.
The brunet sighed wistfully and hunched up his shoulders, snuggling into his cardigan. Despite his pensive mood, it felt good to walk amongst the Muggles unrecognised, without wizards shouting for his autograph.
Harry continued his lonely walk, gazing up every now and then at the tall palm trees which swayed slightly in the strong wind. The light drizzle didn't bother him; he was used to worse weather during the hunt for the Horcruxes.
Lost in memories of his school years, Harry lost track of where he was. At any rate, if he got tired he could Apparate and be safely ensconced in the restored villa.
Harry looked up at the stormy sky and decided to ride out the approaching rain by taking shelter under an awning; it was full with people who were waiting to see a movie. He fingered the hawthorn wand on his arm holster, seemingly the only souvenir left of his blond classmate. Before he could return it, the Malfoys had left Britain.
A tall, paunchy man jostled him; Harry looked at the elegantly-dressed fellow who started asking questions in rapid French. The brunet shook his head and spread his hands, indicating he couldn't understand.
"Still clueless as ever, I see." Harry jerked his head when he heard the drawling voice that haunted his dreams, and turned towards his left. There, standing next to a huge movie poster, was Malfoy.
Harry's breath hitched; Draco was dressed in an elegant black suit and shirt whose topmost buttons were undone, revealing the enticing expanse of pale chest. Draco's left hand was stuck inside his trousers as he smirked at Harry like the intervening year had been a dream. Harry's mouth watered at the contrast between the dark attire and the smooth, porcelain skin and blond mop of hair.
"Kneazle got your tongue?" said Draco as he sauntered towards Harry; then he spoke in fluid French to the portly man who shrugged and went on his way.
Harry cocked his head towards the Frenchman. "What did he want?"
"One of your admirers," said Draco slowly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Wanted your autograph but told him you were here incognito."
"Thanks."
"You'll have to owl him one, I'm afraid," drawled Draco as he extended his hand.
Harry smiled widely and shook the proffered hand. "What are you doing here?"
Draco waved at the street. "I'm taking a vacation. Beauxbatons' schedule was gruelling."
"Reckoned you were at Durmstrang!"
"Mother hates that school. She and I decided that returning to Hogwarts would be… awful."Draco started walking down the street and Harry followed suit.
"There was animosity, I reckon."
"Instead we returned to our ancestral chateau in Picardy." Draco took out his mother's wand and discreetly cast the Impervius charm on both of them; after pocketing the wand he went on, "I do intend to return to Britain after things settle down a bit."
Harry looked sideways at the blond; he couldn't take his eyes off of him, his gaze was drawn to the pale eyes whose shade matched the cloudy sky over Cannes. He decided to rile up Draco, so he wiggled his eyebrows at him. "Thought Beauxbatons was only for girls?"
"Are you barmy?" Draco smirked. "Don't you remember the boys that came over during the Tournament?" He nudged Harry's shoulder and leered insinuatingly, "I can prove to you that I'm all boy."
Harry blushed and turned to study a particularly squat palm frond. Draco's teasing made his blood flow south and he was a tad embarrassed.
oOoOo
They spent the rest of the day strolling around the French city; talking about their differing experiences during the last year led inexorably to their role in the war.
Because Harry had seen most of Draco's suffering due to his connection to Voldemort, he could offer sympathy in what he hoped was a gruff, manly way. On his part, Draco listened avidly to Harry's exploits as the trio camped in the woods.
The evening ended in Draco's apartment; he had invited his new friend over for a snack, though his flirting indicated he was interested in much more.
Later, Harry wouldn't remember exactly the delicious dishes the blond served with a swish of his wand; taste and scents melded in his mind, together with the sound of Draco's soft drawl. The two exchanged innuendo which made Harry blush most of the time, though he decidedly held his own.
Their gazes grew more heated after Draco lazily offered a glass of Chablis to Harry. Seeing Harry eyeing warily the huge glass, Draco taunted him. "Scared, Potter?"
"You wish!" growled Harry as he drank up the wine; the brisk, refreshing acidity travelling from his mouth down his throat. When Draco refilled his own glass, Harry determinedly did the same, matching him.
They ended up sprawled naked on the rug of the living room; its rough texture against his back made Harry squirm. Draco crouched above him; his hands caressed Harry's calves, fingertips grazing the inside of his knees as he spread them.
"Harry, I've wanted this for so long," said Draco with a catch in his voice. "Do you…"
"Want you?" growled Harry as he hooked his ankles around Draco's waist. "Course I do; missed you all year at Hogwarts, you bloody git!"
Harry moaned when he felt Draco's wet cockhead prodding against his crack. The blond paused and frowned at Harry, eyeing hungrily the sweaty chest which glinted in the candlelight. "You've ever done this?"
"Never, I wanted someone special."
"Are you sure?" Draco's tentativeness, though endearing, was making Harry quite impatient.
"Are you going to shag me or ask questions all night?" Harry said as he waved his hand and cast a wandless spell that decreased friction. He recalled Ron complaining bitterly about rug burn; Harry had begged him to shut up, not wanting to know about the sexual escapades of his friends.
Meanwhile, Draco searched for his wand which was prodded against a leg of the couch and cast the Lubricus spell on his throbbing shaft; then he nudged his partner's entrance with the cold, slick tip. Harry squirmed at the uncomfortable squishy feeling of the lube coating his walls.
Draco gently took off Harry's glasses and put them on the couch, so all the brunet could see was a blob of blond hair above him as Draco pushed his glans inside the slick hole.
Harry grimaced at the initial pain of the stretch; nevertheless, he wrapped his arms around Draco's back and pulled him closer.
Draco pushed inside slowly, too gently for Harry, who jerked his hips backward to impale himself on the thick cock. He was used to pain and he needed to feel Draco inside, to be one with the boy who had been his crush for far too long.
They lay still for a while until Harry got used to the girth stretching his insides. When Draco squirmed atop him, his cockhead rubbed against Harry's prostate which caused him to whimper.
Emboldened by the obvious signs of pleasure, Draco took out his shaft slowly, grunting when Harry squeezed all around him. He laid his palms flat on the rug to support his weight as he started fucking Harry in earnest.
"Faster, you git," grunted Harry as he pushed up his hips. Draco was too engrossed in the exquisite feeling of Harry all around him to snark back. Instead he leaned down and kissed those full lips, trapping his moans as Harry's tongue probed his mouth lazily.
Draco rammed his hips into Harry's pliant body, knowing he wouldn't last long. His slender fingers sought Harry's prick and he closed his fingers around it, fisting it and twirling his thumb around the swollen cockhead.
Harry moaned at the thick shaft spearing him so deliciously, jabbing his prostate repeatedly. Overcome by the sensations inside him and around his shaft, he came into Draco's fist. The thick seed spilled down his abs into the rug. Harry clenching around him was more than Draco could stand; he shouted as he released his seed inside the warm body. He rocked his hips back and forth a few times before disengaging with a lewd popping sound.
Draco grabbed blindly for his wand and Apparated them to the bedroom. The two wizards were exhausted from the exciting day which had ended so pleasurably and quickly fell asleep; Draco snuggled against Harry's tanned back.
oOoOo
Harry dressed silently at the crack of dawn, unsure if he should have stayed at Draco's overnight. The shag had been out of this world but he doubted the blond, given his reputation at Hogwarts, wanted something more.
As he stood up and prepared to Apparate, Harry felt cold fingers wrap around his leg.
"Where do you think you're going, Harry?" Draco said in a sleepy voice.
"To the villa we rented."
The blond stretched lazily on the bed, looking up at Harry with a calculating expression. "Don't you want to see more of Cannes?"
"Err…"
"We could travel through the south of France, you know." Draco wiggled his eyebrows at him. "I know the perfect beaches for nude bathing."
Harry ruffled his hair and sighed. "I'll have to return to London for Auror training, and I'm afraid you'll go your way."
Draco snorted. "Whilst we travel, you can tell me what has gone on back home." He scratched his lean chest. "I won't ever let you go, Potter. Might even return with you because the Malfoys are quite possessive."
After all the pain he endured in the war - losing so many loved ones - it was right that Harry should pamper himself, right?
Harry grinned widely at the look in Draco's eyes which promised adventure, fun, and love.
..