The Ways to Say I Love You
Summary: Songfic, inspired by The Cardigans 'Say That You Love Me'. Draco has determined Harry doesn't love him, and his inability to say those 3 words only reinforces that thought. Fluff fic.
Warnings: Slash, fluff, lime-themes.
AN: This fic will probably be about 4 short parts. I actually never heard the Cardigan's original song–just the cover done excellently by No Doubt. Also if you're a fan of Family Guy, you'll notice the orange juice line. Not mine~
Dear, I fear we're facing a problem
you love me no longer, I know
and maybe there is nothing
that I can do to make you to.
Draco had been flushed even before they had stumbled into an old forsaken Potions classroom, Potter's hands in his robes gripping his hips hard enough to leave bruises. As Potter's hands were–preoccupied, Draco took it upon himself to lock and soundproof the classroom before Potter pushed him onto a desk, his lips raising from Draco's sensitive neck to descend quite enthusiastically on his lips.
Really, someone is going to walk in upon us someday, Draco thought, his own hands frantically ripping into Harry's–Potter's, his mind reminded Draco–oversized button-down. And then what will boy-wonder do, when his fellow Gryffindorks abandon him for fraternizing with the enemy? Draco arched as Potter caressed a particularly sensitive part of Draco's back, right down his spine. Especially that Mudblood and the Weasel–Draco could definitely imagine the discovery of Potter and Draco's secret affair tearing the Golden Trio (Draco sneered inwardly at the nickname) apart, leaving Potter in pieces and vulnerable. Not to mention how the Slytherins would react to Draco's own 'betrayal' of his House –but then, the Slytherin house was more well known for their more unique choices in lovers….
But still–how could Potter be so careless?
Potter's tongue explored Draco's mouth without abandon, with Draco making sure that his hips grinded against Potter's, gasping as Potter bucked forward. It wouldn't be long now, Draco acknowledged as he threw his blonde head back, his fingers caressing Potter's chest as lips descended once again on his neck. These sporadic quickies never usually lasted more than ten minutes, the excitement and their youth causing things to end rather–ah, quickly.
Just one stroke through the trousers–they had tried other things, of course, but penetration was still above and beyond them and they did have class quite soon with their respective Houses so other things could wait. Another stroke–Draco barely remembered to return the favor, gripping Potter's hardness and then–there. Draco gripped Potter's black head in a firm kiss to the lips, his mind blissfully blank as Potter collapsed on top of him, his tan face rogue with passion. There were deep breaths, and Potter even kissed his chin before his forehead found Draco's chest. Draco found the back of his eyelids comforting–even the dull lighting of a dungeon classroom seemed too harsh after such an intense orgasm.
Stroking Potter's hair, Draco sighed. "I love you," he whispered to the black nest of hair, a small smile on his lips. Just as quickly the smile dropped off his face after he realized just 'what the hell did I just say?'
On top of him, Potter stiffened. Draco wondered if a memory charm would seem too extreme at this moment and struggled to find a way to cover up what he just said. Maybe Potter hadn't heard?
"What did you say?" Potter's voice said from his chest. Draco could feel him attempting to get up from his chest and applied a slight force to keep his green eyes from discovering Draco's red face.
"Orange juice," said Draco, loudly. Inwardly he was still panicking–and surely Potter would have noticed how his heartbeat was racing in his chest. You idiot you idiot you idiot –"I find I'm quite in the mood for orange juice."
There was a pause, and Draco almost heaved in relief. And then–"That's not what you said," replied Captain Obvious Potter. Gripping Draco's fingers out of his hair, Potter raised his head. Draco was sure to avoid his eyes."You said–"
"I know what I said," Draco snapped, his face turning–if possible–even more red. Horrified, he wondered if his face resembled the Weasel's hair. "Just–"
"Forget it?" asked Potter, and Draco could hear him smiling. "No, I don't think I will." Standing up–Draco heard the incantation of a cleaning charm and felt a small chill in his trousers–Potter leaned forward to use his fingers drag Draco's face to his. A chaste kiss was Draco's reward, and Potter leaned back onto his heels with a hum and a stupid looking smile on his lips. Draco could not bring himself to look Potter in the eye. "I have to get to Herbology–you should get to History." Draco felt Potter's fingers caress his cheek and fought not to melt. "I'll see you later, okay?"
"Yeah," Draco replied, his voice much more gruff than usual. When Potter leaned forward to kiss his cheek, Draco felt some of his own humiliation dwindle out. It wasn't that bad, admitting his feelings. Hell, it was a load off of his chest.
Hopping off the desk as Potter left the classroom first, Draco dusted himself off. Yes, it was probably better this way, he thought to himself. No need to pretend that this was just some casual relationship anymore–there had been too much on the line to begin with, for this to be anything but casual. And so what he had developed deeper feelings for the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, he doubted anyone could resist the raven-headed daredevil.
Smirking, Draco fixed the collar on his robe. Yes, this could only work out for the best–with the political strength behind Potter, his parents would–eventually–understand, and even his own House would stare in awe of his wiliness. Although the timing may have been–unexpected (Draco promised to gain more control of his tongue for the future), Potter now belonged to him–he had to, after his admission. Gloating, Draco made his way out of the classroom.
It was only when Draco entered the History classroom when a realization hit him.
Potter hadn't said 'I love you' back.