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Chapter Two: Strained Relations
Friday 3rd May 2013
Dear Dad,
Oh my god, your so embarrassing! I felt so stupid having to empty my bag onto McGonagall's desk! If you wanted to make me look like a total idiot, then congrats, Dad, you achieved it. And you got Naomi into heaps of trouble- her mum sent a Howler and everything.
It was only a book. I know you and Father think I'm still a child, but I'm not. I know all about sex and stuff. And now everyone thinks I'm retarded or something. Naomi said your old-fashioned and that your 'helicopter parents'. You have to let me be my own person, she said. What's the point in my having wings if you do not let me fly?
Thanks a lot.
Lily.
Saturday 4th May 2013
Lily,
It's 'you're', not 'your'. It's short for you are. As in, 'you are overreacting, just a smidgen'. If you spent more time on your studies and less on pornographic literature then you would know this. Three times in one letter you made this very basic error. I could also do without your theatrical metaphors, thank you very much. Nor do I need parenting advice from Naomi Churcher.
I'm really not in the mood to discuss over owl post the (numerous) reasons why your dad and I disapprove of you reading BDSM fiction. He's gone to work this morning- in an even worse mood than he was already in, thanks to you I might add- hence why I'm replying to your letter.
You had better not know 'all' about sex, young lady, otherwise you are in some serious trouble when you come home for summer.
Keep a civil tongue in your head when you write to either of us again.
Love always,
Father.
Harry arrived in the Atrium of the Ministry and immediately headed for the lifts. He was in a foul mood, and this must have shown on his face, for not one single person even attempted to wish him a good morning. He got into the lift and pressed the button for the second level. If it wasn't bad enough that he had to work at the weekend, he'd also tried a spot of experimental wanking in the shower again and couldn't so much as raise a smile, let alone anything else (much to his continued horror), and then he'd received the snarky letter from Lily. He'd only just resisted the urge to follow Mrs Churcher's example and send his irritable and defiant daughter a Howler, opting to leave Draco to deal with the reply instead. He stood stiffly in the lift, wand out in his tightly clenched fist, and couldn't have radiated Leave me the fuck alone vibes any clearer if he had the words tattooed across his forehead in fluorescent ink.
"Good morning, Head Auror Potter," his secretary called to him from behind her desk, as he stormed towards his office. "My, you look dreadful this morning. Can I get you some coffee?"
"Actually, that sounds wonderful. Thank you," Harry said, giving the woman a small smile as she handed him a hot cup of freshly brewed filter coffee- black, with one lump of Demerara sugar: exactly as he liked it. He inhaled the deep, almost bitter aroma and felt calm for the first time all morning. "Perfect. Thank you, Isabelle."
The woman beamed, transforming her stern, mousy appearance, as her features softened.
"Anything for you, Head Auror Potter," she said quietly, winking at him. "You know I'd do anything for you." She reached out a hand and stroked him on the arm.
"Er, thanks," Harry said, taking an involuntary step away, before turning and dashing into his office.
It wasn't that he wasn't flattered by his secretary's attention. Who isn't flattered when someone finds them attractive? It was just flirting in general made him uncomfortable. And it's not as if he found her attractive, or wanted to flirt back in return- she had to be at least forty-five, her dark brunette fair was flecked with grey and pulled into a tight bun, and she was wearing a buttoned-up brown Cashmere cardigan and full-length black skirt (from the bottom of which an inch of hairy ankle was just visible), despite the fact it was May. At least Isabelle knew it was all just good-natured fun, Harry thought with relief. She was fully aware Harry was a hundred percent committed to Draco.
Draco.
Distracted by thoughts of his partner for the moment, Harry took a huge gulp of the far-too-hot coffee, swore loudly as it burnt his mouth and throat, and hastily cast Aguamenti into an empty glass on his desk, before taking a large drink of cold, soothing water. He sighed. Things had been strained between them the day before, with Draco looking hurt and confused, and Harry stubbornly refusing to talk about it, beyond telling Draco he loved him and still found him attractive. He hated being the one who made Draco feel that way. Fine, he thought to himself. If Draco wanted to feed him strange concoctions that bordered on voodoo, then let him. It couldn't hurt. He glumly pulled the huge pile of paperwork towards him- the reason he had to work on a Saturday (that, and he took Thursday off for the memorial), grabbed a quill, and began to work.
Thank Merlin he and Draco were going out with their friends that evening. Otherwise the day would have been completely shit.
"Well, to be honest, Harry, Lily's not a little girl anymore," Hermione said, looking supremely unconcerned at the glare both he and Draco shot her. "Goodness- when you were her age, you'd already saved the Philosopher's Stone from Voldemort, fought and killed a basilisk, rescued Sirius after battling about a hundred Dementors single-handedly, and were preparing to start your fourth year where you'd compete in the Triwizard Tournament- which, I may add, you won. Oh, and there's the small issue of the fact you duelled and beat Voldemort, and resisted his Imperius Curse. Aged the same age Lily is now."
"I still don't want her reading porn," Harry shot back, ignoring Hermione's other points completely. "She's only fourteen. Would you be happy if Rose was reading it in six years' time?"
"No, maybe not," Hermione conceded, whilst Ron's face acquired a look of abject horror. He was clearly as comfortable with his 'little girl' growing up as Draco and Harry were. "But she does have to grow up at some point, you know."
"This is why I like only having boys," Ginny said, and Neville nodded in agreement. "Boys don't want to grow up. The twins are ten and like nothing more than to run around in the garden in just their pants and a tea towel round their necks, pretending they're Superman."
"Give them three years," Draco said with a smirk, "and they'll be trying to get their hands on as many copies of Playwizard as they can."
"Oh, you men and your misogynistic double standards!" shouted Hermione, and Harry had to admit he was impressed that Hermione could pronounce that so clearly after four glasses of Merlot. "Will you listen to yourselves? It's OK for Hugo, or Frank and Jack to read porn, but not Lily or Rose? Honestly!"
"How is not wanting my daughter reading fiction where a woman is completely controlled and dominated by a man mosigyn- misig- sexist?" Harry said, wondering how many vodkas he'd had by now.
"Game of pool, Draco?" Neville asked hurriedly, before Hermione could go into full rant mode. Draco nodded gratefully and he and Neville disappeared quickly to the vacant table. Hermione and Ginny exchanged a look, not unnoticed by Harry.
"And I need a nicotine hit," Ginny said. "Just popping outside for a sec."
"I'll come with you!" Hermione said, and Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Hermione detested smoking, and never accompanied Ginny outside on her cigarette breaks when they went out. He turned to Ron, who was drinking from his pint of Old Speckled Hen.
"Why has everyone so obviously left, leaving you alone with me?" Harry asked, a pinch sharper than he'd intended.
"Harry," Ron began, and his tone was serious, "is there something wrong between you and Malfoy?"
Despite the bluntness of the question, and the discomfort that Harry felt that he and Draco were so tense with each other that his friends had picked up on it, he couldn't help rolling his eyes. Ron and Draco were perfectly civil towards one another- friends, even, yet insisted on calling each other 'Weasley and Malfoy' still, like a couple of fifteen-year-old schoolchildren. Draco addressed all his other friends by their given names, and they called him by his. Harry didn't understand what issue there was remaining between his partner and his best friend.
"Um, why do you say that?" he asked, not quite meeting Ron's eyes.
"Mate, you've barely spoken to each other in two hours, you've sat next to each other the entire time and not touched- which, trust me, is unusual for you two- and you both look… I don't know. Sad, I s'pose."
Maybe it was because of the vodka, maybe it was because this was Ron he was talking to, and Ron had been his best friend for over twenty years, or maybe it was simply because he really fucking needed to talk about it, but suddenly Harry sighed, ran his hands over his face, and let everything spill out. He talked for over ten minutes, noticing as he did so that Ginny and Hermione were back and had deliberately sat themselves at the bar, giving him and Ron some much-needed time to talk alone. Affection for all his friends flooded him.
"And now I'm pretty sure Draco thinks I don't want him," Harry said finally. "Which isn't it at all. I just- I don't understand what's wrong with me."
"And you've told him all this, of course?" Ron asked pointedly.
"Yes!" Harry replied. "Er, sort of." Ron covered his eyes with his hand and let out a small groan of frustration that sounded like 'Bloody hell, Harry' at that, and Harry ignored him. "But I'm not certain he believes me. He probably thinks this is down to me not fancying him anymore or something. He's always had an issue with the fact I'm not 'truly gay'- his words, by the way. He doesn't like the fact I find women attractive too- I think he sees it as some sort of threat. Remember when Lily was five and he freaked out that time, thinking I was going to leave him for some woman so I could have more kids?" Ron pulled a face.
"Ah yeah, I'd forgotten that." He took another swig from his pint and popped a pork scratching into his mouth, crunching noisily. He offered the bad to Harry, who refused. There was just something about deep fried pig skin covered in salt that didn't say appetising to him. He liked his arteries clear, thank you. "But you've told him everything- including the fact you can't-" Ron looked around to make sure they weren't being overheard, and Harry vaguely thought he should have done this before he started pouring his heart out- "you can't get it up even when you're, you know, bashing the bishop?"
"Um," Harry replied, because, no, he hadn't told Draco that at all. It was far too embarrassing. "I will do." Ron let out a noise of exasperation.
"You're impossible, Harry," he said. "Look, I may not be the world's leading expert on relationships, but you don't survive ten years of marriage to Hermione without learning a thing or two. You need to talk to him-properly this time- and be completely open with him, OK?" Harry opened his mouth to reply, but quickly shut it again when Neville and Draco returned to the table, a tray of drinks in tow.
"Bloody Muggle pub," Draco said quietly. "It would be much easier to just be able to levitate these. Look, I've spilt Weasley's pint." He sat down next to Harry automatically and Harry, Ron's earlier words about them not touching still fresh in his mind, reached out and took Draco's hand firmly in his, squeezing it tightly. Draco looked at their joined hands and a small smile tinged his lips.
"So, who won the pool game then?" Ron asked.
"Draco, of course. Two-nil. I swear he cheats," Neville said, good-naturedly. "I've never seen a Muggle play and be able to angle the ball like he does."
"It's called skill, Neville," Draco smirked, handing Harry a vodka and Coke and taking a sip of his own. "I'm just a fantastically natural pool player, that's all."
"Did you cheat?" Harry asked quietly so only Draco could hear, and a flush that had nothing to do with Draco's eighth shot of vodka crept up his cheeks.
"A little," he admitted. Harry laughed.
"My Slytherin," he said, and kissed Draco on the cheek. Draco's hand gripped Harry's even firmer at the kiss, and his face broke into the first true smile it had worn in two days.
"I love you," he said.
"Love you too. I really, honestly do," Harry replied, looking Draco straight in the eyes, willing him to believe the words.
"You look happier, you two," Ginny said, approaching the table and swigging from a bottle of violently blue alcopop, and Hermione elbowed her sloppily, making loud 'Shhh!' noises. Both women were clearly beyond tipsy now.
"Yeah. Thanks, guys," Harry said. He downed the rest of his drink and smiled. His talk with Ron had made him feel better about things. And, regardless of how humiliating he felt, Harry was going to talk with Draco. He deserved the truth.
Harry and his friends stumbled out of the pub at eleven- not one of them able to stand independently without swaying. Including Hermione, which was very unusual for her.
"Anyone else fancy a curry?" Ron asked them all hopefully.
"Sure," Ginny replied, whilst Neville made a noise of appreciation at the idea. "Might as well make the most of it whilst Mum as the kids, hadn't we?"
"Excellent," slurred Ron. "Harry? Malfoy? You two coming?"
"No thanks," Harry replied. "Been a long day."
"You sure? Chicken vindaloo is just what's needed after alcohol," Ron said.
"You will not order that again," Hermione said. "The bathroom smelt for two days last time you had one of those. Goodness knows what damage it causes to the intestines."
Harry laughed. "Thanks, Ron, but I'm not hungry."
"Suit yourself," Ron said, slightly petulantly. "See you soon."
"Bye, Harry, Draco," Hermione said, clearly drunk as she planted a huge kiss on Draco's cheek. "Take care!"
Once all his friends had set off towards the Star of Bengal, which was about a quarter of a mile from the pub, Draco reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two small phials of Sobriety Potion.
"Can't have the Head Auror illegally and dangerously Apparating whilst pissed," he said with a grin. They both downed their potions, and Harry closed his eyes as the ice-cold sensation washed over him. When he opened his eyes again he didn't feel as if he'd even had an alcoholic drink at all that evening, let alone nine.
"Thanks," he said. "Home?"
They both checked for watching Muggles and, finding themselves completely alone on the street, turned on the spot and Disapparated, arriving in the small downstairs dining room of their house that they used as their Apparition point.
As soon as Harry had regained his balance, he pulled Draco towards him and crushed his mouth to Draco's.
"I'm sorry I've been a bastard," he said when the kiss had ended. "I've felt so pathetic and useless that I took it out on you, and didn't even give much thought to how it must make you feel. I just thought about how this was affecting me. I'm really sorry. And if you want me to try this yibbie root, or whatever it's called, then OK."
"Yohimbe bark," Draco corrected, but he was smiling. "Are you sure?"
"What's the point on being in a relationship with St Mungo's leading Potions researcher if I can't claim a little of the knowledge for myself?" Harry said. "But first I owe you a huge explanation."
He took Draco by the hand and led him into their living room, and, for the second time that evening, talked as candidly as he perhaps ever had. Including the parts about the wanking. By the end, Harry was sure he was as scarlet as any Gryffindor banner.
"So you see, Draco, it's really not because I don't fancy you," Harry reassured. "I do, you know. So much. It's just that Little Harry has a small problem at the moment. My feelings for you are as strong as they always were."
"This is only temporary," Draco said, with conviction. "We'll overcome this, OK?"
"OK," Harry said, and curled into Draco's inviting arms. He closed his eyes and hummed happily when he felt Draco's fingers in his hair.
"I just wish you could talk to me without Weasley telling you to," Draco said quietly. Harry looked up. "He did, didn't he? And he knew all this before me." Harry noticed that Draco tried to keep the hurt out of his voice, but it was definitely there. Harry felt like a complete git.
"If it hadn't been for the vodka, I probably wouldn't have even talked to him," Harry replied. "But I'm sorry. I promise to talk to you- properly- first in future." He reached for Draco's hand, which was resting on his shoulder, and began to pepper open-mouthed kisses along the palm, then onto his wrist, before giving it a playful swipe with his tongue; just the way he knew Draco liked it. And, as he knew he would, Harry heard Draco catch his breath.
Suddenly, the need to reassure Draco with more than just words overcame him. His own lack of libido be damned, Harry wasn't about to make Draco suffer any more than he was already. He continued his kisses up Draco's arm, all the way to his shoulders, and then placed his lips firmly on Draco's neck.
"What are you doing?" he heard Draco gasp, and he smiled against Draco's skin.
"What do you think I'm doing?" Harry replied, and gently bit Draco's earlobe. He snaked a hand down Draco's torso and grabbed his crotch, which had definitely begun to take an interest in Harry's actions.
"But- you-" said Draco, and Harry silenced him with a kiss.
"Please, Draco. Please let me do this for you," he said, suddenly desperate to prove that he did, indeed, still want his lover. To prove to himself that things were going to be okay between them. He slid off the sofa and positioned himself between Draco's legs.
"I love you," he said, and began unfastening the fly of Draco's Muggle jeans. He forced down the surge of jealousy that threatened to flood through him as he freed Draco's erection. It was thick, heavy, and very, very hard, the polar opposite of Harry's, which was still very much comatose. This wasn't about him. This was about reassuring his wounded lover. He took Draco into his hands, and gave a few confident, assuring strokes. Draco let out a soft, almost tortured moan.
"You don't have to," he rasped, his body betraying his words as he thrust forwards, clearly desperate for more contact.
"Draco, shut up," Harry said. Then he leant forwards and took Draco into his mouth.
"Oh god, Harry," Draco moaned. Encouraged, Harry forced his throat to relax and took Draco in further, using his tongue to provide extra stimulation. He knew Draco was close, and swallowed around his erection, causing his lover to shudder in delight.
"So good, close," Draco said, his hands automatically buried in Harry's hair and pulling almost to the point of pain, "I just… oh, fuck!"
That was the only warning Harry got before Draco came. Harry looked up into Draco's beautiful flushed face and took everything Draco gave him, savouring it as the affirmation he hoped it was that they'd be OK. He waited until Draco had calmed slightly and pulled away, before leaning up and kissing Draco deeply.
"Anything?" Draco asked hopefully when the kiss ended. Harry shook his head, and Draco looked crestfallen. "Maybe if I just-"
"Please," Harry said. "Don't. You have no idea who much I wish you could."
They made their way up to bed. Harry decided to jump in the shower quickly- both because he really was hot and sweaty after a night in the pub, and he also felt utterly frustrated, and wanted to see if anything could be done about that without the added pressure of not hurting Draco's feelings if (when) it didn't work. He soaped his skin and hair quickly, rinsed, and then took himself in his hand. Nothing. He screwed his eyes shut and thought about Draco- his cock, the noises he'd just made on their sofa as Harry sucked him, Draco's face as he'd come. He thought about the time when Lily had just started Hogwarts and he and Draco went away for the weekend to try and distract themselves from missing her. They'd ended up getting thoroughly pissed in a local Muggle gay pub and shagged underneath Brighton Pier, in the middle of a late summer thunderstorm. They were both soaked to the skin, Harry ended up with a gash on his arse due to a sharp stone, and they were chilled to the bone, but it was still one of his happiest ever memories. He remembered arching into Draco's thrusts and coming just as a huge bolt of lightning forked towards the ground and disappeared. Poetry in motion.
He released his listless cock from his hands and bit his bottom lip hard, closing his eyes and refusing to cry. It had only been a week. OK, so he'd taken much longer than usual to come for a few days before that too, but he'd got there in the end. Draco was one of the best Potions brewers in the United Kingdom; if anyone could come up with something to help him, it was Draco. They'd be fine.
Harry hurriedly shut off the water, stepped out of the shower, and towelled himself roughly. He stepped into his and Draco's bedroom, where Draco was sat up in bed reading from a Potions text by the light of his wand. He smiled when he saw Harry and put the book on his bedside table.
"Any luck?" he asked pointedly. Harry just shook his head sadly, not even having the energy for embarrassment. He threw the wet towel into the washing basket, grabbed a clean pair of boxers out of his chest of drawers and threw them on. He climbed into bed and stared up at the ceiling.
"There's something in that book that might work," Draco said. "It involves yohimbe bark and cardamom. Only glitch is it needs to be stewed on the full moon. That's three weeks from now."
"It's better than nothing," Harry said. He yawned loudly and checked the time. "Merlin, it's nearly one, no wonder I can barely stay awake. I feel like a little old man. Goodnight, Draco."
"Night," Draco replied. "Nox." The room was filled instantly with darkness.
Harry was just drifting off when he felt the warm presence of Draco's naked chest pressed against his back.
"Just so you know," Draco whispered, "it's not the same. Not when you can't, as well."
Harry didn't know if this was a comfort or not, as he finally drifted off.