***
See disclaimer in Chapter 1. Not mine.
***
Aug. 20
"… that's it, really. We were way too young to get serious when we started dating, but it's what everyone expected us to do. Look where it's gotten us," Harry said with a snort, shaking his head.
Draco drew random patterns on the tabletop with the condensation from his glass. He'd been waiting nearly three weeks for Harry to tell him about Ginny, and now that he was, he couldn't help but think there was more to the story than Harry was telling him.
"Shouldn't you be – I don't know – angrier?" Draco asked, looking up at Harry.
Harry shrugged, uncomfortable with where the conversation was headed. He'd agreed when Draco had said he needed to talk about Ginny and how their engagement ended, but he didn't want to tell him everything. There were some things that were too personal.
"The number of Galleons you dropped on the ceremony would have most men –"
"I don't care about the money," Harry snapped, running his hand through his hair. "Sorry. It's just – it's not about the money."
Harry smiled sadly, rubbing his face absently as he regained his composure.
"How she must hate me, to do something like that," Harry said ruefully, removing his hand and looking at Draco. He didn't notice how tightly the blond was gripping his glass.
"Harry, from what you've told me, she's been cheating on you for years. She obviously never intended to marry you, just to publicly embarrass you by setting it all up and leaving you at the altar. How can you not hate her?"
Harry bit his lip, wondering if he should come completely clean with Draco. He'd told him they had a falling out last year that pretty much ended any intimacy between them, and that that was when Ginny had started flaunting her lovers. He'd been vague about their argument, though. How would Draco react to knowing it had been about him?
Harry took a deep breath, debating what to do. On one hand it would be such a relief to tell someone else about his unnaturalness, but Draco probably wasn't his best choice, seeing as how his said unnaturalness manifested itself as attraction to him. Still, wouldn't Draco find out as soon as they were back in London, anyway? Surely Ginny had told her story to the newspapers. He couldn't imagine she'd have kept quiet, with as harsh as the rest of her revenge had been. He knew he deserved it, but it didn't make it any easier to digest.
"It's not that simple," he said, his tone making it clear that part of the conversation was over.
Draco sat back, taking Harry's not-so-subtle hint to drop the subject. They sat in silence, each berating himself – Harry for sharing more than he'd meant to with an overly perceptive Draco, and Draco for losing control and pressing Harry for more information than the man wanted give.
"Do you want to go for a fly?" Harry asked out of the blue, surprising Draco. He'd figured Harry would bolt to privacy as soon as he could.
Draco nodded, eager to spend time with Harry doing something fun. The athletic former Gryffindor usually favored the Muggle sports on the island like surfing and hiking, and Draco didn't often accompany him. Harry was used to exercise, since his job as an Auror demanded he stay physically fit. He spent most mornings out running on the beach before it got too hot, while Draco spent it enjoying his coffee and watching from the verandah.
They hadn't taken the brooms out in the weeks they'd been on the island, and both men were pleased to find they were late-model Nimbuses with a host of features. It shouldn't have been a surprise, since everything on the island was top-quality.
"How about a Seeker's game?" Draco asked, spotting a shiny gold Snitch in a case in the corner of the shed. He grabbed it, snapping open the fasteners and catching the Snitch in his hand before it could dart away.
Draco hadn't been in the air in years, and Harry had only flown during the impromptu games of Quidditch that always seemed to spark up at the Burrow during the holidays. Harry figured that would mean they were likely fairly evenly matched – Draco had been a magnificent flyer in school, as he recalled.
"Loser makes dinner," Harry shouted, kicking off the sandy beach and soaring above the island, eager to explore how high the wards that kept them there went up.
Draco grinned, shielding his eyes against the sun as he watched Harry's graceful ascent. The wizard dove and looped through the air, his laughter audible even to Draco, who was still on the ground. He'd loved watching Harry fly when they were in school, though he'd never admitted it to anyone. The man was simply magic in the air. He was the most intuitive flyer Draco had ever seen, and watching him execute death-defying tricks with ease was a joy.
"Get your arse up here, Malfoy!" Harry called out, bringing his broom low so he was hovering a few meters over the blond. "Let's see what you can do without your goons clearing the way for you."
Draco's lips curved into a feral smile, needing no further encouragement to take to the air. He looped around for a few minutes, getting used to the controls on the unfamiliar broom, before zooming up and hovering beside Harry. Both men were smiling and tousled, their cheeks already pink from the whipping wind. Draco raised his arm, opening his hand and letting the Snitch zoom toward freedom. The two men locked eyes, studying each other while the Snitch put some distance between them and itself. Suddenly, Harry shot Draco a Slytherin-worthy smirk, winking at him before taking off at top speed in the direction the tiny golden ball had gone.
Draco shook his head, adjusting his grip on the broom and streaking after him. Why did it always seem like he ended up chasing after Potter?
***
Harry scowled as he sat his shoes on the verandah to dry. They'd gotten soaked when the Snitch had skimmed the surface of the water and he'd followed, very nearly falling from his broom when a large wave took him off guard. He'd caught the Snitch in the end, but Draco had laughed all the way back, claiming that seeing Harry bested by nature and looking like an angry drowned rat was enough of a victory for him.
"Just because you were too chicken to try," he muttered, peeling his sodden clothes off as he made his way toward his room.
He wasn't prepared to smack into something solid midway down the corridor, and he found himself flailing out, grabbing at anything he could to keep his footing. His wet shirt was stuck around his head, covering his eyes and severely compromising his range of motion. He would have gone down hard if a strong pair of hands hadn't grabbed him around his torso. As it was, even Draco's intervention wasn't enough to stop him from falling; it just meant the blond went down as well, acting as a cushion between Harry and the floor.
Harry started laughing as soon as he got his breath back, fumbling with his shirt until he could yank the clingy wet fabric over his head and free himself. He rolled to his side so he wasn't crushing the blond, who was trying to look stern but failing.
"How is it that you have so much coordination in the sky but none on the ground?" Draco asked, shaking his head in a mock disappointed manner.
Harry rolled his eyes, tossing his shirt toward the bathroom. It landed with a splat on the tiled floor, prompting a disgusted noise from Draco. The hamper in the bathroom was charmed to clean their laundry and return it to the closet, but as Draco had pointed out to the dark-haired man several times already, it only worked if the clothing actually made it in the basket.
"Merlin, you're a pig," Draco said, giving Harry an exasperated look that was made much less biting by the fact that he was still lying flat on the floor.
Harry laughed, wincing as his Quidditch-abused muscles protested when he got to his feet. He held his hand out for Draco, helping the blond off the floor. He'd taken the worst of the fall, and Harry watched him critically as he rose, trying to determine if he'd been injured.
As Draco straightened, he slipped in a puddle of water from Harry's dripping clothes. Still holding Harry's hand, he crashed forward, pinning the dark-haired man to the wall. His lips brushed Harry's neck as he struggled to right himself, and the unexpected contact sent a rush of arousal through him. Draco pulled away quickly before Harry could feel the effect it had on him, but he managed to catch the wide-eyed look of panic on the other man's face, making him wonder if Harry had managed to feel his erection after all.
"I'll just go get dinner started," he said, turning quickly so Harry couldn't see his flushed cheeks.
"I should change," Harry said just as quickly, turning on his heel and bolting for the safety of his room.
Draco shook his head, cursing his body for its reaction to Harry's nearness. He couldn't be completely upset at the unintentional contact, though. Now he knew what Harry's skin tasted like after a day out in the sunshine. His flagging erection throbbed at the thought, and Draco scolded himself, heading toward the kitchen to throw something together for Harry's victory meal.
Harry could hear Draco banging around in the kitchen, and he figured he had at least half an hour before the blond was ready to eat. He sank down on the wicker chair in the corner of the room, oblivious to the wet tracks he'd made across the carpet. Draco probably hadn't even noticed the light touch, but the feeling of his soft lips against Harry's skin had coursed through him like wildfire, setting his blood singing and definitely getting a reaction from his cock.
He groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall with a thunk. He was a grown man, for Merlin's sake! He should be able to master his body's reactions to things, yet here he was, hiding in his room with a hard-on after a few accidental touches from Draco. He squeezed his eyes shut, guilt washing over him. Draco was a man. It wasn't right to be attracted to him.
Harry shivered, suddenly acutely aware of his wet trousers. He slid out of them, Summoning a towel from the bathroom to wrap around his waist. Cursing the fact that there was only one bathroom in the small cottage, Harry poked his head through the door that adjoined his bedroom. His shirt was still in the middle of the floor, and the door to the corridor was open, just like they'd left it. He eased through the door, closing and locking the one to the corridor. The last thing he needed was Draco walking in on him in the shower, he thought with disgust, catching sight in the mirror of his still-present erection tenting the towel.
He turned the water on as hot as he could stand it, stepping under the spray and letting his chilled skin warm back up. A cold shower probably would have been more logical, but he was already freezing. He sagged against the tiled wall, letting the stream of steamy water hit his back. His cock was still begging for attention, but he could hardly wank while his thoughts were still so tangled up with Draco. That would be crossing the final line, in his mind, at least. He knew he was attracted to men, but he'd never actually wanked to thoughts of one. If he did that – well, Harry didn't think there would be any redemption for him.
He pictured Ginny's porcelain skin and long red hair instead, relieved when his mind cooperated and supplied images of the two of them making love. It had been years since he'd really enjoyed being with her in that way, but he could remember the thrill of sinking into her willing body when things were still fresh and new between them, when they'd actually been in love and couldn't get enough of each other.
Harry fisted his cock with one hand, bracing himself against the wall with his forearm. His breathing came in rough pants as remembered what it had been like to run his hands all over her pale skin, tracing soft curves and toned muscles.
He groaned when an image of different pale skin flooded his mind – skin that covered firm, defined muscles. Draco was pale like Ginny, but that was where the similarities ended. Harry remembered what it felt like to be cradled against his warm, solid chest. It had been wonderful, just being held by someone who cared, not to mention the fact that the comforting arms that had wrapped around him to soothe him after his nightmare had belonged to Draco. Harry gave in, gasping as his strokes became rougher. He pictured Draco on his knees in front of him, his white blond hair plastered to his forehead, water beading on his skin and rolling down his perfect chest as he looked up. Harry bit down on his tongue, reining in the urge to scream as he imagined those full lips opening, curving over sharp teeth to protect Harry's sensitive skin as he leaned forward, his tongue darting out to lick at the tip of Harry's cock before swallowing his length down.
Harry cried out, letting his head fall against his forearm as he came harder than he had in years. His legs trembled with the force of his orgasm, and he let himself slide down to the floor, the shower spray still hitting his back as he curled away from the cooling water. He balled up his fists, smacking them against the wall as he felt hot tears prick behind his closed eyelids. He'd never lost control like that before – he'd always been able to stop himself from indulging in such sick and twisted thoughts.
Harry rested his head against the warmed tile, letting the silent tears spill over and slide down his cheeks. He was well and truly fucked. He'd just wanked to thoughts of Draco Malfoy.
TBC
