Chapter Eleven - Home
Harry was pretending to listen to Ernie as he talked through his latest case. Almost two weeks had passed since the wild magic case had been closed, and Harry had tried to throw himself into his work in an attempt not to think about Malfoy. He wanted to see Malfoy again, but just couldn't seem to build the courage to contact him. So much for being a heroic Gryffindor.
Ernie kept running through details of shipments and times. Robards was nodding and every so often Harry would offer vague noises of interest to show that he was listening, which of course he wasn't. The room was warm, and it had reached that point in the afternoon when everyone's bodies attempted to settle down for a nap, no matter what they were actually supposed to be doing. Who on earth had scheduled a meeting for two o'clock on a Friday afternoon, anyway? Judging by the detailed agenda in front of him, Harry suspected it was Robards, even though he was suffering as much as anyone else in the room.
When the door opened, Harry didn't bother to turn to see who was coming in: to be honest, unless it was a fresh plate of biscuits he wasn't interested.
"Please excuse my tardiness," a familiar dry voice said, managing to sound neither apologetic nor conciliatory. It sounded... it sounded like home, and Harry couldn't help but smile. He looked up, trying not to be too obvious, and was met by a pair of grey eyes, fixed on him, and a small smile, one just for him, coming from Malfoy. It was as if no time had passed since they'd last seen each other. Harry's smile widened, until he suddenly became aware of where he was, and then he looked back down at his copy of the agenda. Somehow, Ernie was still droning on about Devonian trolls and marrow root, but mainly Harry could just hear the rushing thrum of his own pulse in his ears. He looked at Malfoy again, but this time he was studying the parchment in front of him, a sliver of tongue between his lips.
Harry closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath: he wanted nothing more than to climb across the table and part those lips with his own, and snog the living daylights out of Malfoy. He glanced up again, just in time to see Malfoy's eyes dart away. Harry couldn't bear to meet them again, and as for Malfoy's mouth... it was just indecent: his lips were shiny with a thin line of wet where his tongue had been, and—
A snapping sound broke Ernie's drone for a moment, and Harry looked down to his own hand, where his quill lay in two halves, ink staining his fingers. He cast a quiet Reparo, and the torture of the meeting continued. Harry resolved to keep his eyes on the table, with its curling pieces of parchment, greying cups of tea and the plate of biscuit crumbs at its centre. He watched as Malfoy grasped his own quill in an elegant hold, and he remembered the cool of those long fingers as they stroked his arm. The room had gone from warm to suffocating, and Harry ran his hand along the high collar of his Auror robes.
When he felt the firm pressure of a foot against his, under the table, with a small, matching smirk on Malfoy's face, Harry ceased to be aware of any of the words being spoken in the room. He wasn't sure if it was accidental or not, and he didn't catch Malfoy's eye again, but the foot remained where it was, pressing ever so slightly into his own. Harry watched as Malfoy's mouth opened and closed, and he was dimly aware that words were coming out, and that others were listening, but at that moment it was beyond him.
The scraping of chairs was the first Harry knew that the meeting was over: he had no idea what had been discussed, or decided. He didn't care. But then Malfoy also rose, and Harry felt panic rise at the thought that he would step out of the room and belong to everyone else again. He wanted the warmth against his foot. He wanted the impatience and the tailored trousers, and the rich scent of fresh coffee. But Malfoy was walking away, and somehow Harry knew that this was it. This would end up being a near-miss, a regret he would feel every time he heard that voice cut into a conversation. Harry cursed himself: he was so used to life passing him by, he didn't know how to grasp this one thing he wanted, more than he had wanted anything for years. Harry's head slumped forward. The sound of the door closing was a final goodbye to his chance for... whatever it was he could have had.
"She was right, you really are useless," came the clear, sharp voice of Draco Malfoy. Harry looked up: Malfoy was by the door, his hand still resting on the doorknob.
"I– you–" began Harry, but he didn't know what to say.
"I thought I might hear from you, but I didn't," said Malfoy.
"You told me you didn't want to..."
"I know what I said," Malfoy took a step forward, away from the door. "And Pansy told me how you brought me to St Mungo's and followed me even when you were told you could go."
"I—"
"And I remember you rushing across a room to grab me out from under a collapsing building," Malfoy said, taking another few steps forward. By now he was level with the large table at the centre of the room: it was the only thing between them. "But mostly," he said, coming around the side of the table, "I have been thinking about—", he grasped the armrests of Harry's chair, turning it towards him, "—you kissing me." Harry's heart was beating in his chest, so hard it almost hurt, as Malfoy moved in closer and leant forwards. Harry could feel the flutter of hot breath against his skin, and his eyes closed as his lips met Malfoy's. This kiss made Harry ache with pent-up need, and he reached up to pull Malfoy closer: he wanted more, more lips and tongue and more of the hard heat of Malfoy's body.
Harry held tight onto Malfoy, extending the kiss as much as he could. When Malfoy pulled back, straightening up, his hair was awry, his lips wet and well-kissed, the sight had a pretty instant effect on Harry's cock, which had been merely stirring with interest until then.
"You—" Harry said, unable to think of the words he needed. Malfoy smirked. There was plenty that Harry should probably be asking, but he didn't care. He wanted to see Malfoy's mouth fall open in arousal. He wanted to taste Malfoy's neck. He licked his lips, and Malfoy groaned, his lips parting in what Harry took as an invitation for another kiss. Quick as a flash, Harry stood and pinned Malfoy against the table. He ground his body into Malfoy's, eliciting another low moan.
This kiss was hungry, with sucking and teeth, and it made Harry's back tighten with desire. He reached up and undid the top button of Malfoy's robes, and then the one below, while Malfoy watched his face with eyes burning.
"I've," Harry said, looking directly at Malfoy, "been thinking about your neck." He bent his head to taste the skin there, swirling his tongue before kissing his way up to Malfoy's jawline. "So I take it you've changed your mind?" he murmured into hot skin.
Malfoy cleared his throat, and Harry moved back. "Yes, well, I decided that maybe it was real, after all. What with the life-saving, long-distance Apparition, hand-holding and all." Harry was about to correct him on the hand-holding, but then he realised that he would have done, if he could.
The table creaked with their weight as Harry pushed Malfoy back. "I'm glad you changed your mind," said Harry. "But I think that we need to work on equality in this... whatever this is." Malfoy regarded him, eyebrow raised.
"Equality?" he said. "This isn't going to become a competition is it? I don't need to rush under any falling masonry do I?"
"No chance of that since you fixed my house," Harry said. "I mean that I think it's about time you met some of my basic physical needs."
"Oh yes?" said Malfoy, and he brought his hand between them, palming Harry's length before beginning to move his hand. Harry closed his eyes: it felt amazing. He groaned as Malfoy's other hand slid up under the parting of his robes, touching the bare skin of his back. "What if I've still got some needs of my own to be met?" Malfoy whispered into Harry's ear.
"I—" Harry shuddered as Malfoy's hands roamed across his body. "I think we could come to some mutually beneficial agreement," he managed to say. "But much as I'd like to strip you here and have you against this table," this time he felt Malfoy shudder at his words, and decided that against the table was definitely something to add to his list, "I want to get you home. I want to take my time." He moaned as Malfoy squeezed, and despite his intentions to wait until they had left to do anything more, his own hand sought out the bulge of Malfoy's erection. Just the simplest of touch sent a spike of want through him, and all thoughts of anything other than pressing against each other fled Harry's mind.
"What happened to taking your time?" asked Malfoy, as Harry unbuttoned his fly with trembling fingers.
"Something came up," said Harry, and was rewarded with a shaky laugh.
"Your jokes are terrible," said Malfoy, even as his fingers were opening Harry's trousers and finding their way in. Harry knew that they shouldn't be doing this, not here, not now, but at the same time he really didn't care, not as long as Malfoy touched him like that.
Harry leant into Malfoy's shoulder, the bunched up robes between them giving everything a heated, trapped feel. Harry began to move his hand, revelling in the feeling of mutual pleasure as Malfoy matched his actions. He breathed in the faint smell of coffee, as hot, damp skin pressed to his face. They fell into a matching rhythm, and it had been so long since anyone had touched him like this: to be honest, it had never been quite like this. It was hot and urgent, and the room was peppered with the sound of half-swallowed moans and murmurs. Under it all was the knowledge that nothing, nothing at all, could stop them now. Every look and word and touch over the past few weeks had been leading to this moment, and Harry felt it wash over him, the rightness of being tangled together like this.
He pressed a kiss into Malfoy's neck, and Malfoy arched his back and groaned.
"Harry," said Malfoy, and he pulsed in Harry's hand. Harry couldn't tell which was the greater intimacy: hearing his name on Malfoy's lips or the wetness on his hand. It was enough to set him off too, with a small cry, muffled into Malfoy's shoulder.
They stood there, panting, before sharing one more kiss, which lingered as they savoured the moment and each other.
"Draco," whispered Harry, searching out grey eyes. He found them, and they wouldn't let him go.
"I think... I might be able to get used to you calling me that."
Harry looked at him, and didn't know if he was Draco or Malfoy: he just knew that he wanted to peel every item of clothing off his body, then touch him all over.
"Let me take you hom—"
At that very moment the doorknob squeaked and began to turn. Harry could hear Ron berating Ernie: apparently, Ernie had forgotten something in the room.
"Merlin, but that man is an idiot," Malfoy groaned, as the door opened. Instinctively, Harry pressed himself closer to Malfoy, hoping that long robes and a table would be enough to disguise the fact that both their cocks were hanging out, and their robes splattered with come.
Harry watched as Ron opened the door with an exasperated look over his shoulder: an expression which swiftly changed to open-mouthed horror as he took in the sight of Harry and Malfoy pressed up against each other. There was a moment of absolute silence as Ernie's brain caught up, and then the next moment Ron glared at Harry, muttered "Fucking hell, Harry," the last word ending almost on a whine, then grabbed Ernie's sleeve and pulled him out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
There was a long heartbeat before Harry heard and felt Malfoy's chuckle.
"Don't laugh," said Harry, feeling mortified. "That's probably scarred Ron for life." He felt Malfoy shrug against him.
"You should have taken me home then," said Malfoy, pressing up against him again. "Like you promised." Harry felt a stir of interest, a languid rush of blood, at the suggestion.
"Oh, I'm going to do that now," said Harry, pulling Malfoy in for a kiss. "And maybe next time we should wait before we... you know, against the table."
"Next time?" A smile curved across Malfoy's face. "Next time we lock the bloody door first."
Nothing seemed more perfect at that moment then to kiss Malfoy again: they were still mid-kiss when Harry Apparated them away.
o~O~o
"Now why don't Aurors always wear their robes like that?" said Malfoy, as he looked Harry up and down. They had pulled down and kicked off everything below the waist: Harry had to admit that Malfoy, mostly buttoned up but penis hanging out of his robes, was a sight he wasn't going to forget in a hurry. He didn't know whether to laugh or reach for him, when he noticed something that made him smile.
"Are your robes tailored?" Harry asked.
"Of course," Malfoy said. "But I thought we had already covered the topic of my need to wear well-fitting clothes."
"Oh they do fit you well," said Harry, running his eye across Malfoy's chest in appreciation. "It's only– well, I suppose at least it's not Crup spunk this time."
"What?" said Malfoy, his attention snapping towards his robes. He frowned and began to unbutton them, but Harry placed a stilling hand over his fingers.
"Don't you dare," he growled. "That's my job."
"Maybe Kreacher can get the stains out, before they set," said Malfoy, ignoring Harry and looking across to the door. Harry immediately ordered the door to lock, with a short burst of sibilant syllables.
Malfoy froze, and his eyes sank shut as he bit on his bottom lip. "Say something else," he whispered on a stream of breathy air. Harry felt a small burst of triumph for having successfully regained Malfoy's attention. Smiling to himself, he decided exactly what he was going to say.
"I am going to fuck that delectable arse of yours into the mattress," he hissed, and it didn't matter if Malfoy could understand or not, because his intent was absolutely clear.
"Fuck, Potter," Malfoy said his voice low and husky, and he pulled Harry down onto the bed. It was good to finally hear the need, no longer denied, in Malfoy's voice, and Harry drew closer.
"I was hoping you'd say that," Harry said, and he set about undoing every button on Malfoy's robe himself. Each button slipping through its little hole brought a hitch in Malfoy's breathing, and by the time the robe was lying open, Harry's cock was hard and leaking.
He knew he'd promised to take his time, but there was desperation in the way they kissed, and soon Harry was naked too, sat in Malfoy' lap. His hands were trying to map every inch of Malfoy's pale skin and hard body, all lean and long. With a surge, Harry pushed Malfoy down, his hips moving of their own accord as their cocks slid against each other. They kissed and groped and grabbed.
"I know I said I wanted to take my time," Harry said, "but—"
"I swear, Potter, if you don't fuck me soon I'll never forgive you," Malfoy said, and the words were like a jolt of electricity. Harry ground his hips one more time, moaning slightly as he did.
"Oh," said Harry, somewhat breathlessly. "Well if you feel like that..." He summoned a vial of oil from beside the bed and sat up, before gently pushing Malfoy's legs up so his knees moved towards his chest then out.
"I knew you were a wanker–" said Malfoy, but whatever he was going to say next got lost in a sharp intake of breath as Harry's oiled finger began to move, making small circles first then sliding in, moving deeper.
"I think," said Harry, as he switched to two fingers, "that at moments like this, I might prefer to call you Draco." He looked down at Draco, skin pinked and lips parted. "I do really like Malfoy, but it's Draco I want to fuck."
"Harry?"
"Yes?"
"Shut the fuck up and get on with it."
"Well, if you insist," said Harry. He continued with his fingers for another minute or so, then made sure that he was well slicked himself, closing his eyes at the sensation of his hand moving over sensitive, needy flesh. Harry moved forwards, but the sight of Draco's beautiful cock, long and engorged against his stomach distracted him, and he bent down to lick and suck the tip, relishing the feeling of heat in his mouth.
"Harry," whined Draco, and Harry released his cock with regret, wanting to get to know it better. When he finally pushed in though, he berated himself for taking his time before: it was fantastic, all tight heat and moaning man with flushed cheeks and chest.
As they moved together, Harry was struck by just how long he'd spent looking at Draco, wanting all the time to see him like this. He reached out to touch Draco: he didn't care where, he just wanted to feel skin. Draco's eyes opened and they shared a look, as Draco unclasped the bunched up sheet in his hand so he could squeeze Harry's hand. Somehow, Harry knew that this was the first time, but by no means the last time they would do this, and the thought filled him with wonder.
These, and other thoughts, were soon driven out as Harry made good his Parseltongue promise. When he grasped Draco's cock he was, within a few strokes, rewarded with a glorious arc of come, and a tightening down which led to his own noisy and satisfied release.
Afterwards, as Harry lay in a state of post-coital lassitude, half aware of the warm body next to him and of the general feeling of contentment spreading all the way down to his toes, his wandering mind was brought back by Draco's voice.
"Harry?"
"Hmm," said Harry, still not completely focused.
"Why are we in here?"
Harry stretched and turned his head to look at Draco, who had sat up and was looking around the room.
"After you... left, I started sleeping in here. It smelt like you," Harry said, and yawned. "You were right, it does make a better bedroom. I decided that it was time I did something about the house. I– I want to make it more of a home."
"You silly sap," said Draco, resting his hand on Harry's chest and smiling down at him. He looked back up, and Harry could almost see the thoughts whirring as he frowned in concentration. "You know I've got plenty more ideas about your house," said Draco.
"Yes, I thought you might," said Harry. "I'm a bit lost as to where to start." He pulled Draco down towards him. "Just not quite yet, hey?" He yawned again. "Too sleepy."
Draco settled next to Harry stroked his face, the lightest of touches which left a tingling wake behind it. Harry shuffled closer and hummed, then closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep with Draco, feeling that maybe, just maybe, he was finally home.
o~O~o
The bedroom was filled with light when they woke. Harry stretched, and his hand brushed Draco's hip. It was warm, the skin soft, and Harry's hand seemed to take it as an invitation to travel further, over Draco's stomach, his finger tracing a lazy line through a smattering of hair that thickened as it moved lower.
"You'd better make good on the promise you're making," said Draco. "You can't do that unless—" his voice hitched as Harry reached down to cup his balls, and then up to his wonderfully full, hot, morning wood. He began to move his hand, in long leisurely passes.
"It feels to me," said Harry, "as if you're the one making the promise here." Draco turned his head towards Harry and ran his lips across Harry's chin before kissing him on the corner of his mouth.
"Knob," he said.
"Prick," said Harry, twisting his hand at the end of the stroke. Draco groaned, and rolled on top of Harry.
"Promises, promises," he said, moving his hips and dipping his head to Harry's neck. Draco's breath was hot next to Harry's ear: it made him squirm with want, and he sought Draco's mouth out with his own. His kiss was a pledge of heat and need, of what was to come, as they ground their bodies together.
"I want... I want..." Harry said, and Draco hushed him, stopping his mouth his own, then pulled him up, somehow still kissing; as soon as they were sitting, facing each other, Draco grasped their cocks.
"Everything," Draco said. "I want everything." As his hand began to move, his other grabbed Harry's arse and squeezed. A wave of pleasure passed through Harry, and he wanted Draco's hand to move further back. Instead though, Draco kissed Harry's neck again, and Harry felt the huff of warm breath and the buzz of a soft purr, as Draco spoke into his ear. "I want you, Harry." An actual shiver passed through Harry at the words. Yes he thought.
"Yes," gasped Harry.
Draco pulled Harry into a kiss. Harry felt as if he was being devoured. It had been a very long time indeed since he had bottomed, mostly due to circumstance and lack of opportunity, but he was greedy: he wanted all of Draco. He wanted Draco to have all of him.
Sunlight painted their bodies gold and bright as they explored each other's bodies, Draco being just as methodical in this as he was in everything else. Much, Harry decided after an orgasm which made his vision blur, to his benefit.