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The Last Malfoy.
"Do you ever feel… guilty?"
"All the time," Harry waggled his eyebrows at Malfoy suggestively, wiggling his legs into a more comfortable position with a heap of Slytherin lying on his chest. Malfoy cleared his throat quietly and stared down at their linked fingers, shifting his thumb to stroke Harry's. Harry frowned at him. "What for?"
"I don't know," Malfoy said, cautiously. He rubbed his lips together as he habitually did if there was a chance he had something potentially difficult to relate. Harry tilted his head down, trying to catch the blonde's eye. Malfoy sucked in one side of his cheek and dropped Harry's hand. "For being gay, I suppose."
Harry shut his eyes. Malfoy was doing it again and it was the thing he hated most about him right now; this self-loathing he seemed to have picked up from somewhere. A small tremor, a chilly nip, passed through him and he flinched. Malfoy felt it and rolled off him onto his back. The cold night air hit Harry's skin and he yanked the bedding up to his armpits. "Don't do this," he said. Stated. Flatly.
"You're the last Potter, you have to understand what I mean," said Malfoy, obliviously, "and now I'm the last Malfoy too… if I never marry, the name's going to die. The family tree will just… end, won't it?"
"Don't you have any family on your father's side?" Harry was going through the motions, but he felt hollow.
"No. Have you… got any Potter relations?"
"I have no idea. Does this conversation have a purpose?" Tight voice.
"Yes. What would I do, I'll have to marry at some point, take a wife, have an heir, but I'd still be gay… I couldn't be with a man, we couldn't adopt, there would be no Malfoy blood… and there would be one less pureblood family…" Malfoy sounded upset as these thoughts occurred to him. Harry rolled onto his side, his back to him. "Potter?"
"Fuck off."
"Look, I didn't mean, I mean, I like being with you, I want to be with you… but I was thinking about it the other day in the tapestry room and there's loads of people on my mother's side to continue the name of Black, but no one but me to expand the Malfoy name… I'm trying to think practically. If I have a future, that might have to be it."
There was no movement from Harry's unfriendly back, though the noise of a shaky breath was loud after Malfoy's whispered explanations. "You'd be with someone else? With a woman?"
"It's my duty," said Malfoy, confused. How could Harry not understand? Didn't he want to continue his father's name? Their families had some ancient traditions, could they be passed over simply because one was homosexual? How would he bear such guilt?
"Duty? But you're not… you don't sleep with women!" Harry hissed, vehemently. "You sleep with me!"
"But… don't you feel guilty? At all?"
Harry rolled back to face him. His face was scrunched and hurt. A small pang flittered on Malfoy's chest. "No, I don't feel guilty. I won't. I'm gay, there's nothing wrong with it. I am gay, I sleep with men, I sleep with you and I want you, and a love being with you, and there's nothing wrong with that! Why are you saying this?"
"But, I just…"
"Go away Draco."
"But Harry…"
"Please go away."
Draco slept in his own room that night. Harry lay awake until three, cold and swamped by double bed.
888
"Harry, have you and Malfoy, um… had a fight or something?"
Hermione put a plate of bacon on the kitchen table and released it gingerly as though sharp movements would provoke Harry into one of his rare explosions of temper. Harry sighed and set a bunch of mugs on the table next to the eggs. They had a rather full house for breakfast so a fry-up had been the best choice. He speared a sausage and transferred it to Hermione's plate to appease her. A few odd aurors started filtering in and grabbing plates. Harry rubbed a hand briefly over his eyes as though he could erase the dark circles around his eyes. He didn't want to use a glamour charm or something to conceal them. A part of him wanted Malfoy to notice them and feel… what was the word… oh God, there had to be something more appropriate than 'guilty'. If he were going to answer Hermione's question, however, he'd have to do so quickly before someone more assertive walked in.
"He's going to leave me, I think. Well, obviously he can't leave-leave, but … he said he feels 'guilty' and thinks he should get married. To a woman," he added, just to clarify.
"Oh, Harry…" Hermione covered his hand with hers briefly and shot him a sympathetic look before withdrawing again. The aurors seated themselves at the other end of the table. "What did you say?" she whispered.
"I…" Harry ran a hand through his hair, flustered. "What could I do… I told him to leave and he went upstairs. I don't know what to say."
At that moment, Ron, Lupin and various others who appeared and the table started filling up. Malfoy was not amongst them. Harry thought of going to look for him, as he knew that the blond didn't enjoy sitting amongst the aurors, but then the thought passed and he decided that actually he'd rather not see him. He didn't know what to think about the odd, if brief, conversation of the previous night. Thinking about whatever that had been about was confusing and painful and had made him feel like crying. He had managed not to, but it was a close thing when he had been alone and in bed wishing there was another body next to him. Not just another body. Malfoy's. Draco's. He didn't know where Malfoy's guilt was coming from. As he cut bits of bacon up and pushed them about on his plate, he remembered back to before the exams, when Malfoy had told him what he thought his parents might make of his sexuality.
Draco finally appeared and sat down diagonally opposite him. Harry glanced at him and their eyes met immediately. The Slytherin looked very uncomfortable and his eyes were rimmed red. Harry felt a savage stab of pleasure before it was quenched by a wave of despair. "Harry," the blond whispered, practically inaudibly. Harry gazed back at him. Malfoy lowered his eyes for a moment. When he looked back, it was to see Harry disappearing out of the kitchen door.
He found him in the tapestry room.
"Potter?"
"Malfoy," Harry murmured, his back to him. Cool fingers traced ancient threads. Lucius – Narcissa – Draco Malfoy. Then no more. There were a few ancient Potters on the tree, he knew, but they petered out before they even would have got close to reaching James. He put his finger against the name Draco and tried to imagine another name next to it. He couldn't. It left a bitter and salty taste in his mouth. Then the salt was on his face. He leaned his forehead against the knobbly surface.
He felt Malfoy's hands come round to rest on his waist, gentle, but firm. Harry's face turned slightly to acknowledge him but he couldn't see his expression. "Why do you keep doing this to me?" he asked, hoarsely. "Why can't you just decide whether you want me or not and just let it happen? I hate this!"
"Please," Malfoy's arms encircled him a little further, trying to appease. "Please, I thought you would understand."
"Well I don't understand!" Harry jerked himself out of his grip and spiralled around, allowing his lover to see his stricken and streaked face. Malfoy swallowed; panic fluttering at the very top of his chest. "I don't understand how you can be with me, yes, on and off, but on and off for nearly…" he paused to work it out, "oh my God, eight, maybe nine months? Has this been some sort of filler for you? I want us to work, I want you, I want you long term and completely with me, and when it's safe enough I want to tell people! I'd let the Daily fucking Prophet run a special on it if they had the urge! Jesus Christ, Malfoy! How do you think I feel when you suddenly say, after letting me make love to you, I might add, that this is just something for you until you have your real life and get fucking married!"
He stopped, chest heaving, suddenly taking note of his surroundings and realising he'd inadvertently shoved Malfoy into the wall. The grey eyes sparked at him for a moment: a memory of the past violence between them. To be perfectly honest with himself, sometimes Harry missed it. He stepped away quickly and looked towards the open door, hoping no one who shouldn't be listening had overheard them.
"Don't you dare go," Malfoy warned him. Where it was usually a turn on, right now his aristocratic, chilly tone grated on Harry, and the hands that had shot out and gripped his shirt to punctuate the order. He prised the grasping fingers away from him, more gently than he felt like doing.
"You need to decide what it is you want, and mean it," said Harry, quietly. "This isn't a passing game for me, you've made sure of that, remember? Just… just come and find me when you've thought. Either way."
Harry had hoped that the 'either way' would take a day to resolve and that by eleven pm he'd hear the tale-tale creak of Malfoy sneaking through his bedroom door and sliding into bed beside him, but he didn't. By the sixth night of lying alone staring at the ceiling and trying to bore his eyes through to the bedroom above, he wondered whether the either way was not going to fall in his favour after all. His heart ached, as it had done since he had passed the tapestry room earlier that day, only to be confronted with the image of Malfoy's forlorn expression as his fingers traced the threads spelling his father's name and pressed the tips against them: "Tell me what to do, you always knew what to do…" but in the furthest recesses of his mind he knew that Lucius had not known what to do. Any man who followed so willingly in the path of the Dark Lord must have lost his way long ago. His Dark Mark tingled under his full sleeves, which were beginning to irk him as the seasons progressed into summer.
Harry had pulled back from the scene silently, but inside his emotions were screaming.
On the seventh night he couldn't stand it any more. Breaking all of their unwritten rules, he crept up to the second floor and went and knocked on Malfoy's bedroom door. He waited in the draughty corridor. As soon as he was 18 and took full ownership of the house, he would definitely be working out how to get more appropriate heating set up. Suddenly there was a click-clunk noise of a latch lock being released, and the door opened inwards. He breathed in and out in nervous succession and looked up. Malfoy was in the doorway looking rumpled, breathtakingly so, wearing a loose t-shirt and a pair of old cotton boxer shorts. Harry wanted to reach out and wrap his arms so securely around him that he would never want to leave. Instead, he stood on the threshold, feet frozen to the chilly floorboards.
"Can I come in?" he mumbled, when it seemed as though Malfoy was going to simply stare at him all night.
"Um, yes, sorry…"
The room was smaller than Harry's and had a queen-sized bed that was smaller than his and looked oddly narrow in comparison. It was also less furnished. It felt strange to be in here despite the fact that he thought he might have stayed in this room himself at some point when Sirius was still alive.
"You haven't made a decision yet," he blurted, trying not to look at Malfoy.
Malfoy sat on the edge of the bed as though on autopilot. "I have. Only, I thought you didn't want to see me, so I didn't come down."
Harry felt a wave of nausea grip him. He thought he might throw up. He could feel bile building down in his gut. "So that's it," he could barely form the words. "You don't want me. We're finished," a whisper. His throat was so tight he could barely breathe. He thought he might keel over. He sat on the bed quickly before he could fall down. Unfortunately that meant that he very nearly fell onto Malfoy's lap. "Draco, I…" his voice was as tight as the creases in his scrunched face. He would not cry.
"You called me Draco," said Draco, stupidly. "You only ever call me that in bed." He glanced down at Harry's hand resting on the bedcovers, and put his own gently inside its curve without clenching, just resting there.
"You know, when my father was alive I was schooled in our family history, our ancestry. What was expected of me was expected of all the men in our family. And then when I realised I was gay I was terrified because I thought, Merlin, I'm not what's expected of the heir. Pureblood high class culture is so stoic, you have to follow all these rules and act a certain way to certain people, and you can't do anything without being judged in terms of marriage material and whether you've been 'soiled' in some way for your future spouse…" Harry listened quietly. He should have listened before.
"Being gay… that was not an option," Draco continued. "When we… when I remembered that I'd slept with you, my first reaction was panic. You'd taken what I had always been told I had to reserve for my wedding night, understand? But I was so tired of being gay and not acting on it, I wanted you to fully take me, so I made you do it, and it felt like I was finally free to do what I wanted. It felt so good that it had to be a sin. I realised that if anyone in the circles my family mixed with ever found out, I'd be defiled forever. No pureblood witch of a good family would ever marry me; even if she wanted to her family wouldn't allow her to. When I laid with you I had to be sure it wasn't just for sex, that there was something else, that there could be something else. Being intimate and sexual on a whim… where I come from there is no such thing. When Moody killed my father, he killed a part of me, you see? It was hard for my parents to have me, but if they tried maybe they could have had more sons. It wouldn't have been the same as their firstborn, me, continuing the family name, but it would be… I could be less guilty about being gay. Maybe they would have accepted me if I'd come out. I'll never know now."
Harry sat very still, listening.
"Yesterday I looked at the Blacks' tree and saw the Malfoy line. Generations and generations of them had only one male heir. And I wondered… how many of them were gay." Draco licked his dry lips and swallowed some saliva to help the words come out easier. "I am gay," he said. He repeated it for good measure. "I am gay. I always will be and I'll never want a woman, and if I married I would love my children and maybe even love my wife, but never in the way a husband should. We would never be happy. I'd always want a man and I'd wonder what life could have been like if I'd done just what I wanted and had a man beside me and not my wife. I look at all my ancestors and some of the things they have done and I start to think that it's good that my name will end with me."
"The name Malfoy will end with me," he repeated. Harry choked. Draco turned his head and looked at him but Harry was still staring at his knees, though whether he could focus on them through the unshed haze of tears he was refusing to shed, he had no idea. "I'm so sorry I made you wait, but I had to be sure. This was not as easy for me as it was for you and I feel like such a shit for not letting you know what was going on. Harry, I choose you."
888
Draco pulled the bedcovers over them to block out the morning sunshine already streaming through his windows. He rolled over on top of Harry and braced his arms either side of his head. The yellow light that softly penetrated the white sheets illuminated their faces: a private world. They hadn't made love the previous night. Harry had held him in silence until they both drifted off, and at around five am they had drowsily regained consciousness long enough to scramble properly into the bed, the unexpected narrowness of the frame forcing them to lie spooned together, Draco's hand splayed across the brunette's stomach.
He tilted his head and dipped his tongue into Harry's mouth slowly, tasting. The kiss broke after a moment and he touched his forehead to the Gryffindor's briefly, eyes falling shut. 'Thank you God,' he thought. For such an impulsive person, Harry could be surprisingly patient when it mattered.
"This is what you want, isn't it?" Harry murmured. More affirming than questioning.
Draco smiled, expression reactions still slowed from sleep. "This is what I want. This, us, you. Hmmm…" they kissed again, more deeply this time. One of Draco's hands slid down to trace Harry's collarbone and then press the fingertips in soothing circles over a nipple through his pyjama shirt. He smirked into the brunette's mouth as a sleepy mew of desire escaped him. "Ssh, Lupin sleeps on this floor, he'll hear you."
Harry broke the kiss. "Are you going to feel guilty about this?" he looked so stricken that Draco had to smile to reassure him.
"Never again. I promise." He glanced down the length of their bodies and slipped his hand under Harry's top. "Do you want to…?"
Harry searched his face and suggested that they lie there together for a while. Draco sighed contentedly and draped himself over his body like a human blanket. No rush. They weren't going anywhere. He lay still for a while, feeling the familiar sensation of Harry's fingers threading through his hair in soft motions. He didn't feel guilty. He felt relieved. He trailed his fingers absently under the brunette's t-shirt again and rubbed little circles through the soft hairs before slipping down to the hollow beneath a jutting hipbone and stroking the silky patch of skin there. The bedcovers enveloping them were covering them right over their heads in a warm cocoon, which was steadily filling up with more light as the sun continued to move across the windows. The morning was perfect. He craned his neck back and planted a lingering kiss to the underside of Harry's chin. Then another one. Harry groaned pleasurably and Draco dipped his hand a little lower into his pyjama bottoms.
"Mmpfh-hah," said Harry. Draco grinned and heaved up a bit so that he was over him again.
"Make that noise again."
Harry's face twitched in confusion. "What noise?" Draco smirked and moved his fingers again. "Mmpfh-hah! Draco!"
"Hmm yes that's the one…" he bent and kissed him, deeply. Trying to show him, in any way, just how much he …well, just how much he meant to him.
"Mmm.."
Draco chuckled, "shh, thin walls…"
"Oh bollocks to Lupin… mmmpfh, can I touch you?"
"Bollocks to Lupin, maybe, but Granger sleeps in the next room you know."
"Okay I'll be good. Come here…"
They settled more sideways on in a comfortable position to touch each other. It felt quite decadent, in a way, to do this in bed under the covers. Mutual caresses were usually the hurried province of the shower. The bed was for making love and lying entwined. This was exploratory and relaxing. They kissed leisurely. Harry was always slightly more demanding in that respect, but it made Draco feel good that the Gryffindor still maintained a possessiveness around him.
"Ohhh… Ha-Harry…"
"Shh…" they snickered into each other's mouths trying to block the soft gasps and moans, although they were thankfully still not in the habit of being too vocal between the sheets. As their actions got a little more desperate Harry ended up a little more on top and Draco finished gasping frantically into his mouth. They collapsed bonelessly together, panting slightly. After a few moments Draco stuck his hand blindly out of the covers and felt about for his wand to scourgify a little of the stickiness off their skin and bedclothes. They snuggled together again. He didn't think he ever wanted to get up again.
888
"He's falling in love with him, isn't he?"
June progressed into July and Harry's birthday was on the horizon. Ron and Hermione were sitting in a new swing-seat near the back door of number twelve. Hermione was lying with her knees up to support the book she was reading, her head in Ron's lap as he perused some reports Charlie had sent him on work he'd been doing for the Order, of which they were now all fully paid up members, although for Harry that had mainly meant remaining put at headquarters. Draco was still acting the part of the perfect Death Eater spy. At present, however, he was standing perfectly balanced on his broomstick, hovering level with Harry who was trying to find a more secure footing on his firebolt. The pair was trying to work out a complex new seeker move they'd found in Quidditch Monthly. Harry pitched forwards, unbalanced, and Draco quickly shot forward and steadied him. They could hear Harry's shout of laughter and surprise from here. He reached up and pulled a heli-seed out of the blond hair.
Hermione half-closed her book and studied them. "Which one, Harry or Malfoy?"
Ron frowned. He had been referring to Harry, but now he wasn't sure. "Both."
"Would that be so bad?"
"I don't know. What shall we get Harry for his birthday?"
"Lube and a pair of handcuffs?"
"Hermione!"
She laughed up at his outraged expression. "Joking… well, a cake obviously. Maybe we could have a party… you know in the muggle world turning eighteen is really important, Harry probably still sets quite a bit of store by it. Maybe we could get him one of those books about the year you were born, one for the muggle world and one for the wizarding one…"
Ron rolled his eyes, "yeah… sounds riveting."
"Well what do you think then?"
"I dunno… I thought maybe a pet or something. Like a kneazle or something. It can't be fun being cooped up here."
"But… he has got Malfoy."
"Hmmpf. What about tickets to see the Weird Sisters or something. For all of us. We could ask dad if he knows anyone to get a good deal or something. We could go polyjuiced or something…"
"Oooh, that could work, I like that idea. Sounds a bit expensive though…"
"Two weeks to think about it."
Those two weeks passed faster than anticipated. They had made sure Harry was tucked up in bed nice and early the night before the big day – Draco's doing, obviously. He awoke at dawn and lay staring at the ceiling. He felt perfectly content, and turned into the curve of Draco's warm body on instinct, an arm curling round his waist. The body stirred and he heard a sleepy moan above him before a kiss dropped onto the crown of his head.
"Happy Birthday."
"Mmmm… thanks…" he pressed his lips to the blonde's side, inhaling his skin's morning scent. Musky with heat and slight sweat, masculine, and with a lingering hint of aftershave and deodorant. His scent was more pronounced now it was summer, and Harry could almost wrap himself in it. Draco grabbed his waist and pushed him over so that he was under him. Harry let out a breathless gasp of laughter.
"So, Birthday Boy…what shall I give you?" Draco quirked an eyebrow. Harry's grin froze in anticipation at his purring tone. "Maybe a nice Birthday Bath…" he wriggled down, pulling Harry's boxers down his thighs as he did so. Harry breathed in quickly. It was very rare that they went down on each other, but there was no denying that Draco knew what he was doing when he went for it. "Mmmpfh-hah! Nugh, Draco, shit…" he shut his eyes and threaded a hand in blond hair, the other clutched in the sheets.
"Harry, are you up yet?"
They froze. Draco smirked at him and flicked his tongue cruelly. Harry sucked in a breath. The knock came at the door again.
"Um, yeah, I'm up…" in more ways than one… "What do you want?"
"Are you coming down? There're people here wanting to give you presents!"
Draco pulled off him briefly. "Granger, would you please fuck off? He's busy getting his birthday bumps."
There was a hissed conversation outside the door. "Um, we'll be in the kitchen… sorry Harry."
"I'll be down once I'm dressed," Harry called, croaking the last word as Draco bent his head again. "Ah-!"
"Ahem, sorry," Draco shifted so that he had less chance of getting his teeth in the way. He smoothed his palms over the hairy thighs to secure Harry's hips before carefully laving him with the flat of his tongue. Harry's hand disappeared from his hair and in his peripheral vision he saw it grasp the sheets on the other side. From the sighing gasps and murmured expletives filtering down to him, he could tell that Harry was enjoying it. He slowed down, drawing out the pleasure although he was conscious that keeping them too long might provoke adverse reactions downstairs. Harry murmured something along the lines of 'oh god…' and he focused all his attention back to pleasuring him.
Harry let go of the sheet and rubbed his hands over his face. "Oh my God that was amazing. Happy Birthday to me." Draco laughed and grinned down on him. Harry pulled him towards him, a jerking movement making the blond bark a surprised laugh before his mouth fell against the Gryffindor's and he opened his mouth. A jolt of desire coursed through him at the thought of Harry tasting himself on his tongue. He groaned and pulled away.
"We should finish this in the shower. Come on," he tugged the brunette reluctantly out of bed and stuck his head out of the door, checking briefly before pulling him into the bathroom across the hall and locking the door between them.
888
Harry found him in the tapestry room, but he wasn't worried anymore about what that might mean. "Hey, sorry about that, couldn't get away. Ron and Hermione have got tickets for the Weird Sisters for all of us if you're interested."
Draco turned round and grinned at him. "Cool, when?"
"Not for a while I don't think. Whenever their tour's coming to London. What're you hiding there?"
"Nothing. Just a couple of, um, presents for you," Draco said, blushing. Harry stared at him for a moment and then scanned the tapestry frantically.
Lucius Malfoy – Narcissa Black Draco Malfoy – Harry James PotterHarry shot a hand out and touched the threads. He felt like his chest was going to burst. "How did you…I mean…" Draco wrapped his arms around his waist and planted a kiss on his temple. Harry leaned back against him, still touching the tapestry.
"It's not… I mean, you know I'm not asking you to…um. I wanted to say. No guilt. And no regrets." He wasn't expressing himself very well.
Harry wiped his eyes and turned in his arms, hugging him. His head fit perfectly in the junction of Draco's neck and shoulder. "Thank you. You gave me the best present."
Draco shut his eyes and rubbed his cheek against the soft thatch of black hair. "There's one other one. Close your eyes."
"What are you doing?" Harry said, curiously, eyes closing obediently. Draco's lips pressed against his and he opened his mouth to accept the kiss. "Oh!" his eyes flew open. Something cold and of some sort of metal had dropped under his tongue. He put a hand to his mouth and stared at what was in his palm. Stunned, he looked up.
Draco licked his lips nervously. "I don't want you to get too excited or anything, I mean, it's not for, you know. It's the Malfoy signet ring. My father gave it to me on my eighteenth and it's a tradition for the next of kin to receive it on their eighteenth and I wanted you to wear it now, I mean, you know only if you want to-" his nervous tirade was abruptly silenced by Harry leaning forwards and kissing him gently. As he did so, a swift movement transferred the signet ring onto his ring finger. They looked down at it silently. Draco grinned shyly at him. "So, it's okay?"
"It's perfect. Thank you." I think I'm falling in love with you. "Thank you." He kissed him again, more demandingly.
Draco snickered. "How do you feel about christening the couch?"
"That couch handed down by generations of your ancient ancestors?"
"Mmm-hmmm…"
"Well it is my birthday –ha!" he fell onto his back beneath the blond who had already yanked his own shirt over his head.
"Door, Harry, door," he commanded urgently, whipping the belt out of his trousers and reaching for the brunette's. Harry located his wand and brandished it in the direction of the door.
"Corelloportus!" he rasped. Draco laughed as the door sealed itself rather completely, with a huge band of substance immediately locking the whole door into its frame.
"Make as much noise as you want, it is your birthday…" they grabbed each other and struggled to tear off all the remaining clothing, making the ancient couch creak in complaint. Once Harry's shirt was open Draco started pressing hot open-mouthed kisses all over it. Harry was murmuring various versions of 'oh my God' and 'fuck…' as they writhed together. The signet ring glinted on his finger and he caught a glance of it as it caught the light. He gasped and hurried to unzip himself. Draco rose off him and practically ripped his jeans off. He bit him possessively on his inner thigh before moving back up to capture Harry's mouth again.
They switched positions as quickly as possible without falling off the narrow couch. Harry chucked Malfoy's trousers over his shoulder, followed by his boxers. "Ah, yes, make love to me," Draco gasped, grabbing Harry by the neck and pulling him over him again. "Oh, God…" Harry was stretching him and the hand bracing him on the couch was sporting the glint of the signet ring and it was perfect, it was what he wanted, finally what they both wanted. He didn't care if anyone heard them. Not today. "Yes, yes please now, please now…"
"Ngah, God, Draco, yes…" Harry pulled one slim leg over his shoulder. Draco made a 'hyy-huh' noise, followed by a breathless 'yes…' he licked the blonde's bottom lip before capturing his mouth messily, their tongues stroking each other in a familiar rhythm. They were gasping and panting and moving and thrusting. He could feel sweat beading on the Slytherin's chest as he swept a hand down it in pursuit of the other man's hardness, producing a muffled wail to expel into his mouth from its partner throat. They weren't going to last. It didn't matter.
"Fuck, uuuhummm…" Draco shuddered beneath him and he gasped into the pale sweaty neck in completion. "Hmmm…" Draco pushed a hand through his hair and stroked the nape of his neck. "Having a good birthday then I take it?"
Harry grinned and had just opened his mouth to reply when a firm knocking on the door made them jolt into each other. Draco let out a gasp of pain and Harry pulled out hurriedly before he could hurt him more. "God, sorry."
"No, it's-"
"Harry, I want to talk to you immediately." Lupin's voice. Harry froze and stared at Draco, expression stricken. He did not sound happy. There was a pause. Then: "I am giving the two of you one minute to get dressed and get out here, or so help me I am coming in."
"Shit," Draco whispered. A few seconds passed before they simultaneously scrambled off the couch and began pulling on their clothes as hastily as possible. "What do you think he'll do?"
"I don't care." Harry turned round and took his hands in his. "I'd never give you up," he said, earnestly. "Never."
"I know."
"Okay." Harry checked his clothes again. Draco reached out and fondly smoothed his shirt collar before taking his hand. "Let's face the music then."
Remus turned back to the door as it opened. His face was tight and thunderous, but also cheerless. He looked down at their linked fingers and noted the signet ring. On the wrong hand.
"Come downstairs, both of you. We'll talk in the kitchen."
Slight cliffhanger, sorry.
You are all angels for waiting so long without flaming!
until next time...
skinnyrita xxx