A/N: Me + Work + Bitch = Me being work's bitch. Blame my job for the delay in posting this chapter. On a brighter note, I'm now on vacation and can write as much as I want! *insert evil laugh here* Enjoy and Happy New Year!
Harry
It didn't seem at all fair that they hadn't even left for the convention yet and Harry was already feeling the warning signs of a headache scraping along his senses. The mild twinges reveled in hindering his morning wake-up routine and only intensified gleefully upon Draco's arrival. Though to be frank, he couldn't feign shock at Draco's cool demeanor toward Ron, nor at his uncanny ability to spontaneously cause migraines. Merlin knows Harry had enough experience with both during their time at Hogwarts.
He had looked on with pleasure as Draco entered the kitchen of Grimmauld Place that morning radiating agreeability and a dash of excitement, only to watch his entire disposition transform when his eyes fell on Ron. Quintessential Malfoy mask slipped firmly back into place, he appeared to skim the surface of his familiar well of disdain to greet the redhead with an icy tone. No pretense was necessary on Ron's behalf as he effectively grunted in Draco's direction before turning away.
Harry couldn't help the way his shoulders slumped or the air of melancholy he could feel settling onto his features. He just knew that he didn't want to be around when the inevitable backbiting began. It was time for them to get going anyway. His sneakers squeaked loudly on the floor of the otherwise quiet room as he shuffled out of the kitchen and into the sitting room to collect his duffle bag.
With the strap of his navy blue bag digging comfortably into his shoulder, Harry peered at the fireplace, at once noticing the three expensive-looking graphite gray satchels sitting by the hearth. They were all emblazoned on the sides with a silver "DM" monogram.
"Draco?" he called, voice edging into incredulousness.
The warmth from Draco's body pressed into Harry's back so quickly he had a sneaking suspicion that he'd been snuck up on.
"Yes?"
Harry shook his head in disbelief and gestured to the overnight bags crowding the area around the fireplace. "You do realize that this is only a two-night trip?"
Draco moved effortlessly around Harry's body so that they were facing each other. "I do realize that. But one should always be prepared." A smirk was tossed Harry's way, leaving him slightly wary, but unable to investigate further as Ron was ambling into the room.
"Ready mate?" Ron asked. His best friend seemed intent on ignoring the proximity between Harry and Draco and redirected his eyes to a point somewhere above Harry's head.
Harry turned an appealing gaze to Draco before replying, but he too was decidedly avoiding Ron's stare by looking off into the distance. He let out a loud and irritated sigh.
"Yeah. Let's go." His tone of his voice was harsh even to his own ears, all sharpness with little to no warmth.
Fucking...bollocks…convention… was the refrain that ran through his head. Harry could not even find consolation in the fact that he was able to keep the bizarre mantra to an internal buzz instead of muttering under his breath. This whole plan was going to hell and it was going to take more than just Harry's efforts to correct the course.
Mutely, the trio gathered their belongings and traveled through the Floo to the Ministry where they would be taking a direct Portkey to Hertfordshire. The journey to the Department of Magical Transportation was mostly quiet, Harry giving up on trying to engage the two men in small talk early on in their trek. Finally, he resigned himself to walking in silence, occasionally catching Draco's eye and smiling sadly.
Ron instinctively took the lead once they entered the department, visibly more at ease now that he was on his home turf.
"The Portkey Office will be over here," he stated authoritatively, shattering the implicit "no talking" rule.
Harry and Draco trailed behind him, stepping gingerly through the division which was crowded with stacked crates and shelves of everyday items that would eventually become Portkeys, but walking close enough to one another that the backs of their hands brushed. Draco tapped Harry's knuckles to get his attention and the dark head swiveled to meet Draco's face. His concern was written quite plainly on his countenance and Harry dreaded the impending inquisition.
"What's wrong?" Draco asked in a barely audible whisper.
"Nothing." Harry didn't want to have this conversation. Not here. And he definitely didn't want to admit that he had maybe, potentially, been wrong about trying to force Draco and Ron to get on.
Draco merely gave him a severe look that clearly called him a liar.
An exhalation of air rushed through his nose violently. "I just…dunno what I was thinking. The three of us traveling together. Trying to go to a Quidditch convention for fuck's sake, like we're all old chums." He was a bit breathless and overcome with the need to pout but succeeded in keeping his lower lip firmly in place. Mostly.
The expression Draco wore flitted between increased disquiet and – was that guilt? Harry didn't have the opportunity to question what he saw because they were soon crossing the threshold of the Portkey Office. In just a few moments they would be hurtling across space to land at the convention.
Chewing on his lower lip with mild apprehension, Harry edged around the other men, following the queue that read "Hertfordshire" until he could place a hand on the monstrosity of a 1980's mobile phone that would serve as their transportation. Ron and Draco joined him soon thereafter and Ron began counting down as the phone heated up and began to pulse with white light.
"All set?" Ron called, placing a few fingers on the phone while Draco positioned his grip closer to Harry's fingers. The blond was staring down at the object beneath his fingers with incomprehension and a matching furrowed brow.
"Five…four…three…two…"
By some unspoken signal, both Harry and Draco looked up into each other's eyes. Rather without his permission, he shot Draco a quasi-beseeching expression right before his vision swirled with color and the Portkey Office winked out around them.
Coming down from the disorientation following Portkey travel, Harry, Draco, and Ron had wound up in deserted field about five-hundred yards from the Blue Buck Inn. The Hertfordshire countryside was simply stunning during the summer months. Warm rays of sun reached down to them through the clear sky, illuminating the vivid green grass beneath their feet. The inn itself was situated between two lakes on either side of the massive building, which really resembled more of a manor than a run of the mill lodging. White stone made up the central portion of the edifice, while the upper floors and side wings were composed of a beautiful red brick. Winding up to the front doors was a rustic granite staircase that branched off into covered verandahs that seemingly stretched the length of the facility and boasted a magnificent display of bougainvillea and hyacinths.
"Wow," Harry murmured as they approached the inn. He didn't think he had ever seen such a modestly elegant establishment. It looked like something out of one of those Muggle real estate shows that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia fancied.
Ron too was staring ahead gape-mouthed, but Draco just tutted quietly beside him, muttering something about catching flies and commoners. Harry elbowed him and was met with a sheepish grin that had absolutely no business being on a Malfoy's face, he was certain.
"Play nice," he growled.
"I'm always nice," Draco smirked back, a light coming into his eyes.
"What are you two whispering about over there?" Ron asked, finally coming to his senses.
"Nothing," they replied in unison. Ron's eyes narrowed with suspicion, but he kept his mouth closed until they reached the entrance to the inn.
Beyond thick mahogany double doors the inside of the Blue Buck was just as breath-taking as the grounds. The reception area was decorated in muted taupes and browns, reminding Harry uncannily of the interior of Malfoy Manor. Two rows of hanging white lights swung in a semi-circle above them like an unfinished ghostly chandelier.
Behind the front desk, a woman sat, flicking through a magazine absently, unaware of their presence.
"You go on," Harry prompted, prodding Ron gently. "The reservations are under your name, yeah?"
"Yeah, they are." Ron's eyes reflected a sense of pride and importance before he strode to the receptionist to check in. Harry hung back near the entrance with Draco.
"I told you before that I thought this was a rubbish idea," Draco hissed from his side, seamlessly picking up their conversation from the Portkey Office.
Harry's heart panged in his chest. This was supposed to be a fun trip. He didn't want to chastise Draco or Ron for not being the best of friends. It wasn't their fault – the animosity was ingrained at this point. But he couldn't imagine himself turning a blind eye to the tension either.
"Don't you think I know that?" he snapped. "This is such shit. I just wish that you and Ron could at least pretend to get along," Harry fumed, watching Ron gesticulate wildly at the receptionist instead of Draco's steady gaze. He knew he was bitching, but he couldn't help it. It was maddening being around two people that he cared for who can't stand the sight of one another.
There was a beat of silence and then a deep composing breath from Draco. "Is that what you really want?"
"Yes." Harry's voice was now entering whining territory. "It tears me up seeing you two so disengaged. Don't you want to see me have a good time?"
Ok, so that was a little manipulative, but desperate times…
Draco huffed, but wore a pained expression Harry hadn't seen much of, if at all.
"You're such a sap Potter," Draco muttered, but a guilty flush was creeping up his neck.
Harry's heart lifted a little until he noticed Ron approaching them, face twisted in a weird combination of rage and embarrassment.
"What's happened?" he asked anxiously. In his mind he was automatically considering all the things that could have gone wrong. Maybe the tickets were counterfeit? Now that Harry thought about it, it did sound like an elaborate scheme George Weasley would orchestrate…
"There was a mix-up with the rooms," Ron admitted finally. "We were supposed to have a three-bedroom suite with private bathrooms and shared living space- "
"But?" Draco cut off. Harry didn't need to turn his head to know that his face was clouding over with annoyance.
For the first time that day, Ron actually looked unnerved. "But, they only reserved two regular rooms. And apparently the rest of the place is booked for the remainder of the convention, so there aren't any spares."
Despite Harry's dismay at the oversight, the wantonly sex-crazed part of his brain was delighted at the prospect of sharing a hotel room with Draco. Lewd thoughts, each more detailed than the last, sprinted across his mind at a rapid pace. In fact, he was so caught up in his plotting that the emotion Draco's facial features were forming nearly bypassed him.
A blaze of anger at Ron's news streaked through dark gray eyes and Draco opened his mouth in a snarl, making Harry wince. However, in the next instant, his mouth fell shut and his face turned impassive.
"Not your fault Weasley," he uttered through gritted teeth.
Both Ron and Harry whirled to face Draco in surprise. He flushed, but kept quiet.
So you can be civil…
Harry's gaze softened and he smiled. His first truly genuine smile since they started this mockery of a mini-vacation. Thank you, his expression to Draco read. Draco on the other hand went a little red and waved a dismissive hand in Harry's direction.
"Er, thanks Malfoy. I know." Ron was truly bewildered, but Harry's heart was hammering away happily at the small, but significant concession. "So I guess you two will want to um…share?" That inquiry came with the requisite blush.
Yes! The carnal voice in his head exclaimed.
"Guess we'll have to," Harry's much more rational mouth said. He turned to gauge Draco's reaction. The blonds' expression was indecipherable.
"That's fine," he said evenly. "No need to get up in arms."
Relief flooded Ron's features at the new somewhat-courteous Draco and he began to grin slowly. "Right then. Let's get going."
The trio adhered to the receptionist's instructions and followed a side hallway to take the lift up to the 3rd floor. Pausing outside of rooms 305 and 307, Ron held out a kelly green keycard for Harry and Draco and turned to slip his into the lock of 305. "You two want to meet downstairs for lunch in about an hour? I need to firecall Mione."
"That's fine Ron. We'll meet you down there," Harry replied. Draco gave a tight nod.
"Right. See you soon." With that, he slipped into the room and they watched as the door clanged back into place behind him. Harry turned to face Draco and was met with another unreadable expression. He gave a slight smile and poked him in the ribs. "C'mon, let's check the room out."
Harry took the liberty of unlocking the door and holding it open for Draco and his parade of luggage to precede him. He'd just narrowly avoided being knocked unconscious by the last floating bag when he heard Draco's roar of indignation.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me!"
Harry entered the room cautiously and peered around Draco's form. Following his line of sight, he took in the focal point of the well-appointed room. Well-appointed with the exception of the bed, that is. One bed. One singular, tiny bed.
"Oh," Harry muttered. Fantastic! The voice called out mischievously.
"Yes, oh. This is bloody ridiculous. We should send a Howler to the Ministry for this."
Harry placed a consoling hand on Draco's shoulder. "It's really not that bad. It's just a bed."
"Yes. One bed," Draco said weakly, turning to face Harry with a worse pallor than usual.
Draco
Draco was trying not to freak out, but didn't think he was doing a very good job at it. It wasn't that he minded sharing a bed with Harry. It was just kind of a big fucking step to be completely honest. Especially considering all their dalliances had taken place in either the sitting room of Grimmauld Place or Harry's office.
"Come here," Harry called to him, grasping his fingertips and pulling him gently toward the too-fucking small bed. Haltingly, Draco trailed behind, eyes widening in what he would never admit to be fear as they lay down upon the surprisingly comfortable bedding. He felt himself being scooped up into strong arms and was promptly maneuvered so that his head rested on Harry's chest.
"See? This isn't so bad, right?" Harry asked quietly. Draco grunted noncommittally and decided to focus on listening to the thud of Harry's heart beneath his ear instead.
"We don't have to do anything more than this," he heard him say. "You don't have to be so…hesitant."
Say what you mean Harry. I'm not hesitant. And I'm not scared either because I know that's what you were implying.
"I'm not 'hesitant,'" he started hotly, echoing his thoughts. "I just don't want you to feel pressured. We've never been in this position before."
"Literally," Harry stated wryly. He could feel rather than see the dumb grin that was no doubt creeping along Harry's face at his joke.
"Look," Harry continued. "I think that if I'm alright with this, you can be too. And if you're really uncomfortable, then we can transfigure the couch or something."
Draco let a huff of warm breath caress Harry's clothed torso. "I imagine this will be adequate," he replied, in a haughty, but quiet voice. But his mollification was clear and he was suddenly very glad that Harry could not see the smile that was threatening to break out on his face.
An amused chuckle rang out above him, Harry obviously seeing through the thin veneer of contempt. Seconds later, he felt a finger beneath his chin, tilting his head up so that their lips were aligned.
"I imagine this will be more than adequate," Harry whispered before brushing his mouth against Draco's to initiate their first kiss of the morning. Their lips met for several luxurious minutes, Draco's fingers coming up to thread through Harry's mane and trail down the pulse point along his neck. The gesture was so sweet and intimate that Draco had to swallow hard to stop himself from saying something soppy. Luckily Harry beat him to it.
The dark head pulled away from the kiss and stroked Draco's cheek tenderly.
"What is it?" he asked voice slightly raspy. He just knew that his eyes were glazed over as well.
"Thank you."
Draco stared into Harry's earnest face for much longer than was probably considered polite. Finding his voice, he replied. "Whatever for?"
Harry laughed again, most likely at both his wording and the expression he wore.
"For trying." He watched with interest as Harry's eyes deepened from their usual emerald shade to something resembling more of a hunter green.
The eyes loomed closer and Draco was drowning in their depths until they closed and Harry pressed small soft kisses over his mouth, chin, and jaw. When he leaned into the touch, one hand crept down his side, fingers teasing at the waistband of his trousers, the other curling around his lower back. Harry's leg hooked around Draco's left and tugged him so that he was more or less swathed on top of the brunette.
Hell, if he had known that this was all it took to get this kind of attention from Harry, he would have learned how to tolerate the Weasel years ago.
Growing more comfortable in their position, Draco shifted so that his forearms rested in the pillows on either side of Harry's head and their groins were lined up, but not touching. He didn't want to give in too soon after all.
Draco looked down into the strikingly open and expressive face. Without even trying, he could pinpoint the lust, pride, and comfort that resided there. He allowed himself a little sigh and then brought his hips down onto Harry's. A surprised, but obviously pleased gasp slipped from Harry's mouth and wrapped around Draco like an electric blanket. He grew especially warm where their matching erections ground against each other. Both of their breathing was becoming shallower as Draco experimentally rocked his pelvis into Harry's at a slow firm pace. The green eyes fluttered shut upon contact as pink lips fell open to release a sensuous moan.
I could get used to this.
Draco caught Harry's mouth in another kiss, this one more impassioned than the last, fueled by the fingers that were tangling in his hair and the sensation of Harry's chest heaving for breath below him. As Harry slowly met each of Draco's thrusts the room around them dimmed and he felt the tightening in his pants increase to an almost painful level. He didn't know how far they were going to go, but he had to release some of this tension somehow.
An idea bloomed in his head and he moved from Harry's lips, kissing his way to Harry's ear and dragged his tongue along the skin behind it. Ragged breathing sounded in his ears and Harry tightened his fingers, scraping down from Draco's scalp, along his back, and settling around his waist.
"Mm, I think someone likes that," Draco teased before pulling back slightly to catch Harry's expression.
"Fuck," came the raspy reply, hips still undulating beneath his own. "Bit of a – ah – weak spot, I suppose," he finished as Draco repeated the action.
"Duly noted," Draco smirked, more so taking note of the dazed look in Harry's eyes than anything else. Sufficiently inspired, and now hard beyond belief, Draco moved his attentions down the side of Harry's neck and sucked on his collarbone, teasing, while his fingers crept under the hem of his t-shirt.
"I think this should come off, don't you?" Said while skating his hands up and down the warm skin of Harry's sides and getting a quick nod in return. He sat back on his thighs, allowing Harry to lift up slightly and reach his hands back to dispose of his shirt.
"Perfect." Draco could feel the feral expression taking over his features, but there was nothing for it. Seeing all this gorgeous, lightly tanned skin was doing something to him. Making him want Harry in the worst way possible. And he could only hope that Harry would let him take what he so desperately wanted.
"You know you look like some sort of…man-eater, don't you?" Harry said with a blush, but was not deterred from tugging at the bottom of Draco's shirt.
Draco quickly removed the article of clothing. "I prefer to be likened to a wolf, but I'll take that."
Leaning back down to press skin against skin ignited a wildfire in the pit of Draco's stomach. "And I think I'll take you too."
Harry's eyes widened at the implication. "Draco, I- "
Shit. The last thing he wanted to do was scare the prat.
Quickly, he shook his head and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Harry's mouth. "Not like that, you twit. Calm down," he said, taking great care to make his voice playful and not callous.
"You were the one freaked about a bed," Harry muttered darkly, but looked vaguely relieved.
Draco laughed and kissed him again. "I just meant that I'll take you. As in, I choose you, I suppose."
Comprehension dawned in Harry's eyes and soon a small smile was playing at the corners of his mouth. "You choose me?"
Ok, now is not the time to blush, he told himself. The words were already out of his mouth before he realized how mushy they sounded.
He cleared his throat in what he hoped was a sophisticated manner, but probably came out more like he was ill.
"In a manner of speaking, yes. You allowed me to get to know you better and I, er, chose to take you up on the offer."
"Well who knew Draco Malfoy was a closet romantic?" Harry grinned and ran a hand down Draco's bare chest.
Draco huffed exasperatedly and flopped down on his back next to Harry, arousal definitely fading at the accusation. "Thanks for killing my bloody erection," he griped.
"Oh, don't be that way," Harry still wore a smile as he propped himself up on an elbow and traced his fingers in a looping pattern over Draco's pectorals, down, around, down, and up. "Are you really saying that you don't still want this?"
With that, Harry sunk his teeth into the skin of Draco's neck, drawing a surprised, gratifying, and rather load moan from his lips.
"Harry? And…Malfoy? You two ready?" a voice called from the hall followed by a sharp rap on the door.
Draco watched as Harry's face fell and he drew a tremulous hand through his hair. Taking no heed to the fact that he wasn't wearing a shirt, Harry threw his legs over the side of the bed and strode over to the door. Draco had just managed to pull himself into a seated position when the door swung open and Ron took in the sight of Harry's bare chest with confusion and then horror as he glanced at the bed and saw Draco in a similar state.
Harry, of course, did not seem to be affected one way or another. "I thought we were going to meet downstairs mate?" And though his voice was ridiculously calm, there was a glint to the green eyes that hinted at annoyance.
Draco fought the urge to pull the sheet up to his chest, but refused to look like a virginal maiden. At least in front of Weasley.
"I – we were. Just thought it might be nice if we all went down together. You know, male bonding and all that."
The urge to roll his eyes was too great, and it wasn't like Harry could see what he was doing on the bed anyway. Male bonding…what a load of crap. You just didn't want Harry and I to spend too much time together, you great sodding…rutabaga.
It wasn't his best insult by far, but he was frustrated. Sexually and otherwise.
Harry however, seemed to buy the tripe dripping from his friends mouth. His eyes softened and he nodded. "Alright." Draco abruptly had his shirt thrown at him and he hurried to dress himself and thanked Merlin that his hard-on had already been flagging. There was an extremely long list of things he never wanted Weasley to see, and his engorged cock was at the very top of that list.
Once everyone was decent, they walked to the lift, this time with a comfortable, or as comfortable as it was going to get, stream of chatter. Several times the Weasel tried to draw him into the conversation he was holding with Harry, but as Draco wasn't really listening, it was hard to follow the thread of the discussion. He settled for interested nods and a sequence of "Oh really?" that seemed to satisfy him. And although Draco was putting a miniscule amount of effort into this charade, each time he responded in a polite manner, Harry would throw him a brief, but brilliant smile. And maybe, just maybe, that made this whole thing worth it.