Draco Malfoy and His Happily Ever After:
Author's Notes: This is the sequel to Draco Malfoy and His Unknown Fate which I recommend that you read before starting this. This is a Harry/Draco story. If you have any questions about the story or you just want to discuss something in it e-mail me. I'm always eager to hear what people think.
Warnings for this chapter: Language. Just a smidgeon of angst again. And some smut and a bit of sap too.
Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm merely borrowing them for the time being. This is slash. Don't like it? Don't read it. Otherwise, enjoy.
That night at dinner, Vernon Dursley informed his family and his two unwelcome house guests of the sudden change in plans. "Petunia, you and I will be going out of the town for the next four days. We're going on a company cruise! Grunnings is paying for the trip since the CEO's son-in-law managed to book everyone tickets. This may just be the big break I've been waiting for since someone ruined that dinner with the Masons." This was followed by a pointed look at Harry who appeared to be utterly fascinated with his juice. Vernon started puffing up with self importance as he continued on. "Rumor has it that Puddlefoot is retiring and Mr. Underwood's looking for someone to take his position!"
"Oh, Vernon! A four day cruise? What about the house?" Petunia asked, worrying at her napkin.
The beefy man waved it away. "We'll have that Figg woman check up on it once a day. Dudley's old enough to be by himself for a few days. He'll be the man of the house while we're gone, Petunia. It'll do him good." Dudley beamed, his round face shiny with perspiration and, on his chin at least, grease.
"Really, Dad? Wicked! Can Piers come over while you're gone?"
"Of course, my little Duddy-kins! We wouldn't want you getting lonely." Petunia chipped in, patting her son's hand lovingly. Draco rolled his eyes and speared another piece of asparagus on his fork. It was the only thing Dudley had left severely alone on the table, but at this point Draco was glad there was anything at all left to eat. He could always transfigure himself food, but to be honest he (much like Snape) was only passable at Transfigurations and nothing ruined the appetite like suddenly having your meal turn back into its original form in your stomach.
"Yes, that'll be fine, Dudders. And you two are going to be on your best behavior while we're gone, aren't you, boy?" Vernon glared at mostly at Draco, who didn't even twitch at the ire sent his way. Being raised by Lucius Malfoy had made Draco immune to such things, which was probably the only good result really.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Harry affirmed woodenly, chewing on his own asparagus.
"Yes, we'll endeavor not to burn the house down around our ears while you're gone." Draco drawled, giving the man a contemptuous look. Dursley flushed red, but kept his mouth shut.
Whenever Draco was at his most arrogant the older man seemed almost… afraid of him. Which was only common sense really. Maybe Dursley could sense that Draco had been raised by a man who killed his sort without batting an eyelash and because of it the Slytherin's morals were a bit - skewed. At any rate, he never attempted to bully Draco the way he did Harry. For that matter, he never tried to bully Harry when Draco was around either, though the Instant Scalping spell Draco had cast on Vernon Dursley the one and only time he tried it probably had something to do with it. And frankly, Draco still thought the hair piece Vernon was wearing on his head now (it vaguely resembled a small woodland creature) was absolutely, bloody hilarious. So did Harry for that matter.
Dursley on the other hand hadn't been quite so amused.
The muggle glared at Draco one last time before turning to Petunia with a tight smile. "That's all settled then. Arrangements for transportation have already been made. We leave Friday evening at six."
"Tomorrow?" Dudley asked, pausing for a moment from shoveling food into his mouth. "But it's my birthday this weekend! I'm still getting presents, right? And you are going to get me a gift from the trip, aren't you?"
"Of course, Dudley." Vernon reassured his son. Then he leaned forward, smiling. "After I get this promotion, I'll get you your very own car! How about that, eh?"
Dudley grinned, showing off the bit of chicken he had stuck between his front teeth. "That's brilliant! I want lots of presents for my birthday too, since you aren't going to be here."
"Of course. Of course, my boy. Wouldn't dream of skimping you. That's my Dudley, knows what he wants and isn't afraid to ask for it."
Petunia dabbed at her wet eyes with her napkin. "Oh, he's growing up so fast! But you'll always be Mummy's little boy, won't you?"
Harry turned to look at Draco with an expression of disbelief and Draco mirrored it. Little certainly wasn't a word anyone with eyes would use to describe Dudley. For a moment they were in complete and utter accord, their thoughts exactly the same. The whole scene was preposterous, really.
"Er… may we be excused?" Harry finally asked after a quick glance at both of their empty plates.
Petunia pinned them with a suspicious look, but nodded anyway. "Go ahead. And try not to make too much racket."
And if anyone noticed that Harry's ears turned pink at her words, they didn't make an issue of it. The two boys took the stairs at a jog, darting through the hallway and jostling each other slightly as they ducked inside Harry's room. It really was small, which Draco tended to forget when Harry was around to distract him, but sometimes when he walked into the room the realization hit him all over again.
There was a bit of small talk followed by homework and then Draco changed into his pajamas while Harry watched him in what the Gryffindor probably thought was a discreet manner. However, staring was staring any way you cut it and that bit of leering added in was definitely not subtle at all. Draco sent him an amused, knowing look as he finished buttoning up his top and settled down in bed with Everything an Aspiring Potions Master Needs to Know by Bartholomew Bogtrotter. "Coming to bed, Harry?" Draco asked, because really how much better could life get than cuddling with Harry while reading an advanced Potions textbook? And the sad thing was that he really meant that.
"Not just yet. I'm writing Ron back. And I should probably write to Hermione too. She's vacationing in Venice this summer."
"Mmmhmm." Draco hummed absently, already absorbed in his book. Not that that was his only reason for inattention; the boring little lives of the Weasel and his Mudblood weren't exactly riveting. Though Draco would never call them that out loud. Ever. Mostly because if Harry ever caught him at it (and with Draco's luck he would) the Slytherin would never get laid again. And sex with Harry was something he'd go to any lengths to have, even if it meant being nice to an arsehole like Weasley.
Draco read through the three chapters that pertained to his current research, reclining in the bed while Harry tended to his mail. The owls returned halfway through, hooting and nipping at each other. Hedwig flew over to land on Harry's shoulder and nip at his ear dotingly while Grindylow came to beg for treats from Draco. The Slytherin merely petted the soft feathers near his owl's beak and asked his boyfriend to tend to their food, since he was already up.
After giving the owls water and treats, the Gryffindor sent Hedwig off with Ron's letter and changed into his own cotton pajamas before crawling into bed. "Done yet?" He asked, obviously ready for lights-out. Draco wasn't, but he didn't want to keep Harry up either so he put his book up and after after a while they both fell asleep into a peaceful slumber.
It didn't last for very long.
It wasn't quite midnight when Harry's thrashing woke Draco. Groggy and out of sorts, he turned to find what had disturbed his rest. It was Harry, his messy hair damp with sweat and his face twisted with pain as he twitched from whatever unpleasant scenes invaded his dreams. Draco ran a soothing hand over the other boy's side, attempting to calm him. It made no difference. With a muted whimper, Harry rolled over, his legs twisting in the covers as his thrashing grew increasingly violent.
"Harry. Harry, wake up."
"No. God, no… Stop, don't... kill you." Harry mumbled to himself, his body tensing all over as tautly as a drawn bowstring.
Draco started to become worried and he shook the Gryffindor, hoping that would be enough to draw him out of sleep. "Harry, wake up. You're having a nightmare, wake up." But Harry didn't seem to be affected at all by his efforts. In fact, if anything, the nightmare grew worse.
A low, keening whine like that of a trapped animal escaped Harry's throat and the dark haired boy ducked his head and pressed his forehead against the bed. "No, leave them… stop."
"Harry." Draco tried again, desperation making his voice a bit more high pitched than it should have been. "Wake up! Wake up, you Gryffindor bastard. Harry!" But the other boy was oblivious. "Fuck. Come on love, snap out of it. Please." And Draco was almost begging, because he'd never felt so helpless in his life.
Harry turned his face upwards, sweat sheening his skin lightly. The sharp scent of fear was thick in the air. The Slytherin smoothed back Harry's hair, freezing when he noticed the curse scar on Harry's forehead was thick and swollen, a darting line of red that pulsed angrily. It was no wonder Harry couldn't wake up - he was having a vision of some sort, not a dream.
"Can't… oh, god. No!"
Fuck. Fuck, Draco didn't know what to do and Harry was probably watching someone get murdered, was possibly even seeing Lucius murder someone, and all Draco could do was sit here and watch him like the stupid ponce he was. He was useless.
Draco's hands fluttered hesitantly over Harry's chest before settling and stroking softly as if attempting to gentle the flexing muscles. It didn't seem to help any, but it made Draco feel better so he kept at it, petting Harry's messy mop and the tight line of his forearms before rubbing at the other boy's stomach. Harry's abs rippled as he flinched at some unseen horror, before he turned over, burying his face against the covers. The blonde ran his hands down Harry's back soothingly, determined to wait out the worst of the nightmare.
Harry's mutters were becoming increasing distressed, which made Draco feel even more on edge. Suddenly, the Slytherin remembered an old lullaby one of the house elves had been fond of singing him after particularly bad nightmares and he cleared his throat self-consciously before humming the tune. The music, while it didn't completely jolt Harry from his nightmare, did seem to help him relax and because it appeared to be doing some good Draco continued singing despite feeling incredibly foolish. Music was magic after all and Draco was happy to just do something even if it was a bit on the poncey side.
He didn't know how long it lasted, but when Harry finally woke Draco's back ached from bending over the other boy and his voice was slightly hoarse. "Thank Merlin. You're awake." Draco said when Harry's green eyes fluttered open, stark relief in his voice.
Harry's jaw was clenched and there were shadows behind his eyes. There was a wrinkle between his brows and the weary expression on his face made him seem much older than his sixteen years. "I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"
"What do you think?" Draco snapped, his nerves too raw to handle stupid questions. Harry, still reeling from his nightmare, flinched and Draco felt like the biggest git to walk the earth. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be a prick. Sorry." He repeated, softly this time. "You scared me, is all." And as soon as he said it he realized it was true, though he hadn't even known it himself. Normally, he would never admit to fear, but he'd spent the last two hours watching his lover being tormented by visions from a Dark Lord and unable to help him. It was just the two of them and Harry was too honorable to think badly of him for it.
"I'm sorry." Harry replied, rubbing at his eyes tiredly.
"Don't be. It's not your fault." They didn't mention whose fault it was, because Voldemort was not something to be discussed in the middle of the night and Draco had no clue how sensitive Harry was on the subject. It just wasn't wise to bring up the topic, for so many reasons.
Harry said nothing in reply, instead he stared dully at the wall, his mind obviously elsewhere. Draco was about to speak, though he had no idea what to say, when Harry clambered out of bed and turned on the light. He walked over to his desk and picked up his quill and began writing on a stray piece of parchment. The Slytherin refrained from commenting on it and instead watched as Harry filled the paper with line after cramped line. "Can I use your owl? I already sent Hedwig off to deliver Ron's letter."
"Go ahead."
He hesitated when Grindylow glowered at him from his perch, but a sharp command from Draco had him sticking out his leg sullenly for Harry to tie his missive to it. After the owl unsuccessfully attempted to take a chunk of flesh out of the Gryffindor's hand Harry opened the window for him. In moments, Grindylow was gone, only a soft swoosh of a single wing beat to herald his parting. With a sigh, Harry slid back in bed, sidling over Draco's legs to take his place between the tow headed boy and the wall.
"Who… who was the letter for?" Draco finally ventured, turning a little to face Harry. The Gryffindor's reply was quiet. Somber, even.
"Dumbledore."
"Oh." There was an awkward moment of silence, mostly on Draco's part. Harry seemed relieved that the conversation had ended. Obviously, he didn't want to talk about it. He was almost brooding really. Draco sighed and moved closer, pulling Harry up against him. The dark haired boy shifted in his arms uncomfortably for a moment before settling down with a sigh of his own.
They were silent for a moment and Draco knew that even though Harry was mere inches from him his mind was much farther away at the moment. The Slytherin reached out to stroke the line of Harry's jaw contemplatively, brushing his fingers back and forth as he let the silence settle between them. Harry turned his head and captured Draco's hand with his own, pressing a swift kiss to his palm. His eyes glittered in the darkness, possibly with moisture, but if there were tears in Harry's eyes they did not fall. Draco leaned forward, capturing the other boy's mouth with his own and cupping the back of his neck as they kissed passionately. It was as if Harry was trying to lose himself for the moment, to forget the things he'd seen and Draco was more than willing to help him out in that regard.
They kissed slowly, savoring the slide of tongues and the play of mouth on mouth. Draco nibbled on Harry's lower lip before swiping his tongue along the line of his lip and slipping it back into Harry's mouth. Harry slid his hands under Draco's nightshirt, dragging them over the smooth skin of his back. They fumbled each others clothes off, tumbling back so that Draco was pinned to the bed under the other boy's weight. Anticipating just this situation, the Slytherin had put a small vial of lubricant in the nightstand and he located it hurriedly before handing it to Harry. The Gryffindor prepared Draco quickly, but thoroughly and lifted Draco's legs by the back of his knees, sliding them over his shoulders. Draco felt exposed, but somehow that just made it that much hotter. Then Harry was sliding inside him and it all faded away. It was a quiet coupling and while Draco would have liked to be the one doing the fucking for a change, it was no hardship to have it the other way around.
Harry screwed him with slow, deep thrusts at a steady pace as if trying to wring every bit of pleasure out of the encounter to distract himself. Draco had to bite his bottom lip to stifle his moans and he found himself writhing under the onslaught of Harry's thorough assault. It felt so good, so very pleasurable, that he found himself grasping the sheets so tightly his knuckles were white and he gasped when the dark haired boy reached down to stroke his neglected erection. Draco shuddered and came with a muffled cry, spilling warm wetness over his stomach and Harry's hand.
And still the Gryffindor fucked him, though his hips began to move more rapidly. Even that felt good, though Draco had already had an orgasm. The little sparks of pleasure were enough to keep Draco satisfied while Harry pounded away at him breathlessly. The thrusts became rougher and more erratic and then Harry came suddenly with a strangled gasp. He slowed and then stopped altogether, settling himself over Draco and tucking his head under the blonde boy's chin. Draco's arm automatically came up to cradle the Gryffindor as they laid there quietly. They had not exchanged a single word throughout it all, but somehow Harry had still managed to convey his sorrow and desperation with every touch.
Draco shifted his hips a little, surprised to note that the other boy hadn't pulled out yet, but he had no complaints there. It was nice to be - filled like that and he was more than happy to let Harry loose himself in his body. When he felt Harry's warm tears pool against his throat and the vibrations of his silent sobs, Draco said nothing, merely stroking Harry's messy hair with a tenderness that surprised even himself.
To Be Continued…
Constructive criticism and comments are more than welcome.
