Atuanya- AtuanyaUnexpected@yahoo.com
Pairing- Harry/Draco
Rating- R for language, smut, and suggestions of m/m sex. Sorry to disappoint, but I didn't want it to be NC-17. Always watch for spoilers, okay? You've been warned.
Notes- Sorry I haven't posted in so long! I found this chapter difficult to write for some reason. I don't really like it. It's basically extra-smutty fluff. _Long_ extra-smutty fluff. I hope that you enjoy it, at least. It's the second to last chapter, so stay tuned.
Disclaimer- J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all of these characters and settings. I'm just playing with them and I'm not making any money for it.
Feedback- Email me!
Chapter 7- Duddy's Birthday
A week passed and Draco heard nothing from his father. Surprisingly, though, he wasn't very concerned. Harry had also had a change in mind, however, and had been very on edge since his nightmare. Each night he locked the bedroom window and door, and he kept his invisibility cloak nearby in case he needed to throw it over Draco in a hurry.
"If you're so worried, why don't we just owl Headmaster Dumbledore?" said Draco calmly one night as Harry checked the window for the third time.
"Yeah, and then he can make a speech and award lots of house points and we'll all be featured in the Daily Prophet," said Harry bitterly. "Great idea." he crossed the room and sat on his bed.
Draco studied him for a moment.
"It's strange to see you like this," he said, sitting down next to Harry. "The Harry Potter I've known since I was eleven has always been stubbornly- hell, annoyingly, even- loyal to Dumbledore."
Harry sighed and looked up at the ceiling, pensive.
"I just don't feel like dealing with anyone from the Order right now, alright?" he said.
"Well," said Draco, smiling slyly. "What about a Death Eater?"
"You're not a Death Eater," said Harry as Draco straddled his lap.
"Are you sure?" Draco said, "Because I have some very evil intentions."
"Not the same kind," said Harry as Draco sucked on his neck. He moaned. "I hope."
"I suppose not," said Draco, pausing momentarily to shift his body forward and closing the gap between he and Harry, "I like mine better, anyway."
"Yeah," said Harry, taking in a sharp gasp of air, "me too."
Draco was enjoying the taste of Harry's skin and reaching for the zipper on his pants when he suddenly stopped, having the feeling that he was being watched.
He ignored Harry's whimpers of protest and turned to look at the door. He saw Harry's cousin staring at them.
"How long have you been standing there?" Draco said slowly, attempting to control his anger.
"Erm, just came in," said a shaken Dudley. He blinked and regained his composure. "It's my _birthday_ tomorrow, and Mummy says Harry has to cook me breakfast." He snickered. "And you'll have to go to Mrs. Figg's house all day."
Draco did his best to give Dudley a deadpan stare, but he was very anxious for this intruder to leave so that he could get back to undressing Harry.
"Alright," he said finally. "Could you leave? We were busy."
Dudley screwed up his face and stomped from the room and Draco got up to close the door.
"I could get that lump to do anything I wanted," he laughed. "Shall we pick this up where we left off?"
"Mrs. Figg is in _the Order_," said Harry, glumly. Draco ignored his horniness and sighed.
"So I suppose you don't want to deal with her, either, then?" he said.
Harry shook his head.
"Dud-thing! Get back here!" said Draco, getting up and leaving the room. "Dud-dums!"
"It's Dudley," said Harry's cousin. He and Draco were halfway down the hall, out of Harry's earshot.
"Right," said Draco. He paused. "I don't really want to go to this Mrs. Figg woman's house tomorrow, do you think you could talk your parents into letting Harry and me stay here?"
"Why should I?" said Dudley indignantly.
Draco laughed.
"Do you think I don't know how to manipulate you? You think I don't know how to deal with spoiled snotty brats?" he said. "Well guess what? I _am_ one. So don't think that I can't understand how your twisted little mind works. You're not making a _deal_ with me, I'm telling you what to do. Talk to your parents. Now."
"Alright, then, I'll make sure you don't have to go," squeaked Dudley.
"Good," said Draco, walking back to Harry's room.
"We'll be staying here," said Draco, taking his seat next to Harry on the bed. Harry stared at him, surprised.
"How did you arrange that?" he asked.
"I had a little talk with your cousin," Draco said, smirking.
"You're a bully," laughed Harry, shoving Draco down on the bed. He paused, licking his lips. "And it kind of turns me on."
Draco thought back to the years when Harry had been the target of his bullying and laughed at the thought of the little Gryffindor getting off on it.
"Did it always?" he asked. "Even when you were on the receiving end of it?"
"Yeah, it turns me on to be on the receiving end," Harry said, looking as if he was trying not to smile, "But I like to be on top, sometimes, too."
Draco smiled at how he'd corrupted Harry's mind.
"We'll have time for both tomorrow, and believe me Potter, I'll fuck your brains out," he said, grinning evilly.
"I'd say I'll fuck most of your internal organs out, but I guess that would be kind of disgusting," Harry laughed.
"Believe me, if it includes me and fucking and it comes from your lips, it's never going to disgust me," said Draco.
Harry paused, thinking.
"Fuck you, Malfoy," he said, snickering.
"I've never heard you say that before," Draco said sarcastically.
"Yeah, I guess I bullied you as much as you bullied me," said Harry. "Ferret Boy."
"Well, at least I was a pretty ferret," said Draco, sticking out his lower lip.
Harry snorted. Draco glared.
"Scar-head," he said.
"Can't you be more original than that?" said Harry. Draco paused, thinking.
"Pansy-arse!" he said.
"Alright," joked Harry, "Do you want to fight?"
"You're gay," said Draco, before being tackled on the bed. He felt his ears turn pink and struggled to get the upper hand, but Harry was holding him down quite firmly. He'd never been good at physical fighting, that's what Crabbe and Goyle were for. Harry was smaller than him, but apparently better at this kind of thing.
Harry kissed him on the nose.
"Oh, yes," said Draco. "I'm gay, too. Thanks for reminding me. Scar-head."
Harry burst out laughing, and soon Draco had to laugh too.
"We were really stupid kids," Harry said.
"Do you think we subconsciously wanted each other the whole time?" Draco asked.
"Well," said Harry, "that would explain why I got a hard-on nearly every time we fought."
"And at quidditch matches," Draco said, remembering some very uncomfortable rides on his broomstick.
"Yeah," laughed Harry. "Thank Merlin for quidditch robes."
"I hated them," Draco said. "I wanted to see you in the quidditch _trousers_."
Harry's face reddened.
"Erm, yeah, they were tight, weren't they?" he said.
"Extremely," Draco said.
"Why don't we go to sleep on that note?" said Harry, yawning. "I wouldn't mind dreaming about quidditch trousers."
"I wouldn't mind dreaming about your _firebolt_," Draco said, putting his arms around Harry as he turned off the light.
---
When Draco woke up, he was not happy. The light was too bright, and he was cold. He reached over to snuggle with Harry and warm up, but he found that he was in the bed alone.
"No wonder I'm cold," he thought, wrapping Harry's blanket around him to get up and brush his teeth.
As he left the bathroom, he heard Harry downstairs in the kitchen and wandered down.
Harry was standing at the sink doing dishes. He looked back to smile at Draco.
"About time," he said.
"What? What time is it?" said Draco.
"A bit after twelve," Harry said.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" Draco said. "You're down here, what, doing dishes? While we have the house to ourselves?"
"You looked peaceful," Harry said. "Why don't you go upstairs and start that bath we were talking about earlier this summer? I'll be upstairs when I'm finished here."
Draco frowned.
"Can I distract you from that?" he asked, getting up. He turned Harry around, pinned him to the counter, and kissed him.
Harry pulled away for a moment, wrapping his arms around the shorts-clad Draco.
"Apparently you can," he said.
They were kissing quite passionately on the floor, Harry straddling Draco's legs, when the doorbell rang.
"Ignore it," Draco hissed as Harry slid his hands under Draco's boxers and up his thighs.
"Of course," Harry said. He took off his oversized gray tee shirt and tossed it out of their way.
Draco pulled Harry down onto the floor next to him, and they lay on their sides, kissing. Draco's boxers were becoming restrictive, so he unbuttoned the front of them with one hand and took out his hardened cock. Harry reached down to touch it, and the doorbell rang again.
"Fuck," Draco whispered, irritated.
"Alright, I will," said Harry, grinning.
"You should get the door, Potter," Draco said.
"Yeah," sighed Harry, getting up and putting his glasses on.
Draco whimpered, very much resenting the person who was currently at Harry's door. He wrapped himself in the blanket and watched from the kitchen as Harry opened the front door to an elderly woman in a housecoat and tartan slippers.
"Erm, Hello, Harry," she said, evidently surprised by Harry's disheveled appearance and half-nakedness. "Your aunt wanted me to check up on you, but I didn't know you had a. . . guest."
"Draco pulled the blanket tighter around his body and backed into the lounge.
"Oh, it's alright, that's, erm, a friend from Hogwarts," Harry said, hastily putting on his shirt. Draco smiled in the other room, picturing Harry's blushing face. "Is that the Daily Prophet, Mrs. Figg? I cancelled my subscription during the annual Harry Potter smear campaign," he heard him say.
"Yes, I thought I'd bring it over for you," the woman said. "There's an article about some boys in your year at school who were impersonating Death Eaters. Writing letters and things, pretending to be people like. . ." she lowered her voice, "Lucius Malfoy!"
In his shock, Draco forgot that he was hiding and burst into the room.
"Who impersonated Lucius Malfoy? Was it Zabini? I'll bet it was Zabini, he was always a nasty. . ."
Draco suddenly noticed that Mrs. Figg was averting her eyes and Harry seemed to be shielding him from the view of the door.
"Clothes, Dray," he said.
Draco looked down and realized that he was rather scantily clad with Dark Mark showing, and went upstairs to get dressed.
When he came back downstairs, Harry was sitting on the couch with Mrs. Figg, reading the article.
"You know how we didn't owl Dumbledore, Draco?" said Harry.
"Yes," Draco said.
"Well it doesn't matter, he knew all along," Harry said, sounding amused. "Crabbe and Zabini were caught writing more letters and they told the ministry the whole story."
"So they wrote that letter that was supposed to be from my father? Why didn't Dumbledore let us know?" Draco asked.
"He knew Harry was angry at him," Mrs. Figg said. "He knew he probably wouldn't read a letter _he_ sent. Mundungus Fletcher was supposed to send one. What was that about your father?"
"Lucius Malfoy is my father," Draco said. "So, we were safe the whole time?"
"Oh, you're _Draco_!" squealed Mrs. Figg. "I didn't know you two were still together! I read about it in 'Witch Weekly' back in January! It was so cute, with pictures of you two holding hands and looking at each other all gooey-eyed. . ."
"Yes, I remember the article, 'The Boyfriend of The Boy Who Lived,'" said Draco hastily. "My housemates beat me up for months over that. Back to the topic, my father really hasn't broken out of Azkaban?"
"No," said Harry, looking up from the article. "We were safe the whole time."
"Oh, of course," said Mrs. Figg. "Professor Dumbledore always has people looking out for Harry when he's here."
"I should have known," Harry said. Draco prepared himself to hear a tirade about Dumbledore's thirst for publicity, but Harry surprised him by saying, "He really is always watching out for me. We were stupid not to write to him Draco, unbelievably stubborn."
"Oh, yes, _we_ were," Draco said sarcastically, but he was glad to see Harry let go of a little of his bitterness.
Mrs. Figg stayed for much of the afternoon, drinking tea and catching the boys up on current events in the wizarding world.
Draco listened politely, but he was still grumpy that he and Harry had been interrupted earlier, and as soon as Mrs Figg left, Draco took the opportunity to jump on his boyfriend.
"We're really had a lot of trouble finishing what we start lately," he said.
"Aww, Draco," Harry said, kissing him on the forehead. "You'll just have to wait a few more minutes, I need to get these teacups washed out and put away."
"Harry, it's already evening," Draco whined.
"Go upstairs and get the bath ready, alright?" said Harry.
Draco stomped upstairs angrily.
"He's been avoiding me," he thought. "He doesn't even _want_ to have sex with me."
He decided, as he turned on the water, that he would just take a shower and go to bed. He could take a hint.
As Draco showered, he worried, and it did not end up being a short shower. He was ready to turn off the water almost a half an hour later when Harry came in.
"What are you doing?" Harry said, peeking in through the shower curtain. "I thought you were going to start a bath."
"As if you care," said Draco.
"Well, I guess the bath isn't too important to me," said Harry, "we can. . ."
"You don't want me," said Draco.
"What?" said Harry. "Don't want. . ?" He stepped into the shower without taking his clothes off.
"What are you talking about?" he said. "I want you."
Draco stared at the intense look on Harry's face. Water was streaming through his hair and condensing on his glasses, and his soaked clothing was clinging to his body.
"I want you to fuck me," Harry said.
---
Some time later, Harry and Draco emerged from a very long shower.
"You may be an annoying little hero, Potter, but you're definitely a good shag," Draco drawled.
"Shut up, Draco," Harry laughed. Suddenly, he looked alarmed. "How long were we in there?" he said.
Draco smiled and stretched.
"Quite a while," he said. "It's almost seven thirty."
"I'll be right back!" said Harry quickly, pulling on his pants and running downstairs.
Draco stood, confused, until he heard a crashing noise followed by a curse in the kitchen.
"What are you _doing_, Potter?" he said as he descended the stairs, now wrapped in a towel.
He saw that the kitchen table was set for two, including two nearly burned-down candlesticks and two bowls of soup that were certainly cold.
"I guess I burned dinner," said Harry, who was taking some kind of blackened crisp out of the oven. "And I just broke a plate."
"Well what in Merlin's name did you think we'd be doing up there, a quick race from the sink to the toilet and back?" Draco said.
"Yes, Draco, that's what I thought," said Harry sarcastically, picking up the shards of glass from the floor. "I set the oven for ten minutes, thinking, 'Well, I'm sure Draco will want a rematch, so. . .'"
"Ten minutes?" said Draco, feeling slightly insulted. "You know I have better stamina than _ten minutes_. You should have picked something that took longer to cook, instead of. . . whatever that is."
"It doesn't matter, it's ruined anyway," Harry said.
Draco looked around at the dimmed room.
"What's all of this for, anyway?" he asked, irritated.
"I just wanted it to be special," said Harry, glumly. "I wanted to tell you that. . . I was going to say. . ."
"What?" said Draco.
The corners of Harry's mouth twitched up a little, and he walked over to where Draco was standing.
"I'll just say it now. I- I love you, Draco," he said.
This was the moment Draco had been waiting for.
"You know, Potter," he said, "you've made my life hell for as long as I can remember. When I was just a little kid, my father was always telling me the story of how you defeated the Dark Lord and how I'd have to show you that blood was more powerful than anything. 'You need to beat Harry Potter,' he was always telling me. And I hated him, Potter, and I hated you for it, I always hated you. . . but somehow, every time I looked at you and you were laughing with your friends, every time I saw you smile, I knew that nothing in the world would ever make me so happy. . . you know, I've loved you for as long as I can remember, even when I hated you."
"If anyone else were to ever say that to me," said Harry, putting his arm around Draco, "I'd probably be offended."
They laughed, and then Harry kissed Draco on the lips.
"Sorry about dinner," Harry said, blushing.
"I'm not really hungry, anyway," said Draco, whose mind was not on food.
"You know what's still good, though?" Harry asked. He walked over to a cabinet next to the stove and pulled out a bottle of wine.
"Hmm, nice," Draco said, smiling deviously. "And stealing it from the muggles, too. I guess I've influenced you, Harry."
"Well, it's technically ours, actually," Harry said, blushing. "Fred and George sent it. Ron told them about us, and apparently they're a bit jealous of me, but, you know, happy for us and all."
Draco laughed and took the bottle, popping out the cork and taking a swig. The last thing he remembers about the evening is saying, "You know, Harry, I could make the cupboard under the stairs a place you associate with much better memories than you do now."
Pairing- Harry/Draco
Rating- R for language, smut, and suggestions of m/m sex. Sorry to disappoint, but I didn't want it to be NC-17. Always watch for spoilers, okay? You've been warned.
Notes- Sorry I haven't posted in so long! I found this chapter difficult to write for some reason. I don't really like it. It's basically extra-smutty fluff. _Long_ extra-smutty fluff. I hope that you enjoy it, at least. It's the second to last chapter, so stay tuned.
Disclaimer- J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all of these characters and settings. I'm just playing with them and I'm not making any money for it.
Feedback- Email me!
Chapter 7- Duddy's Birthday
A week passed and Draco heard nothing from his father. Surprisingly, though, he wasn't very concerned. Harry had also had a change in mind, however, and had been very on edge since his nightmare. Each night he locked the bedroom window and door, and he kept his invisibility cloak nearby in case he needed to throw it over Draco in a hurry.
"If you're so worried, why don't we just owl Headmaster Dumbledore?" said Draco calmly one night as Harry checked the window for the third time.
"Yeah, and then he can make a speech and award lots of house points and we'll all be featured in the Daily Prophet," said Harry bitterly. "Great idea." he crossed the room and sat on his bed.
Draco studied him for a moment.
"It's strange to see you like this," he said, sitting down next to Harry. "The Harry Potter I've known since I was eleven has always been stubbornly- hell, annoyingly, even- loyal to Dumbledore."
Harry sighed and looked up at the ceiling, pensive.
"I just don't feel like dealing with anyone from the Order right now, alright?" he said.
"Well," said Draco, smiling slyly. "What about a Death Eater?"
"You're not a Death Eater," said Harry as Draco straddled his lap.
"Are you sure?" Draco said, "Because I have some very evil intentions."
"Not the same kind," said Harry as Draco sucked on his neck. He moaned. "I hope."
"I suppose not," said Draco, pausing momentarily to shift his body forward and closing the gap between he and Harry, "I like mine better, anyway."
"Yeah," said Harry, taking in a sharp gasp of air, "me too."
Draco was enjoying the taste of Harry's skin and reaching for the zipper on his pants when he suddenly stopped, having the feeling that he was being watched.
He ignored Harry's whimpers of protest and turned to look at the door. He saw Harry's cousin staring at them.
"How long have you been standing there?" Draco said slowly, attempting to control his anger.
"Erm, just came in," said a shaken Dudley. He blinked and regained his composure. "It's my _birthday_ tomorrow, and Mummy says Harry has to cook me breakfast." He snickered. "And you'll have to go to Mrs. Figg's house all day."
Draco did his best to give Dudley a deadpan stare, but he was very anxious for this intruder to leave so that he could get back to undressing Harry.
"Alright," he said finally. "Could you leave? We were busy."
Dudley screwed up his face and stomped from the room and Draco got up to close the door.
"I could get that lump to do anything I wanted," he laughed. "Shall we pick this up where we left off?"
"Mrs. Figg is in _the Order_," said Harry, glumly. Draco ignored his horniness and sighed.
"So I suppose you don't want to deal with her, either, then?" he said.
Harry shook his head.
"Dud-thing! Get back here!" said Draco, getting up and leaving the room. "Dud-dums!"
"It's Dudley," said Harry's cousin. He and Draco were halfway down the hall, out of Harry's earshot.
"Right," said Draco. He paused. "I don't really want to go to this Mrs. Figg woman's house tomorrow, do you think you could talk your parents into letting Harry and me stay here?"
"Why should I?" said Dudley indignantly.
Draco laughed.
"Do you think I don't know how to manipulate you? You think I don't know how to deal with spoiled snotty brats?" he said. "Well guess what? I _am_ one. So don't think that I can't understand how your twisted little mind works. You're not making a _deal_ with me, I'm telling you what to do. Talk to your parents. Now."
"Alright, then, I'll make sure you don't have to go," squeaked Dudley.
"Good," said Draco, walking back to Harry's room.
"We'll be staying here," said Draco, taking his seat next to Harry on the bed. Harry stared at him, surprised.
"How did you arrange that?" he asked.
"I had a little talk with your cousin," Draco said, smirking.
"You're a bully," laughed Harry, shoving Draco down on the bed. He paused, licking his lips. "And it kind of turns me on."
Draco thought back to the years when Harry had been the target of his bullying and laughed at the thought of the little Gryffindor getting off on it.
"Did it always?" he asked. "Even when you were on the receiving end of it?"
"Yeah, it turns me on to be on the receiving end," Harry said, looking as if he was trying not to smile, "But I like to be on top, sometimes, too."
Draco smiled at how he'd corrupted Harry's mind.
"We'll have time for both tomorrow, and believe me Potter, I'll fuck your brains out," he said, grinning evilly.
"I'd say I'll fuck most of your internal organs out, but I guess that would be kind of disgusting," Harry laughed.
"Believe me, if it includes me and fucking and it comes from your lips, it's never going to disgust me," said Draco.
Harry paused, thinking.
"Fuck you, Malfoy," he said, snickering.
"I've never heard you say that before," Draco said sarcastically.
"Yeah, I guess I bullied you as much as you bullied me," said Harry. "Ferret Boy."
"Well, at least I was a pretty ferret," said Draco, sticking out his lower lip.
Harry snorted. Draco glared.
"Scar-head," he said.
"Can't you be more original than that?" said Harry. Draco paused, thinking.
"Pansy-arse!" he said.
"Alright," joked Harry, "Do you want to fight?"
"You're gay," said Draco, before being tackled on the bed. He felt his ears turn pink and struggled to get the upper hand, but Harry was holding him down quite firmly. He'd never been good at physical fighting, that's what Crabbe and Goyle were for. Harry was smaller than him, but apparently better at this kind of thing.
Harry kissed him on the nose.
"Oh, yes," said Draco. "I'm gay, too. Thanks for reminding me. Scar-head."
Harry burst out laughing, and soon Draco had to laugh too.
"We were really stupid kids," Harry said.
"Do you think we subconsciously wanted each other the whole time?" Draco asked.
"Well," said Harry, "that would explain why I got a hard-on nearly every time we fought."
"And at quidditch matches," Draco said, remembering some very uncomfortable rides on his broomstick.
"Yeah," laughed Harry. "Thank Merlin for quidditch robes."
"I hated them," Draco said. "I wanted to see you in the quidditch _trousers_."
Harry's face reddened.
"Erm, yeah, they were tight, weren't they?" he said.
"Extremely," Draco said.
"Why don't we go to sleep on that note?" said Harry, yawning. "I wouldn't mind dreaming about quidditch trousers."
"I wouldn't mind dreaming about your _firebolt_," Draco said, putting his arms around Harry as he turned off the light.
---
When Draco woke up, he was not happy. The light was too bright, and he was cold. He reached over to snuggle with Harry and warm up, but he found that he was in the bed alone.
"No wonder I'm cold," he thought, wrapping Harry's blanket around him to get up and brush his teeth.
As he left the bathroom, he heard Harry downstairs in the kitchen and wandered down.
Harry was standing at the sink doing dishes. He looked back to smile at Draco.
"About time," he said.
"What? What time is it?" said Draco.
"A bit after twelve," Harry said.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" Draco said. "You're down here, what, doing dishes? While we have the house to ourselves?"
"You looked peaceful," Harry said. "Why don't you go upstairs and start that bath we were talking about earlier this summer? I'll be upstairs when I'm finished here."
Draco frowned.
"Can I distract you from that?" he asked, getting up. He turned Harry around, pinned him to the counter, and kissed him.
Harry pulled away for a moment, wrapping his arms around the shorts-clad Draco.
"Apparently you can," he said.
They were kissing quite passionately on the floor, Harry straddling Draco's legs, when the doorbell rang.
"Ignore it," Draco hissed as Harry slid his hands under Draco's boxers and up his thighs.
"Of course," Harry said. He took off his oversized gray tee shirt and tossed it out of their way.
Draco pulled Harry down onto the floor next to him, and they lay on their sides, kissing. Draco's boxers were becoming restrictive, so he unbuttoned the front of them with one hand and took out his hardened cock. Harry reached down to touch it, and the doorbell rang again.
"Fuck," Draco whispered, irritated.
"Alright, I will," said Harry, grinning.
"You should get the door, Potter," Draco said.
"Yeah," sighed Harry, getting up and putting his glasses on.
Draco whimpered, very much resenting the person who was currently at Harry's door. He wrapped himself in the blanket and watched from the kitchen as Harry opened the front door to an elderly woman in a housecoat and tartan slippers.
"Erm, Hello, Harry," she said, evidently surprised by Harry's disheveled appearance and half-nakedness. "Your aunt wanted me to check up on you, but I didn't know you had a. . . guest."
"Draco pulled the blanket tighter around his body and backed into the lounge.
"Oh, it's alright, that's, erm, a friend from Hogwarts," Harry said, hastily putting on his shirt. Draco smiled in the other room, picturing Harry's blushing face. "Is that the Daily Prophet, Mrs. Figg? I cancelled my subscription during the annual Harry Potter smear campaign," he heard him say.
"Yes, I thought I'd bring it over for you," the woman said. "There's an article about some boys in your year at school who were impersonating Death Eaters. Writing letters and things, pretending to be people like. . ." she lowered her voice, "Lucius Malfoy!"
In his shock, Draco forgot that he was hiding and burst into the room.
"Who impersonated Lucius Malfoy? Was it Zabini? I'll bet it was Zabini, he was always a nasty. . ."
Draco suddenly noticed that Mrs. Figg was averting her eyes and Harry seemed to be shielding him from the view of the door.
"Clothes, Dray," he said.
Draco looked down and realized that he was rather scantily clad with Dark Mark showing, and went upstairs to get dressed.
When he came back downstairs, Harry was sitting on the couch with Mrs. Figg, reading the article.
"You know how we didn't owl Dumbledore, Draco?" said Harry.
"Yes," Draco said.
"Well it doesn't matter, he knew all along," Harry said, sounding amused. "Crabbe and Zabini were caught writing more letters and they told the ministry the whole story."
"So they wrote that letter that was supposed to be from my father? Why didn't Dumbledore let us know?" Draco asked.
"He knew Harry was angry at him," Mrs. Figg said. "He knew he probably wouldn't read a letter _he_ sent. Mundungus Fletcher was supposed to send one. What was that about your father?"
"Lucius Malfoy is my father," Draco said. "So, we were safe the whole time?"
"Oh, you're _Draco_!" squealed Mrs. Figg. "I didn't know you two were still together! I read about it in 'Witch Weekly' back in January! It was so cute, with pictures of you two holding hands and looking at each other all gooey-eyed. . ."
"Yes, I remember the article, 'The Boyfriend of The Boy Who Lived,'" said Draco hastily. "My housemates beat me up for months over that. Back to the topic, my father really hasn't broken out of Azkaban?"
"No," said Harry, looking up from the article. "We were safe the whole time."
"Oh, of course," said Mrs. Figg. "Professor Dumbledore always has people looking out for Harry when he's here."
"I should have known," Harry said. Draco prepared himself to hear a tirade about Dumbledore's thirst for publicity, but Harry surprised him by saying, "He really is always watching out for me. We were stupid not to write to him Draco, unbelievably stubborn."
"Oh, yes, _we_ were," Draco said sarcastically, but he was glad to see Harry let go of a little of his bitterness.
Mrs. Figg stayed for much of the afternoon, drinking tea and catching the boys up on current events in the wizarding world.
Draco listened politely, but he was still grumpy that he and Harry had been interrupted earlier, and as soon as Mrs Figg left, Draco took the opportunity to jump on his boyfriend.
"We're really had a lot of trouble finishing what we start lately," he said.
"Aww, Draco," Harry said, kissing him on the forehead. "You'll just have to wait a few more minutes, I need to get these teacups washed out and put away."
"Harry, it's already evening," Draco whined.
"Go upstairs and get the bath ready, alright?" said Harry.
Draco stomped upstairs angrily.
"He's been avoiding me," he thought. "He doesn't even _want_ to have sex with me."
He decided, as he turned on the water, that he would just take a shower and go to bed. He could take a hint.
As Draco showered, he worried, and it did not end up being a short shower. He was ready to turn off the water almost a half an hour later when Harry came in.
"What are you doing?" Harry said, peeking in through the shower curtain. "I thought you were going to start a bath."
"As if you care," said Draco.
"Well, I guess the bath isn't too important to me," said Harry, "we can. . ."
"You don't want me," said Draco.
"What?" said Harry. "Don't want. . ?" He stepped into the shower without taking his clothes off.
"What are you talking about?" he said. "I want you."
Draco stared at the intense look on Harry's face. Water was streaming through his hair and condensing on his glasses, and his soaked clothing was clinging to his body.
"I want you to fuck me," Harry said.
---
Some time later, Harry and Draco emerged from a very long shower.
"You may be an annoying little hero, Potter, but you're definitely a good shag," Draco drawled.
"Shut up, Draco," Harry laughed. Suddenly, he looked alarmed. "How long were we in there?" he said.
Draco smiled and stretched.
"Quite a while," he said. "It's almost seven thirty."
"I'll be right back!" said Harry quickly, pulling on his pants and running downstairs.
Draco stood, confused, until he heard a crashing noise followed by a curse in the kitchen.
"What are you _doing_, Potter?" he said as he descended the stairs, now wrapped in a towel.
He saw that the kitchen table was set for two, including two nearly burned-down candlesticks and two bowls of soup that were certainly cold.
"I guess I burned dinner," said Harry, who was taking some kind of blackened crisp out of the oven. "And I just broke a plate."
"Well what in Merlin's name did you think we'd be doing up there, a quick race from the sink to the toilet and back?" Draco said.
"Yes, Draco, that's what I thought," said Harry sarcastically, picking up the shards of glass from the floor. "I set the oven for ten minutes, thinking, 'Well, I'm sure Draco will want a rematch, so. . .'"
"Ten minutes?" said Draco, feeling slightly insulted. "You know I have better stamina than _ten minutes_. You should have picked something that took longer to cook, instead of. . . whatever that is."
"It doesn't matter, it's ruined anyway," Harry said.
Draco looked around at the dimmed room.
"What's all of this for, anyway?" he asked, irritated.
"I just wanted it to be special," said Harry, glumly. "I wanted to tell you that. . . I was going to say. . ."
"What?" said Draco.
The corners of Harry's mouth twitched up a little, and he walked over to where Draco was standing.
"I'll just say it now. I- I love you, Draco," he said.
This was the moment Draco had been waiting for.
"You know, Potter," he said, "you've made my life hell for as long as I can remember. When I was just a little kid, my father was always telling me the story of how you defeated the Dark Lord and how I'd have to show you that blood was more powerful than anything. 'You need to beat Harry Potter,' he was always telling me. And I hated him, Potter, and I hated you for it, I always hated you. . . but somehow, every time I looked at you and you were laughing with your friends, every time I saw you smile, I knew that nothing in the world would ever make me so happy. . . you know, I've loved you for as long as I can remember, even when I hated you."
"If anyone else were to ever say that to me," said Harry, putting his arm around Draco, "I'd probably be offended."
They laughed, and then Harry kissed Draco on the lips.
"Sorry about dinner," Harry said, blushing.
"I'm not really hungry, anyway," said Draco, whose mind was not on food.
"You know what's still good, though?" Harry asked. He walked over to a cabinet next to the stove and pulled out a bottle of wine.
"Hmm, nice," Draco said, smiling deviously. "And stealing it from the muggles, too. I guess I've influenced you, Harry."
"Well, it's technically ours, actually," Harry said, blushing. "Fred and George sent it. Ron told them about us, and apparently they're a bit jealous of me, but, you know, happy for us and all."
Draco laughed and took the bottle, popping out the cork and taking a swig. The last thing he remembers about the evening is saying, "You know, Harry, I could make the cupboard under the stairs a place you associate with much better memories than you do now."