Here's another chapter, quite smutty as it was inspired by my best friend, haha. There's nothing much to say except thank you all very much for the comments and praise.
I actually finished this story ages ago, you know, so the sequel is nearly done as well. I just should post more often, I suppose.
(Insert asterik-filled break here before story begins)
Chapter Nine:
"They've gone," Harry said, moving from the corner of the basement were he was sitting. "We've gone," he corrected, feeling foolish. Which one was he, Harry, anyway? The man who had left or the boy still behind? Flustered, he ignored his thoughts.
"Good." Draco said, stretching his legs. "So when do we get killed anyway?"
"Professor Dumbledore never said, did he?" Ron responded, dropping his hostility in the midst of worry. "What should we do?"
"We should follow ourselves," Hermione said seriously, feeling the oddness of the words in her mouth. "But how can we get to Malfoy Manor? I haven't learned to apparate yet, and I'm the most advanced student here."
"I don't think so," Draco said, insulted by her claim. "But still, we haven't got any way unless we Floo there. That is, if the Floo Network still works to the Manor. It sounds abandoned."
Harry looked at Draco appraisingly. He had just learned his father was on the hunt for his friends and yet he was still unbelievably calm. Harry realized that Draco was probably in shock. He remembered his own feelings when he had lost Sirius. He didn't know what to say, so, oddly enough, he took the boy's hand.
Ron's eyes flintered over at them stonily, but before he could open his mouth, Hermione punched his arm and he fell silent. Without moving his hand from Draco's warmth, Harry looked up at the others. "If we are going to get to Malfoy Manor, we have to have Floo Powder."
"Who would have something like--" Ron started, but he saw the bag in Hermione's hand.
She shrugged proudly. "Before we left the living room, I grabbed it from on top of the fireplace. Lucky or it would be ground into the carpet and no use to us now."
"Merlin," Seamus couldn't help but say as they stood in front of the sprawling splendor that was Malfoy Manor. Ignored for nearly a decade since his parent's deaths, Draco hadn't set foot in it again. The ivy trellises his mother had the elf gardeners culture alongside the house had gown wild with time, attempting to almost overtake it. The Grecian columns and even, colonial bay windows appeared proud, distant and impenetrable to the others, even this close.
"Well, shall we?" Draco said, amused at their reaction.
They entered, and it was not at all as Harry had expected. No dusty remnants of a home, no furniture, nothing. A few bare chairs lined one of the walls and a massive lump covered in canvas was the only furniture in a room large enough to house half of the Hogwarts student body. A chandelier hung tiredly, suspended from a floral porcelain cup set in the ceiling, and a strange, high bookshelf stood against one wall, devoid of what it should contain.
"It's empty," Draco said numbly. He did not feel anything toward the house in which he had been raised. In fact, it was almost like visiting a fine hotel lost to time. It was not what he had expected. He had expected something, and the absence of anything was almost as surprising.
"I'll conjure some things," Hermione said, trying to help. Immediately, a dining room set appeared in the large sitting room, and as she tapped her wand towards the stairs Harry realized she had conjured furnished bedrooms as well.
"Dinner would be nice," Ron said, realizing how callous he sounded as soon as the words came out of his mouth. "Sorry."
"No," Draco said, forcing a smile only Harry could tell was fake. "We should eat something, right? Conserve strength and all of that."
"Right," Weston nodded briskly, taking out her wand. A few Latin phrases later, she had created a four course dinner, complete with champagne sitting in an ice box at the edge of the table. Reluctantly they all sat down, feeling almost a sense of blasphemy in eating at Malfoy Manor.
It took several glasses of never ending champagne to get a conversation started that was not awkward and stunted. It was Weston, ever the fearless, mouthy leader, who spoke first. "It must have been grand growing up in a house like this," she said, the wine loosening her words so that they came out in a long stream. "Compared to the shit life some of us had."
"Yeah," Draco sniffed, ignoring her barb. "Really fucking grand."
"Dontcha see he doesn't want to talk about it, Weston?" Seamus said, interrupting. "It isn't his fault you grew up like a Muggle in a dingy flat in Brooklyn."
"Shut your hole about Weston," Ron said, coming to Weston's defense. She looked at him curiously, almost as if she had something to add, but then fell silent. "Jules isn't doing anybody any harm by speaking out. And it isn't like you really belong here, is it, Finnigan?"
"Ron," Harry said. "Seamus is our friend."
"Bollocks," Ron snorted. "He's never been my friend. In fact he--"
"All of you need to calm down!" Weston said. "What kind of alliance are we if we can't even have a civilized dinner together? Draco, I'm sorry about what I said. Your life, mine, and Harry's were all shit. There. We had shitty childhoods. Good, it's settled. We might as we eat Hermione's cake--"
"Weston," Ron slurred, "You need to mind your own business. You don't know what happened, you went to Durmstrang."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Weston said, her fists balled up, ready for a fight. Harry watched them, amused. Weston could kill Ron easily, if she wasn't such a principled little brat.
"Everyone knows that Durmstrang was a breeding ground for Death Eaters," Ron said sniffing. "How do we know you're not a spy?"
"You--" Weston had her wand out in an instant. "I'll do you in so good you won't be able to tell your head from your arse."
Seamus mouthed laughter silently in the corner chair.
"How do we know," Ron continued viciously. "That you and Draco haven't lured the rest of us here so the Death Eaters can get us? Poetic justice, wouldn't it be, Weston, killing off all of us in one shot--"
Harry got up from the table and put a hand on Weston's arm. "Don't do it, Jules. Don't bother with him."
"Some friend you are, 'arry," Ron said. "Defending Weston and holding fucking Malfoy over me as well, just because he's a pretty shag--"
A chair slammed from edge of the table and hit the ground. When they turned around, everyone noticed that Draco had gotten up from the table. In the distance a door slammed, and Harry winced. It took a great deal to get Draco from sardonics to real, furious anger, but Ron had managed it. And Draco would be seething the entire night, for he had a slow burn.
"Merlin," Harry said, annoyed. Everyone seemed suddenly sober, even Ron was straight, and red-faced at his behavior. "Fuck you, Ron!"
Harry got up from the table, and went outside. He let the cold air cool his temper, before he saw Weston's shadow standing behind him.
"I'm sorry, Harry. I let tonight get out of control," she frowned.
Harry shrugged. "You can't be in control of everything, Weston. Calm down a bit." Weston nodded and gave a half-smile.
"Tell Draco I'm sorry, ay? I didn't mean anything by it."
Harry nodded and followed Weston's implicit advice. He found Draco after fifteen minutes of looking, sitting in the antechamber of some larger room. He had obviously conjured the furniture, Harry thought, the sofas and chairs were too similar to the ones which they had had in their own home and had been destroyed. Harry sighed, Draco's figure was hunched over, head in hands.
Harry thought for a moment, and then conjured a chair beside him. Hesitantly, after a moment, he put a hand on Draco's shoulder.
Draco turned away from Harry, stiffly, he was still annoyed or angry, Harry couldn't tell which. Nonplussed, Harry continued, drawing circles on his back, and then he moved off the chair. He knelt down and put his chin on Draco's lap, and turned Draco's clenched jaw with his fingers, so that their eyes met and held.
"You really can't leave me in peace, can you, Potter?" Draco said, but his eyes were bright and he was very close to smiling, a little smirk was playing at his lips.
"No," Harry laughed, pleased. "I can't. C'mon, Draco."
"I'm not mad anymore," Draco announced archly, kissing Harry's temple. "I shouldn't have risen to his bait."
"No," Harry frowned darkly, "Ron shouldn't have made it seem as if we didn't trust you." Harry looked at Draco seriously. "I do trust you. I trust you completely, Draco Malfoy, and I want you to know that."
"Very well, then," Draco said shortly. "It took you long enough to say it."
"You are still angry!" Harry said, accusatorily. "What is it, then!"
"Nothing," Draco frowned, shutting down, "I don't want to talk about it, is all."
"Oh, no, you're not doing this to me, Malfoy!" Harry screamed, as Draco moved to leave the room. Using his wand, he froze the door shut and manipulated it, so that it disappeared and the wall extended, so there was no way to enter or exit. "If you want a fight, Malfoy, I'll give you a fight!"
Harry backed Draco into a corner, his wand outstretched. "Don't bother trying to scare me, Potter," Draco said, his eyes narrowed into bluish gray slits. "You don't have the balls to hurt me."
"I don't?" Harry said, becoming dangerously quiet.
Draco stared him down recklessly. "You don't."
Harry grabbed Draco's shoulders and pushed him down; they both hit the floor hard, Draco's head slamming mercilessly against the carpet. Not letting a moment pass, Draco's Auror training came back to him in a flash of brutality, and he rammed his knee into Harry's stomach, causing the other man to gasp, and taking advantage of that moment, Draco pushed Harry against the floor, his hands making sharp contact with Harry's hipbones as he forced him down.
"I told you," Draco smirked, but in the next moment one of Harry's fists made contact with the delicate region between Draco's ribs. "Merlin!" Draco screamed, becoming enraged.
Furiously, Draco raised a fist, and missed making contact with Harry's nose and instead hit his open mouth. For a moment both men were shocked by the sudden influx of pain, Harry's lower lip was visibly bleeding and Draco's knuckles were raw from where they had hit bone. Unclenching his hand, with the lesser of the two injuries, Draco crushed his own foot hard down on one of Harry's feet and tumbled him over, so that once again he was atop him. Cleverly he pushed a knee into Harry's stomach and held him down.
"Give up?" Draco sneered. "You are bleeding."
"So are you," Harry countered as Draco's face inched closer to his own. Draco looked down at his hand. The skin had teared and it was indeed bleeding.
"Bastard," Draco said, his vanity hurting more than his hand. He applied more pressure on his bent leg, causing Harry to groan.
"What are you going to do about it?" Harry teased underneath him, feeling his reaction tight in his pants. Draco was fucking hot when he was furious, and Harry had pushed him very far, farther than he had ever before.
For a moment it looked as though Draco might ram his forehead against Harry's and possibly render them both unconscious, but in the next moment he was laying flat against Harry, his mouth pliant and easy, urging the other's open with no resistance. Draco kissed Harry with all the fury he had rushing through his veins, the adrenaline was fast, potent, and he was holding Harry down and kissing him madly. Absent of his mind, he tasted blood in his own mouth and moaned, the taste was incredibly inviting.
Harry had no control over what was happening, he was mildly shocked before the surge of energy had him tugging desperately at Draco's clothes, trying to find evidence of the same burning arousal which was coursing through his veins. Finally removing all of their clothes quickly, Harry's hand latched onto the proof of Draco's desire.
"You want me," he said, his hand moving across Draco's length viciously, causing him to cry out and he pinned Harry's hands above his head.
"I always fucking want you," Draco sneered. He looked at Harry, perfectly content to be submissive this time, and the desire nearly destroyed his last ounce of reason. Their clothes lay around them like a mad geometric design, its message unclear. Pinioned beneath Draco, Harry arched his back so that his throbbing desire met Draco's, and instinctively they began to move together.
The heat was nearly unbearable between their bodies, their senses were gone, it was an act of fierce, animalistic force. Kisses were left half-completed as one of them screamed, nails dung harshly into skin as another moaned the other's name, skin glistened with sweat and fire and a want so large it threatened to overtake the entire room. Draco found his mouth at Harry's neck and as they moved together, he cried out as his orgasm came, biting down hard onto the gentle flesh.
Draco rolled over and rested on his back, panting wildly, as if exhausted from the exertion. Looking at Draco, his brilliant shining white skin, and there was something bright, silent, and lovely and he came. Amused, Harry noticed that Draco was once again hard and waiting. Carefully, he crossed the over to Draco, his hands drawing long lines across Draco's chest, leaving little red trail marks of ownership.
"Are you trying to kill me?" Draco panted, his body jerking furiously.
"No," Harry smiled, nuzzling his head onto Draco's lower stomach and kissing him, amazingly gently. "I'm going to erase every thought in your head, Draco Malfoy," he whispered, the green eyes locking with the blue. "I'm going to take out every memory and I'm going fill your head with me."
"Harry--" Draco moaned. Whatever Harry's maddening intention was, he was succeeding, in this red-rimmed haze, Draco saw nothing but Harry-- his hands on his hips, his mouth kissing the inside of his thighs, the dark, musky smell of his skin surrounding him. Draco only faintly felt that he may have been angry once. Perhaps. But now he wanted Harry. Harry's beautiful, wide mouth to consume him.
As if reading his thoughts, Harry did just that the moment the mental picture came to Draco. The sweet velvet warmth of Harry's mouth was unbelievably gorgeous; there seemed no better word for it. Without much persuasion, Draco reached his orgasm again, screaming Harry's name madly in a string of babbling nonsense. One finally shout of his name, and Draco had completed.
Harry rose back and rested his head on Draco's shoulder, throwing his arm across the white torso in a rare sign of protective ownership.
"I thought you were going to kill me," Draco mused, kissing the top of Harry's moist head lovingly.
"Couldn't," Harry yawned, tucking his head and body so that they were better in line with Draco's. He formed himself around Draco, his body half thrown over him, with Draco's arm drawing him closer. "Couldn't because I love you too damn much." He finished lazily.
"Hmm-hmm," Draco gave a murmur of agreement, too tired to say much of anything else. Understanding, Harry smiled briefly and drifted off to sleep.
Though he was uncomfortable with Harry's weight pressed against his arm, Draco did nothing to move him. It was too secure, the numbing pain of having him close, feeling his warm, sleeping breath against his skin. There was a strange sense of deep foreboding in the marrow of Draco's bones as if on some level he knew this may not always be so.
But then sleep came in its merciless silent kindness and swept him away.
A knock. Rough. Loud.
"Umm, guys." It was Weston's voice, for once sounding unsure. "Everyone's arrived; I think you should come downstairs, if you're done."
Bolting awake, Harry and Draco laughed until their stomachs ached.