Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, and I hold no legal claim over Harry Potter or any associated characters. This piece of fan fiction is merely for my own amusement, and possibly others. No profit is being made, and no copyright fringe is intended.
Rating: M
Author's Note: I'm having some issues with the upcoming fourth chapter, so you're going to have to bear with me while I attempt to make it come out the way I want it. But for now we've got the lovely third chapter in my little story, and I hope you all enjoy it!
Chapter 3 – Friends and Other Complications
Flashback.April 22, 2005. Three weeks after the "incident" at the motel.
Draco groaned into his pillow case. It had been a long time since he had felt this angry. He was angry with Potter, the world, but mostly angry at himself. He had told himself a million times that it couldn't happen again. He had no clue what had possessed him that night at the motel, but if his role in this war was to remain out of jeopardy then it couldn't happen again. He had to remind himself sometimes, about the war. The very idea of war had loomed on the horizon for so many years that its newfound presence in reality seemed somehow unreal. But it was something he had to acknowledge, just as he had to acknowledge that Potter and this war were linked in ways he couldn't begin to comprehend. Everyone had faith in Potter, everyone was expecting Potter to end Voldemort once and for all. This just so happened to make him #1 on Voldemort's hit list. Which meant that anyone who so much as smiled at the other boy could end up dead 24 hours later. He shuddered to think at what would be done to someone found shagging him. If he were to hazard a guess, torture would probably be involved. Lots of torture. Potter was just an utterly impractical attachment that he couldn't afford to indulge.
Draco had told himself these things over and over again. He did not see why he continued to fixate on that one night. Consciously, he attempted to push the boy from his mind. But his subconscious brought him vivid images of Potter on a nightly basis. Dreams in which Draco relived that night over and over, tasting Potter's flesh and watching the raven-haired boy biting his lip to keep from crying out. The last time he had reported to his father at Malfoy manor, he had spent three hours searching the library for possible hexes or curses he could be under the influence of. It was a ridiculous notion that Draco soon dismissed, admitting finally that the culprit was more likely his hormones.
He blamed his hormones for what had happened earlier today. Something that never should have happened, which anyone in their right mind would have immediately seen. It had been a perfectly ordinary day at the ministry. He'd spent all morning researching counter-jinxes to be used against the Incarcerous incantation. It was a complete waste of time, and Draco knew it. Basically, this was the ministry's way of keeping him busy while keeping an eye on him at the same time. No one really trusted him, which was just fine because Draco didn't trust them either. But in a weird way, he trusted Potter. He trusted that Potter would win them the war, because that was just the sort of thing that the Gryffindor did. He won. All of the time, which had been a constant source of annoyance back at Hogwarts. Draco wasn't stupid though. If it would save his life, then Draco was willing to sacrifice a bit of his pride. This was the decision he had come to last year, when Hogwarts had closed and he had been faced with a choice. Murderer or blood traitor? Draco had chosen blood traitor. It had a certain ring to it.
Back to his work at the ministry. As usual, Draco had soon grown frustrating with his lack of progress. He went out for coffee and came back a few moments later, planning to stop by Natalie McDonald's cubicle on the way back to his own desk to ask if she'd had better luck than him. He never got there though. Standing right across the room, talking casually with an Auror named Perenell Fenwick, was Potter. His instincts immediately screamed at him to bolt out of that room as fast as possible. To leave before Potter saw him. But instead he stood there like a complete ponce, simply staring until the heat of his stare drew Harry's eyes away from Fenwick for a brief moment. A brief moment in which they locked eyes, and surprise mixed with a dash of conflict was evident in Potter's face. Then the moment was over. Harry went back to his conversation, and Draco turned and exited the room.
How they had both ended up in the washroom eight minutes later, Draco had no idea. But he was almost hard already, just remembering what had soon after occurred. He had walked into the room and seen Potter washing his face in the sink. The Gryffindor stood up, and Draco suddenly found himself face to face with the boy he had been trying so hard to forget. But unlike in the hall, they were alone. Draco registered this in the back of his mind as a dangerous situation. Flashing lights announcing warnings such as "Stop!" and "Avoid Unbearable Sexual Tension – Run!" but Draco had neither the presence of mind nor the inclination to pay them attention.
Potter had greeted him with a forced calm that Malfoy was seized with the urge to grab and shatter on the floor. But instead, he heard himself making a remark about the weather. He heard Harry reply courteously, and then felt himself being slammed against the wall. His mouth was attacked savagely, then his neck. Soon, they were pawing at each other desperately, almost viciously. Potter's hand was down his trousres, which was only fair because Draco had his tongue down Potter's throat.
It was just four hours ago, yet the scene playing in his mind was foggy and lacking clarity. If he didn't have bruises he would be wondering if it was just another dream. It was similar to the dreams in some ways, but completely different in others. Potter made the first move, for one. He wouldn't have expected that of the boy. In his dreams Malfoy was always the instigator, and being pushed up against that wall had thrown him off. It hadn't been entirely unpleasant though. Malfoy remembered Potter's lips on his neck, sucking and teasing the sensitive skin at his collarbone. Potter pulling Draco's shirt off before throwing his own on the floor. Potter's hand reaching into his boxers, pushing him closer and closer to his breaking point.
Draco shuddered, and sighed heavily as he resigned himself to his fate. Reaching down, he grasped his erection firmly. The physical relief was evident in his moan. Fisting his cock roughly, Draco remembered the hard definition of Potter's abs, and the sweat collecting on his brow as they both tottered on the edge of release.
Moments later, Draco came violently while choking on the name of a boy he had sworn to hate as it tore from his lips.
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Present Day.June 29, 2008
The voices of people rose and fell within the rhythm of conversation, nearly drowning out the soft jazz that played in the background of a crowded restaurant. Three old friends sat in the corner, taking place in a ritual that they had started several years ago when the war first began. Every Thursday night, they met up and had dinner together.
It didn't sound very special, but it had been one of the things that had kept Harry sane throughout the turmoil of war. Unless it was physically impossible, he could count on Hermione and Ron to be there on that one night. When the war ended they decided to continue the dinners, even though they often saw each other at other times in the week. It felt safe for all three of them to have something they could rely upon.
Draco knew where Harry was of course. Hermione, Ron, and Draco had gotten along well enough since Draco's allegiances had switched. They certainly weren't friends, but they were civil. If Draco had happened to walk into their restaurant on a Thursday night, it was likely that Hermione would invite him to sit down. But Draco had never shown up like that. If it was Harry in Draco's position, he wouldn't have been able to resist the temptation. Draco however, seemed entirely indifferent where Thursday nights were concerned. Well, that wasn't entirely true. There was always a weird tension that surface when Harry mentioned his Thursday excursions outright. Draco preferred to treat Thursdays as he would any other night. Harry wasn't sure what it was exactly. He had no clue what it was that Draco did on Thursday nights. But he figured it was best not to pry. After all, Draco never pried.
"She's going mad! Absolutely bonkers! Really Harry, how many weddings have you been to where there were six different appetizers to choose from?" Ron asked, exasperated.
Harry shrugged. "I've never been to a wedding, actually."
"That's not true, you went to Bill and Fleur's wedding." Hermione pointed out.
Harry shook his head. "No I didn't, remember? That was the switched Portkey incident."
Hermione winced. "I'd forgotten about that."
"It landed McNair in Azkaban though, so it wasn't for nothing. Right, Harry?" Ron asked.
"Right." Harry sighed wearily. Good to know that his hours of endured torture had been worthwhile.
"Having six appetizers is just good sense, Ron." Hermione said, plowing on in an attempt to remove any signs of awkwardness. "It gives the guests plenty of options, and we need be considerate of the differences in diet among the wizarding world. You couldn't very well serve a vampire garlic bread, could you?" Hermione asked.
"You've invited a vampire to our WEDDING!" Ron accused hotly, spitting out his butterbeer.
"Well, no." Hermione conceded. "But-"
"I will give you two appetizers. That's it. Two." Ron told her firmly. "And while we're on the subject of wedding food, I refuse to allow you to serve that zucchini stir fry…tofu…thing I overheard you and mum talking about this morning."
"But what about the vegetarians?" Hermione asked, clearly distressed.
"The wedding is being held outside. They can get on their hands and knees and eat the grass for all I care." Ron said cheekily.
"That is not funny, Ron." Hermione said, glaring at him sternly. She turned her attention to Harry. "You'll never guess who we ran into the other day, Harry." Hermione began slyly, changing the direction of conversation completely in the process. "Hannah Abbott! She was asking about you, so I told her that…"
Harry leaned back in his chair and sighed. He knew what was coming. Hermione and Ron had been trying to set him up for quite some time now. Each attempt proved more futile than the last, especially considering that every single one of his prospective "soul mates" happened to lack a certain Y chromosome. In other words, his friends didn't know he was gay.
Harry had never really meant to keep this a secret from them. It was just that, when he finally figured it out there was a war being waged around them. Harry had sort of put it aside in favour of more important things. It seemed at the time that everyone already had more than enough to deal with. Now there was nothing stopping him. Yet he and Draco had been keeping their relationship a secret for so long now that it had just become part of what they were, and Harry was afraid to change that. Although they had been together in some form or another for over three years now, their relationship had never been a stable one. There had been an awkward conversation instigated by Harry after the first year, in which they had agreed that they were "dating". Despite this, the term "boyfriend" was never brought up, most likely because they had never had the chance to use it. But also because there was a certain reluctance to define anything about what they were to each other or what they did with each other. It made it a bit too "real world" somehow. Harry smirked briefly as he imagined saying, "This is my boyfriend, Draco" only to have each and every person in the imaginary room faint away in shock. He snorted.
"What's so funny?" Ron asked, curious.
Harry shook his head. "Nothing. Look, I appreciate the thought, but I'm fine by myself right now."
"What about our wedding Harry?" Hermione prodded. "At least bring a date to the wedding. You need to get out there more!"
Harry paused. He wasn't sure how to reply. After all, they believed he hadn't had a date in over five years. If that had actually been the case, they would have a very good case.
"What about Cho Chang? She's working for Gringotts now, Bill says she's still single." Ron suggested.
Harry shook his head. Him and Cho? What a disaster that would be! Even if he wasn't gay.
"Or Luna? I mean, she is a bit odd. But she's really quite sweet!" Hermione said.
"Maybe Parvati Patil?" Ron offered.
He wished they'd just stop throwing names at him. His head was starting to hurt.
"Or Lavender?" Hermione added.
"I'm already seeing someone." Harry blurted out. He regretted the words immediately, as both of his friends stared at him, stunned.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "Why didn't you say something?"
"I don't think they can come to the wedding though." Harry said quickly.
Ron frowned. "Well why not?"
Harry exhaled loudly, and rubbed at the bridge of his nose while he pushed his glasses up. "It's complicated." He said finally.
"We want to meet her, Harry." Hermione said firmly.
Harry nodded vaguely, unwilling to correct the improper placement of the pronoun "her". He had no idea how he was going to get out of this one.
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Present day. Later that same night.
Harry turned the key in its lock quietly, hesitant to make any noise. He was coming home much later then he had expected, having been unable to get Hermione and Ron to stop pestering him about his "clandestine lover" as Hermione had put it. Harry crept quietly across the floor, taking care to avoid the creaky floorboards. Draco was already in bed, having fallen asleep with the lights still on. Draco had made such a fuss about having those two bedside lamps. He had insisted that Harry remove them at first, and then complained loudly for some while about the ineffectiveness of "ekletricty" and muggle inventions in general. But when Harry flicked the switch, Draco's eyes lit up in interest. Harry had come back from work one day to find a sulky Draco nursing a rather severe burn to his hand, insisting that the lamp had "attacked him". Draco had learned, and knew better than to touch the light bulbs now.
Harry undressed as quietly as possible, and flicked off the lights as he slipped into the bed.
"How are Mr. and Mrs. Weasel?" Draco asked sleepily, startling Harry.
"I didn't know you were awake." Harry admitted. "And they're not Mr. and Mrs. Weasel quite yet."
Draco grunted in recognition of this fact. A long pause, and then, "Harry?" Draco asked, in an uncharacteristically small voice.
"Yeah?"
Another long pause. "Nothing." Draco said eventually, staring at the ceiling of their bedroom.
"No, what?" Harry pressed. He turned on the bedside light again and propped himself up on one elbow to face the other boy. He'd been expecting something like this for awhile now. It wasn't hard to tell when something was on Draco's mind. It was only a matter of when it would make itself known.
"Just, isn't it weird that your two best mates don't even know that you're living with someone now?"
Harry shrugged. "Not really. It hasn't caused any problems yet."
Draco nodded hesitantly. "But what if they came over one day without any warning? They might be a little bit concerned to find us shagging in the kitchen or something."
Harry snorted. "If it happens, we'll deal with it."
Draco sat up. "So you don't think it's important enough to let them know?"
Harry sighed. "That's not what I meant."
Draco scrambled out of the bed. "Really? Then why are we walking around carrying all of these secrets? Harry tried to speak, but Draco didn't give him the chance. "You know what I think, Potter?" Harry winced at the use of his surname, which Draco only reverted to when he was truly ticked off. "I think you're ashamed. You think that if you tell one person they'll tell someone else. And then they'll tell someone else, and before you know it the Prophet will be running stories about The-Boy-Who-Took-It-Up-The-Arse, or The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Fuck-A-Malfoy." Draco sneered. "You can't handle the bad press."
Harry shook with anger. "How can you even say that!" Harry yelled. "I couldn't give a fuck what the press says about me, it's all bollocks anyway. You know that doesn't matter to me!"
"Then what's the big deal, huh? Why doesn't anyone know?" Draco demanded.
"Nobody knows because we both decided that keeping this relationship a secret was for the best!"
Draco glared at him hotly. "There was a war going on you moron! In case you haven't noticed, that war is over now!"
"Just because the war is over it doesn't mean the complications of the war can be disregarded. You can't just ignore that" Harry said brutally.
"I'm not ignoring anything, Harry. I just don't understand! This thing…us…we were a liability during the war. I didn't fancy having a bunch of Death Eaters asking me why I was buggering Dumbledore's Golden Boy! But things have changed now!"
Harry's face was white, and Draco briefly wondered why before retracing his words. Dumbledore.
"Get out." Harry told Draco quietly.
"Harry, I'm sorry." Draco tried, regretting his momentary lapse.
"Get out!" Harry yelled, and he pushed Draco out into the hall, slamming the door behind him.
Draco leaned against the door, cursing to himself quietly. He slid slowly to the floor, and wrapped his arms around his knees. There were a few unspoken rules that existed between Harry and himself. Some of them were small. For instance, blue cheese was not allowed in the apartment because it made Draco ill. And you weren't allowed to make any noise when Harry was watching something called football on the muggle box they kept in the living room. What was it called? TB?
But there were several others that were much bigger. Nobody was allowed to touch the Firebolt that hung above the fireplace, and it was not a good idea to ask Harry why he never flew with it anymore (he had learned this from personal experience). They always left the bedroom door open when they went to bed because after the cupboard under the stairs Harry didn't like to feel confined. Any mention of August 17th and Draco would bite your head off. He hated to be reminded of night, when he had been forced to reveal his true loyalties to his father. The hours that had followed that confession…they were best forgotten. Closely linked to this was Draco's unwillingness to permit any mention of Lucius.
But the number one unspoken rule – Dumbledore's name was never to be uttered. Draco could hear Harry's attempts to keep himself quiet, when it was quite clear that he was muffling his sobs with a pillow.
"Harry?" Draco called out after a few minutes had passed. "Can I come in?" He got no reply, and so after another minute he opened the door. Harry's face was still buried in the pillow, but he seemed to have stopped crying. Draco was relieved. There was a kind of panic that seized him at witnessing Harry break down. Harry was supposed to be strong. Draco knew this was an entirely unrealistic expectation, but it still shook him to see the saviour of the wizarding world so vulnerable.
He lay down beside Harry and rubbed his back somewhat awkwardly until Harry mumbled something into the pillow.
"What did you say?" Draco asked.
"I'm sorry." Harry said, turning to face Draco. His eyes were red and his skin was all blotchy, but Draco kissed him anyway.
"Don't be sorry for anything." Draco told him, but he relaxed slightly at the apology.
"I just can't deal with it all right now." Harry said quietly. One major benefit that the war had brought was that it had allowed him to suppress the more painful memories as he attempted to keep his head above water. But now that the water was gone, his dreams showed Harry a deserted beach, littered with corpses. He woke up screaming, no longer haunted by the images that Voldemort had allowed him access to, but instead by the images conjured up by his own mind.
Draco pulled the other boy closer to him, and stroked his arm softly. They stayed that way for awhile, until Harry looked at him slyly.
"I just had a thought." He announced, sounding a bit too pleased with himself.
"And what would that be?" Draco said, humouring him.
Harry smiled. "How do you feel about weddings?" He asked. Draco appeared puzzled, clearly having forgotten where the argument had originally begun. Harry reached over to the bedside table and held the invitation out to Draco, who took it curiously. He read it over quickly.
"So what, we show up on the happiest day of their lives and announce that we're dating?" Draco said skeptically. Then he chuckled. "Actually, that could be fun. What do you think the likelihood is that Weasley would pass out?"
Harry frowned slightly. "No, of course we can't do it like that." A sudden stroke of genius hit him. "You'll come next Thursday." Draco furrowed his brow, unable to discern if Harry was joking or not.
"It'll be fun, I promise." Harry encouraged. Draco nodded slowly, but he doubted it. Harry turned out the light, and Draco lay there for awhile, feeling oddly relieved, and yet very nervous at the same time. Next Thursday…
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A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed it. As always, I would be ever so happy to get a review from you, letting me know what you think – what you liked, what you didn't like…Thanks for taking the time to read my newest update!
