A/N: Third chapter is done! This one took a while to write, which is why there's such a gap between my updates. I'm still searching for my plot, so updates will become fewer and far between as I work to establish it, but I am working on it. I'll probably change the summary eventually, and, yes, I know that I said that last time, but I haven't decided on anything that fits. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!
Chapter 3
Harry lay in bed for a few minutes longer than necessary the next morning. There was something strange that he couldn't put his finger on yet. He knew that the cottony feeling in his mouth, the fuzziness in his head and the nausea was to be expected from last night, but there was something wrong with the room as well. His eyes hadn't opened yet, but he had the unnerving feeling that he was being watched and at once it clicked. Someone else was in the room with him. A rustle of a sheet sounded and he realized that someone wasn't just in the same room but in the same bed.
Cracking an eye open, he looked to see Draco sitting fully dressed with a glass of water in one hand and a chalky tablet in the other. "Drink this." He did so and then looked at the round disk that was pressed into his hand. "Snape owled me his hangover cure yesterday." The tablet fizzed all the way down his throat; he coughed slightly and finished his water before handing it back to Draco who set it on a nightstand. A nightstand that wasn't his, Harry thought as he looked around the room. He was in Draco's room.
"How'd I get into your room?" He asked. Pulling the pillows behind his back, he sat up and then froze as a bit of last evening came back to him. Draco touching him, their almost kiss, him being led to this room by a hand on his waist. "Oh Merlin." He swore and collapsed on his side. "What happened last night? We didn't…I mean, you and I…Did we?" Harry finished and looked over at Draco who raised an eyebrow.
"You don't remember? I've been told I'm unforgettable." The last word came out as a purr and Harry gulped. Wouldn't it just be his luck that his first time ever and possibly last time with Draco was something he had forgotten? "It was amazing, really. We came up here, you fumbled with my shirt buttons, I got you down to your boxers. Then I threw you onto the bed and I crawled down your body until my hands slipped under the waistband of your shorts. I look up and…" He paused and took in Harry's wide-eyed expression, "You had passed out." Even Draco had to quirk a small smile at his shocked expression. "You better get up, Weasley is looking for you." He stood up to leave, but a hand on his wrist stopped him.
Draco yelped as he was yanked back onto the bed and rolled under Harry in a tangle of sheets and legs. Harry placed an elbow on either side of his face and looked down at the Slytherin who was taking shallow breaths. "How did that go again? I fumble with you shirt buttons," As he said this, a finger ran down Draco's breastbone, "but you have no buttons." He shrugged. "We'll improvise." His hand found its way under Draco's shirt and he let his fingers slowly rove over the warm abdomen beneath them.
Truthfully, he hadn't even planned on getting this far, but he felt compelled to go further than his inhibitions normally allowed. Draco's stomach quivered beneath his hand and he smiled as he rested his body on Draco's small frame. His breathing hitched and he stared into Harry's eyes with insecurity, a contradiction to the cocky front he always put up.
His hips aligned with Draco and he felt hands come up from the bed to hold his hips in a possessive grip. Heat spread through his body as Draco's hands fanned out and roughly grabbed his arse before flipping him back over. The movement brought their cocks into contact and Harry rolled his head back and moaned while Draco smirked above him.
"I like to be on top." Harry's eyes were shining with lust and he reached a hand around Draco's head to pull him into a rough kiss. It wasn't as strange as Harry expected, kissing a man. His experience was limited to an awkward kiss with Cho and a few fumbling ones with Ginny in the beginning of sixth year. The girls were softer, hesitant and let him lead. With Draco, it was harsh, about dominance and possession. Draco bit his lip and when Harry gasped, a tongue was slipped in. Draco explored every bit of his mouth before retreating back into his own mouth. He stared down at Harry and then leaned in for a softer kiss on his bruised lips.
They kiss became slower but still as intense and instead of fighting with Draco's tongue, Harry just allowed his lips to move against the ones above him. His mouth was released again, as Draco placed small kisses up his jawbone. Harry felt a little unsure what to do, but then his hips were brought into contact with the ones above him and he was too delirious to care. Their hips ground against each other and the feeling of Draco against the thin material of his boxers nearly pushed him over the edge.
When he was eleven, there had been nothing as thrilling, as liberating, as euphoric as being on a broom. Yet now as he lay here with his body being manipulated by the person above him, brooms seemed silly. Touching Draco wasn't sport or a game, but an expression of the passion, the anger, the heat that he kept inside him. The heat only continued to rise as Draco moved from his jawbone to his neck. His body was being played by Draco who learned quickly how to produce a moan or a sigh by the use of his mouth over a sensitive area of skin. Harry yelped as teeth closed over part of his neck, and he gripped platinum locks in harsh retaliation. With a quick push, Draco was once again on his back, with Harry's hands on his chest and his legs on either side of Draco's pelvis.
Harry's hair was sticking up in wild angles, he had a red spot on his neck and his lips were bruised; in Draco's opinion, he had never looked better than he did with the marks that were evidence that Draco had conquered that part of flesh. His cock throbbed incessantly against his pants and Harry followed his sight down. Slowly, he pulled the zipper down and Draco breathed harshly at the idea of Harry touching him on…
"Malfoy, have you found Harry yet?" Ron's voice shouted from the other side of the door. Harry yelped and fell off the bed taking Draco and all the sheets with him. Draco ended up with his face smashed in the carpet and an elbow in his back. The door creaked open and Ron poked his head in.
"Are you okay?" He asked a bit hesitantly and then jumped back when Draco's head shot up.
"Fine!"
"What are you doing?" Harry was lying on the floor and heard the suspicion in Ron's voice. Luckily, Draco had the bed between him and Ron, which stopped prying eyes from seeing who was with him.
Draco's face was flushed and his hair was messier than Harry's was normally. He thought quickly to come up with a believable enough lie to explain his frazzled appearance. "Making my bed."
"Do you know how to make a bed?" Ron questioned and Harry bit back a laugh. Draco looked down and flicked him on the forehead.
"I'm learning, hence the mess." He gestured and Harry tried really hard to stop laughing, but a chuckle escaped him.
Ron's voice grew even more suspicious. "What was that?"
"What was what?" Draco's face had returned to its normal pale complexion and he now looked positively angelic.
"That noise." He paused. "Is there someone down there?"
"Yes, Weasley," He began with a long suffering sigh, "I was preparing to shag Potter before you barged in. Please leave while I strip away the rest of his innocence." Harry frowned and slapped his thigh. Draco's smile tightened, but he held it for Ron.
Ron didn't rise to the bait and Harry felt enormous gratitude towards his best friend for being so mature in this situation. Hermione was really having an influence on his explosive best friend. "Are you sure? Because it sounded like-"
"Merlin! Can't a man make his bed in peace? What are you, the bloody inquisition?" Ron apparently decided to leave him alone and quickly closed the door behind him. Draco slumped to the ground and glared at Harry.
"Making the bed?" Harry said with a laugh.
Draco frowned. "You're awfully cocky for someone who hasn't gotten laid yet."
Harry glared. "You're one to talk. Arrogant bastard." He muttered, still smiling as he pulled on discarded jeans.
"Goody-two shoes."
"Closeted goody-two shoes." Harry shot back.
"Golden Boy."
"Slut."
"Virgin." He rolled his eyes at the last comment and began buttoning up his shirt. On the last button, Draco stepped over and did it for him.
"You really chose a bad time for me to debauch you." Draco commented as he went to the mirror and brushed his hair with his fingers, trying to get it in some semblance of order. "With the whole Weasley clan here." He added and was spun around by Harry.
"What?" He hissed and hurriedly tried to flatten his hair. "Why didn't you tell me before?"
"You mean when you were on top of me?" Draco shot back. Harry paused and smiled. "Don't look so smug."
"Are we going out tonight?"
Draco shook his head and fell back onto his bed. "No. I'd rather finish what you started. And as we keep getting interrupted, we need the whole evening." He was answered with a nod.
"So what are you going to do with yourself all day?" He said when he had reached the door. Draco looked around.
"Figure out how to make my bed." He said as he got off the bed and began sorting through the mess of bedding.
Harry raised his eyebrows. "You're serious? That won't take more than half an hour." Draco looked a bit confused as he began picking up various sheets.
"Why does this one have elastic at the ends?" Harry just shook his head and left. Maybe it would take all day.
Draco had been lying when he said the Weasleys were downstairs; the house was practically bursting with people. When Ron and Hermione were convincing their parents to allow them to stay by themselves, there were certain conditions. One of which was that the families should be allowed to visit the house and it seemed they had all decided on today. The Order also did periodic check-ups, which would explain why Tonks and Dumbledore were currently fighting over the last biscuit.
He was shoved in a chair between Bill and Fred or George, he wasn't quite sure. Tea was being passed around him as Mrs. Weasley brought out more food and one of the twins kept poking him to get him to eat some new product they were thinking of selling. The desire to run back upstairs and ravage Draco was overwhelming and he sighed as he swirled around the tea in his cup. Dumbledore was looking over his glasses from across the table at Harry.
"Did you sleep well, Harry?" His head shot up and he wouldn't have been alarmed if not for the twinkle in his eyes. There was no way that Dumbledore could know what had almost happened, but even as he thought it, he realized that the elderly wizard always did have a knack for knowing things he shouldn't. He nodded and glared at the old coot before slinking down in his chair.
The time passed extremely slowly. Harry toyed with his spoon and fell in and out of conversation as the people around him realized he was in no condition to give any intelligent response. It had not helped that Dumbledore kept throwing him knowing glasses as he smiled benevolently over the rim of his tea cup.
Tea had progressed to Order business and everyone was moved to the sitting room. Harry was content to let himself die of mortification right there, but he found himself being pulled up by Tonks who led him to the room and placed herself right in-between him and Charlie. Ginny had nabbed the spot next to him and for the next ten minutes he had to watch Ron wiggle his eyebrows at the two of them. He supposed death by mortification could be achieved here as well.
Ron had long hinted at a relationship between Harry and Ginny. It was like some sort of fairytale he had planned out; he and Hermione together with Harry and Ginny as a couple even though the latter pair had already tried and had broken up. However, this wasn't common knowledge to Ron and he tried to ignore his best friend and listen to Ginny as she told of how her relationship with Michael Corner had failed when they dated yet again. Nods were thrown in at the right place and he smiled to encourage her, and Ginny continued on completely oblivious to the fact that he wasn't paying any attention.
They had had a relationship a year ago. It hadn't ended in disaster, like Harry had thought it would, but just faded away as the last bit of curiosity died out of Harry and the remains of Ginny's lingering crush focused on someone else. With only two weeks of their lives invested in the relationship, it was understood between them that it was to be kept from Ron at all costs. While he was pushing for the two to get together, Harry wasn't sure how'd he react to knowing that a few snogs with his sister was all he got out of their relationship. Now, he was forced to be the sympathetic ex-boyfriend, a role Ginny gave to him and exploited frequently. It meant he was the one she came to when she wanted a man's opinion, but didn't want her brothers. All in all, it wasn't too bad of a trade off; Ginny was sarcastic, witty and could hold her own against anybody, from Professor Snape to the burliest seventh year.
She was, Harry reflected, a little too absorbed with the opposite sex. In the time after Ginny had discovered her sexuality, she was frequently seen on the arm of her newest catch, much to Ron's fuming disapproval. Yet by the time Ron cornered the young wizard, she had already moved on and kept a keen eye out for her next short-lived relationship. Even when they had been together, she had occasionally followed a Ravenclaw's form a little too closely for most boyfriends to be comfortable.
Harry hadn't really cared either way; he had been finding some escape from Sirius' death and slipping slowly into his somber state that would last the rest of the year. He had never really understood why Ginny was so obsessed. While he admitted at that time that he was interested in girls, he couldn't see how anybody, male or female, could hold someone's attention for anything other than a passing glance. That was before he got involved with Draco Malfoy, he sighed in his head and tuned back into Ginny's one-sided conversation where she was describing how Michael had forgotten their one month anniversary.
After half an hour of this, Dumbledore stood up and quieted everyone down. "There is a reason you're all here." He began and Harry instantly began to pay attention. The Grangers looked a little unsure what to do, but they bravely listened on. "I know we have all heard about Draco Malfoy escaping from the ministry and that Death Eaters had a hand in helping the other veelas escape."
"What's a veela?" Mrs. Granger said with the same tone Hermione had when researching some subject that fascinated her. It seemed the pursuit of knowledge was not only enjoyed by one member of the Granger family.
Much to Harry's surprise, Tonks was the one to explain. "They're magical creatures with a type of allure that attracts humans and other beings. Veelas look human, but when they are angry or when they choose to they can shift into a bird-like creature. A few wizard families have veela blood in them."
"However," Harry began, "Some of the veelas started joining Voldemort, so the Ministry kidnapped them and locked them in the lowest level of the Ministry in captivity. For months they were underground, assaulted, humiliated and nearly starved." He finished with a cold look in his eyes. The Grangers looked noticeably shocked, as did the rest of the circle. It wasn't just the words that shocked them, but the bitterness that had seeped into his voice.
Ron shot him a look that Harry shrugged off and waited for Dumbledore to continue. The rest of the afternoon was spent discussing what to do with the veelas now that they were at Hogwarts. The Minister of Magic remained completely oblivious to the fact that several hundred veelas had now taken up residence in Hogwarts, but Harry wasn't really surprised. He knew little of what was going on in his own building, let alone the rest of magical Great Britain.
Twice he thought about just leaving the group to sneak back upstairs, but he couldn't find a plausible way to excuse himself. Instead, he allowed himself the pleasure to center his thoughts on Draco. He could just imagine the blond stretching over the bed in an attempt to fasten a sheet. His profile would be clear and Harry's eyes would follow the curve of his hips to a pert butt. The imagine disappeared and his mind flashed again with Draco naked with sweat rivulets sneaking down his back; Harry's tongue would run up his spine and taste the salty essence of Draco before sinking his teeth into a straining shoulder to muffle his cries of pleasure.
He had never allowed himself to indulge in fantasies before because it seemed like such an invasion of privacy on his partner's behalf. But with Draco he knew that the other man would relish in being the subject of his dream and probably get off on it. Harry's darkest thoughts about possession, about hard fucking would probably make gray eyes glow with lust as he described in detail what he wanted to do to the willing body beneath him. Draco's mouth would be a painful red from brutal kisses and-
"Mr. Potter!" He looked to see Snape looking down at him from his perch on the chair. Immediately, his fantasy life was squashed and he took in the man before him with wide eyes. His potion master didn't look like a man who might have peaked into his student's fantasy, and Harry felt relieved that his thoughts remained his and away from inquisitive minds.
"Yes?" The response was bland as he waited for Snape to continue. Glancing around the room told him that all eyes were now on him and he vaguely wondered what he had missed.
"The Headmaster mentioned you looked tired. Would you like to go take a nap?" Snape's lip curled as he talked down to Harry and he scowled back trying to figure out what would be best. He was making no contribution to the conversation and he had the added incentive of trying out one of his thoughts on Draco. On the other hand, it gave Snape the satisfaction of thinking Harry was too immature to stay awake at an Order briefing. Although, if the other man had any idea what Harry wanted to do to the Potions Master's star pupil, he imagined the smirk would come right off.
"Maybe I'll just take a small break." Even as he said it, he was halfway out the door. Taking the steps two at a time, he slid into Draco's room and bolted the door before the blond on the bed could say a word. "Hi." He knew there was a goofy smile on his face, made all the more ridiculous as Draco raised an eyebrow at his sudden presence.
Glancing around the room, Harry could see it was still in nearly the same condition as when he left. The sheets hung off the bed, but looked as if someone had attempted to make the bed. Draco was nearly as flushed as he had left him, and the hint of red on his neck made Harry all the more eager to see him.
Draco had already crossed the room and was now walking him back to the bed like he had the night before. "Meeting done?" He asked casually. Before Harry could answer, he felt two hands on his chest push him back on the bed. Even as Draco climbed on top of him to straddle his hips, his expression never changed from mildly curious. His eyes, however, reflected the same desire that was etched across Harry's face.
He grunted as his back hit the bed. "I think Dumbledore knew what we were doing before I went downstairs. He let me leave early."
Draco made a small voice in the back of his throat as he unbuttoned Harry's shirt. "Lecherous old man." He paused as his face hovered just inches away from Harry's, "I'll have to thank him."
A scream pierced the air and Harry wrestled with the sheets to grab his wand on the dresser. His fingers fumbled against the surface until his mind became fully awake and he realized he hadn't put his wand there that evening. Actually, he had been rather busy last night…A blush crept across his face, but the sound of another scream took him out of his reverie. Twisting around, he knelt near Draco's head and watched as the blond thrashed and gripped the sheets. A look of pain and then fear spread across his face and he whimpered while Harry looked on helplessly.
He had been haunted by nightmares of Voldemort but he had never seen anyone else suffer through their dreams like he did. For a few moments he watched in sick fascination, wondering if this was what he looked like. Did bead of sweat drip down his face to mingle with a few salty tears? Did he bite his lip, clench his fists, and flinch in fear? He couldn't drag his eyes away from the sight until Draco made a low keening noise and Harry snapped into action.
"Draco?" He whispered as he harshly shook the boy back and forth. "Draco!" He tried again. Gray eyes snapped open and Harry had to stop himself from jumping back in surprise. His hand reached out to touch the bare shoulder again, but his movement made the other man recoil from his touch. Slowly his hand lowered and he knelt until Draco's rapid breathing calmed down. "Are you okay?"
The gray eyes had lost their caged look, but still remained a bit weary. Harry was answered with a nod before Draco began to rustle the sheets and prepared to go back to bed.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He voice sounded unsure even to himself, but the sentiment was still strong.
Draco rolled over so his back was facing Harry. "No." He said quietly.
Harry continued to press. "I know what it's like."
"No you don't." The response was muffled in a pillow, but hardened by whatever the dream had brought up. Harry had a growing suspicion that something had happened down in the Ministry. Just thinking about the room would have given him nightmares. He had only been in there a short time, but it was enough to know that it was always cold, always dark and always hopeless. The cell doors were just bars that were coated in rust as the condensation from the ceiling trickled down in a small and ever-present stream. The doors did nothing to hide the piles of cloth that the veelas slept in, the corners of waste and filth that the sane set apart from their living area. Others who had lost a grip on reality made no effort to even move from the mess, they seemed to just lie in it; Harry could smell it and see it on the captives he helped release.
The setting he had witnessed probably wasn't as horrible as what they had endured. He could only imagine what several dozen guards had thought was their due for watching over the veelas. There was no doubt that they saw the veelas as little more than sexual servents and had no problem taking what they had wanted. That was the part that Harry had feared the most. His body shivered in disgust at the idea that someone had touched Draco. Was there a guard who ran grubby fingers up white porcelain sides, plundered Draco's sweet mouth with a slimy tongue, and treated him with something other than the passion or playful affection that Draco deserved to be touched with?
There was no way to know for sure, but there was a strong indication if Draco's actions with the guard the first night were anything to go by. Sighing, he slipped back under the sheets that had gone cool from his missing body. His head twisted to look at Draco's shoulder and back that were too tense to be part of a sleeping body.
He rose up a bit and placed his lips on Draco's right shoulder. He held his mouth there for a moment and when the blond made no movement, Harry returned to his side of the bed. "Do you want me to leave?" No sound came from Draco and he peeled the covers aside to leave and gather his clothes. This was not what he had expected on the night he lost his virginity.
A strong arm shot out and grabbed Harry's, causing the Gryffindor to look over. Draco gazed at him with pleading eyes, but didn't speak. When he did, his voice was strained. "Stay. If you want."
He nodded and climbed back in. Just as he was about to return to sleep, a chilled hand crept across his stomach. Looking down, he saw Draco move closer so that he was half on top of Harry. A fair head tucked itself under his chin and he felt steadying breaths brush across his chest. Looping his arms around the body, Harry felt the tenseness drain out of Draco and he smiled. The warmth that had vanished with a chilled scream was finally returned to the bed.
Around six in the morning, Harry crept downstairs in a loose fitting pair of pajama bottoms. The floor froze his feet and Harry tip-toed into the kitchen and started a fire in the grate. It was his turn to cook again and if Ron didn't get his food in the morning, he would hunt Harry down until he did. Personally, Harry didn't think it was such a great idea to have Ron find him snuggled up to Draco first thing in the morning.
He filled the tea kettle with water, which sloshed a bit as another pair of feet padding downstairs startled him. He recognized the pattern of the footsteps as Draco's and turned just in time to see a fully dressed wizard enter the room and sit at the table. Taking a good look at his outfit, Harry could see that Draco had overcompensated on a neat appearance to cover up the haggard look that a restless sleep brought. The kettle was now safely on the stove and Harry left it to kneel down next to Draco's chair. The blond barely lifted his head and allowed Harry to brush a few strands of hair aside to look at his tired face. Harry's thumbs brushed over high cheekbones in a fleeting touch and smiled as Draco leaned in to his touch.
Draco hadn't been haunted with dreams for the rest of the night, but he obviously hadn't slept well. There were dark circles under his eyes and his skin had lost the glow it normally carried and just looked more sickly than beautiful. "Want some tea?" Harry said after a moment as he rose and pulled off the whistling kettle. Not waiting for an answer, he slid a cup over and then pulled the milk out of the refrigerator and the sugar from the counter to put on the table. Then, he cut up lemon slices and put them in a small bowl and placed those on the table as well.
Draco raised an eyebrow that told Harry that he knew exactly what the other boy was doing. Harry shrugged and pulled out a skillet; he supposed that after last night, it wasn't too strange to feel the need to provide and care for Draco, regardless of what the other man might think. He turned back to the breakfast he was supposed to be making and pulled out all of the necessary ingredients for pancakes.
"What are you doing?" A voice suddenly said from behind him. Harry looked back at Draco who was peering over his tea cup and over Harry's back.
"Making pancakes." He said as he began stirring and missed Draco's furrowed brow.
"Can't you use magic?"
"You can, but it just doesn't taste right. Too bland, I suppose." He shrugged and continued stirring. After a few minutes the pancakes were already cooking on the stove and he turned to look at Draco who was regarding the whole thing with undisguised curiosity. Harry gave him a small grin and turned the ones in the skillet over until they were a golden color. He slid three small ones out onto the plate and then, giving Draco a sly look, he flipped the last one in the air with the skilled and caught it in the pan before sliding it on the dish. While at the Dursleys, Harry had perfected that move while his aunt was too busy spying on the neighbors to care. He saw the challenge in Draco's eyes and waited patiently as Draco debated cooking in the muggle way.
Ten minutes later, Draco had switched places with Harry and was now gripping the skillet with unsure hands. "And I just flip it, right?" He looked back at Harry who smiled. It was refreshing to see Draco so open and willing. Normally he just adopted an attitude of overconfidence, which irked Harry now and then. It wasn't much, just a cooking lesson, and Harry knew that Draco wouldn't be dropping his guard regardless of having sex the night before. Yet, it was encouraging to see the change. Turning back to Draco he watched as the pancake went a few inches, but not as high as Harry's.
"Not bad." He commented from the other burner as he prepared some sausage for Ron who always insisted on some type of meat for breakfast. Placing a warming charm over the plate, he slid the food on and went back to observe Draco. "Little more flick of the wrist."
"Sounds a bit like charms class." Draco muttered as a small pink tongue peaked out in concentration. The pancake flew a bit higher, but Draco had to struggle to catch it.
Harry smiled. "It takes some practice. I used to do this all the time." He began as he set the table. "My cousin, Dudley, could eat more than the four of us combined. And he had to have pancakes every Saturday."
Draco shook his head. "Sounds like a brat." Harry hid his smile; he had, for a while, compared his cousin to his new lover on several occasions.
"Well, Aunt Petunia made me cook them all. She was a horrible cook and just couldn't stand to look like a fool so she made me do it." He put the last plate down and spelled the dishes in the sink. They pulled everything to the center of the table and ate in silence as Hermione breezed through the kitchen with a book already in hand. Ron followed ten minutes later with big lumbering foot falls as he staggered into the room. As the redhead shoved food into his mouth, seemingly without tasting any of it, Draco rolled his eyes and shared a glance with Harry. Something inside Harry uncoiled and, as warmth settled into his stomach, he knew that things would be okay between him and Draco. With Ron and Hermione dating, he had felt like a third wheel for so long. It was nice to finally feel like he belonged.
Another two weeks had passed and Harry was surprised to find that his birthday was right around the corner. It was now around eight in the evening and all of the guests had already left his surprise party that Mrs. Weasley, with help from the twins, had arranged. The color changing streamers developed by Fred and George, as they claimed boastfully, were still active although were now muted and calm instead of the blinding flashes they had been earlier. An empty plate was at his side with the remains of Mrs. Weasley's cake on it, and as he rested on the couch, he felt full and content.
His seventeenth birthday, the day he would be seen legally as an adult in the wizarding world, wouldn't actually begin until midnight, but, as George had said with a wink, it wouldn't have been a surprise if they had celebrated it on the correct day.
Ron was on the floor against Hermione's legs while she sat on the couch with Harry. He had spent the whole day with them and for a while it had been like in past years where there were no complications, no attachments, no hidden relationship or anything else between them. Yet as they had eaten dinner, Harry caught his two best friends exchanging loving looks over the table and he knew that he was too old to pretend that he was still eleven. Things were changing; the relationships were shifting between him and his friends. Part of him was saddened by the idea of growing up, but the other part was just as excited as something developed between him and Draco.
Draco. Harry sighed and turned his head until it rested on Hermione's shoulder. She gave him a smile and petted his head in a comforting gesture that Harry had been looking for. The whole situation with his…lover, for lack of a better word, was complicated and he needed reassurance, if only from a good friend. It was always two steps forward, one step back; if he got close to Draco, if he hit on a wound too fresh, the other boy wouldn't fail to remind him that he was nothing more than a willing body for sex. Harry wasn't ready to pledge marriage to him or anything, but there was no way to touch on the subject of having an actual relationship without Draco clamming up again.
He was currently outside, away from the Gryffindor trio. Besides running into him upstairs earlier that day, Harry hadn't seen Draco since he had woken up this morning. Yet as he sat with his two friends, he wanted a different sort of companionship than the one they offered. Excusing himself, he slipped into the garden and disappeared behind a wall of plants.
It was a cool night, perfect for just wandering the gardens. Normally in the evenings, Draco could be found out here looking for some freedom from the house he was confined to. If he wanted to be found, he would be in the same spot that he had found Harry at earlier in the month; if not, Harry could wander the gardens for hours and never find him. A branch snapped under his foot as he turned the corner to their tiny alcove, alerting Draco to his presence.
The blond was lounging on the small bench with one leg bent and hanging over the edge and one supporting himself on the ground. His hands held his weight from behind his back and his head was turned up to catch the fading light of the day. Harry's breath caught in his throat and he was content to look at the sight of his lover for a few moments more.
While he was undoubtedly beautiful, there was something very sad written across his face. It was almost like he had spent years hoping for something but came to the painful realization that it wasn't meant to be. His eyes were a mellow gray, not the molten silver that they were when he was normally with Harry and his posture that once seemed to be showcasing the ethereal presence of Draco now looked defeated and tired.
Harry stepped closer to Draco and watched a false smile spread over his face. Thin pink lips quivered minutely and Harry reached out a finger to trace them gently. Like he always did, Draco leaned into the touch and closed his eyes.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked as Draco moved his legs for him to straddle the stone bench.
The eyes remained closed and Harry understood why; while the gray eyes were undeniably his greatest feature, they revealed everything he was thinking. The Slytherin knew this of course and was very careful to keep them closed around Harry.
His voice came out thick and short as if he was holding something in. "I thought…" He trailed off and then rethought his words. "It's nothing."
Harry's finger left his lips and threaded through his hair as Draco came closer. Their legs tangled in each other as a fair head rested on his shoulder. "Was it important?" Harry whispered and rested his head on the one beneath it.
The answer didn't come right away, and from that unintentional pause, Harry knew that Draco's 'no' was a lie. Yet, while he may have denied Harry through his words, something in Draco craved physical contact. Two timid arms wrapped around his waist and held Harry close to him. Draco rarely confided in him and rarely sought him for comfort; whatever had happened must have been extremely significant. In return for Draco's vulnerability, Harry threaded is arms around his small waist and held him as tight as he could as he whispered small things to him.
"I'm sorry Draco." The grip around him tightened even more, but Draco didn't make any other movements. They sat like that for a few more minutes, and just when Harry thought he could breathe in the spicy smell of Draco's neck for the rest of the evening, the warmth left his body. He looked up and then felt himself being pushed back against the bench.
Harry went willingly, but confusion laced his thoughts. There was something very off about the touch; it was mechanical and Draco may have very well been touching a flobberworm for all the interest he was showing in Harry. In an attempt to rectify, this Harry threaded his arms around his neck and leaned up to press a kiss to his lips, but found himself denied. His back was pressed into the cold stone and every move he made to touch the blond hair, or to stoke his cheek or even try to participate in their prelude to sex was batted away. The hands on his chest turned more forceful and Harry twisted as his pants were in the process of being pulled off. It didn't seem to stop him and instead served almost as an encouragement.
Cold hands were now tugging at his shirt. Harry breathed heavily and kept a solitary tear from getting past his eyes. Panic was filling him because Draco wasn't supposed to be touching him like this, he wouldn't take Harry against his will. He wouldn't. Harry knew this for a fact, but it didn't stop the fear from gripping his chest. The Draco he knew wouldn't, but the man on top of him was a stranger. With a last burst of strength, he shoved the chest in front of him.
"Stop!" Harry gasped as he scrambled off the bench and fixed his clothing. Draco was breathing hard and staring at his hands with blank eyes. He caught a glimpse of disgust and hatred flash through gray eyes that he had loved so much before the very presence of Draco retreated behind his emotionless mask.
Harry wasn't an idiot, nor was he as naïve as Draco sometimes pretended he was. He knew the horrors of war, saw them through Voldemort's eyes, had felt the burn of a foreign hatred seep through his veins. What he saw with Draco was a tortured prisoner trying to appease a master while still grasping for control.
Now more than ever, Harry was convinced that something truly horrific had occurred in the Ministry. It wasn't that he had believed it to be pleasant by any stretch of the imagination, but something in Draco was bringing out the emotionless side, making the Draco that he had come to know hide behind its armor.
As he looked at the ground and caught his breath, a black cloak swirled at his ankles as the owner ducked behind a wall of grass and headed back to the house. Harry fell to the ground and finally allowed the panic to stop gripping him and the color to return to his face.
Draco had said that no one had touched him in the Ministry. While it was possible it was a lie, the young wizard had also been in pain and was both mentally and physically exhausted. If anyone's ability to lie in a time of distress would have remained uncompromised, it was definitely a Malfoy's, although Harry sensed that there was truth in his statement. It was a truth that had to be expressed to show the world that he had survived.
Survived what was the question, however. Sexual assault was most likely the case. Draco wouldn't have counted that as someone touching him, probably delegating only rape into that category. In a way, it did make some sort of sense, Harry thought as he picked at a piece of grass. He, in a very strange way, had been trying to give Harry what he wanted. Their relationship was built around sex, although not based entirely on it. It was a small jump in Draco's mind to assume that he, Harry, had only been with him for the sex.
Undeniably, the sex had been one of the selling features of the relationship. For his first time, he couldn't have asked for a more open or passionate partner. With the exception of this last failed attempt, he and Draco had always been explosive in bed. Having no experience to base this assumption on, the look of wonder on Draco's face every time he reached completion told Harry that the connection they were getting was not a common occurrence.
So Draco had been trying to appease him through sex. It wasn't all that Harry wanted, but he could bet that it was a residual feeling from his time in the Ministry where Draco was only worth his beauty. That would explain the cruelty that came along with it, the forceful handling that made it feel more like a punishment than an act of…well, not love, but perhaps of desire. Sighing, he dusted off his legs and went back inside. Slipping up the stairs, he could hear Hermione giggling in contrast to Ron's low murmur and, not for the first time, wished he could have that innocent fumbling relationship that everyone should experience.
But, Harry thought bitterly, he and Draco hadn't been given those options. Knowing that, he passed his room and instead crawled into the massive guest bedroom that he, Ron and Hermione had given Draco. The blond was curled into a small ball, the tips of his blond hair barely visible. Pulling the blankets aside, he climbed into bed and curled himself around the body, feeling a jolt of surprise.
"Harry, I-" He began, but Harry pressed a finger against his lip. He glanced down to see fingernails stained with tiny flecks of blood and crescent shaped cuts dotting Draco's upper arms from where he had clutched too hard. Draco was punishing himself for what had happened, but he didn't need to anymore.
"I'm not one of them." He didn't need to specify; Draco's eyes told him that the Gryffindor knew just who Draco was truly seeing in the garden. "And I don't want you to do what you feel like I need." He continued as his fingers toyed with the edge of a sheet. When the other man didn't say anything Harry blurted out, "I'm not using you for sex, Draco." With that, he rolled over and squeezed his eyes shut until he no longer felt questioning gray eyes on his back. A rustle of sheets sounded behind him and he knew Draco was finally going to bed as well.
Just as Harry was drifting off to sleep, a hoarse voice whispered, "That would've made it easier."
Harry awoke with a start, once again startled by something in Draco's room. The two had gone to bed and after a fitful hour of sleep, Harry had stripped the other man down to his boxers, did the same to himself and then allowed himself to be held against Draco's front. For once, Harry was relieved that he was going to sleep through the night instead of watching the clock until midnight. He fell asleep with a smile on his face as he imagined spending a lazy morning in bed with Draco before finishing off the leftovers from his party and spending time with his two best friends. Hopefully Draco would do what he normally did and pretend that the previous night had never happened; it was what Harry had been planning to do. A misunderstanding and a lot of confusion was not going to spoil his day. It was to be a perfect birthday.
Or so he thought until a large weight settled on his chest, restricting his air supply. His hands automatically went to the strong thighs that had him pinned down. They were tense and sturdy; it appeared Draco wasn't moving. Before he glanced up at his face, Harry looked at the clock to see that it was officially three minutes into his birthday. Well, it appeared that his wish came true because there was no anger or callousness in his touch, which made Harry profoundly relieved. Although, what brought on this change, he didn't know but wasn't about to throw him off.
"Draco, what-?" The question died on his lips as he took in the blond above him. While Draco had been beautiful before, he was now positively glowing with silver light that dazzled Harry until he felt the need to look away. Only instead of turning his head, he found his eyes were glued to Draco's form. Gray eyes were now luminescent in the darkened room, but seemed almost crazed, but that didn't stop the lust from growing in Harry, which was only strengthened by the warm body above him.
His hands slid up each thigh, fluttering past the sensitive inner areas to roughly grab his hips and haul the blond back until he was no longer on his stomach, but resting on his groin. A needy moan escaped Draco's mouth as he felt Harry's clothed erection bump against his ass. The air felt supercharged and Harry couldn't control himself from rocking back and forth, riding out waves of pleasure with Draco. Rivulets of sweat dripped down the blonde's body and Harry sat up to lick the salty skin of one of his pectorals before focusing a nipple. The movement had thrown Draco further back unto Harry's hips and he cried out in lust as he rutted against Harry with wild abandon.
If either had been thinking clearly, they would have latched onto the idea that something was wrong. It was different than their other encounters and it hadn't been started by an act of will, but a basic instinct that continued to drive them.
Draco continued to grind his hips down against Harry's while he held the dark head to his chest. Harry laved at the small nub with his tongue before biting down, hard, to pull a strangled scream from Draco, who only rocked harder.
"Draco." Harry gasped out as he pulled away from Draco's chest to lick a protruding collar bone. As if ice water had been doused on him, the Slytherin scrambled off his lap. He didn't pay any attention to Harry calling his name, but just jumped off the bed and began pacing.
"Draco, please." Harry pleaded. In his lust filled brain, he wasn't sure if he wanted to find out what was wrong or if he just wanted Draco back in bed. His voice only served, however, to snap him out of his muttering and whirl around to look at Harry with angry eyes.
"I can't have you anymore." Harry felt like he had been punched in the stomach and looking at Draco, the words had had the same effect. The blond was doubled over trying to breathe. "No." He whispered quietly, over and over again. " No, no, no, no, NO!" He screamed and then collapsed to the ground. Rushing over, Harry felt all desire fall away from him as he approached the prone body.
"Draco?" He didn't really expect an answer.
A/N: End of chapter three. Chapter four is only partially done, but I'll try to have it done as soon as possible. I'll be moving in about a week so there will be less time to update, but like I said before, I'll do what I can. Thanks for reading!