PissedOffEskimo
Pairing: HP/DM (graphic); HP/GW (mild); HP/LM (non-con); HP/SS (implied)
Rating: R
Author's Note: Remember, all deleted scened can be viewed on my website by following the link on my user profile.
Summer 7: Part E
Draco didn't knock on McGonagall's door. There really wasn't a point and, if he were entirely honest with himself, he was looking forward to the look on Harry's face when he came sauntering into the room.
In the few minutes that it took him to walk there, he'd mapped the entire event out in his head. He would open the door very quietly so that Harry, who would of course be in his bedroom at the top of the stairs, wouldn't hear it. Then he would close the door just as quietly and sneak up the steps one at a time. When he finally got to the top, he'd take a deep breath, put on his smuggest smile, and open the door to Harry's room, sauntering in and laying down next to Harry as if nothing were out of sorts.
It was perfect. Except that when he opened the door to the tower rooms, he found Harry lying on the couch that faced the door with a pensive, sad look on his face, staring up at a little mirror that he was holding in one hand, while his other arm rested on his forehead. There was something intimate about the moment, something that Draco didn't like interrupting.
Harry turned his head sharply towards the door and nearly dropped the mirror. "Draco?"
Draco forced a smirk and leaned against the door, "Harry."
He'd expected a good many reactions. The preferred being, of course, joy, although he would have settled for a shocked happy. Instead, Harry just continued to stare at him, his frown deepening. "What are you doing here? I thought you were staying home this summer. I thought…"
Draco shrugged, unsure what to say. He'd assumed that they'd left on good terms. They'd had the spat, but then Harry had started crying and they'd spent the rest of that evening out by the lake. Sure, they hadn't talked, but they'd held each other, didn't that mean anything? His smirk slipped a little, "I wanted to see you."
Bright green eyes stared at him in disbelief. "You wanted to see me?"
There was betrayal in his voice and Draco couldn't quite understand what he'd done to deserve it. "I just…"
Harry sat up, placing the little mirror carefully onto the coffee table with more reverence than Draco had ever treated any of his own possessions. "You just what, Draco? Why did you want to see me?"
An uncomfortable tingle swelled in the pit of his stomach. He knew why, had been able to admit it to himself just before going into the floo. He loved Harry. He really, genuinely loved him and that was terrifying. He wasn't even sixteen yet and he was in love with another boy. Not just shag-him-a-few-times-and-leave-him love, either, but a defy-the-Dark-Lord sort of love.
He couldn't tell Harry that, though. "Why does it matter?"
Harry stood up, his fists clenched at his hands. "It matters because I'm tired of not being sure of you. I'm fifteen. I'm supposed to be worrying about handholding and being embarrassed over not knowing how to snog. I'm not supposed to be shagging someone who's going to turn around and join my worst enemy."
Draco couldn't think of anything to say to that. It was almost the same thing he had been thinking. Well, except that part where he was worried his lover was going to join the Dark Lord.
"Not three weeks ago you told me flat out that you were going to join Voldemort and now you want me to pretend that you didn't, just so we can spend a fun filled few weeks together and for what? So you can get in a few more shags before it's over?"
"God, Potter, you sound like a girl." Draco could have bitten his tongue off for saying that. Harry was only saying what he himself had been thinking and it was frustrating. Why was he there? He loved Harry and he wanted to be with him, but wasn't it just an elaborate goodbye? Voldemort wasn't going to believe him forever. He figured that he could get this summer out of it, maybe next year if he pushed really hard, but it wouldn't last and he knew it.
Harry went a little pale and looked down at the carpet thoughtfully before suddenly laughing. "I do, don' I? Here I spend all year making fun of Cho with Ron for all those conflicting emotions she was feeling, because we couldn't understand how anyone could feel all that without absolutely exploding and look at me? I'm doing the same bloody thing. I love you, but I hate you. I can't stand to be near you, but I don't want you to leave. I can't forgive that you'd even think about joining Voldemort, but I want to beg you not to. I really am acting like a girl."
Harry looked up at him a funny smile on his face. "Fine, you want to, then we'll just… pretend for right now."
Draco wasn't sure what to say to that. Harry loved him? However, Harry didn't give him time to think about it. Before he could blink, Harry marched over to him and he was being slammed against the door, his hands caught on either side of his head, and Harry was staring at him intently. He wrenched his left hand free and grabbed the back of Harry's head, pulling him into a hard kiss, pressing his tongue into Harry's mouth urgently.
It was so familiar and so perfect. Harry tasted like chocolate and cinnamon.
(scene omitted for the sake of posterity and because I refuse to risk my arse)
As Draco panted, still leaning against the wall, Harry stood up and kissed him again. The sweetness of the cocoa mixed with the bitterness of Draco's cum was intoxicating and Draco deepened the kiss, lingering on it for as long as he could. Harry pulled back and looked at Draco, his face was flushed and his eyes were glistening.
Was he crying? Draco reached up a hand to touch Harry's face and Harry jerked away. "I can't do this."
Without another word, he pushed past Draco and ran down the hall. Draco stood alone in the room, staring vacantly at the muggle decorations and little framed pictures on the wall. What the bloody hell was he supposed to do with that?
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God, what the hell had been thinking?
Harry wasn't even sure where he was anymore. It always surprised him that no matter how many times he told himself that there couldn't possibly be any corridors he hadn't already explored, he always came across a new one, or managed to get lost. This time, he was in a corridor that was obviously disused. There were cobwebs hanging off the candles and the charms that were supposed to light them as people past had worn off almost entirely so that only one in every four or five actually lit.
Not that any of that mattered, he'd just needed to get away and 'get away' he had. How was he supposed to pretend that there wasn't anything wrong with any of this? He was sleeping with the enemy, literally. Hell, he was giving the enemy head right in his own living room and this time 'enemy' didn't just mean school rival, it meant Death Eater, minion of the Dark Lord that was out to kill him.
So why was it that he could still feel the weigh of Draco's cock on his tongue? Why did his lingering taste just about make him hard again? Harry ran a finger over his lips and sighed. This wasn't any good. He really was acting like a girl.
What would Ron do in this situation? Would Ron sit around acting like a ninny, worrying about emotions and the future when he had a willing partner at his disposal? No, of course not, because Ron was a man, he would be perfectly willing to set aside his differences until after the sex had been had. Hell, he might not even approach it after the sex. Ron was fairly good at avoiding his emotions until they bit him on the arse. Like Hermione, the day Ron admitted what he felt for Hermione was the day Harry stood in front of the whole school and announced that he was in love with Draco Malfoy.
Good thing Ron was never going to do that. Not anytime soon, anyway.
Putting his head on his knees, Harry sighed. For now, he'd just sit there and try not to think about anything. Not about Draco, not about Voldemort, and not about Sirius. Nothing.
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Harry had debated coming back for dinner, but eventually, he'd decided it would simply be childish of him to skip it, so he'd gone back to his rooms and found Draco reading one of his books, that familiar scowl plastered on his face. "Harry, how can you possibly stand this tripe?"
"The Scarlet Letter is not tripe." Harry took the book out of his hands and didn't miss the annoyed flinch. "It's classic literature."
Draco shrugged and crossed his arms, "It may be classic, but it's still tripe. Why would anyone want to read a story about a woman who gets herself knocked up? It's hardly an accomplishment."
Instead of answering him, Harry put the book on the down on the coffee table, next to the little mirror that he'd left there that afternoon and went to the table, sitting down. Draco had barely stood to follow him when a strangely familiar house elf popped into the room wearing a number of hats on top of his bald little head.
"What is Harry Potter sir wanting for dinner?"
Harry's cringe was quickly smoothed over into a smile, "We'll have roast chicken and vegetables, Dobby, thank you."
Dobby, the freakish little thing that Harry had managed to set free under his father's nose some years ago was working at Hogwarts? Dobby gave a sheepish smile before popping away. When he didn't move to join Harry at the table, Harry looked at him, "What?"
"That's my house elf, isn't it?"
He didn't really need confirmation, but he was somehow startled when Harry shrugged. "Yeah, he's been working here for over a year."
"Working!"
Suddenly, Harry's face split into an evil sort of grin, the kind that Draco never associated with innocent little Harry Potter. "Yes, working. As in, he gets paid, and he gets the occasional day off." To Draco's growing horror, Harry didn't stop there. "Hermione's started a whole society for it - the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare. She makes them clothes. Did you see Dobby's socks? I'm sure he'd be happy to show you."
Two plates of roasted chicken popped in front of them, both piled with green beans and carrots. A basket of rolls appeared, followed by a little tray of butter and two glasses of cold beverage that didn't look anything like pumpkin juice. Draco couldn't move. He tried to imagine house elves wearing clothes and getting paid, but his mind seemed to have locked up at the mere suggestion. It was absurd. House elves didn't need clothes and they certainly didn't need wages. What would they spend it on? All they ever did was work.
Harry picked up the glass and drank it, his eyes fluttering for a moment before he looked back at Draco. "You going to eat, or are you just going to sit there gawking all evening?"
"Malfoy's don't gawk." It had been an automatic response, but one he suddenly regretted, because Harry had frowned at it. "I mean, I'm not gawking."
"Sure you're not. Come on, before it gets cold."
Draco sat down and looked at the meal. He was somewhat surprised that Harry would order something so conventional when there were no adults around. From what Dumbledore had told him, he'd expected that he would have to keep Harry in check and make sure he ate proper food. Instead, he found himself looking at a very healthy array. Well, except for the strange beverage.
He picked up the glass and looked at it closely. It was black, but it wasn't thick enough to be coffee and there were little bubbles in it. He sloshed it and more of the bubble appeared, accompanied by a soft hissing sound. "What is this?"
Harry chuckled, "It's Coke."
"Coke? Is that Muggle?"
"The professors won't let me have any 'cause they say it'll rot my teeth. Well, except Flitwick, who just said 'no'. It's brilliant, though, try some."
Reluctantly, Draco put the glass to his lips and tilted it back, letting just a little of the liquid run in. It tasted… strange. Not bad, really, just strong and very sweet. As he held it on his tongue the strange tingling sensation that had been no more than a tickle, became more pronounced and suddenly much sharper. Fighting the urge to spit it out, he swallowed thickly and looked at the glass again, torn between amazement and disgust.
"That was…"
"Odd, I know. It's been years since I had any. I nearly choked it up the other day."
He'd wanted to say horrible, but truth was the lingering taste in his mouth wasn't all that bad, a little heavy, maybe, but not bad. Cautiously, Draco took another sip and then another. Actually, it was kind of good once you got past the tingling.
"You said that Muggles made this?"
"Yeah."
"It's… not bad."
Harry chuckled across from him and he looked up, watching as Harry waved a piece of chicken impaled on a fork at him. "We'll make a Muggle lover out of you yet, Draco Malfoy.
He paled slightly at the implication, but the half smile on Harry's face was worth the humiliating accusation. Besides, maybe it wasn't so humiliating.
-tbc-