AN: This one is for Jenna who somehow reads this for the plot? Bless her heart. Thanks for letting me steal your recipes for gay wizard smut, you're the best!
Chapter 10: Good To Him, Good For Him
The second morning of Draco going to work was as hard as the first.
"And I'll be back at six like yesterday, except nothing at all like yesterday," Draco reassured Harry again with thumbs rubbing his upper arms, still naked and bare while Draco stood fully clothed in his Healer robes.
"Okay. I'll see you then," said Harry through pouted, puffed-up lips from how he'd woken Draco up with his mouth. "Goodbye, Daddy."
Their goodbye kiss lasted as long as Harry could cling to Draco without hurting him. "Goodbye, sweetling."
When Draco was gone Harry was left to mope in bed for a customary hour. He would have went right to working on the greenhouse again, but there was something he needed to tend to first inside beyond wilting without Draco.
It was a tawny barn owl that came with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger's co-signed letter of request Harry was avoiding addressing. After a few more precious minutes in bed he gave in thinking of the owl's comfort. It had done well, and deserved to be relieved of duty.
"There you go," Harry murmured and slipped the owl a conjured treat, taking the parchment from where it was bound to its claw before sending it on its way. "Thank you," he called after, watching it flap its wings and fly off.
He sealed the window shut and tried not to think of how the Aurors had shattered the downstairs window. He reached for his hair, searching for a thick, warped strand and found a big one to pull. "Ow," Harry murmured to himself and shook his head, forcing both hands onto the parchment and unfolding the letter.
Dear Harry,
First and foremost we are glad you're healthy and unharmed. Before anything else as your friends we want your safety and your happiness. We are concerned with the way you described your current situation and wish to speak in person as soon as possible. We respect your request for a letter first, and Ron would have never authorized the Auror raid if he knew you were there willingly, which we're still honestly quite confused about.
The Auror who broke the window has been reprimanded, and the rest have been sworn to secrecy on the matter lest it be on their jobs. We know how important privacy is to you, and we're sorry we put you in a situation where your sexual orientation might be revealed to a cruel public.
But really—Malfoy? Draco Malfoy? Please talk to us about it, please make us understand because right now we really, really don't. We're worried, and confused, and want what's best for you.
Please respond quickly with when you can meet up with us.
Love always,
Ron and Hermione, your friends who care.
Harry winced with guilt. It was in Hermione's handwriting but he could tell where Ron had insisted she put certain parts in. They were trying to be a united front here for Harry, though, and Harry had to meet that front head-on if he ever wanted his family to understand what he was doing with his life.
Hermione hadn't even been at the raid and had gotten all of this secondhand, a fact that Harry was even more disturbed by than Ron and the other Aurors being potential information leaks. Hermione was going to be pissed, that was undeniable, and Harry feared that like any sane wizard who'd heard her name before.
He feared losing her even more, though, so he would start drafting his reply posthaste.
Draco's desk was perfect for letter-writing, and it made Harry think of how 'D' must have written his replies here in those precious early days that weren't so far off.
Dear Ron and Hermione,
Harry paused to bite his lip. It felt strange being so formal with the two people who'd risked life and limb for him on at least once an occasion per year at Hogwarts.
I first want to say I'm sorry for scaring you. I know it couldn't have been easy to watch how I treated myself these past years. If it's any consolation, it wasn't any easier being the one living it.
I know what I've done seems strange, seems insane, really, but it's the sanest thing I've done in years to move in with Draco Malfoy.
The rest on why that is I can tell you in person. It's complicated, and I'm going out on a limb asking you don't judge me too harshly. I was going to tell you eventually, but my fear was being judged by not only you but everyone else in my life. I couldn't take that shame on top of the shame I already feel.
Harry paused to wipe his eyes.
Draco and I have decided it's best if I see my therapist and a psychiatrist regularly, so you don't need to worry there. Everything is being taken care of. Meet me at my flat for lunch? I can't trust going in public right now.
Love always,
Harry Potter, your friend who's damn lucky you've always cared.
Harry carried his letter down to the owl coop of the Manor and attached it to the claw of a judgmental-looking black beast. Its yellow eyes pierced Harry's calm, and left him feeling uneasy long after the letter was sent on its way.
He expected a reply soon, and would need to dress for the occasion.
A crisp lavender button-down out of the closet Draco had stocked for him and black pants and trousers to go with them, finely pressed. The black shoes were shining bright under the polish Draco had taken them for, and with a vest added in a spiffing outfit was made.
Harry combed his hair and worked in the light amount of styling product like Draco had shown him, shaving his face bare and cleaning off his glasses to complete the transformation. He'd done just as Draco instructed, and he really liked how he looked. Putting effort forth into his appearance brought him a reward beyond pleasing Daddy—he was finally pleasing himself.
Well, technically he wasn't allowed to 'please himself' anymore in saving his orgasms for the one man who mattered, but even that was exciting in itself. Harry could usually spend multiple days in a row lazily masturbating to vague thoughts of Dominant men, lulling himself into his own bored, undersexed haze.
Harry did sometimes feel the rebellious urge to masturbate in secret, but it would doubtlessly come out in the heat of the moment and Harry would expose himself. It wasn't worth the punishments that would follow, the less-fun ones that he got when he broke serious rules.
After one last satisfied look in the mirror Harry went down to the kitchen and grabbed the pink apron. Next he opened the cupboards and refrigerators up to scan the ingredients. Once he'd made all his choices Harry piled in the supplies, the cookbook, and set towards the fireplace triumphant.
"And we have to reassure him that the Aurors involved have been sworn to secrecy as part of their job performance," Hermione went on. "I can't imagine how Harry's paranoia is faring with that many people having seen what you described to me."
Ron fidgeted with his wand in his pocket at they walked up to the next floor of Harry's flat building. "I thought we'd need them all to fight off Malfoy. He was second-in-class to you, Hermione, and you're the brightest witch of our bloody age. Malfoy is capable of terrible things, as he showed us with Madam Rosmerta."
"I'm scared for Harry, too," Hermione responded to the unspoken emotional sentiment of Ron's tone. She paused on the landing to his floor to take a deep breath of preparation. "Okay. Let's do this."
"I love you," Ron reminded her and extended his hand.
"I love you too." Hermione took the hand and led Ron to Harry's door.
Hermione knocked twice before backing up and releasing Ron's hand.
Harry answered the door and Hermione had to stop herself from doing a double-take. Harry looked fantastic, and so alive that Hermione almost teared up. He had that nervous look in his eyes but the corner of his lips were up. Was he wearing chapstick?
"Hey, Hermione, Ron," Harry greeted them and stepped back to invite them into the flat.
The first thing Ron noticed was the smell. The air was rich with the smell of seared and spiced meat, and was nothing like the stagnant staleness Ron had come to know here. The décor was the same, but cleaner, more organized. Ron wondered if Harry had actually cleaned it this time instead of shoving the mess in his bedroom, so he took a sidelong peek through that door to see a well-made bed. Damn. "Hey. You… I don't think I've ever seen you in those clothes before."
Harry closed the front door behind them, locking it for his paranoia about possible press listening in. Once that lock clicked he'd charmed the whole flat with a silencing spell from the inside-out. "I know it's a bit flashy," Harry admitted sheepishly, untying the pink apron from around himself and sliding it off. "But hey, you got here just in time. The Picadillo is ready to serve."
"The what?" Ron asked.
"It's mostly beef and vegetables with olives and raisins. They're pretty damn good in the mix, surprisingly," Harry enthused. He'd much rather talk about the food Draco had taught him how to make and not the other stuff they got up to. "I made three bowls of rice, you can scoop in however much of the mix you like," he went on, pointing to them and the serving spoon.
Hermione looked to her partner in life and love to see if he was seeing this too, this new Harry. Maybe a charm was at work here. Ron looked just as confused, if not more.
"You really cleaned the place up since I last saw it," Hermione tried as her next step forward in this bizarrely spotless world she'd stumbled into.
"Yeah, it needed a deep clean. But, um," Harry took up his bowl of rice and started scooping in heaps of the meat. "I'm not really living here anymore, like I said."
Hermione so wished she'd been at that raid. Was he acting like this then? Should they get a Healer? Her severely-depressed best friend was chipperly anxious. What was going on here? It was her turn to do strategy after Ron's plan blew up in everyone's face, so she felt she should address that first.
"Right," Hermione started slowly. She was drifting towards the food because it smelled incredible, and she hadn't seen Harry really cook for himself in a long time because he rarely even wanted to eat. "So."
"Before we start can you please just try this?" Harry asked of her, the calm breaking slightly. "Let's just eat together, okay?"
"Okay," Ron accepted quickly, led by his nose to his bowl as he began helping himself to the Peccadillo.
"Okay," Hermione echoed, only a bit annoyed.
When they were all sitting at Harry's kitchen table Hermione started again.
"Ron is, and I am, sorry for the way the incident at Malfoy Manor turned out," she began.
"I am sorry," Ron nodded, looking properly ashamed.
"Are the twenty-five other Aurors also sorry?" Harry snarked because he couldn't help himself.
"Harry, the Aurors involved in the incident with you and Ron are sworn to secrecy," she assured him, not yet having touched her meal, eyes fixed on Harry unflinchingly. "You know that."
"I also know that Aurors are just wizards who can be gossipy as the next," Harry mumbled, poking his fork at meat and rice to spear it before bringing it up to his mouth. If his guests wouldn't eat then more for Harry.
"Harry, that's not fair," Hermione said. "We were worried about you."
After Harry took the first bite Ron accepted that as a signal to start, and quite liked the taste from the look on his face. Harry smiled to himself, softening at how easy it was to calm his best friend with food. "I know. I'm sorry I worried you, but did you really have to go and do that? With that many people? You know how I feel about people knowing my private business."
"Harry, you said something very serious to Ron during this incident," Hermione reminded him because she certainly hadn't forgotten. "And what you said was much more important than any Auror raid or Prophet article. You talked about hurting yourself, Harry."
Harry winced to hear Hermione's voice rise in urgency. "I know. It wasn't how I wanted to tell you, but it just came out. I forgive you, and I'm sorry, too. Listen, Draco's been helping—"
"'Draco'," Hermione scoffed, reviling at the word. "I can't believe you call him that."
"It is literally his name," Harry said with exasperation. If only Hermione knew what else Harry called him.
"Since when is it to you? Harry, how did this even start? What in the world made you go near Malfoy and not just befriend him, but—! Harry, how did this happen!?" So much for keeping her cool, but she felt justified in her frustration.
Harry Potter wanted to be the kind of man who always told the truth to his friends, but what if the truth was embarrassing and deeply sexual in nature? He would try his best to keep it clean. "Draco and I met," Harry began. "Through a gay wizarding magazine where you can send messages to other subscribers." That wasn't uncommon for enthusiast magazines, and Draco and Harry were certainly enthusiastic when they were together.
"And you contacted him?" Ron asked in disbelief.
"He contacted me first, really, but I didn't know it was him and he didn't know it was me. It was all anonymous."
"Why?" Hermione inquired.
"Well, you know," Harry fumbled. "Some gay people like their privacy. Not everyone's as accepting as we'd want them to be, homophobes all over the globe. Not to mention that I'm me, and mentioning that kills any chance I have of getting to know someone without them seeing me first as 'The Chosen One'."
Hermione frowned but nodded understandingly to that last bit—people were all over Harry whenever he went in public, and plenty of girls had only wanted to be with him because of his status, so blokes likely weren't the exception.
"So we talked about our, um, interests, and what we looked like," Harry went on truthfully. "And one thing led to another and we decided to meet at that bar you told me was nearby, Ron."
"Merlin, I've caused this," Ron said grimly between shoveling down bites of his meal.
"Shut up," Harry laughed, nudging him under the table. Ron looked leery. "Oh, lighten up while you're at it, too. Draco and I agreed to meet, and so we did. We were both shocked, completely floored and convinced the other one had set it up somehow, but neither of us had known the other's identity until that moment. I got to know the real him, and he has changed."
"I'll believe that when I see it," Hermione countered sharply. "Punching his smug face is still my best memory of Third Year."
Harry couldn't help but snort at the childhood memory. Things had been so much simpler back then. "He was a git in Hogwarts, yes," Harry nodded. "But he never really wanted to be on Riddle's side. Riddle was threatening to kill his parents if he didn't do what he said. He's put off that wretched purity complex, I promise. We even went on our first date to a muggle tailor and a muggle dessert shop."
"And when was that?" Hermione questioned.
"Right after we met at the bar," Harry admitted, hoping she wasn't getting at what he thought she was getting at.
"And when exactly did you decided to move in with Malfoy?"
"Um." Harry put down his fork because he knew this sounded crazy. "After the first date."
"What!?" Hermione and Ron demanded in unison.
"Okay, I know, I know it's really fast, but—"
"You moved into the mansion we were held prisoner after one date where he bought you clothes and ice cream?" Hermione asked for her final clarification so she could give her professional Ministry prognosis of the state of this situation.
Harry nodded, no defense there. It was part of the fetish, living with him, being with him all the time at his beck and call. Harry hated to see Draco go to work because he was happiest in his presence.
"Harry, that is completely and utterly irresponsible," Hermione was forced to tell him.
"I didn't sell the flat!" Harry defended. "I've got this place for life if anything goes wrong I just—I just wanted to be with him!"
"Ew," Ron emoted, pausing in his eating to picture it.
"He took a week off from work and we spent the whole week together," Harry went on as if Ron had said nothing. "Draco's a Healer now, you know. St. Mungo's is lucky to have him."
At least his talent was being channeled into something positive, Ron supposed. "And he took off for you, just like that?"
"Draco doesn't take many holidays or sick days," Harry explained. "He had enough days saved up at work."
"I don't understand this," Hermione said plainly. "At first when I came in here I thought you might be charmed or given a love potion, but I can see that isn't the case at all. You have none of the signs."
Harry frowned. "I said back at the Manor I wasn't on anything."
"I had to see for myself. I wish I could have been there, Harry, I wish—I wish things had gone differently."
"You wish I wasn't seeing Draco," Harry nodded understandingly. "But I am, and I will be, for a long time, as long as I can manage it."
Hermione shook her head slowly. "So this is serious? More serious than knowing him for a night and moving in—you want this to last? I know you're an adult who can make your own choices, Harry, so please tell me, what on earth made you choose this?"
"He takes care of me," he argued. "He makes me happy, makes me feel safe and secure. Is that so wrong?"
"No, but it's Malfoy we're talking about here. Isn't he mean to you? Doesn't he belittle you?"
"Never," Harry said flatly. Not unless it was a little degrading name-calling during sex, but Harry explicitly asked for that. "Draco is kind to me, Hermione, without fail. He's kinder to me than I am to myself."
"To be fair, that's not very hard to do," Ron pointed out with a full mouth.
Harry let himself laugh at that one. "I'll say."
"But now that he's back at work," Ron said. "What do you plan on doing? Does he just expect you to stay in the house all day? In that house, especially?"
"It doesn't work like that," Harry assured him. "And it's a completely different house now, Ron. No basement as of yet. We're working on it together—we're picking out a fountain for the back gardens this weekend. There's so much construction and decorating to be done still, so I'm helping with that."
"But why?" Hermione asked, her question extending far beyond why Harry would want to do house chores for Draco Malfoy. "What on earth do you gain from this?"
"Everything," Harry said like it was obvious.
"Shit," Ron said as he came to a realization over his Picadillo. "No potion necessary—you're in bonafide natural love."
Both Harry and Hermione almost coughed on their food when he said that.
"I mean," Harry said, going bright ted. "I like him a lot, but we haven't used that word, and, I mean, I don't want to say it too soon—"
"But it's true," Ron cut in.
Harry sighed, still not wanting to admit it to himself let alone his best mates who seemed so intent on interrogating him. "I really enjoy spending time with him, okay? Even when he's at work I'm much better off than I was here, truly alone. There's things to be done at the Manor, and doing them makes me feel like I'm accomplishing something."
"Do his parents know?" asked Ron.
Harry shook his head. "They know he likes blokes but they don't know he's with anyone right now. Their confinement to the French estate makes that easy to keep up."
"So he won't tell them about you," Hermione questioned, clearly not okay with that.
"Well, not right now, no. But maybe someday, I dunno…"
"You don't know?" Hermione pressed.
"No, I don't! We haven't really talked about that. We talked about telling our friends, though, and I was going to tell you soon." Harry grew weary of this line of questioning. The only people with a worse reaction to this than Ron and Hermione were guaranteed to be Draco's parents. Harry didn't want to put his boyfriend, his partner, his Daddy through that kind of pain until he was ready.
Harry wanted to take care of Draco in return, to bundle him up and hide him away from all the people who spoke ill of him, snuggled up together where nobody could judge them.
"Draco is a part of my life, and so are you two. If I have to keep those parts separate I'll be disappointed, but I'll deal. He's willing to meet with you, you know."
Now that shocked Hermione and Ron. "What, he didn't turn his nose up at us as always?" Hermione questioned with a challenge to her voice.
"Or make a crack about my clothes?" Ron added in.
"Come on, you two!" Harry responded and threw his hands up. "It's not school anymore! People can change, and he has changed. Haven't we all changed? Look, when I rejected his friendship that first day at the robes shop it was because he reminded me of Dudley. Now Draco's my—" Harry stopped himself. "My boyfriend, and he reminds me of the kind of bloke I always used to dream about being with."
"Please, please," Harry went on, hands clasped. "Trust me on this. Trust me when I say he is good to me and for me."
There was a long silence between Ron and Hermione. They exchanged looks that communicated something ineffable to Harry as an outsider of their relationship.
Ron spoke first to both Harry and Hermione's surprise. "Do you love him?"
A chill ran down Harry's spine. "I, I…" He couldn't, daren't finish the sentence and turned Gryffindor red.
"Sorry," Ron stopped him. "Didn't mean to put you on the spot; it's okay. I think that's answer enough for me, mate." A slow smile came to his lips. "Harry, I just want you to be happy, that's all."
"We both do," Hermione nodded. "And if-and-or-when he breaks your heart, know we will always be your best friends. We will always be here for you."
"And if Malfoy really wants to meet with us then he's getting my speech on what will happen if he's a mongrel to you," Ron had to add in.
"And mine. And believe me, I will be seeing if his views are as changed as you say they are," finished Hermione.
Harry cracked a big smile. "Yeah, okay, you can do all that," he agreed on behalf of Draco mostly because he wanted to see how Draco would react, too. "I'll see when it's good for him and we could have you by the Manor to eat. I can cook," Harry reminded them by pointing at the near-empty bowls in front of all of them.
Hermione shifted in her chair. "Maybe," she said noncommittally. "Or we could go out to eat." Being in that house again, on Malfoy's home turf, that wasn't happening for a first meeting. "Somewhere indoors and muggle, so no one spots us. I swear I can find somewhere private."
"Alright," Harry shrugged. Even if the press did see them it could just be a meeting between friends and not a date so as to not give Lucius a heart attack in France. "I'll ask Draco about it." Harry let out some of the tension in his shoulders. He needed one of Draco's signature massages, stat.
"Alright then," Ron agreed.
The three picked at their meals until the bowls were practically clean.
"That was very good, Harry. Thank you for making it," Hermione said.
"'Welcome. I think I actually am starting to enjoy cooking again." Harry put his fork down. "But all this talking about me and I haven't asked about you. So come on, tell me, what's up in the lives of the Granger-Weasley's?"
Both Hermione and Ron giggled at that. "We're not that yet," Hermione reminded Harry. "The wedding is in three months. Fleur has been a big help getting everything together." Soon she'd go dress shopping with the bridal party, which also included Harry because of course it did. He was a joint Best Man and couldn't be happier about it.
"Mum's already picked out her dress and hat, I don't think I've ever seen her this excited," Ron enthused. "She would love to see you sometime, Harry."
"Maybe I'll go visit sometime soon," Harry said and this time it wasn't an empty promise like the last few times had been. Molly Weasley was an inspirational, badass matriarch who he'd always felt he'd let down by not marrying Ginny, but if she felt that way she sure didn't act it. Molly was always loving to Harry like a part of the family anyway, and he had to stop being so afraid of seeing her. It wasn't very Gryffindor-like, even if this wasn't school anymore.
And so the three friends talked bridal showers and buffet options into the day, their smiles returned to their faces. They were united first by trauma, from trolls in bathrooms to begging to die with Harry in the Forbidden Forest—he would never forget that, never—but now things could be easier for them, gentler.
Well, only as gentle as Harry liked, according to Daddy.
He smiled around his secret, the identity of his lover revealed but not what was between them. It excited him all the more, and when Ron and Hermione left Harry could hardly wait for Draco to get back.
"Tonight," Draco announced as he entered the Manor's front door as he'd now become accustomed to doing. "I am righting a travesty and an injustice, Harry Potter."
Harry, who had been flipping through the recipe book in the kitchen shut it and placed it aside, a mad grin coming to his lips. "Oh, and what would that be?" he questioned on his way to the entrance hall.
Harry was on Draco before Draco even got a chance to answer. He kissed him with a ferocity unrivaled, a gusto which he'd thought he'd lost a long time ago.
"And hello to you, too," Draco replied when they parted for breath, voice lower and silver eyes sparkling. "I figured you would be all about getting justice tonight."
"And what exactly are we getting justice for?" Harry asked all nuzzled up to Draco, pretty sure it was a sex thing. Harry was always ready for his Daddy.
"You," Draco pointed out with a finger to Harry's chest. "Have never been to a Spa."
That hadn't exactly been what Harry was imagining. "Oh, like the thing with the cucumbers on your eyes?" Harry recalled from television.
"Yes, there can be cucumbers, but that's hardly the extent of it. Worry not, I'll narrate you through every treatment. We'll be attending my usual location where my privacy has always been respected. Does that sound okay?"
"Is it wizarding?"
"Yes," Draco replied and hoped that didn't frighten Harry off. "But I have been going for years and the staff maintain complete discretion for the amount I'm tipping them."
Harry's mouth went scrunched. Greed could be a reliable motivator but the fame and fortune that would come from squealing about Harry Potter's love life could easily rival it. "Will there be other people there?" Harry asked, slowly coming around each time he glanced at Draco's pout.
"Not at all. We will be having a private experience of the highest quality. Trust me, Harry, you'll be glad you went." Draco rested his hands on Harry's hips and gave a reassuring squeeze.
"I do trust you," Harry nodded. "Certainly enough to do all those things you love to do to me."
"He says as if he isn't literally begging for it," Draco narrated, amused.
Harry couldn't help but laugh a little at that. "What I mean to say is I trust you and not much else, especially not other people."
"These are professionals, Harry. You deserve a night of pampering and quite frankly so do I. Do you have any idea how many boils I biopsied today?" Draco challenged, shivering slightly at the memory. "Come on, it will be fun to have our face masks done together."
"Alright," Harry relented with some curiosity as to the matter of face masks. What did they really even do? Draco's hygiene routine for him was already rigorous, so what else more could he possibly need?
"Yes!" Draco cheered. "Okay, perfect. You are going to love this, I promise."
Seeing Draco get so excited struck a soft spot in Harry. "Sure, alright," he nodded again.
"Then follow me—we're taking the Floo and then we'll be in relaxation paradise," Draco assured him, enjoining Harry's hand in his and leading him towards the fireplace. "The Imperial Spa, Padua, Italy. They also get whatever food you request, any request. I like battered ribs in the sauna, slathered in sauces."
"And just how often do you do this?"
"Oh, around once a month. I've gone with Pansy, Blaise, and Theo before, they have memberships as well. I'll see them this weekend, though."
"Speaking of them…"
"This weekend," Draco replied resolutely. "I'm going to tell them this weekend over brunch."
Harry smiled. "Oh. Okay, that sounds great." He hadn't known Draco had been planning on telling them so soon, but he'd hoped for it, and his hopes were seemingly coming true. He wondered how much of the truth they'd be receiving. Hopefully not too much—Harry would be too embarrassed to face them if they knew everything.
They arrived in front of the fireplace and Harry repeated after Draco's distinct pronunciation of The Imperial Spa—always remembering the Borgin and Burkes mishap—and thankfully found himself exiting a fireplace behind the blonde man he'd followed after.
Harry put a hand on Draco's waist and creeped forward to inspect their surroundings over his shoulder.
The air smelled of fresh roses and oils Harry couldn't quite identify, this place was as imperial as it promised to be. There was a sharply-dressed attendant behind a marble counter with the name of the spa carved in gold. Pillars around the room went with the theme of looking like some kind of royal palace with ethereal, charmed fabric floating between the stone columns.
"Malfoy, for two," Draco spoke confidently to the attendant. The Malfoys were old money and Draco tipped big, so he was comforted in this familiar spa because there were wizards who would always value reliable, incoming coin over all else. Greed could be so comforting; what a simple sin.
He watched the attendant carefully to make sure she wouldn't react to Harry, and she seemed to be doing a decent job of it. Draco slipped her a few galleons across the counter. "Right this way, Sirs," she nodded and proceeded to think of them as any other spa guests, not the world's savior and an ex-Death Eater.
She used her ashen wand to open the door next to her, waving for Draco and Harry to follow.
Harry, a bit ashamed he'd been hiding behind Draco to conceal his identity, realized it didn't matter to whoever this witch was as long as Draco kept those coins coming. Money was so strange. Harry wondered if he should be taking notes from Draco on how to use it. More than that, though, he wondered why he'd been concerned in the first place. If there was only one witch who knew about this, there was no way The Prophet would believe her, right?
Harry slunk out from behind Draco and took the arm offered to him.
"Please," she spoke almost eerily calmly as she led them down a long, dimly-lit hall that had the scent of incense wafting through it. The motif of the columns followed them down the hall, and there were several massive paintings of flowers between them. A twinkling piano theme played softly enough as to not be obtrusive. Harry smiled to himself.
"If you have any requests for songs, treatments, food, or drinks, do not hesitate to ask," she continued, turning a corner where a bubbling fountain stood. "And here we are, Sirs, your changing room."
Double-doors led to the softest, cleanest locker room Harry had ever seen in his life. Cleaning the Gryffindor ones had been a particular pain of his time at Hogwarts and they'd never looked even halfway as nice as this. The floor was plush red carpet, and the lockers were at least two men wide.
"If you would please remove all clothing and don a complimentary Imperial bathrobe, then the jacuzzi and steam room is right through you next door."
"Excellent," Draco said, taking to being served like a fish to water, unsurprisingly. He proceeded to order his usual. "Have ice water and white wine waiting for us—a Riesling, no less than fifty years old, chilled. A cheese plate and the ribs for the both of us, as well. Come along, Harry, let's right some wrongs."
Harry snorted and followed Draco into the locker room, the attendant closing the doors behind them.
"This place is insane," Harry informed Draco the second they were alone again. "In a good way, of course." Harry reached inside of his locker to feel the plush bathrobe, downy soft. He looked over at Draco to see him stripping with zeal, folding his clothes once they were off him to hang on the locker shelves.
"Staring at me changing, Potter?" Draco accused with a wicked grin.
"Maybe I am," Harry retaliated, undoing his vest and button-down so he could join Draco in the nude. "No homo, though."
They both laughed, shaking their heads as they got off the last of their respective clothing.
"Let me put it on you," Draco requested of Harry's robe, coming up behind him.
"Sure."
Draco slid Harry's arms through the sleeves and brought the robe to tie in the front, covering up his chest with soft fabric. "There we go," Draco murmured and tied it off around the waist. "All snug." He smoothed back Harry's hair and kissed his scar. "To the steam room first. Let's sweat out all of that stress." He gave Harry's shoulders a few good rubs before donning his own robe. "Shall we?"
Harry took Draco's hand and followed him through the door on the opposite side of the room to a humid hallway with several more doors. Draco led them to a room labeled 'Steam' and opened the door to release a wave of wet heat.
"Oh, wow," said Harry, not expecting such a potent intensity. He stepped inside after Draco and immediately felt his skin getting moist.
"Ahhh," Draco sighed. "Breathe deep, Harry. We stay in here for ten minutes, or until we're really sweating." Draco sat down on a wooden bench, back leaning against the wall as he continued to take deep, cleansing breaths.
Harry tried to breathe it in and wound up coughing as if overwhelmed by the air purity. Still he joined Draco on the bench, legs spread out as he soaked in the heat. "I'm pretty sure I'm already sweating."
"Not like you will be in ten minutes."
On the wall a magical clock had begun to tick down their time, and Harry paid close attention to the second hand until his glasses became too hot and foggy to see through. He took them off, shaking out his hair as the time eked by. Why did ten minutes suddenly feel so long?
"You know," Draco chimed in, seemingly unbothered by the oppressive heat. "I think this is only our second date. I need to take you out more."
"Yeah?" Harry cracked a smile. "Sure, I'd like that. We just needed that week indoors to get, ah, reacquainted."
"And that we did," Draco recalled fondly.
"I think that was half of what was blowing Hermione's mind, that only after a day I wanted to move in and after only a week did I know this was something serious."
Draco turned to Harry and searched his features, smiling. "I think that will impress my friends even more than your identity. I haven't had anything serious in years, and I was beginning to wonder if I'd become allergic to it." Draco pretended to sneeze just to be an arse.
Harry elbowed him in his soft robe. "You're too much. You're so funny, Draco. We really are mad, aren't we?"
"The maddest," Draco agreed and nudged their feet together. That was really as close as they could get in here without it feeling painfully hot.
The two sat in comfortable silence as the remaining minutes ticked down, a small flourish of an alarm going off once the ten minutes were up. By then Harry was absolutely drenched in sweat and a bit labored in his breathing in.
"I promise this will do wonders for your skin," Draco said as if he could feel Harry's doubt. "Now come on. We take a quick shower and into the tub we go. Do you prefer floral or citrus for the bath mix?" Draco stood and Harry followed.
"Floral," he decided, the air outside of the steam room coming as a cold shock to his system once they stepped out, sealing the door behind them. "Oof, I can finally breathe again."
"It also does wonders for the lungs. Prolonged exposure can harm them but just a little taste is enough to reinvigorate the spirit." Draco led the way towards a tiled room with a massive bath that reminded Harry of the Prefect's bathroom at Hogwarts.
To the side was a row of showerheads and Harry followed Draco's lead in taking off the robe as they approached it. They folded the soft fabric and rested it on a table nearby, with Harry only slightly paranoid about how big the room was to be naked in. He would always be at least a little suspicious of such open spaces.
Draco turned on a showerhead and waved his hand to invite Harry under it with him.
With a childlike wonder Harry stepped into the spray clinging to Draco, cold water washing away their dampness. Harry's glasses went on the table with the robes so he had to be close to see the details on Draco's face, arms around him to make sure he'd never be out of sight.
"So cute," Draco murmured of his lover, ruffling his wet hair under the downpour. "There, now let's get to the fun part."
"I would argue any time being naked with you is the fun part," Harry volleyed back to him, grinning like a right fool.
Draco laughed brightly. "Yes, you think so? What a lucky Daddy I am, to have a pet as sweet as you. Come on, let's go for a soak." Draco turned off the shower and the room was instantly warmer again, the hot water of the jacuzzi bath bubbling with its jets.
From a shelf to the side Draco fetched a large, pink bath bomb that glittered under the low lights. He dropped it into the water with a heavy splash, watching it bob slightly as the whole bath began to blush pink. Spectral pink butterflies emerged as the bath bomb twirled in the water, sending rays of light out from the cracks emerging in it.
"Wow," said Harry because magic was still so beautiful to him.
"Yeah," said Draco because magic was always more beautiful next to Harry.
Harry put an experimental foot in the water and sighed aloud at how perfectly warm it was. He stepped in, Draco following him, and sank all the way down to below his nose in the water, enjoying the heat wrapped around him like a blanket and the scents of lavender and rose wafting up his nose.
Draco dipped below the surface to wet his hair and then came up with some ruckus in the water, shaking off his hair and smoothing it back. "Ah, I needed this," Draco declared as he rested back against a jet so it could pound his back knots.
"I think I did, too," Harry couldn't help but agree. He settled in beside Draco, nudging their thighs together. "And I believe face masks were mentioned?"
"That they were. Here." Draco took his wand from the side of the tub and murmured a spell to open the cabinet from which he'd grabbed the bath bomb. A tube of avocado-and-clay face mask material floated their way until Draco could close his hand around it and snatch it out of the air. "This one will be perfect for you."
"Sure," Harry said, trusting Draco's judgement implicitly.
A butterfly landed on Harry's shoulder and beat its wings once before turning into iridescent soap bubbles and floating away as Draco readied the face mask.
"Lean in to me," Draco requested and Harry did so without hesitation, presenting his face with his wide, trusting eyes front and center. Draco smiled and snuck in a kiss to his nose before starting to work.
He applied the facemask in even but thick strokes, starting with Harry's T-zone and working out. It was a fragrant and consistent solution that Draco caked on and thinned out with his fingers until Harry's face was covered in an even green coating.
"Here, I'll do it for you," Harry offered, taking the bottle.
"Okay," said Draco, pleasantly surprised. He offered his face forward next, relishing in how carefully Harry's fingers spread the mask across his delicate skin.
Soon enough they were both coated, washing their hands off under the water to rid them of the excess.
"We wait until this dries and then wash it off," Draco informed Harry, bodies now closer than ever under the swirling pink water. "It will take a bit, so for now all we need to do is relax."
Harry hummed, nudging their feet together under the surface. "I like the sound of that." He wanted to kiss Draco's cheek and had to restrain himself from ruining the even coverage he'd achieved. He settled on taking Draco's hand and holding it close to his chest.
Delighted by the intimate gesture Draco happily curled his hand around Harry's. "And no spa experience would be complete, of course, without…" Draco used his free hand to wave his wand so that a bowl could float over to them. He removed four cucumber slices so he could lay two gently over Harry's eyelids and finish off with placing them over his own.
With a little chuckle Harry settled back so the slices would stay flat and still, the darkness of his own eyelids comforting when that darkness was spent with Draco Malfoy. "Hey… Draco?"
"Yes, little love?"
"Thank you. Thank you for this and for… everything."
Harry couldn't see with his eyes covered by the cucumbers but Draco was smiling so wide it almost hurt. "You are most welcome, dear," Draco reassured him, squeezing his hands. "Only the best for Daddy's favorite."
Harry's chest bubbled up with warmth. "And Daddy's only."
"And my only," Draco nodded sagely. "It is the two of us against the injustices of the world, just as I said before. We have so many more wrongs to right, Harry. Have you ever been to a wizarding amusement park? Or a proper masseuse?"
"Neither," Harry spoke into the darkness of his eyelids. The cucumbers made them feel soft, and extra hydrated. "But I counter that with—have you ever been to the movies? Or a bowling alley?"
"I would hardly call those injustices—"
"Well, I would," Harry countered. "So we're just going to have to do both."
"Both," Draco mused aloud. "Okay, we can do both."
"Good." Harry brought up Draco's hand to his lips and kissed it, leaving only a little of the facemask behind on the back of his knuckles. "I want to show you my world as much as you've shown me yours."
"No getting out of it then, eh?" Draco teased. He was a little curious, and nothing could be too terrible with Harry there at his side.
"Not if you want to be getting into anything tonight, no," Harry teased right back.
Draco laughed, squirming closer to Harry beneath the glittery water. "Message received."
"Good," Harry said. "Good."
And so everything was, and so it would be for the rest of their evening.