AN: I swore an honest oath to my housemates when I started writing this chapter it was because I'd just watched S1E6 of Limmy's Show and that's all I'm going to say about that. Sorry this took so long!
Chapter 11: Draco Dormiens
Harry sat in his flat alone when he heard the first knock on the door.
He ignored it, an uneasy feeling in his stomach about who it was.
It was loud, rhythmically shaking the walls with each reverberation. When Harry stayed still the knocking grew more insistent, as if it knew he was there.
Harry wasn't expecting visitors. He tried to be as still as he could, not even breathing when the next knocks came.
It scared him, but not nearly as much as the knock on the window. Harry scrambled into his bed, searching for his wand in the messy covers. Fuck, where was his wand?! Hadn't he cleaned this place up?
The knocking on the door and window grew to a terrible din. The banging and pounding and screaming—so much screaming, all directed at him.
Bastard, abomination, sicko, freak!
Selfish, rotten, good-for-nothing! it called to him in his Aunt's voice. He could see her in the doorway now even though he hadn't let her in. Harry drew the covers up around himself, trying to hide like a child. Just like your father.
Harry burrowed his face into the dark of the blanket to discover new horrors. Dementors floating his way beneath the darkness of the fabric, their horrible sucking sound pervading the air. Harry screamed but no noise came out, tossing the blanket off himself and sprinting off the bed.
No matter how hard he pushed his body, though, Harry felt as if he were moving through molasses. His flight mattered not when he bumped right into two Aurors with their wands at the ready. Crazy Potter, we're taking you in. You're guilty—it should have been you who died in the war!
Quicksand around his ankles, a plastic bag over his head—Harry fought to break free.
LIAR! You must not tell lies, you wicked troublemaker!
Harry was absolutely surrounded. Dementors, Aurors, Death Eaters, and faces of the past and present alike reached out to claw at Harry's face. He ran but it was never fast enough, and he never had his wand working right, and in the scratching darkness there was only crushing breathlessness.
"Harry, Harry!"
Harry tossed in his sleep, body convulsing violently as he struggled for air.
"Harry, wake up, it's me. You're having a nightmare," Draco urged him. "It's not real, Harry, but I am. Wake up!"
With a horrible gasp Harry's eyes burst wide open, hands flying to Draco. He wheezed, tears in his eyes, and Draco drew him in for a hug.
"It's okay, Harry. It's me, I'm here and it was but a dream," Draco whispered, clutching the shaking man with all his might. "It's okay, everything is going to be okay. Daddy's here, I'm here."
The tears couldn't be helped, Harry supposed, but he still felt shame as they rolled hot down his cheeks. This warmth, this beautiful man whose bed he'd fallen asleep in—more than anything, Harry was embarrassed in front of him. He'd disturbed Draco's sleep for nothing.
"It's okay," Draco insisted once more. "You can cry all you need to, Harry. I've got you."
At that the waterworks really came in hot. Daddy was being so kind to him, always so attentive and caring like no other man had been, like no one had been for Harry as a child. "Daddy," Harry sobbed into his shoulder, unable to articulate what that meant to him.
Still, Draco understood him perfectly. "There you go," Draco murmured, smoothing his hand over Harry's bare back in circles. "There, go ahead darling, you can cry all you like. I'm so sorry you had a nightmare, my sweet."
Harry was no longer crying about the nightmare, but how tender Draco was being, how crucial he was to his happiness these days. Whenever Harry felt fragile Draco would always scoop him up into his arms like this, like he was holding him together from falling apart. Harry was still catching his breath as he wept and the sounds that produced were harsh and uneven.
"It wasn't real," Draco went on to whisper, hand still making his soothing motions. "Daddy's here, and I'm real." Draco took one of Harry's hands by the wrist and placed it over his heart for Harry to touch. "This heart is yours, Harry. Can you feel it?"
Harry looked up with raw, red eyes to see Draco's were the same. Harry reached up with the hand that wasn't pressed to Draco's precious heart, catching a tear on his thumb. "I can feel it," Harry murmured, voice unsteady as his shuddery breathing began to subside.
"There we go, that's it," Draco murmured in return, going a bit pink at Harry seeing him cry for him. Such a kind man didn't deserve such horrific night terrors, was all. "Just breathe, you're doing so well. Remember today?"
Harry just breathed, focusing on the air going in and out, the rhythm slowing to match Draco's guiding breaths. When he was steady enough he nodded.
"Yes, good, remember how much fun we had today. We picked out fountains, and statues, and all kinds of seeds. You were so happy to see the flowers."
"Nobody's ever gotten me flowers before," Harry admitted, voice thin and still sniffling. "Especially not whole bushes of them. They look so lovely transplanted in the yard, and my own will start growing in soon."
"Yes," Draco soothed, pressing a kiss to each of Harry's wet cheeks. "Soon your flowers will be in full bloom. Let's think about that."
"…Daddy?" Harry whispered after awhile.
"Yes, dear?"
"Thank you."
Draco's look of concern turned to a warm smile. "No need to thank me. That's what Daddies do."
"I wish," Harry said before he could stop himself. "That you'd always been around. I could have really used that during the war."
"I wish I had been there, too," Draco replied with a tenuous strength. He had been misty seeing Harry so upset. "Instead of being a damned fool. Can you settle for me being here now?"
"Yes," Harry laughed, breaking into an uncontrollable smile through the tears. "I think I can." He took Draco in a salty kiss, limbs still trembling slightly.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Draco asked.
"No, it's nothing worth talking about," Harry decided. "I'd rather just let it fade in my head."
Draco nodded. "Fade away, then. Would you like some water?"
"Yes, thank you," Harry requested quietly.
Draco took the magically-chilled water from the bedside table and passed it to Harry who drank deep. When he was done Draco took a few gulps of his own before placing it back on its coaster. They had to rehydrate after all that weeping, Draco supposed.
"I don't think I'll be able to sleep much, though. That thing happened where I can't breathe and it always shakes me up. It's like—it's like a Dementor's kiss, really."
"I hate that you have the actual frame of reference to not be exaggerating that," Draco lamented with a few pats to Harry's back. "And I'm sorry, sleep paralysis is a frightening thing."
"I'll say," Harry grumbled, clearly feeling better if he could pout.
"Well, considering we don't have anything planned until later tomorrow… If you're up, I'm up. I was having boring dreams anyway," insisted Draco.
"Boring dreams? Bit of an oxymoron," Harry said with an unparalleled fondness for Draco's way of speaking. "What about?"
"Hospital nonsense. Interns, pleasing Pye, diagnosing cases," Draco dismissed. "Something much more exciting than that is being in bed with a gorgeous, naked bloke."
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "I've never felt so comfortable naked with anyone before, you know." Harry always thought he was too thin, but with Draco's cooking and his own learning that might change. Even better, with Draco's attentive affection Harry might stop caring altogether. He'd never once felt judged in Draco's eyes since they'd reunited at that bar.
"Yeah? I'm honored," Draco grinned. "I have the gift of being very comfortable naked wherever I go, so I unfortunately cannot relate."
"And where but this Manor are you usually naked?" Harry asked, raising a brow.
"Oh, you know, locker rooms and such. That, and those parties I spoke of on occasion."
Now that piqued Harry's interest. He nudged a foot between Draco's under the covers. "Do you have to… participate? If you go, I mean." Harry couldn't help but be curious since this was an aspect of Draco's sexual past and maybe even his future if Harry felt safe there.
"No one is required to join a scene," Draco assured him. "It's not a free-for-all; there are rules. For example, if we went I'd claim you as my submissive and flaunt you in front of the other Dominants, but never let them touch what's mine."
A pleasant chill ran up Harry's spine. "I think I might like that," Harry admitted shyly, hand on Draco's chest gently caressing him with renewed purpose.
Draco smirked. "Yes, well, you know how terrible I am with sharing what's mine. We'd have you tarted up and pretty for me and me alone. Everyone else looking on will simply have to burn in jealousy." He slid his hand down the slope of Harry's back to grab his arse. "This? This belongs to me, and any man with eyes in his skull would envy me for it."
Now Harry was really blushing. He squirmed back against Draco's hand and shimmied to tempt him all the same. "Show me," Harry requested softly. "How it's yours."
"On your stomach," Draco ordered and Harry followed.
Harry rested his head on its side on the pillow, eyes cast back at Draco wide and expectant.
Draco, now having perfect access to what belonged to him, grabbed a handful of arsecheek with each hand. "Gorgeous."
"Daddy," Harry giggled, nightmare far behind him.
"You are," Draco insisted. "Absolutely gorgeous." He squeezed Harry's arse and bounced it lightly when he let it go. "The whole world ought to be jealous of me, really. To have such a sweet, handsome submissive who obeys like he was destined to—well, few people ever get so lucky."
Harry smiled back at him, legs spreading unconsciously.
"Such a good whore," Draco cooed as he began to stroke the backs of Harry's thighs, encouraging him to spread them further. When his knees were far enough apart Draco slipped between them, resting on his own knees on the bed and leaning forward to kiss the base of Harry's spine.
With a little hum Harry moved back against Draco. "I like to be your good whore," he said softly. "Tell me what you want, Daddy, and I'll do it."
Draco smirked at how Harry was practically begging for orders. He kissed down Harry's hips and rested his lips above the curve of his arse. "I want you to tell me," Draco said. "How this feels."
Draco spread Harry's cheeks and pressed the tip of his tongue to where he could feel Harry's sacrum bone beneath and dragged it down, down over his hole and along his bollocks.
"Oh," said Harry, his grip on the pillow tightening. "That feels good."
"This does?" Draco teased and pressed his tongue flat to go back up the same route, taking his sweet time with it.
"Yes, that feels so good. Your tongue…" Harry sighed.
Draco licked another stripe up and this time lingered around his hole in achingly-slow circles. Harry's wispy sighs guided and encouraged Draco all the way, and came to a peak when Draco flicked his tongue deep inside the center of the puckered skin.
Shivers ran down Harry's spine, feeling quite spoiled by all of the attention.
In return Draco felt quite spoiled with all that was laid out for him, reaching out to fondle Harry's balls just because he could. He loved holding them in his hand, loved feeling how delicate they were knowing he could inflict such pain on them if he so wished.
Now was not the time for pain, though. Harry could take quite the thrashing of his most sensitive parts like a true trooper, a trait Draco deeply admired, but that wasn't what he needed from Daddy at the moment.
Draco himself was terrible with any uncomfortable physical sensations. He bruised like a peach and always held a sour attitude when he was in pain, unlike the blissful release it seemed to bring for Harry when administered properly.
It was a close tie, whether Draco liked seeing Harry pleasured or pained the most, but tonight he'd be going with the former.
This tenderness left Harry's unguarded heart completely exposed along with his literal exposure. Draco Malfoy could be so damned sweet—if Ron and Hermione only knew the half of it… Ah, thoughts for a later time.
Harry's mind quickly turned to the situation at hand when Draco's hands spread his cheeks as wide as they could go and pressed his lips to the exposed hole to kiss it deeply. "Oh," Harry said with a shiver.
Draco responded by lapping his tongue as far as he could inside, licking in firm and dedicated machinations seeking Harry's relaxation. Silently he committed himself to doing this until Harry was a simpering mess, the first signs of such a transformation coming with the shaking of Harry's legs.
Such fine, lovely short legs—Draco ran his hands up and down them as his mouth worked relentlessly on Harry, sucking and licking deeply.
"You feel incredible," Harry gasped out, clutching the pillow tighter than ever, digging his teeth in for his appreciative audience. His breathing was naturally shallow now and came out in little moans, hips beginning to work shamelessly back onto Draco's mouth.
Draco, smug as ever, pushed even harder on Harry. From this angle he could see he was making a drooling pillowbiter of The Boy Who Lived and that rush would never get old.
Draco's own arousal hung heavy between his legs, ignored for now so that he could focus entirely on Harry.
"Daddy," Harry moaned with the pillow between his teeth, stirring a heat low in Draco's stomach.
"Open your mouth," Draco ordered and Harry did so without hesitation only to find it filled with two of Draco's fingers. Harry made an appreciative noise and began sucking on them before Draco could even instruct him to. "So eager."
Harry nodded slightly with the fingers in his mouth, tongue lavishing across them and wrapping around them wherever he could. Draco's continued licks kept Harry pressed flush to the bed and wriggling for him. Harry was hard but knew better than to pleasure himself without permission, so he channeled his frustrations into sucking on Draco's fingers like they were his cock.
With a grin Draco pushed the digits in deeper, feeling the velvety inside of Harry's cheek with his fingertips. "Now open."
Harry parted his lips and let Draco's fingers slip from between them, a trail of saliva following behind.
"Good boy." Draco pulled his hand back and Harry felt the warm press of a coated finger to his hole, properly dripping with saliva as well. With a little added oil from Draco's quiet summoning spell Draco nudged the first finger at Harry's entrance.
Harry moaned, head tipped over his shoulder so he could get his best view of Draco. The blonde was looking particularly smug and Harry couldn't blame him for the man truly had him in the palm of his hand like this.
Draco paid careful attention to the flutter of Harry's eyelashes as he slid the first finger in, fingertip feeling his walls as it had Harry's cheek.
"Uhnk," Harry articulated, resting his head on the pillow with complete trust from experience that Draco knew what he was doing in this respect. "I like it," Harry clarified, arse wriggling with Draco inside of him. "Being full of you."
"You're about to be much fuller," Draco promised with a purr in the back of his throat. "Would you like that?"
"Yes," Harry answered breathlessly. "Yes Daddy, I want all of you in me, the whole thing."
"What 'thing', my cock?" Draco squeezed Harry's arse. "You best respect what gives you such pleasure."
"Yes, your cock," Harry answered quickly, wanting to remain a good boy. In response to his answer he got Draco's finger stoking the flame inside of him, a gentle movement in and out, back and forth. "I love your cock."
Now that made Draco smile. "You do? Tell me, sweetling. Tell Daddy how much you love being fucked."
Harry hummed, eyelids fluttering at how just one finger of Draco's could make him feel so open already. "I love it, Daddy. The stretch, the burn, the way it almost feels like it's too much, like it shouldn't fit but it does—you make it fit."
"Damn right I do," Draco boasted. Harry could be quite loquacious in the sack when properly prompted and every word out of him was a blessing on Draco's ears. "Now, deep breath."
Harry breathed in and felt a second finger slide inside of him. He made a squeak, knees pushing apart wider. He forced himself to breathe in again. "Y-Yes, sir."
With his free hand Draco stroked Harry's back lovingly, gently in comparison with how he was moving his fingers in and out with no hesitation. "Such a good boy, taking it like you do. You're Daddy's favorite, you know that? My favorite and my only, my best boy to play with." Draco sped up his fingers as he spoke.
Shaky groans were spilling now from Harry's mouth, a spot of drool on the pillow before him growing by the second.
"Yes, let go," Draco commanded as he positioned himself behind Harry. "That's it."
Draco pressed the tip of his cock to Harry's hole and parted his fingers wide enough for him to push in. Easing himself deeper with each passing moment Draco let out a groan of his own, raw and true.
With a whimper Harry adjusted to the new girth by biting harder on the pillow. Harry breathed deep and released the soft fabric from his mouth, leaving a wet spot for him to rest his cheek on. Without his glasses he looked back up at Draco in bleary wonderment as he was split on him.
"Harry," Draco growled, giving the first few grinds of his hips down. "Nothing feels better than you." Nothing felt better than these tight walls around him.
Beneath him Harry shuddered, cock pulsing with his own rapid heartbeat. After the adjustment Harry could say the same of Draco, eyelids fluttering in his direction. Draco's first few pumps of his hips gave way to a slower rhythm, easing in and out of him with care. "Oh," Harry practically whispered.
Still, Draco heard it. With a half-cocked smile and a groan Draco undulated his hips to plunge his cock in deeper and deeper with each motion.
"Fuck," said Harry, voice climbing in volume and pitch.
"Tell me," Draco insisted again because he wanted to hear it. "How it feels to be mine."
Harry moaned shamelessly as Draco's cockhead ground against a spot that made him see stars. "I love it," Harry replied through his strain. "I love being yours. Oh, oh—" Harry cut himself off with a deep growl that simply had to be let out of him.
"You love to be mine? Oh, Harry, what a romantic you are when you've got cock up your arse," Draco teased, giving a few particularly hard pumps where their skin slapped together. "Tell me more. I want to hear it all, how does it feel?"
"I'm so open," Harry gasped, hardly believing how Draco could relax him so. Maybe it was the spa treatments, or the constant presents and new clothes, or the way they were building this house up together, but Harry felt looked after for the first time in his life. Even now Draco wanted to hear what he had to say, wanted to know what it was like to be in Harry's skin. "You make me so, so open."
Under Harry's skin Draco thrust away, hands spreading Harry's cheeks out so he could watch himself be buried in him. "All," Draco said, huffing slightly with the effort. "To fill you with good things, my pet."
"Daddy," Harry cried out, hands balled up clutching his pillow for dear life. "I want your come. Please, please may I have it? I want it so bad…"
Draco's heart flipped in his chest. "Yes," he hissed, hands moving out to grip Harry's waist. "Yes, you've been a good comeslut, Harry. Good, good comeslut," Draco babbled as he sped up. He'd always known Harry took a special pleasure in taking his load but the request was unexpectedly sweet and vulnerable of him. That had to be rewarded.
As Draco's grip tightened Harry's heart soared to be told he was doing well, doing good. The world and the corners of Harry's mind had so much bad that he'd do just about anything to feel good. Lucky him he'd found someone to do it with. "I love how it feels," Harry rambled on, far past caring what he sounded like. "When it drips out of me."
To Draco Harry sounded like an angel. He fucked his hole relentlessly, gasping and groaning in a crescendo of sounds that signaled Draco was nearing his end.
"Yes, yes," Harry chanted. "Yes, yes, yes!"
"Harry," Draco called out into the echo of the room. He reached around Harry's hip to take him in-hand. "With me."
"Thank you," was all Harry could say when Draco's sweet, sweet palm was pressed up against him. "Thank you, thank you—!"
Draco came with a shout, his release hitting him so hard it doubled him over Harry.
Harry, having finally gotten exactly what he wanted, spent himself all over Draco's expensive sheets. "Thank you," he whimpered, eyes watering. "Thank you, Daddy." The seed inside of him felt magnificent, and he knew it would be leaking out of him all night. For a brief moment Harry never wanted Draco to pull out again.
As Draco softened it was an inevitability, though, and Draco soon slid out leaving dribbles of come in his wake. "Harry," Draco panted, sliding up next to him and taking him up in his arms once more. Draco rested his face in the crook of Harry's neck, kissing the salty skin there. "Harry fucking Potter…"
Harry barked an unexpected laugh. "That's me, yeah."
"Comeslut extraordinaire," Draco dubbed him and Harry laughed like a fool, leaning into his every touch. "Mm, was it everything you wanted?"
"And then some."
"Good." Draco gave his cheek a big kiss. "We can stay up as long as you like."
"Thank you…"
"You really don't have to thank me, but yes, you are most welcome," Draco told him.
Harry snorted. "It always feels like I should. You do so much for me."
"And you do so much for me," Draco countered. "Having you to take care of makes me take better care of myself, of this whole house. I don't think I would have ever gotten to the gardens without you."
"You would have eventually," insisted Harry.
"Maybe. But they wouldn't be half as beautiful."
"Oh, Draco…"
Their lips met, their hands joined, and their hearts beat as one. In this post-coital bliss there was nothing they couldn't do, and nothing they couldn't accomplish together.
Telling the truth was a terrifying thing.
At least that was how Draco Malfoy saw it coming up the neat, trim lawn of Pansy Parkinson's London townhouse. Worse than mocking him Draco feared that his friends might just not believe him, might think his truth was a joke in bad taste.
Every day that Draco came home from work to find Harry whistling a little tune while cooking in his kitchen—their kitchen, dare he even say—was a day of victory, pure joyous triumph. Even he didn't believe it was real sometimes.
Pausing before the door Draco took a moment to fidget with the Malfoy signet ring. He took a breath and raised a fist.
Draco knocked on the door once to have it spring open almost immediately.
"Draco!" Pansy greeted him, taking him in a big and crushing hug. "We're so glad to see you, so glad you're here."
Oh, Salazar, were they all in there waiting for him? Draco's nerves spiked again, prying himself from Pansy's arms so he could check how full the living room was. Yes, they were all there.
Pansy's living room made use of metallic and modernism in a way she would have never thought to experiment with years ago. Modern was muggle, and that used to be unacceptable to Pansy Parkinson.
Everyone had to grow up and out of their purism fast when the War ended, but it still took Pansy nearly a decade to grow out of the hatred she'd been taught. Everything changed, though slowly, from interpersonal relationships to the kind of furniture she picked out.
If the tasteful glass coffee table in this silvery room could talk, oh the things it would say. These Slytherins had gathered around it many a time in the year to dish gossip and personal stories. Draco preferred it when they were talking about other people, but it seemed that would only come after the spilling of his own guts today.
"Funny, we were just talking about you," Blaise waved on from the couch with legs crossed in tight designer trousers. He was lounging without a care in the world until Draco came in, forcing him into alertness for his unending need for dirt on others.
"Good to see you," said Greg, putting his beer bottle down to wave. "Your man let you come up for air?"
Theo was in a plush, silver-trimmed armchair shaking his head. "You're ambushing him, you lot. Let him actually breathe a little," Theo suggested.
"Thank you for defending my honor, Theodore," Draco said his full name because he knew it'd annoy him. Draco could hardly resist; being contrary was their thing.
"Nevermind, I take it back. Ambush him all you like," Theo waved on.
"Who wouldn't be curious? Come on. If I had some secret submissive tucked away at home you lot would be just as bad, maybe even worse," Blaise accused them all as Draco sat down in his usual armchair. "You especially." He pointed at the blonde.
This was going to be a long night. "Blaise," Draco sighed and toed off his shoes. "Can you let a man have a drink before going down this ridiculous line of questioning?"
"Chilled and ready," said Pansy from the kitchen, holding up matching margaritas for Draco and her. With a happy noise she, clearly already a few drinks in, bounced back to the living room and handed Draco his drink. "Now drink, if drinking's what it'll take to get this out of you."
Draco sighed and started sipping while Pansy flounced happily back to her couch.
"Can you really blame us for missing you?" asked Greg.
"We're only sure you're alive because of Pansy's updates from work," Blaise agreed. "You never go MIA like this, even when you have a new boytoy, so this one must be something special. Go on, tell us about him!"
"Usually," Theo pointed out. "You wouldn't hesitate to brag. You being dodgy about this just makes us want to question you more."
"It's complicated," Draco started and took a long drink. He sighed. "Really it's rather simple, but… you know what I mean."
Draco's four best friends stared at him intently, leaning in and waiting for more.
"There is a man," continued Draco. "Who I fancy very much, who's agreed to live with me in the sort of arrangement I've always talked about wanting. We met through the magazine, but, well, really we met before the magazine."
Pansy frowned over her drink. "I thought the magazine was anonymous."
"It is."
"So you knew him before the magazine?" Theo figured out.
Draco shifted in his chair. "The thing is," he tried. "We all knew him before the magazine."
"I don't understand," Greg said flatly.
"The man I am seeing," Draco clarified, slowly this time. "Is someone we all know." Oh, here he went…
The four exchanged glances. "What?" asked Theo for the group.
"The man whose ad I responded to, the one who is living at the Manor with me now, is someone we know from school."
Jaws dropped.
"So this is why you were so touchy about a name," Pansy realized and sat straight up at the edge of her seat. "You have to tell us. You absolutely have to tell us now."
"And I'm going to," Draco cut her off. "But you have to swear something to me first."
"I'm prepared to do an Unbreakable Vow just to be out of this suspense," Blaise declared.
"Come on, mate. You can tell us anything," pushed Theo.
"I can tell you anything and you'll keep it out of the press, I know that," Draco prefaced his next statement with. "But…"
"But?" Pansy demanded.
"I have to ask you, formally, to please not let your mouths run with this one. Don't talk about it outside of secure, closed quarters. It's not just my secret you're keeping, it's his," Draco reminded them in a tone far too serious for the frivolous drink in his hand. He took another swig and the ice clacked together. "People don't even know he's gay, let alone living like this."
"Shouldn't it be your reputation you look out for?" Blaise questioned. "Your whole live-in fantasy would be a field day for the Prophet with how little they understand about what it means to be a Dominant. They'd demonize you for doing this in the Manor especially."
Draco grit his teeth. "You think I don't know that? Still, it's him who has more to lose here, and that's what I'm concerned about."
"Awwww," Pansy cooed. "Draco cares!"
Draco went pink in the face. "What? Of course I do!"
"No but I mean like, really really cares. Maybe even… loves?" accused a tipsy Pansy. "Now tell us his name before I start guessing."
"Zacharias Smith," guessed Greg.
"No, no, we are not guessing," Draco put a stop to that immediately. "And seriously? Him? No thanks."
"Then who?" demanded Theo, eyes wide.
"The person I am seeing is… Harry Potter."
For a moment Draco could have heard a pin drop in the room. All of his friends were staring, mouths agape, faces twisted in confusion.
"I am not joking," Draco nipped in the bud quickly. "So quit looking like you're about to laugh, Blaise."
"You," said Pansy, a finger pointed square at Draco. "You are telling me," she paused for a breath. "You have Harry James Potter, your painfully obvious childhood crush, tied up in the Manor somewhere right now?"
"He's not—I didn't just leave him bound somewhere!" Draco balked.
"Merlin's fucking balls," said Theo.
"Harry Potter's fucking balls," remarked Blaise, still smiling like an idiot.
Draco's face went bright red and then the laughter came. He sighed, taking it with a stiff upper lip and an arched brow.
"Oh, come on," Pansy giggled. "We're happy for you! Shocked, and happy!"
"Real happy," Greg piled on. "I always knew he fancied you back when we was kids."
"What? That's ridiculous…" Draco's blush deepened.
"And I always knew he and the redhead would never last. Does this mean she's single?" Blaise questioned. "Ah, sweet Weaselette. Oh, wait, aren't Granger and the Weasel getting married soon?"
"…I have to call them Hermione and Ron now," Draco grumbled to another set of raucous laughs from all of his friends.
Theo was laughing so hard he wiped away a fake tear. "Oh, this is so rich," he got out between laughs. "Potter's gay? With you? And you didn't even know it was him until you met?"
"I let him see me first," Draco shrugged and took a long sip of his drink. "I guess he liked what he saw."
The Slytherins howled in riotous amusement, and Draco's chest relaxed. It was sort of funny, yes, and he knew how to work this crowd well. They were always on his side, but maybe he could get them to be a little less embarrassing about the situation by owning it.
"He was the one who put an ad out looking for someone with exactly my kind of desires," Draco let them in on. "I was one of many who responded to him, but he only ever replied to me."
"Yeah, I can see that," Theo nodded. "Potter being a submissive makes sense. Guess you can only have so much hero-worship in one lifetime—tell me, how bratty is he?"
"What did his ad say?" asked Blaise.
"What do his friends say?" asked Pansy.
"And does he call you…? You know," asked Greg, already himself blushing about it. He'd never gotten a girlfriend to call him that, not even once.
"Yes," Draco answered of the last question. "He does."
"Bloody fuck," said Theo. "No wonder you haven't emerged. You've had literal decades of tension to iron out."
"We've sorted our problems and past disagreements, yes," Draco let himself chuckle about Harry and him. "Getting along swimmingly, really. And his friends do know some of how we met, excluding the lifestyle. Poor Greg looks like he's about to pass out talking about this and you can only imagine what his Hogwarts Sweethearts best friends might think about what we like."
"I always saw Granger as a Domme," Blaise sighed wistfully.
"You wish," Pansy scoffed.
"And you wish she was a submissive so you could have her, too," Blaise teased.
"I'm perfectly content with my two pets," Pansy preened, always happy to talk about herself. "And they are perfectly content with me."
"Yes, okay, but can we get back to the part where Draco's shagging Potter?" Theo requested. "Like, very often, apparently?"
Draco finished off his drink, feeling the warmth spread through his throat and chest. "He's also helping me put the Manor back together. You'll have to come over and see sometime—and yes, that means I've cleared a visit with all of you and him."
The howls of delight went up again. "Yes!" cried Pansy. "Yes! So he doesn't hate us?"
"No, he does not hate you," Draco confirmed with some amusement, thinking back to when Harry thought that about them.
"Even though Pansy offered up his immortal soul to the Dark Lord?" Theo teased her, earning a little slap to the shoulder.
"Harry wants to put all that past him," Draco assured them. "He wants to get to know you because you're important to me, so don't be weird or cock it up. He's shy, especially about the lifestyle we're living, so go easy on him."
"I'm sure you don't," Blaise jeered.
"See? It's stupid comments like that I need you to avoid for at least like, the first half hour of meeting him," Draco pointed out.
"But really, Harry Potter as someone's ickle little house boy, I'm reeling over here," Theo emphasized. "You've described your ideal relationship to us several times, and knowing he fits that script? Fucking incredible."
"Does he like pain?" asked Blaise.
"Does he worship you?" asked Pansy.
"Does this mean we're gonna get to see him in a little maid's outfit?" asked Theo, utterly delighted by the mental image.
Draco chuckled, recalling that fantasy being a particularly potent one back in Hogwarts. "Down, all of you," he laughed. "I'm a gentleman; you're not getting that much out of me."
"Oh, come on! Give us more!" Pansy requested. "I'll get you another drink, how's that sound?"
"One more," Draco allowed, getting a creeping feeling that this was going to be a long night of dodging questions.
"Yay!" Pansy sped off to the kitchen and Blaise and Theo leaned in.
"Is he into everything you're into? That's a lot of stuff," Blaise pointed out.
"Have you had a chance to use those nipple clamps you got at Pride last year?" Theo pressed.
"Did I hear 'nipple clamps'?" Pansy called from the kitchen. "Don't you dare discuss it without me!"
"No one is discussing nipple clamps!" Draco laughed, shaking his head. "I swear, it's like none of you have sex lives of your own. Go feed off someone else's dirty stories—like I said, for him I am a gentleman."
"How cute," Theo remarked flatly.
"How boring!" said Pansy as she returned with Draco's drink.
"Why don't you share a story, hm, Panda?" Draco requested of her. Everyone in the room groaned.
"Well, if you insist." She took her chair and put on her most devilish smirk. "So I was coming off a win streak in Atlantic City, coins all over my tits, when…"
Draco was eating dinner at Pansy's tonight so Harry made himself a sandwich and dined alone, trying not to think about it.
Harry was caught up in thoughts of Hogwarts, a dangerous territory for him to be veering into, but knowing Draco was with all his childhood friends right now was making him nostalgic for the better times. It was at Hogwarts where he'd made his first real friends, and had his first crushes, including his often-repressed one on Draco.
It was not love at first sight, not in the slightest, as cute as eleven year-old Draco was to eleven year-old Harry. Draco had been a little prick, not unlike Dudley at all, and Harry gave Draco his first dose of reality by rejecting him outright. Before that Draco had lived in a bubble where everyone extolled and adored him and his abilities.
He'd been in this very house.
Well, not in this exact version of it, but on this land, this property. Draco had grown up here, in this idyllic, isolated place where nothing could really go wrong. Then came Harry Potter in a robe shop in Diagon Alley to muck it all up.
It was a level of Shakespearian irony that the snotty kid who Harry had rejected was now the man he gave his submission to freely. It was Draco's hand he looked forward to, firm or soft depending on what Harry didn't even know he needed yet. Draco knew somehow, maybe now because he listened first instead of blabbed about the 'right sort of people'.
It was by him Harry wished to be tied, and wished to be tied to.
This way of living he'd chosen wasn't perfect, but it felt right. There were things to be done and someone to cherish who cherished him in return.
In those countless days wasted wanking off in his flat dreaming of someone who could do the things Draco did to him Harry had never imagined he'd get to really live it. It was thrilling, and sometimes it was achingly slow waiting for Draco to come home to him.
After dinner Harry occupied himself with watering the plants he'd gotten for the outside and for inside the house, having written down in a journal the instructions to care for each. Sunlight, water, and fresh soil meant something beautiful could grow at this Manor.
Harry was experimenting with talking to a plant when he heard the fireplace burst with the Floo. "Draco!" he sprang up, hoping he didn't hear him telling a weeping fig how he'd 'never felt this way about a man before'.
"Harry?" Draco called, always thrilled to hear his voice from the fireplace or the front door when he could apparate.
Harry burst into the parlor to slot right into Draco's arms, fitting perfectly between them. "Draco," Harry said, happily burying his face in his neck.
"Hello to you, too," Draco said with a grin, tousling Harry's hair. "Forgive me if I'm foxed, that woman knows how to ply me with drink."
Harry laughed, pulling up so he could look into Draco's bloodshot eyes. "I knew when you didn't apparate that you were smashed," Harry reported cheerily.
"Apparation safety is no joke," Draco insisted, wobbling slightly.
"Come here, you. Let's get you to bed."
"It went well," Draco enthused as Harry walked him out of the room and towards the grand staircase. "They're excited to meet you. Probably too excited, and I apologize in advance for literally everything out of their mouths."
Harry laughed, helping Draco's unsteady gait up the stairs and noting a particularly adorable red tinge in his cheeks. "That's a good thing, I think."
"You wouldn't say that if you knew what they were asking about you—all of which I did not answer, of course."
"Can I call you 'good boy'?" Harry grinned.
"You can call me anything you like, sweetheart," Draco slurred, resting more and more on Harry as they ascended the staircase together. Thankfully they reached the third floor without too much stumbling. "Were you a good boy while Daddy was away?"
"Mhm," hummed Harry, shamelessly nuzzling up to Draco as they walked towards the open doors to his room. "I was thinking of you."
Draco toed his shoes off along the way, leaving his socks too in the trail leading up to the bed. The next thing he knew he was flat on his back on the bed, no recollection of how he'd gotten there. "You know what we should get you?" Draco asked as Harry crawled in next to him.
"What?" Harry asked, amused by this slightly-sillier Draco. Draco drank with Harry over food most nights but Harry had never seen him this properly foxed. He began to unbutton Draco's shirt for him because he clearly wouldn't be able to himself.
"You are so good with the house, we ought to get you a maid uniform," Draco babbled.
"Yeah?" Harry chuckled, focused on each little button so that Draco could be free. "For my homemaking skills, of course."
"Of course," Draco agreed. "And because I like you in tight little numbers that show off your arse." He cupped Harry's cheek and rubbed the soft, soft skin there near-obsessively in his inebriated state.
"Ah, the truth comes out," Harry observed sagely, pushing Draco's shirt from his shoulders. The next article to go was Draco's trousers so Harry worked on the belt first. He knew Draco would be uncomfortable in the morning if he fell asleep clothed like this. It was nice to get to take care of Daddy for a change.
Draco was absolutely loving all this attention, leaning into and chasing Harry's caring touches. "What can I say? I know what I like."
"Tell me all about it," Harry encouraged, sliding off each trouser leg and leaving Draco in nothing but his underwear.
"I like you," Draco started with such sincerity it made Harry's heart throb. "I like you bent over so I can see your knickers. Wouldn't that be cute? You scrubbing my floors in black and white while I watch."
Now something other than Harry's heart was throbbing. "Uh huh," he breathed. "I'd like that."
Draco reached for Harry's shirt and tugged upwards on it until Harry helped it over his head. "Hey, you," said Draco, a surly smile on his lips as he turned onto his side facing the other man. "Come here."
"I dunno, are you too drunk for this?" Harry teased, getting rid of his trousers and snuggling up against Draco so their bodies were fully pressed together.
A happy sigh left Draco's body when it was pressed against Harry's, only their underwear separating them. "A Malfoy never gets too drunk," Draco insisted in the least-convincing tone possible.
Harry snickered and kissed him through their smiles.
"Alright, then. Let me just get…" Harry reached for his wand to conjure forth a vial of oil, looking away from Draco for what couldn't have been more than a few seconds
When Harry turned back to Draco he saw something frankly hilarious.
In the few moments it had taken Harry to shift over to the bedside table it seemed Draco had conked out asleep on the pillow.
"Draco? ...Draco?"
A soft, nasally breathing left Draco, his eyes shut and body relaxed.
"Draco," Harry laughed, shaking his head.
Harry took the sheets in his hands and drew them up around Draco's slumbering form, tucking him in like he had the first night they were here together.
"Goodnight, Daddy," Harry wished him, turning him on his side and coming up behind him so he could be his big spoon for the night. "Sweet dreams."
Draco, eyes having been growing heavy since he'd laid down, was exhausted. They'd put together a garden and Draco had told his friends about Harry, which Harry knew from experience with his own wasn't at all easy.
Harry, curled around his Daddy, thought back to Hogwarts' motto. Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus—never tickle a sleeping dragon.
So Harry let him rest, let him sleep, and waited patiently to follow after him once his eyes closed. Tomorrow they would have all the time in the world again, or at least the twenty-four hours before Draco had to return to work on Monday morning.
It would be a lazy Sunday, and a well-deserved one at that.
Gently, softly, Harry drifted off to a sleep without nightmares or interruptions, dreaming of Draco.