See chapter 1 for warnings
THE LOVE THAT FOLLOWS
Chapter 2—In a Moonlit Harbor
The Tower was cold.
It was cold and covered in shadows, the room dimly lit from the grey moonlight pouring in through the large window carved into the wall opposite him. Draco Malfoy sat perched on the wide ledge, swinging his legs and sighing, and Harry watched as he pulled out a large expensive-looking pocket watch, flipping it open and sighing again before snapping it shut and tucking it away.
"God, I hope he actually shows up," Malfoy muttered to himself, sounding worried, and something about the sadness and the obvious anxiety in his voice tugged at Harry's heartstrings, making him momentarily soften toward the blond.
Wondering if he was insane for doing such a thing, Harry slid the Invisibility Cloak from his shoulders and set it on a nearby table. "Malfoy," he said softly, and Malfoy gasped as his head snapped up, a look of pure wonder on his astonished face.
"You came," he whispered, hopping down from the ledge and nearing Harry cautiously, as though Harry was a wild animal that he was afraid of spooking. "You really came, Harry."
"Yeah, well," Harry shrugged uncomfortably, speaking down to his shoes, "you promised me answers, so…"
"Is it just the answers you came for?" There was hesitation in Malfoy's voice, along with an edge of something that sounded almost like hurt, and Harry felt himself grow even more uncomfortable.
"Er…"
Neither boy said a word.
"Look, Malfoy," Harry finally broke the tense silence, unable to take it any longer. "I just want to know what sort of game you're playing, because I don't understand any of it and I just want the world to start making sense again. So just tell me what you're up to so I can get my peace of mind back already, all right? Because I really miss it and I don't like it not being there. So just tell me what's going on. Er, please," he tacked on, wondering why he had added the final word.
Malfoy peered at him curiously, head tilted to the side. "Game?" he wondered, stepping closer. "What on earth makes you think this is a game to me, Harry?"
"I don't know what the hell it is!" Harry sighed explosively, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "I don't know what the hell you're doing or what it is that you want from me! I don't understand what's happening, Malfoy! I don't understand any of it, so please just explain it to me already, because none of it makes any sense!"
A small smile crossed Malfoy's face as he folded his arms across his chest, leaning his weight on his back foot. "Do I really need to explain the meaning of a kiss to you?"
"Yes," Harry growled, feeling his patience start to wear thin. Was Malfoy intentionally refusing to answer his questions? Or did he really think that answering a question with another question was an acceptable way to answer?
"It means," Malfoy said, striding closer and closer until his body was only centimeters from Harry's own suddenly nervous one, "that I wanted to kiss you. I could ask you what it means that you kissed me back."
"We're not talking about me," Harry glared, unwilling to discuss his hopeless confusion over just why it was that he had kissed Malfoy back—and not just the once, but twice. "I want to know why you approached me out of nowhere like that and kissed me, especially since you've been actively ignoring me all term." And oh, how Harry missed the simplicity of those peaceful days. Now his life was nothing but strange blonds and bewilderment.
"I've always wanted to kiss you," Malfoy murmured, sending Harry staggering back in shock.
"What the hell does that mean?" he whispered, unsure if he could really believe those words.
"Honestly, Harry," Malfoy rolled his eyes, "it means exactly what I said. I kissed you because I've always wanted to. I wanted to thank you for everything that you did for me, so I figured why not thank you with a kiss?"
"But why now?!" Harry asked shrilly, hating how high-pitched Malfoy was apparently capable of making Harry's voice go. Harry didn't even know his voice could go so high, damn it! "Everything you thanked me for happened months ago! Term started bloody months ago! Why wait until now to approach me, completely out of nowhere like that?"
Malfoy tilted his head again as he thought, and Harry was surprised at how confused he looked at the question, as though he himself did not even know the answer. "I'm not sure," he said slowly, "perhaps I was ashamed? Or shy? Maybe I was simply building up the courage to speak to you. Is it really that important?"
"You make it sound like you don't even know," Harry said, narrowing his eyes.
"It's not something I had paused to consider," Malfoy shrugged. "Perhaps the timing was simply right."
"And what made you think I wouldn't have hexed you blind for it?" Harry wondered curiously, unable to resist asking the question. He had been wondering it since the previous night, wondering just how Malfoy had felt so comfortable walking up to Harry in a dark corridor with no warning before forcing himself on the brunet.
Malfoy shrugged again, appearing unconcerned at the possibility. "Perhaps I simply thought it worth the risk."
Gaping wordlessly, Harry stared at the strange boy in silence, mind struggling to comprehend everything Harry had been told so far. Was Malfoy really confessing to having feelings for Harry? For how bloody long? He had even used the word always—I've always wanted to kiss you. But what did it mean?
"I don't understand you," Harry said weakly after an entire century of the two boys staring at one another in heavy silence. "I don't understand anything you're saying, you're not making any sense! This has to be some sort of stupid, sick joke, Malfoy, I know it! So just tell me now and have your laugh and then we can go back to living in a world that actually makes sense again, yeah?"
"It's not a joke, Harry," Malfoy argued, sounding frustrated. "How many times do I have to tell you that?"
Harry's eyes narrowed as another question suddenly occurred to him. "Why are you calling me by my first name now?" he asked suspiciously. "You've never called me by my first name before. And yet now, out of nowhere, I'm Harry and not Potter. When did that change and why wasn't I made aware of you breaking the rules?"
"The rules?" Malfoy snorted, shaking his head. "What rules?"
"The surname rules! The rule of surnames! The one that says that I'm Potter and you're Malfoy! That rule has existed practically since the moment we met one another, you can't just change it out of nowhere like that, without even telling me!"
"Oh, Harry," Malfoy laughed fondly as he eyed Harry with a warm look. "You are too precious sometimes. I told you I wanted us to have a fresh start, didn't I? And what better way to start than by calling one another by our actual names? I mean, Harry is your name, is it not?"
"It's not," Harry said automatically, earning another laugh from Malfoy. "Well, I mean, yeah it is," the brunet stammered, fighting a sudden blush. "But…"
"Why am I the only one not allowed to call you by your first name?" Malfoy asked, stepping closer.
"Because…" Harry said breathlessly, feeling dizzy from Malfoy's proximity. "Because you're Malfoy. And I'm Potter. So obviously, you know…that's why."
A soft chuckle reached Harry's ears just as a warm hand reached up to rest against the back of Harry's neck. "But it doesn't have to be that way anymore, Harry," Malfoy murmured, studying Harry's face as he leaned in close enough to make Harry's breath catch. "Rules can be changed. People can change."
"No, they can't," Harry shook his head slowly, eyes never leaving Malfoy's face, his gaze fixed on the other boy's pale lips as a gentle smile curved his mouth. "And no, they don't."
"Yes, they do," the blond said softly, reaching his other hand up to tangle in Harry's hair, sending a shiver of anticipation through him at just how goddamn good it felt to have Malfoy's fingers comb through the strands. He closed his eyes at the feeling of Malfoy's fingernails raking over his scalp, deciding that maybe Malfoy couldn't be all evil; not when his hands felt so surprisingly good on Harry. When he opened them again, Malfoy was watching him with a smile. "You like this, don't you? My hand in your hair like this, I mean."
Harry desperately wanted to deny it, wanted nothing more than to inform Malfoy that he most certainly did not like it before punching him in the face and storming from the room and then never looking in the other boy's direction ever again.
But he couldn't.
Harry nodded his head reluctantly, hesitation slowing his every move. Fuck, why wasn't he pushing Malfoy away and storming from the room? Why was he standing there admitting to things he didn't want to admit to and did not even want to acknowledge?
"I'll keep doing it then," Malfoy whispered, and Harry could feel the smile on the other boy's face as he bent forward enough to press his lips to Harry's own, who found himself returning the kiss without ever actually telling his mouth to do anything. Stupid disobedient mouth.
"Harry, mmm," Malfoy sighed, and Harry felt a smoldering heat ignite somewhere in his gut at the breathless sound of the other boy's voice.
Oh, fuck it, Harry thought vehemently, deciding that if Malfoy was going to cheat by moaning Harry's own bloody name like that instead of fighting fair by sticking to the well-known and clearly-established surnames rule that Harry had been rightly sticking to since its invention, then Harry may as well also get something out of it.
With a groan, his arms shot up to wrap around Malfoy's waist, clinging to him like a safety ring as he returned every one of Malfoy's deep kisses. The kisses began to grow fevered and intense, and Harry felt the smoldering in his gut beginning to spread throughout his entire body, setting every nerve ending on fire.
A moan escaped Malfoy as he began to back Harry up, the two of them stumbling along together until they had found the nearest wall and Harry's back was pressed up against it. Malfoy tore his mouth away from Harry's to suck a trail of kisses down his throat, making Harry pant and squirm. Oh, god.
"Fuck, Harry," Malfoy gasped, hands roaming over every inch of Harry's torso as he captured his mouth in another deep kiss. "Fuck, I want you, Harry, so much, you have no idea!"
Harry wanted to disagree, thinking that he might have a very good idea, actually, based on the way that Malfoy was currently attempting to devour him through a kiss, but Harry's mouth was far too preoccupied to argue. And the next words from Malfoy effectively made Harry forget everything the blond had already said, snatching the air from his lungs and the sanity straight from his head.
"Let me suck you, Harry," Malfoy whispered, trailing one hand down Harry's chest and stomach to press down on Harry's tenting trousers, making him inhale sharply in surprise.
"Oh, fuck," he groaned, leaning his head back against the wall, something Malfoy seemed to take as encouragement. He squeezed Harry once more before his fingers began to fumble with the fastenings to Harry's jeans. The sound of his zipper being pulled down snapped Harry back into himself and he automatically reached down to halt Malfoy's attempts at undressing him. "What? No, Malfoy, wait!"
"What is it?" Malfoy panted, still pressing kisses to Harry's throat. "What's wrong?"
Steeling himself for the unwanted separation of his body from Malfoy's, Harry gripped his upper arms and pushed the blond away from himself.
"What's the matter, Harry?" Malfoy asked, sounding confused and hurt and making Harry want to pull him back into his embrace for unexpected—and completely unexplainable—reasons.
But he didn't.
"I can't—we can't," he shook his head. "This is all just—too much. I'm still not even sure what's really going on here! It's just too much too fast, Malfoy."
"You say that like we're strangers," Malfoy scoffed. "You do realize that we've known each other for years, yes?"
"No, we haven't," Harry's eyes narrowed. "We are strangers, you said it yourself. Isn't that the point of the whole first-names-fresh-start thing you were talking about? I've known Malfoy for years, not Draco. And you've known Potter, not Harry. We don't know one another, Malfoy. I still don't even know what any of this means yet, so we just…can't rush into anything. Not until we both feel more certain about things, at least. I mean, I'm still struggling to come to terms with the idea that you might not actually hate me anymore! That idea sort of overturned my entire world just a bit, and anything else on top of that is just…I dunno, too much to comprehend at the moment. I think we both just need some time to actually think about this a bit more, yeah?"
Malfoy wrenched himself free from Harry's grasp to cross his arms over his chest with a huff. "Why in the name of Merlin did I ever have to fall for a Gryffindor with the most aggravating code of ethics I've ever seen in a person? What happened to that impulsive Gryffindor rashness you lot are supposed to be known for? Aren't Gryffindors supposed to do first and think later? You're disgracing your entire House right now with your annoying and irritating thoughtfulness, you know. Are you always such a goddamn overly-thoughtful gentleman, Potter?"
"I thought I was Harry now?" Harry grinned, shaking his head in amusement at Draco's tantrum and somehow adorable pouting.
"Not when you're stopping me from getting off," the blond muttered.
The smile instantly vanished from Harry's face. "Is that all there is to this?" he asked coldly, raising one eyebrow.
At the question, Draco shook his head, looking contrite. "No, of course not, Harry," he said in a low voice. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply anything like that, like I'm only doing this for sex or something. It's just…" he took a deep breath, dropping his gaze down to the floor, "I feel like I've wanted you for my entire life, practically, and it's not easy to be so close and yet still so far away from actually getting you."
At the unexpected admission, Harry felt his body go numb with shock. Stumbling backward, his legs hit the same table he had left the Invisibility Cloak on and Harry gratefully sank down into a seated position atop its surface, unsure how to respond to what Malfoy had just confessed. Harry wasn't even sure what he felt about it yet, let alone what words to say to such an admission!
"Malfoy…" he began wearily, pulling off his glasses and setting them on the table next to him, pressing the heels of both hands into his eyes as he focused on keeping his breathing steady. "Fuck, Malfoy, that's the exact reason we can't rush into anything! I have absolutely no idea how to take any of what you've been telling me, I honestly don't! It just completely goes against everything in this world I believed and I'm sorry, but it might take me some time to be able to accept it as reality. I mean, I have to first figure out a way for this to even start making sense to me."
A soft sigh met his ears, and he lowered his hands from his eyes to glance at Malfoy, who stood several feet away, appearing uncomfortable and rubbing his arms as though cold. "I understand, Harry," he said quietly. "I can give you time to wrap your head around everything if that's what you need. But…just…" he hesitated, sounding as though he was debating finishing whatever he was trying to say.
"Just what?" Harry prodded, watching as Malfoy's cheeks darkened in embarrassment.
"Just…tell me that this isn't just your way of, I don't know, trying to get rid of me or letting me down gently or something because you changed your mind?"
Harry couldn't help but snort at the question. "Malfoy, I don't even know what my mind is right now, that's my whole point." Malfoy looked discouraged at that, folding in on himself, and Harry hated the sight. "But if I knew for sure that I didn't want to have anything to do with you, I'd definitely have let you know by now, I really don't think I'd be subtle about it. When have either of us ever been subtle with one another, hmm?"
"True, I suppose," Malfoy allowed, a small smile lighting his face.
"So," Harry continued, sliding his glasses back on, "I promise that I will think about everything you've told me, like seriously think every single word over, if you promise to give me the time to do that, all right?"
"All right, Harry," Malfoy sighed. "Take the time, think it all through."
"Thank you," Harry said softly, hopping off the desk and folding the Invisibility Cloak over one arm. "We'll talk again soon then, yeah?"
Malfoy nodded without a word, eyes locked on the floor, and Harry wasn't sure what expression it was he saw on Malfoy's face, but he knew he didn't like it. Striding forward, he slid one finger under Malfoy's chin and tilted it up enough to press a soft kiss to his mouth.
"Goodnight then, Malfoy," he murmured, unable to resist stealing just one more kiss before stepping away.
"Goodnight, Harry," Malfoy said quietly as Harry strode to the door, mind whirling.
He had a lot to think about.
oOo
"What are you thinking about?" Ron's loud voice startled Harry, pulling the brunet from the deep well of concentration he was attempting to channel into his Very Serious and Important Thinking, the exact same Very Serious and Important Thinking he had just been interrupted right in the middle of. Did Ron not see how busy Harry was?
"Things," Harry answered listlessly, turning back to stare up at the ceiling of the boys' dorm room. He was lying on his back on his mattress, attempting to mentally re-sort everything he thought he had known about his life.
"You've been up here for hours." Ron's voice came closer as he approached Harry's bed, falling in a graceless heap onto his own mattress and eyeing Harry with a frown. "You weren't at dinner. Did you not eat?"
"I went to the kitchens earlier," Harry responded, still sounding and feeling numb. "I didn't feel like eating in the Great Hall."
"Harry, what's going on with you?" Ron sounded concerned as he peered closely at Harry's face. "What's happened?"
"Nothing," Harry sighed, wondering in the next second why he would even bother telling such an obvious lie.
"Yeah, clearly nothing," Ron said sarcastically, "you're just sunshine and roses up here, aren't you?"
"Yep," Harry agreed, figuring he had already told Ron such a blatant lie that he may as well tell another.
"Yep," Ron shook his head. "Just a big old box of rainbows you are. A giant sock full of happy kittens."
"Exactly. Kittens and socks, that's me."
"I'll get Hermione if I have to," Ron threatened, fixing him with a stern look that reminded Harry of Molly's very best 'don't talk back to your mother' face, making Harry frown at the sight. Ron couldn't give him that face, he wasn't Harry's mother. Harry's own mother didn't even get to give him that face, on account of her not actually being around to be able to give it. And if she couldn't give it, nobody else could give it to Harry either.
Harry shot him a two-finger salute in response.
"Okay, you bloody asked for it then." Ron climbed to his feet as he spoke and strode quickly from the room. As the door clicked shut behind him, Harry considered escaping before they got back but decided against it; he didn't really feel like moving.
Two minutes of peaceful calm passed, and Harry tried to enjoy the silence as much as he could before his friends came back in and forced him to vomit up every single confession that had been weighing on him so heavily the last two days. Two days since Harry and Malfoy had last spoken in the tower, and he still had no idea what to make of any of it; his mind was no less of a muddled mess than it had been that night.
Christ, though, it had somehow made more sense to Harry to find out that he had had a piece of Voldemort's soul living inside him for most of his life than it did to find out that Malfoy might just fancy him.
How could Malfoy fancy him? Harry's brain was still screaming how impossible and unlikely such a thing really was—how could Harry make himself accept something in such flagrant opposition of every single law of nature and the universe? Malfoy was going against the bloody laws of nature by telling the brunet such a thing, and Harry didn't know how to accept anything that went against the laws of nature.
Well, other than magic, he supposed. And ghosts. And homework.
He was jerked from his thoughts once more by the sound of the door opening, and he half-turned his head in time to see a mass of brown curls rush into the room, gasping as she flew to his bed.
"Harry!" Hermione sounded worried enough to startle Harry into sitting up. Had something happened? "Are you all right? Ron told me there was something really wrong with you! He said something about finding you lying on your mattress half dead and unable to move! And he said that everything you were saying to him was absolute gibberish! Did someone manage to slip you a badly-brewed potion? Or hit you with some sort of curse?"
Harry sat up more fully, raising one eyebrow at Hermione as he waited for her to realize that he still had the working use of all his limbs.
Hermione's eyes suddenly widened before narrowing dangerously. "What the hell is the matter with him?" she gritted out, crossing her arms and dropping down onto Ron's bed with an angry huff.
Loud laughter caught their attention, and they turned as one to find Ron standing in the doorway, grinning. "I thought that might get you up here faster."
"I was really worried!" Hermione glared. "Don't ever do that again, I thought Harry was really injured!"
Just my peace of mind, he thought wryly, shaking his head to himself.
"Eh, I may have overdramatized it just a bit," Ron shrugged, crossing the room to sit next to Hermione on his bed, "but there really is something wrong with him, and everything he was saying may as well have been gibberish for all the sense it was making. And he wouldn't tell me what it's about, so that's where you come in, Hermione." He smiled brightly at her. "You're my cavalry. And you're way better at dealing with all the emotional bollocksy-type stuff, so I figured you would really be the best choice for getting Harry to admit to whatever it is that has him moping around up here like some sort of soulless, dead-eyed Inferius."
Harry and Hermione exchanged a look before turning back to Ron. "Um," Hermione began, "an Inferius already is soulless and dead-eyed, Ron. They're nothing more than walking corpses, you should know this, we studied them in sixth year."
"Yeah, well," Ron rolled his eyes, "especially soulless and extra dead-eyed, then. I mean, look at him, Hermione! Is that not the face of a living, breathing corpse?"
"Cheers," Harry said dryly, flopping back down on his mattress and staring up at the ceiling once more.
"Oh, you only deny it 'cos you're not the one actually looking at yourself right now," Ron scoffed. "But if you were, even you would have to admit that you're a bit of a talking Inferius at the moment, mate. If Inferi were near-sighted, of course."
The statement made Harry's lips twitch despite himself. "You're the weird one for hanging out with an Inferius then, not me for being one."
"You tell yourself whatever makes you feel better, Harry."
"What's going on, Harry?" Hermione interrupted before Harry could come up with a retort—a retort he had no doubt would have gone down in the history books as the wittiest and most scathing retort ever uttered. Saved by his girlfriend, Harry thought, narrowing his eyes at Ron, who grinned back as though he knew exactly what Harry was thinking.
"What makes the two of you so certain there's something going on?" Harry mumbled, knowing there was no real lie he could tell about how he was feeling that they would not immediately see through.
"Um, maybe because we have eyeballs?"
Harry shot a half-hearted glare at Ron in response.
"Talk to us, Harry," Hermione said quietly, "we just want to help."
Harry was silent for several moments. "I don't know if I even can," he finally said, speaking in a low voice. "I don't even understand any of it myself. It just…" he sighed heavily, tugging at the ends of his hair in frustration. "I can't even get it to make sense in my mind, I doubt I'd be able to put it into words."
"Let us decide if it makes sense or not," said Hermione, and Harry wondered if it really would help to talk about everything that had happened.
"Well…" he began, sitting up slowly and hesitating as he wondered how to put his confusion into words. "Have either of you…ever been attracted to someone you thought you hated? Used to hate. I really did hate them. Only now I'm not sure at all how I feel about them. How can you just get over that kind of intense hatred? Like the kind that you've had for years, even if you really might be attracted to them now? Only, what if you never knew you were? What if you were really attracted to them the entire time you were hating them, but you never even knew it? Is that even possible? Would that still even count if you're not even aware of it? Can you really be attracted to someone you genuinely hate? Or does that attraction automatically mean that maybe you always hated them less than you thought you always did? Or would it maybe make you hate them even more because you're attracted to them? Maybe you actually only hated them so much because of this subconscious underlying attraction that you didn't even know about. And maybe the both of you hated each other for this attraction, which is just bloody weird all by itself. But now maybe one of you wants to act on it but the other one isn't really sure. I mean, is something like a relationship even possible with someone you once hated more than almost every single person you've ever met in your entire life? And they say it's not just about shagging and that their feelings are genuine, but how do you really know that for sure? Can you ever truly trust someone you once loathed? Someone who once actively tried to make your life hard and make you feel like shit all the time? But does any of that really even matter if kissing them now makes you feel like…" Harry trailed off before fixing Ron and Hermione with a desperate look. "Do you know what I'm talking about?"
Both of them stared at Harry, mouths parted in surprise. Ron turned to give Hermione a bemused look. "Well, he was right, Hermione. That made absolutely no sense."
"I told you it wouldn't," Harry muttered, collapsing back onto the mattress.
"Can you at least tell us who you're talking about?" Hermione wondered, sounding confused. "I think it might make more sense if we knew."
"That's the most confusing part of all of it, though, is the name," Harry admitted, closing his eyes with a grimace. "I mean, have either of you ever been attracted to someone you hate?"
"Are you forgetting about Lavender?" Ron asked sarcastically, and Harry felt his lips twitch.
"We've been trying to forget about Lavender since sixth year," he grinned, opening his eyes just in time to catch Hermione's exasperated head shake. "And besides," Harry continued, "that's different. I mean, you didn't hate her before you started dating, did you? It was only after she was already your girlfriend that she showed everyone her true colors as a needy possessive lunatic who clung to you like a bloody Grindylow."
"Yeah," Ron laughed, rubbing his neck sheepishly, "that about sums up my first girlfriend. Thank god I got away from that one and into a relationship I actually enjoy, yeah?"
"Yes," Hermione smirked at him, "thank god for that, Won-Won."
Harry burst out laughing, the sound only encouraged by Ron's flushed face. "We're all grateful you got out of that relationship, Won-Won," Harry said, laughing even harder.
"All right," Ron shook his head, attempting to look threatening, "the next person to call me Won-Won—"
"Gets a horrible gold necklace that says 'my sweetheart' on it?" Harry interrupted with a grin. "Didn't we decide that was way more of a punishment than a present?"
"This is what I get from my best mate for trying to save him from turning into a bloody Inferius," Ron lamented, but Harry could see his lips twitching despite his red cheeks. "Ridiculed about a time in my life I hoped we had all forgotten."
"You're the one that brought her up," Hermione pointed out, laughing at Ron's embarrassment.
"Yeah, but I was trying to connect to what Harry was saying! He's the one with the issues here, not me!"
"At least Lavender was never one of my issues," Harry said lightly, still grinning.
"Must we continue with this?" Ron grumbled. "Merlin's balls already, we were talking about you, Harry, and your problems. Can we get back to this mystery girl you want to hate-shag?"
"What about you, Hermione?" Harry turned to her, ignoring the incorrect use of 'girl' in Ron's question. "Have you ever hated someone and been attracted to them at the same time?"
"Well, there were times when I really did hate Ron but still found him attractive," she smiled softly, bumping her shoulder into his, "but we've been recently forbidden from mentioning those times he so clearly wants forgotten, when he was dating the person we've all recently been forbidden from naming."
Ron bumped her shoulder back with a shake of his head and a grin.
"Yeah," Harry sighed, watching their easy exchange with one another and feeling his stomach tighten in envy, "but that's still different. You already fancied Ron before you hated him, and you went from being friends to not speaking. I'm talking about hating someone, practically from the very first moment you met them, and then finding out that maybe they're an actual person with actual real feelings and maybe some of those actual feelings are for you and maybe you might actually be sort of attracted to them too, even if you wouldn't necessarily describe it as having feelings for them, because they really have been an absolute sodding dickhead wanker to you the entire time you've known them, and maybe they still are but you just don't know what to believe anymore because the entire situation is the most confusing situation you've ever been in!"
"Harry," Ron said slowly, and Harry immediately tensed at the cautious tone in Ron's voice. "You're not talking about a girl, are you?" Harry felt himself grimace as Ron continued. "There's only one person in this entire school that you've ever felt that way about…and he is definitely not a girl."
"No," Harry said quietly, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the expressions on either of their faces, "he's not."
Nobody said a word, the silence stretching into minutes as Harry waited for the disgust and the reprimands to begin.
"How did you," Hermione began, finally breaking the silence and startling Harry into opening his eyes, "how did you, erm, find out that you might be attracted to him?"
"Er, well…" Harry flushed, sitting up on the bed and pulling his knees up to his chest before wrapping his arms around his legs as he tried to figure out the best way to tell them what had been happening. "He, er…well, he, um, sort of…er, kissed me. A bit." Harry felt his entire upper body turn bright red as he hid his face in his knees, not wanting to see whatever expressions the admission had put on the faces of his friends.
"And, um, how was it?" Hermione asked cautiously.
Harry huffed a laugh. "Fucking weird."
"So, you didn't pull away and punch him in the face?" Ron wondered, sounding confused. "That definitely is weird, I'll give you that."
"No, I…" Harry took a deep breath, mumbling the words into the safety of his knees, hoping Ron and Hermione wouldn't actually hear anything he was saying and wouldn't actually remember any of the conversation and Harry could somehow wake up in a world where none of this mess was happening. "I, er…sortofmaybekissedhimback. Possibly. A bit. Maybe. For barely even a second, probably."
Neither Ron nor Hermione said anything for a long time, and Harry finally risked a glance up to find them staring at one another, seemingly having an entire silent conversation from facial expressions alone.
"I mean, I did push him away!" Harry dropped his gaze back down to his knees. "Eventually. It just sort of…took a minute for me to do it. And then he cornered me again the next morning and pretty much threw himself at me again, and then told me he'd explain everything if I met with him later that night. So, I went and met up with him and he was saying all these things that I'm honestly not sure if I even believe, about how he kissed me because he's wanted to forever and that he's wanted me for bloody years, and he was calling me by my first name and telling me he wants us to start everything over, and then…he kissed me again. And…I don't know, I kissed back again because apparently, I'm a bloody idiot who gets off on confusion. But, god, he's just so fucking…hot, you know? Like in a really stuck-up, arrogant, posh wanker sort of way that shouldn't be attractive but it actually sort of is on him, and I don't think I really even realized how hot I think he is until he started throwing himself at me every time I turn a bloody corner! And then—" Harry suddenly clamped his lips shut as a fierce blush threatened to incinerate him whole. No, he drew the line at telling them what Malfoy had said to him, had whispered right against Harry's kiss-swollen lips—let me suck you, Harry.
Merlin. Just the thought of it made Harry shiver.
Surely that couldn't be a joke, could it? Who the hell sucked someone's cock for a bloody joke? Malfoy never did anything he didn't want to do; if he had offered to suck Harry off, then it must have been because he actually wanted to, right?
Unless sucking someone's cock can somehow be used in an evil plot I've yet to figure out, and I almost played right into his evil hands by letting him blow me, Harry thought to himself distractedly, banishing the strange thought as he glanced over to find both Ron and Hermione staring at him with wide eyes.
"I just don't know what any of it means," Harry said quietly, dropping his gaze back to his knees. "I don't know what to believe and I don't even know how I really feel about any of it. And he doesn't even seem confused at all! I'm bloody confused enough for the both of us and he's just so goddamn calm about it all, as if it somehow just makes so much sense to the prat! I mean, honestly, what part of any of this makes the slightest bit of sense to either of you?!"
"Well," Hermione began hesitantly, and Harry's head snapped up in response. Well, what? "I mean, you two have always had…a very intense sort of chemistry, you know? There was always a very impassioned energy between the both of you. And you spent an entire year of school following him around, and…"
"And what?" Harry asked suspiciously, wondering just what else Hermione was adding to the nonsensical list of things that somehow made sense in this implausible, backwards world they were living in. It was a list that Harry had been convinced did not exist, in either this backwards world or in any other kind of world.
"Well," she blushed slightly, "don't you remember the Yule Ball?"
"'Course I do," he said, feeling confused. "I was there." What did the Yule Ball have to do with anything?
"I guess you weren't even aware of it then," Hermione said quietly to herself with a rueful smile.
"Aware of what?"
"The way you stared at him," she stated bluntly, studying Harry's face.
"Stared at who?" he muttered in a sulky voice, feeling his stomach drop.
"Oh, don't play dumb, Harry, it doesn't suit you," Hermione said impatiently. "You know who."
Harry decided to stick with playing dumb; it was a brilliant plan and could surely never fail him. "I never stared at Voldemort at the Yule Ball!"
At that, Ron snorted loudly.
"All right, Harry," Hermione shook her head, "keep denying it to yourself if you like. But you did stare at him, and I know you know who."
"But Voldemort wasn't even at the Yule Ball, Hermione," Ron grinned, and Harry was glad to see that he didn't seem angry or upset about Harry's splattered mess of revelations.
She rolled her eyes at the redhead. "Oh, for god's sake, the both of you. I'm trying to take this seriously!"
"What do you think I should do?" The question was asked in a tiny voice, cutting off whatever Ron had been opening his mouth to respond with.
Hermione and Ron exchanged another glance. "I don't really think either of us can tell you what to do, Harry," she said softly, coming to sit next to him on his bed. "I think you have to figure out your own feelings for yourself in this kind of situation. I've certainly never been in a situation such as this and I honestly can't even imagine the sort of confusion you must be dealing with. But…I don't know, maybe just try asking yourself if the way he makes you feel now is strong enough to make you want to move on from the way you used to feel toward him in the past. Would you rather continue to hold onto the anger and the hatred you once had for him, or would you rather allow yourself the opportunity to find out whether the two of you really might have something between you?"
"Why aren't the two of you more upset about this?" Harry mumbled, feeling a warm rush of gratitude sweep through him at the fact that he had someone such as Hermione in his life.
"Well," Ron shrugged, "you sort of seem upset enough for all of us, to be honest, so I really don't see the point in adding to it. And I know he's always been a stupid fucking arrogant tosser knobhead wank-stained vicious twat, probably the twattiest twat in the entire bloody book of twats, if I'm honest, but that was back before the war really started, you know? He can't get away with being who he was before, just some loud outspoken supremacist constantly going on and on about how superior purebloods are—he'd get torn apart for it in a second if he tried any of that shit now. And he really has nothing to feel superior about anymore, since all his pride was wrapped up in his blood status and his wanker dad and his wanker dad's gold, but he doesn't really have any of that anymore, does he? His dad's serving a life sentence in Azkaban, and I heard from my dad that most of their possessions were sold to pay war reparations and legal fees, and the entire nation looks down on him now as nothing but a Death Eater, so he really has no status of any kind anymore at all.
"I mean, don't get me wrong," Ron continued, holding up a hand at Harry and Hermione's surprised faces, "I still don't like the git and I don't know if I ever actually will 'cos he's still a git and he'll always be a git, even if he does end up becoming the future Mrs Potter." Harry felt himself blush at that and Ron grinned. "And I know I would feel a fuck of a lot different about him if his side had won the war—even though all of us would most likely be dead by now if that were the case—but, I mean, he lost, didn't he?" Ron's grin widened. "And you lot know me, I'm too damn kind-hearted to be anything but a gracious winner in the face of his defeat."
By the time Ron finished speaking, Harry's mouth was hanging open in shock. Did Ron really just say all of that…and did he really genuinely mean it? Harry and Hermione slowly turned to face one another, exchanging looks of surprise before Hermione suddenly left Harry's mattress and went to sit by Ron, seizing his face between both hands to pull him forward into a hard kiss.
"Remember what I said about you having the emotional range of a teaspoon and being born without a single ounce of tact and being less mature than most first-years?" Hermione asked him quietly, waiting until he nodded. "Well, I take it all back, Ronald. I was honestly not expecting that from you." She kissed him again and he pulled back with a wide grin.
"Learn from this then and don't underestimate me next time. I can be mature too, you know," he told her, "you're not the only one out of the three of us capable of maturity."
"Uh, speak for yourself," Harry cut in, "I am definitely more mature than you! You're practically a toddler compared to me! Hermione, tell him how mature I am."
"Um, did you not hear Hermione just praise my legendary maturity right in front of your face?" Ron raised an eyebrow at Harry. "I think I already won, mate. Plus, you're the one who was talking about still hating Malfoy and I'm the one who just gave a lovely speech about letting things go and moving on from the past and having grace in victory and all that sentimental rubbishy rot. Right, Hermione?" he turned to face his girlfriend. "Tell him how much more mature I am."
"Oh, good lord, I take it all back," Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples. "Congratulations, you're both back to being just as equally immature."
"Well, now look what you did, Harry!" Ron glared as he fought twitching lips. "It's taken me over seven years to finally get her to acknowledge me as a mature, manly adult, and you ruin it within the first sodding minute!"
"I don't think I ever actually said the word 'manly'," Hermione chuckled, laughing harder at the offended look Ron gave her.
"You don't need to, it's already implied in everything you say."
"More like incorrectly inferred in everything you hear."
"Can you two save the gross flirty banter for when I'm not here?" Harry interrupted, already knowing such a conversation would end in a round of heated snogging between the two of them if allowed to run its sickening course. "'Cos, you know, urgh. Not all of us want to continue being traumatized any more than we already have been."
"Planning on saving all your gross flirty banter for Malfoy, then?" Ron grinned, wrapping an arm around Hermione's shoulders and pulling her into his side.
"Yep, that's exactly what I was planning," Harry rolled his eyes, "'cos Malfoy and I are all about the flirty banter, definitely. We can't get enough of it."
"I know," Ron rolled his eyes right back at Harry. "I've gone to school with the both of you for the past seven years."
"Piss off," Harry chuckled, shaking his head.
"No, you piss off," Ron shot back with a grin. "Hermione and I have more flirty banter to exchange, and you just said you don't want to hear it, so..."
"I was fucking here first, you prat!"
"All right," Ron shrugged, "stay and listen to it then if you really want."
"Oh, Jesus Christ," Harry groaned, already climbing to his feet.
"Not even he can help you now, Harry," Ron said gravely. "Not now that you fancy Malfoy."
"And don't I fucking know it," Harry chuckled, opening his trunk to grab the Cloak and the Map and shooting Ron a final two-finger salute before leaving the room, wondering where he wanted to go now that he was officially banished from his dorm for who knew how long.
His heart started to pound as a sudden idea sprang to mind. Cautiously, he exited the portrait hole and pulled the map from his bag, heart hammering faster and faster the more he scanned it, wondering where the blond was…he smiled as he finally spotted Malfoy's dot, all alone in the boathouse.
Perfect.
oOo
The boathouse was dark. The only illumination was the moonlight reflecting off the still surface of the black lake spread before him, making Harry feel as though he was staring into two different night skies, one above him and one below, surrounding him in a cage of stars. Small ripples would occasionally shatter the silver face of the moon's reflection, and Harry couldn't help but wonder what was causing them. The Giant Squid? Grindylows? A mermaid? Harry supposed it made no difference.
Taking a deep breath and wondering for the hundredth time in the last five minutes if he had lost his bloody mind, Harry entered the building and stared around, seeing nothing. All he could hear was the gentle lap of water against the wet rocks beneath his feet and a soft creak of wood from the single boat tied up and left floating on the water.
"Malfoy?" Harry called quietly, glancing around himself.
"Harry?" a voice said in surprise, and Harry saw a sudden dark shape sit up in the boat still gently bobbing up and down. "What are you doing here?"
"Er, looking for you, actually," Harry admitted, feeling himself blush, and he was grateful for the dim light.
Without a word, Malfoy scrambled from the boat and rushed to where Harry stood, the brunet feeling awkward and embarrassed. Why had he shown up? He wasn't even sure. What was he expecting to happen?
"Did you really come to find me?" Malfoy breathed, staring at him in wonder, and all Harry could do was nod in response. "Why?"
"Er, well…" he shrugged, hoping Malfoy could not see the fierce blush Harry could feel burning his cheeks, threatening to incinerate his entire head in flames. "I mean, I said we would talk later, yeah? And you've been decent at keeping your distance and giving me time to think"—not counting the searing, intense looks Malfoy had been shooting at Harry all throughout the past two days—"and I have been. Thinking about it, I mean. About—about you and me. And I figure, you know, maybe it's time we talked, yeah?"
"Okay," Malfoy whispered, and even in the darkness, Harry could see the naked hope on his face. It sent a hot swooping sensation through Harry's stomach at the sight.
Reaching out for his hand, Malfoy slipped his fingers through Harry's and led him back to the boat the blond had been sitting in, helping Harry keep his balance as he climbed into it, the Slytherin stepping in much more gracefully than Harry had managed. Harry settled down as best he could without rocking the wide canoe too much, smiling at the way Malfoy had already Transfigured the bottom of the boat into a flat comfortable surface to lay on.
But now that they were sitting so close, facing each other with no walls or Invisibility Cloaks to hide behind, Harry did not know what to say. He gazed down instead, over the side of the canoe at the rippling black water below them, feeling himself slowly start to relax at the comforting bobbing motions of the boat.
"What did you want to speak to me about, Harry?" Malfoy whispered, appearing almost afraid that Harry would bolt if he spoke too loudly. As he said Harry's name, Malfoy reached out one hand to place atop Harry's knee, as though unable to stop himself from touching the brunet.
"About…" Harry swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the confusing, twisting sensation that rolled through his insides at the feel of those fingers stroking his knee lightly, "about us. You know—you and me. And…everything," he finished weakly, waving a hand as though that in any way explained what he meant by 'everything'.
"What about you and me?" Malfoy's voice was even quieter, barely louder than the cold breeze slipping past them, and at Harry's shiver, Malfoy pulled out his wand and cast a warming charm over the two of them, surprising Harry at his consideration.
"I—I've been thinking…" Harry began uncertainly, wondering how on earth he could ever manage to phrase his horribly confusing feelings into actual words he could actually say to another human being. I've been thinking about you nonstop and think I might actually fancy you and want to maybe see how you felt about giving us an actual real chance, and I would also now please like the blowjob I stupidly turned down the last time we saw each other when you offered to suck me off and I said no like an idiot.
No, there was simply no chance in hell Harry was ever going to saying something like that.
"Yes?" Malfoy prompted, shifting a fraction closer.
"Well, I-I've been thinking…and…" If it wouldn't come off as being strange, Harry would've smacked himself in the trachea for the way his stupid throat seemed so unwilling to get actual sentences or any sort of useful words up into his mouth. Why were useful words always so hard to find when Harry needed them? How had every single word in the English language somehow deserted him in his hour of need?
Well, fuck it then, Harry thought with determination. If he could not find the right words, then maybe he wouldn't use any words at all.
Feeling only slightly close to a heart attack from the panic and nerves surging through him, Harry reached trembling fingers up to cup Malfoy's jaw between two hands, allowing his eyes to slide closed as he bent forward enough to kiss the blond right on the mouth, and at the contact, Malfoy made a soft noise of surprise, freezing for half a second in shock before his entire body melted into Harry. He released a shaky moan into Harry's mouth as Harry deepened the kiss, happy to find that the electricity between them had not vanished; sparks seemed to zip up and down Harry's spine, race through his blood, dance across his skin.
How was it possible that Malfoy, of all people, was the only one so far able to make Harry feel like this? He made Harry feel alive, he made him feel electric, like he was somehow pouring lightning into Harry's mouth and down his throat through every scorching kiss they exchanged, pumping heat and electricity directly into his heart, searing through his veins and heating even his bones. Malfoy moaned again, raking his fingers through Harry's hair and gripping tight, using his hold to pull Harry into a harder kiss, an even more intense press of lips and wet, twining tongues, the sensations all swirling together until Harry was feeling nearly dizzy from how much he wanted Malfoy.
As if Malfoy could read his mind, he began to press against Harry, encouraging him to lay down on the Transfigured floor of the boat. Harry clutched Malfoy tightly to himself, pulling the blond down on top of him and smiling in approval at the new position.
"Oh, god, Harry," Malfoy whispered, stroking his face in awe, "I can't believe this is really happening, I feel like I've been waiting for it for so long."
"I can't believe it either," Harry agreed, smiling in disbelief against Malfoy's mouth as he bent down to press his lips to Harry's own once more.
"God, I want you so much, Harry," Malfoy panted, rocking his hips down against Harry's own and groaning. "God, please say you'll let me suck you off this time!"
"I definitely won't stop you," Harry whispered, shivering at the look in Malfoy's eyes, almost as though he didn't want to swallow just Harry's cock, but his body and his entire being, maybe even his soul, as well.
Without needing any further encouragement, Malfoy began to slide his hands under the fabric of Harry's baggy t-shirt, dragging his palms across every inch of warm flesh they could find, and Harry shivered again at the feeling. The shirt was shoved up to expose Harry's torso, and Malfoy stared down at Harry's bare chest in wonder before suddenly ducking his head and beginning to suck kisses across Harry's chest and down his stomach—hot, wet kisses that made Harry tremble and moan. Every sound that escaped Harry's lips seemed to encourage Malfoy even more, and Harry felt himself tense in anticipation as Malfoy's fingers finally reached the fastenings to his worn denims and quickly tugged them open, as though scared Harry was about to change his mind again.
But stopping was the furthest thing from Harry's mind at that moment. Malfoy tugged Harry's jeans and pants down far enough to free his cock, already stiff and leaking in anticipation of Malfoy's touch. Malfoy spent several minutes stroking it lightly, the touch growing firmer and more confident as he continued.
"Harry," he whispered, gaze flicking up to meet Harry's own, and Harry felt himself pulse at the look of pure hunger on Malfoy's face, the sight of scorching lust pouring from his eyes. Without warning, he ducked his head and sucked half of Harry's cock into his mouth, startling Harry and making him cry out wordlessly.
At the sound, Malfoy sucked even harder, pulling back to the tip and swirling his tongue around the head.
"Oh, god, Malfoy," Harry moaned, fists clenching and unclenching uselessly at his sides.
Malfoy slowly began to lower his head, flattening his tongue along the underside of Harry's shaft and breathing deeply through his nose as he took as much of Harry in as he could, holding the position as long as he could before pulling back to the tip with a hard suck. He licked around the head several more times, reaching out to grasp the base of Harry's cock with one hand and stroking lightly as he began to bob his head up and down, building a steady tempo, and Harry heard himself whimper as he fought the urge to thrust up fully into the tight, wet heat.
Oh, god, Harry wasn't sure how much longer he could last, and it felt like it had only just started.
"Malfoy," he panted, groaning as Malfoy hummed. "Malfoy, fuck, I'm so fucking close, oh my god!"
Malfoy hummed again, drawing it out and making Harry's body tense as he felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge. Throwing his head back, Harry came with a sharp breathy cry, feeling Malfoy swallowing around him, the brunet shuddering at the feeling.
Finally, Malfoy pulled back with a strange expression, one that seemed to be an odd combination of sadness, fear, and resignation. The look confused Harry and he knew that he did not like it. Tucking himself away and sitting up, Harry reached out to stroke Draco's cheek with his thumb, pulling him forward into a gentle kiss.
Harry kissed him for several wonderful moments before grabbing him by the shoulders and flipping them without warning, grinning as he loomed over Malfoy with a feral smile, liking the sight of Malfoy on his back beneath him.
"Harry," Malfoy whispered, sounding surprised, and Harry liked that he had surprised him.
"I think you deserve a turn now too, don't you?" Harry smirked, pulling Malfoy's shirt free from his trousers and fumbling with the buttons, getting half of them undone before giving up and simply pushing the fabric up as high as it could go before dropping down to press a wet kiss to the middle of Malfoy's chest. He moaned as Harry licked a long stripe down the muscled bumps of his stomach and back up, staring at Malfoy's nipples for half a second in indecision before mentally shrugging to himself and taking one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the nub and breathing hotly over the wet skin before tugging at it with his teeth.
Beneath him, Malfoy squirmed and thrashed, panting wildly. "Oh, god, Harry, please touch me, please! I'm going to come if you keep this up!"
"Really?" Harry pulled back to eye him with a pleased expression, one that Malfoy did not return. "Oh, fine," Harry sighed with a grin, pressing a quick kiss to Malfoy's lips before shifting low enough to get his trousers open, doing what he had done for Harry and pulling them down only just far enough to free his cock. He offered Malfoy a nervous smile before taking a deep breath, reminding himself that he was a brave Gryffindor and was certainly more than capable of handling another boy's erect penis and that it would certainly be no more nerve-wracking than battling the forces of darkness had been. Harry was no stranger to cocks. After all, he had been the proud—more or less—owner of one for eighteen whole years.
Without another thought, Harry reached out to grasp the base and guide the tip into his mouth, startling at the loud gasp Malfoy made as he arched his back. Smirking to himself, Harry sucked at the very tip and dipped his tongue into the slit, trying to remember everything that Ginny had ever done to him that had felt good. He pulled away to give the shaft a few quick strokes before sliding it back into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks as he ducked his head lower and lower, wanting to see how much he could take in before his gag reflex won out, and wondering if he would be able to defeat his gag reflex his very first time, like the true Gryffindor champion he had always been told he was.
Unfortunately, his gag reflex won, making Harry have to reevaluate everything he had been hoping about Gryffindor willpower being strong enough to trump any obstacle it encountered, even something as simple and annoying as his own gag reflex. His willpower could defeat Voldemort, but not his own sodding gag reflex? Stupid gag reflex, didn't it see that Harry wanted Malfoy's prick to be there?
Pulling back and coughing as inconspicuously as one is able to whilst choking to death and possibly almost dying, yet again, Harry kept one hand on Malfoy while he tried to get his breathing back under control.
"Is this your first time doing this, Harry?" Malfoy asked quietly, and Harry glanced up to see the blond staring at him oddly, in a way that Harry was almost tempted to label as protective. Possessive, more likely. Whatever the expression, it made Harry shiver, but not in an unpleasant way.
Swallowing and feeling relieved as his breathing finally calmed down and went back to normal, Harry nodded. "First time with a bloke, yeah."
At the admission, Malfoy's eyes darkened, and Harry felt the cock in his hand twitch. "Christ, Harry, I can't believe I'm really your first bloke. Fuck, you have no idea how fucking hot you are, do you?"
Harry ducked his head as a blush spread across his face. He had been told, quite a lot and by quite a lot of people—well, more like psycho rabid fanatical lunatics—that he was attractive, that he was the most attractive thing they'd ever seen and they wanted nothing more than to be with him, but Harry had never believed any of them. They didn't think he was attractive, they thought his name was attractive, they thought his fame and influence and supposed power was attractive, but not Harry. Never just Harry. The deranged perverts who tried to slip him love potions didn't want to enslave Harry, they wanted to enslave Harry Potter, they wanted the Boy-Who-Lived, not the Boy-Behind-the-Stupid-Title.
But the way Malfoy was staring at him, like Harry was the most important thing in the entire world, the way he had whispered Harry's name earlier and the way he had carded his fingers so gently through Harry's hair…Harry felt like, for the very first time, he might actually be able to believe that somebody found Harry, just Harry, attractive and desirable. Even with Ginny, he had never fully been able to believe her feelings for him, since she had always been a fan before a friend—she had been star struck before they had ever even met; she had fallen in love with his name before she had ever even spoken to him.
But with Malfoy…Harry thought he really might just believe the other boy.
With that new revelation settled and a new determination to blow Malfoy's mind—well, not exactly his mind, but definitely something of his—Harry took him back into his mouth with no warning, deciding he could not ever imagine getting bored of hearing Malfoy's shocked arousal. Malfoy made a high-pitched whimper as he threw his head back sharply, fists clenched in the fabric of his half-unbuttoned shirt, as though he needed something to grip onto. Harry took him as deep as he could, very aware of his limits this time.
As Malfoy's cries grew more desperate, Harry sped up his movements, pulling his mouth back to the tip and sucking hard at the head. And at that, Malfoy came.
Hot, bitter liquid was suddenly filling Harry's mouth, hitting the back of his throat and making him cough as he tried his best to swallow around his choking, wondering for the second time that night if he might possibly end up being the very first person to die from giving head. God, how fucking embarrassing would that headstone be?
"Sorry," Malfoy panted, lifting one hand to pat Harry weakly on the arm. "I should have warned you I was close."
"No," Harry shrugged, trying to act casual and pretend like his face wasn't on fire with the world's fiercest blush, just as he was trying to pretend that he had not nearly just died giving a blowjob to the super-fit-but-semi-evil prat he had been so sure only days ago that he hated. "I mean, I knew it was going to happen at some point. I just…" his blush deepened, and all he could do was hope that Malfoy's pleasure had been so intense that it had temporarily robbed him of his eyesight and the blond was not currently able to see the embarrassment Harry could feel burning his cheeks like fire, "I just hadn't expected it to be like that."
Malfoy smiled fondly at him, buckling his trousers back into place and sitting up before attempting to smooth his hair back down into the usual slicked-back look he always sported.
"Don't," Harry blurted, startling the both of them.
"Don't what?" Malfoy asked in confusion, pausing as he tried to sweep the hair from his forehead.
"Don't fix it," Harry said softly, feeling another blush sweep over his face. "Your hair, I mean. I—I like it like that. Loose like that."
Malfoy immediately stopped trying to sort out his hair and instead pinned Harry with a serious stare. "You do?"
"Yeah," the brunet shrugged, trying to act like it was no big deal to confess to another bloke—one he had spent years actively hating and whom he knew had actively hated him right back—that Harry found him attractive.
"I'll leave it then," Malfoy swallowed, suddenly seeming unsure of himself.
Glancing around, Harry searched for his wand, casting another warming charm over them before pulling Malfoy down to lie side-by-side on the comfortable transfigured floor of the boat they were sat in, feeling it gently rock up and down in the lake as the soft sounds of water slapping against hard rock echoed around the underground harbor. Harry could see a sliver of winter moonlight peeking through the wooden slats of the roof directly above where the two boys lay together, a tiny slice of silver falling down on the two of them.
"I'm glad I came here tonight," he said in a quiet voice, finally breaking the silence.
"So am I," Malfoy turned his head to smile at him. The smile vanished, however, as he turned back to face the ceiling. "Why did you come, Harry?"
"Well," Harry sighed, "I'm not actually a hundred percent sure, but I think I came earlier because some blond bloke sucked me off in the boathouse. I've heard it's not too uncommon for a bloke to come when someone's got his dick in their mouth."
Malfoy snorted, turning to Harry with a grin. "You know what I meant, prat."
"Yeah," Harry nodded, turning away as everything suddenly felt much more serious. Oh god, they were going to have the conversation now, weren't they? The conversation that Harry knew had to happen but had been hoping to somehow magically avoid.
Damn.
"It wasn't…" Malfoy trailed off, sounding unsure, "it wasn't just to…"
"Just to what?"
"Just to…collect on what you had turned down the last time?"
Harry could practically feel Malfoy's blush heating his own skin.
"Do you think I'd still be lying here next to you if that's what it was about? Or that I would have returned the favor?" Harry asked calmly, reaching down to thread his fingers through Malfoy's, the same as Malfoy had done when leading Harry over to the very boat they now lay in.
"But I thought…"
"So did I," Harry shrugged. "I thought a lot. About all of it, and I realized…I don't want to hold onto the past anymore; I don't want to hold onto a version of you that may not even exist anymore. And I thought about the fact that…I want to actually find out if he does still exist; I want to find out how much you've changed, how much we've both changed. I want to find out…" his words trailed off into silence as sudden embarrassment threatened to consume him whole.
"Find out what?" Malfoy breathed, staring at Harry with the most intense pair of eyes Harry had ever had gaze at him.
And under the overwhelming power of those eyes, Harry found himself blurting out what he had initially been too embarrassed to say. "I want to find out why you make me feel like this, Draco," Harry whispered, and he heard Malfoy's breath catch at Harry's use of his given name. "I want to find out why you're the only person who's ever made me feel so…"
"So what?" Malfoy whispered, but Harry was not sure if he had an answer for that in actual words.
So he responded in the only way he could and tugged Malfoy forward to meet him in a kiss. The sound of lapping water grew louder as the boat rocked frantically from Harry's sudden movement. The wood of the canoe creaked; an owl hooted somewhere above them, probably flying through the cold February moonlight to return to the Owlery. Or perhaps flying from the Owlery to hunt down something to eat, Harry was not sure and was not at all bothered about finding out.
All Harry knew was that at that moment—lying in a rocky harbor in a creaking boat bobbing in the dark water of a black lake, catching glimpses of silver from the sky above and listening to the gentle sounds of the moon-soaked castle grounds all around them as he held Draco Malfoy in his arms and exchanged kiss after soft kiss, every single one felt throughout Harry's entire being—nothing in his life had ever felt so right.
TBC
