Chapter Five
Harry hopped out of bed and made his way to the kitchen. He needed to make coffee and thought about cleaning the kitchen as Malfoy showered. He tried not to think about being pressed against Malfoy the night before. He tried not to think about how he ruined the moment by waking Malfoy up and making him realise what he was doing. Harry tried not to think about it. Rather, he simply cursed himself for ruining what could have been his.
But did he really want that? Wouldn't that be taking advantage of Malfoy? The man was already doing Harry an enormous favour and now Harry was willing to take advantage of him like that? He groaned with frustration and punched his hand against a kitchen cabinet.
"Ow!"
"Alright there, Potter?"
Harry was startled by Malfoy's sudden appearance.
"Yeah. Sleep okay?" Harry couldn't help himself. What was wrong with him?
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Yes. You?"
"Like a log."
Malfoy only grunted and turned his attention towards the dining table.
So there's that.
0-*0-*0-*0
The next few nights, Harry continued to pretend to fall asleep before Malfoy, only to have Malfoy rub up against him in his slumbering state. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but really, he wasn't doing anything more than just feeling Malfoy's body pressed against his.
After the second night when his erection was nearly well killing him and Malfoy would unknowingly rub his hand against it, Harry started to turn around. He'd much rather feel Malfoy's body from behind and just feel his half hard cock on his arse. It felt like he was taking less advantage of a situation then.
During his awake state, Malfoy went about ignorant of his actions and Harry's need, and Harry would do the same. Over dinner, which they had started making together now, Harry would find excuses to touch Malfoy and noticed that Malfoy barely flinched or pulled his hand away from Harry's touch.
What does that mean? Was he waiting for Harry to make the first move? In his mind, Harry thought that he couldn't be more painfully obvious that he liked Malfoy. What was Malfoy waiting for?
Parkinson and Zabini came over for dinner again and Harry told Malfoy that Hermione and Ron were busy when, in fact, he simply hadn't invited them. He liked watching Malfoy in his element with his friends. His guard was usually down, which wasn't the case when Ron was around, and Harry needed to get some information from Parkinson.
Harry bought the most expensive bottle of Rosé he could find—it was his only in with Parkinson. After dessert, when Malfoy and Zabini retired to the sitting room, Harry presented her with the bottle. She nearly gasped.
"Potter! I had no idea you had such good taste!" Parkinson exclaimed and immediately grabbed two glasses from the pantry.
Harry chuckled. "I think it comes with the territory."
She raised an eyebrow and stopped pouring the wine. "What's your game, Potter?"
"It's not a game," Harry answered.
They seemed to understand each other. She grabbed the two glasses and gestured for him to join her at the dining table.
"He's not easy," she said.
"Believe me, I know," Harry answered. Her reaction had confirmed any doubt that Harry had. Malfoy liked him, too, and he'd clearly talked to her about it.
"What should I do? Gifts?"
She shook her head. "No, he'll see right through that."
"Then, what? Push him against the wall and start snogging him?"
She shrugged. "It could work. He likes the hands-on approach."
"What makes you think he won't just push me back and hex me?"
"It's a risk you have to be willing to take," she answered as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
Harry scowled. Was he willing to do that? Start a brawl with Malfoy in his half-built house—what if the magic retracted?
"He knows you find reasons to touch him, you know."
Harry's eyes widened at her statement. "He told you?"
She had the most wicked smirk on her face as she sipped the wine. "Does he still practically climb up on top of you when you're both sleeping?"
"You know about that too? Well, not that I'm supposed to know about it. He pretends that it doesn't happen and acts like he's just so repulsed, or embarrassed—"
"If he's so repulsed, then why doesn't he just pop back into his flat and bring over the body pillow? Separate the two of you, or Transfigure—"
"Why are you two hiding here?" Harry heard Zabini's voice loud and clear before he entered the kitchen. He had a sneaking suspicion that Zabini might have known what Harry and Parkinson were chatting about.
"Just enjoying my surprise present from Potter here," Parkinson said, raising her glass. "I suspect that he's trying to get himself invited to the wedding." She looked at Malfoy and winked. "Draco doesn't have a date. You could just come as his date. Couldn't he?"
Malfoy cleared his throat and was turning pale.
"I'm really not," Harry assured him, his eyes widening with panic. "I just wanted to thank Parkinson for trying my experimental dish and being so honest about it."
"Honestly, we should take that bottle and get out of here before she does any more damage," Zabini said, grabbing the more than half-full bottle of Rosé and urging Parkinson to down her glass. She nodded and obliged.
"It's a shame to drink the wine like a cheap shot of tequila, Blaise," she whined and he only rolled his eyes at her. "Thanks for the talk, Potter."
Harry stood up to walk them to the fireplace and five minutes later, they were gone; Harry was left alone standing awkwardly next to Malfoy. He turned and looked up at the newly built third level of the house. Just one more floor to go — Sirius's room — and Harry could move all of his things in there. Then it would be all over.
"Need help?" Malfoy asked, yanking Harry out of his thoughts.
"What?"
"With the clean-up."
"Oh, yeah. Sure."
Malfoy smiled and made his way to the kitchen and Harry followed. They cleaned up quietly, almost too quiet, and Harry hadn't even noticed until Malfoy pointed it out.
"Pansy give you a hard time?"
"About what?"
"I don't know, you are eerily quiet. Is she thinking of leaving Blaise?"
"What, no! Why would she tell me?"
"I don't know. Maybe she thinks you'd keep the secret—"
"That is not what we talked about!" Harry was horrified. He didn't know what to think. He hadn't thought that Pansy would leave Zabini because she seemed really happy to be with him.
"So what did you talk about?"
"Oh, we—" Harry paused for a moment and tried to read Malfoy's face. "Wait, did you throw that at me so I would tell you what we talked about? Because her leaving Zabini is—"
"Absolutely preposterous, I know."
Harry glowered at Malfoy and threw a dish-towel at him. "You're a wanker."
"And now you're talking," he replied. When Harry gave him a confused look, Malfoy continued. "I don't know what you two talked about, but whatever it was must have been really serious because I've never seen you this quiet. It is almost scary. I didn't know what to think."
Harry smiled when he realised that he made Malfoy nervous. On top of that, this was probably the first time in days when Harry hadn't made any excuses to brush up against Malfoy. He'd been so occupied with trying to make a move on Malfoy that what he usually did had been shelved.
And Malfoy didn't like it.
"Don't look so smug," Malfoy said, almost as though he'd read Harry's mind. Knowing Malfoy, he probably had.
"I'm not being smug," Harry answered innocently. "I'm going to take a shower."
Harry took his time walking over to the corner cupboard and he could feel Malfoy's eyes on him. Harry turned to face Malfoy and was glad to know that Malfoy didn't look away when their eyes locked. Harry kept his eyes on Malfoy as he unbuttoned his shirt and threw it on the floor. Malfoy leaned against the archway in-between the kitchen and the sitting room and watched.
Harry knocked off his shoes and then unbuttoned his jeans, his eyes on Malfoy. Malfoy watching him. Harry stood practically naked as he and Malfoy watched each other from a distance. He was afraid to take his glasses off—to lose the link between them with his blurred vision. He was about to step up to Malfoy when the fireplace roared.
You can't possibly be serious! Harry groaned and Malfoy rushed towards the fireplace; Harry was glad as he'd almost forgotten that he was practically naked.
Dante, of all the people who could ruin the moment, popped his head in.
Malfoy looked at Harry, his expression unreadable. Harry all but rolled his eyes and locked himself in the bathroom. Whatever Dante was calling for, it wasn't for Harry, and Harry didn't want to deal with it.
When Harry returned, he found Malfoy leaning against the wall on the bed. He looked like he'd showered as well and Harry scowled. Before Dante had fire-called and interrupted whatever they were doing, Harry was going to ask Malfoy to join him in the shower.
No, he really wasn't going to do that, but the idea sounded nice.
Harry walked over the cupboard in the corner and started to get dressed for bed. Why they still shared a cupboard for clothes was lost on him. Technically they had two extra rooms with full closets, and if Malfoy wanted, he could have easily moved his things up the stairs.
That would make things permanent. He doesn't want things permanent. Remember you told him you didn't want to make any changes until Sirius's room was materialised?
Harry sighed and advanced towards the bed. He lay on his side, didn't take his glasses off, and watched Malfoy. Determined that it was now or never.
"What are you looking at?" Malfoy asked, without looking up from his book.
Harry watched the nerves on Malfoy's neck as he silently gulped. Malfoy was nervous, even though he was acting aloof. "You," Harry said simply. "Why do you care so much about what me and Pansy talked about?"
"I don't...care." Malfoy turned to glower at him. "I was just curious, is all. Blaise wasn't sure what to get her for the wedding. Bride and groom have to exchange presents on the night of the wedding, and I thought maybe she would tell you what she wanted and then you'd tell me and I—"
"Why would she tell me?"
"You bought her the Rosé—"
"Maybe I wanted to tell her something."
"What did you want to tell her?" Malfoy placed the book in his lap and turned to look at Harry. He had the most curious look on his face and Harry just wanted to pull him in and kiss him; not care—not worry about Malfoy hexing him.
"That's for me to know," Harry said and turned on his back. He removed his glasses and stared at the ceiling.
"Oh, you are the worst!" Malfoy said, and snapped his book shut. He reached over Harry and placed the book on the side table.
Harry's cock twitched with the scent of Malfoy's skin over him.
"I could just put the book away for you if you wanted." The words left Harry's mouth before he could control his tone. He knew he sounded like he was snapping at Malfoy, but he wasn't; he just was having a hard time breathing.
"Sorry!" Malfoy said disdainfully and a moment later, darkened the room.
Harry could feel Malfoy breathing heavily next to him. He was upset.
"What did Dante want?" Harry whispered in the darkness, hoping that Malfoy would respond. He turned on his side in Malfoy's direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.
Malfoy sighed. "Dinner tomorrow."
"What did you say?" Harry's voice trembled just a bit and he hoped that Malfoy wouldn't catch that. There was a very long pause. "Malfoy?"
"I turned him down. And I told him that I couldn't take him to Pansy and Blaise's wedding."
"What did he say?"
"He was disappointed. Tried to guilt me saying that he'd already bought them a present and robes for the wedding. I told him I could easily compensate him for his trouble—"
"He would have loved that."
Malfoy chuckled. "Yeah, I wouldn't ask him for any favours if I were you."
"Why me?" Harry wondered what Malfoy told Dante. Did he tell him that he liked Harry instead?
"I told him that I couldn't leave you alone in the house and Pansy said that all the arrangements had been made and there was no way she could accommodate a last minute guest."
"So basically you lied."
"Erm...Yeah."
"Wait, Parkinson said that you didn't have a date."
"That's because I told her that I uninvited him weeks ago." Malfoy sounded a bit nervous. "So when she mentioned bringing you instead, I knew that I had the perfect excuse."
"Malfoy, you don't owe that git anything." There was a long pause and Malfoy didn't say a word. Almost didn't even breathe. "Malfoy?"
"I do owe him. I owe him for my flat, and my job. When I returned back after the trials, and with my mother settling in France, I didn't have anyone to turn to, and he helped me—"
"Because he just wanted to have sex with you."
"Yeah, but things were just so bad—"
"He took advantage of you and he's going to keep taking advantage of you unless you—"
"You don't understand, Potter," Malfoy snapped. Harry wished that he could see Malfoy's face, that he'd just light the room again, but he knew that Malfoy needed the darkness to talk.
"I understand enough," Harry said. "The flat you live in now isn't your first flat. After the trials, you were probably moving from place to place. First with your mother, then on your own. The way you pack, unpack, settle yourself in a situation easily—that comes with practice. Practice of not knowing what the future will bring, or where you belong. If you belong anywhere."
Malfoy didn't say anything again. He shifted on his side of the bed and then settled quietly again. Harry was going crazy. He wished Malfoy would say something. Tell him if he was wrong or right or yell at him.
"Am I wrong?" Harry asked quietly.
"No..." Malfoy whispered. "How did you—"
"Because I did sort of the same thing too. I lived in the Muggle world because I wanted to find myself. Find out who I am when I'm not the Saviour, because that wasn't me, that was something that happened to me..."
Malfoy yawned and shifted again.
Tell him!
Harry reached over and found Malfoy's hand. He grabbed it and squeezed it gently. Malfoy squeezed it back. Harry pulled himself towards Malfoy, shortening the distance between them.
"What are you doing?" Malfoy asked; he didn't hesitate or pull away. His voice was calm. Harry's heart was pounding, ready to jump out of his chest.
"You like it when I touch you," Harry said.
"Oh, so are you a Reader now?" Malfoy's tone was teasing.
"Okay, I like it when I touch you," Harry admitted. His hand found Malfoy's stomach and gently travelled up his chest, his throat, and stopped when he found Malfoy's jaw.
"What are you doing now?"
"Trying to find your lips so I can kiss you."
Harry felt Malfoy gulp, his chin moving slightly.
"Why aren't you stopping me?"
"Do you want me to stop you?"
"No, Malfoy. I want you to come close to me and find my lips."
Malfoy obliged. He turned towards Harry and placed his hand on Harry's waist. "This is probably a bad idea."
Harry yanked Malfoy's hand away and pushed him back on the bed. Without any hesitation, he got on top of Malfoy and shifted their hips together. "You talk too much, think too much, feel too much."
"That's my job."
"I'm not your job." Harry nuzzled into Malfoy's neck and his hands had a strong hold on Malfoy's wrists. He didn't know what he was doing. If he didn't stop, he was going to hurt Malfoy. What had gotten into him? He didn't want anyone as badly as he wanted Malfoy.
"No, you're just some bloke who wants me to help him build a home and then you'll just easily discard me."
Harry stopped immediately. He released Malfoy's hands and sat up. He was still on top of Malfoy, feeling Malfoy's half-hard cock twitch against his own. "Is that what you really think of me?"
"No..." Malfoy said faintly.
Harry spelled light into the room and stared down at Malfoy.
"I just know how easily people can abandon things they no longer need."
"Malfoy, you're not a thing. You're a person." Harry leaned down, propping himself on his elbows, his face centimetres away from Malfoy's.
"I thought you were going to kiss me," Malfoy responded. His eyes didn't leave Harry's.
"Is that what you want?"
Malfoy jerked his hips up slightly towards Harry and nodded. A sly smirk crept up and Harry couldn't help but grin in return. He leaned down completely and pressed his lips against Malfoy's and grabbed the back of Malfoy's neck with his right hand.
He swayed his hips slightly and Malfoy groaned, allowing Harry to slide his tongue in. Malfoy's hands grabbed Harry by the waist and he jerked up again as he sucked on Harry's tongue. It was Harry's turn to moan into Malfoy's mouth.
They stayed that way for a while, Harry running his hands through Malfoy's hair, and Malfoy digging his nails into Harry's skin. Harry couldn't get enough, but he didn't want to push too much. He was afraid that if he made one wrong move, Malfoy would shut himself off and Harry did not want that. He wanted Malfoy to stay open to him. Harry wanted to take all that he could get. Their groins were grinding together and Harry was so sure that if they just continued what they were doing, he was going to be spilling into his pants.
This in itself was already so much better than the wanks he had alone in the showers. The real thing—having Malfoy under him—was a thousand times better.
"Want you so much," Harry mumbled as they parted for breath and Malfoy's face was buried in Harry's neck, sucking and biting his skin, and Harry turned them both to their sides.
"I knew you'd taste this good," Malfoy said, almost confessing. He nuzzled into Harry's neck again and his hands were trying to push his and Harry's trousers down.
"Are you sure?" Harry asked, but he didn't really wait for Malfoy's response. They were naked in a moment's notice, rubbing up against each other. Malfoy didn't hesitate, and Harry didn't ask again.
"How do you want me?" Harry whispered, rubbing their erections together, precome making the movement slick.
"Inside me," Malfoy said. "I've got lube..." Malfoy panted, and Harry was sure he was going to already come, "...in the cupboard."
"You prepared for this?" Harry asked, grinning and grabbed his wand from the bedside table to summon the lube.
"It was the first thing I packed. Not sure why, but I didn't question my instincts," Malfoy answered, grinning, and pulled Harry on top of him again. "It has been such torture to sleep next to you and not be able—"
"How do you think I felt? Having you rub up against me in the middle of the night and pretending that I didn't—"
"Shite!" Malfoy looked embarrassed and was about to cover his face with his hands when Harry stopped him.
"Don't," Harry whispered. He rubbed lube all over his cock and parted Malfoy's legs, wrapping them around his waist. "Merlin, Malfoy. You make me so hard, I could fuck you the whole night through."
"Fucking hell—" Malfoy nearly screamed and arched his back as he felt Harry's head push slightly into his hole. "Push it in! Fuck, Potter. I want to fucking feel you all the way!"
Harry followed his orders. He plunged into Malfoy, who arched his back up again and Harry moaned at the feel of Malfoy, watching him writhe underneath him. He pulled out and pushed in again, shifting his weight slightly, and loved watching Malfoy react to his thrusts over and over again. It was so much better than he'd imagined it. So much hotter than anything he'd ever experienced before.
He never cared about any of the other blokes and Harry cared about Malfoy so much.
Malfoy's eyes were shut, his hands were grabbing his thighs tightly, and he was biting his lower lip so hard, Harry was afraid that it would bleed. He was holding back his moans and Harry wasn't going to have it. He was going to make Malfoy scream under him. He wanted to hear and feel Malfoy come.
"Do you like that?" Harry asked, pulling out and thrusting in as hard as he could muster without actually hurting Malfoy.
"Yeah..." Malfoy murmured.
"What did you say, Malfoy? I didn't hear you." Harry pulled out and pushed in again. "I said, do you fucking like that?"
"Yes!" Malfoy bellowed, his eyes wide open as he locked gazes with Harry. "Fuck, Potter, do it again!"
Harry did it again. And again. Until he was spilling inside Malfoy and his hand was stroking Malfoy's cock trying to get him to come with him. Malfoy did, but not before he had practically flown up and wrapped his hands around Harry's neck. Harry was settled on his knees and Malfoy cocked up, rode him and spilled in-between them at the same time.
Watching Malfoy as his cock went in and out of Malfoy was the sexiest thing Harry had ever seen; watching him spill in-between them, his face flushed, his hair tousled, was the second sexiest thing. Although Harry wasn't sure which one really took precedence.
Malfoy was still propped up on him as Harry balanced them together in the middle of the bed. Their lips brushed against each other's and Harry grinned when Malfoy mumbled incoherently against his lips.
"That went a lot better than I'd imagined," Harry said, pulling Malfoy gently up off him as he slid out.
"That went a lot better than I'd ever thought possible," Malfoy answered. He crashed on the bed next to Harry, who grabbed his wand again and spelled them clean.
Harry thumped on the bed next to Malfoy and immediately wrapped his arm around him. He pulled Malfoy in, kissed the back of his neck and pulled the covers on top of them.
"How did you know that I—" Malfoy hesitated, as if he was trying to find the right words for his question.
"Gravitated towards me in your sleep?" Harry offered and Malfoy shot Harry a glaring yet embarrassed look over his shoulder.
"I pretended to fall asleep before you, and then after you'd go under, I'd wait for it to happen."
"You'd pretend to fall asleep— this whole time?" Malfoy sounded shocked, or impressed, Harry wasn't sure.
"Remember when I had to pretend to be dead in front of Voldemort?" Harry laughed. "This was a piece of cake compared to that."
"So you're saying you're good at pretending?"
"I'm good at getting what I want," Harry said. "If the war taught me anything, it was that good things are hard to come by and they can easily be taken away from you. You need to grab a hold of what you need, what you want, and not let go."
"You're holding on to me mighty tight," Malfoy said.
"That's because I don't plan to let go," Harry answered, and a moment later, he'd spelled the room dark again.
"For how long?" Malfoy whispered in the dark.
"For as long as it works," Harry answered honestly and Malfoy wouldn't have it any other way. He was kissing Malfoy on the back of the neck again and let sleep take over him. From now on, Harry knew that he didn't need to pretend to fall asleep to have Malfoy in his arms. He'd have him at night and in the morning.
For as long as it worked. For as long as he could.
0-*0-*0-*0
The morning came and Harry found himself turned as Malfoy was the one that had his arms wrapped around Harry. They must have switched positions in their sleep, and Harry smiled knowing that Malfoy hadn't pulled back.
He groggily opened his eyes and everything looked big. The room looked bigger. The furniture had unshrunk itself, and still the room looked bigger. Harry slowly turned his gaze upwards and noticed that the last floor of the house had built itself. He wondered if he went to the top floor, would he be able to see the attic?
The house was complete.
Harry was excited. He quickly turned to face Malfoy who was still sleeping. Terror overtook the excitement and Harry's heart sank. The house was complete. Would this mean that Malfoy was leaving?
It had been almost three weeks. Parkinson and Zabini's wedding was a few short days away. Malfoy had been right. Harry had followed his recipe, and the construction took shorter time than anyone had anticipated.
Malfoy looked peaceful. Just so content, and Harry didn't have the heart to wake him. To tell him the news that it was over. He didn't want to hear that Malfoy would be signing over the house to Harry shortly, and that this would be over. He'd go back to his flat, and Harry would be stuck building the home alone.
It was something he'd wanted to do, but that was almost a month ago. Now he just wanted Malfoy in his arms. Living in tiny space, cooking for him, sleeping together in the same bed. Loving each other.
Fuck. I love him.
Harry didn't need the big house to make a home. He needed Malfoy. If he asked, would Malfoy stay?
You're not going to know if you just keep watching him sleep, like a creep.
"Malfoy..." Harry whispered.
Malfoy immediately woke up. "What?" He pushed himself away from Harry frantically. "Sorry!"
"No, it's okay," Harry said, trying not to chuckle. His hold on Malfoy tightened and he pulled him back. "Don't go too far."
"Potter!" Malfoy said, trying to wake up. His expression schooled—Harry figured—when he wrapped his head around what'd happened the night before. "We had sex."
Harry laughed. "I'm glad you remembered."
"Is everything okay?"
Harry smiled softly. He placed one leg over Malfoy and pulled him in closer. "More than okay." He kissed Malfoy gently at first, then his hand trickled down Malfoy's spine and grabbed his arse. "It's good to wake up next to you."
"We've been waking up next to each other every day for the past three weeks, Potter."
"Yeah, but not like this..." Harry pushed a finger inside Malfoy's hole and the muscles immediately clenched around Harry's finger. Malfoy hissed. "Unless you've been doing things in my sleep." He couldn't suppress the grin.
Malfoy shot his head back, exposing his neck to Harry and his Adam's apple bobbed. "I get your point," he groaned and pushed back onto Harry's finger. "Are we having another go?"
Harry pushed his erection on Malfoy's thigh. "What do you think?" He turned his head to find lube on the side table and tried to grab it with his free hand.
"Let me!" Malfoy groaned exasperatedly. "Can you actually ever do anything without me?"
"You know I can't," Harry said, and kissed Malfoy's shoulder.
"You don't need to sweet talk me, Potter. I'm already putting out," Malfoy said, grinning, and handed the lube to Harry.
"In that case, get on your knees, Malfoy."
Malfoy rolled his eyes and turned, as Harry still hadn't retracted his finger from Malfoy's entrance. "Hey, the house..."
Shite. He noticed.
"I know. I think it's almost done. Or maybe all done," Harry said, struggling to keep his tone light.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
Harry gestured towards their naked state. "Been kind of busy, Mal—"
"What? Fuck me, and then tell me you don't need me anymore?"
"Fucking hell, Draco!" Harry nearly screamed and yanked his finger out from Malfoy. "I still need you and want you. Having the house completed doesn't mean I don't want to fuck you or want you around!"
"Want me around to fuck? To sign the ownership back to you—"
"Malfoy, if you don't stop saying stupid things—I'm afraid I won't restrain myself from punching you," Harry warned. He stood up off the bed and put on his pyjama bottoms.
"Where are you going?" Malfoy asked, sitting up on the bed as he wrapped the covers around himself.
"Get dressed."
"Where are you going?"
"I'll tell you when you get dressed."
Harry stalked off to the cupboard and grabbed a small book he'd been hiding from Malfoy. He watched Malfoy as he put on his clothes, clothes they'd discarded in such heated passion the night before. It was a shame really; Harry wanted to kiss Malfoy tenderly, tell him that he cared about him and then show him the house. His journal. He didn't want things to get so riled up so fast. But with Malfoy, he never knew when things would take a turn for the worst.
"Where are we going?"
"Upstairs."
"Why?"
"To see if the house is complete."
"What's that in your hands?"
"Proof."
Harry marched up the stairs without looking back to see if Malfoy was following. He didn't want to answer any questions until he'd reached Sirius's room. When he arrived at the door, Harry took a deep breath. He turned around and saw that Malfoy was right behind him. He smiled softly at Malfoy who looked cross and agitated. Harry shook his head and grabbed the back of Malfoy's neck and pulled him in for a kiss.
Malfoy kissed him back and Harry felt his anger melt a little bit. "Proof that I want you around. That I like you and that you should add my name to the ownership, not replace it," Harry said against Malfoy's lips and turned to open the door.
The door opened slowly and creaked creepily. The room was huge, larger than Harry had remembered, and absolutely empty. No lifeless posters of Muggle women on the wall, no Gryffindor paraphernalia, no bed. Harry smiled to himself. Malfoy's bed would look rather good in this room. He wondered if Malfoy had a frame or if they'd have to go shopping together for one.
Harry grabbed Malfoy's hand and pulled him in. He watched Malfoy as he looked around the room, desperately in need to know what he was thinking, but didn't ask. When Malfoy turned to look at him, Harry handed him the book he was holding.
"What's this?"
"My journal."
Malfoy opened it and looked through the pages. He knew what Malfoy was thinking. It didn't make any sense. "It's in code," Harry offered.
"So why did you give it to me?"
"When I stayed with my aunt and uncle, my cousin, he'd find my journal and read it out loud to his friends before they proceeded to beat me up. Or he'd read the things I wrote about his parents to them, and then I'd get no dinner for a week—"
Malfoy scowled. "Where are you going with this?"
"So I started writing in code. I still do." Harry smiled and Malfoy nodded. "You don't need to read what's written to know what it says."
"Oh," was all Malfoy said before he shut the journal and handed it back to Harry. "I don't— I don't know if I want to know what it says."
"They are letters. To you. I wrote in it when I would sit in Sally Berkshire's garden. I would talk to the plants, and tell them all about you. So I started writing what I wanted to say to you and then— the habit sort of became like breathing. I want you to feel it."
Malfoy was scowling as he held the journal. Harry hadn't taken it back. He sighed deeply and then brought the journal near his chest and wrapped his arms around it. He walked away from Harry and rested against the far wall.
Malfoy couldn't read people, and he had some weird connection with Hermione, but had failed to make that connection with Harry. Harry watched as Malfoy's eyes closed, and his expression changed. The letters explained everything he felt. His frustration of relying on Malfoy. His admiration of his ways. His attraction towards Malfoy. And lastly, his need for the man. Harry needed Malfoy like he needed air. Maybe the letters didn't say that he loved him, because, until that morning, Harry didn't know.
Harry had little to no intention of sharing those letters with anyone. At best, he'd thought that his feelings would come to pass, and he would have moved on. Now he knew better. He knew that his ache for Malfoy was never ever going to go away.
"Potter, I—"
Harry rushed over to Malfoy and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Don't say anything." He all but pushed Malfoy against the wall and kissed him. His hands travelled down to Malfoy's waist and he lifted him up as Malfoy wrapped his legs around him.
Push him against the wall and start snogging him. Harry had told Parkinson he was going to do that. So that's what he did.
"Tell me you don't want the same things as me," Harry said, breaking the kiss but still keeping Malfoy as close to his body as possible.
"I—" Malfoy looked like he was struggling for words.
"Tell me that you can just go back, back to your flat, and you're okay with sleeping in separate beds. That'd you'd rather go back to hugging that body pillow than me?"
"I can't get rid of my flat, I have a contract."
"I'll buy you out of your contract!" Harry exclaimed.
"I'm not sure the landlord would—"
"It's money! What landlord wouldn't—" Harry's eyes widened. "It's Dante, isn't it? Dante's your fucking landlord."
Malfoy didn't answer, but his reaction was all Harry needed. "He fucked you for that flat?"
Malfoy scowled and pushed Harry back. He almost fell off the wall as Harry stumbled back and Malfoy continued to glower at Harry. "I'm not a fucking whore!"
"I know," Harry said, as softly as he could. "I just hate that git. So much!"
Malfoy laughed in response. Laughed. Harry didn't know what to do with that reaction, but reckoned that as long as it wasn't Malfoy leaving the house or marching over to punch him, it was alright.
"My work requires a lot of peace and quiet. I need to concentrate. I need space."
Harry rolled his eyes. That wasn't even a real excuse. "Draco," he said, pausing and ensuring that Malfoy caught on to his words. "We live— we own an empty house with like ten bedrooms. I think you'll be able to find space for your work and your thoughts without a problem."
"I can buy myself out of my contract," Malfoy said.
"Fine, but I want to be there when you speak to Dante."
Malfoy nodded.
"My mother will be visiting during Christmas."
"Alright."
"And I want to have dinner parties every other week with my—our—friends."
"Okay."
"You'll cook."
Harry groaned. "Fine. Yes. Yes to everything. Now will you come back here and let me suck you off in our new bedroom?"
Malfoy grinned and walked over to Harry. Harry felt his heart sink into his stomach. Fuck, he would do anything in the world to keep Malfoy smiling like that forever. Harry pushed Malfoy against the wall again and didn't ask twice before claiming his mouth. He pushed his tongue between Malfoy's parted lips and struggled to push his trousers down. A moment later, Harry was on his knees.
Malfoy's erection stared Harry in the face as Harry licked the top of the head. Malfoy hissed in pleasure and his head gently thudded against the wall. Harry swirled his tongue around before taking all of Malfoy in his mouth and sucking.
"Potter..." Malfoy whispered as Harry licked him over and over, fondling Malfoy's balls with one hand and his other hand reaching behind Malfoy to cup his arse. Malfoy thrust gently into Harry's mouth and his hand took a strong hold of Harry's hair. Harry concentrated on his task, Malfoy's cock hitting the back of his throat and he thought he'd heard Malfoy mumble something about his gag reflex. Harry smiled to himself, his teeth almost scraping over Malfoy's cock before he returned to sucking it. His hand moved further back and as his fingers found Malfoy's entrance again. He pushed a finger in and soon Malfoy was spilled in Harry's mouth.
"Fuck me sideways," Malfoy mumbled as Harry licked him clean, swallowing everything he had to offer.
"That can be arranged," Harry said, as he licked his bottom lip and leaned to claim Malfoy's mouth again. Malfoy moaned tasting himself on Harry's tongue and his hand reached under Harry's trousers to grab his cock, tugging it gently.
"Turn around for me," Harry whispered and reached in his pocket to take out the lube.
Malfoy looked at him impressed. Harry assumed he'd stopped getting shocked by Harry's one-track mind. "I put it in my pocket in hopes—"
"In hopes. Please. You knew you were going to fuck me as soon as you grabbed that journal."
"Look who can read people now?"
"I can just read you like a randy little bastard that you are, Potter."
Harry grunted. "Yeah? Yet you're so eager for my cock inside you."
"Evidently I need it like I need air," Malfoy retorted, quoting one of Harry's letters.
"Good, so do I." Harry grabbed Malfoy by the waist and swiftly turned him around, pulling his hips towards him. "Need you so fucking hard, Draco," Harry whispered in Malfoy's ear right before pushing two lube-slicked fingers in.
Malfoy reached back, grabbed Harry's neck and pulled him in. He turned his head and whispered in Harry's ear. "I need you inside me." He pulled back and kissed Harry on the lips and Harry immediately removed his fingers and lined his cock over the entrance.
Harry knew he wasn't going to last long that morning. Not like the way he had the night before. He would be lucky if he just thrust in a couple of times and came undone. He hoped not. He loved being inside Malfoy and he needed that to last as long as possible. He never wanted to stop fucking him. Maybe only when it would be Malfoy inside him.
Harry moaned at the thought. "God, I want to feel you fucking me like this, Draco," he murmured. Evidently, he was getting used to calling Malfoy that. Because he wasn't just Malfoy to him. He was Draco. Harry's Draco.
"More," Draco demanded. "Faster, Potter."
Harry grabbed Draco's hips tightly and gave it all. He needed to pour all of himself into this. He needed Draco to keep wanting him this way and he needed to make sure Draco knew that he was Harry's, and Harry was his.
"Yes!" Draco groaned, his head hung low in between his arms as they pushed against the wall in front of him and his arse pushed against Harry.
Harry pushed in and out, in and out, until he came undone. The words I love you, Draco at the tip of his tongue, and he had to bite down to not just come out and say them. He knew that when Draco was ready, he'd say it. He'd call him Draco, tell him that he loved him, but he needed to make sure that Draco felt safe with him first.
Harry would have all the time to tell him, all the ways to tell him, without saying them out loud and scaring Draco. He could pour the love in the food he'd make for Draco, and Draco would know. He could whisper it into the water as they'd shower together. Harry really loved Draco, and he would express it in every way possible, before he'd say it. Because then, Draco would know that it was real. And maybe Draco would say it back.