PART ONE
CHAPTER 3
D,
Will you be home by 5? I'm starving.
-H
You know perfectly well that I arrive home at 3pm. And that I do not eat dinner until 7:30pm.
-D
But I'm hungry now. There's no way I could wait until 5
-H
I'm coming over. See you in ten.
-H
Harry watched the ink fade into the paper. Their two way communication paper had saved him from a painful murder by owl. For the first few weeks of Harry and Draco's friendship, Harry had sent Aurora on so many trips to 11b Maple Lane that she actually flat out refused one day when he was trying to get her go for the 5th time in an 8 hour period. He invested in Communication Paper, a very useful parchment he got at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes so that he and Draco could send little messages like this. Harry's only problem was that the conversations faded away and he couldn't keep them.
Because, they were funny and all. No other reason. He wasn't some sentimental git or anything.
Harry grabbed his keys and wallet, and trying not to think too hard when he (in vain) attempted to tame his hair in the mirror for a few minutes. He was grateful he had removed all the talking mirrors in the house.
He took his time with the stroll, enjoying the cool breeze. It was still bright out and warm so he was comfortable in his new clothes. He had done a lot of shopping lately. He wasn't sure why. Or rather, he didn't want to think too hard why. It was probably because he hung out with Draco so often. Draco always looked so put together. Once, Harry came over basically uninvited on a Wednesday night at around 11. He had just had a fight with Ginny and it had been bad. She throw a vase at him. Which he actually thought was fair and far better than one of her Bat-Bogey Hex. He knocked on his door, hoping Draco was up but wasn't too optimistic. But then the door swung open with a sleepy Draco in loose sweets and an oversized white linen shirt that was all but see through. The three buttons on the top had been open and Harry could have sworn that he glowed in the dark he was so pale. But he looked so perfect. It could have been a commercial. For what, Harry didn't know. Perfume, probably. He smelled really good that night. His hair was perfectly tousled and his eyes twinkling. He gave Harry this ridiculous half grin as if he knew that Harry would be there. Neither of them said a word, he just opened the door and let him in.
Harry now owned an oversized, linen shirt with three buttons on the top (although his was black, so it wasn't the same, he told himself in the store). He slept in it almost every night. But with his boxer briefs, so really it wasn't the same.
Harry had barely touched his knuckles to the door before Draco swung it open with that same half smile.
"You'll have to wait at least 20 minutes before the chicken parmesan is done so you'll just have to wait." Draco didn't even bother to shut the door behind Harry and just turned around to head back to the kitchen. "And the vegetables won't be ready until even after then because you just had to come early because you'd starve to death. So dramatic."
Harry grinned and quietly shut the door. He knew Draco wasn't actually mad at him for coming over early, he just liked his routines. They'd never really talked about it but Harry made mental notes whenever Draco mentioned a certain time. Or randomly moved something that Harry wouldn't have thought of as out of place.
Draco motioned at the island when Harry entered, "here I made some snacks so you wouldn't disintegrate in my kitchen. I've just washed the floors." Harry grinned and grabbed a slice of cheese with cracker. Of course there was wine already poured. Draco had probably done all of this in the 10 minutes before Harry had gotten here.
"So how was work?" Harry asked as he watched Draco move all around the kitchen, tossing the salad and slowly swaying to a song in the background. They hadn't talked about what happened the first night Harry had come over. It had seemed that they both thought it'd be a good idea to act like it never happened. And nothing did happen, not really. Just two young men with too much wine in their systems. Or something.
"Work was work. I helped an old lady pick out a naughty book. It was entertaining." Draco didn't turn around as he spoke, he just focused on cutting the vegetables.
"How naughty are we talking here?" Harry shoved another cracker in his mouth.
Draco looked back at him, "you don't want to know."
"Hmm. I suppose I don't." Harry said in a low voice, his eyes taking in Draco. What was he even dancing to? His hips were just swaying back and forth. And how did Draco's jeans fit so perfectly? Harry's never looked like that. I mean, not that he could look too hard at his own arse-and not that he was looking at Draco's arse, he was just looking at his jeans. He cast his eyes back down on the crackers and cheese. Those were much less confusing. He had caught himself staring at Draco's backside entirely too many times. No matter how innocent it may be, most blokes don't go staring at each others ares's right? But he noticed other things too. Like once, Draco was wearing this loose top and his shoulders and collar bones were showing, Harry wanted to feel them under his hands...maybe even under his tongue…
Harry jumped in his seat and shook his head, as if trying to shake that thought out of his head and back wherever the hell it came from.
Draco laughed, looking at him, "you alright?"
Harry sat up straighter, "yeah, just, er, imagining that book," Harry faked a shudder.
Draco gave him another half grin and turned his back to him once more. Harry felt red all over and somewhat queasy. He was just hungry.
"So, how is the Weaselette?"
"She's...uh, good? I don't know. I haven't talked to her in a few days." He'd been meaning to, honest. Somehow whenever he thought about her something always came up or he was hanging out with Draco.
"Oh? Why's that?" Harry shrugged even though Draco couldn't see him.
"I just...don't feel the need to talk to her? Merlin, that sounds horrible…" Draco turned and began to dish the vegetables in the pan on the stove, looking at him curiously.
"And why's that?"
Because I have you was the first thought that popped in his head, but he didn't think that would be okay to say. Harry stared at Draco's arm as he cut up the kale. His forearm kept flexing, making the Dark Mark move, so strikingly black against the paleness of his skin and raised veins. He watched the word CHOICE almost bounce on his wrist, taunting him. What would it taste like…
"I don't know, Draco!"
Draco's eyebrows shot up, "alright then. Eat more crackers, Potter, you get grumpy when you're hungry."
Harry grabbed another cracker and shoved it in his face, guilt instantly invading his gut. Draco was just trying to be a good friend and ask about his girlfriend troubles. Harry shouldn't be biting his head off. Draco always brought up Ginny and he didn't want to talk about Ginny. He didn't want to think about Ginny. It made him feel heavy in his gut, like he was doing something he shouldn't. But he wasn't. Right? Draco was his friend. He had become a very close friend in a very short amount of time. He talked to Draco now more than anyone. He was over here at least 5 days a week, most of the time 6. Draco always said it wasn't a big deal because he always cooked so much anyway and Harry had started to clean the dishes now too (although he stayed the hell away from putting them away because he never knew where the proper place for a tea cup was and which way it needed to face and with which dish it needed to be aligned with. So he just washed them. With a spell. But that didn't matter).
He felt useful. He felt challenged. He felt excited. Coming over became the highlight of his day. Draco worked in silence, still swaying slightly, as Harry pondered his thoughts while demolishing the platter in front of him.
When they both sat down it was a tense silence. Harry couldn't tell whether it was because he had snapped at him or because they were eating almost a full two hours early, but either way he wanted to fix it.
"This is really good, Draco."
"Of course it is." He replied without any bite in the words, but still somewhat short.
"Sorry we're eating so early." Harry tried again.
"Not a problem." Draco continued to take small bites of his meal without looking up.
This left only one other reason he could be mad and Harry squashed the tightness in his chest and the lightness of his stomach to say, "listen I really don't know why Ginny and I fight so often. I feel like it shouldn't be like this. And I don't understand what I'm doing wrong. It just...it doesn't feel natural." Harry really needed to stop talking, " I feel like I'm forcing myself to be with her, and I don't know why I'd have to. I'm just..I'm just really confused."
Draco put his wine glass down, his lips pursed in one of the looks Harry had started to call 'bitch Draco.' This was going to bad. Harry knew he shouldn't have said anything.
"Do you honestly have no idea? Are you really that bloody clueless?"
Harry was baffled. That was not the response he was expecting.
"Uh, no. Why, do you know?" Harry said with a small laugh on the tip of his tongue when it was abruptly quieted when Draco stood from his barstool and began to pace the length of the counters. Harry was grateful the island was between them. Draco looked ready to punch him.
"You are so sodding stupid Harry Potter. I can't believe this." Draco continued to mutter to himself, Harry drank more wine. He felt like he would need it. "Do you honestly not remember the first night you came over here?"
Harry's cheeks colored, "Well, I mean, yeah I got bloody trashed and we, um, dorky danced? I think? I don't remember much after that…" a horrible thought struck Harry, "Oh no, I thought you said I didn't do something even more embarrassing? Merlin, Draco, look I'm sorry for whatever I said or did-"
Draco was now standing in front of him. He had swung Harry around so that they were facing each other, Draco still with a few inches on him. Why did he have to smell so good? So manly. So masculine.
Draco's eyes were burning into him and he really didn't want to look up at them but he felt like he had to, like something really important was happening right now, and he was supposed to look up at him, like he was supposed to be eaten alive by Draco...consumed, but, why would he-
"We kissed, Harry." Harry head shot up.
"What?" Harry said in an extremely high pitched voice. He cleared his throat to clear it, "we, we, kissed?"
Draco nodded. Harry was finding it extremely too hard to breathe. And it was entirely too hot in the room. And Draco was standing extraordinarily close to him and this could not be happening.
"Listen, Harry, breathe ok?" Draco ran his hands up and drown Harry's arms, before sitting back down on his barstool and leaning towards him. His face had softened and his eyes widened in sincerity. He sucked in a deep breath and scratched the back of his neck, "look, I'm gay. And, I think...I think you might be too."
Gay.
G A Y
"I-I need to get out of here."
Harry shot off the barstool and all but ran out of the house, with Draco yelling behind him telling him not to go. Harry didn't even stop to grab his coat before he was shutting the door.
It was 7:18pm and Draco hadn't even started dinner. He had been pacing in his office since he got home from work. He was on his third firewhiskey and had been staring at his pack of cigarettes for the better part of an hour trying not to give in to temptation. But Draco had never been particularly good at that. But he was different now. He made conscious choices now. He didn't do drugs anymore, didn't get drunk every night, didn't fucking run around with Death Eaters. He was different, better, and he was damned sure not going to let Harry Bloody Potter, the Boy Who Didn't Know He Was Gay, to fuck that all up.
Or maybe a more accurate name would be "Harry Potter the Boy Who Pretended To Be Straight" and lived on to have 2.5 kids with the Weaslette. Although, Draco couldn't bring himself to be mad at Ginevra. She didn't ask for this. It was like Pansy two years ago. She said that she had always suspected Draco to have "other inclinations" as it was known in the pureblood world, but he didn't completely believe her.
"Stupid fucking Potter," Draco downed his firewhiskey and poured another. "Stupid fucking me."
He knew he shouldn't had said anything. He knew how he first reacted to the idea when Blaise had sat him down with a very cautious face. It's a weird feeling when someone knows something so intimate about you before you did. He should have just kept his mouth shut. It would have been fine. He had tucked Harry in on the couch that night, placed a trashcan by his head just in case, and camped out on the other couch. He knew the morning was not going to be good, so he stayed up as long as he could, just watching Harry and reliving the kiss. Harry had initiated it, he was sure of it.
However, by the time he woke up, he had squinted his eyes to check on Harry, but he was not on the couch. At first he thought Harry had skived off (which he wouldn't had blamed him for) but then he heard sizzling and looked up to find Harry in his kitchen cooking. He had slowly gotten up from the couch, half convinced he was either still asleep or still drunk, but no, there he was, making them breakfast. That morning had been so strange.
"Good Morning," Harry said, slightly blushing, "I hope you don't mind, I drank some of your Hangover Remedy."
"Oh no problem. Is there any left?"
Harry had nodded "I put it on the coffee table for you." When he went over to check, he noticed Harry had cleaned up a bit and put away the wine bottles and folded his blanket. Draco took a big sniff of the air, his stomach making an appreciative sound, "thanks for making breakfast."
Harry blushed again, Draco was sure he had never seen him blush this much in his life, "I thought I'd make it to apologize for last night."
Draco hadn't expected that, those bloody gryffindors going right into the heart of the problem. But in for a snickle, in a for a galleon...he breathed out slowly before saying softly, "you don't need to apologize for that."
Harry gave a half hearted chuckle before sitting down next to him with their plates. "Uh, I think I do. I'm sure that's not how you typically spend your evenings."
Determinedly staring at his eggs he replied, "no...but I've wanted to."
Harry laughed whole heartedly now, jumping up to grab the kettle and pour them tea. "Oh yes, that makes sense. Proper little Draco wanted to get trashed and dorky dance in his living room. I bet you were forced to learn all kinds of pompous dancing. I sorta remember that from the ball."
"Wait, what?" Draco's head snapped up. Is he just going to act like it never happened?
"The dorky dancing? And I suppose I'm apologizing for being trashed at your house the first time I came over. Hopefully you don't hate me. Hate me again that is…" He finished with an awkward hand messing up his hair and a began to shovel eggs in his mouth like he might be kicked out any moment.
"No, Harry I don't hate you." Draco began to fix his tea. He still wasn't sure if Harry was just pretending or not, so thought it best to just go with the conversation, "if you had puked on my couch, I would have hated you no doubt."
Harry chuckled, "good to know."
They ate in silence until their tea was cold and their plates clean. When Harry was about to leave he turned to Draco while fixing his collar, "listen...I really am sorry for getting smashed here, I didn't-I didn't say anything embarrassing or anything, did I?"
Draco paused for a minute. Harry looked so open and trusting and he was leaving Draco's house in the morning. It was everything Draco had wanted since he was little. Or more accurately since he was 14 and watching Harry outfly a dragon. Harry wanted to be his friend. And if his drunken state indicated anything, he wanted to possibly be more than friends. But Draco needed to not scare him away. He had to be smart about this. Even if Harry did remember something and was just faking, which Draco sincerely did not think was the case because Harry would have sneaked off before dawn never to be heard from again. So yes, Draco was going to play it safe.
"No, Harry. Not a thing." And with that he left.
But now it had been a week since Draco told him the truth, and he hadn't heard anything from him. He was trying to just stay grateful he had had a few weeks of being his friend but it just didn't seem fair.
This is my penance. Nothing in my life is fair. I'll just-
There was a knock at the door.
Draco body went into overdrive. He knew that knock. And more importantly, no one else had ever visited him. Why was he here? Was he going to punch him? Hex him? Should he grab his wand before he opened the door? Should he act like he's not home?
"Draco! Open up! It's 7:30 I know you're home!"
Well, fuck.
He patted his hair down and smooth out his clothes and then finally strutted over to the door, swinging it wide open. "Hello, Potter."
Harry broke into a huge smile when he saw him, but his eyes were still manic. "I broke up with Ginny. Can I come in?"
Draco didn't say anything, he just stepped aside to let him in. Harry sighed in relief, Draco was going to at least hear him out. He knew he had acted like a prat last week and he knew how to make it better, he just needed Draco to listen. Harry had had a very busy week.
It had started out with a panic attack, hitting him when he was halfway through the deserted dog park on his way home from Draco's. He had to sit on a bench for a solid thirty minutes before he was positive he wouldn't pass out when he stood up.
He had a lot of very confusing thoughts that night. Most of them denial. Some of them curiousity. Majority of them terrified.
He had been so freaked out, he didn't even get drunk. He just went home, took dreamless sleep potion, and zonked for 12 hours straight.
The next day, he got drunk. From about noon till midnight he stayed a lovely side of tipsy.
The third day, he finally went to go see Ginny. Regardless of his sexuality, he knew they weren't working. And he knew it was all his fault, and that he had to somehow make it better. After battling with himself and what he would say for roughly 8 hours, he went over.
"Hey Ginny," he said, walking up to where she sat on the porch swing. It was almost dusk and she looked so beautiful in the light. He had to take a deep breath, he wanted to be with her so badly but not the way she wanted. He didn't want to lose her or the family, or Ron, and it just made everything hurt.
"We're breaking up, aren't we?" She nudged his shoulder.
"Gin, I'm so sorry-"
She turned toward him, a very determined look on a her face. "Don't be. I mean it Harry. It isn't working, and we shouldn't force it. I'm not...what you need, right?"
Harry blanched, "it's not like that."
Ginny laughed lightly, "yes it is. It's ok Harry."
"How-How do you know?"
"You were never particularly good at controlling your thoughts."
"Have you been listening?" Harry squeaked.
Ginny laughed, deep this time, "no, you git, I meant on your face. Like right now. When you have that horribly shocked face on. That's all the conformation I'd ever need."
They both breathed at that and settled deeper into the couch. "Will we be ok?" Harry whispered, he hadn't had to use any of the words he had planned on and now he was lost.
"Of course. You're family." And that was the truth. They were all family, and that's why it hurt so bad.
They were quite a long time after that, and when the sun had finally gone down and the air turned chilly, Harry stood to leave, grasping Ginny's shoulder in an awkward, comforting sort of way.
"You'll find the right guy for you, Gin. I know it."
And when a knowing twinkle in her eye that outshone the sadness, she said, "so will you."
And for the next few days after that, Harry had drank a lot of strong tea and done a lot of experimenting. He hadn't actually done anything with anyone, but he used his imagination. And he bought some lube. And a very other things at a very humiliating trip to the local adult toy store.
He had started simple enough, he laid down and imagined lying down with another man. Maybe reaching out and holding that man's hand. He tried to keep the man faceless, just focusing on the hardlines of his body, the definition, the lack of soft and squishy He held his hand and softly caressed his thumb, they were strong hands, tan maybe, with thick fingers, and hairy knuckles…
...but then that didn't feel right, so they started morphing. But Harry didn't notice at first, he was then feeling the scruff on the strangers cheek, trying to figure out how that would feel. Weird? Or...maybe sexy? Manly? His trousers tightened. The hand that came to cup his was thin, long, pale fingers, that looked so familiar. With a tinge of recognition, Harry stilled. Those were Malfoy's hands. But to keep this particular experiment, er, scientific, then he needed to imagine all kinds of different males, to make sure he was indeed homosexual and not just Malfoy-sexual.
Draco-sexual, but no not Malfoy-sexual. That opened way too many doors. No. Draco-sexual.
So, then Harry went to harder things. He imagined what it would be like to be able to feel a naked male. He laid on his side on the bed, a pillow vertical to him, and trailed his hand up and down the pillow with his eyes closed, feeling the ripple of muscle under his hand, the lines of a chest, the soft trail of hair...blonde hair...pale skin…
That was the first night he jacked off to Draco. It was not the last.
And after all that experimenting, he came to three very important conclusions.
The quidditch players in Quidditch Quarterly and celebrities in Witch Weekly were extremely manly and extremely hot
Wanking to a man had improved the experience by 200%
He had a crush on Draco Malfoy
He wasn't exactly sure what to do with those conclusions, except that he needed to do something. So he went to Insomniacs. And he did his best to flirt to someone of the same sex, he thought he'd try his newfound sexually flirting skills and see if it was returned.
"Hey Brian," Harry said with a sickening sweet smile the next morning.
"Earl Grey Guy! It's been a long time, where have you been hiding?"
"Well, I tried to stay away and look where it got me. You're just too irresistible." Harry somehow resisted the urge to blush, Brian didn't though. He was quite the red barista as he waved off Harry's bill and made his tea.
He also got a scone he did not order.
So apparently he wasn't totally unappealing and odd in this new world. He smiled to himself as he walked around some more, sipping on his tea and pondering what sex really would be like with a man. What living with another man would be like, what doing anything with another man would be like. Being with a woman had always seemed so unnatural and awkward to him, but flirting with Brain had been easy...It was time to act.
Which is what lead him to Dracos after a full week after his abrupt departure. He knew that Draco would be mad, furious, but he also knew he could make it better. He knew he could fix it. After the third knock on the door he impatiently yelled "Draco! Open up! It's 7:30 I know you're home!"
The door finally opened to a harassed looking Draco, full of defiance. But Harry knew better than to trust the cold tone of Draco's "Hello Potter."
Harry didn't waste any time, "I broke up with Ginny, can I come in?" and he didn't wait for Draco's nod but rushed inside anyway. "I'm so sorry Draco, I really fucked up."
No answer.
Harry hadn't been expecting one.
"Listen, I know you probably don't want to listen, but just hear me out ok? I know I fucked up by running out of here the other day-"
"Week."
"What?"
"Its been a week," Draco leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "A whole bloody week and then you just come over, uninvited, right at my dinner time-"
"just listen, ok, please?" Harry asked and Draco gave a slight nod and outreached his arm as if to say carry on. "I've done some serious thinking and-" he paused, and in less than a second he changed his mind on the long and thought out speech he had made in the last 24 hours. No. He was Harry James Potter and he was a spontaneous Gryffindor damnit and if he was reading Draco right he knew this was this way to go. "-I think it's not fair I can't remember our first kiss."
Draco blinked. "What?" He barely whispered.
"It's really a shame. I've tried really hard to remember it...but I just can't. Can you tell me what it was like?"
There was a very long pause as Draco seemed to be preoccupied with deciding whether or not Harry was seriously asking him.
"Uh, well, it was...um, nice?"
Harry took a step closer, "could you perhaps, be more descriptive?"
"Wet?" Harry could see Draco's face start to pink.
"Oh come on, Malfoy, you can do better than that."
And all at once, Harry was grabbed and slammed against the wall Draco had just been resting on, Draco was a stood close but not touching. Harry could feel Draco hot breath on his lips, making him dizzy.
"Well, Potter, essentially you ravaged me, you were uncontrollable. You grabbed my wrist," Draco said, stroking his thumb against the hammering pulse point on Harry's wrist to bring attention to it, "and then you pulled until I had no choice but to press my lips against yours." Draco pulled slightly, but it just brought him closer to Harry, barely hovering over his lips.
"But Draco," Harry whispered, "you always have a choice."
And that was all it took, Draco slammed his lips against Harry's and all Harry could do was let out a strangled sound and take it. He was kissing Draco Malfoy. And he loved it. He loved every caress of his lips and pointed flick of his tongue. He needed more but somehow couldn't get his body to move with him. He was frozen and all he wanted for the rest of his life was to give to this man completely and forever and just try to understand what it was he did to Harry.
But Draco wasn't having any of that. He coaxed Harry into responding...and when he did-it was what Harry had been missing. It was pure heat and need and power and it consumed him. He arched up into Draco's body feeling something so deliciously hard against his thigh. This was a man, this was a man that wanted him, that needed him, that could fuck him, that could take him inside, that was anything he wanted. Draco could be everything he ever needed.
The thought spurred him into action, he flipped them, lifting Draco's hands above their heads and locking them together as he attacked his mouth, shoving him needily against the wallpaper. He was rough and it was okay. He moaned as Draco met his tongue and the rolls of his hips. They couldn't help it, it was everything that 8 years of tension that brought together. It was a need that Harry couldn't explain mostly because he had never felt anything remotely like this. He understood now. This feeling was addictive. It was like nothing he had ever done before.
He needed Draco's lips on him more than he needed air, and when Draco pulled back gulping for it, and they rested their foreheads together, and Draco's eyes were closed as if he didn't want to open them and face this reality that could so easily be a dream...Harry knew he was lost. He released on hand, moving both of Draco's to be held by his one hand, to slowly touch Draco's face. It was completely free of imperfections, so unlike the interior of this man. His hand looked so tan in contrast from the paleness of the cheekbone that stood out from the flush…
"Do you think we could choose to count this as our first kiss?" Harry whispered against Draco's flesh, his lips absolutely refusing to leave the blondes skin, he nuzzled the invisible 5 o'clock shadow on Draco's face, feeling like that hair was there as a gift for him. Like it was a secret present that no one but someone as close as he could feel and touch and get to experience.
He was so preoccupied with sucking Draco's pulse point and jaw line that he almost missed Dracos strangled answer, but he heard it, just barely, "It all comes down to our choices."
Harry pulled back, looking Draco dead in the eye so he would see in no uncertain terms, so he could see just what Harry was thinking and that he was completely sincere in his actions. He leaned in and kissed him, letting him Draco know exactly what he had chosen.
Draco pulled away and yanked his white linen shirt over his head, giving Harry a crooked grin, he grabbed Harry and pulled him in for another kiss, showing the raven haired man that he too had made his choice.