Chapter 14: The Courtship Dance
The courtship dance of a foxlet glider often appears as nothing particularly exceptional or distinctive to the friendly exchanges between the empathetically linked or close siblings. At times, Maddling (1952) describes not realising that courtship was indeed taking place until the act of copulation is witnessed or, in specific examples (see references 7a, 7b) until the evidence is demonstrated through the presence of young and the paternal care of mated members.
As such, though progression towards becoming mates is as frequent as retaining solely platonic exchanges, friendships or evidence of empathetic linkage could potentially be viewed as steps in indistinct courtship behaviour.
It was the Easter Holidays when it happened. It crept up on them so gradually, so sneakily, that Draco had almost forgotten it was going to happen at all.
He'd been thoroughly distracted over the past months. Since the incident in the Forbidden Forest, it was as though his world had grown, altered, shifting. It had manifested in unexpected directions, differing from everything that Draco had ever known in a way that wasn't objectionable in the slightest. Not in the least. And such manifestation arose in two distinct areas.
There were his N.E. . They were a big one. Study consumed every other second of Draco's day, and the professors were relentless. Draco had to question his intelligence at times – in privacy, of course, because a Malfoy would never admit fault aloud – in taking seven subjects. Why had he done that? It wasn't like he even really needed his N.E. . It was mostly a matter of pride, for the knowledge that should he achieve noteworthy marks his prestige in the eyes of his fellows would only mount.
Why did he really care about that? Draco didn't know. He knew in the back of his mind that when he surfaced from the other end of his eighth year he would appreciate the effort he'd afforded at the time. Not now, however. Draco was a dedicated student, he knew, but he wasn't happy with his schooling career at present. How was Hermione doing it? She was unerringly stressed but she actually seemed to thrive off of that mayhem.
That self-ridicule, the frustration and the stress, was alleviated significantly but his other interest. The other aspect of his life that had taken flight and demanded his very obliging attention. And that was Harry.
Being Harry's boyfriend was truly not all that much different to being a mutual bond-parent with him. They still argued. They still exchanged insults and bantered more than they did offer even the occasional backhanded compliment. Harry still showered as much attention upon Pipsqueak as he did Draco – though of an entirely different kind – and not for the first time Draco found himself jealous. It was a good thing he was so fond of Pipsqueak and she of him for otherwise he would very definitely demand her exclusion from being Harry's permanent shadow.
Well, it wasn't all that different except for a few specific features. Like that he could kiss Harry whenever he wanted, even when Harry had initially been reserved to do so in any kind of public context because it was 'unnecessary' and 'embarrassing'. Draco quickly cured him of that ailment. Their constant companionship was another aspect that really wasn't any different to how it had been, though the fact that Harry didn't object when Draco felt the urge to sling his arm around his shoulders certainly was. Draco wasn't a particularly touchy person, but he was a spoilt and possessive brat. He knew this. He revelled in this. And Draco made no attempts to hide the fact that in so wrapping himself around Harry he was stating his claim.
It was absolutely wonderful to see Ginny Weasley that first breakfast morning. He didn't dislike the youngest Weasley as much as he once had but he wasn't particularly fond of her either. Even less so when she monopolised Harry's attention, or looked at him with the familiarity of ex-partners.
Draco had suspected that Ginny held hopes of perhaps one day rekindling her relationship with Harry. His suspicions were only validated when, for the first time – and it was indeed a struggle – Draco accompanied Harry to the Gryffindor table for breakfast. As recompense, he stole a kiss which had left Hermione struggling to withhold a grin and Ron appearing faintly horrified as he had each time Draco had done so that morning. Blaise had openly laughed; his friend had, naturally, followed him to Gryffindor's table and was seated beside Luna because of course Luna be at the Gryffindor table?
Across the table, Ginny gasped with a strangled. "What?"
All eyes turned towards her and Draco felt only a touch of guilt when he saw the upwelling of similar guilt flood Harry's face. He winced slightly, raising a hand to scratch awkwardly at the side of his head. "Morning, Ginny? Um…" He'd glanced towards Draco, pursing his lips. Draco blinked back at him silently, expectantly. "Just so you know, Draco and I are dating now."
Ginny stared. She stared at Harry disbelievingly for a moment, then at Draco, then back at Harry. She'd turned almost desperately towards Hermione and Ron, who had both offered her faintly commiserating glances before spinning her gaze back to Harry. Then to Draco once more. The glare she affixed him with was smouldering.
"You bastard."
"Thank you."
"It wasn't a compliment." She'd grumbled beneath her breath before resolutely turning back to her meal, prodding her porridge with her spoon. She didn't take another bite.
Harry appeared evidently concerned, even more so than simply guilty as he had before. Draco fought his annoyance as he leant across the table towards Ginny to spoke in a low voice. "Hey, Gin? Are you, um… I guess… sorry?"
Ginny stared at her bowl for a moment longer before raising her seething gaze towards Harry. Only for a moment, though, because no one could possibly stay angry at Harry in the face of his evident distress. Draco marvelled that he'd been able to do so in the past. His arm tightened automatically around Harry's waist, a gesture that obviously didn't go unnoticed by Ginny.
She only sighed after a long moment, however, dropping her chin onto a raised hand. "You don't have anything to be sorry for, Harry. I'm just jealous, I suppose. I'll get over it."
"But you didn't want to date me anymore?" Harry's statement sounded more like a question.
"Or you me," Ginny nodded in agreement before sighing again. "Whatever. I don't know, maybe I sort of hoped it would… never mind." Then she turned deliberately back to her bowl and that was the end of it. Surprisingly, because Draco had certainly expected more of a rampage from her, but though Ginny continued to spear him repeatedly with a glare over the following days, the following weeks, even, she hadn't objected further. Draco was still suspicious she'd swoop in at the barest hint of discord between he and Harry, but otherwise she did nothing. For that, Draco had to admire her restraint. He was certain he wouldn't have been quite so lenient had their positions been reversed.
Draco and Harry spent their entire time together, as had become their usual. When the Easter Holidays arrived, it was to consistent and continued study, alongside the rest of their friends who had largely decided to stay at school over the break. It was at breakfast on Easter morning that it happened.
Harry was feeding Pipsqueak chocolate. Of course he was, because Harry was both the protective and upstanding parent and the sneaky grandparent who slipped junk to their grandkids with the misguided belief that said parents didn't have a clue what was going on. He didn't even try to hide what he was doing, laughing openly at Pipsqueak's delight as she gobbled down the morsel offered to her.
"You'll make her fat," Draco drawled, cutting his chocolate-drizzled waffles into bite sized pieces like a normal person. Harry was not normal as picked his up to eat like it was a slice of toast.
"She's not going to get fat," Harry objected. "She's skin and bones."
"No she's not. That's just how foxlets are supposed to be. They wouldn't be able to glide if they were any heavier. She's already huge."
"Are you calling my foxlet fat?"
"No, I just said I wasn't. And she's my foxlet as much as she is yours."
"No she's not."
"Yes she is."
"She's not."
"She is."
"Listen to you two, fighting like an old married couple," Blaise said, fluttering his eyelids like a star-struck teenager smitten by a scene of romance. He turned towards Luna who seemed to have taken up a permanent seat at his side of late. "Love is in the air."
Luna nodded solemnly. "That's probably what's attracting all the Fizzlebursts."
"The what's?"
"The Fizzlebursts. What's making the air all foggy."
Blaise frowned then shrugged. "Pretty sure that's just from the boiler, but who am I to judge?"
Draco rolled his eyes and shook his head, forking a bite into his mouth. He was fairly sure that Luna was having Blaise on but couldn't be entirely sure. She seemed to conjure facts and creatures from the deepest recesses of her mind and Draco doubted that the world's opposition could sway her from her opinion.
He was distracted from their exchange, however, by a "yip" from Pipsqueak's direction. She was big now, almost fully grown according to Hagrid, even if she was still markedly smaller than her two Berserker siblings. In spite of that fact, she hadn't mentally matured yet. She was head and shoulders above the edge of the table and could reach a paw in a very human manner towards just about anything in a five meter radius. She was far too big to sit on Draco or Harry's laps anymore, though it didn't stop her from trying.
She'd disappeared from her seat, however, as though she'd fallen backwards to the floor, which was uncharacteristically clumsy of her. Draco lowered his fork and sat up further in his seat. "Is she alright?"
Harry was already spinning from his seat to standing, slipping into a crouch before where Draco could see Pipsqueak twitching on the floor. A frown grew rapidly upon his brow, confusion and concern rapidly fading to alarm and almost fear. "Oh shit. Draco, I think she's –"
Draco didn't pause to hear the rest of Harry's words. Disregarding propriety entirely, he vaulted over the table fast enough to cause several of the surrounding Slytherins to start and exclaim. He ignored them, immediately crouching down at Harry's side.
Pipsqueak was convulsing in something that wasn't exactly a fit. It was almost as though she was being assaulted with twitches. Her shoulders flinched, her limbs struggling to raise her from her slump jerking just as much. Her ears spun and flicked, not pressed backwards in distress or fear or even the anger of a Berserker but as though attempting to catch every sound around her.
She didn't snarl, though. She didn't growl. Draco could be relieved for that at least, would hold onto that fact desperately. He still stared unblinkingly at his foxlet, foreboding and fear welling within him.
"Is she…?" He asked Harry crouched silently at his side.
Harry shook his head, eyes wide and expression just as concerned as Draco felt. "I don't know. It's not the same as with Tod or Kitsune but do you think that maybe…?"
He trailed off as they both turned back to Pipsqueak who, with a lurch, staggered to her feet. She shook herself violently, like a dog ridding its fur of water, the greyish fluff of fur flapping around her momentarily before settling. Then her shaking stopped.
A smile of utter relief spread across Draco's face.
Pipsqueak looked slightly different, in that weird way that foxlets apparently became when they mentally matured. Not bigger as the Berserkers had, without the sheer intimidation factor, but perhaps just slightly taller, a little longer of limb. Her wide, bat-like ears turned forwards, twitching curiously and her tails looped and coiled around themselves in asynchronous wags. And in the centre of her forehead her third eye stared directly at them alongside the two, wide black ones. They focused unblinkingly upon he and Harry.
Pipsqueak's third eye was startlingly different to the other two, almost disconcertingly so. So pale it was almost white, it was slightly smaller, round rather than almond shaped. Just as her black eyes appeared to be little more that a large pupil, the third eye was similarly pupil-less, though as if in reverse. Faintly whiter in the middle perhaps but otherwise…
"She didn't go Berserk," Harry whispered barely audibly. There was profound relief in his voice reflecting wholly what Draco's felt.
Draco turned towards him and the relief grew into a smile on Harry's face that he couldn't help but mirror. "She didn't go Berserk."
Pipsqueak let out a "yip" as though agreeing with their words, crossed the distance between them and butted her snout into Harry's face. Harry immediately wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her in a tight embrace. He looked like a child with their pet dog, even if Pips was an alternate kind of canine. He muttered something into her scruff that sounded to Draco like "Thank God". At the sight of them, Draco couldn't help himself. He leant forwards and wrapped them both in an embrace with little care for what anyone around him thought.
They had acquired something of an audience, Draco realised when they finally drew apart. Blaise was leaning over the table, a smile spread widely across his face and Luna beamed alongside him in genuine delight. Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Lavender had joined approached them from the Gryffindor table and each smiled in a mixture of relief and affection. Even Ginny, who had never worn more than a begrudging smile around Draco in the past weeks. Almost every other student in the hall was watching attentively, curiously and little worriedly though that worry was definitely fading. The professors, too. McGonagall herself had descended from the head table, making her way through the crowd of students to pause a handful of feet away.
Harry and Draco both turned their attention up towards the headmistress, Draco a little warily though Harry with a distinct expression of satisfaction. No, it was more than satisfaction. Harry was revelling in the turn of events, in Pipsqueak's maturation that was nothing if not blessedly anticlimactic. Unwrapping his arms from Pipsqueak's neck, he rose to his feet. Draco followed alongside.
Harry and McGonagall stared at one another for a moment, McGonagall contemplatively and Harry with a faint question in his expression. Finally the headmistress spoke. "Well, that was certainly the desired outcome. I trust that the possibility of your foxlet degenerating into aggression is largely unlikely from this point?"
Before Harry could reply, Hagrid's booming voice called across the room. He, unlike the headmistress, evidently hadn't been able to weave through the pool students for a closer look and still stood to the back of the clustered masses. "Not teh worry, Professor. When their third eye opens permanently like that it's all set in stone."
McGonagall spared a glance over her shoulder towards Hagrid before turning back once more with a nod towards Harry and Draco. Well, mostly Harry but Draco didn't like to think himself disregarded. "That's settled then. A welcome relief."
"She won't go Berserk," Harry said firmly, with more confidence than Draco, even from his more recently acquired knowledge of foxlet gliders, couldn't claim. "She's settled now. She won't go Berserk."
McGonagall nodded once more. "Alright, then. I'll trust you on this, Potter."
Instantly, Harry was beaming. A wide, brilliant smile, the sort of smile that could – and did – induce others to do the same. Then, with a gesture that seemed deliberate and pointed, he raised his wrist so the golden chain that dangled from the bracelet and connected to Pipsqueak's collar jingled. He blinked at McGonagall expectantly, head tilting slightly.
McGonagall sighed, a little long-sufferingly but with a faint smile all the same. Drawing her wand from the sleeve of her robe, she pointed it towards Harry. "I sincerely hope I won't regret this." With a sweeping gesture, she vanquished the bracelet.
There was a moment. A bare moment in which Harry stared at Pipsqueak, when he spared a glance for Draco and Pipsqueak did exactly the same. Then, as if choreographed, the two of them spun in step simultaneously and sprinted from the Great Hall. The other students, their friends, scattered before them, Harry letting out a whoop that was far too childish for a mature wizard, and Pipsqueak, loping at his side, set about with a series of joyous yips.
Draco didn't wait more than a stunned second. A smile spreading across his own face, he bolted right after them.
They were out on the grounds, stopped at the edge of the courtyard as Pipsqueak bounded in leaps and somersaults in evident delight by the time Draco pulled up beside them. She was racing down the hill at a distance further than she had ever been from Harry, as though she truly understood the liberation that her maturation into a Sedate adult had afforded her. As though she understood that her collar had been permanently removed.
Draco suspected she probably did. Pipsqueak was smart like that.
Harry was already filching around in the pocket of his jacket for something or other by the time Draco drew up to his side. Something that showed itself as being the little mouse toy that he'd transfigured and gifted to Pipsqueak for Christmas. It really did look like a mouse, even if immobilised in that moment when whatever charms settled upon it hadn't as of yet been triggered.
Harry spared a glance and a toothy grin for Draco before turning back towards the now distant Pipsqueak. She was yipping and tumbling over herself, face planting in her crazed delight before leaping to her feet once more to tear off with tails streaming behind her. Her ears flapped backwards like the wings of a bird.
"Hey, Pips!" Harry called, his voice echoing across the grounds. He raised the mouse overhead, waving it slightly as though attempting to attract her attention.
Pipsqueak paused in her headlong, joyous flight. Paused, and then raced headlong back towards Harry. She only got within about twenty meters of them however, before, in a motion that left Draco blinking in bemusement, Harry drew back his arm and lobbed the mouse toy high.
It flew. Not just thrown, it actually flew. Wings like those of a snitch sprung from the mouse's body and flapped like a hummingbird's. Pipsqueak skidded to a halt, distracted from her course and took off after the flying mouse down the hill an instant later, as though the game was practiced. Before she'd taken more than a dozen leaps, she bounded once more, high, and spread her limbs wide to soar after the flying mouse with more speed than should have been possible in a glide.
Draco found himself grinning. He was actually beaming, shaking his head in joy at Pipsqueak's delight that he could swear he felt as much as he saw. At Harry's joy too as, in a surprisingly intimate gesture, he stepped closer the Draco's side and dropped his chin upon his shoulder, on arm settling around his waist. Draco was vaguely aware of his friends, of the other students behind them, but he didn't spare them a glance.
"Our foxlet's actually properly grown up now," Harry murmured into his ear. Draco could hear the utter love beaming from his quiet words.
He nodded, eyes still trained on the distant Pipsqueak. She'd snagged the mouse out of the air with her front paws, only to tumble to the ground in a roll and a series of "yip"s that sounded almost as though she was laughing to herself. Draco felt his smile widen further. "You sound like you're talking about our kid."
"Well, she is kind of, isn't she?"
Draco didn't reply. For once, he found that he didn't object all that much to the sentiment.
"Get your mind out of the gutter. It's not going to happen."
"Anyone would think you didn't want it to happen by the way you carry on."
"Shut up, you git, of course I do. But we're not doing it in front of Pipsqueak. She's bloody well looking right at us."
"Consider it a life lesson. She'll have to learn eventually."
"Not this way."
"Eventually, though. Why not this way? Besides, if I had to hazard a guess I would suppose that she's already – see, look at that? She's leaving. She understands the situation and she's affording us due privacy. Thank you, Pips, how very obliging of you."
Harry lifted his head momentarily from the pillow to watch Pipsqueak as she headed for the door. She paused just in the doorway to glance over her shoulder and Harry knew – he knew – that the stare she afforded them was knowing. Entirely too knowing and just faintly amused. She wasn't even one year old yet! She should not have to see the two people who were essentially her parents in any sort of compromising situation.
True, Harry and Draco hadn't quite been able to maintain abstinence entirely, and protest Pipsqueak's near constant presence though he might and how they shouldn't be doing such things before her, Harry couldn't entirely object. There wasn't really all that much objection involved at all, really. Not before the all-too-tempting touch of Draco's fingers, of his tongue, of his lips against Harry's that somehow managed to drive him just a little more insane with every hasty attempt at relieving some of the insatiable lust growing within him. Such encounters had become all the more frequent, if no less short, since Pipsqueak had matured and taken to wandering off a little on her own.
It didn't work, though. It didn't help. Briefly, maybe, but in the long run Harry found that their hasty moments of passion didn't really help at all. He certainly shouldn't have been thinking about Draco quite as much as he was in that way, especially with their N.E. just around the corner, or find his gaze drifting to wholly incriminating areas that made him flush when Draco caught him in the act with a smirk.
The arse.
Craning his neck slightly, Harry watched as Pipsqueak seemed to shrug, shaking her head slightly as though exasperated for her wayward children, before trotting out the door. It was possibly a coincidence, but Harry still found it seemed eerily deliberate that as she brushed past the door she jostled it enough that it swung shut behind her.
When he glanced back to Draco it was to find his boyfriend reclined on his side, hand propping his head up and smirking once more. Always the fucking smirk. Harry rolled his eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows. "You see what you've done to her."
"I'm not complaining," Draco said mildly.
"I know you're not. It's me who's objecting about tainting Pipsqueak's innocence –"
Snorting, Draco shook his head and leaned in to press a kiss upon Harry's lips. Harry could have objected further, wanted to object more, but he found that the temptation to simply fall mute beneath Draco's very deliberate silencing technique was unavoidable. What was happening to him? Since when did he not kick up a stink with Draco Malfoy?
Harry didn't know. And as Draco shifted slightly, shuffling himself forwards and adjusting their positions so that he was rolling bodily on top of Harry, even that voice was silenced. No, Harry didn't want to have sex with Draco in front of Pipsqueak for besides the whole innocence thing it was embarrassing. It would be like having sex in front of Ron or – well, no, maybe not Ron, but it was nearly as bad. But with Pipsqueak so kindly and thoughtfully removing herself from the scene, his complaints melted like ice in hot water.
They'd been holding off, much to Draco's open objection and Harry's unvoiced agreements to such complaints. He had to keep them unvoiced because if he verbalised that which he was certain Draco already knew then his boyfriend would make certain to smack aside that last remaining phantom wall and toss caution and propriety to the wind. Satisfying but largely unfulfilling hand jobs, blowjobs and the increasingly frequent fingering – an experience that was entirely new to Harry but he no longer felt the slightest objection to – truly didn't quite stifle their growing frustration. Harry had been hanging out for something more, something further, for weeks now.
Draco was too. Persistently so. Even more persistently though with an odd tenderness since Harry had offhandedly – or at least he'd attempted offhandedness – admitted that he was a virgin. That he hadn't gone the whole way, not even with Ginny. Draco, who appeared to have something of a particular dislike for Ginny, had appeared nothing if not delighted. Not the taunting delight that Harry was familiar with but of a different kind. One that was softer, kinder, actual delight as it should be. For whatever reason, he seemed to touch Harry just a little differently after that.
Harry was altogether nervous at the prospect of what Draco proposed. He was nervous not because it was Draco but because he had no idea what the bloody hell he was doing. After a time, he'd even admitted as much to Draco who surprisingly hadn't teased him about that either. He hadn't really said anything at all, actually, except when he shrugged, offered Harry that soft smile that he'd been wearing more and more often of late in a way that was slightly disconcerting yet more than a little adorable all the same, and offered him a kiss. "So what? Everyone's got to start somewhere. I'll show you."
Draco did. He did very much. It was a world of explorations for Harry, not only in intimacy but in intimacy with a boy, which was actually not all that different fundamentally to sharing as much with a girl. Harry barely even considered the distinction these days. He was more forcibly removed from considering it when Draco was kissing him. When he was touching him. When he was lying on top of him and doing things that somehow managed to turn Harry on without his direct intention. Harry didn't object to that. Not in the slightest.
When Draco climbed on top of him once more, it was familiar. In an incremental process, they slowly disrobed one another. For the first time, really, despite the fact that they'd shared more than one hurried shower together over the past weeks in the relative privacy of pre-dawn. Lying beneath Draco, Harry dragged at his robes, shrugging them off his shoulders and tugging at the undershirt he wore beneath until he revealed smooth, pale skin. He was warm. Draco's skin was always warm, in contrast to its cold whiteness. Drawing his fingers down his bared back, Harry pressed his lips to a shoulder even as Draco dropped his head down to Harry's neck to lick and pepper him with kisses of his own.
When trousers, pants, shirts, robes and socks were finally discarded, Harry found himself pausing momentarily in their heated exchange simply to look. He'd seen Draco naked before, but it was still a matter of appreciation. He was all long, lean limbs, not bulky but far from waifish. Harry ran his hands lightly over his hipbones, grazing along the bumps of his spine, back down to drift over his buttocks and the tops of his thighs so lightly that he felt Draco shiver. He drawing away from where he'd been planting kisses upon Harry's collarbones, dragging himself upwards slightly to more easily peer down upon Harry. "Are you doing that on purpose?"
Harry shifted slightly beneath Draco. The press of their bodies did nothing to alleviate the pressured heat rapidly building in his groin. He cocked his head, smirking. "Do what?"
Draco stared at him for a moment longer before shaking his head. "You are. You're doing that on purpose." Then he physically drew away, rising from where he lay along Harry and leaning away just enough that Harry could sit up slightly.
Harry did with a frowned. "Draco –"
"Hold on a second," Draco replied, turning back towards Harry with wand in hand. Harry's momentary concern, his sudden worry, faded away into understanding. He watching as Draco muttered a spell beneath his breath before dropping his wand at his side onto the bed. He turned a raised eyebrow up at Harry, rubbing his slickened fingers together in a far too suggestive manner. He could feel himself flush in embarrassment. "Objections?"
"Fuck you."
"If you'd like," Draco said with a smirk and Harry rolled his eyes. "Seriously, though."
Harry shook his, though a flicker of uncertainty rose within him once more to couple with his awkward embarrassment. "'Course not, idiot. I just… I have no idea really what the hell I'm doing."
"We talked about it."
"That's massively different to actually doing it."
Draco cocked his head and that soft smile, the smile that Harry only ever saw turned towards him, arose once more. "Then let me show you how it's done." And leaning forwards, crawling back over him, he pressed his lips against Harry's firmly as though to shake aside the flicker of his doubt. Within moments, Harry was thoroughly distracted from his uncertainty and even his embarrassment once more, with Draco's fingers being more than adequate in that department.
It was the strangest sensation, even having experienced it with Draco in brief moments of discovery. Harry had never even considered it before, would likely have been more than a little disconcerted by the action, had Draco not been the one doing it and if it hadn't felt just so good. Draco's arm hooked behind one of his knees, urging it upwards while the other worked between his legs, probing and sliding and urging him open. The feeling caused Harry to catch his breath, to gasp at the now-familiar sensations triggered his nerves into dancing in breathless stimulation. He locked his arm around Draco's neck to hold him close enough to kiss, to press their lips and for Harry to slide his tongue into Draco's mouth and taste him. Draco groaned almost painfully, leaning more heavily on top of Harry until their chests pressed together, skin on skin, the heat in Harry's groin only growing as his arousal grew.
Harry could feel the moment that Draco shifted, that he slid another finger within him, the momentary sting of tightness that eased beneath his ministrations. His legs trembled slightly the longer Draco touched him, the longer he felt him, and he lost himself to timelessness, to the simple contact, the feeling of –
"Oh God," Harry gasped as his vision whited out and sparks danced through his brain. His arms tightened further in their hold as the volt of pleasure triggered by Draco's fingers nearly tipped him over the edge. "God, what was – what just -?"
He blinked up into Draco's face, shedding the blurriness to stare up at him wonderingly. Draco smiled down at him – no, he smirked – in an entirely self-satisfied manner. Not like the arse he'd been throughout their entire schooling life, but like Harry's Draco. "Good?"
"Do you even have to ask that?"
"Just checking."
"Well don't. Fucking don't. There doesn't need to be – f-fuck…" Harry's breath hitched, his thought processes shorting as Draco twisted his fingers and brushed at that place that felt just So. Good. The intrusion, the brief pain of another finger, was negligible in comparison. "How do you… what –?"
Draco smirked again, leaning forwards to press his lips against Harry's and momentarily silencing him. "That, Harry, is exactly what you've been missing."
"Missing?" Harry gasped. His vision was blurred once more, he couldn't think straight and his entire being focused upon what Draco's fingers were doing, were he was touching, and the delicious, intoxicating pleasure that arose from the barest caress. "What am I…?"
He couldn't finish but Draco didn't appear to need him to. Instead, drawing away from Harry until he had to release the iron-hard hold that was looped around his neck, Draco settled back on his knees, one hand still locked around the back of Harry's thigh. His other hand, his fingers that should have been illegal for the feelings they induced, withdrew from Harry with a distinct feeling of loss. Harry couldn't help himself. He propped himself up on an elbow and frowned up at Draco. "What are you -?"
Draco silenced him with a stroke of fingers down his thigh, with a lean into his onto him to press his lips against the skin of Harry's chest. His breath felt warm, tickled Harry's flesh as he paused, closing his eyes briefly with those lips rested just above where he had touched him. When he opened them, there was a soft light to his gaze, turned upwards towards Harry. "I hope you don't mind, but I'd sorely like to fuck you right now."
Harry swallowed. Such a crude, blunt phrase, even touched with faux politeness, should not have sounded so enticing. And yet Harry found himself nodding fervently, eagerly, at the very thought. "Hell yes."
Draco's smile was more genuine, less of a smirk this time. He reached behind himself once more, murmuring over his fingers momentarily with his wand in hand. A moment later and he was dropping his wand, hand falling down to his arousal to coat it in slick wetness that to Harry's eyes was utterly captivating to watch. He'd never thought that seeing another bloke turned on like that would have quite such an effect upon him but God it certainly seemed to. His cheeks felt warm, his eyes unable to draw from Draco's motions, not even when he knew Draco turned his gaze upon him.
Leaning forwards and grasping Harry's hips with one hand, Draco urged them upwards to prop a hastily grasped pillow beneath. It was the strangest situation, the strangest positioning, and would have felt embarrassing all over again except for the fact that Harry was hot, and trembling, and entirely too turned on right now to give a fuck about that sort of thing.
Then Draco leaned over him once more, readjusting his hold behind Harry's knees, behind both his knees, and urging them up towards his shoulders, he pressed his lips against Harry's once more in a brief, feather-light touch. "Sorry if this hurts a little," he murmured.
Harry fought the urge to snort in a way that would have entirely killed the mood. "Don't apologise for –"
His words stuttered off into a gasp, not so much in pain as the unexpectedness. Maybe he should have expected it but he certainly hadn't. In a slow, gradual thrust, his hand dropping from Harry's leg to guide himself forwards, Draco eased himself into him. Harry hadn't been expecting that at all.
It was tight. Almost painfully tight, an ache blossoming at the back of his hips. Harry felt his muscles protest, felt the tremble in his limbs take hold once more, the heat in his groin pooling sharply and crashing into him like a wave. Harry's chest felt tight, his breath hard to catch, and quite without his direction he found himself reaching up to grasp at Draco's shoulders with both of his hands. His teeth dug into his lip painfully but he hardly noticed because his entire mind was focused upon where Draco pressed himself inside him.
It didn't hurt. Not really. Okay, maybe it did a little bit, but Harry was more focused by the strangeness of the sensations, the newness, the feelings it urged through his body that was a confusing combination of pleasure and pain. That, and Draco's face, his brow crinkled into a frown as though he were seriously concentrating, his eyes closed and his own lip caught between his teeth. He seemed to be struggling to maintain a slow pace as he urged his hips forwards, each centimetre causing Harry to catch his breath again and again until with a final snap he fully seated himself.
Harry found himself panting. His fingers digging into Draco's shoulders must have been painful, but he couldn't urge himself to let go. He was entirely focused upon Draco's expression, upon the breaths gasping from him in discordant huffs strangely in time with Harry's own, with the throbbing warmth at his groin and the tightness that eased just slightly, slowly, second by second.
Draco opened his eyes just as slowly and when he did it was for Harry to behold that light within them once more. That soft, focused light that was enchanting to behold, paling his eyes with a feverish shine. "Are you okay?" He asked, and his voice was a mixture of a croak and a husky sigh. Harry had never heard that tone before and he sincerely hoped he never would outside of their intimate privacy again. It was entirely too stimulating; it did things to Harry's head that only intensified the heat pooling in his belly.
Harry nodded between gasps. "I'm alright. I'm – I'm good, I'm –"
Draco gave a breathless huff of laughter. He turned his head, leaning towards Harry's leg to press his lips against the inside of his knee. "Tell me if it hurts."
"Fucking hell, Draco, if I'd known you were going to be so bloody nervy I would have –"
"What? You would have what?"
Harry bit his lip but didn't otherwise reply. Instead, in a struggle and a positioning that was more than a little awkward – it did things to Harry's body that should definitely have been illegal, rubbing in all of the terribly wrong and definitely right ways – he reached upwards, locked an arm around Draco's neck and tugged him towards him to press their lips together. "Just do it already," he whispered in what was more of a demanding growl.
Draco obliged.
Harry couldn't have prepared himself for the feeling of it. For what it made him feel when Draco withdrew slightly before thrusting his hips back into Harry with a sharp snap. When he grasped a hold of Harry's hip with one hand, his raised leg with the other, and urged himself to setting a pace that no, Harry had not expected in the slightest. The tightness between his legs eased slightly, but even had it not the feeling of skin-on-skin, the strange sort of friction, the deep-belly itch that ploughed into him with every one of Draco's thrusts would have distracted him more than adequately.
And then Draco somehow managed to brush against that spot, the fireworks-blinding-stinging-intoxicating spot of pleasure ,and Harry was gasping once more, groaning uncontrollably and locking his arms more tightly in their hold around Draco's neck. His hips rose, pushing back to meet Draco's thrusts, his gasps mingling with Draco's panting breaths. One of his hands scrambled to grasp himself, to tighten around his throbbing arousal, only to meet Draco's own long fingers reaching for him at the same time. The dual sensation of sensitivity from not one but two sources… it nearly drove Harry insane.
"Do that – please do that again," he gasped
Barely slowing in his thrusts, Draco released a breathless laugh, the soft warmth licking Harry's cheek. "You – like that – then?"
"Don't ask – ah – don't ask stupid ques – questions," Harry replied, which was about all he could manage before he had to lock his teeth into his lips to keep from crying out aloud. It didn't do much for his unstoppable groan, however, because Draco was very much obliging him.
The fierce thrusting, the snapping rolls of Draco's hips, the stroke of his hand upon Harry's hardness that moved in tandem with his own fingers – it was all too much. Harry didn't have a chance in hell. He knew he wouldn't last long. Arching beneath the pleasure, trembling from sheer, desperate need for completion and long since blinded to anything but Draco, his face, the touch of his lips upon his cheeks as he would pause just briefly to plant another kiss. Harry could have lost himself in it forever.
He didn't have forever. The tightness in his groin built further and further, mounting and straining for release, the sparking, gut tightening, utterly sinful pleasure from deep within him triggered by each slide Draco raked across his insides; it was too much. A thrust, a stroking tug of Draco's fingers, and Harry found himself coming in strings of wetness that streaked across his belly. He couldn't suppress his wordless cry this time, didn't want to as every muscle within him seized in a crescendo of cascading pleasure. His arms tightened almost around Draco, squeezing him as sensation overwhelmed him even as Draco continued with his thrusts, becoming more haphazard with each jerk of his hips.
He didn't last long either. Harry didn't care, wasn't either critical or embarrassed for either of them. When Draco came, the warmth and wetness suffusing Harry, his own groan of pleasure sounded almost pained and tightened the crinkling of his brow. Harry barely saw it. He was caught, falling from his own climax, was only half aware of the fact that Draco rode out his own pleasure with slowing thrusts.
He'd never felt anything so achingly good in his entire life.
Draco collapsed on top of him. Not in a boneless slump but in an easing, trembling lowering of himself onto Harry's chest. Harry welcomed the touch, the embrace that was afforded him as Draco, panting so heavily that Harry could feel the motions of his chest on his overly-sensitised skin, wrapped his arms around him in return. Harry had never been a particularly touchy-feely person but in this instance he certainly found himself welcoming the chance to make an exception.
When the beaming pleasure slowly faded, when Harry found he could breath again in something less than pants, Draco withdrew from him. It was a disconcerting feeling that followed, the feeling of slickness and emptiness, that Harry was missing something, but he strove to thrust the thought, the sensation of loss, aside. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Draco more tightly, hooking his legs around his back to hold them against one another in a position that probably should have been uncomfortable but really, really wasn't. Draco slipped his arms around his waist in turn, holding him just as tightly in return.
Finally, Draco spoke. It was after a turn of his head, peering up at Harry from where his head rested on his shoulder. "Good?"
Harry stared down at him flatly for a moment before slowly raising an eyebrow. "Draco, I swear to God, if you ask me that one more time I'm going to –"
"God?" A smile drew across Draco's face, teasing but not taunting. "You've invoked your deity quite a lot in the last few minutes."
Harry winced slightly, but couldn't suppress his own returning smile. He leaned forwards slightly, just enough to touch a kiss upon Draco's brow. "Shut up, you git."
"You like it. Don't pretend you don't."
Harry didn't even hesitate to reply. It would have been ridiculous anyway. "True. Quite unexpectedly, I do. I like you."
Draco was silent for a moment. Only for a moment – of course only for a moment, as he was Draco Malfoy – before he pushed himself up slightly to slide further up Harry's chest. He rested back down heavily enough to huff Harry's breath from his chest when he was leaning over him, face to face. There was an intent light to his eyes, entirely serious despite the persistence of a small smile upon his lips. "I like you too," was all he said. It was possibly one of the shortest phrases that Harry had ever heard him say.
He wondered why it sounded like Draco's words meant more than that. More, just as his own felt entirely the same.
Draco would have been quite happy to remain abed for the rest of his life. Quite satisfied, in fact, even with the niggling voice in the back of his mind reminding him that maybe he should consider studying. He would stay in his bed, in his dormitory, at his school and with his boyfriend and his giant, rabid squirrel who he did not object to the presence of in the slightest. Pipsqueak was incredibly soft and warm.
He was comfortable. Satiated. Utterly replete, and it likely had more than a little to do with the fact that he had just had possibly the best sex of his life barely an hour before. Repeatedly, because who in their right mind would stop at once?
He and Harry had the dormitory to themselves. Draco wasn't sure if that was a gesture of respect from the rest of their year mates, an offer of privacy, or of sheer luck that had resulted in the boys dorm having exactly zero visitors throughout that Sunday. Or maybe that was just because it was a Hogsmeade weekend. He didn't care what the reason was, however. Draco was silently grateful for it whatever it was.
Harry had shifted himself so that he was lying half on top of Draco, sprawled across him in a manner that would have been far more satisfying had he not taken the time half an hour before to redress himself with the words, "I don't know about you but I'd rather Blaise not walk in on me starkers and have him know exactly what just went on in his absence", which Draco couldn't help but agree with at least in sentiment. Blaise already suspected they were fucking each other. He'd even asked the other day how it was, as though it was in any way his business.
Still, Draco had followed suit, if only dressing himself in a thin shirt and loose casual trousers just as Harry did. Clothes might be necessary but the feel of Harry pressed against him, body radiating warmth through the thin layers between them, was far too delicious to clad himself in anything more adequate.
Pipsqueak, naturally, reclined atop the both of them like a living blanket. She was nearly as tall as he and Harry when reclined upon the bed, and she made the most of that fact, stretching her full length along the crevasse where Draco and Harry pressed against one another. Once upon a time, Draco would have objected to the fact that while he and Harry lay with their heads barely a handbreadth apart, Pipsqueak's snout resting nearly as close. Not now, however. It was natural. It simply was.
They hadn't really spoken all that much during that time and yet it was not an uncomfortable silence. Draco had never been particularly inclined towards quietness but in this case he was more than happy to simply revel in lying still, wordless and prone, his arm wrapped around Harry's waist just as Harry's was around his. His other hand stroking idly at the crown of Pipsqueak's head as Harry's plucked gently at her ears.
It was absolutely comfortable. The rest of the world didn't realise what they were missing that they'd never experience something so perfectly natural. So easy.
Comments would arise every now and again. "Did you want to actually go down to Hogsmeade today?" or "We should probably do some study at some point." Such was followed long minutes later by, "You have the pointiest elbows, did you know that? No, don't let go, I'm just saying," which resulted in a brief battle of elbow jabs and laughing curses. Nothing particularly noteworthy, nor anything of all that much depth and yet it was easy. Draco never would have expected, not a year ago, not even six months ago, that lying in bed wrapped around Harry Potter and half smothered beneath a foxlet glider would be his idea of heaven.
After an extended moment of silence in which Draco shifted slightly to reach across the bed and tug the curtains closed slightly to block the afternoon sun shining in, Harry spoke. Draco knew from the first word that, contrary to their previous exchanges, this one was different. That it would hold more meaning. "Hey Draco. So I was wondering. After N.E. –"
"If there is ever an after, yes," Draco nodded. True, he was more than a little distracted from his studies by a certain someone – or more correctly two certain someones – but his focus upon the upcoming exams was indeed pronounced. A few more weeks; that was all he had to hold out for. Just a few more weeks.
Harry nodded decisively into his shoulder. "After our exams, I was wondering. What are you doing for the summer holidays?"
"Staying at school," Draco said immediately before he even had a chance to think about it. His response was automatic, thoughtless, because of course he would stay at school over the holidays, just as he had over the Christmas break, and the Easter break. School was where he was with Harry, and Pipsqueak, and he wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Not even his inclination to visit his mother trumped that.
But then reality settled upon him as Harry turned towards him questioningly, perhaps a little sadly. "Oh, right." Draco muttered, frowning. There would be no other holidays, not that summer nor any in the future. Draco felt his throat tighten slightly and struggled to swallow past it. Hogwarts was what bound he and Harry together, just as much as Pipsqueak did. Take that away and… "Um…"
Harry shifted slightly, and it wasn't Draco's imagination that such fidgeting was an attempt to draw himself closer to him. "Because I was thinking. Unless you had any objections, of course –"
"To your thinking? Definitely," Draco attempted a smile, attempted lightness, but felt he might have failed slightly. Harry afforded him a smile in response nonetheless.
"Shut up for once, would you?" He said fondly before continuing. "I was just thinking. About what I was going to do when I got out of school and everything."
"You wanted to be an Auror, didn't you?" Draco asked, despite the fact that the very thought left him feeling just a little distasteful. It was no secret that the life of an Auror, especially a newbie Auror, was all consuming. That it was more of a lifestyle choice than a career, and that Aurors generally saw more of their colleagues than they did their families, friends or lovers. And that was to say nothing of the cases that would take them away from home. Draco hadn't thought to contemplate the future too deeply, hadn't let himself, and in that moment all he could think was that he sorely hoped to be a part of Harry's.
Harry was silent for a moment, lips quirked sideways in his expression of thoughtfulness. When he replied his words were slow and just as thoughtful. "I did once. Yeah, maybe until not too long ago I wanted to be an Auror. But now…"
"Now?" Draco prompted after a moment's pause, biting back on both his surprise and selfishly kindled hope.
Harry shrugged and Draco couldn't even be bothered in that moment to reprimand him for the gesture that usually so frustrated him. "Now I'm not so sure. I don't think I really want to do that. I think… I think I'm done with fighting. For now, at least."
Those words – they shouldn't have made Draco as happy as they did. Harry was obviously uncertain, a little worried even, and Draco couldn't fault him for that. Everyone at Hogwarts had known since Harry's fifth year if not earlier that the Golden Boy of Gryffindor had intentions of being an Auror. It was a simple fact, just as it was that Draco would inherit his parents' wealth, or that Sue Li of Ravenclaw would become a lawyer at her father's firm, or that MacMillan of Hufflepuff would be the one to overcome his and his friend Corner of Ravenclaw's family feud and likely forge an alliance between two of the largest Muggle-Wizarding Relations parties in the world. It was just accepted, as it was that Blaise was a tart who would likely turn out exactly like his mother, or Hermione would definitely hold the Wizarding world enthralled in the future even if she didn't become Minister for Magic one day.
Draco hadn't even considered otherwise. He hadn't considered it and hadn't even thought about what it would mean for him and Harry when they eventually finished school. Worried and just a little devastated had been the primary emotions that rose to the fore when he accidentally let considerations flood his mind, but they were swept to the side quickly enough by Harry's words. Draco tried not to let his relief seep into his words. "So what are you thinking of doing?"
Harry, still staring at him, frowned slightly. "What are you so happy about?"
"I'm not happy."
"Yes you are. What is it?"
"Nothing."
"Draco –"
"It's nothing," Draco overrode him, scratching more rigorously at Pipsqueak's head. She made a coughing noise that Draco knew to be her version of a chuckle and he scowled at her teasing. She only grinned back up at him, her tails wagging slightly.
Turning back to Harry, he tightened his hold around his waist. "I guess it just leaves open a couple of doors, is all."
"Hm," Harry nodded. "That's what I was thinking."
"Any other thoughts besides that?"
"Hm," Harry hummed again, more thoughtfully this time. "Well, I guess I was going to ask you your plans first, maybe."
Draco had to forcibly thrust aside the upwelling of delight at Harry's words. Harry was adjusting his own considerations around Draco? What more could Draco possibly want from the world? Clearing his throat and ignoring the raised eyebrow that Harry turned towards him as his eyes flickered towards his lips, the only indication he'd had that Draco himself was smiling, he attempted casualness. "Well, you know the life of a Malfoy is grandiose. I have a reputation to uphold, a family name to maintain, estates to run and such. Of course, my marks in my N.E. will just as likely afford me prestige of name, but I've nothing to fear in that regard, not with so many Outstandings beneath my metaphorical belt."
Harry snorted. "Bloody hell, get off your fucking high horse."
"It's absolutely true," Draco said, and he could actually feel his smile widening this time. "The life of a pureblood is all about public face."
"Well, in that case then I'm sure you'll be very busy," Harry grumbled, turning his gaze down towards Pipsqueak who in turn switched her three-eyed stare towards him. "Lucky you."
Draco sighed, dragging Harry closer towards him so that he nearly unseated Pipsqueak in his attempt to drag him on top of him. It resulted in Pipsqueak graciously rolling from their combined laps to heave herself onto Harry's back where he stretched across Draco's chest. Draco could hardly breath for the double weight, but he couldn't bring himself to complain.
Tugging at a lock of Harry's hair, which Harry batted away as though disgruntled by the gesture, despite his expression suggesting otherwise, Draco heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Busy, unfortunately, I will not be. Woe is me that lives as a pureblood, for my time of leisure is the most paramount of occupations I will engage in."
Harry turned his gaze down upon him for a moment, staring blankly, uncomprehendingly, before he snorted. "God, you're a twat. Poor you who has so much time to do exactly what takes your fancy."
"It's a hard life," Draco smirked.
"I'll bet."
"And the beauty of it is," Draco continued, "that I can hence accompany you in whatever interest takes your fancy."
Harry, still staring down at him through the curtain of fringe and glasses, slowly eased his expression of disgruntlement and accusation into a growing smile. "Is that so?"
"Very much so."
"So if I were to have a suggestion…?"
"I would long to hear it to discern if my surplus of leisure time would afford us leeway to pursue your endeavour."
Harry grinned his lopsided smile that Draco had first fallen in love with months before he'd even realised it. "Thanks, Draco," he said, then leaned forwards and pressed a deep yet soft kiss upon his lips.
They lost themselves in one another's mouths for a time, Draco even forgetting for the moment the breathless discomfort of having both boyfriend and foxlet sprawled on top of him. He drew away though eventually, if reluctantly. "So?"
"Hm?" Harry asked, licking his lips in a ridiculously tantalising way that Draco suspected he wasn't even aware was such. "So what?"
"So what's this suggestion of yours?"
"Oh," Harry nodded, comprehension dawning as though his mind truly had been entirely drawn from their discussion. "Right, well, I sort of have this house from my godfather. Needs a bit of doing up."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "This wouldn't happen to be Sirius Black's estate, would it?"
"Maybe just."
"And you want me to help you clean it up."
Harry shrugged, smiling slightly as Draco caught the gesture with his hand and turned a pointed look upon him. "Well, I just figured, if I'm – if we're going to find somewhere that Pipsqueak would be able to actually stay outside of Hogwarts, it would have to be in a Wizarding house and probably in one owned by one of us. I just figured…" He trailed off and gave another deliberate shrug.
Draco hardly noticed that time. He stared up at Harry, eyebrows rising as one hand reached unconsciously behind him to stroke at Pipsqueak's head once more. Her humming purr could be felt even through the wall of Harry's body on top of him. "We are allowed to keep her?"
Harry's smile widened. "I talked to Hagrid. Apparently, so long as we want to, he'd encourage us to keep her with us. Better for everyone involved, you know?"
Draco felt his own smile return tenfold. He hadn't considered it, hadn't wanted to consider the prospect of them having Pipsqueak taken from them. She had become such an integral part to his life, to his life with Harry, that to have her taken away would be like losing a limb. Like losing two limbs.
Draco couldn't help himself curling his free hand around Harry's head to draw him down into another kiss. "Then in that case," he murmured into his lips when he released him, "I think I would be more than happy to offer my interior decorating services. At a price of course."
Harry chuckled. Draco could feel it vibrate through his chest more than he could hear it. "Is that right? And what might that price be?"
"For every hour I spend helping you, you've got to spend just as long doing exactly what I want."
Harry's lopsided grin stretched wide across his face, flashing his teeth. "I think I could manage that." Then he folded himself back on top of Draco and pressed their lips together once more to the music of Pipsqueak's contented purrs.
They didn't move from the bed for the rest of the day. Not when Ron arrived and shook his head over the fact that they were "Still in bed" and "Did they know that Pipsqueak had been sitting outside the dorm a couple of hours ago and preventing anyone from entering?" That fact in particular amused Draco greatly.
They didn't budge when Blaise followed shortly after him and wriggled his eyebrows suggestively at the two of them either, nor when Neville returned to the room muttering profuse apologies for 'intruding'. Not even when Luna, who had just about taken up residence in the eighth year tower alongside Ginny, poked her head through their dormitory door and asked if they wanted to come down to dinner.
Draco didn't. He didn't want to move. Right then, he was exactly where he wanted to be. It was a different kind of wonderful to that which he had expected, to what he had hoped for, but he found he didn't mind this kind of different. Not in the slightest.