Park the car, turn off the lights
And venture through a field out on our own
The birds they sang a melody
My heart was keeping time and we were dancing on the edge of something new
By: Anson Seabra
"How have you been, lion cub," Sirius asks, his voice crackling on the other end of the phone.
He must be a place with a bad connection, Harry thinks idly, as Draco's fingers comb through his hair, filling him with contentment that feels as warm and comforting as a blanket.
"Great," Harry says without thinking, a wide smile on his face.
Sirius picks up on it immediately before Harry can correct his mistake.
"Oh, really?" Sirius asks in a sly teasing voice and Harry fights back a groan, "So what's their name?"
Draco's fingers still in his hair as a blush covers Harry's skin. He buries his head deeper into Draco's thighs to hide his face.
"Hmm…What did you say, I think you cut out," Harry lies.
Draco's fingers slip out of his hair and trail down his neck tracing the curvature of his spine with gentle caresses that send shivers through Harry's already overheated body.
"What is the name of the person you are dating?" Sirius asks in a amused tone, ever blunt.
Harry shrugs even though Sirius can't see him.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry says evasively.
Draco's fingers glide over the fabric of Harry's silk shirt, deftly unbuttoning it and revealing the skin beneath. It is a shirt that Draco insisted Harry wear this morning, much to Harry's protest that a hoodie would be more comfortable.
"Sure you don't. Everyday it was the rain stopped for a few hours today so slightly improved from yesterday, or can you believe what Draco said to me today or Draco is such a little bitch and still won't talk to me,"
Above him Draco chokes on a laugh and Harry viciously beats on his leg in punishment. Not that it does any good, Draco's skin feels like it's made of stone.
"I never said that!" Harry says in a shrill voice as Draco's fingers trail against his skin, his hot packet warmed, touch soft and explorative.
"Then it changed," Sirius says in a laughing voice, ignoring Harry's protests, "Draco spoke to me today for the first time, did you know Draco plays the piano, Draco calls Astoria Stori do you think that means they are dating, do you think there is any deeper meaning to him taking me to dinner?"
Harry's breath hitches and he bites down on his lips, suppressing the urge to cry out in pleasure as the finger traces slow circles around a hardened nipple, while a thumb teases and flicks at its sensitive tip. Every nerve in Harry's body is on fire, his mind consumed with the electrifying sensation of being touched.
"The back and forth with him irritated me that's all," Harry says in a strained voice, his embarrassment reaching its max.
Sirius laughs out loud at that, "You were obsessed,"
Harry takes that back; this is more embarrassing, he thinks as Draco's thumb presses down hard, causing Harry to squirm against him.
"I wondered if some days you knew how to talk about anything else," Sirius continues.
In the back of his mind Harry wonders awkwardly if his friends felt the same way, seeing as he talked about Draco to them much more than he did Sirius.
"Was not," Harry rasps in a stubborn voice.
Draco's fingers trace a tantalizing path down his chest, lingering on the waistband of his pants before daringly dipping inside. Harry's breath catches in his throat at the sight, his body tensing with anticipation.
"Harry, are you okay?" Sirius asks in concern.
"Muscle cramp," Harry lies quickly.
Harry's body trembles as Draco's low laughter vibrates through him. The cold sensation of Draco's fingers delving deeper and deeper until they wrap around him, causing Harry to stiffen in shock. Draco's hand halts, freezing everything in a moment of tense anticipation before continuing its relentless motion.
"I always said you don't stretch enough," Sirius chides.
Harry's hips give a little thrust and he bites back a moan as a wave of pleasure washes over him. Draco's hand relaxes, repositioning it to better hold him better.
"Too much work. I'm always so tired after working out," Harry mumbles, only half aware of the conversation now as he continues to move.
"He's there with you right now isn't he?" Sirius asks in a faux shocked voice.
Harry's thrusts abruptly stop as he feels all of his interest shrivel up as nerves take over.
"No!" He exclaims, "Of course not,"
Draco removes his hand, tucking his arms around Harry and pulling him close against his chest as Harry's heart beat no doubt raises.
"Come on, cub, I wasn't born yesterday," Sirius teases in a playful tone, "You wouldn't be this embarrassed otherwise.
Harry begs to differ, but he wonders how playful Sirius would be if he knew what Draco is doing with Harry while he is with him.
Harry can hear Remus shouting in the background, "Are you sure?"
"Wait, are you implying that I'm young?" Harry can almost picture Sirius smirking.
"Maybe in terms of brain cells," Remus interjects.
"Don't start, Remus Lupin!" Sirius yells, holding the phone away from his mouth.
Harry giggles at their antics, feeling a hole in his chest that he doesn't get to experience it every day anymore. He'd been so wrapped up in Draco and vampires, he realized he didn't call as often as he used.
" Since I have both your ears I think it is prudent to get a few things straighten out. I know you think because you're both boys that you don't need to use protection, but condoms-"
"Sirius! I think you are breaking up, I can't hear you," Harry says his thumb hovering over the end button.
"No, I was just about to sing the condom song!" Sirius says before Harry presses end.
"The condom song?" Draco asks in a curious voice.
Harry sighs and sits up, facing Draco.
"My school brought in a musical program to teach us about sex ed," Harry explains with a chuckle. "But they didn't realize until it started that nothing rhymes with condom."
Draco's expression turns to one of dread. "You can't be serious."
"I am," Harry confirms, a mischievous glint in his eye.
"And to the tune of cha cha music, dancers dressed as condoms and birth control pills sang 'Condom, Condom, Condom equals safe sex, safe sex, safe sex.'"
Draco groans and covers his eyes in horror.
"I can think of nothing worse."
"Oh, it gets even better," Harry continues. "There was a whole dance routine too."
He then proceeds to demonstrate the ridiculous dance moves and sings the corny lyrics.
Draco lets out another groan.
"Please make it stop!"
"Is this really how you defeat a vampire? With bad music?" Harry asks.
"Yes!" Draco exclaims dramatically. "Stop the torture, oh mighty mortal."
"Make me," Harry teases, flashing a mischievous smile.
In response, Draco pounces on Harry and presses their lips together in a heated kiss, effectively cutting off any more singing or dancing. When he pulls back, Harry is left breathless and panting for more.
"Ahh, the blissful sound of silence," Draco murmurs, his eyes glazed and slightly hungry as the coppery yellow begins to fade into black.
Draco had disclosed last week that the reason for his mismatched eyes was not due to emotions, but rather his level of hunger. The lighter his eyes, the more recently he has fed. However, he continues to refuse revealing what he and his siblings consume. Harry's breath stutters as Draco's head moves with deceptive grace down to his neck and Draco's sculpted lips create a chilly trail down his neck.
"You can you know, if you want," Harry says in a weak feeble voice.
"Can what?" Draco asks sounding dazed.
"Bite me,"
Draco freezes above him his lips pinched around the skin of Harry's neck. Slowly his lips release him.
"What if I said that I couldn't stop once I started," Draco asks in a delicate voice his, leaning back down to lick along the lines of Harry's veins.
"You wouldn't. I trust you,"
Draco lets out a dark laugh.
"What if I said that it doesn't matter if I stop because one bite and my venom will stop your heart," Draco says and Harry's breath hitches, "I'm a creature of death that's all I will ever bring you,"
"Still worth it," Harry says and despite his mindless state finds that he means it and bares his neck, waiting.
Draco must realize it too, because he rips himself away from Harry and glares down at him from his new place by the window.
"You are such an idiot Swan," he hisses and then is gone, leaving Harry panting and gasping on his bed.
Draco apologies the next day but as months pass and winter turns to spring, Harry notices that while Draco still touches him and kisses him he doesn't bring his lips to Harry's neck again.
"How do you feel about camping?" Draco asks from beside him scraping a spoon through the beans on the tray in Harry's lap. The tray is filled with a perfect assortment: crispy bacon, sausages, eggs, grilled tomatoes, baked beans, buttered toast, and even a small pot of tea. Harry stares at it, then back at Draco, who is watching him expectantly.
"Hmmm…?" Harry asks in a distracted voice.
His mind has been scattered ever since Draco surprised him in his room this morning, bringing breakfast and climbing into his bed. It brings back memories of their first blow job months ago, one that Harry can't seem to stop replaying in his head. They've done more since then, but something lately feels different with Draco. He's been acting overly sweet and attentive, almost panicky about meeting Harry's every need. When Harry asked Ginny, Ron, and Hermione about it last week over dinner with the four of them at the Three Forks, Hermione simply said that people change when they're in love. She gave a despairing look at Ron, who had food dangling out of his mouth as he nodded in agreement. His mind wanders to the conversation he had with his friends just yesterday.
"Well some people," she says with a shake of her head.
"I bet it's a temporary change," Ginny says in a knowing voice, "He's worried that he will lose you, so he's trying to not show his flaws so you won't leave,"
"But I already know that I can handle his flaws, otherwise I wouldn't have decided to date him," Harry says in a frustrated voice, laying his head between his hands.
"Well did you talk to him about it?" Hermione asks in a disapproving voice that suggests she already knows the answer.
"Well not exactly…" Harry says.
He'd tried. He really had. But every time that Harry attempts to start a serious conversation about their relationship and where it is going, Draco presses up against him and kisses him and things quickly dissolve from there. Or if Harry manages to get a few words out Draco looked confused and panicked. In such cases Harry usually kissed Draco just to get the expression off his face.
"We are not really good at talking," Harry says in a embarrassed voice trying not to think about the foreign yet thrilling sensation of Draco's cold fingers gliding over the toned planes of his stomach and sliding under the elastic waistband of his boxers.
Harry had finally after weeks of arguments convinced Draco to be less vigilant about the use of hand warming packs before touching him.
"See there's your problem," Hermione says in a disapproving voice, "If you don't talk nothing will ever change,"
Harry can't help but miserably agree.
"Harry?" Draco asks his voice gaining a touch of worry.
"Yes, sorry," Harry says shaking away the memory and focusing on Draco's pinched face.
"This is... wow," Harry manages. "Thank you, but…"
He trails off noticing that Draco holds a fork full of beans close to his mouth and frowns. He notices the slight furrow in Draco's brow, the tension in his jaw and knows he has to step with caution.
"You know you don't have to feed me," Harry says in a careful voice, not wanting to come across as ungrateful and accidentally upset Draco further like he had all the other times.
"I know. I just don't want you to strain yourself, love," Draco says, gently pushing a errant curl behind Harry's ear, a soft expression on his face.
That's another new thing – the English pet name. Harry made one mention of liking Draco's accent in bed, and suddenly Draco's sounding like an American pretending to be English in his desire to sound more... well, English. All the way down to making Harry a full English for breakfast this morning.
It's just too much.
When Harry doesn't open his mouth Draco's expression falters slightly.
"You don't like it?"
There's a vulnerability in Draco's voice that makes Harry's heart ache.
"No, no, it's not that,"
Harry rushes to explain, his words tumbling out in his haste to reassure Draco.
"It's just... very un-Draco-like." Harry finishes lamely.
Draco's grip on the spoon tightens, and Harry watches as a spasm moves across Draco's facial muscles as he forces a smile on his face.
"Well, then I'll try my very best to correct my behaviour then," Draco says, his voice strained.
"No!" Harry says his voice coming out too desperate causing Draco's eyes to widen, "That's not what I meant…"
Draco's eyebrow arches, and suddenly, the air between them shifts. The vitriol-coated words that fall out of his mouth are the first natural-sounding ones in weeks.
"And what, pray tell, is 'Draco-like', then Swan?" he growls, his pointed nose knocking against Harry's as Draco's golden eyes glare into his.
Harry can't help but grin at the familiar tone, relief washing over him. This is the Draco he knows, the one he wants to date.
"Well, for starters, you'd usually be complaining about how my hair looks like a rat's nest in the morning."
A astonished look flashes across Draco's face and then disappears as small smile tugs at Draco's lips.
"Well, now that you mention it, it does look pretty terrible. I don't know how you dissuade birds from making their homes in it," Draco says with a fond ruffle of Harry's hair, the rejected spoon in his other hand forgotten.
As they finish breakfast, trading barbs and stolen glances, Harry feels a weight lift from his shoulders. This is the Draco he missed - snarky, confident, and utterly himself.
"So camping?" Draco says with a taunting smile, as he removes the tray from Harry's lap.
Harry tries and fails not to glance down at Draco chest where his updated wardrobe is on full display. Gone are the flowing, oversized robes that Fred had once jokingly referred to as "Gandalf chic." Instead, Draco started wearing an modern versions of his middle-aged themed clothing complete with fitted shirts and pants that hug his lean frame in ways that make Harry's mouth go dry. He looks not unlike the elves in the romance books that Harry hides in his dirty laundry basket so Draco doesn't steal them like all of his other books. Though this time the handsome elf prince is looking at Harry not some willowy mouse haired girl.
Todays outfit features a nearly see through embroidered white shirt that almost seems one with Draco's pale skin. Harry imagines that shirt soaked with sweat as Draco hikes ahead of him to their camp ground, the muscles of his legs straining against his tight pants. He feels his face grow warm.
"Camping sounds fun," he says in a breathless voice.
Draco smirks, as if guessing his thoughts showing off his pure white teeth, "Excellent,"
Draco looks at the flamed covered, two wheeled contraption in front of him while, Harry stands grinning beside him.
"Are you sure about this?" Draco asks as Harry swings his leg over and settles down on the leather seat.
Harry turns and looks back at him.
"You will be fine, Draco, I am a perfectly safe driver," Harry says in a reassuring voice.
"It's not me, I'm worried about," he mutters as he climbs on behind him and wraps his arms around Harry, pulling him tight against his chest.
Draco hears Harry's heart stutter in his chest, his shaky breathing knocking out of rhythm. Draco smirks, leaning forward and brushing his lips against the shell of Harry's ear, causing him to shiver against him.
"Don't go to fast, sweetheart," he breathes.
"Never," Harry says in a stuttering voice, that Draco thinks he meant to sound confident.
The powerful engine roars to life as Harry twists the key in the ignition, the sound reverberating through his body. He settles a sleek helmet over his head before revving the bike and taking off down the open road. Draco's arms tighten around Harry's waist, their bodies pressed close together as they speed ahead. Draco's mind races with thoughts of how to protect Harry if anything were to happen, but he discards each one just as quickly as the vehicle flies past it all. Harry leans back into Draco's chest, almost as if he can sense his thoughts, and a small smile tugs at Draco's lips as he nuzzles into Harry's neck. The wind whips at his hair and clothes, adding to the exhilaration of their ride.
As they fly past the dense forest of trees, Draco can see every minute detail of their surroundings. The leaves on the trees showing up a in greens he never knew existed, each one distinctive as they move by. The bark of the trees a deep and textured brown, with grooves and knots that Draco can trace with his eyes. For Harry, the world is a blur of colors and shapes, but for Draco, it is an intricate tapestry of beauty. Every sight and sound filling him with a strange sense of peace, as if he is in tune with the rhythm of the forest itself. It is a sensation that only someone with heightened senses could fully appreciate.
Eventually Draco directs Harry to pull to the side of the road next to a trail head that is buried in weeds.
"We are going trail hiking?" Harry asks a strange excitement in his voice.
"Not exactly," he says as he slips his hand into Harry's, "There's no trail,"
Harry's eyes light up even more.
"Is that safe?" Harry asks with a teasing smile.
Draco smirks at him, Harry no doubt remembering their little Port Angles misadventure.
"As long as you stay close to me," Draco says drawing Harry close to his side.
Harry's smile grows bigger, "That shouldn't be too hard,"
An hour later Harry and him find themselves talking about Harry's father's history with ballet, a story that involves a shocking cast of characters.
"My father's mentor Salazar Slytherin was married in all but name to Godric Gryffindor…" Harry says as Draco helps him on top of a large log, holding his hands for balance.
Draco lips twitches and before he can stop himself he bursts out laughing. A large part of him wants to know where the spell is coming up with this madness, but another part desperately wants to know if it's based on any facts. Harry gives Draco a suspicious look.
"Why are you laughing? Do you think the concept of two men getting married is funny?" Harry demands looking a touch worried.
Draco forces to stifle his nervous giggles and shake his head.
"Of course not, love," he says and is rewarded with a very pink faced Harry, "Their names are just very…strange, I couldn't help myself."
Harry gives him an odd look.
"No stranger than, Draco," he says, "I keep meaning to ask you is that a family name?"
Draco feels a sense of deja vu wash over him, but he pushes it away not wanting to think about Luca right now.
He says, "In a way. My mothers family names their children after constellations. So I was named for Draco the dragon constellation,"
Harry stretches out his arms for Draco to lift him down, though Draco knows the cheeky thing can jump down himself. Draco lifts Harry under his arms and sits him down on the forest floor closer to him than necessary. When Harry opens his mouth to thank him, Draco leans forward to kiss him. It starts off sweet, but it quickly escalates into a fight for dominance as their tongues shove against each other. Draco eventually crowds Harry against a tree, grinding against him, as he swallows Harry's groans with hungry gasps. As Draco pulls back from the kiss, and looks down at a breathless Harry, he understands why Salazar might have thought that Godric was worth the risk.
"You never let me finish the story," Harry pouts, leaning against the trunk, with a look of fake ire, "And it was you who asked the question in the first place.
Draco places a kiss on his forehead, "You looked too irresistible to resist, but do please continue with your story,"
"I guess I forgive you,"
"I never apologized,"
Harry huffs in annoyance and mutters under his breath, "Impossible,"
Draco reluctantly lets Harry out of the cage of his arms and leads him forward through the trail that only exists in his mind.
"So they were married in all but name…" Draco says trailing off.
"They were married in all, but name. They met my parents and each saw their immense talent,"
"Not arrogant of you to say," Draco says.
"Well there horde of fans and numerous awards suggests otherwise," Harry says with a self satisfied smirk.
"Godric wanted my dad, Sirius and Moony to help him create a motorcycle gang that safely welcomed queer bikers. Salazar wanted Regulus to help him rewrite ballet history,"
"Again not arrogant at all,"
This time Harry ignores him.
"Salazar's rewritten version of Swan Lake put my father, Regulus, on the map for ballet dancers," Harry continues, his voice animated once again, "Especially with the controversial twist of Odette and Odile being danced by men."
Draco's steps falter, his face contorting in confusion.
"What do you mean, 'rewritten'?" he asks, his voice clipped and precise.
Harry's eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he stops walking, turning to face Draco fully.
"You know there's the original version where Odette and Odile are danced by women and Odette and Siegfried die in the lake, right?" He pauses, his eyes watching Draco's face carefully, "But in the Mariinsky Ballet version, Siegfried defeats Von Rothbart and the couple lives happily ever after."
His grey eyes narrow, processing the new information. Harry continues, his words tumbling out faster now, seeming to be fueled by his enthusiasm.
"In Salazar's version, Odile was still a villain at the end of the last dance, but when my father Regulus danced under him, he often danced both Odette and Odile. He started to see similarities between his own relationship with his parents and Odile's."
Harry's beautiful emerald eyes shine with pride.
"After that, he couldn't bear to keep Odile as a two-dimensional character anymore."
Draco lets his body sag against a nearby tree, his usual composed demeanor slipping. Harry looking unbothered presses on, gesticulating as he speaks.
"He decided to write a different version of the ballet where Odile grows from being Odette's shadow and Von Rothbart's puppet, to become the hero instead."
A soft smile plays on Harry's lips.
"My dad, James, loved the idea so much he convinced Bathilda to write a book for it and gifted it to my father as an engagement gift."
Draco blinks rapidly, struggling to process this deluge of information despite his vampire brain. His brow furrows deeply, a headache forming behind his eyes. The concept of altering a traditional story seems almost against the very concept of history to him.
"But that doesn't make any sense," Draco protests, his voice rising slightly.
His pale features contort in confusion and frustration.
"How can there be multiple versions? Surely the original is the only true representation."
Harry's lips quirks into a wicked smile.
"Depends on who you ask. Some folks threw a right fit over it."
He shrugs, falling back into step along the trail.
"Many groups protested that the new version was an abomination. Others said it was anti-feminist because it removed female characters and replaced them with men."
Draco hurries to catch up, his boots crunching on the forest floor.
"But the original version has stood the test of time," he insists.
"These new interpretations... they're just muddying the waters, aren't they?"
"Look," Harry says, in a softer tone, "while I reckon a newer version with a more even mix of male, female, and non-binary characters would be brilliant, I think it's up to the viewer to decide which one they prefer. It's not about replacing the original, Draco. It's about adding new perspectives."
Draco falls silent, his mind whirling with conflicting thoughts. He feels the dappled shadows play across his face as he wrestles with these new ideas. After a long moment, he speaks, his voice hesitant.
"Harry, I... I appreciate your patience in explaining all this." He swallows hard, the words difficult to form.
"You've always been remarkably tolerant of my... limited perspective."
Harry's steps slowly forward, surprise colouring his demeanor. As he seems to note the vulnerability in Draco's usually guarded expression.
"There's nothing wrong with asking questions, Draco," Harry says gently.
"That's how we learn and grow. And honestly?"
A crooked smile spreads across his face.
"I rather enjoy our debates. They make me think too."
Draco finds himself smiling despite himself realising seconds later that they have reached the entrance.
"Close your eyes," Draco says in a soft voice, as Harry stops in front of him.
He resists the urge to gasp as Harry unquestionably does. Even after all this time the trust Harry places in him still blows him away. Draco gently leads Harry into the entrance and then and whispers,
"You can open them," into the shell of his ear.
Harry hitched breath makes the trust all the sweeter.
The meadow is a tapestry of vibrant wildflowers, their petals dancing in the gentle breeze. Harry sits cross-legged in the grass, his fingers nimbly weaving stems together. Draco watches him curiously, his pale skin seeming to glow in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. He's so beautiful Draco thinks.
The air is thick with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers, mingling with the earthy scent of sun-warmed grass. A gentle breeze carries the soft whisper of rustling leaves from the surrounding trees, creating a soothing melody. The ground beneath them is a plush carpet of green, dotted with patches of soft moss. Butterflies flit from flower to flower, their delicate wings catching the sunlight. In the distance, the faint trickle of a hidden stream adds to the tranquil atmosphere.
"What are you making?" Draco asks, his voice a mix of curiosity and amusement.
Harry grins, holding up his creation made of various varieties of anemones, daisies, orchids, and primulas.
"It's a flower crown. Here, let me..."
With trembling hands, Harry reaches up and delicately places the circlet of blossoms on Draco's platinum hair. His brow furrows in concentration as he carefully arranges each flower, his fingertips brushing against the soft strands of Draco's hair. A shiver runs through Draco's body at the touch, but he tries to hide it, not wanting to break the moment.
"There! You look like an prince elf now." Harry says beaming at him, his green eyes slowly roving over his body lingering on the sparkling V of his chest where his shirt deeps down.
"Especially with the clothes," Harry with amusement.
Draco's raises his eyebrows at the insult. Where was his sweet Harry from a few moments ago.
"An elf prince," Draco scoffs at the juxtaposition of those two words.
Nothing can be farther from the fact. Draco's attire shimmers in the dappled sunlight of the meadow, a perfect blend of elven grace and wizarding flair. He wears a tight tunic of the finest white silk, its fabric that almost appears shear in the sun lit meadow. The tunic is adorned with intricate silver embroidery along the collar and cuffs, depicting twining vines and leaves that seemed to shift and move in the light.
Over this, he wears a sleeveless robe of pale silver, open at the front and falling to his knees. Its edges are trimmed with a deeper silver that gleams like starlight. The robe is fastened at his waist with a belt of interwoven silver and white cords. His legs are clad in close-fitting trousers of a slightly darker silver, tucked into soft leather boots that reached mid-calf. The boots are a pearlescent white, laced with silver threads that crisscrossed up the sides.
Around his shoulders drapes a gossamer-thin cloak, almost transparent, that shimmers with an opalescent sheen as it caught the light. It is fastened at his throat with a brooch shaped like a serpent curled around a green gemstone. His platinum blonde hair falls in soft waves around his face, accentuating his pointed features and giving him an otherworldly appearance.
"What do you mean? I look nothing like those creatures," Draco sneers trying to imagine a house elf in a flower crown, "Elves are small, wrinkly things with huge eyes and bat-like ears. They certainly don't wear flower crowns."
Harry tilts his head, looking puzzled by Draco's reaction.
"No, not like... whatever you're thinking of. I mean like the elves in fantasy stories," Harry says with a amused smile, "Tall, graceful beings with pointed ears and ethereal beauty. They're often depicted living in forests, at one with nature."
Draco's about to demand what Harry is talking about, but catches himself, remembering Harry's current state of having no memories of the wizard world. Draco's expression softens, a flicker of recognition in his eyes.
"Oh... I think I know what you mean," he says, memories of Pansy reading such novels with Lily glancing over her shoulder pretending she didn't find their brooding expression enchanting, flickering through his mind.
"I've seen book covers with creatures like that. They do sound... interesting," Draco says glad he is unable to blush.
Harry's eyes sparkles with wonder.
"With your pale skin and that flower crown, you really do look like you could be one of them. It's beautiful."
Draco feels a mix of emotions - amusement at Harry's innocence, a touch of sadness at being the cause of his lost memories, and a hint of something warmer he can't quite name.
"You have quite the imagination," he says softly, his hand reaching up to touch the delicate petals.
He wonders if Harry in their world possessed such a thing behind the closed walls of the Gryffindor Tower. In the gloomy halls and classrooms he always looked weary and tense. Though having a mad man breathing down you neck does that, Draco thinks, he would know. Draco shoves away the dark thoughts and smirks at the blush that grows darker the longer Harry looks at him.
With a mischievous glint in his eye, he asks, "So, in these books you've read, what usually happens if an prince elf comes upon an unsuspecting human making flower crowns in their meadow?"
Harry's smile turns embarrassed, and he looks away, suddenly finding the grass beneath him incredibly interesting.
"Oh, um... nothing, really,"
Draco raised an eyebrow, amused by Harry's sudden shyness. Who is the Gryffindor now?
"So the elf just leaves the human be, content to watch?"
Harry shrugs seeming intent to stave him off. Then, an idea strikes him.
"You know," he says casually, "I told you earlier that I can't speak or understand French, right?"
Harry nods, still not meeting Draco's eyes.
"Well, why don't you tell me in French? That way, you won't feel so embarrassed," Draco suggests, fighting to keep a straight face.
Harry hesitates for a moment, then takes a deep breath.
"I guess…"
In halting French, he begins, "Il était une fois un prince fae dont le royaume fut repris par un roi cruel venant d'un royaume rival. Il tenait les parents du prince en otage et menaçait de les tuer si le seigneur fae ne protégeait pas ses nouvelles terres des humains. Le seigneur fae n'aimait pas les humains, mais il ne cherchait pas à les tuer. Même s'il choisirait toujours ses parents plutôt que n'importe qui d'autre. Un jour, le seigneur fae tombe sur un humain dans une prairie de fleurs. Il hésite mais à la fin il sait qu'il doit aller jusqu'au bout de sa tâche,"
Harry smiles a little as he trails off, his gaze resting on the dark places between the trees that surround Draco's own meadow as if he spies the elf lord hiding in the shadows.
Draco inhales deeply, taking in the sweet combination of Harry's natural scent and the subtle floral aroma. He can't help but wonder if anything could possibly smell better. His hand reaches out tentatively, tracing a delicate path down Harry's arm, relishing in the small shiver that his touch elicits.
"Le seigneur fae est abasourdi lorsque l'humain lui offre la couronne de fleurs pour son futur bourreau."
Draco's fingers lightly graze against the sensitive skin of Harry's inner elbow. The touch is gentle but deliberate, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. Harry's long, dark eyelashes flutter rapidly.
"What happens next," Draco asks in a low voice trying not to look like he is on the edge of his seat.
It takes a moment for Harry to register that Draco spoke to him, but eventually he opens his mouth to continue.
"Le seigneur elfe déchire la couronne de fleurs en lambeaux et la jette de côté. Il brandit son épée et dit à l'humain qu'il doit être tué pour intrusion. L'humain est effrayé au début, frémissant et se recroquevillant face au seigneur elfe et à son épée. Le seigneur elfe le trouve pathétique et se moque de l'humain, mais cela ne fait que rendre l'humain fou,"
There is a joyful light in Harry's eyes as he gets into his tale and leans back in the soft flowers, an arm pillowing his head.
"L'humain rétorque qu'il n'a aucun moyen de savoir que cette partie de la forêt est occupée et que c'est la faute des elfes s'ils n'ont pas fait connaître davantage sa propriété. Le seigneur elfe, déchiré entre sa loyauté envers ses parents et le mal qu'il ressent en tuant l'humain, l'emmène sur sa place et s'enfuit dans la forêt avec lui, pensant qu'une fois qu'il le tuera, il laissera son corps dehors pour que les humains puissent le voir. personne d'autre n'oserait entrer,"
Draco leans in closer to Harry, casting a long shadow over him. His fingers glide along the outer edge of Harry's jaw, tracing the sharp lines and angles of his face. Harry's breath catches in his throat as he leans into the touch, his eyes closing for a moment. Draco then moves his finger to trace the bridge of Harry's nose, feeling the soft curve and smooth skin beneath his touch. He then continues on, tracing the outline of Harry's emerald green eyes with gentle strokes, relishing in the vulnerability that lies within them. Finally, he brushes his finger across Harry's full lips, feeling their warmth and plumpness beneath his touch. A quiet sigh escapes from Harry's parted lips, as if begging for more of Draco's caresses.
Oh sweetheart Draco croons in his head.
"Le seigneur elfe commence à lever son épée pour mettre fin à la vie de l'humain, mais il hésite ensuite, pensant qu'il serait préférable de la dégainer. Donnez de l'espoir à l'humanité, puis brisez-le. Il imagine que le méchant roi approuverait ses plans, mais lorsqu'il est convoqué devant le roi, le seigneur elfe ne parvient toujours pas à le lui dire. Il laisse l'humain penser qu'il sera autorisé à vivre et le seigneur elfe continue sa vie, ne sachant pas comment l'humain s'y intègre, " dit Harry, " Ils se battent au début, mais finalement ils se rendent compte qu'ils sont tous les deux aussi bons. solitaire comme l'autre. Le seigneur elfe est entouré de courtisans qui ont trop peur de lui pour être ses amis et l'humain est considéré comme trop étrange pour s'intégrer aux villageois. Ils parlent et se rapprochent encore un jour lorsque l'elfe apprend à l'humain à danser. Ils passent tout leur temps libre ensemble et finalement le seigneur elfe se rend compte qu'il ne peut pas tuer l'humain parce qu'il est tombé amoureux.,"
Harry's expression is distant and a little cautious as he says the word love. Draco wonders if he is thinking about Malcom the boy who supposedly broke his heart. Draco is curious if Harry ever loved him. He hopes not, though he can't for the life of him figure out why.
"L'humain tombe tout aussi profondément et jure de ne jamais se séparer du seigneur elfe. Ensemble, utilisant l'ingéniosité des humains, ils déjouent le méchant roi et sauvent le royaume du prince.,"
As Harry finishes speaking, Draco's eyes widened slightly, his expression a mixture of surprise and fear. That story sounds startling familiar. Aside from the end of course.
"I see," he says softly, his voice wary. "That was... quite interesting."
Harry, oblivious to Draco's reaction and believing his words remain a secret, gives a small, relieved smile.
"Yeah, it's just silly fantasy stuff," he says with a nervous laugh.
Draco's gaze lingers on Harry, his mind racing with thoughts he dare not voice. The meadow suddenly feels charged with an unspoken tension, the air between them thick with possibility.
"Well," Draco finally says, his voice carefully controlled, he needs a distraction now.
"Perhaps these elf stories are more intriguing than I initially thought,"
Draco, his mind still reeling from Harry's French confession, decides to test the waters.
"So, do these elves like to dance?" he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.
For a moment, Draco worries that Harry might find the question suspicious, given what he'd just "secretly" revealed. But Harry, still blissfully unaware that Draco understood him, seems more preoccupied with his own insecurities.
"Oh, I suppose they do," Harry replies, then adds hastily, "But I can't dance. Not at all."
Draco's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "But you do ballet, don't you?"
Harry's cheeks flush again his hands gripped tightly together in his lap.
"That's... that's different. It's only one type of dance. I couldn't do anything else."
A slow smile spreads across Draco's face.
"Nonsense. If you can do ballet, you can learn other dances too. Here, let me show you."
Before Harry can protest, Draco rises to his feet and pulls Harry up with him. The flower crown slips slightly, hanging at a jaunty angle on Draco's head. Harry looks at him with a slightly lost expression, his mouth parted in awe.
"We'll start with a simple waltz," Draco says, positioning Harry's hand on his shoulder and taking the other in his own. "It's easy. Just follow my lead."
Harry stumbles at first, his feet clumsy and uncertain.
"I told you, I can't—"
But Draco is patient in a way he never was in his other life, guiding Harry through the steps with gentle pressure and murmured instructions. When he notices Harry still struggling to find the rhythm, he begins to hum softly under his breath. The melody drifts through the air, ethereal and hauntingly beautiful. It is a familiar tune, the main theme from Swan Lake, evoking images of graceful swans gliding across a moonlit lake. The notes dance and intertwine, painting a delicate portrait of love and longing.
As the familiar tune fills the air, something seems to click for Harry. His movements become more fluid, more confident. He looks up at Draco in surprise, a smile spreading across his face.
"There, you see?" Draco says, his voice soft. "You're dancing."
They move together through the meadow, surrounded by swaying flowers and dappled sunlight. The moment feels almost magical, as if they stepped into one of those fantasy stories Harry has described.
Draco finds himself lost in Harry's eyes, marvelling at how naturally they move together, not unlike the couple in Harry's farfetched story. For a brief moment, he allows himself to imagine what it would be like if this were real – if he were truly the elf prince and Harry the human he'd fallen for, after their many misunderstandings.
As they twirl, the flower crown finally slips off Draco's head, landing softly in the grass. Neither of them noticed, too caught up in the dance and the unspoken connection growing between them.
English Translation:
There once was a fae prince whose kingdom was taken over by a cruel king from a rival kingdom. He held the prince's parents hostage and threatened to kill them if the fae lord didn't guard his new lands from humans. The fae lord had no love for humans, but he didn't seek to kill them. However he would always choose his parents over anyone else. One day the fae lord stumbles upon a human in a meadow of flowers. He hesitates but in the end he knows he must go through with his task.
The elf lord rips the flower crown to shreds and tosses it aside. He brandishes his sword and says to the human that he must be killed for trespassing. The human is scared at first, quivering and cowering from the elf lord and his sword. The elf lord thinks him pathetic and sneers at the human, but this only serves to make the human mad.
The human snaps that there was no way of him knowing that this part of the forest was occupied and that it was the elves fault for not making his ownership more known. The elf lord torn between his loyalty to his parents and the wrongness he feels at killing the human snatches up him onto his stead and races off into the forest with him, thinking that once he kills him and leaves his body out for the humans to see no one else would dare trespass.
The Elf lord starts to raise his sword to end the human's life but then he hesitates, thinking it would be best to draw it out. Give the human hope and then shatter it. He imagines that the evil king would approve of his plans, yet when summoned before the king the elf lord always fails to tell him. He lets the human think that he will be allowed to live and the elf lord gets on with his life, not knowing how the human fits in it," Harry says, "They fight at first, but eventually they realize that they are both as lonely as the other. The elf lord is surrounded by courtiers who are too scared of him to be his friends and the human is viewed as too strange to fit in with the village people. They talk and grow even closer one day when the elf teaches the human how to dance. They spend all their free time together and eventually, the elf lord realizes that he can't kill the human because he has fallen in love.'
The human falls just as deeply and vows never part from the elf lord's side. Using human ingenuity, they outwit the evil king and save the prince's kingdom.