Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8722162.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Draco_Malfoy/Harry_Potter
  Character:
      Draco_Malfoy, Harry_Potter, Other_Character_Tags_to_Be_Added
  Additional Tags:
      Hogwarts_Fifth_Year, Dancing, Angst_and_Humor, Angst_with_a_Happy_Ending,
      Lucius_Malfoy's_A+_Parenting
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-02 Completed: 2016-12-16 Chapters: 11/11 Words: 39815
****** I Don't Feel Like Dancing ******
by NuwandaSnicket
Summary
     When Harry is told that he will have to open the Yule Ball again that
     year, Professor McGonagall not-so-gently informs him that his dancing
     is not up to par. He needs lessons. And who does she want him to take
     lessons from? None other than Draco Malfoy. So why isn't the
     obnoxious git mocking him mercilessly? And why is he being
     strangely.....nice?
     A/N: I know in the canon, the ball only happens during the
     tournament, but I don't care. :P
Notes
     This is for my lovely Laurie, my HP buddy and fellow Draco lover.
     Love you, sweetie. <3
***** Chapter 1 *****
“Mr. Potter, please stay behind for a moment.”
Dammit. Harry had been one foot out the door when McGonagall had caught him. He
shrugged at his friends, who looked sympathetically at him. “Meet you in the
great hall?” Hermione whispered.
Harry nodded. “As soon as possible.” He watched his two friends disappear down
the hallway and, with a sigh, turned back to his teacher, who looked amused at
his clear frustration.
“You’ll be free in just a moment, Mr. Potter, I promise.”
Harry couldn’t help a small abashed smile at being so clearly caught out.
“Sorry, Professor.”
“It’s quite all right. I just need to inform you that, due to your recent
celebrity after the TriWizard Tournament, it has been decided that you will
once more open the ball, as you did last year.”
Harry stared at Professor McGonagall, not at all certain he had heard her
correctly. “I…..are you serious?”
“I’m afraid so, Mr. Potter.”
“You mean….dancing again? With a partner?”
“That is exactly what I mean.”
Harry was finding words of any kind extremely difficult. “But…why? I mean, half
the world thinks I’m crazy and the other half think I’m a liar, going on about
Voldemort like I did!”
“I am aware of this. But Professor Dumbledore feels that for this very reason,
it is important to show that we stand together in the face of the return of
this evil.”
The words sank in slowly. This wasn’t done just to appease the paparazzi; no.
Dumbledore wanted to show the wizarding world at large that he and the rest of
Hogwarts stood behind Harry, that they believed him. If that was the case, then
it was worth enduring any amount of public humiliation, dancing included.
He nodded. “I understand.”
McGonagall smiled. “I was certain you would.”
Satisfied that they were finished, Harry adjusted his bag on his shoulder and
turned to the door, but he was stopped once again. “One more thing, Mr.
Potter.” Biting his lip to control the grimace that was threatening to escape,
he turned back to his teacher. “I’m afraid it’s slightly more serious than all
that. You’re going to have to take dancing lessons.”
“Lessons?!”
Harry’s scandalized voice rang loudly throughout the now empty Transfiguration
classroom. McGonagall glanced up from the papers she was rifling through just
long enough to give Harry a reprimanding look.
“Yes, Potter, lessons. I do not say this to be cruel, Mr. Potter, but your
dancing at the last ball.......well.......let us just say that it left a great
deal to be desired.”
Harry flushed and hated himself for it. “But.....but I....” he floundered,
struggling hard to come up with any excuse that could prevent him from having
to take these accursed lessons. “.......but there isn’t enough time!” he said
at last, triumphantly. “The ball is in a month!”
“Which is exactly why I have chosen an extremely talented dancer to be your
teacher,” McGonagall interrupted. “He should have no problem teaching you some
basic moves in the few short weeks we have left.”
Wait a second.....
“...............he?” Harry echoed, heart pounding a bit faster out of fear.
“Yes, Mr. Potter, he,” McGonagall stressed, and it was easy to hear the
annoyance beginning to overcome her tone now. “For your instructor, I have
chosen Draco Malfoy.”
Before the words had even left McGonagall’s mouth, Harry was shaking his head
forcefully ‘no’ and silently mouthing the word. “No, no, no, no, NO!” he spoke
aloud as soon as his professor had quieted down. “Out of the question. I
can’t.”
McGonagall arched a skeptical eyebrow. “....oh? And why not?” Harry stood there
silently, unable to come up with a better reason than ‘I hate the slimy bastard
and want him to die.’ His professor sighed. “Well, then, I don’t really see
what the problem is. I know you two don’t exactly see eye to eye...”
“We hate each other,” Harry interrupted bluntly. McGonagall continued as though
she hadn’t heard him.
“....but I had hoped that you could both be a little bit mature and put all
this past you. However, if you feel this is not the case....” McGonagall seemed
to have found the parchment she was looking for. She held it out to Harry.
“This is a list of all students in this school qualified to teach you. They are
all, as I’m sure you’ll be delighted to discover, female.....with the exception
of Mr. Malfoy.” Harry chose to ignore that amendment, reaching for the scroll.
“However,” and she pulled the parchment just out of his reach as though to
ensure he paid full attention to this next bit, “I would implore you to
reconsider your decision. First of all, almost any girl you ask will be fawning
over you like a house elf on butterbeer.”
Harry swallowed with some difficulty; he hadn’t thought of that. Ever since the
fourth year, he had been growing steadily in popularity; he was positive that
this situation would only worsen now that whoever he invited to the ball would
be opening the entire event with him. Harry was not looking forward to being
swarmed by over-enthusiastic females. He shook the thought away; McGonagall was
still talking.
“In addition,” his professor continued, “none of these girls, not a single one
of them, has had the sort of training that Mr. Malfoy has had.”
At these words, Harry’s eyebrows shot so high up that they disappeared beneath
the messy fringe of dark hair sweeping across his forehead, and he couldn’t
fully suppress the smile that leapt unbidden across his lips. “......Malfoy’s
had dancing lessons?”
McGonagall gave him such a disapproving look that he almost managed to control
his amusement....almost. “As I’m sure you are aware, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy
comes from a family of good breeding and high standing. He has been well
trained in all of the traditional ways expected of a young man who will
someday, if all goes properly, become an important figure in this world of
ours. There is more to it than just wizardry, Mr. Potter. There is also
conversation, etiquette, wit, traditional combat, and...of
course......dancing.” Luckily, Harry had managed to suppress his amusement, for
McGonagall no longer looked in any way pleased.
“........he’s really that good, is he?” Harry asked at last after the longest
of pauses. McGonagall nodded her head very seriously.
“Indeed he is,” she answered. “I have been here many years, Mr. Potter, and
witnessed many balls, and I must confess that young Mr. Malfoy is one of the
most graceful and talented dancers I have ever seen......and, having witnessed
Professor Dumbledore at work when he was young, that is saying something.”
Thrusting the roll of parchment into Harry’s hands (he stood too astonished to
take it himself), McGonagall turned and headed for the door. She made it only
as far as the doorway before pausing. “Oh, and Mr. Potter...?” Harry glanced
up. “You have but three days.....three short days to choose an instructor
before I shall make the choice for you.” And with a sweep of robes she was
gone.
 
~*~
 
“Lessons?” Ron hooted, an expression of wicked glee on his face. “She thinks
you were that bad that she wants you to take lessons?”
Harry scowled across the table at his best friend. “Shut up, Ron. I wouldn’t
talk if I were you, seeing as your dancing is nothing to be proud of.”
“Hey, at least I don’t need to take lessons.”
“That’s only because YOU’RE not opening the ball dancing in front of the entire
school!” Harry was completely frustrated. He had three days.......three,
transient days......then it was over. Then McGonagall would MAKE him dance with
Malfoy. He glanced up and across the room. It wasn’t hard to pick Draco out
amongst the others. The slim, sarcastic blonde was seated in his usual spot at
the Slytherin table, lounging back in his seat and looking for all the world as
if he owned the place. Staring at that blatant sarcasm, it was hard to imagine
Draco dancing. Harry thought back as hard as he could to the night of the ball
to see if he could remember even one tiny snippet of Draco dancing, but he
couldn’t; there was none. As far as he could remember, the blonde hadn’t left
his seat all night.
“Who else is on it?” Hermione asked, drawing Harry out of his stupor.
“......huh?”
“The list, Harry.....who else is on the list?”
“Oh........I haven’t checked yet.” Feeling a cloud of dread settling over him
again, Harry pulled the roll of parchment out of his bag and slowly unrolled
it, pressing it flat to the table. Immediately his heart sank. “.....oh no.”
“What? What is it?” Ron tried to snatch the parchment away, but Harry slid it
across the table to Hermione’s patiently waiting hand.
“I don’t know almost any of the girls on that list,” Harry mumbled, face buried
in his hands. “And the ones I do know........it’s just too awkward to even
ask.”
“Like who?” Ron was now trying with all his might to read the words over
Hermione’s shoulder, but she was effectively keeping it out of his sight.
“........Parvati Patil?” Hermione read aloud. “That’s not too bad, Harry.
“Oh yeah, after it went SO well last time, I may as well just ask her again,”
Harry shot back sarcastically.
“I guess I see your point.” Hermione scrolled down the list. “I don’t even KNOW
some of these people! Rose Zeller? Daphne Greengrass?”
“Pureblood.”
“What?”
“She’s a pureblood. That second one. Extremely outspoken in her hatred of
Muggles. I wouldn’t even go there.”
“Oh.” Hermione nodded knowingly and kept reading. “Well......” shrugging, she
handed the list over. “Sorry, Harry. Looks like you’re on your own.”
Harry groaned. “Why can’t someone cool be on it? Like......I don’t
know.....Katie Bell?”
“Because girls who play sports aren’t good at dancing?” Ron suggested.
“Not necessarily true,” Hermione objected. “That’s like saying that someone
bookish wouldn’t make a good ballerina.” She tossed a handful of fluffy hair
over one shoulder as she said this, and Ron arched an eyebrow, gesturing
towards her.
“Just to prove my point.”
“Shut up, Ron.” Hermione was a bit pink across the nose now and looked as
though she would rather like to hit Ron, but she held back, instead turning her
attention to Harry. “Well, why don’t you just ask Ginny?”
It was Ron’s turn to change red....or orangish, really, sort of the color of
his hair. “THAT IS OUT OF THE QUESTION!”
Harry grinned. “Actually, I think I’d do it just to piss Ron off......cept
she’s not on the list, so it’d never fly with McGonagall.” The grin faded away
as he groaned, allowing his head to fall to the table with a thump. “Ohhhh,
this is never gonna work! I’m screwed! I am so totally screwed! There is just
no way to get around this without asking Malfoy!”
“So why don’t you just do it already and get it over with?” Hermione obviously
had no patience for Harry’s complaints. “REALLY, Harry. What’s the worst that
could happen?”
Harry turned his head ever so slightly, staring incredulously up at Hermione.
Unfortunately, the look didn’t get through. She either didn’t get it or didn’t
care. “What’s the worst that could happen?” he echoed. “WHAT’S THE WORST THAT
COULD HAPPEN?!”
“Um, yeah. Honestly, Harry. So he could laugh at you a lot and tell everyone.
So what? You’ve been through worse than that before.”
Harry realized then that Hermione had a point. He had been under the scrutiny
of the entire wizarding world for far too long now....been mocked by thousands
of people. So why was this one opinion so important?
Turning his head, he gazed across the room in Draco’s direction, and noticed
with shock that the boy was already staring in his direction....no, not in his
direction....those ice gray eyes were locked right onto Harry.
The Gryffindor felt his heart freeze, his entire body shrinking under that
gaze, skin growing warm and flush. Swallowing hard, he stared back, determined
to ignore the blush along his cheeks, mouth setting firmly, green eyes
unblinking.
Draco seemed almost to smile at that, though the line of his lips didn’t change
at all....at least not noticeably. It was something in the sudden softness just
around the corners of his eyes, or the way roughness of his brow seemed to ebb
away like foam on the tide.
“....Harry?”
Harry jumped. “What?” he squeaked out, turning. Hermione and Ron were watching
him, Ron with a quirked eyebrow and Hermione with some curiosity.
“What are you doing?”
“Um...nothing. Nothing. Just thinking.......”
“Any solution yet?”
“Not really.” Harry took a deep breath. “But.....maybe I will ask Malfoy.”
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”
“Shut UP, Ron!” Hermione smacked the other boy.
“Yeah....” at Ron’s words, Harry felt butterflies in his stomach again, but he
swallowed them away. “I mean, you’re right, Hermione. What’s the worst that can
happen?”
Hermione smiled. “I’m glad to see you being so mature about this, Harry.”
Harry returned her smile weakly and turned away, green eyes searching out that
pale smooth face across the room. It wasn’t there. Draco had left. He was
surprised to feel a wave of disappointment echo through his body as he realized
this. The absence of Draco could usually only be regarded as a good thing. Oh
well. It was something that could be figured out later. Or ignored.
A memory of silver gray eyes boring into his own hit him like an icy snowball
and he paled.
Yeah.....ignored was good.
 
~tbc~
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Two days had passed. Two hellish days. Harry hadn’t been able to bring himself
to actually ask any of the girls for dancing lessons. The few he had approached
at all had either lit up at his appearance and (as McGonagall had warned) begun
flirting at once, or, in the case of the older girls, stared at him with such
disdain that he withered beneath the attention and, mumbling an excuse under
his breath, skulked away at once.
“What are you going to do?”
Harry didn’t look up at Hermione’s voice, simply sat there at the table with
his face buried in his hands, and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. After a
moment, he mumbled something into his hands.
Hermione leaned in closer. “What was that?”
Harry looked up, peering at her between his fingers. “Ask Malfoy, I suppose.”
Ron looked shocked, which was ridiculous, since Harry had brought up this
suggestion before, and opened his mouth to object, but at a glare from
Hermione, he shut his mouth with a snap. “I think that’s a very sensible
solution,” she said.
“Sensible,” Harry sighed, “but not a very fun one.”
“Fun??” Ron echoed with disbelief. “It’s going to be humiliating!”
“Yes, thank you, Ron!” Harry glared. “You do realize you’re not being helpful
at all?”
“Just saying.” Ron poked at his breakfast. “He’s going to mock you as much as
he ‘helps’ you, if not more.”
“Probably,” Harry agreed morosely. “But he does have to help me. If he agrees
to give me lessons and doesn’t follow through, McGonagall is sure to punish him
somehow. Some horrible form of detention.”
Even Ron was forced to concede the point with a tiny nod of his head.
“So you’ll tell McGonagall today?”
Harry nodded his head in agreement to Hermione’s query. “After class.”
 
~*~
 
It was only one o’clock when Harry went to find Draco. McGonagall had been
extremely pleased with Harry’s decision, so pleased that he hadn’t the heart to
tell her that it really had been his last resort.
“Go to the Potions classroom,” she had told him. “Mr. Malfoy will be there, if
I’m not mistaken.”
Harry had been completely taken aback. “What’s he doing there?”
“Reading.”
Harry couldn’t have been more surprised if Snape had popped out of thin air
wearing a grass skirt and begun to hula dance. “….reading? Draco reads?”
“Of course he reads. How do you think he completes his schoolwork?”
He began to shake his head. “No, I mean….for fun.”
McGonagall was looking at Harry in extreme disapproval. “Quite often.” He
withered beneath that look. “I must say, I’m very disappointed in the amount of
prejudice you’ve shown these past few days.”
Harry felt anger stirring in him. How could she label him prejudiced, after the
way Draco had behaved towards him these few years? But he dared not say a
thing, and she was clearly done discussing the matter, for she had turned back
to the scrolls on her desk.
“The Potions room, Mr. Potter.”
It was a clear dismissal if ever there was one. Harry nodded, swallowing down
his anger, and left the room.
Prejudiced? Him?
It was certainly something to think about.
 
~*~
 
The door to the Potions room was shut. As soon as Harry knocked, he regretted
his decision to do so. His heart was pounding away in his chest with a sick
dizzying thud. The air around him seemed hazy and he couldn’t catch a decent
breath. Calm down, he told himself. You can do this. Honestly,
Potter....what’re you so afraid of? It’s ONLY Draco!
He immediately realized two things: first of all, there was no such thing as
‘only Draco,’ and secondly, the fact that it was Draco was really the source of
the problem. Feeling the panic taking over again, Harry made up his mind to
turn tail and run....too late. The door before him opened, revealing none other
than the infamous Slytherin himself.
Draco Malfoy stood framed in the doorway, staring straight-facedly at Harry,
who felt himself flushing. Finally, after several moments of silence, Draco
spoke up. “Well....” and now Harry was almost certain he could see the tiniest
hint of amusement in those icy gray eyes, “........I’m sure there must be an
absolutely spectacular explanation for this.”
Harry stared, unable to come up with a thing to say. Part of him was still in
shock at the fact that he had come to this room at all, but another part of him
was too surprised at Draco’s appearance. The blonde looked nothing like he
normally did.
Draco Malfoy stood there in the doorway, frozen like some very beautiful
painting. He was dressed as Harry had never seen him before.....not nearly as
uptight as usual. The impeccably ironed white shirt was barely visible, covered
as it was by a soft and slightly faded green sweater that Harry had never seen
the Slytherin wear. The sleeves of the sweater were pushed up as though to keep
the loose fabric out of the wearer’s way, but they had been rolled unevenly, as
if Draco had pushed them up absentmindedly, impatiently. Protruding from
underneath the rolled sleeves was the usual white dress shirt, only it too was
different. It wasn’t its customary pressed self, but slightly loose and
wrinkled, more careworn and natural than those shirts Draco usually wore.
Instead of carefully polished black shoes, Draco’s feet were ensconced in a
pair of soft and comfy looking slip-on sneakers, the toes battered and nearly
worn through. The usually immaculate blond hair was a mess, as though Draco had
been repeatedly struggling to keep it pushed out of his eyes, and there was a
thick and battered book in his right hand.
“........you looking for something in particular, Potter, or are you just
looking?” The amusement in Draco’s voice snapped Harry immediately back to
life, and a flush spread up into his cheeks.
“Um.....neither, really,” he managed. Draco arched one slim, skeptical eyebrow,
small smile still gracing his lips.
“...really,” he said. There were worlds of doubt in that one word. Harry
struggled to speak, but his mind still rebelled fiercely at the idea of asking
Draco Malfoy for dancing lessons.
“I.....” he began, but then made it no further. “......I.........” Draco waited
patiently, amused smile on his face as he watched. Harry stood frozen in panic.
His brain, deciding dancing with Draco was too big a sacrifice to make, had
shut down completely. “.....I....was wondering.....”
“....yes?” Draco responded. His tone was not what Harry would ever under any
circumstances have called encouraging, but it was the closest thing to it that
he had ever heard coming from Draco. Desperate to finish this encounter and
leave, his eyes roamed wildly about for something, someone, some kind of
help....and settled on Draco’s sleeves.
“.......how did you get your sleeves to stay up like that?”
This time, Draco’s face registered surprise, though just barely, just in those
icy eyes, and he stared at Harry for a moment as though trying to determine if
Harry was for real or not. The Boy Who Lived was currently kicking himself
inwardly for asking such a stupid question.
“Just a little something I made up,” Draco responded at last, watching Harry
with a curiously wary eye. He slipped a finger beneath a sort of band on his
arm that Harry had previously been unable to see and tugged at it, revealing
its stretch. “I made them out of something I got Pansy to give
me.....headbands, I think. Did a bit of work on them, got them to fit.”
“Really?” Harry couldn’t believe Draco was buying that stupid question, which
in reality, Draco was not.
“Yeah.....wasn’t difficult, really, they were elastic already, so it was easy
to adjust them to fit.”
“Oh.”
“................keeps my sleeves out of my way when I’m reading, though,”
Draco said after a moment’s pause; this was all far too weird.
“That must be useful.”
“It is.”
There were a long few moments of utter silence as Draco stared at Harry, who
kept his gaze firmly locked on those sleeves. Finally, Draco spoke up.
“.......I hope you didn’t honestly come here to discuss my fashion sense,” he
said at last. “Because if so, that makes you a really sad person.”
Harry blushed yet again. “No,” he said at last. “No, I didn’t come here for
that.”
“Then what did you come here for?”
There was a long, seemingly interminable moment of complete silence. Harry knew
that he had to ask, had to ask or get the hell out and spend the rest of his
time at Hogwarts thinking about his decision (though whether or not he would
regret not asking he still couldn’t quite figure out). He took a deep breath.
“Um.....well, you see, it goes something like this.......Professor McGonagall
told me three days ago that I’m supposed to open the ball again this year....”
“What a surprise,” Draco said dryly. Harry scowled; maybe this wasn’t such a
good idea after all.
“However,” he continued as though he hadn’t heard a word Draco had said, “she
seems to think that my dancing needs some improvement.”
Draco's eyes widened in a look of amused surprise. “You actually feel the need
to tell me how terrible your dancing is? Apparently you’re deluding yourself a
bit, Potter......everyone in that room could tell that your dancing leaves a
lot to be desired.”
Harry glared. “Can’t just make this easy for me, can you?” he asked,
frustration in his voice. “Have to make things difficult, as always.”
Draco coughed, clearing his throat. “Not at all....beg your pardon.” Harry eyed
Draco suspiciously, not believing that the Slytherin was actually sorry.
“.....you’re....apologizing?”
“...........maybe.”
Harry eyed Draco for a moment longer, then scowled. “I don’t believe you.
There’s no way you’re sorry for saying that.”
“Okay, fine, Potter, I’m not sorry for saying it.”
“Then what are you sorry for?”
“............let’s just say I’m sorry and leave it at that.” Harry opened his
mouth as though to say something else, but Draco didn’t let him. “By all means,
Potter, tell your story.” When Harry didn’t say anything but simply stared,
Draco gave a little half shrug as though to ask what the Gryffindor was waiting
for. “..........continue.”
Harry sighed as though Draco was simply too much to deal with, but he did as he
was told and Draco made a little note on his mental checklist. Obeys orders
fairly promptly......check. The thought caused the tiniest of wicked grins, and
he suppressed it immediately, telling himself to listen to whatever proposition
Harry was about to make. Oooh....proposition. He winced. Bad choice of words.
At that thought, he nearly began giggling aloud, and would have, too, except
for one simple fact: Draco Malfoy never giggled.
“....Draco, are you listening at all?”
Draco snapped out of his reverie. “.......no,” he answered truthfully. Harry
scowled at him.
“Maybe you can get by in Potions without paying any attention, but it’s not
going to work here.”
“God, you never stop bitching, do you, Potter?” Draco ran a hand through his
hair, combing the pale blonde locks off his forehead. He did it as though he
had done it a thousand times before, succeeding more in tangling his tresses
than getting them out of his way and thus explaining just why his hair was so
messy. “Just finish the story, will you?”
“It’s not really a story.”
“Then what is it?” Draco was getting equally exasperated.
“...........it’s more of a question, really.” Harry was still stalling, and
Draco could tell.
“Then just ask the bloody question, will you?”
“FINE! Will you give me dancing lessons!” The words burst out, sounding much
more like an angry rant than a question, but it was question enough. Both boys
froze immediately, Harry’s hand flying to his mouth as though he could still
stop the words from escaping, Draco staring in complete and utter shock.
Neither moved, just stood there looking at each other. Harry was inwardly dying
a thousand and one deaths, each one more painful than the last, dying as he
waited for Draco to hex him into the next dimension. Then he noticed that the
blond had a funny look on his face.....a very funny look.
Harry opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but before he could, he heard the
slightest sound, as though the tiniest snicker had escaped Draco’s lips. But
that was impossible....Draco rarely laughed, almost never laughed. Yet...there
it was again. Harry stared in astonishment as, after struggling for several
more seconds to hold back his mirth, Draco gave in, laughter bursting forth.
Harry’s astonishment gave way to sheer annoyance. “Thanks for laughing,” he
said dryly. “That’s a big help to my self-esteem.”
“Oh come on, Potter,” Draco managed to gasp out, “your head doesn’t need to be
any bigger than it is already.”
“As a matter of fact, I suffer from severe self-esteem issues, Malfoy,” Harry
shot back sarcastically. “Thanks for helping me overcome them.”
“Heh heh....” Draco was struggling with some difficulty to get control of
himself. “Sorry.”
Harry’s ears perked up immediately. Was Draco actually apologizing twice within
ten minutes? He watched the other boy, noting how Draco’s normally alabaster
pale skin was flushed pink, watched the way Draco wiped tears of mirth from his
eyes. Well, what do you know.....I actually made Draco Malfoy laugh so hard he
cried. True, he thought wryly, it’d be better if that laughter wasn’t at my
expense.....but I’ll take what I can get.
“I don’t know that I’ve ever seen you laugh like that,” Harry said, somewhat
cautiously.
“Well,” Draco said, rather breathless from all the laughing, “maybe you just
haven’t looked closely enough before. Or maybe I’ve changed. Take your pick,
I’m game for either.”
Harry stared at Draco, scrutinizing. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“I’m not certain you have to.”
The Gryffindor let out an unintelligible sound which was half sigh, half
exasperated growl. “See, that’s more like you! You’re so damn infuriating!”
Draco shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am an evil prick. But apparently
I’m your only hope of dancing salvation, and right now, you’re the only thing
that’s standing in the way of that. I’m certainly not trying to pick any fights
here. You’re the one who’s doing that.”
Harry was silent for a long time, considering what Draco had said. It certainly
seemed true enough. Draco was being perfectly genial, for reasons that Harry
didn’t understand. Maybe it was all an act. From his past encounters with the
Slytherin, he was apt to believe this to be true. On the other hand, Hermione
and Ron had always accused him of being a bit quick to blame Draco for
everything that went wrong at Hogwarts. And Draco certainly did seem sincere.
And, as the blond pointed out, Harry did need Draco’s help. And really, it was
just dancing. Just some simple little dancing.
“So,” Harry asked at last. “Will you do it?”
“What, teach you to dance?” Draco waited for Harry’s nod of agreement, then,
head cocked to one side, he watched Harry, closely examining the Boy Who Lived,
pondering the situation. “.....yes,” he said at last, very decisively, “I will.
If only to save us all the trauma of watching you lollygag your knobby-kneed
way around the dance floor again. I guess it’s better for the world if only I
suffer from watching your horrible dancing, instead of all Hogwarts.”
“Thanks,” Harry replied dryly.
“Don’t mention it.” Draco sighed, running his hand through his hair again and
mussing it even more. Harry stared.
“.....you really are making an appalling mess of your hair, do you know that?”
“What are you, my bleeding father?” Draco immediately snapped back sharply, his
eyes hardening into that much more familiar look that Harry was accustomed to.
In a way he was happy; it was something he was used to, as opposed to this
calm, easygoing Draco, this Draco who laughed at things that weren’t derogatory
to Harry, who discussed matters in a friendly manner, who apologized. But on
the other hand....
.....on the other hand, Harry rather thought he liked that Draco better. If
that Draco was real.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I actually like
it. It looks nice. Much more relaxed--” but before he could finish the
sentence, Draco was laughing again, though it was more of a cynical chuckle.
“Are you complimenting me, Potter?” the blonde asked disbelievingly, one slim
brow arched with skepticism. Harry flushed yet again.
“Well, no. I mean, well, I just thought I should--”
“I mean, I guess when one’s hair looks like yours, anything looks good by
comparison.”
Harry could feel his face turning even redder and his mouth shut tightly to
prevent whatever vile thing was going to come out. Draco smiled.
“Relax, Potter, I jest. Sort of. Surely even you know that your hair is utterly
ridiculous. I’m just giving you a hard time.”
“As usual,” Harry muttered.
“Exaaaactly,” Draco replied, drawing the word out until it was almost a purr.
“You see, we all have our little roles to play. The world has already put you
in the role of Noble Hero, so I unfortunately am let to pick up the sloppy
seconds. I guess that makes me stuck with Obnoxious Bully. But I do it well,
don’t you think? And.....if I do say so myself.........quite charmingly.” He
tossed his hair at this, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh. Draco smiled. “But
enough about my fabulous good looks. When do you want to do this?”
The subject change came on so suddenly that Harry was momentarily lost.
“When.......wait..........do what?”
Draco rolled his eyes and, stepping to the side, jumped lightly into the air
and kicked his heels together in a little jig. “Dancing lessons, Potter?”
“Please tell me that’s not what you’re going to teach me.”
“Duh, you said you wanted Leprechaun Square Dancing 101, didn’t you?”
“I think I liked it better when you had no sense of humor.”
“Come on, Potter, you know I’m totally charming.” Draco ran a hand through his
hair again and Harry couldn’t help but smile, for by now Draco’s hair was
getting close to resembling Harry’s own; it was that messy. “How about
tonight?”
The smile faded around the edges; Harry swallowed nervously. “T.....tonight?”
“Yes, tonight. What.....you have a hot date? Who with....come on, you can tell
me.”
“There’s no hot date,” Harry insisted, feeling heat creeping up his collar, but
Draco interrupted.
“Oh, come on, Harry, I’d tell you if it were me, you know that. I keep up to
date on all the gossip, you know. Every week you’re dating some new girl.”
“I am not!”
“According the school gossip, you are.”
“I don’t care what they say--”
“Calm down, Harry, can’t you take a joke?”
Harry was silent for a long moment. “......not from you,” he said at last, very
careful to keep his voice level.
Draco stared, but finally he nodded. “Understandable. Guess I’m giving you a
hard time. If I were you, I probably would have punched me in the face by now.”
Harry smiled slightly. “Does that mean I have your permission?”
Laughing, Draco shrugged. “Take a whack at it, if you like. Doesn’t mean you’ll
get your dance lessons, though.”
“Ah, scratch that, then. Damn stupid lessons.” Harry sighed and ran a hand
through his hair, and then froze as he realized that the motion mirrored that
of Draco’s. Quickly he shifted the tousling motion so that he was instead
scratching his head, and tried to act nonchalant. “So.....you said tonight?”
“If it’s good for you.” Draco didn’t sound as if he cared one way or another.
Harry still couldn’t get his mind around this new Draco. He was friendly, but
not. Teasing, but not quite in the same way a friend would be. And he seemed so
uncaring about some things and so very interested in others. It was altogether
bizarre. “I know a place in downtown London where we could go. I can talk to
McGonagall if you like, see if she approves.”
“Yeah, sure. That sounds great.” Harry now just wanted to get this whole affair
over with. Strangely enough, he was starting to find himself liking this new
Draco, and was now desperate to get out of there and away from the
uncomfortable feeling. “What time?”
“Well, the place doesn’t open till around nine, but I’m on good terms with the
manager, so I bet I could get us in early......buy us some alone time so you
don’t humiliate yourself in front of everyone.”
“Thanks a lot,” Harry said sarcastically.
“Oh, don’t mention it,” Draco grinned. “So, let’s say we meet in the Great Hall
around....seven-thirty?”
“Fine by me.”
“Fine.” There was a long, awkward silence that neither of them seemed willing
to break. Finally, Harry shuffled his feet awkwardly.
“Well....I guess I’ll see you later, then.” And turning on his heel, he began
walking away as fast as he could. But then that silky voice called after him.
“Harry!” The Gryffindor screeched to a halt, not turning, just stopping and
standing frozen in the middle of the room.
“........yes?”
“It’s a nice club, okay? So be sure you dress nice. Nothing too fancy,
just.....nice.”
Harry stood in silence for a moment, unsure of what Draco could possibly mean,
scared stiff at the prospect of what going to a club with Draco entailed, and
totally confused by the whole encounter. Completely terrified, he hurried away
without saying another word, leaving Draco smiling after him.
 
~tbc~
Chapter End Notes
     The bands on Draco's sleeves are based on something men wore in
     Victorian times. Shirts used to be made with one generic sleeve
     length, so they made bands like this that would hold your sleeves at
     the proper length for you. Pretty cool, huh? Anyway, I liked the idea
     of Draco having himself a pair to keep his sleeves up as opposed to
     just rolling them, which I personally have always found to be rather
     uncomfortable. They get all awkwardly bunched and it just isn't
     comfortable at all.
***** Chapter 3 *****
“I can’t believe you’re really doing this!” Ron moaned as he flopped back on
his bed, hands pressed over his eyes.
“Shut up, Ron.” Hermione was perched on the edge of Harry’s bed. “You’re just
going to make him nervous, and he really doesn’t need that now. So if you have
nothing good to say, why don’t you leave?”
“Thanks, Hermione.” Harry smiled at her in the mirror’s reflection, then peered
nervously at his own image. “.......do you think this outfit is nice enough?”
Hermione slid easily off the bed and came over to stand beside Harry. “Turn
around.” He spun to face her so she could get a better look and she lifted his
arms out slightly so that she could see the entire outfit. “Hmm......turn.”
Harry spun in a circle. “No, slowly, Harry.” Chin cupped in one hand, she
pondered. “What do you think, Ron?”
“I think this whole idea is utter bollocks.”
“Ronald, shut UP!”
Harry sighed. “Really, Ron, you’re being a pain in the ass.”
“Seriously, Ronald, if you can’t be helpful, either shut up or leave.” Hermione
ran her hands over Harry’s shoulders and back, smoothing down the shirt. “Well,
I think it looks very nice, Harry.”
“Don’t know why you want to dress up for Malfoy, anyway,” Ron grumbled.
“I don’t want to dress up for HIM,” Harry repeated, for what he felt must have
at least been the fifth time. “He said we’re going to a nice club.”
“Why is he taking you to a club, anyway? Why can’t he just teach you here?”
Harry opened his mouth to retort (Ron was really getting on his nerves) and
then paused with his mouth hanging open. He really had no answer for that one.
Why was Draco taking him to a club? Ron actually had a perfectly good point
this time. “......I don’t know,” he answered tiredly.
“HA! Sounds damn suspicious to me.”
“Nobody cares,” Hermione snapped. “As long as Professor McGonagall says its
okay, then it’ll be fine.”
Harry glanced over his shoulder at his reflection in the mirror. He really
didn’t have many nice clothes here at school; he mostly kept casual clothes for
class, so it had been difficult picking something out. Still, the green button
down brought out the color of his eyes, and coupled with a gray t-shirt worn
underneath it, it looked very nice. Plus, the black jeans made his ass look
good. Why do I care what my ass looks like? I’m going out with Malfoy! He
berated himself for having such a thought.
“When are you supposed to meet him?”
Harry glanced at his watch. “Oh, shit. Now.”
“Well, you’d better get going, then.” Hermione gave Harry a quick, tight hug.
“Good luck!”
“Thanks.” He opened the door, pausing to look Ron’s way. “........later, Ron.”
Ron gave a grunt to show that he still disapproved of the whole endeavor. “G’d
luck, Harry.”
Harry smiled. “That was more than I was hoping for from you. Thanks.” And
shutting the door behind him, he made his way as fast as he could towards the
Great Hall. Hopefully he hadn’t kept Draco waiting.
 
~*~
 
Draco stood in the Great Hall, leaning against the doorway and getting slightly
impatient. His talk that day with Professor McGonagall had been long and
boring, and since then, he hadn’t been in the best mood. She had been extremely
pleased to see that he and Potter were “getting along” which, as far as he was
aware, they really weren’t. They had just come to an agreement. Did that
constitute getting along? Draco wasn’t sure. Still, she had okayed the club,
and that was all that mattered.
He was nervous about the club as well, and that was putting him on edge. He had
never taken anyone else there.....never really taken anyone else out in
general....and the fact that the first time would be Harry Potter.....well,
that made him a bit nervous. It just didn’t feel right. True, Harry had been
the one to do the actual asking, but Draco still felt as though he were taking
Harry on a date, no matter how very much it was NOT a date, and it bothered
him. Plus, this was his place.....he had found it, he had made it his own, and
though it was a good place for lessons, seeing as how it was (as far as he
could tell) unknown to the wizarding world, he wasn’t sure how he felt about
the idea of someone else being introduced to it. He didn’t think he liked it,
though.
Harry came rushing into the room at top speed, jacket in hand, and all of
Draco’s irritation vanished. He had never seen Harry dressed up but for at the
Yule Ball, and he seemed to recall feeling similarly then. A strange tug deep
in his stomach, pulling at something, some feeling he didn’t recognize. Harry’s
hair was its usual mess, though he had obviously tried to calm it down, and the
clothing.....
Coming to a halt in front of Draco, Harry bent over, hands on his knees, and
tried to catch his breath. “Sorry....I’m late.....”
Draco stared. “....its okay....” he murmured. The green shirt perfectly
accentuated Harry’s eyes, and the boots he was wearing were sensible but
stylish. The black jeans were nicely form-fitting. Extremely form-fitting.
…..oh yeah. Draco definitely approved.
Harry looked up and saw Draco staring. “.........what,” he asked nervously,
hoping he looked alright.
“Slytherin colors, Mr. Potter?” Draco smiled. Harry reacted with surprise. “You
can’t tell me you didn’t notice.”
“No, I never realized.....”
“Perhaps I should have chosen some red and gold.......don’t think it would have
looked as good on me as that green does on you, though........”
Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco. “Um.........thanks.....?” He wasn’t certain
if Draco was teasing him or not.
“Don’t mention it. It brings out your eyes. Maybe you should have been a
Slytherin.”
Harry laughed. “I think there’s more to House choices than just fashion sense.”
Draco smiled. “Touché. But there is that. We Slytherins do have amazing taste
in clothing.”
Harry couldn’t argue with that statement, especially not with the way Draco was
looking that evening. Gray dress slacks that looked so soft that Harry wanted
very much to rub his cheek against them (a thought which made his stomach
wobble uncomfortably), paired with a black v-neck shirt with sleeves so short
they were practically non-existent.
“.....aren’t you going to be a little cold?” Harry asked.
“Concerned for me, Potter? How sweet. But I like the cold,” Draco answered.
“But never mind that...look at our clothes....black and gray....we almost
match, Potter; we’re like a couple! How adorable!”
Harry felt himself blush at the very idea. “If you say so, Draco.”
Draco grinned at Harry’s embarrassment. “Well, McGonagall said the club was
okay, so we didn’t get all fancied up for nothing.......you ready?”
“How are we getting there?”
“Floo powder halfway, then I hired a car.”
Harry fumbled in his pockets. “I can give you some money for that.....”
“Don’t worry about it, Potter, its fine.”
“No, really, I should pay for it, since you’re doing me a favor...”
“Harry!” Draco’s usage of his first name got Harry’s attention; he froze in
mid-motion. Draco gave that smile that Harry was still having trouble adjusting
to seeing. “.....forget about it. Honestly.”
Harry sighed, shoving his money back in his pocket. “Okay......but I’m going to
find a way to pay you back for this.”
Draco’s ears perked up at that. “Oh, I bet we could figure out a way for you to
do that....” The words tumbled forth before he could stop them and he kicked
himself. No flirting with Harry Potter, Draco sternly told himself.
Luckily, the words seemed to have gone completely over Harry’s head, those
green eyes looking at Draco in confusion. “Huh?”
“Nothing.” Draco coughed to cover up his words. “So.....shall we?”
 
~tbc~
***** Chapter 4 *****
The drive to the club was blessedly short. It had been an awkward ride. While
Draco had no problem making conversation at school, when they got in the cab,
he clammed right up. Harry didn’t know what it was about the confined space,
but something about it just shut Draco up. Maybe it was the effect of having a
third person privy to their conversation, for with the cab driver there, Draco
barely said a word other than to give the address of the club.
Upon arrival, Draco paid the man and handed over a hefty tip (Harry’s eyes
widened when he saw just how much). Draco caught the look and he frowned, brow
creasing in a way that was absurdly attractive and made Harry’s stomach flip-
flop. “What,” the blonde asked tersely.
“Nothing. That’s just a lot of money.”
“So?” It was clear from Draco’s tone of voice that he didn’t want to talk about
this, so Harry wisely said nothing more. Silently, he followed Draco to the
door of the club, waiting as the Slytherin knocked. Within moments the door was
opened by a middle-aged woman with short, dark curls and a care-worn face. She
positively lit up when she saw Draco.
“Draco!” She yanked him into her arms, hugging him close. He laughed, embracing
her.
“Hey, Magda. How’ve you been?”
Harry stood dumbfounded as he watched the exchange. This day he had seen a side
of Draco he had never seen before. But this? This was something beyond anything
he could ever have imagined. This Draco was happy, the smile setting his whole
face aglow.
“What are you doing here?” Magda held Draco at arm’s length, eyes roving over
his face as if she hadn’t seen him in a long time and needed to re-commit every
detail to memory. “I haven’t seen you in ages!”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve missed you.” Draco gestured to Harry. “My friend here
needs some dance lessons, though. So I figured this would be a good place.
Would it be okay if I gave him some one-on-one time before you open?”
Magda’s attention turned to Harry for the first time since the door had opened
and she took him in, assessing. He gave his best smile, and after a moment, she
returned it, pulling him in for a hug of his own. “Of course you can.”
Releasing him, she smiled at him. “Any friend of Draco’s is always welcome
here.”
“Thank you,” Harry managed.
Magda stepped back inside, holding the door open for them. “Come in, boys, out
of the cold.” They followed her in, shedding their jackets as they went. “I
have things to get ready still before we open, but you can have the run of the
place until then. Draco, you know where everything is.”
He nodded. “Thanks, Magda.”
She kissed him on the cheek. “So happy to see you, hun.” With that, she
vanished from the room and back upstairs.
Harry looked around the club. It was completely empty, utterly silent. The room
they were in was rather large, with a long gleaming bar that ran almost
straight across one side of the room, a highly polished mirror shining behind
it. The mirror had various scrawlings on it, signatures of some kind. A row of
lustrous cups and shot glasses were lined up on shelves above the mirror, and
Harry could just barely see the tops of various bottles of alcohol sticking up
from their safe place behind the bar. The dance floor itself took up over half
the room, the only seating available being some stools along the bar.
“Not much seating, is there?” Harry commented. “Just along the bar.”
“No, there’s more,” Draco replied. “Over there....and there.” He pointed to
corners of the room to tables Harry hadn’t noticed.
“Oh yeah.” Harry took a good long look at the additional seating places. There
were only a few, stuck away at the back of the bar in corners that were already
shadowy despite the room being well lit. They looked like dark, evil meeting
places, spots Voldemort would have felt at home. The idea of the Dark Lord at a
dance hall amused Harry to no end.
“They look like good places for plotting,” Harry commented, breaking the
silence. “Good spots for planning evil deeds.”
“........or doing evil deeds,” Draco said, a smile curving across his lips.
Harry looked at Draco, puzzled, and the blonde had no qualms about elaborating.
“Why do you think they’re off to the sides like that?” he asked. “It’s only
natural to stick the tables there.......dark corners....perfect place for
doing..........dark deeds.”
Harry blushed at once. “Only you, Malfoy......only you would think of that.”
“Obviously not,” Draco said after a moment. “Clearly Magda thought so too, or
it wouldn’t be set up this way, would it?”
Harry rolled his eyes at that. “Or maybe you’re just a pervert, Draco,” he
said, "and maybe she intended no such thing.”
“Oh, yes she did,” Draco said immediately. “I know that for a fact.”
“How on earth do you know that?” Harry asked, not quite believing him.
“..............because I come here all the time,” Draco said after a long
moment’s pause. This surprised Harry, surprised him so much that he finally did
what he had been avoiding doing since the beginning of this little excursion:
spinning about and staring at Draco, actually staring, though before he had
been unable to even look at the blonde.
This time, it was Draco who avoided looking at Harry, but instead stared off
into space, eyes regarding the bar itself in a very unfocused sort of way.
Finally, he seemed unable to ignore Harry’s gaze any longer; he looked up at
last, eyes very reluctantly turning to Harry. “......what?”
“........you really come in here all the time?” Harry asked, finding it hard to
believe.
“Yeah........so what?” Draco sounded very defensive. Harry shook his head,
shrugging.
“I don’t know........it just doesn’t seem like.......” he shrugged helplessly,
as though he didn’t want to say what he had just been about to say, and wished
he could swallow the words, erase them completely.
“....yes?”
“.....doesn’t seem like a.......a boy of your......your
particular...........status......would......”
“..........like a boy of my particular status would....what?” Draco was annoyed
now, obviously angry by his wealth being brought into it. Harry made a helpless
gesture with his hands, hating the fact that he had started this conversation
in the first place.
“....it just doesn’t seem like a boy of your status would spend all his time in
some.....sleazy bar and dance club,” Harry finished at last, very reluctantly.
Draco stared, anger plain on his face, and Harry shrank inwardly. Probably not
the right words to use, especially when Draco was close with the owner. He was
certain now that Draco would go back on his promise to teach Harry to dance and
leave the Gryffindor boy alone in this unfamiliar town.
“Let me make a few things plain to you, Potter,” Draco spoke up at last,
sounding as though he were struggling to remain calm. “First of all, I am not a
‘boy’......don’t ever call me that again. I’m fifteen years old. Secondly, I
can spend all my time wherever I damn well please. Thirdly, status has nothing
whatsoever to do with it. The status belongs to my father and he can do
whatever he fucking wants with it. If the status is going to interfere with my
plans and with what I want to do in life, then fuck it. I don’t need it, and I
don’t need you judging me.......got it?”
Harry nodded wordlessly, feeling terrible for having brought it up.
“I............I’m sorry,” he managed, staring at his shoes. “I didn’t mean
anything by it, honestly. I just........I was wondering...why here? Why do you
come here all the time?”
Draco stared at Harry, his anger ebbing away. “............I don’t know,” he
answered quietly, though he knew perfectly well. “It’s just.....a good place to
go, I guess. Good place to get away from it all. Good place to....” he broke
off.
“....good place to what?” Harry asked curiously, nervously.
.....to forget, Draco thought silently. Aloud, he merely said “...nothing.”
There was the briefest of pauses and then “come on,” Draco said, shaking
himself. “We’d best get started or we’ll never get anything done.”
Harry swallowed with some difficulty. “.....okay,” he said, kicking himself
mentally when the one word came out sounding shaky. Draco walked away from
Harry, across the room and dance floor, over to the bar. He stepped behind it,
obviously looking for something.
“Aha....” came the sound of satisfaction. Draco fiddled with something behind
the bar and seconds later, music came on. He came out from behind the bar,
smiling as he met Harry’s confused eyes. “....stereo,” he explained.
“Oh......yes.....of course,” Harry felt stupid for not thinking of that. Draco
was still moving, making his way onto the dance floor. Reaching it, he turned
about to face Harry, his head cocking to one side in puzzlement as he noticed
that Harry hadn’t followed him. Deciding he should probably do just that, Harry
slowly made his way to the edge of the dance floor, that shining expanse of
polished wood that spanned over half the room. It had looked large
before....now it looked enormous. The whole thing was like a giant universe of
which Draco was the center, the light around which all other things in the
universe revolved....only there was nothing else in this universe. Only Harry.
And the Gryffindor boy wondered how on earth, out of everything else in this
world, he was the one thing pulled into orbit.
“.....coming?” Draco asked at last, amusement in his voice as he watched Harry
teeter in silent deliberation just past the edge of the dance floor, as though
just stepping on the wood was a danger in itself, as if from this place, there
was no return.
If I do get pulled into orbit, Harry thought suddenly, wildly, will I be able
to get out again? The thought surprised him and he berated himself silently,
not understanding just what he was so nervous about. After all.....it’s justa
dance.
“........Potter?”
Harry shook himself out of his reverie. “Yeah,” he said at last, voice catching
in his throat. He coughed to clear it. “Yeah.” But he still didn’t move.
After a moment’s disbelieving pause, Draco gave the briefest of laughs.
“Honestly, Potter. You look like a five year old afraid to go in the pool!”
Harry bristled and fish-mouthed for a moment before striding towards Draco,
utterly incensed but coming up with no retort sharper or more creative than “I
do not!” He realized suddenly that without noticing, he had stepped onto that
floor and he froze a few feet away from Draco, who smiled.
“There,” the silvery blonde boy said with some satisfaction. “Now we can get
started.”
And Harry realized with a jolt of the most severe shock he had ever felt in his
life that Draco had been baiting him with mocking comments to lure Harry out on
the dance floor. He was unable to hide this realization; he stared at Draco,
mouth agape, eyes wide and surprised. Draco chuckled, a strange little laugh
nothing like his usual mocking snicker. Harry couldn’t help but smile. “Jerk.”
“Yup. Now come here.”
Shaking his head at Draco’s smile, Harry complied, moving to Draco’s side.
“Now,” Draco began, “what I do....or really, what you’ll be doing at the
ball....is put your hand on her waist. She’ll have her left hand on your
shoulder and you’ll hold her right hand in your left..........think you’ve got
that, Potter?”
“.......I think so,” Harry said slowly, trying to take it all in. At the ball,
Parvati had positioned him, so he hadn’t really bothered to pay attention. And
Draco had just rattled off those directions rather quickly.
Draco smiled....not a mean, mocking smile, but a soft, understanding one, a
smile Harry had never seen Draco wear. “....like this,” Draco said softly,
right arm encircling Harry’s waist, guiding Harry closer to him without
actually touching the Gryffindor boy. Harry’s heart was beating much faster,
his pulse racing for no reason he could see. He allowed Draco to move him
closer, raising a somewhat shaky hand to place it on Draco’s shoulder. It was
then that he could hear as well as see the hitch to Draco’s breathing and the
blonde immediately retreated a step or two, shaking his head.
“No, Potter,” he said, his voice sounding different than Harry had ever heard
it. He sounded nervous, and though he was trying to hide it, there was an
unfamiliar edge to his voice. It sounded almost like.....fear? But that was
impossible. First of all, Draco was never afraid of anything, and he was
definitely never nervous. The Slytherin always exuded confidence. So why did he
now sound so frightened at the prospect of one little touch?
Harry looked questioningly at Draco. The blonde took a deep, settling breath
and, when he spoke again, he sounded much calmer. “.....no touching,” Draco
said.
Harry’s puzzlement grew. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“Just what I said,” Draco answered. “No. Touching.”
Harry’s brow furrowed. “......but.........why?”
There was a moment’s pause........a long, dangerous pause during which the soft
storm clouds in Draco’s eyes froze to sheer ice, a dark, painful expression
that hurt to look at.
“That is not a question I am going to answer,” Draco said at last, voice icy
cold. He carefully annunciated each word as though to ensure there was no
dispute over them. “I said no touching, and I meant it. There will be no
debate, for I will not change my mind.” A moment passed during which Draco
watched Harry’s puzzlement growing and sought to explain further without
actually explaining himself at all. “...look at it, if you like, as the price I
ask for these lessons.”
Harry remained silent. His puzzlement fading, he watched Draco with surprised
and concerned eyes. He couldn’t quite figure out what was troubling Draco, but
something was very obviously wrong. He wanted to ask, but was worried that it
would only anger the blonde even more. “.......okay,” he said slowly,
“but......” Before he could really begin questioning, Draco interrupted.
“...unless, of course, you’d rather call it off.” Draco’s face plainly stated
that he had absolutely no qualms about doing such a thing.
“Oh, no no no no,” Harry said hastily. “I want to do this..........but.....” he
hesitated, afraid to finish that sentence, afraid that if he tried to do so,
Draco really would call it off.
“........but?” Draco prompted, one eyebrow arched, obviously waiting for Harry
to say something else sublimely stupid.
“.......but how can we do this without touching?” Harry asked, cheeks going
pink.
The smallest of smiles danced across Draco’s lips. ....maybe not so stupid.
Maybe naively charming. “Very easily,” Draco answered. He placed his right hand
where it had been moments before, inches away from Harry’s waist. The
Gryffindor could feel a shift in the air next to him and shivered, hating
himself for doing so visibly. “And.....” he placed Harry’s left hand inches
from his own shoulder, “.....and finally.....” Draco raised his free hand and,
swallowing nervously, Harry did the same, placing their flat-palmed hands a
mere inch apart.
“Now,” Draco began. “Listen to the music. Hear that beat?”
Harry squirmed inwardly, unable to hear any beat at all. Before he was forced
to humiliate himself by admitting that he couldn’t find the tempo, Draco,
sensing the truth, spoke up.
“.....right there,” the blonde said. “1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3.......hear it?”
Harry was almost too surprised at Draco’s kindness to even listen for a beat,
let alone recognize it, but he shook the feeling off and, with the help of
Draco softly repeating the tempo over and over again, it was easy to find. He
looked at Draco with wide-eyed surprise and an astonished smile on his face.
“Yes!” he said. “I can hear it!”
Draco laughed. “Don’t look so shocked, Potter,” he said, smile evident even in
his voice. “If you can handle Quidditch, you can handle dancing.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Harry muttered. He was flushing even more than
before, but was still unable to keep that small pleased smile off his face.
“Shush,” Draco ordered. And Harry obeyed, because he didn’t want to upset Draco
again. He didn’t know what that had been a moment ago, but he hadn’t liked it.
Whatever it was that had Draco so spooked, unwilling to touch even for
something so small as a dance…..it couldn’t be anything good. No, Harry would
wager it was something very bad indeed. And McGonagall’s words of earlier came
back to him. She had called him prejudiced towards Draco. Now, for the first
time, he wondered if that were so. He had always assumed Draco was just a
spoiled little rich boy. But what if there was more to him? What if Draco was
so mean because he was lashing out? What if his home life was as bad as Harry’s
own? Harry’s thoughts immediately went to Lucius Malfoy and he shuddered
inwardly. Yes, it didn’t take any great leap of the imagination to picture
Draco coming from a bad home. Lucius bullied Draco horribly in public; Harry
dreaded to think what he did to the boy at home. And his heart sank as he
realized that McGonagall was right all along. He was prejudiced.
“Harry?”
The boy snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of Draco’s voice. “Yes?”
Those gray eyes were amused. “You still with me?”
“Ah…yes. Sorry.” Harry looked into Draco’s eyes, trying to see past them, to
read the story there, but all emotion was carefully locked down. Draco had some
walls up, that was for damn sure.
Well, one thing was for certain. From here on out, Harry would do better.
He gave his word.
 
~tbc~
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“Okay,” Draco began, seemingly satisfied that he had Harry’s full attention
once more, “on each one of those beats there’s a step.”
“Okay,” Harry said doubtfully. It all seemed fairly familiar….after all, he had
danced with Parvati last year, but it had only been one dance, and she had
definitely been the one leading. This year, he had to do better.
“The waltz is a three-step, with a rise and fall motion. On your first step,
you put your weight down on—“ Draco’s voice died away; he bit his lip. “Here,”
And he stepped back, putting some distance between himself and Harry. “Let me
demonstrate. It’ll be easier that way.”
Harry watched as Draco raised his arms into position as though he had a
partner. Those beautiful eyes slipped shut for a moment in concentration and he
took a calming breath. Then, he moved.
McGonagall had been right: Draco was a wonderful dancer. His movements were
fluid, graceful. Each step flowed into the next, a beautiful gliding movement
like none Harry had ever seen before.
He was captivated. It took several moments before he remembered that he was
supposed to be paying attention to the steps themselves, not simply watching.
He shook himself with some difficulty and focused on Draco’s feet, the way the
steps matched up with the beat.
“You see?”
Not taking his eyes off of Draco’s movements, Harry nodded. “I think so.”
“Good.” Draco ceased dancing and returned to Harry’s side. “Of course, you
won’t be doing that right away.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“Well, if I’m going to be teaching you, I’m going to be dancing that part.
You’ll take the girl’s role.”
Harry felt shock hit him. “But….why? I mean, if you don’t let me dance the
boy’s role, how am I supposed to learn it?”
“Crawl first, walk later, Potter,” Draco said smoothly. The silky tone to his
voice did absolutely nothing to soften Harry’s temper.
“That’s totally not fair, Draco!” he said hotly. “I didn’t ask you to teach me
to dance so that I could waltz girlily about the dance floor!” But here Draco
interrupted with a derisive snort.
“Tch, of course you didn’t, Potter,” he said with the faintest of amused
smirks. “Why on earth would you? You don’t need my help to do that.”
“.....do what?” Harry asked suspiciously.
“Waltz like a girl.”
Harry’s face burned and he knew he must be bright red. “You know what, Draco?
Fuck you. Fuck you. I don’t need this.”
“........then why did you ask me to come here?” Draco asked, one slim artistic
brow arched in veiled curiosity. “You must have known I would be a pain in the
ass.....I usually am. So why did you ask me for lessons?”
“Because McGonagall told me I had to!” Harry snapped without thinking. He was
surprised to see that taken aback look on Draco’s face, surprised that his
words would get a reaction out of Draco other than pure resentment.
“.......oh,” Draco said a moment later, sounding every bit as taken aback as he
looked.
“What?” Harry asked warily, guardedly. He was just waiting for Draco to insult
him again. However, the insult didn’t come.
Instead came Draco’s voice, a perfect deadpan as he answered “.......I was
rather hoping you just enjoyed my company and wanted yet another excuse to bask
in the sparkling presence that is me.”
....there was a moment’s disbelieving silence before Harry found the ability to
speak. “........you must be joking,” he said.
Draco shrugged. “Was worth a shot.”
A mere matter of seconds went by before Harry burst into surprised and
delighted laughter.
“See?” Draco pointed a smugly accusatory finger at Harry. “You do think I’m
charming! Admit it!”
Harry’s laughter died down, then stopped completely. He stared at Draco,
struggling to even his breathing. “........I think you could be,” he answered
at last. “If you really wanted to.”
Draco grinned. “Wow......that’s a much more positive answer than I ever thought
I’d get from you, Potter.” He took a step forward, closing the distance between
them, ignoring Harry’s blush and resuming his dancing posture. “......you ready
to try this again?”
Harry stared at the Slytherin, all humor dying away, the blush forgotten.
“......Draco, we can’t do this.”
“What?!” Draco looked beyond surprised, he looked downright shocked. “Why not?
What’s the problem now?”
Harry couldn’t think of a way to put his feelings into words. It sounded so
stupid, so ludicrous. “.......the problem.....” He finally decided to just have
out with it. “......the problem is it’s us!” Seeing Draco’s uncomprehending
surprise, Harry shut his eyes tightly and shook his head. “We’ve been here for
what......half an hour? And we’ve already gotten in how many fights?” He
laughed helplessly. “We haven’t even started dancing yet!”
Draco was silent, standing there unmoving, watching as Harry continued to rant
and rave. On some level, he guessed that the other boy was extremely right.
They were sworn enemies, had been so since their first day at Hogwarts their
first year.....but he wouldn’t think about that, he told himself, as a hidden
dull aching in his chest grew stronger. He had no clue how long it would take
them to make it through this lesson (especially at the rate they were going).
All he knew was that inside some closed, locked-off part of him that he usually
ignored (quite possibly the same part that harbored that hidden ache), he
didn’t want to see Harry go.
Draco blinked at that sudden realization. He didn’t want Harry to leave. When
the hell did that happen? Even more startling was the realization that he never
really wanted Harry to leave. Even if it was only to taunt and mock the
Gryffindor boy even further, Draco always wanted Harry to stick around. He
immediately pushed these thoughts down inside him.
Not wanting the other boy to go but unwilling to admit it, Draco instead opted
to do nothing. He stood there silently as his emotions raged inside him, each
one fighting for supremacy, and his blonde head tilted to one side....the
better to watch Harry rant.
The Gryffindor was still going strong, all memory of his oath to do better by
Draco completely forgotten in his fit of frustration. “....can’t believe
McGonagall would ask this of me! I should have refused to do this in the first
place! I should have known that.....” but he kept catching glimpses of the
Slytherin boy out of the corner of his eye and it was making it increasingly
difficult for him to function properly.
Draco was doing that thing again. Harry had no clue how the blonde did it. One
second he’d look as real as can be, a living breathing human being, and the
next, a split second passed and poof! Frozen in place, unmoving, like a
beautiful oil painting. Harry, not realizing he was staring, made a valiant
attempt to continue where he had left off. “.......that...........that we
would..........” he gave up, his concentration completely destroyed and his
frustration bursting to the surface. “.......would you stop doing that?!”
Draco remained as he was, moving nothing but his lips as he asked “.....doing
what?” His voice was innocently curious, if a bit breathy. Harry staring at him
for such a prolonged amount of time had caused Draco’s heart to race, a fact
the blonde was trying desperately to ignore.
“You know perfectly well ‘what,” Harry answered crossly. “The oil painting
thing. You’re doing it again.”
That caused a bit more movement. Draco’s nose wrinkled up in puzzlement in a
way that had in the past caused more than one girl’s heart to race. It had a
fairly similar reaction on Harry, but he didn’t have time to think about it.
“....oil painting thing?” Draco echoed. Slowly, a dazzling smile spread across
his face. “Oil painting thing?”
“.........yes,” Harry replied, only vaguely defensive, too distracted was he by
that smile. It honestly wasn’t something he was used to Draco wearing, seeing
as the Slytherin rarely smiled and, when he did, it wasn’t honest and open and
truly amused, like this one. He’d seen a fair few smiles out of Draco today,
but none so blinding as this one.
“....and what, pray tell, is ‘the oil painting thing’?” Draco asked, still
grinning. “By all means, Potter......enlighten me.”
Harry tried to shake up some hostility, a bit of irritation, any sort of
antagonistic emotion he could muster......but no, nothing. That smile really
was very distracting. “It......it’s just......you.....” he sighed, giving up.
Draco was just standing there, perfectly still and unmoving, that incredible
smile on his face. Distracting.
“........any time now, Potter,” Draco said, amused smile still in place and a
teasing tone to his voice. “Aaaaaaany time.”
“Shut up,” Harry ordered, but he didn’t sound angry when he said it and was
surprised to discover that he honestly didn’t feel angry at all.
“What?” Draco demanded, laughing now. “You can’t even get out a full sentence!”
“Hey, I can’t help it!” Harry shot back defensively. “You’re very distracting!”
Draco’s eyebrows shot up nearly into his hairline and, if possible, that grin
doubled in size and appeal. Now the blonde was even more engrossing.
“Distracting?” Draco echoed, barely able to contain the smile which was quickly
threatening to take over his entire face. “You find me distracting, Potter?”
Harry found himself blushing against his will. He hadn’t quite realized before
just how that could be taken. “............did I say that?” he asked weakly.
The grin was now a bit of a smirk. “Yes,” Draco said with barely subdued glee,
“you did.”
“.............oh.” And still Harry didn’t explain, simply stood there silently,
fingers fiddling with the bottom of his t-shirt. Draco let it pass for a moment
or two, waiting for an answer that didn’t come.
“And.......which part of me...exactly.......do you find distracting?” For some
reason that Draco couldn’t quite grasp, his heart was beating just a bit faster
than usual.
“........um.....I...... Harry paused, a look of weak protest on his face as he
tried to come up with something, anything, to say. “….can’t I just finish
explaining the oil painting thing?”
Oh yes. Draco had nearly forgotten that. “.........alright,” he said finally.
“But I want an answer to this distraction question before this dancing escapade
is done. Think about it,” he stated loudly as Harry tried to protest,
“........think about it. And get back to me.”
Harry didn’t like that idea at all, but he knew how stubborn Draco could be and
knew there was no other way he could end this uncomfortable conversation but to
agree. “.......okay,” he said at last.
There was another long silence as Harry stared at his feet and Draco watched
the other boy blush. There was an idea tickling at the Slytherin’s brain, a
dawning realization of a thought he had never thought before, an idea that he
told himself was ridiculous, impossible. But everything he saw before him
fought with him and confirmed the idea. Well, the ideas.....for there were two
thoughts now racing through Draco’s mind in never-ending, dizzying circles.
Draco really really liked making Harry blush. That part wasn’t so surprising;
Draco’s every mission in life seemed to be embarrassing or humiliating the
Gryffindor boy. The really surprising part was that neither embarrassment nor
humiliation was on his mind. Draco’s enjoyment in Harry’s blush didn’t come
from nefarious purposes. He had no two-faced designs on ruining Harry’s life.
It was nothing like that.
...........Harry looked absolutely beautiful when he blushed.
As soon as Draco realized this was what he was truly thinking, he felt as
though a herd of fire weasels was parading through his stomach (it had happened
once, a weird spell gone wrong, and it hadn’t felt very nice).....or maybe like
a penguin had suddenly appeared, stolen Draco’s pants, and run off (this had
not happened yet, but he was sure it was inevitable). He tried to force the
feeling away, but it pushed resiliently forward against his brain, sending
jittery warmth flooding through his entire body. Harry stood there, brilliant
green eyes half lidded and averted, staring at the floor as those cheeks
flushed pink in embarrassment or some emotion that Draco couldn’t place, some
emotion that led him right back to that second idea he’d had, some emotion that
looked a lot like....
.........love?
No, it couldn’t be. Draco felt more astonished than ever at this thought. Harry
Potter, in love with him? It was impossible. Or before today he would have
thought it so. But before today he would have thought it impossible for him to
find Harry Potter beautiful...
.....but he didn’t. Not at all. Draco still rebelled furiously against that
thought, but it just wouldn’t die. It couldn’t be real....he couldn’t be in
love with Harry Potter.....not Harry Potter......he may like boys but
definitely not haughty Gryffindors....and then he realized that the words ‘in
love’ had somehow come into it when he hadn’t intended it to happen.
“SO,” he began, wincing inwardly at how abrupt and forced and even (he hated to
admit it) squeaky his voice had sounded. He cleared his throat. “So,” he said,
much better this time, much more calmly. “About that....oil painting thing.”
Harry’s cheeks went even pinker, if that was possible, and Draco had to bite
his lip to hold back the sigh. Delicious. Those green eyes remained locked on
the floor. “Well......it’s just....this...........thing....”
“..........yes?”
Harry sighed. Draco was obviously not going to make this easy for him. There
was no way out. The Slytherin wanted an answer and Harry would have to supply
one. “.....well........it’s like....” he paused, fishing for words.
“.............yes?”
“I’m THINKING!” Harry snapped. There was a long silence. He sighed again. “It’s
like one moment, you’re here. You’re with me. A normal, living, breathing,
fighting, fucking human being. And then the next--”
“--fucking?” Draco echoed, interrupting.
Harry glanced up at him finally. “......what, you don’t fuck?” he inquired
sarcastically.
Draco blinked. “No, I didn’t say that......it actually happens to be one of the
things I’m better at.” With those words, a warmth flared up in Draco’s eyes, a
warmth that had nothing to do with anger or annoyance or anything else Harry
had seen there before. A warmth that promised heat and wet and slick and pain,
oh God, yes, but delicious pain. And of course sex..............lots of sex.
And Harry blushed vermillion red and couldn’t hold Draco’s gaze any longer.
Eyes fixed firmly on the floor, he took a deep breath to continue. “It’s
just.....one minute, you’re here, and you’re alive, and....I can see that
you’re alive.....and then, the next minute....it’s like you’ve checked out.
Zoned out. Something crazy, I don’t know how to describe it. You’re still
alive, you’re still breathing, you’re still--”
“--fucking?” Draco interrupted, amusement plain in his voice. Harry shut his
eyes tightly, trying to ignore the heat rising in his body, and pressed on.
“.........you’re still here......but you’re not. I can see you, I can see you
breathing and living and yet.....it’s like you’re somewhere else. You look so
perfect, so still, just like an--”
“--oil painting,” Draco finished for him, nodding that silvery-blonde head. “I
get it.”
“Good.” Harry shut his eyes again, taking a deep breath and raising his head.
Draco could see Harry’s face once again, see that pink blush. Lord, he was
beautiful. Draco’s own eyes shut tightly and he bit his lip harder than before,
this time tasting the metallic tang of blood. “Malfoy? What’re you........stop
it!” Harry had finally opened his eyes and had seen Draco biting his lip, seen
the tiny drop of blood appear. Draco hadn’t even the time to react before he
felt Quidditch-callused fingers taking a gentle but firm hold on his chin.
Silver-gray eyes flew open then and he came face to face with Harry Potter. The
Gryffindor stood mere inches away, one hand holding Draco’s chin as he studied
the bleeding lip. “What on earth did you do this for,” Harry murmured, asking
himself more than Draco. Harry’s brow was furrowed as he studied the cut. His
free hand came suddenly into view, reaching for Draco; then, he paused. Green
eyes locked with gray. “.......do you mind?” he asked.
Draco, his heart pounding fiercely, found himself completely incapable of
speaking. Indeed, for a few moments, he found himself unable to respond at all.
Finally, kicking himself inwardly, he forced an answer out, shaking his head
suddenly, swiftly, jerkily ‘no.’
As those roughly soft fingers traced across the bleeding lower lip, Draco felt
like he was going to explode into a million tiny pieces. It was like nothing he
had ever felt before. His heart was going a mile a minute, his skin felt too
hot and too small for his body, his temperature must be in the hundreds. He
couldn’t explain to himself why he felt this way, he could only know that he
did. He tried to ignore it but he couldn’t.
Harry traced his fingers carefully and gently across Draco’s mouth, feeling his
own heart pounding away so loudly he was sure the Slytherin could hear it. He
told himself firmly that this was completely normal, that he was just a
concerned friend.......but he and Draco had never been anything that could ever
be considered ‘friends’ and there was no fooling himself. He would never have
done this with Ron. He would have been concerned, yes, but Hermione would have
been the one doing the touching, and rightly so. Touching Ron? The idea was
utterly bizarre. But.....why would that be? Why would he be able to touch
Draco, who he had always hated and who had always hated him, and unable to
touch Ron, his best friend? It was a question, alright, but one to be puzzled
out later......when he didn’t have his fingers practically in Draco’s mouth.
....Draco was dying. He was just dying. He was about to keel over and fall down
dead and there was just nothing for it. At least he’d die happy....with Harry
Potter mere inches away, gently running his fingertips over Draco’s mouth. And
why should that make Draco happy? To be completely honest, Draco didn’t know.
He had been with many people in his life, countless numbers of people, and he
had never felt this....this.....whatever it was. Harry’s fingers continued that
silentgentle movement and that was it, that was just plain it. It was over.
Draco was going to do it and there was no helping it, it was just inevitable.
Harry’s fingers traced once more across Draco’s mouth, just barely reaching the
left corner when Draco’s tongue flicked out, brushing up against Harry’s
fingers so quickly that nothing but the slight moisture left behind would have
proven it had happened at all.
Harry froze, fingers still touching Draco’s mouth, staring at the other boy in
shock. Draco stared back, his own eyes equally wide, equally shocked at his own
actions. The two stared at each other. The room was silent.
Bloody hell, Draco thought, wide gray eyes staring at Harry. The brunette wore
an identical look of astonishment. Potter looks almost as surprised as I feel.
Boody hell.
It was Harry who broke the silence some moments later. “Draco,” he managed.
“Why..............” there was a long pause. Harry swallowed, his throat and
mouth feeling very dry. “.........why did you do that?”
Draco stared back, the same cottonmouth feeling affecting him as well.
“.............would an ‘I have no clue’ suffice?” he asked.
Harry’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“Er, nothing.” Draco nearly smiled at that. Harry looked so adorably
confused.....no, not at all. He kicked himself inwardly. Must not fantasize
about Potter, must not, must not, must..... “So,” he said aloud, shaking his
head to rid himself of those horrific thoughts, blonde hair flying in a most
becoming way. “.....shall we?”
“................shall we what?” Harry stared in wide eyed confusion for a few
moments before noticing that Draco was gesturing to the dance floor. Oh. Dance.
Right. He flushed bright red again. He had been thinking something much
different.
“Well?” Draco was really really hoping that Harry would just come and dance and
forget about the whole thing. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem likely to happen.
Harry shook his head, the brown hair (already in a state of disarray) getting
even more messy.
“No, wait a minute, Draco.......why did you do that?”
“Do what?” Draco asked innocently.
Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t play games, Draco...you know what I mean. You
just....” he had difficulty saying the words. “.....licked...blood.....off my
fingers. Why did you do it?”
“Um...........I was hungry?” Draco suggested hopefully.
Harry nearly burst out laughing at that, but he bit it back and somehow forced
the expression into a glare. “Draco, be serious.”
“I am!” Draco insisted. “I love blood!”
Harry arched an eyebrow. “Do you,” he asked, voice heavy with sarcasm.
“Oh, totally.” Draco ran his tongue across his lower lip, eyes going half-
lidded and lips parted as he allowed a look of delicious pleasure to spread
across his face. “Mmmmmm, heavenly.”
Harry could barely control his laughter now, and he knew he was flushing at the
sight of Draco enjoying himself so thoroughly. He watched dazedly. Draco stared
at Harry for a moment, watching the Gryffindor blush. Then, Draco waggled his
eyebrows up and down. “....yummy!”
That was it. Laugher burst unchecked past Harry’s lips, loud and delighted and
long. He could barely breathe and there was just no controlling it. He glanced
up at Draco, expecting to see some look of exasperation on that usually haughty
face. Instead, he saw Draco smiling......smiling! It started as just a slight
curving at the corners of the Slytherin’s mouth, then his face melted into a
full out smile, soft and thorough and real, a true smile. Draco was eyeing the
other boy with a look of almost....affection. The laughter died on Harry’s lips
as he saw that warm look in Draco’s usually icy gray eyes. Silently, he stared
at Draco, smile on his face as he struggled to get a decent breath of air.
Draco smiled in return. “.......come on, Potter,” he said softly. “It's time to
get started.”
The smile on Harry’s face wilted immediately. “......erm............is it
really?” There was a bright and cheery but surprised sort of tone to his voice,
a tone that sounded utterly fake.
“.....yes,” Draco said, arching an eyebrow at Harry, “it is. Unless of course
you’d rather call it off........?”
“No!” Harry answered immediately, eyes wide with horror. “Not at all!”
Draco smiled. “Then come here.” Swallowing with difficulty, Harry straightened
up all the way and, after a moment of tense silence, stepped forward until he
was mere inches away from Draco. He raised his right hand and held it one tiny
inch from the blonde’s shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he raised his other hand
and held it, palm flat, right where Draco’s own hand would be. He shut his eyes
tightly, waiting.
After a moment of watching his partner, Draco slid one arm around Harry’s waist
without actually touching the other boy. Harry, his eyes still closed, felt the
brush of air past his waist as Draco moved, and felt as if he were going to
pass out. He waited for Draco to place his own hand palm flat about an inch
from Harry’s, but then nothing happened. There was silence. Harry opened his
eyes and saw Draco closely examining Harry’s hand. Gray eyes glanced his way,
filled with a look that Harry couldn’t quite figure out. “Your hand is
shaking.”
Harry focused his attention on his own hand and saw that Draco was completely
right. He flushed.
“Are you feeling alright?” Draco asked, concern in his voice.
With some difficulty, Harry forced a nod. “Yes. I’m fine, of course I’m fine.”
Draco watched Harry for a long moment with a calculating look in his eyes.
“............you’re sure you want to do this?”
“Yes,” Harry answered immediately. “Yes, I am.”
There was another long pause during which Draco studied Harry carefully. Then:
“.......okay.” Draco placed his own hand flat palmed just opposite Harry’s. As
he did so, the tip of his ring finger brushed gently up against Harry’s hand
and the Gryffindor, despite his best efforts not to, let out a small and
extremely muffled whimper, a sound that would never have been heard anywhere
else, but in the large, silent bar, it was deafening.
Harry’s eyes were shut again. He couldn’t look, couldn’t check to see what
Draco’s reaction was to that. The tips of his ears were burning in humiliation.
Draco was silent, staring at Harry’s shaking hand. He swallowed, gaze slowly
shifting over and locking on to Harry’s face, seeing the closed eyes, the
flushed cheeks. Draco glanced back over at where their hands were close, so
very close. His own hand began to shake as well. A sudden impulse struck him, a
crazy ridiculous urge to reach out and touch Harry. He fought against it
mentally, bit his lip as hard as he could, but it was no use. Reaching out,
Draco closed the mere millimeters of distance between them and ran one
fingertip down Harry’s hand. His shaking middle finger traced gently and slowly
down the brunette’s own and into the slight soft slope of Harry’s palm.
Harry’s eyes flew open and he stared at Draco with parted lips and wide green
eyes. Draco tried with all he could to smile, but it really wasn’t working, and
after a few moments he gave up. He simply stared at Harry, lips pursed into
what he hoped at least resembled a smile, while inwardly cursing himself for
his incompetence.
Draco was in luck. While the look on his face was something that would never
normally have passed for a smile, it was more of a smile than Harry was used to
seeing Draco wear.
“.....ready?” Draco asked. Harry’s heart pounded dully against his chest, he
was finding it difficult to breathe. He knew in his heart that the only answer
to that question could be nothing but ‘no’;
“.......yes.” Harry immediately began berating himself silently.
“Good.” Draco looked into those deep green eyes. They looked strangely nervous,
and it was about more than just the dancing. Draco felt it too, a fluttering in
his stomach, tension in the air between them. He took a deep breath, and
smiled. “Then let’s begin.”
 
~tbc~
Chapter End Notes
     I don't remember why or how, but in 2006 at this story's inception,
     my friend Sarah (aka the Harry to my Draco) and I decided that Draco
     is terrified of penguins. It actually features into my story 'A
     Reason I Love You'. Check it out. Potter Pants Pilfering Power!
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
     There is a quote in here which is heavily referential to the film of
     'Mansfield Park'. I couldn't resist. XD
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“So,” Draco began. He was determined to put the events of the past few minutes
behind them and focus completely on dancing. “You remember what I just showed
you?”
“Yes.” It had only been a brief demonstration but Harry thought he had a fairly
good grip on the basics. “But I thought you were going to have me dance the
girl’s part?”
Draco shrugged. “I decided to take pity on you.”
Harry grinned. “Awfully nice of you, Draco.”
The blonde noted Harry’s use of his first name. Wasn’t this a night of firsts.
“I can be a gentleman sometimes.”
“And you know the girl’s part?”
A nod. “I’ve been taking dance lessons since I was eight.” The expression on
his face was rueful. Harry winced sympathetically.
“Sounds fun.”
“Oh, totally.” But though Draco didn’t look upset, there was still something in
his manner that suggested that he didn’t really want to discuss his past. Harry
wisely didn’t pry.
“Well, you’re damn good.”
“Oh, a compliment? Stars above, he complimented me!”
Harry laughed. “I complimented your dancing, Malfoy, don’t get your knickers in
a twist.”
Draco grinned. “Enough talk, Potter. Let’s dance.”
“Okay.” The brunette took a deep breath and, hesitantly, stepped forward. Draco
moved with him, gliding easily into the female’s role, letting Harry guide him
through the steps of the waltz. Harry immediately tripped over his feet,
unsure, but Draco didn’t mock him as he had expected; no, he simply offered up
encouraging instructions.
“That’s right….to the side. No, your other side.”
Harry promptly stepped on Draco’s foot. “Oh my God, I’m sorry!”
Amazingly, Draco only laughed. “I’ve had worse.”
Harry couldn’t believe the reaction. Messing up was one thing, but for Draco to
not yell at Harry for stepping on him? That was beyond shocking. Then he had a
horrible thought: what had Lucius done when Draco had messed up?
Draco’s brow creased in a frown. “You okay?”
The Gryffindor forced a nod and a smile. “Fine.”
“Good. Then keep going.”
It was a very awkward waltz, the steps clumsy and hesitant, but it was a waltz
nonetheless. Draco continued to offer soft corrections and encouragements. It
was a totally different experience than the one Harry had expected, full of
mockery. This lesson was completely genial. No, it was better than that. This
was FUN.
Very quickly, Harry began to get the hang of things. It got a little more
complicated after that, with Draco beginning to teach Harry how to not just
step in place, but to move as he stepped, to move in little circles as the
waltz was meant to be done. But after learning the basic box step itself,
moving it in circles wasn’t hard at all.
“Not bad.” Draco was smiling. “Spin me, Harry.”
Harry stared. “…what?”
The blonde rolled his eyes and, taking one of Harry’s hands (after all this
time of not touching, the contact shocked the Gryffindor) he ducked under it,
twirling in a circle before releasing it and stepping in close again. Harry was
momentarily too stunned to do a thing. “Like that. That’s a spin. Now we pick
up where we left off and dance like before.”
“I….” Harry was dumfounded. “…okay.”
“God, Potter, what’s so difficult about this?”
Harry managed to shake his head. “Nothing, it’s just…” He grinned. “Something
about you twirling is really funny.”
Draco rolled his eyes again but he was clearly trying to suppress a smile.
“Mature, Potter. Real mature.”
“Mm. I am the epitome of mature.”
Biting back what might have been a laugh, Draco shook his head. “Stuff it,
Potter.” Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the words. “Now let’s try it again.”
The two fell into the waltz with ease and this time, Harry initiated the touch,
taking Draco’s hand. Draco still twitched slightly at the contact but he let
Harry twirl him. At the end of the spin, he stepped right back into position,
and they glided once more into the waltz.
Those grey eyes looked immensely pleased. “Great job.”
Harry felt extremely proud of his success. Maybe this ball wouldn’t be so bad
after all. True, Harry would much rather not dance in front of an entire room
full of people. It was much more fun dancing like this, with only Draco.
The thought hit him like a bucket of ice water. Dancing with Draco was fun. How
the hell had that happened? He didn’t want to open the ball with Draco!
Not like he could take Draco, anyway. What would people say?
Holy shit, what was he even thinking? He wouldn’t take Draco if he could! He
would take someone like Ginny!
Harry felt a tiny swat to the side of his face. Draco had noticed his
preoccupation. “Hey, pay attention, Potter. You almost tripped just now.”
“Sorry.”
“You’d been doing so well, too.”
Harry smiled, pleased. “Really?”
Draco returned the smile. “Yeah. You’re starting to get pretty good at this.”
Harry flushed happily, pleased at the words. “Yeah?”
“Definitely.” Draco guided Harry through another twirl. “And now, into a tango.
Please throw your leg over my hip.”
“WHAT?!” Harry would have been horrified at the way that one word came out in a
halting, high-pitched squeak had he not been so shocked already.
Draco grinned. “Just kidding, Potter.”
“Oh.” Harry’s shoulders sagged a bit at this news, though whether out of relief
or disappointment he couldn’t tell (and was afraid to even think about). His
heart was trying to pound a hole through his chest and he felt like he couldn’t
breathe. The mere thought of being that close to Draco had him unable to think
straight. He wanted it but he didn’t, he shouldn’t want it and yet he couldn’t
not want it. Being so deliciously close, their bodies rubbing together, so hot
oh GOD so hot, and yet he was afraid of the feelings that would appear if it
happened. Still, he couldn’t help a glare. “Bastard.”
Draco laughed. “You’re just too much fun to tease.”
“I’m going to get you, you just wait.”
“Mm…” Draco looked at Harry from beneath his lashes, and fuck, it suddenly felt
about ten degrees warmer in there. “Please do.”
This time, Harry actually DID trip, mouth open as he stared at Draco. There was
no mistaking the look in those eyes. But Draco must be teasing, he had to be.
A sudden noise behind them interrupted the moment and both boys turned to face
the doorway. Magda had returned. “How are you boys coming along?”
“Great, thanks.” Draco stepped away from Harry, leaving the brunette feeling
empty. Had he just imagined that encounter?
“Good. Well, the bar will be opening in a few minutes, so I’m afraid I have to
cut your practice off.”
“It’s okay. Thanks for letting us use the space at all. Besides,” and Draco
glanced at Harry with something almost like pride in his eyes. “He’s doing
great.” The words made Harry blush.
“Will you boys be staying?”
Harry opened his mouth to say that no, they would be heading back to school,
but the expression on Draco’s face stopped him. “How about it, Harry? You want
to stay for a bit?”
It was clear that Draco wanted to stick around. He had told Harry that he came
here often, and when they first arrived, Magda had said it had been a long time
since he had been there. And after all Draco had done for Harry tonight? There
was no way Harry was going to deny him.
He nodded. “Yeah. Let’s stay.” The look in those grey eyes told him he had made
the right choice. They filled with happiness, a smile spreading across Draco’s
face.
Magda nodded. “I’m off to open up.” And she vanished from the room.
“Thanks, Harry,” Draco said softly.
Harry shook his head. “You don’t have to thank me. You helped me so much
tonight. I’m the one who should be thanking you. Besides,” he looked around the
bar. “We can probably get in some more practice, yeah?”
Draco stared at Harry. “….Harry, what kind of club do you think this is?” Harry
cocked his head, clearly not understanding. “There’s no way there will be any
kind of music we can waltz to here. It’s all club music.”
Club music…..
OH.
Harry swallowed. He hadn’t thought about that, hadn’t realized what he was
getting himself into when he had agreed to this. “Ah.”
“Yeah.”
Then something else occurred to him. “You….” Harry began disbelievingly, a huge
grin spreading over his face. “You can fast dance? Since when?!”
Draco arched one eyebrow. “I’ve got moves you’ve never seen,” he drawled. Harry
opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, Draco began moonwalking
across the dance floor, and Harry couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“Oh my God. Oh my God, I can’t even.”
“Shut up, Harry, you’re just jealous.”
“Oh, I am. You hit the nail on the head.”
Draco opened his mouth to retort but people had begun pouring into the room.
Magda had opened the doors to the club. Any and all private conversation was
done for the night, unless they removed themselves to one of the aforementioned
darkened corners.
Actually, that was sounding more and more tempting by the moment.
Harry was looking at all the people, examining faces. “Draco,” he whispered,
sidling closer. “This isn’t a wizard’s club, is it?”
Draco relished the newfound proximity. “No.” He made his voice extremely low so
that Harry had to lean in even closer to hear him, their faces nearly touching.
Oh yes, that was lovely. “So far as I’ve been able to tell, I’m the only one
who comes here. At least, I’ve never seen another witch or wizard here in all
the times I’ve come, and that’s a lot.”
“Good.”
The music kicked in suddenly, loud, blasting rock music. Draco was pleased, not
just because he loved the house music and was looking forward to dancing, but
because it meant Harry was going to have to remain close if he wanted to be
heard.
“Come on,” he said, reaching for Harry before catching himself and pulling
away. The movement did not go unnoticed by the brunette. “Let’s head to the
bar.”
“The bar?” Harry looked skeptical. “Do you really think you’ll get served?”
Draco shrugged. “Probably not. But it’s always worth a shot.”
Shaking his head in amusement, Harry followed Draco to the bar. Magda herself
was serving, and she rolled her eyes when she saw Draco. “For the last time,
Draco, I am not serving you alcohol.”
“Oh, come on, Magda, darling,” Draco wheedled. She simply shook her head.
“No.”
Draco gave his best pout. It was ridiculously attractive. Pouts shouldn’t be
attractive. “You’re so cruel.” He was flirting shamelessly, and the older woman
could obviously tell. From the look on her face, this was an act Draco had
pulled many times in the past.
“Yes, I’m horrible.” Magda slid a glass towards him. “There. You can have a
mock-tail.”
Harry’s brow furrowed. “Mock-tail?” he echoed.
“A mock-cocktail,” Draco explained. “Tastes similar but has no alcohol in it.”
He raised the glass towards Magda and then Harry in a miniature salute.
“Cheers.”
Harry found a glass being pushed his way as well. “You can have one, too.”
Magda smiled at him. “On the house.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” and he began fumbling in his pockets for cash, but the
woman shook her head.
“Any friend of Draco’s is welcome to at least one. And it’s been so long since
I’ve seen this one,” she tossed a fake glare Draco’s way, “that it calls for a
celebration.”
“I’m sorry!” Draco protested. “I haven’t had a chance!”
But the woman merely laughed. “Don’t worry about it, love. Just…try to come
more often? I do miss you.”
The Slytherin smiled somewhat sadly. “I miss you, too.”
“Glad to hear it. Now, I’ve got other customers to attend to.” The woman gave
the boys a little wave of her arms, as if shooing them away. “Go have fun!
Dance!” And she headed off to see to some other patrons.
Harry sipped at his mock-tail. He had to admit, it was very good. After a
moment, he realized that Draco was watching him with a smile. “….what?”
The blonde shook his head. “Nothing. Are you going to dance?”
Harry looked at the dance floor, already full of people. What he saw made him
feel lightheaded and weak in the knees. The other dancers were moving like a
single mass, a solid knot. Wet, smooth, sexual.
“Ah….I don’t think so.” There was no way he could do that, no way at all. Was
Draco going to do that? A mental image of Draco moving that way hit him with
all the force of a brick wall and he felt faint.
Draco looked disappointed but he shrugged, forcing an air of uncaring. “Suit
yourself.” And, throwing back the rest of his drink, he slid from his stool.
“I’ll see you in a little bit, then, yeah?” With that, he headed to the dance
floor.
The brunette watched, waiting. Draco’s beautiful eyes slid shut and then, he
began to move.
Harry’s jaw dropped; he stared. All day he had seen various facets of Draco
that he had never seen before. He had come to realize that Draco was kind, and
funny, and could even be sweet. But this? This he had not expected. Watching
Draco dance now…
Draco was pure sex in motion.
This was completely different from the graceful way the blonde had waltzed.
Draco’s body still moved fluidly in rhythm with the music, but now it was
rough, sexual. His hands roved over his body, head tossing. His hair was a
mess, flying about him as he moved.
And just like that, Harry no longer wanted. He needed.
Without really registering what he was doing, Harry was slipping off his
barstool and heading onto the dance floor, no hesitation as earlier that
evening, making his way straight to Draco’s side. As though sensing Harry’s
presence, Draco turned that silvery gaze in the brunette’s direction. He looked
surprised. “Harry…”
Harry found his mouth incredibly dry. “….do you want to dance?”
If Draco had looked surprised before, it was nothing on how he looked now.
“You….really?”
Harry nodded. “Really.”
The surprise faded from Draco’s eyes, replaced by a soft smile. He gave a
little jerk of his chin, gesturing Harry closer. Somehow, Harry managed to hear
him over the blasting music of the club as he softly ordered “c’mere.” And
that’s when Harry began having second thoughts.
“......really? I mean, do you really want to? Are you sure we should--”
“Come on, Potter. Its time to show you what I’ve got.”
Harry couldn’t help but smile at that, though his heart was pounding and he
felt dizzier than before. I am about to fast dance with Draco Malfoy. I am
about to fast dance with Draco Malfoy.
Harry swallowed with some difficulty and wiped his palms on his thighs. Taking
as deep a breath as he could muster, he reached for Draco. The blonde didn’t
move away, but shook his head, small smile on his face. “No touching.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “....but.....but then how do we........?”
If possible, that smile grew a bit more seductive, turning into a smirk.
“......use your imagination.”
It was as if the two of them were in their own world. Everything around them
seemed muffled. Harry gave a tiny smile and stepped closer to Draco. He slipped
an arm around Draco’s waist the same as in the waltz, not touching, and looked
to the boy, a question in his eyes. Draco swallowed with difficulty, and
nodded. Then the two began to move.
It was a strange imitation of the dancing all around them. All the movement was
the same, only not quite close enough to touch. Then Harry dared to step a
little closer, one leg between Draco’s, and their bodies brushed ever so
slightly. He felt rather than heard Draco gasp. But the boy didn’t pull away.
Harry decided to see how much farther he could push things.
His arm still around Draco’s waist, he let it slip, fingertips brushing ever so
slightly against Draco’s lower back. This time, grey eyes looked wildly up at
Harry. Immediately, he withdrew, breaking the touch. Draco relaxed but he
didn’t pull away; his breath was coming heavily.
Harry didn’t break eye contact, simply looked into Draco’s eyes, willing Draco
to trust him. Slowly, the boy seemed to calm. Then, impossibly, it was Draco
who pushed, leaning even further forwards, and Harry felt Draco’s groin against
his thigh as the boy stepped even closer, grinding against him.
Harry gasped. Draco’s eyes were wide as if shocked at his own actions. Harry
was stunned. He had barely ever slow danced before….this was like nothing he
had ever experienced.
Harry dared to move his hand closer, trying to touch Draco again, but the boy
shied away. That was still too much. He settled for slipping his fingers into
one of Draco’s belt loops. Draco allowed it, calming once more. Harry’s leg was
still between Draco’s, the blonde leaning in to him. Tentatively, he pushed
back. Draco bit his lip, clearly holding back a whimper. Oh yes, that was
lovely. It was barely a touch, but the fact that Draco trusted him with even
this much was amazing. And it felt better than it had any right to.
Then Harry felt those graceful hands at his waist, catching the bottom of his
button-down. They twisted in the fabric, clutching handfuls and pulling Harry
even closer, reeling him in until their chests were nearly touching. He could
feel the heat radiating off of the Slytherin. But the boy was no longer looking
at him, his face buried in the curve of Harry’s throat. Harry could feel warm
breath ghosting over his flesh. “Draco,” he managed.
What he got in response were hips rubbing against his, rough and insistent, and
was that—no, it couldn’t be—yes, it was. Draco was hard. Harry felt dizzy at
the realization. Draco wanted him. Fuck the belt loops; both hands clutched the
waistband of Draco’s pants, searching for something that would ground him but
still not scare Draco off. Apparently he had chosen right, for the Slytherin
didn’t shy away.
And suddenly there was Draco’s breath, warm against Harry’s ear as he whispered
“so....mind if I whisk you away to a dark corner, Harry?”
Harry’s breath caught in his throat. “Not........as such,” he managed.
A breathless chuckle, barely audible despite Draco’s proximity. Then Draco was
pulling away, tugging Harry by his shirtfront, dragging him across the
dancefloor. They weaved their way between the other dancers until they had made
it to the far side of the room.
Harry swallowed nervously when he saw their destination. The corner certainly
was darkened, a couple of worn but incredibly soft looking chairs with a small
table beside them. Someone had abandoned their drinks on the table, probably to
go and dance.
Draco released Harry and flopped back into a chair. He looked from the brunette
to the chair next to him and then back again. “Well?”
Harry sat down somewhat nervously. He wasn’t sure exactly what was going to
happen next. Draco was acting so casual now, but on the dance floor, he had
appeared interested in Harry….beyond interested, if the hardness Harry had felt
against his thigh had been any indication. He risked a glance in Draco’s
direction. The boy was sprawled almost bonelessly in his chair, legs splayed,
and Harry couldn’t help it, he couldn’t…his eyes immediately flew to Draco’s
groin. Sure enough, his pants were tented.
Then, the boy shifted. Harry looked up, panicked, and yes, his attentions had
been noticed. Draco’s brow was arched in amusement. “Looking for something,
Harry?”
“I…” Harry couldn’t speak, bright red in embarrassment. But then Draco was
sliding from his chair and into Harry’s, crawling right into the Gryffindor’s
lap. Harry sat too stunned to move.
“Because on the dance floor, you seemed more than interested. Or did I read you
wrong?”
Harry was shocked speechless. This went beyond Draco’s no touching rule. Though
honestly, Draco wasn’t touching all too much, simply sitting in his lap. His
hands weren’t doing much more than tangling in that green button-down again,
holding on as if to center himself.
Somehow, Harry managed to shake his head. “No. I mean….interested. I’m
definitely interested.”
Draco let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. “Oh, good.”
And, leaning in, he pressed a kiss to Harry’s throat, just below his ear. “I
was rather hoping you were.” He delighted in the way Harry’s breath caught at
the action.
“Draco—“
“Mm?” The blonde didn’t cease his actions, laying kisses down Harry’s throat.
“….fuck.” Harry, normally extremely loquacious, was finding it ridiculously
difficult to string even two words together. “That….feels good.” Draco
chuckled, the noise low and throaty, and it sent a shiver down Harry’s spine.
“Good. It’s supposed to.”
Harry had no idea how they had reached this point from earlier that day when he
had turned up at the door to the Potions classroom to ask for lessons. Not that
he was complaining. Learning about Draco, seeing his true nature….all of that
had been amazing, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. And this? This he
could safely say he would never have expected in a million years. Would he
trade this?
Draco gently nipped, and Harry mewled, immediately flushing in embarrassment.
…no. He would never trade this.
Still, he was at a complete loss for what to do. He just sat there, not
touching Draco, too afraid to make a move. Draco, smiling, took Harry’s hands
and put them on his hips, immediately going back to what he was doing, nuzzling
his way along Harry’s throat. It felt better than it had any right to.
Hesitantly, Harry began to touch, running his hands over Draco’s hips, his ass.
After a moment, he slid a fingertip beneath Draco’s shirt to tease over his
belly.
Draco’s breath hitched. Encouraged, Harry slipped a whole hand under there,
rucking the fabric up to get to more skin. The resulting moan sent a shudder
through the blonde. Harry’s free hand gripped the waistband of Draco’s pants
and tugged hard, pulling their bodies into closer contact.
That’s when his sleeve got caught in Draco’s zipper.
Draco gasped, hips automatically canting forwards. “Fuck, Harry! A little
forward, aren’t we?”
“Draco, my sleeve is caught in your zipper!”
There was a snort of laughter. “Seriously, Harry? If you didn’t mean to do it,
you can just say so.”
“No, really, Draco, my sleeve is caught in your zipper!”
Draco looked down and saw that this was true. “.........oh.” A moment later, he
glanced up, a wicked gleam in his eye and an evil smile on his face. “....well,
while you’re down there, can you move your hand just a little to the left?”
Harry immediately turned a brilliant shade of fuchsia. “….Draco…” For he didn’t
NOT want to touch Draco like that. Just…. “….not here.”
He could feel Draco's entire body stiffen. The boy pulled away to look Harry in
the face. His eyes were surprised; they searched Harry’s face as though trying
to determine how serious he was. “…..really?”
Harry swallowed. He was finding it incredibly difficult to speak. But looking
into those beautiful grey eyes, those eyes that he found himself falling in
love with, he knew there was only one answer he could give. “Yes.”
Draco looked shocked. At last, he nodded.
“Then let’s get out of here.”
 
~tbc~
Chapter End Notes
     So every chapter is either finished or outlined. Leave reviews and
     I'll finish and update faster! I love reviews! <3
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
It was freezing cold outside. Harry shivered as he waited for Draco to hail a
cab. The blonde knew the area much better, and obviously had more experience
with this sort of thing. Harry never would have expected Draco to know anything
about the muggle world, but clearly he was wrong. And if this day had shown him
anything, it was that he was wrong about a great many things where Draco was
concerned.
He smiled. He had never been so happy to be wrong in his whole life.
A car pulled up along the curb and stirred Harry from his thoughts. It was then
that he noticed Draco eyeing him strangely. “What?”
“What’re you smiling at?”
Harry shook his head. “Nothing.” He leaned in to steal another kiss, but Draco
stepped out of reach. He looked questioningly at the blonde.
“Just….not here.”
Harry didn’t understand why it was okay in the club but not here, but he wasn’t
going to doubt Draco. The Slytherin knew this place better than he did. Still,
he was reassured when, once inside the cab, Draco immediately took his hand,
linking their fingers.
The address was not one that Harry recognized. The house was unfamiliar as
well, but it was large and ornate. “Draco,” he asked as his eyes roved over it,
taking in every detail, “is this a hotel?”
Draco snorted and headed up the front steps. “No. Now, hurry.”
Harry rushed to obey, surprised as the blonde pulled out a key and unlocked the
door, giving Harry a little push to usher him quickly inside. The lights
flickered on, and Harry blinked as his eyes adjusted to the brightness.
The interior was as lavish as the outside. It looked almost like some fancy
museum. The entryway had a Persian rug and a gleaming table with a vase filled
with fresh roses. There were framed paintings of famous artwork that Harry
would gamble his life were originals.
“Shoes,” Draco prompted. With some difficulty, Harry peeled his eyes off of the
incredible surroundings and looked to Draco only to see that the boy had kicked
off his sneakers. Oh. Right. Harry responded in kind, tugging off his boots and
setting them carefully beside the door. There was an umbrella rack there, and
an extremely ornate gilt floor-to-ceiling mirror. Shit. Where WERE they?
Draco clearly had no time for Harry’s gawking. “Come on.” Taking the brunette’s
hand, he tugged Harry from the room. But what was in the next room stopped
Harry dead in his tracks.
“Draco….that’s…”
For above a positively massive fireplace was a family portrait, and not just
any family. A trio of extremely familiar faces stared down at Harry. Lucius
Malfoy, looking as mean as always, his wife, her eyes seeming to hide some sort
of emotion Harry couldn’t quite read, and there in the middle…
“Draco…is this…your home?”
Draco was clearly unhappy that they were there. “Figured that out, did you?”
But there was no malice behind the words.
Harry was stunned. The fact that Draco trusted him enough to bring him here, to
his house? That spoke volumes about how their relationship had changed this
day. There was more to this than just physical attraction. Draco might
actually….but no, Harry had to squash those thoughts down before they
overwhelmed him. Then another thought hit him and he looked around him as
though Lucius Malfoy were going to jump out at them at any moment. “Should we
really be here?” he whispered.
Draco rolled his eyes. “Relax, Harry. My father is out of the country until
next week. Mom is with him.” Harry immediately calmed, the tenseness leaving
his body. “Honestly, Harry. Do you really think I would bring you here if there
were even the slightest chance he would come home? What do you think he would—“
but here Draco stopped, pale cheeks flushing as he looked away.
Harry opened his mouth, wanting to push the matter, but something in Draco’s
manner told him not to. Instead he simply gave Draco’s hand a gentle squeeze.
“You gonna show me your room?”
That got Draco’s attention, and he looked up at Harry with a touch of that
heated smirk on his face. “Oh, am I ever.” And he was off again, tugging Harry
along with him up a grand staircase. Harry let himself be pulled down a series
of hallways (the house was even larger than it looked from the outside….magic,
he supposed), until they reached Draco’s room.
Once inside, Draco released Harry and swung the door shut behind them, flopping
back against it. Harry looked around, taking it all in.
The room was fairly sparse, although he supposed that was to be expected. It
wasn’t likely that Lucius Malfoy would allow his son to decorate his room. Had
to keep with the family’s tasteful aesthetic, after all. Still, there were
little touches here and there, signs of the boy that Harry had come to know
this day. Some CDs carefully placed on the bookshelf…a pair of battered
sneakers…but before he could look around any further, Harry felt Draco’s hands
at his waist again. Only this time, they didn’t stop there. This time, they
slid flat-palmed up his back, over his shoulders, arms wrapping around his
neck. Harry shivered at the contact.
“….are you going to touch me now?” Harry’s voice was no more than a whisper.
Draco’s hands faltered at the words, and for a moment, Harry worried he had
gone too far. But Draco didn’t step away, and after a few seconds, he spoke.
“….yes,” he answered. “Yes, I am going to touch you.” Hands on Harry’s
shoulders, he gently guided the boy, turning Harry to face him. Green eyes met
grey, both of them nervous. “…can I…” But, unable to find the words, Draco
settled for looking to his bed, then questioningly back at Harry. Swallowing
down his nerves, Harry nodded, a single, tight nod.
Draco’s hands moved to Harry’s waist again. Slowly, in a strange parody of the
waltz they had danced earlier, he guided Harry backwards until the backs of the
boy’s knees hit the bed and he fell onto it. Staring up at Draco, he scrambled
backwards until he was seated more comfortably. Smiling, Draco climbed onto the
mattress beside him and crawled into his lap as he had at the club, only this
time he was indeed touching Harry, a hand softly stroking Harry’s cheek.
The Gryffindor’s heart was beating a mile a minute. Facing Voldemort, fighting
a basilisk, that was all one thing, but sitting here with Draco in his lap?
That was scary. “….are you going to kiss me?” he managed to ask.
Draco looked surprised, but he smiled. “Yes,” he answered. “I’m going to kiss
you.”
Harry’s eyes slipped shut. He could feel the closeness of Draco, feel soft
blonde hair brushing against his forehead, practically feel Draco’s mouth on
his (though maybe that was just his imagination), and then....
“Wait a minute.”
Harry’s heart stopped. Surely this was the moment he had been waiting
for....surely Draco had now realized how stupid this all was, had realized that
this had gone too far and would decide he had no further interest in Harry,
romantic or otherwise. “......what?” he asked breathlessly, nervously,
terrified of the answer.
And then he felt soft cultured fingers brushing against his temples as Draco
gently took hold of Harry’s glasses and carefully slid them off.
“These,” Draco said softly. “These have to go.”
Harry couldn’t see well without his glasses on a normal basis, but now it was
even worse. Up close all he could see was the icing-laced cloud-dust of soft
gray eyes. His heart unfroze instantly and began pounding away fiercely, and he
couldn’t stop the sigh of relief that escaped his lips.
Soft fingers traced down his cheek. “Did you think I was going to stop?” Draco
asked.
“.....a little,” Harry admitted, chewing his lower lip nervously. Draco ran one
thumb across Harry’s lip, stopping the anxious action immediately as he
chuckled softly to himself.
“Silly Harry,” he chided. “Why would you ever think that?”
“............I........I don’t know,” Harry managed. He was so very distracted
by Draco’s gentle touch that he could barely think straight. He scarcely even
noticed the soft clacking sound as Draco placed the glasses carefully on the
bedside table. “So............so you are going to kiss me?” he asked, the words
all coming out in a rush.
A ghost of that small surprised smile traced across Draco’s lips. “.......yes,”
he said a moment later, voice so soft that Harry could barely hear him. “Yes,
I’m going to kiss you.”
Harry’s breath caught in his throat and he nearly let out another noise that
would have made him blush like mad. He managed to suppress it, but it was with
difficulty. Draco was so close, so very close. Silver-gray eyes swam before his
blurred vision, and then Draco was only millimeters away and he could feel the
heat radiating off the Slytherin’s body. And then it came: the slightest brush
of velvet soft lips, a teasing caress just to the left side of Harry’s mouth
before Draco finally closed the gap between them and kissed Harry, honest to
God kissed him. At that, Harry could hold it back no longer and he let out a
sort of strangled sob. Draco’s fingers were gently entwined in Harry’s hair and
he was kissing Harry so softly, so carefully and yet deliberately, as if he
wanted there to be no doubt about what he was doing and what it meant. Harry’s
heart melted into a big gushy puddle even as it pounded away with some fierce
emotion that he couldn’t name. Draco kissed in a much different way than Harry
would ever have expected, but it was nice. He liked it.....but at the same
time, he wanted more.....so very much more. But he didn’t know how to ask for
it.
Luckily for him, he didn’t have to ask. Draco’s fingers released their hold on
Harry’s hair; his other hand ceased its gentle caress of Harry’s cheek. Draco
stopped kissing him. A tiny whimper of disappointment escaped Harry’s lips
before he could stop it and he colored immediately. Draco pulled back just
enough to look Harry in the eye, hands gently holding Harry’s face so that the
Gryffindor couldn’t look away. “Don’t worry, Harry,” he whispered, smiling.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“......oh..... okay.......” Harry felt silly now, and he was certain he was
blushing again, but Draco didn’t comment on it. Instead, he gently pressed
another kiss to Harry’s mouth and, trembling, Harry pressed back into it. One
smooth fingertip traced softly down Harry’s cheek and the brunette shivered at
the touch. He kicked himself mentally for not being better at this, for not
knowing how to kiss. Draco smiled; Harry could feel rather than see it since
Draco’s lips still brushed teasingly against his own. “...relax,” Draco
murmured, obviously able to tell that Harry was insanely nervous. Harry opened
his mouth to respond, but before he could say a thing, Draco took advantage of
Harry’s parted lips and kissed him again. And then Harry felt something he had
not expected: Draco’s tongue traced briefly across Harry’s lower lip as though
asking for permission and then, before Harry could either accept or deny this
invasion, Draco slipped past his defenses, his tongue dancing across Harry’s.
It was surprising but not unpleasant; no, not by any means, and this was
perhaps the most surprising thing of all. Harry had no time to react or really
to think about it. Draco kissed him again, and twice again, and Harry decided
that he really didn’t mind the French kissing at all; in fact, with each kiss,
he liked it a little more. Finally, Draco pulled back again, one finger
stroking soft patterns across Harry’s cheek. “Let’s get that tongue involved,”
he murmured.
Harry stared at Draco, heart pounding fiercely. “Draco,” he began, barely able
to get words out. “Draco........Draco, I.....I don’t know how to.....”
“Shhhh....” Draco kissed Harry gently, a soft chaste kiss, and Harry was
silenced, though his concerns were not. “Don’t worry about it. Just follow my
lead.” And before Harry could make one last protest, Draco was kissing him
again, and Harry was doing his best to keep up. When Draco’s tongue delved into
Harry’s mouth this time, a tiny whimper of sheer sensation overload escaped
Harry and he met the challenge, tongue dancing against Draco’s, kissing back in
kind. Draco pulled away slowly, sucking at Harry’s lower lip. “Mmmm,” he
hummed, eyes half-lidded, “...lovely.” Harry flushed, but he couldn’t stop the
small pleased smile that leapt to his face, and he ducked his head to hide it.
It didn’t do him much good. Seconds later he found Draco in his face once more.
The Slytherin ducked his head down so he could see Harry eye-to-eye again.
“......hiding from me?” he teased.
“Not at all,” Harry grinned despite himself.
“Good.” Draco combed his hair out of his face. It didn’t work too well, and
golden locks tumbled right back into his eyes. “I was thinking maybe you didn’t
want any more kisses.”
Harry arched an eyebrow and before he could stop himself, words tumbled forth.
“.....d’you think I’m crazy?”
Draco stared for a moment and then burst out laughing. “I like your thinking,
Harry, I really do. And if that’s the case.....” he leaned forward, two fingers
slipping under Harry’s chin and tilting the Gryffindor’s face up to meet his,
“then I shall have no more compunctions about kissing the hell out of you.” And
he did so. It didn’t feel so awkward for Harry this time, and he felt this
kissing thing was something he could get used to. He pressed up into the kiss,
his fingers clinging tightly to the bed cover for lack of anything better to
do. His feverish body reacted with barely a hesitation, but his mind was still
in turmoil, wondering if he was doing anything right.
And as far as Draco was concerned, Harry was doing just fine, better than fine.
The hesitant way his mouth moved, the tentative motion of his tongue against
Draco’s, the soft whimpers he still made when Draco’s tongue danced across his
own......wonderful.....but not quite perfect.
There was one problem, in Draco’s mind, one thing that was preventing this from
being seamless, unspoiled....absolute. This was of course Harry’s unflinching
hold on the bed sheets. Fortunately, it was an easy thing to fix. Draco’s hands
relinquished their gentle hold on Harry’s face, the soft stroking of brown
hair, and slid down Harry’s shoulders, down his arms, down to where he held
tight to the sheets. Softly he stroked his fingers across Harry’s hands and the
hold on the bed released in surprise. Without speaking, Draco gently took hold
of Harry’s shaking hands and guided them upwards, placing them on his own body.
The Gryffindor only hesitated for a moment, then, trembling hands caught hold
of Draco’s shirt and the hesitation was no more; Harry was forcefully tugging
at Draco, pulling the Slytherin closer to him, deeper into the kiss. And Draco
sighed inwardly. There it was. Flawless. Absolute. Perfect. Perfectly perfect
perfection.
It was as if once Harry began touching Draco, he couldn’t stop. Those callused
fingers that Draco loved so much began fumbling at the bottom of Draco’s shirt,
tugging at it, and Draco broke the kiss, pulling away to look at Harry in
surprise. “Harry…Harry, hold on.”
Harry obeyed, though he didn’t look as though he wanted to. “What.”
“You...” Draco was finding it rather difficult to breathe. “….how far exactly
were you wanting to go?”
The brunette immediately pinked, but he didn’t look away. “…..as far as you
want to.”
Oh God. Oh God, Draco was going to faint. “…..are you certain?” For he couldn’t
be certain….not after this one day. People like Harry didn’t sleep with people
like Draco.
But Harry was nodding with a soft smile on his face that sent a pang through
Draco’s heart. “Positive.”
And Draco couldn’t argue; he didn’t WANT to. If this was his one taste of Harry
Potter (and he was certain it would be, for Harry would surely decide later
that this hadn’t been worth it, that Draco wasn’t worth it), then he was
determined to make the most of it. He surged forward and claimed Harry’s mouth
in a bruising kiss. Harry laughed breathlessly.
“Demanding,” he asked, “aren’t we.”
“Shut it, Potter,” Draco managed. “And kiss me.”
Harry grinned, once more taking hold of Draco’s shirt. “No objections there.”
Sitting back on his heels, Draco obediently held his arms up so Harry could
divest him of his t-shirt. The boy let out a little hum of appreciation as he
took in Draco’s now bare chest. The blonde couldn’t help preening slightly.
Harry Potter liked his body.
Green eyes roved over Draco’s toned chest, taking in every inch of pale skin.
“I just knew you’d be perfect.”
Draco’s eyes widened in surprise. “….you’ve thought about me before?”
Harry blushed. “Maybe. Once or twice.” He frowned as though sensing imminent
mockery. “Shut up.”
Draco couldn’t help but laugh. “No. I love it.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet you do.”
The blonde gave a little roll of his hips, folding his arms behind his head to
put his body on display. He didn’t miss the way Harry’s eyes widened at the
sight. “And the reality matches the imagination?”
Those eyes didn’t leave Draco’s body. “…surpasses. Definitely surpasses.”
Draco was the one blushing now. While he was happy with the way his body
looked, he wasn’t overly muscled. No, he had a rather slim build, despite being
toned. So knowing that Harry liked, no, loved the way he looked? Yeah. That
felt amazing.
Speaking of Harry….he still looked rather pink-faced after admitting to have
thought about Draco’s body. Draco smiled. He would have to put Harry’s mind at
ease.
“Hey.” Draco leaned in, resting their foreheads together. “I’ve thought about
you too, you know.”
Harry perked up at that. “Oh?”
The Slytherin chuckled at that reaction. “Oh yeah. Many times.” He gently
tugged at Harry’s shirtfront. “Care to show me how accurate my imagination is?”
If possible, Harry pinked even more, but he nodded. Draco leaned in for another
kiss, hands simultaneously divesting Harry of his button down. As he rucked up
the grey t-shirt, he could feel as well as hear the brunette’s breath catch.
“Ready?” he murmured. Harry raised his arms, and Draco gently tugged the shirt
up and off, casting it aside.
God.
Draco hadn’t been lying. He had thought about Harry naked over the years. While
he had never liked the boy (not true, that tiny part of his mind insisted, but
he shoved it away again), it was impossible NOT to think at least some dirty
thoughts about him. Harry was sexy as hell. And in this case, he definitely
lived up to any and all of Draco’s daydreams.
His hands roved over Harry’s now bare chest, delighting in the shiver it
elicited. “You’re gorgeous.”
He didn’t get any further, for Harry was surging up to claim a fierce kiss, a
hand fisting in Draco’s blonde hair. This time it was Draco who was moaning,
rolling his hips downwards and oh, yes, he could feel Harry hard against him.
That was wonderful. He rocked forwards again, seeking more. When he broke away,
he was practically panting for breath. Both of them needed to be naked. Like,
ten minutes ago.
Harry was clearly thinking the same thing, for his hands found Draco’s
waistband again and yanked hard. “Fuck, Draco. Take off your pants.”
Draco laughed breathlessly. “Awfully bossy, aren’t you, Harry.” But he sat back
on his heels and flicked open the button on his slacks. Harry’s eyes were fixed
on his fingers, watching as he slowly undid his zipper, relishing in the
control he had over Harry at that very moment. It was very empowering.
“Are you a screamer, d’you think?”
“WHAT?!” Harry sputtered, barely getting the word out at all.
Draco laughed. “I don’t think so, either. You’re too quiet for that. But I
don’t know.....you may surprise me yet. Still,” he continued, “I’d peg you as
more of a moaner. I thought so earlier today, right before we started dancing.
You let out this little sound.....a whimper of sorts.” At that, Draco tossed
his head back and let out a noise which was indeed a whimper....and a highly
sexual one at that. Harry blushed vermillion. Dear God! THAT’S what I sounded
like?
Draco tipped his head forward again, long blonde hair slipping into his eyes as
he returned his attention once more to Harry, who was obviously agonizing over
the matter. “......it’s nothing to be upset about,” Draco spoke up. He felt
sort of bad for making Harry so uncomfortable, but he couldn’t really regret
doing so when it brought that lovely color back into Harry’s cheeks.
“Seriously......don’t worry about it. It was sexy.”
If Harry had been concerned about his blushing before, the matter had increased
tenfold. Draco couldn’t help but smile as he leaned forward, mouth practically
brushing Harry’s ear as he whispered “you look absolutely stunning when you
blush......d’you know that?”
......Harry couldn’t answer, couldn’t breathe, could barely swallow against the
sudden dryness of his throat. He settled instead for a jerky shake of the head
‘no’. In response, Draco pressed his cheek to Harry’s. “You’re on fire,” he
murmured. “Practically burning my skin.” And he pulled back abruptly, his
sudden absence leaving Harry feeling colder than he ever had before.
Draco was smiling. Harry didn’t know how the other boy managed it. He himself
couldn’t have smiled if he tried. He could barely even breathe, and he was
positive words were out of the question. “So, Harry,” Draco spoke up, smile
still in place, “What’s it going to be? Moaning? Screaming?” He arched an
eyebrow, smirking. “...........dirty words?”
“….Draco…”
Draco simply grinned. He worked his way down Harry’s throat and chest, trailing
teasing kisses everywhere. Pausing over Harry’s heart, he pressed his ear to
Harry’s chest, listening to the dull watery thud beating so quickly and loudly.
“Your heart is going a mile a minute,” he murmured. “Like a hummingbird beating
its wings.. So fast...so nervous. Trying so very hard to fly away.” He pulled
back, staring up at Harry. “.......do you want to fly away, Harry? Should I let
you go?”
Harry would rather have died than let Draco stop touching him, rather die than
leave. He may be nervous, he may be awkward, hell, he may be bloody terrified,
but by God, he was going to see this through.
“You stop now,” Harry panted, barely able to get the words out, “....and I’ll
fucking kill you.”
A surprised smile danced across Draco’s face. “..........I’ll keep that in
mind.” He looked into those eyes, so beautiful, and was struck yet again with
wonder at how the hell they had wound up here.
Harry, it seemed, was through waiting. Draco found himself tossed off of Harry
and flat on his back, with Harry on all fours above him, boxing him in. He
stared up at the Gryffindor with wide eyes.
“Told you to take your pants off,” Harry said. “You’re taking too damn long.”
For a moment, Draco simply stared, too surprised by his sudden relocation and
the reasoning behind it. Then, he burst into laughter. “Bossy,” he said at
last. “Very well, have your way with me, Harry.”
The words brought another flush to Harry’s cheeks, but there was a set to his
shoulders of almost determination, and he didn’t shy away. Very carefully, he
tugged down Draco’s slacks, discarding them to the floor, along with his socks.
He teased a fingertip along the now bare arch of Draco’s foot, which twitched.
Draco tried to stifle a laugh, but wasn’t entirely successful.
“Stop that.”
 “Ticklish, are we?”
“No.”
Harry grinned. “Liar."
Draco raised a brow at him. “You gonna put it to the test or did you still
wanna have sex?”
Heat rolled through Harry. “Ah….sex. Definitely the sex.”
It was Draco’s turn to grin. “Thought so.” He hooked a thumb in the waistband
of his black boxer briefs, the only remaining stitch of clothing he had on.
“You wanna take these off, or should I?”
Oh God. Harry didn’t know how he was still functioning, but he definitely
wasn’t able to speak. He settled for actions, brushing Draco’s hand aside and
gently, carefully tugging the undergarments down, tossing them to the floor
with the rest of Draco’s clothing.
He had to close his eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, steeling himself
before he could look. After all, he had never done this before, and he had
never expected this night to end up here.
He opened them.
God. Draco was beyond beautiful, lying there stark naked, looking up at Harry
for his approval and….was that a hint of nerves in those grey eyes? As if Harry
would ever find anything about Draco less than completely gorgeous. Especially
not after getting to know him today.
That toned chest, all smooth planes and gleaming skin…the flat stomach with its
fine dusting of pale blonde hairs beginning just below his navel, leading down
to…
It was incredibly difficult to breathe. Draco’s cock (once Harry finally found
the courage to look) lay hard and flushed against his stomach, tip glistening
with a drop of precum that Harry very much wanted to lick off. All of Draco was
more beautiful than Harry ever could have imagined.
He glanced up at last, having looked his fill, and met those nervous eyes.
Leaning in, his lips brushed Draco’s in a soft kiss. “You’re beautiful,” he
whispered.
Those lovely pale cheeks tinged pink. “Shut up.”
“No.” Something told Harry that, despite how cocky Draco normally acted, he
hadn’t been complimented enough in his life. He kissed the blonde again. “You
are. Positively lovely.”
“Oh my God, shut up. And take off your pants.”
Harry laughed and took pity on Draco, sitting back and undoing his jeans.
“Fine. But only because I love you.” He froze as the realization of what he
just said hit him. Slowly, green eyes met grey ones, eyes that looked just as
startled as Harry felt. “Ah….that is to say…”
A look came over Draco’s face, something almost bitter, but it vanished nearly
as quickly as it had come, replaced with that fake bravado. “Don’t worry about
it, Potter.” Oh God, they were back to last names again. “I know you’d never
love me.”
Harry simply sat there, stupefied. Of course Draco would think that. “Shut up,
Draco,” he said hotly. “You have no reason to say that.” Draco was opening his
mouth to say something else, but Harry didn’t let him, he refused. The Draco he
had gotten to know today, the real Draco, was funny and sweet, and kind, and he
refused to let the boy think any differently. “You are amazing. How anyone
couldn’t love you is beyond me.”
Draco stared up at Harry, eyes wide, unable to say a word. “….you really mean
that.” His tone was one of wonderment. But it wasn’t a question, for he could
tell that it was true. Harry really did believe what he was saying.
Harry nodded. “I do.”
Draco was overwhelmed; he swallowed with some difficulty. He wasn’t used to
being loved. All these years he had spent going to the club, finding random
strangers to fuck him so he could lose himself in the semblance of caring, but
never really finding something that felt anything close to love. And now, he
stumbled upon it here, in the arms of the boy he had been raised to hate. Draco
blinked back tears that were threatening to spill forth.
“Draco?”
The blonde simply shook his head. “Take off your pants,” he repeated, voice
soft.
Harry was still uncertain. Draco was so very quiet. But he didn’t seem angry.
Indeed, the words seemed to have touched something in him. So Harry did as he
was told, kicking aside socks, pants, and boxers.
Draco’s eyes roved over Harry’s body, unashamedly taking it all in. His hands
traced down Harry’s chest, over his hips, touching everywhere but the place
Harry most wanted to be touched. Finally, he looked up at the Gryffindor. “You
still want to….?”
Harry nodded. “Definitely.”
Seemingly satisfied, Draco reached into the top drawer of the bedside table,
retrieving a small bottle of lube. “Here.” He tossed it to Harry, who fumbled a
bit but managed to catch it. Then, Draco wriggled out from beneath Harry; he
lay back against the pillows and spread his legs wide. Harry thought he would
faint on the spot. Clearly Draco could tell, for a hint of a smile ghosted
around the corners of his mouth. “Get to work.”
Harry was having heart palpitations, he really was. “I….me?? You want ME
to….really??”
“Yes.” Draco’s tone was adamant, broking no argument. “Unless you don’t want
to?”
Harry immediately began shaking his head ‘no’. “No, that’s not it at all, I
want to, I just….I’ve never…”
“It’s easy.” Draco took Harry’s hand and, popping the cap on the bottle, poured
some of the sticky fluid into it. “C’mere.”
Still nervous, Harry settled onto the bed beside Draco and slipped his hand
between his legs. He teased one slick fingertip over Draco’s entrance and,
slowly, pressed in.
Draco’s breath hitched and Harry immediately froze. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m okay. Keep going. I’ll tell you if you do something wrong.”
“Promise?”
Draco looked to Harry, the smile on his face so soft and lovely that it set
almost all those worries to rest. “I promise. Honestly, Harry….have I steered
you wrong yet today?”
Harry had to smile. “No. You haven’t.” And as odd as it seemed, he knew that
Draco never would. Taking a deep breath, he continued.
It was strange and new, and incredibly nerve-wracking, having Draco place so
much trust in him. He was so afraid of hurting Draco. But he went slowly, and
Draco murmured soft encouragements much as he had with the waltzing earlier
that day, guiding Harry until he had three fingers buried deep inside Draco’s
tight heat, stretching him open. Then Harry crooked his fingers and Draco let
out a sharp gasp, hips bucking. Harry immediately panicked. “Oh my God I’m
sorry! Are you okay?!”
But the blonde was shaking his head, trying to tell Harry not to worry, and he
cocked his head, pondering. “…oh….” An evil grin curved across his face. “Shall
I do it again?” And without waiting for an answer, he repeated the motion,
pressing his fingers right against that sweet spot. This time the noise Draco
let out was more of a desperate mewl, and it did things to Harry.
“Okay, okay fuck, that’s enough.” Draco gestured wildly towards the pile of
clothing on the floor. “Wallet. Find my wallet.”
Harry’s brow furrowed, totally at a loss as to why Draco could want his wallet
at a time like this, but he did as he was bid. The whimper Draco issued when
Harry’s fingers withdrew was positively pathetic, and it made need curl in
Harry’s belly. He rummaged through the clothing on the floor until he found
Draco’s wallet, returning to the bed.
Draco snatched the wallet, flipping straight to the pocket in the middle and
retrieving….a condom. Ah. That explained things.
The blonde tore the packet open with his teeth, which was strangely erotic.
Then again, Harry was beginning to think he would find anything Draco did
erotic, especially if it involved his mouth. But then Draco was reaching out
and he was putting the condom on Harry, those graceful hands rolling the thin
sheath of latex over Harry’s by now aching cock. He gasped at the touch.
“Draco.”
Draco simply took Harry’s face in his hands and kissed him, soft and deep,
tongues dancing together. The kiss swept through Harry, leaving him trembling
as he stared into those beautiful grey eyes. “Make love to me,” Draco
whispered.
Harry felt as if he’d been sucker-punched. He couldn’t believe what he’d just
heard. Draco looked as though he couldn’t quite believe he’d said it. He opened
his mouth as if he were about to take it back, but Harry silenced him with a
kiss, and then nodded. “Lay back.”
Draco was looking at Harry with disbelief in his eyes, disbelief tinged with
surprise and hope and yes….happiness. Harry brushed a lock of blonde hair out
of Draco’s eyes and kissed him once more, softly. “Lay back,” he repeated.
All traces of worry vanished from Draco’s brow. He eased back against the
pillows, splaying his legs wider about Harry to make room for the boy.
Harry felt another little wave of nerves. Clearly Draco could tell, for he
cupped Harry’s cheek. “Hey.” He smiled up at the brunette. “You’ll be fine.”
If this day had proved anything, it was that Draco would never stop surprising
him. Here the blonde was, pushing his own uncertainties aside in order to
comfort Harry. The Gryffindor kissed Draco and slipped a hand beneath his knee,
tugging Draco’s leg up around his waist. “Ready?”
Oh, Draco could definitely get behind this new positioning. He slipped his
other leg around Harry’s waist as well, arms wrapping around Harry’s neck, and
pressed a soft kiss to the boy’s lips. “Yes.”
The sensation of tight heat as he breached Draco was unlike anything Harry had
ever experienced before. He had to pause before he was fully in, for fear of
losing control and coming on the spot. He bit his lip, eyes shut tight.
“…Harry? Are you okay?”
Harry gave a tight nod. “Yeah. Just….need a moment.” He felt Draco’s lips brush
his forehead in a gentle kiss.
“Take your time.”
A few seconds passed, a few precious seconds during which Draco patiently
waited, fingers running through Harry’s tangled hair, brushing sweat-dampened
locks back from his forehead. At last, Harry moved, pressing the rest of the
way in until he was fully sheathed. God. He bit his lip. It was too good. How
had he waited so long to try this?
Because before today, you didn’t truly know Draco. And bizarre as it may seem,
he couldn’t picture himself doing this with anyone else.
He looked down at the blonde. Draco’s breath was coming in short pants; his
eyes were wild. Harry offered up a hand and, immediately, Draco took it,
slotting their fingers together and gripping tight. “Move,” he said.
Harry couldn’t have disobeyed if he wanted to; his hips canted back and then
snapped forward of their own accord. Green eyes flew wide at the sensation.
“Oh!”
“Yeah,” Draco breathed happily. He squeezed Harry’s hand tighter. Without
thinking twice, Harry offered his other hand and Draco accepted. Both hands now
linked, Harry pressed Draco’s hands to the mattress on either side of his head,
pinning him. God, he looked beautiful like that. “Don’t stop,” Draco pleaded,
rolling his hips back, seeking more.
Yet another side to Draco (this really was a day of firsts): desperate,
pleading….needy. Fuck, it was sexy. Harry thrust again, going harder. Clearly
it felt good, if the way Draco moaned was any indication, that blonde head
tipping back against the pillow. Harry took advantage of this to press his
mouth to the length of exposed throat, kissing and nipping. His hips found the
rhythm and kept fucking forward. Draco’s body was so hot and tight around him.
He angled his hips, seeking that one spot that had made Draco gasp before and
oh yes, there it was, and Harry captured Draco’s pleasured cry in his mouth,
pressing in for another kiss. “There?” he asked breathlessly.
Draco nodded fervently. “Yes. Fuck, right there. Keep going.”
Pleased that he had found the right angle, that he was making Draco feel good,
Harry canted his hips again, and again, making sure to hit the same spot every
thrust. Draco was coming completely undone beneath him, and it was a thing to
behold. The normally put-together Slytherin was a mess, face flushed, blonde
hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, eyes hazy with lust. A thought hit and
Harry released one of Draco’s hands, ignoring the noise of disappointment as he
reached between them to wrap that hand around Draco’s thus far ignored cock.
Immediately, all traces of disappointment vanished as Draco’s hips
instinctively bucked up; he thrust into Harry’s grasp. “Fuck!”
Harry chuckled. “Good?” This, at least, he had some experience with….with
himself, anyway, but it was something.
“Good. Very good.” Draco’s fingers flexed, his grip on Harry’s hand tightening.
“Harry…”
But the brunette thought he could guess what Draco was going to say. He felt
it, too. Leaning in, he softly brushed his lips against Draco’s. “Come on,
beautiful. Let go for me.”
Draco’s eyes widened at the endearment, beyond stunned; he opened his mouth to
respond, but then on the upsweep of a stroke, Harry’s thumb teased over the
head of his cock, and it was too much. Draco came with a cry, hand squeezing
Harry’s so tightly that it was painful.
Harry couldn’t hold out. Honestly, it was amazing he had made it this long, but
with the way Draco’s fluttering muscles tightened around his cock, hot seed
spattering Harry’s hand….it was just too much. He buried himself deep and came
with Draco’s name upon his lips. “Draco,” he murmured. “Draco…”
When the high began to fade, he realized that he was still atop Draco, nuzzling
kisses all along the pale column of his throat. Oh. Gingerly, he pulled out,
already missing that tight heat, and rolled off. “Um….where do I…”
“Wastebasket by the dresser. Tie it off and chuck it there.”
Harry did as told, but there was something about Draco’s voice that he didn’t
like. It sounded almost….thick. Like he was holding back tears…
His head whipped about, terrified of what he would see, and yes, Draco’s
beautiful silver eyes were filled with tears, tears he was desperately trying
to force back, to no avail. “Draco!”
Draco shook his head and gestured, trying to shake Harry away, but there was no
way the brunette was going to listen to him now. He simply crawled back onto
the bed, wanting to take Draco into his arms again but not sure he was welcome
to do so. “What….what did I do?”
At that, Draco’s eyes widened in horror. “You?? You didn’t do anything! If
anything, you did everything right!”
Harry felt relief that Draco wasn’t upset with him. But the relief was short-
lived, for even if Draco wasn’t upset with him, he was still upset, and that
wasn’t okay. “But…” he dared to move closer. “What’s wrong?” Draco shook his
head again, but now that Harry knew he wasn’t the source of the emotion, he
dared to tug Draco into his arms. It was as if, with that one action, a dam
burst open, and Draco began to cry in earnest. Terrified that he had done the
wrong thing, Harry made as if to release Draco, but the blonde only clung
tighter, so Harry held on and began to stroke his hair. “Shh…it’s okay. You’re
okay.”
“I’m sorry,” Draco managed to choke out between sobs. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Why are you sorry? For crying? You don’t have to apologize for
that.”
“I do,” Draco insisted. “You just made me so happy and I had to go and ruin
it.”
“Draco, you haven’t ruined anything.” Harry was completely bewildered as to
what had set Draco off. If it wasn’t their sex that had upset him, why was he
crying? “Here….come on.” He lay back on the bed, tugging Draco down with him
and into his arms. Glancing about them, he found the nearest blanket and pulled
it up over them. For some reason, this only seemed to upset Draco more and the
blonde clung to him.
“You’re too good to me,” Draco mumbled, face buried against Harry’s chest.
“Why is that upsetting?” Harry was lost.
When Draco spoke again, the words were mumbled, barely audible. “…you’ll hate
me...”
“…..Draco…” Harry sighed and, a hand beneath Draco’s chin, tilted his face up
so those grey eyes were forced to meet his gaze. “I think if today proved
anything, it’s that you and I can move past anything.” That coaxed the smallest
of smiles out of the blonde, and Harry felt hope stir in his chest. He could do
this. He could help Draco through this. “Will you tell me?”
Draco simply looked at him for a moment. Finally, he looked away, but he did
answer. “…the club,” he said at last. “The reason I used to go there all the
time was to pick people up. Or really, get picked up.”
“....oh.” It was easy to guess the thinly veiled meaning in Draco’s words. He
went to the club to find strangers to fuck him. “Why?” Harry made damn certain
that his voice was completely free of any sort of judgement. Draco took a deep,
shaky breath before answering.
“…..I don’t know.” But it was clear that this wasn’t true. Still, this was far
more than he had expected of Draco. The Draco he had known this morning would
have told him to get bent. But the blonde wasn’t done. “Looking for some kind
of connection.” And Harry’s heart broke, for this confirmed what he had
suspected all along: Draco was alone here. Harry knew that Lucius treated Draco
horribly in public….clearly it extended to home as well. So Draco went to the
club to fill the void. “But all these people….none of it was ever real.” Then
those eyes looked up, beautiful grey eyes shining with tears as they met
Harry’s. “Till you tonight. I asked you to make love to me. I didn’t mean to,
but I did. And you didn’t laugh me off. You said yes.” His voice was amazingly
steady considering how much he was shaking. “Did you mean it?”
Harry didn’t hesitate, immediately answering “yes.” Those grey eyes welled up
again but the tears were happy now. Harry pulled Draco to him and kissed him
gently.
“Listen to me,” he said softly. “I don’t know what’s happened in the past, but
I can tell you this: you are an amazing person, Draco Malfoy. I am so
incredibly fortunate to know you, so Goddamn lucky that you shared this night
with me.”
Draco was staring at Harry with something like disbelief in his eyes. Now he
shook his head, a small smile on his face. “God,” he said. “I think my original
opinion of you was right all along.” Harry’s smile faltered, stricken; then,
Draco grinned, and finished. “You really ARE crazy.”
Harry burst into laughter. “Mm…” he hummed, gently poking at Draco’s waist.
“Crazy for YOU.”
Draco snorted, though his face flushed with happiness. “God, you’re a dork.”
“Yup.” He tugged the covers tighter around them. “We gonna sleep here?”
Draco glanced at him in surprise. “You want to spend the night with me?”
“Of course I do. Why…” he propped himself up on an elbow, looking down at
Draco. “Is that a problem?”
Slowly, a pleased smile grew over Draco’s face; he shook his head. “No,” he
answered. “Not a problem at all.”
“Good.” Harry reached for the lamp on the bedside table, flicking off the
lights. Satisfied, he lay back down again and pulled Draco tighter to him. The
blonde made an obligatory noise of protest but Harry didn’t miss the way he
snuggled right up, tucking his head beneath Harry’s chin.
Harry smiled. “Good night, Draco.”
Draco pressed a kiss to Harry’s throat, that spot below his ear that he had
earlier discovered (with great pleasure) that Harry loved. “Night, Harry.”
The Gryffindor kissed the top of Draco’s head, loving the happy sigh it
elicited, and continued to comb his fingers through the soft blonde hair,
listening for Draco’s breathing to even as he fell asleep.
Harry frowned as he thought over all he had just learned. It didn’t bother him
that Draco had been sleeping around. Draco was a big boy; he could do what he
wanted. No, what bothered him was hearing from Draco’s own mouth just how
horribly Draco thought of himself. It was simply not okay. Harry would have to
fix that.
He looked down at that golden blonde head and smiled.
They had all the time in the world, for after today, one thing was certain: he
was never letting go of Draco Malfoy. He was holding on, and he would make damn
sure that the boy knew just how wonderful he was.
Harry yawned, eyes slipping shut.
He would start first thing tomorrow.
 
~tbc~
Chapter End Notes
     They aren't at the Malfoy Manor we know from the books/film, but a
     town house in London. Because I can totally see a family as wealthy
     as the Malfoys having more than one house.
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Notes
     TRIGGER WARNINGS: psychological and sexual abuse.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“DRACO!”
Draco awoke with a start and shot up in bed—no easy feat with Harry’s body
wrapped about him, octopus-like. But the blonde knew that voice, knew it better
than he knew his own. He had been awakened by it far too many times in his
life. The sound of it sent pure terror stabbing through him. “Father!”
Lucius Malfoy stood beside the bed, regarding the two boys with fury in his
eyes. “I saw the shoes by the door. I told myself there had to be a reasonable
explanation, that my son would never bring someone back to the house.”
Draco was still having difficulty wrapping his mind around the fact that his
father was even there. “You….you’re supposed to be in Austria until next
Wednesday--”
“So that makes it okay for you to bring some boy back here to your bed?!”
Harry was stirring now, blinking awake. Draco willed him back asleep. If Lucius
recognized the Gryffindor….God. The thought sent a chill down his spine.
“Father, I can explain—“
“I should have known I was wrong. After all, you’re nothing but a cheap whore,
aren’t you?”
Draco bristled; without thinking, he snapped back “you would know, wouldn’t
you?”
Lucius stared at his son, shocked. Draco immediately regretted the words. He
was in for it now, oh God, was he in for it. “You little…” The words were
barely more than air, soft and dangerous.
Harry sat up, regarding Draco with sleepy eyes. God, he looked adorable. Draco
wanted to pull him back down, tug the covers up over their heads, and spend the
whole day kissing him senseless. Instead, he had this to deal with. “Draco?”
Harry mumbled. He was clearly still not fully awake. Then those green eyes saw
Lucius, and suddenly he was much more alert. “Malfoy??”
It didn’t seem as though Lucius realized who Harry was, too blinded was he by
anger. Draco silently thanked any God who was listening. “Whoever you are, get
out of my son’s bed right this instant.”
Harry turned to Draco, eyes wide, mouth open. Draco looked back, eyes pleading,
but neither had a chance to say a word. Lucius had gotten tired of being
ignored. With a growl, he grabbed Harry’s shoulder and tossed him out of bed
and out of the way. Draco cowered. His father’s wrath was a terrible thing at
the best of times. But this, in bed? This brought back a whole set of memories
that he thought he had buried down deep. He could taste the bile rising in his
throat. “Father, please—“
“Shut. UP.” And then Lucius backhanded Draco across the face. Draco went
slamming against the wall, stunned. But Lucius wasn’t done, clambering onto the
bed and grabbing Draco by the shoulders, shaking him.
“Bring some random boy into my house? MY HOUSE?” He smacked Draco again. “You
filthy little slut!”
Draco’s face burned, and not just from the slaps. He had heard these words
before, and worse. But knowing Harry was here, seeing his father treat him this
way, calling him these names, that Harry would know him for the worthless slut
he was…..that hurt.
Then, a pillow slammed against the back of Lucius’ head hard enough to send him
falling forwards into Draco. “Stop it!” Harry yelled. “Stop it!”
Lucius looked surprised at the action, though he still paid no attention to
Harry. He merely smirked mockingly at his son. “Got a feisty one here.” He took
Draco’s chin in his hand, gripping tightly. “Think he cares about you? He
doesn’t. No one does. You’re just a worthless whore.”
Draco’s eyes swam with the first hot pinpricks of tears. He blinked them back,
averting his gaze. He got another slap for his troubles.
“Don’t you turn away from me!”
Thunk. Lucius’ eyes seemed to roll back in his head and then he slumped
forward, collapsing onto the bed. Draco looked up, baffled, and saw Harry
standing there holding a heavy brass paperweight that he had clearly grabbed
off of Draco’s desk. He had clocked Lucius over the head and knocked him out.
Holy shit.
Draco stared. “….Harry…”
Harry tossed the paperweight aside; it landed on the floor with a heavy thud.
“We need to get out of here.”
 Draco was too shell-shocked to move. Luckily, Harry could see that. Going to
his knees, he began sorting through their clothing and helping Draco dress. He
quickly followed suit, then took Draco by the hand. “Come on.”
Draco could do no more than nod dumbly and stare at his father’s unconscious
form as he allowed Harry to tug him out the door and down the stairs. The
brunette headed into the room that held the family portrait and the huge
fireplace.
“Floo powder,” Harry said. “Where is it?”
Somehow, Draco managed to shake off his stupor enough to move to a small urn on
the mantel. Harry followed and, removing the lid, took a pinch.
“Okay,” he said, and tugged Draco into the fireplace with him. “Arms around my
waist, and hang on tight.”
Draco didn’t have to be told twice. If there was anything he wanted at this
moment, it was the comfort of Harry’s body close to his. Wrapping his arms
around Harry, he buried his face in the curve of the boy’s throat, deeply
inhaling that wonderful scent he had come to love since yesterday. He was
vaguely aware of Harry saying an address, of the Floo Powder being tossed, and
then they were travelling.
It was mere seconds before they reached their destination: Sirius Black’s
house, the location of the Order of the Phoenix. Not that Draco knew any of
this. He had no idea where they were, and it honestly didn’t matter, so long as
they were out of his house. Still he remained as he was, clinging to Harry.
“Hey.” Harry gently stroked Draco’s hair. He felt the way that the blonde was
trembling. “Draco….Draco, it’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
Honestly, Harry himself was extremely unsettled. What he had just seen had
terrified him. All of his suspicions had been true, and worse. Seeing all of
that….he felt physically ill at the way Lucius had treated his son.
Harry pulled away, heart aching at the noise of distress Draco made. But he
only withdrew far enough so that he could look Draco in the eye. What he saw
broke his heart. Tears were streaming from those beautiful eyes. “Hey.” He
cupped Draco’s face in his hands, gently brushing the tears away with his
thumbs, and kissed the boy’s forehead. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.” All Harry
wanted to do was take Draco to his room and put him to bed, hold him close
until he stopped crying. But he could hear the house stirring, hear the sound
of people in the kitchen, and he knew they had to make their presence known.
“Hey. Let’s go let everyone know we’ve arrived, yeah? Then we can go to my
room.”
Draco’s eyes never left Harry’s. He took a deep, shuddering breath. Finally, he
nodded. “Okay.”
The Gryffindor spared a moment to give Draco a final kiss, stroking his cheek.
“It’ll be okay,” he said softly. Draco nodded again. As they turned to the
door, Draco’s hand found Harry’s, fumbling as he linked their fingers. Harry
had to smile, raising it to his lips to kiss the back of it.
The instant they entered the kitchen, all eyes were on them. “Harry!” Sirius
was at Harry’s side immediately, yanking the boy into his arms. “We were so
worried about you!” Harry regarded him with puzzled surprise. “You didn’t
return to Hogwarts last night. McGonagall sent us an owl.”
…oh. OH. Harry hadn’t even thought of it. “…I was…..otherwise occupied.” Harry
couldn’t help glancing at Draco. The blonde snorted softly at Harry’s choice of
words. Harry smiled to hear it, hope stirring within him. Maybe Draco would be
okay.
Sirius had tracked Harry’s gaze and was looking between the two boys with
suspicion. “….but you’re alright?”
“Yes,” Harry confirmed, taking Draco’s hand again. “Yes, we’re fine.”
Sirius noted the use of “we”, and nodded. “Okay. We’ll send an owl to
McGonagall.” Remus had come up behind Sirius, wrapping an arm around the
shorter man’s shoulders. Sirius smiled up at him. “Think you could do that,
love?”
Draco’s brows rose ever so slightly at the term of endearment; even more so
when Remus’ lips brushed Sirius’ forehead in a gentle kiss. “Of course.”
Sirius nodded in satisfaction. “It’s settled, then.” He looked to the boys.
“You two go and get some rest.” He could clearly see that there was more to the
story than they were letting on, but that there was a reason Harry wasn’t
sharing it right now. Harry gave him a grateful look and, giving Draco’s hand a
squeeze, led him from the kitchen.
The men watched the two boys go; then, Sirius turned to Remus with raised
brows. “Well,” he said. “This is certainly an interesting development.”
Remus snorted. “Right. You didn’t see the two of them at school.”
Sirius’ brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“They were at each other constantly. It was obvious that they were going to
fuck eventually.”
“REMUS!” Sirius smacked his husband with a rolled up newspaper. “Do NOT talk
that way about my godson!”
Remus merely laughed. “What, did I insult your delicate sensibilities?” But he
didn’t wait for an answer, pressing on. “Because you didn’t seem so sensitive
last night…” His tone had grown sultry. Sirius didn’t miss the change.
“No, no, not at all,” he backpedaled. “Just…keep your dirty words for me. No
one else.”
“Okay,” Remus chuckled. “Just you.”
“Good.” Sirius leaned in for a kiss, but immediately stopped with a groan. “Aw,
fuck.”
“What?”
“With kids in the house, we’re gonna have to tamp down the sex, aren’t with?”
Remus laughed. “Guess so. Or you’ll just have to learn to keep your filthy
mouth shut.”
“Goddammit.”
 
~*~
 
Harry managed to get Draco to his room with no further troubles. The blonde now
sat on his bed, silent. Harry was beginning to get a little worried. But before
he could say anything, ask if Draco was okay, the boy looked up at him.
"So….your godfather’s a poof?"
Harry just stared. Of all the things he had expected to come out of Draco’s
mouth, that was definitely not one. Not only that, up until this point, as far
as Draco knew, Sirius wanted to kill Harry, not take care of him. Harry burst
into laughter. "THAT'S what you focus on? Not the fact that Sirius Black is in
hiding here, not that he's not out to kill me, but that he's gay?"
A small smile, the barest twitch of the lips. "You know me. I focus on the
important things."
But there was still sadness on Draco’s face, in his eyes, and Harry could tell
he was going to break at any moment. He sank to the bed beside Draco and pulled
the blonde into his arms. Sure enough, Draco immediately began silently
weeping. Harry didn’t say a word, simply held Draco close and stroked his back,
his hair, letting Draco know through silent touches that he was here.
But it wasn’t enough. Finally, Harry lay down and pulled Draco close, tugging
his quilt over the two of them. He didn’t try to get Draco to explain anything.
He knew that sometimes, it was better to just cry it out, to let all that
emotion flow forth. So he simply held Draco, all the while stroking his hair,
kissing him, murmuring soothing words, even after Draco had fallen asleep.
Harry couldn’t sleep; his mind was too occupied with all that had happened that
morning. The way that Lucius had hit Draco….if Harry hadn’t been there to stop
him….why, he couldn’t bear to imagine what might have happened. And the way
that Draco had reacted? Harry had never seen Draco like that, so truly and
utterly scared.
It wasn’t just the abuse, either; it was the words Lucius has used. He had
called Draco a whore…a slut. And Draco hadn’t contested it. This wouldn’t have
struck Harry as so odd...after all, it could have just been a way to appease
Lucius by not arguing...but Harry doubted it. After all that Draco had told him
last night, he would wager his life that Draco took those insults at face
value. Draco thought he was worthless. A worthless slut, just like his father
said.
Harry’s heart ached as he looked down at Draco’s face, drawn with pain even in
sleep. He kissed the troubled brow, trying to soothe the worries from it.
“You’re not worthless,” he whispered. “You’re beautiful. And somehow I’m going
to make you realize that.”
No matter how long it took.
 
~*~
 
Harry never did manage to truly sleep. He dozed a little, but got no real nap;
instead he spent his afternoon watching over Draco. The Slytherin’s sleep was
restless, and Harry soothed away more than one nightmare with kisses and soft
caresses.
It was early afternoon when Draco finally awoke. He looked utterly shocked to
see that Harry was still there, which broke the Gryffindor’s heart that much
more. Yes, Draco really did think he was worthless.
Somehow, Harry managed a smile, stroking Draco’s cheek. “Hello.”
“Hello.” Draco shifted, glancing around him. He seemed much more lucid than he
had been that morning. It was to be expected. One couldn’t go through that sort
of ordeal and immediately come through it clear-headed. No, the sleep had
obviously done some good. “So…is this Black’s house?”
“Sirius,” Harry corrected. He wanted Draco and Sirius to be comfortable around
each other. Before yesterday, he would have said that were impossible, but
before yesterday he would have thought it were impossible for him to have
feelings for Draco Malfoy.
Feelings?
He squashed the thoughts down. There were more important things to think about
right now. He could mull over semantics later.
“Yes,” he answered. “It’s his house. You’re safe here.”
At that, Draco laughed derisively and sat up, brushing Harry’s arms aside.
“Safe? As long as my father’s out there, I’m not ‘safe’ anywhere.”
“So we’ll take care of him.”
Draco stared at Harry in disbelief. “You….” But Harry wasn’t laughing.
“…..you’re serious. You want to take on my father.”
“After what I saw him doing to you??”
“That was nothing.” But Draco was no longer looking at Harry.
“Are you kidding me? Draco, the way he was hitting you—“
“—is nothing new!” Draco snapped. “Why do you suddenly care now? Because we
danced a little bit? We fucked? What’s changed, Harry? How does one day
suddenly make you give a damn that my father kicks the shit out of me?”
Harry felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. “Okay, I deserve that, I know. I’m
sorry. I’ve been prejudiced all these years and I never stopped to think that
you might have reasons for acting the way you do.”
“You think?” Draco’s voice was dripping sarcasm. Harry had to bite back a
retort. It was difficult; his nature still saw Draco as someone to spar with,
despite all the changes of the last twenty-four hours.
“I’m sorry. All I can say is I’m sorry. But I don’t want you thinking badly of
yourself, either.”
Those grey eyes snapped their attention to Harry, surprise evident. He stared
back, unflinching. “You’re not as hard to read as you’d like to think you are.
I can tell, Draco. You believe all that shit your dad said about you. I don’t
know why, but you do.” Draco looked away again. “Draco—“ Harry reached out but
Draco flinched at the touch. Harry’s heart shattered into a million pieces.
“….so….you’re back to not letting me touch you.” His tone was dull. Draco
looked up at him, eyes wild, almost pleading.
“Harry, its not--”
“Not what I think?” Harry finished. “Then what is it?” But Draco only stared at
him, desperation in those beautiful eyes, and Harry’s mind flew through the
events of the past twenty-four hours, struggling to piece together the puzzle.
Draco. The way his breath caught as Harry tried to touch him when they first
began to dance, how he stepped away, told Harry no. How when they danced
together later that night, Harry still had to push for even the tiniest
contact. For every one step forward, Draco took two back. He would lean into
Harry’s leg, but shy away from his hand. Nothing more than the most minimal
connection.
But when they were alone together…
It was as if Draco unfurled, like a flower. He was so open and free, like all
the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. His hands roamed
everywhere, and he trusted Harry implicitly. He even asked Harry to make love
to him.
Make love to me.
The words rang in Harry’s ears. It was still hard to believe. It had been one
of the most beautiful nights of his life.
But this morning….
The Draco he saw this morning was a complete contrast. When Lucius appeared,
Draco had curled in upon himself, as though he were trying to appear as small
as possible, much the way an animal does when trying to hide from a predator.
Harry could still see Draco, cowering on the bed as his father stalked towards
him—
Harry’s eyes widened in horror. He looked to Draco, who was resolutely avoiding
his gaze. “….Draco….did your dad—“ but he couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t
make himself ask the question that he really didn’t want an answer to. But he
didn’t have to ask. Draco knew what he meant.
“A few times,” Draco answered quietly. “The first time, he was drunk. Not so
much as to not know what he was doing. Mother wasn’t home, and he
was…well…feeling restless. Woke up and he was on top of me. Couldn’t walk too
well for a few days.”
“…Draco…” Harry’s voice was tiny, barely audible. Draco either didn’t hear him
or simply chose not to acknowledge him. Probably the latter. It was as though
if he didn’t get all of this out in the open now, it would stay locked up
forever, so it all came pouring out, every dark, terrible thing he had kept
hidden all these years.
“Mom noticed, of course. Wanted to know what was wrong. I didn’t tell her. I
couldn’t tell her. Still, he hit me about for being “obvious”. Then he just
kept coming back. Think he realized women weren’t really his type.”
“But you always talk about him at school.” Harry couldn’t help bringing it up,
he had to ask. Draco shrugged uncomfortably.
“I guess….talking about him so much….saying “my father said this” or “I’m
telling father” over and over again, just constantly bringing him up….it makes
it sort of feel like I actually have a relationship with him. Well,” and he
laughed, but it was a bitter laugh, one with no real mirth in it. “One that’s
not royally fucked-up.”
Harry reached for Draco’s hand but then stopped. “…is this why you don’t like
being touched?” It all made so much sense now.
Draco was silent; his hand twitched where it lay resting on his knee. “Yes,” he
answered at last. “The only person who ever really touched me was him, and it
wasn’t a good sort of touch.”
The two were quiet. Harry ached, wanting to hold Draco, to offer comfort, but
with the way things were right now, it seemed as if the best way to do so would
be by not touching the boy at all.
Then Draco spoke up, voice shattering the silence of the room. “But,” and
reaching out, he took Harry’s hand in his, “I’m pretty positive I like it when
it’s with you.”
Harry stared at Draco, shocked. The blonde smiled shyly back at him. A huge
smile broke across Harry’s face and he pulled Draco to him with such force that
the Slytherin tumbled into Harry’s lap with a laugh. Harry’s only response was
to kiss Draco fiercely. “You’re wonderful,” he murmured against Draco’s mouth.
Draco blushed. “Shove off, Potter,” he mumbled, and pushed at Harry’s chest,
but he couldn’t escape from the brunette’s arms.
“No. You are. And I’m going to make you see it, cuz you’re not escaping from me
now.”
That got Draco’s attention and he stopped struggling. “Oh?” He grinned at
Harry. “Property of Harry J. Potter, is that right?”
Harry nodded. “Damn straight.”
“Hmm…” Draco hummed thoughtfully, leaning in to steal a kiss. “….doesn’t sound
too bad.”
“Good,” Harry murmured in between kisses. “Cuz you’re stuck with me.”
Draco laughed. “Oh I am, am I?”
“Yes….you are.”
At this point, Draco was fully seated in Harry’s lap. Now he maneuvered Harry
back onto the pillows, following him down as they kissed. “Well, I think I can
live with that.”
They kissed for several long minutes. Harry was absolutely delighted that Draco
was not just letting himself be touched, but that (from what he had said) it
seemed as if he never intended to break off that contact again. Still, there
was one final matter to settle. “So what are we going to do about your father,
then?”
Draco stiffened. “My father.”
“Yeah. Have to keep you safe.” Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s hair
slowly, gently, wanting to provide a soothing touch. It seemed to work, for
Draco relaxed.
“My mother, too.”
Harry’s ears perked up at that. “Your mother?” He never heard Draco mention his
mother.
“Yes. She’s not safe there. He doesn’t hurt her outright, but if I’m not there
for him to take his anger out on, he might.”
Well THAT was no good. “Any ideas what we should do?”
Draco sighed and sat back on his heels, still kneeling above Harry, straddling
his hips. “Well, you could have Weasley’s father get some of his men together
and raid my house like in second year. If you think you can do it right this
time, last time you mucked it up royally.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “….what?” he asked weakly.
Draco raised a brow. “You and Ron….the Polyjuice potion….ring any bells?
Seriously, Harry, you didn’t honestly think I believed that was Crabbe and
Goyle, did you? Do give me a bit of credit.”
“You….but we….”
Draco grinned; clearly he was taking great delight in the shock he had just
provided Harry with. “Why do you think I goaded you so much? All the insults I
heaped on the Weasleys, on Granger. And on you! Good Lord, the comments I made
about you alone!” Hands on his hips, Draco put on his best sneer and began
spitting forth sarcastic comments. “Saint Potter, the Mudblood’s friend.” Then
the cruel veneer faded and the pleasant person Harry had come to know these
past twenty-four hours reappeared, grinning down at the Gryffindor. “I was
convincing, wasn’t I?”
Harry couldn’t answer, couldn’t say a word; he simply stared, dumbfounded. All
these years, they thought they had tricked Draco, but no, he had known it was
them all along. “You….” Then his head cleared. “But you told us about the
secret chamber in your house where your dad keeps his….” Realization dawned.
“…..oh.”
Draco looked proud. “Yeah. I thought that bit was exceedingly clever. Tell
Weasley and get his dad to raid our place, get my father locked up and then my
mom and I would be free of him. But no, stupid bastard somehow managed to look
in all the wrong places and didn’t find anything particularly nasty. End
result: father’s still at home and mother and I are still being put through
hell.”
Harry felt rather as if he should apologize, but he was still too completely
overwhelmed by the realization that somehow, Draco had known that it was he and
Ron. He had seen through the charade and put on one of his own, and he had
fooled them completely. “You…” Draco looked at him expectantly. “….you are a
devious little shit, d’you know that?”
Draco laughed. “I’ve been told.” Grinning, Harry yanked Draco down into his
arms, rolling him over and pinning him to the bed. The blonde smiled up at him.
“Planning to do something about it?”
“Mm…” Harry trailed a fingertip along Draco’s jawline. “….a good many things.
But first, let’s go see Sirius and Remus.”
The blonde frowned. “What in blazes for?” Clearly he saw no need to leave the
bed, and honestly, Harry couldn’t blame him. At this precise moment, he didn’t
feel much like leaving, either. But Draco’s safety came first.
“So we can tell them where to have the Ministry search.” Draco’s mouth formed a
silent ‘o’ of understanding. “The sooner we do, the sooner your father is put
away. Then you and your mom will be safe.”
Draco nodded at last. “Yeah. Okay.” He smiled up at Harry. “Kiss me, first?”
Harry laughed. “No way am I going to refuse that request.”
And kiss him he did.
 
~*~
 
Dinner that evening was an interesting affair. No one was entirely certain how
to act around one another. As far as Sirius had always been concerned, Draco
was the enemy, the boy who made Harry’s life a living hell. Now the two of them
were sitting close enough that their thighs brushed, and they had only stopped
holding hands in order to eat. It was all incredibly bewildering.
Remus took it more in stride, but then again, he had experience with kids
during his time as a teacher. Harry might be Sirius’ godson, but that didn’t
mean Sirius knew a thing about growing boys. Or girls. Or….oh bloody hell, how
do I handle this?
“So,” Sirius’ voice was louder than it probably ought to have been, startling
everyone at the table. Remus raised a brow at him; he glowered and turned his
attention back to the boys. “You’re opening the ball again?”
Harry nodded, pulling a face. “Unfortunately. But Draco taught me to dance.” He
glanced at the Slytherin, and the look they exchanged was so warm that Sirius
immediately knew that there was no way he could ever discourage whatever this
thing was that was growing between them.
“Is that so?”
Draco’s grey eyes flicked to Sirius, wary, but he detected only honest
friendliness in the query. “Well, McGonagall made him,” Draco replied, giving
Harry a teasing prod.
“No, she made me ask SOMEONE. I chose you.”
Draco looked taken aback. “…..really?”
“……I didn’t tell you that?”
The Slytherin shook his head, looking stunned. “No. You only said she made you
ask me.”
“…..oh.” Harry was flushing now. “Yeah. She told me she would really like it if
I asked you but she gave me a list of other people I could ask.”
Draco was silent for a moment. It was clear that he had multiple questions he
wanted to ask and didn’t know where to begin. “…..how many did you ask before
me?”
“……….none.”
The room fell deathly quiet. Finally Harry dared to look up at Draco. Those
grey eyes were wide; a smile was spreading across that lovely face, setting it
aglow. He opened his mouth to speak…
The fire flamed up and Narcissa Malfoy appeared, closely followed by Tonks.
Draco shot out of his chair so fast that it toppled over behind him with a
crash. “MOM!”
“Draco!” She looked relieved to see that her son was safe, catching him as he
came barreling towards her and enfolding him into her arms. She kissed the top
of his head. “I’m so happy you’re safe.”
Draco pulled away to look at her, eyes roving over her face as though
inspecting to make certain she wasn't injured. “He didn’t hurt you at all?”
She shook her blonde head. “I’m fine.”
“And he’s gone?”
Sirius and Remus looked to Tonks for confirmation on this subject and she
nodded. “We found the chamber right where Draco said it would be. Malfoy will
be in Azkaban for the rest of his life.”
Draco’s shoulders sagged as all of the tension left his body in one giant
whoosh. Harry was afraid for a moment that the boy was going to collapse. He
was at Draco’s side in an instant, slipping a supportive arm about his waist.
“You okay?”
Narcissa looked curiously from Harry to Draco.
“Mom, this is Harry Potter.” Draco looked at Harry and smiled. “He’s my
friend.”
Harry’s heart melted a little bit. He and Draco were more than friends and they
both knew it, but right now was neither the time nor the place to get into it
with Narcissa Malfoy. It was a matter they hadn’t even discussed at any great
length. For now? For now it just felt wonderful hearing Draco call him a
friend.
Narcissa’s lovely eyes widened slightly in surprise, but the look faded nearly
as quickly as it came. She offered a hand to Harry. “It’s a pleasure to make
your acquaintance,” she said politely. “Are you the one who saved my son?” But
before Harry could answer, Draco had nodded, and all semblance of that smooth
façade vanished as Narcissa’s motherly emotion took over. Harry found himself
being tugged into a tight embrace.
“Thank you,” Narcissa whispered.
“…I…” Harry couldn’t speak, partly because he was overwhelmed by the show of
emotion, partly because she was squeezing him so damn tight.
“Mom! You’re gonna crush him!” Draco yanked on his mom’s arm until she released
Harry. He rolled his eyes at Harry with a smile.
The brunette shook his head, finally managing to find some words. “Don’t have
to thank me. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Your son is wonderful.”
Narcissa took Harry’s hand in hers and squeezed it; her eyes were glistening
with tears. When Harry glanced to Draco, he wasn’t surprised to see that the
blonde was blushing.
Remus cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “Narcissa? Would you care
to join us for dinner?”
A flicker of surprise crossed that lovely face once more. It was clearly
unusual for a man to treat her as an equal. Narcissa smiled and inclined her
head. “Yes, thank you.”
Draco found Harry’s hand and squeezed. Harry squeezed back, and dared to lean
his head on the blonde’s shoulder.
This could all work out.
 
~*~
 
Later that night, after Narcissa had settled into her own room, after she and
Draco had spent time alone for over two hours (two hours where Harry had
anguished alone, wondering what was happening, if Draco was going to leave with
his mother), finally the blonde had emerged and, taking Harry’s hand, led them
both back down the hallway to Harry’s room. The instant the door was shut
behind them, Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, pressing his face to Harry’s
throat.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you so much for all of this.”
“Draco—“
“No, shut up. I know you’re going to say I don’t have to thank you, but I do.
You’ve done so much for me today. You saved me, and my mom. I can never thank
you enough for that.”
But Harry had had enough. He pulled away and took Draco’s face in his hands.
“Listen to me very carefully.” Looking deep into those grey eyes, he spoke
slowly, making sure Draco heard every word. “You do not have to thank me. You
are a wonderful person. I would do anything to protect you.” And it was strange
to realize just how strongly he meant that.
Draco’s eyes searched Harry’s face. Whatever he found there made him flush; his
gaze went to the floor. “You’re ridiculous,” he mumbled. “But thank you.” Then
those beautiful eyes looked back up and Draco was smirking. “You have some
fairly spectacular qualities yourself.”
Harry couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped. He covered his mouth too
late. That smirk only grew; Harry glowered. “Shut up.”
“No.”
With a sigh, Harry turned to his dresser. They hadn’t had time to bring any of
Draco’s things with them when they made their escape that morning. Now that
Lucius was put away, Draco could get to his clothes whenever he wanted, but for
tonight he would have to make do with wearing some of Harry’s. “I’m sorry you
don’t have your own stuff here to wear.”
“I’m not.” Draco grinned as he changed into the clothes Harry gave him. “I like
wearing your things.”
Harry laughed as he changed into his own pajamas. “You’re such a dork.”
“Yup.” Draco clambered up onto the bed. Harry watched him go, head tilted.
“And you’re sure you don’t want your own room?”
“Positive. Why…” and now Harry could detect the undercurrent of insecurity that
Draco was trying desperately to hide. “Want to get rid of me, Potter?”
Harry rolled his eyes and crawled onto the mattress, right into Draco’s lap,
straddling the boy’s hips and effectively pinning him to the bed. “Does this
answer your question?”
Draco stared up at him, surprised; slowly, a smile spread over his face. “I
don’t know….think I may need a bit more clarification.”
The Gryffindor couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. “Such a dork,” he
murmured. “Okay then, Draco. Let me see what I can do.”
Draco found himself being divested of the clothes he had just changed into, and
Harry’s quickly followed as he proceeded to do his utter best to drive Draco
out of his mind.
It was some time later before they collapsed to the mattress, panting for
breath.
“Well,” Draco managed. “Looks like I didn’t need those clothes after all.”
This time, Harry just barely managed to stifle the burst of laughter, turning
it into a most undignified snort. The noise set Draco off and soon enough the
two were howling with laughter.
Just down the hall, Sirius fixed Remus with a dirty look. “And you were yelling
at ME about being loud?”
“They’re just kids; cut them some slack.”
But Sirius was having none of it. He rose from bed and walked to the bedroom
door, leaning into the hallway to holler “KEEP IT DOWN OUT THERE!!”
In their room down the hall, Harry and Draco stared at each other, wide-eyed.
“…..shit.”
“Yeah.” Harry grinned abashedly at Draco. “Guess we’d better try and get to
sleep.”
“Probably.” Draco let Harry wrap an arm about him, snuggling up against the
Gryffindor.
They were settled in for the night. Several long moments had passed before
Draco spoke up. “….me too.”
Harry shifted beneath him. “…’me too’ what?”
“I would do anything for you.”
Harry felt as if his heart had stopped. Six words….six little words, but they
meant so very much. “….I….” His throat caught on words that wanted to come out
but which he knew he couldn’t say, wasn’t ready to say.
Luckily, Draco seemed to understand. “I know.” Linking his fingers with
Harry’s, he gave the boy’s hand a squeeze. “Me too.”
Warm butterflies fluttered through Harry’s belly. Kissing the top of Draco’s
head, he held the boy that much tighter, and soon enough they both fell into
the most restful sleep either had experienced in a very long time.
 
~tbc~
Chapter End Notes
     Can two people travel together by Floo Powder? I don't know, but they
     can now.
      
     The next two chapters are almost done/outlined, but it might be a
     couple days as opposed to the one a day that I've been doing because
     I got in a huge car accident and my body is aching intensely. :(
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Notes
     This is the headband I describe in the chapter. My cousin is doing a
     drawing so hopefully that will be posted soon, but for now, just
     picture Draco wearing one of these to hold his bangs back. :P
      

     [ photo headband_zpsdhcoh3qs.jpg]
“You two boys should be ashamed.”
Harry and Draco stood in McGonagall’s office, eyes on the floor, attempting to
look contrite. She had been lecturing them for several minutes now, with no
sign of stopping.
“I gave you permission to go to the club under the impression that you would be
returning the very same night. If your plans were different, you should have
told me, or at least informed me that evening once they had changed.”
“Yes, professor.”
Harry tried hard not to snicker at Draco’s overly contrite tone, he really did.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t entirely successful. McGonagall turned her disapproval
in his direction.
“You aren’t innocent in this matter either, Mr. Potter. I do believe you know
how to owl as well.”
Harry didn’t respond, for he had no excuse. He settled for a meek nod, ignoring
the satisfaction he could feel radiating off of Draco. Before yesterday, it
would have pissed him off. Now all he wanted to do was kiss that smug smile
right off the blonde’s face (he just knew it was there).
McGonagall was silent for a long moment, regarding each boy in turn. “I take
it,” she said at last, “that the lessons went well?”
Two heads nodded in unison, almost too quickly. They both looked at each other
and smiled, and their cheeks flushed. This did not go unnoticed by McGonagall,
who suppressed a smile of her own.
"Well,” she spoke up at last. "I suppose that means you'll be needing a new
place to practice."
"Professor?"
McGonagall mulled the matter over for a moment or two. ".....I believe the
Defense Against the Dark Arts room would work well."
Harry conjured up an image of the room. Yes, it was plenty large enough, if
they moved the desks. Lupin had them fight the bogart in there, and there had
been room for it to change into a giant spider and the snake-turned-clown jack
in the box (honestly, how had Parvati thought THAT was less scary than a
snake?). Surely there was enough room for waltzing.
"You have less than a month until the ball. I trust, Mr. Malfoy, that you can
teach Mr. Potter all he needs to know?"
Draco looked at Harry, and there was a hint of a dark promise in those grey
eyes, a smirk teasing the corners of his lips. "And then some."
McGonagall coughed, and there was disapproval in the sound. Both boys jumped,
standing to attention. "While I am happy you two are getting along, please do
keep your after-hour antics to a minimum. I would appreciate it if Mr. Potter
is actually able to perform at the ball."
Draco nearly choked. Surely McGonagall had to realize the way her words
sounded. Harry smacked Draco, glaring, but his cheeks were pink, that gorgeous
blush that Draco was so quickly falling in love with. "Shut up," Harry hissed,
and turned apologetically to McGonagall. "We'll practice," he assured her. "We
promise." Turning, he grabbed Draco's hand and gave a tug, pulling the boy with
him out the door.
McGonagall watched them go with a barely suppressed smile. She had often
wondered over the years if the two would get together or kill one another. Now
she had her answer.
 
~*~
 
As soon as they were out in the hallway, Harry smacked Draco's shoulder again.
"What the heck is wrong with you??"
"I'm sorry!" Draco protested. "But seriously....come on! "After-hour antics"?
There's no WAY she didn't realize how inappropriate that sounds! And then she
says she wants me to make sure you're able to PERFORM? I mean, come ON!"
Harry was blushing. "Maybe you've just got a dirty mind."
“Oh, bullshit. You thought the same exact thing."
Harry chose not to dignify that with a response, though his silence was all the
confirmation that the Slytherin needed. He could see Draco grinning out of the
corner of his eye. "So," he said. "Defense Against the Dark Arts Room."
"Guess so."
"And...you're okay with that?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know. I kind of wanted to find someplace
more....private."
Draco looked curiously at the Gryffindor. "You think someone will come in on
us?" Then a more horrible thought occurred. "Are you embarrassed of being seen
with me?"
"No!" Harry was horrified. "GOD, no! How could you even think that??"
"I don't know! I mean, it wasn't that long ago we were at each other's
throats." Two days, to be exact.
Harry had to concede the point. Still: "Well, I'm not. At all."
The smallest smile crossed the blonde's lips; he ducked his head to hide it,
but Harry saw it all the same. "Good." After a moment, he realized that Harry
hadn't given him an answer. "So what's the problem?"
Another awkward shrug. "....I just....." The next words were mumbled so quietly
that Draco had to lean in closer to hear them. "....kind of wanted to sleep
with you again." Immediately Harry's head shot up, eyes wide. "Not like....I
mean SLEEP with you sleep with you. Like...ACTUALLY sleep. Not sex. Not that'd
I'd object to sex, I'd love to have sex with you again. I just....I mean..."
But he got no further before Draco, who had been staring at Harry, completely
taken aback, burst into uncontrollable laughter. Harry's expression grew
rueful. "Laugh it up, Malfoy."
"I'm sorry," Draco gasped. "I just....can't. Oh my God."
"I'm glad you find me so amusing."
"Oh, I do." Finally getting his laughter under control, Draco stepped closer,
running his fingers through Harry's messy hair. Harry leaned into the touch,
eyes going half-lidded, like a cat's. Draco smiled. "I'm glad you'd like to
sleep with me again. I mean sleep with me sleep with me." Those green eyes
opened, narrowing into a glare, and Draco laughed again.
"Keep going, Malfoy, and I'll withdraw the part about the sex."
"Okay, I take it back, I take it back," Draco hastily said. Harry grinned, and
leaned in for a kiss.
"Good," he whispered, and his lips softly brushed Draco's. Draco pressed
happily into the kiss.
"So," he murmured in between kisses. "What should we do about our situation?"
The Gryffindor nuzzled along Draco's throat, humming thoughtfully. "....I
suppose we could always find a way to bring a bed with us." After all, wizards
had tents that had entire rooms inside them. How difficult could it be to
manage one bed?
Draco seemed to read his mind. "You thinking we do a little camping?"
Harry grinned. "Think it'll work?"
The Slytherin nodded, smiling back. "I think it sounds perfect."
 
~*~
 
McGonagall had been right: the Defense Against the Dark Arts room was a perfect
size. The two boys had magicked all the desks out of the way, leaving plenty of
space for dancing. It also left room for a fairly small tent. At first they had
contemplated simply transfiguring a bed, but in the end, decided it would be
better to have the additional coverage that a tent could provide. After all, if
anyone DID happen to pop their heads into the room, they were much less likely
to notice a tent than they were a bed with two sleeping boys.
It was still fairly early on their second night of practice. Draco, the brat,
wasn’t dancing with Harry. No, he had stopped their lesson only half an hour in
and told Harry to practice on his own, that he wanted to watch and give
pointers on the Gryffindor’s form. So here Harry was, waltzing by himself.
“Draco,” Harry began, rising and falling somewhat awkwardly, his face bright
red, “I feel ridiculous.”
Draco was having a hard time stifling his giggles. “You look ridiculous, too.”
“Hey! That’s not funny, Draco!” But Harry was smiling as he said it.
“Of course it is. Why do you think I had you do this, Harry? Did you honestly
think it was going to help your dancing improve? I just had you do it so I
could get sick amusement out of it.”
Harry nearly stopped dancing at that. It probably would have been better if he
had. Instead, he simply tripped....over nothing. The toe of one battered
sneaker dug into the polished wood floor and he fell headfirst forwards, barely
avoiding a fall. Catching himself, he turned to Draco with wide eyes. “No way!”
he squawked.
Draco couldn’t avoid laughing that time. “No,” he said, trying to cover up his
mad giggling with a loud cough. “I was just kidding. This actually will help
you improve.”
“Oh.......okay.” Harry continued dancing with just as much luck as before:
none. It honestly was much easier with a partner, probably because he felt so
silly.
There was a long, silent pause. Then: “.............you do look ridiculous,
though.”
Harry nearly stumbled again. “Well, you know what?” he mock-growled, not really
annoyed at all. “If you’re so good at it, why don’t you....” He got no further.
Draco grabbed him from behind, hands pressing flat-palmed against his hips.
Harry froze, his heart thudding dully against his chest.
“........fancy a bit of help?” purred that familiar voice. Harry let out his
breath in a long sigh.
“How did you guess?”
Draco chuckled, his breath warm against Harry’s ear as he did so. “Hmmm,” he
hummed, pretending to think hard about the question. “.......it wasn’t that
difficult.”
Harry laughed. “Thanks a lot.”
“Don’t mention it.” Draco’s body was pressed against Harry’s, a fact that was
keeping Harry’s heart pounding away fiercely. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t
think straight or maybe even at all. “Come on, Harry....it’s easy.” Draco’s
hands moved, sliding gently and soft-palmed down Harry’s thighs. “......like
this.” And he began moving with Harry, pressing his body against Harry’s own
and counting off the steps aloud. “One two three, four five six, one two three,
four five six. Front side side, back side side...” with each step, Draco
pressed against Harry, steering the brunette through the steps and also the
motions, guiding him up and down each time. A good thing, too, for with Draco
pressed against him like that, Harry was certain he could never have remembered
which way was up or which was down, let alone have remembered to move in those
directions.
“Draco…” he managed.
“Yes?” The whisper was so close, Draco’s breath teasing across his neck and
sending shivers up and down his spine. Harry promptly forgot every single step
to the waltz.
Turns out they didn’t get any more dancing done that night.
 
~*~
 
The days flew by. Most nights, the two spent all of their free time together,
even when they weren’t dancing. They had figured out that in the Defense
Against the Dark Arts Classroom, no one would bother them, no one would see
them, and every single night was spent together in their tent, waking early
each morning to scamper back to their respective dormitories before anyone
would miss them.
The two had grown closer daily, until Harry thought there was probably nothing
about Draco he didn’t know. He had certainly shared all of his secrets with
Draco. He had even told Draco of his life with the Dursleys, and Draco had held
him close and comforted him, never once trying to compare their home lives. No,
he simply pulled Harry into his arms and kissed him, and made the Gryffindor
feel more loved than he had in his entire life.
There was only a week left until the ball, and each day hurt a little bit more.
Harry wondered if things would change after that day came and went. Would Draco
still spend time with him like this? He felt that the answer must be yes, but
there would really be no reason to. Unless they went public. Would Draco even
want to go public? And what exactly did they have to go public with? What was
this….thing….between them? They had never really discussed it. They danced and
laughed together, and even did such mundane things as study and read (Harry
found he even enjoyed Draco’s silent company), and every single night was spent
wrapped in each other’s arms, whether they had made love or not.
No, he couldn’t bear the thought of letting Draco go.
He looked at the Slytherin. Draco was a few feet away, sprawled on his stomach
as he worked on his homework. He had piles of papers spread out before him, and
his sleeves were rolled up with those elastic headbands he had worn the day
Harry had shown up on his doorstep those few weeks ago. Only this time, he had
one in his hair, too, pushing the blonde locks out of his eyes. It should have
looked stupid but instead it was ridiculously adorable, and somehow attractive
as well. He was scowling down at his textbook, brow crinkled with
concentration. Finally, he noticed Harry’s attention, the lines fading from his
face as he glanced up.
“What,” he asked. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Harry flushed at being caught. “You’re just very distracting.”
…..distracting.
The word rang in Draco’s head, tugging at a recent memory. Oh yes. A grin lit
up his face. “I seem to remember you saying that not so long ago.” For Harry
had said the same thing that night in the dance club.
“Did I?” Harry asked weakly.
“Yes. You did.” Draco sounded beyond gleeful; pulling the headband off, he
shook his hair free and sat up, facing Harry. “You also never got around to
telling me what part of me you found distracting.”
Harry scowled. “You get far too much joy out of this.”
The blonde laughed. “Oh, come on, Harry, if it were me, you’d be giving me
hell.” Harry had to concede the point. “So come on, Harry. Tell me.”
The Gryffindor was blushing, but he looked Draco straight in the eye and
answered. “Everything.”
Draco was taken aback. “I…..what?”
“You heard me. I find everything about you distracting.”
Draco was staring, completely stunned; Harry returned the gaze, unflinching,
refusing to back down, no matter how embarrassed he might be. “You….that….”
Draco didn’t know what to say to that. No one had ever said anything like that
to him before. But then again, no one had ever treated him like Harry, either.
He had never met anyone who made him feel so special, like someone worthwhile,
someone who honestly made him believe that he wasn’t worthless, like his father
had told him all these years.
The words came tumbling out before he could stop himself. “I love you.”
Those green eyes widened; Harry stared at him, shocked. Draco felt as if he
were going to faint. He couldn’t believe he had just said that aloud.
“I…..I’m sorry,” he managed. Harry’s expression faltered.
“Are you?” he asked. There was something about the look on his face that
confused Draco. He looked away.
“Yes.”
“…..because you didn’t mean it?”
But Draco couldn’t lie. Harry deserved better than that. He shook his head.
“No. No, I meant it.”
“Then why on earth are you sorry?”
“Because….” It hurt. God, it hurt. “I shouldn’t have said anything. You deserve
better than me.”
Harry was going to hit him. Christ, he was gonna hit him. “….you….stupid,
beautiful idiot.”
Draco’s head shot up, eyes wide with surprise. “….what??”
But Harry only grabbed Draco, yanking him into a crushing hug. “There is no one
better than you,” he murmured. “You’re all I could ever want.”
Draco felt tears burning his eyes. “….Harry…”
The brunette pulled back, softly kissing Draco. “I love you too.”
Those were words that Draco had never heard from anyone other than his mother,
and never expected to. He had REALLY never expected to hear them from someone
he truly loved. And Harry? Harry was special.
Draco cupped Harry’s face in his hands, kissing him again. “You’re wonderful,”
he murmured.
“Likewise.” Harry’s hands ran over Draco’s shoulders, down his chest. “Draco….”
Clearly the blonde was feeling the same way, for he shivered. “Think we can
move this to the bed?”
“Definitely.”
The tent they had brought with them was a small one. There was only one bedroom
inside, along with a tiny kitchen and bathroom, absolutely nothing on what
Harry had stayed in when the Weasleys had taken him to the Quidditch World Cup,
but he and Draco didn’t need anything large.
He pulled Draco down onto the bed with him, hands rucking up the boy’s sweater,
making a frustrated sound at finding the white button-down beneath. “You always
wear too many clothes.”
Draco laughed. “Sorry. I’ll work on it.”
“Please do.” He had barely managed to divest Draco of his tops before Draco was
doing the same, pulling off Harry’s t-shirt and tossing it aside. Both went to
work on the other’s slacks at the same time as if by unspoken agreement.
Now completely bare, Harry rolled Draco beneath him, a hand fisting in that
pale blonde hair as he captured Draco’s lips in his. In the small matter of
weeks, Harry had grown much more confident. Draco had given him every reason to
be. With all the whimpers and moans of pleasure that every one of Harry’s
actions elicited, he had to be doing SOMETHING right, and Draco never failed to
offer him reassurances when he asked for them outright.
“Want you,” Harry managed breathlessly.
“I’m yours.”
Harry paused, staring down at Draco, for this time, there was a far deeper
meaning to those words than ever before. Draco didn’t just mean it physically;
no. Draco was Harry’s, body, mind, and soul. The Gryffindor smiled, a fingertip
lightly tracing Draco’s jawline. “Likewise.”
That one word set Draco’s face aglow. Harry had to kiss him, soft and deep,
Draco’s hands tangling in Harry’s messy brown hair.
It was no longer strange or nerve-wracking to stretch Draco open. On the
contrary, Harry loved having Draco at his mercy, moaning as Harry’s fingers
worked at him, two stretching, a third teasing over that sweet spot until he
was practically sobbing with need.
Tonight, Draco broke, and Harry found himself being flipped onto his back. He
stared up at Draco in surprise as the boy grabbed a condom from the bedside
table. He seemed to have decided it was time for a bit of payback for he
unrolled the condom slowly enough to be torturous, his hands teasingly light on
Harry’s cock; simultaneously he pressed feather-light kisses across the
brunette’s thigh, so close and yet so far away from where Harry most wanted
attention.
Harry clenched handfuls of blonde hair and pulled; he couldn’t help it.
“Draco.”
Grey eyes flicked up to look at Harry. “Yes, love?”
The endearment made something clench in Harry’s gut, sent warmth flooding
through him. “Don’t tease,” Harry managed through clenched teeth.
Draco smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Shifting, he positioned himself above
Harry. The brunette’s eyes widened. Was Draco going to ride him? Apparently so,
for now Draco took Harry in hand and slowly, carefully, he eased himself down
onto Harry’s cock, breath coming in a sharp hiss at the initial breach.
“Draco.” It was so different than the feeling of having Draco on his back, but
no less intense. And seeing Draco there above him? God. Harry stared up at him,
eyes wide. Fully-seated now, Draco smiled down at him and held out his hands.
Harry took them, linking their fingers. Then, Draco began to move.
Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away. Draco was gorgeous. His hips rolled in
smooth, steady motions. Somehow he even made sex look like he was dancing; he
was that fluid and graceful. And fuck all, but it felt amazing.
“Draco,” Harry managed. Draco merely smiled, leaning down to claim a kiss.
Harry released one of Draco’s hands so that he could cup the boy’s cheek,
deepening the kiss. Eventually he got the presence of mind to work with Draco,
their hips rocking together as he strove to meet Draco’s movements. He planted
his feet against the mattress so that he could thrust up harder into Draco.
“Fuck!” Yes, that did it. Draco’s grip on Harry’s hand tightened. “Holy shit,
Harry.”
Feeling rather smug now that he had the hang of things, Harry repeated the
move, delighting in the moan he wrung out of Draco. He moved a hand to Draco’s
cock and began to pump it in rhythm with their motions. Draco was close, Harry
could tell from the way his cock was weeping.
Shifting, Harry wrapped an arm about Draco’s back and pulled the boy further
into his lap so that he could get the angle deeper, thrusting harder. It was a
very good thing they had the privacy of the tent, for the cry Draco let out was
extremely loud. “Harry!”
“I love you,” Harry murmured, kissing Draco’s throat. “I love you so much.”
That was all it took, those few words and Draco was coming. As usual with them,
one followed the other. Harry came as Draco clung to him, shivering with the
aftershock of all that had just happened. Harry continued to lay kisses all
along Draco’s throat, his shoulders. Eventually, Draco withdrew so he could
look Harry in the eye; he cupped the brunette’s face, kissing him.
“I love you, Harry Potter,” he said softly. “More than anything in this world.”
Harry looked into those beautiful eyes and thought he could melt. He didn’t
know how they had come here in such a short amount of time but he thanked God
for it every day, for bringing Draco Malfoy into his life. Smiling, he brushed
a lock of blonde hair behind Draco’s ear. “I love you, too,” he murmured. “I
love you, too.”
 
~tbc~
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Notes
     This is finished except for a short epilogue, so keep an eye out for
     that!
There were only three days remaining until the ball, and Harry was getting more
and more anxious as each day went by. He was supposed to open the ball with a
partner, yet he still hadn’t asked anyone, and honestly, he didn’t want to. He
hated the thought of dancing with anyone but Draco, even if it were a friend,
like Ginny. He didn’t even want to keep his relationship with Draco covered up
(for it WAS a relationship….they had come to that decision together). He just
wasn’t sure if Draco felt the same. It was a question that needed an answer. He
just wasn’t certain how to go about asking it.
Draco was currently reading a copy of Ray Bradbury’s ‘Fahrenheit 451’ (Harry
had discovered with quite a shock that Draco had a great love for muggle
literature). Harry was curled on the bed beside him, his head in Draco’s lap.
Well, no time like the present. “Draco?”
“Yes, love?” Those graceful fingers didn’t stop running through Harry’s messy
hair.
“Are we going to tell everyone that we’re together?”
Draco’s hand paused in its ministrations. Not a good sign. “….what?”
 Harry sat up to face Draco. The blonde didn’t appear upset, but there was a
look of casually adopted calm to his face that Harry wasn’t so crazy about.
“Well, we’re in a relationship. I’m just wondering if we’re going to go public
with it.”
Draco was silent for a moment as if trying to think of the best way to phrase
his answer. “…I’d like to……eventually. I mean, it’s bound to be a huge shock.
So I think we have to tread carefully.”
Harry’s heart had leapt at the initial words, only to fall at that one word
“eventually”. “…..oh.”
Draco arched a brow. “Why? Why ‘oh’?”
“……I was kind of hoping you’d go to the ball with me….” The words were mumbled,
barely audible. Still, it was impossible to miss the sharp intake of Draco’s
breath.
“…..the ball? You want me to go to the ball with you?” Harry nodded meekly.
“…..Harry…..you can’t be serious.”
“Why not??” Harry was defensive.
“Harry, two boys going to a dance together would be progressive for Hogwarts in
any situation. For it to be us??”
Harry knew that Draco was right, but he couldn’t find it in him to give a damn
right now. “Why do you care what people think?!” But Draco had no answer,
sitting there staring, shocked at the sudden snap to Harry’s voice. “You’re the
one who said how during these years you were sleeping with so many people
because you were looking for something to fill the hole. Well you know what?
Here it is. This is it. You wanted a commitment. You wanted someone who would
love you, someone you could love back. Here I am, and here you are, and you’re
too damned scared to do a thing about it.”
“Harry—“
But Harry wasn’t listening. Frustrated, he pushed his way out of the tent and
out of the classroom, leaving Draco staring after him.
For a long time, Draco simply sat there in a daze, unmoving; finally, he began
to silently cry.
 
~*~
 
Harry stormed through the hallway. He couldn’t believe Draco. Didn’t he want to
go public? It wouldn’t be a piece of cake but they would be together. Didn’t he
want that?
Harry slouched against the wall and slid to the floor, deep in thought. Sure,
going to the ball together wouldn’t be easy. Some people would be mean. There
were bound to be those who would insult them.
A memory tickled at his brain, Lucius Malfoy’s cruel eyes swimming before him,
the way he had hurled insults at Draco, calling him a slut, a whore. The
realization hit him with the force of a mack truck.
Draco had faced so many insults in his life. He had avoided touch like it was
the plague. Now Harry was asking him to dance, something he clearly loved, in
front of a group of people who might subsequently insult him and Harry, the
person that he loved. Why would Draco want to risk adding yet another bad
experience to his life, especially when it would taint two of the things he
loved most?
Harry was on his feet in an instant, rushing back to the classroom. It was
silent inside, but when he ducked into the tent, he was unsurprised to see that
Draco had been crying. He sat beside the blonde, pulling Draco into his arms.
Draco didn’t resist.
“I’m sorry,” Harry apologized. “I’m so sorry.”
“No,” Draco shook his head. “I am. I shouldn’t be so uptight. I just….you’re
special. I don’t want our first public experience to be a bad one.”
Harry nodded. “I figured that out.”
With a sigh, Draco leaned his head on Harry’s shoulder. Harry gave him a gentle
squeeze. “I’m sorry I pushed you,” he said softly. “We’ll do it whenever and
however you want to.”
Draco looked up at Harry, a bit of an evil twinkle in his eyes. “You just
talking bout the coming out, or does this extend to all angles of our
relationship?”
Harry swatted Draco’s shoulder. “Pervert.”
Draco merely laughed and snuggled closer. “Thanks, love. Really. It means a
lot.”
One hand beneath Draco’s chin, Harry tilted his face up to claim a soft kiss.
“Of course. You mean the world to me.”
The blonde smiled. “I love you, Potter.”
Harry smiled in return. “I love you too, Malfoy.”
 
~*~
 
“I wish you would change your mind.”
It was the night of the ball, and Harry was almost ready to go. The previous
night, he had brought his dress robes to the Defense Against the Dark Arts
classroom, knowing that if he didn’t get dressed there, Draco wouldn’t get a
chance to see him dressed up, since the Slytherin wasn’t intending to attend
the ball. He refused to give a reason why, but Harry knew: it was too painful
to see Harry go with anyone else, even if that someone else had turned out to
be Hermione, who had never been anything more than a friend.
“I’m sorry,” Draco said quietly, straightening Harry’s bowtie. Harry reached
out, fingers brushing Draco’s pale cheek in a gentle caress. The Slytherin bit
his lip, grey eyes filled with sadness as they regarded Harry.
“I love you.” With that, Harry left the room without looking back, as if, if he
did so, he would break.
Draco stared after Harry, unable to move. If someone had told him a month ago
that he would be in this situation, he never would have believed them. From the
first moment he had laid eyes on Harry Potter in Madame Malkin’s Dress Shop, he
had known the boy was special. And then he had tried to make friends with him
on the train….
Dammit, the rejection still hurt. For years after that, Draco had been cruel to
Harry and his friends at every chance he got, trying to convince himself and
everyone around him that he hated the Gryffindor. It was better, he told
himself repeatedly, than being rejected. But he had never been able to convince
himself. Harry Potter was special, and Draco wanted to be his friend. Maybe
even more, if that quivering feeling in his stomach was any indication.
Then came these dance lessons, and Draco had gotten his chance, a chance he had
never thought to get. And then somehow, despite all the odds, Harry Potter had
fallen in love with HIM.
So what in God’s name are you doing hiding in this bloody tent?
Draco attempted to ignore that stupid little voice the same way that he had
done for these past four years, but he never HAD been fully successful. He only
lasted about five minutes before he cracked. “Oh, bloody hell.”
Hold onto your knickers, Harry. I’m coming for you.
 
~*~
 
Harry stared at the great hall, filled with foreboding. Hermione could clearly
sense it. “Hey.” He looked to her. She gave him a reassuring smile. “It’ll be
okay.”
He attempted to smile back. Honestly, Harry would wager that Hermione had a
good guess that something was going on with him and Draco. He had been
vanishing for great periods of time….far longer than dance lessons should take.
It was easy to pull one over on Ron, but Hermione picked up on things like
that, and she always had a slightly knowing look on her face these days.
The music began and, taking Hermione’s arm in his, Harry led her into the
ballroom. All of the students were gathered there, but for some reason, it
wasn’t as nerve-wracking as he remembered. He supposed that all of his
experiences with Draco had given him more confidence than he had expected.
Draco…
An image of the boy floated through his mind, smile on his face and in those
grey eyes, so beautiful that it made Harry’s chest ache. He didn’t want to be
here. He wanted to be back in their tent, the other boy tight in his arms,
running his fingers through those golden locks.
“Harry.”
Harry stirred at the sound of his name. Hermione was looking at him
meaningfully. He realized that Dumbledore and McGonagall were waiting for him
to open the ball. At the same exact moment came the realization that he just
couldn’t do it.
“Sorry, Hermione,” he said softly. “But I can’t.”
“Draco?” she whispered. He felt only the vaguest surprise.
“So you did suspect.”
“Of course I did.”
He couldn’t help but smile. Hermione was always several steps ahead of the rest
of them. He turned to Dumbledore and McGonagall. “I’m sorry, Professors, but I
can’t do it.”
“Mr. Potter?”
Harry didn’t answer, merely stepped up to the podium that Dumbledore usually
spoke from, and faced the room. “So I’m supposed to dance,” he began. Hundreds
of eyes stared back at him. He flushed nervously. This was rather daunting
without Draco by his side. “But I can’t do that.” Immediately a humming rose
around the room as people began to whisper. “You see, I met someone this
month—well, I guess more like got to know them—and we fell in love.”
The soft hum immediately grew to a roar. Only a wave of Dumbledore’s hand
silenced it. But Harry was just about finished. “And….well, it wouldn’t be
right for me to open the ball with anyone else.” He looked to Dumbledore. The
man gave him a nod, and there was a twinkle of a knowing smile in those eyes.
Harry left the podium. Hermione was waiting for him. She was smiling as well,
and looking rather proud. Harry offered his arm and she accepted, letting him
lead her to the Gryffindor table. Then, his ears burning both from flushed
embarrassment and from all the whispering he heard, whispers he knew were about
him, Harry walked quickly towards the door, head down.
He was so focused on his feet that he didn’t notice that his path was blocked
until he nearly walked into the person. “Oh, I’m sorry—“ but his eyes widened
when he saw who it was. “…..Draco…”
The blonde was smiling. “I liked your speech.”
Slowly, a smile spread across Harry’s face. “You…” He took in Draco’s form. The
Slytherin was dressed to the nines in his own dress robes.
Harry thought he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
“…you changed your mind?”
Draco nodded. “I decided it was ridiculous to let a little thing like prejudice
stop me from dancing with the man I’ve loved since I set eyes on him in Madame
Malkins’.”
The Gryffindor began to laugh, then stopped as the words sank in.
“Madame…..Draco, that was our first year!”
The blonde was blushing. “I know.”
Harry was stunned. “But….you’ve been so mean all these years.”
Draco shrugged uncomfortably. “Rejection is a hard pill to swallow. I was
bitter and immature.” He smiled. “Forgive me?”
Harry thought he would melt; he shook his head. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
The words made Draco glow; he gestured with his head towards the great hall.
“Shall we?”
The suggestion sent shock through Harry. “You really want to?”
“Most definitely.” Draco took Harry’s arm. “Come on, Harry. I didn’t give you
lessons just to have you wuss out.”
If people had been chattering at Harry’s impromptu speech, it was nothing on
the noise they made when he reappeared holding Draco’s hand. Chaos erupted, and
both boys flushed.
“Hey.” Draco looked up at the sound of Harry’s voice. “You sure you’re okay
with this?”
Draco nodded. “Definitely.” Stopping in the center of the makeshift dance
floor, he extended a hand.
Harry looked from the hand to Draco, smiling. “I guess we’re done with ‘no
touching’?”
Draco shrugged, small smile on his face. “I’m pretty sure that rule is no
longer applicable in any part of our relationship.” The words sent warmth
fluttering through Harry.
Draco proffered the hand once more and, his smile growing, Harry took it. With
one swift tug, Harry yanked Draco towards him, spinning the Slytherin in a full
circle. Caught off his guard, Draco stumbled dizzily through the 360 degree
turn and came face to face with Harry. Their chests collided and the two boys
stared at one another from mere inches away.
Slowly, a smile curved across Draco’s lips. “Not bad, Potter. Now show me what
you’ve got.”
By the end of the dance, Ron was forced to agree that Draco was a very good
teacher indeed, even if he wasn’t so crazy about the methods Draco seemed to
have employed (if the way that the two kissed at the end of the dance was any
indication). Still, Harry seemed happy, and that was all that truly mattered.
If people were yelling insults, it was impossible to hear them above the
general roar of cheering. Harry grinned at Draco. “I’m happy you came.”
“Mmm,” Draco hummed, and brushed a kiss to Harry’s lips. “So am I.” He leaned
his head on Harry’s shoulder.
Harry’s arm tightened slightly around Draco’s waist, pulling the blonde closer
to him; they danced together under the starlight and snowfall of the great
hall’s enchanted ceiling, completely oblivious to everyone around them, lost
entirely in one another and the love they felt. In each other, they had found a
love they had never known, and never expected to. With one another, they were
complete.
 
~tbc~
***** Chapter 11 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Harry smiled as he made his way into Hogwarts. It had been eight years since he
had graduated, yet somehow this place still felt like home. Well….his second
home. Now, home was with Draco, a charming little flat just outside of London.
They had moved in together shortly after graduating and had lived there ever
since. However, after a few years, they ended up having to take rooms at
Hogwarts as well, for Professor Dumbledore contacted Draco about a new program
he was thinking about beginning.
Hogwarts had always taught a Muggle Studies class. However, Dumbledore thought
that it might be time to expand on that. Students who came to Hogwarts from
all-magical backgrounds often had little to no grasp of the muggle world, and
prejudices frequently arose. It would be a good idea to change that, and
Dumbledore thought Draco was the perfect person to do it. After all, the blonde
himself came from a pureblood family, yet he had taught himself about muggle
culture, and loved it. He could lead by example.
So it was that Draco began teaching an elective class on muggle literature at
Hogwarts.
Harry thought it was Goddamn adorable. He loved coming to Hogwarts after a long
day at work and sneaking into Draco’s class, seeing the blonde up at the front
of the room, dressed up in a tie and robes but still with his hair a mess (it
seemed the default state when Draco was around books), novel in hand as he
lectured about anything from Shakespeare to Salinger.
Fuck, it was sexy.
He turned out to be extremely popular with his students as well, if the way
they looked at him was any indication. Little hearts practically flew out of
their eyes as they stared at him, and Harry had heard more than one adoring
sigh on the occasions he had slipped into class. The girls often lingered once
the session was done, clamoring for extra attention, and some of the boys did
as well.
Yes, Draco was popular. It was this very popularity that lead Professor
McGonagall to ask him, come Christmastime, if he would teach an afterschool
dancing class in preparation for the Yule Ball. Harry wasn’t so crazy about
that idea. He liked having Draco’s dancing all to himself. Still, seeing the
way those grey eyes had lit up at the idea of getting to do more dancing, Harry
couldn’t begrudge him the lessons.
It was getting towards evening time, and the end of dancing lessons. Harry
pushed open the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom as quietly
as he could so as not to disturb those within.
Inside, Draco was partnering a young lady who Harry vaguely recognized….a third
year, he believed. She had light brown hair so frizzy that it almost reminded
him of Hermione’s. The sight brought a smile to his face. Judging by the bright
pink of her cheeks, he would bet good money that she had a crush on Draco.
Clearly, Harry hadn’t succeeded in his attempt at quiet, for Draco looked up. A
smile lit up that lovely face when he saw that it was Harry in the doorway, and
he stopped dancing at once. “Well, everyone, it looks like it’s that time.”
Draco’s partner turned to the door to see what had caught Draco’s attention and
her face immediately darkened with angry storm clouds when she saw Harry. About
half the other students wore similar expressions.
Harry winced internally. As soon as Draco’s students had realized he was dating
Harry, they had immediately developed a severe dislike for the brunette. It
would have been frustrating were it not so amusing.
“Sorry,” he apologized, but it did nothing to lessen the glares, students
muttering as they began gathering their things.
“So I’ll see all of you again on Monday.” Draco patted a boy on the back as he
passed by. “Have a good weekend!”
The students parroted his good wishes back to him as they filed out of the
room, leaving the two men alone. Harry smiled at Draco. “They weren’t happy to
see me.”
Draco laughed. “They never are.” It was a constant source of amusement to Draco
how jealous his students were of his relationship. “Did McGonagall catch you on
your way in?”
Harry nodded. “She did.”
“What did she want?”
Harry settled his weight back on the desk at the head of the room, the only one
that hadn’t been pushed aside to make space for dancing. “She wanted to know
how much longer I’m planning to be an auror. She’d like me to consider coming
back here to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.”
Both of Draco’s brows shot up in surprise. “Really?? Harry….that……would you
want to do that?”
“Hell yeah! Teaching? And here, with you? I’d love that!”
“Soon?” There was a tone to Draco’s voice that he was clearly trying to
suppress…..Harry thought it was hope. He chuckled.
“Yeah. Soon.” Immediately, Draco was in his arms, hugging him tight.
“Thank God,” the blonde murmured. Harry laughed softly.
“Worried about me?”
“Always.” Draco nuzzled into the curve of Harry’s throat, kissing the soft
skin; his fingers clutched handfuls of Harry’s sweater. “Every time you go out
in the field, I worry. I’m so terrified of losing you.”
The words made Harry’s heart ache. He pressed a kiss to Draco’s brow. “Well,
you don’t have to worry any longer. They want me to take over as soon as
possible. So if I’m agreeable, Professor Singer will take his retirement early
and I’ll start right away.”
Immediately, Draco’s mouth was on his, kissing him fervently. Harry laughed
into the kiss. “I take it that you approve?”
“Yes!” Harry didn’t know the last time he had heard Draco sound so happy. “Oh,
please.”
“Okay. I’ll let McGonagall know.” He ran his fingers through that messy blonde
hair, brushing a lock out of Draco’s eyes. “Means we’ll be spending much more
time here than at the flat.”
Draco shrugged. “Can still go home to the flat on the weekends. That way we can
spend time with mom.”
Narcissa Malfoy had stayed close ever since her escape from her husband. These
days, she lived only minutes down the road from them, and they took tea
together at least once a week. She loved Harry as if he were her own
son….something Draco was working on.
….speaking of which….
“I have something to ask you.”
“Oh?” Harry raised a brow. Flushing, Draco nodded, and he turned away, heading
to his satchel. Harry watched curiously as Draco rooted around in his bag,
finally returning to Harry’s side. His cheeks were pink as he offered up a tiny
box, opening it to reveal a shining gold band.
“I was going to get silver, but then I remembered Gryffindor, and this seemed
more fitting.” Harry didn’t say a word, merely stared with wide eyes, and Draco
flushed even more. “….so? Will you marry me?”
Slowly, those huge green eyes looked up at Draco in disbelief. It wasn’t very
reassuring. Draco immediately began to panic. “It’s fine,” he said. “It was
stupid. I’m sorry—“ He made to put the box away, but Harry grabbed his hand.
“Are you crazy??” It was Draco’s turn to stare in surprise. “Of COURSE I’ll
marry you!” That beautiful face split into a smile, that lovely smile that
Harry always wanted to kiss. So he did, cupping Draco’s face in his hands and
kissing him again, and still again.
By the time he pulled away, the smile on Draco’s face had turned somewhat
goofy. “Really?”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh at that expression. “Really.” He offered his hand
so that there could be no doubt.
His face aglow with happiness, Draco slipped the ring onto Harry’s finger.
Immediately, Harry held his hand out to admire the way it looked. They were
engaged. He and Draco were engaged. He kissed Draco again, long and slow this
time. The blonde clearly had no objections, a hand tangling in Harry’s thick
brown hair as he pressed back into the kiss, deepening it.
For several moments, the room was silent but for the sounds of their kissing.
Then, the kiss was broken when Harry began to laugh.
“What?” Draco was perturbed at the interruption. “What’s so funny?”
"Your students are gonna HATE me."
The blonde laughed at that. "Oh, they already do."
Harry couldn’t help the burst of laughter. "Thanks a lot."
"Don't mention it." Draco grinned. "Anyway, they should know by now that Draco
Malfoy is off the market. That was a done deal a long time ago." Practically
from the first moment he had laid eyes on Harry all those years ago in Madame
Malkin’s dress shop.
Harry smiled as though he too were remembering the confession Draco had made.
He brushed a stray lock of golden hair out of Draco’s eyes. Draco caught
Harry’s hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. He smiled at Harry.
“Would you care to dance, Mr. Potter?”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “I’d love to, Mr. Malfoy.” Holding Draco’s hand,
he let the man lead him out to the center of the room, and as Draco hummed,
they began to waltz.
After a moment or two, Harry could hear words amidst Draco’s humming; he
listened closer.
“I wanna break every clock…the hands of time could never move again. We could
stay in this moment for the rest of our lives.”
Harry felt warm butterflies rushing through him; his arm tightened around
Draco’s waist, pulling the man that much closer as he listened to Draco’s sweet
voice softly singing.
“I wanna be your last first kiss that you’ll ever have. I wanna be your last
first love. Till you’re lying beside me with arms and eyes open wide. I wanna
be your last first kiss for all time.”
Harry withdrew just far enough to look Draco in the eye; he softly kissed the
blonde. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” The words were no more than a whisper. Draco leaned his head
on Harry’s shoulder and together they danced until darkness fell outside and
the stars came out, as bright and shining as their future together.
~fin~
Chapter End Notes
     And that's all she wrote, folks!
     You can check out some of my other Drarry works here on my account,
     including 'A Reason I Love You', here: http://archiveofourown.org/
     works/3374774
     Thank you all for reading! <3
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