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Harry and Seamus crawled out of the cave, sweaty and breathing hard. A robust tawny owl found them as Harry sat on the cave ledge, drinking from their canteens. The owl gave an exhausted hoot as Harry removed the parchment from its leg.
“Someone’s keen,” Seamus said, giving Harry a knowing smirk.
When are you home? Need to see you. Send a reply with the owl, don’t worry about him, he’s up to it.
DM.
Draco rarely corresponded with Harry while he was away for work. He ran a finger over the familiar loopy scrawl, still quietly thrilled that he was in Draco’s thoughts. Harry grabbed a pencil out of his bag, scribbling a hasty reply.
Harry poured water into the palm of his hand and held it out for the owl who drank greedily. He pulled some hard-tack out of his jacket pocket and the owl wolfed it down, and with his other hand tied the parchment to its leg.
“It’s not urgent,” Harry whispered, stroking its wing, “Don’t let him bully you.”
The owl gave Harry a grateful hoot then took off, soaring down the valley. Harry watched until its wings were a brown smudge on the horizon. He turned and saw Seamus staring at him, arms folded.
The owl returned a few hours later. They had reached the bottom of the ravine, waiting for their portkey to activate.
Don’t bother washing. Come straight to mine.
“What’s he want?” Seamus said, leaning against a boulder. His brilliant blue eyes flashed through the dirt on his face.
“What do you think?” Harry said.
Seamus made a gagging noise, kicking a stone at Harry’s groin.
Harry dodged it and smiled the satisfied smile of a man with gold in his pocket and a spectacular shag in his future. Life was good.
----
Harry flooed from the Portkey office directly to Draco’s, dumping his kit in the sitting room. The smell of onions and garlic was thick in the air and after living on tinned soup and dehydrated food for the last week, the idea of a proper meal made Harry’s mouth water.
“That you, Potter?” Draco asked from the kitchen, back to Harry.
“Expecting someone else?”
“You never know.”
Draco turned and ran an appreciative eye over Harry.
“Oh, very nice.” Draco breathed.
Harry wore head to toe dragon-hide leather. Splatters of mud and slime covered his chest, and he smelled absolutely foul. His hair felt like straw and when he ran his hand through it, a cloud of fine brown dust fell onto Draco’s pristine tiles.
“This doing it for you, Malfoy?” Harry asked, taking a step closer.
“I believe it is.”
“Got any treasure you need me to…liberate?” Harry took another step closer, and Draco pressed the end of the wooden spoon to his chest.
“As much as I would like to follow this fantasy to its logical conclusion, there is something that requires prior discussion. Then by all means, plunder to your heart's content.”
Harry chuckled and took a step back, leaning against the kitchen counter. Draco summoned a wine glass from the cupboard and filled it, then passed it to Harry who took a sip and tilted his head.
“Merlot?” Harry asked.
Draco sighed heavily. He had been on a mission to improve Harry’s palette and Harry had come a long way from thinking there were simply two types of wine – red and white. He was proud to admit he could now appreciate a delicate Pinot Noir and was partial to a robust Malbec. The way Draco scolded when he got it wrong always made Harry’s heart race, so he may have overplayed his ignorance. Sometimes, if he was lucky, Draco would punish him for his mistakes.
“You know it’s a Cab Sav, don’t even try it.”
Harry grinned and took another sip.
“What’s so urgent, then?”
“It’s not urgent,” Draco turned back to the stove, stirring thoughtfully, “But it is relevant.”
Harry waited as Draco turned down the heat.
“Do you remember that orb I brought home a few weeks ago?”
Harry gave Draco a filthy smile, “Have you got it here?”
“Sadly, no. But its effects remain present.”
Harry shot Draco a puzzled look and Draco took a long sip of wine.
“In a momentary lapse of competency,” Draco said slowly, “I may have misjudged its true purpose.”
While Harry didn’t know exactly what Draco did working as an Unspeakable, he did know Draco had access to an incredible array of magical items. Items that he, on occasion, brought home to use at his leisure.
“That can’t be legal,” Harry said, the first time Draco had mentioned it.
“Couldn’t be less legal,” Draco said, brushing lint off his trousers, “But everyone does it.”
“Everyone?” Harry asked.
“Well, I assume everyone. We’re Unspeakables , Potter. We’re not supposed to talk about it.”
“You’re talking to me about it.”
“I know,” Draco said, running a finger down the inside of his arm, “Does that make you feel special?”
When Harry stepped out of the floo a few weeks ago, Draco had been vibrating with anticipation. He threw Harry down on the sofa and revealed the Orb of Gravida , the size of an apple, a tarnished silver colour and engraved in an almost illegible script. Draco told Harry with breathless delight that the orb was specifically for women and, when activated with the correct incantation, would elicit an insatiable desire to mate for many hours – up to twenty-four, in some reported cases.
“It’s part of a fertility ritual,” Draco explained, “Encouraging women to have as many partners as possible to ensure the best chance at pregnancy and, I can only assume, a pleasant time for all involved.”
“Sounds very progressive.” Harry said.
“It is,” Draco agreed, “According to the literature the woman can become quite – insatiable. The descriptions of the orb in action by Victorian Unspeakables are particularly illuminating.”
“And this works for men as well?” Harry asked.
“Oh, yes.” Draco said, “It does.”
Harry took the orb from Draco and felt the pleasant weight of it in his hands, running his fingertips over the raised script.
“Got much on for the next twenty-four hours?” Harry asked.
Draco smirked, “I believe I do.”
It took a lot to exhaust Harry sexually, especially when Draco was involved. However, there were several moments during the absolute sex rampage that followed when Harry thought he might have reached his limit.
“I just need – a few minutes – to recover –” Harry panted as he lay naked, spread eagle on the bedroom floor, covered in an alarming array of viscous fluids. They had started on the bed, but at some point, ended up on the floor. His knees were covered in angry carpet burn and there were teeth marks scattered across his chest. He summoned a glass of water from the kitchen, gulping it down.
“I’m not done with you,” Draco said, settling between Harry’s legs. By Harry’s count Draco had orgasmed at least three times since they said the incantation two hours prior and he was still rock hard. Harry gasped as Draco wrapped a hand around his over-sensitive cock.
“Have some mercy, Malfoy,” Harry said, feebly trying to push him away.
“Not a chance.”
Harry groaned and submitted to Draco’s expert administrations. At least if he died, it would be an excellent story for the funeral. By the time the sun rose the next morning they had broken a mirror in the bathroom, decided the bed would never fully recover and Harry’s relationship with cucumbers had been irrevocably changed. Harry hadn’t been able to sit down without wincing for a full week.
It had been spectacular.
“If I remember correctly that orb delivered on its promise and then some.” Harry said.
“It may have… over promised.” Draco said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry asked, folding his arms.
Draco placed the wooden spoon carefully on the counter, “Honestly, there’s no one to blame but myself. I should have translated the inscription personally, instead of relying on the notes of my incompetent colleagues. I mean, it’s for a mating ritual for Merlin’s sake, of course it was going to be –“
“Malfoy –”
“I’m pregnant.”
Harry blinked rapidly.
“I’m sorry?”
“I’m ninety-nine per cent sure I’m pregnant. Or I might be cursed, but I’m pretty sure it’s pregnancy.”
“Is that – was that – I’m sorry, but how is that possible?” Harry asked.
“It’s magic, Potter. Anything is possible.”
“Yeah but,” Harry said gesturing vaguely, “that is like, against the laws of science.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. The unspoken And what the fuck do you know about science? hung in the air.
“I mean – isn’t it?” Harry asked.
“Apparently not,” Draco said, taking another sip of wine.
“Should you be –“ Harry started but Draco cut him off.
“Don’t you dare.”
Harry put his hands up and took a few steadying breaths.
“So, that fertility ritual works for women – and men?”
Draco nodded and watched Harry carefully over the rim of his glass.
“Probably best to add that to the notes,” Harry said, “for future kinky Unspeakables.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
Harry picked up his wine glass and drained it.
“And, you’re sure?” Harry asked.
“Pretty sure,” Draco said.
“Have you seen a healer?”
Draco rolled his eyes, “How would I go about explaining this to some bumbling idiot at St. Mungo’s?”
“It might be dangerous,” Harry said.
“I’m sure there is an element of risk involved in all pregnancies.” Draco said, calmly.
“I’ll go with you. To St. Mungo’s.”
“The last thing we need is for it to get out that Harry Fucking Potter knocked up his special friend in a debauched shag-at-thon fuelled by the improper use of a Ministry artifact,” Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, “ Merlin , I can see the headlines now.”
Harry took off his glasses rubbing his eyes. He rummaged through the buzzing chaos of his mind, desperately trying to think of what he usually did when confronted with a crisis.
“Hermione.” Harry blurted out.
“I’m sorry?” Draco asked, his brow furrowed.
“We’ll go see Hermione.”
“No.”
“She’s a healer!”
“A mind healer,” Draco said, “And no.”
“Then what? We just wait and see?”
Draco was silent for a few seconds then said defiantly, “I don’t want her to – think less of me.”
“She wouldn’t,” Harry protested.
“We’ve only just got over the Majorca incident. She couldn’t look me in the eye for weeks.”
“Give over,” Harry chided, “It was just a shock. She didn’t know you were so – flexible.”
Draco snorted and Harry gave him a small smile.
“Please, we need to talk to someone. We can trust her. And we need to know, right?”
Draco hesitated then nodded stiffly.
“Alright. We’ll talk to Granger.”
“She’s coming to brunch at Grimmauld tomorrow, we’ll keep it casual.”
“We are very casual people,” Draco said dryly.
Harry felt itchy under his filthy clothes and looked down at his mud splattered boots. He cleared his throat, “I should change.”
Harry turned and took a step towards the door and felt something cool wrap around his wrist. He twisted and saw a thin silver rope attached to the end of Draco’s wand, holding him in place.
“What,” Draco asked softly, “do you think you’re doing?”
“Er, having a shower?”
Draco narrowed his eyes and tugged on the rope, forcing Harry to step forward, “Why would you do that?”
“You can’t still want to – ” Harry said and Draco tugged harder so they were inches apart.
“I do. I want to. With you like this.”
Harry bit back a grin, “Are you sure?”
“You think a little thing like a freak wizarding pregnancy is enough to put me off shagging the shit out of you? When you look like that?”
Draco ran his eyes slowly up the length of Harry and he felt himself stir as his gaze lingered on his crotch.
“Take off those ridiculous trousers. I want to taste you.”
Harry kept his eyes fixed on Draco as he kicked off his boots and slowly undid his flies, pushing the leather down his thighs. He wrapped a hand around his rapidly swelling cock.
“You reek,” Draco said.
Harry shrugged, “I warned you.”
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”
Draco licked his lips and lowered his eyes to watch Harry stroke himself. He pushed Harry back against the counter and then got to his knees, running his hands up Harry’s thighs.
“I’ve been thinking about this. About you.” Draco’s breath ghosted over the sensitive skin at the tip of Harry’s cock.
“Yeah?” Harry said, “What were you thinking?”
Draco looked up at Harry, his eyes clear and bright, “About how I want your cock so far down my throat I won’t be able to talk without feeling it for a week.”
“ Fuck ,” Harry breathed, grasping himself tighter.
“Don’t you dare hold back,” Draco said, digging his nails into the soft flesh of Harry’s thighs.
Harry grabbed a handful of Draco’s baby-soft hair and pulled his head back sharply making Draco gasp.
“Anything else?” Harry asked.
“I’ll have you orgasming in less than a minute,” Draco said, voice low and threatening.
“You talk a lot of shit, Malfoy.”
“Then shut me up.”
Draco’s pink tongue darted out and licked his bottom lip, his eyes defiant, challenging.
Harry tightened his grip and pulled Draco’s face to his cock. Draco didn’t hesitate as he swallowed Harry’s entire length in one practiced movement. Harry kept his hand on the back of Draco’s head and watched Draco’s lips stretch obscenely around him.
“Fuck you’re – Christ – you’re so good at that,” Harry moaned.
Draco watched him through impossibly long lashes, a condescending look somehow still on his face even with Harry’s cock rammed down his throat.
Not for the first time, Harry marvelled that his desire for Draco remained as fervent as those initial heady weeks, when they’d first crashed into each other with breathless inevitability. Harry could never tire of Draco’s sure hands on his chest, his mouth quick with insults and kisses, the inane babble falling from it when he came.
Draco did something particularly clever with his tongue and Harry moaned, clutching the counter with his free hand.
“You’re right, I won’t, fuck, last,” Harry tried desperately to ignore the pleasure building in the pit of his stomach, trying to fight the relentless wet heat of Draco’s mouth.
Draco released Harry’s cock with a slick pop and Harry bit back a muffled cry, breathing hard. Draco moved a hand to cup Harry’s balls and squeezed, just the right side of painful.
“Potter, what did I tell you?” Draco’s voice was dangerously soft, edged like a blade.
“Don’t hold back?” he gasped as Draco’s grip tightened and Harry squirmed deliciously.
“I won’t tell you again.”
Harry exhaled sharply as Draco doubled his efforts, burying his nose in the wiry hair at Harry’s crotch. Harry toyed with the idea of defying Draco but when his cock hit the back of his throat and he felt Draco, impossibly, take him deeper, he lost all control.
His world became the filthy sound of Draco’s mouth being fucked, the grunts and moans, the saliva dripping down his chin, Draco’s eyes brimming with tears. Harry thrust his hips more frantically and Draco hummed his approval, the vibrations running up his length, the pleasure a relentless thrum behind his balls.
Draco braced his hands on the cabinets and Harry gave three final quick thrusts and came, hard, eyes closed in bliss. Draco gagged as he swallowed, come dripping down his chin onto the kitchen tiles. Harry rode out the orgasm with a few lazy thrusts then slumped down on the floor, his trousers around his ankles, his crotch a mess of saliva and semen.
Harry watched through half closed eyes as Draco ran the back of his hand across his mouth, his lips red, eyes wet and triumphant. Harry grabbed the front of Draco’s shirt and pulled him in for a filthy kiss, tasting wine, and a copper tang that might have been blood, and himself. Draco straddled Harry and kissed him with ferocious determination, claiming every inch of Harry’s mouth, his tongue insistent and warm.
“You’re magnificent,” Harry breathed into Draco’s mouth.
“I’m pretty good.” Draco agreed and Harry could feel the smile on his lips.
They sat like that for a while waiting for their breathing to regulate, exchanging long slow kisses. Draco was often like this, bossy and demanding at first and then tender and soft after.
Finally, Draco took Harry by the hand and steered him into the bathroom. They stripped and showered, Harry allowing Draco to make a fuss, carefully washing away two weeks’ worth of grime.
After, Harry led Draco to the bedroom and delighted in methodically taking Draco apart with his tongue. He took Draco’s cock into his mouth, alternating between soft licks and kisses, painstakingly slow, the opposite of the frantic face-fucking in the kitchen. Harry kept Draco on the brink of climax until he was begging, writhing on his expensive sheets, sweaty and delirious.
With Draco’s cock heavy and full in his mouth, Harry finally pressed a saliva slick finger deep inside, finding his prostate with the pad of his finger and Draco came with a cry, wrapping his legs around Harry’s head. Harry’s world was the crush of silky soft thighs and the bitter taste on his tongue and the muffled sound of Draco repeating his name over and over like a prayer.
Later, as Harry drifted into a satisfied sleep, limbs wrapped possessively around Draco, he almost missed the question, Draco’s voice barely a whisper.
“Would you even want to have a baby with someone like me?”
----
If things had turned out differently, Harry would be a father several times over by this stage in his life. Coaching a junior Quidditch team and slipping easily into the role of doting dad. Half his friends were parents or well on their way. He relished being the fun uncle, swooping in to ply the kids with sweets and gifts, always willing to give the harried parents an afternoon off.
He’d come close with Ginny several years ago before they both had life changing revelations. Specifically, that Harry preferred blokes and Ginny didn’t want to be a mother.
They were at a Weasley Sunday dinner where Molly was giving them a gentle grilling about starting a family. Hermione was heavily pregnant with Hugo at the time and Rose was working on a new tooth, wailing in Ron’s arms. Teddy was there with Andromeda, throwing himself around the sitting room with his trademark frenetic energy, hair a brilliant cobalt blue, Bill and Fleur’s twins egging him on.
Molly looked around at the chaos with a beatific smile on her face and turned fondly to Arthur.
“Isn’t it lovely to have so many children in the house again?”
Arthur nodded and flicked his wand, performing a cushioning charm seconds before Teddy smashed his ruddy face on the hallway cabinet.
“Very lovely, dear.” Arthur said.
Molly turned to Harry and placed a hand on his arm, “Must be your turn soon, pet?”
Harry shot Ginny a look, eyes firmly fixed on the contents of her wineglass. The truth was they had been trying for a while, with no success. Sex had taken on a decidedly perfunctory edge, which wasn’t helping the situation.
“Mum, give them a break,” Charlie sat down in the chair next to Harry that Arthur had vacated to ensure Victorie didn’t impale herself on the hallway coat stand, “They might not want to add to this madhouse.”
“Nonsense!” Molly scoffed, “Harry, tell him that’s rubbish.”
Harry looked at Charlie who, if he was being completely honest, was a bit hard to look at in his tight white t-shirt and hair falling attractively around his shoulders. His cornflower blue eyes sparkled as he shot Harry a bemused look. Harry thought for a wild second that it might be nice to have a baby with Charlie. He would make such a handsome father. And making a baby with Charlie would be really fucking nice. Especially if Charlie held him down with those obscenely muscled forearms, covered in tiny burn marks and a fine layer of soft red hair.
And then Harry remembered that Charlie was a man and couldn’t get pregnant and was also Ginny’s brother and a bloke. Harry realised he might have been ogling Charlie and his mouth was definitely open. He shut it quickly. Charlie gave him a very inappropriate grin that was kind of crooked and perfect and – and this was not going well.
“We have - we are wanting – there’s been some trying…” Harry stammered, tearing his eyes away from Charlie to look at Ginny, who had walked to the kitchen to top up her wine. Molly bustled out of her seat and followed her, waving her wand to summon pudding to the table, a steady stream of encouragement wafting from the kitchen.
“Just ignore Mum,” Charlie said, nudging Harry’s leg with his knee, “I always do.”
Harry smiled weakly and slumped in his seat, “We want to. We are trying.”
Charlie leaned forward, flashing a knowing smile, perfect white teeth gleaming in the lamplight, “Trying sounds like the best part.”
Charlie winked and got out of his seat to help clear the table, placing a warm hand on Harry’s shoulder, squeezing firmly as he walked past. It took herculean effort for Harry not to moan at his touch.
Later that night as Harry dutifully lay on top of Ginny having some of the aforementioned perfunctory sex, the image of Charlie picking up Teddy and throwing him in the air as he screamed with delight flashed into Harry’s mind. He thought of how his tight t-shirt had stretched to reveal a flash of taut stomach, a strip of thick ginger hair disappearing into the tight waistband of his trousers. He found his cock reacted very enthusiastically to the thought of running a hand over that strip of hair and, guiltily, he thrust harder into Ginny. He was really getting into the swing of things when he felt two hands push on his chest and realised her cries were not those of pleasure but pleas to stop.
“I can’t, Harry. Stop, please, I can’t!”
Harry withdrew and felt his face burn with shame. What kind of monster thinks about unbuttoning a man’s trousers while fucking his sister?
“Gin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
“I don’t want to have a baby!”
Harry froze, half perched over her naked body, dick flopping limply on her leg. Ginny covered her face with her hands, and he could see her shoulders were shaking in silent sobs.
“What’s – what’s going on?” Harry asked dumbly.
He rolled to the side and Ginny covered herself with the duvet. Her head poked out the top, hair dark in the low light, splayed on the pillow behind her.
“I’m so sorry Harry, I didn’t know how to tell you, but I know you want this so much and I thought I did,” she said taking a shaky breath, “No that’s – that’s not true. I never wanted it, I just wanted you to be happy and I mean, of course you should have a baby you’ll be such a great dad but I – I don’t – I can’t…”
Harry lay down and wrapped his arms around Ginny as she trailed off, crying softly into his shoulder. He stroked her back and ran a hand through her hair, inhaling the familiar floral scent of her shampoo and their washing powder on the sheets. They lay like that for a while in silence.
“Talk to me, Gin. What’s going on?”
Ginny took a shaky breath, “I don’t want to be my mother.”
“You won’t be.” Harry said.
Ginny continued, voice thick, “I don’t want her life. I don’t want to pop out a bunch of kids and just become, you know, Mrs. Potter and not have something of my own. I want to do so many things and I’m only fucking twenty-six! Why does everyone we know have bloody babies already and just, expect we are going to do the same? We grew up in a war and – I don’t know. I think I just want to like, meet people who haven’t been through that. I want experiences!”
Harry was silent and he felt her take a fortifying breath.
“And Harry, please don’t take this the wrong way but I – I want to sleep with other people. I want to get out there. I want to be a bit of a mess and make some bad decisions. I love you but, I need…” Ginny trailed off and Harry squeezed her tightly.
“Gin, it’s okay. Honestly, this is – totally understandable. Like, I really get it.”
“Do you?” Ginny asked in a small voice.
“I do, truly. I just wish you could have told me earlier.”
Ginny covered her face with her hands, “I know, it’s been killing me. I’ve been so miserable.”
“Oh Gin,” Harry said sadly, “I’m so sorry.”
“Not because of you!” Ginny placed her hands on his chest, “Harry, you’re – you’re perfect.”
Harry huffed and Ginny gave him a small smile, “Not perfect but, you’re great. This is all my shit. It’s really got nothing to do with you.”
“Ouch?” Harry joked.
“Fuck, that sounded awful.”
Harry rolled onto his back, “No, it’s the truth. And it’s brave of you to say it.”
Ginny ran a hand over his cheek, “I love you so much Harry, I just don’t think I’m in love with you.”
Harry smiled and nodded, “I get it.”
They were silent for a while and Harry cleared his throat, “Seeing as we are being brutally honest, I think I might – fancy blokes.”
Ginny sat up, grinning, “Really?”
Harry nodded and gave her a tentative smile.
“How long has that been a thing?”
“Awhile, I think.”
Ginny grabbed his hand and squeezed it, “That’s big, Harry.”
“Yeah, I guess. But also, not?”
“Any bloke in particular?” Ginny asked.
Harry thought of Charlie’s crooked grin but then just the general idea of man, strong arms and broad chests and stubble under his lips and tight arses straining in trousers and thick thighs straddling broomsticks and on and on.
“No one in particular,” Harry said softly, “Any bloke, to be honest.”
“I’d like to try sleeping with a woman. And a woman and a man. And other men. Heaps of men.”
Harry laughed at the look of dreamy delight on Ginny’s face as she flopped down on the bed.
They lay there talking until the sun was creeping through the curtains, speaking frankly for the first time in their entire relationship and steeled themselves to break the news the following week at family dinner.
Molly was predictably distraught, dabbing her eyes with a sodden hanky as Arthur gently placed a mug of tea in her hands.
“But why?” she asked for the hundredth time, “You seemed so happy!”
“It’s just how it is, Mum,” Ginny said gently.
“You’re Harry and Ginny!” she wailed.
“We’re still friends, Molly. Nothing will change there.” Harry said.
“Sweetheart, they seem to have given this a lot of thought,” Arthur said, giving Harry a kind smile which he returned.
“But, why ?!” Molly repeated. It went on like that for some time until Molly had to take a calming potion and lie down.
Ron placed a beer in Harry’s hands and gave him a reassuring pat on the back.
“Not to sound like my mother,” Ron said, “But are you sure about this, mate?”
“Yeah, I know it seems mental but it’s for the best.”
Ron gave him a sad look and shook his head, “Where are you going to stay?”
“Dunno,” Harry said, taking a large gulp of beer, “Probably see if Grimmauld is still habitable. I told Gin she could have the house.”
“You’re always welcome to stay with us.”
Harry looked over at a comically pregnant Hermione who was hugging Ginny in the kitchen, Rose balanced precariously on her hip.
“Thanks mate, but you two have enough going on.”
“My couch is always free, Harry.” Charlie said from across the table and for a split-second Harry thought fuck yes and then immediately fuck no. Ginny had been nothing but encouraging about Harry’s recent revelations, but he knew that the possibility that he might shag her brother in some kind of post-breakup rebound situation was a spectacularly dumb idea.
“I’ll figure something out.” Harry said.
The solution came two days later with a knock on the door as Harry was packing his clothes into moving boxes. Seamus stood on Harry’s doorstep, a bottle of firewhisky in each hand.
“Ron told me you and Gin broke up,” he said, summoning two glasses from the cupboard, and poured a liberal amount, “Thought you might want to get pissed.”
Harry took the glass and drained it, the whisky burning pleasantly as it went down.
“You read my mind, mate.”
“Break ups are the pits,” Seamus said, refilling their glasses, “It’s why I never bother with relationships. Too much hassle.”
“Smart man.”
“Also thought you might need somewhere to stay. I’m away with work all the time and there’s loads of space. You’re welcome to crash as long as you need.”
Harry sighed and stared at his feet, “That’s very generous.”
“Not at all,” Seamus said, “Totally selfish. I hate being alone and can’t cook for shite.”
Harry laughed, “I’m not a bad cook.”
“I know,” Seamus said, eyes twinkling, “C’mon, don’t think about it. We’ll have a laugh.”
Two days later, after giving Ginny a tearful goodbye hug, Harry stood in Seamus’s sitting room, his life packed neatly into sixteen oversized moving boxes.
“I should start to unpack,” Harry said, pushing his glasses up his nose.
“That can wait,” Seamus said, “Let’s get fucked up.”
Harry spent the next week getting legless with Seamus, talking shit and figuring out what the fuck he was going to do with his life. He’d taken several weeks of leave from the Aurors and was relieved he didn’t have to think about anything except getting maggoted and nursing his daily hangover.
It turned out Seamus was the perfect break up companion. He didn’t pry unnecessarily and knew when to listen if Harry wanted to talk. He kept Harry from wallowing and had a group of equally jovial mates who loved to natter until the wee hours at the pub. Half of them worked with Seamus as curse breakers and treasure hunters and there was one bloke in particular, Jordan, who made it clear that he wouldn’t mind getting a leg over Harry at his earliest convenience.
Harry was all for it but soon realised that he didn’t really know how this game worked. He’d never dated anyone beside Ginny. He was unsure of how to make a move without the threat of death and the end of the world hanging over him.
After a few weeks of lingering looks from Jordan and Harry’s complete lack of follow through, he thought Seamus might be of some assistance. Harry was throwing together a simple pesto pasta while Seamus recounted a story about a mermaid he’d had an altercation with last summer near Oslo. They had been drinking steadily since the afternoon and Harry felt pleasantly buzzed as they tucked into their pasta on the back porch, sitting on a saggy old sofa, catching the last of the evening sun.
“You know your mate, Jordan?” Harry ventured.
“What about him?” Seamus asked, mouth full.
“Is he gay?”
Seamus swallowed and shot Harry a puzzled look, “Would that be a problem?”
“What?” Harry asked, panicked, “No! Fuck no! Not a problem at all, Jesus Christ.”
“Why you asking, then?” Seamus said, draining his beer.
“No reason,” Harry said quickly, and Seamus narrowed his eyes, “Okay, some reason. I was just – getting a vibe.”
Seamus cocked an eyebrow and gave Harry an appraising look, “Harry Potter, as I live and breathe.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Harry said, face heating.
“This break up is starting to make a whole lot more sense.”
Harry exhaled and summoned two more beers, “I guess that’s a part of it. Big part of it, really.”
Seamus nodded thoughtfully, “You want to talk about it?”
“There’s not much to say. No one knows, only Ginny. And now you.”
“Not Ron and Hermione?”
“No. Not yet. I will tell them. I’m just figuring out how.”
Seamus placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “Thanks for telling me, mate. I’m honoured.”
Harry rolled his eyes and shovelled more pasta into his mouth.
“It’s not like I’ve ever done anything,” Harry said morosely, “With a bloke. I’m in the fucking weeds here, mate.”
Seamus took another sip of beer and pursed his lips. He looked at Harry shrewdly then seemed to make a decision.
“I might be able to help you there,” Seamus said, casually, “I’ve shagged a few blokes.”
Harry almost choked on his beer and Seamus gave him a cheeky grin.
“When?” Harry asked.
“You want dates and times?”
“No!” Harry said, his mouth open, “I mean…why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m telling you now.”
Seamus scraped at his empty bowl, licking the last of the pesto off the tines of his fork.
“Are you gay?” Harry asked and winced at the clumsy question.
Seamus shrugged, “Sometimes. Not all the time. I’m not exactly picky, mate. I’ll shag anyone.”
Harry nodded, his mind racing, “What’s it like?”
“With a bloke?” Seamus asked, running a hand through his sandy hair, “It’s different. It’s more – physical. Birds are all soft but the blokes I’ve been with have been harder, rougher.” Seamus raised an eyebrow, “It’s fun.”
Harry swallowed and exhaled slowly. He felt like he’d been hit by the Knight Bus.
“You ever snogged a bloke?” Seamus asked.
Harry shook his head.
“You want to?” Seamus asked, turning his body, the invitation clear on his face.
Harry bit his lip and looked at Seamus, his dark brown eyes, his cheeky mouth, imagining how his five o’clock shadow would feel against his lips. Harry looked at Seamus’s strong hands, calloused from work, the strain of his thighs through the denim of his jeans. Harry realised sleeping with Seamus would be easy, uncomplicated. Harry thought he would be generous in the bedroom, like he was in life, opening his house to Harry when he needed it, his companionship familiar and safe.
“I – I do. I – I want to.” Harry stammered.
“Grand.” Seamus said simply. He took the bowls and placed them at their feet and then shuffled closer on the sofa and leaned in to kiss Harry.
It was different from Ginny. Seamus’s lips were hard, but his tongue was warm and demanding. He tasted of beer and basil and when Harry brought a hand to the back of Seamus’s neck pulling him closer the word finally echoed loudly in his head.
After a while Seamus broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Harry’s.
“Knew you’d be a good kisser.” Seamus said.
“Thought about it, have you?”
“Everyone’s thought about kissing Harry Potter.” Seamus said and moved his lips to Harry’s neck, sucking softly. Harry rested his head back against the sofa and struggled not to moan.
“That’s good to know.” Harry whispered.
“You’re so fit,” Seamus said, tongue wet against Harry’s collarbone.
“Jesus Christ,” Harry breathed, gripping Seamus’s bicep, very aware of how painfully hard he now was.
“What do you want, Harry?” Seamus whispered into his ear and Harry thought he might come just from the question, the endless possibilities firing in his mind.
“Anything. Everything.” Harry said, feeling giddy.
Seamus chuckled and kissed him again, softer this time, hand gentle on his chest.
“Let’s go inside.” Seamus said, standing up and offering Harry his hand.
Harry staggered to his feet, adjusting the very prominent bulge in his trousers. Seamus flicked it an approving look and kept hold of Harry’s hand, dragging him back to the house.
Seamus walked through the kitchen and into the hall and Harry felt suddenly anxious that this was all going to disappear, a wonderful dream that might fade like the aftermath of a spell.
He grabbed Seamus’s shoulder and pushed him against the wall, a little rougher than he meant to, and Seamus’s eyes flashed with delight. Harry slammed into him, aggressively pushing Seamus’s legs apart and ground his thigh into his groin. Seamus pushed back and Harry wanted more. Now it was here, now it was happening, he was desperate for all of it. He wanted and wanted.
Harry fumbled clumsily with the button on Seamus’s jeans and ripped them open, shoving them down his thighs along with his pants and wrapped a hand around his heavy cock. It fit perfectly in Harry’s hand, and he couldn’t believe it had taken twenty-seven long years to stroke a cock that wasn’t his own. It felt so right, so perfect.
Seamus flung his head back against the wall with a soft thunk and Harry ran his tongue over the pulse at Seamus’s throat tasting sweat and soap. Harry bit down on the soft flesh and Seamus cursed loudly.
“Fucking hell, Harry, fuck yes.”
Harry was rough, rougher than he would ever dare with Ginny. Seamus fucked his hand, keeping up a steady stream of curses and delighted moans. Harry ground his hips against Seamus’s thigh and used his free hand to grab Seamus’s chin, taking his mouth in a searing kiss, tongue sloppy against his lips and teeth. It was rough and blundering and Harry looked down in delight at Seamus, swollen and heavy in his hand. He ran his thumb over the wetness at the tip, working it down the shaft and Seamus inhaled sharply. Harry grinned, picking up speed and felt like he was flying and falling at the same time.
Seamus’s hips moved frantically against the wall, and he sunk his fingers into Harry’s arse.
“Harry, I’m close – I’m going to…” Seamus moaned.
“Do it. Come for me.” Harry commanded against his mouth.
Seamus brought a hand to Harry’s head, grabbing a handful of hair, pulling hard as he groaned deep and low and Harry felt Seamus’s cock pulse then spill onto his hand and Harry followed, like a teenager making mess in his jeans.
Seamus slumped back against the wall and Harry braced his clean hand next to Seamus’s head. He buried his face in the sweaty crook of Seamus’s neck and inhaled deeply. Seamus smelled like a spring day and salt and sex.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Harry,” Seamus groaned, “You sure that’s your first time with another bloke?”
Harry exhaled heavily and lifted his head. Seamus had a satisfied grin on his face, his hair a mess and eyes unfocused in the dim hall light.
“First time, I swear.”
“You’re a fucking natural, mate,” Seamus said, pushing a lock of hair off Harry’s face.
Harry leaned forward and kissed Seamus long and slow, holding him against the wall and Seamus wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist pulling him close.
“I want more,” Harry said, “There’s more I want to try.”
Seamus laughed and gently pushed Harry away, “I bet there fucking is. Whatever you want, mate. I’m game.”
Eventually they made it to the bedroom and got out of their come-covered clothes and Seamus was as good as his word. They spent the next several days working through Harry’s very thorough list of demands. Seamus was just how Harry had imagined, a considerate lover, always willing to try something new and encouraging of Harry’s burgeoning curiosity.
At first Harry relished being in control, Seamus pliant and willing underneath his strong hands. Harry felt the need to apologise after, worried he’d been too rough, too insistent. Seamus waved him away with a chuckle.
“Mate, I’ll tell you if you go too far, don’t you worry.”
“I can’t help myself,” Harry said, running his eyes over Seamus’s broad chest, the dip of his hips. The perfect spot to run his tongue over, “Is it too much?”
Seamus rolled onto his side and moved a hand through Harry’s wiry chest hair.
“I’m into it. I promise.”
Harry bit his lip and Seamus grinned, “You don’t believe me?”
In a flash, Seamus was on top of Harry, straddling his hips, Harry’s wrists pinned above his head. Seamus leaned down to whisper in his ear.
“Try and throw me off.”
Harry moaned and pushed against Seamus’s hands, but he held him down. Harry felt his cock stir and he pushed up against Seamus’s thighs.
“Feels good not to be in control sometimes, doesn’t it?” Seamus whispered, pressing his hips down.
“Fuck,” Harry breathed, struggling harder.
“I’m going to take what I want from you, Harry, and you’re going to enjoy it.”
Harry closed his eyes, cock fully hard now, and Seamus flipped him over. Harry’s hands were still pinned above his head, face against the pillow and Seamus’s fingers ran down the crease of his arse.
“I’m not going to be gentle,” Seamus said as Harry felt a lubrication charm spread inside him, Seamus’s blunt fingers pushing against the tight ring of muscle, “I’m going to have you begging for it.”
Seamus pushed two fingers inside Harry, rough and sure, and he gasped, feeling the burn alongside the deep thrum of pleasure as Seamus expertly worked him open. Seamus kept up a steady stream of filthy chatter, telling Harry exactly what he wanted to do to him until Harry was a moaning, quivering mess, begging for Seamus to fuck him. Seamus dutifully obliged, grabbing a handful of his hair and fucking him deep and hard into the mattress.
After, Seamus picked up his wand, casting a cleaning spell and Harry shivered as the magic washed over him.
“I’ve been thinking,” Seamus said to the ceiling a few minutes later, “You should come work for me.”
“As a curse breaker?” Harry asked, sitting up and wincing, tender in all the right places.
“Yeah, one of the boys is getting married and his missus wants him at home, so he’s getting out of the game,” Seamus ran a hand lazily up and down Harry’s thigh, “You’d be a natural, mate. You’re a brilliant wizard and it seems like it’d be perfect for you right now. See the world, meet some new people, get into some dangerous situations.”
Harry blew his fringe out of his eyes and mulled it over. He loved hearing Seamus’s stories, all the scrapes with ‘the boys’. It sounded like being back at Hogwarts but without a snake-mad maniac trying to off him at every turn. And though he didn’t hate being an Auror, he knew deep down he didn’t love it. He’d done it because, well, what else was he meant to do after killing old snakehead? Just like dating Ginny and being straight and all the rest, it was what he thought he was supposed to do, so he did it. He hadn’t really thought about what he wanted, not really. And right now, getting into a bit of trouble with Seamus and a bunch of lads sounded pretty fucking wonderful.
“Only problem is,” Seamus said, hand stilling above Harry’s knee, “We’d have to stop doing this.”
“Shagging?” Harry asked.
“Yeah. I don’t fuck the blokes who work with me. Doesn’t bother me what you get up to, but I make it a rule not to shag my employees. Less messy that way.”
“Seems fair.”
Harry looked down at Seamus, his now familiar naked body glistening with a soft sheen of sweat. Harry would miss sleeping with him, but he was also excited about the prospect of giving this a whirl with other blokes. A lot of other blokes if he was honest. Seamus looked up at him and Harry grinned.
“I’m game.” Harry said.
“Grand,” Seamus said, returning the grin. Seamus ran a hand up the inside of Harry’s thigh and Harry raised an eyebrow.
“Portkey activates next Tuesday,” Seamus said slyly, “So, technically you’re not my employee for another three days.”
“Is that so?”
Harry took Seamus’s hand from his thigh and brought it to his lips, kissing the soft pads of his fingers.
“It is.” Seamus said, shuffling up the bed.
“A lot we can get up to in three days.” Harry said, sucking two of Seamus’s fingers into his mouth.
“You’d better fucking believe it.”
----
After three exhausting days pushing Seamus’s bed to its limit, Harry started the next exhilarating chapter of his life and became one of Seamus’s boys. He invested in a dragonhide suit, kitted himself out in camping gear and brushed up on his defensive spells.
For the first year, Harry hardly set foot in England, sleeping rough in the backwaters of Europe, Africa, Australia, whenever there was work.
Harry also got his wish of exploring his newfound homosexuality and threw himself into it with – what Seamus jokingly called – gay abandon. It turned out that being a decent looking curse breaker with a pocket full of treasure and an easy smile was all most blokes needed to invite Harry into their bed. Harry learned how to say, “Want to fuck?” in twelve different languages.
Eventually, Harry told Ron and Hermione.
“How long has this been going on?” Ron asked over a beer in their sitting room. Harry had just got back from a week in Spain and his olive skin had turned a deep golden brown.
“Probably my entire life.” Harry said.
“When you were with Ginny?” Ron asked, giving him a calculating look.
“No!” Harry said, “But it was one of the reasons why we broke up.”
“I’d imagine so.” Ron said, dryly.
“I think what Ron means to say,” Hermione said, flicking Ron a scathing look, jiggling a fussy Hugo on her lap, “is that we love you no matter who you fancy.”
“Of course we still bloody love him, ‘Mione,” Ron said, looking affronted, “Why would we ever stop loving him?”
“I dunno,” Harry said, the tightness in his chest loosening a fraction, “You never know how people are going to react.”
Ron scoffed then clocked how nervous Harry looked and hurriedly leaned forward.
“Fuck mate, sorry if that wasn’t bleeding obvious,” Ron placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “It’s bloody brilliant. I have a gay brother, gay best mate, and I’m sure there’s loads of other – queer…” Ron looked to Hermione for confirmation he was using the right word and she rolled her eyes, “…people in my life. And I love all of them.”
Harry placed a hand over Ron’s and smiled. Hermione reached over and placed her hand on top of Harry’s then kissed him on the cheek.
“Sorry I didn’t mention it earlier.” Harry said, leaning back in his chair.
“You told us when you were ready,” Hermione said, untangling Hugo’s fingers from her hair.
“So,” Ron said, cocking an eyebrow, “You got a bloke?”
“Ron!” Hermione admonished.
“Got a few,” Harry said, finishing his beer.
Ron looked up at the ceiling contemplatively, “Often wondered what it would be like to shag a bloke.”
“Oh, really?” Hermione said and Harry laughed.
“Not that I ever would, mind. But some of them are quite fit.”
“They are,” Harry agreed.
Hermione shot Ron a contemptuous look but there was laughter in her eyes.
Ron leaned across to Harry, and said in a stage whisper, “Imagine there’d be a lot less talking about feelings and watching you tone with a bloke.”
Harry shook his head, helping himself to some crisps from the bowl on the coffee table.
Hermione stood and dumped Hugo unceremoniously in Ron’s lap, “We’re going to talk about this later.”
“Don’t I know it,” Ron said, eyes firmly on Hermione’s arse as she stalked into the kitchen.
“You’re playing with fire, mate,” Harry said.
“Please,” Ron said, giving Harry a wink, “This is just foreplay.”
------
There was only one problem with Harry’s new career. It wasn’t the travel, or the lack of fresh vegetables in his diet, or the lack of hot showers, or the mild drinking problem he was developing. All of those things were manageable and a pretty great trade-off for the white-knuckle thrill ride that was using his magic in creative ways, getting his hands dirty and feeling like he was doing something he loved for the first time in his life.
The problem was, every so often, there was a lull in the work and Harry was forced to cool his heels in England. It made him twitchy as shit.
“Mate, think of it as a holiday,” Seamus said over beers at the pub one Friday night. It was bucketing down outside, and they sat next to a roaring fire.
“Our entire job is one giant holiday,” Harry moaned, “This is torture!”
“There’s plenty of work in the pipeline and we could all do with a bit of downtime.”
“Not me. I don’t need down time. I need up time. I need to something interesting for fuck’s sake –”
“Christ alive , give it a rest, mate.” Seamus said, draining his pint. Harry groaned theatrically and lowered his head on his folded arms.
“Speaking of interesting…” Seamus said softly.
Harry peered through his fringe at Seamus who was looking very intently over Harry’s shoulder. Harry turned and saw an extremely handsome man in his mid-thirties with shrewd blue eyes and a shock of curly dark hair standing in the doorway. He shook off his umbrella and removed his soaking coat. Harry ran an appreciative eye over his generous thighs and then smothered a small gasp as the door flung open behind him and Draco Malfoy bustled into the pub, pale blonde hair plastered to his face.
“Fuck me,” Seamus whispered.
Draco shrugged out of his dripping coat revealing an expensive looking cream cable knit jumper that clung to his chest over dark grey trousers. Draco hung his coat on the rack then glanced around the pub, locking eyes with Harry.
Harry raised an eyebrow and Draco blinked a few times before giving Harry an imperceptible nod. He leant in and spoke to his friend before heading to the bar. Harry watched as Draco leaned casually against the wood, eyes glued to his arse as he rested one leg against the footrail.
“He’s looking fit,” Seamus said.
“He is,” Harry agreed. He tore his eyes away from Draco and back to Seamus, who had his arms folded, a wry look on his face.
“What?” Harry asked.
“Oh, we’re playing that game, are we?” Seamus said.
“Fuck off,” Harry said as a shadow fell over their table. Harry looked up at Draco’s handsome friend who was grinning madly at Seamus.
“Finnegan, you fuckin’ dog! How long have you been in London?”
The man stuck out his hand and Seamus shook it enthusiastically, getting out of his seat to give him a hug, slapping him fondly on the back.
“Got here yesterday.”
“Why didn’t you reply to my owl?”
“I was getting ‘round to it.”
The man grinned, showing off slightly crooked teeth. He flicked a few stray drops of water off his sharp nose and Harry took the opportunity to properly check him out. The man turned to Harry and did the same.
“Harry, this is Alex Morris. He used to be one of my boys until he decided to go to the dark side.” Seamus elbowed Alex in the ribs, and he feigned being winded, “Alex, this is Harry Potter.”
Alex scoffed, “I know that, Finnegan.”
Alex stuck his hand out to Harry who shook it, holding it a fraction too long, enjoying the feeling of his soft palm and firm grip.
“Dark side?” Harry asked as Alex sat down in the booth next to Seamus.
“Alex is an Unspeakable.” Seamus said.
“Guilty,” Alex said, flashing Harry another grin.
“Oh yeah?” Harry asked, “What’s that like?”
Alex shrugged, “Wish I could tell you, but they’ll curse my bollocks six ways from Sunday if I do.”
“Really?” Harry asked. The idea of anything to do with Alex’s bollocks made Harry acutely aware of his own, which were tingling pleasantly.
“Really.” Alex said, leaning forward conspiratorially.
Harry was about to say that it didn’t sound like such a bad job if that’s what they got up to, when a familiar clipped voice came from over his shoulder.
“Don’t listen to a word Morris says, Potter. He could bullshit for England.”
Harry leaned back and saw Draco standing at the end of the booth, two pints clasped between his long fingers. He’d cast a drying charm on his hair somewhere between the door and the booth and Harry noticed how it curled at the nape of his neck. It suited him.
Draco sat down in the booth next to Harry, pushing a pint across the table to Alex.
“Cheers, mate.” Alex said, wrapping an arm around Seamus, “So what have you been up to, you handsome fucker?”
“Just got back from Belarus.” Seamus said.
“Fun?” Alex asked.
Seamus flicked his eyes to Harry who smiled, “You remember what it’s like.”
“Aye, that I do,” Alex said, a dreamy look on his face. Alex launched into a story about getting stuck in a cursed forest with Seamus in Brazil for three weeks and Harry took the opportunity to study Draco out of the corner of his eye.
It had to be at least eight years since he’d last seen the Slytherin. It was during the Malfoy’s trials, in those hazy days after the war. Harry remembered Draco, straight backed and face inscrutable beside his equally poised mother. Harry had watched as Lucius was sentenced to Azkaban and Narcissa and Draco’s twin masks of composure never faltered. There had been photos of them in The Prophet , many column inches debating the merit of their lighter sentences. Harry wasn’t sure what public opinion was on the Malfoy’s these days as he hadn’t picked up that rag in years.
The man sitting beside Harry was a far cry from the boy in the Ministry courtroom. He sat with one delicate leg crossed over the other, a well-polished shoe inches from Harry’s leg. His fine-boned hands rested gently on his knee, silver signet ring flashing in the firelight. Draco had a smattering of stubble on his cheeks, the only indication that he was no longer a schoolboy. The Malfoy-Black genes were clearly going to serve him well for the rest of his life.
Harry watched, transfixed, as Draco picked up his pint. There was a flash of a pale wrist at the sleeve of his jumper, and Harry was back in the Potions classroom, watching Draco’s delicate wrist flying over his parchment as he scribbled notes in a tidy script. He remembered the way Draco’s mouth worked the end of his quill when he was concentrating. Were his lips still as full as he remembered? Harry thought he could risk a quick peek and flicked his eyes up to Draco’s face. His look was met with those familiar cool, grey eyes. The light from the fruit machine in the corner flashed, turning Draco’s them temporarily green. He fixed Harry with a bemused stare.
“You’re looking well,” Draco said, voice low and smooth.
“I was thinking the same thing about you,” Harry said, matching Draco’s low tone.
Since he’d already been caught looking, Harry thought he might as well make the most of it. He twisted slightly in his seat and leaned into Draco’s space. Harry noticed the finest lines around Draco’s eyes which crinkled at the corners when he smiled. His skin was flawless, almost translucent in glow of the fire. And his lips were, impossibly, even fuller than he remembered. Draco ran his tongue over his bottom lip and Harry adjusted in his seat. Draco noticed, of course, the perceptive fucker, and the corner of his mouth tugged into a delighted smile.
“Your new career seems to agree with you,” Draco said, rubbing a hand over his jaw, “It was the talk of the office when you quit in a snit and left the female Weasley high and dry.”
Harry rolled his eyes, “Wouldn’t say that’s exactly what happened.”
“Then what exactly did happen?” Draco asked.
Harry shrugged, “Found something that suited me better.”
Draco tilted his head, “Are we talking about your current employment or Ginerva?”
“Both.”
Harry took a sip of his pint and gave Draco the look he had honed over the last few years. The one that made even the most chaste of married men forget their wives and breathlessly suggest they find somewhere more private.
“I see,” Draco swallowed, and Harry watched his Adam’s apple bob. Harry saw the pulse point at Draco’s neck beat rapidly and Harry thought about leaning forward to lick it, suck on it until that perfect pale skin bruised. It would look so pretty.
A foot nudged Harry under the table and he tore his eyes away from Draco’s neck. He looked at Seamus who seemed to be waiting for an answer to a question Harry had completely missed. Harry shuffled back in his seat, painfully aware of the growing tightness in his trousers and the scent of something familiar and sweet in his nostrils.
Seamus rolled his eyes as Harry asked him to repeat himself.
“Alex was just saying that he might be able to help you with a job over the next few weeks.”
Harry turned to Alex who also seemed to be watching the exchange between him and Draco with barely concealed mirth.
“Not sure if it’s hit the press yet but some Muggles were demolishing a building in Billingsgate and discovered this ruddy great Roman bathhouse under the foundations,” Alex said, eyes wide with excitement.
“Except it’s not just your run of the mill ruddy great Roman bathhouse, is it?” Alex continued, settling into the rhythm of his story. Harry could easily imagine him as one of Seamus’s boys, telling grandiose tales while they hunkered down around a campfire.
“It’s a wizarding Roman bathhouse with some seriously fucked up dark magic seeping out of the stones. I don’t know what those Popish buggers got up to, but I’m glad they fucked off back to Rome. Makes the crooks you used to chase look like sweetie pies.”
“Sounds like some of the places we visit,” Harry said.
Alex nodded, “Yeah, but most of the places you visit don’t have forty clueless Muggles blundering in willy-nilly. Before you can say Statue of Secrecy they coped a beating worse than the English Quidditch team and are taking up half the beds in St. Mungos.”
“Oh shit.” Harry said.
“Shit all the way down, mate.” Alex said, draining his pint, “Now it’s all hands-on deck at the Ministry. Half my team has been sequestered to Obliviate the cursed Muggles families and the other half are at the bathhouse trying to clear the place of all sorts of fucked up magic.”
“That part sounds kind of fun,” Harry said, and Draco chuckled next to him.
“Knew you’d get off on that shit,” Draco muttered under his breath.
“Don’t want to get your hands dirty, Malfoy?” Harry asked, nudging Draco’s leg.
Draco turned his head and gave Harry a piercing look, “You have no idea what my hands are capable of.”
With mammoth effort Harry pushed down the image of Draco’s delicate fingers wrapped around the dirtiest parts of him. Just.
“It’s why I was thrilled Finnegan was in town,” Alex said, turning to Seamus giving him a dazzling smile, “What do you say, mate? We need all the help we can get and you’re the best there is.”
“Nice try, mate, but no fucking way.”
“Seamus, c’mon…” Alex said but Seamus cut him off.
“You know I don’t fuck with the Ministry. Not bloody worth it. Too much red tape with those crooked cunts.”
“Hey, now,” Alex said, a look of mock effrontery on his face, “I’m one of those crooked cunts!”
“And I’m still not over it.” Seamus said, getting up to walk to the bar. He mimed knocking back a drink to Harry and he nodded.
“Don’t listen to that Irish prick, Harry,” Alex said, shuffling into Seamus’s empty seat, “You know he’s a bloody drama queen. We need you. And you can’t imagine how many people will be lining up to kiss my arse if I brought Harry Fucking Potter back to the fold.”
“He’s not folding shit for you, Morris!” Seamus yelled belligerently from the bar.
“Seamus Marigold Finnegan, I swear to God –” Alex leapt out of his seat and put Seamus in a headlock.
Harry grinned, watching them wrestle. Harry felt Draco lean closer. “The magic down there really is something else.”
“Yeah?” Harry said, “Still into that are you?”
Draco shook his head, “Trying to get me to incriminate myself, Auror Potter?”
Harry shrugged and waited. That was his trademark move in interrogations. Remain silent and let the suspect talk themselves into a corner. He found most people couldn’t handle awkward silences, especially when they had something to hide.
“I’ll have you know I’m an extremely good boy these days…” Draco said, and Harry snorted, “…in certain areas of my life at least.”
Harry tilted his head in acknowledgement. It had been a long time since he thought Draco was a dark wizard. A brat and insufferably posh, yes. But evil? No.
“You have to admit though,” Draco said, running his finger over the rim of his pint glass, “It is thrilling being around all that dark magic. Not to wield it, you understand. But just being around it. Its power can really stir something…” Draco turned and gave Harry his full attention, his full lips parted, “…primal.”
Harry swallowed, tongue thick and heavy in his mouth, “Primal?”
“You of all people should understand. Why do you crawl into filthy caves and follow Finnegan around to inhospitable corners of the world doing Merlin knows what if not for the thrill of it?” Draco lowered his voice further, “You get off on it.”
Harry could feel Draco’s thigh pressed against his leg and he wanted to place a hand on top of it and feel the taught muscles beneath. He wanted to rip those trousers off and find out if the flesh underneath was as soft as he imagined.
“Is that how you feel?” Harry asked.
Draco’s thigh twitched and Harry was impossibly hard.
“You know I do.”
Alex slammed two pints down in front of Harry and sat down in the booth.
“So, Potter. You’ll do it? Yes? Make a miserable Unspeakable the happiest boy in the world?”
Harry took a long pull of his pint.
“I’ll think about it.”
They sat in the booth for another companionable hour, getting several rounds in. Alex told story after story, teasing Seamus mercilessly, who teased Alex right back. Harry tried to follow the conversation, but he was hopelessly distracted. Thoughts of Draco in his Unspeakable robes bustling through Ministry corridors, Draco’s eyes twinkling in the soft pub lighting, Draco taking off his cable knit jumper revealing his lean forearms, the sharp angles of his collarbone poking out the top of his crisp white shirt. Harry realised he was memorising the way Draco’s cheeks coloured from the warmth of the fire and the drink.
Eventually Draco said he needed to turn in and hustled a pleasantly pissed Alex into their coats. Alex made Harry swear he’d owl him tomorrow and wouldn’t leave until Harry promised he’d do his best. Harry watched them leave, Draco’s sharp eyes giving Harry a final glance as they disappeared into the night. Harry turned back to Seamus, arms folded over his chest.
“Harry. Mate. No.”
“I didn’t say I’d take the job!” Harry said, defensively, “I had to say something, Alex was very persistent.”
“He’s mercilessly. But I’m not talking about the fucking job, and you bloody well know it.”
Harry bit his lip and looked down at his fingernails.
“Harry. I’m serious. Terrible idea.”
“I love a terrible idea.”
“Christ, I know.” Seamus sighed.
Harry narrowed his eyes, “Thought you didn’t care who I shagged?”
Seamus threw his hands up, “Don’t say I didn’t fucking warn you.”
Harry grinned.
----
Harry woke the next morning, head fuzzy and breath smelling like he’d licked the wrong end of a hinkypunk. He showered, ate three fried eggs and brewed an alarmingly strong pot of coffee. He sat at the kitchen table looking around the crumbling ruin of Grimmauld Place then got to his feet.
“Fuck this,” he muttered, striding through the hall.
He walked to the post office and owled Alex, letting him know he was happy to help with the bathhouse until the work with Seamus picked up. Alex replied an hour later with a hastily scribbled note brimming with effusive exclamation marks, listing the address. He told Harry to meet him at 9 o’clock the next morning.
Harry spent the day half-heartedly cleaning Grimmauld Place, and sorting through the mountains of mail that piled up while he was out of the country. He sat down in the sitting room with a beer and glanced at the Black Tapestry, zoning in on the familiar face in the bottom right corner.
Harry’s thoughts had been firmly on Draco since he left the pub the previous night. He remembered the way the fire danced over Draco’s cheekbones, the way the tips of his hair curled, brushing the back of his neck. His warm thigh pressing against him under the table and the sound of his voice, crisp vowels falling out of his mouth like spring raindrops.
He realised with a jolt this feeling wasn’t new. Ron and Hermione had constantly berated him for his Malfoy fixation at school. In hindsight – without distraction of a snake obsessed maniac trying to murder him – Harry could admit his schoolboy determination was, perhaps, a little more pointed than he realised. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied deciphering Dumbledore’s riddles since the ripe old age of eleven, he may have come to this conclusion earlier.
Now, as a fully grown, card-carrying homosexual, free of the onerous task of saving the wizarding world, he knew one thing for certain. He wanted to shag the living daylights out of Draco Malfoy.
-----
“Mate, you could have knocked me over with a sugarquill when I got your owl!” Alex shook Harry’s hand enthusiastically, a delighted grin plastered on his face.
They were standing in the foyer of a rundown Muggle building, a stone’s throw from the river as a small army of wixen bustled around, shooting Harry curious looks.
“Happy to help out.”
“It’s an absolute shitshow, I’m afraid.” Alex said, gesturing behind him, “Every department shirking responsibility. But also, not wanting to let anyone know they are shirking. You remember how it is.”
Alex turned and beckoned Harry to a table covered in parchment and a haphazard stack of mugs.
“Tea?” Alex asked.
“Please.”
Alex waved his wand and two mugs jumped out of the rack. Harry looked around, hoping to spot a familiar blonde head in the general chaos.
“Malfoy’s back at the office today,” Alex said and Harry turned his head sharply. Alex was watching him, eyes innocent and wide.
“Er, good to know.” Harry said, just managing to keep the disappointment out of his voice.
After spending more time than he cared to admit starting at Draco’s floating head on the tapestry the previous day, Harry had let his letters fall to the floor. He then engaged in a very thorough and satisfying wank. He came imagining Draco, naked and desperate on the sitting room rug, wondering what it would be like to settle between those impossibly long legs and run his tongue over every secret crevice. There had been two more wanks after that – one in the shower and one in bed before he fell asleep. Alex’s smirk suggested he knew every filthy thought that had floated through Harry’s head in the last forty-eight hours.
“Funniest thing,” Alex said, handing Harry a steaming mug, “When I told Malfoy you’d be joining us he asked if he could stay at the Ministry to work on – well, I can’t tell you. But I assure you, it’s not particularly urgent.”
Harry took a large gulp of tea, wincing as it burned his throat, “Very diligent.”
Alex chuckled, “We talking about the same bloke? Posh git who does whatever the fuck he wants, whenever he wants? That guy?”
Harry shrugged. Alex nodded thoughtfully, “You two weren’t mates at school, were you?”
Harry barked out a laugh, “Surely you know the answer to that. The whole bloody world knows that.”
“See that’s what interests me,” Alex said, gesturing for Harry to follow him through a corridor to a set of concrete steps, “You might not be aware, but your name comes up a lot at the Ministry.”
Harry raised his eyebrows and Alex nodded, “You’re pretty bloody famous, man! All that shit you did as a kid. Then mysteriously leaving the Aurors and becoming a ruggedly handsome curse-breaker.”
Harry bit his lip, blushing slightly and Alex shrugged apologetically, “It’s just the truth, mate, sorry.”
“Thank you?”
Alex turned to Harry as they got to the bottom of the steps, “What I’m getting at is, people love to talk about you. But not our Draco.”
Harry furrowed his brow, “No?”
“No,” Alex said, “And you know Draco – well, maybe you don’t – but trust me, he’s a non-stop chatter box. Can’t shut him up – not that I can talk – that’s why we’ve always got on. You get my point, though?”
Harry wasn’t sure he did and said so. Alex sighed and shook his head.
“My point is, I’ve always found it interesting that someone like Draco, who loves a natter and was pretty fucking intimate with you at school –”
“We were never intimate at school,” Harry cut Alex off, who waved his hand impatiently.
“But he knew you? You were in the same year?”
“We were.”
“Curious why he never talks about it. In fact, he goes out of his way to avoid mentioning you. It’s like there’s some kind of anti-Potter Repello on him and he completely clams up.”
They arrived at a large wooden door and Alex leaned against it.
“I don’t know what to say, mate.” Harry said, running a hand through his hair, “Maybe he still hates me? He did when we were at school.”
“Fuck’s sake, Potter,” Alex gave Harry a pitying stare, “Nobody warned me you’d be so bloody thick.”
Alex turned and pushed through the door. After a deep breath, Harry followed.
----
Harry spent a very bizarre week at Billingsgate working with Alex and his team of peculiar Unspeakables. Each one was more eccentric than the last and Harry wondered what Draco was like among this bunch of kooks.
They weren’t lying when they said there was some fucked up magic in the bathhouse. Harry was eager to get to work but was quickly reminded of the laborious bureaucracy that was innate to the Ministry. Everything needed to be checked and triple checked, forms filled in, each department making sure they would get the appropriate credit. Harry thought about Seamus vehemently refusing to get involved and found he couldn’t blame him for it.
After six days, Harry felt like he’d accomplished very little. He’d managed to remove twelve cursed bathtubs, deactivated a water fountain that spouted an inky substance that tried to choke anyone who walked past, discovered a homicidal poltergeist, the most gnarly boggart Harry had ever encountered, along with some properly rare treasure. Seamus would have given his left testicle to get his hands on it.
Unspeakables, it turned out, loved a knock off. Harry joined Alex and his team at the pub most afternoons, everyone eager to stand him a pint. As they sat down at a table on the street to enjoy the unseasonably warm weather Harry spotted Seamus walking around the corner.
“You got your fucking wish, mate,” Seamus said, plonking down next to him, “Job lined up in Norway. We Portkey out in two days.”
Harry gave Seamus a small smile and Alex cocked his head. “You don’t have to go with him, you know. Still plenty of work to be done here.”
“Don’t you start, Morris.” Seamus growled.
“I’ll be there tomorrow, at least,” Harry said to Alex, “Want to see what’s in that sealed chamber. Been wanting to get in all week. Still waiting on the ruddy paperwork to go through.”
“Guess we’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Alex said, smiling sweetly.
Seamus flung a coaster at his head.
----
Harry slept terribly that night, not able to get comfortable, turning like a rotisserie chicken under a hot grill. He tried wanking, a sure-fire way to tucker him out, but his mind was full of corn-silk soft hair and shrewd grey eyes. Even after a spectacular orgasm, sleep remained evasive. As the sun started to creep through the mouldy curtains he flung back the duvet, pulling on yesterday’s jeans and t-shirt.
If this was going to be his last day at the bathhouse, he wasn’t going to let a little thing like Ministry paperwork get in the way of finding out what was in that bloody chamber. Doing something ill-advised with little prior planning was what he did best. Determinedly, he grabbed his jacket and wand, apparating with a crack.
A lone security wizard barely looked up from his day-old Prophet as Harry strode through the bathhouse foyer. The halls were eerily quiet compared to the frenetic rush of people that usually milled about. Harry flew down the steps, light on the balls of his feet.
When he got to the oversized stone door, he noticed it was ajar. Harry could sense the sizzle of magic, thick and heavy in the air. He saw a bright flash on the other side and tentatively peered around the door, wand raised.
The chamber was perfectly round, with a high domed roof. There was a crumbling throne situated on a dais in the middle of the room, surrounded by murky grey water. Sitting on the throne was some kind of apparition that Harry would later describe as “like a dragon and a troll had a baby but was also a vampire”.
The Dragon-Troll-Vampire was summoning the murky water to form a wall around the throne which rippled and heaved unnaturally. The stone walls crackled and hummed, dust thick in the air, an ominous rumbling sound echoing through the chamber. Standing flush against the wall, with a look of barely contained glee on his face was Draco Malfoy.
Harry stepped into the chamber, throwing up a shield charm between Draco and the throne.
“Alright, Malfoy?” Harry yelled over the rumbling and Draco turned sharply, blonde hair whipping across his face. He rolled his eyes dramatically.
“Of course it’s you! It’s always fucking you, isn’t it?”
“Thought you might be pleased to see me.” Harry said, glancing at the wall of water that was building behind the shield.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Potter.”
“Where have you been all week?” Harry asked.
“I’ve been busy.” Draco said, eyes firmly on the Dragon-Troll-Vampire.
“That’s not what I’ve heard,” Harry said, stepping between Draco and the shield, “You’ve been avoiding me.”
The walls shook again as an ear-piercing shriek erupted from behind the shield. Harry remained still, eyes firmly on Draco.
“Is this really the time?” Draco asked, gesturing impatiently over Harry’s shoulder.
“What are you doing here?” Harry asked.
“What does it bloody look like?”
“Did the paperwork come through?”
“You know it didn’t,” Draco yelled.
“So, you thought, fuck it, I’ll just let myself in and have a poke around?”
Draco fixed Harry with a piercing stare, “Seems like you had the same idea.”
“Too bloody right I did.”
Harry could see Draco fighting back a grin and took a step closer.
“Why have you been avoiding me?” Harry asked.
“I haven’t!”
“You have.”
“Fuck off, Potter. We need to deal with this before we…”
“Admit you were avoiding me and then we can deal with your ugly friend.” Harry was close enough that he could see the faint freckles on the bridge of Draco’s nose. He’d never noticed those before.
“You’re delusional if you think...”
“Admit it!”
“Fine, Merlin , yes! I’ve been avoiding you!”
“Why?” Harry asked.
“Why do you fucking think?”
“I honestly have no idea.”
Draco let out an exasperated breath and glanced at the throne. Harry was confident his shield charm would hold for at least another two minutes, depending on what was being thrown at it. He didn’t budge and Draco’s eyes snapped back to his face.
“Because I can’t trust myself around you, you fucking arsehole!”
“Why not?”
“Don’t make me fucking spell it out, Potter. It’s unseemly!”
“If we’re talking unseemly,” Harry said, blithely ignoring the chaos behind him, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, since the pub,” Draco’s eyes darted to Harry’s mouth then back to his face.
Harry felt the shield charm strain but found he didn’t give a fig. The entire building could have caved in on top of him and he wouldn’t have noticed. He only had eyes for Draco.
“Don’t think I’m impressed by your composure under pressure.” Draco said, despite the fact that he seemed quite impressed.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
They watched each other as the walls rumbled. Draco stepped forward, close enough that Harry could feel his breath, hot and sweet on his cheek.
“Are you going to kiss me, then?” Draco said, lips curling into a perfect smile, “Or are we both going to let that ugly fucker drown us?”
Harry paused for a heartbeat then lunged at Draco, pinning him against the rough stone wall, sure hands cupping his face. Draco grabbed a handful of Harry’s hair, pulling him closer. The kiss was rough and filthy, mouths hot and possessive. Draco’s tongue was wet and insistent in Harry’s mouth and Harry pushed his hips against Draco’s, feeling sharp hipbones dig into his thigh. Draco let out the most delicious moan and Harry was feverish with desire. Draco tasted like toothpaste and tea and that sweet scent, like honeysuckle in spring, was everywhere. Draco tugged Harry’s head back and they broke the kiss, panting heavily.
Harry stared at into Draco’s wide grey eyes through his crooked glasses and said, “I think I’ve wanted to do that since I was eleven years old.”
“You’re insufferable.” Draco said, licking a stripe up Harry’s neck making him shudder. He murmured in Harry’s ear, “You’ve kissed me, now what? Is this when we die?”
“Not yet,” Harry said, “I’m not remotely done with you.”
“Promises, promises.”
Harry placed a hand on Draco’s chest, pushing him back against the wall and kissed him again. With his other hand he raised his wand. He thought of what it would be like to be naked underneath Draco as he whispered a litany of insults into his ear and wordlessly conjured a Patronous. The brilliant pearly stag erupted out of his wand and galloped out the stone door.
“Reinforcements,” Harry said as Draco watched it disappear, “Just in case.”
“I’m brimming with confidence,” Draco drawled, and Harry grinned, swivelling on his heel as the shield dissolved.
He raised his wand and cast Incendio which hit the wall of water, turning it into a fine mist, settling over the chamber. The Dragon-Troll-Vampire shrieked in frustration.
“He’s not pleased with you.” Draco said.
“We need to get him off that throne.” Harry said.
“Why?”
“See that glint of gold underneath?” Harry yelled over the rumbling, “He’s protecting some kind of hoard.”
Draco stepped beside Harry, wand ready, “What do you suggest?”
“Piss him the fuck off.”
Harry cast a tricky shield charm variation between the throne and Draco so he could send curses through but not get hit in return.
“Keep him occupied!” Harry yelled as Draco kept up a steady stream of hexes.
“You sure this is going to hold?” Draco yelled.
“You’d better hope so!”
“I fucking hate you!”
Harry stalked around to the back of the throne and noticed the wings of the creature wrapped around it, moulded to the stone. If Harry could get the Dragon-Troll-Vampire to move even a few inches, it might be enough.
“Is that all you’ve got, Malfoy?” Harry yelled.
“You think you’re being cute but you’re not!” Draco yelled back.
As Draco hit the Dragon-Troll-Vampire with a powerful stinging hex Seamus and Alex burst through the stone door, wands drawn.
“About time!” Harry yelled.
“I hope you know I’m equal parts furious and excited by this turn of events!” Alex yelled, falling into line with Draco.
“What do you need, Harry?” Seamus asked, all business.
“We need to dislodge this princess from the throne.”
“On it,” Seamus yelled.
The air was thick with magic as the three men flung hexes and Harry watched as the creature’s wings fluttered imperceptibly.
“Malfoy, get over here!”
Draco edged around the wall to stand beside Harry. His forehead was covered in sweat and his cheeks were rosy and flushed. He looked delicious.
“Hi,” Harry said, eyes on Draco’s parted lips.
“Fuck’s sake, Potter. Focus.”
“Right,” Harry said, dragging his gaze back to the throne, “I’m going to cast a summoning charm on its wings and if you see even a hint of stone, hit it with everything you’ve got. Bombarda Maxima should do it.”
Draco nodded and bit his lip, “Sure that’ll work? A simple summoning charm?”
Harry gave Draco his most dazzling smile, “It’s not simple when I do it.”
“Insufferable,” Draco muttered, tone fond.
“Oi!” Alex’s muffled voice rang out from the other side of the room, “If you two are flirting right now I’m going to be very fucking unimpressed.”
Harry grabbed Draco’s hand and laced their fingers together, closing his eyes, breathing deeply. He thought about that first time he’d mastered the summoning charm, facing down the Horntail. He drew on that memory, and all the subsequent times he’d used the charm. He concentrated on the magic radiating from Draco and the magic beneath his feet imbued in the stone, willing the spell to build and grow, his intention honed like an arrow. He opened his eyes, raising his wand and said in a clear and true voice, “ Accio .”
The Dragon-Troll-Vampire let out a deafening roar and the walls vibrated alarmingly. Harry ignored Seamus and Alex’s cries and kept his eyes focused on the wing, on Draco’s firm grip, his sweat-slicked palm hot against his own. The corner of the wing lifted imperceptibly, and Harry shouted, “ Now !”
Draco, lightning fast, hit the throne with a powerful Bombarda and the stone floor cracked and trembled, the roof crumbling above them. Draco threw himself against Harry and they fell backwards as a chunk of stone fell from the roof, missing them by inches. Draco lay prone over Harry as the ceiling fell around them. Harry cast another shield charm and the chunks of stone bounced off it harmlessly. Harry stared up at Draco who had a cut above his right eyebrow, a bright red slash against his flawless skin.
“You’re going to be in such shit for this, Malfoy,” Harry said.
“Are we talking about the property destruction or when you attacked me with your mouth?”
“Some people call that kissing.”
“You mauled my face!”
“It’s such a pretty face.”
“Merlin, you’re such a sap.”
The rubble kept falling against the shield, but Harry was oblivious to it all. Draco’s lithe body stretched on top of him, his thigh slotted between Harry’s legs, Draco’s hands were bracketed on either side of Harry’s head. Harry reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of Draco’s face, running his thumb gently back and forth over the shell of his ear. Draco’s hips twitched and Harry grinned.
“I don’t trust myself around you either.” Harry said.
Draco’s eyes flashed and he looked like he was about to say something when he was interrupted by a furious voice.
“I will never forgive you,” Alex yelled, standing over them, wand raised, “for the truly disgusting amount of paperwork I will have to fill out because of this!”
----
The next few hours were utter chaos as the full force of the Ministry descended on the bathhouse.
Once Alex made sure neither Harry nor Draco were mortally wounded, he whisked Harry away to one of the empty offices in the building above, fashioned into a makeshift first aid station. A medi-witch who looked like she’d been alive when Grindlewald was still a glint in his mother’s eye ran her wand over Harry, checking him for injuries.
“It’s his head you need to check, Marjorie,” Alex said, leaning against a battered filing cabinet, “I’m convinced there’s gillyweed between his ears.”
Marjorie ignored Alex and healed a minor cut on Harry’s forearm.
“Just what the fuck were you thinking?” Alex asked, like he already knew the answer.
Harry shrugged, then winced as Marjorie poked a bruise on his chest with her wand, “Just needed to see what was in there.”
Alex groaned, sitting down heavily on an office chair, “People warned me about you.”
“Hey, if we are throwing blame around,” Harry said, pushing his glasses up his nose, “technically it wasn’t me who opened the chamber.”
“Don’t think I’m not fully aware of that,” Alex said, eyes to the ceiling.
“No permanent damage,” Marjorie said, stowing her wand in her robes, her knees cracking ominously as she rose unsteadily to her feet. Harry placed a steadying hand on her elbow, and she patted his arm, “Apart from the obvious death wish.”
Harry shot her a grin as she shook her head and shuffled to the door.
“Thanks, Marge,” Alex said, running a hand over his face, “See you Thursday.”
“Don’t forget the rock cakes this time.” Marjorie huffed, shuffling out the door.
Harry shot Alex a puzzled look and he flapped his hand, “We’re in a Gobstones team together, Marge was three-times world champion.”
“Is Malfoy in a lot of trouble?” Harry asked and Alex frowned.
“Technically, yes. He’ll get raked over the coals at the Ministry and they will think of some kind of punishment but honestly,” Alex seemed to be fighting back a smile, “I expected this.”
“You did?” Harry asked.
“Not that I’m allowed to talk about it, but this is nothing. You don’t know half the shit my team gets up to. No one does. That’s kind of the whole point.”
“Really?” Harry asked, laughing.
“Yeah, you’ve met them. Bunch of lunatics.” Alex smiled fondly.
“What even is your job anyway?” Harry asked.
“Couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to, Potter.” Alex said cheerfully, “But it’s the best.”
Alex stood and brushed the dust off his robes, “Right, I’ve got to go deal with some monumentally irritated colleagues and get you to fill out approximately four-hundred forms. Goes without saying that your services are no longer required, and you cannot speak of this to anyone or you’ll disappear into the depths of the Ministry cells for the next decade.”
Harry nodded and Alex gave him a shrewd look, “Doesn’t seem like you’re too cut up about it. Now you got what you wanted.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, “What did I want?”
“Oh, shut up, you twat. Stay here.”
Alex walked out of the door in a flurry of dust, slamming it behind him. Harry leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
The adrenaline from earlier was fading and his mind was sluggish. He knew he should feel guilty, but he found he couldn’t muster it. Predictably, his thoughts turned to Draco. The way his body felt lying on top of him, the thrill of his mouth, wet and eager against him. He realised Malfoy was probably still in the building, unless he’d been whisked off to the Ministry for his punishment. He knew Alex told him to stay put, but when had he ever done what he was told where Draco Malfoy was involved?
Harry deliberated for all of three seconds before he grabbed his wand and stood up, striding to the door. As he reached for the handle there was a sharp knock from the other side and Harry froze. Surely Alex couldn’t be back so quickly?
Harry opened the door and there stood Draco, like an apparition, covered in dust, hair a complete mess and his forehead shining from a recently healed cut. He looked Harry up and down, assessing.
“Are you injured?” Draco asked.
“Only in the head, according to Alex.”
“He said the same thing to me.”
Harry grinned and leaned against the doorframe, “He said you won’t get in too much trouble.”
“Potter,” Draco shook his head, “I’m already in fuckloads of trouble.”
“How so?”
Draco took a great shuddering breath, like he was stealing himself for battle. He grabbed the front of Harry’s t-shirt, pulling him in for a searing kiss. Harry’s brain took a few seconds to catch up as he stumbled forward clumsily and then his hands were everywhere. He grabbed Draco’s hips, pulling him into the room and Draco kicked the door shut behind him. For someone so slight he was strong. He pushed Harry sharply against the wall, pressing their bodies close together.
“We were interrupted before,” Draco panted against Harry’s mouth.
“We were.”
“You said you’ve been wanting to kiss me since you were eleven.”
Harry chuckled and worked his tongue down Draco’s neck.
“Yeah, in hindsight. Think I was obsessed with you but was a bit pre-occupied with – ” Harry gasped as Draco lifted Harry’s t-shirt and dug his nails into his back.
“Saving the world?” Draco hissed in Harry’s ear.
“Yeah. That. Annoying distraction.”
“Just shows that you don’t have a mind for multi-tasking,” Draco pulled back to look at Harry, gaze unfocused, “I’ve been wanking over you since fourth year.”
“Jesus Christ,” Harry whispered.
“That fucking second task,” Draco’s lips skated over Harry’s jaw, “The lake. You were all wet and stupidly heroic. Kept me going for months.”
Harry felt like he was going to explode from unmitigated longing. Years of it building up like a dam fit to burst. He pushed his hips against Draco who pushed back enthusiastically.
“I hated myself,” Draco said, “Tried not to think about it, but every night when I closed my eyes, there you were. Every time I saw you gripping that ridiculous fucking Firebolt like you were riding a bloody great…”
Harry slammed his mouth against Draco to stop the stream of filthy words. Draco was a natterer, Alex had said. Merlin, the mouth on this man.
They both reached for each other’s trousers at the same time, clumsy hands scrambling for purchase. Harry managed to get Draco’s undone first, and shoved his pants aside, freeing his cock. He wrapped a hand around Draco’s length and felt how wet and slick he was.
“I’ve wanked over you every day this week.” Harry whispered harshly and Draco groaned, deep and guttural, “Couldn’t think of anything else.”
“Lots of wanking going on, it seems.” Draco panted, finally getting Harry’s jeans open, “Years of depraved teenage fantasies between us.”
“Not teenagers anymore,” Harry said.
“I can see that,” Draco said, wrapping a sure hand around Harry’s length making him gasp. Draco’s glassy eyes were glued to Harry’s crotch, “Merlin above, that’s a gorgeous penis.”
Harry barked out a laugh, “Er, thank you?”
“Figures you’d have a perfect cock along with everything else.”
Draco watched, a look of delighted rapture on his face as he pulled Harry’s foreskin back revealing the weeping head. He ran a thumb over it experimentally and Harry had to steady himself against the wall, so his legs didn’t buckle under him.
“Yours is – really nice – as well,” Harry ground out, trying to keep from completely falling apart.
‘Yes, and I’m very good with it,” Draco said, making it sound like a threat. Harry thought he couldn’t be any more aroused until Draco leaned down and spat onto his palm, rubbing it down Harry’s length.
“Jesus fucking Christ ,” Harry said, rapt eyes on Draco’s face. Draco smirked and Harry was well and truly gone, moments away from climax. He leaned forward and took Draco’s mouth in another messy kiss. Draco grabbed the back of Harry’s neck, pulling him close. He wrapped his hand around both of their cocks, stroking faster.
“Alex will be back soon,” Harry said in a strangled voice, not sure he could stop even if the entire Ministry burst through the door.
“Don’t care,” Draco replied, “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing he’s caught me doing.”
“Remind me to – fuck – ask you about that – fuck, yes Malfoy – when I can think again.”
“Don’t start using your brain on my account,” Draco said, the echoes of endless childhood insults unlocking something deep and primal inside Harry. He could feel his orgasm building in the pit of his stomach, his thighs clenching. He started making high pitched mewling noises and Draco grinned against his lips.
“Listen to you,” Draco said, delighted, “So fucking noisy.”
“Like you ever shut up.”
“Do you want me to?” Draco asked, jerking his hand faster.
“Fuck, no.” Harry groaned.
“I’ve thought about what you sound like when you come for years, Potter. For years .”
Harry clung to Draco’s shoulders, burying his face in Draco’s neck, aware of a keening noise coming from his mouth that he had absolutely no control over.
“This is nothing like my fantasies,” Draco whispered into Harry’s neck, “It’s so much better.”
Harry’s orgasm ripped through him with ferocious intensity. He felt like he might have blacked out for a few seconds. He fucked into Draco’s hand and dug his nails into the small of his back, not caring if he drew blood. He was vaguely aware of Draco gasping and he felt something hot and slick cover his stomach. Draco sunk his teeth into Harry’s shoulder and for the first time since he walked into the room there was silence. They stood holding each other up for a few minutes, chests heaving.
Draco was the first to speak. Of course.
“Well,” he said, lifting his head from Harry’s shoulder.
“Yeah.” Harry replied feebly.
“That happened.”
“Finally.”
Draco’s lips were puffy and kiss swollen. His hair was even more insane than before, sticking up comically at the back and there was a vacant, blissful look on his face. Harry was sure he looked equally debauched.
Draco took a step back and surveyed the ruin of their clothes. Harry waved his hand vanishing the mess and watched Draco shudder as the magic washed over him. He gave Harry an appraising look.
“You’re good at that. Wandless magic.”
“I am.” Harry said, matter-of-factly, tucking himself back into his jeans.
“That’s – very attractive.” Draco fixed him with a hungry look and Harry watched Draco button his trousers, straightening his robes. He grabbed Draco’s hand and brought the tips of his fingers to his lips.
“I like hearing you talk.” Harry said in a low voice.
The door burst open, and they both jumped. Harry dropped Draco’s hand. Alex stood in the door, levitating a giant stack of parchment, eyes flicking from Harry to Draco, taking in their thoroughly shagged out faces and dishevelled appearance. He sighed heavily.
“I’m not even fucking surprised. I mean I left you both for exactly three minutes. I guess I should be grateful I didn’t burst in on one of you bent over the table.”
“You should be so lucky, Morris.” Draco said, radiating a surprising amount of poise for a man who had just come all over Harry’s stomach.
“Malfoy, if you don’t get to the Ministry in three fucking seconds, I’ll have to let everyone know about the time that shrinking charm backfired and you had to –“
“Yes, thank you, Morris, that won’t be necessary,” Draco said forcefully, stepping closer to Alex, shooting him a furious look.
“Then go,” Alex said, waving the parchment over to the table.
Draco withdrew his wand from his robes and gave Harry a small nod, “Potter.”
Before Harry could reply, wanting to ask when he could see him again, Draco was gone with a crack. Harry stared forlornly at the spot where he had disappeared.
“The look on your face.” Alex said, in an exasperated voice.
“What about it?” Harry asked.
“Same one that’s been on Malfoy’s all week.”
---
Harry stuck around the bathhouse for another hour, working through the paperwork until Alex told him to go home.
“Been a pleasure and a nightmare, Potter,” Alex said, shaking Harry’s hand as he walked him to the entrance.
“Sorry, for er – all of that,” Harry said, and Alex gave him a bemused look.
“Are you, though?”
Before Harry could answer Alex was striding back to the building, shouting over his shoulder, “Tell Finnegan he owes me ten galleons!”
Harry decided to walk back to Grimmauld, stopping for a kebab on the way, garlic sauce dripping down his fingers. As he licked them clean, he tasted Draco, bitter and earthy under his fingernails and had to forcibly stop himself moaning, lest he elicit stares from alarmed pedestrians. He was so distracted by the thought of a teenage Draco, touching himself behind his flimsy Slytherin bedcurtains, cursing Harry’s name, that he managed to walk right past his front door to the end of the street.
Later, freshly showered and decidedly calmer, a small barn owl tapped on his bedroom window. He let it in and took the parcel that contained a battered Manchester United keyring and a note in Seamus’s messy scrawl.
6am tomorrow, get to bed early!
Harry packed his kit and fell into bed, into a perfect, dreamless sleep.
---
“How was your final day?” Seamus asked, as they heaved their packs onto their backs, the fjords of Norway glimmering in the distance.
Harry waved his hand across his glasses, charming them so they blocked out the glare and avoided Seamus’s eye.
“What happened?” Seamus asked, resigned.
“Not much,” Harry said, checking his map, “Alex said you owe him 10 galleons.”
Seamus swore and shook his head.
Harry grinned, “What was the bet?”
“That you two would be shagging by the end of the week.”
“And you bet against me?” Harry asked, “I’m wounded, Seamus!”
“Thought you might have more common sense than that. Don’t know what I was fucking thinking.”
“Just for that, I won’t tell you all the details.” Harry said, setting off down the path.
“You will, though. You can’t help yourself.”
Seamus was right of course, but Harry waited a few hours before he caved.
The trip was relatively uneventful. Yet, for the first time since Harry started this work, he found his mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t stop wondering how Draco filled his days, who he spent his time with, if he was thinking about Harry as much as Harry was thinking about him. It drove Seamus to distraction.
Eight days later, as they waited for the Portkey to activate, Harry paced back and forth like a caged kneazle.
Seamus was at his wits end, “Mate, I can’t do another trip like this, for fuck’s sake!”
Harry lay down dramatically on the grass and covered his eyes, “Yeah me either.”
“I warned you it was a bad idea. No one ever listens to me though, do they?” Seamus muttered, half to himself.
Harry peered at Seamus from between his fingers, “Haven’t you ever felt like this? Like you’re going to burst out of your skin if you don’t see them right this fucking second?”
“I’m going to vomit,” Seamus said, flatly.
“Like everything else is just passing time until you can see them?”
“You’re touched, mate. You’ve lost it.”
Harry sighed and sat up, “You might be right.”
---
After the portkey finally activated and Harry gave a disgusted Seamus a half-hearted wave, he apparated to Diagon and burst into the post office, getting several alarmed looks from the patrons. Harry knew he must look a fright in his mud splattered dragonhide outfit, but he didn’t care. He agonised over the parchment, writing and re-writing the note about three times before he mentally shook himself and scribbled:
Not to be intense or anything, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. When can I see you? It’s Harry by the way.
“Your fastest owl,” Harry said to the elderly witch behind the counter, frantically patting his pockets for change.
“Keep your hair on,” she said, peering over her glasses, “Owls are owls.”
Harry handed over his sickles, grabbing his bag and apparting home. He showered and unpacked his kit, wondering what he would do if Draco didn’t reply. After an agonising few hours climbing the walls, he caught sight of his manic appearance in the bathroom mirror. His reflection cheerfully asked who had his wand in a knot and he thought he might as well lie down on the bathroom floor and call it a day when there was a rap at the window.
He snatched the parchment from the owls’ leg, and it gave him a disgruntled hoot as Harry chucked a handful of treats on the table. He took a deep breath as he opened the letter, the sickly feeling in his stomach easing as he read Draco’s tidy hand.
Intense? You? I’m shocked. You’ve barely been in my thoughts at all. I do have a dinner I’m meant to attend tonight, but if you have a better offer, I’m amenable to cancelling. I’ll be home from 6pm, you’re welcome any time after that. Bring wine. Something drinkable.
Draco’s address was underneath along with his compact initials. Harry looked at the clock on the wall and calculated that he had just under five hours to get a grip.
---
After the listless morning Harry spent the afternoon in a flurry of activity. He got a haircut and splurged for a proper shave. His face was baby smooth, and he thought about using some of the cologne Molly had gifted him last Christmas but felt that was overkill. He wore his second-best jeans – his best were covered in curry sauce – and a simple white shirt. He’d spent an agonising quarter of an hour in the fancy wine shop down the street before the girl behind the counter took pity on him.
“What’s the occasion?” she asked in a bored voice.
“Er…a date? Maybe?” Harry said, a frantic look in his eyes.
“Ah, like that is it?” She said, tone perking up.
Harry shrugged helplessly. She ran an eye over the shelves, “You having dinner or just drinks?”
“Not sure,” Harry admitted.
“You hoping to shag this…” she turned to Harry and ran an appraising eye over his crisp shirt and fresh haircut, “…bloke?”
Harry nodded, “Very much so.”
“Gotcha. Budget?”
“Unlimited.”
She let out a low whistle, “Lucky fella.”
She reached out to the top shelf and selected a bottle with a set of stag antlers on the label, “If a bloke brought this over, I’d have my knickers off before the main course.”
Harry blinked a few times at the label, running his thumb over the embossed horns.
“Perfect,” Harry said in a thick voice.
She popped it in a brown paper bag and Harry handed over a small fortune in muggle money. She handed Harry his change and gave him a searching look, “Just fancy fellas, then?”
“Afraid so.”
“Pity,” she said, shrugging, “Hope it’s the shag of your life.”
“You and me both.”
Harry stood at the fireplace at one minute to six, bottle clutched in a death grip and took a handful of powder flinging it into the hearth, heart beating a violent rhythm.
----
Harry emerged from the floo into the most tasteful living room he’d ever seen. He knew less than nothing about interior design but assumed everything was incredibly expensive and expertly arranged. There was soft music playing from the corner and a couch big enough to fit an entire quidditch team comfortably against the wall. Something fragrant and delicious wafted in from the kitchen.
Harry stood looking around for a few minutes, unsure of how to proceed, when Draco walked into the room.
“How long have you been there?” he asked, eyes narrowed.
“A minute. Or two.”
Draco looked at his wristwatch, “Punctual.”
Harry met Draco’s eye and tried not to blush. Draco was barefoot and dressed in a tight midnight blue shirt tucked into loose black trousers. Despite knowing exactly what Draco’s dick felt like in the palm of his hand, the unexpected intimacy of seeing Draco’s naked feet on the plush carpet made Harry feel like he was witnessing something deeply private. He tore his gaze upwards and thrust the wine into Draco’s hands.
Draco glanced at the label and raised an eyebrow, “Did you pick this?”
“What do you think?”
Draco’s lips tugged at the corners and Harry had to shove his hands in his pockets, lest he launch himself at Draco’s mouth like some kind of horny dementor.
“I’ll get some glasses. Sit.” Draco gestured to the enormous sofa and disappeared to the kitchen.
Harry mentally shook himself, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He spotted several framed photos on the side table, pictures of Draco with a variety of friends, Slytherins – Pansy and Blaise both looking impossibly haughty and chic. Harry picked up a photo of Draco, Alex and a few of the Unspeakables he’d met at the bathhouse. Alex had his arm around Draco, a cheeky grin on his face.
“He was asking about you today,” Draco’s voice came from behind Harry, and he turned quickly, fumbling with the photo, almost dropping it on the carpet.
“Smooth,” Draco said, passing Harry what could only be called a goblet of wine.
“Oh yeah?” Harry said, gingerly placing the frame back on the side table, “Cursing my name?”
Draco laughed and Harry wanted to bottle the sound, “If he’s cursing your name, it means he’s fond of you.”
Draco walked over to the sofa and sat at one end, crossing his long legs. He gave Harry a pointed look at the empty space next to him and Harry tripped over his feet in his haste to sit.
“Bloody hell, Malfoy. What kind of magic is this sofa? Best thing my arse has sat on in months.”
Draco blinked a few times and Harry leaned forward, face on fire.
“It’s a Maker & Son,” Draco said, like that explained anything.
“Right.” Harry replied and for lack of anything better to do, drained his goblet of wine. Draco gave him a strangled look.
“It’s not a shot of firewhisky, you peasant.”
Harry placed the empty goblet on the coffee table and put his head in his hands.
“Potter, are you quite alright?” Draco asked.
“Not really,” Harry said, through his hands.
“What could possibly be the matter?”
Harry turned his head and saw Draco giving him a sly look over his wineglass.
“Your feet,” Harry said.
“I’m sorry?”
“I thought I could keep it together and then I saw your fucking feet and I short circuited or something.”
Draco pressed his lips together, failing to keep the glee off his face.
“Is that what gets you going, Potter? A finely turned ankle?”
“I didn’t think it was,” Harry said, glancing longingly at a freckle on the top of Draco’s foot.
Draco stretched his leg and his big toe touched Harry’s thigh and without quite realising what he was doing, Harry was on his knees on the thick carpet, cupping Draco’s foot like it was a precious treasure. Draco gasped as Harry ran his thumb over the baby-soft skin of his arch.
“Potter, wait we need to –” Draco trailed off as Harry bent down to lay a gentle kiss just above his toes.
“ Fuck ,” Draco breathed, and Harry moved his mouth to kiss the inside of his ankle.
“We need to – I want to talk – before we –” Draco tried valiantly as Harry rose on his knees and pressed the balls of Draco’s foot to his erection.
“Merlin, this does get you going.” Draco murmured, applying a fraction of pressure. Harry groaned and held his foot in place.
“Anything you do gets me going, Malfoy.”
Draco’s eyes were glued to Harry’s crotch and Harry started to move his hand up Draco’s calf, inside his trouser leg.
Draco tried again, “There are things we need to discuss.”
Draco applied more pressure against Harry’s crotch making him wince. Harry grabbed Draco’s knee and pushed it to the side moving between his legs, “Can we discuss it while I touch you? I think I’ll go mad if I don’t.”
A beautiful flush blossomed up Draco’s neck and he huffed out a breath, “You can’t just say things like that.”
Harry placed his hands on Draco’s thighs, “Why not?”
Draco wrapped a hand around Harry’s forearm and goosebumps fluttered up his arm, “I’ve been told by quite a few people this week, that getting entangled with you is a very bad idea.”
“I’ve been told the same thing,” Harry said, moving to open the top button of Draco’s shirt.
“We have history.”
“I don’t care,” Harry undid three more buttons, pushing Draco’s shirt open.
“Don’t you think you should?” Draco asked.
Harry stared at Draco’s chest, the thin criss-cross of scars that covered his lean torso. Harry ran a fingertip over the raised vein of a scar and Draco’s breath hitched.
“I never apologised for this.” Harry said in a soft voice, fingertips featherlight on Draco’s cool skin.
“I never apologised to you either,” Harry looked up at Draco’s face, his eyes pinpricks of bright silver in the lamplight, “For anything. For any of it.”
“It was a long time ago,” Harry said gently.
“Was it?” Draco asked, eyes on Harry’s forehead, “Sometimes it feels very present.”
Harry moved his hand lower, over the dip of Draco’s stomach, along the waistband of his trousers, “Do you want me to say I forgive you? Because I do.”
Draco was silent but his breath quickened as Harry reached for the button on Draco’s trousers. Draco placed a hand over Harry’s, grip firm.
“I meant what I said in the chamber. I can’t trust myself around you.”
Harry smiled, laying a hand on the underside of Draco’s jaw, tilting his chin up, “And you think I can?”
Harry ran his thumb over the soft fullness of Draco’s lips, remembering the sweet taste of them, how they looked red and raw. Harry waited. He knew there were a million reasons it was madness to be kneeling on Draco’s carpet, harder than a broom handle, trying to convince Draco this was a good idea. It was, as everyone was quick to point out, a monumentally bad idea. And it only made Harry want it more.
“If you don’t want this, we can stop,” Harry placed his other hand on Draco’s chest, over his rapidly beating heart, “Do you want to stop?”
Draco’s shrewd eyes searched Harry’s face. They stared at each other in silence, Harry willing Draco to speak. Harry didn’t know how he would get to his feet and walk through the floo and forget the way Draco’s chest looked when it was flushed with arousal, nipples the same dusty pink as his lips. But he would do it. If that’s what Draco wanted, he would.
After several moments of agonising silence Harry swallowed and whispered a single word, a gentle incantation, “ Draco .”
Draco closed his eyes and whispered back, “Just fucking kiss me.”
Harry leaned forward. Draco’s mouth opened instantly, tongue insistent and proprietary. Draco lifted his legs and wrapped them neatly around Harry’s waist, pulling him close so their hips slotted together, and Harry groaned in relief. He lay wet kisses against Draco’s neck and Draco brought his hand up to the back of Harry’s head holding him close.
“Oh, thank God,” Harry panted against Draco’s throat, “Jesus Christ, I thought you were going to – fuck , yes – tell me to leave before you fucked me.”
Draco gasped and bucked his hips aggressively against Harry, “Is that – ahh – is that what you want?”
“Yes, fuck yes ,” Harry said, deliriously, hands moving down Draco’s chest to fumble with the button on Draco’s trousers, “Among other things.”
“What things?” Draco asked in a strangled voice, working the buttons on Harry’s shirt with furious intent.
“I’ve got a list.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s long.”
“ Fuck ,” Draco said, pushing Harry’s shirt over his shoulders to the floor. He ran his hands over Harry’s shoulders, down his arms, hands brushing over his nipples. Greedy eyes taking Harry in.
“You didn’t look like this during fourth year,” Draco said, breathlessly.
“Not fourteen anymore.”
“You didn’t look like this at my trial.”
“The job doesn’t hurt. And I work out. Because it might interest you to know,” Harry took Draco’s hand and placed it on his chest, moving it down his flat stomach, “Men like it when you’re fit.”
Draco made another strangled noise and dug his nails into Harry’s hard stomach, “Are there a lot of men?”
“A few. Had a bit of lost time to make up for.”
“Merlin, why is that so hot?”
Draco grabbed Harry by the arm, pulling him off the floor. Draco lay back on the sofa and Harry pressed down against him, relishing the flush of their bodies together, the rightness of Draco squirming beneath him. Harry’s cock pressed painfully against his jeans, and he pushed Draco’s hips deep into the cushions. He worked his mouth down Draco’s neck, running his tongue over the spider-web of scars on his chest, then taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. Draco made soft panting noises, his hand insistent against the back of Harry’s neck.
Harry shuffled down Draco’s body, opening his trousers to reveal tight black briefs, a wet patch blossoming at the front. Harry nuzzled against it, inhaling deeply, groaning at the sweet intoxicating smell of him.
Draco stared down, pupils blown wide as he muttered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Harry slipped a finger into the waistband of Draco’s underwear and his cock sprang free, a pearly white thread smearing his stomach. Harry ran his finger through it and Draco’s cock twitched appreciatively.
“I’ve thought about this.” Harry said, wrapping a loose hand around the base, looking up at Draco through sooty lashes, “What you taste like.”
Draco watched transfixed as Harry’s tongue darted out to lick the pre-come at the tip and covered his mouth to stifle a groan.
“Don’t,” Harry said, reaching up to take Draco’s hand, “I want to hear you.”
He placed Draco’s hand on the back of his head and lowered his mouth over Draco’s cock, heavy and weeping, lips meeting the ring of his finger and thumb. Draco groaned, deep and long and Harry buried his nose in the wiry thatch of hair at his groin. Harry placed his hands on Draco’s slender hips, pushing him into the sofa so he couldn’t move and lost himself to the punishing rhythm, the bitter taste of Draco on his tongue, the litany of moans and curses from his mouth.
“Potter if you – fucking hell – want me to fuck you, you’ll have to – urgh – stop. Stop !”
Draco pushed Harry off, and he released Draco with a wet pop. Draco panted heavily and Harry ran a lazy hand over Draco’s saliva slick length watching him.
“I want that,” Harry said, voice raspy.
“Get up.”
---
Fumbling down the hall, hands grasping everywhere, they made it to Draco’s bedroom. Draco flicked his wand at the lamps, the room glowing softly. Draco threw his wand at his feet and sat naked at the end of his enormous king bed, legs spread, hand lightly fisting his cock.
“Jeans off.” Draco commanded.
Harry popped open the button and lowered the zipper, loud in the quiet bedroom, letting them fall to his ankles. He cupped himself, feeling how wet he was through the cotton fabric. He moved a hand to the waistband of his underwear and paused.
“These too?”
“Yes. Please.” Draco said, voice breathy.
Harry lowered the elastic down his thighs, bending over, milking it a little, and straightened, kicking them to the side. Draco watched intently as Harry moved forward, rubbing his thumb over the slickness at the tip, using it to slide his foreskin up and down a few times. He kept his grip loose, aware of how close he was to the edge.
Draco spread his leg wider, and Harry stepped between them, feeling like he had just spotted the snitch and was preparing to dive flat out to catch it.
“This feels like a dream.” Draco said softly.
“A good one?”
Draco placed a hand on Harry’s hip, stroking gently, “Yes.”
He moved his hand around to Harry’s arse, skimming his cleft, then grabbed a solid handful making Harry buck forward. Draco rested his forehead against Harry’s stomach and Harry placed both hands on Draco’s shoulders, pressing into the taught chord of muscles.
“How do you want to do this?” Harry asked.
He felt Draco huff out a laugh against his stomach, “I thought you wanted me to fuck you?”
“I do,” Harry said, “Just want to make it good for you.”
Draco lifted his head and looked up at Harry through lashes so fine they were almost invisible, “You’re such a Gryffindor.”
Harry moved his hand to rest on Draco’s throat, his skin soft and humid. Draco wrapped his hands around Harry’s waist, tugging him forward so his knees hit the bed and he was half kneeling, half straddling Draco, his cock leaving a white smear across his chest. Draco braced one hand behind him, the other placed possessively over Harry’s arse and tilted his head up to kiss Harry’s jaw.
Harry wrapped his hands around Draco’s shoulders and went to push his hips down but hesitated, fearful of crushing Draco’s slight frame.
“Put your weight on me,” Draco murmured against his neck.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
Harry eased down slightly off his knees and felt Draco’s cock press against the spot behind his balls. He gasped and pressed down harder. Draco moaned as he took Harry’s full weight. They ground against each other, exchanging messy kisses, tongues against teeth. Draco moved his hand to grip Harry’s cock and Harry pulled it away.
“Don’t,” he said, running his thumb over the soft skin of Draco’s wrist, “I’ll come.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Draco asked.
“I want you inside me. When I do.”
Draco’s hand stilled and he pulled his head back to look at Harry, eyes dark and covetous. When he spoke his voice was raspy, low and unfamiliar, “Get on the bed. Face down.”
Harry swung his leg over Draco and crawled up the mattress, removing his glasses and burying his face in what he assumed were very expensive pillows, smelling Draco’s washing powder and treacle. Harry heard Draco rummaging in his bedside drawer and pressed his hips into the duvet, enjoying the friction.
“Stop that,” Draco said, placing a hand on the back of Harry’s thigh.
Harry turned his warm cheek to the cool of the pillow and blew his fringe out of his eyes, watching Draco settle between his legs, a small potion vial in his hand.
“There’s a spell, you can…” Harry gestured behind him, and Draco shot him an exasperated look.
“Oh really? There’s a spell?” Draco muttered, “This is better.”
“What is it?” Harry asked, squinting to see the bottle without his glasses.
“You’ll see. It’s from Blaise.”
“Blaise?”
“Yes, it’s kind of his thing. Makes all sorts of experimental shit.”
“Experimental?” Harry asked, concerned about what Draco might be putting near a very sensitive area.
Draco unstoppered the vial and poured a generous amount onto his fingers, “If you’re concerned, don’t be. I’ve experimented with this one before. A lot.”
Harry moaned and thrust his hips into the mattress despite Draco’s warning.
“Potter, what did I say?” Draco said, chiding, dangerous.
“I can’t help it,” Harry said, a small whine in his voice.
Draco placed both hands on Harry’s hips, pulling them back roughly so Harry skidded to his knees, arse in the air, face down between the pillows.
“You wanted this,” Draco said, running a hand up the back of his thigh, lingering on the curve where his thigh met the swell of his arse.
“Well, you keep talking instead of -” Harry gasped as Draco’s palm came down on the back of his thigh.
“Behave yourself.”
Harry groaned as Draco slapped the other side and felt his cock leak down his leg, “You going to make me beg?”
“Not yet.”
Harry felt Draco skim his fingertips over his stinging skin on his thigh and then crept upwards, “This is a spectacular arse.”
Draco moved his hand to cup Harry’s balls, squeezing and tugging.
“Malfoy, please.” Harry said, desperation creeping into his voice.
Draco, still cupping his balls, ran a slick thumb over the tight ring of muscle, and Harry inhaled sharply. He fisted the sheets as Draco moved his thumb in small circles and Harry felt the potion tingling pleasantly. He let out a contented sigh as Draco pushed his thumb inside and he felt a warmth spread up his spine, felt himself opening and accommodating Draco.
“Oh wow,” Harry breathed.
“I told you.”
“More.” Harry gasped.
Draco removed his thumb and Harry whimpered until he felt the blunt press of two fingers, the same gentle push and then the opening, widening. Draco pressed deeper, to one knuckle, then two and Harry pushed back, fucking himself on Draco’s fingers. He moaned nonsense as Draco worked them inside and almost missed him asking, “More?”
Harry agreed with a wordless affirmation and pushed his hips back further. Draco added another finger, making a corkscrew motion, working him open with ruthless precision. Harry’s cock jerked between his legs, a wet patch pooling beneath him and he turned his head to see Draco’s face flushed a delicious pink, his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Like what you see?” Harry asked, his voice hitching on the last word.
Draco nodded, eyes firmly on his hand, “I could watch this all day.”
He curled his fingers and Harry clenched around them, crying out.
“Please, Malfoy, I need – oh fuck – I need you.”
Draco withdrew his fingers and Harry’s knees gave out, bucking his hips, desperate for friction against the damp patch on the sheets.
Harry was vaguely aware of Draco unstoppering the potion, rubbing it down his length, then Draco’s hands were back on his hips, pulling him backwards, fingers grasping hard enough to leave bruises. Draco’s cock pressed against him, rubbing against his crease.
“You ready?” Draco asked.
Harry pushed his hips back, widening his knees and muttered into the pillow, “Are you?”
Harry felt Draco’s hand on his arse-cheek, holding it open and heard Draco whisper faintly, “Merlin, I hope so.”
Harry let out a harsh groan as Draco pushed deep inside with practiced ease and felt Draco’s warm thighs press flush against him. Draco rubbed circles into Harry’s hips with his thumbs and waited a few seconds for Harry to acclimatize, long enough that Harry was worried he was trying to torture him.
“Okay?” Draco asked. Harry thrust backwards forcefully enough that Draco almost slipped out.
“Take that as a yes,” Draco said, a smile in his voice. Harry attempted to bite back a retort, but Draco moved, and he forgot how to speak.
Draco thrust into him slowly at first, ignoring Harry’s ragged pleas to go faster. Harry could hear Draco’s balls slap against his thighs with every flick of his hips and he lost himself to the erotic rhythm of it. Unsurprisingly, Draco kept up a steady description of what he was doing, and Harry thought he might be a bit in love with the way Draco’s voice got when he was riled up.
“Yes, Potter, you take it so well. Fuck, you feel incredible, ahh, now you’re behaving for me.”
Harry wanted more – wanted it harder and deeper. He pushed himself off his elbows and onto on all fours and pressed back to meet each thrust. Draco picked up speed and Harry gasped as he shifted and found a new angle.
“ Fuck ,” Harry groaned.
“Like that?” Draco thrust again with expert precision and Harry whimpered.
Draco’s hand lifted from Harry’s hip, and he heard it a split second before he felt it, the slap of Draco’s open palm on his arse and the sharp sting that followed. Harry turned his head and saw Draco, face and chest a delicious pink, a soft sheen of sweat on his eyebrow that was raised, questioning.
“Again,” Harry said.
Draco swallowed and with the next thrust slapped his arse, thrust and slapped, three more times. Harry felt pleasure pool in the pit of his stomach, threatening to spill over.
“Fuck, Potter, I wish you could see what you look like.”
Harry reached between his legs, grazing his heavy cock and balls to run two fingers over his hole, feeling the stretch around Draco’s rock-hard length. Draco ground his hips in a circular motion, and Harry felt the tell-tale tightening of his balls.
“Malfoy, I’m going to – I’m so –”
Draco pushed Harry’s hand away and leaned forward, snaking his hand around to grip Harry’s cock. He leaned over, biting the back of Harry’s neck, licking the sweat off his shoulders. Harry fucked into the circle of his fingers and braced one hand against the ornate headboard.
“I’m close, I’m so – don’t stop –”
“I won’t,” Draco panted into the shell of Harry’s ear.
Draco gave three quick jerks of Harry’s cock and Harry tipped over, feeling his arse clench around Draco’s hard length, gripping the headboard with white knuckles. He spilled into Draco’s fist, onto the sheets, down his thighs, moaning “ Fuck, fuck fuck ,”
Draco’s hand tugged sharply on Harry’s hair, then warmth spread inside him, Draco’s hips pumping, his balls slapping loudly. Harry’s knees gave way, and he slumped forward, flat on the bed and Draco fell on top of him, thrusting a final few times, riding out the last of his orgasm. They lay panting, Harry’s sweaty cheek against the pillow, Draco’s breath warm and sweet against his neck.
“Fucking hell,” Harry panted.
“I agree,” Draco said, resting his boneless weight on top of him.
“You really…” Harry trailed off and felt Draco’s lips curl into a smile against his neck.
“I really what?”
“Dunno. Can’t think. Words hard.”
They lay unmoving for a few minutes until their breathing slowed. Draco ran his hand idly through Harry’s hair, nails dragging pleasantly on his scalp. Eventually Draco rolled off Harry with a groan pulling their sticky thighs apart and Harry rolled over, so they were facing each other, noses a few inches apart.
“Hey,” Harry said.
Draco bit his lip, “Hello.”
“That was nice.”
“Nice?”
“In a really filthy way. Yeah.”
Draco gestured down at their naked bodies, “Yes, we are filthy.”
Draco sat up to look for his wand then turned his head, giving Harry a sly look, “Will you do the thing?” He wiggled his fingers, gesturing to the mess between them.
Harry waved his hand, disappearing their combined semen and Blaise’s potion, giving it a little more oompf than he usually would. Draco gasped and closed his eyes, shuddering as Harry’s magic washed over him. He licked his lips whispering, “Merlin.”
Harry pulled Draco down and kissed him, soft and slow, different to all the kisses they had shared to that point. He took his time, working his tongue over Draco’s bottom lip, pressing gentle hands to the small of Draco’s back, holding him close. Draco buried his hands into the disaster of Harry’s hair, opening his mouth on a contented sigh. They made out lazily for a while, like the teenagers they never got to be, a tentative exploration of each other in sharp contrast to their earlier frenzy.
Finally, Draco pulled away, “Are you hungry?”
“Another ten minutes of this and yeah, I could get there.”
Draco rolled his eyes, “For food, Potter. Are you hungry for food?”
Harry laughed and rolled onto his back, stretching luxuriously, feeling the joints in his knees and elbow pop.
“Yeah, I guess I could eat. Food is the main thing I miss when I’m working.”
“Clearly you’re not wasting away.” Draco said, eyes skimming over Harry’s chest, lingering on the swell of his bicep. Harry flexed his muscle and Draco let out a small huff of air.
“Tell me again how you think I’m fit?” Harry said running a finger up Draco’s thigh. He swatted him away.
“I never said that.”
“You did. On the sofa. You mentioned my arse, too. Spectacular, I think you called it.”
Draco sat up and, despite being completely naked, managed to look appropriately prim, “Anything said in the throws of passion should not be held against me.”
“Do I look like I’m complaining?” Harry said, gesturing to his dick which was starting to show renewed interest, “I love the shit that comes out of your mouth.”
Harry scrubbed his hands over his face a few times and stifled a yawn. When he lowered his hands, Draco was watching him.
“What?”
“This just feels very surreal.”
“Tell me about it,” Harry said cheerfully, “Which part?”
“All of it?”
Harry sat up and leaned in to place a featherlight kiss on Draco’s neck, over a bruise that was starting to blossom there, “Do you want to freak out or do you want to eat?”
Draco laughed and rested his forehead on Harry’s shoulder, “Both?”
“We can do that.”
----
Draco, it turned out, was a decent cook. They sat down at the kitchen table to a fancy type of Shepherd’s Pie and Harry moaned as he took a bite, the potato buttery and melty on his tongue.
“Did you cook this?” Harry asked.
“Yes,” Draco said, a little defensively.
Harry raised an eyebrow, “It’s good.”
“You sound shocked.”
“I guess I just kind of expected you to have…” Harry trailed off looking around Draco’s kitchen. It was elaborate by his standards but compared to what Draco had grown up with seemed alarmingly modest.
“An army of elfs for my every whim?”
Harry took another mouthful and shrugged.
“Yes well,” Draco said, stabbing a pea with his fork, “You don’t know me very well.”
Harry swallowed and took a sip of wine, “I don’t. But I would like to. Get to know who you are now.”
Draco busied himself pouring more wine into Harry’s full glass.
“Is this the freak out part of the meal?” Harry asked.
Draco let out a bark of genuine laughter and Harry’s stomach jolted pleasantly.
“Surely you are freaking out too?” Draco asked.
Harry pursed his lips, “Surprisingly, no. Now that we’ve got the shagging out of the way I can relax. Is that weird?”
“A bit,” Draco said.
“Tell me why you’re freaking out and I’ll tell you why you shouldn’t.”
Draco leaned back in his chair, surveying Harry over his glass, “Should I start with the big stuff or the small stuff?”
“Big stuff,” Harry said.
“We fought on opposite sides of the war.”
“War’s over.”
“Is it?”
“I fucking hope so,” Harry said with gusto, “Unless you know something I don’t.”
Draco shook his head and looked over Harry’s shoulder, “I’m not the most popular man in the world.”
“Well, I like you.”
“Why?”
“You’re very good looking.”
“Shallow.” A ghost of a smile played on Draco’s lips.
“It’s the truth,” Harry said as Draco made to speak and Harry cut him off, “And I like talking to you. I like making you laugh. You aren’t afraid to insult me. You’re a very good kisser. You’re interesting.”
Draco swallowed, “Am I?”
“I’ve always thought so.”
“Well, like I said, you don’t know me.”
“So, I’ll get to know you.” Harry said laying down his fork, “And if I decide you aren’t interesting, we’ll call it off.”
“Your friends won’t approve. Merlin, my friends won’t approve.”
“Alex likes me.”
“He doesn’t count. He likes anyone who’s proper mental. Look at half the people I work with.”
“We still on big stuff or onto the small?”
Draco placed his wineglass on the table, “Potter, just –”
“Look, I get it okay. I totally do. I’m not saying these aren’t all valid things, but I also think, you’re like twenty steps ahead of yourself.”
“How so?” Draco gave Harry a piercing stare and Harry had to shake himself not to lunge across the table and snog him senseless.
“We’ve spent a total of what, two hours together?” Harry asked, “And you’re already in a tizz, catastrophising about all the things that might happen.”
Draco shot Harry an icy glare, “If you think this is me in a tizz you haven’t seen a fucking thing.”
Harry grinned and placed his foot over Draco’s under the table, “I look forward to it.”
“Is that why you think you like me? Because I don’t mind a row?”
“Firstly, I do like you. And it doesn’t hurt. I’ve always liked throwing myself into dangerous situations.”
“I think that’s a compliment.”
“Oh, it is,” Harry said emphatically, “Secondly, whatever this is between us, it doesn’t have to be a big deal. I’m rarely even in the country, Seamus keeps us pretty busy. So, it’s not like I’m even going to be around that often. And thirdly,” Harry pointed a finger at Draco, “you haven’t even heard my pitch.”
“Your pitch?”
“Yes, I’ve had quite a bit of time to think about it and was going to give it to you earlier but then, you know, I saw your feet and promptly lost my mind.”
Draco folded his hands on the table and gave Harry an expectant look, “Go on then. Wow me.”
Harry wiped his mouth with a serviette and took a large sip of wine.
“Right, so my pitch is – we just don’t worry about it.”
Draco watched him silently for a few seconds, “That’s it?”
“Yeah, basically,” Harry said ignoring Draco’s angry glare, “We forget all the bollocks you mentioned and when I’m in the country we see each other, preferably shag the living daylights out of each other, and when I’m not here, we do whatever we want, see who we want, live our lives.”
Draco blinked a few times then said, “Your pitch is we shag each other rotten and just don’t worry about it?”
Harry nodded enthusiastically.
“Potter, you’re an idiot.”
“I think it’s a solid first draft at least.”
Draco surveyed him silently for a few seconds, waiting to see if he would add more. When he didn’t he asked, “What about your friends?”
“We can tell them when we want. Or not. I don’t mind.”
“And the whole sworn enemies thing? Doesn’t bother you?” Draco tugged at his shirt sleeve, where his dark mark was a faded black blur.
Harry got up and dragged his chair around the table, so he was facing Draco. He placed a hand on his arm.
“I know I’m coming across as flippant, but you need to listen to me. I spent so much of my life at the whims of what other people wanted, or what I thought I wanted,” Harry listed on his fingers, “Dumbledore and Ginny and being straight and an Auror. So many things just happened to me, and I was so distracted it took me forever to figure out what I wanted. But when I did, I ran at it. Maybe a little haphazardly, but fuck it felt good.”
Harry thought about how he felt when Draco walked into the pub that night, how it felt to see him with all the bullshit of his past stripped away and the bone deep certainty.
“And now, I’m kind of addicted to it. Like the first time I got on a broomstick. It felt like it was something I was born to do. And I know I was paying you out for planning our future together, but I don’t really have a leg to stand on. Because I’ve been obsessed with you since first year. It just, took me a bit longer to figure that out than I wanted. But I got there.”
Harry moved his hand down to lace his fingers against Draco, relishing the feel of their fingers slotting together.
“And you’re not my sworn enemy,” Harry said, his voice soft, “I don’t know if you ever were, not really.”
Draco was very still, and his eyes were shiny.
“Breathe,” Harry said softly.
“I don’t think I remember how.” Draco replied.
“That’s alright.”
Harry leaned forward and kissed Draco, one hand on his thigh one over his heart. Harry tried to imbue the kiss with every promise it was too early to make but knew it was somewhere waiting in his future. When they broke apart Draco’s eyes were unfocused, his face momentarily relaxed and beatific. Harry grabbed his wine glass and raised it.
“So, are we proceeding with the don’t-worry-about-it plan?”
Draco let out a strangled noise and brushed his hair out of his face, “After you just – after you said – all those things you –” Draco looked at Harry who shrugged helplessly.
“Sure, Potter,” Draco picked up his wineglass and said blusteringly, “Why not. Let’s just not think about that series of insane statements that were entirely too genuine and sappy and idealistic and about a thousand other words I can’t remember right now but they all mean that you’re an idiot.”
Draco raised his glass and clinked it against Harry’s, a clear note ringing out against the kitchen tiles. “To just not fucking worrying about it.”
Harry narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, “Your tone suggests you aren’t quite on board with the plan, however I’m choosing to ignore that.”
Draco rolled his eyes, but Harry could see every one of his teeth through the giant smile.
---
Dinner was a wash after that, with Harry picking Draco up like a bride on their honeymoon and depositing him unceremoniously onto the bed, not failing to notice how breathless Draco was after being manhandled.
They stayed there for most of the next two days until they were interrupted in the middle of a particularly athletic bit of shagging by the rap of an owl at the bedroom window – Seamus summoning Harry to their next job.
And despite Draco’s reservations at Harry’s blind optimism, their plan seemed to work. For the next six months Harry continued his gruelling work schedule, apologising to Seamus for his previous bout of lust induced mania. Whenever Harry was back in England, he spent the majority of it firmly ensconced in Draco’s bed.
Their times together fell into a pattern, frenzied shagging followed by rambling conversations long into the night, often skirting around delicate issues like a tongue over an aching tooth.
One night, after Draco had spent the better part of an hour with his tongue up Harry’s arse, lulling him into a post-orgasmic blissful doze, he woke to find Draco propped up in bed on one of his many cushions wearing Harry’s t-shirt. A thick book was open on his lap and he scribbled notes onto a scrap of parchment.
Draco was a night-owl, often staying up long after Harry had fallen asleep, working, reading, pottering around his flat. He was always impossible to wake in the morning, though Harry gave it his best shot, coaxing him awake with gentle kisses and less gentle blow jobs.
Harry rolled over, shielding his eyes from the lamplight, and Draco lowered the book to his chest, “Did I wake you?”
“It’s okay,” Harry said sleepily, wrapping his arms around Draco like a barnacle on a ship, tangling their legs together, “What are you working on?”
“Couldn’t say.”
“Oh, go on,” Harry said, nuzzling into Draco’s armpit, inhaling their scents mingled together, “Just a hint.”
“Not sure you have the brain capacity to follow it, Potter,” Draco said dryly and then sighed, snapping the book shut, “Not sure I do either, if it comes to that.”
“I know you just like me for my good looks, but I’ve been known to solve a puzzle or two in my time.”
Draco ran his nails gently down Harry’s back and Harry closed his eyes, practically purring in pleasure.
“You don’t suppose,” Draco asked slowly, “You could use some of that Harry-Potter-Saviour-of-the-Wizarding-World influence and get me into Hogwarts?”
Harry pulled his head back and gave Draco a puzzled look.
Draco sighed, placing the book on the bedside table, “I know, bit mental to ask.”
“What do you need at Hogwarts?”
Draco settled back against the headboard, “Obviously I can’t tell you why,” Draco looked down at Harry and who gave him a sly encouraging grin, “But it would be helpful to talk to one of the ghosts. I need to speak to someone who has died.”
Harry shifted up the bed slightly, “Well you don’t need to go to Hogwarts for that.”
“No? Why not?” Draco said vaguely, closing his eyes like he might be falling asleep.
“You can talk to me.”
Draco’s eyes snapped open, “Have I been fucking a ghost this entire time? Forgive me, Potter, but I think I might have noticed if you were a bit more corporeal.” Draco poked him in the ribs, as if checking to see he was solid.
Harry chuckled and pushed his hand away, so it was lying flat on his chest, “Not a ghost. But I did die.”
Harry took a deep breath and looked up at Draco through his fringe, “In the forest, with Voldemort.”
Draco’s hand flinched under Harry’s.
“You mean he tried to kill you?” Draco asked slowly.
“No. Avada Kedavra, to the chest.”
“You – you must have dodged it?” Draco said, confused.
“I didn’t. I let it happen. It had to happen to –” Harry waved his free hand grasping to find the words to explain everything that brought him to stand, defenceless in front of Voldemort, ready to die, and face his fate, “– you know what, it’s a long story. But he got me. And then I died.”
Draco watched Harry silently, several emotions flickering over his face. The simplicity of Harry’s words weighed against the magnitude of the statement.
“But you – you came back?”
“I did.”
“How?” Draco asked, and Harry hesitated, wondering how this would change their burgeoning relationship, acknowledging something that they both knew in the abstract about their actions during the war, but never voiced in the protection of Draco’s bed.
“Do you really want to know?” Harry asked.
Draco curled his fingers around Harry’s, gripping tightly, “I do. If you want to tell me.”
And Harry found he did. He wanted to talk about what it felt like facing down death and being given the choice to live. Of coming back and knowing there was something after, something waiting for him. Accepting he was destined to be killed by Voldemort and then the realisation that the story wasn’t over. Things he’d spoken about abstractly with Hermione and Ron, and no one else since. Not even Ginny.
He wordlessly summoned a glass from the kitchen and filled it, drinking the tepid water in great gulps. He turned to Draco, who was surreptitiously wiping tears from his cheek and Harry leaned forward to lick them off, like an over-eager Labrador, making Draco laugh raggedly, breaking the tension.
“Potter, stop! Stop, you’re mad.”
Harry settled his ear against Draco’s chest, the rumble of his breathing like muffled waves breaking on the shore.
“That’s…” Draco said gripping his arm, “…an awful lot for a seventeen-year-old to have to go through.”
“You’re telling me,” Harry said, running his finger of the hem of his t-shirt, “Miracle I’m not a complete basket case, isn’t it?”
Harry expected Draco to make one of his acerbic remarks, but he only placed a gentle hand on Harry’s back.
“I take it there’s an equally insane and harrowing story as to why that had to happen in the first place?”
Harry huffed out a laugh, “There is. But I don’t know if I’ve got it in me to talk about it now.”
“That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”
“I want to. Just not now.”
Harry lifted his head and Draco carefully arranged his features from a troubled frown to a rare fond smile.
“I feel like cake,” Harry said suddenly, leaning forward to brush his lips against Draco’s, “Can we make a cake?”
Draco looked at his wristwatch, “It’s almost 1am, Potter.”
“So?” Harry said, resting his chin on Draco’s chest, looking up at him expectantly.
Draco bit back a grin and placed his hands on either side of Harry’s face, leaning in to give him an achingly tender kiss that left Harry breathless.
---
Their steady routine was interrupted several months later as Harry walked through Draco’s floo, freshly showered and shaved to find Draco looking apologetic.
“It’s Alex’s birthday tonight and he told me he’d redirect all the Ministry howlers to my address if I missed it.”
“Can he do that?” Harry asked.
“Probably.”
“Am I invited?”
“Yes,” Draco said not meeting his eye, “He was very insistent that you attend.”
Harry smiled, pulling Draco forward by the trouser loops, “Can’t disappoint him then, can I?”
An hour later Harry and Draco found themselves sitting opposite Alex and Seamus at a long table with many of Alex’s friends at a dingy pub in Hackney, a distinct meeting the parents air about the evening.
This was heightened when Alex leant over the table and said in a cheerful voice, “So Potter, Draco tells me you fuck like a hippogriff in heat.”
Draco choked on his pint, spraying a fair amount of it over himself and the table, “You’re a filthy liar, Morris.”
Harry turned to Draco, “Should I be offended you haven’t?” Harry waved his hand, vanishing the spilled beer, relishing the shiver Draco barely managed to repress, “Surely I warrant an Exceeds Expectations at least?”
Harry shot Seamus a smirk and he grinned into his pint glass.
“Haven’t seen as much of young Draco recently,” Alex said, innocently, “I assumed it was because he was too busy being bent over every surface getting shagged into next Tuesday.”
Harry could feel Draco’s magic tingle next to him and Harry leaned back and slung an arm around Draco’s chair, placing his hand on the back of his neck, “Who says Draco’s the one being bent over?”
Alex cackled with glee and punched Seamus on the shoulder, “You owe me a pint, Finngegan.”
“If you remember, I never took that bet.” Seamus said, dryly.
“Still think you owe me a pint.” Alex said, draining his glass.
Seamus sighed and Alex dragged him to the bar, then hustled him over to the dart board, issuing a steady string of insults that Seamus lobbed back, a fond smile on his face.
“Do you think something is going on there?” Harry whispered conspiratorially to Draco, nodding his head towards Alex who was smacking Seamus playfully with the end of his dart.
Draco tilted his head, assessing, “Can’t imagine Finnegan is Alex’s type.”
“Why not?”
“Seems straight as a Nimbus to me.”
Harry chuckled and placed his head on his hand, giving Draco a knowing look, “Does he?”
Draco blinked rapidly then turned to look at Seamus anew, eyes wide.
“Good grief, Potter. Have you fucked Finnegan?”
“I have.”
“My, my, my,” Draco said giving Harry an impressed look, “Isn’t he the lucky lad.”
Harry preened and Draco ran a finger through the condensation on his pint glass, “And is that still your arrangement?” His tone was light, but Harry could see his pulse beating quickly at his throat.
“Would you mind?” Harry asked, curious to hear Draco’s response.
“No,” Draco said quickly.
“It’s okay if you do.”
“I don’t. We haven’t ever discussed exclusivity.”
“True,” Harry said, “But we could if you want to?”
Draco stared at Harry, his grey eyes inscrutable, “Are you still sleeping with Finnegan?”
“No, he doesn’t shag the blokes who work for him.”
“A sound business model,” Draco said and tilted his head back, so the light caught on his sharp cheekbones, “Are you shagging anyone else?”
Harry leaned back in his chair, “There was a bloke, in Finland a few months ago. But it was only once and honestly?” Harry said, adjusting his glasses, “Only because he reminded me of you.”
“Oh, how flattering,” Draco said dryly, and Harry nudged him with his knee.
“Mainly he was fit and blonde,” Harry shrugged, “But he was so quiet the entire time. Didn’t insult me once. Didn’t even tell me boring facts about the sixteenth goblin rebellion while I had his cock in my mouth.”
Draco’s face remained impassive, but the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile, “Potter, you know perfectly well there have only been eleven goblin rebellions and I was only reciting them because I was trying to delay my climax.”
Harry grinned and placed a hand on Draco’s thigh, “Didn’t work very well, did it?”
Draco huffed and turned back to his pint.
“Have you shagged anyone else?” Harry asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.
“No,” Draco said, simply, “Not since you. Haven’t felt the need.” The tightness in Harry’s chest eased and was replaced by a warmth that spread to the end of his fingertips.
Draco took a deep breath, “In the spirit of frank confessions, I suppose I should tell you that Alex and I used to. On occasion.”
Harry looked over at Alex who had his arm around a stranger near the dart board and was regaling him with an effusive tale while Seamus fetched darts that had gone wildly off target.
“Does he talk as much as you do when shagging? Christ, the two of you together.”
Draco gave Harry a heated stare, “We were never lacking for words.”
Harry grinned and found he didn’t hate the rude images that popped into his head.
“I thought I loved him, for a bit,” Draco said, flicking his fringe out of his eyes, “But it turns out I just loved the idea of being cared for. I hadn’t had that with anyone before Alex. He was kind to me and treated me like a human being. I didn’t think I deserved it. He let me down gently when I told him how I felt and a week later he offered me a job. I almost didn’t take it because I didn’t think I could stand to be around him. But it got easier, over time.”
Draco stared at the table, running his finger over the edge of his coaster, “I still love him. But more like a brother. Or a father. Either way he’s – he’s family.”
Harry thought of Draco after the war, how untethered Draco would have been. His mother, chilly and remote, Lucius in Azkaban, his desperation for kindness and connection. Alex’s magnetic, blustering personality would have been a tonic to years of fear and repression. Anyone who knew Draco well could see he craved most was gentle love after a lifetime of harsh pretence.
Harry gripped Draco’s hand under the table, “Thank you for telling me.”
Draco nodded stiffly and Harry leaned in, “Have to say, way to live up to Pureblood stereotypes by fucking your family.”
“You laugh, but I’m pretty sure my mother’s aunt was married to a Potter. So this,” Draco waved a fine boned hand between them, “Could well be a family affair.”
“Kinky,” Harry said waggling his eyebrows. Draco’s eyes flashed and Harry couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss him. Draco pulled away.
“No?” Harry asked.
“People will see us.”
“Fuck, I knew I left the invisibility cloak at the other bar,” Harry said sarcastically.
“They will talk.”
“People always talk about me, what else is new?”
“Considering we just had a roundabout discussion confirming we are more than former enemies who shag, don’t you think it would be prudent that you discuss this with your friends before it’s splashed all over Witch Weekly ?”
Harry leaned in and gave Draco a dazzling kiss, fisting the front of his shirt before pushing him away, leaving him panting, “Thought you’d never ask.”
---
A few weeks later Harry invited himself over to Hermione and Ron’s and felt a twinge of guilt as he remarked how much Rose and Hugo had grown.
They had a boisterous dinner where Harry helped feed Hugo by levitating mushy peas into his mouth and read Rose approximately three-hundred bed time stories before she finally dozed off. He shooed Hermione out of the kitchen and finished the washing up before bringing a large bottle of firewhisky and three glasses to the sitting room.
He handed a glass to Ron who took it gratefully and gave Harry a calculated look, “Why do I feel like we’re being buttered up for something?”
Harry gave him a nervous grin and Hermione stopped folding washing to look at Harry expectantly.
“Just know, that I’m fully prepared for any reaction you’re going to have to what I’m about to say, so I won’t be offended. Just – work through your feelings as they come to you.”
“Merlin, this can’t be good,” Ron said, swallowing his whisky in one go. Harry refilled it and grasped his glass tightly.
“I’m seeing someone.”
The line between Hermione’s eyebrows disappeared and she fixed him with a brilliant smile.
“That’s wonderful Harry.”
Ron surveyed Harry from the couch, “He hasn’t said who it is yet.”
Hermione’s frown line returned, and Harry took a fortifying sip.
“It’s Draco.” Harry said then hastily added, “Malfoy.” Like there could be any number of Draco’s in their life and Harry needed to clarify.
Harry could hear the scramble of a possum on the roof and the gentle hum of the wireless in the corner as he braced himself for impact, like a bludger to the face.
“Malfoy?” Ron eventually repeated.
“Yes.” Harry said.
“Oh my…” Hermione said, absently running a hand through her hair.
“You’re seeing Draco Malfoy?” Ron said, voice rising slightly.
“I am.”
Ron blinked a few times and then shook himself, “Right, I’ve obviously got a few fucking questions here.”
“I thought you might.” Harry said.
“Are you under Imperious?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s what everyone says, isn’t it? When they are.”
“I see how you might think that, but no. No Imperious.”
“Is he blackmailing you?”
“About what?”
“No fucking idea, but I’m sure you’ve got something he wants.”
“He just wants me.”
“Oh my…” Hermione repeated, leaning back against the sofa, hand over her mouth.
“How long has this been going on?” Ron asked.
Harry bit his lip, calculating, “Nine months?”
“Nine months ?” Ron said, a red flush creeping up his neck.
“There abouts. But that was mostly shagging.”
“Oh my…” Hermione said, and Ron shot her an exasperated look.
“Sorry, sorry,” Hermione said, “I’m just processing quite a lot of information at once.”
Ron drained his glass again and thrust it out for Harry to refill.
“How did this even happen?”
Harry told them about seeing Draco at the pub with Seamus and the events of the bathhouse, leaving out a few choice details and Ron leaned forward in his chair.
“So, this is all Seamus’s fault? I always thought he was a twat.”
“I’ll have you know he tried to talk me out of it.”
“Too right he did!” Ron said, Seamus suddenly back in his good graces.
“Yes, I think we’ve heard quite enough from Ron for the moment,” Hermione said, recovering somewhat after the initial shock, “Harry, why did you decide to tell us now seeing as you’ve been, ah, intimate for a while?”
“It’s getting serious. I really like him, Hermione.”
Ron drained his drink again and Harry held out the bottle. Ron got to his feet and snatched it out of Harry’s hand, taking a swig from it directly. He staggered back to the couch and sat down heavily.
“You know what mate, I thought after school and the Horcruxes and you know, killing the most evil wizard of our generation, I thought, hey that’s a lot of insane stuff for one lifetime. I thought, nothing is going to be able to top the terrifying and insane shit we went through. But it just goes to show, it’s always going to be fucking mental when you’re around. I mean…” Ron flapped his hand at Harry and then gave Hermione a helpless look imploring her to take over.
“I think Ron’s trying to say that it’s very unexpected.”
“Is it?” Harry said, philosophically, “Is it really?”
“Yes, it fucking is!” Ron bellowed.
Hermione pursed her lips and gave Harry a frank stare, “You were always very, ah, invested in Malfoy at school.”
“Obsessed with the smarmy fucker,” Ron supplied, waving the bottle dangerously.
Harry shrugged helplessly.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, you’ve fancied him forever, haven’t you?” Ron asked, mouth agape.
“I think I might have.” Harry said quietly.
“Next you’re going to be saying you want us to meet him!” Ron said, voice high and scathing.
“Eventually, that would be nice.”
Ron placed a hand over his eyes and breathed heavily through his nose, “I think I’m having a stroke.”
After another half hour of Harry answering questions patiently and Ron polishing off most of the of the bottle Harry decided it was best to get out before Ron started throwing things. Hermione walked him to the floo.
“That actually went better than I expected.” Harry said, voice forcefully bright.
“You can understand why we are, ah, a bit out of sorts.”
“I’d be shocked if you weren’t.” Harry said, kindly.
Hermione looked at him thoughtfully for a few seconds then wrapped him in a massive hug, “Thank you for telling us.”
“Feel like I’m always apologising for not telling you things,” Harry said into her hair which smelled of peas and Hugo’s soapy baby smell.
“I know why you didn’t,” Hermione said, “Just give us a bit of time.”
----
It took another three months before Ron calmed down and allowed Hermione to invite both Harry and Draco over for dinner.
Draco didn’t seem particularly thrilled with the idea either, but stood resolute at the floo, clutching a bottle of wine that probably cost as much as Harry’s broomstick.
Harry grabbed a handful of powder and gave Draco a bright smile, “You ready for this?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions, Potter.”
Harry laughed and said mostly to himself, “It’s going to be alright.”
Draco smoothed down the front of his trousers, “You remain insufferably delusional.”
“That’s the spirit!”
All things considered, the night could have been far worse. Things got off to a rocky start as they emerged from the fire. Hermione greeted them with a tight smile, taking the wine from Draco, thanking him a touch too enthusiastically. Ron stood behind her, glowering, hand twitching like he might draw his wand at any second.
They sat down stiffly in the sitting room as Hermione and Harry valiantly kept the conversation going and Ron looked like he had a terrible case of indigestion. Harry was about to suggest Ron throw a punch or smash something to shake off his mood when they were saved by the thump of footsteps on the stairs. Teddy burst through the door, flinging himself into Harry’s arms.
“Hey, mate,” Harry said, ruffling his shock of magenta hair.
“Andromeda dropped him off earlier today, she’s desperate for a night off.” Hermione said.
“You giving your Gran grief?” Harry asked conspiratorially.
Teddy fought back a grin and Harry’s heart skipped a beat to see the ghost of Remus’s smile on his young son’s face.
“Uncle George gave me some products to test out. He said he wanted an honest review.”
Harry laughed, “How did that go?”
“It was wicked,” Teddy said, eyes dreamy, “Gran got proper mad and asked who she cursed to deserve this and told me to go to my room. But I’d blown the roof off and it was raining and everything was wet. So, now I’m here.”
Harry leaned back on the sofa laughing and Teddy shot him a sheepish grin, then seemed to notice Draco sitting beside him, failing to hide his own smile.
“Teddy, this is Draco.”
“Hello, Teddy.” Draco said, giving him a small nod, “One time when I was eleven I accidently apparated everything out of my bedroom into the lake and we couldn’t get the bog stench out for weeks.”
Teddy’s eyes were two wide saucers, “Was everyone mad at you?”
“Very.”
Teddy nodded sagely, “Did they take away your broom? That’s what Gran does whenever I get in trouble. But I don’t mind because then I come here, and Uncle Ron always lets me use one of theirs.”
Ron blushed in the corner, “Shame to deny him when he’s such a good flyer.”
“I want to be the youngest Chaser at Hogwarts like Harry was the youngest Seeker,” Teddy said to Draco who nodded seriously, acknowledging that noble pursuit.
“Were you at Hogwarts with my mum and dad?” Teddy asked, a question he asked most adults the first time they met. Draco looked to Harry.
“Remus and Tonks,” Harry said.
Draco cleared his throat, “Not with your mum and dad, no,”
“Draco was at school with us.” Harry said.
“In Gryffindor?” Teddy asked.
There was a collective intake of breath and Harry felt the room go very still.
“No,” Draco said eventually, “I was in Slytherin.”
Teddy pushed his fringe off his forehead, softening to a light lavender, “So was my Gran. And she’s alright when she’s not yelling at me for getting on her last nerve .” His impression of Andromeda’s clipped tone was so spot on even Ron cracked a smile.
Harry wondered if Draco remembered much of his aunt. He’d never spoken of her, but then there were still many subjects they didn’t discuss.
“I imagine you’ve got your heart set on Gryffindor,” Draco said, voice soft.
“Maybe,” Teddy said with a shrug, “Uncle Ron says it’s the best house, but I wouldn’t mind being in Hufflepuff. That’s where my mum was.”
Draco nodded and said seriously, “Hufflepuff House would be lucky to have you.”
They were interrupted by Rose flinging open the back door, dragging a very green looking Hugo behind her.
“Mum, Hugo ate something in the garden and now he’s been sick all over my shoes!”
There was a flurry of activity as Hermione scooped Hugo up and Ron took a belligerent Rose into his arms, “Did you feed it to him, Rosie-Posie?”
“Maybe,” she mumbled into Ron’s neck.
“Atta girl,” Ron said, patting her on the back.
Eventually they all sat down to dinner which lasted all of ten seconds before the Teddy was out of his seat, dragging Hugo and Lily upstairs to play. Hermione tried half-heartedly to stop them but gave it up as a lost cause once the door slammed behind them.
“Teddy’s very energetic,” she said to Draco, “Makes me grateful we don’t have a third.”
“We still might,” Ron said from the other side of the table.
“In your dreams,” Hermione shot back.
Ron gave her a wide smile then caught Harry and Draco watching and schooled his face back to a scowl.
There was a lull in the conversation and Hermione turned to Draco and said, a little too forcefully, “Harry tells us you’re an Unspeakable.”
Draco took a sip of wine, “I am.”
“That’s Morris’s department, right?” Ron asked and they all turned to him.
Draco hesitated for a moment, “It is.”
“He’s a good sort,” Ron said, “Helped us out a few months ago with a tricky bit of spell work in Cornwell. Man loves a bloody chat.”
Harry grinned into his roast beef and Draco tilted his head, “You’re under Robards?”
Ron grunted an affirmative.
“Runs a very tight ship, I hear.” Draco offered and Harry almost choked on his mashed potatoes. Draco had spent several hours last month, and many before that, complaining about what a bigoted, self-involved asshole Robards was.
“And that’s coming from me!” Draco had complained, “And I used to be a Death Eater!”
“He’s a prick,” Ron said, taking a sip of his beer, “But he’s been in the game a long time. Got to respect that.”
Draco looked like he wanted to say something but then thought better of it.
“He’s not a fan of you lot,” Ron said giving Draco a frank once-over, “Thinks you’ve all got something to hide.”
“And what do you think?” Draco asked, looking genuinely interested.
Ron gave a noncommittal shrug, “Can’t really say I know what he’s on about. I mean, no one knows what you shifty fuckers get up to,” Ron pointed his beer bottle at Harry, “Do you know?”
Harry who shook his head, “I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
Draco turned to Hermione, “You never considered a Ministry position?”
Hermione flushed and gave him a small smile, “There’s still time. But I like my job. It feels like I’m doing something important.”
“A mind healer?” Draco asked and Hermione gave him a look as if deciphering whether he was mocking her.
“It combines muggle psychotherapy with magical methods. It’s a bit out there for some traditional wixen but our clinics books are full to bursting. Turns out a generation who grew up in a war has a lot of trauma they need to discuss.”
Harry thought Draco might disagree, but he simply nodded and said “I saw a muggle psychologist for a little while. A few years ago.”
Three shocked faces stared at him.
“You did?” Harry finally asked.
The tips of Draco’s ears had gone pink, “One of my colleagues suggested I give it a try.”
“Did you find it useful?” Hermione asked, leaning forward.
Draco looked up at the ceiling, frowning, “It was difficult because I couldn’t really discuss what I wanted without violating the Statue of Secrecy. But it was helpful to talk.”
“What did you talk about?” Hermione asked.
“Family. Self-worth. Letting go,” Draco listed on his fingers then asked Hermione, “Have you ever heard of the concept of an inner child?”
Hermione gave Draco a small, shocked nod.
“It was useful to talk, even though I couldn’t be completely truthful. It started feeling a bit dishonest though, so I stopped. But I wouldn’t mind giving it another crack.”
Hermione flicked Harry a brief look and then gave Draco her first sincere smile, “Sounds like it would be very beneficial.”
Ron placed his empty beer bottle on the table, “You play chess, Malfoy?”
“Er, yes.” Draco said, looking shocked to be addressed directly.
“Haven’t played Harry in years because he’s so bloody rubbish at it.”
Draco gave Harry a shrewd look, “Doesn’t seem fair to expect Potter to be good at a game that requires any kind of forward planning.”
Harry kicked Draco’s foot under the table and Ron rubbed his hands together, “Oh yeah, this’ll be fun.”
After dinner they cleared the plates and Ron dragged Draco into his study. Harry went to follow but Hermione grabbed his arm, “Let them go.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Harry said, listening out for the sound of tell-tale hexes being cast.
Hermione nodded firmly, “Let Ron peacock for a bit, tell Malfoy a bunch of off-colour stories, pray he doesn’t insult him too badly.”
Harry reluctantly turned back to the washing up but kept an ear out for any furniture being overturned.
“He seems different.” Hermione said, handing Harry a tea towel.
“Ron?”
“No, Draco.”
“He is. Or maybe he isn’t? I don’t know if we ever gave him the benefit of the doubt at school.”
“He did call me some pretty disgusting names.”
“I don’t think he knew any better. He does now.”
“Are you making excuses for him because you care about him, or do you really believe that?”
“Maybe both?”
“You were always very quick to see the good in people.”
“Is that bad?”
“No, Harry,” Hermione said affectionately, “It’s quite spectacular really. I admire that you still can after everything.”
“He’s also very fit.” Harry said and Hermione wrinkled her nose.
“If you go in for lanky blondes, I suppose so.”
“I do,” Harry said emphatically, “I really do.”
Harry helped Hermione give Rose and Hugo a bath, getting thoroughly drenched in the process as Teddy fired off questions about dragons. He walked past Ron’s study several times and heard the rumble of Ron’s low voice and hoped the game wasn’t a total bloodbath.
Forty-five minutes later, Ron emerged from the study with a smirk on his face, a disgruntled Draco trailing behind him.
“You brought a worthy adversary Harry,” Ron said, clapping him on the shoulder, “but he never stood a chance.”
“If I wasn’t so distracted by that vile banshee story, I would have had you.” Draco said, sitting a respectful distance away from Harry on the sofa.
“I thought you weren’t going to bring that up anymore,” Hermione said, running a hand over her eyes.
“People love that story!” Ron said, giving Harry an incredulous stare.
“It certainly lingers,” Harry said.
Ron gave Hermione a nod, as if that settled it.
“A few of the blokes from Magical Artefacts and Maintenance get together every Thursday to play a few games,” Ron said casually to Draco not meeting his eye, “We’re always looking for fresh blood.”
Draco blinked a few times then nodded, “Is it very competitive?”
“Oh yeah,” Ron said enthusiastically, “Wouldn’t be much fun if it wasn’t.”
Ron loved three things most in this world – his family – which sometimes extended to the greater Weasley’s but there was always some feud going on between siblings that Harry had long since lost track of. The Chuddley Canon’s – who Ron loudly pronounced were in with a chance at the Cup this year while slowly losing his mind as they failed every year to do so. And his chess cronies.
Harry remembered with vivid clarity the day Hermione told Ron he would have to miss a Thursday chess night because her mother was in hospital and he needed to take care of the children. The row that followed had been spectacular. Ron’s casual invite to Draco belied the fact that he had just offered him something very dear indeed.
Harry mouthed a small thank you at Ron who rolled his eyes and wandered into the kitchen asking if there was any pudding.
Half an hour later, Harry and Draco stood by the floo, saying their goodbyes, Harry holding Draco’s hand, the first time they had touched all night. Draco’s grip was so tight Harry could feel his bones grind together.
Hermione handed Draco a slim pamphlet, which listed the services her office provided, “Just a bit about what we do, if you, ah, are interested,”
“I am,” Draco looked down at the pamphlet like it was a rare manuscript, handling it carefully. Hermione smiled and leaned forward to give him a tentative hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you for coming, and the wine. It was lovely to have you, really.” Hermione’s voice was so sincere Harry had to swallow a few times to clear the lump in his throat. He hugged Hermione goodbye so tightly she squealed.
Ron looked like he might shake Draco’s hand but then thought better of it. He placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “Rose’s birthday next month. I won’t be responsible for how she’ll react if you’re not there. Found her reading one of Hermione’s advanced charms books last week, Merlin help us.”
Harry grinned, “Granger brains and Weasley mischief. Should be illegal.”
“Yeah, we’re fucked.” Ron said, proudly.
They waved goodbye and stepped through the floo, back to Draco’s. Draco walked straight to the kitchen cupboard and pulled out a bottle of firewhisky, pouring three fingers into a tumbler and throwing it back. He placed his palms on the counter, head lowered and exhaled heavily through his nose. Harry waited a few seconds then moved behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist, resting his forehead on his shoulder.
They stood like that for a few minutes until Draco finally spoke, “They were entirely too kind to me.”
Harry tightened his grip, “Would you have preferred if they hexed you?”
Draco gave a mirthless chuckle, “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Ron still might, if you play your cards right.”
Draco shrugged out of Harry’s embrace and poured himself more whiskey, getting another glass for Harry.
“I kept wanting to apologise, but I didn’t want it to seem disingenuous.”
“You still can. There’ll be other dinners. Lots more.”
Harry sipped his whiskey and then went to hug Draco again, but he moved, eel like, out of his arms and paced to the end of the kitchen. He turned to Harry, face like gathering storm clouds.
“Potter, I don’t want you to – I don’t need you to be tender with me right now.”
“Okay,” Harry surveyed him carefully, “What do you need?”
Draco ran a hand through his hair in frustration, “I don’t know.”
Harry took a step forward and Draco tensed, “Potter, don’t. I can’t stand it.”
Draco went to walk past Harry to get another drink and Harry took his wrist. Draco wrenched it out of his grasp, then shoved Harry hard. Harry staggered back a few steps and Draco was up in his space, pushing him again, eyes a furious blaze.
“Don’t treat me like that. Don’t pity me. Don’t be kind.” Draco spat the word kind , like it was an insult.
Harry pushed back, crowding Draco into the kitchen cupboard so the mugs rattled, “You don’t want me to be kind?”
Draco clawed at Harry’s chest, trying to escape but Harry pushed his hips forward, pinning him to the cupboard.
“Anything but that,” Draco said, and Harry understood.
It was messy after that. There were teeth and nails, fingerprint bruises on Draco’s arms as Harry held him roughly and they ground together desperately. Harry bit down on Draco’s neck making him gasp and Draco fumbled with their trousers, pushing them down to their ankles. Harry grabbed Draco’s hips and spun him around, bending him over the kitchen counter, rubbing himself into the cleft of Draco’s arse.
“Like this?” Harry said.
“Please,” Draco begged, his head resting on his arms.
Harry whispered a spell, coating his fingers and ruthlessly pressed inside, one hand on the back of Draco’s neck holding him in place. Draco moaned and bucked his hips back, and Harry thought it must have burned but Draco seemed to relish it, demanding more.
Harry withdrew his fingers and Draco tried to stand up, but Harry held him firm, pressing his weeping cock into his crease, bending slightly to whisper harshly in his ear.
“Is this what you want?”
“Stop asking and do it.”
Harry pushed forward and Draco’s hands scrambled for purchase on the smooth countertop. It was dirty and rough, Harry kicking Draco’s legs further apart so he could move deeper, and Draco let out a steady string of curses and commands. Harry bent down and bit down on the tender flesh of Draco’s neck, moving a hand around to stroke his weeping cock.
“I can fuck you like this and still care about you.” Harry panted into Draco’s ear.
Draco whimpered and Harry felt him spill, hot and thick into his palm. Harry pumped a few more times and came, feeling Draco clench around him. Harry slumped forward, running his tongue over the purple bruise at Draco’s neck and he shivered.
Harry withdrew and took Draco into his arms, carrying him into the bedroom, pulling back the covers and laying Draco down gently. He covered him with his body and placed tender kisses on Draco’s forehead, his salty cheeks. Draco clung to him, his eyes closed tightly. Harry was slow and gentle, and Draco allowed it. They stayed wrapped together, mouths hot against each other, for an indeterminant amount of time until Draco finally buried his face in Harry’s neck, inhaling deeply.
“You always smell the best right here,” he said, running his nose over Harry’s neck, sensitive from Draco’s stubble, “Like tea leaves. And magic.”
Harry didn’t trust himself to speak because he was afraid it would be devastatingly tender and he wasn’t sure Draco was ready to hear it.
“I’m sorry for my reaction,” Draco said, voice muffled.
“Don’t be,” Harry said.
“It was harder than I anticipated.”
“Understandable.”
They were silent for a few minutes and Draco said, barely above a whisper, “I’ve always wondered what Teddy would be like.”
“He’s a little terror, right?”
“He seems happy.”
“He is.” Harry ran a hand through the sweaty strands of hair at the back of his neck, “Andromeda loves him a lot, even if he drives her spare.”
Draco hummed into Harry’s throat, and he felt the tickle down his spine, “I’ve never met her.”
“Would you like to?”
Draco was silent for a long time and Harry thought he might have fallen asleep. Finally, he whispered, “I would.”
---
Things moved slowly but there was a general thawing and acceptance of the strange thing between Harry and Draco.
Harry was invited to meet Draco’s Slytherin friends at an extremely expensive restaurant in Soho with everyone trying to one up each other ordering fancy bottles of wine and talking at full volume. It was the most relaxed Harry had seen Draco outside of his house and Harry spent most of the dinner watching Draco interact with the people who knew him best. He noticed everyone treated him with a ruthless type of kindness.
Pansy cornered him when Draco excused himself to go to the loos, “Alright, what’s going on?”
“Pardon?” Harry asked, around a large mouthful of wine.
“Are you fucking with him?” She flicked him a cool stare through her blunt fringe.
“Er, no?”
“Is it a revenge thing? I don’t approve, but I would understand if that’s your angle.”
“There’s no angle.”
Blaise leaned in from the other side and placed a hand on Harry’s arm, “You can see why we are concerned.”
“I’d be surprised if you weren’t.” Harry said levelly.
Blaise pursed his lips, “Because he’s been obsessed with you since school. We all knew it. He talked in his sleep.”
Harry grinned, imagining a teenage Draco muttering his name, sweaty and writhing in his four-poster bed, “Did he mention I was the same?”
Pansy leaned back in her chair, picking up a slim silver cigarette case and clicked it open. She hesitated and then offered it to Harry. Her nails were sharp talons, the colour of blood. Harry took two and placed them between his lips, clicking his fingers at the end to light them. He inhaled then passed one to Pansy. She took it and exhaled smoke through her nose like a disgruntled mother dragon.
A hand came over Harry’s shoulder and plucked the cigarette out of his mouth. Draco sat down and Harry watched as he brought the fag to his mouth, two fingers pressing against the fullness of his bottom lip.
“How was the interrogation?” Draco asked.
“Brief.” Pansy said, dismissively.
Harry placed his arm around the back of Draco’s chair, his finger tracing the soft fabric of his starched shirt.
“I need a martini,” Pansy said to no one in particular and the night got decidedly hazy after that.
“Slytherins can drink,” Harry said later that night, eyes closed on the bed as the room spun alarmingly.
“It’s genetic.” Draco said, folding his trousers and placing them over a chair.
“Pansy hates me.”
“She hates everyone, don’t take it personally.”
“You’re different around them.”
Draco shrugged, “They are my friends.”
“They care about you.”
“They do.”
“So do I.”
“Shut up, Potter, you’re drunk.”
But Harry could see in the dim light Draco was smiling.
It took another six months, but Harry finally managed to convince Draco to come to a Sunday dinner at The Burrow. He looked calm as they walked up to the back door, the sun shining down on their neck in the sweltering July afternoon. Harry was nervous, remembering Draco’s reaction after their first dinner with Ron and Hermione. Still, there had been promising developments in that area. Harry had been shocked to learn Draco and Ron frequently got lunch together at the Ministry, and when Harry asked what they talked about Draco shrugged.
“Quidditch. Politics. You, mostly.”
“Me?”
Draco ran a finger absently over the scar on the back of Harry’s hand, “It’s a topic we’re both passionate about.”
When Harry thanked Ron for his kindness over a curry the following week, he gave him a funny look.
“I don’t want this to get out, and I’ll murder you if you mention it, but he’s not so bad, old Malfoy.”
Harry stared at Ron, his forkful of chicken tikka masala hovering next to his mouth.
“I mean he’s too posh for his own good and his family is proper mental – not that I can talk, mind you – and he dresses like he’s off to the bloody Yule Ball every day and his optimism about England’s chances in the World Cup are laughable but – I don’t know.”
Ron shifted in his seat and fiddled with his placemat, “You and Hermione – you didn’t grow up with magic. It’s nice, sometimes. To talk to someone who gets that, gets what it was like. You and Hermione are always banging on about all this muggle rubbish that I haven’t got a clue about so – yeah. He’s good to talk to.”
Harry had shovelled more curry into his mouth, to stop himself from doing something stupid like crying in public.
They walked through the back door of The Burrow and were greeted by the utter chaos that proceeded a full family dinner. It looked like almost everyone plus partners and their multiplying offspring were in attendance and Draco stood politely next to Harry as there were effusive greetings.
Molly bustled in from the kitchen and gave Harry a floury hug and then didn’t hesitate before doing the same to Draco, who accepted it stiffly.
“Hope you’re hungry, looks like you could use a decent meal,” Molly said, giving Draco’s slim frame a frank appraisal.
“I am,” Draco said, “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Molly acted like Draco had uttered a slur and shooed him to sit at the table. Harry sat opposite, and Ron plonked down beside them, handing them two beers, condensation dripping down the side. Ron told Draco he’d heard a rumour that the Canons were going with a German broom manufacturer this year and Draco scoffed, “Prophet’s going to call that unpatriotic.”
“I don’t give a fuck as long as it means they win a few matches.”
“You’ve taken too many curses to the head if you think it’s brooms that are the problem,” Draco said dryly, “Defensive line so wide they could drive a Knight Bus through it.”
Harry smiled to himself, rubbing the cool glass of the beer against his neck. He was absently watching the way Draco’s lips wrapped around the bottle of his glass when he heard the door open behind him and saw Draco’s eyes widened.
Harry turned and saw Charlie, backlit by the afternoon sun, clutching a broomstick, panting heavily. He was wearing the rudest pair of muggle football shorts Harry had ever seen that barely covered his thick thighs and his shirt was off, tucked into the elastic of his shorts. He grinned at Harry and went to walk over to the table but was interrupted by Hugo speeding out of the kitchen, on a collision course with his shins.
“Uncle Charlie!” Hugo screamed. Charlie dropped the broom and grabbed Hugo by the waist, throwing him in the air a few times as Hugo screamed with delight. His shorts rode up even further with each throw and Harry turned around to face Draco whose mouth was open in a small O shape, eyes following the rise and fall of Charlie’s arms. Harry nudged Draco with his foot, and he blinked rapidly, closing his mouth and sitting straighter in his chair. Harry tilted his head, raising an eyebrow and Draco took a deep sip of his beer, his cheeks slightly pinker than before.
“Charlie, stop it, you’ll make him sick!” Molly called out from the kitchen. He lowered Hugo to the ground, and he giggled happily, “Tell everyone to come in, almost time to eat.”
Molly poked her head around the doorframe and gave Charlie a withering stare, “Put your shirt on for Merlin’s sake, we have guests!”
“Yeah, you’re making the rest of us look bad.” Ron said, patting his middle.
Charlie grabbed his shirt out of his shorts and used it to wipe the sweat from his arms and torso, then pulled it over his head. The words Rezetat Dragon Sanctuary rippled across his chest as he strode forward and gave Harry a hug.
“Did you get more handsome, Harry?” Charlie said, gripping Harry by the arms giving him an appraising look.
Harry pushed him away and turned, “Do you know Draco?”
Charlie reached a broad hand across the table and Draco shook it, “We’ve never officially met.”
“Too bloody hot to be flying,” Ron said, shaking his head.
“Nah,” Charlie said, looking wistfully out the window, “It’s fucking freezing in the mountains, got to enjoy the sun while I can.”
Hugo leant against Charlie’s leg and looked up at him repeating, “Fucking freezing! Fucking freezing!”
Harry covered his mouth with his hands to stifle a laugh and Ron groaned, rolling his eyes, “You can bloody explain that to Hermione.”
“Charlie, what did I say?!” Molly yelled from the kitchen.
Charlie dutifully rounded up the stray Weasley’s and everyone squeezed into the table. Dinner was its usual chaotic affair, everyone talking over each other, children screaming while dishes levitated back and forth. Draco was mostly silent, chatting to Ron or Hermione and once dinner finished, was convinced to read Hugo and Victorie a story in the sitting room.
After half an hour there was a distinct lack of screaming children and Harry and Hermione went to investigate. They found Draco sitting on the floor, his back against the couch with Hugo curled against him, napping peacefully. Rose was straight backed in an arm chair, nose in a book, while Victorie brushed and braided her hair. Teddy was sprawled on the rug, peppering Draco with questions about The Forbidden Forrest, a place he was desperate to explore at Hogwarts, its prohibition making it that much more tempting.
“Well, this is fucking adorable,” Harry whispered to Hermione.
“He’s very good with them, isn’t he?” Hermione said, watching the scene fondly.
They tiptoed away, Teddy’s cries of, “That sounds wicked!” ringing down the hall.
After pudding and many cups of tea, Harry and Draco started to say their goodbyes, Charlie placed a warm hand on Harry’s back, “I’ve got long service leave in a few months, thought it might be nice to go on a holiday.”
“Can’t remember the last time we had a bloody holiday,” Ron said, grabbing the sugar bowl from Hugo who was about to pour it on his sister’s head, “Not much time with these two terrors.”
“You should come! Everyone should come!”
“Where were you thinking?” Hermione asked, packing Rose’s books into her bag.
“I don’t know, somewhere warm,” Charlie said, “Somewhere with a beach. Anywhere I can drink a cocktail and do sweet fuck all.”
“My boss-slash-friend has a beach house in Spain.” Draco said and all eyes swivelled to him.
“He does?” Harry asked.
“Yes, he inherited it from his mum a few years ago.”
“Would he let us use it?” Charlie asked.
Draco shrugged, “I can ask. He’d probably want to come with us, knowing him.”
“You’d love him, mate.” Harry said, wiggling his eyebrows at Charlie who grinned knowingly.
Charlie placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder and squeezed, “Sounds like a party.”
They were interrupted by Rose who was shrieking at Hugo because he’d spilled cold tea over her book and Harry and Draco took the opportunity to make their escape, promising they would owl with dates and times once they spoke to Alex.
The second they stepped through the floo, Draco grabbed Harry’s arm and pushed him against the wall, kissing him furiously.
“What’s this about,” Harry asked, as Draco dragged him into the bedroom. Draco flung him onto the bed and swung a leg over, straddling Harry.
“You didn’t think to warn me,” Draco said, ripping Harry’s t-shirt off, “that Charlie Weasley has the audacity to look like that?”
Harry chuckled then gasped as Draco took a nipple into his mouth, biting down hard.
“You noticed, did you?”
“I’d have to be blind as bloody Trewlany not to notice, Potter,” Draco ruthlessly unbuttoned Harry’s jeans pulling them down his legs, “I wanted to scale him like a tree.”
“Oh god,” Harry moaned.
“Has he always looked like that?”
“Unfortunately,” Harry gasped as Draco wrapped a hand around him, “It’s always been very distracting.”
“You two have never…?”
“No, thought about it though,” Harry tried to get a hand under Draco’s shirt, but he batted his hand away, pinning it above his head.
“Those shorts should be illegal. I wanted to remove them with my teeth,”
“Fucking hell,” Harry thrust his hips up into Draco’s hand.
“You’d like that? You’d like to watch?”
“Jesus Christ, yes.”
“Watch as I rode him. I imagine he’s big. Even bigger than you.”
Draco did something particularly clever with his wrist and Harry came suddenly with a cry, Draco hungrily watching his face.
Sometime later they lay panting and sticky. Harry slapped Draco’s thigh, “Who knew you had a thing for gingers.”
Draco moaned and stretched like a cat rolling onto his stomach, watching Harry through his damp fringe, “A frightening development.”
“I’ll tell Ron to watch himself.”
“Ron should be so lucky,” Draco huffed then reconsidered, “Still, he’s got his own hot Dad thing going on.”
Harry laughed and draped himself over Draco’s back. He moaned luxuriously, “I’ll have to watch you, Malfoy.”
---
Slowly, their streams of their life flowed together. Their friends start to overlap – Blaise and Ron striking up a bizarre friendship, Hermione and Pansy swapping book recommendations. Draco met Andromeda and Harry wished it could have happened earlier, understanding Draco’s silent craving for a lost family. There are friendship holidays and Harry’s prediction that Charlie and Alex would like each other turned out to be spectacularly accurate.
They started spending more time at Grimmauld Place after Draco looked up from his plate over dinner one night, as if reminded of a forgotten task, and asked “Potter, where the fuck do you live?”
Harry laughed and cut into his lasagne, “Grimmauld Place. The Black families old place.” Draco’s eyes went very wide.
“Yeah, figured you’d know it,” Harry said, “Sirius left it to me when he died.”
Draco lowered his fork, “From what I remember it’s very…”
“Awful. Cursed. Dank. I hate it.”
“Can I see it?”
“Now?”
“Yes, please.”
Harry hoovered the last of his dinner and Draco dragged him through the floo.
Harry gave Draco the knut tour, Draco silently drinking in every detail – the library, the parlour, the bedrooms, finally stopping in front of the tapestry.
“I remember my mother talking about this.” Draco said softly.
“How is Narcissa?” Harry asked. Draco had never spoken about her before.
“Distant. Withdrawn,” he said, running a finger over the singed hole where Sirius’s face should have been, “We don’t see much of each other. She won’t move out of The Manor, and I don’t particularly like visiting so – we are at an impasse.”
They walked into the kitchen, Draco taking in the general air of neglect, the grimy sink and countertop, the lonely dishes in the cupboard.
“You really live here?” Draco asked, flicking back a curtain sending up a cloud of dust.
“Barely,” Harry said, sitting in a chair, “It feels haunted.”
Draco looked at the ceiling, the floorboards, assessing, calculating.
“What?” Harry asked as Draco shot him a shrewd look.
“Do you want to live here?”
“No,” Harry said, “I would happily burn it to the ground.”
Draco looked stricken and Harry softened, “I wouldn’t.”
“This might be speaking out of turn,” Draco said, carefully, then plouged on, “I know a lot of the Black family has a reputation for dark magic. So many of them were despicable human beings but – not everyone subscribed to that way of thinking. Look at the tapestry with all the names blasted off. And think about the people you care about in your life. Andromeda, Teddy, Sirirus…” Draco took a deep breath, “…me.”
Harry took Draco’s hand, squeezing it.
“The house has a history, but it doesn’t need to be defined by that. If you don’t want it to be.”
Draco got up and opened a few cupboards, peering inside.
“Would you like that?” Harry asked, “Make it a space people would want to spend time in. A place we would spend time in?”
Draco ran a finger over an ancient kettle that hung in the fireplace, “I think – I think I would.”
Slowly, under Draco’s careful ministrations, Grimmauld Place started to change, to take the shape of a home. Draco started small, banishing decades worth of dust and grime, replacing mouldy furnishings, often asking Alex to come and help deal with the seemingly endless magical items they found in upstairs rooms.
“What are you doing with them?” Harry asked one day as Alex levitated a gold and ruby sceptre into the floo.
“Something of an entirely sexual nature, I assure you!” Alex said, winking as he stepped into the flames.
Harry would often come back from his work trips to find a new sofa in the sitting room. Fresh carpet laid in the bedrooms and expensive linen on his bed. The kitchen was entirely remodelled, and the fireplaces gleamed with the sparkle of cleaning charms. Draco removed many of the portraits and applied fresh wallpaper, brightening the house room by room. They spent less time at Draco’s flat and more time shopping for art, discussing side tables and inviting friends over for dinner. For the first time in his life, Harry could repay the hundreds of dinners his friends had cooked for him, and he found he relished the role of gracious host.
Harry was heartened by the fact that Andromeda was a frequent guest, helping Draco restore names to the tapestry, bringing Teddy when he was home for school holidays, the offshoot of the Black Family tree reclaiming a space that had seen so much wickedness.
An idea took root for Harry that he might ask Draco if he wanted to move in permanently. Any pretence that they weren’t serious about each other was harder and harder to ignore. Harry was gearing up for the conversation when he got Draco’s owl, crawling out of the cave. Then Draco had revealed the orbs unintended function. And now they sat in the pristine Grimmauld kitchen, a pot of tea on the table, as Draco haltingly told Hermione about their predicament.
She froze with a digestive biscuit halfway to her mouth, “Pregnant?”
“I believe so. I looked up a basic spell to test but it’s specifically for women.”
“Have you been to St. Mungo’s?” she asked, brows drawn close.
“Draco doesn’t want to go because there might be some, ah, unwanted attention,” Harry explained, “And having to clarify how it happened doesn’t look good on, er, either of us.”
Hermione pursed her lips, “And you’re telling me about this little misadventure because…”
“We need to know. For sure.” Harry said.
“And then?”
“And then – and then we know.” Harry pointedly didn’t look at Draco, keeping his eyes on Hermione, willing her to understand.
She watched him for a few seconds then sighed, drawing her wand. She moved to sit in the chair opposite Draco and he turned, face resolute.
“May I?” Hermione asked, lifting her wand. Draco nodded.
Hermione took a deep breath and then made a complex series of movements with her wand, muttering under her breath. She aimed at Draco’s chest and a series of gold threads interwove, creating a replica of his heart, beating quickly. It pulsed for a few moments, then she pointed her wand at his stomach and a smaller identical heart appeared, pulsing faintly.
She lowered her wand and the twin hearts vanished. Draco placed a hand over his stomach, looking down in shock.
“Congratulations,” Hermione said softly, placing a hand on Draco’s arm. He stared at her blankly for a few seconds and then finally, at Harry. His face was completely white, and Harry longed to take him in his arms.
Hermione summoned a small diary from her bag and picked up a quill.
“Do you know the date of conception?”
“Late – late January,” Draco said.
Hermione flicked through the diary then looked up, “Puts the due date around the second half of October. If, you know, it proceeds in the normal fashion.”
Harry counted in his head. Six months from now.
“Are you positive you won’t go to St. Mungo’s?” Hermione asked.
Draco nodded and Hermione offered, “What about a different hospital. Somewhere in Europe? Somewhere you won’t attract so much attention?”
“No.” Draco said.
Hermione sighed, “You need to see a professional.”
“You’re the smartest person I know,” Draco said.
Hermione shook her head, “Be that as it may, this is well beyond my scope of expertise and…”
“No one has expertise in this area, it’s completely unprecedented.” Draco’s voice was crisp, “I don’t trust anyone but you.”
“Draco, please you have to –”
“Hermione,” Harry interrupted, “Do you think you might give us a minute just to – just to digest the news. Before we make any – any decisions?” Harry ran a hand through his hair.
Hermione looked between them and then nodded stiffly, “Alright.”
Hermione tucked the diary away and got to her feet, “I’ll head to the library and see if I can find any mention of male pregnancies. I mean, wizards are forever getting into all sorts of sticky situations, you can’t be the first.”
She planted a kiss on Draco’s cheek and squeezed his hand.
“I’ll walk you to the floo,” Harry said. Draco sat still, his hand on his stomach.
They walked to the sitting room and Hermione took Harry’s arm, “Not to sound like my husband, but you really do know how to keep us on our toes, Harry.”
“Please don’t tell Ron,” Harry said, and Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, “Just not yet.”
“Alright,” Hermione rubbed her temples, “I won’t mention it. But God knows how I’m going to keep it a secret, I’m rubbish at deception. Can’t even hide a packet of biscuits from him, he always sniffs them out.”
“Not for long, I promise.”
Hermione leaned closer, “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” Harry said truthfully, “I have no fucking idea.”
“Do you – are you happy about it?”
Harry swallowed and allowed himself a small smile, “I am. I think I am.”
“Well,” Hermione said, taking his hand, “That’s a good start.”
She gave him a hug and then stepped through the floo. Harry braced both hands on the mantle piece, looking at the photo Charlie had snapped of him and Draco at Alex’s beach house in Spain. Both shirtless on the white sand, wearing matching sunglasses, Draco’s shoulders pink with the start of a spectacular sunburn. In the photo Harry’s hand rested lightly on the small of Draco’s back and he kept flicking him a smitten smile.
Harry walked back into the kitchen and Draco was still sitting at the table, staring into the middle distance. His gaze snapped up as he noticed Harry standing in the doorframe.
“Tea?” Draco asked, getting to his feet.
“There’s a pot on the table.”
“It will be bitter.” Draco flicked his wand absently, filling the kettle.
“Draco we need to – ” Harry started but Draco cut him off.
“I’m meant to be seeing Pansy in an hour to go shopping for a new rug for the study.”
“That can wait,” Harry said, walking over to the sink.
“She hates it when I cancel, she’s always – ”
“She’ll understand.”
“What do I say? ‘Sorry, Pans, can’t come because I’ve accidentally been knocked up by the most famous wizard in the world, let’s get a coffee next week to discuss bassinets?”
Harry remained silent.
Draco turned and slammed his wand down against the countertop and said flatly, “I’m hungry.”
“Alright,” Harry said calmly, “Do you want to freak out or do you want to eat?”
Draco turned around and his eyes were bright with unshed tears. He crossed his arms and looked at Harry for a few seconds and finally said, “Both.”
Harry smiled and nodded, “We can do that.”
----
Harry made bacon, tomato and lettuce sandwiches and a fresh pot of tea and Draco ate quietly. Harry waited until he had finished half the sandwich before he said, “I think I remember asking you once to tell me why you’re freaking out and I’ll tell you why you shouldn’t.”
Draco hung his head and slumped his shoulders, “Should I start with the big stuff or the small stuff?”
“Why don’t we do the small stuff first this time,” Harry said.
“I’m scared. Of being pregnant. Of giving birth. I’m – I’m not very brave.”
Harry shook his head, “That’s not true. You’re the bravest man I know.”
“No, that’s your thing,” Draco said raising his head, giving Harry a determined look, “I’m a cowardly Slytherin, remember?”
“That’s utter bullshit, but alright. Anything else?”
“There’ll be press. It’ll be a massive story. People won’t react well.”
“Fuck them, as if I care what they think.”
“It might not be kind for – for the child. To have a former Death Eater as a father.”
“You’re excellent with Teddy and Rose and Hugo. They love you.”
Draco looked down at his lap and nodded, “It would be different with my own child. That’s a – it could be a heavy burden. I know what it’s like to have a disappointing father.”
“Draco – ”
“No, listen, just let me say this,” Draco said, pushing his sleeves back, the smudge of the faded mark on his arm, “I’d made peace with being the last Malfoy. I knew the line would end with me and I thought that was a good thing. This bloodline does not need to continue, there’s nothing salvageable and it’s right it ends with me.”
“Can I say something obvious?”
“Can I stop you?”
Harry grinned, “You are a Malfoy and there’s a lot of baggage with that, I understand. But you’re also a Black and as someone wise once told me, some of the people I care about the most are members of that family. And this child would be too.”
A tear rolled down Draco’s cheek and he wiped it away, “Do you want to be a father?”
“I did once.”
“Not anymore?”
Harry pushed a piece of tomato around his plate, “I didn’t think it was on the cards for me, after I figured out I was gay and being with you. It never crossed my mind as a possibility.”
“And now?”
“And now?” Harry folded his hands on the table, “I want it. I want it very much.”
Draco blinked rapidly and stared at the ceiling.
Harry leaned forward, “Are we still on the small stuff or are we at the big stuff?”
“Potter, you absolute fucking twat, I swear –”
Harry reached across the table and grabbed Draco’s hand feeling surprisingly giddy, “You’ve made some excellent points, but you haven’t heard my pitch.”
“If you tell me not to fucking worry about it, I will hex you so fast you won’t be able to –”
“I love you.”
Draco’s mouth shut with a snap, and he looked like he’d swallowed flobberworm pus.
“I’m sorry?”
“It’s very simple. I love you. It’s been happening for some time now, possibly years. I love walking into a room and seeing you there. I love telling you about my day and watching you with my friends. I love when you insult me, and I love when you fuck me. I love that you don’t shy away from your past and I love that you are cunning and brilliant. I love how you look when you’re rumpled in the morning and how you look wrapped up in a big coat and your cheeks are red from the cold and I love how you look naked in our bed. I never get sick of talking to you and I think you’re the most fascinating person I have ever met. I told you not to worry about it and I can honestly say, I haven’t. Because when I’m with you, it feels right.”
Draco covered his face with his hands and his shoulders shook.
“Breathe,” Harry said softly.
Draco let out a sob, “I don’t think I remember how.”
“That’s alright.”
Harry got out of his seat and walked around the table, taking Draco in his arms. He buried his wet face in Harry’s neck and Harry ran a hand down his back.
“I was going to ask you to move in with me when I got home last night,” Harry whispered in Draco’s ear, “I’ve wanted to for ages. I never thought I would want to live here but I do. Because of you.”
Draco clung tightly to Harry’s jumper and murmured into his ear, “You just keep saying insane things.”
“I always do when you’re around.”
Draco leaned back and Harry used the sleeve of his jumper to wipe away the snot and tears on Draco’s face. Draco laughed and pushed him away, “Manners, Potter, are we animals?”
“Are you ever going to call me by my first name?” Harry asked.
Draco took a tremendous breath and tilted his head back, “Harry Potter, against my better judgement, I love you.”
Harry swallowed, “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Draco said, holding Harry’s stare, “I love you a staggering amount.”
“Could have said something earlier.”
“I was trying not to think about it!” Draco said, slapping him on the arm, “Like you told me!”
“Rubbish advice, that,” Harry said, “Think we need to come up with a new plan.”
“Last one was alright.”
“This one will be better.”
“Harry,” Draco said, grinning, “Just fucking kiss me.”
----
A large part of the plan involved breaking the news to a select few friends and family.
The next day they flooed to Ron and Hermione’s and managed to make it through ten minutes of small talk before Ron turned to Harry.
“Right, what’s this all about then?”
“What, er, what do you mean?” Harry asked.
“Hermione’s been in an absolute state since she came back from yours yesterday. Thought I wouldn’t notice she botched up a cleaning charm after dinner,” he said giving Hermione a pointed look, “When was the last time you messed up a spell? First year?”
Hermione scooped up Hugo who was trying to jam a piece of toast up his nose and whisked him away to the kitchen, yelling from the doorway, “I told you he would notice!”
Ron crossed his arms and gave them a satisfied smile, “Spill.”
Harry shifted in his seat and looked at Draco who gave him a small nod. Ron leant forward in his chair, “You’re not breaking up, are you?”
“Remember how you reacted when I first told you I was seeing Draco? Having a stroke, wasn’t it?”
“C’mon mate, you can hardly blame me. No offense, Malfoy.”
“No offense?” Harry said, incredulously, “You didn’t speak to me for three months and practically hexed Draco’s bollocks off the second he – ”
“I’m moving into Grimmauld Place.” Draco said, cutting them both off.
Ron smiled brightly, “About time. Makes sense for you to be there while Harry’s off gallivanting.”
“It’s my job, Ron.” Harry said.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ron said, waving a hand dismissively then shot them both a puzzled look, “You didn’t think I’d disapprove, did you? This can’t be the reason Hermione’s been in a right flap all day?”
“No,” Harry said slowly, “There’s more.”
“Well spit it out, for fuck’s sake.”
“I’m pregnant.” Draco said and Ron’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.
“You’re what ?”
“I’m pregnant.” Draco repeated.
“How?”
“Well, Ron,” Harry said, “When two wizards love each other very much…”
Ron and Draco shot Harry identical scathing looks and he straightened in his seat, “Sorry.”
“I know I’m not the fastest broom in the shed, but I thought that didn’t work when you both had the same plumbing.”
Draco haltingly explained about how the orb was responsible for their situation, leaving out some choice details. Ron’s head moved back and forth between them and after a few minutes of silence said, “You’re – you’re bloody serious, aren’t you? You’re really – you’re really going to have a baby?”
“Yeah mate,” Harry said, taking Draco’s hand, “We really are.”
Ron covered his face with his hands and Harry took a deep breath, preparing himself for further admonishment but was surprised to find when Ron lifted his head there were thick tears streaming down his face. He was grinning madly and noticed Hermione standing in the doorway, a hanky in her hand.
“’Mione, did you – did you hear…?”
Hermione dabbed her eyes and walked over to the back of Ron’s chair, wrapping her arms around his chest and kissing his cheek.
“Can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” He said thickly into her hair.
“I can’t either,” Hermione said.
Ron jumped out of his seat and pulled Harry and Draco in a bone crushing hug. Hermione told Draco she’d found some old texts at the library that documented a few rare cases of male pregnancies and whisked him away to the study. Ron summoned two glasses and a bottle of firewhisky and toasted Harry effusively.
“I don’t know why I’m so bloody emotional,” Ron said, dabbing away more tears, “Didn’t even get like this when I found out about Rose. But then, that was an accident.”
“You think this wasn’t?” Harry said, shaking his head.
“You’re both happy about it though?” Ron asked, nudging his arm, “You both want this?”
“We do,” Harry said, simply, “We really do. It’ll be – it’ll be…” Harry tried to think of the appropriate word. Challenging. Scary. Exciting. Finally settling on “Different.”
“Yeah,” Ron said fondly, “It will be. A Potter-Malfoy child, Merlin what’s that going to be like?”
“Dunno,” Harry said, “Probably very good looking, though.”
For some reason, that set Ron off again and he gave Harry another teary hug. Harry saw Draco in the doorway holding a large musty tome, giving them a doting look. Hermione brushed past him rolling her eyes, “Christ, Ronald, you’re worse than your mother.”
They kept the news to a tight group. Most reacted much the same as Ron and Hermione. Shock, then confusion and ultimately, happiness. Molly was so hysterical with joy, Draco had to remove himself from The Burrow entirely as she entered her second hour of effusive crying.
After Andromeda had recovered from the news she asked Draco tentatively, “Have you told your mother.”
Draco stiffened, “No. Not yet. We aren’t in communication.”
Andromeda nodded, “Would you like me to mention it to her?”
“I didn’t know you kept in touch.”
“A little, recently. She sent me an owl a few months ago, asking about Teddy.”
Draco smoothed his trousers down and shrugged, “If you happen to see her, you might mention it. I’m not sure she would be particularly interested.”
“You might be surprised,” Andomeda said gently, “Grandchildren can be a chance to right a lot of wrongs.”
Harry looked at the framed photo of Teddy beaming, broomstick clutched in one hand, quaffle in the other, hair a vivid yellow to match his Hufflepuff Quidditch robes.
Draco sipped his tea and nodded.
The only person who seemed to take the news in his stride was Alex.
Harry and Draco sat opposite Seamus and Alex in their regular booth at the pub. Draco needed to tell Alex as he was starting to show and broach the topic of paternity leave. Harry hadn’t mentioned to Draco yet, but he was entertaining the thought of retiring from the curse breaking game. More and more, he liked the idea of being a stay-at-home dad, living in one place for the first time since Hogwarts.
“Orb of Gravida?” Alex asked casually and Draco gaped at him.
“Did you…?”
“Merlin, no,” Alex said, “I’m perfectly happy with my libido level thank you very much. It was Bradbeer.”
“ Bradbeer , bloody hell,” Draco said, covering his mouth, “Is that why he transferred to MACUSA?”
“Unrelated, I’m afraid. Good bloody thing he’s over there though, otherwise I’d give him a right dressing down. I told him he needed to amend the notes on that fucking orb. Seems like it slipped his rancid old mind.”
“I need – I need to talk to him,” Draco said, “Do you have his address?”
“I do,” Alex said, “But it won’t be much help. If memory serves, he didn’t keep it. Which I take it – you are?”
“We are.” Draco said.
“Christ, we’ll have to start interviewing for your paternity cover. Recruitment is such a hassle, fuck.”
“I’m sorry,” Seamus cut in sharply and they all turned to him, “Malfoy tells you that he’s been knocked up by messing with some magic orb and you don’t even berate him for it? Your biggest concern is recruitment ?”
“Yes?” Alex said.
Seamus rubbed his temples, “What in the ever-loving fuck do you lot do in that department?”
Alex crossed his legs and placed a hand on Seamus’s shoulder, “Finnegan, if I had to reprimand every Unspeakable who got themselves into some kind of scrape involving the misuse of an artifact, I’d never get anything done.”
Seamus groaned and lowered his head to the table with a thunk.
Alex muttered into his pint, “You’ve never complained before.”
Seamus’s head shot up and Harry gave him a salacious grin, “Is that so?”
“Oh, shut the fuck up, Potter,” Seamus said, getting up to use the loo and calling over his shoulder, “And congratulations on your news you bloody degenerates!”
----
Draco found Harry a few weeks later standing in the doorway of Sirius’s bedroom. Draco, in his tactful way, had left the room untouched in the house renovations. Harry sat on the bed.
“I thought, perhaps, this could be the baby’s room.” Harry said, fingering the moth-eaten bedspread.
Draco walked into the room and looked at the paraphernalia on the walls, “It doesn’t have to be. There are at least four other rooms we could use.”
“I know,” Harry said, “But it’s time. Sirius hated living here and hated this room. Maybe it’s time to put the ghosts to rest.”
“Speaking of ghosts, something is definitely haunting the attic.”
“I’ll check it out,” Harry reached out his hand, “Come here.”
Draco walked over and stood between Harry’s legs. Harry lifted Draco’s shirt and placed his hands on the swell of Draco’s stomach. It felt tight like the skin of a drum. He leaned down and kissed it.
“I don’t know why,” Harry murmured against his skin, “But there’s something about this that really turns me on.”
Draco chuckled and ran his hand through Harry’s hair, “Your virile seed taking root.”
“Your body is changing, too. You’re more –” Harry ran a hand down Draco’s back to grab his arse, “ – thick.”
“Hermione said the hormones might affect me,” Draco said, turning to the filthy mirror in the corner, running his hands over his bump, the soft curve of his hips, tilting his head from side to side, “I kind of like it.”
“I really like it.” Harry said, coming to stand behind him, pressing his half-hard erection into Draco’s arse, “I want to fuck you like this. In front of the mirror, so I can see all of you.”
Draco pressed back and Harry nipped at his neck, making Draco gasp.
“Not in here,” Draco said, dragging him to the bathroom. He stripped and bent over the sink as Harry pressed into him, running a hand over the swell of his stomach, watching Draco’s face in the mirror as he glowed.
----
Three months before Draco’s due date Seamus knocked on the front door declaring the lads wanted Harry to go on one last job before he retired.
“It’s actually more like a holiday,” Seamus said, pouring milk into his tea, “Everyone wanted one last trip with you before you leave us for the family life. For some reason, you’re very popular.”
Harry looked over at Draco standing by the counter, who had really popped in the last week, the swell of his stomach pressing through his jumper. He was scribbling on a scrap of parchment, tongue between his lips.
“What?’ Draco said, glancing up, “Do you think you need my permission? We’re about to spend an awful lot of time together, probably best to get out while you can.”
“Will you be alright?” Harry asked.
Draco placed his quill on the counter and said icily, “I’m pregnant, Potter, not infirm. I’ll be perfectly fine.”
Harry laughed and turned to Seamus, “Sounds like a party.”
They left the following Tuesday and spent the next two weeks camping at the base of the Swiss Alps, drinking every night, telling outlandish stories, going on hikes and toasting Harry and Draco’s child at every opportunity. In the second week Alex joined them and Harry watched with great delight as he threw his kit into Seamus’s tent, failing to set up his own. Harry thought it showed extreme restraint that he didn’t mention this to Seamus until later that night after they’d drunk half a bottle of sickly-sweet cherry liquor.
“Alright, Cassanova, what’s going on?” Harry said, gesturing to Alex who was levitating shots of whiskey directly from the bottle into his mouth.
“Nothing is going on,” Seamus said.
Harry tilted his head, “Nothing is going on that hasn’t been going on for some time?”
Seamus’s lips twitched, “Maybe.”
Harry raised his glass.
Seamus ran a hand through his hair, “It’s not like that – we’re not like that.”
“It’s alright if you are, I won’t think less of you, mate.”
Seamus exhaled slowly, “It’s just shagging.”
Harry tilted his head, “Do you want it to be more?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t do relationships.”
“Would you say – you might already be in one?”
Seamus looked over at Alex, a softness around his eyes, “Maybe.”
Harry hummed and Seamus thrust the liqueur at him, “Stop looking so smug.”
After three weeks Harry arrived back at Grimmauld, sure that if he never saw a drop of alcohol again it would be too soon. He walked into the kitchen to the smell of something delicious bubbling on the stove and a hastily scribbled note from Draco mentioning he was at Pansy’s. Harry went upstairs and groaned as he stepped under the warm spray of the shower, lathering himself with soap, pressing into the tender spot where he felt the pickling of his liver.
As he was towelling himself off Draco’s voice called from downstairs, “Harry?”
“In the bathroom!”
Harry wrapped the towel around his waist and Draco walked through the door, practically luminescent, soft around the edges with a small smile on his face.
“Wow,” Harry said, “You look good.”
“As do you.” Draco said, eying his naked chest. Harry dropped the towel and Draco raised his eyebrows.
“I missed you.” Harry said.
Draco lowered his gaze, “Evidently.”
Harry stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Draco, nuzzling into his neck, inhaling deeply. He smelled sweeter than usual, like spun sugar and crystalized ginger.
“What’s new in the world of freak wizarding pregnancies?” Harry asked.
Draco hesitated for a moment and Harry pulled back, “What?”
“It’s nothing.”
“No, what is it?”
Draco pressed a lingering kiss on Harry’s lips and murmured, “Get dressed and I’ll tell you.”
They walked into bedroom and Draco sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and watched as Harry pulled out a ratty old Canon’s t-shirt and a pair of joggers.
“Should I be worried?” Harry said, towelling his hair dry.
“No. But it is interesting.”
Harry sat down next to Draco, pulling on a pair of Molly’s hand knitted socks.
“About two days after you left,” Draco started, “I noticed something – had changed.”
“Changed?”
“Down there.” Draco said, gesturing to his crotch. Harry looked alarmed and Draco laughed.
“I assure you everything is still fit for purpose. I just seem to be in possession of – some new parts.”
Harry blinked at Draco a few times, “I don’t understand.”
“It appears,” Draco said smiling, “My body is changing in preparation for the birth. I am now the proud owner of a functioning vagina.”
“Are – are you sure?” Harry said, open-mouthed.
“Entirely sure,” Draco said, “I didn’t have a bloody clue what was going on down there, so I went to Granger last week to ask her to have a peek. And she confirmed my suspicions.”
“You did what ?” Harry asked.
“Picture it,” Draco said eyes wide, “Casually lying on the Granger-Weasley marital bed while a very efficient Granger stuck her wand so far inside me I thought I might start vomiting sparks.”
“Jesus Christ.” Harry said, covering his face with his hands.
“I suppose now we have crossed that particular friendship rubicon we should probably name the child after her.”
Harry flung back on the bed and laughed at the ceiling. Draco eased down beside him, and they rolled onto their sides, facing each other.
“What did Ron have to say about that?” Harry asked.
“I left it up to Granger’s discretion to tell Weasley. I’m sure he’ll be appropriately horrified.”
Harry cupped Draco’s cheek and he nuzzled into his hand, “So, apart from that mortifying ordeal, is everything alright? How do you feel?”
“Everything seems to be fine, considering that no one has any idea what constitutes fine in this situation. It feels a bit different – down there – but I suppose that’s to be expected.”
Harry ran a hand over the swell of Draco’s stomach and leaned forward to kiss him, licking at the sweetness on his lips. Draco placed a hand on Harry’s back, pulling their hips closer together.
“Christ, I’ve missed you,” Harry said, “There’s only so much listening to Seamus and Alex pointedly not shagging in the next tent a man can take.”
Draco laughed and ran a hand into the elastic of Harry’s joggers, gripping his arse. Harry moaned and whispered into Draco’s neck, “Can I – can I see it?”
Draco pulled back and gave Harry a wicked smile, “I knew you’d be interested.”
Draco shimmied up the bed and Harry peeled Draco’s trousers and pants down his legs, watching as Draco propped himself up on several cushions, knees bent and pressed together. Harry sat on his knees, waiting like a child at his stocking before Christmas.
“Show me.” Harry said. Draco spread his legs, taking his half hard cock in his hands, pulling it towards his stomach, lifting his balls.
“Oh my god,” Harry breathed, moving forward to get a closer look.
“Pretty wild, right?” Draco said, spreading his legs further to give Harry a better view.
Harry ran his fingertip over the soft skin and Draco gasped, “I looked up one of Hermione’s anatomy books and it seems to be pretty regulation apart from here. You see?”
Draco took Harry’s finger and placed it where his testicles attached to the mons-pubis, “This is where the clitoris should be, but it’s obviously a bit different in this set up.”
Harry pressed down with his finger and Draco closed his eyes, “Feels strange.”
“Merlin, this is – this is – ” Harry moved his finger lower into the folds of Draco’s vagina and found he was wet.
“Fucking hell, Draco.”
“Yes,” Draco moaned, “Keep doing that.”
Harry pushed his finger deeper, and Draco gasped, “You’ve, ah, driven one of these before?”
“I have,” Harry whispered, “It’s been awhile.”
Harry pressed further inside and crooked his finger, Draco’s cock jerking against his stomach.
“I want to try something.” Harry said.
“Anything.” Draco said, breathlessly.
Harry shuffled down the bed onto his stomach and wrapped a hand around the base of Draco’s cock, bringing the head to his lips. Draco watched greedily over the swell of his stomach and Harry took his length in his mouth, moving his fingers slowly inside.
“Merlin, that’s different.” Draco said, closing his eyes and resting his head against the pillows. Harry worked his tongue gently against the underside of Draco’s shaft, pressing the flat of his fingers against the roof of his entrance.
“Fuck, yes, that.” Draco moaned and Harry pressed his hips against the bed, his erection rubbing into the soft fabric of his joggers.
Harry released Draco’s cock with a pop. He withdrew his fingers and Draco gasped.
“Feel,” Harry said, “Feel how wet you are.”
Harry took Draco’s hand and placed two fingers at his entrance. Draco pressed inside and moaned, “Oh wow.”
Harry watched as Draco fucked himself slowly with his fingers, wrapping a hand around Draco’s cock, stroking a lazy rhythm.
“This might be,” Harry whispered, lowering his mouth, “The hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Harry took one of Draco’s balls into his mouth and sucked. Draco wrapped his legs around Harry’s torso and placed a hand on his head.
“It’s so sensitive,” Draco said, voice low.
Harry took Draco’s wrist and pulled his fingers away, sucking them into his mouth, tasting him. It was like a sugar cube dissolving on his tongue.
“I want you inside me.” Draco panted.
“Yeah?” Harry said, his cock throbbing excitedly at the idea, “You sure?”
“You can’t get me pregnant again, so I think we’re safe on that front.”
“You’ve bloody cursed us now, by saying that,” Harry grinned and ran a hand over the curve of his stomach, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Draco gave him a wry look, “Never been a problem before.”
“I don’t want to hurt the baby.”
“The baby is having the time of its life in its cosy womb, I’m sure it’ll enjoy the ride.”
Draco tugged on Harry’s shoulders, pulling him close for a kiss, tongue eager and hot against his own.
“Who knows how long I’ll be like this, might as well enjoy the new toy while I’ve got it.”
“You don’t know,” Harry said, laying kisses across Draco’s jaw, “Might be a permanent feature.”
Draco hummed, “There are worse outcomes.”
Draco reached down and shoved his hand inside the front of Harry’s joggers, rubbing the slickness at the tip, “Fuck me. Please?”
There was some careful manoeuvring of pillows under Draco’s hips and Harry stripped as Draco removed his shirt. Draco spread his legs and palmed his cock as he watched Harry crawl up the bed.
“Are you comfortable?” Harry asked.
“As I’ll ever be,” Draco said.
Harry worked his way up Draco body laying soft kisses to the top of his foot, his shin, the inside of his knee, his thigh, his hipbone, licking long stipes across his swollen belly, flicking a tongue across his nipple. Draco writhed underneath him and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Harry braced his arms next to Draco’s head and pressed gently against Draco’s stomach. He felt it undulate and Harry’s eyes went wide with shock.
“It’s moving!”
“Yes, it does that sometimes, don’t get distracted.”
“This is weird.” Harry said, taking his cock in his hand, lining up against Draco’s entrance, “In a good way.”
“That’s life with you, Potter.” Draco chuckled.
“Tell me if it hurts at any point.” Harry said.
“Less chat, more fucking my magical vagina please.”
Harry leaned forward and took Draco’s bottom lip between his teeth, moving his hips forward, feeling the resistance, then the glorious hot wetness and he was inside.
“Fucking hell,” Draco panted, digging his nails into Harry’s back.
“Yeah?” Harry said, hovering over Draco, watching his face, “You’re very tight, my God.”
“Fuck, yeah.” Draco breathed, hooking a leg behind Harry’s knee pulling him closer. Harry slid deeper and his balls throbbed pleasantly.
“I remember what this feels like now,” Harry whispered, gyrating his hips in small circles a few times, “How does it feel for you?”
“Good. Really good,” Draco said, “I feel – full.”
“It’s so wet, it’s incredible.” Harry said, pulling out then thrusting in harder.
Draco clenched around Harry’s cock, and he pressed his head against Draco’s shoulder, “Fucking hell, do that again.”
Draco tightened experimentally a few times and Harry babbled incoherent nonsense.
“I never knew it could grip like that.” Draco said in awe.
Harry let out a strangled cry as Draco continued flexing his new pelvic floor.
“Oh, this is fun.” Draco said and Harry thought he should take control of the situation before he embarrassed himself completely.
Harry hooked an arm around Draco’s knee, pushing it back further and placed the other hand around Draco’s weeping cock, making him inhale sharply. Harry started to fuck him in earnest, long, gentle thrusts that made Draco grunt with each snap of his hips. Draco grabbed the headboard with one hand and placed the other on Harry’s shoulder to steady himself.
“Still having fun?” Harry asked as he quickened his pace and Draco’s eyes turned glassy with pleasure.
Draco gasped out in a staccato rhythm with each thrust, “Most fun – I’ve had – in years.”
Harry leaned down and kissed Draco hard, running his tongue over his bottom lip, biting down as their breath mingled and sweat dripped down Harry’s back.
Draco gasped against Harry’s mouth, “I’m close, Harry. Oh, fuck – I’m going to…”
“Yes, I want to feel it. I want to feel what it’s like to be buried inside your tight wet cunt when you come.”
“Yes, Harry, don’t stop,” Draco’s thighs tightened around Harry’s hips as he dug his fingernails into the firm flesh of Harry’s shoulder, hard enough to leave marks. Draco’s cock pulsed and his cunt tightened, and he flung his head back against the pillow, eyes closed tight. Harry watched as Draco’s cock spurted onto the swell of his belly and then further down as his cock, achingly hard, was gripped by the tight, wet heat. The sight was enough to tip Harry over the edge as he felt his orgasm build in the pit of his stomach, then pressed deep into Draco a final time, gasping his name.
They lay like that for a while, catching their breath, Harry careful not to put weight on Draco’s slick stomach. Harry eased back, enjoying the sad little moan Draco made as he withdrew. Draco lay spread eagle, euphoric and flushed. Harry watched as his semen dripped down Draco’s thighs and he moved his fingers through it, and into the wet heat of him.
Draco moaned and settled back against the pillows, “From what I gather in my research, women are capable of multiple orgasms without much recovery time.”
“Where have you been doing this research? At Hermione’s?” Harry pressed a finger deeper, the slick suction sound unbearably erotic.
“Her library is very well appointed,” Draco gasped.
“Do you think that applies in your case?” Harry asked, eyes glued to his fingers.
“Only one way to find out.”
Forty-five minutes later, Harry cast a cleaning charm over their sticky bodies and manoeuvred Draco onto his side, wrapping his arms around his limp body. Draco wiggled his arse back against Harry’s crotch and sighed contentedly. Harry buried his nose into Draco’s neck, his scent now reminiscent of burnt sugar, and said, “I think I’m in love with your magical vagina.”
“Of course, you are,” Draco said on a massive yawn, “What’s not to love?”
---
Never a particularly chaste couple, the advent of a new sexual appendage ignited something primal and the rate of shagging reached new heady heights.
“It’s these fucking hormones,” Draco said, straddling Harry and lowering himself onto his cock with a satisfied grunt for the second time that morning, “Can’t think of anything else.”
“What’s my excuse then?” Harry said, eyes rolling back in his head as Draco pinched his nipple.
“Guess you’re just a rampant pervert.”
“Fucking hell, do that with your hips again.”
In between their bouts of sexual exuberance, they found time to make preparations for the baby’s arrival. Harry woke one morning to find Draco’s side of the bed empty and when he went looking for him, found him in Sirius’s old room. The posters and rotting bed frame were gone, replaced with moss green wallpaper, bookshelves full to bursting with magical and muggle children’s books, a comfortable rocking chair and an ornate bassinet. Draco stood in the middle of the room, steaming mug of tea in one hand, wand in the other, levitating a delicate mobile with tiny golden snitches.
“Hoping for a seeker?” Harry asked.
“Andromeda gave this to us,” Draco said, smiling fondly, “Used to belong to Teddy.”
Harry stepped forward and took the mug of tea from Draco taking a sip. He winced. Draco always put too much sugar in it.
“Room’s looking good,” Harry said, sitting down in the chair, giving it a few experimental rocks back and forth. Draco flicked his wand at the mobile making it spin.
“Come here,” Harry said patting his thighs.
“I’ll crush you.” Draco said, but didn’t hesitate to settle in Harry’s lap, nuzzling his nose against Harry’s neck.
“Did you sleep?” Harry asked, pushing his fingers into the small of Draco’s back and he moaned in relief.
“Not a lot. Our little seeker was having quite the party last night.”
Harry laughed and ran a hand over Draco’s stomach, feeling the gentle kick of the baby inside.
Draco lifted his head and gave Harry a curious look, “Have you given any thought to – a name?”
“Have you?”
“A little,” Draco said, bracing himself, “I thought you might want to name them after – after your parents.”
Harry exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, “I’ve thought about it.”
“They are good names.” Draco said seriously.
Harry swallowed and opened his eyes. Draco was watching his face, calmly, waiting.
“And would you like the surname to be Malfoy?”
“No,” Draco said quickly, “I don’t – I don’t want that for them. I think they should be a Potter.”
“I don’t mind.” Harry said, running a hand down Draco’s back.
“I do,” Draco said firmly.
“So – James or Lily Potter?” Harry said, and Draco nodded. Harry imagined calling his child by one of his dead parents’ names and something about it felt peculiar.
“I mean, it’s the logical choice, but also – maybe not?” Harry said and Draco gave him a searching look. Harry sat up straighter shaking his head, “Those names come with a lot of history. It feels like we are asking a lot of this baby who, let’s face it, will already need years of therapy to deal with being our child. Perhaps it would be better for something new, free from,” Harry gestured, grasping for the word, “free from all that shit.”
Draco tilted his head to the side, “Potter, did you get wise when I wasn’t looking?”
“I’ve picked up a few things over the years,” Harry said, kissing Draco’s shoulder.
“There’s a book of pureblood names in the library we can have a look through.” Draco said.
“I assume they are all ominous and terrifying.”
“My name isn’t ominous.” Draco said, snippily.
Harry shrugged, “The two dragons I’ve dealt with were pretty fucking terrifying.”
“Yes, alright, no need to brag,”
Draco’s stomach rumbled loudly, and Harry laughed, “Little dragon’s hungry?”
“We both are.” Draco said, heaving off Harry’s lap. Harry stood and pulled him into a hug.
“If I make you breakfast, will you let me try that thing with my fist again?”
Draco narrowed his eyes, “What are you making?”
“Eggy in the basket,” Harry said and moved his lips to the shell of Draco’s ear, “I’ll put bacon on yours.”
Draco shivered, “Deal.”
---
Two weeks before Draco’s due date, Hermione popped round with three massive sacks of baby clothes. She dumped them on the kitchen table as Harry popped the kettle on and Draco rummaged through the bags, an uncharacteristically sappy look on his face.
“These are hand me downs from most of the Weasley’s,” Hermione said, brushing her hair out of her face, “Good thing I never got around to chucking them out.”
Draco held up an impossibly small pinafore and held it against his stomach, “I can’t remember ever seeing a child this small.”
“Don’t worry, they grow fast.” Hermione said, accepting a mug of tea from Harry and turning to Draco, “How are you feeling?”
“Ready for this monster to be out of me,” Draco said massaging back, “My magic has been all over the place.”
Harry snorted, remembering when Draco tried to levitate a cake from the counter to the table yesterday and it had exploded violently over his face, plastering his hair and most of the kitchen. Harry had laughed so hard he snorted tea out his nose.
“I gave up on everything beside the most basic spells when I was pregnant with my two, wasn’t worth the hassle.”
“Molly said the more your magic acts up, the more likely you are to have a girl. Old witches tale. Was it worse with Rose?” Harry said and Hermione shot Draco a quick look then back to Harry. Draco sipped his tea, watching Hermione closely.
“I – can’t remember.” Hermione said, slightly flustered, suddenly very interested in rummaging in her handbag.
Harry narrowed his eyes, “Did you and Ron want to know if it was a boy or a girl beforehand or did you wait?”
Hermione mumbled something into her handbag and Harry asked her to repeat it. She straightened, pulling out her massive diary, placing it on the table, “We waited.”
“Interesting,” Harry said, folding his arms, “That’s what we are doing.”
Hermione shot Draco another look, and he pressed his lips into a thin line. Hermione hurriedly flicked through her diary, not meeting Harry’s eye.
“Draco,” Harry said slowly, looking at the pile of tiny dresses on the table, “ Is that what we are doing?”
Draco sipped his tea and surveyed Harry over the rim of his cup, “It’s what you are doing.”
“Oh my god!” Harry said, flinging his hands up, “How long have you known?”
Draco squinted and looked at Hermione. Harry swiveled his head, “Hermione!”
“Harry, I’m sorry!” she said, reaching out to take his hand, “He made me promise not to tell you!”
“How long?” Harry asked, giving them both dirty looks.
“After we told The Weasley’s,” Draco said and Harry put his head in his hands, “I was going to tell you, but then you were all, ‘it’ll be a lovely surprise’. And I’m the one who has to lug this enormous behemoth around and there’s already so much that’s uncertain and I just needed some clarity, alright? And I’m not sorry.”
“And what?” Harry asked, “You were going to keep up this rouse forever? Never tell me you knew?”
“Well, you’d find out eventually, wouldn’t you?”
“Unbelievable!”
“Honestly, Potter, what did you expect? I’m still a Slytherin.”
Harry groaned and Draco pointed a finger at Hermione, “Terrible friend, you are.”
Hermione snapped her diary shut, “I didn’t want to keep it a secret in the first place! People need to stop asking me to keep them, I hate it!”
Harry sighed and rested his head on his hands, “Alright, better tell me then, come on.”
Draco bit his bottom lip, “Are you sure? I know you didn’t want to know.”
“Yes,” Harry said, softening, looking at Hermione, “I assume Ron knows too?”
“Naturally,” Hermione said.
Harry took Draco’s hand, “Go on, then. I can’t be the only one who doesn’t bloody know.”
Draco placed his other hand over his stomach and took a deep breath, “It’s a girl.”
Harry squeeze Draco’s hand and swallowed, “Really?”
Draco gave Harry a small smile, “Yes.”
Harry turned to Hermione who was beaming and nodding her head.
Harry walked over to Draco and knelt next to him, placing a kiss on his stomach, “You know I’d be happy either way.”
“So would I,” Draco said, placing a hand on the back of Harry’s neck, “I already love her so much.”
Harry leaned up to kiss Draco, “Me too.”
---
Five days later Harry woke and immediately knew something was different. Draco was propped up next to him on the bed, the early morning light flickering over his pale face, two hands over his stomach.
“What’s wrong?” Harry said, sitting up, jamming his glasses onto his face.
“I think,” Draco said, voice hoarse, “It’s starting.”
“Are you sure?” Harry asked, scrubbing a hand through his hair.
“I was uncomfortable all night, but that’s not new,” Draco said through gritted teeth, “But it feels different now.”
“What – what do we do?” Harry said, placing a hand over Draco’s.
“Hermione,” Draco replied.
Harry fumbled for his wand and thought about a morning a few weeks ago, walking into the kitchen to find Draco absentmindedly humming along to the radio, cup of tea in one hand, book in the other, a content grin spreading over his face as he noticed Harry in the doorway. He wordlessly cast his a Patronus and the stag burst forth, galloping out the door.
Hermione arrived fifteen minutes later, Rose and Hugo trailing behind her.
“Is the baby here yet?” Hugo said, wrapping himself around Harry’s legs.
“Not yet, kiddo, but I think it’ll be soon.” Harry said picking him up, inhaling his cut-grass scent, “Why don’t we make some breakfast while your mum and Uncle Draco have a chat?”
Hermione gave Harry’s arm a squeeze as she sat on the edge of the bed, running her wand over Draco’s chest.
Harry took the Rose and Hugo downstairs and summoned the items to make pancakes, barely noticing as Hugo started throwing handfuls of flour at his sister. Hermione came downstairs half an hour later as Harry was placing honey and jam on the table.
“Well, it’s starting,” Hermione said, accepting a cup of strong tea, “But it’s early, he’s barely dilated.”
“Can I watch the birth?” Rose said and Hermione picked a raspberry off her plate.
“We’ve talked about this Rosie,” Hermione said, and Rose pouted, slicing into her pancake furiously.
“I told him to have a shower, get comfortable, come down for breakfast. Rest while he can.”
Hermione took the honey pot out of Hugo’s grasp as he stuck two fingers inside, smearing them on his lips.
The day unfolded with a surreal dream-like quality, Hermione taking the children to The Burrow until Ron got off work, returning with Molly, who levitated three enormous boxes of food through the floo, situating herself in the kitchen.
“A hot meal is what everyone needs,” she said, rolling up her sleeves giving Harry a kiss on the cheek, “Keep your strength up.”
Draco paced the halls of Grimmauld, stopping every so often to pant and breath through the increasing contractions. Harry stayed by his side, gripping his hand, rubbing his back, murmuring encouragement.
“Tell me a story, Potter,” Draco said through gritted teeth as he sat down heavily in the rocking chair in the Sirius’s old room, a particularly bad contraction gripping him.
“Er, what kind?” Harry asked.
“Merlin, anything, I don’t care.”
Harry looked around the room desperately, “Did you know my dad was an Animagus?”
Draco closed his eyes shaking his head.
“Sirius too. They taught themselves while at Hogwarts so they could keep Remus company every month while he transformed.”
“You can’t be serious?” Draco said, eyes still closed.
“Sirius was a bloody great black dog and dad was a stag.”
“Like your Patronus,” Draco said, opening his eyes.
“Yeah,” Harry said softly.
“Sounds like they were a handful.” Draco said, easing back into the chair as the contraction passed.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Harry said, smiling softly.
A voice called out from the hallway, “Harry? Draco?”
“In here,” Harry said, getting to his feet.
Andromeda walked through the door, dressed in a simple black shirt and trousers.
“Hermione owled,” she said, giving Harry a hug and Draco a concerned look, “How are you, Draco?”
Draco wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand, “Oh, you know, never better.” He looked up at Andromeda and saw her troubled look.
“What is it?” he asked.
“There’s someone – ” she started then stopped, changing tracks, “When I got Hermione’s owl I had a guest and she was – she insisted she come with me, I wasn’t sure if you – ” she trailed off as Harry heard footsteps on the landing and Narcissa Malfoy walked through the door, looking slightly older than Harry remembered but still impossibly regal and beautiful. Draco’s high cheekbones more pronounced on her thin face.
“Hello, darling.” Narcissa said softly.
“Mother,” Draco said faintly, attempting to get to his feet and wincing. Harry rushed forward and offered his hand. Draco stood unsteadily, clutching Harry’s arm.
“It’s – it’s good to see you.” Narcissa said, eyes sharp, “Are you well?”
There was a pause and Draco finally said, “Apart from being incredibly pregnant, yes.”
Andromeda placed a hand on Harry’s arm, “Why don’t we have a cup of tea downstairs while Draco and Narcissa have a chat?”
Harry looked at Draco who hesitated before nodding stiffly. Harry leaned in and kissed him on the temple, whispering, “I won’t go far.”
Narcissa watched them intently, her face an inscrutable mask as Harry and Andromeda left the room. They sat down in the kitchen, Molly placing two steaming bowls of pumpkin soup in front of them.
“I wasn’t sure if she would be welcome, but I’ve never been good at saying no to my sister, I’m afraid.” Andromeda said, twiddling her spoon.
“I know Draco misses her. He’d never say it, but I know he does.”
“Emotions weren’t encouraged in our family,” Andromeda said, almost to herself, “But she does love Draco. Very much.”
“So do I,” Harry said, and Andromeda nodded.
“There’s a lot about him to love.”
Half an hour later, Harry levitated a bowl of soup upstairs and found Draco and Narcissa where he’d left them, sitting close, their eyes red. Narcissa had her hand on Draco’s thigh and rose to her feet when Harry cleared his throat.
“I won’t intrude any longer,” she said, smoothing down her trousers in a move that was jarringly familiar. He’d seen Draco do it hundreds of times.
“You would be most welcome to stay,” Harry said, “Molly’s cooking enough feed half of London.”
Narcissa flicked a look at Draco, “I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.”
Draco swallowed and said, a faint plea in his voice, “Please stay, Mother.”
“Alright,” Narcissa blinked a few times, her eyes bright with unshed tears and looked around the room, “The house has changed quite a bit since I was a girl.”
“Draco’s work,” Harry said, placing the bowl of soup in his hands.
“Yes,” Narcissa said, lightly running her fingers over the ornate bassinet, “You’ve turned it into a beautiful home.”
Hours passed and Draco continued pacing, working through his contractions, asking for story after story and Harry kept them coming. About how Lockhart lost his memory, how Sirius escaped on Buckbeak, about the Yule Ball and the ensuing row between Hermione and Ron, the Mauraders Map, his first kiss.
“There’s so much I still don’t know about you.” Draco panted, lying in bed, panting hard.
“It’s alright,” Harry said, brushing his limp hair out of his eyes, “That’s what the rest of our lives are for.”
Draco huffed and gave him a weak smile, closing his eyes. Hermione stuck her head in the room to check up on Draco, running her wand over his chest.
“Still a little while to go,” she said, “Why don’t you get some rest, Harry, I’ll stay with him. I’ll call you if anything kicks off.”
Harry walked downstairs and saw Alex sitting in the kitchen, entertaining Narcissa and Andromeda with a story about a troll in Denmark. Seamus stood by the sink, helping Molly wash dishes.
Harry waved off Molly’s offer of a bacon sandwich and lay down on the sitting room sofa, listening to the gentle clatter of teaspoons against teacups and the comforting rumble of voices in the kitchen. He felt like he only closed his eyes for a second but when he opened them, the sun was low in the sky and Molly had a gentle arm on his shoulder.
“Harry, my love, it’s time.”
Harry pushed his glasses up his nose and staggered to his feet. He raced up the stairs two at a time and burst into the bedroom to find Draco stripped to the waist, Hermione kneeling between his legs. The burnt sugar smell was strong as Harry moved closer to the bed. Narcissa perched next to Draco, gripping his hand.
She got to her feet as Harry walked over, squeezing his arm. Harry sat down and took Draco’s hand.
Draco gave Harry a frightened look, “Hi.”
“Hey,” Harry said, “How are you?”
“Not at my best, I’m afraid.”
“Can’t imagine why. Pretty normal day for us.”
Draco laughed but then groaned, gripping Harry’s hand tightly as his body convulsed with a contraction.
“You’re doing so well, Draco,” Hermione said from the end of the bed, giving Harry a tight smile. She nodded at Draco, who was panting from exhaustion and Harry turned to him.
“So, I’ve been thinking.” Harry said.
A ghost of a smile floated over Draco’s lips, “Always a bad sign.”
“About a name, for the baby.”
Draco opened his eyes with mammoth effort.
Harry leaned forward and whispered in Draco’s ear, “What do you think about Nova?”
Draco let out a small gasp and Harry kissed the soft skin behind his ear, “Nova Malfoy Potter.”
Harry pulled back and saw a tear trickle down Draco’s cheek. Harry wiped it away with the pad of his thumb and cupped his face, looking into those incredible grey eyes. Draco nodded and Harry leaned forward to plant the gentlest of kisses on Draco’s lips. Draco whispered softly, “I think it’s perfect.”
“Alright Draco,” Hermione’s voice cut through, “I’m going to need you to push now.”
Draco flung his head back on the sweat soaked pillow, “I can’t. I can’t.”
“You’re doing so well,” Narcissa knelt on the opposite side of the bed, taking Draco’s other hand and he looked at her through glassy eyes.
“I’m scared,” Draco said, “Mother, I’m scared.”
“I know you are, sweetheart,” she ran a hand over Draco’s cheek, “You’re so strong.”
“This is it, Draco, big push now,” Hermione said and with teeth clenched, sweat pouring off his face, gripping tightly to Harry and Narcissa’s hands Draco gave a final guttural moan. There was a sharp coppery smell and silence and then the distinct mewling cry of a baby.
Draco leaned back on bed, eyes closed, panting like he’d just run a marathon and Harry watched in wonder as Molly, who had slipped into the room at some point, rushed forward to wave her wand over the baby that Hermione was holding in bloody hands, casting cleaning spells, severing the umbilical cord with her wand. She wrapped a soft yellow blanket gently around her and walked around to lay her on Draco’s chest.
Draco lifted his arms weakly and cradled her, a look of bewilderment on his face and Harry placed a hand on the shock of dark hair at the top of her tiny head, the colour so similar to his own.
“Hello, Nova.” Harry said, through thick tears, “You look like a beetroot.”
“A beetroot would have been a bit easier to give birth too,” Draco said weakly, and an impossibly small hand wiggled out of the blanket and wrapped itself around Draco’s finger.
There was a flurry of activity around them, Hermione casting healing spells between Draco’s legs, Narcissa wrapping her arms around a tearful Molly, the sound of Ron yelling up the stairs asking if he’d missed all the fun, the sound of a champagne cork being popped, probably by Alex. Harry tuned it all out, tearing his eyes away from his daughter to stare at Draco.
“We have a baby.”
Draco laughed weakly and said, “We do.”
“What, er, do we do about that?”
“Fucked if I know,” Draco said, “I guess we’ll figure it out.”
Harry exhaled slowly, “Think we might need to come up with a new plan.”
“Why?” Draco asked, “Not worrying about it has worked pretty well for us up to this point.”
“I suppose it has,” Harry said.
Draco placed a hand on Harry’s cheek and stroked it softly, “Are you freaking out?”
“I might be,” Harry placed a hand over Draco’s, “Just fucking kiss me.”
And he did.