Chapter
21
In
Which We Explore the Practical Applications of the Art of War
The
first impression Harry got was of cold, grey stone, and a vague sense of
familiarity. He'd visited this hall in his dreams a number of times before
mastering Occlumency, and Lucius' borrowed memories only increased the sense of
deja vu. The room was big, a real throne room, and Voldemort was already rising
up from the stone chair at the far end, wand in hand and preparing to strike.
Harry raised Draco's wand, gathered up all those threads of shining magic, and
shoved them into the first curse that came to mind, "Immobilus!"
He
was completely shocked when it worked.
Voldemort
froze, ghastly face a mask of contempt and rage, wand half-raised. Harry found
himself running towards the throne, completely convinced it wouldn't last, sword
already in his hand and Draco's wand shoved down the front of his trousers to
rest next to his completely inappropriate erection. The different love magics
roiled over his skin like warm silk, keeping a part of his mind ever on his
absent lover, and his body in a strange state of excitement, adrenaline and
other natural drugs pumping through his system.
Voldemort
was like a dark blot in the centre of his amber-limned vision, no halo for him,
and Harry realized with a start he'd been seeing, not magic or power or even
light, but the love inside each person. He raised the sword high, saw the evil
red eyes go infinitesimally wider, and brought it down against his neck with a
sickening thud. The sword was blessedly sharp and, of course, enchanted as well.
Blood splattered from the gaping wound, and Voldemort began to struggle and
scream as Harry aimed again.
This
time his hand was in the way, wand and all, and Harry's shoulders jarred as the
sword sliced through those two brittle forearm bones to lodge in Voldemort's
collarbone. The screaming took on a new tone, and Harry hacked again and again,
trying to stop the horribly high-pitched wail. He was brought back to himself a
few seconds later by a thread of worry from Draco running through his chest, and
he looked down to find he'd removed Voldemort's head, hand, most of one arm and
done quite a bit of damage to his shoulders and chest as well.
Harry
stabbed the sword through his black heart, then tugged it free and turned to
face the room. Everyone else was stunned, and Professor Flitwick looked
positively green. A few seconds of silence were punctuated by the steady
dripping of blood from Harry's soaked hands, and then the room exploded into
chaos. Death Eaters came through every door, and the fight was well and truly
engaged.
Flitwick
and McGonagall came up to stand with Harry, protecting the body. "I shall
have to cast a charm to collect all the... parts," said Professor Flitwick
wanly. "Then we may leave."
"Right,"
said Harry, stepping down to help out Dumbledore, Ron and Moody with the fight.
He had a distinct advantage, after all -- nothing touched him, curses were
absorbed into the amber-and-silver armour of Draco's love and power, blows
landed with no pain at all, and little force. His own curses sometimes went
wide, but more and more of the black-clad bodies around him were falling, and
not getting back up.
A
tingle of something flitted across his brain, a spike of fear so sharp he almost
thought it had come from himself before he realized that something back at
Hogwarts had just scared Draco shitless. "We've got to get back!"
Harry yelled, cursing faster and faster, backing towards the throne with Ron and
Moody close behind. Ron was sweating, blood trickling from a cut on the back of
his head and matting up the bright orange of his hair.
Moody's
limp was more pronounced than ever, and Harry felt a stab of guilt that he was
the only one with this protection, despite the fact that he loved them all in
his own way. A tingle of strange magic flowed over his skin just as his heel hit
the back of the dais, and he stumbled a bit, making someone behind him gasp. He
caught himself on a strangely clean hand, and realized that it must have been
the spell from Flitwick to gather every last molecule of Voldemort and whisk it
away with them.
Another
tingle of magic made him think something was happening to Draco, a coldness that
crept into his chest and made his heart want to slow, to stop. Everything seemed
dim and colourless despite the bright halo surrounding Dumbledore in his vision,
and he turned his head left to see a column of Dementors gliding towards them in
sudden, eerie silence. The remaining Death Eaters had fled when he wasn't
looking, but he barely had the energy to wonder where they'd gone.
Fear
spiked through him again, this time from Draco, and that thought brought another
hot pulse from the magic still riding his body. "Expecto Patronum!" he
shouted, vaguely aware of Dumbledore doing the same, of Flitwick behind him
saying something entirely different in his high-pitched voice. His ears were
rushing with the sudden pounding of his heart, and he could feel spidery hands
crawling their way across skin that wasn't quite his.
"Draco!"
he yelled again, as the huge white stag charged into the waiting Dementors, as
the feelings of love and worry rushed back in to replace the dark despair.
"We've got to get out of here!"
"Put
a hand on this, then!" said Moody, grabbing the hand that still held the
shiny sword of Godric Gryffindor and pulling him towards the throne. In it sat
the grisly remains of Voldemort, surrounded by a strange bubble of startling
crimson mist that Harry realized must be the spilled blood. He'd always expected
Voldemort to bleed black, he thought dazedly as the familiar tug of a Portkey
took them all away.
The
horrible touch was gone from his skin when he reappeared inside the Shack,
replaced by a terror so acute he thought both their hearts might just stop right
there. Harry didn't even bother to see what everyone else was doing, just set
off at a dead run down the passageway towards the castle and his lover. He
didn't even bother to try and stop the willow from whomping him, just ran
through the raining blows and straining all his nerves for the first sign of
pain.
Draco's
body-sense got stronger as Harry drew closer, and he could see black-clad bodies
littering the lawn. He hoped without much real conviction that none of them were
students, and suddenly remembered the broomstick strapped to his back. He hopped
on it, and then flew in through doors that hung drunkenly loose on their hinges.
He raced, not downwards as he might have expected from Snape, but up and up,
over towards the North Tower and the feelings pulling him onwards with an
urgency stronger than anything he'd felt.
As
he flew through corridors that seemed awfully narrow, he wracked his brains for
the spell that would give Draco's magic back, and sent him a wave of love and
encouragement. Draco would know he was coming, would know as he drew closer and
their bond tightened, just as he could feel Draco's panic recede slightly. The
hallways were uncannily silent as he plummeted through them, drawing closer and
closer to his lover and whatever danger awaited them.
There
were three Death Eaters guarding the silvery ladder, but Harry's wand was fast
and their feeble curses proved no match for his newfound invulnerability. He
dropped his broom and climbed the ladder as fast as he could, wondering if he'd
been let through as a trap after all. With Voldemort undeniably dead, Harry held
little fear for his own safety; it was Draco who drew him onwards, with a rush
of new confidence followed by a sharp pain in his right shoulder.
Harry
vaguely felt blood seeping through his nice new clothes as he leaped over
pouffes and chintz chairs towards the back of the room and Trelawney's
previously inviolate personal domain. Again he was struck by the lack of guards,
the heavy silence blanketing the room much like the incense smoke still
lingering sweetly in the air. Then he noticed the forms lying still in the
shadows amongst the furniture, flickers of silver and green movement over their
black robes drawing his eye.
"Why
aren't you helping him?" said Harry, wondering if he spoke Parseltongue or
just yelled out his rage in English. "You promised!"
"We
are helping," said one of them from his left. Voices from all around the
room joined it. "We've left him alone with the last one, just like he
asked. Madnesssss, we think, but we are bound to follow orderssss."
Harry
had a rush of sick dread, understanding at once who was behind that door with
Draco. It was ironic, really, that they'd brought him into the school with their
love and thought themselves triumphant, and now here he was, quite possibly
their downfall. Harry pushed past beads and heavy, musty curtains into another
dim, scarf-draped room. He saw Draco on the floor, hair mussed and tatty, a
dagger thrust through his right shoulder and another poised over his left.
It
was Lucius, of course, his mad face twisted in pleasure as he whispered sick
words to his son, words of possession and pain. Draco's eyes were defiant, and
even his fear was melting away as Harry strode into the room. "Immobilus!"
cried Harry, just as he felt the point beginning to pierce both their skins.
"Revaleo!"
shouted Draco, and Harry shivered as Draco's cool magic slithered away and back
to its rightful owner.
He
tossed Draco's wand towards him, and pulled out his own. They'd have to touch
Lucius to get the knife out, and moving him would break the spell, so Harry kept
his guard up. He felt slightly off-balance now, all warm and shining gold, Draco
lit up like a beacon, shining around Lucius' darkness. Lucius had a faint a halo
of his own, but it was a deeper colour, a red and sickly light that warped the
space around it.
Draco
gave Lucius a huge shove, and scrambled backwards out of the way, ending up
crouching on Trelawney's gaudily-draped bed. "Petrificus Totalus!"
they shouted in unison, and Lucius' body snapped rigid, his eyes glaring as he
began shouting something that sounded like a spell. "Silencio!"
Draco added, and Harry watched in wonder as Lucius' mouth still moved, eyes
defiant.
"Your
Lord can't help you anymore," said Harry, catching the familiar syllables
on Lucius' lips. "He's dead."
Lucius
just rolled his eyes and finished his chant, obviously expecting some big flash
of rescue or assistance. When nothing happened, he lay still for long, painful
moments, blinking in confusion. Then he seemed to fall in on himself, the light
of madness leaving his eyes in a rush, the red rage in his aura replacing itself
with a feeble grey despair. Rays of it still reached for Draco, some strange
form of fatherly love still left to him, and Harry ached to see and feel
something in Draco answering that imploring gaze.
"You
can't save him, Draco," said Harry softly, kneeling next to his lover. He
put a shaking hand on the dagger still imbedded Draco's shoulder and gave a
quick tug, wincing as his own shoulder began to hurt sharply and bleed more
freely. "He's too far gone."
Draco
sat back heavily on his heels, a quiet grief blossoming in amongst the triumph.
"So, you really did it?"
"I
really did it. They should be disposing of the body any minute now, although I
expect there's a bunch of Death Eaters still lurking in the castle." Harry
looked down at Lucius' still form, then towards the door, where a mass of green
and silver was slithering towards them from under the curtains. "What
happened to your honour guard, anyway?"
Draco
looked down, eyes sad. "Someone betrayed us at the end. I don't quite know
what happened, but they all went rushing out into the other room and seconds
later, Lucius stepped in, grinning and saying something about loyalty and
trust."
"Well,
we'd better sodding find them alive," said Harry, feeling a familiar weight
of grief and guilt in his own chest. If they'd all died, Tonks and Snape, Lupin
that was all he had left of his parents, Hermione who'd stayed behind to help
them... "Come on, and stay behind me, for fuck's sake."
"Snakes,
will you protect me?" asked Draco rather formally. "If I go with him,
will you keep us both from harm?"
"We
will do our besssst," hissed the writhing mass, a sound formed from many
serpent's voices that made Draco's eyes go wide.
"I...
was that in English?" asked Draco, fearfully.
Harry
shrugged -- it all sounded the same to him, and said, "Come on, we'll ask
someone else if we get a chance." Draco bent down and put his hands to the
floor, and the snakes writhed up and over until he was once again wearing them
as gauntlets. "We'll get someone to fix your shoulder, too. I always was
pants at healing spells."
Draco
snorted, and followed Harry out into the gloomy Divination classroom. "Er,
snakes?" asked Harry, earning a glare from Draco.
"Yesss?"
they hissed at him.
"Ok,
well, I can't understand you now, so it must've been English before," said
Draco grumpily.
"The
ones you bit, are they dead?" Harry couldn't hardly tell pouffe from person
in this dim light, let alone who was still breathing.
"Ssssssleeping."
The
snakes settled back to quiet, and Harry raised his wand and cast, "Lumos!"
Bright
white light flooded the room, and Harry looked around again. The air was still a
bit thick with stale smoke, and the harsh light revealed the furnishings to be
far shabbier than he'd previously thought. The shapes resolved themselves into
the forms of nearly a dozen people scattered amongst the chairs, and Harry cried
out in wordless alarm as he spotted Hermione's familiar frizz atop one
alarmingly motionless figure.
He
felt similar panic from Draco, and realized he'd spotted Snape on the other side
of the room. As he moved away and the light dimmed slightly, Harry realized with
a start that his spell had lit both their wands. He knelt beside Hermione and
rolled her over, gratified to see her chest rise and fall, albeit slowly. "Ennervate!"
he cast, careful to point his wand only at her.
She
took a deep breath and coughed, eyelids fluttering. "Are you all
right?" he asked, concerned.
"Thomas!"
she said, eyes flying wide. "He killed Seamus and summoned the Death
Eaters... oh god, Harry, it was Dean all along!"
"Fuck,"
said Harry with definite feeling. "Let's wake the others and get
downstairs."
"No,
you don't understand. Last year, the Slytherins, it was him! He'll have taken
them all if we don't hurry!"
"Fuck!"
said Draco from across the room, garnering him a glare from a woozy Snape.
"Right.
Well, it's not like we don't know where his stronghold was. Come on, then, get
up!" said Harry impatiently, looking around for Tonks' familiar pink hair
and spotting Lupin instead.
"Ennervate!"
he cast again, just as he heard Draco doing the same. Tonks and Lupin sat up
groggily, looking disoriented.
"I'm
going to murder that bloody Thomas with my bare hands," said Tonks
dangerously, standing up on wobbly legs. Her hair, Harry noted idly, was
actually quite long and violently purple today, which accounted for him not
spotting her right off.
"Let's
find him first. The castle was too quiet, I'm worried he's already spirited
people away!" said Harry, making for the ladder. "I'll go in front,
the rest of you make sure Draco isn't further injured."
***
Voices
drifted towards them as they trudged through empty corridors towards the castle
foyer. "And then Professor Snape said to evacuate everyone, and set us to
organizing the houses. Since Seamus was already Gryffindor, I volunteered to
stay behind and let you know where everyone--"
"Stupefy!"
yelled Harry, and Dean's eyes rolled up in his head as he toppled over.
"Harry,
what on earth?" said Professor McGonagall, taking in his dishevelled
appearance and rather grotty-looking escort. They'd all managed to stagger down
the ladder, but none of those he and Draco had revived were looking anything but
sickly and wan. Nothing had been waiting for them but the three incapacitated
Death Eaters, and a sickening feeling of dread as they found the rest of the
castle just as quiet as Harry remembered from his breakneck flight.
"He
was a traitor," said Harry dully, stepping back and motioning for Hermione
to properly explain. He suddenly felt exhausted, his body aching from Draco's
ordeal, and his shoulder wounds throbbing sharp reminders that they'd failed to
protect him.
Just
as Hermione took a breath to explain, the sound of raised voices drifted through
the blasted front doors. "That was brilliant, what you did, Neville!"
said a voice he thought might be Colin's.
"Did
you see me throwing curses right and left!" said a girl, and they all
hurried towards the door. Trudging towards them were most of the student body of
Hogwarts, some of them limping and some leaping, a few carried by their fellows
or levitated along. When Harry and Draco emerged into the last of the afternoon
light, the entire group of them cheered at the tops of their lungs.
"Harry,
you should've seen it! One minute we were getting all formed up to go defend the
castle, and the next we were in this dungeon with a bunch of Dementors and
trolls, but Neville just cast this really brilliant spell and then we fought our
way out and caught the Knight Bus!" Colin Creevey gushed enthusiastically
as he ran up to the group on the steps. "Professor Snape, you look
awful!"
"Tactful
as ever, Mr. Creevey," said Snape, with most of his usual vitriol. "I
take it there were some casualties?"
"Yeah,"
said Blaise wearily. "We didn't leave anyone behind, though, but a
few..." He looked like Harry had felt that night his fourth year, when he'd
seen Cedric die, and Harry's heart ached for him.
"Well,
let's get everyone into the Great Hall, and see if we can't find Madame Pomfrey,"
said McGonagall briskly. Harry noticed with a start that Flitwick and Dumbledore
weren't around, but Kingsley Shacklebolt, looking as awful as Snape and the
rest, was swaying slightly where he stood next to Ron.
Harry
turned, along with Draco, and led everyone through the doors. "Reparo!"
he heard from behind him, smiling at the thought that McGonagall couldn't stand
to see the doors askew any more than he could. They all headed inside, to face
the aftermath of battle and see to living what was left of their lives.
Chapter
22
In
Which We Learn the Many Uses for a Post-Battle Adrenaline Rush
The
Great Hall changed while Harry watched, dozens of house elves magically
rearranging it to have beds, comfortable chairs and small tables full of
chocolate and other restoratives under McGonagall's watchful eye. Neville had
been sent upstairs to see if he couldn't find Madame Pomfrey, and the other
students were gathered in the entry, waiting patiently as the elves finished up.
"All
right, you may go in. Anyone who is injured should be on the left, with the
worst in beds, starting at this end of the hall. Anyone who is not injured
should take a seat to their right, and please make sure everyone eats some
chocolate to help recover from any exposure you may have had to the Dementors."
Her voice was strong, firm, and showed no hints of the grief and uncertainty
Harry felt roiling just under the surface of his own thoughts, and Draco's.
The
students piled in, some carrying their injured fellows, a few grim-faced Seventh
Years levitating the limp forms of the dead. Soon all the beds were filled, the
corpses lying in a cleared space beside them. House elves covered each body with
a white sheet as it was laid before them, their tiny faces solemn and afraid.
"Does Harry Potter think there will be more attacking?" asked a
familiar squeaky voice at Harry's knee.
"No,
Dobby. I think we're just about done with the attacking for now." Harry
could hear the leaden weight in his own voice. He mentally identified each
student even as their features were shrouded, seeing Seamus Finnigan's curiously
unsmiling countenance, Luna Lovegood staring sightlessly upwards, young Graham
Pritchard with his green Slytherin badge still glinting silver in the light.
Half a dozen others Harry couldn't bear to think about, none of them older than
his own 17 years.
Eloise
Midgen was laying on a bed, her face drawn and grey, Ron already at her side
looking worried. Neville Longbottom had returned at some point and was currently
surrounded by a circle of uninjured admirers, asking him about the spell that
had rallied the students to fight, which turned out to be a Patronus.
Madame Pomfrey was moving among the beds, clucking her tongue and giving them
directions as to who could go sit and who needed immediate attention.
Harry
whirled, wand at the ready, and immediately felt foolish as Dumbledore and
Flitwick walked in through the repaired front doors, followed by a crowd of
Aurors and Mediwitches. "It's all been taken care of, Harry, never you
fret," said Flitwick with alarming cheerfulness. "We got all the bits
and burned them to a crisp, then cursed the ashes thoroughly and shoved the lot
through the Veil. We'll not be seeing him again!"
"Quite
so," said Dumbledore calmly. "I believe that we have sufficient help
now to clear the castle up and see to the students. Harry, Draco, we will be
having a feast later tonight in your honour. You might as well get healed and go
enjoy a bit of privacy beforehand."
"Thank
you, sir," said Harry, dimly aware that a white-robed Mediwitch was already
prodding at his shoulder, which responded by throbbing rather painfully.
"Ouch!"
The
Mediwitch patted his arm absently, getting out her wand. "Sorry, luv, hold
still there and you'll soon be right as rain. Claudeus!" She tapped
his shoulder gently and a feeling like warm, tingly fingers ran over the cut.
She then repeated it for the other side, and turned to Draco. "Why, you're
all fixed!"
Harry
realized that the pain was gone, and turned to see them staring at Draco's bared
shoulder. "Must be the spell," said Harry absently, suddenly
fascinated with the sight of Draco's skin. "We'd better see to that, Draco.
In the room." He took Draco's hand and caressed a finger along his palm,
sending a shiver of lust through both their bodies as the sensations echoed from
one to the other.
Harry
tried very hard not to notice the way Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with mischief,
or Tonks winked, or Snape's face grew curiously still as they turned and made
their way down to their room. He had planned to wait until they could no longer
hear the chatter before shoving Draco against a wall, but found himself dragged
into a semi-secluded niche barely halfway down the dungeon stairs. "I'm
going to fuck you until you forget both our names, Harry Potter."
Harry
could feel the wall at his back, but more immediate was the soft velvet of his
robe in Draco's hands, the slight chapping of his lips underneath Draco's
demanding kiss. It was confusing and arousing and he thought he might come on
the spot when their hips collided violently, rubbing Draco's cock against the
silky lining of those velvet pants. Harry dropped to his knees, unable to stand
the wait, and tugged the trousers down only enough to free the aching shaft that
throbbed its need in his mind.
"Fuck,"
whispered Draco harshly as Harry took him in, and Harry could feel both a mouth
on his cock and a cock in his mouth, the sensations almost equal in their
clarity. He was starting to lose track of where Draco ended and he began, unsure
if it was his throat working to take the whole length, or his hips urging him on
with tiny, jerky thrusts. Draco's scent filtered through his brain like lavender
infusing fine honey, and everything seemed to glow with the thick amber magic
even with his eyes closed.
It
didn't take long, the overload of magic, adrenaline and sheer physical pleasure
practically wrenching their orgasm from them, and he felt Draco's throat working
right along with him though only one of them had seed to swallow. Harry could
feel the heat spreading through his own trousers just as he could feel his mouth
licking the bitter seed from Draco's shaft. It was intoxicating, bewildering and
exhilarating.
"Let's
go to the room," he whispered against Draco's hip, reaching up a hand. He'd
need help to stand like this, his body gone boneless and confused with being
suddenly half a foot taller inside his head. Draco pulled him up, their bodies
like a line of fire as golden fabric slid and caught against the black. They
went downstairs in silence, arm in arm and swaying drunkenly as feet kept trying
to compensate for belonging to someone else's body.
They
made it to their room intact, both of them already hard and impatient as the
door swung shut behind them. They separated only long enough to strip, leaving
torn and blood-soaked clothing scattered on the floor as they tumbled, naked,
into bed. "Want you in me!" said Harry hoarsely, flinging an arm
towards the nightstand as though he could summon the bottle with an act of will.
He
got yet another shock when it came to him, riding a current of silver-and-gold
magic that shivered through him like a wind caressing places no hand could
touch. "Silencio," they whispered in unison, and quiet
blanketed them despite the fact that their wands had gone the way of their
clothes.
No
more words were needed, then. Harry let himself be touched, moved, opened. Each
caress of Draco's hand brought with it the feeling of his own skin beneath a
callused palm, his own hair tangling in fingers much longer and finer than his
had ever been. He was familiar by now with the breathless feel of those fingers
inside him, but he thought he might lose it completely when he felt his own body
heat closing around them, his own tightness clinging to them as they worked him
open.
Harry
wanted to do this for hours, just touch and be touched, drown himself in the
feel of Draco's joy at the smallest details of his own body, to roll them over
and show Draco his own echoing joy even tempered by the fine threads of Draco's
apprehension. But their own burning, urgent desire spurred them on, fitting
Draco's cock into his body like it belonged there, his own body arching with the
pleasure of it. He'd never felt this before, nothing at all like a mouth, hotter
and tighter and just so right even as he was speared and taken and owned, and he
ached with the perfection of it.
Then
Draco pulled back, and Harry thought he might break apart, the way his body
tried to keep Draco from retreating, the place inside him that Draco brushed
sending sparks of electric pleasure throughout his limbs. Draco kissed him, his
mouth full of coppery fear and warm golden magic, tongues tangling and teeth
clacking as they lost track of who was who and began to just move.
Something
clicked in place and it became a dance, rhythm and motion, this hand goes here
to smooth along a jutting hipbone, this leg slides that way to make more room
for them both, these teeth bite here just to taste the sweat of it, just to feel
the flesh give and spring back and spark with bright pain in a sea of languid
pleasure. Nothing mattered but the slide and bump and thrust of it, the bite and
lick and kiss of it, the in and out and oh of it.
The
power was building and building again, racing along both their bodies, twining
with Draco's oh-so-recently-shared energy to make a silvergold ribbon that tied
them to one another, binding tighter and tighter until something had to give.
They might have cried out, words lost in the silencing spell as heat exploded
from them in a shower of sparks and seed, tight-closed eyelids no match for the
burst of light and magic.
Draco
collapsed against him, and Harry opened his eyes just long enough to assure
himself that, while the room was lit up like a Christmas tree with traceries of
silver and gold energy, nothing had, in fact, caught on fire. Then he wrapped
Draco in his arms and held on, their bodies slick with sweat and come and limp
with real exhaustion. His last thought as they began to drift off was for the
cold just starting to settle in, and he was unsurprised by now when a thick
feather comforter appeared, to settle over them as they slept.
***
Harry
awoke to the gentle, inquiring thrust of Draco's hips, the well-oiled length
sliding easily into space it had never actually left. "Want to touch
you," said Harry, words lost but meaning clear as his hands slid over
Draco's pale, silken flesh. Draco's eyes flashed with lust as he rolled them
over so Harry was straddling him, cock still buried in Harry's ass. It was
almost too much to let it go, but Harry wanted more freedom than he'd get if
they were still joined, so he pulled away regretfully.
He
slid his entire body down, sweat-slicked flesh moving easily against Draco's as
thighs and chest rubbed together. He started at Draco's feet, sucking the
wriggling toes into his mouth, biting along the high arch of the foot. He licked
and nipped his way upwards, sometimes tracing a scar but mostly ignoring them in
favour of the pale stretches of unblemished flesh between them.
It
was oddly jarring to feel the way sensation stopped when he ran over the deep
wound where Draco's knee had been sliced open by a bowtruckle during a trip to
the Forest for Care of Magical Creatures, but soothing to know the sensual
tickle of his fingers at the back of Draco's knee. He worked upwards
methodically, etching the body-memory into his brain as he found and caressed
places he hadn't known Draco craved to have touched.
Harry
felt Draco's surprise as he buried his face between his legs, spending long
minutes leaving love bites peppered over taut thighs, suckling the soft-furred
balls into his mouth and licking enthusiastically at the most sensitive, needy
centre of him. Something in Draco longed to be opened, touched, taken, but Harry
let it go with a single apologetic caress of his fingers when he felt fear
thread through Draco's desire.
Instead,
he nibbled over ticklishly sensitive hipbones, sucking another love bite in the
hollow of one until Draco was curled almost double with silent laughter. He
revelled in the sure knowledge of the pleasure that had tugged to the surface,
tightening both their groins as his teeth scraped over the livid mark. He
tongued his way over a stomach still fluttering with laughter, chin rubbing
deliberately against the sensitive head of Draco's cock and making them both
gasp at the intensity of it.
He
worked his way up to those eager nipples, biting just to the point of perfect
torment before leaving more marks up along the smooth column of Draco's throat.
He found the spot just behind Draco's ear that made him sigh with pleasure,
sighed himself as his own hands smoothed down Draco's back against the sheets.
The dual sensations were less urgent now, softer around the edges or perhaps
he'd just grown used to them, but no less powerful for all that.
Finally,
face buried in Draco's fragrant hair, he slid his body down and onto Draco's
waiting shaft, finding the head with just the knowledge of where they both were
and taking it deep into the heart of him. That silver-and-gold energy spiked
through them both as they were joined, bringing their earlier need back with in
a rush of pleasure. He sat up, feeling Draco brush that place inside him as he
rose and fell in a soft, easy rhythm like breathing, like the beat of their two
hearts.
Draco's
hands came up, then, and caressed not Harry's chest but his own, tweaking his
nipples so Harry could feel it, running blunt nails over flesh already scored
with old pain. Harry gasped and threw his head back, raking his own nails up his
thighs and onto Draco, feeling the line blurring again, the heat of his own body
surrounding a cock he knew was also his, the feel of hands on flesh that didn't
matter whose was whose, it just was, and it felt oh so good.
Their
hearts hammered in their chests, twin beating like a drum that sped their hips
right along with it. Pleasure rose up past need and found its own heights, and
Harry opened his eyes to see them both shining with love, silver and gold
threads that ran between them thickly, that spread out and away towards friends,
family, all the love they possessed brought to shining visibility by their
combined magics. He was almost shocked when those threads expanded into blinding
brightness as his body reached its own peak, releasing seed to glisten between
them in the afterglow.
He
fell in slow motion, collapsing against Draco with an, "Oof," that
made them both giggle faintly as they lay there. Draco gestured, and the blanket
settled back over them as their sweat cooled; gestured again, and their harsh
breathing echoed in the previously muffled silence. "I love you, Harry, but
if we don't undo this spell, I'm going to die very young. Happy, but
young."
Harry
nodded, grinning, and tried to drag the release word out of a brain gone
completely to mush. "The word you searching for is 'Salvus,"
said Draco, his voice weary but full of humour and love.
"Right,"
said Harry. "On three?" Draco nodded. "One. Two. Three. Salvus!"
Harry
thought he might cry as the amber faded from his sight, the strange underwater
glow of it dimming until the room was dark and silent. He felt cold, bereft, and
alone for all of a millisecond. Then his heart beat, in perfect time with
Draco's, with the pulse of Draco's cock in his ass and the soft sound of Draco's
chest beneath his ear, and he remembered that they were, in fact, still very
much joined. "I love you too," said Harry softly, feeling life slowly
returning to his limbs.
"I
know," Draco murmured, and Harry ached more for the core of grief he could
still feel inside his lover's chest than he did for his own. "I think...
we'd better shower. Dumbledore said something about a feast?"
Harry
closed his eyes, wrapping himself in Draco one last time before they had to go
face the mob and be Heroes once again. "Right. A feast."
Draco's
arms tightened around him. "Don't worry, Harry. This time, I'll be right
beside you."
Chapter
23
In
Which We See a Celebration, a Pronouncement and a Proposal
It
turned out to be a very good thing they'd ended the spell just then, as a house
elf popped in -- Puddy, Harry thought, but wasn't sure -- and announced that the
feast would be in half an hour if the sirs would care to dress. They found their
outfits cleaned and magically mended, Salazar Slytherin's weapon and Godric
Gryffindor's sword lying quietly atop their respective piles of rich velvet.
Harry
waited until the elf had vanished again to climb out of bed, wondering idly how
long they'd actually been allowed, and if anyone else had noticed their magic
orgasms this time. And if they had, just how much ribbing the two of them were
in for, once the whole 'hero' thing wore off again and the other students
started treating them like normal. He was brought up short when he realized that
they wouldn't be students much longer, and there might not be time for them to
remember that he was the same kid they'd thought was crazy during most of his
fifth year.
He
waited, yawning, while Draco made use of the bathroom, then did the same and
climbed groggily into the shower for a quick wash-up. He'd rather be late to the
feast than show up smelling like he'd just spent the last however long having as
much hot gay sex as physically possible, truth or no. Draco washed him in
silence, sighing happily when Harry returned the favour. It was almost strange
to be running his hands over Draco's skin and only feeling it from the one side,
but comforting, in a way.
Like
there was, just possibly, a normal for them to get back to.
***
Harry's
first thought, looking out across the Great Hall from the unfamiliar perspective
of his seat at Dumbledore's right hand, was how young everyone looked. Despite
the empty places at each long table where students too injured -- or, gods help
them, dead -- to attend usually sat, despite the abundance of bandages and
slings, they were laughing and talking just like any other holiday, eyeing the
golden plates with greed and wondering aloud what special treats they'd get for
saving the world.
Everyone
grew quiet as Dumbledore stood, facing out over the crowd. "There are many
things that could be said tonight, and many more that will be best left unsaid.
Let us first take a moment to remember those who cannot be here, for one reason
or another." He waited patiently as the students stopped fidgeting before
continuing.
"Each
and every one of you deserves far more than a feast, and although there are
those that may seem to have done more or less, you all put forth your very lives
today, for the sake of your families, your fellow students, and your futures. I
believe the Ministry will be giving its own form of praise in due time, but for
now let me just say that I have never had a prouder moment in all my years at
Hogwarts."
The
students glowed, Harry -- and Draco, on Dumbledore's left -- right along with
them. The praise helped in a small way to fill the emptiness of guilt and loss,
and he realized with a start that the one thing he no longer had to worry about
was responsibility. His part was over, he was done, and he had nothing but the
unknown future ahead of him. "Two of my best students were, as you all most
likely know by now, central to our victory. Harry Potter risked himself to go
into Voldemort's lair, but more than that, Draco Malfoy gave him the one weapon
that Voldemort had no defence against -- the power of love."
Harry
turned and caught Draco's eye behind Dumbledore's back, and winked. Draco
blushed, and the students applauded, drowning out whatever else Dumbledore might
have said. They stood, cheered, clapped and stomped, and someone started a chant
of, "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"
Dumbledore
sat, eyes twinkling. "You might as well do as they ask, or we will never
get to eat."
Harry
resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at the Headmaster in a very juvenile
way, instead standing, drawing Draco to his feet with his gaze. He took the two
steps behind Dumbledore that brought him to his lover's side, and swept Draco up
into his arms dramatically. "Might as well make a show of it," Harry
murmured, and then dipped Draco back dramatically, kissing him with a tender,
chaste press of lips to lips.
The
cheering grew deafening, and Harry let Draco up. He was grinning fit to split
his face in two, he knew, and he felt something warm and familiar filling him up
as Draco glared at him peevishly. "I'll get you for that, Potter," he
hissed, trying to suppress his own grin.
"You
already have me, Malfoy," murmured Harry in return, as Dumbledore stood
back up.
"To
further your elation, in light of your good work, end-of-year exams will be
cancelled. Now tuck in!" That last was said over the loudest cheer yet, and
Harry released Draco, going to his place rather reluctantly. He wasn't really
looking forward to the dinner conversation, having Dumbledore on his left and,
of all people, Snape at his right with Lupin just past him. Worse, Draco had
McGonagall and Moody on his other side, with the other faculty and Order of the
Phoenix members arrayed at the table ends.
A
last glance over at Draco revealed him staring down at his golden plate with a
small, private smile that matched the warm glow in Harry's chest. Then food
appeared before him, roast and turkey and kidney pie, warm rolls and mashed
potatoes, flagons of chilled juice and hot mulled wine. He reached for the juice
at the same time as Snape, and found himself blushing unaccountably as their
fingers brushed. "Pass the mulled wine, will you, Severus?" said Lupin,
eyes twinkling.
Harry
was shocked to see Snape's cheeks colour, and Lupin's fingers linger
deliberately over his on the wine flagon. He poured pumpkin juice and wished he
was brave enough for the wine, feeling the sudden need for something to scrub
out his brain. "Got any plans for after, Harry?" asked Lupin serenely,
even as Snape poured his own juice with fingers that just barely trembled.
"Not
really. I mean, I was all for the war, wasn't I? Only it looks like we're not
having one after all, so it'll really depend on how many NEWTs I take, I
suppose. I'd thought of being an Auror once, but I don't know that I've got the
marks for it." Harry very carefully served himself a helping of something
and avoided looking at the two professors in this very new, very disturbing
light.
"I'm
certain you'll do fine, Harry," said Dumbledore on his left. "I'm sure
that Professor Snape will be happy to help you with Potions, should you be
falling behind."
Harry
had the distinct feeling that Dumbledore knew exactly what was going on in his
head, and he spent a long moment practicing the most calming Occlumency
exercises he knew. Mind gratefully blank, he dug into his food without tasting a
thing and wished fervently for the meal to end. "I believe he is getting
excellent tutelage from Draco at this point, Headmaster. His performance in
class has improved markedly since their... relationship... began."
"They
do make a lovely couple, though, don't they, Severus?" Lupin's voice was
amused and affectionate, and it made Harry smile. They'd grown closer over the
last two years, brought together by war and grief and a mutual love for Sirius,
and Harry's parents as well. He'd been rather neglecting Lupin these past weeks,
and found it heartening to hear the approval in his tone.
"Ta,
Professor," said Harry lightly, and then more quietly, "It's all
happened so fast, hasn't it?"
"That
it has, my boy," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "Who would have thought,
three weeks ago, that you'd be sitting here celebrating victory with your
husband?"
Harry
felt rather sorry for Snape, and not at all sorry for Dumbledore, both of whom
were on the fringes of the resultant spray of pumpkin juice. "My...
what?"
"Although
you have not been formally wed, your status is quite clear under Wizarding law,
Harry," said Dumbledore mildly. "Otherwise, rest assured that you
would still be sleeping in Gryffindor Tower."
"Yes,
Mr. Potter, when will you be having the wedding? I assume that Mr. Malfoy will
want to hold it at the Manor, should the Ministry choose not to confiscate
it." Snape was smirking as he spoke, voice dry and edged with irony.
"Wedding?"
he said, turning quickly to look past Dumbledore. "Wedding, Draco?"
Draco
just smirked right back, and raised his gently steaming glass. Evidently, he
hadn't been at all shy about taking the hot spiced wine. "I had been
meaning to ask you about that, Harry, but there never seemed the opportune
moment."
Harry
blinked stupidly, suddenly feeling rather outnumbered and completely flatfooted.
"You... you want to marry me?"
"That
is the general idea when one forms a lifetime bond with their partner, or had
you not considered that aspect, Harry?" This was Lupin, and Harry spun,
glaring at his erstwhile friend for betraying him in his hour of need.
He
turned back when he felt a tug at his shoulder, only to find Draco kneeling down
in the space between the chairs, looking up at him with love and mischief in his
eyes, and a small velvet box in his hand. "Harry Potter, will you marry
me?"
Bugger,
thought Harry dimly. He's even got a ring. "Er, yes?"
The
cheering that shook the rafters forcefully reminded Harry that he was still in
the Great Hall, sitting at the high table in full view of everyone. "Told
you I'd get you," said Draco softly, slipping the ring on Harry's finger.
It was a wide silver band set with a row of close-set diamonds, and a single
large emerald in the centre etched with an ornate letter 'M'.
Harry
snorted, and leaned down for another of those warm, chaste kisses. "I am
not changing my name to Malfoy," he murmured as he pulled back, "But
we can have the wedding wherever you want."
The
rest of the feast passed in a blessed blur, although a few images stood,
unfortunately, rather sharply out in his mind. A rosy-cheeked and drunken Lupin
giving Snape a kiss on the cheek, for instance. Or the moment when Moody had
given him a congratulatory hug and offered to give him some pointers for their
honeymoon. He kept staring down at his hand, baffled by the unfamiliar weight of
his engagement ring, and then staring back up at the laughing faces of his
fellow Hogwarts students, three sentences running on a loop through his head.
They'd
won. And he was getting married. To Draco bleeding Malfoy.
Chapter
24
In
Which We Learn That Not Everything is Happily Ever After, But Some Things Make a
Good Start
Monday
morning dawned far too early, and it was sheer torture to drag themselves from
their warm, comfortable bed out to face the horror of NEWTs. Breakfast involved
a lot of the older students glaring at the rambunctious youngsters, as only the
Fifth and Seventh Years had class of any kind. Dumbledore had effectively given
them an extra week to celebrate with their friends before school let out, but
the OWLs and NEWTs were far too important to skive off, even after preventing a
war.
Harry
wore his most comfortable school robes, surreptitiously wearing his favourite
pair of Draco's green silk pants underneath for luck. Given the way Draco had
dressed, Harry expected to find his own beloved blue boxers hadn't so much
disappeared as decided to appear on hips other than his own for the day. Potions
would take all day, sitting the exam in the morning, followed by the briefest of
lunches and the practical.
Instead
of the Great Hall, which was filled with Fifth Years taking their OWLs, they
were down in the Potions classroom, taking the same bare dozen desks they
usually did. There was one desk conspicuously empty and the guilt was like a
missing tooth for Harry, something he prodded at with his mind just to make sure
he could still feel the spot she'd taken up in his memories. Su Li had been
quiet, and quite good at Potions, and he felt a stab of loss when he realized
that was the extent of his knowledge of her.
"Quit
feeling so bloody guilty, Harry, or I'm going to tell you what I saw in the
corridor," snapped Draco irritably as the Ministry Wizard conducting the
test strode in with Snape at his side.
"Er,
what?" said Harry softly, confused now.
"I
came 'round a corner and caught Lupin snogging Snape. And if you don't shut up,
I'll describe it in vivid detail." Draco's voice was an echo of his old
arrogant sneer, and Harry could feel nervousness fluttering in his stomach as
well as Harry's own.
"Eew,"
said Harry with feeling, trying very hard not to notice the subtle flush to
Snape's cheeks, or the shiny redness of his lips. "Oh, eew."
"Heh,"
said Draco, a small burst of satisfaction welling in his chest as all thoughts
of grief were drowned out by vividly unpleasant images of Snape and Lupin
together. He was actually grateful when the Ministry Wizard began handing out
the exams, explaining that lunch would be provided in the classroom and
immediately followed by the completion of a very complicated potion, which had
been brewing for weeks in preparation for this exam.
Harry
sighed, took up his quill, and began reading the questions over. Next to him, he
felt Draco's feelings narrow down to focus on his parchment, only a small, warm
thread of love left to show his awareness of Harry at his side.
***
By
Friday, Harry was barely able to figure out the order in which to don his
clothes, let alone decide which ones he was going to wear. His exams were done,
four days of hell, but he still had to drag himself out of bed and get up to
breakfast, or else Draco would never make it to his Ancient Runes NEWT.
"C'mon, there's got to be tea up there."
"But
the bed looks so nice and warm!" Draco protested, trying to climb back
under the covers fully clothed.
"C'mon!
Let's get you fed and off to your last NEWT." Draco had had Tuesday and
Wednesday blessedly free while Harry took Transfigurations and DADA. They'd had
Charms together yesterday, spending the afternoon on an exhausting series of
complex spells, and in the end briefly demonstrating the Sanctuary Charm to the
rather impressed Witch running the tests.
They'd
tumbled into bed with barely a kiss, and been too tired this morning for even a
cursory shag in the shower. The tension sat in his throat, pooled heavy in his
groin. They hadn't heard about Draco's father's fate, and tomorrow there were
funerals and ceremonies to be dealt with. It was eating at them, and even the
warm, honeyed magic in their kisses didn't slow the acid corrosion enough. Even
the weight of his ring didn't cheer him up like it should, feeling the gap
between them growing with each passing silence.
It
was almost a relief to be called up to Dumbledore's office late that afternoon,
Draco quiet and solemn at his side.
Spring
rain pattered against the high windows as they sat in comfortingly familiar
squashy armchairs, tea in hand, and listened to Dumbledore speak. Lucius had
been recaptured with the rest of the unconscious Death Eaters, and would sit
trial right along with them. Questioning had revealed Draco's mother to be under
the Imperius curse. Lucius Malfoy's estate would not be confiscated, but
passed on to those he had most injured, Draco and Narcissa, contingent upon a
thorough cleansing of the house by Aurors.
At
some point, Draco's hand had fumbled over to clasp Harry's, and Harry sent all
the love he could find along the bond, surprised to find so many other things
damping it down. Guilt, of course, always the guilt, but also simple exhaustion,
and a deep-running fear of estrangement. He'd had Draco for such a short time,
and there was so much bad blood between them, old and new sins of commission and
omission. Beneath the fear and guilt and pain, though, the love ran deepest of
all, just waiting to warm them both when he called it forth.
They
left still wrapped in numbness, Dumbledore's words of comfort ringing in their
ears. Tomorrow they'd be expected to show up to everything, be paraded about to
accept Orders of Merlin and possibly say things over the cold bodies of the
dead. Harry shivered as they stepped into the cool gloom of the dungeon
corridors, and tried to uncurl from his own brain long enough to make sure Draco
was all right, nearly surprised at the anger and uncertainty simmering at the
edges of his awareness.
"I'm
sorry about, you know," said Harry softly as the door closed behind them.
Draco lit the candles with a wave of his wand and began stripping out of his
school robes in robotic silence. "If there's anything I can do..."
"What
could you do, Potter? You don't know anything about real family, do you?"
Draco spat, stripped down to a pair of Harry's missing boxers and looking pale,
thin and angry. "You're not exactly gagging to become a Malfoy, anyway, so
why don't you just leave it alone."
"Draco,
what...?" Harry felt the weight of despair crushing his chest, most of it
coming from Draco. His hands went to his clothing, stripping him bare of all his
school clothes, everything that marked him as Gryffindor, as different. He fell
to his knees in front of his partner, brought low by the weight of emotion, face
turned up in supplication. "What can I do to make it right between us,
Draco?"
"What
are you on about? This isn't about us, don't you get it?" Draco was
confused as well as angry now, looking anywhere but at Harry, hands fidgeting
restlessly over the scars on his chest and arms.
"I
think it is, Draco," said Harry softly. "I will try to be whatever you
need, Draco, even if you need to hit me or fuck me or call me Harry Malfoy for
the rest of my life. Just... don't hold it in anymore. Take it out on me,
because it's hurting us both this way." Harry's cheeks were oddly damp,
Draco's eyes suspiciously bright in return.
Draco
lashed out, slapping him backhanded across the face. Harry's cheek exploded with
pain and his head whipped around, but he recovered quickly, resuming his
posture, this time with his hands submissively behind his back. Draco stared at
him in horror, then dropped to his knees in front of Harry. He lifted his hands,
fingers stretching towards the spot that Harry knew was already red and
beginning to bruise. "God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't... I don't want to
turn into him, d'you understand?"
Harry
pulled Draco into an awkward embrace, ignoring the throbbing in his skull.
"I understand. I won't let you, you know. I'm Harry fucking Potter, not
some bloody girl."
Draco
laughed wetly, harshly, and dug painful fingers into his arms. "Right now I
just want to hurt anything, anyone, just to make my own pain go away." He
practically choked on his own bitter laughter as he cried out, "Imperius!"
"You
love her, don't you?" said Harry softly, running careful fingers through
Draco's baby fine hair. "She'll recover, you know, and be your mum
again."
Draco
sniffled. "I should be grateful, at least I've got a mum, but god, it's
hard."
"Bugger
that for a lark," said Harry, with feeling. He'd spent a lot of time
feeling sorry for himself for losing his parents, but he'd also learned a thing
or two over the years. There was more than one way to lose someone, and horrible
tragedy happening to someone else in no way diminished your own pain. He stood,
and pulled them gently up onto the bed, curling them together under the covers.
"You be as angry and sad as you need to be."
Draco
broke down and began to sob, crying wetly into Harry's shoulder, and Harry
wished briefly for a handkerchief or box of tissues as they both began to
sniffle. He let out his own grief and fear and pain, losing friends -- Luna, and
oh god, Seamus! -- and having killed someone in cold blood, even if that someone
was Tom Riddle. He felt something breaking loose in his chest, knocking itself
loose in Draco's as well, and suddenly the warm golden love was pouring out,
washing it all away.
He
felt almost ashamed when he grew suddenly and undeniably hard, and Draco's head
snapped up, eyes flashing. "You want to prove your love, Harry?"
Harry
felt the breath leave his body in a rush and nodded once, dumbly. "You'll
do anything I ask?" Draco's voice held too many things to read, like a book
with half a dozen pages stuck together, writing bleeding through the thin, wet
pages to make an indecipherable blob. Overflowing with meaning to the point of
incomprehensibility.
Draco
slid off the bed, pulling back the covers and shaking his head when Harry moved
to follow. He grabbed his wand off the nightstand and gave it a wave, and thin
silver ropes snaked out of it. Seconds later, Harry was surprised to find
himself bound hand and foot to the four bedposts, spread-eagled, still naked and
very, very vulnerable. Draco turned and rummaged through his wardrobe, producing
a green silk scarf which he used to blindfold Harry, following it with a harsh,
claiming kiss.
Harry
found himself caressed roughly, pinches and slaps as often as kindness. He knew
where Draco was at all times because of their bond, feeling the frustration and
fear welling up as he raked nails down Harry's thighs, bit his nipples until he
cried out, licked over the white scar on one shoulder from Lucius' knife. He
moved away and back, always hovering close by but never giving away his
intentions as he explored Harry's skin and his tolerance, his desire, for pain.
Harry
let his mind go limp, freeing himself of all his worries, from NEWTs to
Voldemort, mismatched socks to dead friends, he let it all go and sunk himself
into this new, physical world. At some point Draco had cast a silencing spell,
and Harry's world narrowed to the smell of them together on the pillow, the
lingering taste of tea on his tongue and, first and foremost, Draco's touch.
He
was still hard, aching with need that wound tighter each time Draco's hands or
mouth came in contact with his skin, regardless of whether to give pleasure or
pain. It was all blending in his mind now, nothing but his lust for Draco, his
desire to please and his overwhelming love for the arrogant, needy, beautiful
boy. He couldn't move, or speak, so instead he let himself drown in the contact,
in the heavy golden magic that dripped between them like honey and the love and
lust that poured off of Draco like heat from a furnace.
He
was spiralling out of control, everything building and him waiting, waiting to
break apart until Draco was inside him, holding on to those last threads of
everything with tooth and claw and other metaphors, his brain chanting over and
over, "Yours." Draco was roiling with emotion, fear and frustration
spiking through the simpler emotions of love and lust, edged about with a flock
of smaller, stranger things.
Harry
was so shocked he almost came and ruined everything when he felt that thing he'd
only felt twice before, and only then by proxy. He felt himself surrounded by
tight heat and wished he wasn't blind just so he could see Draco's face as he
lowered himself onto Harry's shaft. It was agony, holding back as Draco slipped
down onto Harry's cock with protracted care. Harry bit his lip hard enough to
draw blood, and felt himself pulse once, dangerously, when Draco leaned down to
lick away the coppery drops.
His
ears popped as the silencing spell was lifted, blinking in the sudden light as
Draco peeled the blindfold away. He was still bound, but that felt safer,
somehow, with Draco before him, around him like this, looking vulnerable and
beautiful and like nothing he'd ever seen before. Magic shimmered between them
like a heat haze, Draco's own power glittering silver over his skin while Harry
sweat gold into the sheets. Draco's eyes were closed, lashes like a fringe
against lust-pinked cheeks as he began to move.
They
moaned in unison, and Harry felt the fear slice through Draco one last time,
then fade away completely as he found that other thing inside himself, slid it
over Harry's cock again and again, drawing them both towards the edge at
breakneck speed. He tried to file the memories away in case Draco never wanted
to do this again, but his brain wasn't tracking right and all he could do,
still, was feel, and chant aloud with every gut-wrenching thrust,
"Yours."
It
came as no shock at all when he screamed Draco's name, pulled over the edge
finally by the sheer weight of feeling, each bruise and bite part of the chorus
of sensation, the magical bonds soft and weightless as he pulled against them,
not to get away but just to know he couldn't. Draco rode him out, canting his
hips and biting his pink bottom lip, his own release only moments away. Harry
longed to touch the glowing skin, to pull his orgasm out of him with a few
practiced strokes, and he felt riveted as Draco's hand drifted up to do it
himself.
Draco's
cry was wordless, soundless, as he spilled over fist and thigh, belly and chest.
Harry felt him moving around his still-hard cock, milking those last few drops
from his exhausted body. Draco found his wand, dismissed the bonds and collapsed
in Harry's grateful embrace, leaving them joined and sated, the magic sinking
back under their skins to curl, warm and waiting, in their chests. Harry
borrowed Draco's wand long enough to summon the blankets back up over them, and
drifted off to sleep.
***
Harry
woke, for the first time in ages, alone. He immediately sat up, frightened as
the memories of last night flooded in, and was relieved to see Draco sitting in
his chair, reading. "Wondered when you'd get up," said Draco, smiling,
as Harry slid out of bed and padded towards the bathroom. He felt the fool for
ever doubting as Draco's warm presence thrummed in his chest.
"Why
didn't you just wake me?" Harry asked, pausing at the door.
Draco
shrugged in a swirl of affection. "I liked watching you. Go on, the house
elves brought tea."
Harry
took care of his morning things, splashing cold water over his face and finding
a pair of soft flannel pyjamas to keep him warm as he sat next to Draco. The
tiny table was nearly overflowing with pot, cups, creamer, sugar and a small
plate of chocolate biscuits. "Er, are we ok, then?" Harry asked,
nibbling on a biscuit.
Draco
looked up, then folded the book in his lap, finger holding the place.
"Yeah, we're ok. Thank you, for..." Draco reached out, leaning so his
fingers could brush the impressive bruise on Harry's cheekbone. Harry had
considered trying to heal it before he got out of the bathroom, but had felt it
would be dishonest, somehow. "Everything."
Harry
dropped a kiss on Draco's palm. "I meant it, you know, what I said. I love
you like a part of me I never knew I was missing, and I'll do whatever it
takes..."
Draco
lowered his eyes, then nodded. "I hope... I don't ever want to hurt you,
Harry, but I can't promise I won't."
Harry
snorted, and Draco looked up, startled. "'Course you can't. People hurt
each other, even when they don't mean to." Draco smiled, eyes going
suspiciously bright. "Er, just for the record, are we going to..."
Harry made a familiar obscene gesture, ending significantly near the tent in his
trousers.
Draco
laughed. "Yeah, we can. Any way you like it." Harry grinned, and Draco
blushed. "I was afraid to, you know, until we... until I could feel how
much you really enjoyed it."
"Bloody
right I enjoy it, and you're going to do it to me again before we leave. I can't
possibly sit through all of the crap today unless you've come in my ass at least
once." Harry got a great deal of satisfaction at the way Draco's face
slipped from nervous to positively eager as he processed Harry's words.
"You
mean, you still want me to...?" Draco trailed off as Harry downed the last
of his tea in one gulp.
"What,
you thought I'd let you get out of doing all the work, just 'cos you put out
once?"
They
both laughed, and tumbled into bed. The road ahead was rocky, strange and
unknown, but Harry knew one thing for certain -- he'd always have Draco beside
him, wherever it took them.
--The
End--
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