Fic: What Are Words For? (5/6)
Nov. 19th, 2007 08:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
salixbabylonTitle: What Are Words For?
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
salixbabylon
Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Prompt: "Words" – Missing Persons, part of the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
ficrocksthe80s fest
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4216
Disclaimer: JKR owns everything. I just like to play naughty games with her dollies.
Summary: "Six months after the end of the war Harry decided, admittedly in a fit of pique, that he wasn't going to talk any more."
Author's Notes: Surprisingly mostly canon compliant, even with DH. Only I didn't kill Fred because that's just wrong. Also warning = plot! Not my usual PWP-fare. Tons of thanks to my beloved beta,sarka *smooch*
(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4)
What Are Words For?
Harry's day took another drastic turn downwards, as if it hadn't been rollercoaster-like enough already. Hermione and Rom came over for dinner and, unfortunately, Harry had forgotten to erase the blackboard in the drawing room. Again.
He stood frozen while his friends read the suggestive banter from earlier in the morning, particularly the bits about sharing a bed. As if in slow motion, he watched Ron's face go from its normal color, to sickly pale, then to enraged red. Harry braced himself for a battle.
Ron turned around, wand in hand and fury on his face. "You're fucking Malfoy?"
Holding up both hands, Harry shook his head negative.
"And why should I believe you? You've been lying about Malfoy from the fucking beginning! You always keep secrets from everyone – I knew there must be something going on if he was coming around so often. He's got you hexed or something, doesn't he? What did he use, Imperius? I knew you should never have given him back his wand," Ron said, pointing his own at Harry. "Finite Incatatem!"
Harry stumbled a little with the force of the spell, but as there was nothing for it to remove, nothing happened. He wanted to write something on the blackboard but was afraid to draw his own wand, knowing from many years of experience that Ron wasn't finished lashing out quite yet.
He took a step closer, never letting his eyes leave Ron, hoping to go for the chalk.
"Ron, calm down!" Hermione scolded, her voice betraying more than just a hint of anxiety. "Harry's fine. And if he's with Draco Malfoy, well, that's his business. His sex life is none of your concern."
Harry scowled. Did she think he was with Draco, too? What, did everyone think he was an enormous slag, then?
"It is if that sadistic ponce has Harry convinced he likes it up the arse!" Ron yelled.
That did it. Harry's wand was in his hand before Ron could react, but instead of hexing his friend with something painful, he wrote "
"
Ron's nervous expression shifted back into an angry one. "Oh, so you prefer to give it to him then, do you? I always knew there was something fishy about you breaking up with Ginny! So how many blokes have you fucked, Harry?" he spat.
Harry really really wanted to punch him. Beat him with his fists until Ron's face was red from blood, not fury. Break that long pointy nose so that it would be as crooked as Dumbledore's had been.
But Ron was bigger than him, had longer arms, and a lot more practice fending off his older brothers. So Harry took a deep breath and wrote "
"
"Oh please," Ron sneered. "You expect me to believe that? Savior of the Wizarding World and you can't get laid? You must've had dozens of both sexes, if you've taken up with Malfoy for some excitement!"
If Harry could have set Ron on fire with a look, he would have. In fact he tried, but couldn't quite remember the spell. Which was probably a good thing, as Hermione's hand grabbed his arm and broke his furious gaze at his best friend.
"Stop this! Both of you, right now!" she ordered, but neither young man was listening.
When Harry turned back to Ron his friend had his wand leveled at Harry's chest and a maniacal look in his eyes. "Well, there's one way to tell if you're lying to us about that," he sneered. "Sanctus Revelio!"
A blinding blue light hit Harry as the spell slammed into his chest. A burning feeling seemed to mingle with all of the blood in his veins, particularly in his crotch. He screamed as his balls felt like they were exploding, bursting into flame, and he clawed at himself, mindlessly trying to stop the agony. He could hear voices, Hermione and Ron, angry and worried, but he couldn't tell if they were yelling at each other or at him.
An icy burst of water hit him between the legs, which managed to stop him from frantically shredding his own skin while he howled in pain. The abrupt change from burning to freezing temperatures was too much of a shock to his system. Harry lost consciousness as his fingers stilled and he felt himself being levitated.
*****
Harry came to in a room that smelled like one of his least favorite places: the infirmary. However upon opening his eyes, he saw not the familiar face of Madam Pomfrey but a nervous looking young man in the lime green Healer's robes of St. Mungo's.
He groaned. The familiar shaped-blobs of both Hermione and Ron swam into his line of sight and the fuzzy-headed one moved closer, slipping Harry's glasses back onto his face. The world came back into focus.
"Oh Harry. Are you all right?" Hermione asked.
Harry thought about it for a moment. Nothing hurt too much, if he ignored the fact that overall he felt like he'd been trampled by a herd of centaurs. He nodded and mimed for a pen and paper.
"
" he wrote, after his friend fished what he needed out of her purse and handed it to him. A flash of green distracted him for a moment, as the Assistant Healer left the room with an anxious look on his face.
Hermione's expression tightened. "This bloody idiot," she said, glaring across the room at Ron, who was keeping a wary distance from Harry's bed, "hexed you with Sanctus Revelio, an old spell designed to reveal or test the object's virginity. It's not Dark exactly but it's certainly not a very nice spell. There's a reason no one uses it anymore aside from 'just' sexism and social progress!" she said, turning to Ron with barely controlled anger.
"Apparently Ron found it in one of the books from the Black library," she continued, "and failed to read the finer details or think about what they might mean. It's a spell that would technically be all right and not cause any harm to the 'untouched,' but it's so old and outdated that just kissing means you've been 'touched.' Masturbation probably counts, too," she said, flushing slightly but trying not to show it. "Which is why the spell implemented its secondary punishing characteristics and, erm. Well, caused you quite a lot of pain in your personal areas."
Harry took a deep breath, gritting his teeth as he tried to stay in control of himself.
Hermione cleared her throat, attempting to regain her usual no-nonsense tone of voice. "You'd really hurt your, um, self, with so much clawing with your fingernails. I healed you as best I could once I got an ice water jet to cool you down and you passed out, but I wasn't sure what the counter-hex was and if you were really all right or not, so we brought you here. I didn't think you'd want to risk your bits on my amateur medical knowledge."
He looked away from Hermione, face nearly purple with embarrassment. She'd seen him naked, probably even touched him. His cock and balls, to be specific. He was going to die of humiliation.
But he was going to kill Ron first, as soon as he got out of the hospital.
Seriously this time.
The return of the Assistant with a woman who exuded the distinct air of being the Head Healer distracted him. "Wellington here tells me you aren't speaking," the woman said in a stern voice. "Were there other spells used that we were not informed of?" she asked, glaring at Hermione.
Harry rolled his eyes and scribbled "
" on the notepad.
"A what?" the Healer asked.
Harry sighed and gave Hermione a pointed look.
"He's decided not to talk anymore, for a while," she said. "It's personal," she added when the Healer opened her mouth to speak again.
With a world-weary sigh, the Healer turned back to her Assistant. "You couldn't have just asked them, Wellington?" She rubbed her temples for a moment before turning back to the bed. "Fine, Mr. Potter. Whatever you've chosen to do, ludicrous as it may be, is your choice. If you are in no further discomfort, we will run some final diagnostics and get you ready to be discharged."
Harry nodded his agreement and she began waving her wand in complicated spirals, murmuring under her breath. She was finished in short order and he was being given back his clothes. After filling in some tedious paperwork he was released and ready to go home, preparing to Floo from the reception area.
Hermione gave him a hug. "I'm sorry Ron's such an utter git sometimes," she said, not bothering to lower her voice at all despite Ron standing only a few feet away. He was pointedly not looking at either of them. Which was just fine with Harry; he'd probably hex the freckles right off of Ron if he so much as looked his way.
There was going to have to be some serious groveling before Harry forgave him this time.
*****
The next day brought a flurry of owls and Floo-calls. Evidently the public had found out about Harry's Silence Resolution and everyone wanted to know what was going on and why. It seemed that someone at St. Mungo's had mentioned it to someone who had told someone else and word had spread. So much for patient confidentiality, he thought wryly.
Hermione had been right though; the whole thing had grown beyond Harry just wanting to avoid the Ministry and the Press. He wanted to be left alone, by everyone possible. He hadn't even gone out of his house in over a month except for the short trip to the hospital and one dinner at a tiny little restaurant in the middle of nowhere, and now he was being inundated by owls! That morning's Prophet was full of speculation and theories about what had happened to Harry, why he'd taken the Vow of Silence, whether he'd gone mad, if it was a protest against the way the Ministry was being reorganized, if he'd been hexed with a Silencing Curse, or (Harry's personal favorite) whether the whole thing was a publicity stunt because he was offended by the decreased number of celebratory events being held in his honor.
That one had given him a headache, he'd laughed so hard.
No, the Wizarding world had entirely missed the point yet again. He was not going to break his Silence Resolution, not even to write a few replies to the various magazines and newspapers which had asked for a written interview. No, his Resolution had become "a poignant statement about the futility of words," as Draco said in a mocking tone when he stopped by for a visit later that day.
Together he and Draco finally managed to subdue the upstairs rug, although they couldn't manage to fix the burned and unraveled spots from their previous battles with it. Still, it was nice to be done, not to mention to know that he could get up in the middle of the night for a pee and not have to take his wand. At least not to defend himself from the rug.
They had made some progress on ideas for the dining room as well, aided by more stick figure illustrations from Harry, and even some additions from Draco. After much arguing (not to mention shared laughter over each other's horrific lack of artistic talents), they agreed upon a joint plan of attack and started practicing the spells they planned to use. Draco even suggested something Harry had never considered before: an exit strategy, a way to get the fuck out of the dining room if things got out of hand. Harry was bemused by Draco's exasperation and enjoyed the irritated sparkle in the grey eyes while he played dumb.
Not to mention the tingle when Draco looked at him like that, half annoyed and half amused.
He really was quite pretty.
*****
A few more days of incessant owl post passed before life went back to normal. With no reaction from the Tragically Disturbed Savior, the Press eventually stopped pestering him for interviews. Hermione came by and responded on his behalf to the inquiries from the Ministry and a few close friends who were concerned on his behalf, and tried to apologize for Ron's behavior but Harry was having none of it. The deep scratches on his thighs and stomach may have been healed but the fact that Ron didn't trust him was a rift that would need some time.
Not to mention groveling.
Which left Harry free for his letters to the dead again, in between hex-breaking sessions that were going faster and faster, now that the House seemed to be recognizing Harry as its Master. The letters, conversely, were getting more and more difficult.
He finished the one to Snape at last, going through several drafts until he managed to verbalize his confusion and anger and compassion and sorrow adequately. After that, Dumbledore's was a snap; Harry had no problem writing down all the things he was angry with his former Headmaster about.
It was actually quite cathartic, as Hermione had said it would be, and forced Harry to confront and then release all the anger he had been carrying with him for so many years. He felt like he'd been manipulated his whole life, as if he was just a character in a story rather than a real person, and that Dumbledore was the primary author. While he knew that wasn't entirely fair, it felt good to write it down, allow himself to be petty, and finally release the anger that had soured his memories of the old man.
After all, Albus had been only human. And it was all Voldemort's fault, anyway. Well, Voldemort and the Dursleys. Luckily they weren't dead yet, as far as Harry knew, so he didn't have to forgive them.
The thought of his so-called family brought to mind his actual parents, but once he addressed the letter to his mum and dad he had no idea what to say, so he moved on to Dobby's letter. As it had at the house-elf's grave, just thinking of Dobby made Harry fall apart. Much as he tried, that was the one death that he felt the most responsibility for, and felt the most guilt over not having been a better friend to the elf while he was alive.
Once again Draco arrived in the evening to find Harry silently weeping at his desk. This time there was a lot less alcohol involved and a lot more embarrassment on Harry's part at being caught sniveling.
Draco, however, didn't say a word about it, just Summoned Kreacher to fetch a glass of water and went himself to find a wet flannel for Harry to wash his face. Harry appreciated both but most especially the moment alone to try and compose himself before his friend returned.
"Difficult letter?" Draco asked, once Harry had cleaned up and drank most of the water.
Harry nodded, still avoiding eye contact in his awkwardness.
"How many more do you have left?"
"
," he wrote.
Draco nodded. "So you're almost finished then." He rubbed his hands together, not looking at Harry, then took a deep breath. "You know, Harry, you're allowed to fall apart a bit. I'm sure this has been difficult for you. It was for me and I only had three letters to write. You don't have to be embarrassed, you know."
Harry made a face. "
"
Draco snorted. "You'd lose that bet, then, Potter. I cried. Over all three letters. My eyes were so red and puffy I had to use a Glamour Charm at supper with my parents. Not that they'd have noticed anyway..."
Before he could think to stop himself, Harry reached out a hand and touched Draco's arm. "
"
Draco gave him a mild smirk. "Don't think I don't know that you're trying to change the topic. But yeah. The atmosphere hasn't changed much," he said, trying to be nonchalant about it, but Harry could see the hurt in his eyes.
Harry's fingers, without his conscious permission, petted Draco's arm comfortingly.
Searching eyes met Harry's face and without any trace of former awkwardness at all, both young men simply stared at each other. Not as a contest of wills or anything like it would have been two years ago, just a simple holding of gazes, searching and finding someone who understood.
At last.
*****
Three more days passed in a flurry of life-threatening excitement as Harry and Draco broke through the curses and hexes in the dining room. They had escaped relatively unhurt, aside from a few minor cuts and punctures, easily fixed by healing charms. Draco's idea to simply Apparate out of the room as the cutlery attacked saved them from anything worse and it turned out that once the silverware had embedded itself into the doors and walls, it stayed there long enough for them to hit it with a series of counter-curses.
The dustcovers took a bit longer, although they were far less dangerous. Draco had nearly laughed himself silly at the sight of Harry trussed up like a mummy, only his head sticking out, before he'd freed him. Eventually they ended up simply Incendio-ing the aggressive fabric. Once that was done the ashes were no problem at all to Banish and the dining room seemed to have no further attacks to throw at them.
They celebrated by eating supper there that night, but despite Kreacher's fantastic feast the formal room still held an ominous air and it wasn't a terribly enjoyable meal. Harry suspected it just needed some good cleaning charms and sunlight and made a mental note to ask Mrs. Weasley about it the next time he saw her.
Continuing their celebration, Harry and Draco adjourned to the drawing room for a game of chess. As usual, Draco Summoned the scotch and two glasses. Their high spirits and residual adrenaline made them giddy quite quickly even without the liquor, and they ended up abandoning the game in favor of lounging on the sofa.
Sitting turned into teasing and laughing and shoving, and soon they were both seated at opposite ends, with their legs tangled across the middle cushion. Eventually Harry realized he was wriggling his sock-clad toes between Draco's thighs, and that such actions might count more as playing footsie than as tickling. To an outside observer.
A perverse one.
He blushed and withdrew his feet, making Draco laugh even harder.
"That was brilliant, Harry. I could practically see the moment you realized how close your feet were to my bits," he gasped.
Harry scowled and gave Draco two fingers, trying not to smile.
With a decidedly evil grin, Draco slid one of his own feet up Harry's inseam. The twinkle in his eyes indicated that he had a fair idea what sort of effect this was having on Harry's cock – a rather, er, expansive one.
Shifting awkwardly, Harry tried not to flush, although with the alcohol already in his system he knew his face was likely to be quite red, no matter how much he wished otherwise.
"You're as jumpy as a schoolgirl. Have you really not done anything with a boy?" Draco teased. He made a scolding sound when Harry shook his head no. "I guess Gryffindors really aren't very brave after all, are they?"
Harry made a face and gave Draco a shove.
Rather than retaliate, Draco grinned again. "I dare you to kiss me."
Harry blinked. He took a breath in, then out, then shook his head a bit to make sure he was awake and not hallucinating.
Draco licked his lips. "What, not man enough for it?"
Knowing he would freak out if he thought about it for even a second, Harry went with his instincts: after all, they'd saved him from many life-or-death situations before. He lunged forward, grabbed Draco by the back of the neck, and slammed their mouths together.
Draco made a startled noise and Harry sat back immediately, hoping he hadn't split Draco's lip or – far worse - misread the dare entirely. Maybe he wasn't supposed to have acted on it. Maybe Draco was just teasing. Maybe he'd just been taking the piss all this time and --
"Potter!" Draco said, grabbing Harry by the chin and forcing him to open his eyes again. "Breathe, man."
Once Harry had obeyed, Draco's worried-forehead wrinkle smoothed out. He smiled a little as, hand still on Harry's face, he guided their mouths closer again. "Just slow down and enjoy it, all right?"
Harry might have moaned a bit in answer - or perhaps in response to the more gentle sensation of their lips pressing together, sweet and soft. He pulled back a bit, palms sweating as his body trembled, and realized he was practically lying on top of Draco.
Snogging him.
And that they were both already very hard.
With a gasp, he lunged forward again, taking a bit more care this time, and the resulting kiss was Incendiary. Firm, moist pressure, assertive rather than softly yielding as Ginny's kisses had been. Draco's lips demanded instead of asking, taking what they wanted in the confidence that Harry wanted to give it.
And holy Morgana, he did.
Draco's hand tightened on Harry's jaw, pulling him closer as their kiss grew in hunger. His tongue gently but insistently probed until Harry opened to it, sliding in to explore with unhurried assurance. Flavors of liquor and supper mingled with their own natural tastes, as Draco's tongue stroked over his lips, teeth, and palate.
A deep moan tore through Harry's chest as he pressed his hips down into Draco's body, rubbing their groins together in a slow grind that made them both break off their endless snogging to gasp for breath. Insistent hands grabbed Harry's hips, pulling him back down when he would have moved off, afraid of getting too carried away.
He already was too carried away.
Harry shivered, aroused beyond belief by the feeling of Draco underneath him, surrounded by the scent and taste of Draco, Draco everywhere. He tired to move back again, needing some space to get a grip on this mentally, but strong hands pulled him down as Draco writhed beneath him.
With a lurch, Harry pulled away, nearly falling off the sofa. He pushed Draco's legs to the side and sat down, eyes wide and unblinking, mouth open as he panted for air and tried not to panic. His hands gripped his knees, elbows locked, eyes fixed on the rug.
There was a heavy sigh from beside him. "Fuck, Harry. Couldn't you have freaked out after?"
Harry shrugged, still not looking at Draco. He wasn't sure if it was because he was afraid of seeing anger or frustration, or just because if he did look at Draco, Harry might have to attack him again and this time he might not stop.
Ever.
Groaning, he let his head falling into his hands, carding his fingers through his hair. Fuck. He'd utterly buggered everything up. He was a disaster, an emotional basket-case, and a bloody cock-tease on top of it all.
Not to mention he was still so hard his eyes were practically watering with the need to come.
"Merlin, Potter. You're a mess."
Harry nodded, pressing his palms against his face, digging into his glasses until they creaked warningly. He took a deep breath and reached for his wand.
"
"
Draco's face twisted in a familiar angry expression, but not quite angry enough to hide the hurt and confusion in his eyes. Harry wondered when he'd learned Malfoy's body language so well.
Rather than arguing, Draco surprised Harry by getting up, silently. His usual calm poise seemed to have vanished and he fumbled awkwardly with his shoes and cloak. His hair was mussed, his lips very red, and his entire face flushed. Harry tried not to notice the substantial tent distorting the black wool trousers.
He had absolutely no idea what to say, how to explain what he was feeling, how to apologize for his behavior. Harry felt overwhelmed, shaking with some emotion that felt simply too big to be expressed, too scary to be allowed. Kissing Draco had been phenomenal, unbelievable, and for some reason he felt like he was maybe going to cry or be sick or something. He felt like a complete heel asking Draco to leave but he didn't know what else to do.
One hand full of Floo powder, Draco hesitated on the hearth. He shot Harry a confused look, seemed about to say something, then just shook his head. In a small, quiet voice, he stated his destination and was gone.
Harry walked back over to the sofa and collapsed onto it, reaching for his glass of liquor and trying not to notice how warm the cushions were, how they smelled like Draco, or wonder if he'd just fucked up one of the best things in his life.
**Part 6**
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Author:
salixbabylonPairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Prompt: "Words" – Missing Persons, part of the
ficrocksthe80s festRating: NC-17
Word Count: 4216
Disclaimer: JKR owns everything. I just like to play naughty games with her dollies.
Summary: "Six months after the end of the war Harry decided, admittedly in a fit of pique, that he wasn't going to talk any more."
Author's Notes: Surprisingly mostly canon compliant, even with DH. Only I didn't kill Fred because that's just wrong. Also warning = plot! Not my usual PWP-fare. Tons of thanks to my beloved beta,
sarka *smooch*(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4)
Harry's day took another drastic turn downwards, as if it hadn't been rollercoaster-like enough already. Hermione and Rom came over for dinner and, unfortunately, Harry had forgotten to erase the blackboard in the drawing room. Again.
He stood frozen while his friends read the suggestive banter from earlier in the morning, particularly the bits about sharing a bed. As if in slow motion, he watched Ron's face go from its normal color, to sickly pale, then to enraged red. Harry braced himself for a battle.
Ron turned around, wand in hand and fury on his face. "You're fucking Malfoy?"
Holding up both hands, Harry shook his head negative.
"And why should I believe you? You've been lying about Malfoy from the fucking beginning! You always keep secrets from everyone – I knew there must be something going on if he was coming around so often. He's got you hexed or something, doesn't he? What did he use, Imperius? I knew you should never have given him back his wand," Ron said, pointing his own at Harry. "Finite Incatatem!"
Harry stumbled a little with the force of the spell, but as there was nothing for it to remove, nothing happened. He wanted to write something on the blackboard but was afraid to draw his own wand, knowing from many years of experience that Ron wasn't finished lashing out quite yet.
He took a step closer, never letting his eyes leave Ron, hoping to go for the chalk.
"Ron, calm down!" Hermione scolded, her voice betraying more than just a hint of anxiety. "Harry's fine. And if he's with Draco Malfoy, well, that's his business. His sex life is none of your concern."
Harry scowled. Did she think he was with Draco, too? What, did everyone think he was an enormous slag, then?
"It is if that sadistic ponce has Harry convinced he likes it up the arse!" Ron yelled.
That did it. Harry's wand was in his hand before Ron could react, but instead of hexing his friend with something painful, he wrote "
"Ron's nervous expression shifted back into an angry one. "Oh, so you prefer to give it to him then, do you? I always knew there was something fishy about you breaking up with Ginny! So how many blokes have you fucked, Harry?" he spat.
Harry really really wanted to punch him. Beat him with his fists until Ron's face was red from blood, not fury. Break that long pointy nose so that it would be as crooked as Dumbledore's had been.
But Ron was bigger than him, had longer arms, and a lot more practice fending off his older brothers. So Harry took a deep breath and wrote "
""Oh please," Ron sneered. "You expect me to believe that? Savior of the Wizarding World and you can't get laid? You must've had dozens of both sexes, if you've taken up with Malfoy for some excitement!"
If Harry could have set Ron on fire with a look, he would have. In fact he tried, but couldn't quite remember the spell. Which was probably a good thing, as Hermione's hand grabbed his arm and broke his furious gaze at his best friend.
"Stop this! Both of you, right now!" she ordered, but neither young man was listening.
When Harry turned back to Ron his friend had his wand leveled at Harry's chest and a maniacal look in his eyes. "Well, there's one way to tell if you're lying to us about that," he sneered. "Sanctus Revelio!"
A blinding blue light hit Harry as the spell slammed into his chest. A burning feeling seemed to mingle with all of the blood in his veins, particularly in his crotch. He screamed as his balls felt like they were exploding, bursting into flame, and he clawed at himself, mindlessly trying to stop the agony. He could hear voices, Hermione and Ron, angry and worried, but he couldn't tell if they were yelling at each other or at him.
An icy burst of water hit him between the legs, which managed to stop him from frantically shredding his own skin while he howled in pain. The abrupt change from burning to freezing temperatures was too much of a shock to his system. Harry lost consciousness as his fingers stilled and he felt himself being levitated.
Harry came to in a room that smelled like one of his least favorite places: the infirmary. However upon opening his eyes, he saw not the familiar face of Madam Pomfrey but a nervous looking young man in the lime green Healer's robes of St. Mungo's.
He groaned. The familiar shaped-blobs of both Hermione and Ron swam into his line of sight and the fuzzy-headed one moved closer, slipping Harry's glasses back onto his face. The world came back into focus.
"Oh Harry. Are you all right?" Hermione asked.
Harry thought about it for a moment. Nothing hurt too much, if he ignored the fact that overall he felt like he'd been trampled by a herd of centaurs. He nodded and mimed for a pen and paper.
"
" he wrote, after his friend fished what he needed out of her purse and handed it to him. A flash of green distracted him for a moment, as the Assistant Healer left the room with an anxious look on his face.Hermione's expression tightened. "This bloody idiot," she said, glaring across the room at Ron, who was keeping a wary distance from Harry's bed, "hexed you with Sanctus Revelio, an old spell designed to reveal or test the object's virginity. It's not Dark exactly but it's certainly not a very nice spell. There's a reason no one uses it anymore aside from 'just' sexism and social progress!" she said, turning to Ron with barely controlled anger.
"Apparently Ron found it in one of the books from the Black library," she continued, "and failed to read the finer details or think about what they might mean. It's a spell that would technically be all right and not cause any harm to the 'untouched,' but it's so old and outdated that just kissing means you've been 'touched.' Masturbation probably counts, too," she said, flushing slightly but trying not to show it. "Which is why the spell implemented its secondary punishing characteristics and, erm. Well, caused you quite a lot of pain in your personal areas."
Harry took a deep breath, gritting his teeth as he tried to stay in control of himself.
Hermione cleared her throat, attempting to regain her usual no-nonsense tone of voice. "You'd really hurt your, um, self, with so much clawing with your fingernails. I healed you as best I could once I got an ice water jet to cool you down and you passed out, but I wasn't sure what the counter-hex was and if you were really all right or not, so we brought you here. I didn't think you'd want to risk your bits on my amateur medical knowledge."
He looked away from Hermione, face nearly purple with embarrassment. She'd seen him naked, probably even touched him. His cock and balls, to be specific. He was going to die of humiliation.
But he was going to kill Ron first, as soon as he got out of the hospital.
Seriously this time.
The return of the Assistant with a woman who exuded the distinct air of being the Head Healer distracted him. "Wellington here tells me you aren't speaking," the woman said in a stern voice. "Were there other spells used that we were not informed of?" she asked, glaring at Hermione.
Harry rolled his eyes and scribbled "
" on the notepad."A what?" the Healer asked.
Harry sighed and gave Hermione a pointed look.
"He's decided not to talk anymore, for a while," she said. "It's personal," she added when the Healer opened her mouth to speak again.
With a world-weary sigh, the Healer turned back to her Assistant. "You couldn't have just asked them, Wellington?" She rubbed her temples for a moment before turning back to the bed. "Fine, Mr. Potter. Whatever you've chosen to do, ludicrous as it may be, is your choice. If you are in no further discomfort, we will run some final diagnostics and get you ready to be discharged."
Harry nodded his agreement and she began waving her wand in complicated spirals, murmuring under her breath. She was finished in short order and he was being given back his clothes. After filling in some tedious paperwork he was released and ready to go home, preparing to Floo from the reception area.
Hermione gave him a hug. "I'm sorry Ron's such an utter git sometimes," she said, not bothering to lower her voice at all despite Ron standing only a few feet away. He was pointedly not looking at either of them. Which was just fine with Harry; he'd probably hex the freckles right off of Ron if he so much as looked his way.
There was going to have to be some serious groveling before Harry forgave him this time.
The next day brought a flurry of owls and Floo-calls. Evidently the public had found out about Harry's Silence Resolution and everyone wanted to know what was going on and why. It seemed that someone at St. Mungo's had mentioned it to someone who had told someone else and word had spread. So much for patient confidentiality, he thought wryly.
Hermione had been right though; the whole thing had grown beyond Harry just wanting to avoid the Ministry and the Press. He wanted to be left alone, by everyone possible. He hadn't even gone out of his house in over a month except for the short trip to the hospital and one dinner at a tiny little restaurant in the middle of nowhere, and now he was being inundated by owls! That morning's Prophet was full of speculation and theories about what had happened to Harry, why he'd taken the Vow of Silence, whether he'd gone mad, if it was a protest against the way the Ministry was being reorganized, if he'd been hexed with a Silencing Curse, or (Harry's personal favorite) whether the whole thing was a publicity stunt because he was offended by the decreased number of celebratory events being held in his honor.
That one had given him a headache, he'd laughed so hard.
No, the Wizarding world had entirely missed the point yet again. He was not going to break his Silence Resolution, not even to write a few replies to the various magazines and newspapers which had asked for a written interview. No, his Resolution had become "a poignant statement about the futility of words," as Draco said in a mocking tone when he stopped by for a visit later that day.
Together he and Draco finally managed to subdue the upstairs rug, although they couldn't manage to fix the burned and unraveled spots from their previous battles with it. Still, it was nice to be done, not to mention to know that he could get up in the middle of the night for a pee and not have to take his wand. At least not to defend himself from the rug.
They had made some progress on ideas for the dining room as well, aided by more stick figure illustrations from Harry, and even some additions from Draco. After much arguing (not to mention shared laughter over each other's horrific lack of artistic talents), they agreed upon a joint plan of attack and started practicing the spells they planned to use. Draco even suggested something Harry had never considered before: an exit strategy, a way to get the fuck out of the dining room if things got out of hand. Harry was bemused by Draco's exasperation and enjoyed the irritated sparkle in the grey eyes while he played dumb.
Not to mention the tingle when Draco looked at him like that, half annoyed and half amused.
He really was quite pretty.
A few more days of incessant owl post passed before life went back to normal. With no reaction from the Tragically Disturbed Savior, the Press eventually stopped pestering him for interviews. Hermione came by and responded on his behalf to the inquiries from the Ministry and a few close friends who were concerned on his behalf, and tried to apologize for Ron's behavior but Harry was having none of it. The deep scratches on his thighs and stomach may have been healed but the fact that Ron didn't trust him was a rift that would need some time.
Not to mention groveling.
Which left Harry free for his letters to the dead again, in between hex-breaking sessions that were going faster and faster, now that the House seemed to be recognizing Harry as its Master. The letters, conversely, were getting more and more difficult.
He finished the one to Snape at last, going through several drafts until he managed to verbalize his confusion and anger and compassion and sorrow adequately. After that, Dumbledore's was a snap; Harry had no problem writing down all the things he was angry with his former Headmaster about.
It was actually quite cathartic, as Hermione had said it would be, and forced Harry to confront and then release all the anger he had been carrying with him for so many years. He felt like he'd been manipulated his whole life, as if he was just a character in a story rather than a real person, and that Dumbledore was the primary author. While he knew that wasn't entirely fair, it felt good to write it down, allow himself to be petty, and finally release the anger that had soured his memories of the old man.
After all, Albus had been only human. And it was all Voldemort's fault, anyway. Well, Voldemort and the Dursleys. Luckily they weren't dead yet, as far as Harry knew, so he didn't have to forgive them.
The thought of his so-called family brought to mind his actual parents, but once he addressed the letter to his mum and dad he had no idea what to say, so he moved on to Dobby's letter. As it had at the house-elf's grave, just thinking of Dobby made Harry fall apart. Much as he tried, that was the one death that he felt the most responsibility for, and felt the most guilt over not having been a better friend to the elf while he was alive.
Once again Draco arrived in the evening to find Harry silently weeping at his desk. This time there was a lot less alcohol involved and a lot more embarrassment on Harry's part at being caught sniveling.
Draco, however, didn't say a word about it, just Summoned Kreacher to fetch a glass of water and went himself to find a wet flannel for Harry to wash his face. Harry appreciated both but most especially the moment alone to try and compose himself before his friend returned.
"Difficult letter?" Draco asked, once Harry had cleaned up and drank most of the water.
Harry nodded, still avoiding eye contact in his awkwardness.
"How many more do you have left?"
"
," he wrote.Draco nodded. "So you're almost finished then." He rubbed his hands together, not looking at Harry, then took a deep breath. "You know, Harry, you're allowed to fall apart a bit. I'm sure this has been difficult for you. It was for me and I only had three letters to write. You don't have to be embarrassed, you know."
Harry made a face. "
"Draco snorted. "You'd lose that bet, then, Potter. I cried. Over all three letters. My eyes were so red and puffy I had to use a Glamour Charm at supper with my parents. Not that they'd have noticed anyway..."
Before he could think to stop himself, Harry reached out a hand and touched Draco's arm. "
"Draco gave him a mild smirk. "Don't think I don't know that you're trying to change the topic. But yeah. The atmosphere hasn't changed much," he said, trying to be nonchalant about it, but Harry could see the hurt in his eyes.
Harry's fingers, without his conscious permission, petted Draco's arm comfortingly.
Searching eyes met Harry's face and without any trace of former awkwardness at all, both young men simply stared at each other. Not as a contest of wills or anything like it would have been two years ago, just a simple holding of gazes, searching and finding someone who understood.
At last.
Three more days passed in a flurry of life-threatening excitement as Harry and Draco broke through the curses and hexes in the dining room. They had escaped relatively unhurt, aside from a few minor cuts and punctures, easily fixed by healing charms. Draco's idea to simply Apparate out of the room as the cutlery attacked saved them from anything worse and it turned out that once the silverware had embedded itself into the doors and walls, it stayed there long enough for them to hit it with a series of counter-curses.
The dustcovers took a bit longer, although they were far less dangerous. Draco had nearly laughed himself silly at the sight of Harry trussed up like a mummy, only his head sticking out, before he'd freed him. Eventually they ended up simply Incendio-ing the aggressive fabric. Once that was done the ashes were no problem at all to Banish and the dining room seemed to have no further attacks to throw at them.
They celebrated by eating supper there that night, but despite Kreacher's fantastic feast the formal room still held an ominous air and it wasn't a terribly enjoyable meal. Harry suspected it just needed some good cleaning charms and sunlight and made a mental note to ask Mrs. Weasley about it the next time he saw her.
Continuing their celebration, Harry and Draco adjourned to the drawing room for a game of chess. As usual, Draco Summoned the scotch and two glasses. Their high spirits and residual adrenaline made them giddy quite quickly even without the liquor, and they ended up abandoning the game in favor of lounging on the sofa.
Sitting turned into teasing and laughing and shoving, and soon they were both seated at opposite ends, with their legs tangled across the middle cushion. Eventually Harry realized he was wriggling his sock-clad toes between Draco's thighs, and that such actions might count more as playing footsie than as tickling. To an outside observer.
A perverse one.
He blushed and withdrew his feet, making Draco laugh even harder.
"That was brilliant, Harry. I could practically see the moment you realized how close your feet were to my bits," he gasped.
Harry scowled and gave Draco two fingers, trying not to smile.
With a decidedly evil grin, Draco slid one of his own feet up Harry's inseam. The twinkle in his eyes indicated that he had a fair idea what sort of effect this was having on Harry's cock – a rather, er, expansive one.
Shifting awkwardly, Harry tried not to flush, although with the alcohol already in his system he knew his face was likely to be quite red, no matter how much he wished otherwise.
"You're as jumpy as a schoolgirl. Have you really not done anything with a boy?" Draco teased. He made a scolding sound when Harry shook his head no. "I guess Gryffindors really aren't very brave after all, are they?"
Harry made a face and gave Draco a shove.
Rather than retaliate, Draco grinned again. "I dare you to kiss me."
Harry blinked. He took a breath in, then out, then shook his head a bit to make sure he was awake and not hallucinating.
Draco licked his lips. "What, not man enough for it?"
Knowing he would freak out if he thought about it for even a second, Harry went with his instincts: after all, they'd saved him from many life-or-death situations before. He lunged forward, grabbed Draco by the back of the neck, and slammed their mouths together.
Draco made a startled noise and Harry sat back immediately, hoping he hadn't split Draco's lip or – far worse - misread the dare entirely. Maybe he wasn't supposed to have acted on it. Maybe Draco was just teasing. Maybe he'd just been taking the piss all this time and --
"Potter!" Draco said, grabbing Harry by the chin and forcing him to open his eyes again. "Breathe, man."
Once Harry had obeyed, Draco's worried-forehead wrinkle smoothed out. He smiled a little as, hand still on Harry's face, he guided their mouths closer again. "Just slow down and enjoy it, all right?"
Harry might have moaned a bit in answer - or perhaps in response to the more gentle sensation of their lips pressing together, sweet and soft. He pulled back a bit, palms sweating as his body trembled, and realized he was practically lying on top of Draco.
Snogging him.
And that they were both already very hard.
With a gasp, he lunged forward again, taking a bit more care this time, and the resulting kiss was Incendiary. Firm, moist pressure, assertive rather than softly yielding as Ginny's kisses had been. Draco's lips demanded instead of asking, taking what they wanted in the confidence that Harry wanted to give it.
And holy Morgana, he did.
Draco's hand tightened on Harry's jaw, pulling him closer as their kiss grew in hunger. His tongue gently but insistently probed until Harry opened to it, sliding in to explore with unhurried assurance. Flavors of liquor and supper mingled with their own natural tastes, as Draco's tongue stroked over his lips, teeth, and palate.
A deep moan tore through Harry's chest as he pressed his hips down into Draco's body, rubbing their groins together in a slow grind that made them both break off their endless snogging to gasp for breath. Insistent hands grabbed Harry's hips, pulling him back down when he would have moved off, afraid of getting too carried away.
He already was too carried away.
Harry shivered, aroused beyond belief by the feeling of Draco underneath him, surrounded by the scent and taste of Draco, Draco everywhere. He tired to move back again, needing some space to get a grip on this mentally, but strong hands pulled him down as Draco writhed beneath him.
With a lurch, Harry pulled away, nearly falling off the sofa. He pushed Draco's legs to the side and sat down, eyes wide and unblinking, mouth open as he panted for air and tried not to panic. His hands gripped his knees, elbows locked, eyes fixed on the rug.
There was a heavy sigh from beside him. "Fuck, Harry. Couldn't you have freaked out after?"
Harry shrugged, still not looking at Draco. He wasn't sure if it was because he was afraid of seeing anger or frustration, or just because if he did look at Draco, Harry might have to attack him again and this time he might not stop.
Ever.
Groaning, he let his head falling into his hands, carding his fingers through his hair. Fuck. He'd utterly buggered everything up. He was a disaster, an emotional basket-case, and a bloody cock-tease on top of it all.
Not to mention he was still so hard his eyes were practically watering with the need to come.
"Merlin, Potter. You're a mess."
Harry nodded, pressing his palms against his face, digging into his glasses until they creaked warningly. He took a deep breath and reached for his wand.
"
"Draco's face twisted in a familiar angry expression, but not quite angry enough to hide the hurt and confusion in his eyes. Harry wondered when he'd learned Malfoy's body language so well.
Rather than arguing, Draco surprised Harry by getting up, silently. His usual calm poise seemed to have vanished and he fumbled awkwardly with his shoes and cloak. His hair was mussed, his lips very red, and his entire face flushed. Harry tried not to notice the substantial tent distorting the black wool trousers.
He had absolutely no idea what to say, how to explain what he was feeling, how to apologize for his behavior. Harry felt overwhelmed, shaking with some emotion that felt simply too big to be expressed, too scary to be allowed. Kissing Draco had been phenomenal, unbelievable, and for some reason he felt like he was maybe going to cry or be sick or something. He felt like a complete heel asking Draco to leave but he didn't know what else to do.
One hand full of Floo powder, Draco hesitated on the hearth. He shot Harry a confused look, seemed about to say something, then just shook his head. In a small, quiet voice, he stated his destination and was gone.
Harry walked back over to the sofa and collapsed onto it, reaching for his glass of liquor and trying not to notice how warm the cushions were, how they smelled like Draco, or wonder if he'd just fucked up one of the best things in his life.
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no subject
Date: 2007-11-19 05:25 pm (UTC)I am thoroughly Enjoying this fic. Yr a v. good writer.
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Date: 2007-11-21 07:14 pm (UTC)I'm thrilled you're enjoying the story - the conclusion will be posted soon! :)
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Date: 2007-11-19 05:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-21 07:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-19 05:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-21 07:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-19 05:45 pm (UTC)I love confused H/D kisses. They are the cutest!
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Date: 2007-11-21 07:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-19 05:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-21 07:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-19 06:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-21 07:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-19 06:19 pm (UTC)Also, Ron's a prat, but I already knew that from canon, so you've got him very in character :)
Looking forward to the next chapter, but sad that it's the last :(
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Date: 2007-11-21 06:59 pm (UTC)I'm sure the boys will resolve everything soon. I plan to post the last chapter today!
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Date: 2007-11-19 06:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-21 06:55 pm (UTC)All problems will be solved in the end - I don't write sad stories. It's coming some time today.
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Date: 2007-11-19 06:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-21 06:51 pm (UTC)Resolutions coming soon - I plan to post the last chapter some time today!
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Date: 2007-11-19 07:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-21 06:50 pm (UTC)I'm so thrilled you're enjoying the tension and Harry's scrambled emotions. I think Draco might be about to snap, but I'm glad *you're* enjoying it. ;)
One more, coming today!
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Date: 2007-11-19 07:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-21 06:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-19 07:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-21 06:39 pm (UTC)More coming soon!
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Date: 2007-11-19 08:03 pm (UTC)You are teh awesome. :)
I can't wait for the next update... though I don't want it to be over! T.T
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Date: 2007-11-21 06:38 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you like the story - I plan to post the conclusion later tonight!
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Date: 2007-11-19 09:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-21 06:35 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you're enjoying all of the details and the world - it's been a lot of fun to write this story. Thanks for the praise!
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Date: 2007-11-19 10:54 pm (UTC)The kiss was sexy as hell. "Fuck, Harry. Couldn't you have freaked out after?" that line was made of win. So Draco!
He was a disaster, an emotional basket-case, and a bloody cock-tease on top of it all. Harry's too hard on himself, poor kid.
So there's one chapter left! I can't wait to see how it finishes ::impatient::
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Date: 2007-11-21 06:34 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you liked my sexually-frustrated Draco. ;) He's a nice foil to Harry's introspection, I think.
Last chapter posted today or tomorrow!
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Date: 2007-11-20 01:48 am (UTC)mrs weasley bursting in... BWAH-HA-HA-HA! and hermione, not wanting to mess him up with "amateur healing". :D
harry is really turning to his angsty side and the end her. well, i'm sure they'll sort it out *wink*
*am thoroughly enjoying myself here*
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Date: 2007-11-21 06:32 pm (UTC)Harry is indeed a bit whacked. As I think he would be, after the life he's led so far. Plus, it's not like dating Draco is ever easy. ;)
One chapter to go!
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Date: 2007-11-20 04:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-21 06:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-20 11:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-21 06:27 pm (UTC)Last chapter coming today/tomorrow, I hope.
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Date: 2007-11-21 04:14 pm (UTC)*adores*
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Date: 2007-11-21 06:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-21 08:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-02 02:00 am (UTC).......OK so I don't demand that and you don't have to post right now, but can you pretty please post soon and let my poor heart read more of this very yummy story? Please? I'll let you have an hour alone time with the Harry and Draco locked away in my closet.
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Date: 2007-12-02 02:08 am (UTC)Glad you're enjoying the tension so far! :)
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Date: 2007-12-02 02:11 am (UTC)