Fic: What Are Words For? (6/6)
Nov. 21st, 2007 04:32 pm![[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: 4317
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, Part 5)
What Are Words For?
After a fitful night, Harry woke up with his hand down his pajama pants, slowly gliding up and down in a familiar rhythm. Tired of fighting with himself, he drifted gradually from dreams to fantasies, letting himself explore the new desires and urges he'd been repressing for over a month.
He pictured that long, lean, pale body he'd seen naked after the rainstorm Draco had been caught in. The elegant, casual nonchalance and total self-possession with which Draco carried himself. Harry imagined his fingertips trailing down silky skin and let the fantasy mingle with memories from last night of the feeling of Draco's body underneath him. Lean and firm and undeniably male, an insistent, unyielding erection pressing up against his.
How much feeling Draco's cock next to his own had turned him on, how much it had made Harry feel like he was going to lose control, and how afraid he was of what that might mean.
Redirecting his thoughts away from that path, Harry stroked himself faster and thought instead about the taste of Draco, the smell of his neck. Harry wanted to lick him, trail his tongue down that ivory neck, down his body. Even in his fantasy, Draco was teasing and challenging and Harry's only means of shutting up that obnoxious mouth was to shock him.
The Draco in his fantasy was obedient enough to be stunned into silence when Harry tasted his prick.
He'd never fantasized about giving a blowjob before – he'd never even received one himself. But he could guess what it tasted like and imagine how it might feel. His daydream quickly morphed into giving and receiving at the same time and memories of Draco's erotic moans from the night before added realism to the fantasy.
The idea of both sucking and being sucked, the feeling of a mouth on his cock, his mouth on Draco's cock, on Draco, nearly made Harry's blood ignite. Shaking and shouting, he climaxed hard, coming all over his hand, chest, and the bedclothes. After a few minutes of harsh breathing – well, more like gasping like a racehorse – he opened his eyes.
And nearly fell on his face as he jumped out of the bed in surprise.
Kreacher stood before him, eyes screwed shut, hands twisting his ears in a familiar gesture of self-punishment.
Harry cleared his throat in a questioning tone.
"Kreacher could not help it," the elf apologized, eyes still closed as Harry self-consciously tried to wipe the goo off his hands. "The fire warnings rang, Summoning Kreacher. He would never intrude on Master in his private moments otherwise."
Trying not to utterly die of humiliation, Harry took a deep breath. Then he sniffed. The air did smell a bit smoky. Grabbing his glasses he saw that indeed the bed hangings looked scorched.
Fuck! Had he done that?
"Would Master like Kreacher to replace the bedding?" the elf asked, opening one eye just a sliver.
He nodded. The elf disappeared with a pop and Harry gathered his things to go hide in the shower while Kreacher cleaned up his mess.
What a way to start the morning he mused a few moments later, sticking a hand under the water to see if it was warm enough yet.
Still, not all of it was bad, he thought with a grin.
*****
Harry spent the day puttering around the house and thinking about being gay - or bisexual, at least. What it might mean in terms of how people would treat him, both in the Wizarding world and the Muggle one. How his friends might react. If it really would be a lot more satisfying to date and have sex with a bloke; Merlin knew his experiences with women hadn't been so brilliant.
But maybe it was just Draco. There had always been an inexplicable level of intensity to their relationship, from the first moment they'd met. They set off sparks in each other, and although Harry was really really enjoying this new kind of heat, he wondered how long it would last. Had Draco actually changed enough for them to get along if they were both conversing and sharing ideas?
He thought so, but he just wasn't sure.
Then again, there weren't any guarantees of how a relationship would work out, ever. He'd been attracted to Cho but had never really gotten to know her. He and Ginny had been decent friends but there was no spark and eventually the awkwardness of the distance that caused had ruined their friendship. At least temporarily.
And really, why was he bothering to think all these girly thoughts about relationships and if it would last, anyway, when all he actually wanted was to grab Draco, snog him senseless, and take him upstairs to Harry's bedroom to finally lose his damned virginity?
For once sex was almost all Harry cared about, could really even think about, and that felt more right than anything else "romantic" ever had.
Now all he had to do was apologize for freaking out the night before and hope Draco would forgive him for being such a twat.
Deciding to put his newfound correspondence skills to work, Harry wrote a letter. He apologized to Draco for sending him home without "talking" and assured him that he hadn't done anything wrong; it was just Harry's messed up head as usual, and that he'd been totally overwhelmed by how brilliant kissing Draco had felt. Feeling a bit naughty, Harry included some details about how much it had turned him on and that he'd wanked thinking about it this morning and had accidentally set his bed on fire.
He closed with a bald apology and a request for Draco to please forgive him and come back any time he wanted. Before he could change his mind, Harry tied the parchment to Glaucus' leg and sent him off into the cold evening air.
Unfortunately, Glaucus did not return until the next morning and there was no reply. The day seemed very long indeed as Harry paced back and forth, up and down the stairs, unsure of what to do with himself. What if Draco didn't forgive him? What if he had ruined everything?
Finally Tiberius arrived just as dusk turned into darkness, with a very short note.
Since there was no one around to hear him, Harry didn't feel too badly about breaking his Resolution with a loud shouted "Yes!" as he danced around the drawing room.
*****
Harry was much relieved to have made up with Draco and even more thrilled to have made out with him a bit more. Well, it had been more like just a few lingering kisses; Draco seemed to be holding back and Harry couldn't exactly blame him after what had happened the first time. It was still bloody brilliant though.
That sorted and with more and more of the old Dark spells in the house unraveling as easily as knocking over dominoes, Harry decided to finish up his other project. His letters to his parents ended up being among the shortest ones he had written. When it came down to it there just wasn't that much to say; he hadn't known them, for better or for worse. Which was depressing in its own right, but left him feeling somewhat at a loss about what to write.
His father's was especially difficult; he'd inherited his looks from him and supposedly his Quidditch talents also, but the only glimpse he'd really had of his father had been of an annoying teenager who was a bit of a bully. While Harry could sympathize with being a brat at fifteen, he really didn't know very much about James Potter as a person. He felt a bit more empathy for his mum, not just because of her sacrifice that had saved his life so many times, but also because of their similar upbringings. She was Muggle-born and would have understood what the transition from the non-magical world to the Wizarding one would have been like for Harry. He'd gotten to know her a bit through Snape's memories - but as a person rather than as a mother.
In the end, both letters ended up being goodbyes. Not to James and Lily exactly, but to the idea, the fantasy he'd harbored his entire childhood, of having parents. Harry was nearly nineteen years old, all grown up now, and it was time to let go of that dream. They were never coming back: not as ghosts, not as guides, not as parents.
Feeling numb and empty inside, restless but not quite sad, Harry spent the afternoon outdoors. He set out into London and let himself get lost. The slight struggle between the wind and his umbrella, the endless drizzle, and the early-February chill which didn't quite penetrate his clothes were welcome distractions. He returned back to Grimmauld Place that night, damp and chilled and exhausted. He took a small dose of Pepper-Up, drank some soup, and went to bed.
*****
The next morning Harry was woken by Pig fluttering around his bedroom and knocking things over. As expected he had a letter from Ron, apologizing for hexing Harry and for not believing him and for having to let Hermione see his bits. Ron admitted he had been angrier than he'd let on about Harry breaking up with Ginny and felt like he'd been broken up with, too, now that Harry was spending so much time with Malfoy.
Harry saw Hermione's hand in Ron's letter – his friend would never have been so forthcoming about his own motivations by himself – but didn't value the words any less for that. The letter was pretty pathetic and Harry was tired of fighting with Ron anyway. He sent Glaucus back with Pig, carrying an invitation to lunch.
Ron and Hermione arrived at noon and were suitably impressed when Harry showed them into the de-hexed dining room. Again, despite the decent food and company, the room still felt a bit chilled, more spiritually than literally. Hermione had a few suggestions but Harry decided to follow his instincts and Ron's urging and ask Mrs. Weasley to help. That would mean he could also clear the air with her, although he wasn't entirely certain what he was apologizing for, aside from the Ginny thing.
Unfortunately, the owl Harry sent to the Burrow with his request returned with a quickly-scribbled reply that Molly was simply too busy just now. It wasn't outright hostile but it was clear that she was still upset. Harry realized this was the first time Molly hadn't visited him at the hospital either and began to worry that things were really more wrong than he had been aware.
This unexpected source of strife made Harry's mood shift even further downward over the next few days. It wasn't his fault that Ginny had wanted for him for so long. It wasn't his fault that he was maybe-sort-of-probably-most-likely queer. Or bisexual. Whatever. He liked Ginny, he even loved her - just more in a sisterly way than in a writhing-around-on-the-sofa way. It definitely wasn't his fault that the entire Weasley family had assumed they'd get married, have tons of red-headed children, and live happily ever after, as if Ginny were the princess in some fairytale.
Life just wasn't like that.
Harry's mood lightened a few days later when Fred and George visited, ostensibly for dinner, but more to tease Harry about being a poof.
"We heard you were a virgin..." George started.
"...and wanted to offer our services to help rid you of this terrible shame," Fred grinned.
Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head no.
"Maybe he doesn't like redheads?" George suggested to his twin.
"Mmm, could be, Georgie, could be. I hear he's got a penchant for ferrety blond arseholes," Fred suggested.
George made a very sad face. "Such a shame, that is. I suppose we could use Glamour charms..."
"
," Harry wrote, trying not to smile.
Fred pretended to collapse onto a chair in a shocked faint, one hand pressed to his heart. "You wound us, Harry."
"He's going to turn the whole family against him if he goes on like this," George said with a disappointed shake of his head.
"Yeah, Mum's still pretty narked at you about breaking it off with Ginny and about finding Malfoy here that morning," Fred added, turning serious.
Harry sighed. "
," he wrote. Which was sort of true; he hadn't done anything with Draco at that point, anyway.
"
"
"Yeah, we know," George said, slinging an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Ginny's been obsessed with you forever. She's just having a rough time and of course everyone's got to be on her side, you know? She's our little sister."
Fred nodded. "Yeah. We know you didn't hurt her on purpose and no one's really upset with you or anything. Mum will come around eventually, too."
Harry nodded, grateful to have the twins' reassurance. He counted on the Weasley family to be there for him and it was a relief to know that the estrangement was likely to be temporary.
Despite the reassurance from Fred and George (and the flirting that followed), Harry still felt as bleak and gloomy inside as the weather was outside when they had left. The combined tension of the last few weeks had finally taken its toll: his fight with Ron, the hounding by the Press and outside world, his massive fuck-up with Draco, and semi-estrangement from the Weasley family. All of it, combined with finishing writing his letters to the dead, left Harry as depressed as he could ever remember being.
It was a strange, new shade of the feeling too, one not colored by frustration or anger or hurt. It was just grief, pure and undiluted.
Not only had he lost so many people he'd loved or looked up to, but he'd lost other things as well. His last dregs of childish innocence. His dreams of becoming an Auror and being a semi-normal part of the Wizarding world. His fantasy of marrying Ginny and having a family of his own. His future. And his hopes.
*****
Harry was sitting in the drawing room, watching raindrops slide down the windowpane when he heard the Floo flare to life in the kitchen. The wards chimed announcing his visitor and somehow he knew it was Draco.
When Harry proved non-responsive to Draco's verbal poking, he suggested a game of chess or senet. Harry agreed to senet but when Draco Summoned the liquor he shook his head no.
Draco shrugged. "You're probably right. We've been drinking rather a lot lately."
Harry nodded, fiddling with one of his game pieces.
They played in silence for a bit, Draco utterly wiping the board with him. After quickly beating Harry four games in a row, Draco shoved the board aside in irritation.
"What is up with you?" he demanded. "What's happened?"
Harry sighed and waved his wand at the blackboard. "
."
"Then why are you so down?"
He shrugged. "
"
Draco nodded. He pursed his lips, looking at Harry and obviously thinking hard. "So what are you going to do with them?"
"
," Harry answered, taking a moment to consider.
"
"
"No, that'd be a bit creepy," Draco agreed. "Well, when do you want to do it? Now?"
Harry looked at him in surprise, then furrowed his brow, shaking his head.
"
"
"Tomorrow?" Draco urged.
"
" Harry asked, feeling a little angry for reasons he couldn't identify.
"Because you're finished and now you're just sitting here moping. You've done most of the work but you still have to take the final step and let go. You're the one who decided to burn them; I just want to see you do it."
"
"
"I didn't mean literally. But I'll come over if you want me to," Draco amended.
Harry picked up another senet piece and rolled it around his fingers.
"
"
Draco nodded, looking uncomfortable.
"
," Harry added.
With a pleased expression at being the one Harry wanted, Draco agreed. They settled on tomorrow, early in the evening. That would give Harry all day to actually burn the letters and do whatever wallowing he needed, and then he would have some company at nightfall before he got too maudlin.
*****
Harry woke up feeling like he had on the morning of every big Quidditch match in foul weather: like something awful was going to happen but he had no power to stop it and just had to see it through. He knew he was being melodramatic but that knowledge did nothing to lighten the weight in his chest.
After wasting most of the day he built a fire in the grate in the drawing room and gathered all of his letters together. Sitting on a cushion, he waited for the fire to get going and then slowly started feeding them in, one by one. For each person he unsealed the scroll, read the letter aloud in a husky whisper, sealed it back up, and gently tossed it into the flames. He watched each parchment burn and disintegrate fully, scattering the ashes with a poker before repeating the process with the next letter.
Harry had no idea how much time had passed when he noticed Draco walk into the room. He was still sitting by the hearth, poking at the ashes, hands covered with soot. His head ached and his chest hurt but he still felt lighter somehow. Unbending arms and legs that had stiffened from the lack of circulation, he stood up, taking Draco's assisting hand gratefully.
Draco seemed a little out of focus, as if he was underwater, and it took Harry a few moments before he figured out that was because he must have been crying. Too emotionally raw to be embarrassed, he was drawn into a somewhat awkward embrace that was no less comforting for its self-consciousness. Cool hands stroked his back and Harry buried his face in the side of Draco's neck, breathing in his scent and warmth.
He sniffled a bit and wiped his face on Draco's shoulder, then pulled away to make eye contact. The corner of Draco's mouth lifted in a slight smile before he tugged Harry back for a gentle kiss. Tingles swept through Harry's body, waking him up and lifting him out of the fog he'd been in all afternoon. He felt relaxed, safe, loved, and alive.
Hands tightening on Draco's shoulders, Harry deepened their kiss as comfort morphed into desire. He opened his mouth, feeling Draco respond in kind as their tongues met and tangled. It was intimate and hot and wet and Harry's entire body thrummed with life, with desire. A soft moan vibrated through his chest as Draco pulled back slightly and caught Harry's lower lip between his own.
He wanted this, wanted Draco, so much.
Which was why he was a bit dismayed when Draco pushed him back and held him at arm's length, searching his face. "Are you really all right?" he asked.
Harry nodded emphatically, reaching out again, but the blond's longer arms held him in place.
"Are you sure?"
Harry smiled a bit as he rolled his eyes and nodded. Draco released his grip and Harry slid his hands down Draco's arms, feeling the shape of them through his jumper before clasping their hands together. With a slight tug, he gestured Draco towards the door and purposefully led him into the hall, up the stairs, and to his bedroom.
Draco still looked a bit wary but Harry needed this, wanted it, and didn't want to wait any longer. Finally Draco seemed to understand that Harry meant it and that he wasn't going to back down. Urgent hands pulled Harry closer and began to tug at his clothing as they traded feverish kisses.
The backs of Harry's knees hit the bed before he realized that Draco had been steadily walking them towards it. His graceless stumble was ignored as Draco fell on top of him, their mostly-naked bodies coming into full contact for the first time. Harry's needy whimper was echoed by Draco and they both indulged themselves in the sensation of skin against skin, arms and legs tangled, chests, bellies, and groins pressed together.
It was the most amazing sensation Harry had ever felt, ever, and he wanted more.
At Draco's prompting, they both fumbled for a moment to remove socks, then underwear. Harry tried not to be too self-conscious, cringing just a bit as Draco looked at him. Luckily he was distracted by the recognition that now he could look at Draco openly, admiring the clean lines of his youthful body.
The moment for looking at each other ended when Draco made a sound that could only be classified as a growl or a purr or something animalistic as he pounced on Harry.
And then they were touching, Harry's slightly-rough and clammy hands reveling in the texture of smooth skin, while Draco's cool, long fingers stroked over his own body, leaving him dizzy and breathless, even before Draco's hands began to slide purposefully down his stomach.
Harry might have whimpered a bit as light fingertips stroked down the length of his throbbing cock but Draco didn't seem to mind. His hips gave a lurch upward and Draco responded by curling his fingers around Harry's length, making him gasp as overwhelming pleasure shot through his veins. He tried to shout out a warning but his words were a garbled mass of nonsense. His body shook with a climax of epic propositions as ecstasy tore through him, terrifying and amazing at the same time. Harry shouted, drenching his stomach and Draco's hand with wetness.
A short eternity later and Harry could breathe like a relatively normal person again. He opened his eyes to see Draco looking very smug. He also had a predatory look in his eyes and, as Harry looked lower, was still very hard. He smiled apologetically and shifted, kissing Draco as he pushed him back into the bedding.
Calling upon a bit of Gryffindor courage, Harry slid his hands down Draco's chest, enjoying the play of muscles. He wanted to linger and hoped he'd have a chance to explore more later, but he knew what he wanted to do right now.
With one hand wrapped around the curve of Draco's hip and the other smoothly sliding between his legs, Harry bent down and pressed his tongue to the length of Draco's shaft. When his actions resulted in the most erotic sound Harry had heard Draco make yet, he gripped the base firmly and took the stiff flesh into his mouth before he had a chance to panic about it.
It was warm and salty and tasted about as Harry had expected a cock to taste. He tried to be careful of his teeth as he swirled his tongue around, tasting and feeling what he could. His other hand took care of the bottom part, moving back and forth as he tried to coordinate his movements. If Draco's sounds - the moans and swearing and pleas to various deities - and the hands clenching on Harry's shoulders were anything to go by, he was doing an acceptable job of it.
Just around the time his jaw started to get tired, Draco made a broken sort of noise and pushed half-heartedly at his head. Harry felt Draco's entire body quake and shudder as his back bowed and he released a blissful cry as he came. Amazed, Harry watched as Draco collapsed into the mattress, his features relaxing as an expression of delight suffused them.
His kissed Draco's cheek, then rummaged around on the floor, finding his discarded t-shirt and wiping up the mess from them both as best he could. He couldn't keep the slightly goofy grin off his face as he took a moment to find his glasses so that he could confirm that no, the bed hangings had not once again spontaneously caught on fire.
Unfortunately, Draco seemed to take Harry's actions entirely the wrong way. He sat up and started to swing his legs out of the bed, already reaching for his clothes. "I guess I should be going," he said in a voice too neutral to be genuine.
Harry put a hand on Draco's chest to hold him back, giving him a puzzled look. Why was he leaving? Did he think Harry wanted him to go? Just because he'd put his glasses back on and fumbled with his clothes and cleaned them up... Well yeah, that made sense actually.
He sighed at himself for being an idiot yet again. He wasn't going to fuck things up this time, though. Harry took a deep breath, making a decision, and gave Draco a serious look.
"Please, Draco. Stay."
Draco blinked in surprise. He took a deep breath of his own, considering, then nodded his head slightly. "Yeah, all right. I will."
Harry reached out and took Draco's hand, shifting them both back into the bed as he brought their lips together in a soft kiss. There would be plenty of time for words later.
~end~
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Author:
salixbabylonPairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Prompt: "Words" – Missing Persons, part of the
ficrocksthe80s festRating: NC-17
Word Count: 4317
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, Part 5)
After a fitful night, Harry woke up with his hand down his pajama pants, slowly gliding up and down in a familiar rhythm. Tired of fighting with himself, he drifted gradually from dreams to fantasies, letting himself explore the new desires and urges he'd been repressing for over a month.
He pictured that long, lean, pale body he'd seen naked after the rainstorm Draco had been caught in. The elegant, casual nonchalance and total self-possession with which Draco carried himself. Harry imagined his fingertips trailing down silky skin and let the fantasy mingle with memories from last night of the feeling of Draco's body underneath him. Lean and firm and undeniably male, an insistent, unyielding erection pressing up against his.
How much feeling Draco's cock next to his own had turned him on, how much it had made Harry feel like he was going to lose control, and how afraid he was of what that might mean.
Redirecting his thoughts away from that path, Harry stroked himself faster and thought instead about the taste of Draco, the smell of his neck. Harry wanted to lick him, trail his tongue down that ivory neck, down his body. Even in his fantasy, Draco was teasing and challenging and Harry's only means of shutting up that obnoxious mouth was to shock him.
The Draco in his fantasy was obedient enough to be stunned into silence when Harry tasted his prick.
He'd never fantasized about giving a blowjob before – he'd never even received one himself. But he could guess what it tasted like and imagine how it might feel. His daydream quickly morphed into giving and receiving at the same time and memories of Draco's erotic moans from the night before added realism to the fantasy.
The idea of both sucking and being sucked, the feeling of a mouth on his cock, his mouth on Draco's cock, on Draco, nearly made Harry's blood ignite. Shaking and shouting, he climaxed hard, coming all over his hand, chest, and the bedclothes. After a few minutes of harsh breathing – well, more like gasping like a racehorse – he opened his eyes.
And nearly fell on his face as he jumped out of the bed in surprise.
Kreacher stood before him, eyes screwed shut, hands twisting his ears in a familiar gesture of self-punishment.
Harry cleared his throat in a questioning tone.
"Kreacher could not help it," the elf apologized, eyes still closed as Harry self-consciously tried to wipe the goo off his hands. "The fire warnings rang, Summoning Kreacher. He would never intrude on Master in his private moments otherwise."
Trying not to utterly die of humiliation, Harry took a deep breath. Then he sniffed. The air did smell a bit smoky. Grabbing his glasses he saw that indeed the bed hangings looked scorched.
Fuck! Had he done that?
"Would Master like Kreacher to replace the bedding?" the elf asked, opening one eye just a sliver.
He nodded. The elf disappeared with a pop and Harry gathered his things to go hide in the shower while Kreacher cleaned up his mess.
What a way to start the morning he mused a few moments later, sticking a hand under the water to see if it was warm enough yet.
Still, not all of it was bad, he thought with a grin.
Harry spent the day puttering around the house and thinking about being gay - or bisexual, at least. What it might mean in terms of how people would treat him, both in the Wizarding world and the Muggle one. How his friends might react. If it really would be a lot more satisfying to date and have sex with a bloke; Merlin knew his experiences with women hadn't been so brilliant.
But maybe it was just Draco. There had always been an inexplicable level of intensity to their relationship, from the first moment they'd met. They set off sparks in each other, and although Harry was really really enjoying this new kind of heat, he wondered how long it would last. Had Draco actually changed enough for them to get along if they were both conversing and sharing ideas?
He thought so, but he just wasn't sure.
Then again, there weren't any guarantees of how a relationship would work out, ever. He'd been attracted to Cho but had never really gotten to know her. He and Ginny had been decent friends but there was no spark and eventually the awkwardness of the distance that caused had ruined their friendship. At least temporarily.
And really, why was he bothering to think all these girly thoughts about relationships and if it would last, anyway, when all he actually wanted was to grab Draco, snog him senseless, and take him upstairs to Harry's bedroom to finally lose his damned virginity?
For once sex was almost all Harry cared about, could really even think about, and that felt more right than anything else "romantic" ever had.
Now all he had to do was apologize for freaking out the night before and hope Draco would forgive him for being such a twat.
Deciding to put his newfound correspondence skills to work, Harry wrote a letter. He apologized to Draco for sending him home without "talking" and assured him that he hadn't done anything wrong; it was just Harry's messed up head as usual, and that he'd been totally overwhelmed by how brilliant kissing Draco had felt. Feeling a bit naughty, Harry included some details about how much it had turned him on and that he'd wanked thinking about it this morning and had accidentally set his bed on fire.
He closed with a bald apology and a request for Draco to please forgive him and come back any time he wanted. Before he could change his mind, Harry tied the parchment to Glaucus' leg and sent him off into the cold evening air.
Unfortunately, Glaucus did not return until the next morning and there was no reply. The day seemed very long indeed as Harry paced back and forth, up and down the stairs, unsure of what to do with himself. What if Draco didn't forgive him? What if he had ruined everything?
Finally Tiberius arrived just as dusk turned into darkness, with a very short note.
Since there was no one around to hear him, Harry didn't feel too badly about breaking his Resolution with a loud shouted "Yes!" as he danced around the drawing room.
Harry was much relieved to have made up with Draco and even more thrilled to have made out with him a bit more. Well, it had been more like just a few lingering kisses; Draco seemed to be holding back and Harry couldn't exactly blame him after what had happened the first time. It was still bloody brilliant though.
That sorted and with more and more of the old Dark spells in the house unraveling as easily as knocking over dominoes, Harry decided to finish up his other project. His letters to his parents ended up being among the shortest ones he had written. When it came down to it there just wasn't that much to say; he hadn't known them, for better or for worse. Which was depressing in its own right, but left him feeling somewhat at a loss about what to write.
His father's was especially difficult; he'd inherited his looks from him and supposedly his Quidditch talents also, but the only glimpse he'd really had of his father had been of an annoying teenager who was a bit of a bully. While Harry could sympathize with being a brat at fifteen, he really didn't know very much about James Potter as a person. He felt a bit more empathy for his mum, not just because of her sacrifice that had saved his life so many times, but also because of their similar upbringings. She was Muggle-born and would have understood what the transition from the non-magical world to the Wizarding one would have been like for Harry. He'd gotten to know her a bit through Snape's memories - but as a person rather than as a mother.
In the end, both letters ended up being goodbyes. Not to James and Lily exactly, but to the idea, the fantasy he'd harbored his entire childhood, of having parents. Harry was nearly nineteen years old, all grown up now, and it was time to let go of that dream. They were never coming back: not as ghosts, not as guides, not as parents.
Feeling numb and empty inside, restless but not quite sad, Harry spent the afternoon outdoors. He set out into London and let himself get lost. The slight struggle between the wind and his umbrella, the endless drizzle, and the early-February chill which didn't quite penetrate his clothes were welcome distractions. He returned back to Grimmauld Place that night, damp and chilled and exhausted. He took a small dose of Pepper-Up, drank some soup, and went to bed.
The next morning Harry was woken by Pig fluttering around his bedroom and knocking things over. As expected he had a letter from Ron, apologizing for hexing Harry and for not believing him and for having to let Hermione see his bits. Ron admitted he had been angrier than he'd let on about Harry breaking up with Ginny and felt like he'd been broken up with, too, now that Harry was spending so much time with Malfoy.
Harry saw Hermione's hand in Ron's letter – his friend would never have been so forthcoming about his own motivations by himself – but didn't value the words any less for that. The letter was pretty pathetic and Harry was tired of fighting with Ron anyway. He sent Glaucus back with Pig, carrying an invitation to lunch.
Ron and Hermione arrived at noon and were suitably impressed when Harry showed them into the de-hexed dining room. Again, despite the decent food and company, the room still felt a bit chilled, more spiritually than literally. Hermione had a few suggestions but Harry decided to follow his instincts and Ron's urging and ask Mrs. Weasley to help. That would mean he could also clear the air with her, although he wasn't entirely certain what he was apologizing for, aside from the Ginny thing.
Unfortunately, the owl Harry sent to the Burrow with his request returned with a quickly-scribbled reply that Molly was simply too busy just now. It wasn't outright hostile but it was clear that she was still upset. Harry realized this was the first time Molly hadn't visited him at the hospital either and began to worry that things were really more wrong than he had been aware.
This unexpected source of strife made Harry's mood shift even further downward over the next few days. It wasn't his fault that Ginny had wanted for him for so long. It wasn't his fault that he was maybe-sort-of-probably-most-likely queer. Or bisexual. Whatever. He liked Ginny, he even loved her - just more in a sisterly way than in a writhing-around-on-the-sofa way. It definitely wasn't his fault that the entire Weasley family had assumed they'd get married, have tons of red-headed children, and live happily ever after, as if Ginny were the princess in some fairytale.
Life just wasn't like that.
Harry's mood lightened a few days later when Fred and George visited, ostensibly for dinner, but more to tease Harry about being a poof.
"We heard you were a virgin..." George started.
"...and wanted to offer our services to help rid you of this terrible shame," Fred grinned.
Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head no.
"Maybe he doesn't like redheads?" George suggested to his twin.
"Mmm, could be, Georgie, could be. I hear he's got a penchant for ferrety blond arseholes," Fred suggested.
George made a very sad face. "Such a shame, that is. I suppose we could use Glamour charms..."
"
," Harry wrote, trying not to smile.Fred pretended to collapse onto a chair in a shocked faint, one hand pressed to his heart. "You wound us, Harry."
"He's going to turn the whole family against him if he goes on like this," George said with a disappointed shake of his head.
"Yeah, Mum's still pretty narked at you about breaking it off with Ginny and about finding Malfoy here that morning," Fred added, turning serious.
Harry sighed. "
," he wrote. Which was sort of true; he hadn't done anything with Draco at that point, anyway. "
""Yeah, we know," George said, slinging an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Ginny's been obsessed with you forever. She's just having a rough time and of course everyone's got to be on her side, you know? She's our little sister."
Fred nodded. "Yeah. We know you didn't hurt her on purpose and no one's really upset with you or anything. Mum will come around eventually, too."
Harry nodded, grateful to have the twins' reassurance. He counted on the Weasley family to be there for him and it was a relief to know that the estrangement was likely to be temporary.
Despite the reassurance from Fred and George (and the flirting that followed), Harry still felt as bleak and gloomy inside as the weather was outside when they had left. The combined tension of the last few weeks had finally taken its toll: his fight with Ron, the hounding by the Press and outside world, his massive fuck-up with Draco, and semi-estrangement from the Weasley family. All of it, combined with finishing writing his letters to the dead, left Harry as depressed as he could ever remember being.
It was a strange, new shade of the feeling too, one not colored by frustration or anger or hurt. It was just grief, pure and undiluted.
Not only had he lost so many people he'd loved or looked up to, but he'd lost other things as well. His last dregs of childish innocence. His dreams of becoming an Auror and being a semi-normal part of the Wizarding world. His fantasy of marrying Ginny and having a family of his own. His future. And his hopes.
Harry was sitting in the drawing room, watching raindrops slide down the windowpane when he heard the Floo flare to life in the kitchen. The wards chimed announcing his visitor and somehow he knew it was Draco.
When Harry proved non-responsive to Draco's verbal poking, he suggested a game of chess or senet. Harry agreed to senet but when Draco Summoned the liquor he shook his head no.
Draco shrugged. "You're probably right. We've been drinking rather a lot lately."
Harry nodded, fiddling with one of his game pieces.
They played in silence for a bit, Draco utterly wiping the board with him. After quickly beating Harry four games in a row, Draco shoved the board aside in irritation.
"What is up with you?" he demanded. "What's happened?"
Harry sighed and waved his wand at the blackboard. "
.""Then why are you so down?"
He shrugged. "
"Draco nodded. He pursed his lips, looking at Harry and obviously thinking hard. "So what are you going to do with them?"
"
," Harry answered, taking a moment to consider. "
""No, that'd be a bit creepy," Draco agreed. "Well, when do you want to do it? Now?"
Harry looked at him in surprise, then furrowed his brow, shaking his head.
"
""Tomorrow?" Draco urged.
"
" Harry asked, feeling a little angry for reasons he couldn't identify."Because you're finished and now you're just sitting here moping. You've done most of the work but you still have to take the final step and let go. You're the one who decided to burn them; I just want to see you do it."
"
""I didn't mean literally. But I'll come over if you want me to," Draco amended.
Harry picked up another senet piece and rolled it around his fingers.
"
" Draco nodded, looking uncomfortable.
"
," Harry added.With a pleased expression at being the one Harry wanted, Draco agreed. They settled on tomorrow, early in the evening. That would give Harry all day to actually burn the letters and do whatever wallowing he needed, and then he would have some company at nightfall before he got too maudlin.
Harry woke up feeling like he had on the morning of every big Quidditch match in foul weather: like something awful was going to happen but he had no power to stop it and just had to see it through. He knew he was being melodramatic but that knowledge did nothing to lighten the weight in his chest.
After wasting most of the day he built a fire in the grate in the drawing room and gathered all of his letters together. Sitting on a cushion, he waited for the fire to get going and then slowly started feeding them in, one by one. For each person he unsealed the scroll, read the letter aloud in a husky whisper, sealed it back up, and gently tossed it into the flames. He watched each parchment burn and disintegrate fully, scattering the ashes with a poker before repeating the process with the next letter.
Harry had no idea how much time had passed when he noticed Draco walk into the room. He was still sitting by the hearth, poking at the ashes, hands covered with soot. His head ached and his chest hurt but he still felt lighter somehow. Unbending arms and legs that had stiffened from the lack of circulation, he stood up, taking Draco's assisting hand gratefully.
Draco seemed a little out of focus, as if he was underwater, and it took Harry a few moments before he figured out that was because he must have been crying. Too emotionally raw to be embarrassed, he was drawn into a somewhat awkward embrace that was no less comforting for its self-consciousness. Cool hands stroked his back and Harry buried his face in the side of Draco's neck, breathing in his scent and warmth.
He sniffled a bit and wiped his face on Draco's shoulder, then pulled away to make eye contact. The corner of Draco's mouth lifted in a slight smile before he tugged Harry back for a gentle kiss. Tingles swept through Harry's body, waking him up and lifting him out of the fog he'd been in all afternoon. He felt relaxed, safe, loved, and alive.
Hands tightening on Draco's shoulders, Harry deepened their kiss as comfort morphed into desire. He opened his mouth, feeling Draco respond in kind as their tongues met and tangled. It was intimate and hot and wet and Harry's entire body thrummed with life, with desire. A soft moan vibrated through his chest as Draco pulled back slightly and caught Harry's lower lip between his own.
He wanted this, wanted Draco, so much.
Which was why he was a bit dismayed when Draco pushed him back and held him at arm's length, searching his face. "Are you really all right?" he asked.
Harry nodded emphatically, reaching out again, but the blond's longer arms held him in place.
"Are you sure?"
Harry smiled a bit as he rolled his eyes and nodded. Draco released his grip and Harry slid his hands down Draco's arms, feeling the shape of them through his jumper before clasping their hands together. With a slight tug, he gestured Draco towards the door and purposefully led him into the hall, up the stairs, and to his bedroom.
Draco still looked a bit wary but Harry needed this, wanted it, and didn't want to wait any longer. Finally Draco seemed to understand that Harry meant it and that he wasn't going to back down. Urgent hands pulled Harry closer and began to tug at his clothing as they traded feverish kisses.
The backs of Harry's knees hit the bed before he realized that Draco had been steadily walking them towards it. His graceless stumble was ignored as Draco fell on top of him, their mostly-naked bodies coming into full contact for the first time. Harry's needy whimper was echoed by Draco and they both indulged themselves in the sensation of skin against skin, arms and legs tangled, chests, bellies, and groins pressed together.
It was the most amazing sensation Harry had ever felt, ever, and he wanted more.
At Draco's prompting, they both fumbled for a moment to remove socks, then underwear. Harry tried not to be too self-conscious, cringing just a bit as Draco looked at him. Luckily he was distracted by the recognition that now he could look at Draco openly, admiring the clean lines of his youthful body.
The moment for looking at each other ended when Draco made a sound that could only be classified as a growl or a purr or something animalistic as he pounced on Harry.
And then they were touching, Harry's slightly-rough and clammy hands reveling in the texture of smooth skin, while Draco's cool, long fingers stroked over his own body, leaving him dizzy and breathless, even before Draco's hands began to slide purposefully down his stomach.
Harry might have whimpered a bit as light fingertips stroked down the length of his throbbing cock but Draco didn't seem to mind. His hips gave a lurch upward and Draco responded by curling his fingers around Harry's length, making him gasp as overwhelming pleasure shot through his veins. He tried to shout out a warning but his words were a garbled mass of nonsense. His body shook with a climax of epic propositions as ecstasy tore through him, terrifying and amazing at the same time. Harry shouted, drenching his stomach and Draco's hand with wetness.
A short eternity later and Harry could breathe like a relatively normal person again. He opened his eyes to see Draco looking very smug. He also had a predatory look in his eyes and, as Harry looked lower, was still very hard. He smiled apologetically and shifted, kissing Draco as he pushed him back into the bedding.
Calling upon a bit of Gryffindor courage, Harry slid his hands down Draco's chest, enjoying the play of muscles. He wanted to linger and hoped he'd have a chance to explore more later, but he knew what he wanted to do right now.
With one hand wrapped around the curve of Draco's hip and the other smoothly sliding between his legs, Harry bent down and pressed his tongue to the length of Draco's shaft. When his actions resulted in the most erotic sound Harry had heard Draco make yet, he gripped the base firmly and took the stiff flesh into his mouth before he had a chance to panic about it.
It was warm and salty and tasted about as Harry had expected a cock to taste. He tried to be careful of his teeth as he swirled his tongue around, tasting and feeling what he could. His other hand took care of the bottom part, moving back and forth as he tried to coordinate his movements. If Draco's sounds - the moans and swearing and pleas to various deities - and the hands clenching on Harry's shoulders were anything to go by, he was doing an acceptable job of it.
Just around the time his jaw started to get tired, Draco made a broken sort of noise and pushed half-heartedly at his head. Harry felt Draco's entire body quake and shudder as his back bowed and he released a blissful cry as he came. Amazed, Harry watched as Draco collapsed into the mattress, his features relaxing as an expression of delight suffused them.
His kissed Draco's cheek, then rummaged around on the floor, finding his discarded t-shirt and wiping up the mess from them both as best he could. He couldn't keep the slightly goofy grin off his face as he took a moment to find his glasses so that he could confirm that no, the bed hangings had not once again spontaneously caught on fire.
Unfortunately, Draco seemed to take Harry's actions entirely the wrong way. He sat up and started to swing his legs out of the bed, already reaching for his clothes. "I guess I should be going," he said in a voice too neutral to be genuine.
Harry put a hand on Draco's chest to hold him back, giving him a puzzled look. Why was he leaving? Did he think Harry wanted him to go? Just because he'd put his glasses back on and fumbled with his clothes and cleaned them up... Well yeah, that made sense actually.
He sighed at himself for being an idiot yet again. He wasn't going to fuck things up this time, though. Harry took a deep breath, making a decision, and gave Draco a serious look.
"Please, Draco. Stay."
Draco blinked in surprise. He took a deep breath of his own, considering, then nodded his head slightly. "Yeah, all right. I will."
Harry reached out and took Draco's hand, shifting them both back into the bed as he brought their lips together in a soft kiss. There would be plenty of time for words later.
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Date: 2007-11-22 01:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-25 08:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2007-11-22 02:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-25 08:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-22 02:24 am (UTC)Great job, I really enjoy it :)
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Date: 2007-11-25 08:42 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading and leaving such wonderful feedback!
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Date: 2007-11-22 03:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-25 08:26 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading and taking the time to comment! :)
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Date: 2007-11-22 03:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-25 08:25 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading!
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Date: 2007-11-22 03:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-25 08:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-22 03:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-25 08:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-22 03:39 am (UTC)Good fic. I love how Harry talked to him. How very very sweet. *snuggles them both*
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Date: 2007-11-25 08:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-22 03:45 am (UTC)Kreacher was great in his reaction to Harry wanking! And the curtains ... hahahahaha!
Harry talked! To Draco! And Draco stayed! Your a goddess!
no subject
Date: 2007-11-25 08:19 pm (UTC)Glad you liked the curtains on fire - that was a lot of fun to write. And the fluff, of course, had to come. I wouldn't drag poor Harry through all of that with no payoff. ;)
*huG*
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Date: 2007-11-25 08:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-22 04:19 am (UTC)-omg I totally wanted to touch myself in my bad girl place while reading the last chapter following all that ust.
-your drawings are hilarious.
-Your dialogue was dead on.
-characterization was dead on too.
-your writing has evolved so much since SV. (which I continue to love)
-I loved it. So proud of you hon.
♥
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Date: 2007-11-25 08:13 pm (UTC)Glad you liked the drawings - they are the upper limit of my artistic skillZ.
*blush* Thanks for the praise. I'm really glad you enjoyed it - I poured a lot more time and energy into this than I had orignally planned, and it's such a delight that people have liked it so much. *huG*
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Date: 2007-11-22 04:46 am (UTC)I have no idea if I've commented the other chapters, but I'm commenting this one. This story is definitely going into my memories! I love the vow of silence and everyone's frustration with it--that's spot-on. I also adore Draco's playfulness and quiet anger / hurt at both Harry and his own parents.
Those points couple with beautiful descriptions, blush!Harry, and hot smut, I give this story like eighty-six stars out of ten. :]
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Date: 2007-11-22 04:50 am (UTC)I loved how you made pictures and things of Harry writing on the blackboard, the letters sent to him, and the letters he wrote to los muertos. It gives the story a sort of...interactive feeling. Like pop-ups or somesuch. :D
[Sorry for the Spanish--I feel odd calling Harry's loved ones 'the dead'.]
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Date: 2007-11-22 04:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-25 08:04 pm (UTC)I think the fic
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Date: 2007-11-22 05:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-25 08:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-22 06:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-25 08:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-22 07:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-25 08:00 pm (UTC)Hope you liked it. :)
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Date: 2007-11-22 12:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-25 07:55 pm (UTC)Alll my fics can be found at my index - http://salixbabylon.livejournal.com/255006.html Happy reading!
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Date: 2007-11-22 03:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-25 07:52 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading!
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Date: 2007-11-22 05:07 pm (UTC)Thank You
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Date: 2007-11-25 07:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-23 10:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-25 07:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-24 11:17 am (UTC)*hugs*
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Date: 2007-11-25 07:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-24 02:47 pm (UTC)Thank you for this lovely story and for sharing it with us. I loved it!
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Date: 2007-11-25 07:28 pm (UTC)Thank you for such wonderful comments throughout! I'm lucky to have such a thoughtful reader. :)
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Date: 2007-11-28 10:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-28 04:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-14 05:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-14 10:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-15 12:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-16 04:30 pm (UTC)