Gold Tinted Spectacles (Hecatemus Book #1)

Chapter 14 - The Aftermath (pt1)

The fury left him feeling empty and Draco barely registered the trip back to Gryffindor tower. He didn't even pay much attention to the members of the house in the common room; he just followed Harry across it and up the stairs. It was only when they reached their room and the door closed on the outside world that Draco realised his soulmate was far more agitated than he was. As he focused on Harry, he could only describe his lover as wired.

"I nearly killed him," Harry said and turned to him. "I had no control. I'm lethal."

Draco put aside any residual feelings of his own about the meeting with the DA and stepped up towards his soulmate resolutely. He took Harry's chin in one hand and made Harry look him directly in the eye.

"You showed more control than they will ever understand," he said firmly. "I can see into your soul, Harry, I know you and you are not a killer. You held raw magic in your will, you could have destroyed the whole room and everyone in it, but you didn't. You threw a stupid boy against a stupid wall and that was all you did. Every word I said to them was true, e-ver-y word."

He showed Harry what he had seen when Hermione woke him from the stupefy hex; the raw energy Draco had sensed when his soulmate stalked Smith.

"You were magnificent," he said forcefully and pushed himself against Harry's taut frame.

There was passion in his lover, Draco could feel it and, at the moment, Harry was using it to deride himself; Draco knew it needed to be turned to something else.

"He tried to hurt me, Harry," he said steadily, never letting his soulmate look away, "and you protected me. I'm yours, Harry, and he didn't understand that. Show me what it means to be yours."

The emotions coming from his soulmate told Draco that Harry knew he was being manipulated, but that he could not fight it. The anger at himself was already changing inside Harry and the fire was turning to desire; it washed over Draco as their minds mingled.

"Draco," Harry tried to say something, but by placing a hand over his lover's mouth Draco stopped him.

"It doesn't matter," he told Harry with complete certainty, "nothing matters. I love you."

[I want you,] he switched to his inner voice and Harry swayed towards him. [Love me, Harry.]

As Draco removed his hand Harry leant forward, his mouth covering Draco's and his arms entwining him hungrily. The sheer sexuality of what Harry was ran through every pore of the Hecatemus' body, and Draco could feel it all. As Harry's tongue slipped into Draco's mouth, Draco bared the need he felt in his body to his lover. Draco found the place within him that was raw sexual want and he flooded Harry with it, knowing that it would drive his soulmate to delirium.

Draco knew Harry was strong. He had felt the power of Quidditch trained muscle, but even he was surprised when Harry bodily lifted him off the ground. His lover threw him on the four-poster bed and climbed on after him, pushing Draco's knees apart and settling between his legs. Harry's hands were suddenly everywhere; running up and down Draco's body over his clothes. He touched and he stroked and he teased until Draco forgot who was supposed to be egging whom on.

Nimble fingers worked at the fastenings on Draco's clothes and he shifted his hips without thinking when Harry pulled at the top of his uniform trousers. They came off in one swift movement as Harry moved off the bed for a moment and relieved him of any vestige of modesty. Draco's already healthy erection twitched as Harry looked down at him from where he was standing.

It would have taken no time for Draco to wriggle out of the rest of his clothes as well, but Harry did not appear interested in that. Instead he climbed back on the bed between Draco's knees and lent over him, pushing his shirt up his torso, so he could kiss Draco's flat, muscled stomach.