The wizarding media had by now not only found out where Harry lived, they'd also set up camp on his doorstep. And not just his doorstep; some invaded his back garden, while others sent up spells to hover above his roof, in the hopes they might be able to spot something entertaining happening in an attic or something. Harry didn't know. The level of activity around his home was so intense, the Muggle Prime Minister put in a formal complaint to the Minister of Magic, and Kingsley had to come round in his official capacity to try to get them to disperse.
They wouldn't. They knew there was a juicy story somewhere inside the house – something to do with Harry, and Draco, and magic, and accidents, and love, whether real or spelled. They weren't leaving until they knew the truth.
Harry found that, for once, he didn't particularly care what the press did, or said. He'd always found them intrusive and annoying, and tried his best to avoid them, but now they just didn't matter. He had other things on his mind. Draco had installed himself in the largest drawing room, where he ruled the house with an iron fist from his seat on a navy chaise longue, propped up against what seemed like every cushion and pillow ever made. It wasn't just Harry who had appeared to have become his personal house-elf though. Narcissa was there constantly, at Draco's beck and call, and to make it worse, it had been Harry himself who'd invited her. He'd invited Lucius too, but had added, "Without a photographer, though, of course," and this had offended Lucius enough that he only stopped by for a mere three or four hours a day, rather than Narcissa's nine or ten.
And it wasn't just Draco's parents who were there. The house was constantly full, people cramming into the drawing room to sit about and chat, and to laugh at Harry when Draco ordered him around. Even Lucius' scowling face didn't seem to put any of Harry's friends off. They were Draco's friends too now, he realised. At some point down the line, they'd – not forgotten, exactly, who he'd used to be, but had decided to move on. To treat him as the man he was now, rather than dwell on the past. The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there, Draco had murmured when Harry had made an off-hand, uncomfortable remark about things being different to before, somehow. He'd spoiled it, a little, by adding, "Some Muggle crap I read," but the quote resonated with Harry in a way he couldn't entirely explain. Looking back, trying to remember how he'd felt about Draco when they'd been at school, how he'd felt even six months ago, was like watching two people talking in a language he recognised the shape of but didn't fully understand.
Harry didn't even consider that he hadn't, technically, been given the time off work until Robards dropped in unexpectedly. "Uh, sorry, sir," Harry said, and Robards just rolled his eyes and leaned in to whisper, in a carrying voice, "Is that Weasley cowering under the sofa over there?"
Harry looked. Yes, it was. Ron extracted himself with a cheery wave, his face colour-coordinating with his hair. "Just – uh – dropped something," he lied inexpertly. "Good to see you, sir."
Robards seemed to be enjoying himself. He folded his arms and let out a loud, "Hah! Sir, eh? You want to come back to work for me, do you?"
"Noooo," Ron said, and then cleared his throat, sitting up and plucking fluff out of his hair with unshakable dignity. "I mean – no thank you, si— Robar— Er, Gawain."
Robards grinned and then turned back to Harry. "No rush on coming back to work," he said politely. "We'll just carry on, Williamson, Proudfoot, Savage and myself, protecting the whole of England from Dark magic by ourselves until your Malfoy can bring himself to peel his own grapes. No worries."
Harry thought Robards wasn't being entirely sincere.
"Kind of you," Draco said cheerfully from amongst his cushions, and gave Harry's hand a squeeze. If a squeeze could be a snigger, that one was it.
"You're very welcome," Robards said with equal cheerfulness. Then his brows pulled together, and he leaned in closer. "You two coping all right? Given the, er, situation?" He looked around the room suspiciously; it was daytime, but the room was still full. Harry didn't even know everyone there. Astoria appeared to have brought along a number of her old Slytherin classmates. Harry could tell they were Slytherins because of the way they weren't staring at him in unabashed awe, the way most people did when they met him for the first time. That, and the fact she'd introduced them that way. She'd given him a hug, too; Harry was still trying to get over the shock.
"Yes, we're doing fine," Draco said with equanimity. "I'm quite enjoying having the Boy Who Lived constantly by my side. It's a bit like having a pet dog."
"Woof," Harry said sarcastically, and Narcissa, also sitting close to Draco, let out a very un-Narcissa like snort. Harry nearly fell off his chair.
"Speaking as Draco's mother, I can't say I'm not concerned," Narcissa said, her icy formality snapping back in place as she gave Robards a haughty stare. "The Ministry have bungled the protection of my son once. Now they seem unable to put any basic safety precautions in place at all, other than the dubious protection of a nineteen-year-old boy."
"Hey!" Harry protested. "I'm twenty."
Narcissa raised an eyebrow at him, and Harry winced.
"You should be ashamed," Narcissa continued to Robards, wrinkling her nose as if she smelt something bad. "If you can't even clear the doorstep of the scum that lie in wait for a glimpse of my injured child, you should be putting other arrangements in place for his protection."
"If only there was somewhere I could recover in privacy, where no one could bother me," Draco suddenly said, sardonic to the extreme. "I just can't think of anywhere that fits the bill. Can you, Mother?"
"What a good idea, Draco," Narcissa said, sounding like it was anything but. "I so enjoyed my last visit there."
"Mother," Draco said, a warning note in his voice. "It's my life, not yours."
Draco and Narcissa were practically glaring at each other now, and Harry exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Robards, who looked equally baffled by this private argument taking place in public. Was Draco talking about Malfoy's Cove? The idea of going back there made Harry feel faintly queasy, but at the same time, he could see why it might be a good spot for Draco to regain his strength. They were back to square one, when it came to their magical connection: the moment Harry let go of Draco's hand, the link would be lost again. They could go back to the Department of Mysteries and get Kevin to come back out from under his desk, where he was probably still cowering in fear of Harry's questions, to spell two fresh objects to link them again, Harry supposed. But . . .
A warmth flooded Harry at the thought of a topic that so far had remained unraised between himself and Draco. In the day, Draco was surrounded by people. By his mother. And at night, he took Dreamless on Healer's orders. He'd tried to refuse the dose, but Harry had insisted. He wanted Draco better. As fast as possible. Because he cared about him. Because the house wasn't the same without Draco slouching around, book in hand, reciting crap poetry at Harry. Throwing things at the wall when he got angry. Moaning about taps. And he wanted him better, too, because when he was better they could . . . They could . . .
Draco gave him an ungentle nudge in the ribs. "Well?" he demanded.
Harry nearly jumped out his skin, realising he hadn't been listening. "Well what?"
Draco gave him a look that could have flayed skin. "Shall we spend a few days at Malfoy's Rest, for our own protection," he said. "Of course, Mother has offered to go with us," he added acidly. "She's kind that way."
"It's a mother's duty to her only son," Narcissa said, equally acidly. "To ask him to think hard before making decisions he may later come to regret," she added, and gave Draco a long, meaningful look.
"Because, of course, all the decisions you and Father made have been so good for me," Draco said, suddenly sounding exhausted. "Can't you let me make my own mistakes for once?"
Robards cleared his throat loudly, to Harry's very great relief. The atmosphere was becoming sticky. "It might not be a bad idea if the two of you fucked off for a few days," he said. "The Muggles who work round here – the Muggle government, if you remember – are growing restive at the number of strange people hanging about. There's only so many times we can Obliviate them before memories start breaking through. If you're not here, we can probably get the media to disperse, at least for now. And we could really use Derek and Antony back at work, rather than guarding your house. They can slum it as Aurors for a while, I'm sure."
"Malfoy Manor would be the ideal—" Narcissa started.
"We can organise a couple of emergency Portkeys to get you pair of morons back from whatever foul Malfoy bolthole you go to, just in case your magic conks out on you again."
"Conks out . . .?" Narcissa repeated scathingly, and was, again, ignored.
"I'm presuming you've learned your lesson?" Robards said sternly, glaring at first Harry and then Draco. "No flying, no Apparating, no nothing, until you've . . ." He pulled a face like he was going to be sick. "Kevin'll try again to sort you out when you get back, I suppose, if need be."
Well, this was fun and not at all awkward, Harry thought, feeling his features lock into a rictus of a grin. Had Robards just implied they were going to complete the bond, before he'd had a proper chance to talk to Draco about it? In front of Draco's mother?
Narcissa gave Robards a very, very polite smile, and said, "May I have a moment of your time, Auror Robards?" and the sheer charismatic iciness of her politeness seemed to draw him across to the other side of the room like a magnet, even though his face reflected his extreme reluctance.
Draco shut his eyes. "Don't talk to me. I'm asleep," he said. And then added. "And not at all dying from embarrassment about having that conversation in front of my mother."
To be fair, Harry was finding this conversation pretty excruciating himself. It was too public, even though Draco's mother had taken herself over to the other side of the room. Where Lucius was too, he realised. Lucius seemed to be enjoying saying something acid and unpleasant to Robards, by the look of smug, unpleasant satisfaction on his face. "I am never going to like your father," he found himself saying to Draco.
Draco snorted, opening his eyes but not sitting up. He still looked exhausted, and Harry wondered how much pain he was in – and how much he was trying to hide it. "No shit," he said. "For fuck's sake, Harry, I'm not asking you to. Well?" he demanded. "Malfoy's Rest – yes or no?"
"Um, yes?" Harry said. "As long as your mum's not there."
Draco's tense, irritated expression relaxed into humour, and he shut his eyes again. "I'll leave it all to you, then," he said, to Harry's horror. Harry could already see, out of the corner of his eye, Lucius gearing to up to shout. He girded his loins and prepared to shout right back. Although quietly, so he didn't wake Draco up, even though the fucker was undoubtedly just pretending to try to sleep.
^^^^^^
In the end, Harry hadn't had to shout. Lucius had opened his mouth as if to say something unpleasant, and then Narcissa had said something in his ear. Lucius had just . . . deflated, as if someone had sucked all the air out of him. He'd turned to glare at Harry, but Harry felt relatively immune to glares from Lucius and his sort, so he just ignored it. It didn't matter, anyway. All that mattered was Draco; and Draco was still pretending to be asleep.
They Apparated to Malfoy's Rest a couple of hours later, after Kingsley had approved Robards' plan. Was it Robards' plan or Draco's plan? Harry couldn't tell, wasn't sure he cared. He was just too nervous about the fact that he was going to be alone with Draco again. He was briefly nervous, too, about the fact that Narcissa had insisted on Side-Alonging Draco herself. While he could see the logic in this, given the circumstances, this left him to be Side-Alonged by Lucius. There was a nasty glint in Lucius's eye as he approached Harry to take his arm, and Harry was genuinely surprised when he opened his eyes again after the journey and found himself on the Cornish hillside rather than, say, on top of an iceberg, with Lucius waving him a fond, final farewell as turned to Disapparate away.
It was a good couple of hours before Narcissa would even contemplate leaving again. Harry didn't complain; he had Draco to do that for him. It was almost funny watching them bicker at each other, and at least he didn't have to put up with Lucius glowering at him. Lucius hadn't joined them in the house, like Narcissa. He'd simply said to Draco, "Don't forget you're a Malfoy," and whipped away, his robe cracking in the wind as he'd Disapparated.
"How could I ever," Draco had said to the empty spot. There was a bitterness to his tone Harry hadn't liked. But even as he'd reached for Draco's hand, Narcissa let out an irritated sigh.
"You're a Black too, Draco," she said. "Sometimes I think your father forgets that."
"So much amnesia in your family," Harry said to Draco, thinking the whole thing was ridiculous. Malfoy, Black, what did it matter, really? The pure-bloods were all so interlinked, they were practically one family anyway. "Your name is Draco, in case you need the reminder."
Narcissa tutted, a more blood-curdling sound Harry had never heard, but Draco grinned, so it was worth it.
"I made my peace with the eventual extinction of the Black name when my cousin passed away," Narcissa said coolly, ignoring Harry's snide remark. "Lucius will just have to do the same."
It was a breathtakingly insensitive thing to say, Harry thought, trying not to snap back that Sirius had been murdered, and by Narcissa's own sister. But it was breathtakingly awkward too, that she was just presuming they were going to – to . . . and that she was supportive of this, in a strange, cold way. Harry managed, with an effort, to hold his tongue.
"Well, now we're safely here, don't let us keep you, Mother," Draco said brightly, giving Harry's hand a hard squeeze.
"Not until I'm sure all is in order, Draco," Narcissa said, withdrawing her wand and turning to stride towards the house. "Not that I don't trust your housekeeping, but since you refused to let any of the house-elves know the secret to the house . . ." she flung over her shoulder.
Draco groaned, tugging on Harry's hand to indicate they should follow her. And once Narcissa had seen Draco installed on a sofa in the downstairs living room, she got to work in the kitchen, Apparating back and forth in a frenzy of activity to ensure the place was fully stocked with more food and medical potions than would be needed if Harry and Draco were planning on staying there for the next hundred years.
It was late afternoon by the time she finally – finally – left, pecking a kiss on Draco's cheek and sweeping him into a hug. There was an awkward moment when she seemed to be deciding whether or not to kiss Harry too, but happily she decided against it and they shook hands in an awkward, chilly kind of way. "Take care of my child," she said, and then Disapparated with a crack.
As soon as she'd gone, Draco shot up from the sofa as if he'd been pushed. "I am so fucking sick of sitting down," he said, and then headed for the door. "Let's go out for a walk." He didn't wait for Harry.
Harry dashed after him, feeling a bit worried. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine!" Draco snapped, and then seemed to relent. "I actually meant that," he said, more conversational. "I'm still a little stiff, but nothing really hurts any more. It's a bit horrible being here though," he added, shuddering as he looked at the beach down below them. "I thought I should probably go straight down, take a look, get over it."
Harry agreed. It was horrible – amazingly so. He felt queasy just looking at the sweep of stones, the quiet waves lapping the shore, even though it was still as beautiful as it had ever been. It wasn't the beach's fault Draco had had the accident, though. It wasn't anyone's fault, really. "I could arrest it, if you wanted," he said, which seemed to startle Draco out of his thoughts. Probably a good thing; Draco was looking pale and grim.
"What, the beach?"
Harry nodded. "Yep."
Draco gave a half-smile, turning towards Harry as they walked down the path. "What for?"
Harry smiled back. "I'm sure I could think of something."
Draco seemed genuinely amused now, his eyes sparkling. "Bit hard to fling it in Azkaban, though."
Harry considered this. "House arrest," he said firmly, and Draco sniggered. They'd reached the beach now, and they picked over the stones in silence for a while. Draco seemed to be scanning the shoreline for something.
"Did you find my watch?" Draco asked eventually, jamming his hands in his pockets.
"Yes," Harry said.
"Good," Draco replied. "I want it back."
Harry had no idea why. He'd shoved the thing in his bottom drawer in his bedroom, not sure what to do with it. It seemed tainted now; the present given to him with love and passed on to Draco without it. It felt almost like an omen; as if, at a fundamental level, the accident had been his fault.
"It wasn't your fault, you know," Draco said suddenly, and gave Harry a firm shoulder barge that knocked him right out of his brooding. "I mean, it wasn't not your fault either," Draco continued with a snort. "I wouldn't have stormed off here to sulk alone if you hadn't been so unbearable. But it wasn't literally your fault."
"I know it wasn't," Harry told his shoes. "It still feels a bit like it was."
Draco gave him another, more gentle shoulder barge. "Good," he said, sounding pleased by this development.
Harry looked up at him, feeling himself frown. "Good?"
Draco nodded, lips quirking. "I was feeling a bit like it was my fault. It's not much fun being broken in half a dozen places and thinking it was all entirely avoidable. It's much more comfortable to be able to blame you for it instead."
"Wanker," Harry said, but without heat.
"Yes, probably," Draco said, also without heat, and turned to look up at the sky. It was another glorious day: hot and bright, with a scattering of fluffy white clouds scudding across the sky. "I heard what you said, you know," he said, eyes tracking the movement of a V of birds. "When I was injured."
Oh. "I'm glad you took my advice and didn't die," Harry said, feeling awkward. He'd told Draco he loved him; was he meant to say it again, right now? It seemed annoyingly difficult.
Draco snorted, still watching the clouds. "So, are we doing this, then?" he asked.
"Doing what?" Harry asked stupidly, and Draco turned his face, at that, to give him an exasperated, albeit embarrassed stare. His cheeks were pink, his hands still jammed in his pockets.
"Completing the bond," Draco said, his voice unwavering. "I mean, everybody else seems to fucking already know we're going to, from your boss to my own mother, but I thought I'd just double-check."
"Oh," Harry said, feeling his heart start to beat wildly. "I think – yes. I mean, yes, please."
Draco snorted. "Well, at least you're polite about it. Then . . . all right."
"All right?" Harry repeated dumbly. It wasn't as if he'd expected hearts and flowers when he and Draco had finally agreed to complete the bond, but he found he'd expected something more than a prosaic conversation that ended in Draco saying 'all right', as if he was agreeing to having breakfast, or going for a walk, or wearing blue robes to an event rather than green.
"Mm," Draco said, turning to stare back at the sky. "Yes. I suppose it makes sense. So, why not."
Why not indeed. It wasn't like it was an enormous fucking decision, or anything, that would have an impact on the rest of their lives, was it?
"You're overthinking it again," Draco murmured from beside him. "You want to, don't you?"
Oh God, Harry wanted to. "Of course I fucking do!"
Draco reached out and took Harry's hand in his. "Come on. I'm bored of this beach," he said, a little off-hand.
"You – you want to as well, don't you?" Harry asked as they walked.
Draco didn't say anything for a moment, then he gave Harry a swift glance, full of heat and fire. "Yes," he said, and even though that shouldn't have been enough, Harry found it somehow was.
Draco kicked off his shoes when they got back inside, toeing off his socks and shucking off his outer robe. He made a noise of pleasure and stretched widely. "Would you like to hear my embarrassing confession now or later?" he asked, back mostly to Harry. "I mean, I'd rather not tell you at all, but you seem the sort of annoying idiot who'd take offense if you found out later."
There was never a good time for an embarrassing confession, so Harry thought he'd rather get it over with. "Now," he said.
Draco turned back to Harry briefly, not looking at his face, to touch his arm and swish his wand to light the stove at the other end of the long, open-plan room. "Go on then, sit down," Draco said, letting go and walking over to the sink to fill up the kettle. "Don't stare at me so hard. It's not that bad."
Harry sat, tried not to stare. He could hear Draco making clattering noises as he got the mugs out.
"So," Draco said, busy with the tea things, "I haven't slept with anyone before."
Harry hadn't known what Draco was going to say, but he hadn't expected that. Did Draco mean he'd never gone all the way with a bloke, rather than a girl? Or . . .? An odd suspicion started to form in his mind.
"I'm not sure whether to be flattered or insulted by your silence," Draco said, now sounding tetchy. "You haven't complained so far, so I'm presuming I've been at least competent."
"You've . . . with no one at all?" Harry managed, feeling shocked by this. Draco always seemed so confident. As if he knew exactly what he was doing. And OK, he'd bought that Muggle sex guide, but that had just been a joke, hadn't it?
The kettle boiled, and Draco poured water into a teapot. "I'm a pure-blood. We have high standards," he said, and then finally turned to look at Harry. His cheeks were very red, but his expression was sardonic. "And if you remember, all the girls at school were too busy squealing and running after you to give the rest of us mere mortals the time of day. I used to get annoyed about that, too," he said and leaned back against the countertop, his mouth twisting into something self-deprecating. "Not only were you the Boy Who Lived To Annoy, but you grew annoyingly handsome, while I . . ." He shrugged. "I was never going to win any awards for my good looks. And when I was done with school . . ." he added thoughtfully, looking at a point somewhere over Harry's shoulder rather than at Harry himself. "Well. I was far too busy being a disgraced Death Eater to go out on dates."
Draco turned and poured tea into two mugs. "I made you tea," he said, passing a mug over to Harry, "even though I know you don't like it. Think of it as punishment for forcing me into this conversation."
"I didn't force you!" Harry protested, and drank some tea so he had something to do with his mouth. It was all a bit too much to take in. And – had Draco just admitted to finding him attractive when they'd been at school? "But, um, while we're having this conversation," he said to his mug.
"Yes, do prolong it, please," Draco said politely, coming to sit next to him.
"Are – are you gay, then?" Harry asked, and winced.
"Well, I could hardly be accused of being straight right now, could I," Draco said, obviously trying to be patient, but letting a little of his true feelings – that Harry was a complete idiot – bleed through.
"No, I just meant . . ." Harry didn't know what he meant, exactly. He was just aware of a tiny tight knot in his chest, that he hadn't even known had been there, start to loosen.
"I never really fancied a girl," Draco said, and took a sip of tea. "I can't say I spent much time thinking about it, though. I was always going to marry one. Whether or not I would be attracted to her didn't seem that important, really."
That seemed horrendous to Harry. But – it didn't matter now, did it? Because Draco wasn't going to marry a girl after all. He was going to . . . to marry Harry. Harry began to feel very warm and happy, and incredibly nervous, all at once.
"You were meant to reply to my self-criticisms to say how deeply attractive you think I am, by the way," Draco said, taking another drink of tea. "That's how it's meant to work."
Harry felt himself go red. "You know I think you're attractive!" he protested.
Draco laughed, sounding smug. "Yes, just like a fairy prince or something, wasn't it?" he said. "You complete tosser."
"Watch it you," Harry complained, "or I might be forced to point out that you technically fucked yourself last time we were here, so I'm not sure you can say you've never slept with anyone before."
Draco's mouthful of tea went the wrong way, and his chokes started to turn into laughter. "Everything else afterwards will always be a disappointment, then, I expect," he said, his whole voice a snigger.
"Hey!" Harry complained, and set his tea on the floor so as to be able to turn and glare at Draco better. When he did turn though, Draco was grinning at him, and Harry felt his annoyance at this teasing melt away.
"What?" Draco asked self-consciously, grin sliding off his face to be replaced by something more tentative.
Harry leaned over to kiss him. Draco tasted warm, of tea and sugar. He was so easy to love, Harry thought, losing himself in the moment. How had he ever thought otherwise?
Because he was still a jerk, that's why. "You can make dinner. I'm too innocent and attractive to do it," Draco said smugly. "And I'm glad we came to the conclusion, too, that my accident was all your fault. I'll remind you of that often, I think."
"I'll make dinner because I'm feeling sorry for you," Harry said, getting up and peering in the refrigerator to see what there was to choose from. "Mostly because of your terrible pointy face, but a little bit because of your poor deformed body." Draco made an offended splutter. "How's your poor deformed body feeling, by the way?" Harry asked, not sure if he cared that it was obvious why he was asking.
"Well enough to lie back, shut my eyes and think of England," Draco said, and started laughing when Harry reached for the nearest projectile – a cherry tomato – and threw it at his head.
^^^^^^
After dinner, Harry ran Draco a bath, out of the vague feeling that this might be romantic. The day certainly hadn't been very romantic so far, and Harry wasn't sure how to make it feel more that way without making a complete idiot of himself. Possibly, Draco just didn't like romance very much, Harry thought. It was probably a good thing, given how bad Harry appeared to be at it. "Are you trying to imply I stink?" Draco asked, eyeing it suspiciously.
Harry Potter, Lord of Romance, strikes again, Harry thought. Oh well. It wasn't as if he didn't enjoy their usual bickering, was it? "Yes," he said, grinning. "That's why I added bubble bath, as I can't trust you to actually use soap."
Draco snorted and started to undress. "Charming," he said acidly. "Are you going to join me in it, to make sure I wash my pits?"
Harry thought he could be noble enough to undertake this terrible task, and nodded, starting to pull his own clothes off. It was good to have the distraction from Draco's emerging nudity, besides. He both wanted, and didn't want, to know if Draco had scarred from his recent accident. He looked anyway, and found Draco's skin looked as smooth as ever.
"The sea is like love," Draco murmured as he lowered himself into the bath. "You get in, not knowing whether you'll ever come out."
Harry wasn't sure what to say to this. He got in the bath himself, feeling his muscles relax in the steaming hot water. "Er, I'm sorry, what?"
"It's poetry," Draco said, flicking bubbles in Harry's face. "Muggle poetry. My favourite."
Harry snorted, pulling his bubble-smeared glasses off and tossing them over the side. "I know. You're not trying to be pretentious at all."
"I never have to try to be pretentious," Draco said smugly. "My overwhelming superiority just comes naturally, you see."
Harry considered pushing his head under and drowning him, but knowing Draco, he'd just rise up again without a splutter, looking like a merman from legend, and say something facetious about the size of Harry's penis, so he decided to let it go for the good of his health.
"You're not going to get all mushy, are you?" Draco said, leaning back against his end of the bath and flicking more foam over at him. "May I remind you that sticking your cock up my bum is hardly the height of romance, even if it is my first time."
Harry made an enthusiastic attempt to choke on his own tongue. "We – we could do it the other way round, if you want!" he said, hearing his own voice come out about ten octaves higher than usual.
"Hmm," Draco said, and shifted in the bath, sloshing water on the floor. "No, that sounds too much like hard work."
Harry tried not to laugh.
"I am fearfully injured, remember," Draco said lazily. "It's your duty to take care of me."
Harry did laugh at that. "You were fearfully injured," he pointed out. "Now you're just a lazy tosser. Come here."
"Such rudeness," Draco said with soft satisfaction, rising up briefly on his knees to wade over to Harry, turning so he was lying back against him, hair in Harry's face.
"Yes, shame on me," Harry said drily, and reached round to take Draco's cock in his hand. Draco was already hard, and he made a pleased noise as Harry worked his hand up and down, raising his hips out of the water. Everything was warm, and wet, and slick with foam. There wasn't much space in the bath, and Draco was so close and delicious, writhing against Harry. Which was so fucking nice, but . . . Harry cleared his throat, slowing his hand and nuzzling against Draco's neck, wondering how he could say stop grinding against me like that or I'm going to come without spontaneously combusting. At least he was in water, he thought muzzily, breathing hard as Draco worked his hips. Oh Merlin. "Stop that," he said, and nipped at Draco's earlobe.
"No?" Draco said breathily, hips still working. He craned his neck back for a kiss, sloshing more water everywhere.
Harry stilled his hand, and Draco smiled against his mouth, but obligingly relaxed back against Harry, his body weight now just a teasing pressure against Harry's hard cock rather than a rubbing torment. Harry felt the press of Draco's tongue against his lips and he opened up, their tongues sliding together as they kissed. He began to move his hand again, slow and slick, and Draco groaned into his mouth, deepening the kiss. Time seemed to slide out as they lay there together. The scent of bubbles, the warm wet beneath them. The feel of Draco's hot swelling cock, heavy in his hand. The taste of him as their tongues stroked together, Draco moving with more desperation as his orgasm built.
Harry matched the pace of Draco's tongue, speeding up his hand as Draco panted into his mouth. He felt like he was ready to burst, his heart pounding out of his chest. God, he loved Draco, he thought, a warmth that wasn't anything to do with the gentle heat of the August day, the temperature of the bath, flooding through him. Draco came, still kissing Harry, his tongue stuttering against Harry's own as the sensations overwhelmed him for a moment.
"Mmmm," Draco said, pulling away for a moment. Then he laughed, the sound breathy, warm. "My neck fucking kills."
"God, I love you," Harry said, and wouldn't have taken it back for anything.
Draco's eyes were dark, unfathomable. "Oh?" he said, a tiny tremor in his voice.
"Yes," Harry said, because when it came down to it, what else could he say? He wished Draco would say it back, couldn't tell what Draco was thinking right now, was almost on the verge of panicking again, when—
"Carry me to bed then, Saviour," Draco said, lips quirking. "I'm not sure I can move," he added thoughtfully, and indeed, he was a heavy, floppy weight against Harry's body. Harry wasn't sure if that was the effects of a long, tiring day on someone who'd only just recovered, really, from a pretty terrible accident, or just essential laziness.
"Yes, I can definitely manage that," he said ironically, and attempted to get out of the bath whilst simultaneously heaving Draco up over his shoulder. Draco was slippery, and the bath was slippery, and Draco flailed at the sudden movement and they slid back down together in an attempt at mutual drowning.
"Oh my God, the bubble bath tastes revolting," Draco spluttered, and then started to laugh, setting Harry off too.
"That's probably just your come," Harry added, which made Draco pull a face like he was going to die, he was laughing so hard.
"You know, on the rare occasion I pictured ever – you know," Draco said, a little incoherently when he'd calmed down a bit. "I never pictured it being like this."
"Hey! I planned that bit especially!" Harry said, scooping up a handful of bubbles and dumping it on Draco's head.
"Which bit!" Draco spluttered, trying to get him back. "The dropping, or the special semen-flavoured water?"
Harry started laughing again. Draco looked so funny covered in bubbles, with such an expression of outrage. "Moaning Myrtle would feel right at home looking at you now."
Draco frowned at him. "She always did tell me I should just cop on to myself and ask you out," he said.
Harry gaped. "She did?"
Draco grinned, a quicksilver wicked smile. "Of course she fucking didn't, you egomaniac. Now, are we going to stay in here until we grow gills?"
Harry dumped another palmful of bubbles on Draco's head, and escaped from the bath while Draco was still trying to learn how to breathe soap. He reached for his wand and, after placing his hand on Draco's wet shoulder, gave a quick swish that Vanished the water and the bubbles. A second flick summoned a warm wind that wrapped around them both, tousling their hair as it dried them in a matter of seconds.
When Harry turned to look at Draco, Draco was gazing at him with his head on one side, his eyes intense. "What?" Harry asked, a little unnerved by the sheer intensity of Draco's stare.
"Nothing," Draco said, but didn't stop staring. "I just – nothing," he said, and got to his feet, a dark colour staining his cheeks as he finally looked away and climbed out of the empty bath.
Sod it, Harry thought. If Draco was going to look at him like that. He stepped closer to Draco and slid an arm under his shoulders, then another under his arse and heaved. Draco let out a splutter, and Harry tried not to fall over. Draco was heavy. And he was laughing again, the tosser.
"If you've remembered that the groom is meant to carry his bride over the threshold of the house, you're a bit late," Draco said, still laughing.
"You want me to carry you outside like this?" Harry threatened. "Bride indeed. You weigh more than this house," he added thoughtfully as he staggered across the room and wondered how he was going to open the bathroom door when he finally reached it.
Draco was laughing even harder now. "You absolute shit," he said, but leaned over in Harry's arms to reach for the doorknob when it was in clutching distance, so at least that was one issue out of the way.
"You want me to Levitate you instead?" Harry complained, staggering out of the bathroom and along the hallway. "That would be romantic."
"Like this is!" Draco wheezed.
Harry decided to ignore this. It was unworthy of him. They finally made it to the bedroom, and Harry dropped Draco on the bed with an oof. Draco had stopped laughing now, but his face was still warm and open, and even as he looked at Harry his gaze took on that curious, unnerving intensity. As if he was trying to catalogue this moment in his memory, to imprint it there forever.
As Harry got on to the bed beside Draco, though, Draco tensed, an expression of apprehension sliding across his face, even though he tried to cover it up. And . . . and Harry didn't have his glasses on, either, so the world was faintly blurred. "You all right?" Harry asked, trying to resist the urge to gnaw his lip.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, of course," he said, though there was a note of doubt in his voice.
It felt deeply inappropriate to think about it right this moment, but Harry had a flash of memory of how he'd felt before his first time. Excited, yes, and thrilled, and so alive and so nervous he'd wondered if he was actually going to be able to go through with it. He . . . he felt more nervous now, though, as he looked at Draco, and Draco looked right back. The power of what they were doing, the importance of it, rang through him, as if someone had banged a gong by his heart.
"Clearly, what we need in here is some romance," Harry said firmly.
Draco's eyebrows rose. "Yes?" His face relaxed. "Go on then," he said, lips quirking.
Oh shit. Um. What was romantic? He'd done the highly romantic sperm-bath, and the delicate sack-of-potatoes carrying routine. What else? Harry felt his forehead screw up. Flower petals. Candles. Silk sheets.
"Well, I'm not going to change the sheets," he said out loud, and Draco snorted out a laugh.
"They're perfectly clean!" Draco protested.
Harry shot him a quelling look. "Just imagine they're silk," he said.
"What, slippery and cold against the skin?" Draco said, clearly starting to enjoy himself again. "All right. Lovely."
Right. Candles. Harry romantically grabbed Draco's wrist and Summoned his wand from the bathroom where he'd left it, lighting the dozens of tiny candles that were bobbing across the ceiling. The effect was . . .
It was . . .
"We might have to wait a few hours for the full romantic effect to kick in," Harry said as he observed the candles, almost invisible against the daylight. It was August, so even though it was evening, it was still softly light outside.
Harry gave Draco a nudge in the side. "Stop laughing," he said severely. "This is serious stuff."
"Yes. Sorry," Draco spluttered, and dug his face into Harry's side, the bed shaking with mirth. "Who would have thought you were so useless," Draco mumbled cheerfully against Harry's skin.
"Well, you," Harry felt moved to point out, mock-offended. "Now, shall I massacre a flower to chuck some petals in your eye, or would you prefer a blow-job?"
Draco stopped laughing. "But . . ." he said, and didn't go on.
"You are older than me," Harry said thoughtfully. "Maybe you don't have enough stamina for another go just yet."
Draco snorted. "Older? Screw you."
Harry reached down casually between Draco's legs. He was half-hard, and he let out a soft breath at the touch. "A good effort," Harry said encouragingly. "With only a little room for improvement."
Draco jabbed him with a finger, clearly beyond speech.
"And we don't have to . . . you know," Harry felt moved to point out. "Not tonight, if you don't feel . . . you know. Ready."
Draco let out an uneven breath. "What, when you've put so much work into the epic romance?" he said.
"No, I mean it, I—" Harry started, awkward, sincere.
"Yes, I know," Draco interrupted. "I want to, OK? I just . . ."
Harry thought Draco meant it, that he wanted to. He just sounded nervous. Well, that made two of them. Harry was so nervous that he wanted to die. Although not really. If he died, he wouldn't get to fuck Draco, and that would be a waste of a life. But before that, though, Draco needed to relax. And what better for relaxation than . . .
"Ohhhh," Draco said as Harry slid down between his legs and slowly took his cock in his mouth, maintaining eye contact the whole way down.
Harry sucked firmly, bobbing his head up and down. Draco hardened quickly in his mouth, and Harry could taste his pre-come, the creamy sourness, on his tongue as he sucked. It gave him a rush of blood to his own aching cock, to know that Draco was turned on. Was hard for him. Because of him. Harry continued to suck firmly, up and down, bringing his hands into play. He let his spit run down, to coat everything: Draco's engorged cock, Harry's hands, his chin. It was all slick and wetness and heat. Though the heat was nothing compared to the heat of Draco's stare, his mouth falling open as he watched Harry suck his cock.
Draco reached down, winding his finger in Harry's hair and tugging, encouraging him to go faster, faster, faster. Harry felt his scalp sting, did as asked, mouth watering at the curse words that fell from Draco's lips. It was as if he could no longer control what he was saying, could only lie there cursing as pleasure overwhelmed him.
Draco didn't last long. He came with a deep groan, pulling Harry's hair hard. Harry's mouth flooded with come, and he swallowed it down as Draco's grip on his hair loosened, his fingers stroking apologetically against Harry's scalp as he calmed down. Finally, Draco gave Harry's head a little push, and he let Draco's cock slip out from between his lips, sitting up and wiping his chin with the back of his hand.
Draco flushed a bit, and then reached out to pull Harry towards him. They lay there kissing for a while, long, languid kisses that made Harry's whole body tingle. Draco reached between his legs and gave Harry's cock a stroke that made him shudder. He was already slick with pre-come, and the feeling was electrifying. Draco stroked him again, slow and gentle, as they kissed, and it was too much and not enough all at once.
"Um," Draco said against Harry's lips, and let go of his cock. Harry's heart did a flip in his chest. Right. He could— They were going to— He tried to remember what he was doing, what he should do next, could barely remember his own name. Lube. That was what he needed. He half sat up and tried to lean over the edge of the bed to reach for it, nearly fell off. Draco grabbed for him. "Smooth," Draco said unhelpfully, but at least it helped Harry's brain work a bit more for a moment, and he grabbed his wand, thinking vague thoughts of lube, and romance, and should he do the rose petals after all, but what if he stabbed Draco in the cheek with a thorn, or something?
Harry realised Draco was looking at him, and it was a slightly irritated look, which wasn't really the reaction he was going for here. Right! Lube! Romance! Harry Accioed the lube, and then swished his wand to shut the curtains around the four-poster. Leaving the candles outside, and plunging them into darkness.
"Nice to know you want to look me in the eye as we—" Draco started, tone a blend of amusement and fucked-off-ness.
"Yes, all right," Harry said, frantically improvising. If he cast one large Lumos then he'd probably get accused of blinding Draco, so he grabbed for Draco and caught something – a foot, possibly. He waved his wand and cast a lighting spell he'd been working on for undercover missions in darkness. Tiny balls of light bubbled out from his wand, to hang above their heads, bumping up against the canopy of the bed. It was . . . actually quite pretty, Harry thought, smiling up at the lights, and then looking over at Draco.
Draco was lying back against the pillows, his face warm and expectant, and Harry felt nervous all over again because Draco was just so . . . so fucking important to him, it was killing him.
Harry gave Draco's knee a tap. "Turn over," he said, voice coming out hoarse.
Draco's face flickered with uncertainty, but he did as asked, rising up on elbows and knees.
"Hey," Harry said, and pressed a kiss to one of Draco's arse cheeks, evincing a soft snort from Draco. "Romance," Harry said firmly, kissing his other arse cheek too.
"Hmm," Draco said, sounding unconvinced. "I've felt more dignified in my life," he mumbled into his pillow.
"Shhh," Harry said.
"Don't you shhh me, you—" Draco protested, biting off his words as Harry lowered his head to gently nuzzle against one of Draco's inner thighs, kissing his way up. He then did the same to the other thigh, before pressing a kiss to the strip of skin between Draco's balls and arsehole. Draco's breath hitched, so Harry did it again, before parting his lips to take a firm lick of the area.
Draco actually groaned at that. "Nice?" Harry asked.
"Uh, yes," Draco said, voice rough.
Harry licked him again, getting a rhythm going, pressing firmly. Each swipe of his tongue drew out a groan from Draco that had his face, his ears overheating. He sat back slightly, before bring his face closer to Draco's arsehole and running the tip of his tongue in a gentle circle around the very outside of the opening.
"Shit," Draco said. "You're not actually going to . . ." he said, voice raw, amazed.
"Can I?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Draco choked out.
Harry wet his lips and, heart pounding, moved closer, to swirl his tongue around the opening of Draco's arse. The ring of muscles tightened under his tongue as he licked, but Harry kept going, slow and soft. Harry's heart was hammering now. Draco was making tiny noises that shot straight to his crotch, and as he swiped a long lick up and over the opening, and then back down, the muscles under his tongue relaxed and then tightened again.
Harry kept on licking, and Draco kept on moaning. He was relaxing more now, pushing his backside in the air whenever Harry removed his tongue for a second. "That feels – fucking God," Draco said, sounding wrung out, and let out a noise that almost had Harry coming untouched when Harry firmed his tongue and pushed it inside, just a fraction. "I want – I want—"
Harry wasn't sure he could last much longer if Draco kept on like that. He sat back, wiping his face, and reached blindly for the lube, squeezing some out on to his fingers and spreading it over Draco's arsehole. Draco made a frustrated noise, pushing his backside against Harry's fingers, and Harry gently pushed a finger inside him. It slid in without resistance, and Draco squeezed down on it as Harry fingered him, hissing slightly when Harry added a second but pushing against his hand as if it wasn't enough.
Harry began to feel as if he was in the grip of some madness. He had to – he had to. He withdrew his fingers, reaching for the lube again with a shaking hand and slicking up his cock. He gave Draco's hip a little shove, and Draco obligingly rolled over on to his back, legs falling apart. He looked wrecked, his hair a mess and his cheeks flushed, mouth swollen. "Harry," Draco said, and Harry reached for him blindly, falling on top of him, Draco's head rising up for a kiss.
It was like Harry had never done it before. He was shaking, could barely keep himself raised up enough to stop squashing Draco underneath him. It took several goes to line himself up and push in, and he felt like he wasn't in control of himself. He tried to go slow, to let Draco control the pace, but Draco winced and then clung to Harry, legs wrapping around him, so Harry couldn't stop even if he'd wanted to. Draco was tight around his cock, and so hot. He was inside Draco. He felt like he was going to start crying, except that would be ridiculous, so he held it back, just tucked his head against the side of Draco's neck and tried not to come in under thirty seconds.
"You . . . OK," Harry managed, feeling Draco's muscles clench around him as his hips worked.
"Yes," Draco said against him, the sound a sob. "Oh God."
Harry raised his face so he could kiss Draco, and it felt all the more intense. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before, he was overwhelmed by it. It was just sex, and yet that word 'just' was an insult to how he felt right now. The closeness he felt to Draco – surrounded by him. His body heat. His scent, somehow fresh and green and bright. The way he tasted – warm, earthy, sweet – under Harry's tongue as they kissed and kissed. Was it the bond? Their magic reconnecting? Harry didn't think so. This didn't feel magical. It just felt . . . normal. Wonderful. As if his whole life had been leading to this moment, when he learned exactly who it was he was meant to spend the rest of eternity with.
Was it romantic? It wasn't not romantic. The lights twinkled above them, fake stars against a tapestry constellation. "Harder," Draco said, into Harry's mouth. "Merlin."
"I'm – close," Harry said, overwhelmed by an inappropriate urge to laugh at this puncturing of his romantic daydream.
"Yes," Draco said, dropping his head back on to the pillow and reaching up to give Harry's hair a hard tug. "Harder, you fucking bastard." His eyes crinkled. Harry worked his hips harder, and the half-smile slid off Draco's face, to be replaced by something fierce and dark. "Ohhhh."
Draco's face flushed hot, red and he reached down between their bodies to jerk his own cock. His knuckles were a hard graze against Harry's stomach, their skin slick with sweat. Harry rose up on to his hands to give Draco space, his hips working frantically. He couldn't stop himself slamming into Draco, but Draco was rearing up to meet each thrust, his muscles clenching down tight, so tight around Harry's cock. Draco's hand was working frantically, his thighs dithering.
Draco let out a long sighing breath and then his whole body clenched solid, his hips rising off the bed and he came. The sight of it, the feeling of tightness. The thought that Draco had come again. It was too much for Harry. He came so hard that it felt like all the breath left his body in one great whoosh. As he did so, the tiny twinkling lights above his head flared into bright balls and then exploded, showering them both in shimmering fairy dust for a glorious, perfect moment, before they were plunged into darkness.
Harry tried to gasp a breath, and then another, his whole body shaking.
"Show off," Draco said from somewhere near the head of the bed. He sounded completely exhausted, and yet so bright and happy that it made Harry's heart clench.
"Did it work?" Harry wondered out loud as he tried to remember how to breathe. He pulled out of Draco gently, and twisted on the bed, to lie on his side next to Draco, flinging his arm over him.
"Did it work?" Draco repeated, sounding odd. "Oh. I don't know. Shove over a minute."
Harry felt a twinge of uneasiness, but shoved. He supposed they couldn't test the bond if they were cuddling up to each other, could they? He didn't feel different, really. At least – that wasn't true. He felt different, right down to his bones, but that was because he'd just committed himself to Draco, for the rest of their lives. No matter whether the bond worked or not, he'd committed.
Harry felt blinded by the sudden influx of light into the room as the curtains whipped apart. Draco had his wand in his hand and as he waved it, clothes billowed across the room to fold themselves neatly and stack up on the top of a chair. The window opened with a bang and a stream of sea air, fresh and salty, hit Harry's nose.
Harry reached for his own wand and Accioed his glasses, then made a pair of shoes dance across the bedroom floor.
"It worked," Draco said flatly, and then lay back as if all the wind had been knocked out of him.
"That's – that's a good thing, isn't it?" Harry asked, lying back down and tugging Draco into his arms. Draco, thank fuck, allowed himself to be tugged. There was still something odd in his eyes though.
"Yes," he said vaguely.
"Can I get you anything?" Harry asked. "A drink? A back rub? A . . . something?"
Draco smiled at that, his face relaxing. "A something, eh? Go on then."
"Oh, er," Harry said, and then gave Draco a poke in the ribs. "What!" he protested, when Draco found some energy from somewhere and attempted to take revenge. "That was definitely something."
"Yes, you are definitely something, all right," Draco said snidely, but it sounded like a compliment to Harry. "I . . . love you," he mumbled, suddenly awkward.
"Oh," Harry said. Thank God. Thank God. He folded Draco tightly in his arms and hoped he'd never, ever have to let him go.