Chapter 8
After a stern talking to by Madam Pomfrey, Harry was discharged from the hospital wing in the morning. Hermione and Ron were waiting faithfully outside of the doors. Before Harry could even open his mouth to speak, his vision was engulfed by bushy brown hair.
“Harry, are you alright? You nearly scared us half to death!” Hermione scanned him with her eyes, patting him as if to make sure he was still in one piece. “Flying in a storm, what were you thinking?” She took a step back to assess him fully. Ron came into Harry’s field of vision, looking rather chagrined. His eyes were downcast. Hermione elbowed him in the side.
“Ow, Hermione–” Ron started. She gave him a menacing look, a silent conversation happening between them. Ron turned towards Harry. “Harry, you alright mate?”
“Fine, thanks.”
“Was this about the–” Ron lowered his voice, “The Malfoy thing?”
“Ron–” Harry started.
“Cause I didn’t mean it you know. What I said before. Well, I mean that bit about you sneaking off with him. It’s fine even if it’s…Malfoy. I just wish you had told me first. I am your best friend, y’know.”
“Ron, honest, nothing happened. I would’ve told you. Both of you.” Ron nodded. “And I do have something to tell you both.”
“What is it Harry?” Hermione asked. Harry ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled.
“I fancy Malfoy.”
A pregnant pause.
“No kidding.” Said Ron. Harry barked out a short laugh.
“Ron!” Hermione chastised, slapping him on the wrist. “That’s–that’s wonderful Harry!”
“I’m going to ask him out tonight.” The words tumbled, rushed, from Harry’s lips.
“Oh!” Exclaimed Hermione.
“Bloody Gryffindors…” Ron groaned.
Later that evening, all the parts of Harry’s plan were in place. He had gotten a first year Slytherin to slip a note under the door of Malfoy’s dormitory. The Room of Requirement was set up perfectly: a candlelit, cozy lounge like the one Harry and Draco shared not too long ago. Thinking of that moment, when Draco’s gaze had met his and his glasses snapped back into place, his face warmed. He hoped that Draco would like the set up—he wasn’t one for large gestures, but Draco was. In the corner of the room, there was a king sized bed with a red and yellow quilt. Harry had tried to vanish it (he didn’t want Draco to think Harry intended anything off color), to no avail. It seemed that the Room knew his truest desires. He shook his head to dismiss the thoughts. He sat on the carpet, mesmerized by the fire dancing in the hearth. After a few moments, he heard the Room open. He turned to find Draco, arms crossed over his chest.
“So? What’s this about, Potter?” Draco drawled. Harry’s face broke into a smile, he couldn’t help it.
Draco looked beautiful–no, beautiful wasn’t a strong enough word, he looked positively ethereal. His bright, silky hair sat atop his head like a halo. He was dressed in clean formal robes, a stark difference from yesterday’s mud covered robes. The black fabric contrasted starkly with his pale skin. His ice grey eyes sent shivers down Harry’s spine. Harry wasn’t a body language expert, but Draco appeared to be annoyed, brows furrowed and posture sharp.
Unnerved by Harry’s silence, Draco spoke again. “You know, we’re not all minions that you can summon as you please.”
“And yet, here you are.” Harry cocked his head to the side. He did love a challenge. Draco’s eyebrow twitched.
“My mistake. I’ll be taking my leave.” Draco turned towards the exit. Touchy. Harry thought to himself. He stood up from the floor, stepping towards Draco. He grabbed his wrist in a loose hold.
“Stay.” Harry said earnestly. Draco’s eyes flickered down at the touch. Was that a blush riding high on his cheeks?
“You’re trembling.” Harry murmured, moving closer.
“Lingering effects of the cruciatus.” Draco whispered, closing his eyes. He spoke quietly, as though speaking any louder would break the moment. Harry hummed and gathered his courage.
“Is that all?” He asked cheekily.
Draco opened his eyes, half lidded. He looked small. Vulnerable. Almost fragile. “What do you want, Potter?” He said, tired. Harry stood his ground. He had come this far, he wasn’t going to give up now. His heart thumped wildly in his chest.
“You.”
It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. Harry was quite certain you could hear a hairpin drop. The fireplace crackled softly. Draco’s eyes widened. Under different circumstances his expression would’ve been quite comical, eyes wide as saucers. His otherwise pale skin had gone completely red. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, at a loss for words. Finally, he croaked out one word.
“Why?”
Harry’s heart ached. He took Draco’s other hand in his. How could he make him see what Harry saw?
“Because I–” Harry gulped. “I like you.”
“Nonsense.” Draco closed his eyes again, as if overwhelmed. He felt the heat of Harry’s palms ghosting over his skin. He took a step back. “I’m a Death Eater. I helped You-Know-Who. The entire school detests me.”
Harry grinned, giddy as a child on Christmas.
“I don’t.”
“Potter–have you gone mad? Have you forgotten what I’ve done?” Draco’s face contorted painfully.
“I remember.”
“So, how can you even say such a thing–you must have gone completely barmy! Is it a love potion? Who could’ve done this?” Draco began frantically checking Harry for signs of magical interference.
“Draco,” Harry started, allowing himself to be evaluated. Draco appeared completely beside himself. “I’ve noticed, in all of your objections, you haven’t yet said that you don’t like me.” Draco’s mouth flopped open like a goldfish.
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Potter!” He cried, rubbing his temples.
Checkmate.
“You can call me Harry.”
“Oh do shut up, Potter!” Draco began to pace back and forth.
“Draco.” He stopped in his tracks. “Come here.” Harry beckoned.
Draco looked affronted, but walked towards Harry slowly. Harry noticed in their proximity that Malfoy was a few inches taller than him. He measured his words.
“If you tell me that you don’t…feel anything…for me, I’ll leave you be. If you can say that you hate me, I’ll never bother you again.” He could feel the body heat radiating off of Draco. Strange, he thought. He would’ve thought that Draco was rather cold. Draco’s eyes fluttered open. His chest rose and fell in quick succession. “Only say the word…and I’ll go.”
“You–you’re making a mistake.” Harry hand found purchase in Draco’s robes.
“The only mistake I made was not doing this sooner. You always said I was an impatient hot head. Gryffindors. But I can be very patient…with someone I want.”
Malfoy leaned into his touch. “So what’s it going to be, Draco? Your wish is my command.” Draco looked into Harry’s eyes, searching for what Harry didn’t know. Draco nodded slowly. His pink tongue darted out to wet his dry lips.
“Use your words.”
“Shove off, Potter.” Draco narrowed his eyes.
There was that bite that he loved. It hadn’t returned in full force, and maybe it never would. But the snark, even the smallest amount, showed that Draco was comfortable with Harry. That he felt safe with him.
“Ah, ah, ah.” Harry clicked his tongue. “Harry.”
“Fine. Harry.” Draco looked around the room nervously. “I-I…I accept.”
Harry’s heart soared in his chest.
“As you wish love.” Harry watched as a blush bloomed across Draco’s face. Beautiful. Harry tucked a loose piece of hair behind Draco’s earlobe, brushing his finger against the delicate skin. Draco gasped. “Do you like it when I call you love?” Draco nodded vigorously. “What about darling? Pretty? Gorgeous?” Harry could feel Draco’s heart rate increase from where he held his wrist. His breathing, short and heavy, punctuated the silence. “Use your words love.” Harry coaxed, bringing up Draco’s hands to leave soft kisses.
“Yes I–” Draco started, his voice breaking “I like it.” Harry hummed in approval. He wanted Draco to tell him what he liked, what he didn’t like, how he wanted it, he wanted to know everything.
“Good, because I love it,” Harry admitted, moving his hands to both sides of Draco’s waist, encircling his small frame. “Love telling you how beautiful you are, how perfect, how good.” Draco’s eyes shone with unfallen tears. Harry continued his slow ministrations, leaving gentle kisses beneath Draco’s earlobe, on the side of his neck, in the dip of his collarbone. Draco’s breath sped up. “Should we move this to the bed?” Harry mumbled against his skin.
“Merlin, yes.” Draco sighed, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck. Harry picked him up as if he weighed nothing and placed him gingerly on the bed. “You don’t have to be so careful with me, you know. I won’t break.” Draco said, fingering a loose thread on the quilt. Harry lifted Draco’s chin towards him. Draco truly was beautiful. The candlelight illuminated his features, his hair falling softly over his gray eyes. A blush marred his skin. He looked at Harry, eyes flickering across his face, searching.
“I know, baby.” Harry relished in Draco’s reaction to that word. “You don’t want me to be careful with you?”
“I…I do but…” Harry waited patiently. “I want this to be good for you too.” Draco finished quietly.
“And you think that that’s what I would want? To be rough with you?”
“I don’t know.” Draco’s eyes danced all over the room. “What do you want?” Harry smiled, simply because his heart was full. Full of wonder for this person, who had endured such cruelty, but still managed to be gentle. Harry was going to give him exactly what he deserved. He crawled on top of the bed, straddling Draco’s hips.
“I want to take my time.” Harry trailed his hand up and down Draco’s side, caressing the bare skin. “I want to make you feel good. I want to tell you how sexy you are, how you drive me crazy, how you make me feel.” Harry pressed his hips downwards, pressing his erection against Draco’s crotch. Draco gasped, arching off of the bed. “Too much?” He whispered, mouth against Draco’s delicate earlobe.
“N-no…I want it.” Harry caressed Draco’s bottom lip with his thumb.
“What do you want, pretty?” Harry crooned.
Draco looked Harry straight in the eye, with his face burning red and said, “I want you to make love to me.”
Oh.
Oh.
Harry’s last remnant of self control snapped. He sat up straight, wanting to take in Draco in all of his glory. From only a few touches, Draco already looked thoroughly debauched. His lips were saturated with color from biting them, his cheeks stained with red. His chest went up and down quickly, matching his elevated heart rate. His small pink nipples stood erect. Just looking at him like this was driving Harry insane.
“You have no idea how ethereal you are.” Harry murmured, tracing Draco’s scars with a featherlight touch. Draco turned his face into a pillow, embarrassed. Harry clicked his tongue. “No hiding. Wanna see you.” Draco slowly turned his face towards Harry, staring at him with a challenge in his eyes. Harry ran his hands up Draco’s chest, stopping to roll Draco’s nipples in between his thumb and forefinger. Draco reacted immediately, making soft panting sounds which went straight to Harry’s dick. So sensitive, Harry thought.
“Ah–don’t tease.” Draco said, impatient.
“You don’t like it?”
“You know I do.”
“What else do you like?”
“I wouldn’t know.” Draco said offhandedly.
“Wait–wait, Draco, what did you mean by that?” Harry pulled them apart, arms around Draco’s waist. Draco looked into his lap, then looked away. He found a new interest in his fingernails.
“I’ve never–” He gestured towards their intertwined bodies, trailing off. “You know.”
“Wait–you’re a virgin?” Harry inquired, a curious look on his face. Draco’s own face flamed burning red. He crossed his arms over his bare chest and pouted.
“Yes, Potter, I am, in fact, a virgin. Not many people are keen to jump into bed with a Death Eater.”
“Former Death Eater.” Harry corrected, cupping Draco’s face in his hands. “And I’m quite keen.” He smirked.
“Yes, well, you’re mad.”
“Yet you fancy me anyways.” Harry smiled a crooked smile. Malfoy attempted to suppress a grin.
“I never claimed to be sane.”