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twisted_miracleTitle: The Love That Has To Keep Shouting Its Name
aka
Hero Harry’s Attention-Seeking Actions a Huge Howl for Help
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curiouslyfic
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By the time they Apparated together to the graceful sweeping steps in front of Gringotts they had packed a small picnic—Draco nibbling throughout—that required no utensils at all other than wine glasses; and Harry had put on his black kilt. Then they’d got the kilt utterly filthy. Then they’d cleaned the kilt’s spring weight wool and the carpet, healed the rug burn on Harry’s knees, and headed out before they could get distracted again.
They spread a small gingham blanket on the grass, to the right of the stone steps that rose dramatically toward the large wooden doors. Anyone passing by could see them, but they shouldn’t be in the way of anyone needing the bank. They had a lovely view of Diagon Alley, if you liked that sort of thing. The day was warm and sunny, with clouds to the west that hinted of rain to come later. But for now, the weather was perfect.
They didn’t bother unpacking the basket. There was little enough in there, and none of it magically shrunk. Draco opened the lid and peered in, smiling. Harry sat carefully. His arse was bare under his kilt and a bit sore after what they’d got up to in his pantry and on his bedroom floor. They’d healed his knees but he’d not felt like doing anything to his abused arse. He didn’t want to give Draco the wrong idea, and—perhaps the notion was ridiculous—he just felt like leaving it as it was after he’d cleaned himself up.
“Can I feed this to you?” Harry asked, putting a sliver of Wensleydale on a whole grain wheat cracker and holding the morsel up to tease.
“Mm,” Draco agreed, licking his finger. “Let me just…” and he held up a wide, pale butter cracker with a smear of caviar on top.
Harry grinned and both men gently placed a cracker into the other’s open mouth. Draco kissed Harry’s withdrawing fingertips. Harry felt his face warm and his cock attempt to notice, but he was too thoroughly satisfied to take that seriously right now.
“Harry Potter?”
They both turned toward the voice and Harry, wand surreptitiously drawn to hand and aimed, relaxed. It was that kid from the other day, the one who’d stared at them while they kissed. He was standing in the middle of the road, oblivious to all but the men picnicking in front of him. He wore shopclerk robes in the colours Harry usually associated with the Apothecary.
“It’s that kid from the other day,” Harry said unhelpfully, nudging Draco's shoulder. “Can I help you?” he called out to the shopclerk, and the boy took a few steps forward, pointing at his own chest and looking overwhelmed and hope-filled.
“What the hell are you doing?” Draco asked him quietly, finishing his wine and putting the glass down inside the picnic basket. He had his own wand in hand now as well, Harry noted distantly. Harry wasn’t nervous. This kid was gay and terrified, Harry could practically smell it.
“Reaching out to help somebody. Go with it,” Harry replied quietly to Draco. Then he smiled encouragingly at the kid and beckoned to him with his empty hand. “Yeah!” he said, trying to sound kind and unthreatening, like he was coaxing something half wild. “Come on over!”
The gangly boy walked around the base of Gringott’s steps and—when Harry motioned and then motioned again—sat down a few steps away from the picnic, looking nervous. “I, er, just got off work,” he said. “And I, er, saw you. Um, two. I saw you two. Again.”
“I thought I recognized you from the other day,” Harry said, smiling. “You were watching us kiss.” He turned and smiled at Draco for a moment, and Draco grinned toothily. When Harry turned back to the kid, he’d gone brick red.
“Hey,” Harry said, feeling more serious. “Is something the matter?”
“Er, no!” the boy spluttered, looking more uncomfortable every moment. He started to stand. “I shouldn’t have bothered you, I…”
“What’s your name?” Draco asked him, but instead of answering the boy turned around. A middle-aged witch, Harry thought she looked like an older, female version of the boy, was barreling right for the three of them and yelping “Sheldon!”
That must be his mum… Harry realized, and wondered what the hell he’d got himself into.
“Are you, er, areyougay?” Sheldon bleated quickly before his mother could hear him. He looked thoroughly miserable, and yet brave enough to approach, brave enough to ask.
Harry leaned forward, taking Draco's hand in his own. “Yes,” he said firmly. He wasn’t quiet. The woman might even have overheard him, he thought, but he wanted to be sure. He waited until she stopped right behind her son before he continued.
“I am gay, Sheldon. I’m homosexual,” Harry reiterated, speaking to Sheldon but wanting Sheldon’s mother to understand even if she didn’t know the modern slang. “This is my new boyfriend.” There now. All that together was oddly put, but surely unmistakable?
Sheldon’s mother stared at Harry for a long moment, looking solemn. Harry looked back at her, right in the eye, wondering what was going on behind the impenetrable eyes, the shock-straight spine, the ordinary robes.
“That’s right,” she finally agreed, standing very stiffly and looking uncomfortable.
“Harry Potter himself is a homosexual.” She spoke so slowly, enunciating everything like she was cutting it with a knife.
“He has a boyfriend.” Was she convincing herself? Showing Sheldon how she felt about it all?
“They are sitting right here in front of the whole world having a picnic on a nice April day.” Her shoulders went down a little, like she was feeling more able to cope. She took another deep breath and looked into Harry’s eyes, nodding slightly.
Harry nodded back, hoping he was reading her right. Draco squeezed his hand.
“And I am sure—” she continued. Her words and tone and bearing were all still forced. Yet at the same time she was clearly proud of her son. Harry thought this had to take a lot of courage; he had a sudden vision of her in Gryffindor robes, “—that your mother and father would have loved you just the same, had they not died at You-Know-Who’s hand all those years ago.”
She turned to Sheldon and her eyes softened considerably. Sheldon turned his face up to his mother’s and looked red and frightened and full of hope. Harry thought it had to hurt, feeling all of that at once.
“Because,” she said, a choked undertone coming into her voice, “good mothers love their sons always, no matter what, and Lily Potter was a good mother.” She’d begun speaking more normally, sounding—not relaxed—but not miserable or stressed, either. “We all know that, don’t we Sheldon?”
She held her hand out and Sheldon stood up and took it for a moment, squeezing before letting go. “Of course, Mum.”
He turned back to Harry and Draco and looked significantly less miserable. “Er,” he began. “Thank you, Mr. Potter. May I introduce my mother? Maruleen Sodaloe. I’m sorry to have bothered you and your, um, boyfriend.”
“Our pleasure,” Draco responded this time. “We knew people would see us here. That’s part of why we came, really. It was nice to meet you, Sheldon, Mrs Sodaloe. Would you like some cheese?”
Sheldon’s mother smiled and seemed about to decline politely when Skeeter and her photographer Apparated onto the bottom step in front of the bank. “Potter!” Skeeter screeched. “Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy shamelessly canoodling again! In front of innocents! John,” she turned to the photographer, who winked at Harry. “Get as many shots as you can before those cowardly poofs Apparate out of here!”
Harry bristled and began to stand, but it was Mrs Sodaloe who rose to the occasion. “Rita Skeeter,” she dripped, her voice icy. “As I live and breathe.”
Skeeter seemed to think she’d found an admirer. She walked up to Sheldon’s mother, hand outstretched. A huge grin splitting her avaricious face. “Fan?” she asked pointedly. “Would you like an autograph?”
“I would not,” Mrs Sodaloe responded, sounding disgusted. Her hands stayed down, pressed flat to her robes. “I think you are the worst example of the worst sort of witch. I’m appalled by the way you’ve treated Mr Potter here.”
“Oh?” Skeeter asked, offended. She put her hand halfway back down, then ran it awkwardly through her hair. “When did you come to this conclusion?”
“Just now,” Sheldon’s mother said, unembarrassed. “When I really understood the whole story.”
Harry grinned and helped Draco stand up. They stood next to one another and let Mrs Sodaloe hand Skeeter her own head.
“I used to enjoy what you wrote. I’ve read both of your books and I’ve been reading your articles for years. I allowed you to titillate and amuse me, somehow never stopping to think about those you hurt and slandered. But now that my own son…. just this afternoon I’ve seen something that helps me see what a destructive, uncaring, force for… for evil you are in our world.”
Skeeter looked shocked and John’s huge smoky flash went off, making them all blink and cough.
“Mr Malfoy, Mr Potter,” Sheldon’s mother said, turning away from Skeeter and her photographer. “If you’ll excuse us? Sheldon and I need to get home to prepare for his little sister’s birthday dinner.”
Sheldon looked chagrinned and stood closer to his mother, wand now visible in his hand. “Floo or Apparate, Mum?” he asked, and when his mother said, “Floo I think. I’m feeling a bit drained all of a sudden,” the two of them headed off toward the Leaky’s public Floo leaving Harry, Draco, Skeeter and John the photographer all staring at each other.
“Er, want some cheese, John?” Harry finally asked, and John grinned widely.
“No thanks, mate,” he said easily. “Got a story to write and file in a hurry. Ta!” And he vanished with a loud crack. Skeeter stared at Harry for a long moment and then she, too, Apparated out loudly, without further comment.
“I can hardly wait to see tomorrow’s paper,” Draco said to Harry, and sat down again. “More wine?”
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Harry woke warm, naked, and as alone as always. His brown and cream wool blanket felt too warm and a little itchy, and he shoved it down, annoyed. It was early. The sun was piercing his eyes even through the long, indigo curtains as it kicked up angrily over the horizon and Harry rolled over and glared at the wall. Draco had refused to kiss him goodbye. Draco had refused to Floo home with him. Draco had Apparated home alone and refused to make another date with him.
Draco was leading him on. Draco was working too hard for a relationship. Draco was worried that being seen with Harry was going to be bad for business. Draco was worried that pretending to date Harry was going to get him killed. Draco could be thinking any, all, or none of those things and Harry wouldn’t even fucking know because Draco wouldn’t even fucking talk to him.
He sighed when he realized he had to piss. I need to stop drinking anything after six in the evening, especially water, he decreed unrealistically as he stomped to the bathroom, scratching his balls and wanting his wand. He pissed voluminously and scratched his balls again and accidentally yanked out a pubic hair with a ragged fingernail. “Ouch!” he yelped, knowing it actually hadn’t hurt that much. He just felt like shouting.
He refused to look at the mirror while he washed his hands. He probably had a spot.
Then he dragged on his dressing gown, fetched his wand by hand, and pounded down the stairs to await Pepper and the mother fucking newspaper.
There were shells in the scrambled eggs.
He broke a plate and his Reparo sucked, leaving an invisible fault line across the middle of the plate that his knife scraped and whined on distractingly.
He’d awakened far too fucking early and would have to wait forever for Pepper to come with the damn newspaper.
Finally Pepper flew in through the window he’d opened for her. He’d been staring out into the softening sunshine for a long, dead space and completely lost track of time.
Pepper happily accepted a treat and a double payment to make up for a missed day, then flew off after he stroked her soft head. He could have petted her for far longer and regretted that she wouldn’t be coming home to him later. He vowed to talk to Corazon about buying Pepper the very next time he could find or make the chance. He’d been without an owl far too long, and Pepper seemed to like him.
He took a deep breath and opened the newspaper up, looking for his own face. He wasn’t on the front page, but he didn’t have to look far to find what he was looking for.
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The Opinions and Editorials page of today’s Daily Prophet is an unusual choice for this newspaper. We present today two differing opinions, and one photograph, regarding an incident that occurred yesterday in front of Gringotts Bank.
“Harry? Harry are you there?”
“Hermione? Is that you? Hang on, I’ll be there in a jiff.”
Harry folded up his newspaper, extricated himself from his favourite reading chair and re-tied his dressing gown to assure himself some modesty. Then he walked around the corner and knelt before his Floo. “Hermione! Long time no see! How are you?”
“It’s only been a few weeks, Harry,” she corrected with a smile. “And I am doing wonderfully! I finally have the grant proposals ready to send to the Ministry and Roger and I hoped you’d come out to the park to celebrate with us? We haven’t told the children yet, but you know they all want to see you.”
Harry felt a small twist in his belly. The park? With children? After those editorials? Hermione’s ideas were still usually better than his, but right now he felt a little raw. “I…” he sat down lotus-style in front of the Floo and rested his chin in his hands.
“Oh, Harry,” Hermione puppy-dogged, “please don’t say no! We want to make an afternoon of it: swimming at the park, picnic on the Hogsmeade common, ice cream at Fortescue’s! Roger thought we could invite Bill and Fleur and their three, Andromeda could bring Teddy along, and with all those adults we should be able to bring all the kids from the Snorphanage….”
Harry tipped his head and looked into Hermione’s eyes for a long moment. They knew each other well enough after all these years. No need to ruin his argument with poorly phrased protests. He just stared at her. It didn’t take long at all before she dropped her gaze. He still remained silent. “Saw right through me, did you?” she finally asked.
“We can’t fix it all. Not just the two of us, Hermione.” She glared at him. “Okay,” he backtracked, “not today we can’t.”
“Harry,” she began, and paused.
“Yes, yes,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Voldemort. I know!”
“I wasn’t going to say it!” She laughed. “Look, I know changing a lot of minds is a completely different exercise, but… that first editorial, Harry, that man had some valid points. Wouldn’t it be nice to take up a cause again? To fight for someone besides yourself?” Her eyebrows were up so high they’d got lost in her hair.
“I know no one ever prosecutes these cases, but as that foul bitch reminded me, it’s still illegal for you and Draco to do… most things. Don’t you want to help change that?”
Harry sighed with frustration.
“You’ve been hiding away from the world, old friend. You’ve been resting for a long time. If you can’t do this for you, can’t you do it for other gay witches and wizards?”
Harry put his head in his hands for a moment and then looked up at Hermione, eyes wet. Gaze naked and unbroken. “Hermione, you have no idea. Ever since I started this thing with Draco, it’s like gay people have been climbing out of the walls to find me. There was this woman at the Prophet, and this kid on Diagon Alley, the one whose mum ended up in the paper? Not to mention this great Muggle I’ve been buying all these flowers from. Plus Draco himself, obviously. And me! And it’s like they all need me to blaze this trail and I thought I wanted to but now I can’t figure out if I should or not anymore! I mean, holy hell!”
He hit the side of the fireplace with his fist and took a deep breath. Hermione motioned at him and he scooted backwards so she could climb through. She sat next to him on the floor and put a hand on one of his knees, but didn’t say a word.
“Rita’s article today was just… it’s like it burned my eyes! And before I did this, it’s like there were gay witches and wizards, and people said nasty things but mostly ignored it, and … like if no one asks then no one has to talk about it and we can all pretend it isn’t there, right? And now I wonder if I’ve gone and ruined the truce or something?”
“Harry,” Hermione sighed and looked at the floor for a moment. “That ‘truce’ you are talking about was destroying people. And you know it, too.”
Harry stared at the floor, hard. Half hoped it would start to smoke so he wouldn’t have to stick with this conversation. “I know things have been bad, Hermione. I know things are worse for most gay people than they are for me, but… and I don’t think being gay is immoral, of course I don’t! Or that it hurts children. Hell, what about the gay children? But… I really was trying to get all that attention she says I want. That’s why Draco and I went out. To get the papers to finally acknowledge that I’m gay.”
“I know, love.” Hermione said softly, and squeezed his knee. “George told me. But that does not invalidate your position. The press were slandering you. You’d run out of options. That doesn’t change the reality of the situation, Harry. You are not normally an attention seeker. They’ve been lying about that since the Tri-Wizard!
“It’s time for the wizarding world to catch up with the Muggle world on this one, Harry, and you can help. You can do so much good here, just by being yourself. Rita Skeeter and her horrible little column today… she’s like the dying whine, the death rattle of something that we should have slaughtered a long time ago.”
Hermione squeezed Harry’s knee and then wormed around to face him. She grabbed his other knee and squeezed them both. “It’s time to be brave again, Harry. Be brave with people who love you. Let us stand with you. All right? Come out with us. We’ll bring our children. And our wands. We’ll make a stand, we’ll eat some ice cream. We might even have some fun.”
Harry stared miserably at Hermione’s left cheek, avoiding her eyes. “Oh what the hell,” he finally said when she refused to take anything back. “If you and Roger think it’s a good idea…” he trailed off, uncertain. Then he smiled and squared his shoulders. “Sure, Hermione. That sounds great. You go home. I’ll be over in a few minutes.”
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Harry stepped out of his Floo. “I really do have the best friends in the world,” he reassured himself quietly as he took his still damp, shrunken swimsuit out of his pocket. He restored it to normal size and hung it on a hook in his mud room. It left a wet patch over Harry’s left hip, where it had been in the pocket of his shorts.
Thinking of messy clothes, Harry remembered how Roger and Hermione’s youngest, Calliope, had insisted upon eating her cone in Harry’s lap. Harry had allowed it of course, even though she wasn’t the most cautious or temperate child.
Harry smiled wryly as he thought about the way Calliope had seen a pretty bird, turned to point and yell, and smacked right into Harry’s left pec with her experimental new ice cream flavour.
Harry looked down and saw that, just as he’d expected, Roger’s attempt to get that stain off Harry’s chest hadn’t worked well. Harry shot his own cleaning spell at it but it didn’t do much good, either. He sighed as he decided he’d have to wash the golden residue out by hand later.
Florian Fortescue’s son and successor had insisted on giving Calliope golden chocolate marshmallow ice cream. He’d said it matched her golden smile.
The trip to the pool had been wonderful. Flying kites had been exhausting but a great deal of energetic fun. And Finglass Fortescue had been perfect when they went to Diagon Alley after they left the pool.
But not everyone they had run into had been perfect or even close to it. Harry’d continually expected a friend to suggest that they take their little party to someone’s home, or into the Muggle world. Anything to prevent them from having to deal with yet another heckler, with yet another rude opinion.
The negative, intrusive attention from strangers had been difficult at times, but his friends had all shielded him, and the children, quite effectively. Andromeda, Bill, Hermione… they’d all presented this completely united front against the few people brave, or aggressive, or stupid enough to approach their group with anything other than unconditional support.
There were the jerks who yelled at them about how Harry was not to be trusted! around the very children the heckler was in danger of frightening.
There were those who’d snorted loudly how Harry should find a wife and make babies, pronto! They clearly didn’t think that helping to run an orphanage or entertain your friends’ children on a beautiful spring day held value.
Then there were the ones who’d gone on about how Harry could never be happy living that selfish, empty existence alone and without meaningful connection. People who couldn’t see that Harry was in the midst of a large group of loving, supportive friends and the children they were raising.
Harry stuck his head in the pantry and frowned at the leftovers waiting there. He was hungry but nothing looked good and he was in no mood to cook. Too tired from throwing kids into the pool off his shoulders, wiping ice cream off faces and helping a kite stay aloft “the Muggle way, Harry! It’s no fun when you use magic on it!”
“May I come through?” he heard softly from his Floo, and turned to see Draco's head, outlined in green and waiting patiently. He stood slowly as he turned. He was glad to see Draco, but he was tired, damp and sticky; he smelled like a swimming pool; he was dressed for a day in the park with twenty kids and seven adults. But who was he kidding? He motioned and Draco vanished for a moment, then step-twisted elegantly out of the fireplace and brushed away a bit of ash from the sleeve of his Muggle suit jacket.
He looked good.
“Hullo, Draco,” he offered, and smiled. He hoped the smile looked more “tired” than “half-hearted,” but he wouldn’t have placed a galleon on the bet.
“‘Where were you all day’ sounds terrible, I know, but… I was wondering, actually. I tried to find you a few times but wasn’t able.” Draco looked a little pink around the edges but didn’t break eye contact.
Harry felt like an arse. “I’m sorry,” he began. “I went out with a group of friends, and I imagine we changed locations enough that no owl could have reached me. I should have let you know my plans—”
Draco made a dismissive gesture but Harry kept speaking. “—after what ended up in the newspaper this morning. I apologize. Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Not yet,” Draco said slowly, and squared his shoulders. “Thank you. I’d like to take you out to dinner. Somewhere extremely private. I know this place in Dublin that would suit. They have an almost exclusively Muggle clientele but there’s Floo access in the empty apartment right above the restaurant. I hope you’ll let me treat you to dinner there? I don’t think we’ll be disturbed.”
Harry looked at Draco and tried to think of something to say. “I smell cruddy,” and “I’m really tired,” and “You were a real arse to me after yesterday’s picnic,” all seemed to strike a sour note, but he couldn’t think of anything that didn’t.
“I need to apologize for yesterday afternoon,” Draco said, and he seemed to have moved his gaze from Harry’s eyes to Harry’s forehead. “My business has been a bit crazy and I was somewhat desperate to get back to it. And actually, I took a rather large step this afternoon to accommodate my new situation.”
Harry tried to make an encouraging motion with his hand, and sat at his kitchen table.
Draco sat near him and folded his hands on top of the table. His back was rigid. He was taller than Harry, even when they were both seated. “You see,” he began slowly,” I was both right and wrong about what our… media campaign would mean for my business. There has been backlash. I’ve had to put a lot more energy into my wards, though they’ve held without flaw or glitch so far. And the mail has tripled and a great deal of it has been… negative.”
Draco paused but Harry couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“But I’ve also had a large increase in orders. Wheezes was just the beginning. Hogwarts tripled their usual monthly stock-up order, rather like you predicted, and that new hand and foot cream I was testing proved a success in the lab. So I sent out a few samples. Three businesses placed orders that were a bit larger than I expected for a trial run of a new product line.”
Harry put his chin in both hands and looked at Draco. “Yeah?” he said to encourage.
“So today, and I’ll admit it was practically on a whim, I interviewed Sheldon Sodaloe for a position as my assistant. He’s been working at the apothecary on Diagon Alley full time since he finished Hogwarts last June, and he had very respectable N.E.W.T.s including an exceeds expectations in potions, which I was quite pleased to see…”
He drifted off but Harry didn’t speak.
“So I expect I shall offer him a position tomorrow. If you think that sounds wise.”
Harry raised an eyebrow.
“Not in the sense that I am asking your permission, of course,” Draco backtracked. “But in the sense that you should tell me if you think it would reflect badly on us, or perhaps even be dangerous to him? And I was hoping we could discuss this over dinner, actually, as I’ve not had a thing since eleven-thirty this morning,” Draco finished, looking a bit glum.
“I was just thinking that I was hungry,” Harry admitted. “But I think I know a more private place than that restaurant in Dublin.”
Draco tipped his head and waited.
“Here.” Harry said. “My own house. Let’s order in some take away, all right? I’m really quite hungry and tired. I don’t feel like dressing up for an evening out. I spent the whole day outside playing with a huge group of overexcited children and watching my amazing friends fight off jerks so I could pretend everything was normal.”
“I, of course, Harry. If that’s what you would like.” Draco paused and Harry tipped his head, wondering who was supposed to do what, now.
Draco seemed to think the ball was in his court. “Can I treat you to Thai Dragon? I like their food a lot, and their service has always been good.”
“Sure,” Harry said, and smiled. He knew that place, too but hadn’t had their food in months. “That sounds great. Order whatever you like, all right?” He stood and Draco stood up as well. Their chairs scraped against the floor in harmony. “I’m easy,” Harry said, thinking of noodles and smiling. He stretched and felt his muscles whine and his spine unkink. “With Asian food I like everything. It’s all good.”
Harry moved toward the stairs. “Do you mind if I shower? I smell like swimming pool and Fortescue’s crazy ice cream.”
Draco tipped his head down and his hair fell over his eyes. Harry wondered if Draco was deliberately hiding his eyes but decided to let it go. He was eager for his shower. “Go right ahead,” Draco said, sounding easy and relaxed. “I’ll just plan out a menu and contact them through your Floo?”
“Sounds perfect,” Harry said, striding toward his staircase. “I’ll hurry.”
Once in his room Harry stripped off his clothes and dumped them on the floor in front of his ensuite. He needed to hurry up, the food would probably be here in fifteen or twenty minutes. He turned on the water and looked into his mirror while he waited for the shower to heat. He popped one small spot and healed the irritation. The shower seemed ready and he stuck in a foot, then stepped in and drenched his hair. Ahh… so good to just relax in the heat and steam….
So… Draco's business was expanding enough that he wanted to hire some help. Perhaps, if Sheldon worked out, Harry would be able to spend more time with Draco. What a fine thing that would be! In theory. Who knew what he and Draco would be like together for more than a few hours, especially when they weren’t “on” for the damned press. Still, Harry knew he wanted to give this a try.
He grabbed his favourite shampoo and put some on his head, letting the water pound on his back. The last time he’d thrown an eight year old off his shoulders into the pool, he might have just hurt himself. He reached around and began to press on his left shoulder. It felt good, but he needed to finish washing his hair. He sighed and went back to that.
It might be odd to have Sheldon at Draco's lab. He’d looked at the two of them with such naked longing that first time. Was he attracted to Draco? Harry snorted at the very question. What gay man wasn’t? And although Harry might not be averse to a threesome, he was not interested in sex with a kid fresh out of Hogwarts. He liked a man with a little experience. So there was that to think about.
He rinsed the shampoo out of his hair and started when he suddenly got cold. Then Draco's hands were rubbing his shoulders and Draco's voice was in his ear. “I’ve ordered the food and paid for it. They’ll just send it through the Floo with warming charms on when it is ready. And you looked like you could use a bit of a rub. Yes?”
Harry let Draco's hands dig deep under his shoulder blades. His head was dangling down and the water felt heavenly. “How did you sneak in here? Did you Silence your feet?”
Draco's chuckle was warm and deep. It went straight to Harry’s cock, which began to stiffen though nothing was touching it other than the shower’s hot spray. “Exactly, Harry. But surely this was the obvious next move? Hell, I thought you were hinting.”
“Subconsciously, perhaps,” Harry admitted. “I was pretty pissed off after you and I parted ways yesterday.”
Draco's fingers were turning Harry into putty everywhere but between his legs, where he was almost done going the other direction.
“I… knew that,” Draco said quietly into Harry’s ear. His thumbs dug deep into Harry’s muscles. “I apologize. That’s really what this is all about. Needing to apologize.”
“You keep that backrub up and I’ll accept your apology without realizing what I’m doing,” Harry joked.
“Feels good, then? “Draco said, and stepped closer, pressing his heavy erection into the crack of Harry’s arse.
“Yeah…” Harry moaned and reached up for the wall.
“I want to be inside you, Harry,” Draco said throatily. He tasted the side of Harry’s neck.
Harry groaned. “Yes,” he agreed, and leaned his head back against Draco's shoulder. Draco's hands came up around Harry’s pecs and curled around Harry’s chest.
Draco bit him lightly, then murmured words Harry could hardly hear. “I haven’t seen you naked before. This is the first time I’ve had all of you, laid out for me like this, my very own feast. I want to eat you up slowly, Harry.”
Harry backed into Draco and rubbed his arse cheeks against Draco's cock. It slipped in between his cheeks, full and upright and teasing. “After dinner then?” Harry asked.
“That too,” Draco agreed and gently turned Harry around and pushed him against the wall. “I need something now.” He smiled, and knelt in front of Harry’s bobbing cock.
“Oh fuck,” Harry moaned as Draco teased at the head of Harry’s dick, fleeting the tip of his tongue in and out of the slit.
“I’ll forgive you the obvious opening, Harry,” Draco said flirtatiously, “and spare you the pun.” Then he pressed his hands on Harry’s hips and began to suck Harry’s cock. First hard and fast, then pausing to quiver his tongue from side to side or just vary the pressure in his mouth before getting back to a purposeful rhythm; sliding his mouth down deep over Harry’s cock and then backing off only to do it again and again and again.
Harry put his hands in Draco's wet hair and opened his eyes to watch as well as feel. He was too tired to hold himself in check, and he was going to start begging for a cock in his arse—or beg to come, and soon. Draco was doing everything right. He could suck a snitch through a garden hose, his mouth and tongue were everywhere. Harry would have sworn under oath the man had Vanished his teeth temporarily—except of course when he would titillate Harry with a hint and then take them away again. His control was overwhelming. But mostly, he was Draco Malfoy, and he was on his knees in the shower, sucking Harry Potter’s cock.
“Can I come in your mouth?” Harry whispered before he whined, wondering if Draco would even hear him over the water. He must have, because he caught Harry’s eye and nodded his head a bit, which looked weird since he had most of Harry’s cock in his face. Harry smiled and Draco's eyes crinkled and then closed. He looked like he loved to suck cock.
“Good,” Harry moaned. “I’m going to.” Draco's mouth was soft and hot and the pressure and sucking were sharply satisfying.
“Good,” Draco repeated around his mouthful. “I’m hungry.” He winked and reached down to pull on Harry’s sac and Harry felt his orgasm building in his belly and balls, threatening to buckle his knees. He grabbed at Draco's hair and Draco moaned around his cock. Moaned, perhaps, at the pain and the possessiveness of the gesture. The thought made Harry thrust into Draco's mouth and his come sprayed down Draco's eager throat, or so it felt.
He moaned, feeling drained as a wineskin after a festival. “Tired,” he confessed, and Draco stood up, cock bouncing between them, licking his lips with a sly, satisfied grin.
“Put on your dressing gown,” Draco said, stepping out of the shower and handing Harry his towel. “I’ll see if dinner is here yet and I’ll bring it upstairs. We can eat in here if that’s all right?”
Harry smiled and started to dry off, then he reached for Draco's unsatisfied erection and stroked it. “Oh yes,” he said, stepping closer to better reach his lover’s skin and hear his reaction, “that’s all right. And when we’ve eaten, we’ll get back to where we left off.”
Harry dried off quickly and put on his dressing gown, as directed. Then he found his extra and laid it out for Draco, who returned quickly with three steaming white cartons and two sets of chopsticks. He put them on the bed between them. “I didn’t want to rummage through your things to find the plates and such,” he said as he got onto the bed, quite close to Harry. Draco’s cock had gone mostly soft and Harry looked at it wistfully just before Draco dragged the dressing gown over his lap like a tablecloth. “I hope this is good enough?”
“It looks fine,” Harry said, and opened a carton of what turned out to be steamed brown rice.
There was pad thai and a curried seafood dish as well, and—leaving the box on the bed—Harry picked up a large prawn with his chopsticks and offered it to Draco.
“For me?” Draco murmured, and ate the thing in one nip, right off Harry’s sticks.
“I like seeing the water dripping out of your hair,” Harry admitted, and reached over with his chopsticks to grab a large haul of noodles and vegetables—stuffing them into his mouth before he could say anything else too sappy. “Mm!” he said around the food, pleased. He swallowed it and smiled. “This pad thai is delicious.”
“Good. What else do you like?” Draco asked, and reclined halfway down, leaning on an elbow.
“The way you suck my cock,” Harry purred.
“Mm,” Draco smiled. “I like that, too.”
Suddenly Harry was ravenous. “I like the things we talked about doing after dinner,” he said, grabbing a carton and digging his chopsticks in.
“Oh?” Draco asked, and grabbed the other carton. “Then please,” he tipped his head toward Harry’s carton. “Eat, by all means.” His smile was feline and Harry grinned to see it. He’d never dreamed when he woke this morning that today could turn out so excellent.
Draco looked remarkably relaxed while he seemingly inhaled his food. Harry knew he didn’t look elegant, but he, too, ate quickly. They kept their conversation minimal but did agree that Sheldon seemed like an excellent choice to assist in Draco's business.
When there were only two prawns and some water chestnuts left in the box of curried seafood, Harry looked over into Draco's carton. It, too, was almost empty. He took the smaller prawn and ate it slowly, trying to get Draco's attention.
It didn’t take long before Draco pouted at him. “Is that the last prawn?”
Harry shook his head no and swallowed the last of it. “No,” he said, and took the remaining, larger prawn up with his chopsticks. It dripped sauce back into the carton so Harry picked that up in his other hand and brought them both to Draco's mouth. “This is.”
“For me?” Draco murmured, looking at the offering.
“Mm hm, but you’d better eat it quick,” Harry teased.
Draco licked at the drop of sauce threatening to escape from the end of the prawn and Harry watched his tongue. “Quickly?” Draco asked in an innocent tone. But he dipped his head underneath and nibbled off just the end of the prawn.
“Oh yes,” Harry agreed as he lay down, the chopsticks still dangling the little treat over Draco's lips. “Or I’ll eat it.”
“I like watching you eat.” Draco smiled. He took another nip off the prawn. There was only one bite left now, as Harry ate prawns, but as Draco was doing it, there were at least two.
“That’s nice,” Harry said slowly, “but I want you to fuck me.”
Draco grinned Cheshire style and Harry thought his whole face might actually disappear behind it.
“And then,” Harry caught Draco's eye, “I want to fuck you.”
Draco's right eyebrow went up but he took the rest of the prawn into his mouth and swallowed it before Harry was aware. Then he plucked the carton from Harry’s hand and tossed it into the little rubbish bin next to Harry’s bedside table.
“What the hell are we waiting for?” he asked, and climbed half over Harry to put the nearly untouched carton of brown rice on the bedside table.
He settled his body over Harry’s, now flat on the bed. The dressing gowns were stretched and tangled between them. Harry wanted them gone.
“For me to open the curtains, I think,” Harry decided out loud, and reached for his wand. “I want to see all of you, too.”
b*e*l*t*a*n*e*e*n*a*t*l*e*b* *b*e*l*t*a*n*e*e*n*a*t*l*e*b*
part 5: http://twistedm.livejournal.com/49315.html
aka
Hero Harry’s Attention-Seeking Actions a Huge Howl for Help
To:
curiouslyfic *b*e*l*t*a*n*e*e*n*a*t*l*e*b*By the time they Apparated together to the graceful sweeping steps in front of Gringotts they had packed a small picnic—Draco nibbling throughout—that required no utensils at all other than wine glasses; and Harry had put on his black kilt. Then they’d got the kilt utterly filthy. Then they’d cleaned the kilt’s spring weight wool and the carpet, healed the rug burn on Harry’s knees, and headed out before they could get distracted again.
They spread a small gingham blanket on the grass, to the right of the stone steps that rose dramatically toward the large wooden doors. Anyone passing by could see them, but they shouldn’t be in the way of anyone needing the bank. They had a lovely view of Diagon Alley, if you liked that sort of thing. The day was warm and sunny, with clouds to the west that hinted of rain to come later. But for now, the weather was perfect.
They didn’t bother unpacking the basket. There was little enough in there, and none of it magically shrunk. Draco opened the lid and peered in, smiling. Harry sat carefully. His arse was bare under his kilt and a bit sore after what they’d got up to in his pantry and on his bedroom floor. They’d healed his knees but he’d not felt like doing anything to his abused arse. He didn’t want to give Draco the wrong idea, and—perhaps the notion was ridiculous—he just felt like leaving it as it was after he’d cleaned himself up.
“Can I feed this to you?” Harry asked, putting a sliver of Wensleydale on a whole grain wheat cracker and holding the morsel up to tease.
“Mm,” Draco agreed, licking his finger. “Let me just…” and he held up a wide, pale butter cracker with a smear of caviar on top.
Harry grinned and both men gently placed a cracker into the other’s open mouth. Draco kissed Harry’s withdrawing fingertips. Harry felt his face warm and his cock attempt to notice, but he was too thoroughly satisfied to take that seriously right now.
“Harry Potter?”
They both turned toward the voice and Harry, wand surreptitiously drawn to hand and aimed, relaxed. It was that kid from the other day, the one who’d stared at them while they kissed. He was standing in the middle of the road, oblivious to all but the men picnicking in front of him. He wore shopclerk robes in the colours Harry usually associated with the Apothecary.
“It’s that kid from the other day,” Harry said unhelpfully, nudging Draco's shoulder. “Can I help you?” he called out to the shopclerk, and the boy took a few steps forward, pointing at his own chest and looking overwhelmed and hope-filled.
“What the hell are you doing?” Draco asked him quietly, finishing his wine and putting the glass down inside the picnic basket. He had his own wand in hand now as well, Harry noted distantly. Harry wasn’t nervous. This kid was gay and terrified, Harry could practically smell it.
“Reaching out to help somebody. Go with it,” Harry replied quietly to Draco. Then he smiled encouragingly at the kid and beckoned to him with his empty hand. “Yeah!” he said, trying to sound kind and unthreatening, like he was coaxing something half wild. “Come on over!”
The gangly boy walked around the base of Gringott’s steps and—when Harry motioned and then motioned again—sat down a few steps away from the picnic, looking nervous. “I, er, just got off work,” he said. “And I, er, saw you. Um, two. I saw you two. Again.”
“I thought I recognized you from the other day,” Harry said, smiling. “You were watching us kiss.” He turned and smiled at Draco for a moment, and Draco grinned toothily. When Harry turned back to the kid, he’d gone brick red.
“Hey,” Harry said, feeling more serious. “Is something the matter?”
“Er, no!” the boy spluttered, looking more uncomfortable every moment. He started to stand. “I shouldn’t have bothered you, I…”
“What’s your name?” Draco asked him, but instead of answering the boy turned around. A middle-aged witch, Harry thought she looked like an older, female version of the boy, was barreling right for the three of them and yelping “Sheldon!”
That must be his mum… Harry realized, and wondered what the hell he’d got himself into.
“Are you, er, areyougay?” Sheldon bleated quickly before his mother could hear him. He looked thoroughly miserable, and yet brave enough to approach, brave enough to ask.
Harry leaned forward, taking Draco's hand in his own. “Yes,” he said firmly. He wasn’t quiet. The woman might even have overheard him, he thought, but he wanted to be sure. He waited until she stopped right behind her son before he continued.
“I am gay, Sheldon. I’m homosexual,” Harry reiterated, speaking to Sheldon but wanting Sheldon’s mother to understand even if she didn’t know the modern slang. “This is my new boyfriend.” There now. All that together was oddly put, but surely unmistakable?
Sheldon’s mother stared at Harry for a long moment, looking solemn. Harry looked back at her, right in the eye, wondering what was going on behind the impenetrable eyes, the shock-straight spine, the ordinary robes.
“That’s right,” she finally agreed, standing very stiffly and looking uncomfortable.
“Harry Potter himself is a homosexual.” She spoke so slowly, enunciating everything like she was cutting it with a knife.
“He has a boyfriend.” Was she convincing herself? Showing Sheldon how she felt about it all?
“They are sitting right here in front of the whole world having a picnic on a nice April day.” Her shoulders went down a little, like she was feeling more able to cope. She took another deep breath and looked into Harry’s eyes, nodding slightly.
Harry nodded back, hoping he was reading her right. Draco squeezed his hand.
“And I am sure—” she continued. Her words and tone and bearing were all still forced. Yet at the same time she was clearly proud of her son. Harry thought this had to take a lot of courage; he had a sudden vision of her in Gryffindor robes, “—that your mother and father would have loved you just the same, had they not died at You-Know-Who’s hand all those years ago.”
She turned to Sheldon and her eyes softened considerably. Sheldon turned his face up to his mother’s and looked red and frightened and full of hope. Harry thought it had to hurt, feeling all of that at once.
“Because,” she said, a choked undertone coming into her voice, “good mothers love their sons always, no matter what, and Lily Potter was a good mother.” She’d begun speaking more normally, sounding—not relaxed—but not miserable or stressed, either. “We all know that, don’t we Sheldon?”
She held her hand out and Sheldon stood up and took it for a moment, squeezing before letting go. “Of course, Mum.”
He turned back to Harry and Draco and looked significantly less miserable. “Er,” he began. “Thank you, Mr. Potter. May I introduce my mother? Maruleen Sodaloe. I’m sorry to have bothered you and your, um, boyfriend.”
“Our pleasure,” Draco responded this time. “We knew people would see us here. That’s part of why we came, really. It was nice to meet you, Sheldon, Mrs Sodaloe. Would you like some cheese?”
Sheldon’s mother smiled and seemed about to decline politely when Skeeter and her photographer Apparated onto the bottom step in front of the bank. “Potter!” Skeeter screeched. “Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy shamelessly canoodling again! In front of innocents! John,” she turned to the photographer, who winked at Harry. “Get as many shots as you can before those cowardly poofs Apparate out of here!”
Harry bristled and began to stand, but it was Mrs Sodaloe who rose to the occasion. “Rita Skeeter,” she dripped, her voice icy. “As I live and breathe.”
Skeeter seemed to think she’d found an admirer. She walked up to Sheldon’s mother, hand outstretched. A huge grin splitting her avaricious face. “Fan?” she asked pointedly. “Would you like an autograph?”
“I would not,” Mrs Sodaloe responded, sounding disgusted. Her hands stayed down, pressed flat to her robes. “I think you are the worst example of the worst sort of witch. I’m appalled by the way you’ve treated Mr Potter here.”
“Oh?” Skeeter asked, offended. She put her hand halfway back down, then ran it awkwardly through her hair. “When did you come to this conclusion?”
“Just now,” Sheldon’s mother said, unembarrassed. “When I really understood the whole story.”
Harry grinned and helped Draco stand up. They stood next to one another and let Mrs Sodaloe hand Skeeter her own head.
“I used to enjoy what you wrote. I’ve read both of your books and I’ve been reading your articles for years. I allowed you to titillate and amuse me, somehow never stopping to think about those you hurt and slandered. But now that my own son…. just this afternoon I’ve seen something that helps me see what a destructive, uncaring, force for… for evil you are in our world.”
Skeeter looked shocked and John’s huge smoky flash went off, making them all blink and cough.
“Mr Malfoy, Mr Potter,” Sheldon’s mother said, turning away from Skeeter and her photographer. “If you’ll excuse us? Sheldon and I need to get home to prepare for his little sister’s birthday dinner.”
Sheldon looked chagrinned and stood closer to his mother, wand now visible in his hand. “Floo or Apparate, Mum?” he asked, and when his mother said, “Floo I think. I’m feeling a bit drained all of a sudden,” the two of them headed off toward the Leaky’s public Floo leaving Harry, Draco, Skeeter and John the photographer all staring at each other.
“Er, want some cheese, John?” Harry finally asked, and John grinned widely.
“No thanks, mate,” he said easily. “Got a story to write and file in a hurry. Ta!” And he vanished with a loud crack. Skeeter stared at Harry for a long moment and then she, too, Apparated out loudly, without further comment.
“I can hardly wait to see tomorrow’s paper,” Draco said to Harry, and sat down again. “More wine?”
*b*e*l*t*a*n*e*e*n*a*t*l*e*b*Harry woke warm, naked, and as alone as always. His brown and cream wool blanket felt too warm and a little itchy, and he shoved it down, annoyed. It was early. The sun was piercing his eyes even through the long, indigo curtains as it kicked up angrily over the horizon and Harry rolled over and glared at the wall. Draco had refused to kiss him goodbye. Draco had refused to Floo home with him. Draco had Apparated home alone and refused to make another date with him.
Draco was leading him on. Draco was working too hard for a relationship. Draco was worried that being seen with Harry was going to be bad for business. Draco was worried that pretending to date Harry was going to get him killed. Draco could be thinking any, all, or none of those things and Harry wouldn’t even fucking know because Draco wouldn’t even fucking talk to him.
He sighed when he realized he had to piss. I need to stop drinking anything after six in the evening, especially water, he decreed unrealistically as he stomped to the bathroom, scratching his balls and wanting his wand. He pissed voluminously and scratched his balls again and accidentally yanked out a pubic hair with a ragged fingernail. “Ouch!” he yelped, knowing it actually hadn’t hurt that much. He just felt like shouting.
He refused to look at the mirror while he washed his hands. He probably had a spot.
Then he dragged on his dressing gown, fetched his wand by hand, and pounded down the stairs to await Pepper and the mother fucking newspaper.
There were shells in the scrambled eggs.
He broke a plate and his Reparo sucked, leaving an invisible fault line across the middle of the plate that his knife scraped and whined on distractingly.
He’d awakened far too fucking early and would have to wait forever for Pepper to come with the damn newspaper.
Finally Pepper flew in through the window he’d opened for her. He’d been staring out into the softening sunshine for a long, dead space and completely lost track of time.
Pepper happily accepted a treat and a double payment to make up for a missed day, then flew off after he stroked her soft head. He could have petted her for far longer and regretted that she wouldn’t be coming home to him later. He vowed to talk to Corazon about buying Pepper the very next time he could find or make the chance. He’d been without an owl far too long, and Pepper seemed to like him.
He took a deep breath and opened the newspaper up, looking for his own face. He wasn’t on the front page, but he didn’t have to look far to find what he was looking for.
The Opinions and Editorials page of today’s Daily Prophet is an unusual choice for this newspaper. We present today two differing opinions, and one photograph, regarding an incident that occurred yesterday in front of Gringotts Bank.
Saturday April 26, 2003 |
|
“Harry? Harry are you there?”
“Hermione? Is that you? Hang on, I’ll be there in a jiff.”
Harry folded up his newspaper, extricated himself from his favourite reading chair and re-tied his dressing gown to assure himself some modesty. Then he walked around the corner and knelt before his Floo. “Hermione! Long time no see! How are you?”
“It’s only been a few weeks, Harry,” she corrected with a smile. “And I am doing wonderfully! I finally have the grant proposals ready to send to the Ministry and Roger and I hoped you’d come out to the park to celebrate with us? We haven’t told the children yet, but you know they all want to see you.”
Harry felt a small twist in his belly. The park? With children? After those editorials? Hermione’s ideas were still usually better than his, but right now he felt a little raw. “I…” he sat down lotus-style in front of the Floo and rested his chin in his hands.
“Oh, Harry,” Hermione puppy-dogged, “please don’t say no! We want to make an afternoon of it: swimming at the park, picnic on the Hogsmeade common, ice cream at Fortescue’s! Roger thought we could invite Bill and Fleur and their three, Andromeda could bring Teddy along, and with all those adults we should be able to bring all the kids from the Snorphanage….”
Harry tipped his head and looked into Hermione’s eyes for a long moment. They knew each other well enough after all these years. No need to ruin his argument with poorly phrased protests. He just stared at her. It didn’t take long at all before she dropped her gaze. He still remained silent. “Saw right through me, did you?” she finally asked.
“We can’t fix it all. Not just the two of us, Hermione.” She glared at him. “Okay,” he backtracked, “not today we can’t.”
“Harry,” she began, and paused.
“Yes, yes,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Voldemort. I know!”
“I wasn’t going to say it!” She laughed. “Look, I know changing a lot of minds is a completely different exercise, but… that first editorial, Harry, that man had some valid points. Wouldn’t it be nice to take up a cause again? To fight for someone besides yourself?” Her eyebrows were up so high they’d got lost in her hair.
“I know no one ever prosecutes these cases, but as that foul bitch reminded me, it’s still illegal for you and Draco to do… most things. Don’t you want to help change that?”
Harry sighed with frustration.
“You’ve been hiding away from the world, old friend. You’ve been resting for a long time. If you can’t do this for you, can’t you do it for other gay witches and wizards?”
Harry put his head in his hands for a moment and then looked up at Hermione, eyes wet. Gaze naked and unbroken. “Hermione, you have no idea. Ever since I started this thing with Draco, it’s like gay people have been climbing out of the walls to find me. There was this woman at the Prophet, and this kid on Diagon Alley, the one whose mum ended up in the paper? Not to mention this great Muggle I’ve been buying all these flowers from. Plus Draco himself, obviously. And me! And it’s like they all need me to blaze this trail and I thought I wanted to but now I can’t figure out if I should or not anymore! I mean, holy hell!”
He hit the side of the fireplace with his fist and took a deep breath. Hermione motioned at him and he scooted backwards so she could climb through. She sat next to him on the floor and put a hand on one of his knees, but didn’t say a word.
“Rita’s article today was just… it’s like it burned my eyes! And before I did this, it’s like there were gay witches and wizards, and people said nasty things but mostly ignored it, and … like if no one asks then no one has to talk about it and we can all pretend it isn’t there, right? And now I wonder if I’ve gone and ruined the truce or something?”
“Harry,” Hermione sighed and looked at the floor for a moment. “That ‘truce’ you are talking about was destroying people. And you know it, too.”
Harry stared at the floor, hard. Half hoped it would start to smoke so he wouldn’t have to stick with this conversation. “I know things have been bad, Hermione. I know things are worse for most gay people than they are for me, but… and I don’t think being gay is immoral, of course I don’t! Or that it hurts children. Hell, what about the gay children? But… I really was trying to get all that attention she says I want. That’s why Draco and I went out. To get the papers to finally acknowledge that I’m gay.”
“I know, love.” Hermione said softly, and squeezed his knee. “George told me. But that does not invalidate your position. The press were slandering you. You’d run out of options. That doesn’t change the reality of the situation, Harry. You are not normally an attention seeker. They’ve been lying about that since the Tri-Wizard!
“It’s time for the wizarding world to catch up with the Muggle world on this one, Harry, and you can help. You can do so much good here, just by being yourself. Rita Skeeter and her horrible little column today… she’s like the dying whine, the death rattle of something that we should have slaughtered a long time ago.”
Hermione squeezed Harry’s knee and then wormed around to face him. She grabbed his other knee and squeezed them both. “It’s time to be brave again, Harry. Be brave with people who love you. Let us stand with you. All right? Come out with us. We’ll bring our children. And our wands. We’ll make a stand, we’ll eat some ice cream. We might even have some fun.”
Harry stared miserably at Hermione’s left cheek, avoiding her eyes. “Oh what the hell,” he finally said when she refused to take anything back. “If you and Roger think it’s a good idea…” he trailed off, uncertain. Then he smiled and squared his shoulders. “Sure, Hermione. That sounds great. You go home. I’ll be over in a few minutes.”
*b*e*l*t*a*n*e*e*n*a*t*l*e*b*Harry stepped out of his Floo. “I really do have the best friends in the world,” he reassured himself quietly as he took his still damp, shrunken swimsuit out of his pocket. He restored it to normal size and hung it on a hook in his mud room. It left a wet patch over Harry’s left hip, where it had been in the pocket of his shorts.
Thinking of messy clothes, Harry remembered how Roger and Hermione’s youngest, Calliope, had insisted upon eating her cone in Harry’s lap. Harry had allowed it of course, even though she wasn’t the most cautious or temperate child.
Harry smiled wryly as he thought about the way Calliope had seen a pretty bird, turned to point and yell, and smacked right into Harry’s left pec with her experimental new ice cream flavour.
Harry looked down and saw that, just as he’d expected, Roger’s attempt to get that stain off Harry’s chest hadn’t worked well. Harry shot his own cleaning spell at it but it didn’t do much good, either. He sighed as he decided he’d have to wash the golden residue out by hand later.
Florian Fortescue’s son and successor had insisted on giving Calliope golden chocolate marshmallow ice cream. He’d said it matched her golden smile.
The trip to the pool had been wonderful. Flying kites had been exhausting but a great deal of energetic fun. And Finglass Fortescue had been perfect when they went to Diagon Alley after they left the pool.
But not everyone they had run into had been perfect or even close to it. Harry’d continually expected a friend to suggest that they take their little party to someone’s home, or into the Muggle world. Anything to prevent them from having to deal with yet another heckler, with yet another rude opinion.
The negative, intrusive attention from strangers had been difficult at times, but his friends had all shielded him, and the children, quite effectively. Andromeda, Bill, Hermione… they’d all presented this completely united front against the few people brave, or aggressive, or stupid enough to approach their group with anything other than unconditional support.
There were the jerks who yelled at them about how Harry was not to be trusted! around the very children the heckler was in danger of frightening.
There were those who’d snorted loudly how Harry should find a wife and make babies, pronto! They clearly didn’t think that helping to run an orphanage or entertain your friends’ children on a beautiful spring day held value.
Then there were the ones who’d gone on about how Harry could never be happy living that selfish, empty existence alone and without meaningful connection. People who couldn’t see that Harry was in the midst of a large group of loving, supportive friends and the children they were raising.
Harry stuck his head in the pantry and frowned at the leftovers waiting there. He was hungry but nothing looked good and he was in no mood to cook. Too tired from throwing kids into the pool off his shoulders, wiping ice cream off faces and helping a kite stay aloft “the Muggle way, Harry! It’s no fun when you use magic on it!”
“May I come through?” he heard softly from his Floo, and turned to see Draco's head, outlined in green and waiting patiently. He stood slowly as he turned. He was glad to see Draco, but he was tired, damp and sticky; he smelled like a swimming pool; he was dressed for a day in the park with twenty kids and seven adults. But who was he kidding? He motioned and Draco vanished for a moment, then step-twisted elegantly out of the fireplace and brushed away a bit of ash from the sleeve of his Muggle suit jacket.
He looked good.
“Hullo, Draco,” he offered, and smiled. He hoped the smile looked more “tired” than “half-hearted,” but he wouldn’t have placed a galleon on the bet.
“‘Where were you all day’ sounds terrible, I know, but… I was wondering, actually. I tried to find you a few times but wasn’t able.” Draco looked a little pink around the edges but didn’t break eye contact.
Harry felt like an arse. “I’m sorry,” he began. “I went out with a group of friends, and I imagine we changed locations enough that no owl could have reached me. I should have let you know my plans—”
Draco made a dismissive gesture but Harry kept speaking. “—after what ended up in the newspaper this morning. I apologize. Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Not yet,” Draco said slowly, and squared his shoulders. “Thank you. I’d like to take you out to dinner. Somewhere extremely private. I know this place in Dublin that would suit. They have an almost exclusively Muggle clientele but there’s Floo access in the empty apartment right above the restaurant. I hope you’ll let me treat you to dinner there? I don’t think we’ll be disturbed.”
Harry looked at Draco and tried to think of something to say. “I smell cruddy,” and “I’m really tired,” and “You were a real arse to me after yesterday’s picnic,” all seemed to strike a sour note, but he couldn’t think of anything that didn’t.
“I need to apologize for yesterday afternoon,” Draco said, and he seemed to have moved his gaze from Harry’s eyes to Harry’s forehead. “My business has been a bit crazy and I was somewhat desperate to get back to it. And actually, I took a rather large step this afternoon to accommodate my new situation.”
Harry tried to make an encouraging motion with his hand, and sat at his kitchen table.
Draco sat near him and folded his hands on top of the table. His back was rigid. He was taller than Harry, even when they were both seated. “You see,” he began slowly,” I was both right and wrong about what our… media campaign would mean for my business. There has been backlash. I’ve had to put a lot more energy into my wards, though they’ve held without flaw or glitch so far. And the mail has tripled and a great deal of it has been… negative.”
Draco paused but Harry couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“But I’ve also had a large increase in orders. Wheezes was just the beginning. Hogwarts tripled their usual monthly stock-up order, rather like you predicted, and that new hand and foot cream I was testing proved a success in the lab. So I sent out a few samples. Three businesses placed orders that were a bit larger than I expected for a trial run of a new product line.”
Harry put his chin in both hands and looked at Draco. “Yeah?” he said to encourage.
“So today, and I’ll admit it was practically on a whim, I interviewed Sheldon Sodaloe for a position as my assistant. He’s been working at the apothecary on Diagon Alley full time since he finished Hogwarts last June, and he had very respectable N.E.W.T.s including an exceeds expectations in potions, which I was quite pleased to see…”
He drifted off but Harry didn’t speak.
“So I expect I shall offer him a position tomorrow. If you think that sounds wise.”
Harry raised an eyebrow.
“Not in the sense that I am asking your permission, of course,” Draco backtracked. “But in the sense that you should tell me if you think it would reflect badly on us, or perhaps even be dangerous to him? And I was hoping we could discuss this over dinner, actually, as I’ve not had a thing since eleven-thirty this morning,” Draco finished, looking a bit glum.
“I was just thinking that I was hungry,” Harry admitted. “But I think I know a more private place than that restaurant in Dublin.”
Draco tipped his head and waited.
“Here.” Harry said. “My own house. Let’s order in some take away, all right? I’m really quite hungry and tired. I don’t feel like dressing up for an evening out. I spent the whole day outside playing with a huge group of overexcited children and watching my amazing friends fight off jerks so I could pretend everything was normal.”
“I, of course, Harry. If that’s what you would like.” Draco paused and Harry tipped his head, wondering who was supposed to do what, now.
Draco seemed to think the ball was in his court. “Can I treat you to Thai Dragon? I like their food a lot, and their service has always been good.”
“Sure,” Harry said, and smiled. He knew that place, too but hadn’t had their food in months. “That sounds great. Order whatever you like, all right?” He stood and Draco stood up as well. Their chairs scraped against the floor in harmony. “I’m easy,” Harry said, thinking of noodles and smiling. He stretched and felt his muscles whine and his spine unkink. “With Asian food I like everything. It’s all good.”
Harry moved toward the stairs. “Do you mind if I shower? I smell like swimming pool and Fortescue’s crazy ice cream.”
Draco tipped his head down and his hair fell over his eyes. Harry wondered if Draco was deliberately hiding his eyes but decided to let it go. He was eager for his shower. “Go right ahead,” Draco said, sounding easy and relaxed. “I’ll just plan out a menu and contact them through your Floo?”
“Sounds perfect,” Harry said, striding toward his staircase. “I’ll hurry.”
Once in his room Harry stripped off his clothes and dumped them on the floor in front of his ensuite. He needed to hurry up, the food would probably be here in fifteen or twenty minutes. He turned on the water and looked into his mirror while he waited for the shower to heat. He popped one small spot and healed the irritation. The shower seemed ready and he stuck in a foot, then stepped in and drenched his hair. Ahh… so good to just relax in the heat and steam….
So… Draco's business was expanding enough that he wanted to hire some help. Perhaps, if Sheldon worked out, Harry would be able to spend more time with Draco. What a fine thing that would be! In theory. Who knew what he and Draco would be like together for more than a few hours, especially when they weren’t “on” for the damned press. Still, Harry knew he wanted to give this a try.
He grabbed his favourite shampoo and put some on his head, letting the water pound on his back. The last time he’d thrown an eight year old off his shoulders into the pool, he might have just hurt himself. He reached around and began to press on his left shoulder. It felt good, but he needed to finish washing his hair. He sighed and went back to that.
It might be odd to have Sheldon at Draco's lab. He’d looked at the two of them with such naked longing that first time. Was he attracted to Draco? Harry snorted at the very question. What gay man wasn’t? And although Harry might not be averse to a threesome, he was not interested in sex with a kid fresh out of Hogwarts. He liked a man with a little experience. So there was that to think about.
He rinsed the shampoo out of his hair and started when he suddenly got cold. Then Draco's hands were rubbing his shoulders and Draco's voice was in his ear. “I’ve ordered the food and paid for it. They’ll just send it through the Floo with warming charms on when it is ready. And you looked like you could use a bit of a rub. Yes?”
Harry let Draco's hands dig deep under his shoulder blades. His head was dangling down and the water felt heavenly. “How did you sneak in here? Did you Silence your feet?”
Draco's chuckle was warm and deep. It went straight to Harry’s cock, which began to stiffen though nothing was touching it other than the shower’s hot spray. “Exactly, Harry. But surely this was the obvious next move? Hell, I thought you were hinting.”
“Subconsciously, perhaps,” Harry admitted. “I was pretty pissed off after you and I parted ways yesterday.”
Draco's fingers were turning Harry into putty everywhere but between his legs, where he was almost done going the other direction.
“I… knew that,” Draco said quietly into Harry’s ear. His thumbs dug deep into Harry’s muscles. “I apologize. That’s really what this is all about. Needing to apologize.”
“You keep that backrub up and I’ll accept your apology without realizing what I’m doing,” Harry joked.
“Feels good, then? “Draco said, and stepped closer, pressing his heavy erection into the crack of Harry’s arse.
“Yeah…” Harry moaned and reached up for the wall.
“I want to be inside you, Harry,” Draco said throatily. He tasted the side of Harry’s neck.
Harry groaned. “Yes,” he agreed, and leaned his head back against Draco's shoulder. Draco's hands came up around Harry’s pecs and curled around Harry’s chest.
Draco bit him lightly, then murmured words Harry could hardly hear. “I haven’t seen you naked before. This is the first time I’ve had all of you, laid out for me like this, my very own feast. I want to eat you up slowly, Harry.”
Harry backed into Draco and rubbed his arse cheeks against Draco's cock. It slipped in between his cheeks, full and upright and teasing. “After dinner then?” Harry asked.
“That too,” Draco agreed and gently turned Harry around and pushed him against the wall. “I need something now.” He smiled, and knelt in front of Harry’s bobbing cock.
“Oh fuck,” Harry moaned as Draco teased at the head of Harry’s dick, fleeting the tip of his tongue in and out of the slit.
“I’ll forgive you the obvious opening, Harry,” Draco said flirtatiously, “and spare you the pun.” Then he pressed his hands on Harry’s hips and began to suck Harry’s cock. First hard and fast, then pausing to quiver his tongue from side to side or just vary the pressure in his mouth before getting back to a purposeful rhythm; sliding his mouth down deep over Harry’s cock and then backing off only to do it again and again and again.
Harry put his hands in Draco's wet hair and opened his eyes to watch as well as feel. He was too tired to hold himself in check, and he was going to start begging for a cock in his arse—or beg to come, and soon. Draco was doing everything right. He could suck a snitch through a garden hose, his mouth and tongue were everywhere. Harry would have sworn under oath the man had Vanished his teeth temporarily—except of course when he would titillate Harry with a hint and then take them away again. His control was overwhelming. But mostly, he was Draco Malfoy, and he was on his knees in the shower, sucking Harry Potter’s cock.
“Can I come in your mouth?” Harry whispered before he whined, wondering if Draco would even hear him over the water. He must have, because he caught Harry’s eye and nodded his head a bit, which looked weird since he had most of Harry’s cock in his face. Harry smiled and Draco's eyes crinkled and then closed. He looked like he loved to suck cock.
“Good,” Harry moaned. “I’m going to.” Draco's mouth was soft and hot and the pressure and sucking were sharply satisfying.
“Good,” Draco repeated around his mouthful. “I’m hungry.” He winked and reached down to pull on Harry’s sac and Harry felt his orgasm building in his belly and balls, threatening to buckle his knees. He grabbed at Draco's hair and Draco moaned around his cock. Moaned, perhaps, at the pain and the possessiveness of the gesture. The thought made Harry thrust into Draco's mouth and his come sprayed down Draco's eager throat, or so it felt.
He moaned, feeling drained as a wineskin after a festival. “Tired,” he confessed, and Draco stood up, cock bouncing between them, licking his lips with a sly, satisfied grin.
“Put on your dressing gown,” Draco said, stepping out of the shower and handing Harry his towel. “I’ll see if dinner is here yet and I’ll bring it upstairs. We can eat in here if that’s all right?”
Harry smiled and started to dry off, then he reached for Draco's unsatisfied erection and stroked it. “Oh yes,” he said, stepping closer to better reach his lover’s skin and hear his reaction, “that’s all right. And when we’ve eaten, we’ll get back to where we left off.”
Harry dried off quickly and put on his dressing gown, as directed. Then he found his extra and laid it out for Draco, who returned quickly with three steaming white cartons and two sets of chopsticks. He put them on the bed between them. “I didn’t want to rummage through your things to find the plates and such,” he said as he got onto the bed, quite close to Harry. Draco’s cock had gone mostly soft and Harry looked at it wistfully just before Draco dragged the dressing gown over his lap like a tablecloth. “I hope this is good enough?”
“It looks fine,” Harry said, and opened a carton of what turned out to be steamed brown rice.
There was pad thai and a curried seafood dish as well, and—leaving the box on the bed—Harry picked up a large prawn with his chopsticks and offered it to Draco.
“For me?” Draco murmured, and ate the thing in one nip, right off Harry’s sticks.
“I like seeing the water dripping out of your hair,” Harry admitted, and reached over with his chopsticks to grab a large haul of noodles and vegetables—stuffing them into his mouth before he could say anything else too sappy. “Mm!” he said around the food, pleased. He swallowed it and smiled. “This pad thai is delicious.”
“Good. What else do you like?” Draco asked, and reclined halfway down, leaning on an elbow.
“The way you suck my cock,” Harry purred.
“Mm,” Draco smiled. “I like that, too.”
Suddenly Harry was ravenous. “I like the things we talked about doing after dinner,” he said, grabbing a carton and digging his chopsticks in.
“Oh?” Draco asked, and grabbed the other carton. “Then please,” he tipped his head toward Harry’s carton. “Eat, by all means.” His smile was feline and Harry grinned to see it. He’d never dreamed when he woke this morning that today could turn out so excellent.
Draco looked remarkably relaxed while he seemingly inhaled his food. Harry knew he didn’t look elegant, but he, too, ate quickly. They kept their conversation minimal but did agree that Sheldon seemed like an excellent choice to assist in Draco's business.
When there were only two prawns and some water chestnuts left in the box of curried seafood, Harry looked over into Draco's carton. It, too, was almost empty. He took the smaller prawn and ate it slowly, trying to get Draco's attention.
It didn’t take long before Draco pouted at him. “Is that the last prawn?”
Harry shook his head no and swallowed the last of it. “No,” he said, and took the remaining, larger prawn up with his chopsticks. It dripped sauce back into the carton so Harry picked that up in his other hand and brought them both to Draco's mouth. “This is.”
“For me?” Draco murmured, looking at the offering.
“Mm hm, but you’d better eat it quick,” Harry teased.
Draco licked at the drop of sauce threatening to escape from the end of the prawn and Harry watched his tongue. “Quickly?” Draco asked in an innocent tone. But he dipped his head underneath and nibbled off just the end of the prawn.
“Oh yes,” Harry agreed as he lay down, the chopsticks still dangling the little treat over Draco's lips. “Or I’ll eat it.”
“I like watching you eat.” Draco smiled. He took another nip off the prawn. There was only one bite left now, as Harry ate prawns, but as Draco was doing it, there were at least two.
“That’s nice,” Harry said slowly, “but I want you to fuck me.”
Draco grinned Cheshire style and Harry thought his whole face might actually disappear behind it.
“And then,” Harry caught Draco's eye, “I want to fuck you.”
Draco's right eyebrow went up but he took the rest of the prawn into his mouth and swallowed it before Harry was aware. Then he plucked the carton from Harry’s hand and tossed it into the little rubbish bin next to Harry’s bedside table.
“What the hell are we waiting for?” he asked, and climbed half over Harry to put the nearly untouched carton of brown rice on the bedside table.
He settled his body over Harry’s, now flat on the bed. The dressing gowns were stretched and tangled between them. Harry wanted them gone.
“For me to open the curtains, I think,” Harry decided out loud, and reached for his wand. “I want to see all of you, too.”
*b*e*l*t*a*n*e*e*n*a*t*l*e*b*part 5: http://twistedm.livejournal.com/49315.html
