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lomonaaerenDo not start reading here. This is the last post of three in a massive one-shot. My apologies for dumping this all over your friendslist.
Draco stirred slowly. He had been having a most interesting and involving dream about Potter, and he saw no reason to leave it. But an intrusive squeaking sounded in his ears no matter how he tried to barricade himself against it, and in the end he opened his eyes and sat up in bed.
One of his house-elves bowed to him, clutching its ears. “Roddy is sorry to be disturbing Master Malfoy,” it squeaked. “But Master Malfoy left orders that Master Harry Potter was to be admitted no matter the hour, and—”
“Yes, Roddy, that’s fine,” Draco said absently, with a glance out the window. From the darkness, it was as late as it felt. He shook his head and Summoned the green silk dressing gown that he’d left draped over the chair when he went to sleep. “Escort Potter to the Golden Room and keep him there until I arrive. Offer him refreshments if he asks for them.”
Roddy bowed and vanished. Draco took his time adjusting his robe and brushing his hair in the mirror. Let Potter stew a bit. It was an ample reward for interrupting Draco’s rest.
Then he realized that he was practically preening for Potter. He growled and took the steps down to the Golden Room, on the second floor, two at a time.
Once, the Golden Room had been where the Lord of the Manor would entertain a select circle of guests. Now Draco rarely used it, and his mother, who spent most of her time traveling, saw no reason to, but the house-elves kept it up anyway. The walls had the soft sheen of pure gold, and the mirrors inset exactly halfway between floor and ceiling on all four sides helped multiply the impression.
Potter was on his feet instead of in one of the comfortable chairs before the fireplace, staring at the sole portrait in the room. It was more of a portrait frame, as Lucius’s image preferred to accompany Narcissa in a portable picture. Nonetheless, Potter seemed fascinated by the bookshelves, blazing fire, sleek shining tables, and plate of heaped fruit just visible in the background.
“Can I help you?” Draco asked, stepping through the door. Potter stiffened, but didn’t move at first. Instead, he traced the wall beside the frame with a finger. He was wise enough not to touch the frame itself, Draco noted.
“You can tell me why you decided to intrude into my life and make a mess of it.” Potter’s voice was faint and far away.
“I never could have if you didn’t have your own private doubts,” Draco replied calmly. He kept his voice soft. That would disguise his eagerness.
Potter dropped his hand back to his side and then spun around to scowl at him. “Everything was going fine,” he snapped. “My biggest problem in life was choosing a ring that would suit Ginny until you had to interfere.”
“And I repeat that that’s not true,” Draco said. His heart was in his throat at the sight of the way Potter’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t intend to show it. “The words I spoke to you couldn’t have made an impact unless you let them.”
“Hermione says things like that, too, and they are such bollocks.” Potter stepped towards him. “I want to know what you’re going to do to fix it.”
“How can I unless I know what the problem is?” Draco cocked his head to the side and ran his eyes appreciatively over Potter’s body. From the way Potter flushed, he’d caught Draco at it.
“Ginny heard us talking.” Potter’s voice was flat and ugly. “She said that I obviously never loved her, or I would have spoken up and defended her when we talked this afternoon more than I did. She says that if I want you as a lover and to be free of the marriage, then that’s fine, but I’m not going to have both you and her.”
Draco felt like laughing. He was flying, light and free. Weasley had done exactly as he had expected her to. She wasn’t, after all, secure enough in Potter’s affections to view a challenge with ridicule. She’d let her temper get the better of her, and in the end, she would be the one to suffer for it.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment of consideration. “You said that I had to fix the problem, but I don’t see a problem here. Only something that’s finally happening the way it was supposed to after long years of meddling.”
Potter sprang forwards and grabbed Draco, pinning his shoulders to the wall. Draco wriggled so that Potter would grip and hold him tighter. God, this was exciting. He wanted to know what it was like to lie under Potter and watch that face flushing and changing from one emotion to the other. He hoped it wouldn’t be long before he could find out.
“You can’t tell me that you’ve wanted me for years, Malfoy.” Potter’s hiss was long and deadly.
“Of course not,” Draco said. “But I wanted you as a friend, and I couldn’t be that as long as the Weasleys held you captive. And then recently, I decided I wanted you. That probably would have happened a long time ago, too, without Weasley in the picture.”
“This is mad.” Potter let his head fall forwards, until only a few breaths of space separated his scar and Draco’s shoulder. “You don’t—you can’t just decide that you want me out of thin air and start trying to take me, Malfoy.”
“Mmm.” Draco sniffed. The scent of Potter’s skin was sweaty and salty and interesting. “That’s where you’re wrong, Potter. I do want you, and I’m not overly concerned about how or why. I do what I like because it seems good to me, and only hold off if it could have negative consequences that outweigh the pleasure. I think most people are the same way. It’s only you noble heroes who seek out all these metaphysical reasons and try to lay down paths of principle that you don’t want anyone to deviate from. If you let yourself live a little more, pursue what you wanted and not what you think you ought to want, then maybe you would know more about it and also be able to choose what you do desire.”
Potter stared at him. Draco wanted to lick the skin beneath his eyes, but he was still too far away from Potter’s face for that.
“You’re lying,” Potter whispered. “You said you went after me to get revenge on the Weasleys. You said it.”
“At first, yes,” Draco said. “And then I wanted you. And now I can have you. I’m not inclined to question things that are going the way I want.” He opened his mouth and waited, because surely not even someone as dim as Potter could mistake the invitation to a kiss that Draco was offering.
Potter released him and stepped away. Draco sighed as his heels jolted on the floor. It seemed he would have to wait for a while yet, and that was horrible.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Potter whispered. “How can I be so unsure about my marriage with Ginny? I was in love with her. It was what I wanted.”
“And now it’s not,” Draco said. He couldn’t understand why this was so hard. Weasley had sent him away herself. What more warrant to do as he liked did even someone like Potter need?
Potter stared back at him doubtfully. “I’m not bent,” he said. “I don’t know if I want you.”
“Then figure it out,” Draco said. “Though I think it says something that you keep coming back to me in spite of everything, and that you didn’t run in horror when I first told you what I desired.” He edged closer, while Potter stood there with wide eyes that only saw the inside of himself.
“But there’s no reason for it,” he muttered again.
“There doesn’t have to be,” Draco responded, and reached out to put his hand on Potter’s shoulder.
Potter shuddered beneath the touch, but he still acted as if he was seeing something other than what was in front of him. He reached up and covered Draco’s hand with his own. Draco waited for him to push it away or clasp it tighter. He did neither, only stood there looking at Draco, his forehead wrinkled slightly.
“You need something to change your mind,” Draco said, his voice shaking with eagerness. He didn’t care. Let Potter think he was weak. He didn’t care. He had forgotten—or perhaps he’d never known—what it was like to be this close to someone he truly wanted, the heat between them making the small hairs on his arms rise, their eyes larger than the rest of the world. “You need something to help you make your decision.”
“Yes, maybe—”
From the tone of Potter’s voice, Draco just knew he was about to start another rambling soliloquy. He didn’t think he could take that. He leaned forwards, lifted his other hand into place on Potter’s other shoulder, and pressed his lips firmly against his.
Potter stood utterly still. Then his eyes shut and he hummed in the back of his throat. Draco chuckled in triumph and eased forwards, swirling his tongue deeper. There was no need for wild plunges and thrusts. (At least, not yet). Let Potter have the time to ease slowly into a new experience.
Potter’s mouth tasted dusky. There was no other way that Draco could describe it. It made him think of twilight and stars and bonfires burning on the horizon as evening came down, which was strange. The fire in Potter’s eyes so often reminded him of full sunlight, and Potter himself seemed to belong to the day.
Although, what if that was only what everyone else thought? What if Draco had been taken in the by the same mask that Potter wore around his friends all the time, the one that said he was fine with the Weasels calling him stupid?
A tunnel deeper than Potter’s mouth opened ahead of him. Draco swallowed and sighed as his tongue moved under Potter’s. So many things to find out. So many things to learn. Right now, he wanted to know if Potter liked to have his cheeks licked or not—
Potter’s hands shot out, gripping Draco’s shoulders and holding him still. Draco drew his head back slowly, to show Potter that he wouldn’t be hurried by someone who couldn’t even admit his own desires yet. Then he opened his eyes with an equally slow flutter and handed Potter a languorous sigh.
Potter wasn’t panting, but only because his breaths were too deep for that. Controlled, Draco thought with a slight smile. He looked at Potter’s red cheeks and shaking hands and trembling jaw, and thought he had never seen a man fighting so hard to restrain himself.
“I think that your body’s decided before your mind,” Draco said brightly.
Potter shoved him then. Draco staggered a few steps, but managed to retain his smile. If Potter had really been disgusted with him, Draco knew he would have fallen. He licked his lips and inclined his head. “Are you going to listen to it?” he added.
Potter stood there with his arms down at his sides, shoulders bunched as if he intended to drive his hands into stone. Then he turned and stalked towards the door. Draco raised a curious eyebrow. He hadn’t hurt him. There was no reason for him to walk that stiffly—
Unless he was hunching over something inconvenient between his legs. Draco laughed quietly.
Potter turned around and leaned his back against the door as though he needed it to support him. “Bastard,” he whispered.
“I’ve never denied that label except in the technical sense, since I was born after my parents’ marriage,” Draco replied, and leaned against the wall. Potter’s eyes narrowed and darkened, both at once. Good. Let them. After a kiss like that, Draco wasn’t averse to showing he was affected, too. “You, on the other hand, still haven’t done anything that would show you don’t deserve the label of coward.”
Potter’s mouth fell open. “You—you say things like that to me,” he stuttered. “And th-then you expect me to come back to you?”
“Yes,” Draco said. “Why not? I’m the only one who can teach you what you want.”
Potter rubbed his face with one hand. “It doesn’t make sense, you know.”
“It’s not sense that we need to make.” Draco let himself look down, and yes, there was the thick bulge in Potter’s trousers that he had only suspected the existence of until this moment. He looked back up and didn’t bother to hide the way his mouth was watering and his nostrils flaring as if he’d just sniffed something spicy.
“I don’t—” Potter muttered.
“You say that a lot,” Draco told him. “Why not try beginning a sentence with I do, and see what happens?”
Dark laughter flashed across Potter’s face for a moment. “That’s what I was planning on, and then you managed to dissuade me.”
Draco smiled back. “Then try starting it with I do want,” he suggested softly, and stepped forwards.
Potter drew himself up at once. “I need to see,” he said, and stepped out of the Golden Room. Draco summoned Roddy with a clap and told him to escort Potter out.
He went back to bed with a smile on his face and had one of the longest and most luxurious wanks he’d ever enjoyed. He fell asleep still smiling.
Potter had said I need to see, not I need to think.
*
Ginny stood with her arms wrapped around herself and her head tilted back. Since Harry walked out the door, she hadn’t moved from her post near the bedroom.
She couldn’t remember most of the conversation that had resulted in Harry leaving. There were so many words there, explanations of broken promises and how she wouldn’t be Harry’s bit on the side.
Harry had listened with blinking eyes, and only once or twice flushed and tried to defend himself. Ginny would remember that, and what it meant. He knew he had been at fault. He would have protested furiously if he felt he wasn’t.
What mystified her was why he hadn’t tried harder to prevent himself from being at fault in the first place.
We loved each other, Ginny thought sadly, and finally stood back up and lowered her arms. She no longer felt as though she was going to shake apart like a badly-built house in an earthquake. I know we did. What went wrong? Love is supposed to last, like Hermione and Ron’s, not fall apart.
Someone knocked. Ginny looked up with her heart pounding triple-time, and then told herself it wouldn’t be Harry. Of course not. He had no reason to come back. He had left for good, and Ginny fully expected to receive an owl in a few days asking for permission to come to the flat and clear his things out.
There’s nothing he could say that would make me change my mind, so he has no reason to come back.
“Come in,” she called.
The door opened, and Harry stepped in and shut it behind him.
His face was many things—thoughtful and grave and a little frightened—but it wasn’t sorry. Ginny narrowed her eyes and stepped towards him. Harry looked up and gave a little nod.
Like she was a problem he needed to deal with before he moved on. Like she wasn’t a person, like she didn’t matter.
“Why are you here?” Ginny asked. She was proud of how strong her voice was, how flat, like iron. She was a paragon of strength. She could stand on her own, something she thought now Harry probably forgot as often as her parents did.
He didn’t try to get them to let me fight in the war. I should have remembered that before. If he wants to chase after a man, he’s welcome to it, but he never should have pretended that he wanted a strong woman in that case.
“Because there was something I needed to see,” Harry responded. His voice was as quiet as hers, but more curious than anything else. He stepped towards her.
Ginny lifted her wand.
Harry halted and raised an eyebrow. “I only wanted to kiss you one more time,” he said. “To see if there was any passion left. I thought I loved you, but—it went away so quickly. I’m wondering now if it was only passion.”
Ginny flinched before she could stop herself, and she flinched with her whole body, so there was no chance of hiding it from Harry. She had never expected him to say anything so utterly—cold.
For her to think about the destruction of their love was one thing. But for Harry to discuss it was another, and he was doing it academically, the way Hermione would talk about the laws that governed house-elves.
No, Ginny thought then. Hermione would talk about laws that restricted house-elves more passionately.
“I won’t be used like that,” she said.
“All right,” Harry said. “Then I reckon I’ll be a bit uncertain, but probably not a lot.” There was a childish expression on his face now. He looked as though someone had offered him an early birthday present. He turned and waved his wand. Ginny tensed, but it turned out that he was only Summoning his clothes and trunk and broom and other things. He started filling the trunk with the clothes while he shrank the broom and tucked it into his pocket.
“What are you doing?” Ginny wished she could raise her voice, but her own disbelief kept it low.
“Going after what I want, for once,” Harry said. He smiled at her. Ginny blinked. It wasn’t a smile she had ever seen him wear, except maybe immediately after the war. Some great burden had been lifted from his shoulders and he was the better for its removal, said the grin. “I thought I couldn’t want it because, well, why? But I reckon desire and lust don’t always need reasons. We’ll see how this goes. I’ve walked away from one relationship now. I can do it again if I need to.
“But I want to try. I think it could be something wonderful.” Harry finished packing the trunk and shrank that, too, hefting it thoughtfully in his hand. “There’s no reason you can’t back away,” he whispered to himself, “as long as you haven’t actually walked off the cliff.”
Ginny took a step forwards. She had figured out what he was talking about now, and she couldn’t let it pass.
“This is ridiculous,” she said. “Are you trying to tell me that you’ve always been bent, and just never thought to let me know? Are you trying to tell me that you’ll give up everything you’ve had with me and your best friends and your surrogate family just because you have some exaggerated false sense of betrayal?”
Harry looked up at her, and his eyes were mercilessly clear. He moved towards her. Ginny froze. His magic made the walls of the room seem to dance. She knew it wasn’t really happening, but she also couldn’t overcome her instinctive dread of his power. He could hurt her. He hadn’t done it yet, but he could.
“I don’t know if I’m bent,” Harry said, “or straight, or maybe a corkscrew.” His voice was deep and calm, but Ginny heard a pulse of building excitement far below the surface that made her wary. He could still give in any moment—and this isn’t a fire we share, like in bed. It’s one only he has. “But I don’t think I have to choose anymore in the absence of information.
“Just like I don’t have to walk away from my friends and family because I’m leaving you.” He raised one eyebrow and surveyed her with a look of pity, and Ginny’s temper felt as if it were boiling her brain. “They can choose if they want to associate with me. Maybe they won’t. But if they do, then I don’t have to blame myself.
“And all the things you said about me down the years—” Harry shook his head. “I just now realized that I don’t have to put up with them to keep people’s friendship. I can be Ron’s friend and still insist on him respecting me. I can be Hermione’s friend and not have to put up with her lectures. I don’t scold them or disparage them all the time. They can bloody well start doing the same for me.”
Ginny lifted her wand, because she couldn’t think of a better response. All Harry did and thought about was leaving her out. He didn’t want her. He had just been pretending. If he wasn’t, he never could have fallen out of love with her so quickly.
She launched the Bat-Bogey Hex at him.
“Protego,” Harry said calmly, and the shimmering Shield Charm that formed in front of him bounced the hex almost straight back at her. Ginny managed to dodge. Harry shook his head, said, “That was mildly pathetic,” and then left.
Long after the echoes of the door shutting had faded, Ginny stood with her head bowed and her hands clenched, clinging to her strength.
Harry wasn’t worth weeping over.
*
This time, Roddy didn’t have to squeak long in distress before Draco awoke. His dreams had been shallow and restless without Potter’s presence, and he opened his eyes and sat up knowing the house-elf’s message before he gave it.
“Master Harry Potter is here!” Roddy wailed, trying to stomp on his own feet. “He demands entrance to Master Draco’s bedroom immediately!”
“Let him in.” Draco started to reach for the dressing gown, and then paused, smiled, and leaned back into the pillows. He saw no reason to pick up something that would almost certainly be torn off him again.
Roddy stared at Draco in disbelief, his eyes popping with an audible sound. “But, Master Draco…” He glanced around as though someone might hear him, stole closer, and whispered, “Master Harry Potter is to be ravishing Master Draco.”
“God, I hope so,” Draco said fervently.
Roddy looked at him with an open mouth some more, then bowed and vanished. Draco drew back the covers and spread his legs lazily. He wasn’t sure how long he’d slept, but it was long enough to restore interest to his cock. He wanted the sight to hit Potter when he stepped through the door.
It did, but it didn’t stop him, the way Draco had planned. Instead, Potter slid closer to the bed, his shoulders and hips rolling, his eyes wide and dark and greedy and relentless.
“You look better than I imagined,” Potter breathed, and pulled his shirt over his head, letting it fall to the floor. He wasn’t wearing robes, which Draco approved of. Less clothing to get in the war and make Potter hesitate.
“No last-minute qualms?” Draco taunted, letting his head fall back on the pillow so his hair spread around his face. Plenty of lovers had told him they found him irresistible like that, especially with the color that his blood lent his pale cheeks and chest, and the appreciation in Potter’s gaze deepened immediately. He looked pretty damn good with his bare muscles flushed, Draco noted.
“None,” Potter answered calmly, and pulled off his trousers. He had unfairly got rid of his socks when Draco wasn’t looking. At least it seemed as though Draco would have plenty of chances to appreciate the sight of his feet in the future.
“Even though you aren’t sure you want me?” Draco licked his lips as Potter hooked his fingers in his pants.
Potter proved he had a bit of the mischievous schoolboy left in him after all, by pausing there instead of tugging his pants down the way he had everything else and smirking at Draco until Draco squirmed. Then he answered, “I’m pretty sure I want you. What happens later is another question—”
Draco held his breath.
“And one that I’ve decided not to worry about right now,” Potter finished, and pulled his pants down.
God, his cock was so flushed, so dark with blood that Draco thought it looked painful. He could imagine the heat if he put his mouth on it. He would have offered to do so, except that Potter strode over, leaped on the bed, and pinned Draco’s shoulders to the pillow with his hands in a way that showed he knew exactly what he wanted. And, well, who was Draco to argue with a Gryffindor’s certainty unhindered by tiresome moral scruples?
First, Potter gave Draco a kiss that made black stars explode in his vision from lack of air. Then he pulled back and growled “How do we do this?” in a tone that made Draco’s balls draw up.
“I—I—” Draco was the one stuttering now, his fingers digging wildly and uselessly at the pillow.
Potter chuckled and leaned back on his heels, following the direction of Draco’s eyes rather than his hand to find the lube that Draco kept in one of the small tables next to his bed. Draco usually used that for wanking, though he hadn’t needed any earlier.
Potter smeared his cock with the oil, and Draco whined. It was ridiculous to be jealous of a liquid, but he was and it hurt and he had to spread his legs and practically hump Potter’s knee before the idiot would condescend to pay attention to him.
“Wow,” Potter whispered, his fingers trailing over Draco’s tensed groin as he reached down and back to his entrance. “You really do want me.”
His voice was full of wonder, and Draco glared at him in disbelief. “False modesty,” he snapped. “Do you ever get rid of it? Who wouldn’t want you?”
“I’m not answering that, because I don’t want to be depressed right now,” Potter said frankly, and sank one oiled finger right into Draco’s entrance without so much as a by-your-leave.
Draco bucked and rubbed his cock against Potter’s reaching arm. Yes, warmth; yes, smoothness; yes, skin, but it wasn’t enough, and Potter sat there with his finger in Draco as if waiting for something, instead of moving.
“Fuck you,” he growled.
“Not this time,” Potter said, voice sharp but breathless, and stabbed his finger deeper. Then he joined it with another, and Draco arched his back, deciding that Potter would be a quick study and he didn’t need to worry about him. He had been afraid that Potter would hold back when it came up to the moment, asking Draco if it hurt and crooning at him about specialness and asking if he was sure, but he wasn’t.
How many years has he denied what he wanted in favor of what the entire rest of the world wanted? Draco wondered, as his legs spread until his thighs trembled and his heels almost left the bed. Too bloody long, if this is the result.
Potter found his prostate and dug at it until he seemed confident that he could find the way back. Then he paused for the barest of moments. Draco glared at him, but only until Potter scooped up Draco’s ankles along his arms and he realized that Potter had been trying to decide where his legs should go.
Legs on shoulders, already threatening to slip off from the sheer height of Potter’s muscles, and hips thrusting forwards, and Draco’s hole slick and clenching and no, there wasn’t more oil needed, Potter had better not stop now and look earnest about it—
And then Potter was inside.
Draco threw back his head, his strangled cry ripping free, his mouth bursting with excitement and triumph, his veins burning with adrenaline, because he had a powerful lover and a lover he’d taunted for years and still managed to court to his bed and a victory over the Weasleys and this hurt so much and it was brilliant.
Of course Potter thrust too fast and too much and too hard, and Draco’s legs ached from the position they were holding and also regularly slipped off so that Potter shoved them back into place with irritated little grunts, and of course Draco knew he would be sore in the morning. Why wouldn’t he be? This was Potter’s first time with a man—
(It had better be his first time with a man)
—and he had no idea about what was acceptable and what wasn’t, and his excitement was ruling him.
But none of those cautious sentiments said anything about the way Potter grunted when he slammed into Draco, so soft and so satisfied that it made Draco’s arse squeeze down twice as hard. Or the grip of his fingers as he held Draco’s ankles in place, so hard that they were real and Draco would carry the marks. Or the roll and surge and flex of his muscles, an Auror’s muscles, beautiful and strong as some wild animal’s.
Or the way his eyes shone.
Draco wondered now why he had ever been foolish enough to take any lover who didn’t have those radiant green eyes.
His orgasm came from a great distance, a burning coil of white-hot light that wound its way slowly up from his spine and his buttocks and then hit him so hard he screamed and shuddered and then couldn’t stop shuddering, shaking as though lightning had hit him. The pleasure whirled him and broke him into a turning void where there were green eyes and warm skin and trailing dots of light and warmth like a forge.
When it was gone and Potter paused, froze with his face locked in an expression of astonishment, and spasmed and shouted and pounded his orgasm out, Draco was so tired and so hot that he could only lie there and smile. He did the same thing when Potter fell face-forward across him. He managed, after two minutes of concentration, to lower his legs into a more comfortable position and wrap his arms around Potter.
Potter finally shifted to look at him, jaw loose and eyes wide with wonder.
“Aren’t you glad I’m a bastard?” Draco whispered, and kissed him.
*
That had been…
There were no words for what that had been.
Long after his new lover—he could taste the word and like it, for now, though he might insist on something else, later—lay snoring, he lay with his eyes open and stared into the darkness.
He’d seen falling stars when he came. The vision was with him now, and he watched the lights streak past his eyes and explode on contact with some new land he couldn’t see, and shivered.
He still didn’t understand everything that had happened. But he was thinking, now, maybe he didn’t need to understand. Maybe he really could give in and, even though he thought about the consequences of his actions, he could also think about what he wanted.
The realization seemed so simple now, but he didn’t think he’d take it for granted, because it had been such a long time coming.
Maybe the world wouldn’t end if he did something for himself once in a while, or even something wrong. Maybe this had been wrong. He didn’t think he would be able to know until months had passed.
And more sex.
He smiled. Definitely more sex.
He rolled over and looked down. Draco—as he reckoned he had to think of him now—snored with his mouth open and his forehead wrinkled. Even in sleep, it seemed, he was trying to solve his problems and get what he wanted.
With a grin as he thought about the way Draco would react when he realized the Weasleys could still be part of the picture, Harry fell asleep.
The End.
Draco stirred slowly. He had been having a most interesting and involving dream about Potter, and he saw no reason to leave it. But an intrusive squeaking sounded in his ears no matter how he tried to barricade himself against it, and in the end he opened his eyes and sat up in bed.
One of his house-elves bowed to him, clutching its ears. “Roddy is sorry to be disturbing Master Malfoy,” it squeaked. “But Master Malfoy left orders that Master Harry Potter was to be admitted no matter the hour, and—”
“Yes, Roddy, that’s fine,” Draco said absently, with a glance out the window. From the darkness, it was as late as it felt. He shook his head and Summoned the green silk dressing gown that he’d left draped over the chair when he went to sleep. “Escort Potter to the Golden Room and keep him there until I arrive. Offer him refreshments if he asks for them.”
Roddy bowed and vanished. Draco took his time adjusting his robe and brushing his hair in the mirror. Let Potter stew a bit. It was an ample reward for interrupting Draco’s rest.
Then he realized that he was practically preening for Potter. He growled and took the steps down to the Golden Room, on the second floor, two at a time.
Once, the Golden Room had been where the Lord of the Manor would entertain a select circle of guests. Now Draco rarely used it, and his mother, who spent most of her time traveling, saw no reason to, but the house-elves kept it up anyway. The walls had the soft sheen of pure gold, and the mirrors inset exactly halfway between floor and ceiling on all four sides helped multiply the impression.
Potter was on his feet instead of in one of the comfortable chairs before the fireplace, staring at the sole portrait in the room. It was more of a portrait frame, as Lucius’s image preferred to accompany Narcissa in a portable picture. Nonetheless, Potter seemed fascinated by the bookshelves, blazing fire, sleek shining tables, and plate of heaped fruit just visible in the background.
“Can I help you?” Draco asked, stepping through the door. Potter stiffened, but didn’t move at first. Instead, he traced the wall beside the frame with a finger. He was wise enough not to touch the frame itself, Draco noted.
“You can tell me why you decided to intrude into my life and make a mess of it.” Potter’s voice was faint and far away.
“I never could have if you didn’t have your own private doubts,” Draco replied calmly. He kept his voice soft. That would disguise his eagerness.
Potter dropped his hand back to his side and then spun around to scowl at him. “Everything was going fine,” he snapped. “My biggest problem in life was choosing a ring that would suit Ginny until you had to interfere.”
“And I repeat that that’s not true,” Draco said. His heart was in his throat at the sight of the way Potter’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t intend to show it. “The words I spoke to you couldn’t have made an impact unless you let them.”
“Hermione says things like that, too, and they are such bollocks.” Potter stepped towards him. “I want to know what you’re going to do to fix it.”
“How can I unless I know what the problem is?” Draco cocked his head to the side and ran his eyes appreciatively over Potter’s body. From the way Potter flushed, he’d caught Draco at it.
“Ginny heard us talking.” Potter’s voice was flat and ugly. “She said that I obviously never loved her, or I would have spoken up and defended her when we talked this afternoon more than I did. She says that if I want you as a lover and to be free of the marriage, then that’s fine, but I’m not going to have both you and her.”
Draco felt like laughing. He was flying, light and free. Weasley had done exactly as he had expected her to. She wasn’t, after all, secure enough in Potter’s affections to view a challenge with ridicule. She’d let her temper get the better of her, and in the end, she would be the one to suffer for it.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment of consideration. “You said that I had to fix the problem, but I don’t see a problem here. Only something that’s finally happening the way it was supposed to after long years of meddling.”
Potter sprang forwards and grabbed Draco, pinning his shoulders to the wall. Draco wriggled so that Potter would grip and hold him tighter. God, this was exciting. He wanted to know what it was like to lie under Potter and watch that face flushing and changing from one emotion to the other. He hoped it wouldn’t be long before he could find out.
“You can’t tell me that you’ve wanted me for years, Malfoy.” Potter’s hiss was long and deadly.
“Of course not,” Draco said. “But I wanted you as a friend, and I couldn’t be that as long as the Weasleys held you captive. And then recently, I decided I wanted you. That probably would have happened a long time ago, too, without Weasley in the picture.”
“This is mad.” Potter let his head fall forwards, until only a few breaths of space separated his scar and Draco’s shoulder. “You don’t—you can’t just decide that you want me out of thin air and start trying to take me, Malfoy.”
“Mmm.” Draco sniffed. The scent of Potter’s skin was sweaty and salty and interesting. “That’s where you’re wrong, Potter. I do want you, and I’m not overly concerned about how or why. I do what I like because it seems good to me, and only hold off if it could have negative consequences that outweigh the pleasure. I think most people are the same way. It’s only you noble heroes who seek out all these metaphysical reasons and try to lay down paths of principle that you don’t want anyone to deviate from. If you let yourself live a little more, pursue what you wanted and not what you think you ought to want, then maybe you would know more about it and also be able to choose what you do desire.”
Potter stared at him. Draco wanted to lick the skin beneath his eyes, but he was still too far away from Potter’s face for that.
“You’re lying,” Potter whispered. “You said you went after me to get revenge on the Weasleys. You said it.”
“At first, yes,” Draco said. “And then I wanted you. And now I can have you. I’m not inclined to question things that are going the way I want.” He opened his mouth and waited, because surely not even someone as dim as Potter could mistake the invitation to a kiss that Draco was offering.
Potter released him and stepped away. Draco sighed as his heels jolted on the floor. It seemed he would have to wait for a while yet, and that was horrible.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Potter whispered. “How can I be so unsure about my marriage with Ginny? I was in love with her. It was what I wanted.”
“And now it’s not,” Draco said. He couldn’t understand why this was so hard. Weasley had sent him away herself. What more warrant to do as he liked did even someone like Potter need?
Potter stared back at him doubtfully. “I’m not bent,” he said. “I don’t know if I want you.”
“Then figure it out,” Draco said. “Though I think it says something that you keep coming back to me in spite of everything, and that you didn’t run in horror when I first told you what I desired.” He edged closer, while Potter stood there with wide eyes that only saw the inside of himself.
“But there’s no reason for it,” he muttered again.
“There doesn’t have to be,” Draco responded, and reached out to put his hand on Potter’s shoulder.
Potter shuddered beneath the touch, but he still acted as if he was seeing something other than what was in front of him. He reached up and covered Draco’s hand with his own. Draco waited for him to push it away or clasp it tighter. He did neither, only stood there looking at Draco, his forehead wrinkled slightly.
“You need something to change your mind,” Draco said, his voice shaking with eagerness. He didn’t care. Let Potter think he was weak. He didn’t care. He had forgotten—or perhaps he’d never known—what it was like to be this close to someone he truly wanted, the heat between them making the small hairs on his arms rise, their eyes larger than the rest of the world. “You need something to help you make your decision.”
“Yes, maybe—”
From the tone of Potter’s voice, Draco just knew he was about to start another rambling soliloquy. He didn’t think he could take that. He leaned forwards, lifted his other hand into place on Potter’s other shoulder, and pressed his lips firmly against his.
Potter stood utterly still. Then his eyes shut and he hummed in the back of his throat. Draco chuckled in triumph and eased forwards, swirling his tongue deeper. There was no need for wild plunges and thrusts. (At least, not yet). Let Potter have the time to ease slowly into a new experience.
Potter’s mouth tasted dusky. There was no other way that Draco could describe it. It made him think of twilight and stars and bonfires burning on the horizon as evening came down, which was strange. The fire in Potter’s eyes so often reminded him of full sunlight, and Potter himself seemed to belong to the day.
Although, what if that was only what everyone else thought? What if Draco had been taken in the by the same mask that Potter wore around his friends all the time, the one that said he was fine with the Weasels calling him stupid?
A tunnel deeper than Potter’s mouth opened ahead of him. Draco swallowed and sighed as his tongue moved under Potter’s. So many things to find out. So many things to learn. Right now, he wanted to know if Potter liked to have his cheeks licked or not—
Potter’s hands shot out, gripping Draco’s shoulders and holding him still. Draco drew his head back slowly, to show Potter that he wouldn’t be hurried by someone who couldn’t even admit his own desires yet. Then he opened his eyes with an equally slow flutter and handed Potter a languorous sigh.
Potter wasn’t panting, but only because his breaths were too deep for that. Controlled, Draco thought with a slight smile. He looked at Potter’s red cheeks and shaking hands and trembling jaw, and thought he had never seen a man fighting so hard to restrain himself.
“I think that your body’s decided before your mind,” Draco said brightly.
Potter shoved him then. Draco staggered a few steps, but managed to retain his smile. If Potter had really been disgusted with him, Draco knew he would have fallen. He licked his lips and inclined his head. “Are you going to listen to it?” he added.
Potter stood there with his arms down at his sides, shoulders bunched as if he intended to drive his hands into stone. Then he turned and stalked towards the door. Draco raised a curious eyebrow. He hadn’t hurt him. There was no reason for him to walk that stiffly—
Unless he was hunching over something inconvenient between his legs. Draco laughed quietly.
Potter turned around and leaned his back against the door as though he needed it to support him. “Bastard,” he whispered.
“I’ve never denied that label except in the technical sense, since I was born after my parents’ marriage,” Draco replied, and leaned against the wall. Potter’s eyes narrowed and darkened, both at once. Good. Let them. After a kiss like that, Draco wasn’t averse to showing he was affected, too. “You, on the other hand, still haven’t done anything that would show you don’t deserve the label of coward.”
Potter’s mouth fell open. “You—you say things like that to me,” he stuttered. “And th-then you expect me to come back to you?”
“Yes,” Draco said. “Why not? I’m the only one who can teach you what you want.”
Potter rubbed his face with one hand. “It doesn’t make sense, you know.”
“It’s not sense that we need to make.” Draco let himself look down, and yes, there was the thick bulge in Potter’s trousers that he had only suspected the existence of until this moment. He looked back up and didn’t bother to hide the way his mouth was watering and his nostrils flaring as if he’d just sniffed something spicy.
“I don’t—” Potter muttered.
“You say that a lot,” Draco told him. “Why not try beginning a sentence with I do, and see what happens?”
Dark laughter flashed across Potter’s face for a moment. “That’s what I was planning on, and then you managed to dissuade me.”
Draco smiled back. “Then try starting it with I do want,” he suggested softly, and stepped forwards.
Potter drew himself up at once. “I need to see,” he said, and stepped out of the Golden Room. Draco summoned Roddy with a clap and told him to escort Potter out.
He went back to bed with a smile on his face and had one of the longest and most luxurious wanks he’d ever enjoyed. He fell asleep still smiling.
Potter had said I need to see, not I need to think.
*
Ginny stood with her arms wrapped around herself and her head tilted back. Since Harry walked out the door, she hadn’t moved from her post near the bedroom.
She couldn’t remember most of the conversation that had resulted in Harry leaving. There were so many words there, explanations of broken promises and how she wouldn’t be Harry’s bit on the side.
Harry had listened with blinking eyes, and only once or twice flushed and tried to defend himself. Ginny would remember that, and what it meant. He knew he had been at fault. He would have protested furiously if he felt he wasn’t.
What mystified her was why he hadn’t tried harder to prevent himself from being at fault in the first place.
We loved each other, Ginny thought sadly, and finally stood back up and lowered her arms. She no longer felt as though she was going to shake apart like a badly-built house in an earthquake. I know we did. What went wrong? Love is supposed to last, like Hermione and Ron’s, not fall apart.
Someone knocked. Ginny looked up with her heart pounding triple-time, and then told herself it wouldn’t be Harry. Of course not. He had no reason to come back. He had left for good, and Ginny fully expected to receive an owl in a few days asking for permission to come to the flat and clear his things out.
There’s nothing he could say that would make me change my mind, so he has no reason to come back.
“Come in,” she called.
The door opened, and Harry stepped in and shut it behind him.
His face was many things—thoughtful and grave and a little frightened—but it wasn’t sorry. Ginny narrowed her eyes and stepped towards him. Harry looked up and gave a little nod.
Like she was a problem he needed to deal with before he moved on. Like she wasn’t a person, like she didn’t matter.
“Why are you here?” Ginny asked. She was proud of how strong her voice was, how flat, like iron. She was a paragon of strength. She could stand on her own, something she thought now Harry probably forgot as often as her parents did.
He didn’t try to get them to let me fight in the war. I should have remembered that before. If he wants to chase after a man, he’s welcome to it, but he never should have pretended that he wanted a strong woman in that case.
“Because there was something I needed to see,” Harry responded. His voice was as quiet as hers, but more curious than anything else. He stepped towards her.
Ginny lifted her wand.
Harry halted and raised an eyebrow. “I only wanted to kiss you one more time,” he said. “To see if there was any passion left. I thought I loved you, but—it went away so quickly. I’m wondering now if it was only passion.”
Ginny flinched before she could stop herself, and she flinched with her whole body, so there was no chance of hiding it from Harry. She had never expected him to say anything so utterly—cold.
For her to think about the destruction of their love was one thing. But for Harry to discuss it was another, and he was doing it academically, the way Hermione would talk about the laws that governed house-elves.
No, Ginny thought then. Hermione would talk about laws that restricted house-elves more passionately.
“I won’t be used like that,” she said.
“All right,” Harry said. “Then I reckon I’ll be a bit uncertain, but probably not a lot.” There was a childish expression on his face now. He looked as though someone had offered him an early birthday present. He turned and waved his wand. Ginny tensed, but it turned out that he was only Summoning his clothes and trunk and broom and other things. He started filling the trunk with the clothes while he shrank the broom and tucked it into his pocket.
“What are you doing?” Ginny wished she could raise her voice, but her own disbelief kept it low.
“Going after what I want, for once,” Harry said. He smiled at her. Ginny blinked. It wasn’t a smile she had ever seen him wear, except maybe immediately after the war. Some great burden had been lifted from his shoulders and he was the better for its removal, said the grin. “I thought I couldn’t want it because, well, why? But I reckon desire and lust don’t always need reasons. We’ll see how this goes. I’ve walked away from one relationship now. I can do it again if I need to.
“But I want to try. I think it could be something wonderful.” Harry finished packing the trunk and shrank that, too, hefting it thoughtfully in his hand. “There’s no reason you can’t back away,” he whispered to himself, “as long as you haven’t actually walked off the cliff.”
Ginny took a step forwards. She had figured out what he was talking about now, and she couldn’t let it pass.
“This is ridiculous,” she said. “Are you trying to tell me that you’ve always been bent, and just never thought to let me know? Are you trying to tell me that you’ll give up everything you’ve had with me and your best friends and your surrogate family just because you have some exaggerated false sense of betrayal?”
Harry looked up at her, and his eyes were mercilessly clear. He moved towards her. Ginny froze. His magic made the walls of the room seem to dance. She knew it wasn’t really happening, but she also couldn’t overcome her instinctive dread of his power. He could hurt her. He hadn’t done it yet, but he could.
“I don’t know if I’m bent,” Harry said, “or straight, or maybe a corkscrew.” His voice was deep and calm, but Ginny heard a pulse of building excitement far below the surface that made her wary. He could still give in any moment—and this isn’t a fire we share, like in bed. It’s one only he has. “But I don’t think I have to choose anymore in the absence of information.
“Just like I don’t have to walk away from my friends and family because I’m leaving you.” He raised one eyebrow and surveyed her with a look of pity, and Ginny’s temper felt as if it were boiling her brain. “They can choose if they want to associate with me. Maybe they won’t. But if they do, then I don’t have to blame myself.
“And all the things you said about me down the years—” Harry shook his head. “I just now realized that I don’t have to put up with them to keep people’s friendship. I can be Ron’s friend and still insist on him respecting me. I can be Hermione’s friend and not have to put up with her lectures. I don’t scold them or disparage them all the time. They can bloody well start doing the same for me.”
Ginny lifted her wand, because she couldn’t think of a better response. All Harry did and thought about was leaving her out. He didn’t want her. He had just been pretending. If he wasn’t, he never could have fallen out of love with her so quickly.
She launched the Bat-Bogey Hex at him.
“Protego,” Harry said calmly, and the shimmering Shield Charm that formed in front of him bounced the hex almost straight back at her. Ginny managed to dodge. Harry shook his head, said, “That was mildly pathetic,” and then left.
Long after the echoes of the door shutting had faded, Ginny stood with her head bowed and her hands clenched, clinging to her strength.
Harry wasn’t worth weeping over.
*
This time, Roddy didn’t have to squeak long in distress before Draco awoke. His dreams had been shallow and restless without Potter’s presence, and he opened his eyes and sat up knowing the house-elf’s message before he gave it.
“Master Harry Potter is here!” Roddy wailed, trying to stomp on his own feet. “He demands entrance to Master Draco’s bedroom immediately!”
“Let him in.” Draco started to reach for the dressing gown, and then paused, smiled, and leaned back into the pillows. He saw no reason to pick up something that would almost certainly be torn off him again.
Roddy stared at Draco in disbelief, his eyes popping with an audible sound. “But, Master Draco…” He glanced around as though someone might hear him, stole closer, and whispered, “Master Harry Potter is to be ravishing Master Draco.”
“God, I hope so,” Draco said fervently.
Roddy looked at him with an open mouth some more, then bowed and vanished. Draco drew back the covers and spread his legs lazily. He wasn’t sure how long he’d slept, but it was long enough to restore interest to his cock. He wanted the sight to hit Potter when he stepped through the door.
It did, but it didn’t stop him, the way Draco had planned. Instead, Potter slid closer to the bed, his shoulders and hips rolling, his eyes wide and dark and greedy and relentless.
“You look better than I imagined,” Potter breathed, and pulled his shirt over his head, letting it fall to the floor. He wasn’t wearing robes, which Draco approved of. Less clothing to get in the war and make Potter hesitate.
“No last-minute qualms?” Draco taunted, letting his head fall back on the pillow so his hair spread around his face. Plenty of lovers had told him they found him irresistible like that, especially with the color that his blood lent his pale cheeks and chest, and the appreciation in Potter’s gaze deepened immediately. He looked pretty damn good with his bare muscles flushed, Draco noted.
“None,” Potter answered calmly, and pulled off his trousers. He had unfairly got rid of his socks when Draco wasn’t looking. At least it seemed as though Draco would have plenty of chances to appreciate the sight of his feet in the future.
“Even though you aren’t sure you want me?” Draco licked his lips as Potter hooked his fingers in his pants.
Potter proved he had a bit of the mischievous schoolboy left in him after all, by pausing there instead of tugging his pants down the way he had everything else and smirking at Draco until Draco squirmed. Then he answered, “I’m pretty sure I want you. What happens later is another question—”
Draco held his breath.
“And one that I’ve decided not to worry about right now,” Potter finished, and pulled his pants down.
God, his cock was so flushed, so dark with blood that Draco thought it looked painful. He could imagine the heat if he put his mouth on it. He would have offered to do so, except that Potter strode over, leaped on the bed, and pinned Draco’s shoulders to the pillow with his hands in a way that showed he knew exactly what he wanted. And, well, who was Draco to argue with a Gryffindor’s certainty unhindered by tiresome moral scruples?
First, Potter gave Draco a kiss that made black stars explode in his vision from lack of air. Then he pulled back and growled “How do we do this?” in a tone that made Draco’s balls draw up.
“I—I—” Draco was the one stuttering now, his fingers digging wildly and uselessly at the pillow.
Potter chuckled and leaned back on his heels, following the direction of Draco’s eyes rather than his hand to find the lube that Draco kept in one of the small tables next to his bed. Draco usually used that for wanking, though he hadn’t needed any earlier.
Potter smeared his cock with the oil, and Draco whined. It was ridiculous to be jealous of a liquid, but he was and it hurt and he had to spread his legs and practically hump Potter’s knee before the idiot would condescend to pay attention to him.
“Wow,” Potter whispered, his fingers trailing over Draco’s tensed groin as he reached down and back to his entrance. “You really do want me.”
His voice was full of wonder, and Draco glared at him in disbelief. “False modesty,” he snapped. “Do you ever get rid of it? Who wouldn’t want you?”
“I’m not answering that, because I don’t want to be depressed right now,” Potter said frankly, and sank one oiled finger right into Draco’s entrance without so much as a by-your-leave.
Draco bucked and rubbed his cock against Potter’s reaching arm. Yes, warmth; yes, smoothness; yes, skin, but it wasn’t enough, and Potter sat there with his finger in Draco as if waiting for something, instead of moving.
“Fuck you,” he growled.
“Not this time,” Potter said, voice sharp but breathless, and stabbed his finger deeper. Then he joined it with another, and Draco arched his back, deciding that Potter would be a quick study and he didn’t need to worry about him. He had been afraid that Potter would hold back when it came up to the moment, asking Draco if it hurt and crooning at him about specialness and asking if he was sure, but he wasn’t.
How many years has he denied what he wanted in favor of what the entire rest of the world wanted? Draco wondered, as his legs spread until his thighs trembled and his heels almost left the bed. Too bloody long, if this is the result.
Potter found his prostate and dug at it until he seemed confident that he could find the way back. Then he paused for the barest of moments. Draco glared at him, but only until Potter scooped up Draco’s ankles along his arms and he realized that Potter had been trying to decide where his legs should go.
Legs on shoulders, already threatening to slip off from the sheer height of Potter’s muscles, and hips thrusting forwards, and Draco’s hole slick and clenching and no, there wasn’t more oil needed, Potter had better not stop now and look earnest about it—
And then Potter was inside.
Draco threw back his head, his strangled cry ripping free, his mouth bursting with excitement and triumph, his veins burning with adrenaline, because he had a powerful lover and a lover he’d taunted for years and still managed to court to his bed and a victory over the Weasleys and this hurt so much and it was brilliant.
Of course Potter thrust too fast and too much and too hard, and Draco’s legs ached from the position they were holding and also regularly slipped off so that Potter shoved them back into place with irritated little grunts, and of course Draco knew he would be sore in the morning. Why wouldn’t he be? This was Potter’s first time with a man—
(It had better be his first time with a man)
—and he had no idea about what was acceptable and what wasn’t, and his excitement was ruling him.
But none of those cautious sentiments said anything about the way Potter grunted when he slammed into Draco, so soft and so satisfied that it made Draco’s arse squeeze down twice as hard. Or the grip of his fingers as he held Draco’s ankles in place, so hard that they were real and Draco would carry the marks. Or the roll and surge and flex of his muscles, an Auror’s muscles, beautiful and strong as some wild animal’s.
Or the way his eyes shone.
Draco wondered now why he had ever been foolish enough to take any lover who didn’t have those radiant green eyes.
His orgasm came from a great distance, a burning coil of white-hot light that wound its way slowly up from his spine and his buttocks and then hit him so hard he screamed and shuddered and then couldn’t stop shuddering, shaking as though lightning had hit him. The pleasure whirled him and broke him into a turning void where there were green eyes and warm skin and trailing dots of light and warmth like a forge.
When it was gone and Potter paused, froze with his face locked in an expression of astonishment, and spasmed and shouted and pounded his orgasm out, Draco was so tired and so hot that he could only lie there and smile. He did the same thing when Potter fell face-forward across him. He managed, after two minutes of concentration, to lower his legs into a more comfortable position and wrap his arms around Potter.
Potter finally shifted to look at him, jaw loose and eyes wide with wonder.
“Aren’t you glad I’m a bastard?” Draco whispered, and kissed him.
*
That had been…
There were no words for what that had been.
Long after his new lover—he could taste the word and like it, for now, though he might insist on something else, later—lay snoring, he lay with his eyes open and stared into the darkness.
He’d seen falling stars when he came. The vision was with him now, and he watched the lights streak past his eyes and explode on contact with some new land he couldn’t see, and shivered.
He still didn’t understand everything that had happened. But he was thinking, now, maybe he didn’t need to understand. Maybe he really could give in and, even though he thought about the consequences of his actions, he could also think about what he wanted.
The realization seemed so simple now, but he didn’t think he’d take it for granted, because it had been such a long time coming.
Maybe the world wouldn’t end if he did something for himself once in a while, or even something wrong. Maybe this had been wrong. He didn’t think he would be able to know until months had passed.
And more sex.
He smiled. Definitely more sex.
He rolled over and looked down. Draco—as he reckoned he had to think of him now—snored with his mouth open and his forehead wrinkled. Even in sleep, it seemed, he was trying to solve his problems and get what he wanted.
With a grin as he thought about the way Draco would react when he realized the Weasleys could still be part of the picture, Harry fell asleep.
The End.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2009-11-13 11:40 pm (UTC)But the thing that really made me smile was "With a grin as he thought about the way Draco would react when he realized the Weasleys could still be part of the picture, Harry fell asleep." : it seems Harry is finally going after what he wants.
Oh, and the house elf was priceless, "Harry Potter is to be ravishing Master Draco” indeed.
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Date: 2009-11-16 02:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-14 12:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-16 02:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-14 01:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-16 02:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-14 01:28 am (UTC)My panties are so wet. Hell, I want my boyfriend.
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Date: 2009-11-16 02:04 am (UTC)A few people have asked for an epilogue, but I'm not sure I know what to put in one if I write one. Yet, anyway.
(Glad you liked it!)
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Date: 2009-11-14 01:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-16 02:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-14 02:00 am (UTC)I loved Draco in this sooo much. People really do need to just go after what they want. Despite all his setbacks, and the history he had with Harry, he still went for it. :D He's my hero in this.
And I was thrilled for Harry in the end. I always felt that he ended up living a life he didn't truly want. This makes it so much better.
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Date: 2009-11-16 02:06 am (UTC)Draco started this out of hatred for the Weasleys, but he would never have gone after Harry for so long if it hadn't evolved into more than that.
Harry is very happy, and not afraid to stand up to Draco, either.
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Date: 2009-11-14 02:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-16 02:06 am (UTC)People have a variety of reactions. If I write an epilogue or sequel at all, it will be focused on them.
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Date: 2009-11-14 02:07 am (UTC)I feel SO SORRY for Ginny. Yeah, maybe she made some mistakes, or maybe Harry should have demanded respect from his friends (although, I know that I'm not always the most respectful of my friends, especially when we joke around, and they're not the most respectful of me, and it's still real friendships) how could anyone NOT do something that deserved criticism in such a long relationship?
And the things he said to her at the end right before he left her-- this is not a criticism of your writing AT ALL (in fact, maybe it's a compliment that you evoked such strong reactions in me) but I am repulsed by this version oh Harry. To say something like that to the woman who was in love with him, who he was going to marry. Of course, we didn't see the fight that they had before, and maybe she said some things that hurt him. But, man. That is one cruel Harry. And I don't love Draco in this fic, either, although you made him AWFULLY in character by book verse. I think the only character who I liked was Ginny. Poor thing. She made sacrifices for him, but he couldn't make any for her :(.
Anyway, this was really well-written and well done, and a very successful play with POV's! You really made me have a visceral emotional reaction!
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Date: 2009-11-14 02:15 am (UTC)We are so lucky to have you in this fandom :).
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Date: 2009-11-14 02:38 am (UTC)I wish I could say something smart, because this fic deserves it. I can’t think though, I’m too giddy to (or is it that the sex scene broke my brain?). I will say, I don’t think there’s neither Draco nor Ginny bashing (not from what I understand as bashing). Each character has their own view of themselves, the other characters and the situation, that’s all.
I loved it. I felt bad for Harry, for having spent so long… I was going to say denying, but he wasn’t denying anything until Draco showed up, just ignoring the need for doing things he really wanted. It wasn’t Ginny’s fault, and it wasn’t Draco’s fault there was no weeding. Draco just gave him the little push Harry needed but the direction was already there
“Aren’t you glad I’m a bastard?”
I AM! :D I loved Draco. And this Harry too. It left me wanting to read more about these two because I agree with Harry: it could be something wonderful what they’ll have.
I only have one question about this:
Harry was—strange—about Malfoy. He had seemed pleased when the bastard didn’t go to Azkaban, but he had spent a long time scowling at his photograph in the paper, too. He’d walk out of a Ministry function if it turned out Malfoy was there. But then he’d spend far too much time talking and speculating about why he was there.
What was up with Harry? I thought they haven’t had contact in years so it couldn’t be that Draco made something to get Harry mad, and since we don’t have Harry’s POV (except at the end, which was a perfect way to end)… just curious. Maybe it’s something I missed.
Again, loved it :D
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Date: 2009-11-17 12:01 pm (UTC)A lot of people can be sensitive to any aspersions being cast on their favorite character, which is why I thought I should label it bashing. (I had someone tell me once that a fic I wrote bashed Ginny even though she was only mentioned in one line as being divorced from Harry, so...)
I think Harry would probably have broken up with her eventually, or at least made her and himself deeply unhappy. It's not better for Ginny that it ended this way, but it's better that it ended.
Those few lines about Harry's reaction to Draco were meant to indicate that Draco was still someone who could stir and rile him, and so he would be susceptible when Draco started paying attention to him again.
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Date: 2009-11-14 05:10 am (UTC)"Harry Potter is to be ravishing Master Draco”---> I lol'd so hard here.
Loved the different POV usage! :D
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Date: 2009-11-17 12:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-14 05:13 am (UTC)You characterisation of Draco is just prefect!
And Harry, his indecision is something that really struck me after watching HBP, and I enjoyed how you explored that.
I like how you don't talk about love, not even much about lust. It is just about what you want, not what you should do.
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Date: 2009-11-17 12:01 pm (UTC)I didn't think I could construct a love relationship in 25,000 words, not with everything else I had to write about.
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Date: 2009-11-14 06:31 am (UTC)SOOOOO GOOD.
Oddly, there were very few moments when I actually felt like either Draco or Ginny was being bashed. I thought you represented them both wonderfully and certainly made Ginny more sympathetic than I've ever seen her. Both perspectives were fascinating. I also thought it was very interesting that, at first, you have no idea what's going on in Harry's world at ALL because there's so much about what Draco thinks and what Ginny thinks. Then, slowly, you begin to see more and more of Harry as himself and he comes out brilliantly as the middle ground between Draco's and Ginny's thoughts. :)
Mostly I'm just happy he finally seemed happy in the end.
“And all the things you said about me down the years—” Harry shook his head. “I just now realized that I don’t have to put up with them to keep people’s friendship. I can be Ron’s friend and still insist on him respecting me. I can be Hermione’s friend and not have to put up with her lectures. I don’t scold them or disparage them all the time. They can bloody well start doing the same for me.”
That's also my favourite part because I kind of wanted to cry when he said it. I felt so PROUD of him and so pleased that he had figured out that there CAN be a balance and that he deserves respect too.
And Roddy 'warning' Draco that Harry meant to ravish him was just PRICELESS. :D
THANK YOU for this. :) You made my week.
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Date: 2009-11-17 12:03 pm (UTC)I wonder if part of the problem I've had with Ginny in the past is just that I rarely make her a viewpoint character. I tend to be most sympathetic to my viewpoint characters. I think the best Ron I ever wrote was in a fic, "Cycle of Fire," that briefly used his viewpoint.
Yeah, I think the vacuum left by not being inside Harry's head grows more and more powerful throughout the fic, which is one reason I included his view at the end.
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Date: 2009-11-14 06:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-17 12:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-14 07:07 am (UTC)I also like how in the end, Harry and Draco's relationship is kind of up in the air: if it ends in three months or three years or three decades or never is anyone's guess, and Harry seems fine with that.
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Date: 2009-11-17 12:04 pm (UTC)Thank you!
I don't know how long this relationship would last. After all, maybe Harry still being friends with the Weasleys, if they want to be, would be a deal-breaker with Draco; there's no way of telling.
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Date: 2009-11-14 07:32 am (UTC)as pretty much everyone has said, the characterizations are fantastic. i love how flawed all the characters are --so very IC. well, as IC as one can manage, given how little JKR fleshed out ginny.
what i think is most interesting, though, is how both harry and ginny were caught up in the fairy-tale. both were overwhelmed by the wedding, even though they wanted not to take part in the arrangements as much as possible. ginny had to keep reminding herself of all the reasons she was in love with harry. but each of them was dancing a minuet of appeasement and denial around the other. what really struck me is how much it would not serve ginny to marry a man of whom she is terrified at times. and yet, she also doesn't see an option to leave the relationship and let everyone (including the part of herself that has bought into the fairy-tale of being the princess who gets over being rescued and gets to fight alongside her prince and live happily ever after) down.
and that last scene between harry and ginny -- was he saying that he was wondering whether the love was still there even with the passion gone, or the other way around? i can totally understand, though, why ginny would recoil at the suggestion of testing his hypothesis with one last kiss.
finally, the sex: unf. so hot. i love the eager violence with which harry approached fucking draco here, and draco's excusing harry's lack of technique and grace.
one final note: i found a couple of typos. i forget where they were, but i'll compile a list and PM you back with it.
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Date: 2009-11-17 12:08 pm (UTC)Harry was most definitely feeling that everything would be all right after the wedding, and he just had to hold on until then. That's not the way it works, of course, but he was hoping it would be. And Ginny thought a lot about her own strength, which is good, but then she was terrified, as you say, of Harry's. A relationship where there isn't room for both partners' strength isn't going to work out.
Harry mostly wanted to see what would happen when he kissed her. He thought there might be love without passion, but he was resigned to not finding out. (And yes, that line was cruel).
Glad you liked the sex; it is much more violent than I usually write.
Thanks for the typo list! I'll go back and correct those.
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Date: 2009-11-14 08:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-17 12:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-14 10:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-17 12:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-14 11:39 am (UTC)I LOVED that you gave us Harry's PoV in the end! :D
And awesome, awesome, awesome last line! Made me grin so much!
I really enjoyed it! ^_^
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Date: 2009-11-17 12:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2009-11-14 12:05 pm (UTC)I'd like to think that he and Draco will stay together quite a while, but this Harry seems to have his head on pretty straight and to be fine with moving on to other relationships as well, and I love that he doesn't see this as necessarily being an end to his relationship with all of the Weasleys unless that's how they want it (regardless of Draco's triumphant gloating about beating them). It *is* sad about Ginny and the abrupt and cold way in which their relationship ended, but then again, she didn't exactly seem to fight very hard or very long before giving in to the idea that Harry really had never loved her, etc. But perhaps she was in shock. You did manage to paint their relationship as loving and sexy despite its little issues.
I like many incarnations of H&D, but I do really love it when Draco is turned on and increasingly possessive over Harry's overwhelming / accidental magic, physical virility and intensity. *drool* Ravishment, indeed!! Draco's displaying himself etc. and Harry's being so confident and taking what he wants is uber sexy.
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Date: 2009-11-17 12:11 pm (UTC)Ginny could probably argue that of course Ron comes off bad, we're seeing Draco's view on the one hand and she doesn't think much about him herself. But then, that's part of the point: that what one character sees is only part of the truth.
Harry could accept the end of his connection with Draco with regret, but not with furious pining. That may, in the end, help keep them stronger.
I'm glad their relationship seemed loving before Harry was cold to her at the end. That is meant as a refutation of Ginny's idea that he was never in love with her at all. I think Ginny has a problem with seeing things in a black-white way: Harry must love her completely or not at all, he must be gay or straight, Draco must be 100% good or evil.
I love possessive!Draco, which is one reason it shows up constantly in my stories.
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Date: 2009-11-14 01:02 pm (UTC)I thought he seemed really selfish at the and, when he wanted to "experiment" a test kiss with Ginny, but I think that's the point: Harry and Ginny are both Leos, both stubborn and strong and a bit arrogant at times, that's why I think they're definitely better as friends. They could be happy and passionate at first in a relationship, but in the long run their personalities would clash too much, they're both too headstrong and both are complete Tops. They top, even from the bottom.
Harry definitely felt the pull toward towards Draco from the beginning, and so did Draco: the way he seduced Harry was beautiful. Harry is intrigued by what he doesn't know, he definitely as a fascination with the Slytherin (and especially Draco) in canon. Draco is like the other side of the moon for Harry, endlessly fascinating, and he's in touch with a part of Harry (his slytherin side) that his friends can't possibly understand or reach.
Being the optimist I am, I just hope Harry won't lose his friends.
In my mind, they'll learn not to take him too much for granted, Ron will stop being a prat at work, Harry will hopefully apologize to Ginny for asking an "experiment kiss" (by the way, WTF was he thinking??), Ginny will calmly tell him he's an idiot (this time he deserves that) maybe give him a piece of her mind and then forgive him, because she's now far happier with her Luna anyway. Harry/Draco and Ginny/Luna forever and everyone is happy! too much of an optimist, am I? :-)
(by the way, do you think you'll ever write some Ginny/Luna again? even as a side pairing? I adore your story "girls's own adventure")
-Morgana
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Date: 2009-11-17 12:13 pm (UTC)Harry certainly struggled against the expectations that Ginny had of him, but at the same time he felt as if he could control himself and compromise, so her terror at his power frustrated him.
We'll see if Harry and Draco manage to last now that Harry knows more about his fascination...
Let's hope that Harry does manage to apologize and reconcile! Though I'm not sure it would happen with Ginny. It would depend on how much effort Harry made and what he really realized.
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Date: 2009-11-14 01:06 pm (UTC)I loved that soooo much more than I had ever expected I would have...I think that the point of view experiment was totally a success! Though I must say that I loved the bit in the end in Harry's point of view! Can't wait for the next one-shot!
I have decided I want to build a shrine for you <3
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Date: 2009-11-18 02:20 am (UTC)*puts a sign up at the shrine that says, "Accepting cookies*
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Date: 2009-11-14 03:18 pm (UTC)It was such a fantastic story. I think the characterisations were spot on and I felt that they really made this story.
The last line is pure genius- I found it emblematic of Harry being himself.
Bravo! =D
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Date: 2009-11-18 02:21 am (UTC)Harry is more himself in that last line than he is anywhere else in the story, I think.
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Date: 2009-11-14 06:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-18 02:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-14 06:34 pm (UTC)“God, I hope so,” Draco said fervently.
(It had better be his first time with a man)
Those lines are fantastic! So very much how I see Draco.
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Date: 2009-11-18 02:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-14 06:54 pm (UTC)Absolutely thoroughly enjoyed this, can't wait for the next on-shot.
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Date: 2009-11-18 02:22 am (UTC)Next one-shot will probably be posted in a few weeks, at least the one I'm working on now. I have an older one that will go up before then.