(no subject)

[minervaalistor.livejournal.com]

title: Safe House
Summary: Harry and Draco are put in a safe house for their own protection. Post HBP, sooo SPOILERS!
Rating: NC-17
Author: minerva alistor
Chapter 3: Days Ten Through Fourteen
Where's the rest?: at my journal
or skyehawke

Enjoy and any comments welcome!





The squeaking of the shower tap turning woke Harry from his light and troubled sleep. Not fully awake, he turned and looked over his shoulder to identify the sound, only to see that Draco had once again left the bathroom door opened as he showered. This time, it was not just a crack, but swung wide so that, if Harry wanted, he had a full and unobstructed view.

Harry rolled away from the sight with a groan, flooded by several emotions at once. The sting he felt at Draco’s harsh words renewed itself with a vengeance that was followed by the very unsettling question of why Draco’s words hurt him so badly. Then there was the guilty realization that what had happened with Draco last night probably constituted cheating on Ginny. Harry tried to tell himself that maybe, because Draco was also a man, that it didn’t really count. That idea was put to rest by the thought that because Draco was a man, his cheating with him was even worse, and because it was Draco, his cheating was a thousand, no, a million times worse. This sprang into dismay at the fact that Harry had actually gotten off with another man the night before and found it very enjoyable. Which led him back to why he was so hurt by Draco’s words. All of these thoughts ran circles round his mind like a dog chasing its tail, supported by an undercurrent of what was the almost overwhelming urge to turn and wank while watching Draco lather up in the shower.

Knowing that he would lose the battle against watching Draco if he continued to lie there, Harry got up and marched from the room, managing only a quick glance at Draco who was ignoring him completely. He stormed into the living room, cranked up the heater now that electricity was once again allowed and decided to make breakfast. As much as he might like to let Draco starve to death right now, he couldn’t. As far as the Ministry was concerned, he was Harry’s responsibility and Harry couldn’t help but notice once again how very skinny Draco was when he’d glanced at him in the shower.

As Harry was stirring eggs in a frying pan, Draco appeared in the living room. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see him, dressed like a girl’s wet dream of a perfect college boy. Tight Muggle jeans, that probably cost more than Harry’s weekly salary, fit snugly and flared slightly at the bottoms, fanning perfectly over the tops of sleek, flat black fashion trainers. The cuffs and tails of a thick, velvety looking cotton shirt, the perfect shade of baby blue, peeped out from underneath a tight fitting wool sweater the color of cream. The thing that annoyed Harry most was that Malfoy probably hadn’t even thought about what he was going to wear, but just threw something on without a care. Looking this put together must be something Malfoy was just born with, like being rich and incredibly handsome.

Upon thinking that Draco was incredibly handsome, Harry cursed under his breath and banged the pan around a bit. He had nearly let their eggs burn.

“Good morning, Potter,” Draco said, pleasantly enough. Too pleasantly, in Harry’s opinion. “Sleep well?”

Harry rounded on him.

“No, I bloody well did not.”

Draco looked confused.

“There must be something wrong with you. I always sleep like a stone when I get off like that. Completely exhausts me.”

“Yeah, well, I suppose everything is a lot easier for those who have no conscious or feelings,” Harry spat back.

Draco looked abashed.

“What are you talking about?”

Harry said nothing. He wrenched opened the small refrigerator, pulled out some sausages, shot Draco a scathing look and threw them on the cooker. He should have done this first, he reflected, now the eggs would be cold.

“Potter, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings last night. I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t get confused about what was happening. As an ex-Gryffindor, I know that you might be susceptible to certain feelings that –“

“Malfoy, cut the shit. You were rude and I’m not confused. I know what getting off is. But we agreed to be civil to one another, remember?”

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t realize that cuddling after sex was required since we had not yet had sex when the civility rule was put into play.”

“Ok, Malfoy, first off, we didn’t have sex, ok? We wanked.”

“We wanked each other. I’m sure the Weaslette would consider it sex and –“

“Secondly,” Harry interjected angrily, “Ginny will never, ever know about this.”

“I wasn’t planning on telling her,” Draco said with a casual air.

“Thirdly, it will not occur again. It’s bad enough that I cheated on my girlfriend once, but to allow it to go on would be heinous. So just make sure you don’t get confused about that, all right Malfoy?”

Draco shrugged and picked up the Potions book he had been reading the day before.

“Fine by me, I wasn’t the one pouting about missing my girlfriend.”

“Probably because you’re a bloody poof who doesn’t have a girlfriend and even if you did, you probably wouldn’t have any concept of what it means to be committed to someone.”

Draco actually laughed.

“I don’t currently have a girlfriend, you are correct on that account. But I absolutely know what it means to be committed to someone. Forgive me, I didn’t realize you and that little tart were married already.”

Harry brandished his spatula at Draco.

“Another rule. No more talking about Ginny, you hear me?”

“Fine by me. But you have to remember to keep your end of that bargain too,” Draco answered, obviously amused by the whole situation.

Harry turned back to his sausages.

“I see now that trying to be civil to you was a mistake. I think it’d be best if don’t speak to each other unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“Okay.”

Draco’s simple agreement to this stung Harry all over again.

“Arsehole,” he muttered.

“Can I just say one thing in my defense?” Draco asked.

“Could I stop you if I wanted to?”

Draco didn’t respond.

“Oh for fuck’s sake Malfoy, just say it!”

“Oh, I thought you didn’t want to hear it.”

Harry growled.

“Fine, fine, don’t have kittens. I would just like to remind you that it was you who kissed me first, while I was sleeping no less. And, I asked you, before things went to a place where the damage could not be repaired, if you were absolutely sure and, if I remember correctly, your reply was ‘I’m positive.’ So if your experiment in civility failed, don’t blame me.”

“I made a mistake,” Harry countered, but Malfoy’s words set his mind spinning again. “I’m a horny nineteen year old boy. It could happen to anyone. It’s not like I actually like you, or would touch you with a ten foot pole out in the real world.”

“That’s sort of the point, isn’t it? This isn’t the real world?”

Harry took a certain satisfaction in the new, completely unamused tone in Draco’s voice. Ha, he thought. Let Malfoy see what it’s like to be talked to like a common rentboy.

“Maybe not. But it’s not happening again. And if you ever tell anyone –“

“Don’t worry, you idiot. I have a reputation to uphold,” Draco snarled.

Harry’s stomach dropped. The fact that Draco had had sex with other people, and that other people knew that Draco had had sex with other people and Harry did not know, opened up a whole new range of thoughts and feelings, none of them pleasant.

Neither spoke as Harry loaded up two plates with eggs, sausages and toast. He got the jam out of the fridge, and balancing everything, turned to the coffee table. He slammed the plates and jam down in front of Draco.

Draco took Harry completely off guard when, quick as if he were plucking the game winning Snitch out of midair, he reached out and grabbed the strings on Harry’s hoodie and pulled Harry’s face within an inch of his own.

“Too bad, really, Potter. You were much better at that than I ever would have given you credit for,” he said, his voice low and silky.

Harry felt his eyes flutter shut as he leaned forward to still those perfectly pouted lips. Draco let go of the strings and Harry flew backwards, sitting down hard on the ground.

“Oh. Well.”

Harry stared in shock as Draco gave him a hard look, sat back on the sofa, and ate his breakfast without another word.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry kept himself afloat with the thought that in four days, someone from the Ministry would be coming to replenish their supplies and more than likely bringing him a letter from Ginny. Draco was true to his word for the rest of the day and found that it had been absolutely necessary to speak to Harry not at all. Much to Harry’s displeasure, the plan to not speak to one another had backfired somewhat. He could only think about Ginny’s letter for so long before his thoughts degenerated into wondering what Malfoy was thinking, wondering if because he was suddenly noticing little things like the way Malfoy licked the knuckle of his middle finger while he read and thinking them absurdly sexy meant he was gay, or wondering if possibly Malfoy had a point about just wanking each other silly and not telling anyone about it after they got out of this house. Harry, always the king of justification, managed to tell himself that Malfoy was probably thinking of ways to kill him in his sleep and then disappear without a trace, that it was sort of gross, actually, the way Malfoy licked that knuckle (never mind that his cock seemed to wish rather fervently that it was Malfoy’s knuckle) and that, even if no one ever found out about him and Malfoy, he would know, and that would be enough.

That night while Malfoy was taking a shower, Harry very sadly made up the sofa as his bed. As soon as the sun set, the electricity in the shack went off, controlled by a magical timer. He climbed underneath the one thin blanket that wasn’t on Malfoy’s bed and tried to get comfortable.

He knew before Malfoy spoke that he had entered the room.

“What are you doing, Potter?”

“You didn’t actually think I was going to keep sleeping with you did you?”

Malfoy let out a very put off sounding sigh.

“But…Potter, if you don’t sleep in here, I won’t….oh, fuck you. Never mind.”

Harry sat up.

“What, Malfoy, just say it!”

“No. Sleep tight, you fucking prick.”

Not only did Malfoy slam the bedroom door, but Harry heard him lock it behind him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Apparently angry at Harry for sleeping on the sofa, Draco waged very subtle warfare against Harry in the following days, asking him question after question about things that Harry truly did not want to talk or think about.

“So, Potter, do you think you might be gay? I mean, after all, you’re the one who started all that the other night?”

“So, Potter, do you think that Weasley strumpet would ever speak to you again if she knew you’d got me off, or would she spend all her time masturbating while trying to picture it?”

“So, Potter, do you think that you’ll ever be able to have a healthy, normal relationship since you’re a pathetically sad orphan?”

Harry finally had enough and broke his silence, giving Draco the same treatment.

“I don’t know, Malfoy. But tell me, do you think people would like you any better if you didn’t have the Dark Mark and weren’t a traitor to both sides?”

“I don’t know, Malfoy. How often do you think you’ll wank while picturing me and Ginny fucking?”

“I don’t know, Malfoy. But do you ever think your mother will ever stop drooling long enough to recognize you again?”

The last question had resulted in a fist fight that Harry had valiantly turned into a wrestling match before either of them had done too much damage. He had the weight advantage, if nothing else, and was able to pin Draco down on the floor, which only increased the blonde’s sense of rage.

Red in the face and spitting, Draco had stared into Harry’s eyes.

“Don’t you ever, ever say anything about my mother ever again. Do you hear me? I will kill you, I kid you not. It would be worth spending my life in jail. She has nothing to do with any of this.”

“And my parents do?” Harry shouted.

“You never knew your parents, Potter, it isn’t the same.”

“Isn’t it? I never knew them because the same people that tortured your mother killed them!”

Draco fought and tried to break free at that remark, but Harry held him. Draco quickly ran out of energy. Though far better, he was still not completely well.

“I won’t always be ill, Potter. Remember that. Now let me up,” he panted.

“Are you finished with this?”

“For today!” Draco snarled.

Harry let him up. He stomped off to the bedroom and Harry was painfully aware of two things. He had pretty much ruined any chance he had of talking to Malfoy about his attack and he had an enormous hard on.

“Fuck,” he muttered, not sure which upset him more.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Harry took to exercising to siphon off his sexual energy after the wrestling match. For nearly the entirety of the next three days, he did crunches, push-ups, jumping jacks, ran in place, any type of calisthenics he could think of. Malfoy stayed locked in the bedroom, only coming out for his meals.

At the passage of the first fortnight, Harry was once again awoken by a knock at the door of the shack. Not that he had been sleeping well. The sofa bed was no less uncomfortable than it had been on the first night he had tried it.

“Coming, coming,” he muttered as he headed towards the door.

This time, it was McElroy, the dorkiest person to ever be made an Auror in the history of the wizarding world Harry suspected. He made Colin Creevey look cool he was so bad. And he worshipped Harry, though he was nearly fifteen years older.

“Hi Harry,” he said brightly.

“Hi, Jack,” Harry was already tired of the man’s springy step and toothy grin.

“I’ve got some more victuals for you blokes, not to mention a letter from your pretty little girlfriend!”

He waved the letter in front of Harry’s face. Harry, annoyed, snatched it away.

Just like when Moody came last time, Malfoy came strolling into the living room, preventing Harry from reading his mail. Unlike before, Harry could hardly keep from bursting out laughing at the look on McElroy’s face.

It was a well known fact that Draco had, in the end, come over to Harry’s side and revealed Voldemort’s whereabouts, enabling Harry to finally kill him. But before that, all that was known about Malfoy was that he was a marked Death Eater that had spent several months at Voldemort’s side. Harry suspected those months had been full of nothing but pain and fear for Draco, but most people thought otherwise, and an entire legion of horror stories about the blonde’s cruelty had cropped up in the wizarding world.

McElroy obviously was in the camp that believed that Draco had done horrible things like kill Muggle children by the dozens and bathe in their blood. He paled to what Harry found an embarrassing degree for an Auror.

“Hello Mr. Malfoy,” he managed to sputter out. “I have a letter for you as well.” He pulled out Draco’s letter and handed it over without fanfare. McElroy watched in frightened awe as the skinny, weak nineteen year old man who, Harry knew, had been unable to commit at least his first assigned murder went back to the bedroom. The powerful urge to throttle McElroy rose inside him, coupled with the urge to go and give Draco a protective hug. He shook it off and turned back to McElroy, who misinterpreted the shake completely.

“Is he really horrible?” McElroy whispered.

“Yes, but not in the way you’re thinking. Could you do me a favor before you go?” Harry said, letting McElroy know that he was no longer needed. He had so been hoping for one of his friend’s faces to break the monotony of being ignored by Malfoy.

“Sure Harry, anything,” McElroy said.

“Ask them to send me a jump rope next time, will you?”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After McElroy left, Harry settled down on the couch to read his letter at last. Much to his ire, Malfoy came back and started rifling through the new contents in the refrigerator. So he was on hand when Harry angrily crumpled up the parchment and threw it across the room.

“Bad news from home?” Draco mused.

He had been passing in front of the sofa when he said it, a can of Fanta in hand. Harry roared and grabbed him around the waist, forcing him down onto the sofa.

“Can you never shut that fucking awful mouth of yours?” Harry snarled.

Malfoy smirked at him.

“Why don’t you shut it for me, Harry?,” Draco purred back.

With a moan that was somewhere between despair, desire and rage, Harry kiss Draco.

Draco literally threw the can of soda across the room, its contents spraying everywhere, and threw his arms around Harry’s neck, wasting no time in kissing him back. Harry, not happy to let Draco have control of anything, even his own limbs, grabbed his arms and pinned them over his head.

“You fucking prat,” Harry hissed, coming up briefly for air.

Since he couldn’t move anything else, Draco lifted his hips into Harry’s. The heavier man pressed down against him unmercifully.

“Be fucking still,” he hissed in Draco’s ear.

Holding the blonde’s arms in one hand, he ripped opened Draco’s very lovely button down shirt. A moan that was nothing but pure desire rang out of his throat at the sight of all that perfect, milky skin. He bent his head and raked his teeth over first one nipple, then another, contented by Draco’s snake like hisses and feeble attempts to push into Harry’s mouth.

“I fucking hate you, Malfoy,” Harry breathed, swirling his tongue around a hardened peak, imagining Malfoy’s tongue unconsciously circling his own knuckle. He moaned again. “This is your fault. Leaving the fucking bathroom door open while you showered, fucking pushing me all the time. All the fucking time.”

“I did what I had to, just like always,” Draco panted back.

Harry’s head snapped up and his eyes met Draco’s. A breathless moment passed between them before Harry stood.

“Get your arse up. In the bedroom.”

Draco stood. As he turned towards the bedroom, he raked his fingers along Harry’s stomach, staring back at him over his shoulder, biting down on his bottom lip. To Harry’s complete undoing, he took one second to scan Harry from toe to top and then let out a self satisfied “Mmmm.”

Harry grabbed Draco with both arms and crushed him next to him. He kissed him harder and deeper than he’d ever kissed anyone before, again aware of how singularly alive he felt doing it. Just kissing Malfoy made the most passionate sex he and Ginny had ever had seem tame in comparison.

Tugging and tearing at Malfoy’s trousers, and Malfoy tugging and tearing at his, they stumbled their way to the bedroom, only leaving each other’s lips when they nearly fell. Which they finally did, in a writhing heap in the middle of the bed.

Harry had Draco stripped in a matter of seconds and his mouth seemed intent on tasting every inch of exposed skin. Draco melted beneath him with a sound that sounded remarkably like a purr.

Harry paused as he once again pinned Draco’s arms above his head. The Dark Mark stared back at him from the left, while three faint scars spanned the inside forearm of his right arm from wrist to elbow. Harry leaned forward, pressed his nose against the Mark, and then bit down on the flesh. Draco hissed. Harry tongued at the tattoo for a minute, before moving to the other arm and taking the scars, each in turn, between his teeth.
With his nose, he tilted Draco’s head back, licking either side of the nasty scar that ran a ring around his neck.

“Which of these hurt worse?” Harry asked him between licks on the neck.

“The Mark, by far. It is the single most painful physical thing I have ever experienced.”

Harry moved back to the Mark, lapping at it as if it had a sweet taste.
“What did it feel like?”

“It felt like the worst Cruciatus Curse times one hundred being burned into your flesh. I thought it would kill me before it ended.”

Harry leaned over and, his anger at the blonde completely gone, kissed him tenderly on the lips.

“Then I wish even more that I had tortured him before I killed him,” he whispered.

Draco, apparently determined to not let things be tender between them, rolled his eyes.

“Potter, you stupid fucking Gryffindor, do you have to be a hero even in bed? I saved myself, remember?” Harry wrapped his hand around Draco’s erection. The blonde sighed and closed his eyes. “Don’t need you,” he mumbled.

Harry kissed him again, it seemed he couldn’t get enough of kissing him. But, because he had to breath, he was forced to part once again.

“I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Draco,” he breathed in the blonde’s ear, stroking him relentlessly. “Ever since that first night, I just—“

Draco’s hand clamped down on Harry’s, halting its motion.

“Potter, if you want to continue touching me, for us to continue touching each other, stop what you’re saying right now.”

“Draco…”

“I’m not messing,” Draco said. His voice held a clear warning.

Harry was torn between saying what he wanted to say and wanting Draco. His wanting Draco won in the end and he shut up. Sensing this moment of defeat, Draco pushed Harry onto his back. He stood off the bed long enough to strip Harry, then crawled back on top of the now naked man, straddling his hips and looking down at him with an expression that Harry couldn’t quite figure out. It was lust, amusement, anger and something more.

“Good decision, Potter,” Draco whispered, long fingers ghosting all over Harry’s torso, making him shiver. “What did your letter from the Weaslette say? Did she break up with you?”

“No, but she’s really angry that she’s being watched so closely and can’t go anywhere. She said that she never imagined that being my girlfriend would be such a pain in the arse,” Harry said, guiding Draco’s hands over his body.

“She’s daft. I’ve always said so.”

“She’s a good witch and a great girl. Not daft at all,” Harry mumbled in protest.

Draco sharply tweaked Harry’s nipples, both at once. Harry looked up at him, eyes watering with pleasurable pain.

“Let’s forget her for bit, shall we?” Draco asked. With a final smirk, he lowered his head and let his lips trace where his hands had been.

He touched and teased Harry for a long time, whispering lips and fingers over ribs, collarbones and hipbones. The insides of wrists were not neglected, nor were fingertips and, of course, knuckles, much to Harry’s delight.

“Potter? Harry?,” Draco whispered from somewhere around Harry’s navel.

“Hmmm?”

“Do you trust me?”

Harry barked out a laugh.

“Not at all,” he answered.

Draco smiled crookedly up at him. Harry smiled back and tenderly stroked his face.

“Well let’s pretend you do for the next few minutes and I promise I will make you come harder than you ever have in your life,” Draco said.

Harry didn’t argue, but lay his head back and closed his eyes.

Draco scooted down and lifted Harry’s legs over his shoulders. Harry raised up again, ready to protest, but Draco shut him up by blowing on the tip of his erection.

“I said pretend to trust me. Surely you can do better than that. Relax. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

Harry lay back again.

Draco spent the next half hour literally worshipping Harry’s cock. He licked and sucked, rubbed with not only his hands but his face, so that glistening streaks of saliva shimmered along his cheeks. He pressed his nose into the thatch of hair below Harry’s navel, tugging lightly at it with his teeth until Harry yelped. Laughing, he lapped at Harry’s balls and perineum, causing the black haired man to squirm and gasp “Draco” in the most wonderful way.

Harry was drowning in sensation. The bed beneath him, old and rickety as it was, felt liquid, as did the trails of pleasure left behind by each of Draco’s touches. Draco was doing things to him that he had never even dreamed possible. He felt as if he was falling off the edge of sanity, lured by the siren song of Draco’s tongue.

Without warning, there was a slight pressure at his entry. Before he could so much as lift his head, he felt something inside him, twisting and hooking and touching off something in him that felt like the fireworks they had shot off the night he killed Voldemort.

“Draco!” he cried, coming onto his stomach and chest in wracking spasms as Draco stroked him inside and out. From what seemed like a million miles away, he could hear Draco whispering something that sounded like “So fucking beautiful.”

Then it was over, and Malfoy was sitting over his hips again, rubbing his come into his skin as if it were massage oil.

“How was that?” the blonde asked. Harry didn’t need to open his eyes to know that he was smirking.

“You should have told me you were going to do that,” Harry panted.

“Why? Would you have let me if you knew?”

Harry laughed. “Probably not,” he admitted.

“See then? You would have missed out on so much. I don’t have to ask if that is the first time someone has done that for you. Mmmmm,” Draco hummed. It was such a lovely sound that Harry looked up to see what it was for.

Draco was stroking himself slowly and deliberately, his other hand flat on Harry’s chest. Harry’s breath caught. Draco was gorgeous.

“Want some help?” Harry whispered, twining his fingers in between Draco’s anchoring hand.

“That would be wonderful,” Draco said. Harry was once again struck by how feline his voice sounded.

Harry nearly got hard again just watching Draco, and may have done if Draco hadn’t been so close to coming when they started. As it was, it was over quickly, and, smiling in satisfaction, Draco settled onto Harry’s chest.

“Will you sleep in here tonight?” he asked just as Harry as dozing off.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes. I sleep a lot better when you’re in here. All those sweet kisses and encouraging words,” Draco mumbled, voice fuzzy with sleep.

Harry smiled. Here was a voice he would have never dreamed Draco capable.

“You heard me?” he asked.

Draco nodded against his chest and turned, curling up in the crook of Harry’s arm.

“Of course. I am probably the lightest sleeper in the country since my attack.”

Harry turned so that he was spooning Draco, and curled tightly around him. He was a little uncomfortable, but the contented sigh that came from Draco was well worth it.

“Can you really remember nothing from that morning?”

“I have weird flashes in my dreams. I think there were three of them. And one was a woman. Of that I’m sure.”

Harry’s eyebrows knitted.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“We weren’t talking.”

“Draco, this is important. I need to signal the Auror office and let them know.”

Draco scooted even tighter next to Harry.

“Can you do it later? Please?”

“Draco, I really should –“

“Please?”

Draco’s voice was so desperate that Harry dropped it.

“Ginny’s hanging out with some teacher at Hogwarts. Guy named Lancelot Wurth. She’s helping him with his classes as part of an independent study. Went on about him for pages. I don’t think there’s actually anything happening, but my instincts feel a little….off about it.”

“I’m sorry, Potter. I’m sure once you get back, all will be well,” Draco said, voice flat and far away.

Harry didn’t like that voice from Draco, so he dropped that subject as well and lay in silence next to Draco. Normally, he fell asleep immediately after coming, but today, he was wide awake. While Draco slept, deeply for once, he pondered the universe, trying to come up with solutions to who Draco’s attackers were, what might actually be going on with Ginny and Wurth, and every so often, wondering how the hell he ended up naked in bed with Draco Malfoy and feeling more peaceful than he could ever remembering feeling.