Fic: The Handsome Stranger (Part 12 of ?)
Summary Harry’s bed was huge -- obscenely so.
Warnings Veela!Draco and boy!smut.
Rating NC-17
This is unbeta-ed, please excuse any mistakes.
The Handsome Stranger
Chapter Twelve ... Touch
Harry’s bed was huge -- obscenely so. The seven-foot-square bed had been custom-made and had been the one item of furniture he was happy to overspend on. It was, he’d decided, the ultimate luxury after years of sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs and then the much nicer but equally narrow bed at Hogwarts. It was only after he’d installed it in the by then cramped bedroom that he’d realised he needed custom-made bed linen as well.
He loved the bed, but had never shared it with anyone. As a rule he didn’t bring people back to his flat and on the one occasion he had, they’d used the guest bedroom.
So, to be lying naked on the soft cotton sheets with Draco standing at the end of the bed was an erotic moment he wanted to engrain on his memory.
He’d climbed under the covers while Draco had disappeared into the bathroom only to reappear sans wings. Harry couldn’t decide whether he was disappointed or not, but the thought seemed immaterial the moment Draco had grabbed at the covers, pulling them from Harry’s naked body. Laying there in the centre of the bed propped up a little on the pillows, he felt more than naked ... he felt exposed as grey eyes travelled over him as if they could see inside him, feel his desires and needs. He wanted Draco so badly and he started to more towards him.
“No. Stay there.”
Harry dropped back to the pillows, obeying without thinking, as Draco climbed onto the bed and crawled towards him, like a big cat stalking his prey. He stopped, hands resting on either side of Harry’s head, knees straddling hips. “Ready for another go?”
The sleepiness from his earlier orgasm fled and Harry could feel his body responding again. He turned his head to one side, baring his throat to Draco’s nips and kisses. “Oh yes.”
“Good, because so am I.” Draco leaned closer and nibbled at Harry’s earlobe. “I want to blindfold you.”
“Blindfold?” Harry started, flinching away, his half-hard cock immediately softening as Draco’s words dragged him into one of his nightmares. The memory turned the knot in his stomach from arousal into panic.
In the end there had been only way to get close enough to Voldemort to kill him; Harry had to let the Death Eaters capture him. They’d bound, gagged and blindfolded him then dragged him before the Dark Lord. He still felt the terror of being completely helpless and trapped in darkness; unable to fight back or even see what was going to happen to him. He remembered hearing Voldemort’s voice getting closer and closer; how he’d sensed the psychopath walking around him, all the time talking ... telling his followers of his greatness and hissing in Parseltongue to Harry about just what he was going to do to him.
He’d never told anyone what had really happened that night; not even Ron and Hermione, and had thought he’d dealt with the problem, yet one word had brought it all back again. He tried to dispel the demons, but sometimes there just seemed to be too many to cope with. But he couldn’t let a dead madman ruin everything again.
Draco’s movements above him stilled. “Harry?”
Looking up into grey eyes, Harry thought he felt something at the edge of his mind -- was it concern? Curiosity? And why did it feel as if wings enfolded him again? “Nothing ... it’s ... nothing.” He took a breath and attempted a lop-sided smile that someone had once told him was sexy. “The blindfold. Maybe another time?”
Draco frowned and opened his mouth as if to say something. Instead he dropped down beside Harry, head resting on an upturned hand as he looked down with shrewd grey/black eyes. “Okay. Will you close your eyes then?”
The look Draco gave Harry left him with the impression that the other man knew exactly what he was thinking and that Draco understood. He sighed with relief and decided that he didn’t want to even think about the past, not with Draco pressed against his side and the feeling of breath on his skin. He nodded and tried the lop-sided smile again. “I will if you kiss me.”
And Draco did just that. The last remnants of his earlier distress fled as Harry revelled in the feeling of Draco taking control, at first with soft butterfly kisses and then with ones full of passion, of teasing lips and probing tongue.
Finally, just as Harry was beginning to wonder if Draco was going to try to make him come with kisses alone, Draco pulled back. Harry whimpered at the loss of contact and reached out a hand to touch Draco’s flushed chest.
With one last kiss, Draco whispered, “Close your eyes, Harry.”
Harry let his eyelids flutter close, but opened them almost instantly as he felt Draco move away from him. The other man grinned and reached out a hand, which he placed over Harry’s face.
“And keep them closed.”
Shifting a little against the soft cotton sheets, Harry waited. He felt the movement as Draco got up from the bed and then the mattress dip as Draco climbed on again. After what seemed like a lifetime, something touched his shoulder and he gasped in surprise. It took all of his composure to keep his eyes closed as he wondered what it was.
The touch came again, this time brushing over his nipple. It wasn’t a finger, but something softer and for a moment Harry thought it was a thin brush. Then it was drawn down his arm, a long thin edge turning into a soft glide across his skin.
A feather, he decided as the barbs brushed in a long sweep down his chest from throat to navel. The touch made his skin prickle with delight and with a groan he arched off the bed into it, his fingers fisted into the cotton sheet. He groaned. Had there been a quill in the room; he didn’t remember leaving one there.
The tantalising touches continued all over his body; long sweeps of the vane, followed by the soft touch of the tip and then the hard pressure of the shaft almost as if Draco was writing on his skin. It was finally as the tip of the feather swirled into the depression of his navel, making him wriggle with delight, that realisation hit home.
It had to be one of Draco’s feathers, taken from his wings.
Harry’s eyes snapped open. He had to see. The feather was long and as white as snow.
“Close your eyes, Harry.” The words were a deep whisper and the sound went straight to Harry’s cock.
The feather brushed over his brow and across Harry’s eyes. They closed automatically and he waited, holding his breath. The thought that Draco was stroking him with one of his own feathers was tormentingly arousing. “Don’t stop,” he begged.
“You want more?”
Harry whimpered as Draco trailed the feather up his inner thigh. “Yes ... yes!” He spread his legs wider.
“Here?”
The feather’s tip slid across the back of Harry’s knee. “Merlin, there. Anywhere.”
“What about....” The pause was cock-achingly long and Harry realised he was squirming in frustration. If Draco didn’t do something ... anything! ... soon he’d rip holes in the sheet. “Here.”
Harry let out a shout as Draco touched the area behind his testicles with the feather before dragging it over his scrotum and up the underside of his aching shaft. “Please, Draco! Please!” Eyes scrunched tightly shut, he reached out blindly for the man, fingers catching in fine hair.
Then, just when Harry thought he was going to have to beg, wet warmth surrounded his cock. Eyes flying open he gasped and tried to thrust his hips up, desperate for more of the heat. But the firm weight of Draco’s body resting on his leg pinned Harry to the bed and he struggled to get his free leg further apart because he wanted the fingers that were playing with his testicles to have as much access as possible.
Draco played with him, sucking him to almost painful arousal, so hard that pleasure and pain almost became one. Harry found all he could do was whimper pathetically and mumble words like “There” and “Please” and “Fuck” as Draco’s tongue and fingers worked little miracles.
Panting, Harry flung his arm over his eyes. The dark didn’t matter now; all he wanted was to feel the sensation of Draco’s tongue circling his cock head and Draco’s finger circling his hole. The finger breeched him and Harry held his breath.
Draco was going to fuck him.
Tongue against the underside of his cock, Harry groaned as Draco pulled off him, the suction almost sending him over the edge. Then a voice in his ear.
“I want you inside me, Harry. Right. Now.”
Harry finally looked and found Draco over him, his knees straddling Harry’s hips. Draco was as hard as Harry and as Draco rose up, his cock trembled and all Harry wanted to do was suck it into his mouth. He hadn’t fucked for ages, normally it ended up the other way round and the idea of that cock inside him ... either in his mouth or his arse ... almost made him come right there.
But it was Draco who was in control here; he might want Harry inside him but this was Draco’s game and Harry was lost. Lost in his own passion and desire for this person. If Draco asked to blindfold him at this moment, Harry didn’t think he’d refuse. He gripped at Draco’s knees not caring if he left marks in the pale skin.
When Draco took hold of him, his fingers were sticky and whatever it was slicked Harry’s skin. It had a smell he couldn’t quite place but it was arousing, especially mixed with Draco’s scent. Draco quickly found a rhythm as he stroked Harry, not hard enough to bring him off, but enough to keep him hard and wanting.
“Ready?”
Harry nodded. “Oh yes.”
He watched, enraptured, as Draco rose up on his knees and positioned himself before slowly pushing down, taking just the tip of Harry’s cock inside him. Harry whimpered; fingers tightening as they wrapped around Draco’s thighs. He stared at the beautiful sight of Draco perched above him and thought he saw wings. But there was nothing there. Yet as he blinked there was an afterimage on his retina, like stretched out wings and as he slid inside Draco the image quivered and he thought he heard feathers rustle.
Draco sank lower until, finally, Harry was balls-deep inside him and he could feel Draco sitting on his lap. He gasped at the pressure, at the way it made him feel and how for years he’d wanted to be exactly where he was right now.
It was as Draco pulled up, tight heat squeezing his cock -- squeezing the very life from him as the afterimage of fluttering wings stamped itself on his memory -- that a thought pushed its way through the passion.
Draco was a Veela. Draco had told him earlier that he’d been pregnant but lost the child.
Oh god, could he really make Draco pregnant?
He grabbed at Draco’s hips, holding him still and fighting the urge to push up into the tightness. “Wait ... wait!”
Draco became still, looking down on him like an angel, but the stillness was an illusion because Harry could feel rhythmic movements squeezing him. An elegant eyebrow rose and Harry could see a sheen of moisture glowing on the man’s skin.
Harry tightened his fingers and panted a little. “Can I ... could I ... um ... get you pregnant?”
Despite the hands holding him, Draco pushed down, hips circling just a little as he moved. “Do you want to?”
“What?” Harry squeaked. It wasn’t the answer he’d expected. “I ... no ... yes. I mean. Not right now.” He felt the familiar tightening deep inside him that told him he wasn’t going to last much longer.
“Don’t worry, Harry, you won’t. There’s no Veela bond.” Draco suddenly leaned forward, the pressure almost too much. “Come for me, Harry. Come right now.”
****
When he woke up alone in the huge bed, Harry decided the previous night had probably been a dream. But then he’d snuggled against a pillow that smelled of Draco and he knew it had been real. Curious as to where the man had gone, he threw back the covers, pulled on a dressing gown and went in search of his glasses and then in search of his missing lover.
His lover. Harry grinned; he liked the sound of that. There were things he still didn’t understand -- things about Veela. He would deal with that somehow, like he’d dealt with things in the past, but for now he just wanted to spend time with this person and get to know Draco properly. Then, who knows what might happen.
The smell of coffee brewing directed Harry into the kitchen and he found a freshly showered and dressed Draco making breakfast. The man smiled at him over his shoulder, the look making Harry go weak at the knees. He mustered the strength to kiss that smile.
“You’re the visitor. I should be doing that.” Harry gestured at the scrambling eggs.
“I planned on serving it to you in bed.” Draco gave a little shrug. “Before I left.”
“Left?” This time the weakness wasn’t due to growing ardour.
“Unfortunately yes. I’ve promised Arlen that we’d go to the manor today.” Draco placed two plates on the table and poured coffee. “Black with two sugars if I remember.”
Harry nodded. “Thanks. You’re taking him to Malfoy Manor?”
“He’s wanted to go for ages. He thinks it’s full of ghosts and mother promised him he could pick out his own room.”
“Oh.” Harry reached for his coffee mug. So much for his idea of asking Draco to stay for lunch.
“You could come if you want.”
He looked up just as Draco pushed a lock of damp hair from his forehead. “With you to the manor?”
Draco nodded. “I’m sure Arlen wouldn’t mind. He was disappointed when you left early on Friday.”
A fist clenched in Harry’s chest and he was on the verge of shouting ‘yes’ when he realised he’d already kept Draco from his son overnight. As much as Arlen might have wanted him to go to tea, Harry doubted that the boy would be happy to have a stranger tag along when he wanted to be with his dad. Harry gave a smile he wasn’t sure worked. “Thanks, but I have things to do.” Like decorate a Christmas tree on my own, he thought as he cast a quick glance to the naked tree in the sitting room.
“If you’re sure.”
No, he wasn’t, but Harry wasn’t going to mention that. “You’ll have loads to show him ... all your childhood haunts ... and won’t want me in the way.” He tried to smile again. “Besides, I never thought I’d ever get an invitation to Malfoy Manor. Maybe you can show me all those haunts another time.”
****
Draco Apparated midmorning, leaving Harry wandering aimlessly around his flat still wearing his dressing gown.
He felt completely dejected and at a loss to know what to do now that he was alone. How, he considered as he stared out the window at the dismal London streets below, could spending one night with a person have left him like this? It felt like he’d been going out with Draco forever and that they’d just split up.
He considered going to visit Hermione and Ron, but that would mean talking about his infatuation with Draco and he didn’t really to share that because even after the previous night he wasn’t sure what exactly their relationship was, or even if it existed.
Then there was the whole pregnancy thing. He longed for a family of his own but never thought it would happen. But now was there a really possibility? Was it possible for a male wizard to father a child with a male Veela? And was that really what he wanted?
And all the time the tree kept staring at him and he was such a couple of the branches made the shape of a mouth laughing. The Boy Who Lived ... the Chosen One ... alone for yet another Christmas.
Turning his back on the tree, he rummaged in the bags of Christmas presents purchased in Diagon Alley the previous day and tried to work up the enthusiasm to wrap them. One item was a small fishing rod, brought for Arlen. He stared at it for a long time and wondered if it was too forward to want to give Draco’s son a Christmas present. Was there some sort of strange Veela protocol regarding present giving?
He sorted through the bags and finally found the one from Flourish and Blotts. Perhaps he should actually read the books on Veela that he’d brought.
****
Much later Harry came to the same conclusion that Hermione and his Hogwarts professors had come to many years ago. As much as he enjoyed reading storybooks, textbooks just didn’t hold his attention, and all the books he’d brought the day beforewere in the Gilderoy Lockhart style of writing. He still didn’t understand anymore about Veela culture or what it meant to bond with one -- or even be friends with one.
Maybe it was time to talk to Fleur.
He’d just settled down with a bottle of beer and supper (more junk, following on from a day of snacking on things that would horrify Molly Weasley), and was contemplating whether to start decorating the dreaded tree when a knock sounded at his front door.
Automatically reaching for his wand, Harry frowned. Who would be calling this late on a Sunday evening? When the knock came a second time, he finally went to the door, cast a security spell before opening it. His mouth went dry.
“Draco?”
“I hope you don’t mind me calling this late.”
“No, of course not.” Harry stepped back and gestured for Draco to come inside. He instantly regretted it as he realised just how messy the flat was. He closed the door. “I’ve been ... um ... sorting things.”
Draco nodded in mock agreement. “They look decidedly unsorted.”
“I’m still working on it.” Harry pushed nervous hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Did Arlen enjoy his visit?”
“He loved it and wants to live in a castle all the time. Fortunately the manor needs lots of restoration work, so he’s decided living at Squirrel’s Leap will be fine for now.” Draco reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a large almost flat envelope. “I found this while I was there.”
Harry studied Draco for a moment and realised that the man’s cheeks had coloured. He found the blush endearing and finally took the envelope. Inside was a rather wonky silver star, a little bigger then the size of his outstretched hand, that twinkled in the light.
“Actually, it was mum who found it. I thought you might like it -- for your tree.” Draco gestured at the still undecorated tree and then blurted out. “I made it.”
Eyes opening wide, Harry stared at him. “Today?”
“No, no, years ago. I was about seven or eight and I made it for our tree. Mum helped me with the glitter spells. But father wasn’t....” Draco took a breath. “He wasn’t impressed and said it wasn’t suitable for the family tree.” He reached out and touched it. “So we hung it up at my bedroom window every Christmas until I went to Hogwarts.”
Harry stroked his fingers over the star. “I had one like it in my....” He almost said ‘cupboard’ but quickly changed it to, “bedroom. It was made from a cereal packet covered in tinfoil. Are you sure you don’t want it for your tree?”
Draco blinked. “We made one today ... Arlen and me ... for our tree. But if you don’t want it....” He reached for the star.
Harry grabbed it back. “No. It’s perfect -- just perfect.” He gestured at the tree. “Maybe you could help me decorate if you can say for a little while.”
For a moment Draco didn’t move, then suddenly he crossed to Harry and grabbed at him, hugging him close. He could feel Draco’s cheek rubbing against his own and realised that he hadn’t shaved. Not that Draco seemed to mind. The hug turned into a kiss.
“I’d like that, Harry. I’d like that very much.”
----
Chapter Thirteen ... Questions
Warnings Veela!Draco and boy!smut.
Rating NC-17
This is unbeta-ed, please excuse any mistakes.
The Handsome Stranger
Chapter Twelve ... Touch
Harry’s bed was huge -- obscenely so. The seven-foot-square bed had been custom-made and had been the one item of furniture he was happy to overspend on. It was, he’d decided, the ultimate luxury after years of sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs and then the much nicer but equally narrow bed at Hogwarts. It was only after he’d installed it in the by then cramped bedroom that he’d realised he needed custom-made bed linen as well.
He loved the bed, but had never shared it with anyone. As a rule he didn’t bring people back to his flat and on the one occasion he had, they’d used the guest bedroom.
So, to be lying naked on the soft cotton sheets with Draco standing at the end of the bed was an erotic moment he wanted to engrain on his memory.
He’d climbed under the covers while Draco had disappeared into the bathroom only to reappear sans wings. Harry couldn’t decide whether he was disappointed or not, but the thought seemed immaterial the moment Draco had grabbed at the covers, pulling them from Harry’s naked body. Laying there in the centre of the bed propped up a little on the pillows, he felt more than naked ... he felt exposed as grey eyes travelled over him as if they could see inside him, feel his desires and needs. He wanted Draco so badly and he started to more towards him.
“No. Stay there.”
Harry dropped back to the pillows, obeying without thinking, as Draco climbed onto the bed and crawled towards him, like a big cat stalking his prey. He stopped, hands resting on either side of Harry’s head, knees straddling hips. “Ready for another go?”
The sleepiness from his earlier orgasm fled and Harry could feel his body responding again. He turned his head to one side, baring his throat to Draco’s nips and kisses. “Oh yes.”
“Good, because so am I.” Draco leaned closer and nibbled at Harry’s earlobe. “I want to blindfold you.”
“Blindfold?” Harry started, flinching away, his half-hard cock immediately softening as Draco’s words dragged him into one of his nightmares. The memory turned the knot in his stomach from arousal into panic.
In the end there had been only way to get close enough to Voldemort to kill him; Harry had to let the Death Eaters capture him. They’d bound, gagged and blindfolded him then dragged him before the Dark Lord. He still felt the terror of being completely helpless and trapped in darkness; unable to fight back or even see what was going to happen to him. He remembered hearing Voldemort’s voice getting closer and closer; how he’d sensed the psychopath walking around him, all the time talking ... telling his followers of his greatness and hissing in Parseltongue to Harry about just what he was going to do to him.
He’d never told anyone what had really happened that night; not even Ron and Hermione, and had thought he’d dealt with the problem, yet one word had brought it all back again. He tried to dispel the demons, but sometimes there just seemed to be too many to cope with. But he couldn’t let a dead madman ruin everything again.
Draco’s movements above him stilled. “Harry?”
Looking up into grey eyes, Harry thought he felt something at the edge of his mind -- was it concern? Curiosity? And why did it feel as if wings enfolded him again? “Nothing ... it’s ... nothing.” He took a breath and attempted a lop-sided smile that someone had once told him was sexy. “The blindfold. Maybe another time?”
Draco frowned and opened his mouth as if to say something. Instead he dropped down beside Harry, head resting on an upturned hand as he looked down with shrewd grey/black eyes. “Okay. Will you close your eyes then?”
The look Draco gave Harry left him with the impression that the other man knew exactly what he was thinking and that Draco understood. He sighed with relief and decided that he didn’t want to even think about the past, not with Draco pressed against his side and the feeling of breath on his skin. He nodded and tried the lop-sided smile again. “I will if you kiss me.”
And Draco did just that. The last remnants of his earlier distress fled as Harry revelled in the feeling of Draco taking control, at first with soft butterfly kisses and then with ones full of passion, of teasing lips and probing tongue.
Finally, just as Harry was beginning to wonder if Draco was going to try to make him come with kisses alone, Draco pulled back. Harry whimpered at the loss of contact and reached out a hand to touch Draco’s flushed chest.
With one last kiss, Draco whispered, “Close your eyes, Harry.”
Harry let his eyelids flutter close, but opened them almost instantly as he felt Draco move away from him. The other man grinned and reached out a hand, which he placed over Harry’s face.
“And keep them closed.”
Shifting a little against the soft cotton sheets, Harry waited. He felt the movement as Draco got up from the bed and then the mattress dip as Draco climbed on again. After what seemed like a lifetime, something touched his shoulder and he gasped in surprise. It took all of his composure to keep his eyes closed as he wondered what it was.
The touch came again, this time brushing over his nipple. It wasn’t a finger, but something softer and for a moment Harry thought it was a thin brush. Then it was drawn down his arm, a long thin edge turning into a soft glide across his skin.
A feather, he decided as the barbs brushed in a long sweep down his chest from throat to navel. The touch made his skin prickle with delight and with a groan he arched off the bed into it, his fingers fisted into the cotton sheet. He groaned. Had there been a quill in the room; he didn’t remember leaving one there.
The tantalising touches continued all over his body; long sweeps of the vane, followed by the soft touch of the tip and then the hard pressure of the shaft almost as if Draco was writing on his skin. It was finally as the tip of the feather swirled into the depression of his navel, making him wriggle with delight, that realisation hit home.
It had to be one of Draco’s feathers, taken from his wings.
Harry’s eyes snapped open. He had to see. The feather was long and as white as snow.
“Close your eyes, Harry.” The words were a deep whisper and the sound went straight to Harry’s cock.
The feather brushed over his brow and across Harry’s eyes. They closed automatically and he waited, holding his breath. The thought that Draco was stroking him with one of his own feathers was tormentingly arousing. “Don’t stop,” he begged.
“You want more?”
Harry whimpered as Draco trailed the feather up his inner thigh. “Yes ... yes!” He spread his legs wider.
“Here?”
The feather’s tip slid across the back of Harry’s knee. “Merlin, there. Anywhere.”
“What about....” The pause was cock-achingly long and Harry realised he was squirming in frustration. If Draco didn’t do something ... anything! ... soon he’d rip holes in the sheet. “Here.”
Harry let out a shout as Draco touched the area behind his testicles with the feather before dragging it over his scrotum and up the underside of his aching shaft. “Please, Draco! Please!” Eyes scrunched tightly shut, he reached out blindly for the man, fingers catching in fine hair.
Then, just when Harry thought he was going to have to beg, wet warmth surrounded his cock. Eyes flying open he gasped and tried to thrust his hips up, desperate for more of the heat. But the firm weight of Draco’s body resting on his leg pinned Harry to the bed and he struggled to get his free leg further apart because he wanted the fingers that were playing with his testicles to have as much access as possible.
Draco played with him, sucking him to almost painful arousal, so hard that pleasure and pain almost became one. Harry found all he could do was whimper pathetically and mumble words like “There” and “Please” and “Fuck” as Draco’s tongue and fingers worked little miracles.
Panting, Harry flung his arm over his eyes. The dark didn’t matter now; all he wanted was to feel the sensation of Draco’s tongue circling his cock head and Draco’s finger circling his hole. The finger breeched him and Harry held his breath.
Draco was going to fuck him.
Tongue against the underside of his cock, Harry groaned as Draco pulled off him, the suction almost sending him over the edge. Then a voice in his ear.
“I want you inside me, Harry. Right. Now.”
Harry finally looked and found Draco over him, his knees straddling Harry’s hips. Draco was as hard as Harry and as Draco rose up, his cock trembled and all Harry wanted to do was suck it into his mouth. He hadn’t fucked for ages, normally it ended up the other way round and the idea of that cock inside him ... either in his mouth or his arse ... almost made him come right there.
But it was Draco who was in control here; he might want Harry inside him but this was Draco’s game and Harry was lost. Lost in his own passion and desire for this person. If Draco asked to blindfold him at this moment, Harry didn’t think he’d refuse. He gripped at Draco’s knees not caring if he left marks in the pale skin.
When Draco took hold of him, his fingers were sticky and whatever it was slicked Harry’s skin. It had a smell he couldn’t quite place but it was arousing, especially mixed with Draco’s scent. Draco quickly found a rhythm as he stroked Harry, not hard enough to bring him off, but enough to keep him hard and wanting.
“Ready?”
Harry nodded. “Oh yes.”
He watched, enraptured, as Draco rose up on his knees and positioned himself before slowly pushing down, taking just the tip of Harry’s cock inside him. Harry whimpered; fingers tightening as they wrapped around Draco’s thighs. He stared at the beautiful sight of Draco perched above him and thought he saw wings. But there was nothing there. Yet as he blinked there was an afterimage on his retina, like stretched out wings and as he slid inside Draco the image quivered and he thought he heard feathers rustle.
Draco sank lower until, finally, Harry was balls-deep inside him and he could feel Draco sitting on his lap. He gasped at the pressure, at the way it made him feel and how for years he’d wanted to be exactly where he was right now.
It was as Draco pulled up, tight heat squeezing his cock -- squeezing the very life from him as the afterimage of fluttering wings stamped itself on his memory -- that a thought pushed its way through the passion.
Draco was a Veela. Draco had told him earlier that he’d been pregnant but lost the child.
Oh god, could he really make Draco pregnant?
He grabbed at Draco’s hips, holding him still and fighting the urge to push up into the tightness. “Wait ... wait!”
Draco became still, looking down on him like an angel, but the stillness was an illusion because Harry could feel rhythmic movements squeezing him. An elegant eyebrow rose and Harry could see a sheen of moisture glowing on the man’s skin.
Harry tightened his fingers and panted a little. “Can I ... could I ... um ... get you pregnant?”
Despite the hands holding him, Draco pushed down, hips circling just a little as he moved. “Do you want to?”
“What?” Harry squeaked. It wasn’t the answer he’d expected. “I ... no ... yes. I mean. Not right now.” He felt the familiar tightening deep inside him that told him he wasn’t going to last much longer.
“Don’t worry, Harry, you won’t. There’s no Veela bond.” Draco suddenly leaned forward, the pressure almost too much. “Come for me, Harry. Come right now.”
****
When he woke up alone in the huge bed, Harry decided the previous night had probably been a dream. But then he’d snuggled against a pillow that smelled of Draco and he knew it had been real. Curious as to where the man had gone, he threw back the covers, pulled on a dressing gown and went in search of his glasses and then in search of his missing lover.
His lover. Harry grinned; he liked the sound of that. There were things he still didn’t understand -- things about Veela. He would deal with that somehow, like he’d dealt with things in the past, but for now he just wanted to spend time with this person and get to know Draco properly. Then, who knows what might happen.
The smell of coffee brewing directed Harry into the kitchen and he found a freshly showered and dressed Draco making breakfast. The man smiled at him over his shoulder, the look making Harry go weak at the knees. He mustered the strength to kiss that smile.
“You’re the visitor. I should be doing that.” Harry gestured at the scrambling eggs.
“I planned on serving it to you in bed.” Draco gave a little shrug. “Before I left.”
“Left?” This time the weakness wasn’t due to growing ardour.
“Unfortunately yes. I’ve promised Arlen that we’d go to the manor today.” Draco placed two plates on the table and poured coffee. “Black with two sugars if I remember.”
Harry nodded. “Thanks. You’re taking him to Malfoy Manor?”
“He’s wanted to go for ages. He thinks it’s full of ghosts and mother promised him he could pick out his own room.”
“Oh.” Harry reached for his coffee mug. So much for his idea of asking Draco to stay for lunch.
“You could come if you want.”
He looked up just as Draco pushed a lock of damp hair from his forehead. “With you to the manor?”
Draco nodded. “I’m sure Arlen wouldn’t mind. He was disappointed when you left early on Friday.”
A fist clenched in Harry’s chest and he was on the verge of shouting ‘yes’ when he realised he’d already kept Draco from his son overnight. As much as Arlen might have wanted him to go to tea, Harry doubted that the boy would be happy to have a stranger tag along when he wanted to be with his dad. Harry gave a smile he wasn’t sure worked. “Thanks, but I have things to do.” Like decorate a Christmas tree on my own, he thought as he cast a quick glance to the naked tree in the sitting room.
“If you’re sure.”
No, he wasn’t, but Harry wasn’t going to mention that. “You’ll have loads to show him ... all your childhood haunts ... and won’t want me in the way.” He tried to smile again. “Besides, I never thought I’d ever get an invitation to Malfoy Manor. Maybe you can show me all those haunts another time.”
****
Draco Apparated midmorning, leaving Harry wandering aimlessly around his flat still wearing his dressing gown.
He felt completely dejected and at a loss to know what to do now that he was alone. How, he considered as he stared out the window at the dismal London streets below, could spending one night with a person have left him like this? It felt like he’d been going out with Draco forever and that they’d just split up.
He considered going to visit Hermione and Ron, but that would mean talking about his infatuation with Draco and he didn’t really to share that because even after the previous night he wasn’t sure what exactly their relationship was, or even if it existed.
Then there was the whole pregnancy thing. He longed for a family of his own but never thought it would happen. But now was there a really possibility? Was it possible for a male wizard to father a child with a male Veela? And was that really what he wanted?
And all the time the tree kept staring at him and he was such a couple of the branches made the shape of a mouth laughing. The Boy Who Lived ... the Chosen One ... alone for yet another Christmas.
Turning his back on the tree, he rummaged in the bags of Christmas presents purchased in Diagon Alley the previous day and tried to work up the enthusiasm to wrap them. One item was a small fishing rod, brought for Arlen. He stared at it for a long time and wondered if it was too forward to want to give Draco’s son a Christmas present. Was there some sort of strange Veela protocol regarding present giving?
He sorted through the bags and finally found the one from Flourish and Blotts. Perhaps he should actually read the books on Veela that he’d brought.
****
Much later Harry came to the same conclusion that Hermione and his Hogwarts professors had come to many years ago. As much as he enjoyed reading storybooks, textbooks just didn’t hold his attention, and all the books he’d brought the day beforewere in the Gilderoy Lockhart style of writing. He still didn’t understand anymore about Veela culture or what it meant to bond with one -- or even be friends with one.
Maybe it was time to talk to Fleur.
He’d just settled down with a bottle of beer and supper (more junk, following on from a day of snacking on things that would horrify Molly Weasley), and was contemplating whether to start decorating the dreaded tree when a knock sounded at his front door.
Automatically reaching for his wand, Harry frowned. Who would be calling this late on a Sunday evening? When the knock came a second time, he finally went to the door, cast a security spell before opening it. His mouth went dry.
“Draco?”
“I hope you don’t mind me calling this late.”
“No, of course not.” Harry stepped back and gestured for Draco to come inside. He instantly regretted it as he realised just how messy the flat was. He closed the door. “I’ve been ... um ... sorting things.”
Draco nodded in mock agreement. “They look decidedly unsorted.”
“I’m still working on it.” Harry pushed nervous hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Did Arlen enjoy his visit?”
“He loved it and wants to live in a castle all the time. Fortunately the manor needs lots of restoration work, so he’s decided living at Squirrel’s Leap will be fine for now.” Draco reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a large almost flat envelope. “I found this while I was there.”
Harry studied Draco for a moment and realised that the man’s cheeks had coloured. He found the blush endearing and finally took the envelope. Inside was a rather wonky silver star, a little bigger then the size of his outstretched hand, that twinkled in the light.
“Actually, it was mum who found it. I thought you might like it -- for your tree.” Draco gestured at the still undecorated tree and then blurted out. “I made it.”
Eyes opening wide, Harry stared at him. “Today?”
“No, no, years ago. I was about seven or eight and I made it for our tree. Mum helped me with the glitter spells. But father wasn’t....” Draco took a breath. “He wasn’t impressed and said it wasn’t suitable for the family tree.” He reached out and touched it. “So we hung it up at my bedroom window every Christmas until I went to Hogwarts.”
Harry stroked his fingers over the star. “I had one like it in my....” He almost said ‘cupboard’ but quickly changed it to, “bedroom. It was made from a cereal packet covered in tinfoil. Are you sure you don’t want it for your tree?”
Draco blinked. “We made one today ... Arlen and me ... for our tree. But if you don’t want it....” He reached for the star.
Harry grabbed it back. “No. It’s perfect -- just perfect.” He gestured at the tree. “Maybe you could help me decorate if you can say for a little while.”
For a moment Draco didn’t move, then suddenly he crossed to Harry and grabbed at him, hugging him close. He could feel Draco’s cheek rubbing against his own and realised that he hadn’t shaved. Not that Draco seemed to mind. The hug turned into a kiss.
“I’d like that, Harry. I’d like that very much.”
----
Chapter Thirteen ... Questions