Fic: Myrtle and Rosemary: Story of a Rebound (NC17)
Author: monoceros-writ
Title: Myrtle and Rosemary: Story of a Rebound
Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, past Draco Malfoy /Astoria Malfoy
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Something bad happens and then something really good happens. Both to one Draco Malfoy, DADA teacher at Hogwarts.
Warnings: Smut and a tiny bit of Angst
Total word count: 3,600
Original prompt request number: 155
Fourth prompt at link
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's notes: The prompt grey-hunter gave was the basis for this fic. I trying to incorporate as much of it as I could in what follows, I hope you like thisgrey-hunter. This fic is dedicated, most especially to harrysexmagick without whose support it would never have happened. Thank you for being a friend and for all the encouragement! *squishes*
Beta(s): Many, many thanks to gingeraled who was a wicked beta and made the story much better for it. And big thank you to x-merlin and bakaness for their wonderful offer of help, especially in so short a time.
Myrtle and Rosemary: Story of a Rebound
“Professor Malfoy is a pompous arse,” the squiggle on the cubicle door’s inside panel stated.
Draco Malfoy calmly opened the door from within and asked, softly and deadly, “Oh, Myrtle?”
“Yes, Draco?” came a whiney, simpering voice.
“Who wrote this?” inquired Draco Malfoy, the new DADA teacher, pointing to the inscription.
The translucent shape of Moaning Myrtle floated to the inscription and read. Myrtle seemed to choke on a giggle before she turned to the now furious Professor.
“I don’t know. I don’t stay here all the time, you know,” Myrtle began in her practiced whine before relenting at the glare the professor shot at her. “It could have been that girl from last week, she was crying. Or the horrible Magnus who came to laugh at me or Scorpius’s friend because Scorpius would never…”
“What friend? When was this? When did Scorpius come here?”
“What’s wrong with here? Don’t you like me anymore? Am I ...”
“Myrtle,” Draco began sternly, shutting her up quite effectively, “this is a girl’s bathroom.” Draco finished archly.
“Oh. Alright.” Myrtle beamed myopically at him.
“Even more importantly, he is only three years old. He should have been with his nanny, not with an unknown student. Who was the boy? And what were they doing?”
“He was hooded. So I don’t know, and they were hissing, over there,” Myrtle said, pointing to one of the sinks. ”Scorpius was eating a lolly and . . .”
Draco’s blood ran cold. Hissing. Not good. Draco walked to the sink in question and abruptly stopped against what was apparently thin air.
Several Revealing Charms later and he had found a very powerful ward, a Notice-Me-Not Spell and a Disillusionment Charm.
The latter proved easiest to lift, so Draco very carefully did just that. Some sort of a tunnel revealed itself, looking like a dark shaft that led right under Hogwarts.
“I know where that goes,” Myrtle offered with a sickening look of adoration.
Draco turned to look at her. She got close before whispering dramatically; obviously enjoying his undivided attention, “This is the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.”
Draco stared into her watery and transparent eyes, before he calmly re-cast the Disillusionment Charm, warded the whole room and caught himself before he could faint.
#@#
A half hour later, all the professors in the staff room jumped when the door was spectacularly slammed against the wall by the precipitated arrival of the new DADA professor.
“Did Peeves spill pink dye on you again, Professor?” the Muggle Studies Moron drawled, dabbing at his tea-stained robes in annoyance.
“No, the Chamber has been opened.” Professor Malfoy announced imperiously, before adding with certainty, “We need to discuss how ...”
“If the Chamber has been opened, which I doubt,” Professor Sprout began, “it is you, not us who needs to do something about it.”
The Herbology professor had never liked Draco much, and Draco’s constant fan mail annoyed her no end. Truth be told it probably annoyed all his colleagues. Well, bugger for them; he was gorgeous and a great teacher, not to mention Potter owed him a life debt or two.
“It is the responsibility…” Draco began, only to be rudely interrupted by Sprout again.
“Of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher to deal with it,” she said with finality.
Nobody commented on the blatant disregard for rules that was the opening of the Chamber, not to mention Draco’s personal safety. It was awful and annoying and Draco would have said so if The Moron hadn’t smirked, “Don’t worry, Malfoy, Potter already took care of the Basilisk”.
“Well, fuck.” Draco thought, un-amused as they all laughed.
#@#
Eleven years after the War, Harry Potter sat back in his desk chair and critically regarded the letter he had just received. Working with Hermione in the new Hogsmeade Elementary where Muggle-raised children were introduced to the Wizarding world meant he got many Owls, this one, however, was different. The identity of the sender had not been as much of a surprise as the request on the single sheet of parchment.
Apparently, Draco Malfoy’s son, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, was a Parselmouth. Harry contemplated for a moment the utter irony that it had been through Draco’s doing that Hogwarts, and therefore the whole world, learned that Harry was a Parselmouth, and that now, Malfoy, naturally, wanted his son’s ability to remain a secret.
However, Harry could see the reasoning behind it, too: a former Death Eater and his supposedly Dark son. Harry remembered how the Wizarding world reacted to his gift; he could only imagine what it would be like for the boy Scorpius.
Harry was about to pen in his acceptance on the blank part at the end of the letter when it filled with more lines. Harry read and promptly choked on his tea.
Potter, one of the students found out that Scorpius can talk to snakes and used my son to open the Chamber. I want to find whoever it is and hang them by their toes Obliviate them. I need you to close the Chamber without announcing your presence at the castle. Please respond at your earliest convenience.
P.S. I have added your person to my Floo acceptance list.
“That pompous arse! He wants to take credit for what I do to help him!” Harry ranted as he went about the house, getting dressed, before promptly Flooing to Malfoy’s quarters.
Harry claimed the fireside chair when he found himself in a room Malfoy probably called a drawing room or something equally poncy. A door clicked on the far side of the room and Harry turned. The sight that greeted him, though, had him staring, and his mouth running dry.
#@#
After the debacle in the Staff room, Draco walked straight to his quarters and proceeded to tear off all his clothes, before he stormed to the bathroom for a shower. For some reason, Draco always thought best while showering or brushing his teeth-whenever he was at the loo, basically. He supposed it had to do with the inherent cleanliness of the room, but it could be just that he was alone with his thoughts for as long as the routine of soap, scrub and rinse lasted.
After accepting the position of DADA teacher at Hogwarts, Draco had thought he was moving in the right direction to regain his place in the Wizarding world. However, he had had the sneaky suspicion people were considering him the new Lockhart.
They supposed he was bad at his job, but he wasn’t; he was simply better at the theoretical side of it. Draco rather suspected the students thought so because his detentions involved answering his fan mail, but it was useful. Besides the “oh, you are so wonderful” got old after the hundredth time. Since the house-elves screened the posts for any dangerous letters, there was nothing wrong with using the students on the rest.
However insulting the comparison, it was still better than former Death Eater, so he let them think what they wanted. Astoria though, had not been pleased; dangerous was better than poncy any day as far as she was concerned. Unfortunately, at three, Scorpius was very in tune with his mother’s feelings, so he tended to avoid Draco when he was “at his poncy-est,” at home. He visited regularly but, mostly, Astoria had him during the week.
Shaking off his musings which had nothing to do with the problem at hand, Draco turned off the shower and got out. Drying himself gently with a fluffy towel, he then donned his turquoise robe, letting his hair air dry before he exited the bathroom.
Draco stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him upon arrival in the drawing room. Harry Potter lay sprawled in Draco’s favorite armchair by the fire. Observing the man more closely, Draco noticed the gobsmacked look as well as the unmistakable look of interest in the other’s eyes. Draco was well aware of what Potter saw: pale skin, revealed by the loosely tied robe, from ankle to mid-thigh and then collarbone to solar plexus. Draco was slightly embarrassed by the state of his hair, but shrugged it off. If Potter could walk around with that rat’s nest then Draco could have wet hair in the privacy of his own rooms.
Tilting his head to the side, Draco suppressed a smile when Potter’s eyes religiously followed a drop of water down his throat to the folds of the robe. Instead, Draco smirked and drawled. “I was not expecting you so soon, I shall return after dressing in something more appropriate.”
Draco had to bite his lip to stop an amused chuckle escaping when he heard a small moan as he turned and exited the room.
#@#
Returning fully dressed in his customary black teaching robes, Draco cast a smug look at Potter before doing a double take. There was a definite calculating look in Potter’s eyes as well as barely concealed smirk on his lips.
“If you are going to ask for sexual favors, Potter, I’ll inform you right now that you would be merely a rebound.”
“Oh?”
Draco stared at Potter’s barely polite question. He didn’t seem deterred in the least by the notion. “Yes, not from Astoria, we are legally separated, but from my ex-lover.”
“Who was a moron,” Potter commented quietly.
Draco just stared, before collapsing in the armchair opposite Potter when the blatantly apprising looks got too much. Apparently, Potter had done some thinking while Draco was changing his robes. Draco made a mental note to not leave him with that kind of time on his hands again.
“I'll agree to help you, anonymously, if you agree to allow me a date next Hogsmeade weekend, and this is not negotiable,” Potter had the gall to add before Draco could object. Truthfully, it was a good deal, especially as long as Potter knew he was a rebound . . .
“You drive a hard bargain,” Draco joked, before adding very seriously, “but I want to have a talk with the soon-to-be ex-student who put my son in danger.”
“That’s fine with me. In fact, may I help?” Draco approved of the steely look in the green eyes. Draco almost jumped when Potter then offered his hand to shake. He was so surprised that he didn’t even question the move before his hand and his body were yanked forward and Potter sealed their deal with a toe-curling kiss.
The next thing Draco was aware of was a tingling on his lips and Potter looking amused before telling him he would be back tomorrow at six and disappearing in a puff of Floo powder.
Damn him! Draco thought, half appalled, half amused, at the manipulation and quick exit that had saved the man from a sure hex.
#@#
At precisely six the next day, Draco saw the Floo flare to life and Potter step out of it in faded jeans and a much-loved looking T-shirt. His very casual attire was mirrored by Draco’s, and Draco was amused to notice the appreciative grin his designer jeans and simple white cotton T-shirt got him.
They set off in companionable silence, weaving through secret passageways, until they slipped into Myrtle’s bathroom.
Faced with the weaving of spells, Potter immediately started casting diagnosis spells one after the other until he was satisfied. Draco was thankful Potter had undergone Auror training, even if he had retired after two years of active duty. However, when he turned to Draco, it became apparent he was everything but. He was furious.
“That idiot, sorry, student could have killed someone. These wards are as advanced as they are volatile. And the traps ...” Potter was very, very upset, and Draco had to ask.
“Is this why you didn’t object yesterday when I said I wanted a talk with the student?”
“No, it’s because it reminded me of what happened to Ginny in our second year. Scorpius is much younger that she was and the Chamber is absolutely no place for anyone, much less a child.”
Draco nodded, pleased, but it seemed Potter hadn’t finished.
“Had I known or even guessed the sheer stupidity of these things,” Potter angrily indicated the now shimmering wards, “I’d have asked for a bit of time alone with your ex-student too.”
“Potter, are those wards supposed to shimmer?”
“No. Myrtle, I know you’re listening. Can you please glide through them, it would spare us the need to rebuild your toilet,” Potter growled before pinning Draco to a wall and covering him with his own body while casting his most powerful Shield charm.
Draco supposed Myrtle had done so, because when he next opened his eyes, he was looking into Potter’s and they were still breathing.
Myrtle looked proud of herself and she opened her mouth to comment but Potter shushed her and bade her to “stay right there”.
Soon, they heard footsteps coming closer and Draco was surprised when Graves, this year’s Head Boy, came into the room swearing. He didn’t seem to notice them and Draco supposed Potter had cast a Disillusionment Charm. Graves sneered at Myrtle and then went about checking the wards, cursing, but eventually he seemed to assure himself it had been only the “meddlesome whiner” who had tripped them.
“Well, as long as I am here,” they heard Graves mutter, grinning nastily at a seemingly Stunned Myrtle, before he jumped down the shaft.
Draco went to follow, but Potter leaned on him further to keep him in place and shook his head no. They didn’t have long to wait until Graves was back and dropping a broom -- he’d used it to get back up -- down the shaft. Draco had only a moment to notice Potter’s eyes narrow before he had stunned Graves and controlled his urge to hex him, in one movement.
#@#
It had turned out, after Graves was expelled, that he had been smuggling bits of the carcass of the basilisk to what he called his friends. These turned out to be the very few Death Eaters who had managed to elude capture until then. Graves’ situation got much worse when he revealed, under Veritaserum, that he had been meaning to send Scorpius with the illegal potions during his return visit to his mother. Apparently, Astoria had made friends with Graves’ mother, who had been a supporter of Voldemort. During one of Mrs. Graves’ visits, Scorpius was to have given her a present from her doting son, without Astoria noticing. It was lucky neither Harry nor Draco had been present at the interrogation, because Graves would have been dead.
As it was, the next visit Mrs. Graves was going to be making was Sunday, the day after her son’s arrest. Aurors were present at Astoria’s house when the meeting took place, where they had the chance to arrest Mrs. Graves and her accomplices. Draco had not wanted to know the how or whys; he had simply hugged Scorpius tight. After a long and tear-streaked discussion, Scorpius’ parents sat him down and explained everything to him. They were not angry with him, they loved him and it had not been his fault. However, he was not to trust strangers; especially when they advised him to keep secrets from his parents.
All in all, it had been an emotionally exhausting two days, so when Draco returned to his quarters, he was surprised to notice Potter there. Before he could utter his thanks, he found himself in a tight hug. It was the last straw-he broke down, trembling, but not crying; he was too furious for that.
So he moved just enough to reach Potter’s lips. It wasn’t nice; there was too much raw emotion. But the biting and slick slide of tongue soothed his nerves, especially since Potter gave as good as he got, and Draco gave good.
Soon though, he relaxed, and the kiss gentled until Potter placed a last, gentle peck on his bruised lips and just held him. Draco was drowsy now, and Potter chuckled warmly in his ear before he found himself summarily put to bed, safe and warm. He was almost asleep, but smiled anyway when he felt a gentle kiss being placed on his forehead.
#@#
As promised, they did meet a few weeks after, during the Hogsmeade trip. The staff were now less inclined to be annoyed or amused where he was concerned. He had proved himself to be unlike any of his predecessors, especially Lockhart. He was here to stay. Not that Draco noticed much of any of this. He was far too busy playing with Scorpius and teaching.
On the morning of that particular Saturday, he dropped Scorpius off at Astoria’s, after being pouted into a piggyback ride there. He was not chaperoning any students, so just waggled his fingers at Sprout and Small, the Muggle Studies Professor, as he passed them.
Draco was greatly amused when Potter met him in front of Honeydukes with a single bar of chocolate. He was not amused when he was told, in great detail, how Potter intended to eat said bar. And so Potter found out that the fastest way to get Draco Malfoy out of High Street and onto soft sheets, was the promise of afternoon delights.
#@#
“Potter?”
“I must have done something wrong if you can still speak.”
Draco manfully contained a giggle before asking what he had been wondering for some time now. “Did you fancy me before this?”
“Before what, before I buggered you into the bed, made you scream like a banshee over and over again or just before I melted chocolate on you and licked it off for a whole hour?”
Draco shivered, but got out a “before all of that,” nonetheless.
“Truthfully? It was the turquoise robe that did it. All that supple, pale, soft skin that looked so inviting. Perfect for nibbling, licking and kissing. Then of course, it was perfectly obvious you were naked under it. In my mind I had you bent over the armchair so I could admire the sweat drip off you as I rimmed you until you passed out. That was before you left and cruelly took that fantasy away. So then I imagined you waking up in my arms, on my lap, keening when you realized I was fully inside your hot, tight arse. You had just come when you re-entered the room.”
It took a while for Draco’s lethargic brain to understand the last sentence, but when he did, he was fully awake. Harry, however, just laughed at his eager look, “I’m sorry, darling, but you’ll have to do all the work, I’m still recovering.” Which, of course, Draco took as a challenge.
Rolling Harry onto his back, Draco moved on top and gently shifted so that they were aligned, before dropping tiny, teasing kisses on Harry’s lips. He held Harry’s hands in his, on both sides of his lover’s head as he rocked up and down, until his lover was groaning and trying to deepen the kiss. It was the first small victory, so Draco lifted himself until he was sitting on Harry’s chest, allowing Harry to put his greedy mouth to good use.
Draco looked down, aroused and amused, as slowly but surely, Harry came alive under him. A slightly hysterical thought came to Draco, that Harry got stronger as he drank Draco’s juices. The amusing thought flew out of his mind, together with his name and any such inconsequential things when Harry’s cheeks hollowed and his tiny slit was probed insistently. Regrettably, when the hands reached for his hips he moved back. Not yet.
Potter made soft, desperate noises, barely coherent, and when those lust fogged green eyes met his, Draco gasped in pleasure.
Positioning himself above Harry's lap, he lowered himself slowly, just brushing Harry’s renewed erection, before moving back up, then again and again until they were both desperate. Soon though, it wasn’t enough. So Draco got the lube, smeared it on Harry’s erection and stuck two fingers up his own arse; careful not to touch his sweet spot, not yet anyway. He was still relaxed and loose from their earlier activities and so he was shortly lowering himself slowly on Harry’s thick shaft, loving the incredibly hot sensation of being filled, stretched to capacity and owned. Draco pulled out slowly, tightening all his muscles, making Harry call out before dropping, hard, right back down.
Bouncing to a fast, hard rhythm, Draco was lost in sensation until he felt his hair being pulled. He opened his eyes and slowed, accepting the deep, drugging kiss for what it was - worship.
Draco was so distracted, that he only realized he had been moved, and not the whole world, when he felt the cool sheets on his back. He opened his eyes and looked directly into Harry’s as he was bent in half and ridden to the sort of explosive, debilitating orgasm that only comes from messy, sexy, wild sex.
Draco was most impressed when Harry managed to pull the sheet around them, before simply turning Draco around and covering his back in protective, possessive warmth.
#@#
Nineteen years after the Final Battle, Draco Malfoy was seeing off his son to the Hogwarts Express before he had to Apparate to the gates to await his arrival with the rest of the staff.
The Weasleys were there, too, and he exchanged a curt nod with them. The Weasel was looking restrained, but Granger smiled and Draco smiled back. Then he leaned a tad back, as he felt warmth all along his back and a soft, whispered, “Boo!” Draco had been determined to look stern, but a small smile appeared anyway. Harry somehow always managed to do that to him.
Scorpius chose exactly that moment to turn around and Draco guessed by his eye-roll that they had been caught in the act. After they said goodbye and shared one last hug, Scorpius boarded the train and Draco felt bereft. Astoria smiled at him and pecked him on the check before Apparating away.
He waved as the train rolled by and Scorpius was lost from view, Potter had really made him a sap, Draco mused, but in a good way. Then he was spun, kissed breathless and he felt the familiar squeeze of Apparition and he judged it was all worth it; for the warmth inside.
THE END
Title: Myrtle and Rosemary: Story of a Rebound
Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, past Draco Malfoy /Astoria Malfoy
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Something bad happens and then something really good happens. Both to one Draco Malfoy, DADA teacher at Hogwarts.
Warnings: Smut and a tiny bit of Angst
Total word count: 3,600
Original prompt request number: 155
Fourth prompt at link
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's notes: The prompt grey-hunter gave was the basis for this fic. I trying to incorporate as much of it as I could in what follows, I hope you like thisgrey-hunter. This fic is dedicated, most especially to harrysexmagick without whose support it would never have happened. Thank you for being a friend and for all the encouragement! *squishes*
Beta(s): Many, many thanks to gingeraled who was a wicked beta and made the story much better for it. And big thank you to x-merlin and bakaness for their wonderful offer of help, especially in so short a time.
Myrtle and Rosemary: Story of a Rebound
“Professor Malfoy is a pompous arse,” the squiggle on the cubicle door’s inside panel stated.
Draco Malfoy calmly opened the door from within and asked, softly and deadly, “Oh, Myrtle?”
“Yes, Draco?” came a whiney, simpering voice.
“Who wrote this?” inquired Draco Malfoy, the new DADA teacher, pointing to the inscription.
The translucent shape of Moaning Myrtle floated to the inscription and read. Myrtle seemed to choke on a giggle before she turned to the now furious Professor.
“I don’t know. I don’t stay here all the time, you know,” Myrtle began in her practiced whine before relenting at the glare the professor shot at her. “It could have been that girl from last week, she was crying. Or the horrible Magnus who came to laugh at me or Scorpius’s friend because Scorpius would never…”
“What friend? When was this? When did Scorpius come here?”
“What’s wrong with here? Don’t you like me anymore? Am I ...”
“Myrtle,” Draco began sternly, shutting her up quite effectively, “this is a girl’s bathroom.” Draco finished archly.
“Oh. Alright.” Myrtle beamed myopically at him.
“Even more importantly, he is only three years old. He should have been with his nanny, not with an unknown student. Who was the boy? And what were they doing?”
“He was hooded. So I don’t know, and they were hissing, over there,” Myrtle said, pointing to one of the sinks. ”Scorpius was eating a lolly and . . .”
Draco’s blood ran cold. Hissing. Not good. Draco walked to the sink in question and abruptly stopped against what was apparently thin air.
Several Revealing Charms later and he had found a very powerful ward, a Notice-Me-Not Spell and a Disillusionment Charm.
The latter proved easiest to lift, so Draco very carefully did just that. Some sort of a tunnel revealed itself, looking like a dark shaft that led right under Hogwarts.
“I know where that goes,” Myrtle offered with a sickening look of adoration.
Draco turned to look at her. She got close before whispering dramatically; obviously enjoying his undivided attention, “This is the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.”
Draco stared into her watery and transparent eyes, before he calmly re-cast the Disillusionment Charm, warded the whole room and caught himself before he could faint.
#@#
A half hour later, all the professors in the staff room jumped when the door was spectacularly slammed against the wall by the precipitated arrival of the new DADA professor.
“Did Peeves spill pink dye on you again, Professor?” the Muggle Studies Moron drawled, dabbing at his tea-stained robes in annoyance.
“No, the Chamber has been opened.” Professor Malfoy announced imperiously, before adding with certainty, “We need to discuss how ...”
“If the Chamber has been opened, which I doubt,” Professor Sprout began, “it is you, not us who needs to do something about it.”
The Herbology professor had never liked Draco much, and Draco’s constant fan mail annoyed her no end. Truth be told it probably annoyed all his colleagues. Well, bugger for them; he was gorgeous and a great teacher, not to mention Potter owed him a life debt or two.
“It is the responsibility…” Draco began, only to be rudely interrupted by Sprout again.
“Of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher to deal with it,” she said with finality.
Nobody commented on the blatant disregard for rules that was the opening of the Chamber, not to mention Draco’s personal safety. It was awful and annoying and Draco would have said so if The Moron hadn’t smirked, “Don’t worry, Malfoy, Potter already took care of the Basilisk”.
“Well, fuck.” Draco thought, un-amused as they all laughed.
#@#
Eleven years after the War, Harry Potter sat back in his desk chair and critically regarded the letter he had just received. Working with Hermione in the new Hogsmeade Elementary where Muggle-raised children were introduced to the Wizarding world meant he got many Owls, this one, however, was different. The identity of the sender had not been as much of a surprise as the request on the single sheet of parchment.
Apparently, Draco Malfoy’s son, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, was a Parselmouth. Harry contemplated for a moment the utter irony that it had been through Draco’s doing that Hogwarts, and therefore the whole world, learned that Harry was a Parselmouth, and that now, Malfoy, naturally, wanted his son’s ability to remain a secret.
However, Harry could see the reasoning behind it, too: a former Death Eater and his supposedly Dark son. Harry remembered how the Wizarding world reacted to his gift; he could only imagine what it would be like for the boy Scorpius.
Harry was about to pen in his acceptance on the blank part at the end of the letter when it filled with more lines. Harry read and promptly choked on his tea.
Potter, one of the students found out that Scorpius can talk to snakes and used my son to open the Chamber. I want to find whoever it is and hang them by their toes Obliviate them. I need you to close the Chamber without announcing your presence at the castle. Please respond at your earliest convenience.
P.S. I have added your person to my Floo acceptance list.
“That pompous arse! He wants to take credit for what I do to help him!” Harry ranted as he went about the house, getting dressed, before promptly Flooing to Malfoy’s quarters.
Harry claimed the fireside chair when he found himself in a room Malfoy probably called a drawing room or something equally poncy. A door clicked on the far side of the room and Harry turned. The sight that greeted him, though, had him staring, and his mouth running dry.
#@#
After the debacle in the Staff room, Draco walked straight to his quarters and proceeded to tear off all his clothes, before he stormed to the bathroom for a shower. For some reason, Draco always thought best while showering or brushing his teeth-whenever he was at the loo, basically. He supposed it had to do with the inherent cleanliness of the room, but it could be just that he was alone with his thoughts for as long as the routine of soap, scrub and rinse lasted.
After accepting the position of DADA teacher at Hogwarts, Draco had thought he was moving in the right direction to regain his place in the Wizarding world. However, he had had the sneaky suspicion people were considering him the new Lockhart.
They supposed he was bad at his job, but he wasn’t; he was simply better at the theoretical side of it. Draco rather suspected the students thought so because his detentions involved answering his fan mail, but it was useful. Besides the “oh, you are so wonderful” got old after the hundredth time. Since the house-elves screened the posts for any dangerous letters, there was nothing wrong with using the students on the rest.
However insulting the comparison, it was still better than former Death Eater, so he let them think what they wanted. Astoria though, had not been pleased; dangerous was better than poncy any day as far as she was concerned. Unfortunately, at three, Scorpius was very in tune with his mother’s feelings, so he tended to avoid Draco when he was “at his poncy-est,” at home. He visited regularly but, mostly, Astoria had him during the week.
Shaking off his musings which had nothing to do with the problem at hand, Draco turned off the shower and got out. Drying himself gently with a fluffy towel, he then donned his turquoise robe, letting his hair air dry before he exited the bathroom.
Draco stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him upon arrival in the drawing room. Harry Potter lay sprawled in Draco’s favorite armchair by the fire. Observing the man more closely, Draco noticed the gobsmacked look as well as the unmistakable look of interest in the other’s eyes. Draco was well aware of what Potter saw: pale skin, revealed by the loosely tied robe, from ankle to mid-thigh and then collarbone to solar plexus. Draco was slightly embarrassed by the state of his hair, but shrugged it off. If Potter could walk around with that rat’s nest then Draco could have wet hair in the privacy of his own rooms.
Tilting his head to the side, Draco suppressed a smile when Potter’s eyes religiously followed a drop of water down his throat to the folds of the robe. Instead, Draco smirked and drawled. “I was not expecting you so soon, I shall return after dressing in something more appropriate.”
Draco had to bite his lip to stop an amused chuckle escaping when he heard a small moan as he turned and exited the room.
#@#
Returning fully dressed in his customary black teaching robes, Draco cast a smug look at Potter before doing a double take. There was a definite calculating look in Potter’s eyes as well as barely concealed smirk on his lips.
“If you are going to ask for sexual favors, Potter, I’ll inform you right now that you would be merely a rebound.”
“Oh?”
Draco stared at Potter’s barely polite question. He didn’t seem deterred in the least by the notion. “Yes, not from Astoria, we are legally separated, but from my ex-lover.”
“Who was a moron,” Potter commented quietly.
Draco just stared, before collapsing in the armchair opposite Potter when the blatantly apprising looks got too much. Apparently, Potter had done some thinking while Draco was changing his robes. Draco made a mental note to not leave him with that kind of time on his hands again.
“I'll agree to help you, anonymously, if you agree to allow me a date next Hogsmeade weekend, and this is not negotiable,” Potter had the gall to add before Draco could object. Truthfully, it was a good deal, especially as long as Potter knew he was a rebound . . .
“You drive a hard bargain,” Draco joked, before adding very seriously, “but I want to have a talk with the soon-to-be ex-student who put my son in danger.”
“That’s fine with me. In fact, may I help?” Draco approved of the steely look in the green eyes. Draco almost jumped when Potter then offered his hand to shake. He was so surprised that he didn’t even question the move before his hand and his body were yanked forward and Potter sealed their deal with a toe-curling kiss.
The next thing Draco was aware of was a tingling on his lips and Potter looking amused before telling him he would be back tomorrow at six and disappearing in a puff of Floo powder.
Damn him! Draco thought, half appalled, half amused, at the manipulation and quick exit that had saved the man from a sure hex.
#@#
At precisely six the next day, Draco saw the Floo flare to life and Potter step out of it in faded jeans and a much-loved looking T-shirt. His very casual attire was mirrored by Draco’s, and Draco was amused to notice the appreciative grin his designer jeans and simple white cotton T-shirt got him.
They set off in companionable silence, weaving through secret passageways, until they slipped into Myrtle’s bathroom.
Faced with the weaving of spells, Potter immediately started casting diagnosis spells one after the other until he was satisfied. Draco was thankful Potter had undergone Auror training, even if he had retired after two years of active duty. However, when he turned to Draco, it became apparent he was everything but. He was furious.
“That idiot, sorry, student could have killed someone. These wards are as advanced as they are volatile. And the traps ...” Potter was very, very upset, and Draco had to ask.
“Is this why you didn’t object yesterday when I said I wanted a talk with the student?”
“No, it’s because it reminded me of what happened to Ginny in our second year. Scorpius is much younger that she was and the Chamber is absolutely no place for anyone, much less a child.”
Draco nodded, pleased, but it seemed Potter hadn’t finished.
“Had I known or even guessed the sheer stupidity of these things,” Potter angrily indicated the now shimmering wards, “I’d have asked for a bit of time alone with your ex-student too.”
“Potter, are those wards supposed to shimmer?”
“No. Myrtle, I know you’re listening. Can you please glide through them, it would spare us the need to rebuild your toilet,” Potter growled before pinning Draco to a wall and covering him with his own body while casting his most powerful Shield charm.
Draco supposed Myrtle had done so, because when he next opened his eyes, he was looking into Potter’s and they were still breathing.
Myrtle looked proud of herself and she opened her mouth to comment but Potter shushed her and bade her to “stay right there”.
Soon, they heard footsteps coming closer and Draco was surprised when Graves, this year’s Head Boy, came into the room swearing. He didn’t seem to notice them and Draco supposed Potter had cast a Disillusionment Charm. Graves sneered at Myrtle and then went about checking the wards, cursing, but eventually he seemed to assure himself it had been only the “meddlesome whiner” who had tripped them.
“Well, as long as I am here,” they heard Graves mutter, grinning nastily at a seemingly Stunned Myrtle, before he jumped down the shaft.
Draco went to follow, but Potter leaned on him further to keep him in place and shook his head no. They didn’t have long to wait until Graves was back and dropping a broom -- he’d used it to get back up -- down the shaft. Draco had only a moment to notice Potter’s eyes narrow before he had stunned Graves and controlled his urge to hex him, in one movement.
#@#
It had turned out, after Graves was expelled, that he had been smuggling bits of the carcass of the basilisk to what he called his friends. These turned out to be the very few Death Eaters who had managed to elude capture until then. Graves’ situation got much worse when he revealed, under Veritaserum, that he had been meaning to send Scorpius with the illegal potions during his return visit to his mother. Apparently, Astoria had made friends with Graves’ mother, who had been a supporter of Voldemort. During one of Mrs. Graves’ visits, Scorpius was to have given her a present from her doting son, without Astoria noticing. It was lucky neither Harry nor Draco had been present at the interrogation, because Graves would have been dead.
As it was, the next visit Mrs. Graves was going to be making was Sunday, the day after her son’s arrest. Aurors were present at Astoria’s house when the meeting took place, where they had the chance to arrest Mrs. Graves and her accomplices. Draco had not wanted to know the how or whys; he had simply hugged Scorpius tight. After a long and tear-streaked discussion, Scorpius’ parents sat him down and explained everything to him. They were not angry with him, they loved him and it had not been his fault. However, he was not to trust strangers; especially when they advised him to keep secrets from his parents.
All in all, it had been an emotionally exhausting two days, so when Draco returned to his quarters, he was surprised to notice Potter there. Before he could utter his thanks, he found himself in a tight hug. It was the last straw-he broke down, trembling, but not crying; he was too furious for that.
So he moved just enough to reach Potter’s lips. It wasn’t nice; there was too much raw emotion. But the biting and slick slide of tongue soothed his nerves, especially since Potter gave as good as he got, and Draco gave good.
Soon though, he relaxed, and the kiss gentled until Potter placed a last, gentle peck on his bruised lips and just held him. Draco was drowsy now, and Potter chuckled warmly in his ear before he found himself summarily put to bed, safe and warm. He was almost asleep, but smiled anyway when he felt a gentle kiss being placed on his forehead.
#@#
As promised, they did meet a few weeks after, during the Hogsmeade trip. The staff were now less inclined to be annoyed or amused where he was concerned. He had proved himself to be unlike any of his predecessors, especially Lockhart. He was here to stay. Not that Draco noticed much of any of this. He was far too busy playing with Scorpius and teaching.
On the morning of that particular Saturday, he dropped Scorpius off at Astoria’s, after being pouted into a piggyback ride there. He was not chaperoning any students, so just waggled his fingers at Sprout and Small, the Muggle Studies Professor, as he passed them.
Draco was greatly amused when Potter met him in front of Honeydukes with a single bar of chocolate. He was not amused when he was told, in great detail, how Potter intended to eat said bar. And so Potter found out that the fastest way to get Draco Malfoy out of High Street and onto soft sheets, was the promise of afternoon delights.
#@#
“Potter?”
“I must have done something wrong if you can still speak.”
Draco manfully contained a giggle before asking what he had been wondering for some time now. “Did you fancy me before this?”
“Before what, before I buggered you into the bed, made you scream like a banshee over and over again or just before I melted chocolate on you and licked it off for a whole hour?”
Draco shivered, but got out a “before all of that,” nonetheless.
“Truthfully? It was the turquoise robe that did it. All that supple, pale, soft skin that looked so inviting. Perfect for nibbling, licking and kissing. Then of course, it was perfectly obvious you were naked under it. In my mind I had you bent over the armchair so I could admire the sweat drip off you as I rimmed you until you passed out. That was before you left and cruelly took that fantasy away. So then I imagined you waking up in my arms, on my lap, keening when you realized I was fully inside your hot, tight arse. You had just come when you re-entered the room.”
It took a while for Draco’s lethargic brain to understand the last sentence, but when he did, he was fully awake. Harry, however, just laughed at his eager look, “I’m sorry, darling, but you’ll have to do all the work, I’m still recovering.” Which, of course, Draco took as a challenge.
Rolling Harry onto his back, Draco moved on top and gently shifted so that they were aligned, before dropping tiny, teasing kisses on Harry’s lips. He held Harry’s hands in his, on both sides of his lover’s head as he rocked up and down, until his lover was groaning and trying to deepen the kiss. It was the first small victory, so Draco lifted himself until he was sitting on Harry’s chest, allowing Harry to put his greedy mouth to good use.
Draco looked down, aroused and amused, as slowly but surely, Harry came alive under him. A slightly hysterical thought came to Draco, that Harry got stronger as he drank Draco’s juices. The amusing thought flew out of his mind, together with his name and any such inconsequential things when Harry’s cheeks hollowed and his tiny slit was probed insistently. Regrettably, when the hands reached for his hips he moved back. Not yet.
Potter made soft, desperate noises, barely coherent, and when those lust fogged green eyes met his, Draco gasped in pleasure.
Positioning himself above Harry's lap, he lowered himself slowly, just brushing Harry’s renewed erection, before moving back up, then again and again until they were both desperate. Soon though, it wasn’t enough. So Draco got the lube, smeared it on Harry’s erection and stuck two fingers up his own arse; careful not to touch his sweet spot, not yet anyway. He was still relaxed and loose from their earlier activities and so he was shortly lowering himself slowly on Harry’s thick shaft, loving the incredibly hot sensation of being filled, stretched to capacity and owned. Draco pulled out slowly, tightening all his muscles, making Harry call out before dropping, hard, right back down.
Bouncing to a fast, hard rhythm, Draco was lost in sensation until he felt his hair being pulled. He opened his eyes and slowed, accepting the deep, drugging kiss for what it was - worship.
Draco was so distracted, that he only realized he had been moved, and not the whole world, when he felt the cool sheets on his back. He opened his eyes and looked directly into Harry’s as he was bent in half and ridden to the sort of explosive, debilitating orgasm that only comes from messy, sexy, wild sex.
Draco was most impressed when Harry managed to pull the sheet around them, before simply turning Draco around and covering his back in protective, possessive warmth.
#@#
Nineteen years after the Final Battle, Draco Malfoy was seeing off his son to the Hogwarts Express before he had to Apparate to the gates to await his arrival with the rest of the staff.
The Weasleys were there, too, and he exchanged a curt nod with them. The Weasel was looking restrained, but Granger smiled and Draco smiled back. Then he leaned a tad back, as he felt warmth all along his back and a soft, whispered, “Boo!” Draco had been determined to look stern, but a small smile appeared anyway. Harry somehow always managed to do that to him.
Scorpius chose exactly that moment to turn around and Draco guessed by his eye-roll that they had been caught in the act. After they said goodbye and shared one last hug, Scorpius boarded the train and Draco felt bereft. Astoria smiled at him and pecked him on the check before Apparating away.
He waved as the train rolled by and Scorpius was lost from view, Potter had really made him a sap, Draco mused, but in a good way. Then he was spun, kissed breathless and he felt the familiar squeeze of Apparition and he judged it was all worth it; for the warmth inside.
THE END