[HP Spring Fling 2011] Awake My Soul - A gift for eruditefics
Title: Awake My Soul
Author: deirdre_aithne
Recipient: eruditefics
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Word Count: 3,075
Warnings: None
Summary: When Harry goes missing a matter of days before the anniversary of the Final Battle, Draco sets off to find him- and if he happens to get a fairly good vacation out of the attempt, then so be it.
Author's Notes: So much love and adoration to uniquepov for being the amazing beta she always is. This fic was (somewhat loosely) inspired by the song Awake My Soul by Mumford & Sons, but is not a songfic- the song just provided a bit of...mood music? And the title was obviously shamelessly kidnaped. All other recognizable content from the Harry Potter fandom obviously belongs to JKR.
'This seems rather backward,' Draco thought to himself as the Portkey dropped him outside of a small village in the Scottish highlands. Less than two hours ago, he had been lounging comfortably in the library of the Manor, idly skimming a tattered copy of the Tales of Beetle the Bard and reminiscing on his childhood while nursing a small glass of red wine. And then, Weasley and Granger had attempted to stick both of their heads through his Floo at once.
It was an unfortunate side effect of working in the Auror department of the Ministry, that Weasley had to be keyed into the wards and allowed access to his Floo connection in case of an emergency. At first, it had annoyed him, knowing that his home could be invaded at the drop of a hat by the other wizard, until he had adjusted to being around the ginger as an adult rather than the idiotic children they had been in school. Their partnership certainly wasn't a chummy one, but they'd at least managed to work past the useless rivalry in favour of a more friendly competition.
Much to his relief, the other wizard had never had reason to take advantage of his access to the Manor in the three years since he'd been granted it. A fact that made it much more startling for Draco when both Ron and his fiancé eventually stepped out of his fireplace in a burst of bright green flames. Frazzled and upset as they had been, it had taken Draco nearly fifteen minutes to calm the two of them down enough to get a story from them.
With the sixth anniversary of the Final Battle fast approaching, they had been keeping a careful eye on Harry Potter, knowing how hard the few days before and after that particular date were on him. Since he had chosen to pursue a job at St. Mungo's after the war, they'd had a harder time keeping tabs on him than they would've liked, sometimes. But he'd taken to the career quickly, and had seemed more content as a healer than he likely would have been elsewhere, after all that he had been through. For the most part, they had gotten used to his keeping strange hours and worked around it as best they could, checking in on him every year around this time and lending the listening ears and comforting shoulders he always seemed to need.
This year, however, they'd arrived at Grimmauld Place by Floo, only to find the house was dark and slightly dusty. When Kreacher had been nowhere to be found, and they found most of Harry's things were where they'd always been, only now looking as though they hadn't been disturbed in several days, they grew concerned. A quick trip to St. Mungo's had confirmed that Harry hadn't been to work in nearly a week, although he'd requested holiday time by owl on the first morning he failed to arrive.
After that, the two of them had apparently tried to track him down, but had met with only failure. The trail that they had managed to find, for wherever Harry might have gone, grew cold as soon as it reached Scotland, a place he'd expressed a desire to revisit after the end of the war. And with the two of them at the end of their ropes mentally and emotionally, Hermione had suggested that they come to Draco. Three cups of tea, a little Slytherin cunning, and an emergency Floo call to the Minister later, Draco had a Portkey in hand and a week of paid time from work in order to go searching for the former Saviour.
The area where the Portkey deposited him wasn't exactly what he had expected when he'd been told the trail had ended somewhere in Scotland. In truth, he'd expected somewhere much more crowded, where Harry would have been able to easily become lost in the crowd of people who wouldn't recognize him. Instead, he found himself wandering into the small town and to the nearest pub, where it was far too easy to find someone who'd seen a man of Harry's description only a few hours before. Hunting the other man down any further than that, however, was where the challenge came in.
The highlands were expansive enough to make finding Harry's trail through them difficult. It might have been easier if he'd thought to track the other wizard's magical signature, but Draco had doubts as to whether it would do him any good. If Harry had managed to evade his two best friends so well, especially when one of them was Granger, he could certainly hide himself from Draco without breaking a sweat. After nearly three hours of scouring the landscape on his broom, the blond's mood had slipped from one of concern to one of mild annoyance over the situation.
“Completely bloody backwards,” he muttered to himself as his feet came down to earth again. “Me, trying to find and 'save' the great Harry Potter?” Sighing in frustration, he kicked at a stray rock beside a tree root before sitting down in a huff. His broom fell unceremoniously to the ground beside his feet as Draco looked at the scenery around him. It was rolling hills and smooth, green grass pretty well as far as he could see. A man walking across the surface would stick out rather obviously, unless...
“Shite,” Draco snapped as he pushed himself to his feet again. He could have nearly kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner, and if he hadn't already been in the air again before he could have snapped his fingers, he may have considered that idea a bit more thoroughly. “Homenum Revelio he hissed through gritted teeth, aiming his wand down at the hills below.
* * * * *
It took him nearly another hour to find the other man, and much to his annoyance, Draco had to admit that it was entirely by chance. After flying enough circles around the area to have completely lost his sense of direction for the moment, he had been glad to spot a small cluster of buildings. Once he'd dismounted his broom and safely shrunken and tucked it away in the small rucksack he had brought along with him, Draco had approached the buildings hoping to gain some idea of where it was he'd ended up. Instead, after entering the first pub he found in search of a stiff drink and some directions, he found Harry Potter sitting on a barstool and nursing a drink of his own.
“Potter?” Whipping around nearly fast enough to fall off of his stool, Harry cursed under his breath before taking to his feet. “Wait,” he said in a calmer tone, trying to keep his eye on the other man while manoeuvrings through the fairly crowded pub to reach him. The other wizard was faster than him, though, and managed to circle around him through the collection of occupied tables and step out into the street before Draco could get a hand onto his shoulder to stop him.
“What?” Harry snapped as he spun around on his heel in the street, glaring at the blond. “How did you...Why did you even come looking for me?”
Taken aback by his annoyance, Draco arched one narrow brow as he answered calmly, “The Weasleys.”
“Of course,” Harry hissed, turning and stomping down the street in a childish huff. Sighing, Draco fell into step beside him, silently ignoring the occasional glance that Harry shot him from the corner of his eye. It took him several moments and nearly a street and a half for him to become frustrated enough to stop again, folding his arms over his chest and facing Draco again. “All right, so have you come to try to take me back then? Tell me I need my friends and to talk everything out like I have every year so far? Try to convince me that everything's oka-”
“No,” Draco interrupted, sensing a rant coming on and deciding to stop Harry before he got himself really going. “I'm here to tell you that your friends are worried, and to offer you my company, if you would like it.”
“...Why?” Harry asked suspiciously, his brow furrowing as he looked at his former rival. They'd run into each other a few times, when Draco had managed to get himself injured on the job or accompanied another Auror who did to St. Mungo's for healing. While they'd hardly spoken at first, their rivalry from school had seemed to smooth itself out as time went on, until they had begun sharing a few words now and then. There certainly wasn't much of a friendship between them, but they had at least managed an unspoken understanding of civility.
Shrugging, Draco adjusted the strap of his rucksack over his shoulder and tucked his other hand into the pocket of his trousers. “Would you like me to say it's because I'd rather not be alone right now?”
“I'd like you to tell me the truth.”
“I've already got the holiday time, and see no point in wasting it by going back to London early,” he answered simply. Harry looked back at him in silence for a moment, as if considering his words, before giving Draco a nod of acknowledgement and cracking a small smile.
“At least you were honest about it,” he said, gesturing with a tilt of his head for Draco to follow as he started walking again. “There's an extra room in the flat I'm renting. Stay with me.”
* * * * *
“What in Merlin's name is that?” Pausing on his way toward the kitchen, Harry glanced down at his appearance before looking at Draco's appalled expression.
“A kilt,” he answered in a tone that said it should have been obvious. He'd taken to wearing them rather quickly after his arrival in Scotland, finding that it was much more comfortable than he'd originally expected. It had taken him a while to find a tartan that he felt he could wear without accidentally marking himself as the member of any particular clan, and after a while, he had resorted to asking a member of the staff at the shop he'd visited if there were any designs that were 'neutral'. The Flower of Scotland hadn't been his favourite set of colours, but it suited him well enough.
“That seems a funny name for a skirt,” Draco muttered, although his eyes lingered a moment longer on the kilt before finally returning to Harry's face with a hint of reluctance. Arching one dark eyebrow, Harry slipped his wand from a pocket sewn into the inside of the kilt, smirking as he quickly Transfigured Draco's trousers. “Oi!” the blond snapped, jumping out of his chair to reach for his own wand, staring down in horror at the black fabric of the transfigured kilt.
“Strangely enough, that suits you, Malfoy,” Harry said in a musing tone, his eyes wandering over the other man's appearance almost lazily. They'd returned to his flat the evening before and spent a surprisingly comfortable few hours in each other's company before retiring to their separate rooms for the night. Now, in the light of the morning and with the aid of the incredibly entertaining sight Draco made wearing a kilt and his black silk button-up shirt, Harry was receiving a rather enjoyable view of his former enemy.
Draco hesitated with his wand aimed at what used to be his trousers, raising his head to look at Harry as if to gauge whether or not he was teasing him. Whatever he saw in Harry's expression seemed to convince him to leave his clothing as it was, and he straightened, his features easing quickly into a mask of boredom. “Well, what do you have planned for this afternoon, then?”
* * * * *
“How did you cope with it?”
Draco turned his attention away from the chess set between them, arching one narrow brow at Harry. “The loss of my bishop?” The other man glared up at him through his fringe of hair, and Draco sighed, lowering his eyes back to the board as he considered his next move. “It was different for me,” he answered, tucking his hands beneath his chin. “Knight to E3.”
“You lost people too, though,” Harry prodded, watching as his rook crumbled on its square and was pushed away to be replaced by Draco's knight. “Queen to H7; Checkmate.”
Draco considered the board in surprise for a moment before finally nodding his defeat and turning his eyes to Harry again. “I lost a friend and an insane aunt, Harry. Not nearly as many, nor anyone really as close to me, as you did. Crabbe was as near a friend as I could say I had; which, looking back, isn't saying much. And Aunt Bellatrix was... not the sort of family that you would mourn.”
“On the other hand,” Draco continued, sitting back in his chair and turning his attention toward the window. “I had to cope as much as anyone else who survived, in the end. Even without as much death to deal with, my entire world had crumbled around me over the course of two years; I was facing the darkest side of everything I'd believed in and supported since I was a child. It was...difficult to adjust to.”
Harry nodded slowly, resetting the board in silence as he turned Draco's words over in his mind. “Do you want to know why I came out here this year?” he asked at length, his eyes focussed intently on the pieces of the chess set.
“I imagine it was to get away from things for once.”
“That was part of it,” Harry admitted, the corner of his mouth twisting upward slightly. “Hermione and Ron have good intentions, and all, but the last thing I need is another year of reliving everything over again. I feel like it's finally time for me to get on with things...”
Draco considered Harry for a moment in silence, taking in the air of relaxation he'd never seen with him since the Final Battle. Granted he hadn't exactly spent any real time with the other man, and working at St. Mungo's was likely to be stressful; but this had gone beyond that. “It's your move, you know,” Harry said, pulling Draco's attention away from his thoughts. For a moment, he thought he saw a glimpse of something other than amusement in Harry's eyes, although he quickly dismissed the notion as he looked down at the board.
“Pawn to E4...”
* * * * *
“What's the real reason that you stayed here with me, Draco?” Harry turned to glance at the blond on the couch beside him, watching him arch one eyebrow over the top of his book. “I don't believe this was only about not wasting your vacation...”
“I told you why when you first asked, Harry. Whatever you'd like to think beyond that isn't-”
“That you didn't want to be alone?” Harry interrupted, shifting his position on the couch to lean closer to Draco, pulling the book out of his hands. “You weren't just trying to feed me a line to keep me from hexing you into next year?”
“Not...entirely, no.”
“You could have gone anywhere after you found me, Draco... Why stay here with me?”
“Why do you have to make a bloody inquisition out of this?” Draco snapped pushing himself to his feet, intending to make his way toward the room he'd occupied for nearly a week when Harry's hand curled around his wrist.
“Because your answer matters,” he said calmly, tugging on the other man's arm until he resumed his seat on the couch. “Please, Draco,” Harry started, shifting a little closer to Draco as he sat back down, “answer me.”
Draco looked back at Harry in silence for a moment before allowing himself to take the bait of Harry's proximity. Leaning in, he pressed his mouth firmly to the other man's, groaning when Harry's lips parted beneath his own. In a surprisingly fluid movement, Harry pulled Draco on top of him as he laid back across the cushions of the couch. Harry's arms curled around Draco's waist, holding the blond against him, as Draco deepened their kiss.
When Draco finally broke away to breathe, he hesitated for a moment, as though about to speak, until Harry ground his hips upward against the other man. Draco stiffened slightly, his pupils dilating as he looked down at Harry, who only smirked at him and repeated the action. “Harry-”
“Shut up,” Harry said softly, with no malice in his tone, as he reached up to tangle his fists in Draco's shirt. Tugging the blond down again, he brushed his lips against Draco's lightly. “If you don't want this, then just push me away, but otherwise, shut up and go with it...”
There was a moment of uncertain silence between them, and just as Harry turned his face slightly to look into Draco's eyes, the other wizard moved. Leaning in just barely, Draco pressed their lips together properly, bringing one of his hands to cradle the back of Harry's head. Harry moaned softly, arching up against Draco again.
Draco's free hand slid slowly along Harry's side, down toward his hip before slipping between them and fumbling with the fastenings of Harry's trousers. Encouraged by the blond's enthusiasm, Harry released his hold on Draco's jumper in order to help him, pushing his trousers down past his hips once Draco managed to get them open and shivering slightly at the feel of the leather sofa against his bare legs.
“I'd ask if you were sure about this,” Draco mused when he broke away again, turning his face slightly to trail his lips along Harry's jaw, nipping gently a few times before he reached Harry's neck. “But your enthusiasm says it all for you.” He emphasized his words by slipping one hand beneath the waistband of Harry's pants, allowing his fingers to brush teasingly against Harry's already hard cock.
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Author: deirdre_aithne
Recipient: eruditefics
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Word Count: 3,075
Warnings: None
Summary: When Harry goes missing a matter of days before the anniversary of the Final Battle, Draco sets off to find him- and if he happens to get a fairly good vacation out of the attempt, then so be it.
Author's Notes: So much love and adoration to uniquepov for being the amazing beta she always is. This fic was (somewhat loosely) inspired by the song Awake My Soul by Mumford & Sons, but is not a songfic- the song just provided a bit of...mood music? And the title was obviously shamelessly kidnaped. All other recognizable content from the Harry Potter fandom obviously belongs to JKR.
'This seems rather backward,' Draco thought to himself as the Portkey dropped him outside of a small village in the Scottish highlands. Less than two hours ago, he had been lounging comfortably in the library of the Manor, idly skimming a tattered copy of the Tales of Beetle the Bard and reminiscing on his childhood while nursing a small glass of red wine. And then, Weasley and Granger had attempted to stick both of their heads through his Floo at once.
It was an unfortunate side effect of working in the Auror department of the Ministry, that Weasley had to be keyed into the wards and allowed access to his Floo connection in case of an emergency. At first, it had annoyed him, knowing that his home could be invaded at the drop of a hat by the other wizard, until he had adjusted to being around the ginger as an adult rather than the idiotic children they had been in school. Their partnership certainly wasn't a chummy one, but they'd at least managed to work past the useless rivalry in favour of a more friendly competition.
Much to his relief, the other wizard had never had reason to take advantage of his access to the Manor in the three years since he'd been granted it. A fact that made it much more startling for Draco when both Ron and his fiancé eventually stepped out of his fireplace in a burst of bright green flames. Frazzled and upset as they had been, it had taken Draco nearly fifteen minutes to calm the two of them down enough to get a story from them.
With the sixth anniversary of the Final Battle fast approaching, they had been keeping a careful eye on Harry Potter, knowing how hard the few days before and after that particular date were on him. Since he had chosen to pursue a job at St. Mungo's after the war, they'd had a harder time keeping tabs on him than they would've liked, sometimes. But he'd taken to the career quickly, and had seemed more content as a healer than he likely would have been elsewhere, after all that he had been through. For the most part, they had gotten used to his keeping strange hours and worked around it as best they could, checking in on him every year around this time and lending the listening ears and comforting shoulders he always seemed to need.
This year, however, they'd arrived at Grimmauld Place by Floo, only to find the house was dark and slightly dusty. When Kreacher had been nowhere to be found, and they found most of Harry's things were where they'd always been, only now looking as though they hadn't been disturbed in several days, they grew concerned. A quick trip to St. Mungo's had confirmed that Harry hadn't been to work in nearly a week, although he'd requested holiday time by owl on the first morning he failed to arrive.
After that, the two of them had apparently tried to track him down, but had met with only failure. The trail that they had managed to find, for wherever Harry might have gone, grew cold as soon as it reached Scotland, a place he'd expressed a desire to revisit after the end of the war. And with the two of them at the end of their ropes mentally and emotionally, Hermione had suggested that they come to Draco. Three cups of tea, a little Slytherin cunning, and an emergency Floo call to the Minister later, Draco had a Portkey in hand and a week of paid time from work in order to go searching for the former Saviour.
The area where the Portkey deposited him wasn't exactly what he had expected when he'd been told the trail had ended somewhere in Scotland. In truth, he'd expected somewhere much more crowded, where Harry would have been able to easily become lost in the crowd of people who wouldn't recognize him. Instead, he found himself wandering into the small town and to the nearest pub, where it was far too easy to find someone who'd seen a man of Harry's description only a few hours before. Hunting the other man down any further than that, however, was where the challenge came in.
The highlands were expansive enough to make finding Harry's trail through them difficult. It might have been easier if he'd thought to track the other wizard's magical signature, but Draco had doubts as to whether it would do him any good. If Harry had managed to evade his two best friends so well, especially when one of them was Granger, he could certainly hide himself from Draco without breaking a sweat. After nearly three hours of scouring the landscape on his broom, the blond's mood had slipped from one of concern to one of mild annoyance over the situation.
“Completely bloody backwards,” he muttered to himself as his feet came down to earth again. “Me, trying to find and 'save' the great Harry Potter?” Sighing in frustration, he kicked at a stray rock beside a tree root before sitting down in a huff. His broom fell unceremoniously to the ground beside his feet as Draco looked at the scenery around him. It was rolling hills and smooth, green grass pretty well as far as he could see. A man walking across the surface would stick out rather obviously, unless...
“Shite,” Draco snapped as he pushed himself to his feet again. He could have nearly kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner, and if he hadn't already been in the air again before he could have snapped his fingers, he may have considered that idea a bit more thoroughly. “Homenum Revelio he hissed through gritted teeth, aiming his wand down at the hills below.
* * * * *
It took him nearly another hour to find the other man, and much to his annoyance, Draco had to admit that it was entirely by chance. After flying enough circles around the area to have completely lost his sense of direction for the moment, he had been glad to spot a small cluster of buildings. Once he'd dismounted his broom and safely shrunken and tucked it away in the small rucksack he had brought along with him, Draco had approached the buildings hoping to gain some idea of where it was he'd ended up. Instead, after entering the first pub he found in search of a stiff drink and some directions, he found Harry Potter sitting on a barstool and nursing a drink of his own.
“Potter?” Whipping around nearly fast enough to fall off of his stool, Harry cursed under his breath before taking to his feet. “Wait,” he said in a calmer tone, trying to keep his eye on the other man while manoeuvrings through the fairly crowded pub to reach him. The other wizard was faster than him, though, and managed to circle around him through the collection of occupied tables and step out into the street before Draco could get a hand onto his shoulder to stop him.
“What?” Harry snapped as he spun around on his heel in the street, glaring at the blond. “How did you...Why did you even come looking for me?”
Taken aback by his annoyance, Draco arched one narrow brow as he answered calmly, “The Weasleys.”
“Of course,” Harry hissed, turning and stomping down the street in a childish huff. Sighing, Draco fell into step beside him, silently ignoring the occasional glance that Harry shot him from the corner of his eye. It took him several moments and nearly a street and a half for him to become frustrated enough to stop again, folding his arms over his chest and facing Draco again. “All right, so have you come to try to take me back then? Tell me I need my friends and to talk everything out like I have every year so far? Try to convince me that everything's oka-”
“No,” Draco interrupted, sensing a rant coming on and deciding to stop Harry before he got himself really going. “I'm here to tell you that your friends are worried, and to offer you my company, if you would like it.”
“...Why?” Harry asked suspiciously, his brow furrowing as he looked at his former rival. They'd run into each other a few times, when Draco had managed to get himself injured on the job or accompanied another Auror who did to St. Mungo's for healing. While they'd hardly spoken at first, their rivalry from school had seemed to smooth itself out as time went on, until they had begun sharing a few words now and then. There certainly wasn't much of a friendship between them, but they had at least managed an unspoken understanding of civility.
Shrugging, Draco adjusted the strap of his rucksack over his shoulder and tucked his other hand into the pocket of his trousers. “Would you like me to say it's because I'd rather not be alone right now?”
“I'd like you to tell me the truth.”
“I've already got the holiday time, and see no point in wasting it by going back to London early,” he answered simply. Harry looked back at him in silence for a moment, as if considering his words, before giving Draco a nod of acknowledgement and cracking a small smile.
“At least you were honest about it,” he said, gesturing with a tilt of his head for Draco to follow as he started walking again. “There's an extra room in the flat I'm renting. Stay with me.”
* * * * *
“What in Merlin's name is that?” Pausing on his way toward the kitchen, Harry glanced down at his appearance before looking at Draco's appalled expression.
“A kilt,” he answered in a tone that said it should have been obvious. He'd taken to wearing them rather quickly after his arrival in Scotland, finding that it was much more comfortable than he'd originally expected. It had taken him a while to find a tartan that he felt he could wear without accidentally marking himself as the member of any particular clan, and after a while, he had resorted to asking a member of the staff at the shop he'd visited if there were any designs that were 'neutral'. The Flower of Scotland hadn't been his favourite set of colours, but it suited him well enough.
“That seems a funny name for a skirt,” Draco muttered, although his eyes lingered a moment longer on the kilt before finally returning to Harry's face with a hint of reluctance. Arching one dark eyebrow, Harry slipped his wand from a pocket sewn into the inside of the kilt, smirking as he quickly Transfigured Draco's trousers. “Oi!” the blond snapped, jumping out of his chair to reach for his own wand, staring down in horror at the black fabric of the transfigured kilt.
“Strangely enough, that suits you, Malfoy,” Harry said in a musing tone, his eyes wandering over the other man's appearance almost lazily. They'd returned to his flat the evening before and spent a surprisingly comfortable few hours in each other's company before retiring to their separate rooms for the night. Now, in the light of the morning and with the aid of the incredibly entertaining sight Draco made wearing a kilt and his black silk button-up shirt, Harry was receiving a rather enjoyable view of his former enemy.
Draco hesitated with his wand aimed at what used to be his trousers, raising his head to look at Harry as if to gauge whether or not he was teasing him. Whatever he saw in Harry's expression seemed to convince him to leave his clothing as it was, and he straightened, his features easing quickly into a mask of boredom. “Well, what do you have planned for this afternoon, then?”
* * * * *
“How did you cope with it?”
Draco turned his attention away from the chess set between them, arching one narrow brow at Harry. “The loss of my bishop?” The other man glared up at him through his fringe of hair, and Draco sighed, lowering his eyes back to the board as he considered his next move. “It was different for me,” he answered, tucking his hands beneath his chin. “Knight to E3.”
“You lost people too, though,” Harry prodded, watching as his rook crumbled on its square and was pushed away to be replaced by Draco's knight. “Queen to H7; Checkmate.”
Draco considered the board in surprise for a moment before finally nodding his defeat and turning his eyes to Harry again. “I lost a friend and an insane aunt, Harry. Not nearly as many, nor anyone really as close to me, as you did. Crabbe was as near a friend as I could say I had; which, looking back, isn't saying much. And Aunt Bellatrix was... not the sort of family that you would mourn.”
“On the other hand,” Draco continued, sitting back in his chair and turning his attention toward the window. “I had to cope as much as anyone else who survived, in the end. Even without as much death to deal with, my entire world had crumbled around me over the course of two years; I was facing the darkest side of everything I'd believed in and supported since I was a child. It was...difficult to adjust to.”
Harry nodded slowly, resetting the board in silence as he turned Draco's words over in his mind. “Do you want to know why I came out here this year?” he asked at length, his eyes focussed intently on the pieces of the chess set.
“I imagine it was to get away from things for once.”
“That was part of it,” Harry admitted, the corner of his mouth twisting upward slightly. “Hermione and Ron have good intentions, and all, but the last thing I need is another year of reliving everything over again. I feel like it's finally time for me to get on with things...”
Draco considered Harry for a moment in silence, taking in the air of relaxation he'd never seen with him since the Final Battle. Granted he hadn't exactly spent any real time with the other man, and working at St. Mungo's was likely to be stressful; but this had gone beyond that. “It's your move, you know,” Harry said, pulling Draco's attention away from his thoughts. For a moment, he thought he saw a glimpse of something other than amusement in Harry's eyes, although he quickly dismissed the notion as he looked down at the board.
“Pawn to E4...”
* * * * *
“What's the real reason that you stayed here with me, Draco?” Harry turned to glance at the blond on the couch beside him, watching him arch one eyebrow over the top of his book. “I don't believe this was only about not wasting your vacation...”
“I told you why when you first asked, Harry. Whatever you'd like to think beyond that isn't-”
“That you didn't want to be alone?” Harry interrupted, shifting his position on the couch to lean closer to Draco, pulling the book out of his hands. “You weren't just trying to feed me a line to keep me from hexing you into next year?”
“Not...entirely, no.”
“You could have gone anywhere after you found me, Draco... Why stay here with me?”
“Why do you have to make a bloody inquisition out of this?” Draco snapped pushing himself to his feet, intending to make his way toward the room he'd occupied for nearly a week when Harry's hand curled around his wrist.
“Because your answer matters,” he said calmly, tugging on the other man's arm until he resumed his seat on the couch. “Please, Draco,” Harry started, shifting a little closer to Draco as he sat back down, “answer me.”
Draco looked back at Harry in silence for a moment before allowing himself to take the bait of Harry's proximity. Leaning in, he pressed his mouth firmly to the other man's, groaning when Harry's lips parted beneath his own. In a surprisingly fluid movement, Harry pulled Draco on top of him as he laid back across the cushions of the couch. Harry's arms curled around Draco's waist, holding the blond against him, as Draco deepened their kiss.
When Draco finally broke away to breathe, he hesitated for a moment, as though about to speak, until Harry ground his hips upward against the other man. Draco stiffened slightly, his pupils dilating as he looked down at Harry, who only smirked at him and repeated the action. “Harry-”
“Shut up,” Harry said softly, with no malice in his tone, as he reached up to tangle his fists in Draco's shirt. Tugging the blond down again, he brushed his lips against Draco's lightly. “If you don't want this, then just push me away, but otherwise, shut up and go with it...”
There was a moment of uncertain silence between them, and just as Harry turned his face slightly to look into Draco's eyes, the other wizard moved. Leaning in just barely, Draco pressed their lips together properly, bringing one of his hands to cradle the back of Harry's head. Harry moaned softly, arching up against Draco again.
Draco's free hand slid slowly along Harry's side, down toward his hip before slipping between them and fumbling with the fastenings of Harry's trousers. Encouraged by the blond's enthusiasm, Harry released his hold on Draco's jumper in order to help him, pushing his trousers down past his hips once Draco managed to get them open and shivering slightly at the feel of the leather sofa against his bare legs.
“I'd ask if you were sure about this,” Draco mused when he broke away again, turning his face slightly to trail his lips along Harry's jaw, nipping gently a few times before he reached Harry's neck. “But your enthusiasm says it all for you.” He emphasized his words by slipping one hand beneath the waistband of Harry's pants, allowing his fingers to brush teasingly against Harry's already hard cock.
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