H/D fic - Inauspicious Beginnings (2/2)
H/D fic - Inauspicious Beginnings (2/2)
Author: l_morgan
Rating: R
Pairings: H/D (of course)
Summary: Sometimes two wrongs can make a right.
Disclaimer: Anything profitable belongs to J.K.
A/N: Set after the war. Spoilers for HBP.
Feedback and ConCrit is welcome! Special thanks to Islaofhope for her useful comments and to m_jadis for her careful beta and help at the end (all remaining errors are mine)! This story is complete and has been cross posted shamelessly.
Warning: POV Switch between chapters 1 & 2
Previous Chapter
Chapter Two
Draco put the finishing touches on the conclusion before sliding the completed manuscript over to his co-author, godfather, and, if truth were told, only remaining friend from the British wizarding world.
“There you are, Severus,” he announced with a self-satisfied smirk. “Another New York Times Non-Fiction Bestseller?”
“We can only hope, Draco.” Severus popped the cork and poured two glasses of champagne. “To old friends, continued collaborations, and American Muggle’s unending fascination with all things magical.” He took a sip, barely glancing at the trade manuscript that they had just completed. “I spoke with the wizard publishing house in Europe; the potions text is doing quite well there. So, while your personal accounts may never be up to Lucius’ old standards, you’ll never go hungry.”
Draco took a sip; he loved the way champagne felt in his mouth. He wondered what Severus would say about the thirty thousand that lay untouched in his bedside table.
As if reading his mind, and he very well may have been for all Draco knew, Severus’ eyes narrowed sharply. “And you did get the advance last month from the Muggle publisher?”
Draco nodded. “Yes, Severus, he came to the bar and wrote me a check for 15,000 and I deposited it, as is, in the Muggle bank per your instructions.”
“The bar....” If possible, Severus’ eyes got even darker. “So, still breaking hearts, are we?”
Draco took a shallow breath, debating, once again, telling his godfather about Harry. Even though he knew how much they’d despised one another at Hogwarts, it wasn’t like he had anyone else to talk to. Making up his mind, he took another drink, letting the bubbles explode on his tongue, tickling his nose. “Breaking bank accounts is more like it,” he answered finally.
Severus frowned. “You are not referring to that intolerable Smith, I sincerely hope.”
Not wanting to know how his godfather had reacted to that bit of slander, Draco tried his best to look reassuring. “No, actually, Harry Potter.”
Eyes widening ever so slightly, Severus set the glass down and met Draco’s gaze unblinkingly.
“Potter was at the bar the day Ziegman came by with the check,” Draco began. “I’d been drinking and celebrating with the boys and apparently he’d been drinking and listening to Smith and god only knows who else.”
Severus remained silent, his face inscrutable.
“He offered me money...” Draco chuckled, shaking his head. “...for, you know....”
“I don’t know,” Severus denied. “We are dealing with Harry Potter. For all I know, he could have offered you money to help you mend your wicked ways.”
Draco snorted and reached for the bottle of bubbly. “Hardly.”
“Hmph.” Severus leaned forward, the corner of his mouth turning up in a nasty grin. “So the Boy Wonder offered to pay...” He looked Draco up and down. “Paid,” he corrected without censure, “a death-eater’s son for sex. Perhaps it’s time that we turn our quills to fiction, Draco, because Dumbledore knows it doesn’t get any better than this.”
“Shut up.” Draco blushed, despite himself. “It’s not funny.”
“Yes it is.” Severus poured himself another glass. “So you took his money?”
“Of course I took it,” Draco admitted. “But I don’t intend to keep it.”
“You’ve done this on more than one occasion, then?”
When Draco didn’t respond, Severus leaned forward. “Draco?”
“I just thought that he’d eventually say it was too much,” Draco whispered, his voice breaking uncharacteristically. “Or that maybe that he’d even want to change the nature of the agreement.”
“And what, pray tell, is the agreement?”
“Whatever he felt it’s worth.”
To Draco’s surprise, Severus chuckled. “Thereby assuring that he’d feel guilty enough to give you more than you’d ever dream about asking for yourself; brilliant. If I still had the ability or the inclination to award house points, my boy, I would give you a dozen. So...” He paused strategically. “...just out of morbid curiosity, what is the going rate, these days, for the love that dare not speak its name?”
“A thousand galleons,” Draco answered. “There’s thirty thousand in my bed side table as we speak.”
This time Severus laughed out loud and for once he seemed genuinely amused. “A fairly fitting end for your family’s money, I would hazard to say.”
“What does my family’s money have anything to do with this?” Draco demanded.
“You know that Sirius Black was Potter’s godfather?” Severus asked. “Potter inherited the Black fortune the night that Black fell through the veil.”
Not sure how he felt about that bit of trivia, Draco looked up when Severus walked around the table and rested his hand heavily on his shoulder.
“Be careful, Draco.”
“I’m always careful, godfather.”
“Yes,” Severus admitted, “but humor me. You’re all I’ve got and I don’t want to see you hurt.”
Draco frowned. “So you’re not going to tell me that I am playing a dangerous game?”
“As you already know it, it would be a waste of my breath.”
“And you’re not going to ask me why?’ he questioned.
Severus shook his head and, for just a moment, he looked as sad as he had the night that he’d chosen Draco over Dumbledore. “I already know why.”
Later that week, Draco curled himself around Harry and sighed.
They’d made love for hours, watched some ridiculous muggle film on the telly, and made love again. They had only stopped long enough for stolen bites of leftover pizza and ice cream that, for some reason, tasted better off Harry’s thigh than it did straight out of the tub.
Just as the morning light began to penetrate the heavy blinds, Harry removed Draco’s arm from around his body and lifted the covers.
He was leaving.
Again.
“Harry?” Draco murmured; he only called him that when Harry couldn’t see his face.
“Yes?”
Draco touched his arm, the brief connection seeming, somehow, more intimate than any of the kisses that they had shared under the cover of darkness. “Stay,” he said, hoping it sounded more like a request than a plea.
“I - I - I can’t,” Harry stammered, swinging his legs out of the bed and reaching for his jeans.
Draco closed his eyes as he heard the familiar clanking of coins. “Why can’t you?” he pressed, knowing that soon, very soon, he’d have to tell Harry the truth. He couldn’t take the waiting anymore or the ongoing disappointment that Harry truly believed the worst of him - of them.
“It’s too much, Draco,” he answered.
Something that Draco was afraid was panic flared deep within. “But-“
“No!” Harry turned until their eyes met across what seemed like miles of crumpled sheets. “It’s not about the money, Draco. It’s never been about the money, for me. You’re too much.” He hung his head. “It’s too much, yet it’s never enough.”
Draco’s heart skipped a beat. “Harry, stay. Come on, please?”
Harry shook his head slowly without looking up. “That day I saw you in the bar - that very first time - I was just going to ask you about Zach and the others, I swear it. I’d heard the rumours but I didn’t believe it. Yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
“Harry.” Draco sat up and tried to wrap his arms around Harry’s waist, only to be pushed away.
“Then I saw you with that old man - actually saw you - and I couldn’t help myself. I keep telling myself when I leave here that I’m better than they are, but I’m not. I’m just like them!”
“No!” This time Draco managed to get his arms around him and hold on tightly. “They were lying, Harry. None of that ever happened.” Draco was surprised to find that his cheeks were wet. “I turned Smith down flat and I haven’t seen Nott or that Hufflepuff since I left school. I swear!”
“What?” If anything, Harry’s head hung even lower. “Then why did you let me?”
“Let you?” Draco choked, letting his hands slide lower into Harry’s lap. “Good Lord, Potter, I was ready to pay you that day! You have no idea how surprised I was to see you there!”
Harry turned, his unruly hair tickling Draco’s sensitive skin. “Why was that? And who was that man?” he asked. “You know - the one with the cane? He paid you. I saw him.”
“Ziegman?” Draco’s eyes widened with understanding. “He’s Severus’ and my Muggle publisher.”
“Your - your what?”
“Severus and I write potions books for European wizards and aromatherapy guides and history books for Muggles.” Draco cast him a level look. “You didn’t really think that I was so good in bed that I could afford to live here on a tart’s wages, did you?”
Harry turned an unflattering shade of red. “But what about...?” He glanced over at the nightstand.
“What about what?”
“What about all the money?”
Taking a deep breath, Draco forced himself to smile. “Oh, is that what you’ve been leaving here all those mornings?” He leaned over and opened the drawer, now half full with identical velvet pouches. “I’d wondered.”
“But?”
“But what, Harry?” Draco asked pointedly, knowing full well that he didn’t want to have to ask why it was that Harry had been so quick to believe a no good shite like Smith to begin with. “So you’ll stay?” he asked, instead, and let out an even breath when Harry dropped his jeans and leaned over to close the drawer.
“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, turning to pull Draco close. “I was wrong.”
'Yes you were,' Draco thought. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay!” Harry cried, his arms tightening around Draco’s waist. “I offered you money.....”
Draco worked his hand up between them and pushed Harry away. “I know why you believed Smith,” he informed him, doing his best to keep the hurt out of his voice. “After all, we’ve done nothing but believe the worst of one another since the day we met.” He paused. “But there is something that I don’t understand, and if you could help me, then, maybe, I could forgive you.”
Harry stiffened. “Okay.”
“Why is that that you, of all people, would pay me - my status as a sex god aside - for sex?”
Harry buried his face in Draco’s neck and mumbled something entirely unintelligible.
“Because you what?” Draco pushed him away, exposing them both to the morning air.
“Because I thought that it’d be the only way you’d say yes,” Harry muttered. “I figured that if you’d already been with the others then you were probably desperate - desperate enough to be with me as well.”
Draco opened his mouth before he realized that he had no idea what to say.
“I’m sorry, Draco.” Harry looked stricken. “I’ll go.”
“Do I look desperate to you?” Draco demanded.
Harry shook his head.
“Have I ever looked desperate?”
Again, Harry shook his head.
“Do you realize how insulting - ?”
Harry stood up, only to have Draco pull him back down and roll him over onto the mattress.
“You amaze me, Potter. You are not only the fucking Boy-Who-Lived, but you are also sex on legs, you play a mean game of Quidditch, you make killer fondue, you have beautiful eyes, you give amazing head, and you think the only way that someone would have sex with you is for money?”
“Not - not anyone - just you,” Harry admitted quietly. “I really hadn’t believed them, the things they said, but then you were so different in the bar. You acted like you were happy to see me.”
“I was happy to see you, you stupid prat!”
Harry looked skeptical.
Draco laid his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Hell, given that Smith was the only person I’d seen from school in the last two years apart from Severus of course,” he risked a tease, “I might have even made a pass at the Weasel.”
Harry snorted. “Gee, thanks. On that note, I think I’ll take my galleons and go.”
“Your galleons?” Draco smirked, knowing as well as he knew his own name that Harry wasn’t going anywhere. “I was talking to Severus about this and he was telling me that for all I knew you were paying me from the Black family vault, which makes it, technically, my money. He was quite amused really.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed, but his shoulders relaxed beneath Draco’s touch. “I thought you said that you didn’t know it was money?”
Surprised that Harry was more upset about the money than the fact that he’d told Severus, Draco took a deep breath and decided to end it quickly while he was still ahead. “I love you, you know,” he said, making it a statement rather than a question.
Harry blinked. “What?”
“It’s true,” Draco back-pedaled, “that I may have never liked you much when we were younger, but I was never indifferent.”
“You hated me.”
“Yes,” he admitted, “I did.”
Harry was silent.
“But I don’t now.” He slid his hand into Harry’s and waited.
Harry’s fingers tightened. “Well, I guess I wasn’t indifferent to you either.”
“And I would dare say,” Draco pointed out, taking a deep breath, “that you hated me, too.”
“But I don’t now,” Harry returned, his voice a mere whisper.
Hoping that his echoed words held the same meaning, Draco let out a breath that he hadn’t known he was holding and smiled. “Well, now that that’s settled, what are you going to do with all of your money?”
Harry cocked his head to one side, his arm creeping around Draco’s waist. “Don’t you mean your money?”
Draco shrugged. “Yours, mine - does it matter?”
“No.” Harry kissed him gently. “Though I guess it wouldn’t hurt to take you to breakfast come morning.”
“That would be an awful lot of breakfast,” Draco murmured against Harry’s lips.
“Well,” Harry said, as he rolled Draco over and lowered himself between Draco’s legs like he belonged there. “There are an awful lot of mornings.”
FIN
Author: l_morgan
Rating: R
Pairings: H/D (of course)
Summary: Sometimes two wrongs can make a right.
Disclaimer: Anything profitable belongs to J.K.
A/N: Set after the war. Spoilers for HBP.
Feedback and ConCrit is welcome! Special thanks to Islaofhope for her useful comments and to m_jadis for her careful beta and help at the end (all remaining errors are mine)! This story is complete and has been cross posted shamelessly.
Warning: POV Switch between chapters 1 & 2
Previous Chapter
Chapter Two
Draco put the finishing touches on the conclusion before sliding the completed manuscript over to his co-author, godfather, and, if truth were told, only remaining friend from the British wizarding world.
“There you are, Severus,” he announced with a self-satisfied smirk. “Another New York Times Non-Fiction Bestseller?”
“We can only hope, Draco.” Severus popped the cork and poured two glasses of champagne. “To old friends, continued collaborations, and American Muggle’s unending fascination with all things magical.” He took a sip, barely glancing at the trade manuscript that they had just completed. “I spoke with the wizard publishing house in Europe; the potions text is doing quite well there. So, while your personal accounts may never be up to Lucius’ old standards, you’ll never go hungry.”
Draco took a sip; he loved the way champagne felt in his mouth. He wondered what Severus would say about the thirty thousand that lay untouched in his bedside table.
As if reading his mind, and he very well may have been for all Draco knew, Severus’ eyes narrowed sharply. “And you did get the advance last month from the Muggle publisher?”
Draco nodded. “Yes, Severus, he came to the bar and wrote me a check for 15,000 and I deposited it, as is, in the Muggle bank per your instructions.”
“The bar....” If possible, Severus’ eyes got even darker. “So, still breaking hearts, are we?”
Draco took a shallow breath, debating, once again, telling his godfather about Harry. Even though he knew how much they’d despised one another at Hogwarts, it wasn’t like he had anyone else to talk to. Making up his mind, he took another drink, letting the bubbles explode on his tongue, tickling his nose. “Breaking bank accounts is more like it,” he answered finally.
Severus frowned. “You are not referring to that intolerable Smith, I sincerely hope.”
Not wanting to know how his godfather had reacted to that bit of slander, Draco tried his best to look reassuring. “No, actually, Harry Potter.”
Eyes widening ever so slightly, Severus set the glass down and met Draco’s gaze unblinkingly.
“Potter was at the bar the day Ziegman came by with the check,” Draco began. “I’d been drinking and celebrating with the boys and apparently he’d been drinking and listening to Smith and god only knows who else.”
Severus remained silent, his face inscrutable.
“He offered me money...” Draco chuckled, shaking his head. “...for, you know....”
“I don’t know,” Severus denied. “We are dealing with Harry Potter. For all I know, he could have offered you money to help you mend your wicked ways.”
Draco snorted and reached for the bottle of bubbly. “Hardly.”
“Hmph.” Severus leaned forward, the corner of his mouth turning up in a nasty grin. “So the Boy Wonder offered to pay...” He looked Draco up and down. “Paid,” he corrected without censure, “a death-eater’s son for sex. Perhaps it’s time that we turn our quills to fiction, Draco, because Dumbledore knows it doesn’t get any better than this.”
“Shut up.” Draco blushed, despite himself. “It’s not funny.”
“Yes it is.” Severus poured himself another glass. “So you took his money?”
“Of course I took it,” Draco admitted. “But I don’t intend to keep it.”
“You’ve done this on more than one occasion, then?”
When Draco didn’t respond, Severus leaned forward. “Draco?”
“I just thought that he’d eventually say it was too much,” Draco whispered, his voice breaking uncharacteristically. “Or that maybe that he’d even want to change the nature of the agreement.”
“And what, pray tell, is the agreement?”
“Whatever he felt it’s worth.”
To Draco’s surprise, Severus chuckled. “Thereby assuring that he’d feel guilty enough to give you more than you’d ever dream about asking for yourself; brilliant. If I still had the ability or the inclination to award house points, my boy, I would give you a dozen. So...” He paused strategically. “...just out of morbid curiosity, what is the going rate, these days, for the love that dare not speak its name?”
“A thousand galleons,” Draco answered. “There’s thirty thousand in my bed side table as we speak.”
This time Severus laughed out loud and for once he seemed genuinely amused. “A fairly fitting end for your family’s money, I would hazard to say.”
“What does my family’s money have anything to do with this?” Draco demanded.
“You know that Sirius Black was Potter’s godfather?” Severus asked. “Potter inherited the Black fortune the night that Black fell through the veil.”
Not sure how he felt about that bit of trivia, Draco looked up when Severus walked around the table and rested his hand heavily on his shoulder.
“Be careful, Draco.”
“I’m always careful, godfather.”
“Yes,” Severus admitted, “but humor me. You’re all I’ve got and I don’t want to see you hurt.”
Draco frowned. “So you’re not going to tell me that I am playing a dangerous game?”
“As you already know it, it would be a waste of my breath.”
“And you’re not going to ask me why?’ he questioned.
Severus shook his head and, for just a moment, he looked as sad as he had the night that he’d chosen Draco over Dumbledore. “I already know why.”
Later that week, Draco curled himself around Harry and sighed.
They’d made love for hours, watched some ridiculous muggle film on the telly, and made love again. They had only stopped long enough for stolen bites of leftover pizza and ice cream that, for some reason, tasted better off Harry’s thigh than it did straight out of the tub.
Just as the morning light began to penetrate the heavy blinds, Harry removed Draco’s arm from around his body and lifted the covers.
He was leaving.
Again.
“Harry?” Draco murmured; he only called him that when Harry couldn’t see his face.
“Yes?”
Draco touched his arm, the brief connection seeming, somehow, more intimate than any of the kisses that they had shared under the cover of darkness. “Stay,” he said, hoping it sounded more like a request than a plea.
“I - I - I can’t,” Harry stammered, swinging his legs out of the bed and reaching for his jeans.
Draco closed his eyes as he heard the familiar clanking of coins. “Why can’t you?” he pressed, knowing that soon, very soon, he’d have to tell Harry the truth. He couldn’t take the waiting anymore or the ongoing disappointment that Harry truly believed the worst of him - of them.
“It’s too much, Draco,” he answered.
Something that Draco was afraid was panic flared deep within. “But-“
“No!” Harry turned until their eyes met across what seemed like miles of crumpled sheets. “It’s not about the money, Draco. It’s never been about the money, for me. You’re too much.” He hung his head. “It’s too much, yet it’s never enough.”
Draco’s heart skipped a beat. “Harry, stay. Come on, please?”
Harry shook his head slowly without looking up. “That day I saw you in the bar - that very first time - I was just going to ask you about Zach and the others, I swear it. I’d heard the rumours but I didn’t believe it. Yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
“Harry.” Draco sat up and tried to wrap his arms around Harry’s waist, only to be pushed away.
“Then I saw you with that old man - actually saw you - and I couldn’t help myself. I keep telling myself when I leave here that I’m better than they are, but I’m not. I’m just like them!”
“No!” This time Draco managed to get his arms around him and hold on tightly. “They were lying, Harry. None of that ever happened.” Draco was surprised to find that his cheeks were wet. “I turned Smith down flat and I haven’t seen Nott or that Hufflepuff since I left school. I swear!”
“What?” If anything, Harry’s head hung even lower. “Then why did you let me?”
“Let you?” Draco choked, letting his hands slide lower into Harry’s lap. “Good Lord, Potter, I was ready to pay you that day! You have no idea how surprised I was to see you there!”
Harry turned, his unruly hair tickling Draco’s sensitive skin. “Why was that? And who was that man?” he asked. “You know - the one with the cane? He paid you. I saw him.”
“Ziegman?” Draco’s eyes widened with understanding. “He’s Severus’ and my Muggle publisher.”
“Your - your what?”
“Severus and I write potions books for European wizards and aromatherapy guides and history books for Muggles.” Draco cast him a level look. “You didn’t really think that I was so good in bed that I could afford to live here on a tart’s wages, did you?”
Harry turned an unflattering shade of red. “But what about...?” He glanced over at the nightstand.
“What about what?”
“What about all the money?”
Taking a deep breath, Draco forced himself to smile. “Oh, is that what you’ve been leaving here all those mornings?” He leaned over and opened the drawer, now half full with identical velvet pouches. “I’d wondered.”
“But?”
“But what, Harry?” Draco asked pointedly, knowing full well that he didn’t want to have to ask why it was that Harry had been so quick to believe a no good shite like Smith to begin with. “So you’ll stay?” he asked, instead, and let out an even breath when Harry dropped his jeans and leaned over to close the drawer.
“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, turning to pull Draco close. “I was wrong.”
'Yes you were,' Draco thought. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay!” Harry cried, his arms tightening around Draco’s waist. “I offered you money.....”
Draco worked his hand up between them and pushed Harry away. “I know why you believed Smith,” he informed him, doing his best to keep the hurt out of his voice. “After all, we’ve done nothing but believe the worst of one another since the day we met.” He paused. “But there is something that I don’t understand, and if you could help me, then, maybe, I could forgive you.”
Harry stiffened. “Okay.”
“Why is that that you, of all people, would pay me - my status as a sex god aside - for sex?”
Harry buried his face in Draco’s neck and mumbled something entirely unintelligible.
“Because you what?” Draco pushed him away, exposing them both to the morning air.
“Because I thought that it’d be the only way you’d say yes,” Harry muttered. “I figured that if you’d already been with the others then you were probably desperate - desperate enough to be with me as well.”
Draco opened his mouth before he realized that he had no idea what to say.
“I’m sorry, Draco.” Harry looked stricken. “I’ll go.”
“Do I look desperate to you?” Draco demanded.
Harry shook his head.
“Have I ever looked desperate?”
Again, Harry shook his head.
“Do you realize how insulting - ?”
Harry stood up, only to have Draco pull him back down and roll him over onto the mattress.
“You amaze me, Potter. You are not only the fucking Boy-Who-Lived, but you are also sex on legs, you play a mean game of Quidditch, you make killer fondue, you have beautiful eyes, you give amazing head, and you think the only way that someone would have sex with you is for money?”
“Not - not anyone - just you,” Harry admitted quietly. “I really hadn’t believed them, the things they said, but then you were so different in the bar. You acted like you were happy to see me.”
“I was happy to see you, you stupid prat!”
Harry looked skeptical.
Draco laid his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Hell, given that Smith was the only person I’d seen from school in the last two years apart from Severus of course,” he risked a tease, “I might have even made a pass at the Weasel.”
Harry snorted. “Gee, thanks. On that note, I think I’ll take my galleons and go.”
“Your galleons?” Draco smirked, knowing as well as he knew his own name that Harry wasn’t going anywhere. “I was talking to Severus about this and he was telling me that for all I knew you were paying me from the Black family vault, which makes it, technically, my money. He was quite amused really.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed, but his shoulders relaxed beneath Draco’s touch. “I thought you said that you didn’t know it was money?”
Surprised that Harry was more upset about the money than the fact that he’d told Severus, Draco took a deep breath and decided to end it quickly while he was still ahead. “I love you, you know,” he said, making it a statement rather than a question.
Harry blinked. “What?”
“It’s true,” Draco back-pedaled, “that I may have never liked you much when we were younger, but I was never indifferent.”
“You hated me.”
“Yes,” he admitted, “I did.”
Harry was silent.
“But I don’t now.” He slid his hand into Harry’s and waited.
Harry’s fingers tightened. “Well, I guess I wasn’t indifferent to you either.”
“And I would dare say,” Draco pointed out, taking a deep breath, “that you hated me, too.”
“But I don’t now,” Harry returned, his voice a mere whisper.
Hoping that his echoed words held the same meaning, Draco let out a breath that he hadn’t known he was holding and smiled. “Well, now that that’s settled, what are you going to do with all of your money?”
Harry cocked his head to one side, his arm creeping around Draco’s waist. “Don’t you mean your money?”
Draco shrugged. “Yours, mine - does it matter?”
“No.” Harry kissed him gently. “Though I guess it wouldn’t hurt to take you to breakfast come morning.”
“That would be an awful lot of breakfast,” Draco murmured against Harry’s lips.
“Well,” Harry said, as he rolled Draco over and lowered himself between Draco’s legs like he belonged there. “There are an awful lot of mornings.”
FIN