fic: belonging
Title: Belonging
Pairing: HP/DM
Rating: PG-13.
Word count: 4,366
Notes: This was a pinch-hit for punkimonki at hds-beltane
Summary: Draco discovers the bad side of an 'open relationship' and finds that he can't reciprocate what Harry wants. And then he discovers that... just maybe... he can.
As Draco Malfoy Apparated into the small house of his sometimes-boyfriend Harry James Potter, he heard a few familiar noises; that of Harry moaning was very familiar, as were Harry's pants, gasps and whimpers. What was distinctly off about the whole situation was that he was standing outside Harry's living room, and Harry was inside the living room, and it wasn't Draco's name that Harry was moaning. He was almost about to barge in there and tell whoever 'Jason' (what kind of name was 'Jason' anyway?!) was to bugger right off, but he couldn't seem to turn the door handle.
From inside, Draco heard light laughing, and then voices approaching; he darted into the kitchen, which was directly opposite the front door. As the two men sauntered towards the door and this 'Jason' left, Draco glared curses and hexes into his back. When Harry turned around, he swiftly pretended to be doing something; he grabbed a glass out of Harry's cabinet and slammed it down on the counter unintentionally hard.
When Harry walked curiously into the kitchen, he raised an eyebrow and flushed a little. "Draco. You didn't tell me you were coming over."
"Oh, would you have gotten rid of Jason if I had?" The words shot sharply out of his mouth before he could stop it. Grabbing the jug of water, Draco slopped a good deal more onto the counter than into the glass. Harry gently removed both jug and glass from Draco's grip, poured him some water, and handed the glass to Draco. The blond glared stonily at Harry as he downed it all in one, and then scowled at the empty glass as if it should automatically refill. Maybe his glasses at home did automatically refill.
"Draco." Harry's soft tone made Draco scowl at him too. How dare he be so calm and unflustered?! Draco had just caught him cheating. "You're jealous of Jason? I thought we had an 'open relationship', Draco. That's what you said. How can you be jealous when you're the one who wanted it that way?" That what Harry said was completely true did not make things right inside Draco.
"I wanted to surprise you," the glass hit the counter hard again. "That's why I didn't call before." It sounded lame, even to him. That he had specifically specified the 'open relationship' did not make him any less angry. Harry wasn't supposed to be fooling around with other men! That wasn't the way it worked. Harry sighed, and crossed his arms. He didn't understand Draco sometimes.
Pulling his glasses off and rubbing at his eyes -that's right, he was still in the post-coital cosy stage- Harry took on a sharper tone. "I'm not saying that it wouldn't be nice for you to surprise me once a while, Draco, but... I don't go round to yours without telling you first, because I know that you'll have someone else around. You surely can't expect me to be satisfied with the half-hearted attention you give me!"
Draco protested. "I don't give you half-hearted anything, Potter!" That he had reverted back to surnames meant that he was severely angry, and that this was a Big Argument.
"Yes, you do!" Harry's tone was laced with an edge of impatience. "And heck, it's not even half-hearted, because you have four other men! You'll only see me if I 'make an appointment' with you two weeks beforehand, because otherwise you'll be booked up with everyone else! If you're not monogamous, you have absolutely no right to ask me to be!" His jaw ached with tension, and he suddenly found himself magically cleaning the glass and roughly shoving it back into the cupboard. The slam of the cupboard door emphasised his mood nicely.
With a splutter, the blond snapped, "You- I- You're Harry bloody Potter! You're supposed to be monogamous!" Harry stared incredulously; surely Draco didn't think that?! Apparently so. "You're supposed to be happy and surprised when I Apparate in, not shagging some other bloke!" Harry had reached out and slapped Draco across the cheek before he had even thought of doing so. Draco's hand flew up to his face.
"Get out." There was no question in Harry's tone. "I don't want your double standards here, and you have no right, not even any leverage to expect me to be happily waiting for you to grace my house with your presence. I'm not your bitch, Malfoy. If your other four men can be happy with the little amount of attention you give them, bully for them. I can't deal with that, Malfoy. I want a good partner at some point, you know. I want to move in with someone and know that when I come home on a day that's not Tuesday, there won't be someone in my place in bed."
Harry couldn't seem to stop talking now that he had started, and he continued with words growing steadily more angry, "When you said you wanted an 'open relationship', I agreed with you, Malfoy. But that applies for me as well as you. I want someone to be with other than on a Tuesday and sometimes Saturday. You don't want that, fine. I just have to find someone else who does, and if that means you moving out of the picture... I can deal with that, because... you're not in the picture enough to matter, Draco. If you want me, you have to want me, and not just sometimes. So get out."
Although Harry knew that he had more to say, he stopped himself firmly. Draco was looking somewhat shell-shocked; Harry didn't think that he'd been rejected before. He gripped Draco's elbow and steered him out of the front door. His happy mood had just been destroyed. He'd be happy with Draco. Harry knew he'd be, and it was killing him slowly that Draco couldn't be happy with just him. Maybe he'd miss Draco, far more than Draco would miss him (he bet that Draco would have another in his little harem before too long), but this had been the last straw. Draco didn't own him! He could be with other people if Draco did it too.
The blond turned to say something, and Harry shut the door in his face before he could. He couldn't deal with Draco trying to justify himself at the moment. Couldn't deal with Draco trying to tell him that it was all right, and that they could carry on the way it could. There was a small part of him that was bitterly happy though. The small part of himself which knew that Draco was severely jealous of Harry having another man, even if Harry hadn't had the chance to explain that Jason was just a 'fuck-buddy'; there were no strings attached to that afternoon Jason had spent on Harry's sofa.
-
Harry grinned and jogged to join his clique of friends as they waved at him. Ron and Hermione, holding hands, stood with Ginny, Neville, Luna and Dean and Seamus, who had tagged along. "Can't have our hero turning up late to his own party!" joked Seamus. The annual celebration of Voldemort's death was a deathly boring series of speeches by the current Minister of Magic, the Head Auror and, usually, Harry, followed by a rather rampant party. If not for the party and his friends supporting him, Harry would have just hidden it out every year.
As Seamus slung his arm casually around Harry's shoulders and dragged him into the large hall the Ministry had hired for the occasion, Harry noticed some familiar faces; everyone who was anyone attended these, and great deal of other people too. Harry spotted the distinctive white-blond hair of Draco, who was with someone Harry vaguely recognised. Draco's Friday guy, he reckoned. Their eyes locked for a moment, and then Draco's slid sideways to encompass Seamus, and Seamus' arm over Harry, and scowled. Harry felt strangely vindictively triumphant; how was Draco supposed to know that Seamus was firmly dating Dean?
When the time came for Harry's speech, his friends, all sitting in the first two rows behind his seat of honour at the front whooped especially loudly. Harry grinned, and flushed a little was he stepped up to the podium. As per usual, he had no set speech, and he was going to say exactly the same thing as last year, because the people here seemed to find it revolutionary each year.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he cleared his throat, "and may I all congratulate you for being surviving the War." A laugh ran around the room, "I would also like to propose a moment's silence for those who didn't, if we may?" The laugh faded awkwardly quickly, as silence filled the room. After a moment, Harry continued, "Thank you. We will remember them." He smiled at them all, a lively glimpse of the free soul he was, "Again, I stand here, celebrating another year of peace. I feel odd to be invited here year, after year, because I no longer play a part in preserving this peace. My thanks goes to our Aurors and everyone else who keeps the peace."
Harry tried to keep his speech short, and employed all the audience-captivating techniques Hermione had tried to impose upon him. He smiled, and looked at people. He spoke more slowly than usual, and he fixed on a familiar face to stabilise himself. Draco sat in the ninth row, blatantly trying to avoid looking at two things: Harry, and his date. Harry unleashed his smile upon Draco, and his date scowled.
When Harry stepped off, there was, as always, a huge round of applause; apparently, they heard nothing of Harry's speech when he had mentioned that they should really stop thinking about the past, and concentrate on building a better future for themselves. Not only had it been a gentle nudge to the general public that he would really like to get away from the media attention for a moment, but it was exactly what was running through his own mind at the moment.
Harry knew that he couldn't forget Draco; he was in far too deep for that. He had even accepted that Draco couldn't never only want him too, which had been heart-wrenching when he had discovered it. For a while, he had been content with the breadcrumbs of attention he was scattered, but it wasn't enough. Harry wanted romance, and love, and someone special, not someone-special-on-Tuesdays-and-every-other-Saturday. He was aware that this view was idealistic, but he also argued that getting rid of Voldemort and regaining peace was idealistic. Where was one without ideals to live for?
He had his pride too. Harry wanted Draco to be his, just his, and Draco wanted exactly the same from Harry, but with others in the equation too. He still had his stubborn Gryffindor streak, he supposed. He wouldn't let himself be content with the leftovers of Draco's attentions, because it somehow degraded him, made him feel uncomfortable every time he was in Draco's bed and knew that there would be someone else there the next evening.
"A dance?" The blond's familiar voice sounded behind Harry as he finished a conversation with Seamus about Dean and Seamus' new project: an art gallery for Dean. Harry swivelled, and his eyes flickered to find Draco's date. By the punch table, looking rather annoyed, he noticed. Draco offered a hand out.
"We broke up, remember?" Harry replied stoically.
Draco's hand clenched into a fist. "You broke us up," he said in a small voice which was also radiating anger and hurt.
Effective one-liners, eh? Harry scowled. "There never was a 'us'. There was you, and what you wanted. So go back to your date. Even you can't risk to annoy two men at a single event," Harry joked, managing to keep the bitterness to a minimum. He left before Draco could try and stall him further; he couldn't deal very well with being this close to Draco and yet emotionally so far.
-
As the blond lay half-asleep, curled in the arms of his lover. He shifted upwards, wriggling so that he could press his face into the other man's, and kiss softly, an exploration of the full lips, which felt a little thinner than usual. The arms which enveloped him seemed more muscled than usual, and he murmured sleepily, "Mm, Harry."
The body beside Draco froze, and a warm voice whispered into his ear, "That was a great kiss, but it wasn't meant for me." Draco frowned a little at the unfamiliar voice, and opened his eyes. Oh. Not Harry. The arms withdrew, and the man rolled off the other side of the bed. "You broke up with Harry Potter about a month ago, and since then, sex hasn't been nearly as great as usual. And then when you just as enthusiastic as you used to be, you whisper his name into my ear." The tone was upset, only naturally, and yet also both rueful and knowing.
"Even an idiot can see it, Draco. Just go back to him, and stop messing around with me, because you don't mean the endearments you say to me." Sorrowful eyes looked at Draco, and he watched with wide eyes as his lover dressed, and walked out on him. Draco shivered on the mattress previously warmed by two bodies and now felt awkwardly alone. That had been the third of his lovers to leave him. Harry had broken them up, then the next had gone, complaining that Draco didn't react to his touches anymore, and now the third, saying that he could run after Harry. That thought made Draco shiver just a bit more.
Slowly, Draco edged himself off the bed, not in the mood for curling up without anyone beside him, and slid into his desk chair. Finding some blank parchment and his rumpled quill, he stared at the blankness for a long time before he started his short note. He didn't feel like meeting up with anyone tomorrow. In fact... he didn't feel very much like meeting up with anyone if they weren't Harry for a while. He copied out two identical letters, to-the-point and suitably apologetic, to his last two lovers, pausing every so often as his hand shook slightly.
Draco had never been rejected before. Previously, it had always, always been him breaking it off with his partners, and it felt very humiliating to be left by not one, but three men in very quick succession. Damn Potter, who had started everything off. Damn Potter for being the only one of the three who really stood out in his mind. Damn Potter for being the reason why Draco had no one to snuggle up to and being just the one Draco wanted to snuggle up to right now.
It was shocking how much Draco wanted to fling himself at Harry when they passed in the corridors at the ministry and Harry smiled and nodded to him just as he did to everyone else who caught his eye. It was numbing how lost Draco felt without Harry around, how alone he was at nights with no company. He hurt. He hurt because he had hurt Harry, and he hurt because he wanted to become the exact opposite he wanted in the first place. He wanted to belong to Harry, far more so than he had ever wanted Harry to belong exclusively to him.
He flung himself back on his bed, large and empty and waiting to be filled.
-
"What do you want, Draco?" It was a genuine question, even if it was asked with a certain amount of suspicion. The suspicion was probably due to the fact that Draco worked two departments down, and yet was hanging around the door of the Department of Aurors. The boy shuffled in and lingered around Harry's little cubicle space. Harry looked up. "Draco. You're blocking my light." He pulled an unused chair over from an adjoining cubicle for Draco, and repeated, "What do you want? Because I know what I wanted, and it was never the same as what you wanted."
"I want-" Draco seemed caught, his eyes flickering nervously to the people around them, as if they were eavesdropping and closing in on him as opposed to absorbed in their own matters. He perched on the very edge of his seat, and Harry put his quill down from the report he was writing and waited. "I want you," his voice cracked softly, "and I hate it that I want you so much."
Harry's mouth twisted wryly. "Thanks," he said flatly.
"That's not what I meant!" Draco was whispering, and Harry didn't quite know why. Probably didn't want the other seven Aurors in the room to hear, he guessed. "I mean..." he stumbled over his words, "I mean that... I'm scared of wanting you this much, and that's even more frightening, because I'm never scared!" The grey eyes were wide and a little shocked at what he'd just said; he hadn't meant to confess that at all, and Harry had asked just the wrong trigger question. The other man avoided his eyes; Harry didn't know quite what to say.
"And that's not quite what I came to say," the blond shifted uncomfortably in his seat, fingers fumbling and fiddling in his lap as he tried to cover his hands shaking. Seeing Harry still not look at him, he added quickly, "I won't take too long. I know you've got to work. I just wanted to tell you that... er, well. There'snooneelse," Draco blurted in half a breath. He breathed deeply. "There's no one else," he said a little slower, trying to absorb that information himself. "Everyone else is out of the picture and... I would like you back in it."
Something incredibly proud reared itself in Harry's chest. He had made Draco Malfoy monogamous and wanting it that way... that was no mean feat. It didn't mean that he completely trusted what Draco said though. A lot of people said things on the spur of the moment because of passionate feelings. "Harry," Draco slipped his hand through Harry's, and although Harry didn't respond, he didn't push it away either. His heart pounded as the full impact of what he was going to say hit him, just then. "Harry, I'm sorry I hurt you. I- I didn't know you objected that much to us having an open relationship and... and at that point in time, I wouldn't have considered being only with you even if you had told me."
Draco swallowed, and squeezed Harry's hand as though the warm touch comforted him. Harry squeezed back without thinking, and a small smile wound itself across the blond's anxious features. "But now, I really do realise what you felt," he said earnestly, "because I felt exactly the same thing when... when I came over and there was- was someone else there," the young man was stuttering hard over his words as he looked down at their linked hands, not quite daring to look up, as if the expression on Harry's face might stop his flow of words.
"So... now I'm sorry that I hurt you, and I hope that... you'll let me be with you because I know what it feels like." It was not quite the confession that he had hoped to make; perhaps his pride still stood in his way and stopped him from completely expressing exactly what he hoped for, but... it was eloquent enough. He hoped. Harry withdrew his hand gently from Draco's hold, and the blond looked up, dismayed.
"I accept that you're honestly regretting things you've done," Harry's words were slow and considering. Draco's heart did something halfway between a hopeful flutter and sinking with dread into his stomach. "But I can't let you just slip back into what we were before." His hand reached out and brushed Draco's pale cheek just briefly. "I need- You've got to show me- I have to have some sort of reassurance," Harry finished lamely. "I know you can't exactly show me how well you mean, but... you know, we can start again. All over." He smiled a little. "Court me all over again," Harry requested, glancing shyly into Draco's eyes.
The blond reached for Harry's hand again, and chastely just pressed it against his cheek. Harry hesitated, then turned his palm to cup Draco's face, and Draco radiated hopeful joy even as his expression barely changed.
-
When Draco Apparated nowadays, he appeared outside Harry's house, and then knocked. He was let respectfully into the house and offered a cup of tea. He'd noticed that Harry knew exactly how he liked his tea, with three sugars and just a little bit of milk. When his tea was handed to him, it was exactly the temperature too. He felt somewhat guilty that Harry knew this about him, yet he didn't have the faintest clue how Harry liked his tea. No sugar but plenty of milk, he noted, trying to ignore that small guilty feeling.
"So," Draco started somewhat awkwardly, "would you care to come to a party with me?" It sounded oddly formal, and yet suitable. To Draco's credit, he did not express anything other than calm curiosity.
To Harry's credit, he did not falter as he responded, "Depends when it is," as he sipped his tea.
"May thirtieth," Draco promptly replied, "For Beltane."
Harry made a face. "Can't. I'm already going to a Beltane party. You can with me to mine if you want though. I'm supposed to bring a date." Draco was disappointed; he couldn't help it, but he readily accepted Harry's invitation instead. He'd go anywhere if it upped his chances of getting back together properly with Harry.
"Cool. I'll tell Seamus," Harry handed the invitation, previously pinned to the corkboard in his kitchen with all the relevant information on it, to Draco.
"Seamus?" Draco repeated.
"Finnigan," Harry prompted. Holding the parchment with illustrated fires moving over it in a very professional and sleek looking design, Draco recalled the image of one Seamus Finnigan slinging a very friendly arm over Harry's shoulder at the speeches and suddenly felt somewhat reluctant to go to this party he had already just promised his attendance to.
Watching the play of emotions splash over Draco's face, Harry smiled somewhat; he could guess what the blond was thinking from the upset pout manifesting across Draco's face as he stared at the beautiful invitation. "Yes. Seamus Finnigan, my good friend from Hogwarts," Harry emphasised. He pointed at the relevant line on the invitation. "He and Dean are co-hosting it. Dean Thomas, his very steady boyfriend of three years," he pointed out amusedly.
"Three years?" Draco repeated again, somewhat dumbly. He stared at the line on the invitation which he had apparently ignored, feeling the clenching feeling inside him ease up somewhat. Harry sighed, exaggeratedly, and plucked the mesmerising invitation from Draco's hands.
Putting the scrap of parchment out of Draco's reach, Harry moved behind Draco's chair to loop his arms around Draco's shoulders, resting his chin on the top of Draco's pale hair. He laughed lightly. "Do you know how very happy you make me when you're jealous?" He kissed the top of Draco's head, taking in the scent of shampoo. Draco's hands wrapped around his arms slowly. "When I said... that I wanted you to court me again, I didn't really mean it. Well, I did, but what I really wanted was... a way for you to show me that you meant what you said, and it was the first way that popped into my head."
Sighing, Harry pulled Draco up from his seat, tea all but forgotten. He turned Draco so that he could wrap his arms around the slightly smaller man and tuck him in close to his body. "I don't think I can wait for you to court me again to touch you like this, Draco," Harry's voice broke a little and he added a little laugh. Draco's arms flew up to tightly cling to Harry, as if this was a dream, and that Harry would push him away if he didn't hold on tight enough. He turned his head so that it was buried in Harry's shoulder and he could smell the musky scent of the other man that he hadn't smelled in his bed for far too long.
"I think I can be assured, from the dumbstruck look on your face when I just mentioned Seamus, that you're going to be very possessive," Harry murmured, stroking the blond hair and catching strands of pure silk between his fingers. Draco curled his fingers into Harry's robes. He was. He knew he was. But it was all right. Because he wanted to belong to Harry more than anything else. He felt himself heave heavily, and was startled to notice that there was a warm dampness manifesting on Harry's robes.
Drawing himself back for a moment, Draco stared at the damp patch, before Harry gently pressed his head back in. Draco nuzzled his head in, feeling wetness glide over his cheek. "I'm making your robes wet," he murmured dazedly, not entirely sure why the tears were there in the first place. Harry kissed the top of his head again, and it was a very comforting gesture.
"I don't mind," Harry shifted a little, and swept Draco into his arms, walking into the bedroom. He was overly gentle, lying down after he had eased Draco into the bed and removing his shoes for him. Draco was still silently crying into his robes, clinging like a child. Harry pressed himself close to the other man, and Draco knew that this was where he belonged. It felt good.
Perhaps this relationship wouldn't be a passionate wild ride all the time, but, as Harry smoothed his hand over Draco's head and spoke comforting words in a low voice, Draco found that he needed the stability and simple comfort that Harry could offer, and no one else ever had. "Draco, I'm here," Harry intoned softly, and Draco nodded, relieved.
"I know," his voice was small, and grateful, and sweet to Harry's ears. "And I'm glad."
Pairing: HP/DM
Rating: PG-13.
Word count: 4,366
Notes: This was a pinch-hit for punkimonki at hds-beltane
Summary: Draco discovers the bad side of an 'open relationship' and finds that he can't reciprocate what Harry wants. And then he discovers that... just maybe... he can.
As Draco Malfoy Apparated into the small house of his sometimes-boyfriend Harry James Potter, he heard a few familiar noises; that of Harry moaning was very familiar, as were Harry's pants, gasps and whimpers. What was distinctly off about the whole situation was that he was standing outside Harry's living room, and Harry was inside the living room, and it wasn't Draco's name that Harry was moaning. He was almost about to barge in there and tell whoever 'Jason' (what kind of name was 'Jason' anyway?!) was to bugger right off, but he couldn't seem to turn the door handle.
From inside, Draco heard light laughing, and then voices approaching; he darted into the kitchen, which was directly opposite the front door. As the two men sauntered towards the door and this 'Jason' left, Draco glared curses and hexes into his back. When Harry turned around, he swiftly pretended to be doing something; he grabbed a glass out of Harry's cabinet and slammed it down on the counter unintentionally hard.
When Harry walked curiously into the kitchen, he raised an eyebrow and flushed a little. "Draco. You didn't tell me you were coming over."
"Oh, would you have gotten rid of Jason if I had?" The words shot sharply out of his mouth before he could stop it. Grabbing the jug of water, Draco slopped a good deal more onto the counter than into the glass. Harry gently removed both jug and glass from Draco's grip, poured him some water, and handed the glass to Draco. The blond glared stonily at Harry as he downed it all in one, and then scowled at the empty glass as if it should automatically refill. Maybe his glasses at home did automatically refill.
"Draco." Harry's soft tone made Draco scowl at him too. How dare he be so calm and unflustered?! Draco had just caught him cheating. "You're jealous of Jason? I thought we had an 'open relationship', Draco. That's what you said. How can you be jealous when you're the one who wanted it that way?" That what Harry said was completely true did not make things right inside Draco.
"I wanted to surprise you," the glass hit the counter hard again. "That's why I didn't call before." It sounded lame, even to him. That he had specifically specified the 'open relationship' did not make him any less angry. Harry wasn't supposed to be fooling around with other men! That wasn't the way it worked. Harry sighed, and crossed his arms. He didn't understand Draco sometimes.
Pulling his glasses off and rubbing at his eyes -that's right, he was still in the post-coital cosy stage- Harry took on a sharper tone. "I'm not saying that it wouldn't be nice for you to surprise me once a while, Draco, but... I don't go round to yours without telling you first, because I know that you'll have someone else around. You surely can't expect me to be satisfied with the half-hearted attention you give me!"
Draco protested. "I don't give you half-hearted anything, Potter!" That he had reverted back to surnames meant that he was severely angry, and that this was a Big Argument.
"Yes, you do!" Harry's tone was laced with an edge of impatience. "And heck, it's not even half-hearted, because you have four other men! You'll only see me if I 'make an appointment' with you two weeks beforehand, because otherwise you'll be booked up with everyone else! If you're not monogamous, you have absolutely no right to ask me to be!" His jaw ached with tension, and he suddenly found himself magically cleaning the glass and roughly shoving it back into the cupboard. The slam of the cupboard door emphasised his mood nicely.
With a splutter, the blond snapped, "You- I- You're Harry bloody Potter! You're supposed to be monogamous!" Harry stared incredulously; surely Draco didn't think that?! Apparently so. "You're supposed to be happy and surprised when I Apparate in, not shagging some other bloke!" Harry had reached out and slapped Draco across the cheek before he had even thought of doing so. Draco's hand flew up to his face.
"Get out." There was no question in Harry's tone. "I don't want your double standards here, and you have no right, not even any leverage to expect me to be happily waiting for you to grace my house with your presence. I'm not your bitch, Malfoy. If your other four men can be happy with the little amount of attention you give them, bully for them. I can't deal with that, Malfoy. I want a good partner at some point, you know. I want to move in with someone and know that when I come home on a day that's not Tuesday, there won't be someone in my place in bed."
Harry couldn't seem to stop talking now that he had started, and he continued with words growing steadily more angry, "When you said you wanted an 'open relationship', I agreed with you, Malfoy. But that applies for me as well as you. I want someone to be with other than on a Tuesday and sometimes Saturday. You don't want that, fine. I just have to find someone else who does, and if that means you moving out of the picture... I can deal with that, because... you're not in the picture enough to matter, Draco. If you want me, you have to want me, and not just sometimes. So get out."
Although Harry knew that he had more to say, he stopped himself firmly. Draco was looking somewhat shell-shocked; Harry didn't think that he'd been rejected before. He gripped Draco's elbow and steered him out of the front door. His happy mood had just been destroyed. He'd be happy with Draco. Harry knew he'd be, and it was killing him slowly that Draco couldn't be happy with just him. Maybe he'd miss Draco, far more than Draco would miss him (he bet that Draco would have another in his little harem before too long), but this had been the last straw. Draco didn't own him! He could be with other people if Draco did it too.
The blond turned to say something, and Harry shut the door in his face before he could. He couldn't deal with Draco trying to justify himself at the moment. Couldn't deal with Draco trying to tell him that it was all right, and that they could carry on the way it could. There was a small part of him that was bitterly happy though. The small part of himself which knew that Draco was severely jealous of Harry having another man, even if Harry hadn't had the chance to explain that Jason was just a 'fuck-buddy'; there were no strings attached to that afternoon Jason had spent on Harry's sofa.
-
Harry grinned and jogged to join his clique of friends as they waved at him. Ron and Hermione, holding hands, stood with Ginny, Neville, Luna and Dean and Seamus, who had tagged along. "Can't have our hero turning up late to his own party!" joked Seamus. The annual celebration of Voldemort's death was a deathly boring series of speeches by the current Minister of Magic, the Head Auror and, usually, Harry, followed by a rather rampant party. If not for the party and his friends supporting him, Harry would have just hidden it out every year.
As Seamus slung his arm casually around Harry's shoulders and dragged him into the large hall the Ministry had hired for the occasion, Harry noticed some familiar faces; everyone who was anyone attended these, and great deal of other people too. Harry spotted the distinctive white-blond hair of Draco, who was with someone Harry vaguely recognised. Draco's Friday guy, he reckoned. Their eyes locked for a moment, and then Draco's slid sideways to encompass Seamus, and Seamus' arm over Harry, and scowled. Harry felt strangely vindictively triumphant; how was Draco supposed to know that Seamus was firmly dating Dean?
When the time came for Harry's speech, his friends, all sitting in the first two rows behind his seat of honour at the front whooped especially loudly. Harry grinned, and flushed a little was he stepped up to the podium. As per usual, he had no set speech, and he was going to say exactly the same thing as last year, because the people here seemed to find it revolutionary each year.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he cleared his throat, "and may I all congratulate you for being surviving the War." A laugh ran around the room, "I would also like to propose a moment's silence for those who didn't, if we may?" The laugh faded awkwardly quickly, as silence filled the room. After a moment, Harry continued, "Thank you. We will remember them." He smiled at them all, a lively glimpse of the free soul he was, "Again, I stand here, celebrating another year of peace. I feel odd to be invited here year, after year, because I no longer play a part in preserving this peace. My thanks goes to our Aurors and everyone else who keeps the peace."
Harry tried to keep his speech short, and employed all the audience-captivating techniques Hermione had tried to impose upon him. He smiled, and looked at people. He spoke more slowly than usual, and he fixed on a familiar face to stabilise himself. Draco sat in the ninth row, blatantly trying to avoid looking at two things: Harry, and his date. Harry unleashed his smile upon Draco, and his date scowled.
When Harry stepped off, there was, as always, a huge round of applause; apparently, they heard nothing of Harry's speech when he had mentioned that they should really stop thinking about the past, and concentrate on building a better future for themselves. Not only had it been a gentle nudge to the general public that he would really like to get away from the media attention for a moment, but it was exactly what was running through his own mind at the moment.
Harry knew that he couldn't forget Draco; he was in far too deep for that. He had even accepted that Draco couldn't never only want him too, which had been heart-wrenching when he had discovered it. For a while, he had been content with the breadcrumbs of attention he was scattered, but it wasn't enough. Harry wanted romance, and love, and someone special, not someone-special-on-Tuesdays-and-every-other-Saturday. He was aware that this view was idealistic, but he also argued that getting rid of Voldemort and regaining peace was idealistic. Where was one without ideals to live for?
He had his pride too. Harry wanted Draco to be his, just his, and Draco wanted exactly the same from Harry, but with others in the equation too. He still had his stubborn Gryffindor streak, he supposed. He wouldn't let himself be content with the leftovers of Draco's attentions, because it somehow degraded him, made him feel uncomfortable every time he was in Draco's bed and knew that there would be someone else there the next evening.
"A dance?" The blond's familiar voice sounded behind Harry as he finished a conversation with Seamus about Dean and Seamus' new project: an art gallery for Dean. Harry swivelled, and his eyes flickered to find Draco's date. By the punch table, looking rather annoyed, he noticed. Draco offered a hand out.
"We broke up, remember?" Harry replied stoically.
Draco's hand clenched into a fist. "You broke us up," he said in a small voice which was also radiating anger and hurt.
Effective one-liners, eh? Harry scowled. "There never was a 'us'. There was you, and what you wanted. So go back to your date. Even you can't risk to annoy two men at a single event," Harry joked, managing to keep the bitterness to a minimum. He left before Draco could try and stall him further; he couldn't deal very well with being this close to Draco and yet emotionally so far.
-
As the blond lay half-asleep, curled in the arms of his lover. He shifted upwards, wriggling so that he could press his face into the other man's, and kiss softly, an exploration of the full lips, which felt a little thinner than usual. The arms which enveloped him seemed more muscled than usual, and he murmured sleepily, "Mm, Harry."
The body beside Draco froze, and a warm voice whispered into his ear, "That was a great kiss, but it wasn't meant for me." Draco frowned a little at the unfamiliar voice, and opened his eyes. Oh. Not Harry. The arms withdrew, and the man rolled off the other side of the bed. "You broke up with Harry Potter about a month ago, and since then, sex hasn't been nearly as great as usual. And then when you just as enthusiastic as you used to be, you whisper his name into my ear." The tone was upset, only naturally, and yet also both rueful and knowing.
"Even an idiot can see it, Draco. Just go back to him, and stop messing around with me, because you don't mean the endearments you say to me." Sorrowful eyes looked at Draco, and he watched with wide eyes as his lover dressed, and walked out on him. Draco shivered on the mattress previously warmed by two bodies and now felt awkwardly alone. That had been the third of his lovers to leave him. Harry had broken them up, then the next had gone, complaining that Draco didn't react to his touches anymore, and now the third, saying that he could run after Harry. That thought made Draco shiver just a bit more.
Slowly, Draco edged himself off the bed, not in the mood for curling up without anyone beside him, and slid into his desk chair. Finding some blank parchment and his rumpled quill, he stared at the blankness for a long time before he started his short note. He didn't feel like meeting up with anyone tomorrow. In fact... he didn't feel very much like meeting up with anyone if they weren't Harry for a while. He copied out two identical letters, to-the-point and suitably apologetic, to his last two lovers, pausing every so often as his hand shook slightly.
Draco had never been rejected before. Previously, it had always, always been him breaking it off with his partners, and it felt very humiliating to be left by not one, but three men in very quick succession. Damn Potter, who had started everything off. Damn Potter for being the only one of the three who really stood out in his mind. Damn Potter for being the reason why Draco had no one to snuggle up to and being just the one Draco wanted to snuggle up to right now.
It was shocking how much Draco wanted to fling himself at Harry when they passed in the corridors at the ministry and Harry smiled and nodded to him just as he did to everyone else who caught his eye. It was numbing how lost Draco felt without Harry around, how alone he was at nights with no company. He hurt. He hurt because he had hurt Harry, and he hurt because he wanted to become the exact opposite he wanted in the first place. He wanted to belong to Harry, far more so than he had ever wanted Harry to belong exclusively to him.
He flung himself back on his bed, large and empty and waiting to be filled.
-
"What do you want, Draco?" It was a genuine question, even if it was asked with a certain amount of suspicion. The suspicion was probably due to the fact that Draco worked two departments down, and yet was hanging around the door of the Department of Aurors. The boy shuffled in and lingered around Harry's little cubicle space. Harry looked up. "Draco. You're blocking my light." He pulled an unused chair over from an adjoining cubicle for Draco, and repeated, "What do you want? Because I know what I wanted, and it was never the same as what you wanted."
"I want-" Draco seemed caught, his eyes flickering nervously to the people around them, as if they were eavesdropping and closing in on him as opposed to absorbed in their own matters. He perched on the very edge of his seat, and Harry put his quill down from the report he was writing and waited. "I want you," his voice cracked softly, "and I hate it that I want you so much."
Harry's mouth twisted wryly. "Thanks," he said flatly.
"That's not what I meant!" Draco was whispering, and Harry didn't quite know why. Probably didn't want the other seven Aurors in the room to hear, he guessed. "I mean..." he stumbled over his words, "I mean that... I'm scared of wanting you this much, and that's even more frightening, because I'm never scared!" The grey eyes were wide and a little shocked at what he'd just said; he hadn't meant to confess that at all, and Harry had asked just the wrong trigger question. The other man avoided his eyes; Harry didn't know quite what to say.
"And that's not quite what I came to say," the blond shifted uncomfortably in his seat, fingers fumbling and fiddling in his lap as he tried to cover his hands shaking. Seeing Harry still not look at him, he added quickly, "I won't take too long. I know you've got to work. I just wanted to tell you that... er, well. There'snooneelse," Draco blurted in half a breath. He breathed deeply. "There's no one else," he said a little slower, trying to absorb that information himself. "Everyone else is out of the picture and... I would like you back in it."
Something incredibly proud reared itself in Harry's chest. He had made Draco Malfoy monogamous and wanting it that way... that was no mean feat. It didn't mean that he completely trusted what Draco said though. A lot of people said things on the spur of the moment because of passionate feelings. "Harry," Draco slipped his hand through Harry's, and although Harry didn't respond, he didn't push it away either. His heart pounded as the full impact of what he was going to say hit him, just then. "Harry, I'm sorry I hurt you. I- I didn't know you objected that much to us having an open relationship and... and at that point in time, I wouldn't have considered being only with you even if you had told me."
Draco swallowed, and squeezed Harry's hand as though the warm touch comforted him. Harry squeezed back without thinking, and a small smile wound itself across the blond's anxious features. "But now, I really do realise what you felt," he said earnestly, "because I felt exactly the same thing when... when I came over and there was- was someone else there," the young man was stuttering hard over his words as he looked down at their linked hands, not quite daring to look up, as if the expression on Harry's face might stop his flow of words.
"So... now I'm sorry that I hurt you, and I hope that... you'll let me be with you because I know what it feels like." It was not quite the confession that he had hoped to make; perhaps his pride still stood in his way and stopped him from completely expressing exactly what he hoped for, but... it was eloquent enough. He hoped. Harry withdrew his hand gently from Draco's hold, and the blond looked up, dismayed.
"I accept that you're honestly regretting things you've done," Harry's words were slow and considering. Draco's heart did something halfway between a hopeful flutter and sinking with dread into his stomach. "But I can't let you just slip back into what we were before." His hand reached out and brushed Draco's pale cheek just briefly. "I need- You've got to show me- I have to have some sort of reassurance," Harry finished lamely. "I know you can't exactly show me how well you mean, but... you know, we can start again. All over." He smiled a little. "Court me all over again," Harry requested, glancing shyly into Draco's eyes.
The blond reached for Harry's hand again, and chastely just pressed it against his cheek. Harry hesitated, then turned his palm to cup Draco's face, and Draco radiated hopeful joy even as his expression barely changed.
-
When Draco Apparated nowadays, he appeared outside Harry's house, and then knocked. He was let respectfully into the house and offered a cup of tea. He'd noticed that Harry knew exactly how he liked his tea, with three sugars and just a little bit of milk. When his tea was handed to him, it was exactly the temperature too. He felt somewhat guilty that Harry knew this about him, yet he didn't have the faintest clue how Harry liked his tea. No sugar but plenty of milk, he noted, trying to ignore that small guilty feeling.
"So," Draco started somewhat awkwardly, "would you care to come to a party with me?" It sounded oddly formal, and yet suitable. To Draco's credit, he did not express anything other than calm curiosity.
To Harry's credit, he did not falter as he responded, "Depends when it is," as he sipped his tea.
"May thirtieth," Draco promptly replied, "For Beltane."
Harry made a face. "Can't. I'm already going to a Beltane party. You can with me to mine if you want though. I'm supposed to bring a date." Draco was disappointed; he couldn't help it, but he readily accepted Harry's invitation instead. He'd go anywhere if it upped his chances of getting back together properly with Harry.
"Cool. I'll tell Seamus," Harry handed the invitation, previously pinned to the corkboard in his kitchen with all the relevant information on it, to Draco.
"Seamus?" Draco repeated.
"Finnigan," Harry prompted. Holding the parchment with illustrated fires moving over it in a very professional and sleek looking design, Draco recalled the image of one Seamus Finnigan slinging a very friendly arm over Harry's shoulder at the speeches and suddenly felt somewhat reluctant to go to this party he had already just promised his attendance to.
Watching the play of emotions splash over Draco's face, Harry smiled somewhat; he could guess what the blond was thinking from the upset pout manifesting across Draco's face as he stared at the beautiful invitation. "Yes. Seamus Finnigan, my good friend from Hogwarts," Harry emphasised. He pointed at the relevant line on the invitation. "He and Dean are co-hosting it. Dean Thomas, his very steady boyfriend of three years," he pointed out amusedly.
"Three years?" Draco repeated again, somewhat dumbly. He stared at the line on the invitation which he had apparently ignored, feeling the clenching feeling inside him ease up somewhat. Harry sighed, exaggeratedly, and plucked the mesmerising invitation from Draco's hands.
Putting the scrap of parchment out of Draco's reach, Harry moved behind Draco's chair to loop his arms around Draco's shoulders, resting his chin on the top of Draco's pale hair. He laughed lightly. "Do you know how very happy you make me when you're jealous?" He kissed the top of Draco's head, taking in the scent of shampoo. Draco's hands wrapped around his arms slowly. "When I said... that I wanted you to court me again, I didn't really mean it. Well, I did, but what I really wanted was... a way for you to show me that you meant what you said, and it was the first way that popped into my head."
Sighing, Harry pulled Draco up from his seat, tea all but forgotten. He turned Draco so that he could wrap his arms around the slightly smaller man and tuck him in close to his body. "I don't think I can wait for you to court me again to touch you like this, Draco," Harry's voice broke a little and he added a little laugh. Draco's arms flew up to tightly cling to Harry, as if this was a dream, and that Harry would push him away if he didn't hold on tight enough. He turned his head so that it was buried in Harry's shoulder and he could smell the musky scent of the other man that he hadn't smelled in his bed for far too long.
"I think I can be assured, from the dumbstruck look on your face when I just mentioned Seamus, that you're going to be very possessive," Harry murmured, stroking the blond hair and catching strands of pure silk between his fingers. Draco curled his fingers into Harry's robes. He was. He knew he was. But it was all right. Because he wanted to belong to Harry more than anything else. He felt himself heave heavily, and was startled to notice that there was a warm dampness manifesting on Harry's robes.
Drawing himself back for a moment, Draco stared at the damp patch, before Harry gently pressed his head back in. Draco nuzzled his head in, feeling wetness glide over his cheek. "I'm making your robes wet," he murmured dazedly, not entirely sure why the tears were there in the first place. Harry kissed the top of his head again, and it was a very comforting gesture.
"I don't mind," Harry shifted a little, and swept Draco into his arms, walking into the bedroom. He was overly gentle, lying down after he had eased Draco into the bed and removing his shoes for him. Draco was still silently crying into his robes, clinging like a child. Harry pressed himself close to the other man, and Draco knew that this was where he belonged. It felt good.
Perhaps this relationship wouldn't be a passionate wild ride all the time, but, as Harry smoothed his hand over Draco's head and spoke comforting words in a low voice, Draco found that he needed the stability and simple comfort that Harry could offer, and no one else ever had. "Draco, I'm here," Harry intoned softly, and Draco nodded, relieved.
"I know," his voice was small, and grateful, and sweet to Harry's ears. "And I'm glad."