Challenge Fic 1: Dirty Pewter
Well, I've actually done one of the challenges! This fic goes with the Goldfrapp song, 'You Never Know', albeit very loosely. The line "steel painted eyes" caught me, and I just kinda ran with it. At any rate, I give you 'Dirt Pewter'
Fandom - Harry Potter
Pairing - Harry/Draco
Rating - Hard R
Spoilers - For HBP
Dirty Pewter
5
Harry had forgotten exactly when he started paying such close attention to everyone’s eyes, but it’d become second nature. He studied everyone, at different times and in different moods, trying to decipher the inner workings of all the people he knew. Ron’s eyes were bright, sky blue almost all the time, sunny and clear, except when they narrowed in suspicion or anger, then they turned just a few shades darker - and Harry learned early on to be wary of that change. Hermione’s looked brown at a casual glance, but Harry could see the flecks of warm gold within them, mixed with copper and bronze, a trillion combinations which never ceased to fascinate him. Snape’s eyes were black, but when he smiled - rare - they shone like a night sky.
But as the months passed, as the Order headquarters became his second, and then only, home, as a constant parade of people passed before him, he realised that there was only one set that could hold him so completely captivated. That could leave him gazing surreptitiously for hours, if he were allowed. There was something about those eyes that was so transparent, so clear, yet so impossible to read. He couldn’t figure it out at all. It was like looking through a window onto a landscape obscured by mist. The desire to lose himself in it, become wrapped in that fog until he could figure out all its secrets, was at times overwhelming.
~
4
Draco sat down opposite him at the kitchen table, fighting back a yawn and pouring himself some coffee. “Morning,” he mumbled, twitching Harry’s paper around so he could read it properly, not worrying about the fact that Harry himself had been rather absorbed in the letters page already. He’d never break that habit, Harry though ruefully, but didn’t really care.
“Good morning,” he said cheerfully, “You got back late.”
“Mmm.” Draco added three heaped teaspoons of sugar to his mug, then too much cream, flicking through the pages of the paper until he reached the editorial. Harry watched in a mixture of amusement and irritation.
“And how did it go?” he prodded, refusing to give the other boy any peace until he had what he wanted. First thing in the morning was not the ideal time to squeeze anything out of Draco Malfoy, but patience wasn’t Harry’s forte; it had taken all the self-control he possessed not to have charged up to the blond’s room half an hour ago and woken him up himself.
Draco shrugged and took a long, luxurious sip from his mug. “Mmm,” he repeated, this time in appreciation. “God, you have no idea how good it is to have a nice, undisturbed, cup of coffee in the morning. Obviously.”
Harry didn’t bite, so impatient by this point that he was practically bouncing in his chair. “Malfoy…”
Finally, Draco looked up, and a small part of Harry noted that his grey eyes looked, this morning, like silver mirrors, reflecting everything but giving nothing back. “Oh, I’m sorry Potter. Did you want to hear how my mission went?”
Harry grinned, not bothering to hide his eagerness. “Kind of, yes. Yes. Tell me everything.”
Draco closed his eyes and yawned massively, stretching his arms up over his head. “Hell, Potter, no one should be this excited so damn early in the morning.” He cracked an eye open, saw Harry’s almost desperate look, and shut it again, smirking. “Ok, ok. Bloody hell. Well, you know Tonks and Snape left me in Oxford and I made my way from there to…”
Harry settled in with his own coffee and cereal, paper forgotten, as he watched Draco’s eyes light up like sparklers at the telling of the previous night’s adventure. He thought that, if he’d been listening, he might have even been impressed by the story.
~
3
Draco Malfoy’s eyes in the sunlight are shining silver. When he’s angry they turn into thick, electric storm clouds, and by moonlight they’re like platinum, dappled with shadows that are impossible to penetrate. When he’s happy and smiling, they become twinkly and shiny like foil. And by firelight, deep in the dungeon levels, hidden from almost everyone, they become dark, dirty pewter.
~
2
When Harry was sixteen he would have given his left arm for the chance to hex Malfoy into next week. When he was seventeen, he was too preoccupied with the war, and the horcruxes, to bother much about hating anyone except Voldemort and Snape. When he was eighteen, Malfoy had joined the Order, through lack of alternative options more than anything else, Snape’s name had been cleared, and Harry’s determination to wipe out the remaining Death Eaters pretty much took up all his time.
When he turned nineteen, he’d finally started to trust Malfoy. And Malfoy had, in turn, finally been able to look at Harry without his eyes turning the rusty iron of contempt. It took a long time for these tentative beginnings to turn into friendship, and in the meantime Harry took to both noticing eyes, and acknowledging he noticed boys, and was, once again, wrapped in his own concerns.
At nineteen and a half he noticed Draco’s eyes, and all was lost.
~
1
“Harry, I’m sorry about this, your own house.” Remus Lupin shook his head and shrugged, “Really, if there was any other way, but I just can’t see how…”
Harry smiled at the older man and waved his hand. “Look, I told you, it’s ok. I said from the beginning that this place could be used as headquarters, and I meant it.”
Remus was apologizing for the fact that the house was getting so crowded that for at least the next few weeks they’d all be doubling up on rooms. Due to the various couplings, un-couplings, age differences and delicate political balances, the arrangements of who would be doubling with who had turned out to be rather complicated. As of yet, Harry had managed to keep his own room in the basement to himself, but the day had brought a couple of new arrivals and, after a spot of frantic switching and rearranging, Draco Malfoy had found himself on a camp bed next to Harry’s own.
As they reached the door to Harry’s room, Remus paused and held up a hand for Harry to wait. “I know the history you and Draco have - if it’s really a problem, I could always bunk with Snape and put Tonks with Hermione and then Draco could stay with-”
“Remus, really, it’s fine,” Harry insisted gently. “It’s too much trouble. And Malfoy and I are over it - over it,” he repeated at Remus’s raised eyebrow. “Honestly, we’re not schoolboys anymore.
“Of course,” Remus murmured softly. “Quite. Well, you’d best get to bed, then, you need the rest. Good night, Harry.” And with that he headed up to his own room, shooting Harry a last, concerned, look.
“Night,” Harry called after him, before taking a breath and entering the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. Draco was sitting on the side of his bed, which he’d apparently transfigured into something a fair bit more comfortable than the camp mattress he’d started out with, and flicking through some pieces of parchment with his wand. He looked up as Harry entered and flashed him a quick smile. In the dim light of the lowered lamp, Harry couldn’t see what the other boy’s eyes looked like.
Harry crossed the room to his own bed and sank on to it with a small groan, kicking off his shoes and rubbing his feet.
“Long day?” Draco asked, gathering up the parchment before him neatly and slipping it all into the bag next to his bed.
“Too long,” Harry sighed, falling back against his pillows and wondering if he could be bothered changing into his pajamas. “And I’m dead tired but feeling too hyper to sleep. You ever get like that?”
Draco, who was already in black cotton boxers and a tee-shirt, nodded. “Too much adrenaline will do it. You should have gotten Snape to give you a potion.”
Harry made a face, and finally rolled off his bed to change. “As if. Everything he gives me tastes like dungbombs. I think he must add them on purpose.”
He heard Draco chuckle behind him as he took off his shirt and briefly worked through the dilemma of how to change his underpants before deciding just to sleep in the boxer briefs he had on. Years at boarding school had beaten out most of his self-consciousness, but actually taking off his underpants in front of Draco Malfoy just seemed - well, not quite cricket.
He’d already brushed his teeth, so as quickly as he could he slipped under the sheets, glancing over at the other bed to see that Draco had done the same. The lamp on the table between them gave off a low, flickering light, and Draco, lying on his side, facing Harry, seemed bathed in the warm glow. Mirroring the blond, Harry rolled onto his own side and gave a sigh. “Sorry about the digs, Malfoy. It’s not always this crowded, and I expect you’ll be back off to the manor soon anyway, yeah?”
Draco shrugged, and Harry watched with an interest that surprised him as the soft cashmere blanket (which had certainly not been there before), slipped down his shoulder, revealing the fact that Draco had taken off his top before getting into bed. “I don’t mind,” he said sleepily, eyes blinking slowly, “Really.”
It was then that Harry caught a glimpse of his eyes, right before he waved his wand at the lamp to turn it off.
Dirty pewter, he thought to himself in wonder, the blankets suddenly feeling far too hot to cope with. The slight surprise at his own interest grew until it seemed to be hitting him about the head like a bludger. Bloody hell. Draco got hot.
“Potter?”
Harry started, drawn reluctantly out of his thoughts. “Hmmm?”
“”I meant it. About not minding.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Harry smiled to himself, and pushed his blankets down to his waist. “Good,” he murmured, and continued smiling until he fell asleep.
~
6
Kisses rained down on him, starting at the corner of his mouth and traveling slowly down along his jaw, continuing along his neck and then settling at his collarbone. Letting out a low moan, Harry realised the kisses had become slow, luxurious licks, hot and hungry, practically devouring his skin. He opened his eyes, hazy without his glasses, and fixed them on the candles softly glowing next to the bed. He felt like the flames had turned into liquid and were gliding over his body. Another moan slipped from his lips when he registered the hands softly gliding up his sides ‘til they reached his nipples, where they paused, lazy thumbs flicking over the hardened flesh.
“Draco,” he whispered, his voice sounding hoarse and alien in the quiet room. The boy hovering above him looked up, his eyes reflecting the candlelight, and Harry couldn’t stop himself from grabbing the back of his neck and drawing him close, kissing him needily, almost desperately. He pushed his hips up, trying to find contact, and was disappointed when Draco moved slightly away, breaking the kiss. “What’s wrong?” Harry whispered uncertainly, but Draco just shook his head and pushed at his boxers, and Harry suddenly understood. Following suit, Harry kicked down his own underpants and lay back against the pillows, his breath now coming in short gasps as he watched Draco slip his boxers over his hips and down his long legs. “God…”
Draco quirked a lip and moved back to lie next to him, fingers returning to brush over the newly exposed skin of Harry’s hip. “You don’t have to call me that, Potter,” he murmured, cut off as Harry grabbed his head again and kissed him once more, pushing himself up and pressing Draco down, taking his place atop the boy.
This time he wasn’t denied contact, and a jolt like electricity shot through him as their bodies, deliciously naked, finally connected. They whimpered and froze, the intensity of the touch suddenly too much for either of them to take. Light hands skittered up and down Harry’s back, and it was all he could do to keep his grip on Draco steady, and not start writhing, completely out of control, against the body beneath him.
“Open your eyes,” he suddenly whispered, startling himself slightly. Draco complied, slowly lifting his lashes and fixing Harry with a gaze of such pure lust that he could feel his cock jolt with it.
From that moment on, with every move, every thrust, every moan and every exquisite, shuddering shock of pleasure, Harry kept eye contact. When he slid inside Draco’s body, when that heat was at last wrapped tight around him, he saw it in Draco’s eyes, and he saw it when Draco came, never once tearing himself from the power of that gaze. Only when his own orgasm ripped through him did he close his eyes, pressing his forehead hard against Draco’s and almost crying with need. Draco stroked his hair, his shoulders, his hands, bringing him down gently, and when Harry was himself again he smiled at the eyes before him and saw that they were the colour of sunlight of snow.
~
7
Harry still liked to watch people’s eyes, but the obsession slowly died off. He registered the light green of Seamus’s when he played a joke on Ron, and the warm amber of Remus’s when he bade him goodnight, but after he found Draco’s he realised he had what he’d been looking for all along anyway.
Dirty pewter, shining in the candlelight, every night, just for him.