FIC: Home (NC-17)
Title: Home
Author: shine_alive
Prompt: # 71
Summary: After the conclusion of the war, Harry left England to travel the world, free to visit anyplace and do anything he pleased on a whim. When he volunteered to teach at a fledgling wizarding school in rural China for a year, he did not think of the impending experience as anything more than the chance to do some good while trying something new. He never expected to meet an old acquaintance who would disorient him and flip his carefree mentality upside-down.
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): none
Word Count: 6k
Author's Notes: Thanks to Killer for beta-ing! digthewriter, I tried to stay as close to your original prompt and requests! Hope you enjoy it! The geographic and linguistic information portrayed are based on my own background and experience (minus the magical part) and are not meant for generalization.
Home
The skyscrapers and Muggle architecture in Shanghai’s Pudong District gleamed blindingly in the afternoon sunlight as Harry gazed across the river. The city had been deluged by rain and haze for the past three days, but was clear and sparkling today. He breathed in the smells of exhaust and grease common to all Muggle cities.
Harry had been to enough places and their wizarding counterparts that he no longer knew where to call home. He funded his travels with the Galleons he’d amassed from a few years of publicity stunts after the war. For the most part, he enjoyed the freedom and relative anonymity of a nomadic life, but sometimes, the thought of not having a place to call “home” troubled him.
Teddy, now a teenager with his own friends and secrets, found his home at Hogwarts-he was, as Harry gathered from his frequent fire-calls, happy. Ron and Hermione had their own home, too, a warm and bright place loud with the laughter of two children whenever Harry dropped by. Harry longed for something similar, even more so after his thirtieth birthday a month ago.
He quickened his pace as he turned down Fuzhou Road, making his way down the tourist-packed street quickly - he had a schedule to keep. He had allowed himself two weeks to tour China, but his real work would begin tonight. Safely stowed in Harry’s backpack was a letter he had received over half a year ago that read:
To Mr. Harry Potter,
We are pleased to announce that your application to be a teacher at Wizards Without Borders has been accepted. Your one-year assignment will be at THE INNER MONGOLIA EXPERIMENTAL SECONDARY SCHOOL OF MAGIC in HALEZHEN, INNER MONGOLIA, CHINA.
You are expected to arrive at your location at 4:30 PM CST on August 30. A representative from our main office in New York will be contacting you to make detailed arrangements at 8:30 PM (GMT) via personal fire-call on January 14.
We welcome you to our international network of witches and wizards dedicated to changing the world, whether at home or across the globe.
Also included in the envelope that contained his letter was the Wizard’s Pocket Guide to Shanghai, at which he now squinted as he veered off onto a smaller street, pausing in front of a small café-and-bakery at the bottom of a tall English-style building. Following the instructions in the guide, he drew an octagonal pattern on the shop’s exterior wall before closing his eyes and walking straight through the bricks into Dalongjie.
The busiest and grandest wizarding district in Shanghai was crowded and lively like the Muggle world outside. Harry considered tapping his inconspicuous silver earrings and thin necklace to activate their hearing and speaking translation charms - latest version, with advanced voice recognition and nine new dialects - before deciding that he could do without.
According to the Wizards Without Borders official in New York, he was to arrive in the school by Floo, and he still needed to find a fireplace and Floo powder.
To his left, a young witch leaned against the wall by a cosmetics shop, staring at a supplies list. Harry tapped her on the shoulder. She jumped when she saw him and smoothed her hair unconsciously. Harry had to keep himself from smiling at her reaction.
“Qing wen, gong yong de Floo jin kou zai?” he asked.
She stared at him with her mouth slightly agape before closing it. “Shen me?” she asked in confusion.
Harry thought he had asked for the nearest public Floo network fireplace, but now realized he had left off the last word. “Gong yong de Floo jin kou zai na-er?” he asked again. “Sorry, I am not good at Chinese,” he added, chuckling self-deprecatingly. At least he’d learned that sentence well enough.
“Oh, it’s no problem!” she replied in Chinese as well, laughing along. “They’re by the restrooms. Also,” she continued, slowing down as Harry’s face betrayed his struggle to keep up, “there are powder dispensers by the fireplaces.”
Harry thanked her and found his way through the stream of people to the fireplace by the restrooms. There was a Floo powder dispenser from which he bought a handful for five tongbi. He threw it into the fireplace and stepped into the green flames that shot up from the soft granules. “Inner Mongolia Secondary School of Magic!” he said.
The bustle of the Dalongjie district faded away and Harry felt the familiar lurch of the network dragging him past hundreds of other grates whizzing by. While in the network, he withdrew his wand and tapped his earrings and necklace, turning the translation charms on. After several minutes, he slowed to a stop and stepped out of the fireplace into an empty room.
He took in the plush couches and the coffeepot in the corner, and concluded that he must be in a staff lounge of sorts. A folder on the long mahogany table with the label Ministry of Education - Learning Targets & Proficiency Standards - Annual Report seemed to confirm this.
The door cracked open and a short, middle-aged woman stepped in. “Oh, Mr. Harry Potter!” she said excitedly. “You’re early! Well, that’s no matter. Come, I’ll take you to the other teacher at our school who is also from England.”
As she led him through the hallways and up the stairs, she chatted on and on - about the primary school, about students and etiquette, about the highlights of the year - so that Harry couldn’t get a word in edgewise, though he was perfectly content not to have to speak. Finally, she pushed open a door at the end of the hall and opened it, gesturing that he should enter. “Here you are - if you’ve any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you,” Harry replied sincerely. He thought she gave him a rather odd look before smiling and leaving.
He stepped into the room but stopped short when he saw the man sitting at the teacher’s desk at the front of the room.
“Malfoy?” he exclaimed.
“Good evening, Potter,” Draco Malfoy replied, unruffled.
The teacher in the room was a different man than the one who had left Hogwarts twelve years ago as the son of the most disgraced wizard in England. Then, he had been simultaneously nasty with a desire to prove himself and skittish with fear. Now, he appeared largely the same save for deeper lines around his mouth and light facial hair, but he exuded the calm yet controlling presence of an instructor, and Harry had the sudden urge to sit down in the front row of desks and listen to Draco lecture on whatever inane subject was in the lesson plans in his hand.
Not that he would mind the inanity, given Draco’s alluring, mellowed voice and his still-slender body accentuated by the black dress shirt he wore with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“Harry?” prompted Draco, bemused.
Too late, Harry realized that he had been staring. He coughed and shifted his eyes to the empty chalkboard behind Draco. “Sorry. It’s been a long day,” he said. “Why are you here?”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Sorry?”
“I didn’t expect to see you in a place like this,” he quickly clarified.
Draco laughed and Harry tried not to stare at the little lines that appeared at the corners of his eyes. “Where did you expect me, then?”
“I don’t know,” said Harry lamely. “Working in Gringotts? Relaxing in Italy?”
“Glad to see you still think the best of me, Harry.”
“We haven’t been on first-name terms. Ever,” said Harry, a little perplexed with Draco’s sudden, foreign familiarity.
“Ah,” said Draco. “The staff here are all very informal with each other. When in Rome.”
“Didn’t expect you to be using Muggle phrases either,” Harry muttered under his breath.
Draco smirked. “Well, I never expected that you’d be so impolite in a foreign country.”
“I - excuse me?”
“Xiao Lan, the secretary who brought you in here,” Draco explained. “You talked to her in English when she spoke in Chinese. That was quite rude.”
“What - no! Really?” Harry spluttered. He pulled out his wand and tapped the chain around his neck with the tip. “What language am I speaking right now?”
“English.”
Harry tapped the necklace with his wand again. “Now?”
Draco shook his head. “Still English. What is that thing?”
“It’s - I bought it from a wizarding tech company,” Harry mumbled, suddenly feeling foolish as he unclasped the chain. “It’s supposed to translate my words into whatever language I want to use.”
“Come here.” Harry went to Draco, who took the chain from him, their fingers briefly brushing. Draco withdrew his own wand and pointed it at the necklace. “Revelio!”
A tiny inscription appeared on the clasp of the necklace. “Engorgio,” said Draco, and the clasp swelled until they could read the fine etched print: BETA VERSION. NOT CERTIFIED WITH THE MINISTRY OF COMMUNICATIONS. PATENT PENDING.
“Damn,” Harry sighed.
Draco wordlessly shrank the clasp to its original size and circled around behind Harry, who tried not to fidget when he felt Draco bring the necklace across his throat and clasp it in the back again. His gentle fingers brushed the nape of his neck. “It looks nice,” said Draco offhandedly. “Did you actually learn any Mandarin before coming here, though?”
“I did,” said Harry glumly, “I’m not nearly qualified to teach in it, though.”
Draco was quiet for a moment. “You’re only handling three sections of Defence and assisting me in Chemistry. Really, that’s not so bad at all.”
“You say that now,” said Harry, “but I won’t be able to communicate important conce-”
“Not with that attitude,” said Draco promptly, stepping away and heading toward the door of the classroom with Harry scrambling in his wake. “Your things are waiting for you in our room. I’m to show you around and get you set up with dinner, since the kitchens aren’t ready yet today.”
“Our room?” Harry asked as he followed Draco out the door and back down the hallway.
“The staff can sleep in a separate wing, though most teachers are local and go home at the end of the day. Two to a room - well, I had a room to myself, until you so unfortunately came along.” A small smile belied his words. “We’re the only male teachers here.”
Harry had no response to that and followed Draco to their room in silence.
“Here we are,” said Draco at last, unlocking the door and pushing it open.
The slightly dingy walls of the room had cracks running across its surface. Two small wardrobes dominated the room, which had a tiny connected bathroom. The short beds were lofted over desks, giving the space an even more cramped impression. Harry’s trunk, transported from his Shanghai hotel, sat beside his table.
“It’s nice,” said Harry lamely.
“‘Nice’ is a very noncommittal word,” observed Draco, sitting down in his chair and looking up at Harry with his hands behind his head, leaving the flat expanse of his chest open to Harry’s unconsciously roaming gaze. “It’s small. It’s old. It’s no Hogwarts dorm room. But it’s…” Draco paused. “Yes. It’s nice.”
“I just said that,” muttered Harry as he tore his eyes away from Draco’s relaxed body and stared at his trunk. “So, should I get unpacked?”
“Oh, not yet,” said Draco, exhaling sharply and jumping to his feet. “There’s plenty of time for that later. I need to show you around first - it’s not much, but it’s very nice.” He emphasized the last word with a grin.
“Okay,” said Harry automatically, his attention focused on the small lines that appeared by Draco’s eyes when he smiled.
~*~*~
Harry never thought he would see Draco introduce him to rusty rundown buildings with warm familiarity or that they would share dinner at a greasy hole-in-the-wall joint on the scraggly outskirts of Hohhot, Inner Mongolia’s capital city. Draco did all the talking as they strolled around the school complex and Flooed down to the restaurant while Harry hummed in response. Gone was the petty, cruel, and cowardly boy he’d known; this Draco, while still acerbic and witty, was off-putting in a different way - a good way.
“Where have you been these past years?” asked Harry later that night as he unpacked his trunk, trying to arrange his better clothes in the closet without creasing them. “I haven’t seen you in - since -” He paused. Since you ran away from Voldemort with your parents? Since Goyle tried to kill me in the Room of Requirement?
“Since the battle?” prompted Draco from the floor, sitting with his head leaned back against the drawers of his desk. “It’s fine, Chosen One, you can say it. We can’t pretend the past didn’t happen.”
“I just didn’t want to say something wrong,” muttered Harry. “That might, well, you know.”
“Hurt my feelings? Little chance of that, I’m glad to say. Anyway,” he continued nonchalantly, to Harry’s relief, “I went on to study Magical Policy with a concentration in Spells Regulations at Scotland High.”
“What’s ‘Scotland High’?”
“Oh, I forgot you didn’t…the Scotland School of Higher Wizarding Studies,” Draco clarified. “But legal firms wouldn’t hire me and I didn’t fancy spending my life in a Ministry think tank, so I did non-profit work for a few years before landing a permanent job at Wizards Without Borders.”
Harry glanced up at him as he set his stack of folded jeans in the bottom of the wardrobe. “Do you like your job?”
Draco smiled. “It’s a nice job. They don’t pay much, but it’s enough to cover everything I need. Inner Mongolia’s quite primitive compared to what you probably think I’m used to, but I prefer it over the thought of returning to London.”
“Never reckoned I’d see you helping the poor and unfortunate, educating the world,” said Harry, standing and stretching. “I’m glad you like it.”
“No, you thought I’d be robbing them instead. Don’t lie,” said Draco with a laugh.
Harry raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I had no idea I’d find you here. You’ve changed.”
“So have you,” replied Draco. A corner of his lip pulled up in a smirk. “It looks like a good change.”
It wasn’t as if he had never found Draco attractive, Harry thought later as he turned in his bed while Draco’s deep, steady breaths filled the air. Time, however, had transformed his sharply elegant looks and quick tongue to a new allure caught Harry’s attention in a way the seventeen-year-old Draco never had.
Add that to his newly pleasant personality, and Harry found himself liking Draco in more ways than one.
~*~*~
Harry barely saw Draco at all the next day. Since Draco was one of the head teachers, he worked with the administration to make last-minute decisions regarding term. Harry attended orientation and meetings alone, communicating through an awkward polyglot of Chinese and English and leaving his translation charms inactivated to avoid making another embarrassing linguistic faux-pas.
The secondary school had fourteen teachers in total; eleven were present at the meeting. Two teachers were Chinese students taking a gap year between Muggle university and wizarding professional studies; another was a young Italian woman who had previously interned at the Italian Ministry of Education.
Over the course of the day, he learned more about the school, which had been founded by the Chinese Ministry of Magic eight years ago due to the increasing population of Muggle-born witches and wizards in and around Inner Mongolia; before, the few wizards in the area never formally refined their skills and could not afford to send their children to expensive, distant schools. Now, with nearly one hundred and forty secondary school students and even more in primary school, the demand had risen considerably.
The hours flew by quickly through workshops on dealing with student behaviour, lectures on writing lesson plans, and speeches on the importance of trust and professional detachment from students. By the end of the day, Harry was overwhelmed and worried about the next day despite other teachers’ reassurances that it would not be so terrifying.
Harry began his first day as an assistant in two of Draco’s Chemistry classes. The course was similar to Hogwarts’ Potions, but also included theory of chemical and physical laws. Harry did not have to speak very much; he primarily had to demonstrate how to make certain potions so that Draco could explain while Harry moved about on the lab table in the front of the room.
Defence was essentially Defence against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. To Harry’s surprise, the students took a liking to him immediately, since some had heard of him vaguely from their parents - as one girl put it, “the guy who took down an illegitimate government established by a coup” - and others simply enjoyed his anecdotes from the war, even though he had left out some of the more sensitive details.
He frequently stumbled over his words, but the students did not seem to mind. By the end of his third class, Harry felt much better about the business of teaching, though he did get a partial migraine in the afternoon when several girls in the class began quarrelling shortly before the end of class about the importance of having a date for Winter Formal (rather prematurely, in Harry’s inexperienced opinion).
“It went as well as it could,” sighed Harry later that night. “They’re pretty attentive and intelligent for children. Though I’m not a big fan of children in the first place.”
“They’re not so bad, especially the older ones,” said Draco as he clambered up the ladder to his lofted bed. “It’s easier to work with them once you remember that you were in school once, too.”
“Is that why they like you so much? You relate?” asked Harry, recalling the genuinely happy way Draco’s students had greeted their teacher and how he had responded in kind, asking them about their summers and sharing a few stories of his own before he began his lecture.
“I’m not sure. I’m just good at working with kids.”
“Get your own,” said Harry as he stripped off his shirt.
Draco snorted. “Not likely,” he said. “I’m-”
A sudden loud rumbling followed by shudders through the floor cut off his words.
Draco sighed. “That would be the air conditioner again,” he said in the ensuing silence.
“Air conditioner?” asked Harry in surprise. “Why not just cast a Cooling Charm on the school until the weather changes?”
Draco stared at him incredulously from his perch on his bed and finally rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. “Good thing you’re not a Charms teacher. Do you want to try casing an indefinite Cooling Charm over all three wings of this building?”
Harry blushed at his own mistake. “Whatever. It’s going to get really hot in here tonight,” he muttered. Draco turned, smirking, and raised an eyebrow at his words. “I mean heat!” Harry added hastily. “Warm! Weather!”
“Well, shut it and get used to not having reliable luxuries here, you privileged git,” said Draco as he fell forward and buried his face in his pillow.
“Funny that, coming from a Malfoy,” retorted Harry as he climbed up onto his own bed.
Draco looked at him sidelong, still splayed out across his bed on his front. “Well, what have you been doing since you dropped from the face of the earth so long ago?”
“Whatever I like,” Harry responded brusquely. “Travelling, mostly. And that’s not true either - I return to London occasionally and get money from reporters who want the ‘latest scoop’ on my life. I didn’t have a Gringotts vault the size of a small house. I had to fund my travels somehow.”
Draco chuckled. “I stand by my previous assessment.”
“I just wanted to do some good this time,” said Harry.
“For that, you’ve come to the right place,” said Draco. “If pure altruism’s all you’re interested in, though, it’ll get boring around here pretty quickly.”
Harry leaned back onto his bed. “It’s not the only thing,” he mumbled as his eyes slid closed.
“What?”
Alarmed, Harry’s eyes flew open. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud. “Oh. Nothing,” he said hastily. “It’s been a very long day. If you wouldn’t mind…”
A moment of silence followed before Draco chuckled. “If you say so,” he said. “Nox.”
The light went out, leaving Harry alone in the dark with Draco and his thoughts.
~*~*~
As the days turned into weeks and months, Harry became more comfortable in his role as a teacher. Once he became accustomed to taking charge of a classroom situation, he actually enjoyed teaching, though he still groaned at the prospect of grading the stacks of papers he assigned - in a language with which he still struggled.
He also found an unexpected source of discomfiture in Draco. Something about his genuine kindness made Harry unable to resent his still-acerbic wit. Something about the easy yet dignified way he carried himself drew Harry into his presence. Something about Draco made Harry want him.
Their relationship was hazy and undefined. They were cordial and respectful before other teachers. Alone, however, things changed. Sometimes they felt like friends - Harry found himself laughing and joking with Draco, and the comfort of having a companion warmed him. Sometimes they felt like awkward roommates, such as when one person took much too long in the shower or left the room an unsightly mess after digging through his wardrobe.
Sometimes, they felt like a couple . On Friday nights, they would nearly always Floo down to a small café in the better part of Hohhot, intending to grade a week’s worth of assignments but talking the night away nearly every time. By most definitions, their conversations and banter could be classified as flirting. Often, Draco’s hands would linger on Harry in ways that left him confused - a squeeze of the arm, a hand on his torso, innocent but firm - and frustrated.
Harry wanted more of Draco, but Draco’s maddeningly enigmatic air belied his forward actions and Harry did not know what to think.
The night before the students’ holidays, the secondary school held its annual and much-anticipated Winter Formal, a dance preceded by weeks of boys quietly worrying about finding dates and girls fretting about the state of their old dresses - most could not afford new ones. To a point, Harry had pretended to be deaf any time the subject came up, but the teachers were all required at the dance as chaperones and he was no longer able to ignore the event.
“Stop whining,” said Draco, adjusting his tie in the mirror while Harry fumbled with tying his own. “It’s fun for them, and the only time they can truly relax and have fun without schoolwork hanging over their heads.”
“Fun for them,” Harry muttered, tugging at the back of his shirt. “Not for me.”
“You’re a joy to have at parties, I’m sure.”
“I’m absolutely charming.” Harry sighed as his fingers felt a loose piece of thread on the collar of his shirt caught between the links of the silver chain around his neck. “Can you help me? My necklace - it’s caught somewhere and I can’t-”
Cool fingers gently brushed his hands aside and picked at the small knot that had formed. “Of course,” said Draco, in a voice lower and throatier than it was a moment before. “I’m glad you did decide to keep this on.”
“You told me it looked nice,” breathed Harry.
“It does.” Draco’s fingertips tickled the back of Harry’s neck and he tried not to shudder. “Very nice. And so do these.” Harry felt one finger stroke his left earlobe and run over the silver stud. “Not something I would have expected on you, but they look good too.”
His touch moved from his neck and slid down his back gently to rest on his hips. Harry turned his head slightly to the right and found Draco there, his lips mere centimetres away.
Draco leaned in. Harry closed his eyes.
“We’re going to be late. Hurry up.”
When Harry opened his eyes again, Draco was already standing by the door with a grin on his face and a glint in his eye.
“Oh, fuck you,” Harry muttered as he followed him out of their room.
“Hmm? Why?” Draco asked, chuckling as they strode through the walls and down the stairs to the dining hall-turned-dance venue.
“You know exactly why.” Harry scowled, sure that his cheeks were burning red.
“Well, don’t get too excited.” Draco smirked as they entered the hall. “Save that for later.” With that, he slipped away behind dancing couplets and Harry could not see him even though he stood on his toes.
Harry was sure he did a poor job of chaperoning his corner of the hall. In his impression, the students conducted themselves properly and Harry hoped that he had not let any dance-floor shenanigans slip past him. His eyes kept searching the crowd for starkly white-blond hair, but he searched in vain. Draco seemed to have vanished.
Save that for later. Harry shuddered.
~*~*~
Harry headed back to his and Draco’s shared room after midnight, after the students had retreated to their dorms. He did not see Draco during the clean-up after the formal, so he guessed that Draco had returned to their room. With every step down the hall toward the door, his heart pounded more loudly, its rapid thudding bringing his nervousness to an uncomfortable high.
He pushed open the door and let out his breath in a disappointed exhale when he found the room empty. He began to undo the tie around his neck, hoping to be in bed before Draco returned to avoid any awkwardness that might ensue.
A hand stilled his from behind.
“Let me do that for you.”
Harry tried to whirl around, but the hand kept him steady. “Draco, what-”
“Shh.” Draco dragged him backward and shut the door, then spun him around so that they were face to face. Draco’s eyes were predatory with an intent belied only by the shaking of his hands as they stripped off his tie and moved downward to unbutton the front of his shirt.
“You want this, don’t you?” Draco muttered against the curve where Harry’s neck met his shoulder, his lips insistent against the soft flesh there. Harry’s shirt landed on the floor somewhere and Draco’s hands roamed Harry’s topless body, lightly brushing over his nipples and running down his sides before following the trail of coarse hairs down to stroke his growing bulge over the thick material of his dress pants.
“Yes,” Harry moaned as his hips rolled forward. Heat rushed through him unchecked, the product of months of frustration and teasing. “Keep going, keep-”
“I think not,” mused Draco. “You’ll have to wait for me.” He pulled away from Harry, who thrust into the air once more before leaning against the door and glaring.
“Fuck you,” he muttered, though without malice.
“No, I’ll be fucking you,” retorted Draco as he undressed himself.
“When did we decide that?”
Draco paused to glance at Harry sidelong. “How many men have you been with?”
“Tons!” Harry responded quickly. Draco arched an eyebrow and he huffed. “Three. That counts.”
“And how many have you actually fucked?” asked Draco as he stepped out of his shoes and pants, his erection tenting against the thin layer of fabric left.
Harry didn’t answer. Draco smirked and pulled him close again. “See,” he murmured softly, the tip of his tongue teasing the shell of his ear, “this is why you need to just relax and feel.”
Draco’s touch inflamed Harry too much to hold on to the remnants of his pride. “Mm-all right,” he gasped at length.
Draco leaned in to kiss him hard once, twice, while his hips rolled steadily against Harry’s. His lips were firm and commanding. His tongue pushed past Harry’s slightly parted lips while the latter whimpered into his mouth. Harry grabbed onto Draco’s shoulders, trying not to lose his balance while Draco ground his hard, prominent bulge against Harry’s own.
“Bed,” Draco muttered when he pulled away. “Bed. Now.”
“It’s too far up,” said Harry.
Draco rolled his eyes. “Your choice. To the desk, then.”
Harry looked up. “What?”
Draco had moved to rummage in the bottom drawer of his desk. “Bend over on the desk.” Harry obeyed, and a moment later, he felt Draco’s hands yanking down the fabric of his boxers to release his stiff prick and to expose the curve of his arse. Draco grabbed a handful of firm flesh in each hand and kneaded Harry’s cheeks. “Perfect,” he whispered with a smile in his voice before pushing them apart to expose Harry’s entrance.
Harry tried not to squirm as Draco uncapped a bottle and pushed two cool, slick fingers inside him. It had been so long - over a year - since he’d last slept with a man that the sensation of preparation felt foreign. Once Draco had spread him apart with two fingers, he added another, and then another.
“Look at your arse, swallowing up my fingers,” Draco crooned as his fingers stretched Harry’s tight ring of muscle. “You’ve got four in already - bet you could take my whole hand, couldn’t you, Harry?”
“Could we not?” Harry muttered. “I need your prick, not your hand.”
Draco laughed, his breaths raising the fine hairs on Harry’s back. “If you say so,” he said. He pulled out the fingers with a slick squelching sound, and Harry waited in tense anticipation while he listened to the sounds of Draco coating his own cock with lubricant. At length, he saw Draco’s left arm brace itself against the pitted surface of the desk and felt the tip of Draco’s cock press against his twitching, ready hole. “Do you want me inside you now?” Draco asked quietly.
“Yes, yes,” said Harry through clenched teeth, his body tight like an overstrung bowstring.
When Draco slid into him with one smooth unyielding thrust, he whimpered-rather embarrassingly, he thought.
“I won’t go easy on you,” Draco warned.
“Yes, don’t,” Harry murmured. “Go hard.”
Draco pulled out nearly all the way to the tip before slamming back into Harry, eliciting another breathy, strangled moan. Harry’s abdomen began to feel sore as Draco fucked him into the wooden edge of the table with increasing intensity and speed, but he did not protest in his desperation for more of what Draco could give.
“You feel so good,” Draco groaned as he thrust into Harry, his pelvis slamming against Harry’s rapidly bruising arse cheeks every time he moved. “So hot and tight, Harry.”
Harry moved his own hand down to touch his own erection. “Don’t,” said Draco sharply, batting Harry’s hand away. “Let me.” He stroked Harry’s prick to the same rhythm as his thrusts. His thumb rubbed over Harry’s sensitive tip, circling the head a few times, before moving down to pump his entire length.
After that, Harry fell limp against the table’s surface, giving himself up to the sensations of Draco in and on him - the pleasant stretch and burn of his arse as Draco continued to split him apart and the ministrations Draco continued performing on his cock. His breaths came quick and shallow as he felt his orgasm build like roiling waves approaching shore.
“I’m going to come,” Draco gasped from behind him, his pace frantic. “You feel so good, yes, Harry-” He gasped, his grip on Harry’s hip tightened painfully as he pushed inside deeply one last time. Harry felt Draco’s come inside him, accumulating spurt after spurt until Draco was utterly spent and there was no more to give.
Draco’s hand never stopped moving and soon Harry came too, throwing his head back with his mouth open in a soundless cry as he coated Draco’s hand and various spots on the carpet with his come.
As Draco slowly withdrew from Harry’s warm, wet entrance, Harry felt suddenly empty-he missed having Draco’s cock inside him. His legs felt like jelly and he was afraid he would collapse at any moment.
Draco sat on the floor and laid back, holding his arms wide open. “Here,” he said quietly, and Harry obliged, falling to the floor next to him and laying his head on his shoulder.
“You know the floor’s absolutely filthy, right?” asked Harry, tremors still apparent in his voice.
“Really, that’s not a great concern of mine right now,” said Draco drowsily, sounding sated and satisfied.
“Right,” murmured Harry, rolling against Draco’s side and breathing in the cologne he had put on before the dance.
They lay in silence for several moments. It was a comfortable silence. Draco’s fingers trailed along the length of Harry’s naked torso, drawing circles on his thighs and squiggly patterns on his stomach. Harry let the rise and fall of his own breath match Draco’s and pressed soft kisses to Draco’s chest.
“Harry, I’m going to ask you something odd,” said Draco at last.
“Go ahead.”
Draco hesitated. When he spoke again, he sounded unsure. “I know you only signed a one-year contract to teach here. But I wondered - I was thinking if you’d want to renew your contract and stay a little bit longer. Mine’s up in two years,” he explained, “and I’d like it if you could stay with me.”
Harry looked at him sceptically. “You want someone to fuck that badly?”
“It’s not like that,” said Draco quickly, his arms tightening in their hold around Harry. “I actually enjoyed having you teach with me. I enjoy spending time with you here. Please,” he added in earnest, turning red from the roots of his hair down to his neck when Harry fixed him with a stare. “Consider staying here. We could make this our home, at least for a few more years.”
Home - a concept Harry no longer recognized. He had no real, compelling reason to stay, except that Draco was offering him something he’d unconsciously wanted all these years. Over the months that they had spent their nights and leisure time together, Draco had become someone around whom Harry did not have to hide or act like someone he was not.
“Home,” he murmured.
“The school would be glad to have you for several more years,” Draco pressed. “I’d like it a lot. I’m comfortable around you in a way I haven’t been with others for a long time now, and I want it a little longer.”
A dozen reasons not to stay came to Harry’s mind. He wanted new experiences - Teddy - he didn’t like kids - he still had five cities on his mental list to travel -
He looked up at Draco’s earnest, pleading face and the reasons melted away into faint whispers and finally silence. Draco was asking him to stay, and he knew he would not leave.
Aloud he said, “I’ll think about it.”
Author: shine_alive
Prompt: # 71
Summary: After the conclusion of the war, Harry left England to travel the world, free to visit anyplace and do anything he pleased on a whim. When he volunteered to teach at a fledgling wizarding school in rural China for a year, he did not think of the impending experience as anything more than the chance to do some good while trying something new. He never expected to meet an old acquaintance who would disorient him and flip his carefree mentality upside-down.
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): none
Word Count: 6k
Author's Notes: Thanks to Killer for beta-ing! digthewriter, I tried to stay as close to your original prompt and requests! Hope you enjoy it! The geographic and linguistic information portrayed are based on my own background and experience (minus the magical part) and are not meant for generalization.
Home
The skyscrapers and Muggle architecture in Shanghai’s Pudong District gleamed blindingly in the afternoon sunlight as Harry gazed across the river. The city had been deluged by rain and haze for the past three days, but was clear and sparkling today. He breathed in the smells of exhaust and grease common to all Muggle cities.
Harry had been to enough places and their wizarding counterparts that he no longer knew where to call home. He funded his travels with the Galleons he’d amassed from a few years of publicity stunts after the war. For the most part, he enjoyed the freedom and relative anonymity of a nomadic life, but sometimes, the thought of not having a place to call “home” troubled him.
Teddy, now a teenager with his own friends and secrets, found his home at Hogwarts-he was, as Harry gathered from his frequent fire-calls, happy. Ron and Hermione had their own home, too, a warm and bright place loud with the laughter of two children whenever Harry dropped by. Harry longed for something similar, even more so after his thirtieth birthday a month ago.
He quickened his pace as he turned down Fuzhou Road, making his way down the tourist-packed street quickly - he had a schedule to keep. He had allowed himself two weeks to tour China, but his real work would begin tonight. Safely stowed in Harry’s backpack was a letter he had received over half a year ago that read:
To Mr. Harry Potter,
We are pleased to announce that your application to be a teacher at Wizards Without Borders has been accepted. Your one-year assignment will be at THE INNER MONGOLIA EXPERIMENTAL SECONDARY SCHOOL OF MAGIC in HALEZHEN, INNER MONGOLIA, CHINA.
You are expected to arrive at your location at 4:30 PM CST on August 30. A representative from our main office in New York will be contacting you to make detailed arrangements at 8:30 PM (GMT) via personal fire-call on January 14.
We welcome you to our international network of witches and wizards dedicated to changing the world, whether at home or across the globe.
Also included in the envelope that contained his letter was the Wizard’s Pocket Guide to Shanghai, at which he now squinted as he veered off onto a smaller street, pausing in front of a small café-and-bakery at the bottom of a tall English-style building. Following the instructions in the guide, he drew an octagonal pattern on the shop’s exterior wall before closing his eyes and walking straight through the bricks into Dalongjie.
The busiest and grandest wizarding district in Shanghai was crowded and lively like the Muggle world outside. Harry considered tapping his inconspicuous silver earrings and thin necklace to activate their hearing and speaking translation charms - latest version, with advanced voice recognition and nine new dialects - before deciding that he could do without.
According to the Wizards Without Borders official in New York, he was to arrive in the school by Floo, and he still needed to find a fireplace and Floo powder.
To his left, a young witch leaned against the wall by a cosmetics shop, staring at a supplies list. Harry tapped her on the shoulder. She jumped when she saw him and smoothed her hair unconsciously. Harry had to keep himself from smiling at her reaction.
“Qing wen, gong yong de Floo jin kou zai?” he asked.
She stared at him with her mouth slightly agape before closing it. “Shen me?” she asked in confusion.
Harry thought he had asked for the nearest public Floo network fireplace, but now realized he had left off the last word. “Gong yong de Floo jin kou zai na-er?” he asked again. “Sorry, I am not good at Chinese,” he added, chuckling self-deprecatingly. At least he’d learned that sentence well enough.
“Oh, it’s no problem!” she replied in Chinese as well, laughing along. “They’re by the restrooms. Also,” she continued, slowing down as Harry’s face betrayed his struggle to keep up, “there are powder dispensers by the fireplaces.”
Harry thanked her and found his way through the stream of people to the fireplace by the restrooms. There was a Floo powder dispenser from which he bought a handful for five tongbi. He threw it into the fireplace and stepped into the green flames that shot up from the soft granules. “Inner Mongolia Secondary School of Magic!” he said.
The bustle of the Dalongjie district faded away and Harry felt the familiar lurch of the network dragging him past hundreds of other grates whizzing by. While in the network, he withdrew his wand and tapped his earrings and necklace, turning the translation charms on. After several minutes, he slowed to a stop and stepped out of the fireplace into an empty room.
He took in the plush couches and the coffeepot in the corner, and concluded that he must be in a staff lounge of sorts. A folder on the long mahogany table with the label Ministry of Education - Learning Targets & Proficiency Standards - Annual Report seemed to confirm this.
The door cracked open and a short, middle-aged woman stepped in. “Oh, Mr. Harry Potter!” she said excitedly. “You’re early! Well, that’s no matter. Come, I’ll take you to the other teacher at our school who is also from England.”
As she led him through the hallways and up the stairs, she chatted on and on - about the primary school, about students and etiquette, about the highlights of the year - so that Harry couldn’t get a word in edgewise, though he was perfectly content not to have to speak. Finally, she pushed open a door at the end of the hall and opened it, gesturing that he should enter. “Here you are - if you’ve any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you,” Harry replied sincerely. He thought she gave him a rather odd look before smiling and leaving.
He stepped into the room but stopped short when he saw the man sitting at the teacher’s desk at the front of the room.
“Malfoy?” he exclaimed.
“Good evening, Potter,” Draco Malfoy replied, unruffled.
The teacher in the room was a different man than the one who had left Hogwarts twelve years ago as the son of the most disgraced wizard in England. Then, he had been simultaneously nasty with a desire to prove himself and skittish with fear. Now, he appeared largely the same save for deeper lines around his mouth and light facial hair, but he exuded the calm yet controlling presence of an instructor, and Harry had the sudden urge to sit down in the front row of desks and listen to Draco lecture on whatever inane subject was in the lesson plans in his hand.
Not that he would mind the inanity, given Draco’s alluring, mellowed voice and his still-slender body accentuated by the black dress shirt he wore with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“Harry?” prompted Draco, bemused.
Too late, Harry realized that he had been staring. He coughed and shifted his eyes to the empty chalkboard behind Draco. “Sorry. It’s been a long day,” he said. “Why are you here?”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Sorry?”
“I didn’t expect to see you in a place like this,” he quickly clarified.
Draco laughed and Harry tried not to stare at the little lines that appeared at the corners of his eyes. “Where did you expect me, then?”
“I don’t know,” said Harry lamely. “Working in Gringotts? Relaxing in Italy?”
“Glad to see you still think the best of me, Harry.”
“We haven’t been on first-name terms. Ever,” said Harry, a little perplexed with Draco’s sudden, foreign familiarity.
“Ah,” said Draco. “The staff here are all very informal with each other. When in Rome.”
“Didn’t expect you to be using Muggle phrases either,” Harry muttered under his breath.
Draco smirked. “Well, I never expected that you’d be so impolite in a foreign country.”
“I - excuse me?”
“Xiao Lan, the secretary who brought you in here,” Draco explained. “You talked to her in English when she spoke in Chinese. That was quite rude.”
“What - no! Really?” Harry spluttered. He pulled out his wand and tapped the chain around his neck with the tip. “What language am I speaking right now?”
“English.”
Harry tapped the necklace with his wand again. “Now?”
Draco shook his head. “Still English. What is that thing?”
“It’s - I bought it from a wizarding tech company,” Harry mumbled, suddenly feeling foolish as he unclasped the chain. “It’s supposed to translate my words into whatever language I want to use.”
“Come here.” Harry went to Draco, who took the chain from him, their fingers briefly brushing. Draco withdrew his own wand and pointed it at the necklace. “Revelio!”
A tiny inscription appeared on the clasp of the necklace. “Engorgio,” said Draco, and the clasp swelled until they could read the fine etched print: BETA VERSION. NOT CERTIFIED WITH THE MINISTRY OF COMMUNICATIONS. PATENT PENDING.
“Damn,” Harry sighed.
Draco wordlessly shrank the clasp to its original size and circled around behind Harry, who tried not to fidget when he felt Draco bring the necklace across his throat and clasp it in the back again. His gentle fingers brushed the nape of his neck. “It looks nice,” said Draco offhandedly. “Did you actually learn any Mandarin before coming here, though?”
“I did,” said Harry glumly, “I’m not nearly qualified to teach in it, though.”
Draco was quiet for a moment. “You’re only handling three sections of Defence and assisting me in Chemistry. Really, that’s not so bad at all.”
“You say that now,” said Harry, “but I won’t be able to communicate important conce-”
“Not with that attitude,” said Draco promptly, stepping away and heading toward the door of the classroom with Harry scrambling in his wake. “Your things are waiting for you in our room. I’m to show you around and get you set up with dinner, since the kitchens aren’t ready yet today.”
“Our room?” Harry asked as he followed Draco out the door and back down the hallway.
“The staff can sleep in a separate wing, though most teachers are local and go home at the end of the day. Two to a room - well, I had a room to myself, until you so unfortunately came along.” A small smile belied his words. “We’re the only male teachers here.”
Harry had no response to that and followed Draco to their room in silence.
“Here we are,” said Draco at last, unlocking the door and pushing it open.
The slightly dingy walls of the room had cracks running across its surface. Two small wardrobes dominated the room, which had a tiny connected bathroom. The short beds were lofted over desks, giving the space an even more cramped impression. Harry’s trunk, transported from his Shanghai hotel, sat beside his table.
“It’s nice,” said Harry lamely.
“‘Nice’ is a very noncommittal word,” observed Draco, sitting down in his chair and looking up at Harry with his hands behind his head, leaving the flat expanse of his chest open to Harry’s unconsciously roaming gaze. “It’s small. It’s old. It’s no Hogwarts dorm room. But it’s…” Draco paused. “Yes. It’s nice.”
“I just said that,” muttered Harry as he tore his eyes away from Draco’s relaxed body and stared at his trunk. “So, should I get unpacked?”
“Oh, not yet,” said Draco, exhaling sharply and jumping to his feet. “There’s plenty of time for that later. I need to show you around first - it’s not much, but it’s very nice.” He emphasized the last word with a grin.
“Okay,” said Harry automatically, his attention focused on the small lines that appeared by Draco’s eyes when he smiled.
~*~*~
Harry never thought he would see Draco introduce him to rusty rundown buildings with warm familiarity or that they would share dinner at a greasy hole-in-the-wall joint on the scraggly outskirts of Hohhot, Inner Mongolia’s capital city. Draco did all the talking as they strolled around the school complex and Flooed down to the restaurant while Harry hummed in response. Gone was the petty, cruel, and cowardly boy he’d known; this Draco, while still acerbic and witty, was off-putting in a different way - a good way.
“Where have you been these past years?” asked Harry later that night as he unpacked his trunk, trying to arrange his better clothes in the closet without creasing them. “I haven’t seen you in - since -” He paused. Since you ran away from Voldemort with your parents? Since Goyle tried to kill me in the Room of Requirement?
“Since the battle?” prompted Draco from the floor, sitting with his head leaned back against the drawers of his desk. “It’s fine, Chosen One, you can say it. We can’t pretend the past didn’t happen.”
“I just didn’t want to say something wrong,” muttered Harry. “That might, well, you know.”
“Hurt my feelings? Little chance of that, I’m glad to say. Anyway,” he continued nonchalantly, to Harry’s relief, “I went on to study Magical Policy with a concentration in Spells Regulations at Scotland High.”
“What’s ‘Scotland High’?”
“Oh, I forgot you didn’t…the Scotland School of Higher Wizarding Studies,” Draco clarified. “But legal firms wouldn’t hire me and I didn’t fancy spending my life in a Ministry think tank, so I did non-profit work for a few years before landing a permanent job at Wizards Without Borders.”
Harry glanced up at him as he set his stack of folded jeans in the bottom of the wardrobe. “Do you like your job?”
Draco smiled. “It’s a nice job. They don’t pay much, but it’s enough to cover everything I need. Inner Mongolia’s quite primitive compared to what you probably think I’m used to, but I prefer it over the thought of returning to London.”
“Never reckoned I’d see you helping the poor and unfortunate, educating the world,” said Harry, standing and stretching. “I’m glad you like it.”
“No, you thought I’d be robbing them instead. Don’t lie,” said Draco with a laugh.
Harry raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I had no idea I’d find you here. You’ve changed.”
“So have you,” replied Draco. A corner of his lip pulled up in a smirk. “It looks like a good change.”
It wasn’t as if he had never found Draco attractive, Harry thought later as he turned in his bed while Draco’s deep, steady breaths filled the air. Time, however, had transformed his sharply elegant looks and quick tongue to a new allure caught Harry’s attention in a way the seventeen-year-old Draco never had.
Add that to his newly pleasant personality, and Harry found himself liking Draco in more ways than one.
~*~*~
Harry barely saw Draco at all the next day. Since Draco was one of the head teachers, he worked with the administration to make last-minute decisions regarding term. Harry attended orientation and meetings alone, communicating through an awkward polyglot of Chinese and English and leaving his translation charms inactivated to avoid making another embarrassing linguistic faux-pas.
The secondary school had fourteen teachers in total; eleven were present at the meeting. Two teachers were Chinese students taking a gap year between Muggle university and wizarding professional studies; another was a young Italian woman who had previously interned at the Italian Ministry of Education.
Over the course of the day, he learned more about the school, which had been founded by the Chinese Ministry of Magic eight years ago due to the increasing population of Muggle-born witches and wizards in and around Inner Mongolia; before, the few wizards in the area never formally refined their skills and could not afford to send their children to expensive, distant schools. Now, with nearly one hundred and forty secondary school students and even more in primary school, the demand had risen considerably.
The hours flew by quickly through workshops on dealing with student behaviour, lectures on writing lesson plans, and speeches on the importance of trust and professional detachment from students. By the end of the day, Harry was overwhelmed and worried about the next day despite other teachers’ reassurances that it would not be so terrifying.
Harry began his first day as an assistant in two of Draco’s Chemistry classes. The course was similar to Hogwarts’ Potions, but also included theory of chemical and physical laws. Harry did not have to speak very much; he primarily had to demonstrate how to make certain potions so that Draco could explain while Harry moved about on the lab table in the front of the room.
Defence was essentially Defence against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. To Harry’s surprise, the students took a liking to him immediately, since some had heard of him vaguely from their parents - as one girl put it, “the guy who took down an illegitimate government established by a coup” - and others simply enjoyed his anecdotes from the war, even though he had left out some of the more sensitive details.
He frequently stumbled over his words, but the students did not seem to mind. By the end of his third class, Harry felt much better about the business of teaching, though he did get a partial migraine in the afternoon when several girls in the class began quarrelling shortly before the end of class about the importance of having a date for Winter Formal (rather prematurely, in Harry’s inexperienced opinion).
“It went as well as it could,” sighed Harry later that night. “They’re pretty attentive and intelligent for children. Though I’m not a big fan of children in the first place.”
“They’re not so bad, especially the older ones,” said Draco as he clambered up the ladder to his lofted bed. “It’s easier to work with them once you remember that you were in school once, too.”
“Is that why they like you so much? You relate?” asked Harry, recalling the genuinely happy way Draco’s students had greeted their teacher and how he had responded in kind, asking them about their summers and sharing a few stories of his own before he began his lecture.
“I’m not sure. I’m just good at working with kids.”
“Get your own,” said Harry as he stripped off his shirt.
Draco snorted. “Not likely,” he said. “I’m-”
A sudden loud rumbling followed by shudders through the floor cut off his words.
Draco sighed. “That would be the air conditioner again,” he said in the ensuing silence.
“Air conditioner?” asked Harry in surprise. “Why not just cast a Cooling Charm on the school until the weather changes?”
Draco stared at him incredulously from his perch on his bed and finally rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. “Good thing you’re not a Charms teacher. Do you want to try casing an indefinite Cooling Charm over all three wings of this building?”
Harry blushed at his own mistake. “Whatever. It’s going to get really hot in here tonight,” he muttered. Draco turned, smirking, and raised an eyebrow at his words. “I mean heat!” Harry added hastily. “Warm! Weather!”
“Well, shut it and get used to not having reliable luxuries here, you privileged git,” said Draco as he fell forward and buried his face in his pillow.
“Funny that, coming from a Malfoy,” retorted Harry as he climbed up onto his own bed.
Draco looked at him sidelong, still splayed out across his bed on his front. “Well, what have you been doing since you dropped from the face of the earth so long ago?”
“Whatever I like,” Harry responded brusquely. “Travelling, mostly. And that’s not true either - I return to London occasionally and get money from reporters who want the ‘latest scoop’ on my life. I didn’t have a Gringotts vault the size of a small house. I had to fund my travels somehow.”
Draco chuckled. “I stand by my previous assessment.”
“I just wanted to do some good this time,” said Harry.
“For that, you’ve come to the right place,” said Draco. “If pure altruism’s all you’re interested in, though, it’ll get boring around here pretty quickly.”
Harry leaned back onto his bed. “It’s not the only thing,” he mumbled as his eyes slid closed.
“What?”
Alarmed, Harry’s eyes flew open. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud. “Oh. Nothing,” he said hastily. “It’s been a very long day. If you wouldn’t mind…”
A moment of silence followed before Draco chuckled. “If you say so,” he said. “Nox.”
The light went out, leaving Harry alone in the dark with Draco and his thoughts.
~*~*~
As the days turned into weeks and months, Harry became more comfortable in his role as a teacher. Once he became accustomed to taking charge of a classroom situation, he actually enjoyed teaching, though he still groaned at the prospect of grading the stacks of papers he assigned - in a language with which he still struggled.
He also found an unexpected source of discomfiture in Draco. Something about his genuine kindness made Harry unable to resent his still-acerbic wit. Something about the easy yet dignified way he carried himself drew Harry into his presence. Something about Draco made Harry want him.
Their relationship was hazy and undefined. They were cordial and respectful before other teachers. Alone, however, things changed. Sometimes they felt like friends - Harry found himself laughing and joking with Draco, and the comfort of having a companion warmed him. Sometimes they felt like awkward roommates, such as when one person took much too long in the shower or left the room an unsightly mess after digging through his wardrobe.
Sometimes, they felt like a couple . On Friday nights, they would nearly always Floo down to a small café in the better part of Hohhot, intending to grade a week’s worth of assignments but talking the night away nearly every time. By most definitions, their conversations and banter could be classified as flirting. Often, Draco’s hands would linger on Harry in ways that left him confused - a squeeze of the arm, a hand on his torso, innocent but firm - and frustrated.
Harry wanted more of Draco, but Draco’s maddeningly enigmatic air belied his forward actions and Harry did not know what to think.
The night before the students’ holidays, the secondary school held its annual and much-anticipated Winter Formal, a dance preceded by weeks of boys quietly worrying about finding dates and girls fretting about the state of their old dresses - most could not afford new ones. To a point, Harry had pretended to be deaf any time the subject came up, but the teachers were all required at the dance as chaperones and he was no longer able to ignore the event.
“Stop whining,” said Draco, adjusting his tie in the mirror while Harry fumbled with tying his own. “It’s fun for them, and the only time they can truly relax and have fun without schoolwork hanging over their heads.”
“Fun for them,” Harry muttered, tugging at the back of his shirt. “Not for me.”
“You’re a joy to have at parties, I’m sure.”
“I’m absolutely charming.” Harry sighed as his fingers felt a loose piece of thread on the collar of his shirt caught between the links of the silver chain around his neck. “Can you help me? My necklace - it’s caught somewhere and I can’t-”
Cool fingers gently brushed his hands aside and picked at the small knot that had formed. “Of course,” said Draco, in a voice lower and throatier than it was a moment before. “I’m glad you did decide to keep this on.”
“You told me it looked nice,” breathed Harry.
“It does.” Draco’s fingertips tickled the back of Harry’s neck and he tried not to shudder. “Very nice. And so do these.” Harry felt one finger stroke his left earlobe and run over the silver stud. “Not something I would have expected on you, but they look good too.”
His touch moved from his neck and slid down his back gently to rest on his hips. Harry turned his head slightly to the right and found Draco there, his lips mere centimetres away.
Draco leaned in. Harry closed his eyes.
“We’re going to be late. Hurry up.”
When Harry opened his eyes again, Draco was already standing by the door with a grin on his face and a glint in his eye.
“Oh, fuck you,” Harry muttered as he followed him out of their room.
“Hmm? Why?” Draco asked, chuckling as they strode through the walls and down the stairs to the dining hall-turned-dance venue.
“You know exactly why.” Harry scowled, sure that his cheeks were burning red.
“Well, don’t get too excited.” Draco smirked as they entered the hall. “Save that for later.” With that, he slipped away behind dancing couplets and Harry could not see him even though he stood on his toes.
Harry was sure he did a poor job of chaperoning his corner of the hall. In his impression, the students conducted themselves properly and Harry hoped that he had not let any dance-floor shenanigans slip past him. His eyes kept searching the crowd for starkly white-blond hair, but he searched in vain. Draco seemed to have vanished.
Save that for later. Harry shuddered.
~*~*~
Harry headed back to his and Draco’s shared room after midnight, after the students had retreated to their dorms. He did not see Draco during the clean-up after the formal, so he guessed that Draco had returned to their room. With every step down the hall toward the door, his heart pounded more loudly, its rapid thudding bringing his nervousness to an uncomfortable high.
He pushed open the door and let out his breath in a disappointed exhale when he found the room empty. He began to undo the tie around his neck, hoping to be in bed before Draco returned to avoid any awkwardness that might ensue.
A hand stilled his from behind.
“Let me do that for you.”
Harry tried to whirl around, but the hand kept him steady. “Draco, what-”
“Shh.” Draco dragged him backward and shut the door, then spun him around so that they were face to face. Draco’s eyes were predatory with an intent belied only by the shaking of his hands as they stripped off his tie and moved downward to unbutton the front of his shirt.
“You want this, don’t you?” Draco muttered against the curve where Harry’s neck met his shoulder, his lips insistent against the soft flesh there. Harry’s shirt landed on the floor somewhere and Draco’s hands roamed Harry’s topless body, lightly brushing over his nipples and running down his sides before following the trail of coarse hairs down to stroke his growing bulge over the thick material of his dress pants.
“Yes,” Harry moaned as his hips rolled forward. Heat rushed through him unchecked, the product of months of frustration and teasing. “Keep going, keep-”
“I think not,” mused Draco. “You’ll have to wait for me.” He pulled away from Harry, who thrust into the air once more before leaning against the door and glaring.
“Fuck you,” he muttered, though without malice.
“No, I’ll be fucking you,” retorted Draco as he undressed himself.
“When did we decide that?”
Draco paused to glance at Harry sidelong. “How many men have you been with?”
“Tons!” Harry responded quickly. Draco arched an eyebrow and he huffed. “Three. That counts.”
“And how many have you actually fucked?” asked Draco as he stepped out of his shoes and pants, his erection tenting against the thin layer of fabric left.
Harry didn’t answer. Draco smirked and pulled him close again. “See,” he murmured softly, the tip of his tongue teasing the shell of his ear, “this is why you need to just relax and feel.”
Draco’s touch inflamed Harry too much to hold on to the remnants of his pride. “Mm-all right,” he gasped at length.
Draco leaned in to kiss him hard once, twice, while his hips rolled steadily against Harry’s. His lips were firm and commanding. His tongue pushed past Harry’s slightly parted lips while the latter whimpered into his mouth. Harry grabbed onto Draco’s shoulders, trying not to lose his balance while Draco ground his hard, prominent bulge against Harry’s own.
“Bed,” Draco muttered when he pulled away. “Bed. Now.”
“It’s too far up,” said Harry.
Draco rolled his eyes. “Your choice. To the desk, then.”
Harry looked up. “What?”
Draco had moved to rummage in the bottom drawer of his desk. “Bend over on the desk.” Harry obeyed, and a moment later, he felt Draco’s hands yanking down the fabric of his boxers to release his stiff prick and to expose the curve of his arse. Draco grabbed a handful of firm flesh in each hand and kneaded Harry’s cheeks. “Perfect,” he whispered with a smile in his voice before pushing them apart to expose Harry’s entrance.
Harry tried not to squirm as Draco uncapped a bottle and pushed two cool, slick fingers inside him. It had been so long - over a year - since he’d last slept with a man that the sensation of preparation felt foreign. Once Draco had spread him apart with two fingers, he added another, and then another.
“Look at your arse, swallowing up my fingers,” Draco crooned as his fingers stretched Harry’s tight ring of muscle. “You’ve got four in already - bet you could take my whole hand, couldn’t you, Harry?”
“Could we not?” Harry muttered. “I need your prick, not your hand.”
Draco laughed, his breaths raising the fine hairs on Harry’s back. “If you say so,” he said. He pulled out the fingers with a slick squelching sound, and Harry waited in tense anticipation while he listened to the sounds of Draco coating his own cock with lubricant. At length, he saw Draco’s left arm brace itself against the pitted surface of the desk and felt the tip of Draco’s cock press against his twitching, ready hole. “Do you want me inside you now?” Draco asked quietly.
“Yes, yes,” said Harry through clenched teeth, his body tight like an overstrung bowstring.
When Draco slid into him with one smooth unyielding thrust, he whimpered-rather embarrassingly, he thought.
“I won’t go easy on you,” Draco warned.
“Yes, don’t,” Harry murmured. “Go hard.”
Draco pulled out nearly all the way to the tip before slamming back into Harry, eliciting another breathy, strangled moan. Harry’s abdomen began to feel sore as Draco fucked him into the wooden edge of the table with increasing intensity and speed, but he did not protest in his desperation for more of what Draco could give.
“You feel so good,” Draco groaned as he thrust into Harry, his pelvis slamming against Harry’s rapidly bruising arse cheeks every time he moved. “So hot and tight, Harry.”
Harry moved his own hand down to touch his own erection. “Don’t,” said Draco sharply, batting Harry’s hand away. “Let me.” He stroked Harry’s prick to the same rhythm as his thrusts. His thumb rubbed over Harry’s sensitive tip, circling the head a few times, before moving down to pump his entire length.
After that, Harry fell limp against the table’s surface, giving himself up to the sensations of Draco in and on him - the pleasant stretch and burn of his arse as Draco continued to split him apart and the ministrations Draco continued performing on his cock. His breaths came quick and shallow as he felt his orgasm build like roiling waves approaching shore.
“I’m going to come,” Draco gasped from behind him, his pace frantic. “You feel so good, yes, Harry-” He gasped, his grip on Harry’s hip tightened painfully as he pushed inside deeply one last time. Harry felt Draco’s come inside him, accumulating spurt after spurt until Draco was utterly spent and there was no more to give.
Draco’s hand never stopped moving and soon Harry came too, throwing his head back with his mouth open in a soundless cry as he coated Draco’s hand and various spots on the carpet with his come.
As Draco slowly withdrew from Harry’s warm, wet entrance, Harry felt suddenly empty-he missed having Draco’s cock inside him. His legs felt like jelly and he was afraid he would collapse at any moment.
Draco sat on the floor and laid back, holding his arms wide open. “Here,” he said quietly, and Harry obliged, falling to the floor next to him and laying his head on his shoulder.
“You know the floor’s absolutely filthy, right?” asked Harry, tremors still apparent in his voice.
“Really, that’s not a great concern of mine right now,” said Draco drowsily, sounding sated and satisfied.
“Right,” murmured Harry, rolling against Draco’s side and breathing in the cologne he had put on before the dance.
They lay in silence for several moments. It was a comfortable silence. Draco’s fingers trailed along the length of Harry’s naked torso, drawing circles on his thighs and squiggly patterns on his stomach. Harry let the rise and fall of his own breath match Draco’s and pressed soft kisses to Draco’s chest.
“Harry, I’m going to ask you something odd,” said Draco at last.
“Go ahead.”
Draco hesitated. When he spoke again, he sounded unsure. “I know you only signed a one-year contract to teach here. But I wondered - I was thinking if you’d want to renew your contract and stay a little bit longer. Mine’s up in two years,” he explained, “and I’d like it if you could stay with me.”
Harry looked at him sceptically. “You want someone to fuck that badly?”
“It’s not like that,” said Draco quickly, his arms tightening in their hold around Harry. “I actually enjoyed having you teach with me. I enjoy spending time with you here. Please,” he added in earnest, turning red from the roots of his hair down to his neck when Harry fixed him with a stare. “Consider staying here. We could make this our home, at least for a few more years.”
Home - a concept Harry no longer recognized. He had no real, compelling reason to stay, except that Draco was offering him something he’d unconsciously wanted all these years. Over the months that they had spent their nights and leisure time together, Draco had become someone around whom Harry did not have to hide or act like someone he was not.
“Home,” he murmured.
“The school would be glad to have you for several more years,” Draco pressed. “I’d like it a lot. I’m comfortable around you in a way I haven’t been with others for a long time now, and I want it a little longer.”
A dozen reasons not to stay came to Harry’s mind. He wanted new experiences - Teddy - he didn’t like kids - he still had five cities on his mental list to travel -
He looked up at Draco’s earnest, pleading face and the reasons melted away into faint whispers and finally silence. Draco was asking him to stay, and he knew he would not leave.
Aloud he said, “I’ll think about it.”