FIC: Don't Ask, Don't Tell (Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter)
Title: Don't Ask, Don't Tell
Author/Artist: socks4dobby1
Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy
Prompt number: 43
Word Count: 4616
Rating: M
Warnings: Angst, Bottom!Draco, Man Sex, Language, Infidelity, Toys. All characters engaged in sexual encounters are of legal age.
Summary:When shagging Draco over Christmas holiday, Harry never imagined what it would lead to.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
Author’s Notes: I would just like everyone to notice that the dividers used in this story are not straight, just like the lead characters. Also, special thanks to my proof-reader!
Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell
The Hogwarts Express was everything he remembered it being. It hadn't changed at all in the years since he first went to Hogwarts. It was still big, red, steam billowing from the chimney. It still sent a shiver up his spine.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
Harry shuddered as a shiver went up his spine. Using his invisibility cloak was exhilarating; he could dismantle spells and use his stealth to avoid being detected. He had sworn off that sort of lifestyle after the war's end, but he seemed destined for it. If it wasn't to save the world, it was to bring someone flowers.
The strong smell of lilacs in the house almost seemed to wilt the bouquet of lilies in Harry's fist. It seemed to have a more adverse effect on them than Grimmauld Place had.
After the war's end, he hadn't been allowed back into the Dursleys. He didn't really want to go back. Hermione hadn't brought her parents back from Australia, and was an emotional wreck as a result; she moved in with Ron to the Burrow. Harry didn't see it as a good idea to move in there with the Weasleys, as the family's dynamic stood teetering, much like their house. With Percy's almost bi-polar, two-faced actions and the death of Fred, it just didn't seem right.
He had spent the entirety of his summer at Grimmauld Place and had been glad to get back to Hogwarts. He hadn't intended to leave the school for the Christmas holidays, but his plans changed when someone fell ill with the pneumonia.
"He refuses to take a potion for it." Harry overheard Narcissa Malfoy's voice in the next room. He froze, clutching the flowers tighter in his hand. If she caught him, he was dead meat.
"He is a grown man; I am sure he has reasoning." Lucius Malfoy's smooth voice seemed particularly distracted; he didn't seem to care at all what his wife was upset over.
Harry stepped through the door to see Lucius sitting at the head of a long table, reading the Daily Prophet with pursed lips. He seemed focused on the headlines discussing the summoning of former Death Eaters to the Ministry next week, and no wonder; he was liable to be put in prison.
And as much as Harry had come to care for Draco, he wouldn't be content until Lucius was locked in Azkaban for eternity.
All Hogwarts students from the 1998-1999 school year had been invited to repeat their school year. The seventh-years who hadn't attended or failed their NEWTs were required to, in fact. It didn't surpris anybody that Ron and Hermione had both opted to take their NEWTs rather than return to Hogwarts. It also didn't surprise anyone that Harry didn't take the NEWTs and returned to the place he considered his home.
He re-entered Hogwarts as one of five eighth-years. He didn't expect Draco to show up, but later found out that he had to, as he never even took his sixth-year exams. He, alongside Ron, Harry, and Hermione, had been the only seventh-years completely absent the year before.
Draco and Harry, as the only male eighth-years, quickly found themselves committing to tasks that involved clean-up of war torn areas, and rehabilitation. They hadn't liked each other, but many of the tasks required teamwork. Enough teamwork had led into a grudged respect, and then a mutual acceptance of each other. How they wound up like they were now, Harry wasn't sure. It rather scared him.
He carefully put his foot on the bottom step of the stairs, anticipating a creak to give away his position. There was none, and he was able to get up the long staircase without getting caught by a distracted Lucius or simpering Narcissa.
It was only when he reached the top that he was able to breathe again.
Finding Draco's room wasn't as difficult as Harry had expected it to be. The door had his name on it, on a small plaque; there were small dragon sketches on it, like a child's room might have. It made Harry smile.
Formerly Undesirable No. 1, Harry didn't dare touch the doorknob, worried it would set off an alarm. He instead whispered a spell, so that the door would gently open on its own accord.
"Come on!" A lump underneath a lavish set of covers moaned. "Now my door is fucking broken! My broomstick is broken, my Gringotts account is broken, my body is broken, and now my door is fucking-"
Harry shut the door with another spell before pulling his invisibility cloak off. "I hope your broomstick's not broken; that would have to hurt."
A peaked pale face, with pointed features, poked out of the pile of covers. "Harry?"
Harry bowed. "The one and only."
“Finally!" Draco disappeared in the mound of covers again. "I thought you would never come! I told Mother that I would only take my potions when-"
"-I got your letter." Draco was a very spoiled young man, and seemed to find nothing wrong with using an illness to worry his mum and bribe his boyfriend to visit, consequences be damned. "I brought you flowers."
"They're wilted," Draco complained.
Harry walked over to the pine bedside table and placed the flowers in an empty vase. "You're welcome. Consider it a metaphor; both your health and flowers are wilted."
Harry climbed onto the bed, and began telling Draco about his difficulties getting inside Malfoy Manor. He carefully left out the details of his nervous breakdown in the room where Hermione had been tortured by Bellatrix, and of how he considered sneaking into the kitchen to shite in food Lucius would be eating later.
"Fuck. You could have just knocked, and told Mother that Hogwarts sent you or something." Draco propped himself up with his numerous pillows.
"You told me last week that I couldn't bullshit a bullshitter. I didn't want to take the chance up against your Slytherin mother."
Draco looked smug. "Hand me that vial on my bedside table."
Because I'm your house-elf. Harry handed it to Draco, who downed the contents of his potion in a single swallow.
"Did you bring your trunk?" Draco asked. Harry could already see the affects of the potion working to rid Draco of his illness.
"My... trunk? No, I left it at the school. Why?"
Draco sighed, impatiently. "Well, if you nearly had a heart attack sneaking in, I'm hardly going to let you sneak out right away. You can stay here for the rest of Christmas holiday. There's a room down the hall no one ever goes into; you can sleep there. Or in my room." he stopped, his pale face flushing.
Harry's mouth fell open. "Ah..." His voice squeaked. "You sure about that?" Stolen kisses in corridors, and several heated encounters late at night seemed to be leading up to the inevitable. He just wasn't sure he was ready for that.
He was gay. He knew he was. He had tried with women multiple times in the past, and it hadn't worked. He had kissed Cho, and gone as far as to sleep with Ginny. It had been like putting a deflated football in a keyhole, to be honest.
But that didn't mean he wanted Draco to be his first homosexual encounter. Despite how he knew Draco cared for him, despite how far he knew Draco would go for him, Draco was also apt to very mean behaviour. He was very impulsive, and often did or said things without thinking. What with Rita Skeeter, Harry knew he should be used to mean things said about him, but he wasn't.
"Yeah, your room would be better." Harry quickly recovered. "I can borrow your Muggle-est clothes, unless you want me wearing these dirty clothes all holiday."
"Fuck no. They stink as it is. Speaking of stink, I'm wearing the cologne you like." Draco winked, before sauntering out of bed, half-naked, into the attached loo.
A warm feeling began in Harry's stomach. He's kidding. And even if he's not, what's the harm? It's just sex, and we have all of Christmas holiday.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
"Fuck!" Draco's favourite expletive seemed to be all he was capable of saying later that night.
Harry stilled his fingers. He was up to two fingers in Draco's bum, and had been very patient throughout the last hour to get them in. The large bucket of lubricant Draco had given to him as an early Christmas gift was much emptier than it had been only an hour ago, but they were playing it safer than sorrier.
Draco sighed, his grip loosening on the headboard. Harry felt the ring of muscles relax around Harry's fingers.
He pulled his slick fingers out of Draco. "Ready?" He quietly asked. "Another finger, or-"
"Impale me, Potter."
Harry winced, but the command was very clear. He positioned himself carefully. "It's gonna hurt."
"And it's also gonna feel fucking awesome when it's over. Do it." Draco's teeth gritted against each other.
Harry edged himself inside Draco. He was starting to realise that first times, whether with girls or blokes, were never as glamorous or sexy as you thought they would be in your head.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
The steam from the train blew in Harry's face as he helped small children onto the train, like any caring father would do. He held his breath, trying not to let the fumes affect him.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
Harry coughed as he stepped out of the Floo, trying not to embarrass himself in front of Draco with his lack-of-Flooing experience.
"Oh, fuck; please tell me you're planning on doing something with that wallpaper. No one uses wallpaper anymore, Potter; that's very 1980." Draco sniffed at the peeling kitchen wallpaper.
Harry opened his mouth to say that Sirius' pureblood mother had been the last one to decorate, but had a feeling that would start an argument he wasn't willing to have, so chose to say something different. "Interior decorating has never been my forte."
Draco wrinkled his nose as they went upstairs to the parlor. "You cannot expect me to sit on this sofa; it smells like wet dog."
"It smells like Sirius, your cousin. Like it or not, the smell is staying." The only father Harry had known, such as he was, had died several years prior. Harry did what he could to keep his memory alive. If that meant charming the sofa to continue smelling like Padfoot, then so be it.
At the blonde's face, Harry relented. "Fine. I'll use a charm to cover the smell."
"Cover, rather than dissipate? How-" Draco stopped, before sneering, "thoughtful."
Harry sat down on the charmed sofa. "Sit. You said we needed to talk."
"We do." Draco sat on the sofa very primly, as if he had something up his arse, which Harry knew for a fact he didn't... at the moment.
Harry put his feet up on the sofa and hugged his knees to himself. Now that he was out of school for the last time, he had nothing to do. He was finding the Auror Programme less appealing by the day, but Ron seemed excited about it, so Harry promised to join... after his nineteenth birthday.
That was only six short days away.
Draco let out a big breath. "You're joining the Auror Programme. That's a very middle-class occupation."
Harry didn't care about class. "It's a government job."
"It's also a service job. You are the hero of the wizarding world; people aren't going to understand why you are taking it. It's not going to be considered socially acceptable." Draco looked at Harry. "Not that I care; I'll fuck you six ways from Sunday regardless of what you choose to do with your life. But others care, and that's very important."
Harry didn't see how. As long as those closest to him supported the idea, it didn't matter what anyone else thought. "I'm only hesitant about joining because of ministry politics. But if Shacklebolt is elected Minister for Magic, and if Ron and I work our ways to heads of the department, we can really make a difference. I think people will really understand that, and support it."
Draco sighed, pushing his blonde hair back. "Yes, people will, but society won't. The socialites that my parents are friends with won't."
"I don't give a flippty-flop about society, Draco."
"I know you don't and that's the problem. We've done a lot of talking and daydreaming about the future." Draco's grey eyes were serious. "We've toyed with the idea of coming out to the world, of going to Tahiti and getting married where it's legal for wizards to wed. We've considered shocking the entire world, and not giving a flying fuck about it while we fuck in our honeymoon suite."
Draco always called it 'fucking'. 'Sex' or 'making love' would be nice to hear, if only just once.
"Yeah, see? Not caring about what people think was your key phrase. Let's just not care; it's not like we can go to Azkaban for it."
Draco's eyes darkened, and it was no wonder; Lucius had recently had a very close call with the Wizengamot. "It's not that easy. Reality isn't that easy. You do realise what the world expects out of you."
Harry didn't want to think about it. "I know what people expect out of you. They expect you to marry a beautiful, wealthy pureblood, and to make lots of babies. That's what this is about, isn't it?"
Draco's eyes betrayed the truth, but he said nothing.
"Isn't it?" Harry persisted. Hermione had mentioned several times Draco's fate; Harry had found it wise not to tell her that Draco was in fact gay, and he shagging him.
"The Greengrass family has been visiting mine a lot lately. Their daughter, Asteria, is practically bred to marry a Malfoy. Which is a problem, because there's only one who's eligible for marriage." Draco's eyes flashed. "Me."
Harry felt his heart stop. He and Draco had yet to celebrate their one year anniversary as a couple, but it had been a very intense year. They were very enamoured with each other, though the infatuation that came with new relationships had long ago worn away. When dragging Draco around Muggle London, Harry hadn't been blind to Draco's attention to jewellery cases in shops. Jewellery cases that contained engagement rings. A small part of him had hoped that this serious conversation that Draco had wanted to have, was about moving in together or marriage.
He had denied himself further hope, knowing that it would be too good to be true.
"We've been foolish." Draco's soft, well-manicured hand laid on top of Harry's. "Children between men are anatomically impossible, and even if it were, you're a half-blood. Boy-hero aside, purebloodism is still very important to the magical people in this country. I've still the Dark Mark, and will have it always; you conquered You-Know-Who. You're supposed to marry a homely muggleborn girl, and live happily ever after."
Bile rose in Harry's throat. He jerked his hands away from Draco. "No."
"It's not about what we want, don't you see?" Draco pleaded. "It's about what we have to do, to please people. Don't you understand that?"
Harry understood all about pleasing people. He had spent years of his life watching Remus Lupin contort himself to please people, against his own wishes. He would never do that; he wanted to be happy.
"You're breaking up with me." Harry said. "Fine, then. Go, and I promise I won't out you to the world. Just don't expect Asteria to feed your size fetish... I highly doubt she will be willing to slowly feed anything up your bum."
Draco was very still. "You never let me finish."
"I do, quite frequently. Orgasm-denial was never a kink of either of ours." Harry was very impatient.
The quip did not bring the smile to Draco's face like it might have only hours ago. "We don't have to stop; we can stay together. Purebloods do it all the time; as long as you are discreet and only have children with our spouse; you can do whatever you want."
Infidelity. The word sounded so painful. Harry could never cheat on anyone with someone else. He didn't see how it could lure anyone; it sounded like it would just be full of guilt and hurt, for all parties. "And Asteria or whoever you marry would agree with this?"
Draco shrugged. "I wouldn't tell her. When I said 'discreet', I meant her too. Think of it as rather 'don't ask, don't tell'."
"Don't ask, don't tell." Harry repeated.
"Yes. She would probably know I was shagging someone, but as long as I don't deny her my Gringotts account or children and do not make it public, she won't say anything to me about it."
That sounded terrible. Harry knew many women who would happily live in a cardboard box as long as they were with their true love. Why would anyone ever marry someone they knew was just after their bank account? Harry could never do that.
"I'm going to need to think about it." Harry stood up, slowly.
Draco also stood. "I know. Owl me if you decide to continue. If I don't hear from you within a fortnight, I will accept any proposal from Asteria I get." He frowned. "Or even if I do hear from you, I suppose."
Harry looked at Draco's very pink lips as he spoke. Very soft and very talented lips, he knew they were. And just one last time, he wanted them to run all over his body.
It was late that night that he rolled over in bed, lit his wand, and scrawled onto a scrap of parchment;
Don't Ask, Don't Tell
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
The whistle sounded again, reminding students to hurry and get on the train.
"Dad! Can you put my trunk on the train for me?" Harry's panicked eleven-year-old asked.
Harry pointed his wand at the trunk. "Windgardium Leviosa!"
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
The object rose out of the oil it had been lying in, and was levitated slowly into Draco's arse.
"Fuck." Draco gasped. His knuckles were white, as he gripped the covers.
Harry stopped. The brightly coloured plug looked far too large for Draco's arse, but he had insisted. "Stop?"
"No, idiot. Get it in past- past the wide part." Draco panted.
Harry bit his lip. "I think it's too fast. Slower is better; you should take rest breaks. Maybe-"
"Fuck slower, Potter. Do it, dammit."
A slight movement of Harry's wand pushed the plug almost completely in. Harry stopped when he felt resistance.
Draco let out a hiss of pain, clenching the covers tighter in his fist.
Harry waited patiently. He concentrated on Draco's bent form over the bed, purposefully avoiding thoughts of where they were, and what took place there.
But it was impossible to. It was impossible to ignore thoughts of having a wife and kids when in the bedroom where you made the kids with said wife. It was difficult to have your full attention on the man in front of you when pictures of your pregnant wife and young son smiled back at you.
Ginny always wondered why Harry insisted on having Muggle pictures in the bedroom. He said that growing up Muggle, moving pictures in the bedroom created anxiety. The reality was that still pictures told no tales. No tales of blonde men being taken by his cock.
"Okay. Now." Draco consented after many minutes.
Harry pushed the red plug in, so that it could only be seen by the wider end of the device.
Draco groaned as Harry helped him stand. "Merlin."
"Does it hurt too badly?" Harry half-expected Draco to explode. The plug was much bigger than Harry's cock. "If it's too uncomfortable, we could get a smaller one. We could work up to-"
"Hmm. Good vibrations." Draco strutted across the bedroom to retrieve his robes, though noticeably more cautious than usual. "'I'm pickin' up good vibrations. Oom bop bop. Good excitations ...'"
"Somehow, I doubt the lyricist had butt plugs in mind when he wrote that song." Harry sealed the warm oil Draco had insisted using as lubricant, sitting down on the bed.
Draco looked himself over in the mirror. His hairline was already beginning to recede, though he was still young at twenty-six. The stress of many years was no doubt catching up on him. "How long did you say you had until the wife came home?"
Ginny. Draco always called Ginny 'the wife', never by her name. He was glad all taunts of Weaselette and Mudblood-Lover had long stopped, and doubted his lover would ever stoop to the level of saying 'Ginny'.
"At least another hour. What time is the hotel coming back?" Harry stretched out on the bed.
Draco sniffed. "She's not a hotel. It's Asteria with an E. The Waldorf=Astoria is a Muggle establishment, and I would thank you not to-"
"Does she still look like a hotel?" Harry asked. Draco's pregnant wife had not been a pretty sight, what few times Harry had seen her.
Draco shrugged. "Haven't really paid much attention. She's been in bed a lot. Mother has the baby today, so she can sleep. That's all she does, is sleep."
That didn't seem like a good sign. When Ginny had had James, she had been out of bed three days later. She had slowed down significantly in her second pregnancy, and for her sake, Harry hoped she would feel healthy enough to get out of bed right away again, after the baby was born.
He didn't say anything, though. He and Draco liked to discuss their wives as little as possible.
Draco returned to the bed, and gingerly climbed up on it, no doubt mindful of the monster in his arse. "It doesn't matter, though. She lets the baby sleep in our room and his cries wake me up; I'm going to move down the hall under the pretense of needing my beauty sleep. I just won't move back in."
The butt plug had been Draco's idea. When he married Asteria, he had promised that they would only have as many children as it took for an heir. Once there was another male Malfoy to carry on the name and the vault, he would never again have sex with his wife. He had promised Harry on his wedding day that he would only fuck her the amount of times necessary for that to happen.
It had taken five years, but it had happened.
"What happens if she sees it?" Harry skirted his hand lightly over Draco's arse, mindful to not hurt the already abused hole, though he doubted impulsive Draco would have minded.
"So what if she does? I don't care." Draco moved ever so slightly, so that his warm breath was on Harry's throat. "And she won't. I mean it. 'This plug is a symbol of my promise to love and cherish...'"
Harry swatted him, swallowing hard. "And what happens when you have to shit?"
He loved Draco in the sense that he was sure many loved their spouses. He was, despite the altercations and annotations surrounding the cliché, his one true love. But he loved Ginny too. In a platonic sense, considering his sexuality, but it was love all the same and he felt bad hurting her. They lived together; they were going to have their second child together. If she found out Harry had been going behind her back long before their prized wedding night, she would be crushed.
One would think he would have been strong enough to have never let it happen, or to at least break it off with Draco, but he wasn't.
"Promise me, in return, that as soon as you have a girl, you'll stop?" Draco whispered. "I don't like it when you and... and she are together, and God, I know what you're doing..."
Ginny wanted a girl. After growing up with so many brothers, having a girl was really important to her. She wanted someone to dress up, to have tea parties with. Whether she realised it or not, she did not have a husband; Harry wasn't going to deny her a baby girl.
She was bound and determined to make it happen. After coming under the conclusion that her poor, doting, loving husband had erectile dysfunction, she had obtained a potion to fix it. Little did she know that his well-hung cock worked fine; he was just not attracted to her.
"I promise; this one will be a girl. I feel it." Harry grabbed his lover's hand tightly. "Lily Ginevra will be born in a couple days. We won't have sex again; just please don't make me get a matching butt plug to prove it." He stroked Draco's hair back with his other hand. "I promise. This will all be over with soon."
It wasn't.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
As the remaining children piled onto the train, Harry caught sight of Draco. The man's posture was very stiff, and he nodded at Harry.
Had Harry not known any better, it would have seemed a curt nod.
It was only after the train pulled away and parents began Disapparating or moving to commune with each other that Harry had a chance to pull Draco aside in privacy.
"I can't tonight." Draco said, glancing over his shoulder. "She's a wreck about sending Scorpious to school."
"Can't you ask your mum?" Harry leaned forward. Narcissa Malfoy knew about their relationship. Harry wasn't sure how she had found out, and didn't particularly want to know. He had been shocked to find her so accommodating towards it, helping them keep it a secret. It was no doubt an effort to keep the Malfoy name clean, but it was an effort Harry appreciated nonetheless.
It was good to know that his lover's parents were not pure evil.
"To cuddle Asteria and tell her it will be all right?" Draco scoffed. "Hardly."
Their plans to never shag their wives again had been drastically unrealistic. They still did it at least once a month, out of duty. How they had grown up over the years.
'Reach for his hand. Squeeze it and tell him you love him.' He couldn't. To be seen conversing was one thing, but to be seen holding hands was quite another; a dead giveaway. And as much as he wanted to push Draco into the empty ticket booth and, in Draco's own words, fuck his brain out... he couldn't.
"I love you." He quietly said so that no one else could hear.
"I know." Draco returned in an equally low voice.
As Harry turned to return to Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, Draco stopped him. "Harry?"
Harry looked up, into his grey eyes. "Yeah?"
"Don't tell."
Harry weakly smiled. What had become their mantra over the years, 'don't ask, don't tell', was beginning to ache. Harry had never known how such a secret could impact his health. He couldn't tell Ginny, not this far into their marriage. He couldn't break it off with Draco. It wasn't about having courage or the balls to do it; it was about doing the right thing.
"I won't." And he didn't.
Author/Artist: socks4dobby1
Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy
Prompt number: 43
Word Count: 4616
Rating: M
Warnings: Angst, Bottom!Draco, Man Sex, Language, Infidelity, Toys. All characters engaged in sexual encounters are of legal age.
Summary:When shagging Draco over Christmas holiday, Harry never imagined what it would lead to.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
Author’s Notes: I would just like everyone to notice that the dividers used in this story are not straight, just like the lead characters. Also, special thanks to my proof-reader!
Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell
The Hogwarts Express was everything he remembered it being. It hadn't changed at all in the years since he first went to Hogwarts. It was still big, red, steam billowing from the chimney. It still sent a shiver up his spine.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
Harry shuddered as a shiver went up his spine. Using his invisibility cloak was exhilarating; he could dismantle spells and use his stealth to avoid being detected. He had sworn off that sort of lifestyle after the war's end, but he seemed destined for it. If it wasn't to save the world, it was to bring someone flowers.
The strong smell of lilacs in the house almost seemed to wilt the bouquet of lilies in Harry's fist. It seemed to have a more adverse effect on them than Grimmauld Place had.
After the war's end, he hadn't been allowed back into the Dursleys. He didn't really want to go back. Hermione hadn't brought her parents back from Australia, and was an emotional wreck as a result; she moved in with Ron to the Burrow. Harry didn't see it as a good idea to move in there with the Weasleys, as the family's dynamic stood teetering, much like their house. With Percy's almost bi-polar, two-faced actions and the death of Fred, it just didn't seem right.
He had spent the entirety of his summer at Grimmauld Place and had been glad to get back to Hogwarts. He hadn't intended to leave the school for the Christmas holidays, but his plans changed when someone fell ill with the pneumonia.
"He refuses to take a potion for it." Harry overheard Narcissa Malfoy's voice in the next room. He froze, clutching the flowers tighter in his hand. If she caught him, he was dead meat.
"He is a grown man; I am sure he has reasoning." Lucius Malfoy's smooth voice seemed particularly distracted; he didn't seem to care at all what his wife was upset over.
Harry stepped through the door to see Lucius sitting at the head of a long table, reading the Daily Prophet with pursed lips. He seemed focused on the headlines discussing the summoning of former Death Eaters to the Ministry next week, and no wonder; he was liable to be put in prison.
And as much as Harry had come to care for Draco, he wouldn't be content until Lucius was locked in Azkaban for eternity.
All Hogwarts students from the 1998-1999 school year had been invited to repeat their school year. The seventh-years who hadn't attended or failed their NEWTs were required to, in fact. It didn't surpris anybody that Ron and Hermione had both opted to take their NEWTs rather than return to Hogwarts. It also didn't surprise anyone that Harry didn't take the NEWTs and returned to the place he considered his home.
He re-entered Hogwarts as one of five eighth-years. He didn't expect Draco to show up, but later found out that he had to, as he never even took his sixth-year exams. He, alongside Ron, Harry, and Hermione, had been the only seventh-years completely absent the year before.
Draco and Harry, as the only male eighth-years, quickly found themselves committing to tasks that involved clean-up of war torn areas, and rehabilitation. They hadn't liked each other, but many of the tasks required teamwork. Enough teamwork had led into a grudged respect, and then a mutual acceptance of each other. How they wound up like they were now, Harry wasn't sure. It rather scared him.
He carefully put his foot on the bottom step of the stairs, anticipating a creak to give away his position. There was none, and he was able to get up the long staircase without getting caught by a distracted Lucius or simpering Narcissa.
It was only when he reached the top that he was able to breathe again.
Finding Draco's room wasn't as difficult as Harry had expected it to be. The door had his name on it, on a small plaque; there were small dragon sketches on it, like a child's room might have. It made Harry smile.
Formerly Undesirable No. 1, Harry didn't dare touch the doorknob, worried it would set off an alarm. He instead whispered a spell, so that the door would gently open on its own accord.
"Come on!" A lump underneath a lavish set of covers moaned. "Now my door is fucking broken! My broomstick is broken, my Gringotts account is broken, my body is broken, and now my door is fucking-"
Harry shut the door with another spell before pulling his invisibility cloak off. "I hope your broomstick's not broken; that would have to hurt."
A peaked pale face, with pointed features, poked out of the pile of covers. "Harry?"
Harry bowed. "The one and only."
“Finally!" Draco disappeared in the mound of covers again. "I thought you would never come! I told Mother that I would only take my potions when-"
"-I got your letter." Draco was a very spoiled young man, and seemed to find nothing wrong with using an illness to worry his mum and bribe his boyfriend to visit, consequences be damned. "I brought you flowers."
"They're wilted," Draco complained.
Harry walked over to the pine bedside table and placed the flowers in an empty vase. "You're welcome. Consider it a metaphor; both your health and flowers are wilted."
Harry climbed onto the bed, and began telling Draco about his difficulties getting inside Malfoy Manor. He carefully left out the details of his nervous breakdown in the room where Hermione had been tortured by Bellatrix, and of how he considered sneaking into the kitchen to shite in food Lucius would be eating later.
"Fuck. You could have just knocked, and told Mother that Hogwarts sent you or something." Draco propped himself up with his numerous pillows.
"You told me last week that I couldn't bullshit a bullshitter. I didn't want to take the chance up against your Slytherin mother."
Draco looked smug. "Hand me that vial on my bedside table."
Because I'm your house-elf. Harry handed it to Draco, who downed the contents of his potion in a single swallow.
"Did you bring your trunk?" Draco asked. Harry could already see the affects of the potion working to rid Draco of his illness.
"My... trunk? No, I left it at the school. Why?"
Draco sighed, impatiently. "Well, if you nearly had a heart attack sneaking in, I'm hardly going to let you sneak out right away. You can stay here for the rest of Christmas holiday. There's a room down the hall no one ever goes into; you can sleep there. Or in my room." he stopped, his pale face flushing.
Harry's mouth fell open. "Ah..." His voice squeaked. "You sure about that?" Stolen kisses in corridors, and several heated encounters late at night seemed to be leading up to the inevitable. He just wasn't sure he was ready for that.
He was gay. He knew he was. He had tried with women multiple times in the past, and it hadn't worked. He had kissed Cho, and gone as far as to sleep with Ginny. It had been like putting a deflated football in a keyhole, to be honest.
But that didn't mean he wanted Draco to be his first homosexual encounter. Despite how he knew Draco cared for him, despite how far he knew Draco would go for him, Draco was also apt to very mean behaviour. He was very impulsive, and often did or said things without thinking. What with Rita Skeeter, Harry knew he should be used to mean things said about him, but he wasn't.
"Yeah, your room would be better." Harry quickly recovered. "I can borrow your Muggle-est clothes, unless you want me wearing these dirty clothes all holiday."
"Fuck no. They stink as it is. Speaking of stink, I'm wearing the cologne you like." Draco winked, before sauntering out of bed, half-naked, into the attached loo.
A warm feeling began in Harry's stomach. He's kidding. And even if he's not, what's the harm? It's just sex, and we have all of Christmas holiday.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
"Fuck!" Draco's favourite expletive seemed to be all he was capable of saying later that night.
Harry stilled his fingers. He was up to two fingers in Draco's bum, and had been very patient throughout the last hour to get them in. The large bucket of lubricant Draco had given to him as an early Christmas gift was much emptier than it had been only an hour ago, but they were playing it safer than sorrier.
Draco sighed, his grip loosening on the headboard. Harry felt the ring of muscles relax around Harry's fingers.
He pulled his slick fingers out of Draco. "Ready?" He quietly asked. "Another finger, or-"
"Impale me, Potter."
Harry winced, but the command was very clear. He positioned himself carefully. "It's gonna hurt."
"And it's also gonna feel fucking awesome when it's over. Do it." Draco's teeth gritted against each other.
Harry edged himself inside Draco. He was starting to realise that first times, whether with girls or blokes, were never as glamorous or sexy as you thought they would be in your head.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
The steam from the train blew in Harry's face as he helped small children onto the train, like any caring father would do. He held his breath, trying not to let the fumes affect him.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
Harry coughed as he stepped out of the Floo, trying not to embarrass himself in front of Draco with his lack-of-Flooing experience.
"Oh, fuck; please tell me you're planning on doing something with that wallpaper. No one uses wallpaper anymore, Potter; that's very 1980." Draco sniffed at the peeling kitchen wallpaper.
Harry opened his mouth to say that Sirius' pureblood mother had been the last one to decorate, but had a feeling that would start an argument he wasn't willing to have, so chose to say something different. "Interior decorating has never been my forte."
Draco wrinkled his nose as they went upstairs to the parlor. "You cannot expect me to sit on this sofa; it smells like wet dog."
"It smells like Sirius, your cousin. Like it or not, the smell is staying." The only father Harry had known, such as he was, had died several years prior. Harry did what he could to keep his memory alive. If that meant charming the sofa to continue smelling like Padfoot, then so be it.
At the blonde's face, Harry relented. "Fine. I'll use a charm to cover the smell."
"Cover, rather than dissipate? How-" Draco stopped, before sneering, "thoughtful."
Harry sat down on the charmed sofa. "Sit. You said we needed to talk."
"We do." Draco sat on the sofa very primly, as if he had something up his arse, which Harry knew for a fact he didn't... at the moment.
Harry put his feet up on the sofa and hugged his knees to himself. Now that he was out of school for the last time, he had nothing to do. He was finding the Auror Programme less appealing by the day, but Ron seemed excited about it, so Harry promised to join... after his nineteenth birthday.
That was only six short days away.
Draco let out a big breath. "You're joining the Auror Programme. That's a very middle-class occupation."
Harry didn't care about class. "It's a government job."
"It's also a service job. You are the hero of the wizarding world; people aren't going to understand why you are taking it. It's not going to be considered socially acceptable." Draco looked at Harry. "Not that I care; I'll fuck you six ways from Sunday regardless of what you choose to do with your life. But others care, and that's very important."
Harry didn't see how. As long as those closest to him supported the idea, it didn't matter what anyone else thought. "I'm only hesitant about joining because of ministry politics. But if Shacklebolt is elected Minister for Magic, and if Ron and I work our ways to heads of the department, we can really make a difference. I think people will really understand that, and support it."
Draco sighed, pushing his blonde hair back. "Yes, people will, but society won't. The socialites that my parents are friends with won't."
"I don't give a flippty-flop about society, Draco."
"I know you don't and that's the problem. We've done a lot of talking and daydreaming about the future." Draco's grey eyes were serious. "We've toyed with the idea of coming out to the world, of going to Tahiti and getting married where it's legal for wizards to wed. We've considered shocking the entire world, and not giving a flying fuck about it while we fuck in our honeymoon suite."
Draco always called it 'fucking'. 'Sex' or 'making love' would be nice to hear, if only just once.
"Yeah, see? Not caring about what people think was your key phrase. Let's just not care; it's not like we can go to Azkaban for it."
Draco's eyes darkened, and it was no wonder; Lucius had recently had a very close call with the Wizengamot. "It's not that easy. Reality isn't that easy. You do realise what the world expects out of you."
Harry didn't want to think about it. "I know what people expect out of you. They expect you to marry a beautiful, wealthy pureblood, and to make lots of babies. That's what this is about, isn't it?"
Draco's eyes betrayed the truth, but he said nothing.
"Isn't it?" Harry persisted. Hermione had mentioned several times Draco's fate; Harry had found it wise not to tell her that Draco was in fact gay, and he shagging him.
"The Greengrass family has been visiting mine a lot lately. Their daughter, Asteria, is practically bred to marry a Malfoy. Which is a problem, because there's only one who's eligible for marriage." Draco's eyes flashed. "Me."
Harry felt his heart stop. He and Draco had yet to celebrate their one year anniversary as a couple, but it had been a very intense year. They were very enamoured with each other, though the infatuation that came with new relationships had long ago worn away. When dragging Draco around Muggle London, Harry hadn't been blind to Draco's attention to jewellery cases in shops. Jewellery cases that contained engagement rings. A small part of him had hoped that this serious conversation that Draco had wanted to have, was about moving in together or marriage.
He had denied himself further hope, knowing that it would be too good to be true.
"We've been foolish." Draco's soft, well-manicured hand laid on top of Harry's. "Children between men are anatomically impossible, and even if it were, you're a half-blood. Boy-hero aside, purebloodism is still very important to the magical people in this country. I've still the Dark Mark, and will have it always; you conquered You-Know-Who. You're supposed to marry a homely muggleborn girl, and live happily ever after."
Bile rose in Harry's throat. He jerked his hands away from Draco. "No."
"It's not about what we want, don't you see?" Draco pleaded. "It's about what we have to do, to please people. Don't you understand that?"
Harry understood all about pleasing people. He had spent years of his life watching Remus Lupin contort himself to please people, against his own wishes. He would never do that; he wanted to be happy.
"You're breaking up with me." Harry said. "Fine, then. Go, and I promise I won't out you to the world. Just don't expect Asteria to feed your size fetish... I highly doubt she will be willing to slowly feed anything up your bum."
Draco was very still. "You never let me finish."
"I do, quite frequently. Orgasm-denial was never a kink of either of ours." Harry was very impatient.
The quip did not bring the smile to Draco's face like it might have only hours ago. "We don't have to stop; we can stay together. Purebloods do it all the time; as long as you are discreet and only have children with our spouse; you can do whatever you want."
Infidelity. The word sounded so painful. Harry could never cheat on anyone with someone else. He didn't see how it could lure anyone; it sounded like it would just be full of guilt and hurt, for all parties. "And Asteria or whoever you marry would agree with this?"
Draco shrugged. "I wouldn't tell her. When I said 'discreet', I meant her too. Think of it as rather 'don't ask, don't tell'."
"Don't ask, don't tell." Harry repeated.
"Yes. She would probably know I was shagging someone, but as long as I don't deny her my Gringotts account or children and do not make it public, she won't say anything to me about it."
That sounded terrible. Harry knew many women who would happily live in a cardboard box as long as they were with their true love. Why would anyone ever marry someone they knew was just after their bank account? Harry could never do that.
"I'm going to need to think about it." Harry stood up, slowly.
Draco also stood. "I know. Owl me if you decide to continue. If I don't hear from you within a fortnight, I will accept any proposal from Asteria I get." He frowned. "Or even if I do hear from you, I suppose."
Harry looked at Draco's very pink lips as he spoke. Very soft and very talented lips, he knew they were. And just one last time, he wanted them to run all over his body.
It was late that night that he rolled over in bed, lit his wand, and scrawled onto a scrap of parchment;
Don't Ask, Don't Tell
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
The whistle sounded again, reminding students to hurry and get on the train.
"Dad! Can you put my trunk on the train for me?" Harry's panicked eleven-year-old asked.
Harry pointed his wand at the trunk. "Windgardium Leviosa!"
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
The object rose out of the oil it had been lying in, and was levitated slowly into Draco's arse.
"Fuck." Draco gasped. His knuckles were white, as he gripped the covers.
Harry stopped. The brightly coloured plug looked far too large for Draco's arse, but he had insisted. "Stop?"
"No, idiot. Get it in past- past the wide part." Draco panted.
Harry bit his lip. "I think it's too fast. Slower is better; you should take rest breaks. Maybe-"
"Fuck slower, Potter. Do it, dammit."
A slight movement of Harry's wand pushed the plug almost completely in. Harry stopped when he felt resistance.
Draco let out a hiss of pain, clenching the covers tighter in his fist.
Harry waited patiently. He concentrated on Draco's bent form over the bed, purposefully avoiding thoughts of where they were, and what took place there.
But it was impossible to. It was impossible to ignore thoughts of having a wife and kids when in the bedroom where you made the kids with said wife. It was difficult to have your full attention on the man in front of you when pictures of your pregnant wife and young son smiled back at you.
Ginny always wondered why Harry insisted on having Muggle pictures in the bedroom. He said that growing up Muggle, moving pictures in the bedroom created anxiety. The reality was that still pictures told no tales. No tales of blonde men being taken by his cock.
"Okay. Now." Draco consented after many minutes.
Harry pushed the red plug in, so that it could only be seen by the wider end of the device.
Draco groaned as Harry helped him stand. "Merlin."
"Does it hurt too badly?" Harry half-expected Draco to explode. The plug was much bigger than Harry's cock. "If it's too uncomfortable, we could get a smaller one. We could work up to-"
"Hmm. Good vibrations." Draco strutted across the bedroom to retrieve his robes, though noticeably more cautious than usual. "'I'm pickin' up good vibrations. Oom bop bop. Good excitations ...'"
"Somehow, I doubt the lyricist had butt plugs in mind when he wrote that song." Harry sealed the warm oil Draco had insisted using as lubricant, sitting down on the bed.
Draco looked himself over in the mirror. His hairline was already beginning to recede, though he was still young at twenty-six. The stress of many years was no doubt catching up on him. "How long did you say you had until the wife came home?"
Ginny. Draco always called Ginny 'the wife', never by her name. He was glad all taunts of Weaselette and Mudblood-Lover had long stopped, and doubted his lover would ever stoop to the level of saying 'Ginny'.
"At least another hour. What time is the hotel coming back?" Harry stretched out on the bed.
Draco sniffed. "She's not a hotel. It's Asteria with an E. The Waldorf=Astoria is a Muggle establishment, and I would thank you not to-"
"Does she still look like a hotel?" Harry asked. Draco's pregnant wife had not been a pretty sight, what few times Harry had seen her.
Draco shrugged. "Haven't really paid much attention. She's been in bed a lot. Mother has the baby today, so she can sleep. That's all she does, is sleep."
That didn't seem like a good sign. When Ginny had had James, she had been out of bed three days later. She had slowed down significantly in her second pregnancy, and for her sake, Harry hoped she would feel healthy enough to get out of bed right away again, after the baby was born.
He didn't say anything, though. He and Draco liked to discuss their wives as little as possible.
Draco returned to the bed, and gingerly climbed up on it, no doubt mindful of the monster in his arse. "It doesn't matter, though. She lets the baby sleep in our room and his cries wake me up; I'm going to move down the hall under the pretense of needing my beauty sleep. I just won't move back in."
The butt plug had been Draco's idea. When he married Asteria, he had promised that they would only have as many children as it took for an heir. Once there was another male Malfoy to carry on the name and the vault, he would never again have sex with his wife. He had promised Harry on his wedding day that he would only fuck her the amount of times necessary for that to happen.
It had taken five years, but it had happened.
"What happens if she sees it?" Harry skirted his hand lightly over Draco's arse, mindful to not hurt the already abused hole, though he doubted impulsive Draco would have minded.
"So what if she does? I don't care." Draco moved ever so slightly, so that his warm breath was on Harry's throat. "And she won't. I mean it. 'This plug is a symbol of my promise to love and cherish...'"
Harry swatted him, swallowing hard. "And what happens when you have to shit?"
He loved Draco in the sense that he was sure many loved their spouses. He was, despite the altercations and annotations surrounding the cliché, his one true love. But he loved Ginny too. In a platonic sense, considering his sexuality, but it was love all the same and he felt bad hurting her. They lived together; they were going to have their second child together. If she found out Harry had been going behind her back long before their prized wedding night, she would be crushed.
One would think he would have been strong enough to have never let it happen, or to at least break it off with Draco, but he wasn't.
"Promise me, in return, that as soon as you have a girl, you'll stop?" Draco whispered. "I don't like it when you and... and she are together, and God, I know what you're doing..."
Ginny wanted a girl. After growing up with so many brothers, having a girl was really important to her. She wanted someone to dress up, to have tea parties with. Whether she realised it or not, she did not have a husband; Harry wasn't going to deny her a baby girl.
She was bound and determined to make it happen. After coming under the conclusion that her poor, doting, loving husband had erectile dysfunction, she had obtained a potion to fix it. Little did she know that his well-hung cock worked fine; he was just not attracted to her.
"I promise; this one will be a girl. I feel it." Harry grabbed his lover's hand tightly. "Lily Ginevra will be born in a couple days. We won't have sex again; just please don't make me get a matching butt plug to prove it." He stroked Draco's hair back with his other hand. "I promise. This will all be over with soon."
It wasn't.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
As the remaining children piled onto the train, Harry caught sight of Draco. The man's posture was very stiff, and he nodded at Harry.
Had Harry not known any better, it would have seemed a curt nod.
It was only after the train pulled away and parents began Disapparating or moving to commune with each other that Harry had a chance to pull Draco aside in privacy.
"I can't tonight." Draco said, glancing over his shoulder. "She's a wreck about sending Scorpious to school."
"Can't you ask your mum?" Harry leaned forward. Narcissa Malfoy knew about their relationship. Harry wasn't sure how she had found out, and didn't particularly want to know. He had been shocked to find her so accommodating towards it, helping them keep it a secret. It was no doubt an effort to keep the Malfoy name clean, but it was an effort Harry appreciated nonetheless.
It was good to know that his lover's parents were not pure evil.
"To cuddle Asteria and tell her it will be all right?" Draco scoffed. "Hardly."
Their plans to never shag their wives again had been drastically unrealistic. They still did it at least once a month, out of duty. How they had grown up over the years.
'Reach for his hand. Squeeze it and tell him you love him.' He couldn't. To be seen conversing was one thing, but to be seen holding hands was quite another; a dead giveaway. And as much as he wanted to push Draco into the empty ticket booth and, in Draco's own words, fuck his brain out... he couldn't.
"I love you." He quietly said so that no one else could hear.
"I know." Draco returned in an equally low voice.
As Harry turned to return to Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, Draco stopped him. "Harry?"
Harry looked up, into his grey eyes. "Yeah?"
"Don't tell."
Harry weakly smiled. What had become their mantra over the years, 'don't ask, don't tell', was beginning to ache. Harry had never known how such a secret could impact his health. He couldn't tell Ginny, not this far into their marriage. He couldn't break it off with Draco. It wasn't about having courage or the balls to do it; it was about doing the right thing.
"I won't." And he didn't.