Fic: The Truth About Strawberries [Harry/Draco]
The Smutmas reveals have been posted, so I can now reveal that I wrote The Truth About Strawberries, which is the world's worst title, but I suck at titling things and I only had three hours of sleep, so sue me. Anyway. Fic!
Title: The Truth About Strawberries
Author: mizBean
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Beta: nqdonne ♥
Disclaimer: This is all for fun. Don't sue.
Summary: A tragic war, a self-sacrificing hero and a mysterious, pretty blond, or maybe it's something else all together.
Author's notes: Thank you, gmth for running such a fabulous fest and for putting up with my flakiness, nqdonne for being at my beck and call even on Thanksgiving, and mijan for graciously accepting this gift when the original recipient dropped out.
The Truth About Strawberries
If Draco Malfoy had been raised a Muggle, he might have recognized that the beginning of his relationship with Harry Potter had all the elements of an epic Hollywood film: a tragic war, a self-sacrificing hero, and a mysterious, pretty blond that would one day steal the protagonist's heart.
Or perhaps it just started on a frozen battlefield with a bone-tired Harry Potter glaring daggers at an equally weary and desperately-in-need-of-a-bath Draco Malfoy.
"What?" Harry screwed his face like he had just sucked on something particularly rotten.
Draco let out a sigh of exasperation. "I have something for you."
"For me?" Harry repeated.
"What, are you deaf?" Draco said, gesturing. "I- Have- Something- For- You!"
A vein popped on Harry's forehead as he thrust out his chin. "You know what? Piss off. I don’t have time for this," he snarled, raising his wand. "Have fun in Azkaban."
"Potter, wait," Draco shouted.
The wind shifted, causing the strands of Harry's shaggy hair to stand on end. Someone was screaming -- dying -- and Draco shivered.
"Why?" Harry suddenly demanded, his eyes bright. The Dark Mark, hanging in the sky above their heads, glittered off the lenses of his glasses. "Why now?"
Draco could have given Harry any number of reasons why, that he was desperate, scared, fearful for his mother's life. Instead he just said, "Snape" and watched Harry's eyes widen almost comically.
"You know where he is?"
In a matter of seconds, Harry's face was mere inches from Draco's own, his breath hot as he yanked Draco's arm, twisting it hard. "No," Draco managed, "but he did give me this." His other hand opened. A gold chain and locket spilled onto the frozen dirt between them.
"Fuck," Harry gasped.
~*~
So it was hardly the stuff of fairy tales. Harry caught one glimpse of the gold locket falling out of Draco's hand and knew there was only one course of action he could take.
He hexed him.
Draco's mouth barely had time to register an 'o' of surprise before he fell to the ground, petrified.
For a moment Harry didn't move either, taken by the way Draco's pale hair and skin glowed a sickly green from the Dark Mark lighting the sky up above. With his threadbare, torn robes he already looked like a ghost.
Maybe that was what spurred Harry into action, and he pried Draco's wand from his stiff fingers. The locket was already in his jeans pocket, the harsh thrum of its Dark magic buzzing against his leg.
Draco was cradled in his arms when the familiar tug of Apparition took them away.
~*~
The string of profanities that spilled from Draco's mouth probably would have made Sirius Black blush were he still alive. Beloved Godfathers aside, Harry did not look amused.
"Are you quite finished?" Harry asked, his arms crossed in front of his chest. They were standing in the middle of a snow-covered garden. A crooked-looking house stood in the distance, fairy lights twinkling along its hedges and eaves. It took Draco longer than it should have to remember that Christmas was only a few days away.
"No!" Draco said, sounding petulant. "You didn't have to hex me and Apparate me to the middle of GOD KNOWS WHERE-"
"Yeah, I think you already made that PRETTY FUCKING CLEAR," Harry returned, loudly. "I think even Voldemort heard you the last time."
Draco blanched. "Shut up," he snapped.
Harry smirked. "Right."
Draco's upper lip twitched. They were glaring at each like they used to do at school, which was oddly comforting, Draco thought, all things considered. "So are you going to going to arrest me?" he asked. "Because I'd rather you just got to it if it's all the same to you."
"No, Malfoy. I'm not going to arrest you."
Draco's eyes widened. "You're not?"
"No. Why, should I?" Harry asked.
"How do you know I'm not really here on the Dark Lord's bidding?" said Draco recklessly. "I could be a cold-blooded killer for all you know."
"That's not funny, Malfoy."
No. Draco had to admit it really wasn't.
"You know, a word of thanks would be nice," said Draco as they walked toward the old house. "I did just save your sorry arse."
"Then maybe you could explain to me exactly why you're trying to help me," said Harry. "Last I looked you were on the wrong side."
Draco turned to Harry. "Sod it, Potter. Until that son of a bitch lets my mother go, he and I are not on the same side."
Harry stopped. "Thank you, then. Really," he said, looking at Draco. "Er... How does Snape figure into all this, exactly?"
"Look. You can do whatever you want with me," said Draco. "Beat me, fuck me. I don't care. I'm not going to tell you where he is."
Harry pushed his glasses up his nose. "That- That won't be necessary."
"There's food inside," said Harry when they had arrived at the front door. Draco had to admit he was hungry.
"Is that supposed to be an invitation?" said Draco, stamping his feet against the cold.
"Do you have somewhere else to go?"
"Does the Ministry know you're hosting Death Eaters for supper?"
"No."
Draco smiled. "Okay, then."
~*~
Of course, Draco would regret those two words the moment he stepped through the doorway into the cheerily lit kitchen, several freckled faces gaping at him in horror.
"Malfoy. Fabulous." A redhead he immediately recognized as Ginny Weasley stood up from the kitchen table and stormed from the room.
"Welcome to my world," Harry said, clapping Draco hard on the back. Draco stumbled, before catching himself on the kitchen table as everyone began to talk at once.
~*~
"Can we trust him, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked later while Draco lurked in the kitchen doorway, feigning interest in Mrs. Weasley's clock. Ginny was clearing the dishes, silently glaring at Harry as she flicked carrots into the sink, and Mrs. Weasley was upstairs making up Percy's old room.
"I don't know," Harry admitted, his voice low. "I'd like to think so." His laid his hand over the locket still safely stowed inside his jeans. He had yet to owl Hermione and tell her of the news.
"I know this is a lot to ask," he went on. A plate clanked against the sink, and he looked up, meeting Ginny's eyes. She gave him a meaningful look in return. "We'll leave in the morning," he amended. "I can put Malfoy up in Grimmauld Place, at least for now."
"No," Mr. Weasley replied sharply.
"Dad!" said Ginny. She glared at Harry.
"It's almost Christmas. You're not going anywhere," he told Harry. "Molly would have my head. As for him..." They all looked over at Draco who trying very hard to pretend like he wasn't listening. "He can stay. For now. But-"
Harry understood. "I'll keep an eye on him."
~*~
Harry found Draco lurking in the hallway by the second floor bath. He was wearing a pair of pajamas that looked like three Weasley boys had outgrown already.
"There are towels in the cupboard by the toilet," he said, trying not to stare.
"Potter." He had followed Harry into his room, standing awkwardly in the doorway, his hair still wet from the bath.
Harry sighed and flopped back onto his bed. He was exhausted. Even by his Potterish standards of attracting trouble, the day had been trying. There were the Death Eaters who tried to ambush him before noon, and Rita Skeeter, who tried to corner him in the Three Broomsticks. (Was a restorative bottle of Butterbeer too much to ask?)
And then there was Draco.
He was beginning to think Ginny was right, and he should stop venturing out alone.
Draco fidgeted impatiently, and Harry sighed. "Fine. What is it? Does the room not meet with your standards?"
"No. It's fine," Draco said. He tore at a loose seam of wallpaper. "Weasley, er... er, Ron," he amended, seeing Harry's eyes narrow. "What happened?"
Harry sat up. "What do you mean what happened?"
"The clock downstairs. I noticed his face wasn't on any of the hands like the others were. And he's not here. Did- "
He looked paler than usual, and Harry looked away.
"Something happened, didn't it?" Draco pressed.
"Yes, something happened," Harry said, feeling frustrated and angry, and most of all, depressed. "Where have you been? It was all over the papers."
Draco swallowed. "I wasn't allowed. No one tells me anything."
The room had grown so quiet that Harry could hear Mrs. Weasley puttering downstairs in the kitchen, turning on the taps and getting food ready for the morning's breakfast.
And Draco was still standing there, silently picking at the wall.
"He walked in front of a hex meant for some children who were playing in the street," Harry said, his voice flat. "He was in Diagon Alley shopping for Hermione's birthday. I have no idea how he even knew the hex was heading their way." He sighed, taking off his glasses. They clattered to the floor. He never talked about it, mostly because everyone already knew what had happened, and knew to leave him the fuck alone.
"I don't need to stay here. I- I can go," said Draco.
"That's not necessary."
"But-"
"Why? Were you the one who threw the hex?"
"No!"
"Then it's not necessary." Harry toed off his shoes and slid into bed, pulling the blanket high over his shoulders. He was still wearing the clothes he had worn all day, too tired to even slip out of his jeans, and he shut his eyes, hoping for once that Draco would know when to leave him alone.
He slept fitfully that night and woke in the morning half-expecting Draco to be gone. Instead Harry found him alone in the kitchen, nibbling on a piece of toast. Hermione was due to arrive in ten minutes.
"Today," said Harry, sitting down across from him, "we destroy a Horcrux."
~*~
Harry's fist connected with Draco's jaw with a satisfying smack, and Harry just managed a triumphant grin when Draco punched him back, square in the face.
Harry careened backward, crashing into the wall and sending a shelf full of souvenir plates showering to the ground.
It was the morning of Christmas Eve. The house was empty; last minute shopping still had to be done. Harry wasn't even sure why they were fighting.
Draco snickered. "Not so strong without your wand, are you, Potter?"
Harry tenderly pressed his fingers to his cheek and winced. That was going to bruise. "Are you sure you really want to go there, Malfoy?" he snapped back. "Because I don't see Crabbe and Goyle around to jump in if things get too rough."
Draco flicked a stray piece of hair out of his eyes. "Please. Granger hits harder than you," he retorted.
"Is that so?" said Harry. He cocked his head, watching a trickle of blood pool at the side of Draco's mouth. "You would know."
Draco's hand flew to his mouth, wiping the blood away with the back of his hand, leaving a smear across his cheek. "Pervert," he muttered, before shoving Harry sideways, sending them both staggering into Mrs. Weasley's sideboard. A freshly made treacle tart slid to the edge before finally toppling over, followed by a service of tea, the good set Mrs. Weasley only brought out for company.
"Death Eater piece of shit," Harry sputtered back, looping an ankle around Draco's foot and sending them both crashing to the ground, a kitchen chair clattering on his head.
Draco moaned. He pushed weakly at Harry's shoulders. "Get off me, you pervert."
"Shut up," Harry snapped. He thought Draco was one to talk, since his leg was wedged against Harry's crotch. He pushed the chair off them and slowly got to his feet. Then he saw what they had done to the kitchen.
"Oh, fuck."
Right, so bringing Draco home to the Burrow was probably not the best idea Harry ever had. There wasn't a kitchen chair that wasn't overturned. Something brown oozed near the sink, and he strongly suspected tomorrow's Christmas pudding was squashed under his left foot.
"Er, we should clean this up. They'll be back soon," said Harry, broken crockery crunching under his feet.
Draco moaned again.
"Or maybe I'll just do it all."
"It seems fitting since you started it," Draco returned, propping himself up on his elbows.
"Me? If you think I'm going to clean this all by myself-"
A door slammed shut and Harry sighed.
"WHAT ON EARTH HAPPENED TO MY KITCHEN? Harry?"
An extremely aggrieved Mrs. Weasley stood in her kitchen doorway, followed behind by Ginny and Hermione.
"Nice shot, Harry," said Ginny, grinning.
"Ginny, please," said Mrs. Weasley, putting down her handbag.
"We were just-" Harry started and then stopped as Mrs. Weasley marched over to the spot where Draco was still sprawled on the floor.
Draco looked up at her, wide-eyed, his pale face still streaked with blood. He was wearing Ron's robes, Harry suddenly noticed, and he shot a worried look at Hermione and Ginny.
"Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione quickly, "we can clean this up. Why don't you go sit down-"
"You poor child," said Mrs. Weasley, bending down. "What happened to you?"
"We were talking, and I said something I probably shouldn't have," said Draco meekly. "And… and Harry hit me."
"Malfoy!" Harry cried.
"Mum's gone mental," said Ginny. She rounded on Harry. "You have to get rid of him. He can't stay," she hissed.
"Can I get you anything, dear? For the pain?" Mrs. Weasley asked Draco.
Draco sniffled. "Some tea would be lovely," he replied. "Darjeeling. May- maybe with a twist of lemon if it's not too much trouble."
"You could owl Professor McGonagall. Maybe she wants him," Hermione suggested.
~*~
Christmas arrived with a new crop of Weasley jumpers, Charlie visiting from Romania, and Harry and Draco brooding in opposite corners of the house. Hermione stayed, morosely unwrapping packages under the Weasley tree, while Bill and Fleur went elsewhere, spending the holiday in France. It was the quietest Christmas anyone could remember even with Fred and George slipping Vomitous Powder into Draco's pumpkin juice before the start of the Christmas feast.
By the time the New Year's Eve rolled around, Draco felt edgy and uncomfortable. He wanted to leave so he could search for his mother. He wanted Mrs. Weasley to stop smothering him, and most of all he wanted Harry to stop glowering at him from across the breakfast table like Draco had snapped up the last cranberry scone and fed it to the Dark Lord. Most of all he wanted to get drunk, and he found amongst the members of the Weasley household that he had plenty of company in that regard.
He found Harry sitting alone in the kitchen, staring diffidently at a pile of scrolls. Charlie had already opened the Firewhisky, and the twins were on the rooftop, lighting fireworks that sent showers of red, yellow and green sparks down around the house. Even Hermione had been coaxed to join in, sitting on the floor with Ginny, an open bottle of elderflower wine between them.
The bottle of whisky Draco placed on the table was nearly full. Harry watched him silently as he took two glasses out of the cupboard and filled them nearly to the brim before sliding one across the table. "Drink," he said.
He expected a protest, but Harry obeyed, taking a small sip. He made a face.
"It's cheap whisky. That's why," Draco explained. "Someone should tell the Weasleys just because they live like peasants doesn't mean they have to drink like them."
Harry's face darkened. "Malfoy," he warned.
"Sorry," said Draco. He really didn't want to fight tonight. Besides his jaw was still sore where Harry had cuffed him on Christmas Eve.
Harry sighed. "Doesn't it exhaust you being such a prick all the time?" he asked.
Draco grinned. "Only on Tuesdays."
~*~
"Is there more?" Harry tipped the bottle over. They were standing outside, the entire lot of them, watching the stars. Everyone except for an exasperated Mrs. Weasley who had retired to her bedroom with a stern look directed at her husband, who chuckled once and followed quickly behind, but not before grabbing the bottle of wine out of Ginny's hands.
"Kitchen," Draco replied.
Harry moved closer, maybe for warmth or maybe because he had mistaken Draco for someone else, someone with breasts and red hair. A Roman candle shot from the roof, sending a shower of red sparks that turned into tiny red dragons that scampered across the sky. "Why do the dragons always have to be red?" Draco complained, as he let Harry's head fall against his shoulder.
"Oi, Malfoy. No complaining." Harry replied, his voice muffled by the collar of Draco's robes.
"Not my fault I have to live-"
"Malfoy." Harry lifted his head and gave him a blurry look.
"Fine," Draco said.
"Off with her head!" Ginny shouted suddenly, laughing, and they both turned to watch Hermione run by, screaming, picking up her robes like a skirt as she waded through the snow. Ginny ran after her and they both collapsed in a heap by the broom shed.
Draco cocked his head. "Did you know?" he asked, watching Ginny's mouth cover Hermione's.
"Er, no."
"Oh," said Draco.
~*~
"It's really not that big of a deal," Harry said for the fifth time, this time on the sofa in the living room. "Ginny. I mean we weren't really dating anymore."
"Right," Draco replied, his head thrown back, exposing the pale skin of his neck. He held out his glass for Harry to fill.
"So, you and Parkinson?" Harry asked, curious.
Draco shrugged, eyes still glued to the ceiling, his glass cradled upon his chest. "She's in America. Her mum didn't want her coming after me, getting in trouble."
Harry cleared his throat. "She's in love you, then?"
"Probably."
"Oh."
Draco turned his head, the flickering fairy light made his eyes shine like clear glass. "Potter," he said, after a long moment where Harry fought hard not to stare back. "I'm gay."
"Oh," said Harry, looking away. He emptied the last of the whisky into his glass, his hand shaking so much that he dribbled most of it onto the sofa. "Did-Does Pansy know?"
Draco laughed. "Yes. I thought everyone did."
~*~
Harry blinked. Draco's face zoomed in and out of focus, but perhaps even more alarmingly, the owner of that blurry face was perched on top of Harry's lap, tugging at his shirt collar.
"You're sitting on my lap," Harry said in case Draco was somehow caught unawares.
"He's been there for the last fifteen minutes," Charlie pointed out from somewhere to Harry's left.
Harry turned to look at the flesh-colored smudge sitting next to him. "Oh," he said.
Charlie stood up. "Good night, you two," he said, ruffling Harry's hair. "Have fun."
"Does Ginny know?" Harry called after him, as his hands skimmed Draco's thigh, earning a breathy giggle in Harry's ear.
"Oh, yes," Charlie replied, or maybe that was Fred. Or George. Draco giggled again and Harry decided not to care.
"Bugger," said Harry.
"Indeed," Charlie replied. "Ginny's upstairs with Hermione. I don't think she cares at the moment."
"Right," said Harry, cheerfully turning back to Draco, who was still stubbornly blurry, which puzzled Harry because Draco usually wasn't blurry at all. Rather he was pointy and hard-edged, prickly even. Harry rubbed his eyes, pondering this when he suddenly brightened. "Glasses," he exclaimed.
A fall of blond hair tickled Harry's face as Draco leaned forward to look over the back of the sofa. "I threw them there," he said, pointing carelessly. "Got tired of looking at my reflection."
"Oh," Harry replied. But that didn't solve the other mystery. "Why are you on my lap?" he asked, shivering at the way Draco's breath ghosted against his cheek.
Draco shifted his body forward just enough and Harry gasped, something hot uncoiling inside him. "That's why," Draco replied, his mouth so close that Harry could taste the whisky on his breath.
Right. Harry turned his head away and found blond hair again. It smelled like the strawberry shampoo Mrs. Weasley kept in tiny pink bottles that lined the bath. The ones that were for guests only. "But-" he started, but the heat inside him was starting to burn, making him suddenly feel wide awake. Then Draco's fingertips found the skin just under Harry's waistband, and Harry couldn't hold back any longer.
Their mouths crashed together harder than was comfortable, Draco swearing hotly against his mouth. Then Harry slowly began to relax into the kiss, his tongue sliding into Draco's mouth, all the while trying not to think too much about what he was doing, or whom he was doing it with.
That tactic might have worked except Draco was noisy and relentless in a way that Ginny never was, his lean body harder and heavier than any girl's. Harry's head began to spin. He had too much to drink, arousal was pooling in his groin, and he was obviously very, very confused.
"Stop. Stop." Harry pushed against Draco's shoulders, shoving hard and sending him sprawling to the floor, his shirt rucked up his heaving chest.
Draco glared at him as he slowly sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Fuck you, Potter," he said, sneering. "Why don't you run back to your girlfriend? Maybe she can suck you off."
"She's not my girlfriend," said Harry. He blinked. "Wait. You were going to suck me off?"
"Maybe," Draco said, sounding petulant. "But you don't want me."
"I do," Harry insisted. "It's just..."
"I'm Draco Malfoy," Draco finished. "A Death Eater. A gay Death Eater."
"Yeah," Harry said, nodding before closing his eyes and passing out.
~*~
It was one o'clock the following afternoon when Harry finally awoke, still lying on the living room sofa, hard as hell with Mrs. Weasley standing over him, inquiring if he was okay. He stumbled into the kitchen and found Draco leaning against the counter, hair uncombed and still in his dressing gown, looking rather like someone who had swallowed down enough Firewhisky to match wits with Hagrid.
"About last night," he started. At the kitchen table Ginny leaned over and whispered something into Hermione's ear. They both started to giggle.
Draco took a dainty sip of tea from the cup cradled in his hands and blinked back, looking innocent.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I think there was a misunderstanding," he said, his voice low.
"You don't like to kiss boys?" Draco asked, loud enough to rouse the ghost living upstairs in the attic.
Harry reddened. "Shut up. That's not what I meant."
"You do like to kiss boys."
Harry looked over at Mrs. Weasley who was calmly spelling a pot of chicken soup to simmer over the hearth. "Not here," he gritted out, yanking Draco by the elbow, as the teacup sloshed to the floor. He steered him into the cupboard where the vegetable tins were kept.
The door clicked shut and Draco glared back at him. "Nice, Potter. Dragging me into a cupboard is really going to help maintain your guise of heterosexuality now."
"Guise? There is no guise," replied Harry. "I'm not- That's not what I meant."
"You want to get in my pants, don't you?" said Draco, throwing his head back and smirking. He looked so sure that he was right. The bastard.
"There's a war," Harry started.
"Really, I hadn't noticed." A finger crooked around Harry's belt loop, tugging him closer.
Harry gritted his teeth, but didn't stop Draco from finding the bulge growing in his jeans, or his hand from unfastening Harry's flies and slipping through the slit of his boxers. "There are Horcruxes to find. People depend on me. I- I don't have time for this," he protested weakly, not stopping Draco's hand from wrapping around his cock, and he turned his head slightly, finding the curve of Draco's neck. He inhaled, smelling strawberries and shut his eyes.
~*~
The news in the following morning's Prophet was grim. The bodies of fourteen people found in a ditch outside Hogsmeade. Ten more near Dundee.
"That just settles it," Mrs. Weasley told Ginny. "You're not going back to Hogwarts."
"Fine," she said, smiling at Hermione. "I didn't want to go back anyway."
"The holidays are over," Hermione observed, returning a smile of her own. After-Christmas adverts boomed from the wireless on the counter behind her. "The Death Eaters are back in business again."
Indeed, Charlie had packed up and left before dawn, and the fairy lights banished to the attic along with the Christmas stockings. Only the Christmas tree remained, its branches bare, ready to go on the woodpile near the shed.
"It's true. People get depressed over Christmas," said Draco. "Aunt Bella used to say it was the best time to get recruits."
Harry dropped his spoon in his cereal bowl. "Are you trying to tell me that just because someone didn't get the Firebolt they wanted for Christmas they're ripe to join the Death Eaters?"
"No, I'm saying some might feel a heightened sense of guilt or duty toward their family. Or they might be bothered by the Muggle values they see running rampant over Wizarding society, which is only intensified by the increasing commercialization of the holiday, or maybe they just really hate Christmas."
"Oh, please. That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," said Ginny, rolling her eyes.
"Yes, let's not ask the Death Eater his opinion on the matter," Draco shot back.
"Harry," said Ginny, "why is he still here?"
~*~
"This isn't going to work," Harry told Draco later, pressed against the wall, gasping as Draco worked his hand inside the flies of Harry's jeans. "People are dying."
"I know. I can read," Draco breathed, rutting against Harry's thigh and pressing his hand just there, and Harry let out an embarrassing moan.
He was close. He was really close, and he had just enough lucidity left to wrap his hand around Draco's wrist, stilling its frantic movement.
"Potter," Draco gritted out with obvious irritation.
"Just don't," said Harry, pushing Draco away. He quickly refastened his flies, wincing when the zip scraped against his prick. He walked to the door, avoiding Draco's eyes. "Tonks wants to interview you tomorrow," he said, his hand on the doorknob. "She said she would come by around ten."
"That's too bad because I'm not going to be here," said Draco, his eyes narrowed as he pushed himself off the wall.
"What?" said Harry. He spun around and watched Draco pull a hand-me-down winter cloak and three shirts from the wardrobe in the corner.
Draco threw the clothes and a rucksack onto the bed, his face angry. "You heard me."
Harry rounded on him. "Because I don't want to have sex. That makes so much sense," he sneered.
"Don't hang your shit on me, Potter," he said, storming out of the room and into the bathroom across the hall.
Harry followed behind, cornering Draco by the toilet as he emptied the shelves of their shampoo bottles and toothpaste. "My shit? What are you talking about?"
Draco turned around, knocking Harry against the sink with a sharp elbow. "You know, I get it, Potter. People are dying. You don't have to fucking moan it in my ear every time you come in my hand."
"And death and war?" Draco went on, reaching between them to give Harry's still hardened prick a tight, little squeeze. "Generally a big turn-off, just a tip."
Harry jumped at Draco's touch, practically landing in the sink. "Wait. You don't understand."
Draco shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I'm leaving."
"You can't leave."
Draco hoisted his rucksack over his shoulder. "Why? You said you weren't going to have me arrested."
Harry tried a different tactic. "And where will you go? You don't even have a wand."
"Doesn't matter," Draco insisted. "I have connections. I can get another one tomorrow. Easily."
"So you'll go back to the Death Eaters, then," Harry said, angrily shaking his head. "Maybe you'll end up in Azkaban. Or killed. And it will be all a stupid waste."
"You think you know everything, Potter," Draco sneered back. "One day you are going to realize just how stupid you are."
The bathroom was hot, stifling almost, with the steam left over from someone's bath still clinging to the walls. It made Harry lightheaded, and he had to stop for a moment to catch his breath. He caught Draco's eyes and held them, hoping.
The faintest touch of a smile crossed Draco's lips as he slowly leaned forward and nudged Harry's face to the side. Harry shut his eyes, as Draco moved closer, the heady feeling of arousal washing over him. Their lips touched, just the merest brush of a kiss, yet it was perfect. Absolutely perfect until he opened his eyes and saw Draco's face.
"Draco," Harry said, shaking his head, watching him draw away.
"No," said Draco, his voice harsh, but Harry was never one to give up easily.
~*~
Draco should have seen Harry coming, all things considered. The more difficult the prize, the more Harry seemed to want it.
Still, Draco wasn't quite prepared when Harry grabbed him by the wrists and pressed him against the bathroom door, which given the short space of the bath required some creative maneuvering. But it was the kiss that truly bowled him over.
Hot, slippery and raw with just enough teeth to make Draco whimper, the heat of it going straight to his cock. It was almost enough to convince him that he might have a reason to stay. Or, at the very least, stay long enough to finish this.
Then Harry made a guttural noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl, and Draco decided to stop thinking all together.
He broke away panting. "Robes," Draco said, his head thrown back against the door. He caught Harry's eyes and gave him a breathless smile. "Take them off. Everything."
The hand gliding along the curve of Draco's neck stilled. "Everything?" Harry's voice grew suspiciously high.
"Everything." Draco unbuckled his robes and slid down his trousers. His shirt and pants came off next, dropping to the floor. "It's all or nothing, Potter," he said, seeing Harry's eyes go straight to his prick.
Harry gripped the sink behind him, his mouth slack. He seemed at loss for words.
"Or do you need to go save the world?" Draco said.
~*~
It was a challenge and Harry knew it. He wasn't a virgin, but his relationship with Ginny had turned awkward after Ron's death. And Ginny's smooth freckled skin and soft curves were nothing like the sharp planes of Draco's body or the cock that glistened impatiently, seemingly waiting for Harry to grasp between his fingers.
"Okay," he said a bit breathlessly, undoing his belt. He pushed down his trousers, knocking his elbow against the sink, and he had to wonder just how they were going to make this work. When he had fantasized about having sex with Draco Malfoy (which he could now admit that he had, quite often) there were usually large four-poster beds involved with bound wrists and red sheets, not some puny bath with fading yellow wallpaper and a running toilet.
"All right there, Potter?" Draco asked when Harry hesitated, one trouser leg dangling off his foot.
Harry nodded quickly. "Bath," he said, inspiration suddenly hitting him. He hopped on one foot, still tangled in his trousers, as he fished his wand out of his robes on the floor.
"Oh, good one, Potter." Draco sounded pleased, and Harry allowed himself a private smile as he filled the tub with bubbling water, expanding it so it would fit the both of them. In another moment of inspiration, he grabbed a tiny bottle of shampoo and emptied it into the water. The scent of strawberries filled the room.
"I just like the smell," he explained, blushing a little as he slipped into the water.
Draco followed, settling in and facing Harry. "It's kind of girly, don't you think?" he said, leaning back and twining his legs around Harry's back.
Harry took the hint and moved closer, Draco's barbs making him less nervous somehow. It was familiar territory. "That would explain why you wash your hair with it," he returned, suddenly taken with the way Draco's nipple peeked through the foam. He blew on it and watched with satisfaction as the bubbles skittered away leaving its nubby point exposed.
Draco squirmed and then gasped when Harry bit down, probably harder than was necessary. He grabbed a fistful of black hair and pulled Harry's head up. "I didn't know you liked it so rough," he said, but Harry could see he didn't look all that displeased. He reached down and found Harry's cock, giving it a hard squeeze. "Did you like to mark your little Weasley girl's skin too?" he taunted, giving Harry's cock a sharp twist.
"Shut up," Harry gasped, wrenching his head away, his face burning.
"I bet she bruises easily," Draco went on. "All that fair skin. I wonder what her mother would say, if she knew."
That was enough, and he latched his mouth onto Draco's, biting down hard. Draco squirmed beneath him, sending ripples of water splashing against the side, and pulled away, glaring. Draco's lower lip looked a delicious-looking red, and Harry pondered it for a moment, wanting to suck it between his teeth when Draco reached up and kissed him back.
Harry whimpered, tasting cheap soap and the faint tang of blood. Draco's tongue was thick and punishing, as it thrust itself deep into Harry's mouth, mimicking the movement of Draco's hand on Harry's cock.
But Harry was impatient. He wanted more, and he sped up, frantically humping into Draco's fist. When Draco suddenly pushed him away, sending him sloshing to other end of the tub, he gasped with surprise.
"What the fuck," he cried, his knees splayed apart, water streaming onto the floor.
Draco sneered. "Why should you have all the fun," he said, kneeling over Harry's body and gripping the edge of the tub with one hand. His prick bobbed in the water, looking angry and red. Harry knew the feeling.
"Spread your legs. More," Draco ordered, pulling on his cock with his free hand.
Harry shifted, sinking deeper into the tub. The bubbles were gone now, the bath water cool as it bobbed against his chest. "Are you-" he asked, chest heaving, noticing how exposed he was, how easily Draco's cock could slip between his legs and press against his hole, and he pawed against the side of tub, trying to push himself up. He wasn't ready for that, yet.
A firm hand pressed against Harry's chest, pushing him back down. "Don't worry. I'm not going to fuck you. Not today, anyway. But I will. I promise you," Draco said, leaning forward, pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss against Harry's lips.
"Does that mean you're not leaving?" Harry asked hopefully. He reached up, sliding his hand over Draco's chest to rest at the crook of his neck. He suddenly wondered what it would be like to kiss Draco long and languidly like he used to with Ginny before he left Hogwarts and Ron died and he lost himself to the war.
"Didn’t say that," said Draco. He ducked his head, dragging the faint stubble of his cheek against the back of Harry's hand before pulling away. Harry's hand fell back against the water with a dull splash.
Draco sat up and began rummaging under the sink next to the tub. "Aha," he said, turning around again, holding aloft a small jar. "With five boys I knew there would be lube in this house."
"Six," Harry corrected, watching Draco unscrew the top.
He scooped a dollop on his fingers. "It's even waterproof," he said, gasping as he spread it onto his cock first and then Harry's, shifting closer so both cocks were aligned. "Do you think Mrs. Weasley knows what goes on in her bath?" he asked breathlessly, as he guided Harry's hand around their two cocks, his eyelids fluttering when their fingers intertwined.
They moved slower this time. Smooth, long strokes in time with their heaving chests. Harry came first, curling up around Draco, legs tight around his back. For a brief moment he forgot the war.
~*~
Draco's fingers were wrinkled and pink around the tips and really sort of adorable. "I'm getting cold," he complained as Harry sucked the little finger into his mouth.
"Warming charm," suggested Harry, moving on to another finger.
"Stop that." Draco snatched his hand away, glaring. "You took my wand, and besides I'm turning into prune. I'm getting out," he said, standing.
"Draco." Harry's hand sloshed against the side as he sat up.
Draco ignored him, grabbing a towel off the wall and climbing out. "It'll be dark in an hour," he said, glancing at the window behind the bath. "It'll take at least that long for me to walk to the village to get an owl sent."
Harry leapt to his feet. "Wait. You're leaving. Still."
Draco pulled on his shirt, the friction leaving behind a soft halo of hair that Harry wanted very much to smooth down. "C'mon, Potter. Did you really think I was going to stay at the Weasleys?" he said, hunting around the floor.
"Yes. Look, I know it's not ideal," said Harry. He climbed out, pulling Draco back to his feet. "They want to help. I know they do."
"Except that they hate me," Draco said. "I maimed their son and I stole their daughter's boyfriend."
"Greyback maimed Bill," Harry corrected, "and Hermione is the one at fault there. Mostly. And- and Charlie likes you." He looked furtively at Draco. "Besides, I like having you around," he admitted, his ears turning pink.
Draco rolled his eyes, but blushed a little too. "You need to stop sounding like a girl. And Charlie just wants a piece of my arse."
"No, he doesn't."
"Yes, he does." He pulled on his robes, Ron's robes. It still had an RW sewn into the collar. "He couldn't keep his eyes off me."
"He's just friendly, and he's too old for you anyway."
"I think he wants to do both of us at the same time," said Draco, a little too enthusiastically, Harry thought.
Harry watched Draco pick up his rucksack. "You can't seriously be thinking of going," he said. He felt like there was a vice inside his chest, squeezing hard, and he desperately wanted to grab Draco by the hand, drag him off to his bed, and suck every stupid idea out of his head.
"Potter-"
"Voldemort can't have you. I won't let you go back, and that's final," Harry said, angrily. No, he was going to drag Draco off to his bed, lock the door and never let him out of his sight.
"Harry, I'm not-"
"You're wearing Ron's robes, for fuck's sake. What kind of Death Eater runs around in Ron Weasley's robes?" he cried, sagging against the sink, unable to think straight.
"Harry, just shut up, will you?" He grabbed Harry's shoulders, shaking him. "Not a very good one," he said when Harry met his eyes.
"What?" Harry shook his head.
"I'm not a Death Eater. I mean, I was back when..." He trailed off, biting his lip. "I need to find my mum. I can't do that here. And I need to go back."
"To Snape."
Draco worried his lower lip.
Harry sighed. "Fine. You're not supposed to talk about him. I get that." He suddenly had a horrible thought. "You're not with Snape? Are you?"
"Ew, Potter. He's old and..." Draco wrinkled his nose, "greasy."
Harry squeezed Draco's fingers not wanting to let go. It was too much to take in. He seemed to have lost a girlfriend and gained a pointy Slytherin. And then there was that whole confusing issue about sex and boys and liking it.
"We could still meet up," Draco said. "Rendezvous, secret hideouts. That sort of thing. Secret, forbidden sex is usually the best kind."
Harry wasn't going to ask Draco how he knew that.
Draco cleared his throat. "There's an inn in Dorset that has a Jacuzzi. We could meet next week. Saturday. If- if you could get away."
~*~
"Just be careful," said Harry, folding Draco's fingers back around his wand. They were standing outside in the garden. "You can Apparate from here and then..."
Draco leaned in, his lips still bruised from the bath, and gave Harry a kiss. "Thank you," he whispered, holding Harry's gaze.
There was a pop of Apparition, and he was gone.
FIN
Title: The Truth About Strawberries
Author: mizBean
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Beta: nqdonne ♥
Disclaimer: This is all for fun. Don't sue.
Summary: A tragic war, a self-sacrificing hero and a mysterious, pretty blond, or maybe it's something else all together.
Author's notes: Thank you, gmth for running such a fabulous fest and for putting up with my flakiness, nqdonne for being at my beck and call even on Thanksgiving, and mijan for graciously accepting this gift when the original recipient dropped out.
The Truth About Strawberries
If Draco Malfoy had been raised a Muggle, he might have recognized that the beginning of his relationship with Harry Potter had all the elements of an epic Hollywood film: a tragic war, a self-sacrificing hero, and a mysterious, pretty blond that would one day steal the protagonist's heart.
Or perhaps it just started on a frozen battlefield with a bone-tired Harry Potter glaring daggers at an equally weary and desperately-in-need-of-a-bath Draco Malfoy.
"What?" Harry screwed his face like he had just sucked on something particularly rotten.
Draco let out a sigh of exasperation. "I have something for you."
"For me?" Harry repeated.
"What, are you deaf?" Draco said, gesturing. "I- Have- Something- For- You!"
A vein popped on Harry's forehead as he thrust out his chin. "You know what? Piss off. I don’t have time for this," he snarled, raising his wand. "Have fun in Azkaban."
"Potter, wait," Draco shouted.
The wind shifted, causing the strands of Harry's shaggy hair to stand on end. Someone was screaming -- dying -- and Draco shivered.
"Why?" Harry suddenly demanded, his eyes bright. The Dark Mark, hanging in the sky above their heads, glittered off the lenses of his glasses. "Why now?"
Draco could have given Harry any number of reasons why, that he was desperate, scared, fearful for his mother's life. Instead he just said, "Snape" and watched Harry's eyes widen almost comically.
"You know where he is?"
In a matter of seconds, Harry's face was mere inches from Draco's own, his breath hot as he yanked Draco's arm, twisting it hard. "No," Draco managed, "but he did give me this." His other hand opened. A gold chain and locket spilled onto the frozen dirt between them.
"Fuck," Harry gasped.
~*~
So it was hardly the stuff of fairy tales. Harry caught one glimpse of the gold locket falling out of Draco's hand and knew there was only one course of action he could take.
He hexed him.
Draco's mouth barely had time to register an 'o' of surprise before he fell to the ground, petrified.
For a moment Harry didn't move either, taken by the way Draco's pale hair and skin glowed a sickly green from the Dark Mark lighting the sky up above. With his threadbare, torn robes he already looked like a ghost.
Maybe that was what spurred Harry into action, and he pried Draco's wand from his stiff fingers. The locket was already in his jeans pocket, the harsh thrum of its Dark magic buzzing against his leg.
Draco was cradled in his arms when the familiar tug of Apparition took them away.
~*~
The string of profanities that spilled from Draco's mouth probably would have made Sirius Black blush were he still alive. Beloved Godfathers aside, Harry did not look amused.
"Are you quite finished?" Harry asked, his arms crossed in front of his chest. They were standing in the middle of a snow-covered garden. A crooked-looking house stood in the distance, fairy lights twinkling along its hedges and eaves. It took Draco longer than it should have to remember that Christmas was only a few days away.
"No!" Draco said, sounding petulant. "You didn't have to hex me and Apparate me to the middle of GOD KNOWS WHERE-"
"Yeah, I think you already made that PRETTY FUCKING CLEAR," Harry returned, loudly. "I think even Voldemort heard you the last time."
Draco blanched. "Shut up," he snapped.
Harry smirked. "Right."
Draco's upper lip twitched. They were glaring at each like they used to do at school, which was oddly comforting, Draco thought, all things considered. "So are you going to going to arrest me?" he asked. "Because I'd rather you just got to it if it's all the same to you."
"No, Malfoy. I'm not going to arrest you."
Draco's eyes widened. "You're not?"
"No. Why, should I?" Harry asked.
"How do you know I'm not really here on the Dark Lord's bidding?" said Draco recklessly. "I could be a cold-blooded killer for all you know."
"That's not funny, Malfoy."
No. Draco had to admit it really wasn't.
"You know, a word of thanks would be nice," said Draco as they walked toward the old house. "I did just save your sorry arse."
"Then maybe you could explain to me exactly why you're trying to help me," said Harry. "Last I looked you were on the wrong side."
Draco turned to Harry. "Sod it, Potter. Until that son of a bitch lets my mother go, he and I are not on the same side."
Harry stopped. "Thank you, then. Really," he said, looking at Draco. "Er... How does Snape figure into all this, exactly?"
"Look. You can do whatever you want with me," said Draco. "Beat me, fuck me. I don't care. I'm not going to tell you where he is."
Harry pushed his glasses up his nose. "That- That won't be necessary."
"There's food inside," said Harry when they had arrived at the front door. Draco had to admit he was hungry.
"Is that supposed to be an invitation?" said Draco, stamping his feet against the cold.
"Do you have somewhere else to go?"
"Does the Ministry know you're hosting Death Eaters for supper?"
"No."
Draco smiled. "Okay, then."
~*~
Of course, Draco would regret those two words the moment he stepped through the doorway into the cheerily lit kitchen, several freckled faces gaping at him in horror.
"Malfoy. Fabulous." A redhead he immediately recognized as Ginny Weasley stood up from the kitchen table and stormed from the room.
"Welcome to my world," Harry said, clapping Draco hard on the back. Draco stumbled, before catching himself on the kitchen table as everyone began to talk at once.
~*~
"Can we trust him, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked later while Draco lurked in the kitchen doorway, feigning interest in Mrs. Weasley's clock. Ginny was clearing the dishes, silently glaring at Harry as she flicked carrots into the sink, and Mrs. Weasley was upstairs making up Percy's old room.
"I don't know," Harry admitted, his voice low. "I'd like to think so." His laid his hand over the locket still safely stowed inside his jeans. He had yet to owl Hermione and tell her of the news.
"I know this is a lot to ask," he went on. A plate clanked against the sink, and he looked up, meeting Ginny's eyes. She gave him a meaningful look in return. "We'll leave in the morning," he amended. "I can put Malfoy up in Grimmauld Place, at least for now."
"No," Mr. Weasley replied sharply.
"Dad!" said Ginny. She glared at Harry.
"It's almost Christmas. You're not going anywhere," he told Harry. "Molly would have my head. As for him..." They all looked over at Draco who trying very hard to pretend like he wasn't listening. "He can stay. For now. But-"
Harry understood. "I'll keep an eye on him."
~*~
Harry found Draco lurking in the hallway by the second floor bath. He was wearing a pair of pajamas that looked like three Weasley boys had outgrown already.
"There are towels in the cupboard by the toilet," he said, trying not to stare.
"Potter." He had followed Harry into his room, standing awkwardly in the doorway, his hair still wet from the bath.
Harry sighed and flopped back onto his bed. He was exhausted. Even by his Potterish standards of attracting trouble, the day had been trying. There were the Death Eaters who tried to ambush him before noon, and Rita Skeeter, who tried to corner him in the Three Broomsticks. (Was a restorative bottle of Butterbeer too much to ask?)
And then there was Draco.
He was beginning to think Ginny was right, and he should stop venturing out alone.
Draco fidgeted impatiently, and Harry sighed. "Fine. What is it? Does the room not meet with your standards?"
"No. It's fine," Draco said. He tore at a loose seam of wallpaper. "Weasley, er... er, Ron," he amended, seeing Harry's eyes narrow. "What happened?"
Harry sat up. "What do you mean what happened?"
"The clock downstairs. I noticed his face wasn't on any of the hands like the others were. And he's not here. Did- "
He looked paler than usual, and Harry looked away.
"Something happened, didn't it?" Draco pressed.
"Yes, something happened," Harry said, feeling frustrated and angry, and most of all, depressed. "Where have you been? It was all over the papers."
Draco swallowed. "I wasn't allowed. No one tells me anything."
The room had grown so quiet that Harry could hear Mrs. Weasley puttering downstairs in the kitchen, turning on the taps and getting food ready for the morning's breakfast.
And Draco was still standing there, silently picking at the wall.
"He walked in front of a hex meant for some children who were playing in the street," Harry said, his voice flat. "He was in Diagon Alley shopping for Hermione's birthday. I have no idea how he even knew the hex was heading their way." He sighed, taking off his glasses. They clattered to the floor. He never talked about it, mostly because everyone already knew what had happened, and knew to leave him the fuck alone.
"I don't need to stay here. I- I can go," said Draco.
"That's not necessary."
"But-"
"Why? Were you the one who threw the hex?"
"No!"
"Then it's not necessary." Harry toed off his shoes and slid into bed, pulling the blanket high over his shoulders. He was still wearing the clothes he had worn all day, too tired to even slip out of his jeans, and he shut his eyes, hoping for once that Draco would know when to leave him alone.
He slept fitfully that night and woke in the morning half-expecting Draco to be gone. Instead Harry found him alone in the kitchen, nibbling on a piece of toast. Hermione was due to arrive in ten minutes.
"Today," said Harry, sitting down across from him, "we destroy a Horcrux."
~*~
Harry's fist connected with Draco's jaw with a satisfying smack, and Harry just managed a triumphant grin when Draco punched him back, square in the face.
Harry careened backward, crashing into the wall and sending a shelf full of souvenir plates showering to the ground.
It was the morning of Christmas Eve. The house was empty; last minute shopping still had to be done. Harry wasn't even sure why they were fighting.
Draco snickered. "Not so strong without your wand, are you, Potter?"
Harry tenderly pressed his fingers to his cheek and winced. That was going to bruise. "Are you sure you really want to go there, Malfoy?" he snapped back. "Because I don't see Crabbe and Goyle around to jump in if things get too rough."
Draco flicked a stray piece of hair out of his eyes. "Please. Granger hits harder than you," he retorted.
"Is that so?" said Harry. He cocked his head, watching a trickle of blood pool at the side of Draco's mouth. "You would know."
Draco's hand flew to his mouth, wiping the blood away with the back of his hand, leaving a smear across his cheek. "Pervert," he muttered, before shoving Harry sideways, sending them both staggering into Mrs. Weasley's sideboard. A freshly made treacle tart slid to the edge before finally toppling over, followed by a service of tea, the good set Mrs. Weasley only brought out for company.
"Death Eater piece of shit," Harry sputtered back, looping an ankle around Draco's foot and sending them both crashing to the ground, a kitchen chair clattering on his head.
Draco moaned. He pushed weakly at Harry's shoulders. "Get off me, you pervert."
"Shut up," Harry snapped. He thought Draco was one to talk, since his leg was wedged against Harry's crotch. He pushed the chair off them and slowly got to his feet. Then he saw what they had done to the kitchen.
"Oh, fuck."
Right, so bringing Draco home to the Burrow was probably not the best idea Harry ever had. There wasn't a kitchen chair that wasn't overturned. Something brown oozed near the sink, and he strongly suspected tomorrow's Christmas pudding was squashed under his left foot.
"Er, we should clean this up. They'll be back soon," said Harry, broken crockery crunching under his feet.
Draco moaned again.
"Or maybe I'll just do it all."
"It seems fitting since you started it," Draco returned, propping himself up on his elbows.
"Me? If you think I'm going to clean this all by myself-"
A door slammed shut and Harry sighed.
"WHAT ON EARTH HAPPENED TO MY KITCHEN? Harry?"
An extremely aggrieved Mrs. Weasley stood in her kitchen doorway, followed behind by Ginny and Hermione.
"Nice shot, Harry," said Ginny, grinning.
"Ginny, please," said Mrs. Weasley, putting down her handbag.
"We were just-" Harry started and then stopped as Mrs. Weasley marched over to the spot where Draco was still sprawled on the floor.
Draco looked up at her, wide-eyed, his pale face still streaked with blood. He was wearing Ron's robes, Harry suddenly noticed, and he shot a worried look at Hermione and Ginny.
"Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione quickly, "we can clean this up. Why don't you go sit down-"
"You poor child," said Mrs. Weasley, bending down. "What happened to you?"
"We were talking, and I said something I probably shouldn't have," said Draco meekly. "And… and Harry hit me."
"Malfoy!" Harry cried.
"Mum's gone mental," said Ginny. She rounded on Harry. "You have to get rid of him. He can't stay," she hissed.
"Can I get you anything, dear? For the pain?" Mrs. Weasley asked Draco.
Draco sniffled. "Some tea would be lovely," he replied. "Darjeeling. May- maybe with a twist of lemon if it's not too much trouble."
"You could owl Professor McGonagall. Maybe she wants him," Hermione suggested.
~*~
Christmas arrived with a new crop of Weasley jumpers, Charlie visiting from Romania, and Harry and Draco brooding in opposite corners of the house. Hermione stayed, morosely unwrapping packages under the Weasley tree, while Bill and Fleur went elsewhere, spending the holiday in France. It was the quietest Christmas anyone could remember even with Fred and George slipping Vomitous Powder into Draco's pumpkin juice before the start of the Christmas feast.
By the time the New Year's Eve rolled around, Draco felt edgy and uncomfortable. He wanted to leave so he could search for his mother. He wanted Mrs. Weasley to stop smothering him, and most of all he wanted Harry to stop glowering at him from across the breakfast table like Draco had snapped up the last cranberry scone and fed it to the Dark Lord. Most of all he wanted to get drunk, and he found amongst the members of the Weasley household that he had plenty of company in that regard.
He found Harry sitting alone in the kitchen, staring diffidently at a pile of scrolls. Charlie had already opened the Firewhisky, and the twins were on the rooftop, lighting fireworks that sent showers of red, yellow and green sparks down around the house. Even Hermione had been coaxed to join in, sitting on the floor with Ginny, an open bottle of elderflower wine between them.
The bottle of whisky Draco placed on the table was nearly full. Harry watched him silently as he took two glasses out of the cupboard and filled them nearly to the brim before sliding one across the table. "Drink," he said.
He expected a protest, but Harry obeyed, taking a small sip. He made a face.
"It's cheap whisky. That's why," Draco explained. "Someone should tell the Weasleys just because they live like peasants doesn't mean they have to drink like them."
Harry's face darkened. "Malfoy," he warned.
"Sorry," said Draco. He really didn't want to fight tonight. Besides his jaw was still sore where Harry had cuffed him on Christmas Eve.
Harry sighed. "Doesn't it exhaust you being such a prick all the time?" he asked.
Draco grinned. "Only on Tuesdays."
~*~
"Is there more?" Harry tipped the bottle over. They were standing outside, the entire lot of them, watching the stars. Everyone except for an exasperated Mrs. Weasley who had retired to her bedroom with a stern look directed at her husband, who chuckled once and followed quickly behind, but not before grabbing the bottle of wine out of Ginny's hands.
"Kitchen," Draco replied.
Harry moved closer, maybe for warmth or maybe because he had mistaken Draco for someone else, someone with breasts and red hair. A Roman candle shot from the roof, sending a shower of red sparks that turned into tiny red dragons that scampered across the sky. "Why do the dragons always have to be red?" Draco complained, as he let Harry's head fall against his shoulder.
"Oi, Malfoy. No complaining." Harry replied, his voice muffled by the collar of Draco's robes.
"Not my fault I have to live-"
"Malfoy." Harry lifted his head and gave him a blurry look.
"Fine," Draco said.
"Off with her head!" Ginny shouted suddenly, laughing, and they both turned to watch Hermione run by, screaming, picking up her robes like a skirt as she waded through the snow. Ginny ran after her and they both collapsed in a heap by the broom shed.
Draco cocked his head. "Did you know?" he asked, watching Ginny's mouth cover Hermione's.
"Er, no."
"Oh," said Draco.
~*~
"It's really not that big of a deal," Harry said for the fifth time, this time on the sofa in the living room. "Ginny. I mean we weren't really dating anymore."
"Right," Draco replied, his head thrown back, exposing the pale skin of his neck. He held out his glass for Harry to fill.
"So, you and Parkinson?" Harry asked, curious.
Draco shrugged, eyes still glued to the ceiling, his glass cradled upon his chest. "She's in America. Her mum didn't want her coming after me, getting in trouble."
Harry cleared his throat. "She's in love you, then?"
"Probably."
"Oh."
Draco turned his head, the flickering fairy light made his eyes shine like clear glass. "Potter," he said, after a long moment where Harry fought hard not to stare back. "I'm gay."
"Oh," said Harry, looking away. He emptied the last of the whisky into his glass, his hand shaking so much that he dribbled most of it onto the sofa. "Did-Does Pansy know?"
Draco laughed. "Yes. I thought everyone did."
~*~
Harry blinked. Draco's face zoomed in and out of focus, but perhaps even more alarmingly, the owner of that blurry face was perched on top of Harry's lap, tugging at his shirt collar.
"You're sitting on my lap," Harry said in case Draco was somehow caught unawares.
"He's been there for the last fifteen minutes," Charlie pointed out from somewhere to Harry's left.
Harry turned to look at the flesh-colored smudge sitting next to him. "Oh," he said.
Charlie stood up. "Good night, you two," he said, ruffling Harry's hair. "Have fun."
"Does Ginny know?" Harry called after him, as his hands skimmed Draco's thigh, earning a breathy giggle in Harry's ear.
"Oh, yes," Charlie replied, or maybe that was Fred. Or George. Draco giggled again and Harry decided not to care.
"Bugger," said Harry.
"Indeed," Charlie replied. "Ginny's upstairs with Hermione. I don't think she cares at the moment."
"Right," said Harry, cheerfully turning back to Draco, who was still stubbornly blurry, which puzzled Harry because Draco usually wasn't blurry at all. Rather he was pointy and hard-edged, prickly even. Harry rubbed his eyes, pondering this when he suddenly brightened. "Glasses," he exclaimed.
A fall of blond hair tickled Harry's face as Draco leaned forward to look over the back of the sofa. "I threw them there," he said, pointing carelessly. "Got tired of looking at my reflection."
"Oh," Harry replied. But that didn't solve the other mystery. "Why are you on my lap?" he asked, shivering at the way Draco's breath ghosted against his cheek.
Draco shifted his body forward just enough and Harry gasped, something hot uncoiling inside him. "That's why," Draco replied, his mouth so close that Harry could taste the whisky on his breath.
Right. Harry turned his head away and found blond hair again. It smelled like the strawberry shampoo Mrs. Weasley kept in tiny pink bottles that lined the bath. The ones that were for guests only. "But-" he started, but the heat inside him was starting to burn, making him suddenly feel wide awake. Then Draco's fingertips found the skin just under Harry's waistband, and Harry couldn't hold back any longer.
Their mouths crashed together harder than was comfortable, Draco swearing hotly against his mouth. Then Harry slowly began to relax into the kiss, his tongue sliding into Draco's mouth, all the while trying not to think too much about what he was doing, or whom he was doing it with.
That tactic might have worked except Draco was noisy and relentless in a way that Ginny never was, his lean body harder and heavier than any girl's. Harry's head began to spin. He had too much to drink, arousal was pooling in his groin, and he was obviously very, very confused.
"Stop. Stop." Harry pushed against Draco's shoulders, shoving hard and sending him sprawling to the floor, his shirt rucked up his heaving chest.
Draco glared at him as he slowly sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Fuck you, Potter," he said, sneering. "Why don't you run back to your girlfriend? Maybe she can suck you off."
"She's not my girlfriend," said Harry. He blinked. "Wait. You were going to suck me off?"
"Maybe," Draco said, sounding petulant. "But you don't want me."
"I do," Harry insisted. "It's just..."
"I'm Draco Malfoy," Draco finished. "A Death Eater. A gay Death Eater."
"Yeah," Harry said, nodding before closing his eyes and passing out.
~*~
It was one o'clock the following afternoon when Harry finally awoke, still lying on the living room sofa, hard as hell with Mrs. Weasley standing over him, inquiring if he was okay. He stumbled into the kitchen and found Draco leaning against the counter, hair uncombed and still in his dressing gown, looking rather like someone who had swallowed down enough Firewhisky to match wits with Hagrid.
"About last night," he started. At the kitchen table Ginny leaned over and whispered something into Hermione's ear. They both started to giggle.
Draco took a dainty sip of tea from the cup cradled in his hands and blinked back, looking innocent.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I think there was a misunderstanding," he said, his voice low.
"You don't like to kiss boys?" Draco asked, loud enough to rouse the ghost living upstairs in the attic.
Harry reddened. "Shut up. That's not what I meant."
"You do like to kiss boys."
Harry looked over at Mrs. Weasley who was calmly spelling a pot of chicken soup to simmer over the hearth. "Not here," he gritted out, yanking Draco by the elbow, as the teacup sloshed to the floor. He steered him into the cupboard where the vegetable tins were kept.
The door clicked shut and Draco glared back at him. "Nice, Potter. Dragging me into a cupboard is really going to help maintain your guise of heterosexuality now."
"Guise? There is no guise," replied Harry. "I'm not- That's not what I meant."
"You want to get in my pants, don't you?" said Draco, throwing his head back and smirking. He looked so sure that he was right. The bastard.
"There's a war," Harry started.
"Really, I hadn't noticed." A finger crooked around Harry's belt loop, tugging him closer.
Harry gritted his teeth, but didn't stop Draco from finding the bulge growing in his jeans, or his hand from unfastening Harry's flies and slipping through the slit of his boxers. "There are Horcruxes to find. People depend on me. I- I don't have time for this," he protested weakly, not stopping Draco's hand from wrapping around his cock, and he turned his head slightly, finding the curve of Draco's neck. He inhaled, smelling strawberries and shut his eyes.
~*~
The news in the following morning's Prophet was grim. The bodies of fourteen people found in a ditch outside Hogsmeade. Ten more near Dundee.
"That just settles it," Mrs. Weasley told Ginny. "You're not going back to Hogwarts."
"Fine," she said, smiling at Hermione. "I didn't want to go back anyway."
"The holidays are over," Hermione observed, returning a smile of her own. After-Christmas adverts boomed from the wireless on the counter behind her. "The Death Eaters are back in business again."
Indeed, Charlie had packed up and left before dawn, and the fairy lights banished to the attic along with the Christmas stockings. Only the Christmas tree remained, its branches bare, ready to go on the woodpile near the shed.
"It's true. People get depressed over Christmas," said Draco. "Aunt Bella used to say it was the best time to get recruits."
Harry dropped his spoon in his cereal bowl. "Are you trying to tell me that just because someone didn't get the Firebolt they wanted for Christmas they're ripe to join the Death Eaters?"
"No, I'm saying some might feel a heightened sense of guilt or duty toward their family. Or they might be bothered by the Muggle values they see running rampant over Wizarding society, which is only intensified by the increasing commercialization of the holiday, or maybe they just really hate Christmas."
"Oh, please. That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," said Ginny, rolling her eyes.
"Yes, let's not ask the Death Eater his opinion on the matter," Draco shot back.
"Harry," said Ginny, "why is he still here?"
~*~
"This isn't going to work," Harry told Draco later, pressed against the wall, gasping as Draco worked his hand inside the flies of Harry's jeans. "People are dying."
"I know. I can read," Draco breathed, rutting against Harry's thigh and pressing his hand just there, and Harry let out an embarrassing moan.
He was close. He was really close, and he had just enough lucidity left to wrap his hand around Draco's wrist, stilling its frantic movement.
"Potter," Draco gritted out with obvious irritation.
"Just don't," said Harry, pushing Draco away. He quickly refastened his flies, wincing when the zip scraped against his prick. He walked to the door, avoiding Draco's eyes. "Tonks wants to interview you tomorrow," he said, his hand on the doorknob. "She said she would come by around ten."
"That's too bad because I'm not going to be here," said Draco, his eyes narrowed as he pushed himself off the wall.
"What?" said Harry. He spun around and watched Draco pull a hand-me-down winter cloak and three shirts from the wardrobe in the corner.
Draco threw the clothes and a rucksack onto the bed, his face angry. "You heard me."
Harry rounded on him. "Because I don't want to have sex. That makes so much sense," he sneered.
"Don't hang your shit on me, Potter," he said, storming out of the room and into the bathroom across the hall.
Harry followed behind, cornering Draco by the toilet as he emptied the shelves of their shampoo bottles and toothpaste. "My shit? What are you talking about?"
Draco turned around, knocking Harry against the sink with a sharp elbow. "You know, I get it, Potter. People are dying. You don't have to fucking moan it in my ear every time you come in my hand."
"And death and war?" Draco went on, reaching between them to give Harry's still hardened prick a tight, little squeeze. "Generally a big turn-off, just a tip."
Harry jumped at Draco's touch, practically landing in the sink. "Wait. You don't understand."
Draco shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I'm leaving."
"You can't leave."
Draco hoisted his rucksack over his shoulder. "Why? You said you weren't going to have me arrested."
Harry tried a different tactic. "And where will you go? You don't even have a wand."
"Doesn't matter," Draco insisted. "I have connections. I can get another one tomorrow. Easily."
"So you'll go back to the Death Eaters, then," Harry said, angrily shaking his head. "Maybe you'll end up in Azkaban. Or killed. And it will be all a stupid waste."
"You think you know everything, Potter," Draco sneered back. "One day you are going to realize just how stupid you are."
The bathroom was hot, stifling almost, with the steam left over from someone's bath still clinging to the walls. It made Harry lightheaded, and he had to stop for a moment to catch his breath. He caught Draco's eyes and held them, hoping.
The faintest touch of a smile crossed Draco's lips as he slowly leaned forward and nudged Harry's face to the side. Harry shut his eyes, as Draco moved closer, the heady feeling of arousal washing over him. Their lips touched, just the merest brush of a kiss, yet it was perfect. Absolutely perfect until he opened his eyes and saw Draco's face.
"Draco," Harry said, shaking his head, watching him draw away.
"No," said Draco, his voice harsh, but Harry was never one to give up easily.
~*~
Draco should have seen Harry coming, all things considered. The more difficult the prize, the more Harry seemed to want it.
Still, Draco wasn't quite prepared when Harry grabbed him by the wrists and pressed him against the bathroom door, which given the short space of the bath required some creative maneuvering. But it was the kiss that truly bowled him over.
Hot, slippery and raw with just enough teeth to make Draco whimper, the heat of it going straight to his cock. It was almost enough to convince him that he might have a reason to stay. Or, at the very least, stay long enough to finish this.
Then Harry made a guttural noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl, and Draco decided to stop thinking all together.
He broke away panting. "Robes," Draco said, his head thrown back against the door. He caught Harry's eyes and gave him a breathless smile. "Take them off. Everything."
The hand gliding along the curve of Draco's neck stilled. "Everything?" Harry's voice grew suspiciously high.
"Everything." Draco unbuckled his robes and slid down his trousers. His shirt and pants came off next, dropping to the floor. "It's all or nothing, Potter," he said, seeing Harry's eyes go straight to his prick.
Harry gripped the sink behind him, his mouth slack. He seemed at loss for words.
"Or do you need to go save the world?" Draco said.
~*~
It was a challenge and Harry knew it. He wasn't a virgin, but his relationship with Ginny had turned awkward after Ron's death. And Ginny's smooth freckled skin and soft curves were nothing like the sharp planes of Draco's body or the cock that glistened impatiently, seemingly waiting for Harry to grasp between his fingers.
"Okay," he said a bit breathlessly, undoing his belt. He pushed down his trousers, knocking his elbow against the sink, and he had to wonder just how they were going to make this work. When he had fantasized about having sex with Draco Malfoy (which he could now admit that he had, quite often) there were usually large four-poster beds involved with bound wrists and red sheets, not some puny bath with fading yellow wallpaper and a running toilet.
"All right there, Potter?" Draco asked when Harry hesitated, one trouser leg dangling off his foot.
Harry nodded quickly. "Bath," he said, inspiration suddenly hitting him. He hopped on one foot, still tangled in his trousers, as he fished his wand out of his robes on the floor.
"Oh, good one, Potter." Draco sounded pleased, and Harry allowed himself a private smile as he filled the tub with bubbling water, expanding it so it would fit the both of them. In another moment of inspiration, he grabbed a tiny bottle of shampoo and emptied it into the water. The scent of strawberries filled the room.
"I just like the smell," he explained, blushing a little as he slipped into the water.
Draco followed, settling in and facing Harry. "It's kind of girly, don't you think?" he said, leaning back and twining his legs around Harry's back.
Harry took the hint and moved closer, Draco's barbs making him less nervous somehow. It was familiar territory. "That would explain why you wash your hair with it," he returned, suddenly taken with the way Draco's nipple peeked through the foam. He blew on it and watched with satisfaction as the bubbles skittered away leaving its nubby point exposed.
Draco squirmed and then gasped when Harry bit down, probably harder than was necessary. He grabbed a fistful of black hair and pulled Harry's head up. "I didn't know you liked it so rough," he said, but Harry could see he didn't look all that displeased. He reached down and found Harry's cock, giving it a hard squeeze. "Did you like to mark your little Weasley girl's skin too?" he taunted, giving Harry's cock a sharp twist.
"Shut up," Harry gasped, wrenching his head away, his face burning.
"I bet she bruises easily," Draco went on. "All that fair skin. I wonder what her mother would say, if she knew."
That was enough, and he latched his mouth onto Draco's, biting down hard. Draco squirmed beneath him, sending ripples of water splashing against the side, and pulled away, glaring. Draco's lower lip looked a delicious-looking red, and Harry pondered it for a moment, wanting to suck it between his teeth when Draco reached up and kissed him back.
Harry whimpered, tasting cheap soap and the faint tang of blood. Draco's tongue was thick and punishing, as it thrust itself deep into Harry's mouth, mimicking the movement of Draco's hand on Harry's cock.
But Harry was impatient. He wanted more, and he sped up, frantically humping into Draco's fist. When Draco suddenly pushed him away, sending him sloshing to other end of the tub, he gasped with surprise.
"What the fuck," he cried, his knees splayed apart, water streaming onto the floor.
Draco sneered. "Why should you have all the fun," he said, kneeling over Harry's body and gripping the edge of the tub with one hand. His prick bobbed in the water, looking angry and red. Harry knew the feeling.
"Spread your legs. More," Draco ordered, pulling on his cock with his free hand.
Harry shifted, sinking deeper into the tub. The bubbles were gone now, the bath water cool as it bobbed against his chest. "Are you-" he asked, chest heaving, noticing how exposed he was, how easily Draco's cock could slip between his legs and press against his hole, and he pawed against the side of tub, trying to push himself up. He wasn't ready for that, yet.
A firm hand pressed against Harry's chest, pushing him back down. "Don't worry. I'm not going to fuck you. Not today, anyway. But I will. I promise you," Draco said, leaning forward, pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss against Harry's lips.
"Does that mean you're not leaving?" Harry asked hopefully. He reached up, sliding his hand over Draco's chest to rest at the crook of his neck. He suddenly wondered what it would be like to kiss Draco long and languidly like he used to with Ginny before he left Hogwarts and Ron died and he lost himself to the war.
"Didn’t say that," said Draco. He ducked his head, dragging the faint stubble of his cheek against the back of Harry's hand before pulling away. Harry's hand fell back against the water with a dull splash.
Draco sat up and began rummaging under the sink next to the tub. "Aha," he said, turning around again, holding aloft a small jar. "With five boys I knew there would be lube in this house."
"Six," Harry corrected, watching Draco unscrew the top.
He scooped a dollop on his fingers. "It's even waterproof," he said, gasping as he spread it onto his cock first and then Harry's, shifting closer so both cocks were aligned. "Do you think Mrs. Weasley knows what goes on in her bath?" he asked breathlessly, as he guided Harry's hand around their two cocks, his eyelids fluttering when their fingers intertwined.
They moved slower this time. Smooth, long strokes in time with their heaving chests. Harry came first, curling up around Draco, legs tight around his back. For a brief moment he forgot the war.
~*~
Draco's fingers were wrinkled and pink around the tips and really sort of adorable. "I'm getting cold," he complained as Harry sucked the little finger into his mouth.
"Warming charm," suggested Harry, moving on to another finger.
"Stop that." Draco snatched his hand away, glaring. "You took my wand, and besides I'm turning into prune. I'm getting out," he said, standing.
"Draco." Harry's hand sloshed against the side as he sat up.
Draco ignored him, grabbing a towel off the wall and climbing out. "It'll be dark in an hour," he said, glancing at the window behind the bath. "It'll take at least that long for me to walk to the village to get an owl sent."
Harry leapt to his feet. "Wait. You're leaving. Still."
Draco pulled on his shirt, the friction leaving behind a soft halo of hair that Harry wanted very much to smooth down. "C'mon, Potter. Did you really think I was going to stay at the Weasleys?" he said, hunting around the floor.
"Yes. Look, I know it's not ideal," said Harry. He climbed out, pulling Draco back to his feet. "They want to help. I know they do."
"Except that they hate me," Draco said. "I maimed their son and I stole their daughter's boyfriend."
"Greyback maimed Bill," Harry corrected, "and Hermione is the one at fault there. Mostly. And- and Charlie likes you." He looked furtively at Draco. "Besides, I like having you around," he admitted, his ears turning pink.
Draco rolled his eyes, but blushed a little too. "You need to stop sounding like a girl. And Charlie just wants a piece of my arse."
"No, he doesn't."
"Yes, he does." He pulled on his robes, Ron's robes. It still had an RW sewn into the collar. "He couldn't keep his eyes off me."
"He's just friendly, and he's too old for you anyway."
"I think he wants to do both of us at the same time," said Draco, a little too enthusiastically, Harry thought.
Harry watched Draco pick up his rucksack. "You can't seriously be thinking of going," he said. He felt like there was a vice inside his chest, squeezing hard, and he desperately wanted to grab Draco by the hand, drag him off to his bed, and suck every stupid idea out of his head.
"Potter-"
"Voldemort can't have you. I won't let you go back, and that's final," Harry said, angrily. No, he was going to drag Draco off to his bed, lock the door and never let him out of his sight.
"Harry, I'm not-"
"You're wearing Ron's robes, for fuck's sake. What kind of Death Eater runs around in Ron Weasley's robes?" he cried, sagging against the sink, unable to think straight.
"Harry, just shut up, will you?" He grabbed Harry's shoulders, shaking him. "Not a very good one," he said when Harry met his eyes.
"What?" Harry shook his head.
"I'm not a Death Eater. I mean, I was back when..." He trailed off, biting his lip. "I need to find my mum. I can't do that here. And I need to go back."
"To Snape."
Draco worried his lower lip.
Harry sighed. "Fine. You're not supposed to talk about him. I get that." He suddenly had a horrible thought. "You're not with Snape? Are you?"
"Ew, Potter. He's old and..." Draco wrinkled his nose, "greasy."
Harry squeezed Draco's fingers not wanting to let go. It was too much to take in. He seemed to have lost a girlfriend and gained a pointy Slytherin. And then there was that whole confusing issue about sex and boys and liking it.
"We could still meet up," Draco said. "Rendezvous, secret hideouts. That sort of thing. Secret, forbidden sex is usually the best kind."
Harry wasn't going to ask Draco how he knew that.
Draco cleared his throat. "There's an inn in Dorset that has a Jacuzzi. We could meet next week. Saturday. If- if you could get away."
~*~
"Just be careful," said Harry, folding Draco's fingers back around his wand. They were standing outside in the garden. "You can Apparate from here and then..."
Draco leaned in, his lips still bruised from the bath, and gave Harry a kiss. "Thank you," he whispered, holding Harry's gaze.
There was a pop of Apparition, and he was gone.
FIN