(no subject)
Title: The Detour (12/?)
Author: Me. a.k.a. mugglerock
Warning(s): Something that resembles angst.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: H/D
Category: Domestidrabble with a touch of angst and silliness.
Disclaimer: Why, yes! I do happen to own Harry Potter. I also own Disneyland, the Marlboro cigarette company, Playboy, and Big Ben. *relents* Not mine, no money, no sue.
Spoilers: Inadvertant if applied.
Feedback: Please, Sir? May I have some more?
Summary: Edit: Umm, how retarded can one get? Two days after having posted this entry I realized I had forgotten to write the summary. Hah! Not that it matters now, but, here it is, in its late, not-quite glory:
Emotions and emotional retardation. Snakes and Lions. Which has which? It's not who you think.
Sequel #11 in my series of domestidrabbles:
1. The Road Sign.
2. The Morning After.
3. The Weasley Remedy.
4. The Angry Girlfriend.
5. The Bad Choice.
6. The Portrait.
7. The Hunt.
8. The Introspection.
9. The Compromise.
10. The Aftermath.
11. The Smutty Interlude.
Author's notes: Here we go. Some development. It's getting closer to the end. I can feel it. But I will warn you guys now, I'm going to throw you through one hell of a loop with the next couple of parts. I meant it when I said the boys have some more angst ahead of them! Thank you so much for reading thus far! And remember, if you enjoy, gimme <3<3s! P.S. The last line was blatantly stolen from U.S. Queer as Folk.
Edit: Ack! P.P.S. This part is dedicated to la_la_lucy for reccing this series! *MUAA!*
It had been almost two weeks since Harry and Draco had come to their, agreement of sorts. Harry liked to think of it as a friendship with benefits. Draco really didn’t know what to think of it.
Draco’s feelings hadn’t changed all that much prior to the addition of sex. He had dreaded that the confounded feeling causing him insurmountable grief, would intensify, basically ensuring his leaving this ‘relationship’ with a broken heart. But to his grateful surprise, there had been no conversion. Not yet, anyway.
One evening, after Draco had been out to his weekly dinner with Severus, he came home to find Harry had drunk far too much, in celebration of the birthday Sirius Black did not meet, if the opened birthday card addressed to said man on the table was anything to go by, and turned into a blubbering mess.
He approached the grief stricken Gryffindor carefully, “Harry?”
Without moving his head from his hands, Harry sniffled, “Please, Draco.”
The Slytherin stood there, trying to decipher the man’s plea. Had Harry simply asked to leave him to his grief? Or had the Gryffindor been quietly begging Draco to console him? He decided to follow his gut instinct, the irrefutable proof he had been spending far too much time in the company of Gryffindors, and sat next to Harry on the couch. He gently rubbed the man’s back, saying absolutely nothing. What was there to say?
Harry sighed and moved to lean his head on Draco’s shoulder. He made the first move and answered the unasked question, “Today would have been Sirius’ birthday.”
Draco nodded in understanding. He moved his hand from Harry’s back to around his shoulder in a loose, unsure half-hug.
They sat there for a good half an hour, in companionable silence, until Harry broke it with a slightly croaked, “Thanks.”
Draco turned to look at the man’s face, “For what?”
Harry shrugged, “For not pushing me to talk. For just sitting here with me.”
Draco smiled a little, “That’s what a best mate is for, right?”
Harry returned the slight smile and wiped the dry tear tracks from his cheeks. He moved from his hunched position and turned to look into Draco’s eyes. He stared at the blond for several minutes, watching as his features morphed from something akin to concern into bemusement.
Before Draco could voice his question, Harry leaned forward to press a seemingly chaste kiss to his lips.
Draco sighed in content, moving his hands to cup Harry’s face as he deepened the kiss.
This kiss was unlike any of their others. Slow and deliberate, their tongues mapping every crease and crevice found within their mouths. Like this, nothing was needed to be said. No words of consolation, understanding, confusion, or heartbreak. Just two men in an amorous embrace, trying to memorize the other’s taste. Their hands never moved as they gently broke apart.
Draco looked into Harry’s eyes. Searching for, what, he wasn’t quite sure. He kept his mouth closed, perchance the Gryffindor was able to hear how hard his heart was hammering against his ribcage.
There was a passionate haze lingering in Harry’s eyes, of that Draco could be sure of. But there was something else there as well. A sort of sadness. Draco quirked his brow in silent questioning.
Harry sighed, “Thanks, Draco. I think I need to go to bed.” He gave the blond another soft kiss, got up, and left Draco in the room, now filled with a disconcerted impression of tension.
Draco stared at the spot Harry had just vacated. He took a couple of deep breaths in a vain attempt to calm his heart. Something just happened. Something momentous. And for the life of him, he couldn’t figure it out. He really was spending too much time in the company of Gryffindors. A certain one’s emotional retardation was rubbing off.
~
Harry lay in his bed, staring at a spot on the ceiling, attempting to bore himself to sleep. With the amount of alcohol in his system, such a task should not have been difficult in the slightest. But, his restless mind was racing a mile a minute. The confusing emotions engulfing him were making the situation he currently found himself in much more complicated than necessary.
Friends with benefits was something he could handle, it was an appreciation of each other’s company, with a little sex on the side. Nothing more than mutual pleasure.
Despite the possibility of being discovered looming overhead. Any of his friends would surmise it as his own curiosity, that, or being hoodwinked by the former Deatheater. Either way, he could easily account for himself, especially if his homophobic girlfriend was to be the one to find out. It’s just an experiment. A curious thirst that needed to be quenched. Nothing more would ever come of it. Nothing needed to. They were two men. Anything deeper than sexual satisfaction was almost ridiculous, right?
Despite society’s ever-growing understanding of homosexuals, it was nothing Harry had ever considered himself to be. Not out of insecurity or repression, but rather he had never thought about it. Draco Malfoy had been the first and only man he had found himself attracted to. It was all related to their libidos. It really shouldn’t be connected to their hearts.
But that kiss. That kiss had been so different. It wasn’t like their first kiss, shared and forgotten by the drunken half of the party. Nor their second or third, confused and a point needing to be made. It slightly resembled their fourth kiss, a hesitant question. And it was nothing like the lust filled, animalistic kisses they had shared since then.
This one had been, real. Harry’s head shook with that daunting realization. Their first real kiss. They were edging into dangerous waters without any sort of life preservers. Harry knew of Draco’s somewhat unsure feelings, but he never would have dreamed of reciprocating them.
But, he loved Parvati. And she really had been good to him. Standing by him, no matter the callous actions he made towards her. The women she had found in his bed. The forgotten anniversaries and dinner dates for his preference of a bottle of liquor and someone else’s company. Any other woman would have given up ages ago. Given up and probably gone to the press. Oh, how the Wizarding World would love to feed on juicy gossip about him again. Through it all, she still loved him, and had made it quite clear; his transgressions were permitted, as long as his heart never strayed.
Harry sighed at the odd skipping sensation his heart started to make. Confirming what his brain was dreading. And moreso, the choice that was more than likely going to have to be made. He never dreamed he would break that single promise to his girlfriend, let alone in the arms of Draco bloody Malfoy.
How did that old saying go? Damned if you do, damned if you don’t? Well, Harry was more than damned. He was fucked. And not in the positive, life-affirming way.
TBC.
The Confrontation
Author: Me. a.k.a. mugglerock
Warning(s): Something that resembles angst.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: H/D
Category: Domestidrabble with a touch of angst and silliness.
Disclaimer: Why, yes! I do happen to own Harry Potter. I also own Disneyland, the Marlboro cigarette company, Playboy, and Big Ben. *relents* Not mine, no money, no sue.
Spoilers: Inadvertant if applied.
Feedback: Please, Sir? May I have some more?
Summary: Edit: Umm, how retarded can one get? Two days after having posted this entry I realized I had forgotten to write the summary. Hah! Not that it matters now, but, here it is, in its late, not-quite glory:
Emotions and emotional retardation. Snakes and Lions. Which has which? It's not who you think.
Sequel #11 in my series of domestidrabbles:
1. The Road Sign.
2. The Morning After.
3. The Weasley Remedy.
4. The Angry Girlfriend.
5. The Bad Choice.
6. The Portrait.
7. The Hunt.
8. The Introspection.
9. The Compromise.
10. The Aftermath.
11. The Smutty Interlude.
Author's notes: Here we go. Some development. It's getting closer to the end. I can feel it. But I will warn you guys now, I'm going to throw you through one hell of a loop with the next couple of parts. I meant it when I said the boys have some more angst ahead of them! Thank you so much for reading thus far! And remember, if you enjoy, gimme <3<3s! P.S. The last line was blatantly stolen from U.S. Queer as Folk.
Edit: Ack! P.P.S. This part is dedicated to la_la_lucy for reccing this series! *MUAA!*
It had been almost two weeks since Harry and Draco had come to their, agreement of sorts. Harry liked to think of it as a friendship with benefits. Draco really didn’t know what to think of it.
Draco’s feelings hadn’t changed all that much prior to the addition of sex. He had dreaded that the confounded feeling causing him insurmountable grief, would intensify, basically ensuring his leaving this ‘relationship’ with a broken heart. But to his grateful surprise, there had been no conversion. Not yet, anyway.
One evening, after Draco had been out to his weekly dinner with Severus, he came home to find Harry had drunk far too much, in celebration of the birthday Sirius Black did not meet, if the opened birthday card addressed to said man on the table was anything to go by, and turned into a blubbering mess.
He approached the grief stricken Gryffindor carefully, “Harry?”
Without moving his head from his hands, Harry sniffled, “Please, Draco.”
The Slytherin stood there, trying to decipher the man’s plea. Had Harry simply asked to leave him to his grief? Or had the Gryffindor been quietly begging Draco to console him? He decided to follow his gut instinct, the irrefutable proof he had been spending far too much time in the company of Gryffindors, and sat next to Harry on the couch. He gently rubbed the man’s back, saying absolutely nothing. What was there to say?
Harry sighed and moved to lean his head on Draco’s shoulder. He made the first move and answered the unasked question, “Today would have been Sirius’ birthday.”
Draco nodded in understanding. He moved his hand from Harry’s back to around his shoulder in a loose, unsure half-hug.
They sat there for a good half an hour, in companionable silence, until Harry broke it with a slightly croaked, “Thanks.”
Draco turned to look at the man’s face, “For what?”
Harry shrugged, “For not pushing me to talk. For just sitting here with me.”
Draco smiled a little, “That’s what a best mate is for, right?”
Harry returned the slight smile and wiped the dry tear tracks from his cheeks. He moved from his hunched position and turned to look into Draco’s eyes. He stared at the blond for several minutes, watching as his features morphed from something akin to concern into bemusement.
Before Draco could voice his question, Harry leaned forward to press a seemingly chaste kiss to his lips.
Draco sighed in content, moving his hands to cup Harry’s face as he deepened the kiss.
This kiss was unlike any of their others. Slow and deliberate, their tongues mapping every crease and crevice found within their mouths. Like this, nothing was needed to be said. No words of consolation, understanding, confusion, or heartbreak. Just two men in an amorous embrace, trying to memorize the other’s taste. Their hands never moved as they gently broke apart.
Draco looked into Harry’s eyes. Searching for, what, he wasn’t quite sure. He kept his mouth closed, perchance the Gryffindor was able to hear how hard his heart was hammering against his ribcage.
There was a passionate haze lingering in Harry’s eyes, of that Draco could be sure of. But there was something else there as well. A sort of sadness. Draco quirked his brow in silent questioning.
Harry sighed, “Thanks, Draco. I think I need to go to bed.” He gave the blond another soft kiss, got up, and left Draco in the room, now filled with a disconcerted impression of tension.
Draco stared at the spot Harry had just vacated. He took a couple of deep breaths in a vain attempt to calm his heart. Something just happened. Something momentous. And for the life of him, he couldn’t figure it out. He really was spending too much time in the company of Gryffindors. A certain one’s emotional retardation was rubbing off.
~
Harry lay in his bed, staring at a spot on the ceiling, attempting to bore himself to sleep. With the amount of alcohol in his system, such a task should not have been difficult in the slightest. But, his restless mind was racing a mile a minute. The confusing emotions engulfing him were making the situation he currently found himself in much more complicated than necessary.
Friends with benefits was something he could handle, it was an appreciation of each other’s company, with a little sex on the side. Nothing more than mutual pleasure.
Despite the possibility of being discovered looming overhead. Any of his friends would surmise it as his own curiosity, that, or being hoodwinked by the former Deatheater. Either way, he could easily account for himself, especially if his homophobic girlfriend was to be the one to find out. It’s just an experiment. A curious thirst that needed to be quenched. Nothing more would ever come of it. Nothing needed to. They were two men. Anything deeper than sexual satisfaction was almost ridiculous, right?
Despite society’s ever-growing understanding of homosexuals, it was nothing Harry had ever considered himself to be. Not out of insecurity or repression, but rather he had never thought about it. Draco Malfoy had been the first and only man he had found himself attracted to. It was all related to their libidos. It really shouldn’t be connected to their hearts.
But that kiss. That kiss had been so different. It wasn’t like their first kiss, shared and forgotten by the drunken half of the party. Nor their second or third, confused and a point needing to be made. It slightly resembled their fourth kiss, a hesitant question. And it was nothing like the lust filled, animalistic kisses they had shared since then.
This one had been, real. Harry’s head shook with that daunting realization. Their first real kiss. They were edging into dangerous waters without any sort of life preservers. Harry knew of Draco’s somewhat unsure feelings, but he never would have dreamed of reciprocating them.
But, he loved Parvati. And she really had been good to him. Standing by him, no matter the callous actions he made towards her. The women she had found in his bed. The forgotten anniversaries and dinner dates for his preference of a bottle of liquor and someone else’s company. Any other woman would have given up ages ago. Given up and probably gone to the press. Oh, how the Wizarding World would love to feed on juicy gossip about him again. Through it all, she still loved him, and had made it quite clear; his transgressions were permitted, as long as his heart never strayed.
Harry sighed at the odd skipping sensation his heart started to make. Confirming what his brain was dreading. And moreso, the choice that was more than likely going to have to be made. He never dreamed he would break that single promise to his girlfriend, let alone in the arms of Draco bloody Malfoy.
How did that old saying go? Damned if you do, damned if you don’t? Well, Harry was more than damned. He was fucked. And not in the positive, life-affirming way.
TBC.
The Confrontation