The Trade Chapter 2 (and a quick update)
Quick update: I have moved to England for a year! I am working on my MA in Librarianship and its going to be intense. It already is! I had been feeling guilty about not updating any of my fics. So I have written more on this particular story because its basically all been outlined in my head (must get it down on paper). It also helps that I have no internet at my flat yet to distract me. I am tend to procrastinate when it comes to doing school work so I will do almost anything other than school work until I absolutely must work. How I made it into a masters program is beyond me!
Title: The Trade (Chapter 2)
Author: Black Silk
Pairing: H/D
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): Unbetated.
Word count: 3, 894
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling. I only put them in situations she would not; and if she did she would not dare publish them.
Author's note: I will try to update more frequently now. I rarely read through my fics before I post them so there will be errors and for this I apologize. If you see any glaring errors, point them out.
Summary: Draco Malfoy is desperate for Harry Potter's aid. In exchange for his help, Harry proposes a trade.
Draco could not believe what he had just agreed to. Harry Potter was now owner of his body to do with as he pleased. And he wanted a kiss to seal the deal? Draco must have dropped into an alternate universe where saviours were lustful and criminals were sex slaves. He technically was not a criminal, but it looked like he was on his way to becoming a love slave.
Draco took another second to goggle at Potter, but then lips were upon his own.
Bloody hell! Harry Potter is kissing me! Harry Bleeding Potter. Kissing me. Draco Blooming Malfoy. His nemesis for all of 7 years and…what not. At that point the shock wore off because his brain stopped working. Harry Potter was a really good kisser.
Draco could not help but melt into the kiss. Sure Potter was a male, and sure they had fought for years, but he had a talent mouth. And a talented tongue that was even then licking his lips and demanding entrance. What else was Draco to do but let it in and wrap his arms around Potters neck?
It was only natural that once Draco had his arms around Potter that Potter should want to have his arms around his waist. That’s exactly where they went. And when Potter’s tongue engaged his in a sort of war, Draco had no choice but to battle it. And it was only natural that Draco should moan when Potter tightened his arms around his waist, bringing them closer together.
Given all of that, Draco was not at all surprised when he felt his cock rub against Potter’s. He was also not surprised that Potter was hard because he too was growing rather aroused. Hence Draco decided that all he could do was press himself even closer, continue to enjoy the best kiss ever to be bestowed on him, and to moan shamelessly.
The kiss ended slowly. Potter pulled away almost reluctantly and Draco’s knees almost buckled. Thankfully he still had a hold of Potter and Potter’s hand quickly reached out to steady him.
Once Draco was able to stand on his own he took a step back and slowly unwound his arms from Potter’s neck. His mind was still a bit fuzzy, but he managed to get his eyes open. The first thing he saw was the smirk on Potter’s. His first thought was that he had not known that Gryffindor’s could smirk.
Potter’s hands were still on his waist and they seemed to be burning him despite his layers of clothing. The heat helped to bring him back to his senses. He cleared his throat. Potter’s smirk widened, but dropped his hands, slowly, caressingly. Draco shivered and took a shaky step back. After the kiss that they had just shared, the proximity was not letting Draco think clearly. Plus he could no longer meet Potter’s eyes.
He had acted in such a wonton fashion. It was not right to do such things in a library. Sure it was permitted in a bedroom, but not in the library. Never in the library. Never outside the bedroom.
What was he thinking? Such a thing was never to happen with Potter in any room. But he had just agreed to be Potter’s sex slave so it was bound to happen in any room. Heck, for all he knew Potter would demand to have him in the kitchen. He would have to order the house elves out if that were the case. He was not about to let them witness anything of that nature. Ever! The mere thought had him cringing.
Mockingly, Potter cleared his throat. Could a throat be cleared mockingly? If so Potter had just done it. What a pair we make. Clearing our throat like there is no tomorrow.
Draco snapped out of his ridiculous thoughts and completely stepped away from Potter’s hold, blushing all the while.
“Right. I will go now Malfoy. You will receive an owl from me later today".
Draco nodded. There was nothing else he could do. “I will see you out.” Draco took a step forward to do just that, but Potter stopped him with a raised hand.
“That’s okay; I can find my way back to the front door.” Potter strode out of the library leaving a flabbergasted Draco behind.
He sat down in Potter’s vacated chair and just stared into the distant, still not entirely convinced that what transpired in the last 20 minutes were actually real.
Had he really just agreed to be Potter’s sex slave in exchange for his testimony at his mother’s trial? And why did he keep using the term sex slave?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Harry had been very much surprised by Malfoy’s reaction to his kiss. He had not expected Malfoy to be so willing, so passionate, and so shameless with his moans. But there you have it.
He left the Malfoy library likely leaving behind a stunned Draco Malfoy. Harry was tempted to turn back and look, but decided that would be a bad idea. He might turn back and take Malfoy right then and there.
That thought shocked Harry. Since when had he been this attracted to Malfoy?
As he walked out the front door to the Malfoy Mansion, he realized that he had been attracted to Malfoy since maybe sixth year. That would explain why I was that obsessed with Malfoy. But he had not really known it or acknowledged it at the time because he was too busy worrying about Voldemort, horcruxes, Dumbledore’s dwindling health, classes, and just trying to stay alive.
Harry had been blind to a lot of things while he was being chased by a madman and forced by the whole of the Wizarding Society to battle said madman to the death. This is probably why when the whole thing was over and he had somehow managed to live that he sat down in a dark room and really gave his life some thought. He had come up with two things. The first being that he figured out was that he did not want to become an Auror. He was done fighting evil; done battling crazy overlords. So he would go back to Hogwarts and see what else he would like to do. The second epiphany he had was that he was no longer attracted to Ginny. Yes, she was pretty and yes he still loved her, but he loved her as Ron loved her. He wanted to protect her and keep her safe. That led to the realization that he was not attracted to her in particular and to girls in general.
So on the eve of the Great Hogwarts Battle, Harry Potter came to the realization that he was gay. Now, two months later, he comes to realize that not only is he gay, but he is attracted to Draco Malfoy, the boy who had lived to make the life of the Boy Who Lived miserable. Now that was a tongue twister.
Not only that, but Harry had just somehow managed to convince Draco Malfoy to be his sex slave. Harry suddenly pictured Malfoy dressed in a gold bikini chained to a bed in which a very fat Harry lay. He shook that image from his head.
No, he would not make Malfoy into his sex slave, Harry decided as he stepped through the gates and out of the Malfoy property. He would just torment Malfoy a little, get him squirming.
Just before he Apparated back to Grimmauld Place, he realized that tormenting Malfoy in the way he had planned would also mean tormenting himself. With a groan and a pop he was gone.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Harry landed on the front steps leading up to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He uttered an Alohomora and opens the door. He can feel the wards he has set as he steps through the threshold. Once the door was closed and bolted, Kreacher appeared in front Harry.
“Will Master be wanting any tea?”
“No, Kreacher. I just came from tea, but thank you.”
“Master had visitor while he was away.” Kreacher lead the way into the Black Library. It was the room in which Harry spent most of his time while he was in Number 12. It was the second room that Kreacher and Harry had put to rights. When Harry decided that he wanted to live in old Number 12 Grimmauld Place after the war, the master bedroom and adjoining bath had been the first rooms to be repaired and redecorated to suit Harry’s needs. The kitchen had already been repaired and made liveable when the Order had started living in the house.
For some reason that Harry could not quite pinpoint, he had settled into the Black Library and had made it his own. There were a handful of comfortable armchairs clustered at one side in front of the fireplace. It was not as big as the Malfoy Library, but it was sizable and had a good amount of rare books. A fact that Mundungus must not have been privy to or else he would have stolen and hocked them as well.
A few sturdy study tables were scattered between the stacks. There was a door lead to the hallway, but another door lead to a small study that Harry hoped to turn into a serviceable office for himself. He did not know for what he would need an office, but he liked the idea of leading people into his study and staring at them from behind his desk.
But that was later. Kreacher and Harry were already tackling the living room and the parlour on the ground floor. Ron and Hermione would come and help most days. And in the beginning of the summer a few of the Weasleys would also come and help, but after he made it clear to Ginny that he would not be getting back together with her, they came less often. Plus they had only been helping him put his house to rights because they wanted the physical labour to help them forget the one family member that was no longer there. Mrs. Weasley had always avoided the drawing room in which she had encounter the boggart that had turned into the dead bodies of her family members.
Harry waited until he was seated in an armchair next to the fire, which Kreacher was already tending, before he asked, “Who came to see me?” He thought he knew who it was.
“Mr Ron and Miss Hermione, master.” Kreacher had started out calling them Master and Mistress, but Hermione had objected so profusely that Harry had to order Kreacher to stop. Kreacher had refused to call him by anything other than Master since he was the owner of the house. Harry had gotten use to that too.
“Did they say why they came? Or when they would be back?”
“No Master, they is saying they is coming to talk with Master. They is saying they is seeing Master tomorrow before the Malfoys’ trails.”
Harry sighed. At least he would get a bit of rest before having to face Ron and Hermione. “Right. Thank you, Kreacher.”
“Would Master like a glass of brandy or Fire Whiskey?”
Harry opened his mouth to day no, but thought better of it. “Yes, brandy would be lovely.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Harry spent an hour in the library going through a book on potions. He had been studying his least favourite subject all summer in between everything else he had to do. While he knew he had wanted to go back to Hogwarts in order to finish his 7th year of schooling, he was not quite certain what he wanted to do after he was done with school. So he was brushing up on subjects he knew he was pants at so he could have a better time of it once he got back to Hogwarts.
He was lucky to have found various potions books in the Black library. While some of them were advanced materials, a lot of them were written for beginners ad explained things in detail and easily enough for Harry to understand. It made Harry believe that if he had had any other teacher beside Snape, who hated him so, or Slughorn, who practically adored him, he might have been rather good at potions. After all, he had been rather good at brewing the potions in sixths year. Even with the additions that the young Snape had made. He had even gone back and researched why some of the changes that his old Potions Professor had made worked so well. He might have done more if he had not been so involved with the Horcruxes and following Malfoy.
Once he got started thinking of Malfoy he lost interest in his book. He spent another hour or so thinking about following Malfoy, about his earlier encounter with Malfoy. He spent a good 15 minutes on that kiss alone. But he spent a great many minutes thinking about the instructions he was going to send Malfoy. He would have to send an owl before dinner so that Malfoy would be prepared to receive him.
After formulating a plan of action Harry called Kreacher to bring him a quill and parchment. He was ready to write Malfoy a letter of instructions.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Harry finished his letter and went up to his room. He had something he wanted to include with the letter.
Once in his bedroom, he placed the letter on his bed and rummaged through his dresser for the package he had placed in there a couple of weeks ago.
Harry’s bedroom had been redone in what he liked to refer to as ‘luxurious simplicity’.
He had almost gone with the traditional Gryffindor colour scheme of red and gold, but in a peak of rebellion he had chosen greens, blues and silvers. The finished result was a rather simple and elegant room; very comfortable and very liveable. Harry had come into the room once the decorator had finished her work and his first thought had been that maybe the Sorting Hat had been correct after all. He quite liked the relaxing feeling that the green added to the room. The blue was calming and the silver was added just the right amount of elegance; something that Harry was grateful for after sleeping in a tent of almost a year.
When Harry found the white box embossed with the Harrods logo that he was searching for, he pulled it out with an “A-ha” disregarding the mess he had left of his garments. He carried the box to his bed before opening it to reveal what was inside.
Inside the box, carefully laid out in tissue, was a silk pyjama set. The silk was a deep red, the colour of freshly drawn blood; it had silver stitching. There was a silk button-up shirt, a pair of silk draw sting trousers. But the item that Harry was looking for was under these. It was a silk red robe. It too was stitched in silver and had a breast pocket. Embroider on the pocket in the silver thread was the initials HJP. Harry James Potter.
Harry smirked. It was not something he did often, but he could not help but smirk when he imaged the haughty Draco Malfoy opening the package that he was going to send. He conjured a box and placed the robe inside, taking some tissue from the other box to wrap it properly. As he stepped of out of his room, he could not help but think that Draco would look good in red. He was still smirking when the door closed behind him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Draco paced back and forth in his room. He was nervous. He looked up at the clock. It was a quarter past 6. Potter would be here later. Potter was going to be in his home for the second time in one day. Harry Potter was going to have his wicked way with him. Draco’s eyes drifted towards his bed. Harry Bloody Potter was going to use his body in that bed!
“No, Draco stopped pacing, “I will not have Potter in my room!” But what if he insists? He continued pacing. He had no idea what to expect. Yes, he had considered the possibility of having sex one day. What teenage boy didn’t? But he had always imagined that his experienced with sex would be with a women. Never in his wildest dream...
Draco stopped pacing once again and sat at his bed. Actually, if he was honest with himself, some of his dreams had been rather, um, had involved another man. He buried his face in his hands. If he really dug down deep into his subconscious, he could remember having had a dream or two that involved Potter. One in particular stood out at this moment.
He had encountered Potter in a corridor at Hogwarts. They had butted heads. Arguing had ended with a few punched being thrown. They had somehow ended up on the floor, wrestling. Quite suddenly they were no longer struggling against each other. As dreams go, they were unexpectedly naked, writhing. Then Draco remembered waking up sticky. That had been his first ever wet dream. He had been ashamed and he had tried to forget it. However, now that the possibility of it coming to pass was very real, his brain decided to unbury it.
There was a tap at his window; Draco lifted his head from his hands, lowering them slowly. It was an owl. He went to the window, unlatched it and the owl flew in. It was beautiful; snowy white, but not the same as the old one. Draco remembered having read something about Potter losing his owl during the war. How sad, to lose a beloved pet like that.
He took the package tied to its leg and gave it an owl treat. It remains seated on his window sill, resting. London was a long ways off. Or it could be waiting for a reply, thought Draco.
He placed the package on this bed. There was an envelope attached to the top. He removed it and opened it. It was from Potter.
Malfoy,
I have taken into consideration that fact that you will be nervously awaiting tonight. For this reason I thought it best to provide you with a helpful set of instructions.
(Draco’s mouth dropped open. The gall of the man. A set of instructions indeed. )
I will be arriving at precisely 9 o’clock this night. I suggest you do not skip dinner as you will be needing your strength. After you have dined, you will want to take a relaxing shower or bath; whichever is your preference.
Once you have bathed, you are to instruct your house-elf that when I arrive, she is to lead me straight to your bedroom then leave us alone for the rest of the night. Do not worry; I will not require any refreshments. I will come prepared, so no need to make any other preparations.
Once you are again alone in your room, you are to don the garment that I am including with this letter. I do believe the colour will suit your completion perfectly.
When I arrive, I would like you to be waiting on your bed, wearing nothing but the garment I provide.
Until tonight,
HJP
Draco almost tore the letter into tiny pieces. The man was beyond much. Instead, he folded it and placed it aside. He took a few deep breathes. He was trying to drum up sufficient courage to open the package. For all he knew, Potter could wanted him to wear women’s undergarments.
He shuddered at the mere thought. Potter would not be that perverse, would he?
Draco looked at the package as if it had grown horns and started lecturing him on Care of Magical Creatures. He was about to step back from it, but then he remembered that his body now belonged to Potter. He had made the deal to save his mother. And if saving his mother meant donning women’s undergarments, then he would wear them, and wear them well.
With his new found determination Draco grasped the lid of the package and removed it. Tissue paper. . Right, have to get through the tissue paper to get to the frilly lingerie. He tossed the paper to the side. He would have Trudy tidy his bedroom while he was in the bath.
Once all the excess tissue paper was removed there remained a silky red robe. Draco picked it up. It was exquisite, despite it being red. It was not a Gryffindor red; he had to give Potter credit for that. It had wonderful silver stitching. He moved the box off this bed and stretched out the robe so he could get a good look at it. That was when he noticed. There on the breast pocket were three shining silver initials. HJP.
Draco could not believe the daring of that man. Potter was infuriating. No wonder he was always getting under his skin. To do something so garish as to make Draco wear something with his initials was too much. It was as if he was marking Draco as his property. It just about set his bloody to boil.
That anger is what allowed Draco to go about the rest of the evening as if it were any other evening. At 7 he had dinner. He ate angrily, all the time cursing Harry Potter and his list of instructions. At 8 he had Trudy prepare him a bath. He stepped into the water at ten past the hour. While he bathed he tried to relax. Just when his muscled were relaxing, he would think of Potter’s bloody red robe waiting for him on his bed and it set him on edge.
When the water finally started to turn cold, he had forgotten to place a charm on the water, he sighed and climbed out. It was time to get ready anyway. Despite there being only one piece of clothing to put on, he still had to go about his usual after bath regime.
At five to 9, Draco slipped on the red robe. He turned towards his mirror and had a good look at himself. He hated to admit it, but Potter had been right; this colour suited him very well.
The clock stuck the hour, and Draco settled himself onto his bed to wait for Potter. His anger had finally run out and he was all nervous again. He imagined he could hear Potter knocking on the front door of the Manor, despite it being too far. He tried to relax by picturing the scene taking place; Trudy opening the door, greeting Potter, bowing. But as he imaged Potter making his way up the stairs, walking through the halls, he began to shake.
Suddenly, there was a knock at his door. He had not expected Potter to knock. He had imaged that Potter would just barge in and immediately be on him, savage that he was. For this reason, Draco was taken aback for moment and took longer than necessary to answer.
“Come in.” His voice sounded small. He thought he had whispered and was about to repeat himself, but the door opened and in stepped Potter.
Chapter 3
Title: The Trade (Chapter 2)
Author: Black Silk
Pairing: H/D
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): Unbetated.
Word count: 3, 894
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling. I only put them in situations she would not; and if she did she would not dare publish them.
Author's note: I will try to update more frequently now. I rarely read through my fics before I post them so there will be errors and for this I apologize. If you see any glaring errors, point them out.
Summary: Draco Malfoy is desperate for Harry Potter's aid. In exchange for his help, Harry proposes a trade.
Draco could not believe what he had just agreed to. Harry Potter was now owner of his body to do with as he pleased. And he wanted a kiss to seal the deal? Draco must have dropped into an alternate universe where saviours were lustful and criminals were sex slaves. He technically was not a criminal, but it looked like he was on his way to becoming a love slave.
Draco took another second to goggle at Potter, but then lips were upon his own.
Bloody hell! Harry Potter is kissing me! Harry Bleeding Potter. Kissing me. Draco Blooming Malfoy. His nemesis for all of 7 years and…what not. At that point the shock wore off because his brain stopped working. Harry Potter was a really good kisser.
Draco could not help but melt into the kiss. Sure Potter was a male, and sure they had fought for years, but he had a talent mouth. And a talented tongue that was even then licking his lips and demanding entrance. What else was Draco to do but let it in and wrap his arms around Potters neck?
It was only natural that once Draco had his arms around Potter that Potter should want to have his arms around his waist. That’s exactly where they went. And when Potter’s tongue engaged his in a sort of war, Draco had no choice but to battle it. And it was only natural that Draco should moan when Potter tightened his arms around his waist, bringing them closer together.
Given all of that, Draco was not at all surprised when he felt his cock rub against Potter’s. He was also not surprised that Potter was hard because he too was growing rather aroused. Hence Draco decided that all he could do was press himself even closer, continue to enjoy the best kiss ever to be bestowed on him, and to moan shamelessly.
The kiss ended slowly. Potter pulled away almost reluctantly and Draco’s knees almost buckled. Thankfully he still had a hold of Potter and Potter’s hand quickly reached out to steady him.
Once Draco was able to stand on his own he took a step back and slowly unwound his arms from Potter’s neck. His mind was still a bit fuzzy, but he managed to get his eyes open. The first thing he saw was the smirk on Potter’s. His first thought was that he had not known that Gryffindor’s could smirk.
Potter’s hands were still on his waist and they seemed to be burning him despite his layers of clothing. The heat helped to bring him back to his senses. He cleared his throat. Potter’s smirk widened, but dropped his hands, slowly, caressingly. Draco shivered and took a shaky step back. After the kiss that they had just shared, the proximity was not letting Draco think clearly. Plus he could no longer meet Potter’s eyes.
He had acted in such a wonton fashion. It was not right to do such things in a library. Sure it was permitted in a bedroom, but not in the library. Never in the library. Never outside the bedroom.
What was he thinking? Such a thing was never to happen with Potter in any room. But he had just agreed to be Potter’s sex slave so it was bound to happen in any room. Heck, for all he knew Potter would demand to have him in the kitchen. He would have to order the house elves out if that were the case. He was not about to let them witness anything of that nature. Ever! The mere thought had him cringing.
Mockingly, Potter cleared his throat. Could a throat be cleared mockingly? If so Potter had just done it. What a pair we make. Clearing our throat like there is no tomorrow.
Draco snapped out of his ridiculous thoughts and completely stepped away from Potter’s hold, blushing all the while.
“Right. I will go now Malfoy. You will receive an owl from me later today".
Draco nodded. There was nothing else he could do. “I will see you out.” Draco took a step forward to do just that, but Potter stopped him with a raised hand.
“That’s okay; I can find my way back to the front door.” Potter strode out of the library leaving a flabbergasted Draco behind.
He sat down in Potter’s vacated chair and just stared into the distant, still not entirely convinced that what transpired in the last 20 minutes were actually real.
Had he really just agreed to be Potter’s sex slave in exchange for his testimony at his mother’s trial? And why did he keep using the term sex slave?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Harry had been very much surprised by Malfoy’s reaction to his kiss. He had not expected Malfoy to be so willing, so passionate, and so shameless with his moans. But there you have it.
He left the Malfoy library likely leaving behind a stunned Draco Malfoy. Harry was tempted to turn back and look, but decided that would be a bad idea. He might turn back and take Malfoy right then and there.
That thought shocked Harry. Since when had he been this attracted to Malfoy?
As he walked out the front door to the Malfoy Mansion, he realized that he had been attracted to Malfoy since maybe sixth year. That would explain why I was that obsessed with Malfoy. But he had not really known it or acknowledged it at the time because he was too busy worrying about Voldemort, horcruxes, Dumbledore’s dwindling health, classes, and just trying to stay alive.
Harry had been blind to a lot of things while he was being chased by a madman and forced by the whole of the Wizarding Society to battle said madman to the death. This is probably why when the whole thing was over and he had somehow managed to live that he sat down in a dark room and really gave his life some thought. He had come up with two things. The first being that he figured out was that he did not want to become an Auror. He was done fighting evil; done battling crazy overlords. So he would go back to Hogwarts and see what else he would like to do. The second epiphany he had was that he was no longer attracted to Ginny. Yes, she was pretty and yes he still loved her, but he loved her as Ron loved her. He wanted to protect her and keep her safe. That led to the realization that he was not attracted to her in particular and to girls in general.
So on the eve of the Great Hogwarts Battle, Harry Potter came to the realization that he was gay. Now, two months later, he comes to realize that not only is he gay, but he is attracted to Draco Malfoy, the boy who had lived to make the life of the Boy Who Lived miserable. Now that was a tongue twister.
Not only that, but Harry had just somehow managed to convince Draco Malfoy to be his sex slave. Harry suddenly pictured Malfoy dressed in a gold bikini chained to a bed in which a very fat Harry lay. He shook that image from his head.
No, he would not make Malfoy into his sex slave, Harry decided as he stepped through the gates and out of the Malfoy property. He would just torment Malfoy a little, get him squirming.
Just before he Apparated back to Grimmauld Place, he realized that tormenting Malfoy in the way he had planned would also mean tormenting himself. With a groan and a pop he was gone.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Harry landed on the front steps leading up to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He uttered an Alohomora and opens the door. He can feel the wards he has set as he steps through the threshold. Once the door was closed and bolted, Kreacher appeared in front Harry.
“Will Master be wanting any tea?”
“No, Kreacher. I just came from tea, but thank you.”
“Master had visitor while he was away.” Kreacher lead the way into the Black Library. It was the room in which Harry spent most of his time while he was in Number 12. It was the second room that Kreacher and Harry had put to rights. When Harry decided that he wanted to live in old Number 12 Grimmauld Place after the war, the master bedroom and adjoining bath had been the first rooms to be repaired and redecorated to suit Harry’s needs. The kitchen had already been repaired and made liveable when the Order had started living in the house.
For some reason that Harry could not quite pinpoint, he had settled into the Black Library and had made it his own. There were a handful of comfortable armchairs clustered at one side in front of the fireplace. It was not as big as the Malfoy Library, but it was sizable and had a good amount of rare books. A fact that Mundungus must not have been privy to or else he would have stolen and hocked them as well.
A few sturdy study tables were scattered between the stacks. There was a door lead to the hallway, but another door lead to a small study that Harry hoped to turn into a serviceable office for himself. He did not know for what he would need an office, but he liked the idea of leading people into his study and staring at them from behind his desk.
But that was later. Kreacher and Harry were already tackling the living room and the parlour on the ground floor. Ron and Hermione would come and help most days. And in the beginning of the summer a few of the Weasleys would also come and help, but after he made it clear to Ginny that he would not be getting back together with her, they came less often. Plus they had only been helping him put his house to rights because they wanted the physical labour to help them forget the one family member that was no longer there. Mrs. Weasley had always avoided the drawing room in which she had encounter the boggart that had turned into the dead bodies of her family members.
Harry waited until he was seated in an armchair next to the fire, which Kreacher was already tending, before he asked, “Who came to see me?” He thought he knew who it was.
“Mr Ron and Miss Hermione, master.” Kreacher had started out calling them Master and Mistress, but Hermione had objected so profusely that Harry had to order Kreacher to stop. Kreacher had refused to call him by anything other than Master since he was the owner of the house. Harry had gotten use to that too.
“Did they say why they came? Or when they would be back?”
“No Master, they is saying they is coming to talk with Master. They is saying they is seeing Master tomorrow before the Malfoys’ trails.”
Harry sighed. At least he would get a bit of rest before having to face Ron and Hermione. “Right. Thank you, Kreacher.”
“Would Master like a glass of brandy or Fire Whiskey?”
Harry opened his mouth to day no, but thought better of it. “Yes, brandy would be lovely.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Harry spent an hour in the library going through a book on potions. He had been studying his least favourite subject all summer in between everything else he had to do. While he knew he had wanted to go back to Hogwarts in order to finish his 7th year of schooling, he was not quite certain what he wanted to do after he was done with school. So he was brushing up on subjects he knew he was pants at so he could have a better time of it once he got back to Hogwarts.
He was lucky to have found various potions books in the Black library. While some of them were advanced materials, a lot of them were written for beginners ad explained things in detail and easily enough for Harry to understand. It made Harry believe that if he had had any other teacher beside Snape, who hated him so, or Slughorn, who practically adored him, he might have been rather good at potions. After all, he had been rather good at brewing the potions in sixths year. Even with the additions that the young Snape had made. He had even gone back and researched why some of the changes that his old Potions Professor had made worked so well. He might have done more if he had not been so involved with the Horcruxes and following Malfoy.
Once he got started thinking of Malfoy he lost interest in his book. He spent another hour or so thinking about following Malfoy, about his earlier encounter with Malfoy. He spent a good 15 minutes on that kiss alone. But he spent a great many minutes thinking about the instructions he was going to send Malfoy. He would have to send an owl before dinner so that Malfoy would be prepared to receive him.
After formulating a plan of action Harry called Kreacher to bring him a quill and parchment. He was ready to write Malfoy a letter of instructions.
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Harry finished his letter and went up to his room. He had something he wanted to include with the letter.
Once in his bedroom, he placed the letter on his bed and rummaged through his dresser for the package he had placed in there a couple of weeks ago.
Harry’s bedroom had been redone in what he liked to refer to as ‘luxurious simplicity’.
He had almost gone with the traditional Gryffindor colour scheme of red and gold, but in a peak of rebellion he had chosen greens, blues and silvers. The finished result was a rather simple and elegant room; very comfortable and very liveable. Harry had come into the room once the decorator had finished her work and his first thought had been that maybe the Sorting Hat had been correct after all. He quite liked the relaxing feeling that the green added to the room. The blue was calming and the silver was added just the right amount of elegance; something that Harry was grateful for after sleeping in a tent of almost a year.
When Harry found the white box embossed with the Harrods logo that he was searching for, he pulled it out with an “A-ha” disregarding the mess he had left of his garments. He carried the box to his bed before opening it to reveal what was inside.
Inside the box, carefully laid out in tissue, was a silk pyjama set. The silk was a deep red, the colour of freshly drawn blood; it had silver stitching. There was a silk button-up shirt, a pair of silk draw sting trousers. But the item that Harry was looking for was under these. It was a silk red robe. It too was stitched in silver and had a breast pocket. Embroider on the pocket in the silver thread was the initials HJP. Harry James Potter.
Harry smirked. It was not something he did often, but he could not help but smirk when he imaged the haughty Draco Malfoy opening the package that he was going to send. He conjured a box and placed the robe inside, taking some tissue from the other box to wrap it properly. As he stepped of out of his room, he could not help but think that Draco would look good in red. He was still smirking when the door closed behind him.
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Draco paced back and forth in his room. He was nervous. He looked up at the clock. It was a quarter past 6. Potter would be here later. Potter was going to be in his home for the second time in one day. Harry Potter was going to have his wicked way with him. Draco’s eyes drifted towards his bed. Harry Bloody Potter was going to use his body in that bed!
“No, Draco stopped pacing, “I will not have Potter in my room!” But what if he insists? He continued pacing. He had no idea what to expect. Yes, he had considered the possibility of having sex one day. What teenage boy didn’t? But he had always imagined that his experienced with sex would be with a women. Never in his wildest dream...
Draco stopped pacing once again and sat at his bed. Actually, if he was honest with himself, some of his dreams had been rather, um, had involved another man. He buried his face in his hands. If he really dug down deep into his subconscious, he could remember having had a dream or two that involved Potter. One in particular stood out at this moment.
He had encountered Potter in a corridor at Hogwarts. They had butted heads. Arguing had ended with a few punched being thrown. They had somehow ended up on the floor, wrestling. Quite suddenly they were no longer struggling against each other. As dreams go, they were unexpectedly naked, writhing. Then Draco remembered waking up sticky. That had been his first ever wet dream. He had been ashamed and he had tried to forget it. However, now that the possibility of it coming to pass was very real, his brain decided to unbury it.
There was a tap at his window; Draco lifted his head from his hands, lowering them slowly. It was an owl. He went to the window, unlatched it and the owl flew in. It was beautiful; snowy white, but not the same as the old one. Draco remembered having read something about Potter losing his owl during the war. How sad, to lose a beloved pet like that.
He took the package tied to its leg and gave it an owl treat. It remains seated on his window sill, resting. London was a long ways off. Or it could be waiting for a reply, thought Draco.
He placed the package on this bed. There was an envelope attached to the top. He removed it and opened it. It was from Potter.
Malfoy,
I have taken into consideration that fact that you will be nervously awaiting tonight. For this reason I thought it best to provide you with a helpful set of instructions.
(Draco’s mouth dropped open. The gall of the man. A set of instructions indeed. )
I will be arriving at precisely 9 o’clock this night. I suggest you do not skip dinner as you will be needing your strength. After you have dined, you will want to take a relaxing shower or bath; whichever is your preference.
Once you have bathed, you are to instruct your house-elf that when I arrive, she is to lead me straight to your bedroom then leave us alone for the rest of the night. Do not worry; I will not require any refreshments. I will come prepared, so no need to make any other preparations.
Once you are again alone in your room, you are to don the garment that I am including with this letter. I do believe the colour will suit your completion perfectly.
When I arrive, I would like you to be waiting on your bed, wearing nothing but the garment I provide.
Until tonight,
HJP
Draco almost tore the letter into tiny pieces. The man was beyond much. Instead, he folded it and placed it aside. He took a few deep breathes. He was trying to drum up sufficient courage to open the package. For all he knew, Potter could wanted him to wear women’s undergarments.
He shuddered at the mere thought. Potter would not be that perverse, would he?
Draco looked at the package as if it had grown horns and started lecturing him on Care of Magical Creatures. He was about to step back from it, but then he remembered that his body now belonged to Potter. He had made the deal to save his mother. And if saving his mother meant donning women’s undergarments, then he would wear them, and wear them well.
With his new found determination Draco grasped the lid of the package and removed it. Tissue paper. . Right, have to get through the tissue paper to get to the frilly lingerie. He tossed the paper to the side. He would have Trudy tidy his bedroom while he was in the bath.
Once all the excess tissue paper was removed there remained a silky red robe. Draco picked it up. It was exquisite, despite it being red. It was not a Gryffindor red; he had to give Potter credit for that. It had wonderful silver stitching. He moved the box off this bed and stretched out the robe so he could get a good look at it. That was when he noticed. There on the breast pocket were three shining silver initials. HJP.
Draco could not believe the daring of that man. Potter was infuriating. No wonder he was always getting under his skin. To do something so garish as to make Draco wear something with his initials was too much. It was as if he was marking Draco as his property. It just about set his bloody to boil.
That anger is what allowed Draco to go about the rest of the evening as if it were any other evening. At 7 he had dinner. He ate angrily, all the time cursing Harry Potter and his list of instructions. At 8 he had Trudy prepare him a bath. He stepped into the water at ten past the hour. While he bathed he tried to relax. Just when his muscled were relaxing, he would think of Potter’s bloody red robe waiting for him on his bed and it set him on edge.
When the water finally started to turn cold, he had forgotten to place a charm on the water, he sighed and climbed out. It was time to get ready anyway. Despite there being only one piece of clothing to put on, he still had to go about his usual after bath regime.
At five to 9, Draco slipped on the red robe. He turned towards his mirror and had a good look at himself. He hated to admit it, but Potter had been right; this colour suited him very well.
The clock stuck the hour, and Draco settled himself onto his bed to wait for Potter. His anger had finally run out and he was all nervous again. He imagined he could hear Potter knocking on the front door of the Manor, despite it being too far. He tried to relax by picturing the scene taking place; Trudy opening the door, greeting Potter, bowing. But as he imaged Potter making his way up the stairs, walking through the halls, he began to shake.
Suddenly, there was a knock at his door. He had not expected Potter to knock. He had imaged that Potter would just barge in and immediately be on him, savage that he was. For this reason, Draco was taken aback for moment and took longer than necessary to answer.
“Come in.” His voice sounded small. He thought he had whispered and was about to repeat himself, but the door opened and in stepped Potter.
Chapter 3