Fic: The Dragon Keeper
Title: The Dragon Keeper (8/10)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: M
Wordcount: ~25,000
Warnings: Sexual Content, Language, EWE
Summary: “You must have a death wish, Potter. Dark Lords and now dragons... Christ."
Thank you for the reviews!
xxx
I wander around the city. Onlookers might think it poetic, but truth be told, I haven’t the slightest idea how to get back to camp from here. It’s getting darker, and the panhandlers are relentless, as though they can smell my family’s money on me. Unfortunately, it didn’t save us when we most needed it to, and it sure as hell isn’t going to save me now.
I’ve half a mind to go back and try to find Harry… maybe even let him kiss me… maybe I’ll even say I’m sorry. It’s a nice thought, and it keeps me warm for a moment, but I know that it won’t matter if I do. Reality is a breath away, even in our dreams, and he’ll soon realize that he’s been careless to forget that.
It’d take one hour back in London, hand in hand with me to realize that whatever notions he’d entertained of us being together… whatever hopes he might have had for us… were as intangible as the sunlight he’d shown me spilling through the cracks of the covered bridge. It’s beautiful, sure, but it can’t last for long.
I hold a fag up to my lips and light it with my Ministry-issued wand. I’ve not brought along a lighter with me, despite the fact that I should have known at some point during this trip, I’d desperately need a cigarette.
It’s just my luck that I’d be spotted holding up what amounts to a stick in a Muggle’s mind and creating fire.
“How’d you do that?”
I blink in the voice’s general direction - they really do need better streetlights in this antique remnant of a city - and frown. “Pardon me?”
“Magic! He just did magic!” A small crowd is gathering, and regardless of the fact that Malfoy’s don’t panic, I begin to. They peer closer at my wand, which I hastily shove back into its holster on the inside of my sleeve and back away until my spine hits stone. The very last thing that I need is to be caught breaking the Statute, because that will be the straw that breaks the camel’s back, as they say, and I will be in Azkaban by the morning. Possibly sooner, if the Ministry can manage to find me a cell on such short notice.
For me, I think they’d make the extra effort.
I can’t decide if I’m lucky or just that much more unlucky when my Romanian bloke from our first trip into the city pushes through the disturbance I’ve caused and begins to spew out the local language so rapidly that I’m slightly shocked even the residents can understand him. They give mild bleats of disappointment and begin to disperse without looking back at me. Apparently, not even my extraordinary good looks are enough to make up for the fact that I’m no longer under suspicion of being a wizard.
“You ought to keep that in your pocket, beautiful boy.”
I snort and take a long drag off of my cigarette. “I think most men would disagree with you there.”
He blinks for a second until a look of understanding dawns on his face, and he laughs. “You are funny.”
“Occasionally.”
“Where are your friends?” My Romanian - I tell myself I have to stop calling him that - looks at me with concerned dark eyes that I could just fall into and forget all about Harry Potter and his ridiculous hair, and his broad shoulders, and his honest green eyes…
“Somewhere else, presumably glad to be rid of me for the moment.” I study him impassively, my grey eyes flat and empty. He looks concerned. It makes me dislike him immensely.
“Ah - then you will come with Lucian?”
I sputter. “Lucian?? Your name is Lucian? Oh for fuck’s sake…” Any thoughts I might have entertained about sleeping him immediately flee my mind and are replaced with my father’s surly gaze staring down at me, saturated with an immense disapproval for my unfortunate habit of preferring men over women.
“You do not like my name…”
“Oh no, it’s not- well yes, your name is fairly horrible,” I concede. “Look, you’re a wizard? I had no idea. That’s wonderful. Positively spiffing…”
He looks very pleased with himself. “Yes, I-”
I hold up my hand. No one interrupts a Malfoy whilst they are trying to speak. “I’ve got somewhere I need to be. But you’re a wizard, and you can Apparate me there. Yes?”
“Yes…” He looks slightly confused and I wonder if something I’ve said hasn’t translated properly.
“I will reward you with… well, I haven’t got anything - I’m just a poor boy with a nasty addiction to cigarettes,” and boys with messy black hair and green eyes, I think silently, and I’m not sure which of those addictions is really the worst one, “but my friend does, and he will reward you handsomely, I assure you.”
If I thought he looked confused before, he now looks thoroughly perplexed. “Ah - okay.”
“Good.” I grab his arm. “The Dragon Reserve. Let’s go.”
Harry won’t mind.
Much.
xxx
I drag Lucian into Harry and I’s tent, and a look of understand crosses his tanned face. I notice, for the first time, that he has the kind of cheekbones that make girls swoon and the kind of dark shaggy hair that I’ve always had a small weakness for. “Oh, I understand…” His hand reaches up to cup my jaw and tilt my chin up, and before I can say something suitably scathing, he kisses me.
I’m too caught off guard to pull away immediately, and of course, being the stumbling dolt that he is, Potter chooses that moment to make an appearance.
I take a few steps backward, my face cool and defiant, though I’m inwardly horrified. Oh God, I’m sorry, this isn’t what it looks like… oh God, oh God, oh God… Of course, I say nothing and let him come to his own conclusions.
“This is your friend?” Lucian asks, clearly oblivious.
“Of a sort. Harry, be a dear and give him a tip. He was kind enough to see to it that I got home safely.”
“Oh, I think you’ve made it up to him.”
I consider this for a moment. “Too right. Lucian, thank you. You may go.”
The Romanian shrugs, apparently having determined that I’m far too much trouble, and honestly, who could disagree with him? “Good night, beautiful boy.” He leans in to kiss my cheek and a look of severe annoyance crosses Harry’s face behind him.
Once Lucian leaves, Harry and I are left standing across from each other. Truthfully, I’m a bit frightened. He looks rather murderous.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Malfoy.”
I shrug.
“You prefer him? When I was ready to give you the world?” A dull ache rises up in my chest and I wince. “I want you, Draco. I want you so damn much, and you… you just throw other men in my face like it’s nothing…” The look of hurt on his face is too much, and I close the distance between us.
“He even looks like me,” he adds in a small, defeated voice.
I wrinkle my nose. “He didn’t. He- okay, well yes. I suppose he sort of did. Purely a coincidence, I assure you.” I let my hands rest on his hips and a wave of desire rolls over me, catching me off guard and threatening to consume me entirely. “I want you, Harry. How can you be so stupid to believe anything else? How could you let me convince you that I didn’t? Idiot.”
He gives me a sheepish smile and I touch his cheek gently. “Harry…” I lean in and brush my lips against his. Just this time… just one last time, I think to myself. I need this. I can’t leave without feeling him again, without feeling his touch again, without tasting him again. I just can’t.
“Beautiful boy,” he says teasingly and I slap his shoulder.
“Shut up,” I instruct sternly before pushing him back onto his bed so I can straddle his hips and kiss him before he makes the mistake of saying anything else.
“Why?”
“So you can’t say anything that reminds me of why this is a bad idea.”
“It’s not-”
I kiss him harder. I want to bruise his lips and leave him with something to remind him of me in the morning. He groans and his calloused hands grab my hips, dragging them against his and creating the kind of friction between us that feels positively wicked and filthy and oh god I want more of it. Of him.
My hands reach up to deftly pull his shirt over his head, our kiss only breaking briefly to allow me the space and time to do it, and then my mouth is on his again, as if he’s the only thing I need to keep breathing. It occurs to me that without him, once he’s gone, I may well drown. But I can’t think about that right now.
My teeth rake down his throat and he moans my name, his hips still grinding against mine. I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it - he’s that far gone already. “Harry,” I say. “Lube.” He summons it from somewhere above his head and hands it to me, his eyes unfocused and half-lidded. He looks utterly debauched like this, and I love it. Love it.
Love him.
I pull off my shirt and watch, pleased, as his eyes roam hungrily over my chest before removing my trousers and pants as well. He moans, as if the mere sight of me is enough to bring him to the edge. God, the fact that it’s Harry Potter and it’s me who can reduce him to this desperate state…
I know right now, he would do anything… anything at all for me, and the power it gives me is intoxicating, regardless of who exactly is fucking who.
After I’ve slicked up my fingers, I reach behind me and, with my eyes focused on his, slide one, then two inside of me with a low groan. “Fuck, Draco,” he says. His cock lays heavily on his stomach and his balls are already drawn up tight against his body.
Regardless of any incoherent babble he has to say at the moment, I know that’s not what this is. We’re not just fucking. I know what that’s like, and I know it well. This is him trying to reassure me. This is him trying to make me believe things that aren’t true.
And this is me saying goodbye.
I hold the base of his cock and slide down it slowly, my eyes clenched shut and my breathing ragged until I’ve taken all of him. “Harry…” I murmur. His hands run over my sides soothingly and I begin to move.
“Oh god…” His head falls back, though his eyes never leave mine.
We move together, our bodies melded together as though they were supposed to be like this. Sex has never felt like this for me. Sex had always been used to make me feel powerless, but right now, with Harry, I feel empowered. My hand drops down to my own leaking cock and I smear my own precome over its length. It feels bloody fantastic, and I know I’m not going to be able to make this last, no matter how much I might want to.
“I’m going to come…” I murmur dizzily. I’m certain I look just as far gone as Harry does at this point.
I don’t mind.
“Come for me, Draco,” he whispers, and I do, as though my body is reacting to his words and his words alone.
And then he reaches for my fingers and smears my own come all over them before bringing them to his lips. His takes them into his mouth hungrily, his eyes still on mine as his tongue laps up my come. Then, he squeezes his eyes shut and with a small shout, shudders as he climaxes. “No,” I say desperately. “No, look at me.” His eyes fly open with some effort, and I drink in the sight of him lying there underneath me with a look of utter bliss on his face as I think to myself, I did this. I made him feel like this.
I collapse on top of him, and he pulls me in close, his lips brushing against my forehead. “Harry…” I gasp.
“Don’t leave,” he commands. “Stay with me.”
I sigh, my breath ghosting over his skin. “Okay.”
After lying so many times, you can convince even yourself that you’re telling the truth.
xxx
I roll out of bed before dawn and throw my belongings in a rucksack without pausing to check if it’s mine or Harry’s. I’ve no portkey and no way of apparating, side-along or otherwise and thus have a long trek ahead of me. The train leaves at nine o’clock, which means I have approximately four hours to get to town. I frown at the thought. Then I remember that I’m leaving for good, which means I probably won’t be seeing the bespectacled git I’ve been bunking with for quite some time after this and suddenly, physical exertion seems like nothing in comparison.
I heft the rucksack higher on my shoulder and frown as Harry stirs. The sorry sod is such a heavy sleeper that he hadn’t even stirred when I’d crawled over him to get out of his bed, so I’m fairly comfortable in the knowledge that he won’t wake up know. Still, I sort of wish that he would.
Instead, he simply rolls back over and begins to snore softly. That’s one good reason for why we could never work out.
I can’t sleep with someone who snores like he does.
I pull the tent flap back and turn to look at his sleeping form. Had someone told me that I’d be here now, feeling these things for Harry Potter, I’d have laughed at them. Against all odds though, I do feel them and I know I will for quite some time, regardless of the distance I’m about to put between us.
“I think I love you,” I say softly. “And I’m so sorry.”
I leave and begin my walk to train that will take me away from here.
Away from Harry.