Two of Wands
Title: Two of Wands
Author: violetage
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. They belong to JKR and her assorted publishers and Warner Bros. I'm only playing with them as entertainment and no harm is meant.
Other Disclaimer: This fic is not suitable for minors. It says plainly it is not suitable for minors and I expect parents to be looking at what their children are doing on the internet. If you don't, sorry, not my responsibility.
Wordcount: 3983
Summary: Hermione nags Harry into doing something about his hermit like existence, and he immediately runs into an intensely attractive Draco Malfoy.
Notes: Written for awdt prompt, "It's not enough." and for hd_atdaclub which is a community for fanfics centered on Harry and Draco in a club atmosphere and for latteunicorns who requested black leather pants and kohl rimmed eyes in this post requesting prompts. Whew, I think I got it all.
More Notes: I realized after I was about half-way through this fic that having Harry and Draco refer to each other as Phoenix and Dragon sort of echoed the Dragon and Phoenix references in romaine24's splendid multichaptered fic "Double Edged Sword." This fic in no other way has any resemblance to hers but I wanted to acknowledge that one thing though it was unintentional. I think that Dragon and Phoenix are very appropriate nicknames for Draco and Harry :D
"You have to start getting out more," Hermione intoned, evidently unconsciously channeling Trelawny when she was in full doom and gloom mode.
"Why?" Harry asked reasonably, looking up from his magazine. It was titled, "Charms Unlimited." He slipped a fingertip in his page and used his other hand to push his new glasses up his nose. The stylish wire rims were not as heavy as his old ones and he still wasn't used to them.
"Because you're turning into a Hermit and you're only 22 years old, that's why," Hermione said sharply, putting her hands on her hips and standing there as if she intended to stay until Harry agreed or until Hell froze over whichever came first.
Harry hesitated, trying to think what to say. "I like being alone," he finally answered, trying for a conciliating tone.
"Like hell you do!" Hermione tossed back her curly locks impatiently. "I know you needed time after the War and after Ginny but it's been years now."
Wincing, Harry put the magazine aside, carefully creasing the page, and stood up. "D'you want some tea?" he asked, deliberately choosing not to answer Hermione's statement. He glanced once around the comfortable library done in shades of warm cream, a hint of gold and soft green. He liked it here. Who knew that Grimmauld could be made so livable with a liberal application of galleons?
"Oh, fine. Black, please," Hermione answered, huffing a little. She didn't look ready to give up the argument though, Harry decided, as he led the way down the hall to the kitchen.
It too had been completely redone, including punching a wall out to be replaced by windows. He smiled distractedly at the glimpse of his roses growing riotously in the small garden at the back of the house.
"I'm happy the way I am, Hermione," Harry said quietly while he quickly prepared blueberry scones for the two of them to share to go with the tea. He didn't like much other cooking, but he enjoyed teatime baking.
Hermione opened her mouth and closed it again as the tea kettle whistled. She sat down at the small table and watched Harry doing all the little things that went with preparing tea. She wished he could see himself the way she did.
"Harry, you're content, not happy," she finally said when Harry pushed across her teacup and sat down.
"Isn't that enough?" Harry asked, raising one brow.
"Enough isn't what you deserve," Hermione answered, reaching across to pat Harry's hand where it lay on the table. "You're a fine wizard and a handsome one, and you deserve to be deliriously happy, not merely content," she reiterated in tones of complete certainty.
Harry sighed. "I wouldn't know deliriously happy if it sat up and bit me, Hermione," he confessed softly, picking at crumbs from his scone.
Hermione took a deep breath and ventured into deep, dangerous waters. "When was the last time you had sex, Harry?"
"Hermione!" Harry pulled his hand away from his friend's and crossed his arms defensively.
"That's exactly my point. I know it was hard, admitting that you like men more than women, especially to Ginny. I know Ron and Molly didn't respond all that well at first and then with all that rubbish in the Prophet..." Hermione trailed off and then soldiered on a moment later. "But Harry, you're a young man. You should be out meeting other young men, shagging or whatever else takes your fancy. Not...closing yourself away because of what someone else might think!"
Harry sighed after a long moment. "I don't care so much about what people think now, Hermione," he began slowly. "It's just, I don't want to be Harry bloody Potter, Hero, everywhere I go. No one wants me, speccy git with glasses who likes baking and growing roses and shopping. They want, something I'm not."
"Then you go somewhere so exclusive, so bloody expensive that you're just one of the rarified breed who occupies that heady space," Hermione answered, looking determined. "And who cares if some of them want to shag you without knowing you. You're 22, you're not married, why shouldn't you have a few meaningless rolls in the hay?"
"You know that's not me," Harry answered but with the beginnings of a smile.
"I bet you'd like it if you tried it," Hermione teased, smiling back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry was remembering that conversation with a mingling of nervousness, hope, and interest as the double doors of the most exclusive gay club in Wizarding Britain, Two of Wands, opened for him exactly three weeks after Hermione talked him into this mad plan of hers.
His hair, a little longish for his tastes hung in glossy disarray just past his shoulders. The stylist claimed it gave him a touchable just-shagged look. He was dressed in a leather vest over his bare chest, the soft finely tooled near-black hide concealed almost nothing from the avid eyes of other club goers. The vest did do one thing though, half revealing the tiny gold piercings, one in each nipple, that he'd gotten as a kind of rebellion once he realized his tastes ran to blokes rather than birds.
He was wearing snug fitting trousers made of what looked like velvet brocade, slung low on his hips and leaving very little to the imagination. The fabric was much cooler than velvet but it was soft and plush to the touch when Harry nervously smoothed his damp palms over his thighs.
Last, but not least, he was wearing finely tooled boots that matched the vest, faintly glossy in the light. He'd told Hermione privately he thought he looked ridiculous but his friend had insisted he looked "Scrumptious," whatever that meant.
So here he was. Trying to stay calm, Harry threaded his way through the decent sized crowd to the bar that ran partway along one wall. The walls themselves were dark, the floor a mixture of black marble and white semi-transparent material that looked a bit like mother of pearl. The DJ booth was centered on the dance floor, surrounded by clear walls and Harry had just accepted a pale green cocktail from the barely legal blond behind the bar when he heard a voice he'd never, ever expected to hear again.
"Well, well, well," the voice drawled lazily. It seemed to exude from the very walls around Harry, layered over a throbbing beat that Harry didn't recognize. "Look who just walked in here, boys. Sexiest damned thing on two legs with eyes greener than the Killing Curse. Hands off him, studs, this is Dragon and the Hero is all mine."
The voice faded to be replaced by a smoky voiced woman singing about needing a hero. There was a flutter of laughter around the club and Harry fought a deep flush at being pointed out so early in the night, taking a large swallow of his drink. The door to the booth opened and closed and he spotted a pale blond head emerging.
Just his luck. Draco fucking Malfoy was the DJ here. Deliberately not looking in Malfoy's direction, he smiled rather desperately down the bar to where a brown haired man seemed to be ogling him enthusiastically. Merlin, he had no idea how to do this. He must have been having an attack of madness to let Hermione talk him into this.
The hand that settled warmly on Harry's shoulder was not a surprise, but it was a shock. Long fingers trailed against Harry's neck as their owner circled around to his line of sight. Draco Malfoy stood there with a faint smirk on his face and Harry knew right then he was in deep, deep trouble.
He opened his mouth and no sound came out. Malfoy didn't seem particularly interested in talking which in a way was good because Harry couldn't help but eat up the way Malfoy looked right now. There was an earring in the left ear, just visible beneath the chin length swing of Malfoy's hair. The pale hair looked like silk, touchably soft and Harry's fingers itched to see if it felt that soft. The features were less pinched than Harry remembered, having filled out in a way that was stunningly attractive. The fine dark line mixed with the startlingly black lashes around the gleaming silver-grey eyes had to be kohl Harry decided with a vague sense of shock.
Malfoy was slim, slimmer than Harry, all long bones and sleek muscle under the folds of an unbuttoned and ruffled tuxedo shirt with rather full sleeves fastened close at the wrists. There was the merest breath of pale chest hairs revealed there, a pendant in the shape of a sword dangling just beneath Malfoy's collar bones. Soft snug leather pants hitched low against the shape of sharp hipbones then clung to Malfoy's arse and thighs in a way that only nudged up Harry's interest.
He hadn't felt like this in so long, his chest ached with it and there was a roaring in his ears. It was all Harry could do to keep his hands to himself instead of dragging Malfoy (Malfoy!) into his lap right this moment.
"Hello, Malfoy," he greeted hoarsely, feeling goose bumps spread out over his body as he met the sensual grey gaze burning holes in him.
"Dragon."
"What?" Harry tried to blink, tried to tear his eyes away but he was confounded by the heat Malfoy seemed to be generating.
"Call me Dragon," Malfoy - er Dragon - explained. "I like it better and I want to hear you say it."
"Dragon," Harry repeated obediently, licking his lips.
Long lashes fluttered shut over Dragon's amazing eyes and Harry was transfixed by the expression of near-bliss on the other man's face. It just didn't make sense, how could the mere sound of his own voice have put that look there?
"Dragon," Harry said again, wondering if he looked half as confused and enthralled as he felt.
"Yes?" Dragon's eyes opened again and Harry let one hand drop unconsciously to settle ever so carefully against Dragon's waist. "What should I call you?" Dragon asked, leaning in a little against Harry as if it was the only place he wanted to be.
"I...I have no idea," Harry admitted. His cock gave a slow hot throb behind his trousers, arousal burning fiercely through his blood stream.
Dragon looked thoughtful a moment, fingertips playing with the length of Harry's hair so that Harry felt stunned by the amount of pleasure he got from those light strokes. He shivered.
"Phoenix," Dragon said. It was less of a question and more of a statement but Harry nodded. After all, he had died, twice.
"Phoenix," Harry agreed dizzily.
"Stay with me tonight, Phoenix," Dragon murmured and placed a chaste kiss on Harry's lips.
The warmth of plush lips against Harry's was gone so fast that he could almost have dreamed it. "If you want me to, Dragon," he said, easing his hand around towards the back of Dragon's waist to pull him closer.
"I have to work," Dragon murmured, letting himself rest a bit against Harry. Harry was sure there was a tone of regret in Dragon's voice and so he shrugged. "As long as I can be close to you, it's okay."
"Good," Dragon said and stepped back, sliding his hand down until he could take Harry's. He pulled Harry with him through the crowd and Harry followed where Dragon led him. He felt mesmerized, insulated in a feverish wall, insulated in something so fierce he couldn't begin to define it.
Dragon led Harry right into the booth with him, closing them in. He kissed Harry again on the lips and pushed him down into a stool in one corner of the small space. Harry could smell Dragon's cologne and the undertone of skin beneath it and it worked like some sort of drug. He was spellbound without even a glimpse of a wand.
Dragon's wand flickered, working the arcane devices in the small booth. He explained, in answer to Harry's question, that he played a mixture of Muggle and Wizarding music, overlaid with the kind of sensual almost animalistic beat that thrummed through the very walls of the club. Wizarding clubs had taken to Muggle music readily, Dragon murmured to Harry, especially with the introduction of magical devices that gave the same effect as Muggle electronics.
Harry felt that beat inside him, his heart pounding, his blood beating, his cock throbbing and wondered at his own ability to sit nearly quietly while Dragon worked his magic. He wasn't even all that surprised, somehow, that Dragon was here, doing what he was doing. It made, an odd kind of sense.
"I want you," he said into the rarified air of the booth some time later. His palms prickled with the need to lay them on Dragon's skin. His teeth ached with the potent desire that thrummed and shuddered between them.
Dragon turned to him, moved towards his corner, a flick of his wand ordering the music to continue without his attention for a moment. He took Harry's hand in his and drew it to the front of those enchanting leather trousers, pressed Harry's palm to the obvious hot bulge at his crotch.
"I want you," he breathed, blinking slowly as Harry cupped his hand more firmly against Dragon's captured erection. "If I didn't have to finish this set, I'd have you somewhere even halfway private faster than you can say Nox." Dragon muttered. "This is driving me insane."
"You feel it too?" Harry couldn't help but ask. This was all so surreal, so magical, he couldn't help asking.
"Oh, yes, Phoenix. I feel it, right to the soles of my feet, the top of my head," Dragon's words were so deep, so heartfelt that Harry couldn't doubt them.
Harry nodded and gave Dragon a slow squeeze, feeling the other man's cock twitch beneath the leather, his own cock throbbing in pure sympathy.
"You're going to kill me," Dragon muttered, pulling out of Harry's grasp reluctantly.
Time passed, but Harry barely felt it or sensed it. All of his being seemed to be attuned to Dragon and though that terrified a part of him, the rest of him exulted in it. However long this lasted, he would refuse to regret it, no matter what came after it.
A knock came at the booth door, and it opened, revealing a man with long poetic curls like a hero in one of the novels his Aunt Petunia used to read on the sly. He was wearing nothing but a pair of tight-fitting trousers and boots. Before he could speak, Dragon cut in. "You're late, Angel," he said, his voice sharp.
"Sorry, Dragon, had a little problem I had to handle. But I'm here now." The man called Angel sounded placating but his eyes were cool as they swept over Dragon and then over Harry. His lips curled into a smirk but he made no comment.
"I have other things to do than work half your set to cover for you," Dragon snarled, tugging the strap of a heavily embroidered bag over his shoulder. He reached with the other hand for Harry's and Harry stood up, threading his and Dragon's fingers together.
"I see that," Angel drawled, leering a bit.
"Keep your eyes and your hands off," Dragon hissed and though the blond was shorter than Angel, he still managed to look more than a bit threatening. Harry squeezed Dragon's hand.
Dragon tugged Harry out of the booth and away from Angel, into the crowd on the dance floor. The booth door closed and he swung around looking at Harry. "D'you want to stay and dance a bit, Phoenix, or do you want to come home with me?" he asked.
"Another time, I'd love to dance with you," Harry murmured, reaching out to draw Dragon closer. "Right now though, I need to be alone with you."
A quicksilver smile passed over Dragon's face and he kissed Harry softly. "I need to be alone with you." Both of Dragon's arms swept around Harry's waist and he felt the brief nothingness and sickness of Apparition.
They arrived in the sudden quiet of what looked like a very well-appointed parlor but Harry was given no opportunity to look around. Dragon dropped his bag where he stood and then pressed himself close against Harry, sliding his arms up and around Harry's neck to pull Harry's head down.
In an instant they were kissing, tongues tangling, lips bruising, teeth clicking, kissing so hard it almost hurt, kissing as if each was starving for the feel and taste and pressure of the other's mouth. Harry moaned into Dragon's mouth, hands sliding down Dragon's back to force his lean hips against Harry's that much tighter. He couldn't stop himself from grinding salaciously against Dragon, shuddering at the friction even through their clothes.
"Phoenix," Dragon muttered, arching his back and lifting one leg to curl it against Harry's hip. He was sliding against Harry, back and forth in such a sensuous rhythm that Harry thought he would come any second just from the feel of Dragon's body.
They were each clutching the other so tightly, Harry knew there would be bruises later and he couldn't care. "I need more," Harry half-growled, biting the slender column of Dragon's throat then stroking his tongue over the spot of reddened skin just to feel Dragon choke and shudder with pleasure.
Dragon's palms were spread flat over Harry's arse, pulling him in closer as if he couldn't get enough of the feel of their bodies pressed too tightly together for a slip of paper to pass between them.
"It isn't enough," Harry panted, toying with the sexy earring dangling from Dragon's ear.
"Not even close," Dragon agreed and pulled back ever so slightly. "I need you to fuck me, Phoenix," he said firmly, looking directly into Harry's eyes.
"Dragon," Harry half-moaned, half-growled the word. And then he was tearing off his clothes, watching Dragon do the same. In moments they were both naked, recalcitrant boots tossed aside along with everything else.
Harry was mesmerized by Dragon's naked body. He was slim and gorgeous and powerful in ways that made Harry's head swim. He wanted to do the most outrageously sexual things to Dragon and take his time about it while at the same time the long wait just to be here had his pulse pounding and his cock aching with lust.
"I need to...." he began, barely able to put the words together.
"Fuck, Phoenix," Dragon murmured and then Dragon almost flung himself against Harry's body and they were both falling onto the floor.
"I want to lick you and suck you and make you scream," Harry hissed, hands smoothing over Dragon's sides and hips and thighs, dropping his head to press kisses into Dragon's taut stomach. His grip on Dragon's hips held him still, drops of pre-come sliding enticingly down the shaft of Dragon's pretty prick.
"Phoe-nix, oh fuck, please," Dragon gasped, clutching at Harry, wrapping long, strong thighs around Harry's hips. One fingertip flicked one of Harry's nipple rings. "I want to see what you do when I lick these, suck your nipples, flick them in my mouth. I wonder if it'll make you fuck me harder...come harder...I want to do everything to you."
Harry couldn't stand it, just the thought of Dragon playing with his nipple rings was dragging him closer and closer to the edge. He found his wand, miraculously still within reach through his sexual haze, and murmured a lubrication charm. He hadn't the patience for finding the lube, if there was any, in Dragon's home. One fingertip caressed over the small pucker of Dragon's opening then slipped inside it as carefully as Harry's shaking hands could manage.
"You're going to kill me," Harry managed, nearly whining with desire. Dragon was so tight, so hot, squeezing his finger in a way that made Harry's cock pulse. He forced a second finger in beside the first, stroking deeper and faster.
"Please, Phoenix," Dragon begged. He was writhing against Harry's fingers, trembling all over and so fucking gorgeous it was bending Harry's brain.
He couldn't have stopped himself if he tried, not with Dragon begging him like that. His fingers slipped free and he pressed himself against the slick little opening, both hands gripping Dragon's hips. He pushed in slowly, carefully until he couldn't get any farther inside and had to hold his breath against the immediate explosive need to come.
"Godfuckinghell," Harry groaned as he began to move as slowly as he could stand. All he could see was Dragon's tense expression, his wide eyes. All he could hear was Dragon's whimpers and pleas.
"Harder, please harder," Dragon gasped, wrapping himself tighter around Harry.
"Touch....touch yourself," Harry answered, beginning to move faster and faster, their bodies slapping together. His whole body ached with pleasure, felt heavy and dark with lust in a way he couldn't describe, only feel. He pushed himself inside harder, more roughly in answer to Dragon's demands and whined through the rippling waves, so close to orgasm.
Dragon was rolling his hips, his eyes wide open and all pupil, his fist jerking at his cock in a frenzy of desire. It was the most erotic thing Harry had ever seen. "Come for me, Dragon, let me see it," he ordered, slamming himself inside Dragon hard in counterpoint to the words.
"Phoenix, Phoenix, Phoenix," Draco chanted and then he began to come, arching up so hard off the floor, pushing at Harry, taking every last bit of Harry's cock and then pulsing all around him, over him. Dragon screamed hoarsely, and Harry nearly bit his lip through as he fought to hold back while Dragon's arse squeezed him over and over.
Dragon's come sprayed over his chest and belly in thick glossy rivulets and Harry couldn't stand it another second. He slammed into Dragon's still sinfully squeezing arse once, twice, three times and then Harry was pouring himself into Dragon's body in an orgasm so violent he saw multicolored spots in front of his eyes.
His arms were shaking, his whole body was twitching with pleasure and Harry shifted them, half rolling both of them onto their sides so he wouldn't collapse onto Dragon
"Fucking hell," he breathed, kissing Dragon's brow and shivering all over. Dragon seemed unable to even talk, as yet, though he weakly returned Harry's kiss with a brush of lips to Harry's collarbone.
They lay there together while sweat dried and the shaking faded to a soft shiver occasionally. Harry's mind could not seem to quite take in what he had done and who he had done it with or even how utterly besotted he felt with Dragon right this moment.
Eventually, Dragon shifted up onto an elbow and looked at Harry. He looked almost as startled and wide-eyed as Harry felt. "I knew you'd be a fantastic shag, Phoenix, but I think you went well beyond that," he murmured in a low tone, skimming a hand over Harry's side.
"There's more where that came from," Harry answered, feeling the corner of his lips curve into a faint smirk.
"D'you know why I didn't want to use...old names," Dragon asked softly, his gray eyes looking serious and vulnerable though until now Harry would never have imagined that Dragon would look vulnerable. Not with him anyway.
"No," Harry answered, finding his wand and mumbling a soft cleaning spell before his fingers tenderlly began stroking Dragon's waist and hip.
"Because, I wanted it to be like...like we never had all that old history between us. Like this was new." Dragon's voice became so quiet that it was hard to hear and Harry felt his heart do a flip flop in his chest.
"I liked that too," he said after a moment.
"Does that mean, you want to continue?"
Harry pressed his lips to Dragon's in the same kind of almost chaste kiss which Dragon had given him the night before. "Of course."
He'd have to send Hermione the biggest box of chocolates Honeydukes made, along with a very large bouquet. Later.
Author: violetage
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. They belong to JKR and her assorted publishers and Warner Bros. I'm only playing with them as entertainment and no harm is meant.
Other Disclaimer: This fic is not suitable for minors. It says plainly it is not suitable for minors and I expect parents to be looking at what their children are doing on the internet. If you don't, sorry, not my responsibility.
Wordcount: 3983
Summary: Hermione nags Harry into doing something about his hermit like existence, and he immediately runs into an intensely attractive Draco Malfoy.
Notes: Written for awdt prompt, "It's not enough." and for hd_atdaclub which is a community for fanfics centered on Harry and Draco in a club atmosphere and for latteunicorns who requested black leather pants and kohl rimmed eyes in this post requesting prompts. Whew, I think I got it all.
More Notes: I realized after I was about half-way through this fic that having Harry and Draco refer to each other as Phoenix and Dragon sort of echoed the Dragon and Phoenix references in romaine24's splendid multichaptered fic "Double Edged Sword." This fic in no other way has any resemblance to hers but I wanted to acknowledge that one thing though it was unintentional. I think that Dragon and Phoenix are very appropriate nicknames for Draco and Harry :D
"You have to start getting out more," Hermione intoned, evidently unconsciously channeling Trelawny when she was in full doom and gloom mode.
"Why?" Harry asked reasonably, looking up from his magazine. It was titled, "Charms Unlimited." He slipped a fingertip in his page and used his other hand to push his new glasses up his nose. The stylish wire rims were not as heavy as his old ones and he still wasn't used to them.
"Because you're turning into a Hermit and you're only 22 years old, that's why," Hermione said sharply, putting her hands on her hips and standing there as if she intended to stay until Harry agreed or until Hell froze over whichever came first.
Harry hesitated, trying to think what to say. "I like being alone," he finally answered, trying for a conciliating tone.
"Like hell you do!" Hermione tossed back her curly locks impatiently. "I know you needed time after the War and after Ginny but it's been years now."
Wincing, Harry put the magazine aside, carefully creasing the page, and stood up. "D'you want some tea?" he asked, deliberately choosing not to answer Hermione's statement. He glanced once around the comfortable library done in shades of warm cream, a hint of gold and soft green. He liked it here. Who knew that Grimmauld could be made so livable with a liberal application of galleons?
"Oh, fine. Black, please," Hermione answered, huffing a little. She didn't look ready to give up the argument though, Harry decided, as he led the way down the hall to the kitchen.
It too had been completely redone, including punching a wall out to be replaced by windows. He smiled distractedly at the glimpse of his roses growing riotously in the small garden at the back of the house.
"I'm happy the way I am, Hermione," Harry said quietly while he quickly prepared blueberry scones for the two of them to share to go with the tea. He didn't like much other cooking, but he enjoyed teatime baking.
Hermione opened her mouth and closed it again as the tea kettle whistled. She sat down at the small table and watched Harry doing all the little things that went with preparing tea. She wished he could see himself the way she did.
"Harry, you're content, not happy," she finally said when Harry pushed across her teacup and sat down.
"Isn't that enough?" Harry asked, raising one brow.
"Enough isn't what you deserve," Hermione answered, reaching across to pat Harry's hand where it lay on the table. "You're a fine wizard and a handsome one, and you deserve to be deliriously happy, not merely content," she reiterated in tones of complete certainty.
Harry sighed. "I wouldn't know deliriously happy if it sat up and bit me, Hermione," he confessed softly, picking at crumbs from his scone.
Hermione took a deep breath and ventured into deep, dangerous waters. "When was the last time you had sex, Harry?"
"Hermione!" Harry pulled his hand away from his friend's and crossed his arms defensively.
"That's exactly my point. I know it was hard, admitting that you like men more than women, especially to Ginny. I know Ron and Molly didn't respond all that well at first and then with all that rubbish in the Prophet..." Hermione trailed off and then soldiered on a moment later. "But Harry, you're a young man. You should be out meeting other young men, shagging or whatever else takes your fancy. Not...closing yourself away because of what someone else might think!"
Harry sighed after a long moment. "I don't care so much about what people think now, Hermione," he began slowly. "It's just, I don't want to be Harry bloody Potter, Hero, everywhere I go. No one wants me, speccy git with glasses who likes baking and growing roses and shopping. They want, something I'm not."
"Then you go somewhere so exclusive, so bloody expensive that you're just one of the rarified breed who occupies that heady space," Hermione answered, looking determined. "And who cares if some of them want to shag you without knowing you. You're 22, you're not married, why shouldn't you have a few meaningless rolls in the hay?"
"You know that's not me," Harry answered but with the beginnings of a smile.
"I bet you'd like it if you tried it," Hermione teased, smiling back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry was remembering that conversation with a mingling of nervousness, hope, and interest as the double doors of the most exclusive gay club in Wizarding Britain, Two of Wands, opened for him exactly three weeks after Hermione talked him into this mad plan of hers.
His hair, a little longish for his tastes hung in glossy disarray just past his shoulders. The stylist claimed it gave him a touchable just-shagged look. He was dressed in a leather vest over his bare chest, the soft finely tooled near-black hide concealed almost nothing from the avid eyes of other club goers. The vest did do one thing though, half revealing the tiny gold piercings, one in each nipple, that he'd gotten as a kind of rebellion once he realized his tastes ran to blokes rather than birds.
He was wearing snug fitting trousers made of what looked like velvet brocade, slung low on his hips and leaving very little to the imagination. The fabric was much cooler than velvet but it was soft and plush to the touch when Harry nervously smoothed his damp palms over his thighs.
Last, but not least, he was wearing finely tooled boots that matched the vest, faintly glossy in the light. He'd told Hermione privately he thought he looked ridiculous but his friend had insisted he looked "Scrumptious," whatever that meant.
So here he was. Trying to stay calm, Harry threaded his way through the decent sized crowd to the bar that ran partway along one wall. The walls themselves were dark, the floor a mixture of black marble and white semi-transparent material that looked a bit like mother of pearl. The DJ booth was centered on the dance floor, surrounded by clear walls and Harry had just accepted a pale green cocktail from the barely legal blond behind the bar when he heard a voice he'd never, ever expected to hear again.
"Well, well, well," the voice drawled lazily. It seemed to exude from the very walls around Harry, layered over a throbbing beat that Harry didn't recognize. "Look who just walked in here, boys. Sexiest damned thing on two legs with eyes greener than the Killing Curse. Hands off him, studs, this is Dragon and the Hero is all mine."
The voice faded to be replaced by a smoky voiced woman singing about needing a hero. There was a flutter of laughter around the club and Harry fought a deep flush at being pointed out so early in the night, taking a large swallow of his drink. The door to the booth opened and closed and he spotted a pale blond head emerging.
Just his luck. Draco fucking Malfoy was the DJ here. Deliberately not looking in Malfoy's direction, he smiled rather desperately down the bar to where a brown haired man seemed to be ogling him enthusiastically. Merlin, he had no idea how to do this. He must have been having an attack of madness to let Hermione talk him into this.
The hand that settled warmly on Harry's shoulder was not a surprise, but it was a shock. Long fingers trailed against Harry's neck as their owner circled around to his line of sight. Draco Malfoy stood there with a faint smirk on his face and Harry knew right then he was in deep, deep trouble.
He opened his mouth and no sound came out. Malfoy didn't seem particularly interested in talking which in a way was good because Harry couldn't help but eat up the way Malfoy looked right now. There was an earring in the left ear, just visible beneath the chin length swing of Malfoy's hair. The pale hair looked like silk, touchably soft and Harry's fingers itched to see if it felt that soft. The features were less pinched than Harry remembered, having filled out in a way that was stunningly attractive. The fine dark line mixed with the startlingly black lashes around the gleaming silver-grey eyes had to be kohl Harry decided with a vague sense of shock.
Malfoy was slim, slimmer than Harry, all long bones and sleek muscle under the folds of an unbuttoned and ruffled tuxedo shirt with rather full sleeves fastened close at the wrists. There was the merest breath of pale chest hairs revealed there, a pendant in the shape of a sword dangling just beneath Malfoy's collar bones. Soft snug leather pants hitched low against the shape of sharp hipbones then clung to Malfoy's arse and thighs in a way that only nudged up Harry's interest.
He hadn't felt like this in so long, his chest ached with it and there was a roaring in his ears. It was all Harry could do to keep his hands to himself instead of dragging Malfoy (Malfoy!) into his lap right this moment.
"Hello, Malfoy," he greeted hoarsely, feeling goose bumps spread out over his body as he met the sensual grey gaze burning holes in him.
"Dragon."
"What?" Harry tried to blink, tried to tear his eyes away but he was confounded by the heat Malfoy seemed to be generating.
"Call me Dragon," Malfoy - er Dragon - explained. "I like it better and I want to hear you say it."
"Dragon," Harry repeated obediently, licking his lips.
Long lashes fluttered shut over Dragon's amazing eyes and Harry was transfixed by the expression of near-bliss on the other man's face. It just didn't make sense, how could the mere sound of his own voice have put that look there?
"Dragon," Harry said again, wondering if he looked half as confused and enthralled as he felt.
"Yes?" Dragon's eyes opened again and Harry let one hand drop unconsciously to settle ever so carefully against Dragon's waist. "What should I call you?" Dragon asked, leaning in a little against Harry as if it was the only place he wanted to be.
"I...I have no idea," Harry admitted. His cock gave a slow hot throb behind his trousers, arousal burning fiercely through his blood stream.
Dragon looked thoughtful a moment, fingertips playing with the length of Harry's hair so that Harry felt stunned by the amount of pleasure he got from those light strokes. He shivered.
"Phoenix," Dragon said. It was less of a question and more of a statement but Harry nodded. After all, he had died, twice.
"Phoenix," Harry agreed dizzily.
"Stay with me tonight, Phoenix," Dragon murmured and placed a chaste kiss on Harry's lips.
The warmth of plush lips against Harry's was gone so fast that he could almost have dreamed it. "If you want me to, Dragon," he said, easing his hand around towards the back of Dragon's waist to pull him closer.
"I have to work," Dragon murmured, letting himself rest a bit against Harry. Harry was sure there was a tone of regret in Dragon's voice and so he shrugged. "As long as I can be close to you, it's okay."
"Good," Dragon said and stepped back, sliding his hand down until he could take Harry's. He pulled Harry with him through the crowd and Harry followed where Dragon led him. He felt mesmerized, insulated in a feverish wall, insulated in something so fierce he couldn't begin to define it.
Dragon led Harry right into the booth with him, closing them in. He kissed Harry again on the lips and pushed him down into a stool in one corner of the small space. Harry could smell Dragon's cologne and the undertone of skin beneath it and it worked like some sort of drug. He was spellbound without even a glimpse of a wand.
Dragon's wand flickered, working the arcane devices in the small booth. He explained, in answer to Harry's question, that he played a mixture of Muggle and Wizarding music, overlaid with the kind of sensual almost animalistic beat that thrummed through the very walls of the club. Wizarding clubs had taken to Muggle music readily, Dragon murmured to Harry, especially with the introduction of magical devices that gave the same effect as Muggle electronics.
Harry felt that beat inside him, his heart pounding, his blood beating, his cock throbbing and wondered at his own ability to sit nearly quietly while Dragon worked his magic. He wasn't even all that surprised, somehow, that Dragon was here, doing what he was doing. It made, an odd kind of sense.
"I want you," he said into the rarified air of the booth some time later. His palms prickled with the need to lay them on Dragon's skin. His teeth ached with the potent desire that thrummed and shuddered between them.
Dragon turned to him, moved towards his corner, a flick of his wand ordering the music to continue without his attention for a moment. He took Harry's hand in his and drew it to the front of those enchanting leather trousers, pressed Harry's palm to the obvious hot bulge at his crotch.
"I want you," he breathed, blinking slowly as Harry cupped his hand more firmly against Dragon's captured erection. "If I didn't have to finish this set, I'd have you somewhere even halfway private faster than you can say Nox." Dragon muttered. "This is driving me insane."
"You feel it too?" Harry couldn't help but ask. This was all so surreal, so magical, he couldn't help asking.
"Oh, yes, Phoenix. I feel it, right to the soles of my feet, the top of my head," Dragon's words were so deep, so heartfelt that Harry couldn't doubt them.
Harry nodded and gave Dragon a slow squeeze, feeling the other man's cock twitch beneath the leather, his own cock throbbing in pure sympathy.
"You're going to kill me," Dragon muttered, pulling out of Harry's grasp reluctantly.
Time passed, but Harry barely felt it or sensed it. All of his being seemed to be attuned to Dragon and though that terrified a part of him, the rest of him exulted in it. However long this lasted, he would refuse to regret it, no matter what came after it.
A knock came at the booth door, and it opened, revealing a man with long poetic curls like a hero in one of the novels his Aunt Petunia used to read on the sly. He was wearing nothing but a pair of tight-fitting trousers and boots. Before he could speak, Dragon cut in. "You're late, Angel," he said, his voice sharp.
"Sorry, Dragon, had a little problem I had to handle. But I'm here now." The man called Angel sounded placating but his eyes were cool as they swept over Dragon and then over Harry. His lips curled into a smirk but he made no comment.
"I have other things to do than work half your set to cover for you," Dragon snarled, tugging the strap of a heavily embroidered bag over his shoulder. He reached with the other hand for Harry's and Harry stood up, threading his and Dragon's fingers together.
"I see that," Angel drawled, leering a bit.
"Keep your eyes and your hands off," Dragon hissed and though the blond was shorter than Angel, he still managed to look more than a bit threatening. Harry squeezed Dragon's hand.
Dragon tugged Harry out of the booth and away from Angel, into the crowd on the dance floor. The booth door closed and he swung around looking at Harry. "D'you want to stay and dance a bit, Phoenix, or do you want to come home with me?" he asked.
"Another time, I'd love to dance with you," Harry murmured, reaching out to draw Dragon closer. "Right now though, I need to be alone with you."
A quicksilver smile passed over Dragon's face and he kissed Harry softly. "I need to be alone with you." Both of Dragon's arms swept around Harry's waist and he felt the brief nothingness and sickness of Apparition.
They arrived in the sudden quiet of what looked like a very well-appointed parlor but Harry was given no opportunity to look around. Dragon dropped his bag where he stood and then pressed himself close against Harry, sliding his arms up and around Harry's neck to pull Harry's head down.
In an instant they were kissing, tongues tangling, lips bruising, teeth clicking, kissing so hard it almost hurt, kissing as if each was starving for the feel and taste and pressure of the other's mouth. Harry moaned into Dragon's mouth, hands sliding down Dragon's back to force his lean hips against Harry's that much tighter. He couldn't stop himself from grinding salaciously against Dragon, shuddering at the friction even through their clothes.
"Phoenix," Dragon muttered, arching his back and lifting one leg to curl it against Harry's hip. He was sliding against Harry, back and forth in such a sensuous rhythm that Harry thought he would come any second just from the feel of Dragon's body.
They were each clutching the other so tightly, Harry knew there would be bruises later and he couldn't care. "I need more," Harry half-growled, biting the slender column of Dragon's throat then stroking his tongue over the spot of reddened skin just to feel Dragon choke and shudder with pleasure.
Dragon's palms were spread flat over Harry's arse, pulling him in closer as if he couldn't get enough of the feel of their bodies pressed too tightly together for a slip of paper to pass between them.
"It isn't enough," Harry panted, toying with the sexy earring dangling from Dragon's ear.
"Not even close," Dragon agreed and pulled back ever so slightly. "I need you to fuck me, Phoenix," he said firmly, looking directly into Harry's eyes.
"Dragon," Harry half-moaned, half-growled the word. And then he was tearing off his clothes, watching Dragon do the same. In moments they were both naked, recalcitrant boots tossed aside along with everything else.
Harry was mesmerized by Dragon's naked body. He was slim and gorgeous and powerful in ways that made Harry's head swim. He wanted to do the most outrageously sexual things to Dragon and take his time about it while at the same time the long wait just to be here had his pulse pounding and his cock aching with lust.
"I need to...." he began, barely able to put the words together.
"Fuck, Phoenix," Dragon murmured and then Dragon almost flung himself against Harry's body and they were both falling onto the floor.
"I want to lick you and suck you and make you scream," Harry hissed, hands smoothing over Dragon's sides and hips and thighs, dropping his head to press kisses into Dragon's taut stomach. His grip on Dragon's hips held him still, drops of pre-come sliding enticingly down the shaft of Dragon's pretty prick.
"Phoe-nix, oh fuck, please," Dragon gasped, clutching at Harry, wrapping long, strong thighs around Harry's hips. One fingertip flicked one of Harry's nipple rings. "I want to see what you do when I lick these, suck your nipples, flick them in my mouth. I wonder if it'll make you fuck me harder...come harder...I want to do everything to you."
Harry couldn't stand it, just the thought of Dragon playing with his nipple rings was dragging him closer and closer to the edge. He found his wand, miraculously still within reach through his sexual haze, and murmured a lubrication charm. He hadn't the patience for finding the lube, if there was any, in Dragon's home. One fingertip caressed over the small pucker of Dragon's opening then slipped inside it as carefully as Harry's shaking hands could manage.
"You're going to kill me," Harry managed, nearly whining with desire. Dragon was so tight, so hot, squeezing his finger in a way that made Harry's cock pulse. He forced a second finger in beside the first, stroking deeper and faster.
"Please, Phoenix," Dragon begged. He was writhing against Harry's fingers, trembling all over and so fucking gorgeous it was bending Harry's brain.
He couldn't have stopped himself if he tried, not with Dragon begging him like that. His fingers slipped free and he pressed himself against the slick little opening, both hands gripping Dragon's hips. He pushed in slowly, carefully until he couldn't get any farther inside and had to hold his breath against the immediate explosive need to come.
"Godfuckinghell," Harry groaned as he began to move as slowly as he could stand. All he could see was Dragon's tense expression, his wide eyes. All he could hear was Dragon's whimpers and pleas.
"Harder, please harder," Dragon gasped, wrapping himself tighter around Harry.
"Touch....touch yourself," Harry answered, beginning to move faster and faster, their bodies slapping together. His whole body ached with pleasure, felt heavy and dark with lust in a way he couldn't describe, only feel. He pushed himself inside harder, more roughly in answer to Dragon's demands and whined through the rippling waves, so close to orgasm.
Dragon was rolling his hips, his eyes wide open and all pupil, his fist jerking at his cock in a frenzy of desire. It was the most erotic thing Harry had ever seen. "Come for me, Dragon, let me see it," he ordered, slamming himself inside Dragon hard in counterpoint to the words.
"Phoenix, Phoenix, Phoenix," Draco chanted and then he began to come, arching up so hard off the floor, pushing at Harry, taking every last bit of Harry's cock and then pulsing all around him, over him. Dragon screamed hoarsely, and Harry nearly bit his lip through as he fought to hold back while Dragon's arse squeezed him over and over.
Dragon's come sprayed over his chest and belly in thick glossy rivulets and Harry couldn't stand it another second. He slammed into Dragon's still sinfully squeezing arse once, twice, three times and then Harry was pouring himself into Dragon's body in an orgasm so violent he saw multicolored spots in front of his eyes.
His arms were shaking, his whole body was twitching with pleasure and Harry shifted them, half rolling both of them onto their sides so he wouldn't collapse onto Dragon
"Fucking hell," he breathed, kissing Dragon's brow and shivering all over. Dragon seemed unable to even talk, as yet, though he weakly returned Harry's kiss with a brush of lips to Harry's collarbone.
They lay there together while sweat dried and the shaking faded to a soft shiver occasionally. Harry's mind could not seem to quite take in what he had done and who he had done it with or even how utterly besotted he felt with Dragon right this moment.
Eventually, Dragon shifted up onto an elbow and looked at Harry. He looked almost as startled and wide-eyed as Harry felt. "I knew you'd be a fantastic shag, Phoenix, but I think you went well beyond that," he murmured in a low tone, skimming a hand over Harry's side.
"There's more where that came from," Harry answered, feeling the corner of his lips curve into a faint smirk.
"D'you know why I didn't want to use...old names," Dragon asked softly, his gray eyes looking serious and vulnerable though until now Harry would never have imagined that Dragon would look vulnerable. Not with him anyway.
"No," Harry answered, finding his wand and mumbling a soft cleaning spell before his fingers tenderlly began stroking Dragon's waist and hip.
"Because, I wanted it to be like...like we never had all that old history between us. Like this was new." Dragon's voice became so quiet that it was hard to hear and Harry felt his heart do a flip flop in his chest.
"I liked that too," he said after a moment.
"Does that mean, you want to continue?"
Harry pressed his lips to Dragon's in the same kind of almost chaste kiss which Dragon had given him the night before. "Of course."
He'd have to send Hermione the biggest box of chocolates Honeydukes made, along with a very large bouquet. Later.