Heart in a Bubble 1/2
Right, so the hd_parallel fest has been over for a while, so I thought I'd better get my submission posted. :D This was an interesting and challenging fic to write, but thankfully, I've had good reviews, so I feel a bit better about it, lmao. I hope you enjoy. ;)
Oh, and I'm getting right into my next bottom_draco fic, and am looking forward to that fest. :D
Title: Heart in a Bubble
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "Love fills you with doubts, with uncertainties. Love changes, and it changes you. It grows as you do."
Warnings: First person POV, Canadian!Draco, AU, mer-sex. Also, mermaid obstetrics. ;)
Beta(s): nikki4noo, 7ofeleven and dizilla, you ladies totally rock! Thank you. ♥
Word Count: 22,000-ish
Author’s Notes: (optional) This fic was very interesting to write, stretching me in regards to both prompt and format. I did some thinking though, and this is what I came up with. I hope is satisfies your wishes, eanelinea77. I had a great time writing it! Thanks for a challenging prompt!
365
When I first laid eyes on him, I was not impressed. We'd all heard the tales, how he survived the killing curse as a baby, how he defeated He Who Must Not Be Named numerous times before doing away with him completely at the age of seventeen. However, when I finally met him, to say I was underwhelmed would not be an overstatement.
He was a short, scrawny, unkempt thing. His clothes were messy, as was his hair. His glasses were smudged and crooked and his runners...runners, really? I wrinkled my nose at the sight. This is the most powerful wizard of my age? Really?
"Hello," I said, stepping forward. "I'm Draco Noirci, pleased to meet you." I shook his hand cordially; it was only polite.
"Harry Potter," he replied, gripping my hand firmly.
“You can come this way,” I said, leading him toward the dorms. He was here to replace my assistant. She just had to go and get married, the traitor, leaving me in need of, apparently, Harry Potter.
“Thanks,” he said, quietly, in an accent I hadn't heard from anyone in fourteen years, save my mother. She'd left my father when I was eight years old, and fled to Canada. Sure, I was born in England, but I considered myself Canadian. I was, technically...my mother had made sure that I passed my citizenship test when I was fourteen.
“The dorm is here,” I said, directing him into the cramped room where Melisa had lived for the past year. I felt a pang of longing at its empty state. All her pictures and knickknacks were gone. Even that ugly hat she'd insisted on displaying, as if it were a fine piece of art instead of tourist kitsch. But 'Michael bought it for me, when we went to Cuba,' a line I'd heard many a time. Sentimental or not, it was still tacky. There's no accounting for good taste, nor should one let sentiment overcome it. Honestly.
I stood back to allow him entrance into the room, if you could call it that. It was the size of my closet back in Vancouver, but hardships must be endured in the pursuit of science. He shuffled around, tossing his duffel bag on the bed and sitting down, bouncing a bit, like a child.
“Nice,” he pronounced, grinning up at me, eyes bright even from behind those ridiculous glasses.
“I'm sorry it's so small, but space is at a premium here.” I watched as he twirled his wand around, sizing up the space before waving it at his bag. I took a step back, avoiding the clothing that went rushing towards the hangers.
“It's comfortable, actually,” he replied, stuffing the now empty duffel bag under his bunk. He travelled light, apparently. I had a hard time packing myself, too many accessories and too little space. “Where I lived...it wasn't exactly spacious, so compared to that, this is luxury.”
"Oh," I said, a bit distracted by his accent. Listening to him only made me sick for home, to hear my mother's elegant accent.
I looked up and noticed that he was watching me, with a strange, almost appraising look. I straightened my shoulders, taking advantage of my height to regain the upper hand, though he did not seem to notice.
“I'll show you the rest of the habitat, then,” I said, turning and heading toward the common areas, leaving him to follow. He was not at all what I had expected, and I had barely known the man five minutes. Perhaps the next year would not be as bad as I'd anticipated.
348
It was going to be the longest year of my life. Despite his appearance and manner, Potter had proven that he was smart, talented and passionate about what he knew. Fortunately, that included merpeople. Our dome was just off the northern tip of Vancouver Island. Our purpose was to study the creatures inhabiting the underwater cliffs there, using a strange melding of magical and mundane technology. I had grown to love the foggy, windy, rain-drenched climate while I was a student at VISM. A thriving magical ecosystem existed right under the noses of the Muggles, not that there were many of them here. The north island is sparsely populated, making it the perfect location for a magical school, as well as an excellent place for an underwater research facility.
Oh, right: Potter. He may have looked like something someone had dragged out from under a rock, but he was well educated and articulate when it came to our work, and his Muggle education added an interesting perspective that I hadn't thought would make a difference, but it did. And while the research was coming along fetchingly, I could not be so enthusiastic about his social skills.
He was arrogant. Perhaps it was justified, what with killing a dark lord and all, but it was still insufferable. He had no sense of personal boundaries and was as prone to barging into my quarters uninvited as he was to leaving the kitchen in shambles after yet another culinary 'experiment'. He also had a way of asking the really invasive, astute questions, leaving me at a loss for words. Me- speechless! It defied reason.
Life with Potter was unnerving in other ways as well. He insisted that I call him Harry, as vehemently as I refused to do so, and no matter how often I insisted otherwise, he continued to call me Draco, in that rough accent of his that always sent tingles down my spine. My mother's posh, polished accent had never had this effect on me. Thank Merlin for that.
“Draco, there you are!” I nearly leapt right off my seat at his voice. He had a tendency of sneaking up on me, which was infuriating.
“Geez, Potter, warn a bloke, would you?” I said, resettling in my seat and glancing at him. His hair was damp and messy, his skin flushed a rather fetching pink from exertion or hot water, I couldn't tell. His odour gave it away, though. He must have finished checking the wards on the perimeter, and then showered. He was fresh and clean with only a hint of saltwater.
I breathed deeply, unobtrusively, and closed my eyes as he took the seat across from me. He always smelled so damn good.
“What's up?” he asked, rifling through the papers that were spread across the desk in front of me.
“Unlike other people, I'm actually working,” I replied sharply, but nothing I said seemed to get through that thick skull of his.
He snorted, ignoring my reply. “What are you working on?”
I rolled my eyes at him before looking back at my paper. “It's a report on the latest environmental developments,” I said, passing him the sheet I'd just read. “Toxin levels are still rising, as well as temperature...” I was interrupted by a derisive snort. Potter's attitude toward the weather was not exactly a secret.
“Temperature,” I said firmly, glaring at him, despite the fact that he just smiled back at me. “Is still rising, and the continued over-fishing of salmon is having a profound effect on the food chain here. There is also all the logging in the area, and the looming threat of off-shore drilling.”
“It's not looking good for the future of the colony, is it?” he summarized.
I glanced at him from under my lashes, trying not to ogle him too much. “No, it's not,” I replied. “Fortunately, magic can protect them, but only to a point. Eventually, even magic will be unable to counter the effects of the Muggles' idiocy.”
“They're not all idiots,” he said defensively. “What do you have against them, anyway?”
“They're brash, violent, obnoxious and ignorant of the world around them. They don't care about anything but their consumer-driven lives, certainly not the environment that supports them, or the other creatures who reside in it.” I picked up another report, scanning the page for anything that might shed some light on how to maintain the colony safely.
“Alright, alright, I see your point,” he said, throwing up his arms in defeat and then leaning forward in his chair, arms splayed out on the table between us. His hands were strong and masculine, callused, with rough, chewed-down nails, but something about them... I couldn't help but want them on my skin. I was getting distracted again. This had to stop.
“Leave that,” I said crossly, tugging a few papers from his grip. I had found that getting angry at him helped to alleviate some of my attraction. Only some, but it was enough.
“You're in quite a mood today,” he stated, staring plainly at me. “You need to relax. Leave this. Come play something with me. I've got the cards,” he said, holding up the package and waving it at me.
“I'm not in the mood for cards, thank you,” I said, glaring at him. “I have to finish this.”
He sighed dramatically, sitting up straight in his chair before kicking off and leaning back on two of its legs. Honestly, he was like a child.
“You need to relax,” he said again.
“You've already said that,” I pointed out. “However, you're wrong. I'm fine.” I picked up another sheet of paper and began to peruse it, pointedly ignoring him.
“If you say so,” he replied, righting his chair and standing. “I'm going to get something to eat, do you want anything?”
I looked up at him. He looked so earnest, standing there, and I couldn't ignore him. Besides, he was a fabulous cook. “Sure,” I said, and his smile was my reward.
“Say that again,” he prompted, grinning at me.
“What?” I asked, looking up at him in surprise.
“Sure,” he said, waving a hand at me. “Your accent, it's great.”
“Please,” I scoffed, attempting to send him a withering look. From his reaction, I was not successful. “I don't have an accent.”
“Neither do I,” he said. “I'm British, but your Colonial accent is adorable.”
“You're nuts,” I said, unable to hold back a grin. He was so engaging, I couldn't help myself. “Besides, I'm British too.”
“Are you certain?”
“I'm sure,” I said, instantly realizing that he'd manipulated me into saying it. His brilliant smile was worth it, though.
“Ha!” he exclaimed, doing a little victory dance. It was utterly childish and ridiculous, a part of him that showed up occasionally. “I win!” he said, coming around the table to clasp me on the shoulder. The touch sent a ripple of goosebumps down my arms and I shivered.
“Now come on,” he said, still grinning broadly. “I'll whip us up a stir fry.”
I put down the reports and stood. It was pointless to resist him, so why bother? I might as well have fun with him. “Sure,” I said saucily, winking at him, noticing and rejoicing in his resulting blush. Another thing I had discovered, Potter blushed like a girl when I flirted with him. Straight boys were so much fun to tease.
Damn Potter.
303
The weeks drifted by, the pace of life as serene as the currents that surrounded our environment, though that could change in a heartbeat. For now, it was peaceful, so I had plenty of time to contemplate Harry. The desire for him was growing, coming over me in surges. I'd be fine for days, a week even, and then it would hit me suddenly. I had long ago realized that he was much better looking than I had first judged him. The ever-present glasses were a distraction, but one soon became accustomed to them, and began to see beyond. I'd never seen eyes like that: they were greener than the water and flashed with every emotion under the sun.
Then there was the hair. It looked like a coarse tangle... but I knew from when he'd brushed against me that it was soft, almost as silky as my own. The cheap product that had taken up residence beside my own specialty products worked better than I had been told they should. The cheap soap he used was a bargain as well, because he smelled amazing. In such close quarters, it was almost impossible to ignore.
It didn't help that his clothes, while rumpled and often dotted with the evidence of his last meal, fit him well, stretching to reveal glimpses of pale skin and surprising amounts of muscle. He looked scrawny, but he wasn't...he was all lean muscle and dark hair.
All told, he's exceptionally appealing.
And it's been wearing away at me. Barely nine weeks in and I was ready to pounce on him. I'd spent a year down here with Melisa and had wanked maybe once or twice a week. Admittedly, she was the wrong gender and as such, was hardly going to arouse any excitement in me. If I tried I could make the case that any male in the vicinity would get a rise out of me after being so deprived of masculine company, but the fact is, that wasn't the problem.
The problem was Harry Potter was starting to drive me crazy. I'd gone from wanking twice a week to at least twice a day. He was guileless when it came to flirting: he blushed, but brushed it aside. Occasionally I thought he might be interested, but then his mood changed and he was distant once more. I couldn't figure him out and as a result, I was on edge, all the time. My only hope for a reprieve was during our occasional leave.
Fortunately for my nerves, he'd been on leave for the last few days. He was due back today, and my nerves were shot all over again. The peace while he'd been gone was about to end. I was as excited about it as I was nervous. Against my will, I had missed him.
The day passed with excruciating slowness. I managed to keep busy, following my normal routine and adding a few things that had been overdue. I spent longer than normal making the rounds outside the environment, all in an attempt to keep my mind off the fact that Harry was on his way home. And the fact that I was thinking of it as home, now that Harry was here, was scaring me. I'd spent a year here with Melisa, enjoying her company but never considered the habitat as home. Home was where I'd go when my two years were up. It was odd, how comfortable I was living with him, despite my nerves.
After I came back inside the dome, I showered, dressed, and found myself spending far too much time in front of the mirror. I forced myself away, turning to cleaning up, not that the place needed it. Neatness was necessary: there wasn't much room here. I was in the kitchen, putting together a meal when finally, though it seemed like several days had passed instead of just one, the wards notified me that Harry's Portkey had arrived.
I finished up what I was doing...I had already decided that I wouldn't go meet him, I'd let him come to me. It's not like he was a new recruit anymore, and I was determined not to give in to my urges. I wasn't going to moon over him like some fourteen year old girl. I wasn't a Harry Potter groupie, after all.
I didn't have long to wait.
“Hiya Draco,” Harry said, coming into the kitchen and throwing himself into a chair. “How've you been?”
“Good,” I said, turning to give him a smile. “How was your leave?”
“Alright. I had a good time, Vancouver is a great city,” he said, leaning on the back legs of his chair again. When he inevitably fell on his ass, or his head, I was going to laugh my ass off.
“It is,” I agreed. "It was a great place to grow up." I remembered Wiltshire, but the memories were not very good. I had vivid memories of my father, of rages and yelling and cold, hard silence. I remembered spells cast in anger. And fear. Plenty of fear.
Mother still won't talk about it, or what made her decide to leave, but she did say that Father hadn't always been that way. His devotion to He Who Must Not Be Named had twisted him, and when his Master had been defeated by Harry Potter and vanished, he'd come undone. I don't have any memories of him that aren't connected with fear. I look back now, and I know that the best thing my mother ever did for me was taking me and running away. I've never told her just how grateful I am, but one day, I would.
“How long have you lived there?” he asked.
“Since I was eight,” I replied, turning back to finish up the meal. When it was done I loaded our plates and sat across from him, pushing his plate across the table.
“Thanks,” he said, flashing me a bright smile. I winced as his chair scratched across the floor as it set down.
“So, what did you get up to in my fair town?” I asked, taking a bite and trying to ignore his strong hands fiddling with his cutlery, or the clasp of white teeth behind red lips as he took a bite. I sucked in a breath and prayed for control.
“The usual. Slept in, hit the clubs,” he said, leering at me and leaving no doubt as to what he got up to. I dropped my eyes, unable to hold his gaze, knowing that I was blushing and unable to stop it. Fortunately he didn't seem to notice, still telling his tale.
“Oh, I got a packet of letters from home as well, that was...well, most of it was good, but Hermione sent me some news I'd rather not have heard.”
“Oh?” I said, looking up at him again. He was frowning now, and I hated it.
“Yeah... it's just, well, I should have expected it, but I didn't.” He put down his fork and pushed the plate away.
“That bad?” I asked, gesturing to his abandoned plate. “Tell me.”
“Oh, come on: you don't want to hear about it,” he said, but I did want to hear, and I wasn't going to let him dismiss me. I wanted to be closer to him, I wanted to know what he thought, what he felt. I knew I should hold back, but I couldn't seem to help myself; Harry Potter did weird things to me.
“It's no problem,” I said, pushing my own plate aside to focus on him.
“No, you don't, it's...” he trailed off, so I just gave him my most receptive expression and waited. It didn't take long. “Okay, okay.”
He sighed and pushed back on his chair again, balancing it on two legs like he was born to do it. “Okay, so the thing is, I worked my arse off to do what had to be done during the war, you know? I did things I never thought I'd do and can't help but regret some of them, even though they were necessary. I've lost so many friends, and all the family I had and it was long, hard, and horrible. My teenage years were pretty much just one long fight for survival.
“Besides Voldemort, there was one man who made my life a living hell. He's just pure evil. He was Voldemort's right hand man, so you can imagine. When I was fifteen, he went to prison for breaking into the...oh, never mind, that story would take all night. He's tried to kill me though, repeatedly since I was twelve; that should give you an idea of how I might feel about him.” He stopped to summon a bottle of Butterbeer and took a gulp before going on. Nasty stuff, that. I much prefer my Muggle beer.
“So, he was in prison, then there was a mass breakout, and then he was back at Voldemort's side, killing Muggles and torturing children and just generally being evil. Not to mention a few more attempts on my life and my friends'. He was captured when it was all over, and sent back to prison, for the rest of his life, or so we thought.
“Apparently not. I got a letter from Hermione informing me that he's bought his way out of prison. Did I mention he's rich? And he likes nothing better than to use his no doubt ill-begotten wealth to fund his escape from justice, the arsehole.”
He paused to take another drink while I pondered his use of 'ill-begotten'. It was very unlike him, but whether it's down to my influence or that of his, as I've gathered, nerdy friend, I have no idea.
“I can understand why you're so upset,” I said. It does seem brutally unfair that someone who has been so horrible can get free because he's rich. Justice, indeed.
“If anyone deserves to rot in Azkaban for life, it's Lucius Malfoy. But oh no, he was under Imperius the whole time, you know: he's completely innocent,” Harry said.
My heart stopped. It couldn't be.
“I wonder how much of his blood money it took to get him off this time. See, this is just an example of why I left England. Voldemort may be gone, but it's all so corrupt: I just couldn't stand it. I had to get out,” he continued, oblivious to the fact that my heart had frozen in my chest.
Lucius Malfoy. I hadn't heard that name for years. Not since we'd left England. Did he really say Lucius Malfoy? Could there be two wizards with that name in England? Two rich, evil bastards with the same name? No, it had to be him. I can't believe it.
Harry was still going on about how much he hated England and how happy he was to leave, how horrible the weather was and how no one would leave him alone, but I had been transported back to when I was six and my father had beaten one of the house elves almost to death for a minor infraction. I remembered how terrified I was that he would beat me next; he'd certainly never shown any love for me. I had to be perfect, I had to do everything right, he demanded nothing less from me, and once I'd seen what he was capable of...
I shook my head to clear it. I'd seen worse after that, had discovered that he was capable of even more, but that incident had stuck with me. Suddenly I was glad that my leave was coming soon, that I could spend some time with Mother. Suddenly, I needed her.
“Draco? Draco, are you okay?” The worry in Harry's voice brought me all the way back to the present, and I shuddered under the weight of the past.
“I'm...I'm…” I didn't know what to say. “Alright. I think.” I knew I probably looked like a sheet. I'd always been pale, and British Columbia was not exactly a tropical location. It may be a rainforest, but it was temperate, and the clouds were ever present... I was shaken out of it once more by Harry's voice.
“Are you sure?” he said, his worry evident.
“Yes, I... what was his name again?” My hands were a little shaky, so I clenched them so tight my knuckles were white.
“His name? You mean Malfoy?” he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Yes,” I said, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Lucius Malfoy?”
“Yeah. What about him?”
I swallowed, though my saliva felt like glue. Damn him for making me feel this way, thirteen years and thousands of miles away.
“He's my father.” I don't know why I told him, instead of brushing off his concern and retreating, but there it was. He was stunned, frozen in place, as if I'd hit him with a spell.
“Your... what?” he asked. “But your last name is Noirci.”
“Actually, it's my mother's maiden name... tweaked and then translated into French. We've used it since we left. Mother said it would be safer that way.” I forced myself to unclench my hands. Lucius couldn't hurt me from here. Would Harry hold it against me, that I was Lucius' son?
“Safer?” Harry was still stunned; I could practically see the wheels in his head turning.
“Malfoy is a rather distinctive name, and she knew he'd look for us. Even all the way to Canada. I'm his only son, after all, and there's an ancient wizarding line to think of. But he's mad, Harry: he's always been mad. Ever since…” I trailed off, struck by just how closely our lives were entwined, Harry's and mine, though we'd never met until a few months ago.
“Ever since Voldemort disappeared,” he finished my thought. We stared at each other for a few minutes, both trying to take it all in. I didn't know where to go from here. Would he hate me now, knowing that I'm the son of his worst remaining enemy? How far did that hate go, and how strong was it?
“How old were you?” he asked, quietly.
“When we left? I was eight,” I replied.
“Oh,” he said. “That would explain the accent, then.” He grinned at me, and I couldn't help but grin back, the tension draining a bit.
“You're the one who has an accent,” I insisted, but he just laughed.
“Sure, sure,” he drawled, attempting to draw out the word in some semblance of Canadian diction. I threw a piece of broccoli at him; the mood defused, thankfully.
"I'm glad you got away," he said sincerely.
"Me too," I replied, pulling my plate back. "Now eat up, there's plenty to do before I leave, we should get started right away." He nodded and followed my lead, tucking into his meal. I put Lucius out of my mind, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he crept back in, the bastard.
271
Campbell River is a reasonably sized city. It has nothing on Vancouver, but then again, that's part of the reason I like it so much. Sometimes Vancouver can be overwhelming, especially after the peace and solitude of the Cape Scott habitat. I'd learned that going back to Van just for three days was a bit of overkill, and hardly a vacation.
I arrived by Portkey and was soon checking into the Discovery Inn. It was my mother's favorite, right in the middle of downtown. I was looking forward to seeing her; it had been a few months since she'd been out to visit me on my leave. And considering the weight of Lucius on my mind ever since Harry had returned, the visit was even more welcome.
I got to the suite and collapsed on my bed, not even bothering to unpack. I just didn't want to face anything yet. Besides, Mother would no doubt harangue me about it as soon as she arrived, and that was soon enough. I closed my eyes, letting the stress and high emotions of the last few days roll off me, just breathing in and out, in and...
“Draco?” the voice invaded my dream, bringing me back to reality with a rush.
“Harry? What?” I lurched up, blinking away the sleep to see Mother standing over me, remembering where I was.
“Hi, Mum,” I croaked, relaxing as she ran a loving hand through my hair.
“Hello, Draco,” she said, giving me a smile. “A little tired?”
“Yes,” I replied with a yawn, stretching the sleep out of my limbs. “I didn't get much sleep last night.”
“Were you that excited to see me?” she asked cheekily.
“No, I... don't want to get into it now,” I replied, standing to embrace her. I had long been taller than her, but I still felt like a child when she held me. Safe. No one could make me feel safer, no one had given up so much to keep me so. She uprooted her life, left her husband and everything she knew, sacrificing friends and social standing to keep me safe.
“I'm so happy to see you,” she said, pulling back to look me over. “You're so pale!” she declared.
I laughed. “Of course I'm pale, mother: I've spent the last year and a half under water!”
“Yes, well,” she said, waving the topic away and patting my cheek.
“Mother,” I said, brushing her hand away in annoyance.
“Poor Draco, such a hardship to humor your mother,” she sighed. I laughed again. My mother has the best sense of humor.
“Well, now that I'm awake, let’s go to dinner. I'm starving.”
~*~
“Are you ready to talk about it now?” she asked, as I sipped my coffee. Part of me had been hoping to avoid the topic, but I knew we should talk about it. I needed to talk about it.
“Alright.” I put my cup down, licking the whipped cream off my lip. Baileys and coffee would always be my favorite. “Okay, I've told you that Harry Potter is my partner at the moment.”
“Yes.”
“Right, well, he's fresh from England, of course,” I continued.
“You don't miss it, do you?” she asked.
“No, I really don't. I was too young to remember much, just the fear...” I trailed off. I hadn't been meaning to say that.
“I'm sorry, Draco,” she said, reaching across the table and taking my hand.
“Don't be: you got me out of it.” I squeezed her hand, reassuring her. She sometimes worries that I feel a lack. Of a father, of my home country. I keep telling her, Canada is where I was raised, and I felt no loyalty to England. Nor to my father.
“And you don't even have an accent to show for it,” she replied, winking at me.
“Oh, I do,” I laughed. “According to Harry, I have the most adorable Canadian accent.”
She raised a speculative brow. I shouldn't have said that. She's far too perceptive.
“Really?”
“Yes, but that's not the point,” I said quickly in an attempt to deflect her. For how long was anybody's guess. “The point is, he returned from his leave a few days ago, and he brought with him news from home. News he wasn't happy about.”
“And that news has caused you to lose sleep?” she asked, surprised.
“Yes, he... he knows Father,” I said. She blanched, then shuddered. I understood the feeling.
“Oh,” was all she was able to say.
“His news was bad, he was pretty upset.” I took a deep breath, unsure how to go on, or unwilling. I didn't know. Maybe both.
“He's out of prison. Bought his way out.”
“Well, I'm not surprised he was in prison," she said, staring over my shoulder. “And I'm not surprised he got out. Your father has always been very charming. Persuasive. Unfortunately, he is also...” she trailed off, eyes still unfocused.
“Unhinged,” I finished for her. I knew enough about my father, remembered enough that I was certain of that fact.
“Yes,” she agreed. Silence fell after that. I suppose we didn't know where to go from there. Who would? Father had always been a touchy subject, but to her credit, Mother had never shied away from it. She's always been honest with me, about everything.
We were soon interrupted by the waiter, who successfully broke the mood. I was grateful. I hated bringing it up at all, I hated reviving the bad memories. More hers than mine: she had more of them, no doubt, and remembered them more clearly.
Soon we were out of the restaurant, strolling down the sea walk. It was a beautiful night, the moon just beginning to glow in the sky, vying with the fading sun in the twilight sky. I sighed, breathing in the salty air, feeling grateful once again for this place, to be here with the one person I loved more than any other, safe in this country that had sheltered us.
“So,” Mother said, breaking the silence, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. “Harry Potter, then.”
I cleared my throat, gazing out over the sea to avoid her knowing look. “He's...passable,” I said at last.
“Only passable? From what I've heard, he's much more than that,” she retorted.
“He's good at the job,” I said, still not meeting her gaze. She stopped walking and leaned forward on the rail that separated us from the marina below.
“Is that all he's good at?” she asked, and to my disgust, I blushed. Not that I would know what else he's good at.
“I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Mother,” I replied stiffly, taking a spot on the rail beside her. “So you can just drop it.”
“Well,” she said lightly. “It was worth a try. Is it my fault I want to see you happily settled down?”
“I'm only twenty two,” I scoffed. “I don't need to settle down for a long time yet.”
“I suppose,” she said, and then fell silent. We resumed our walk, a comfortable silence once more falling between us.
269
Ahh, home sweet home. Well, home for now, anyway. The arrival chamber was empty, as I was expecting. It was a relief, really, being able to compose myself before I saw Harry. I had been doing just fine, enjoying my weekend and recharging for the next few months, when Mother had to go and ruin it for me by bringing up the subject of Harry again.
Somehow she had managed to work an admission out of me. Yes, so I fancy Harry a bit. Alright: a lot. Naturally she had to encourage me to go for it. Of course she did: she 'just want to see you happy, Draco'. But statistically speaking, the chance that he was gay... well, I wasn't optimistic. Despite the odd moment between us, he hadn't shown any real interest; that I'd seen, anyway.
Damn her for putting the thought in my head. I took a deep breath, relaxed and cleared my head before heading to the dorm to unpack. There was no sign of Harry, but it was almost time for the daily patrol of the reef, so he was probably in the airlock. I took my time unpacking, trying to gain some kind of equilibrium. With my mother's words ringing in my ears, I set out to find him.
Sure enough, I found him in the wet room, fiddling with the equipment, his wetsuit pulled up to his waist. I took a moment to gaze at him, unable to stop myself. He wasn't very tall, shorter than me, but he was fit. His shoulders were broader than his posture made one believe. Right now, they were on display as he stretched to check the tanks on the shelf.
“Hey,” I said at last, my voice cracking. I cleared my throat and tried again, this time in the face of Harry's smile. “Hi.”
“You're back,” he said, walking toward me and reaching out a hand. I took it, shaking it firmly. He clasped me on the shoulder when we let go, grinning. His hands...no, his entire body was stronger than it looked, lean and wiry and utterly deceptive when it was covered in clothing. But it wasn't right now. His chest was naked, and I was having trouble keeping my eyes on his face. It seemed to happen a lot in this room, when we were dressing and undressing.
'Go for it,' I heard my mother say again. She was not helping.
“I just got in,” I said. “Getting ready to head out?” I looked away from him, taking my eyes off him and glancing around the room.
“Yeah,” he replied. “Are you gonna come with?”
“Sure,” I said, smiling weakly. “I'll just go get changed, then.” I turned on my heel and headed to the changing room. Hopefully by the time I was done, Harry would be dressed and I would be able to concentrate on something besides the smooth skin covering his lean muscles.
I was in luck: he had pulled up his wetsuit by the time I returned, and was testing his air tank. Our equipment was modelled on Muggle diving gear, with a few convenient magical additions. It needed checking every time we went out, both the magical and mundane components.
“So, how was your weekend?” he asked as we double-checked the tanks.
I swallowed, not looking up at his eyes. “Fine, it was fine,” I replied. “Spent some time with my mother; it was rather peaceful.”
“Oh,” he said, looking right at me. I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my neck. “No wild parties? No crazy kinky sex?”
I turned and sent him an incredulous look. “No,” I said simply. “Partying is not my thing.”
“Sure, sure.” He looked at me, right through me, as if he could see all my secrets. I blushed, looking down again and fiddling with my tank some more.
“So, no girlfriend then?” he asked unexpectedly. My gaze shot up to him again, I was shocked. Did he really not know? How could he have missed it?
“You're joking, right?” I asked, zipping up my wetsuit.
“Joking?”
“Yes,” I replied. “How could you not know that I'm gay? Are you really that dense?”
He stared at me appraisingly for a moment before stuttering, “I, uh....no, I didn't...I, um...you're gay?”
I looked at him, certain that my face was portraying my amazement. “Yes. I can't believe you didn't realize.” I chuckled at him, then blushed under the intensity of his gaze. “I'm why the stereotypes are stereotypes.”
“Oh, I didn't...you're not that obvious,” he said.
“If you say so,” I replied, “but you're the first person I've met who hasn't known right away or at least had an inkling. I didn't think I needed to tell you.” I focused on finishing up with my kit.
“Do you have a boyfriend then?” he asked. I swore under my breath. This was exactly where I didn't want to go. Soon he'd be asking me if I fancied anyone.
“No,” I said quickly. “You don't have a problem with it, do you?”
“Oh, no, I...as a matter of fact,” he began, but I cut him off.
“Good, I'm glad that's settled,” I said quickly. “Let's get going then, time's a-wasting.” I pulled my tank onto my back and headed toward the pool in the floor that was our doorway to the reef.
“Draco,” Harry began, but I ignored him, casting the modified Bubble-Head Charm that would allow us to not only breathe, but talk. And hear. Or scratch our nose, if the need struck. The charm kept out water and any sea creature that dared get too close, but allowed hands or other body parts, not that I'd had the opportunity to test that theory, to pass through. Magic is brilliant: I still couldn't fathom how Muggles got on without it. We had charms all over the wetsuit, too. Warmth, pressure, everything.
I waved at him and jumped into the water. The thing about the Bubble-Head Charm was that you couldn't talk or breathe until you were in the water, when the magic pumped air in from the tank. I slid smoothly into the water, several years of daily practice will do that, and headed toward the reef where the merpeoplemade their home.
It wasn't long before I felt Harry catch up, his movements displacing the water directly beside me. He tugged on my shoulder, but let go when I glared at him. Oh, I knew it was irrational, being so cranky just because he was getting close to asking questions I didn't want to answer, but I couldn't help it. Between my mother's admonition and Harry's frank curiosity, I just didn't know how to feel.
I came to an outcropping on the outskirts of the merpeople's territory, a very conveniently placed outcropping. We used several such rock formations to keep an eye on the clan without disturbing them. Oh, they knew we were there and why, but merpeople are a very touchy species, so it's better for all involved if we stayed out of sight most of the time.
“Why don't you want to talk about it?” Harry asked from beside me. His voice was distorted; no matter what spells one used, we were still underwater.
“Because I don't,” I snapped back, the effect ruined by the water.
“That's not a reason,” he replied, so I glared at him out of the corner of my eye. Why wouldn't he just drop it?
“It's all the reason I need,” I said, but he was not convinced, he still wouldn't give it up. “Why are you so curious anyway? You never cared about my love life, or lack thereof, before you found out I was gay.”
“That's because I assumed that you're straight,” he said. Understandable, but what kind of an oblivious ape couldn't tell at first glance that I'm gay?
“So you do have a problem with it?” I declared, turning to face him fully. “Now that you know I'm gay, you're gonna get all freaky and awkward around me, aren't you?”
“No, I won't...well, not awkward,” he said, but before I could figure that one out, something caught my eye.
“Harry, look!” I exclaimed, pointing in the direction of a pair of merpeople, a male and female, frolicking above a field of kelp. It was clear what they were doing: roaming hands and moving bodies were universal, it seemed. We watched them for a few long moments, neither of us breaking the silence. It was grotesquely beautiful, and I couldn't help but be moved. Very few outsiders ever witnessed a pair of merpeople mid-coitus, and we had almost missed it. After a few more minutes, they pulled apart, clasping hands before turning away and swimming in opposite directions.
“Wow,” Harry said, his lips almost touching my ear. I shivered. Apparently I had been too enthralled with the mating merpeople to notice how close he'd moved. “I've never seen anything quite so...amazing and...gross.”
I turned and met his eye, and before long, we were laughing together, still in awe of what we saw. Harry met my eyes and the intensity of his gaze stilled my laughter. He shifted closer still, lifting a hand to my neck, where he rubbed a finger softly across my skin.
“I'm curious about your sexuality, because suddenly it relates to mine,” he said quietly, his voice husky despite the distortion.
“It does?” I rasped back, my brain spinning desperately to decipher his meaning.
“Yes,” he replied, now cupping my neck with both hands, his face mere inches away. I was fast fearing this was some sort of delusional daydream.
“You're gay?” I asked uncertainly. What else could it be, though?
“No,” he said with a chuckle. I jerked back: what kind of game was he playing here?
“I'm bi,” he said simply, grinning widely at me. “And I fancy a kiss, if you don't mind.” He leaned in quickly, and before I knew it, we were kissing. Full-on open mouths, tongues and all, kissing. I was shocked, really shocked: he'd never shown any real sign of being interested but missed signs or no signs, I kissed him back. He wrapped his arms around my back and pulled me closer, so I did the same, hanging on to his shoulders and letting my fingers twine in his hair. I loved it.
He pulled me closer, one of his arms slipped down to my waist, pulling our lower bodies together while the other slid up my back, pressing our chests together as it slid into my hair. His kisses were deep, moving, utterly passionate, and I was swept away. The reef, the water, the merpeople, everything was lost in the excitement of the kiss. My mind was a mess. My mother's admonition still in my ear, the feel of Harry against me, the feelings that had been quietly building in me that I could no longer ignore. It was all crowded in my head, vying for my attention and I was lost.
It wasn't until my hands slid around to his chest in an attempt to remove his shirt that I realized where we were. Our Bubble-Head Charms had merged, allowing us to kiss without drowning, but we were still underwater. I pulled back, far enough to break the kiss, but not far enough that the charms separated. We were still in the same bubble; I could feel his breath on my lips.
“You really want to do this?” I asked in a hushed voice. I was still in awe that it was actually happening and suddenly I needed to hear it from him.
“Hell, yes,” he replied, leaning a bit closer so that his lips almost brushed mine again. “Let's go in.”
~*~
The trail leading from the wet room to the dorm was a bitch to clean up, but it was definitely worth it. Everything came off in our rush to get to a bed, the hall was littered with wet suits and equipment and underwear, all of it. By the time we reached a bed, mine, as it turns out, we were both naked, hard and desperate; grasping at each other with hands and lips, cocks straining and chests heaving. Sex is a messy, awkward business, but suddenly that didn't seem to matter. I finally understood the phrase 'let nature take its course' and I was more than happy to let it.
Harry fell to the bed first, so I crawled up over him, much less seductively than I would like, I'm sure, but the end result was the same. He was under me, the way I had been fantasizing about, almost since the moment I saw him, and it was not something to be rushed. I slowed down, kissing him tenderly instead of violently, turning rough hands into gentle caresses.
Finally, when I could stand it no more, I pulled back, my eyes soaking in the sight of him like I was starving for it. And perhaps I was. He was a vision, all mussed and panting and so utterly beautiful that my chest ached.
“Can I fuck you?” I asked softly, barely daring to get the words out, but needing to know. I was aching to be inside him, to be a part of him, if only he would let me.
“Yeah,” he whispered back. I smiled at him, unable to keep the ludicrous grin from my lips, so I leaned down to kiss him again instead. I wasn't going to pass up this opportunity.
233
The alarm went off while we were in the control room, finishing up a few reports, and I swear, Harry jumped about a foot off his chair. I would have laughed if my heart hadn't been racing and my stomach wasn't lodged firmly in my throat.
“What is it?” I yelled over the klaxon, but Harry was already on it.
“Earthquake off the Queen Charlotte's,” he replied, looking up at me with wide eyes. “Can we turn that damn thing off?”
I waved my wand and silence fell suddenly, leaving us both gasping with relief. The alarm meant business, no doubt about it.
I rushed over to join Harry at the display, taking in as much information as I could.
“6.8 magnitude, it could have been a lot worse,” I said, following the scroll of words as new reports came in.
“It's still too big,” Harry replied, pointing at the tsunami predictor. Oh, it was going to hit, that's for sure, and while it wouldn't be the biggest tsunami ever, it was still going to cause some damage. Especially here, on the unprotected northern tip of the island. We may be under water, but the surge resulting from an earthquake would not be tempered by our location.
Things like this were a large part of why we were here. The planet seemed to be more and more dissatisfied with the way it had been treated, mostly by the Muggles, but wizards like You Know Who had certainly not helped. With all the unpredictable weather, and the high risk of earthquakes and tsunamis in this part of the world, the merpeople would have been forced to flee had it not been for us.
“Wards,” Harry said firmly, and I nodded my agreement. We had to get out there now, before the advancing surge of water could wreak havoc on the mermaid habitat.
We dashed for the wet room, pulling on our wetsuits and tanks as fast as we could, checking each other quickly to be sure all was in working order, before throwing ourselves into the water with no ado. We were racing against a ticking clock, for more than the welfare of the merpeople. Our habitat would likely be damaged as well.
We wasted no time swimming to the ridge at the northernmost point of the mermaid's territory. They hunted and frolicked outside its bounds, but none of them would venture beyond once they felt the quake. They were sensitive like that.
Casting wards was exhausting, but we worked quickly nonetheless. Other than the obvious social need, this was one of the reasons why we needed two people on staff here. Without Harry, it would have taken me three times as long to set the barrier. Working together we were able to accomplish what we needed to in just under a half hour, with little time to spare. When we were done we swam as fast as we could for the hatch into the wet room: being out here when the tsunami hit, wards or no wards, would not be pretty.
I pulled myself up the ladder and collapsed on the floor, panting harshly, gasping at the fresh air that rushed into my lungs when I took down my Bubble-Head Charm. Harry followed, throwing himself down beside me as I struggled to regain my calm.
“Wow...what a...rush,” he panted out, sucking in large mouthfuls of air between words. My breathing had evened out, thankfully, the adrenalin beginning to wear off as I dragged myself closer.
“You're...pretty good with...wards,” he panted, grinning at me in excitement.
“It's a gift,” I replied, right before I swooped down and kissed his breath away all over again. I'd found over the last month that Harry was as horny as me, and certainly no slouch in the bedroom. He was also impossible to resist, but I'd known that for a lot longer than I'd been sleeping with him.
He kissed back hard, grabbing a handful of my hair and pulling, rolling me over on to my back. He braced himself above me, his hair and eyes as wild as the sea outside, but unlike the wave, this was all focused on me. When the wave hit, the habitat shuddered, the shaking adding to the sensations rippling through me, bringing us to a climax together. The shaking subsided, in us as well as the habitat, the wave of pleasure abating as naturally as the tsunami.
197
“There you are,” Harry called as he entered the infirmary. I looked up at him, shocked to find him naked in front of me, his cock half hard, hands on his hips. He was leering at me, and I knew just what he wanted. I wasn't going to let him get it so easily, though.
“What do you think you're doing?” I asked, painfully tearing my eyes from his still hardening cock and finely muscled chest.
“What does it look like?” he replied saucily. “Fancy a shag?” He was utterly ridiculous, winking at me like some kind of caricature. He had exaggerated his accent as well, knowing that I found it sexy.
“No!” I exclaimed.
“Why not?” he countered as he stalked closer, his cock bobbing with every step. I swallowed thickly. I could feel my defences begin to slip away, and I knew it had just begun.
“Because it's just not done,” I said. “You can't just wander the habitat naked,” I insisted. He scoffed.
“Why not?” he asked again, lifting a brow. His hands were on his hips again, they might as well be holding a sign that said 'look at my cock. It's right here'. It was very distracting, especially since it was fully hard and pointed right at me.
“There's no one here but us, and I know you love getting me naked," he added with a thrust of his pelvis for emphasis.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and tried to regain some control over my body, which was rapidly responding to the sight of Harry's naked glory. The attempt was voided as soon as I opened them.
He had climbed up onto the table and laid back, propping himself up on his elbows. As I watched he drew up his legs and spread them, bracing them on the edge of the table so that he was open to my gaze, like some kind of pornographic display. His cock was propped up against his belly, a smirk painted on his teasing lips.
“Come on, Draco, it's been a slow week and we're all done the reports. You're just making work. Come and play with me,” he said, gazing at me seductively, and oh, it was seductive. Those eyes, half lidded and staring at me intensely over his erect cock, through the window of his spread legs. God. Who could resist that?
I don't remember how I got from behind the desk to on top of Harry, but suddenly I found myself there. He looked rather smug, but I just kissed the smirk off his face, pressing my erection against him.
“Finally,” he said when I pulled back to take my shirt off.
“Quiet,” I said, silencing him with another kiss. His hands were pulling at my jeans, so I pulled back again and helped him out. I unfastened them quickly, taking time only to push them down to my knees before thrusting forward, pressing my naked cock to his.
We had done this often in the past month, but the thrill never seemed to fade. I kissed him forcefully, pinning his arms above his head, in love with his submission. Stories had reached us, all the way from Britain, of his open defiance of Voldemort, stories of his unwillingness to submit to anyone. But he was so different than the stories, it was a revelation. As if all the tales about him were fanciful exaggerations, especially, as I had discovered, his love of the limelight. In truth, he hated it.
He pulled back after a few minutes, and what a picture he made. His eyes were wide, his pupils blown so that they looked almost black, the green pushed back in a wave of lust. His lips were red and puffy, his hair in a crazy tangle. He was beautiful.
“Fuck me,” he growled, sliding his hands down my back to pull me closer.
“Pushy,” I said, but my patience had fled, he inflamed me like no one I'd ever met before. I slid my hands down his chest, tweaking his nipples. He gasped and then moaned, lifting his pelvis to encourage me, so I gave his cock a few tugs before moving lower to tease his entrance. I wasn't at all surprised to find him slicked and ready for me.
“A little eager, eh?”
“I come prepared,” he said. “Now get on with it.”
So I did. I wasted no time pushing myself into him, and oh, that hot, slick squeeze on my cock was like heaven. I held his thighs down, keeping him spread for me, at the perfect angle to...there it is. I could tell I hit his prostate when he began to moan and pant, his cock twitching and bouncing with each thrust.
It didn't take long for either of us. I'm sure it was longer than a couple minutes, but before I could stop myself, I was coming inside him. I kept on thrusting though, I knew he was close, and sure enough, a few more strokes over his prostate and he came all over his stomach, shuddering enticingly.
I collapsed on top of him, trying to catch my breath, my cock still lodged inside him. I was beginning to think that that is where it belonged. That he is where I belonged. It was too much, too much to think or compute, so I pulled back, turning around to right my clothing.
When I was calm enough to look, Harry was still splayed out on the table, his legs dangling from the edge. I couldn't help my smile: he was such a little kid at times, it's kind of shocking.
“Satisfied?” I asked. He lifted his head up, staring at me from under half lidded eyes, but the smile he wore told me he was better than words could.
“Good, now get out of here so I can get some work done,” I said, stooping to pick up my shirt, and retreating back behind my desk. I was confused and overwhelmed, and I just wanted to be alone.
“Yes, sir,” he said cheekily, sliding off the table and heading for the door. I couldn't resist watching him go, and I swear he put on an extra butt wiggle just for me.
182
It's always so quiet when Harry is gone. I didn't really notice while Melisa was here...when she had leave, I never felt itchy and lonely and horny. Perhaps that last is obvious, but the fact remains, I was missing Harry more than ever. He filled up more than the habitat with his presence.
In this extended quiet, I couldn't help but think about the fuck in the infirmary. I'd been stubbornly ignoring how I felt then, pushing it back more and more every time an encounter brought it to the front of my mind. I couldn't ignore it any longer.
I was beginning to think that I was in love with him. I couldn't know for sure, how does one know when they fall in love? He'd become vitally important to me, faster than I'd thought possible. It was a frightening thing, to be that affected by another person. Especially since our relationship was still so undefined. I knew how I felt, but I still didn't know his heart at all.
We were friends, lovers and co-workers, and each other’s only companion in that desolate place. Beyond that, I was clueless. We often slept together, waking tangled and making love in the mornings. There were times when he held me in his arms, the sweat evaporating from our sated bodies, when I couldn't imagine ever letting him go.
The problem was, I had no idea if he felt the same. He was open and friendly, completely engaging, but his emotions and thoughts were completely locked up. I couldn't help but feel that if I brought the subject up, he would deftly avoid it. Not that I did. I'm certainly not the 'sit down with a cup of tea and share feelings' type of guy, but I liked to think I am a little more open than Harry. He gives the impression of openness, but it's really a mask. What is underneath? There was no way to tell, all I could be certain of was my own feelings.
~*~
Part Two
Oh, and I'm getting right into my next bottom_draco fic, and am looking forward to that fest. :D
Title: Heart in a Bubble
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "Love fills you with doubts, with uncertainties. Love changes, and it changes you. It grows as you do."
Warnings: First person POV, Canadian!Draco, AU, mer-sex. Also, mermaid obstetrics. ;)
Beta(s): nikki4noo, 7ofeleven and dizilla, you ladies totally rock! Thank you. ♥
Word Count: 22,000-ish
Author’s Notes: (optional) This fic was very interesting to write, stretching me in regards to both prompt and format. I did some thinking though, and this is what I came up with. I hope is satisfies your wishes, eanelinea77. I had a great time writing it! Thanks for a challenging prompt!
365
When I first laid eyes on him, I was not impressed. We'd all heard the tales, how he survived the killing curse as a baby, how he defeated He Who Must Not Be Named numerous times before doing away with him completely at the age of seventeen. However, when I finally met him, to say I was underwhelmed would not be an overstatement.
He was a short, scrawny, unkempt thing. His clothes were messy, as was his hair. His glasses were smudged and crooked and his runners...runners, really? I wrinkled my nose at the sight. This is the most powerful wizard of my age? Really?
"Hello," I said, stepping forward. "I'm Draco Noirci, pleased to meet you." I shook his hand cordially; it was only polite.
"Harry Potter," he replied, gripping my hand firmly.
“You can come this way,” I said, leading him toward the dorms. He was here to replace my assistant. She just had to go and get married, the traitor, leaving me in need of, apparently, Harry Potter.
“Thanks,” he said, quietly, in an accent I hadn't heard from anyone in fourteen years, save my mother. She'd left my father when I was eight years old, and fled to Canada. Sure, I was born in England, but I considered myself Canadian. I was, technically...my mother had made sure that I passed my citizenship test when I was fourteen.
“The dorm is here,” I said, directing him into the cramped room where Melisa had lived for the past year. I felt a pang of longing at its empty state. All her pictures and knickknacks were gone. Even that ugly hat she'd insisted on displaying, as if it were a fine piece of art instead of tourist kitsch. But 'Michael bought it for me, when we went to Cuba,' a line I'd heard many a time. Sentimental or not, it was still tacky. There's no accounting for good taste, nor should one let sentiment overcome it. Honestly.
I stood back to allow him entrance into the room, if you could call it that. It was the size of my closet back in Vancouver, but hardships must be endured in the pursuit of science. He shuffled around, tossing his duffel bag on the bed and sitting down, bouncing a bit, like a child.
“Nice,” he pronounced, grinning up at me, eyes bright even from behind those ridiculous glasses.
“I'm sorry it's so small, but space is at a premium here.” I watched as he twirled his wand around, sizing up the space before waving it at his bag. I took a step back, avoiding the clothing that went rushing towards the hangers.
“It's comfortable, actually,” he replied, stuffing the now empty duffel bag under his bunk. He travelled light, apparently. I had a hard time packing myself, too many accessories and too little space. “Where I lived...it wasn't exactly spacious, so compared to that, this is luxury.”
"Oh," I said, a bit distracted by his accent. Listening to him only made me sick for home, to hear my mother's elegant accent.
I looked up and noticed that he was watching me, with a strange, almost appraising look. I straightened my shoulders, taking advantage of my height to regain the upper hand, though he did not seem to notice.
“I'll show you the rest of the habitat, then,” I said, turning and heading toward the common areas, leaving him to follow. He was not at all what I had expected, and I had barely known the man five minutes. Perhaps the next year would not be as bad as I'd anticipated.
348
It was going to be the longest year of my life. Despite his appearance and manner, Potter had proven that he was smart, talented and passionate about what he knew. Fortunately, that included merpeople. Our dome was just off the northern tip of Vancouver Island. Our purpose was to study the creatures inhabiting the underwater cliffs there, using a strange melding of magical and mundane technology. I had grown to love the foggy, windy, rain-drenched climate while I was a student at VISM. A thriving magical ecosystem existed right under the noses of the Muggles, not that there were many of them here. The north island is sparsely populated, making it the perfect location for a magical school, as well as an excellent place for an underwater research facility.
Oh, right: Potter. He may have looked like something someone had dragged out from under a rock, but he was well educated and articulate when it came to our work, and his Muggle education added an interesting perspective that I hadn't thought would make a difference, but it did. And while the research was coming along fetchingly, I could not be so enthusiastic about his social skills.
He was arrogant. Perhaps it was justified, what with killing a dark lord and all, but it was still insufferable. He had no sense of personal boundaries and was as prone to barging into my quarters uninvited as he was to leaving the kitchen in shambles after yet another culinary 'experiment'. He also had a way of asking the really invasive, astute questions, leaving me at a loss for words. Me- speechless! It defied reason.
Life with Potter was unnerving in other ways as well. He insisted that I call him Harry, as vehemently as I refused to do so, and no matter how often I insisted otherwise, he continued to call me Draco, in that rough accent of his that always sent tingles down my spine. My mother's posh, polished accent had never had this effect on me. Thank Merlin for that.
“Draco, there you are!” I nearly leapt right off my seat at his voice. He had a tendency of sneaking up on me, which was infuriating.
“Geez, Potter, warn a bloke, would you?” I said, resettling in my seat and glancing at him. His hair was damp and messy, his skin flushed a rather fetching pink from exertion or hot water, I couldn't tell. His odour gave it away, though. He must have finished checking the wards on the perimeter, and then showered. He was fresh and clean with only a hint of saltwater.
I breathed deeply, unobtrusively, and closed my eyes as he took the seat across from me. He always smelled so damn good.
“What's up?” he asked, rifling through the papers that were spread across the desk in front of me.
“Unlike other people, I'm actually working,” I replied sharply, but nothing I said seemed to get through that thick skull of his.
He snorted, ignoring my reply. “What are you working on?”
I rolled my eyes at him before looking back at my paper. “It's a report on the latest environmental developments,” I said, passing him the sheet I'd just read. “Toxin levels are still rising, as well as temperature...” I was interrupted by a derisive snort. Potter's attitude toward the weather was not exactly a secret.
“Temperature,” I said firmly, glaring at him, despite the fact that he just smiled back at me. “Is still rising, and the continued over-fishing of salmon is having a profound effect on the food chain here. There is also all the logging in the area, and the looming threat of off-shore drilling.”
“It's not looking good for the future of the colony, is it?” he summarized.
I glanced at him from under my lashes, trying not to ogle him too much. “No, it's not,” I replied. “Fortunately, magic can protect them, but only to a point. Eventually, even magic will be unable to counter the effects of the Muggles' idiocy.”
“They're not all idiots,” he said defensively. “What do you have against them, anyway?”
“They're brash, violent, obnoxious and ignorant of the world around them. They don't care about anything but their consumer-driven lives, certainly not the environment that supports them, or the other creatures who reside in it.” I picked up another report, scanning the page for anything that might shed some light on how to maintain the colony safely.
“Alright, alright, I see your point,” he said, throwing up his arms in defeat and then leaning forward in his chair, arms splayed out on the table between us. His hands were strong and masculine, callused, with rough, chewed-down nails, but something about them... I couldn't help but want them on my skin. I was getting distracted again. This had to stop.
“Leave that,” I said crossly, tugging a few papers from his grip. I had found that getting angry at him helped to alleviate some of my attraction. Only some, but it was enough.
“You're in quite a mood today,” he stated, staring plainly at me. “You need to relax. Leave this. Come play something with me. I've got the cards,” he said, holding up the package and waving it at me.
“I'm not in the mood for cards, thank you,” I said, glaring at him. “I have to finish this.”
He sighed dramatically, sitting up straight in his chair before kicking off and leaning back on two of its legs. Honestly, he was like a child.
“You need to relax,” he said again.
“You've already said that,” I pointed out. “However, you're wrong. I'm fine.” I picked up another sheet of paper and began to peruse it, pointedly ignoring him.
“If you say so,” he replied, righting his chair and standing. “I'm going to get something to eat, do you want anything?”
I looked up at him. He looked so earnest, standing there, and I couldn't ignore him. Besides, he was a fabulous cook. “Sure,” I said, and his smile was my reward.
“Say that again,” he prompted, grinning at me.
“What?” I asked, looking up at him in surprise.
“Sure,” he said, waving a hand at me. “Your accent, it's great.”
“Please,” I scoffed, attempting to send him a withering look. From his reaction, I was not successful. “I don't have an accent.”
“Neither do I,” he said. “I'm British, but your Colonial accent is adorable.”
“You're nuts,” I said, unable to hold back a grin. He was so engaging, I couldn't help myself. “Besides, I'm British too.”
“Are you certain?”
“I'm sure,” I said, instantly realizing that he'd manipulated me into saying it. His brilliant smile was worth it, though.
“Ha!” he exclaimed, doing a little victory dance. It was utterly childish and ridiculous, a part of him that showed up occasionally. “I win!” he said, coming around the table to clasp me on the shoulder. The touch sent a ripple of goosebumps down my arms and I shivered.
“Now come on,” he said, still grinning broadly. “I'll whip us up a stir fry.”
I put down the reports and stood. It was pointless to resist him, so why bother? I might as well have fun with him. “Sure,” I said saucily, winking at him, noticing and rejoicing in his resulting blush. Another thing I had discovered, Potter blushed like a girl when I flirted with him. Straight boys were so much fun to tease.
Damn Potter.
303
The weeks drifted by, the pace of life as serene as the currents that surrounded our environment, though that could change in a heartbeat. For now, it was peaceful, so I had plenty of time to contemplate Harry. The desire for him was growing, coming over me in surges. I'd be fine for days, a week even, and then it would hit me suddenly. I had long ago realized that he was much better looking than I had first judged him. The ever-present glasses were a distraction, but one soon became accustomed to them, and began to see beyond. I'd never seen eyes like that: they were greener than the water and flashed with every emotion under the sun.
Then there was the hair. It looked like a coarse tangle... but I knew from when he'd brushed against me that it was soft, almost as silky as my own. The cheap product that had taken up residence beside my own specialty products worked better than I had been told they should. The cheap soap he used was a bargain as well, because he smelled amazing. In such close quarters, it was almost impossible to ignore.
It didn't help that his clothes, while rumpled and often dotted with the evidence of his last meal, fit him well, stretching to reveal glimpses of pale skin and surprising amounts of muscle. He looked scrawny, but he wasn't...he was all lean muscle and dark hair.
All told, he's exceptionally appealing.
And it's been wearing away at me. Barely nine weeks in and I was ready to pounce on him. I'd spent a year down here with Melisa and had wanked maybe once or twice a week. Admittedly, she was the wrong gender and as such, was hardly going to arouse any excitement in me. If I tried I could make the case that any male in the vicinity would get a rise out of me after being so deprived of masculine company, but the fact is, that wasn't the problem.
The problem was Harry Potter was starting to drive me crazy. I'd gone from wanking twice a week to at least twice a day. He was guileless when it came to flirting: he blushed, but brushed it aside. Occasionally I thought he might be interested, but then his mood changed and he was distant once more. I couldn't figure him out and as a result, I was on edge, all the time. My only hope for a reprieve was during our occasional leave.
Fortunately for my nerves, he'd been on leave for the last few days. He was due back today, and my nerves were shot all over again. The peace while he'd been gone was about to end. I was as excited about it as I was nervous. Against my will, I had missed him.
The day passed with excruciating slowness. I managed to keep busy, following my normal routine and adding a few things that had been overdue. I spent longer than normal making the rounds outside the environment, all in an attempt to keep my mind off the fact that Harry was on his way home. And the fact that I was thinking of it as home, now that Harry was here, was scaring me. I'd spent a year here with Melisa, enjoying her company but never considered the habitat as home. Home was where I'd go when my two years were up. It was odd, how comfortable I was living with him, despite my nerves.
After I came back inside the dome, I showered, dressed, and found myself spending far too much time in front of the mirror. I forced myself away, turning to cleaning up, not that the place needed it. Neatness was necessary: there wasn't much room here. I was in the kitchen, putting together a meal when finally, though it seemed like several days had passed instead of just one, the wards notified me that Harry's Portkey had arrived.
I finished up what I was doing...I had already decided that I wouldn't go meet him, I'd let him come to me. It's not like he was a new recruit anymore, and I was determined not to give in to my urges. I wasn't going to moon over him like some fourteen year old girl. I wasn't a Harry Potter groupie, after all.
I didn't have long to wait.
“Hiya Draco,” Harry said, coming into the kitchen and throwing himself into a chair. “How've you been?”
“Good,” I said, turning to give him a smile. “How was your leave?”
“Alright. I had a good time, Vancouver is a great city,” he said, leaning on the back legs of his chair again. When he inevitably fell on his ass, or his head, I was going to laugh my ass off.
“It is,” I agreed. "It was a great place to grow up." I remembered Wiltshire, but the memories were not very good. I had vivid memories of my father, of rages and yelling and cold, hard silence. I remembered spells cast in anger. And fear. Plenty of fear.
Mother still won't talk about it, or what made her decide to leave, but she did say that Father hadn't always been that way. His devotion to He Who Must Not Be Named had twisted him, and when his Master had been defeated by Harry Potter and vanished, he'd come undone. I don't have any memories of him that aren't connected with fear. I look back now, and I know that the best thing my mother ever did for me was taking me and running away. I've never told her just how grateful I am, but one day, I would.
“How long have you lived there?” he asked.
“Since I was eight,” I replied, turning back to finish up the meal. When it was done I loaded our plates and sat across from him, pushing his plate across the table.
“Thanks,” he said, flashing me a bright smile. I winced as his chair scratched across the floor as it set down.
“So, what did you get up to in my fair town?” I asked, taking a bite and trying to ignore his strong hands fiddling with his cutlery, or the clasp of white teeth behind red lips as he took a bite. I sucked in a breath and prayed for control.
“The usual. Slept in, hit the clubs,” he said, leering at me and leaving no doubt as to what he got up to. I dropped my eyes, unable to hold his gaze, knowing that I was blushing and unable to stop it. Fortunately he didn't seem to notice, still telling his tale.
“Oh, I got a packet of letters from home as well, that was...well, most of it was good, but Hermione sent me some news I'd rather not have heard.”
“Oh?” I said, looking up at him again. He was frowning now, and I hated it.
“Yeah... it's just, well, I should have expected it, but I didn't.” He put down his fork and pushed the plate away.
“That bad?” I asked, gesturing to his abandoned plate. “Tell me.”
“Oh, come on: you don't want to hear about it,” he said, but I did want to hear, and I wasn't going to let him dismiss me. I wanted to be closer to him, I wanted to know what he thought, what he felt. I knew I should hold back, but I couldn't seem to help myself; Harry Potter did weird things to me.
“It's no problem,” I said, pushing my own plate aside to focus on him.
“No, you don't, it's...” he trailed off, so I just gave him my most receptive expression and waited. It didn't take long. “Okay, okay.”
He sighed and pushed back on his chair again, balancing it on two legs like he was born to do it. “Okay, so the thing is, I worked my arse off to do what had to be done during the war, you know? I did things I never thought I'd do and can't help but regret some of them, even though they were necessary. I've lost so many friends, and all the family I had and it was long, hard, and horrible. My teenage years were pretty much just one long fight for survival.
“Besides Voldemort, there was one man who made my life a living hell. He's just pure evil. He was Voldemort's right hand man, so you can imagine. When I was fifteen, he went to prison for breaking into the...oh, never mind, that story would take all night. He's tried to kill me though, repeatedly since I was twelve; that should give you an idea of how I might feel about him.” He stopped to summon a bottle of Butterbeer and took a gulp before going on. Nasty stuff, that. I much prefer my Muggle beer.
“So, he was in prison, then there was a mass breakout, and then he was back at Voldemort's side, killing Muggles and torturing children and just generally being evil. Not to mention a few more attempts on my life and my friends'. He was captured when it was all over, and sent back to prison, for the rest of his life, or so we thought.
“Apparently not. I got a letter from Hermione informing me that he's bought his way out of prison. Did I mention he's rich? And he likes nothing better than to use his no doubt ill-begotten wealth to fund his escape from justice, the arsehole.”
He paused to take another drink while I pondered his use of 'ill-begotten'. It was very unlike him, but whether it's down to my influence or that of his, as I've gathered, nerdy friend, I have no idea.
“I can understand why you're so upset,” I said. It does seem brutally unfair that someone who has been so horrible can get free because he's rich. Justice, indeed.
“If anyone deserves to rot in Azkaban for life, it's Lucius Malfoy. But oh no, he was under Imperius the whole time, you know: he's completely innocent,” Harry said.
My heart stopped. It couldn't be.
“I wonder how much of his blood money it took to get him off this time. See, this is just an example of why I left England. Voldemort may be gone, but it's all so corrupt: I just couldn't stand it. I had to get out,” he continued, oblivious to the fact that my heart had frozen in my chest.
Lucius Malfoy. I hadn't heard that name for years. Not since we'd left England. Did he really say Lucius Malfoy? Could there be two wizards with that name in England? Two rich, evil bastards with the same name? No, it had to be him. I can't believe it.
Harry was still going on about how much he hated England and how happy he was to leave, how horrible the weather was and how no one would leave him alone, but I had been transported back to when I was six and my father had beaten one of the house elves almost to death for a minor infraction. I remembered how terrified I was that he would beat me next; he'd certainly never shown any love for me. I had to be perfect, I had to do everything right, he demanded nothing less from me, and once I'd seen what he was capable of...
I shook my head to clear it. I'd seen worse after that, had discovered that he was capable of even more, but that incident had stuck with me. Suddenly I was glad that my leave was coming soon, that I could spend some time with Mother. Suddenly, I needed her.
“Draco? Draco, are you okay?” The worry in Harry's voice brought me all the way back to the present, and I shuddered under the weight of the past.
“I'm...I'm…” I didn't know what to say. “Alright. I think.” I knew I probably looked like a sheet. I'd always been pale, and British Columbia was not exactly a tropical location. It may be a rainforest, but it was temperate, and the clouds were ever present... I was shaken out of it once more by Harry's voice.
“Are you sure?” he said, his worry evident.
“Yes, I... what was his name again?” My hands were a little shaky, so I clenched them so tight my knuckles were white.
“His name? You mean Malfoy?” he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Yes,” I said, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Lucius Malfoy?”
“Yeah. What about him?”
I swallowed, though my saliva felt like glue. Damn him for making me feel this way, thirteen years and thousands of miles away.
“He's my father.” I don't know why I told him, instead of brushing off his concern and retreating, but there it was. He was stunned, frozen in place, as if I'd hit him with a spell.
“Your... what?” he asked. “But your last name is Noirci.”
“Actually, it's my mother's maiden name... tweaked and then translated into French. We've used it since we left. Mother said it would be safer that way.” I forced myself to unclench my hands. Lucius couldn't hurt me from here. Would Harry hold it against me, that I was Lucius' son?
“Safer?” Harry was still stunned; I could practically see the wheels in his head turning.
“Malfoy is a rather distinctive name, and she knew he'd look for us. Even all the way to Canada. I'm his only son, after all, and there's an ancient wizarding line to think of. But he's mad, Harry: he's always been mad. Ever since…” I trailed off, struck by just how closely our lives were entwined, Harry's and mine, though we'd never met until a few months ago.
“Ever since Voldemort disappeared,” he finished my thought. We stared at each other for a few minutes, both trying to take it all in. I didn't know where to go from here. Would he hate me now, knowing that I'm the son of his worst remaining enemy? How far did that hate go, and how strong was it?
“How old were you?” he asked, quietly.
“When we left? I was eight,” I replied.
“Oh,” he said. “That would explain the accent, then.” He grinned at me, and I couldn't help but grin back, the tension draining a bit.
“You're the one who has an accent,” I insisted, but he just laughed.
“Sure, sure,” he drawled, attempting to draw out the word in some semblance of Canadian diction. I threw a piece of broccoli at him; the mood defused, thankfully.
"I'm glad you got away," he said sincerely.
"Me too," I replied, pulling my plate back. "Now eat up, there's plenty to do before I leave, we should get started right away." He nodded and followed my lead, tucking into his meal. I put Lucius out of my mind, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he crept back in, the bastard.
271
Campbell River is a reasonably sized city. It has nothing on Vancouver, but then again, that's part of the reason I like it so much. Sometimes Vancouver can be overwhelming, especially after the peace and solitude of the Cape Scott habitat. I'd learned that going back to Van just for three days was a bit of overkill, and hardly a vacation.
I arrived by Portkey and was soon checking into the Discovery Inn. It was my mother's favorite, right in the middle of downtown. I was looking forward to seeing her; it had been a few months since she'd been out to visit me on my leave. And considering the weight of Lucius on my mind ever since Harry had returned, the visit was even more welcome.
I got to the suite and collapsed on my bed, not even bothering to unpack. I just didn't want to face anything yet. Besides, Mother would no doubt harangue me about it as soon as she arrived, and that was soon enough. I closed my eyes, letting the stress and high emotions of the last few days roll off me, just breathing in and out, in and...
“Draco?” the voice invaded my dream, bringing me back to reality with a rush.
“Harry? What?” I lurched up, blinking away the sleep to see Mother standing over me, remembering where I was.
“Hi, Mum,” I croaked, relaxing as she ran a loving hand through my hair.
“Hello, Draco,” she said, giving me a smile. “A little tired?”
“Yes,” I replied with a yawn, stretching the sleep out of my limbs. “I didn't get much sleep last night.”
“Were you that excited to see me?” she asked cheekily.
“No, I... don't want to get into it now,” I replied, standing to embrace her. I had long been taller than her, but I still felt like a child when she held me. Safe. No one could make me feel safer, no one had given up so much to keep me so. She uprooted her life, left her husband and everything she knew, sacrificing friends and social standing to keep me safe.
“I'm so happy to see you,” she said, pulling back to look me over. “You're so pale!” she declared.
I laughed. “Of course I'm pale, mother: I've spent the last year and a half under water!”
“Yes, well,” she said, waving the topic away and patting my cheek.
“Mother,” I said, brushing her hand away in annoyance.
“Poor Draco, such a hardship to humor your mother,” she sighed. I laughed again. My mother has the best sense of humor.
“Well, now that I'm awake, let’s go to dinner. I'm starving.”
~*~
“Are you ready to talk about it now?” she asked, as I sipped my coffee. Part of me had been hoping to avoid the topic, but I knew we should talk about it. I needed to talk about it.
“Alright.” I put my cup down, licking the whipped cream off my lip. Baileys and coffee would always be my favorite. “Okay, I've told you that Harry Potter is my partner at the moment.”
“Yes.”
“Right, well, he's fresh from England, of course,” I continued.
“You don't miss it, do you?” she asked.
“No, I really don't. I was too young to remember much, just the fear...” I trailed off. I hadn't been meaning to say that.
“I'm sorry, Draco,” she said, reaching across the table and taking my hand.
“Don't be: you got me out of it.” I squeezed her hand, reassuring her. She sometimes worries that I feel a lack. Of a father, of my home country. I keep telling her, Canada is where I was raised, and I felt no loyalty to England. Nor to my father.
“And you don't even have an accent to show for it,” she replied, winking at me.
“Oh, I do,” I laughed. “According to Harry, I have the most adorable Canadian accent.”
She raised a speculative brow. I shouldn't have said that. She's far too perceptive.
“Really?”
“Yes, but that's not the point,” I said quickly in an attempt to deflect her. For how long was anybody's guess. “The point is, he returned from his leave a few days ago, and he brought with him news from home. News he wasn't happy about.”
“And that news has caused you to lose sleep?” she asked, surprised.
“Yes, he... he knows Father,” I said. She blanched, then shuddered. I understood the feeling.
“Oh,” was all she was able to say.
“His news was bad, he was pretty upset.” I took a deep breath, unsure how to go on, or unwilling. I didn't know. Maybe both.
“He's out of prison. Bought his way out.”
“Well, I'm not surprised he was in prison," she said, staring over my shoulder. “And I'm not surprised he got out. Your father has always been very charming. Persuasive. Unfortunately, he is also...” she trailed off, eyes still unfocused.
“Unhinged,” I finished for her. I knew enough about my father, remembered enough that I was certain of that fact.
“Yes,” she agreed. Silence fell after that. I suppose we didn't know where to go from there. Who would? Father had always been a touchy subject, but to her credit, Mother had never shied away from it. She's always been honest with me, about everything.
We were soon interrupted by the waiter, who successfully broke the mood. I was grateful. I hated bringing it up at all, I hated reviving the bad memories. More hers than mine: she had more of them, no doubt, and remembered them more clearly.
Soon we were out of the restaurant, strolling down the sea walk. It was a beautiful night, the moon just beginning to glow in the sky, vying with the fading sun in the twilight sky. I sighed, breathing in the salty air, feeling grateful once again for this place, to be here with the one person I loved more than any other, safe in this country that had sheltered us.
“So,” Mother said, breaking the silence, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. “Harry Potter, then.”
I cleared my throat, gazing out over the sea to avoid her knowing look. “He's...passable,” I said at last.
“Only passable? From what I've heard, he's much more than that,” she retorted.
“He's good at the job,” I said, still not meeting her gaze. She stopped walking and leaned forward on the rail that separated us from the marina below.
“Is that all he's good at?” she asked, and to my disgust, I blushed. Not that I would know what else he's good at.
“I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Mother,” I replied stiffly, taking a spot on the rail beside her. “So you can just drop it.”
“Well,” she said lightly. “It was worth a try. Is it my fault I want to see you happily settled down?”
“I'm only twenty two,” I scoffed. “I don't need to settle down for a long time yet.”
“I suppose,” she said, and then fell silent. We resumed our walk, a comfortable silence once more falling between us.
269
Ahh, home sweet home. Well, home for now, anyway. The arrival chamber was empty, as I was expecting. It was a relief, really, being able to compose myself before I saw Harry. I had been doing just fine, enjoying my weekend and recharging for the next few months, when Mother had to go and ruin it for me by bringing up the subject of Harry again.
Somehow she had managed to work an admission out of me. Yes, so I fancy Harry a bit. Alright: a lot. Naturally she had to encourage me to go for it. Of course she did: she 'just want to see you happy, Draco'. But statistically speaking, the chance that he was gay... well, I wasn't optimistic. Despite the odd moment between us, he hadn't shown any real interest; that I'd seen, anyway.
Damn her for putting the thought in my head. I took a deep breath, relaxed and cleared my head before heading to the dorm to unpack. There was no sign of Harry, but it was almost time for the daily patrol of the reef, so he was probably in the airlock. I took my time unpacking, trying to gain some kind of equilibrium. With my mother's words ringing in my ears, I set out to find him.
Sure enough, I found him in the wet room, fiddling with the equipment, his wetsuit pulled up to his waist. I took a moment to gaze at him, unable to stop myself. He wasn't very tall, shorter than me, but he was fit. His shoulders were broader than his posture made one believe. Right now, they were on display as he stretched to check the tanks on the shelf.
“Hey,” I said at last, my voice cracking. I cleared my throat and tried again, this time in the face of Harry's smile. “Hi.”
“You're back,” he said, walking toward me and reaching out a hand. I took it, shaking it firmly. He clasped me on the shoulder when we let go, grinning. His hands...no, his entire body was stronger than it looked, lean and wiry and utterly deceptive when it was covered in clothing. But it wasn't right now. His chest was naked, and I was having trouble keeping my eyes on his face. It seemed to happen a lot in this room, when we were dressing and undressing.
'Go for it,' I heard my mother say again. She was not helping.
“I just got in,” I said. “Getting ready to head out?” I looked away from him, taking my eyes off him and glancing around the room.
“Yeah,” he replied. “Are you gonna come with?”
“Sure,” I said, smiling weakly. “I'll just go get changed, then.” I turned on my heel and headed to the changing room. Hopefully by the time I was done, Harry would be dressed and I would be able to concentrate on something besides the smooth skin covering his lean muscles.
I was in luck: he had pulled up his wetsuit by the time I returned, and was testing his air tank. Our equipment was modelled on Muggle diving gear, with a few convenient magical additions. It needed checking every time we went out, both the magical and mundane components.
“So, how was your weekend?” he asked as we double-checked the tanks.
I swallowed, not looking up at his eyes. “Fine, it was fine,” I replied. “Spent some time with my mother; it was rather peaceful.”
“Oh,” he said, looking right at me. I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my neck. “No wild parties? No crazy kinky sex?”
I turned and sent him an incredulous look. “No,” I said simply. “Partying is not my thing.”
“Sure, sure.” He looked at me, right through me, as if he could see all my secrets. I blushed, looking down again and fiddling with my tank some more.
“So, no girlfriend then?” he asked unexpectedly. My gaze shot up to him again, I was shocked. Did he really not know? How could he have missed it?
“You're joking, right?” I asked, zipping up my wetsuit.
“Joking?”
“Yes,” I replied. “How could you not know that I'm gay? Are you really that dense?”
He stared at me appraisingly for a moment before stuttering, “I, uh....no, I didn't...I, um...you're gay?”
I looked at him, certain that my face was portraying my amazement. “Yes. I can't believe you didn't realize.” I chuckled at him, then blushed under the intensity of his gaze. “I'm why the stereotypes are stereotypes.”
“Oh, I didn't...you're not that obvious,” he said.
“If you say so,” I replied, “but you're the first person I've met who hasn't known right away or at least had an inkling. I didn't think I needed to tell you.” I focused on finishing up with my kit.
“Do you have a boyfriend then?” he asked. I swore under my breath. This was exactly where I didn't want to go. Soon he'd be asking me if I fancied anyone.
“No,” I said quickly. “You don't have a problem with it, do you?”
“Oh, no, I...as a matter of fact,” he began, but I cut him off.
“Good, I'm glad that's settled,” I said quickly. “Let's get going then, time's a-wasting.” I pulled my tank onto my back and headed toward the pool in the floor that was our doorway to the reef.
“Draco,” Harry began, but I ignored him, casting the modified Bubble-Head Charm that would allow us to not only breathe, but talk. And hear. Or scratch our nose, if the need struck. The charm kept out water and any sea creature that dared get too close, but allowed hands or other body parts, not that I'd had the opportunity to test that theory, to pass through. Magic is brilliant: I still couldn't fathom how Muggles got on without it. We had charms all over the wetsuit, too. Warmth, pressure, everything.
I waved at him and jumped into the water. The thing about the Bubble-Head Charm was that you couldn't talk or breathe until you were in the water, when the magic pumped air in from the tank. I slid smoothly into the water, several years of daily practice will do that, and headed toward the reef where the merpeoplemade their home.
It wasn't long before I felt Harry catch up, his movements displacing the water directly beside me. He tugged on my shoulder, but let go when I glared at him. Oh, I knew it was irrational, being so cranky just because he was getting close to asking questions I didn't want to answer, but I couldn't help it. Between my mother's admonition and Harry's frank curiosity, I just didn't know how to feel.
I came to an outcropping on the outskirts of the merpeople's territory, a very conveniently placed outcropping. We used several such rock formations to keep an eye on the clan without disturbing them. Oh, they knew we were there and why, but merpeople are a very touchy species, so it's better for all involved if we stayed out of sight most of the time.
“Why don't you want to talk about it?” Harry asked from beside me. His voice was distorted; no matter what spells one used, we were still underwater.
“Because I don't,” I snapped back, the effect ruined by the water.
“That's not a reason,” he replied, so I glared at him out of the corner of my eye. Why wouldn't he just drop it?
“It's all the reason I need,” I said, but he was not convinced, he still wouldn't give it up. “Why are you so curious anyway? You never cared about my love life, or lack thereof, before you found out I was gay.”
“That's because I assumed that you're straight,” he said. Understandable, but what kind of an oblivious ape couldn't tell at first glance that I'm gay?
“So you do have a problem with it?” I declared, turning to face him fully. “Now that you know I'm gay, you're gonna get all freaky and awkward around me, aren't you?”
“No, I won't...well, not awkward,” he said, but before I could figure that one out, something caught my eye.
“Harry, look!” I exclaimed, pointing in the direction of a pair of merpeople, a male and female, frolicking above a field of kelp. It was clear what they were doing: roaming hands and moving bodies were universal, it seemed. We watched them for a few long moments, neither of us breaking the silence. It was grotesquely beautiful, and I couldn't help but be moved. Very few outsiders ever witnessed a pair of merpeople mid-coitus, and we had almost missed it. After a few more minutes, they pulled apart, clasping hands before turning away and swimming in opposite directions.
“Wow,” Harry said, his lips almost touching my ear. I shivered. Apparently I had been too enthralled with the mating merpeople to notice how close he'd moved. “I've never seen anything quite so...amazing and...gross.”
I turned and met his eye, and before long, we were laughing together, still in awe of what we saw. Harry met my eyes and the intensity of his gaze stilled my laughter. He shifted closer still, lifting a hand to my neck, where he rubbed a finger softly across my skin.
“I'm curious about your sexuality, because suddenly it relates to mine,” he said quietly, his voice husky despite the distortion.
“It does?” I rasped back, my brain spinning desperately to decipher his meaning.
“Yes,” he replied, now cupping my neck with both hands, his face mere inches away. I was fast fearing this was some sort of delusional daydream.
“You're gay?” I asked uncertainly. What else could it be, though?
“No,” he said with a chuckle. I jerked back: what kind of game was he playing here?
“I'm bi,” he said simply, grinning widely at me. “And I fancy a kiss, if you don't mind.” He leaned in quickly, and before I knew it, we were kissing. Full-on open mouths, tongues and all, kissing. I was shocked, really shocked: he'd never shown any real sign of being interested but missed signs or no signs, I kissed him back. He wrapped his arms around my back and pulled me closer, so I did the same, hanging on to his shoulders and letting my fingers twine in his hair. I loved it.
He pulled me closer, one of his arms slipped down to my waist, pulling our lower bodies together while the other slid up my back, pressing our chests together as it slid into my hair. His kisses were deep, moving, utterly passionate, and I was swept away. The reef, the water, the merpeople, everything was lost in the excitement of the kiss. My mind was a mess. My mother's admonition still in my ear, the feel of Harry against me, the feelings that had been quietly building in me that I could no longer ignore. It was all crowded in my head, vying for my attention and I was lost.
It wasn't until my hands slid around to his chest in an attempt to remove his shirt that I realized where we were. Our Bubble-Head Charms had merged, allowing us to kiss without drowning, but we were still underwater. I pulled back, far enough to break the kiss, but not far enough that the charms separated. We were still in the same bubble; I could feel his breath on my lips.
“You really want to do this?” I asked in a hushed voice. I was still in awe that it was actually happening and suddenly I needed to hear it from him.
“Hell, yes,” he replied, leaning a bit closer so that his lips almost brushed mine again. “Let's go in.”
~*~
The trail leading from the wet room to the dorm was a bitch to clean up, but it was definitely worth it. Everything came off in our rush to get to a bed, the hall was littered with wet suits and equipment and underwear, all of it. By the time we reached a bed, mine, as it turns out, we were both naked, hard and desperate; grasping at each other with hands and lips, cocks straining and chests heaving. Sex is a messy, awkward business, but suddenly that didn't seem to matter. I finally understood the phrase 'let nature take its course' and I was more than happy to let it.
Harry fell to the bed first, so I crawled up over him, much less seductively than I would like, I'm sure, but the end result was the same. He was under me, the way I had been fantasizing about, almost since the moment I saw him, and it was not something to be rushed. I slowed down, kissing him tenderly instead of violently, turning rough hands into gentle caresses.
Finally, when I could stand it no more, I pulled back, my eyes soaking in the sight of him like I was starving for it. And perhaps I was. He was a vision, all mussed and panting and so utterly beautiful that my chest ached.
“Can I fuck you?” I asked softly, barely daring to get the words out, but needing to know. I was aching to be inside him, to be a part of him, if only he would let me.
“Yeah,” he whispered back. I smiled at him, unable to keep the ludicrous grin from my lips, so I leaned down to kiss him again instead. I wasn't going to pass up this opportunity.
233
The alarm went off while we were in the control room, finishing up a few reports, and I swear, Harry jumped about a foot off his chair. I would have laughed if my heart hadn't been racing and my stomach wasn't lodged firmly in my throat.
“What is it?” I yelled over the klaxon, but Harry was already on it.
“Earthquake off the Queen Charlotte's,” he replied, looking up at me with wide eyes. “Can we turn that damn thing off?”
I waved my wand and silence fell suddenly, leaving us both gasping with relief. The alarm meant business, no doubt about it.
I rushed over to join Harry at the display, taking in as much information as I could.
“6.8 magnitude, it could have been a lot worse,” I said, following the scroll of words as new reports came in.
“It's still too big,” Harry replied, pointing at the tsunami predictor. Oh, it was going to hit, that's for sure, and while it wouldn't be the biggest tsunami ever, it was still going to cause some damage. Especially here, on the unprotected northern tip of the island. We may be under water, but the surge resulting from an earthquake would not be tempered by our location.
Things like this were a large part of why we were here. The planet seemed to be more and more dissatisfied with the way it had been treated, mostly by the Muggles, but wizards like You Know Who had certainly not helped. With all the unpredictable weather, and the high risk of earthquakes and tsunamis in this part of the world, the merpeople would have been forced to flee had it not been for us.
“Wards,” Harry said firmly, and I nodded my agreement. We had to get out there now, before the advancing surge of water could wreak havoc on the mermaid habitat.
We dashed for the wet room, pulling on our wetsuits and tanks as fast as we could, checking each other quickly to be sure all was in working order, before throwing ourselves into the water with no ado. We were racing against a ticking clock, for more than the welfare of the merpeople. Our habitat would likely be damaged as well.
We wasted no time swimming to the ridge at the northernmost point of the mermaid's territory. They hunted and frolicked outside its bounds, but none of them would venture beyond once they felt the quake. They were sensitive like that.
Casting wards was exhausting, but we worked quickly nonetheless. Other than the obvious social need, this was one of the reasons why we needed two people on staff here. Without Harry, it would have taken me three times as long to set the barrier. Working together we were able to accomplish what we needed to in just under a half hour, with little time to spare. When we were done we swam as fast as we could for the hatch into the wet room: being out here when the tsunami hit, wards or no wards, would not be pretty.
I pulled myself up the ladder and collapsed on the floor, panting harshly, gasping at the fresh air that rushed into my lungs when I took down my Bubble-Head Charm. Harry followed, throwing himself down beside me as I struggled to regain my calm.
“Wow...what a...rush,” he panted out, sucking in large mouthfuls of air between words. My breathing had evened out, thankfully, the adrenalin beginning to wear off as I dragged myself closer.
“You're...pretty good with...wards,” he panted, grinning at me in excitement.
“It's a gift,” I replied, right before I swooped down and kissed his breath away all over again. I'd found over the last month that Harry was as horny as me, and certainly no slouch in the bedroom. He was also impossible to resist, but I'd known that for a lot longer than I'd been sleeping with him.
He kissed back hard, grabbing a handful of my hair and pulling, rolling me over on to my back. He braced himself above me, his hair and eyes as wild as the sea outside, but unlike the wave, this was all focused on me. When the wave hit, the habitat shuddered, the shaking adding to the sensations rippling through me, bringing us to a climax together. The shaking subsided, in us as well as the habitat, the wave of pleasure abating as naturally as the tsunami.
197
“There you are,” Harry called as he entered the infirmary. I looked up at him, shocked to find him naked in front of me, his cock half hard, hands on his hips. He was leering at me, and I knew just what he wanted. I wasn't going to let him get it so easily, though.
“What do you think you're doing?” I asked, painfully tearing my eyes from his still hardening cock and finely muscled chest.
“What does it look like?” he replied saucily. “Fancy a shag?” He was utterly ridiculous, winking at me like some kind of caricature. He had exaggerated his accent as well, knowing that I found it sexy.
“No!” I exclaimed.
“Why not?” he countered as he stalked closer, his cock bobbing with every step. I swallowed thickly. I could feel my defences begin to slip away, and I knew it had just begun.
“Because it's just not done,” I said. “You can't just wander the habitat naked,” I insisted. He scoffed.
“Why not?” he asked again, lifting a brow. His hands were on his hips again, they might as well be holding a sign that said 'look at my cock. It's right here'. It was very distracting, especially since it was fully hard and pointed right at me.
“There's no one here but us, and I know you love getting me naked," he added with a thrust of his pelvis for emphasis.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and tried to regain some control over my body, which was rapidly responding to the sight of Harry's naked glory. The attempt was voided as soon as I opened them.
He had climbed up onto the table and laid back, propping himself up on his elbows. As I watched he drew up his legs and spread them, bracing them on the edge of the table so that he was open to my gaze, like some kind of pornographic display. His cock was propped up against his belly, a smirk painted on his teasing lips.
“Come on, Draco, it's been a slow week and we're all done the reports. You're just making work. Come and play with me,” he said, gazing at me seductively, and oh, it was seductive. Those eyes, half lidded and staring at me intensely over his erect cock, through the window of his spread legs. God. Who could resist that?
I don't remember how I got from behind the desk to on top of Harry, but suddenly I found myself there. He looked rather smug, but I just kissed the smirk off his face, pressing my erection against him.
“Finally,” he said when I pulled back to take my shirt off.
“Quiet,” I said, silencing him with another kiss. His hands were pulling at my jeans, so I pulled back again and helped him out. I unfastened them quickly, taking time only to push them down to my knees before thrusting forward, pressing my naked cock to his.
We had done this often in the past month, but the thrill never seemed to fade. I kissed him forcefully, pinning his arms above his head, in love with his submission. Stories had reached us, all the way from Britain, of his open defiance of Voldemort, stories of his unwillingness to submit to anyone. But he was so different than the stories, it was a revelation. As if all the tales about him were fanciful exaggerations, especially, as I had discovered, his love of the limelight. In truth, he hated it.
He pulled back after a few minutes, and what a picture he made. His eyes were wide, his pupils blown so that they looked almost black, the green pushed back in a wave of lust. His lips were red and puffy, his hair in a crazy tangle. He was beautiful.
“Fuck me,” he growled, sliding his hands down my back to pull me closer.
“Pushy,” I said, but my patience had fled, he inflamed me like no one I'd ever met before. I slid my hands down his chest, tweaking his nipples. He gasped and then moaned, lifting his pelvis to encourage me, so I gave his cock a few tugs before moving lower to tease his entrance. I wasn't at all surprised to find him slicked and ready for me.
“A little eager, eh?”
“I come prepared,” he said. “Now get on with it.”
So I did. I wasted no time pushing myself into him, and oh, that hot, slick squeeze on my cock was like heaven. I held his thighs down, keeping him spread for me, at the perfect angle to...there it is. I could tell I hit his prostate when he began to moan and pant, his cock twitching and bouncing with each thrust.
It didn't take long for either of us. I'm sure it was longer than a couple minutes, but before I could stop myself, I was coming inside him. I kept on thrusting though, I knew he was close, and sure enough, a few more strokes over his prostate and he came all over his stomach, shuddering enticingly.
I collapsed on top of him, trying to catch my breath, my cock still lodged inside him. I was beginning to think that that is where it belonged. That he is where I belonged. It was too much, too much to think or compute, so I pulled back, turning around to right my clothing.
When I was calm enough to look, Harry was still splayed out on the table, his legs dangling from the edge. I couldn't help my smile: he was such a little kid at times, it's kind of shocking.
“Satisfied?” I asked. He lifted his head up, staring at me from under half lidded eyes, but the smile he wore told me he was better than words could.
“Good, now get out of here so I can get some work done,” I said, stooping to pick up my shirt, and retreating back behind my desk. I was confused and overwhelmed, and I just wanted to be alone.
“Yes, sir,” he said cheekily, sliding off the table and heading for the door. I couldn't resist watching him go, and I swear he put on an extra butt wiggle just for me.
182
It's always so quiet when Harry is gone. I didn't really notice while Melisa was here...when she had leave, I never felt itchy and lonely and horny. Perhaps that last is obvious, but the fact remains, I was missing Harry more than ever. He filled up more than the habitat with his presence.
In this extended quiet, I couldn't help but think about the fuck in the infirmary. I'd been stubbornly ignoring how I felt then, pushing it back more and more every time an encounter brought it to the front of my mind. I couldn't ignore it any longer.
I was beginning to think that I was in love with him. I couldn't know for sure, how does one know when they fall in love? He'd become vitally important to me, faster than I'd thought possible. It was a frightening thing, to be that affected by another person. Especially since our relationship was still so undefined. I knew how I felt, but I still didn't know his heart at all.
We were friends, lovers and co-workers, and each other’s only companion in that desolate place. Beyond that, I was clueless. We often slept together, waking tangled and making love in the mornings. There were times when he held me in his arms, the sweat evaporating from our sated bodies, when I couldn't imagine ever letting him go.
The problem was, I had no idea if he felt the same. He was open and friendly, completely engaging, but his emotions and thoughts were completely locked up. I couldn't help but feel that if I brought the subject up, he would deftly avoid it. Not that I did. I'm certainly not the 'sit down with a cup of tea and share feelings' type of guy, but I liked to think I am a little more open than Harry. He gives the impression of openness, but it's really a mask. What is underneath? There was no way to tell, all I could be certain of was my own feelings.
~*~
Part Two