Swept Under
Title: Swept Under
Rating: NC17 (because of h/d sex)
Genre: Romance/General
Length: 153,48 words overall
Pairings: Harry/Draco, Hermione/Ginny
Summary: For Harry's 21st birthday his friends arrange a surprise party at a beach house. Hermione tries to restrain her hope through Ginny's battle of not wanting to find women attractive. Harry and Draco stumble through their odd relationship, figuring out just what the other wants. Ron witnesses it all.
Note: So, here's your very late birthday fic strigoia. Hopefully it was worth the wait.
Special thanks to my sister for giving me ideas without even knowing it.
July 21st
Hermione opened the door to a woman with long silky red hair and a bright smile that seemed to light up the room. Hermione vowed to stop reading so many romance novels and more history. History didn't corrupt her brain into thinking of floating descriptions referring to her best female friend.
"Guess what!" Ginny said in a strained, breathy voice. She bounded over the threshold and into the kitchen, making Hermione follow her.
"What?" Hermione asked, pulling out two chairs and sliding her laptop to the middle of the oak table. Ginny grabbed it and pulled it to her, momentarily forgetting what she was saying. Hermione shook her head wearily. Her friends, with the exception of Harry, were always so amazed that she decided to live in a muggle house located in a muggle neighbourhood. Every time Ron or Ginny came over they fiddled with her laptop.
After a few clicks Ginny looked up. "Oh, yes! I booked someplace for Harry's birthday party. It's rather short notice but it's perfect!" She broke off and grinned, refusing to say exactly where it was until Hermione asked. "It's...a beach house! How perfect is that? I just love the beach." She sighed and a wistful look overcame her face.
"So, did you pick it for you or Harry?" Hermione grinned. "No, I'm sure he'll like it."
"Really? Good." She nodded and twirled a strand of hair between her fingers, her face shrouded in a dreamy expression.
"We need to make invitations," Hermione said, gently pushing Ginny's soft hands off the laptop and opening an accessory-maker program. Ginny jumped and started naming off people they should invite. It was decided that not too many people would go because Harry would like something small with good friends. Finally they created a simple elegant (Hermione got her choice instead of Ginny's flaunting pastel design) invitation.
Hermione said, "I'll pour us some pumpkin juice," and walked to the refrigerator to rummage through it. As she dumped the orange liquid into glass cups she watched Ginny's fingers race over the keyboard, pausing every now and then while she contemplated what to type next. The pad of her pointer finger glided over the curser pad. Hermione's eyes followed the movement, trying to squash the little part in her that wished she could feel Ginny's fingers race across her body like that. It wouldn't do to think things like that when Ginny was in the same room.
“What are you -- Oh!” Hermione gasped, almost dropping the glasses of pumpkin juice as she rounded the table and looked over Ginny’s shoulder at the screen.
Ginny jumped and frantically clicked, trying to get off the page, but Hermione had seen enough. The picture was of two girls touching one another in a sexual way. Hermione flushed. But what was Ginny doing looking at that?
“Accident!” Ginny giggled, pulling her hair out from behind her ear and letting it fall in front of her face. “Darn thing. I clicked on the wrong word-taker-thinger.”
Hermione, completely bemused, didn’t even correct her. She could feel her neck heating up and her eyes jumped everywhere, unable to focus. It didn’t mean Ginny found women attractive, she chanted in her head. It probably was true. There were plenty of links on the internet that lead to porn sites. Hermione herself had accidentally stumbled upon some. Ron, on the other hand, had made detours just to look at the porn sites.
Which was why Hermione downloaded a content filter. Why wasn’t that working?
“Well, I’ve got to run,” Ginny said, twisting the bottom of her shirt around her thumb. A sliver of her stomach showed and Hermione adverted her eyes, plastering a smile on her face and seeing Ginny to the door.
The door shut behind the redhead and Hermione was at the kitchen table, trying to figure out why her content filter wasn’t working and, equally, trying to quell her foolish hopes. Ginny probably was telling the truth. She usually did.
Hermione scowled but couldn’t help feeling a little proud. She looked at the computer screen. So Ron had figured out her password and how to turn the filter off. She would have to chastise him and keep a closer eye on him. He liked to pretend he didn’t know a thing about the computer. He even pronounced the internet, ‘inanet.’
Ignoring the fact that Harry still flew better than him, even though he was a professional Quidditch player for the Chudley Cannons and Harry worked in the Ministry under the Treatment of Muggles, Ron grinned and tossed the quaffle.
“You call that a toss?” Harry yelled, laughter in his voice. He swooped down to catch the ball where it had fallen short.
“I’m a keeper,” Ron said defensively. “Not a chaser.”
The sun shown through Harry's black hair, creating a halo around his head. "Excuses, excuses," he scoffed. Ron decided he made a terrible angel.
"I don't know about that," Ron said, catching the quaffle smoothly between his outstretched fingers. "You're the one who's panting. It's only been two hours. Bit out of shape, Potter?"
"Two hours?" In a second Harry was by his side, tugging at his wrist. Ron relented and let Harry manhandle him, twist his arm so he could read the watch. It was a nice watch. Once he became Quidditch captain his parents had bought him the fancy, silver watch with brooms as the hour and minute hands. A little snitch marked the second hand and in the background flew quaffles and bludgers. "Damn. I've got to run off."
Ron rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw. Of course Harry had to run off. He always had to run off. Flying behind Harry into the changing rooms, he glared at his back. What did Malfoy do that kept Harry from coming back?
Watching Harry strip out of Quidditch robes and into normal everyday robes, Ron winced. Maybe he didn't want to know why Harry came back. He had seen enough in the past.
Ron struggled to pull his robes over his head while he muffled, "Are you working on your birthday?"
After a second of Harry trying to decode what Ron had said he answered. "No."
"Good." Ron tugged on his other robes and straightened his hair in the mirror. He noticed that Harry, of course, hadn't touched his hair. "You're going to the beach with Hermione and me."
Harry opened his mouth to protest and Ron sighed. He planned something with Malfoy, didn't he? And he wasn't going to come right out and say because no one knew about them. Bloody Malfoy.
"That sounds great." Harry gave a half-hearted smile.
Ron nodded once and let Harry escape. It was a good thing Harry brushed Malfoy off for them. One thing Ron believed was that Harry spent way too much time with the git and not enough with his friends. Besides, it was his 21st birthday. Wouldn't he rather spend it with people who loved him?
The brass door knocker clinked loudly. The Malfoy manor was so vast though that Harry doubted Draco could hear it if he were, say, upstairs. That’s what house elves were for, Harry reasoned, vowing never to mention that to Hermione. Even though nothing ever came of her rebellion she was still passionate about elf rights.
The door opened a few inches, giving Harry a view of Draco's chest down. He yelled, "In a few!" then turned to Harry. "Oh, shit. I forgot."
Harry smiled hesitantly. He watched Draco's pink bottom lip disappear between white teeth.
"You have to leave. My mother is over," he hissed, looking over his shoulder again and sagging, his head banging against the door frame. The door opened and Draco let it, his hand falling from the wood. He wouldn't look at Harry.
Moving his eyes from Draco he saw an older woman with ice blue eyes and long blond hair. Her bony fingers kneaded Draco's right shoulder. In her eyes was surprise but her lips held a stiff smile.
"Hello, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry said politely, looking at Draco for instructions but he was shifting like a little kid caught stealing cookies.
"Do come in, Mr. Potter," Narcissa Malfoy said, her thin lips forming every word carefully. Now Harry knew where Draco got such thin lips from. He had seen Mrs. Malfoy before but that was years ago, when he didn't care about making comparisons between Draco and his mum. When he still wished they would just go to Azkaban and stay there.
Harry looked at Draco, who nodded and gestured ahead of him. Harry entered, feeling as if he had just walking into a trap. The dread displayed plainly on Draco's face showed him otherwise. Knowing very well that the Malfoys were following him, Harry walked into the sitting room and stood stiffly as the other two settled onto the furniture.
"Sit," Mrs. Malfoy said gently. "I would hate for Draco to be a horrid host." She gave him a stern look and Draco waved his hand at the armchair closest to Harry. He took it, grateful to sink into the cushions. It felt so strange sitting in Draco's house with another person. In the past half year Harry had spent many nights and days in the house but never once was there someone else in it. They didn't do that. It was always private with a few outings far away from where people who knew them would be.
No one was speaking. Harry didn't dare open his mouth because he didn't know what to say and whatever he did say would be the wrong thing. It always worked out that way.
"Are you two friends?" Mrs. Malfoy asked, adding a wink in Draco's direction. Both Harry and Draco's mouths dropped open. "Oh, do shut your mouths. You'll catch flies." But she was smiling knowingly.
Draco's eyes narrowed in an all too usual gesture. Harry himself had been on the receiving end of those looks recently. It seemed whatever he said or did was the wrong thing.
"No," Draco answered smoothly, no hesitation in his voice. "We're just fucking."
Harry spluttered. Narcissa Malfoy's eyes widened significantly but she recovered and nodded, her lips in a tight line.
Draco caught Harry's eyes and Harry held the look, trying to conceal his emotions. It really didn't mean anything else to Draco. Suddenly, Harry wanted to leave more so than he ever had. He smiled at Draco and nodded at Mrs. Malfoy. Draco narrowed his eyes at him.
The sound of footsteps brought Harry out of his thought. "I'll show you to the door," Draco said, not waiting for Harry to stand. Determinedly not looking at Mrs. Malfoy, Harry followed him, too disappointed to admire the way Draco's trousers clung to his arse. Or maybe he was admiring because he didn't notice Draco stop and he ran into his back.
"Ophf!"
Draco rolled his eyes and opened the door. He checked to make sure his mum hadn't followed then grabbed Harry's chin and pulled him forward. "Come back after supper tomorrow," he said, warm breath ghosting over Harry's lips. Harry didn't dare say anything for prolonging the moment that Draco kissed him.
But he didn't. He just hovered there. Harry leaned in to do it himself when Draco tongue darted out and swiped Harry's bottom lip. His mouth fell open automatically. With a smirk, Draco pulled away and shut the door between them.
Harry stubbed his foot on the stone porch.
July 22nd
"I think Seamus, Dean, and Neville. Luna. Harry works with Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott, doesn't he? How about them? What about Colin? It would be funny to watch Colin drool over Harry." Hermione raised her eyebrows but Ron chuckled and waved his hand. "No. Trust me. You weren't there last week. We ran into Colin in Diagon Alley. That boy was almost crawling after Harry."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at her friend's raucous laughter. Sometimes he was so immature. She pulled her laptop towards her and pulled up a Microsoft word file. "Ginny and I had already chosen a few people. We have Seamus, Dean, Neville, Luna, Fred, George, Susan, and Hannah on the list. And we want it to be a small party. Not a whole lot of people. Harry would like that better."
Ron snorted, trying to get his laughter under control. Hermione rolled her eyes and looked disdainfully at him. "Fred and George are out of the country for the rest of the month. For business. Neither of you remembered?"
"I guess not," she answered dryly, resisting with difficulty the desire to strangle Ron. He was so infuriating. That had never changed. Not like the intense crush she'd carried on him throughout their Hogwarts years. With the changing days that had disappeared, as had Ron's feelings. They never spoke of it but they both knew it. Or, Hermione figured Harry had helped him realize it. Ron never was good with stuff like that.
"Well, anyway, he talks about Logan Winterfeild, Stephen Cornfoot, and Trenton Quipper from work. So we can invite them too."
The clicks of the keyboard dyed off and Hermione counter the names. "That's nine, not including us three and Harry. I think that sounds good. Do you?" Ron nodded. "Then print out nine invitations, would you? I'll look up the addresses in the wizard owling book."
Once Hermione stood up Ron shoved his way into her seat. She shook her head and sat cross-legged on the living room floor. After a few minutes of the printer running and quill scratching over parchment, Ron called, confusion in his voice, "Since when do you look at girl porn?"
"What?" Hermione screeched, rushing up behind Ron. The printer chose that moment to stop and they stood there, the silence stretching between them. Both of their eyes were on the laptop screen where Ron had pulled up the exact site Ginny was looking at yesterday. The history was pulled up on the side.
"I wasn't. It was," she hesitated, "Ginny."
Ron twisted around and looked in disbelief at her.
"Is she a lesbian?" Hermione asked, trying to sound casual, but she knew she failed. Ron's face showed confusion, disbelief, and some other kind of emotion Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to decode.
"No," he answered slowly. "A few days ago she went out with a co-worker. You know, from the day-care." He paused. "It was a bloke."
Hermione struggled to grin. It was such an uncomfortable conversation. It didn't help that every time she broke Ron's eye contact she saw the girls behind him. Maybe she's bisexual, ran through her head no matter how much she tried to suppress the thought. That should squash her hopes, not create new ones. She should give up on Ginny.
Ron exited out of the server and turned the computer off. It wasn't until he stood up that it hit her. "You took off the content blocker again!" She pointed an accusatory finger at him. The sneaky bastard. "I downloaded that specifically because of you."
Ron shrugged and smirked half-heartedly. Hermione deflated. He was disgusted, wasn't he? She turned her back on him and picked the invitations out of the printer. There were one, two, three, four, five, six -- Ron grabbed them out of her hands roughly, almost creating a paper cut. Hermione scowled at him but due to the fact that she was avoiding looking at him it wasn't really effective.
"I'm just going to drop these off at the owl post. Have all the addresses?"
Hermione quickly found the rest and handed them over to Ron. They stood awkwardly, neither looking at each other. Ron waved the invitations at her and smiled before walking out of the house. Hermione sagged against the door. Ron figured it out, and he was disgusted.
Trying not to think of what strain it would put on their relationship, she headed up to her bedroom, looking for something to do. Eventually she started stripping the wallpaper off. It would look better in a nice burgundy colour. She soon forgot all about what had happened downstairs as the yellowed wallpaper crumbled and became lodged up her fingernails.
"We're going out to eat. Meet me at Flamperdors in an hour." Without waiting for Harry's answer he hung up the phone, looking distastefully at it, and strode to his room. He had only recently got a telephone because Harry kept urging him to and it was easier to make and cancel plans than waiting for an owl to make the delivery. That didn't mean Draco liked it though. It was still pathetic muggle junk that he had to charm how many times for it to work in his manor.
Exactly one hour later Draco entered Flamperdors. It was a high class wizard restaurant that didn't let any type of paparazzi in. It was one of the only places Harry and him would meet at outside of their homes. Although, they were almost always at Draco's because Harry lived with Weasley. Draco scowled just thinking about it.
A rumpled robe was tossed over the metal chair in front of him. Harry plopped into it and rubbed his eyes. Draco eyed him. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, leaving his collarbone out. Draco had the sudden urge to lick the skin. He would have to do that later. The restaurant was too high class for that type of display.
"Why'd we have to meet here? It's so far away," Harry whined, rubbing his unruly black hair.
"Don't do that," Draco snapped, standing and gesturing for Harry to do that same. Sighing heavily, he did and leaned across the table, letting Draco press their lips together. Harry didn't react at all. Miffed, Draco slid his tongue into Harry's mouth. The moment their tongues met, Harry pulled away and sat back.
"People are looking," he hissed. Sure enough, when Draco looked around a few people had their attention on them. Draco sneered. Bloody nosy people.
A waiter stopped by their table and took their order with a strong Irish accent. As the waiter walked away Draco's eyes followed the curve of his arse. Those trousers were rather tight. He licked his lips. He hadn't been laid in a week, having only gotten back from a long meeting about Malfoy property in Cancun the other day. He looked at Harry, hardly able to wait for after dinner when they would head back to his house. Draco planned on tearing Harry's clothes off with his teeth. He'd always wanted to do that. Suddenly Draco realized that Harry was scowling at the table.
"You're the one who said you don't want anyone to know," Draco said. Harry looked up and blinked, then comprehension dawned and he bit his lip, leaning forward. Once Harry's hand started rubbing circles on the back of Draco's hand he continued, "Besides that they have wonderful food."
The soft pressure on his hand left. "It takes so bloody long for the food," Harry said irritably.
A few minutes of silence and Draco was getting angry. Didn't Harry miss him? The sap usually did. After watching Harry roll and unroll the crisp white napkin over and over again a terrible thought occurred to him. Apprehension filled him, shooting to his toes and making them curl. Maybe Harry was losing interest.
"So," Draco purred, leaning across the table and snatching Harry's tan hand away from the napkin. He snaked his fingers into Harry's palm, spreading it, and then trailing lightly up his arm, pushing the shirt up as he went. "For your birthday. What do you say instead of staying cooped up in my bedroom we try something different?"
Harry's head popped up with an audible crack. His eyes shifted uneasily. Draco resisted rolling his; Harry was always so nervous about trying new things. Like the first time they went out. The first time they kissed. And especially the first time they shagged.
"I was thinking of a threesome. Maybe we could get that fit waiter to join in." He craned his neck, looking for said waiter.
Harry blanched. "Er, no. No. Besides, I forgot to tell you, Ron and Hermione are taking me to the beach."
"Is that so?" Draco asked coldly. Harry couldn't just bail on their agreement. They had decided on that a week ago, right before he left on the trip. But of course. Weasley and Granger came before anyone.
"Yeah," breathed Harry. Shortly after that the waiter came back with their food. Draco didn't spare him a glance. He was busy alternatively glaring at Harry and anyone else who happened to look in their direction. Dinner passed in silence, save for Harry's pathetic attempts of conversation that Draco put an end to with a sneer.
Draco stood stiffly. "Night, Potter." He wasn't in the mood for a shag at that moment anyway. With satisfaction he heard Harry sigh heavily and clink his fork on the plate.
July 24th
Her hands pulled at the short skirt, then pulled her blouse down. Up. Down, letting a large amount of breasts show. They primped thick brown hair. Picked up a little boy and kept him steady on her hip. Landed on Ginny's arm, stroking ever so lightly.
Ginny jumped. The woman's hand fell off and tugged her son's grubby hands away from her shirt. The boy was tugging it down so that one half of her lacy bra hung out in the open. For the world to see. Ginny gulped heavily.
"...bacteria. I don't want Cody to get sick. And he gets sick easily, don't you, baby?" Her voice turned into a coo as she spoke to her son. But then she was talking to Ginny again and her voice sounded nothing like that. It was low, moderated, sounding familiarly like a bedroom voice. Ginny shivered. The woman kind of reminded her of Hermione. Well, not really. Just her hair. It wasn't as wild as Hermione's but it was almost the same shade and thickness. What would it feel like to moan into while fingers probed?
"Shit!" Ginny exclaimed under her breath. Then she slapped a hand to her mouth. She couldn't be swearing in a day-care. Looking around she noticed that no one had heard her. The woman was still talking, dark eyes lidded heavily. Sexily. Stop it, Ginny!
The woman -- what did she say her name was? -- raised her eyebrows, waiting for an answer. "Sorry, what did you say?"
"I was wondering if you wanted to discuss this further out for lunch." She smiled warmly and Ginny didn’t miss the underlying promise. To make it obvious the woman winked.
"I -- I'm sorry. I'm working through lunch." She scurried off, knowing it was rude, knowing she would be scolded for it later, but also knowing that she was so close to saying yes and leaving with the woman. What was wrong with her?
A young man walked over and tried giving her a stern look. He only succeeded in having a pained look. Everyone knew he fancied Ginny.
"Yes?" she asked sweetly.
"You should be nicer to the potential clients." He gave her his crinkled smile. "Even if she was hitting on you."
Ginny raised her eyebrows. Tim was notorious for noticing nothing. "You saw that too?" She tried to make her voice humorous, casual, but it quivered. Tim nodded and Ginny noticed he had gorgeous eyes. A soft warm brown. They didn't remind her of Hermione, either. They didn't. "Want to go out for our lunch break?"
A giant smile spread across Tim's face and Ginny felt instantly regretful. But going out with a man always made her forget about her...appreciation of the woman's body. Maybe she would bed him. That might make him happy. And if it was terrible he wouldn't feel bad when she never went out with him again.
You are cordially invited to help us celebrate Harry Potter's twenty-first birthday. It's a surprise party so please don't let it slip to Harry. The party will be head at a beach house at...
It took a few minutes for Draco to react. What? Why would he receive an invitation to Harry's birthday? Granger and Weasley didn't know about him. From what he knew, they weren't even aware of the fact that Harry had seen him since they were out of school.
Unless...
Unless Harry had told them without telling him. The twat! And what the fuck did he say that made them think Harry and him were serious? At least, serious enough for birthday invitations. Harry had made it perfectly clear with the sneaking around and meeting in private places that he didn't want anyone to know. Draco was fine with that. That made sense. This didn't.
Draco hadn't told anyone. No, he kept quiet. The only person that he told was his mother and Harry was there for that one.
Sure, Draco relented, they had never actually said they couldn't tell anyone, but it was practically an unspoken agreement. In fact, it was an unspoken agreement. Potter had no right to tell his pathetic friends.
Consumed with anger, Draco picked up the cursed muggle phone and dialed Harry's cell (he didn't have a home phone). After four rings Harry picked up and spoke loudly. "Hello!"
"Potter. Lower your voice. It's annoying." He waited rather impatiently while Harry mumbled something to someone else. Did he have someone at his house? Draco's anger flew up even more. Wait. Harry lived with Weasley. Feeling foolish, Draco clutched the phone tighter. He needed to calm down.
Finally the background noise disappeared and Harry whispered, "What is it?"
"We need to talk."
There was a long silence. Draco almost laughed aloud once he realized what he'd said. It was those words everyone dreaded to hear.
"Erm. Can it wait? I'm helping Hermione paint her room. Do you want to talk later?" Harry's voice was hesitant and Draco was sure he was just prolonging the conversation.
"No. I need to talk to you. Face to face."
There was a deep sigh on the other line and then Harry said, "Look, Draco, I need to go. Hermione’s yelling about something -- no really, listen." There was silence and sure enough someone was yelling. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Potter, tomorrow I'm going to Pansy's wedding. I'll be gone for six days."
Harry whined, "But you just got back."
Draco passed a weary hand over his face. He suddenly didn't want to deal with Harry and the confusion that surrounded him. "We'll have dinner when I get back. At my house. I'll owl you with the time and date. Okay?"
There was another long silence. If Draco strained his ears enough he could hear the background noise. It sounded like trashy music. Probably muggle since he was at Granger's house.
"Fine," Harry sighed. Before Draco hung up the phone he could of swore he heard Harry mutter "Potter?"
July 30th
Everywhere he turned there were couples. Okay, maybe not always actual couples, but people who were interested in each other. Hell, he was stuck with two of them. And that rather bothered him, but he pushed it to the back of his head. No. He wasn't going to think about his sister and best friend like that. But it was obvious.
It really wasn't fair. Harry had Malfoy, no matter how screwed up their relationship probably was. Their relationship didn't even mean anything since they didn't tell anyone about each other. Still, Harry had someone. Most of the men and women on his Quidditch team were either married, seeing someone, or going on random dates with people. The last time Ron had gone on a date was a month ago. He needed to get out more.
Ginny let out a giggle. Ron glared. "Yes, Hermione. I'm sure Harry will appreciate the pink banner."
"Well, it's the last one!" Hermione protested, shoving Ginny on the arm lightly. They both grinned and Ginny picked it up, scanning it critically. "You're right. We'll look somewhere else."
"Just get it," snapped Ron. They had already wondered the party store for an hour. An hour! It wasn't a large store. If he had known shopping with them would be this torturous he wouldn't have gone with. Actually, watching Hermione and Ginny interact was enough to make him wish he hadn't gone.
Did they always touch that much, Ron wondered as they playfully fought over getting the pink banner. Maybe he just hadn't noticed Hermione's lingering looks, soft smile, and trailing fingers before. Maybe he had completely skimmed over Ginny's shy looks. Though, Ginny was more adapt at hiding them. She always looked angry afterwards, like she knew she had showed it.
"Ron, we're done," Hermione said kindly, curling her nimble fingers over his left shoulder. Ginny beamed up at him, the pink banner now adorned with Happy 21st Harry! When had they done that? "You okay? Want a headache potion. We can pick one up on the way back to my house."
Ron sighed heavily. They didn't even know they fancied each other, did they? But Hermione was smart. She had to see it. Ginny wasn't dumb either. It was practically crawling on top of them, scratching skin open. They had to see it. Maybe it was only obvious to him because Hermione had practically spelled it out for him about a week ago.
"I think I got one somewhere in here," said Ginny as she riffled through her impossibly small purse.
"No. I'm fine." Hermione and Ginny stared at him.
Hermione dared to open her mouth and say "You're being awfully crabby." Ginny smothered her laughter with a hand.
"Let's go pay for this stuff," he, yet again, snapped. He could hear the girls whispering behind his back as he led the way.
"So," started Ginny once they were paid for. "Hermione and I forgot to tell you. I'm going up to the beach house when the guests are supposed to arrive. You two will take Harry up slightly later. You didn't tell Harry you I was coming, did you?"
Ron shook his head. He had forgotten about Ginny going with. He was too busy being angry about Harry and Malfoy at the time.
"Good!" Ginny smiled cheerily and Hermione relieved him of a few bags. She threw one at Ginny, who gaped at her as it fell to the ground.
Ron groaned. They were going back to Hermione's yet. He wasn't sure how much of them he could take. If only Hermione hadn't spelled it out for him. Then he wouldn't be any the wiser.
"Did you ever tell anyone about us?" Draco asked casually, wrapping his long fingers around a glass. Harry stared at him. Draco downed the alcohol in an attempt to hide his emotions. Harry tapped the table and switched his gaze from Draco's face to the table. It was a new table. Draco was rather proud of it. Goblin made, no wood grain visible, expensive, and elegant.
"No." He hesitated. "Should I have?"
The confusing brunette was grinning widely. So widely that Draco wasn't sure how to respond. Sometimes Harry said or did something that completely threw Draco's careful words out the window.
And did this mean Harry hadn't told anyone? Or was he lying? How else would Granger have known? Maybe Harry kept a diary...
"I guess if you really want to there's nothing much I can do," he drawled slowly, thinking his words through.
Harry's grin only widened. "So, tell me about the wedding. How boring was it?"
Half an hour later and an empty bottle of wine, Harry was laughing wildly about everything Draco said. They weren't drunk, Draco knew. Just tipsy. Harry was a very horny drunk and Draco a sleepy one, which resulted in humorous situations of Harry trying to tempt Draco into the sack when he was already falling asleep.
"So then this house elf pops up from no where," Draco practically giggled. Harry nodded and hopped up on the counter, pulling Draco by the shirt collar between his legs. Draco willingly allowed it, latching onto Harry's neck and sucking. "Anyway, where was I?"
"The house elf," Harry prompted, locking his ankles around Draco's hips. He dug a heel into Draco's back, bringing him flat against the edge of the counter.
"Ah, yes. That house elf popped out of no where and shouts out 'Neako object!' right after the bloke asked if anyone disagreed with the ceremony." He paused, ignoring Harry's sceptical eyebrows. "Why do they even ask that? I mean, what do they do if someone actually objects?"
"You're having me on," Harry announced, plopping his head on Draco's shoulder and licking. Draco couldn't resist the little shiver that ran through him. He loved having his neck licked. Or any part of his body really.
"Nope," Draco lied, nudging Harry's cheek with his chin. Harry pulled his head straight and looked at him, their faces a mere inch apart. Harry grinned and rolled his eyes. The smell of wine rose from Harry's mouth and curled in Draco's nose. "No, but I'd love to have you on this counter. How's that sound?"
"Rather lovely," Harry breathed, grin turning feral. He scooted as far back on the counter as possible, until his back hit the cupboards. Draco hoisted himself up and pushed Harry onto the hard marble. His fingers fumbled with the buttons while their tongues tried skimming over every expanse.
Finally, finally, Draco had all the buttons undone. He nipped a path down Harry's chest, feeling fingers weave in his hair and tug until his face hovered over Harry's.
Harry whispered, "I missed you."
Draco winked. "Course you did. No one else is a better shag."
In retaliation Harry crossed his legs around Draco and pulled him flush against him. "Did you miss me?" he asked, grinning wickedly and pressing his pelvis into Draco's straining cock.
"Mmm." Draco concentrated on pressing back, thrusting and setting a rocking pace that left Harry groaning, a light sheen of sweat breaking across his forehead.
But Harry was persistent. "Did you?" His voice was rather level. Draco slid his hand down Harry's pants, bypassing his trousers. He needed to take care of that.
"Perhaps." Draco grinned cheekily. "No one quivers quite like you." Harry opened his mouth to protest but Draco quickly twisted his wrist in the tight space between Harry's skin and pants. He pressed a finger against Harry's hole, rubbing softly.
Naturally, a quiver raced through Harry. He frowned once he realized what happened. Draco grinned and rested atop him, connecting their lips chastely.
"Why, are you seeing other people?" Harry whispered. He shifted underneath Draco until he removed his hand from Harry's pants.
Fruitlessly Draco tried gaining eye contact. He didn't understand what went through Harry's head. First he didn't want anyone to know. They went to places people they knew wouldn't find them. Harry whispered in the phone when talking to him. He seemed strangely happy about Draco asking if he'd told anyone. And now he was angry because he somehow came to the conclusion that Draco was seeing other people.
"Just what type of relationship do we have going on, Harry? Tell me that," Draco snapped, fed up with whatever game he was playing.
Harry squirmed and Draco sat up, straddling Harry's thighs. Harry sat too, placing his hands behind him for balance. "I don't know what you mean. I was just passively asking if you were seeing anyone else. I don't care if you are. I could be too, you know."
Draco's eyes flashed and he clutched Harry's shirt. The slight tug made it fall off Harry's shoulders to pool around his elbows. Harry wasn't seeing anyone; he couldn't be because Draco wasn't seeing anyone else. If Harry was and Draco wasn't, well, that just made him pitiful, didn't it?
Harry started chewing on his lip. "I'm not, okay? Are you?"
Draco sighed, loosening his grip. There were deep wrinkles in the shirt now, not that there weren't already from their previous activities. "No. Just forget about it." Carefully, making sure Harry's head wouldn't hit the counter, he eased them into a laying position. "But I still want you on this counter. Preferably sometime today."
Harry grinned and relaxed, pressing a hand down Draco's back. Draco moved to kiss him but a voice interrupted. "It looks like much more than you insist."
Draco snapped his head up and scowled at his mother. Why was she here? She always let him know beforehand when she was visiting. He eased off the counter and dropped to the floor, skidding slightly thanks to his socks. Harry awkwardly followed after him, trying to button up his shirt and succeeding in getting them in all the wrong holes. Draco winced; how Harry managed to dress himself every morning he hadn't the faintest clue.
"You don't know what you're talking about," Draco growled, yanking Harry's hands away from his shirt and fixing the buttons.
By the time he finished Harry was blushing like mad and looking over Draco's shoulder. Draco turned around to find his mother standing there with her eyebrows raised, hands on her hips, and lips pursed in that infuriating 'are-you-kidding-me?' look.
"I don't know, Draco. But you two were cuddling and that conversation is a little too advanced for people merely in a fling." She brushed her long white-blond hair over her shoulder and took a seat at the table, calling for a house elf to clean it. Draco fumed silently. She had no right to come in and say what constituted for one type of relationship. Who died and made her all-knowing? Besides, she was still in love with his father, who had been in Azkaban ever since Harry vanquished the Dark Lord three years previous.
Draco prodded Harry to the doorway. "Harry has to be leaving now." Harry nodded vigorously and Draco sent him a grin for agreeing so readily. He needed to have a talk with his mother, alone.
Narcissa waved her long fingers at the door. "No, no, don't let me interrupt. I believed you had some unfinished business with that counter there."
Draco flushed but was satisfied to see Harry do the same.
"I really do got to go." Narcissa turned her steely eyes on Harry. "Erm, you know, Hermione wants more help painting."
Narcissa quirked one side of her mouth. "At midnight?" Draco would have smirked but he was angry at her.
Harry laughed uneasily. "She's insane."
Before Narcissa could hold Harry up any longer, Draco pushed him to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow," he hissed, shoving Harry roughly.
Harry frowned at him and wrenched out of his grip. "Tomorrow's my birthday. I'm going to the beach with Ron and Hermione, remember?"
Tomorrow? Draco stopped shutting the door and looked at him. One last time; maybe Harry really didn't tell them. "So, I'll see you the day after tomorrow."
"Yeah." Harry nodded, backing down the walkway. "I think they mentioned staying overnight. Should I stop by or call when I get back?"
"Just stop by," Draco said in a rush. He really hated those muggle phones. He moved to close the door -- his mother's footsteps were echoing on the hardwood floor -- when Harry quickly said, a pained look on his face, "You're mum won't be here, will she?"
"No. Night, Harry." But he didn't answer, having already headed down the walkway, hands in his pockets. Draco waited until he left the anti-apparation wards with an audible crack. Failure to perform silent apparation was the number one reason Harry worked for the Ministry under the Treatment of Muggles instead of Auror.
A hand landed on his shoulder and Draco sighed heavily. "You're utterly besotted, Draco darling." Her fingers squeezed gently. Draco jerked away. He glared at her, unable to voice his anger. Couldn't she just let him go? Did she want him to be in love with Harry Potter? In love. Shit.
Wearily Draco passed a hand over his face. Maybe he shouldn't show up to Harry's birthday party. He needed more of that wine. "Don't talk to me," he breathed, pushing past his mother and walking into the kitchen. To his surprise she didn't follow. Later, when he fell asleep half on the table and half on the chair he felt her carry him to bed.
Second Half
Rating: NC17 (because of h/d sex)
Genre: Romance/General
Length: 153,48 words overall
Pairings: Harry/Draco, Hermione/Ginny
Summary: For Harry's 21st birthday his friends arrange a surprise party at a beach house. Hermione tries to restrain her hope through Ginny's battle of not wanting to find women attractive. Harry and Draco stumble through their odd relationship, figuring out just what the other wants. Ron witnesses it all.
Note: So, here's your very late birthday fic strigoia. Hopefully it was worth the wait.
Special thanks to my sister for giving me ideas without even knowing it.
July 21st
Hermione opened the door to a woman with long silky red hair and a bright smile that seemed to light up the room. Hermione vowed to stop reading so many romance novels and more history. History didn't corrupt her brain into thinking of floating descriptions referring to her best female friend.
"Guess what!" Ginny said in a strained, breathy voice. She bounded over the threshold and into the kitchen, making Hermione follow her.
"What?" Hermione asked, pulling out two chairs and sliding her laptop to the middle of the oak table. Ginny grabbed it and pulled it to her, momentarily forgetting what she was saying. Hermione shook her head wearily. Her friends, with the exception of Harry, were always so amazed that she decided to live in a muggle house located in a muggle neighbourhood. Every time Ron or Ginny came over they fiddled with her laptop.
After a few clicks Ginny looked up. "Oh, yes! I booked someplace for Harry's birthday party. It's rather short notice but it's perfect!" She broke off and grinned, refusing to say exactly where it was until Hermione asked. "It's...a beach house! How perfect is that? I just love the beach." She sighed and a wistful look overcame her face.
"So, did you pick it for you or Harry?" Hermione grinned. "No, I'm sure he'll like it."
"Really? Good." She nodded and twirled a strand of hair between her fingers, her face shrouded in a dreamy expression.
"We need to make invitations," Hermione said, gently pushing Ginny's soft hands off the laptop and opening an accessory-maker program. Ginny jumped and started naming off people they should invite. It was decided that not too many people would go because Harry would like something small with good friends. Finally they created a simple elegant (Hermione got her choice instead of Ginny's flaunting pastel design) invitation.
Hermione said, "I'll pour us some pumpkin juice," and walked to the refrigerator to rummage through it. As she dumped the orange liquid into glass cups she watched Ginny's fingers race over the keyboard, pausing every now and then while she contemplated what to type next. The pad of her pointer finger glided over the curser pad. Hermione's eyes followed the movement, trying to squash the little part in her that wished she could feel Ginny's fingers race across her body like that. It wouldn't do to think things like that when Ginny was in the same room.
“What are you -- Oh!” Hermione gasped, almost dropping the glasses of pumpkin juice as she rounded the table and looked over Ginny’s shoulder at the screen.
Ginny jumped and frantically clicked, trying to get off the page, but Hermione had seen enough. The picture was of two girls touching one another in a sexual way. Hermione flushed. But what was Ginny doing looking at that?
“Accident!” Ginny giggled, pulling her hair out from behind her ear and letting it fall in front of her face. “Darn thing. I clicked on the wrong word-taker-thinger.”
Hermione, completely bemused, didn’t even correct her. She could feel her neck heating up and her eyes jumped everywhere, unable to focus. It didn’t mean Ginny found women attractive, she chanted in her head. It probably was true. There were plenty of links on the internet that lead to porn sites. Hermione herself had accidentally stumbled upon some. Ron, on the other hand, had made detours just to look at the porn sites.
Which was why Hermione downloaded a content filter. Why wasn’t that working?
“Well, I’ve got to run,” Ginny said, twisting the bottom of her shirt around her thumb. A sliver of her stomach showed and Hermione adverted her eyes, plastering a smile on her face and seeing Ginny to the door.
The door shut behind the redhead and Hermione was at the kitchen table, trying to figure out why her content filter wasn’t working and, equally, trying to quell her foolish hopes. Ginny probably was telling the truth. She usually did.
Hermione scowled but couldn’t help feeling a little proud. She looked at the computer screen. So Ron had figured out her password and how to turn the filter off. She would have to chastise him and keep a closer eye on him. He liked to pretend he didn’t know a thing about the computer. He even pronounced the internet, ‘inanet.’
Ignoring the fact that Harry still flew better than him, even though he was a professional Quidditch player for the Chudley Cannons and Harry worked in the Ministry under the Treatment of Muggles, Ron grinned and tossed the quaffle.
“You call that a toss?” Harry yelled, laughter in his voice. He swooped down to catch the ball where it had fallen short.
“I’m a keeper,” Ron said defensively. “Not a chaser.”
The sun shown through Harry's black hair, creating a halo around his head. "Excuses, excuses," he scoffed. Ron decided he made a terrible angel.
"I don't know about that," Ron said, catching the quaffle smoothly between his outstretched fingers. "You're the one who's panting. It's only been two hours. Bit out of shape, Potter?"
"Two hours?" In a second Harry was by his side, tugging at his wrist. Ron relented and let Harry manhandle him, twist his arm so he could read the watch. It was a nice watch. Once he became Quidditch captain his parents had bought him the fancy, silver watch with brooms as the hour and minute hands. A little snitch marked the second hand and in the background flew quaffles and bludgers. "Damn. I've got to run off."
Ron rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw. Of course Harry had to run off. He always had to run off. Flying behind Harry into the changing rooms, he glared at his back. What did Malfoy do that kept Harry from coming back?
Watching Harry strip out of Quidditch robes and into normal everyday robes, Ron winced. Maybe he didn't want to know why Harry came back. He had seen enough in the past.
Ron struggled to pull his robes over his head while he muffled, "Are you working on your birthday?"
After a second of Harry trying to decode what Ron had said he answered. "No."
"Good." Ron tugged on his other robes and straightened his hair in the mirror. He noticed that Harry, of course, hadn't touched his hair. "You're going to the beach with Hermione and me."
Harry opened his mouth to protest and Ron sighed. He planned something with Malfoy, didn't he? And he wasn't going to come right out and say because no one knew about them. Bloody Malfoy.
"That sounds great." Harry gave a half-hearted smile.
Ron nodded once and let Harry escape. It was a good thing Harry brushed Malfoy off for them. One thing Ron believed was that Harry spent way too much time with the git and not enough with his friends. Besides, it was his 21st birthday. Wouldn't he rather spend it with people who loved him?
The brass door knocker clinked loudly. The Malfoy manor was so vast though that Harry doubted Draco could hear it if he were, say, upstairs. That’s what house elves were for, Harry reasoned, vowing never to mention that to Hermione. Even though nothing ever came of her rebellion she was still passionate about elf rights.
The door opened a few inches, giving Harry a view of Draco's chest down. He yelled, "In a few!" then turned to Harry. "Oh, shit. I forgot."
Harry smiled hesitantly. He watched Draco's pink bottom lip disappear between white teeth.
"You have to leave. My mother is over," he hissed, looking over his shoulder again and sagging, his head banging against the door frame. The door opened and Draco let it, his hand falling from the wood. He wouldn't look at Harry.
Moving his eyes from Draco he saw an older woman with ice blue eyes and long blond hair. Her bony fingers kneaded Draco's right shoulder. In her eyes was surprise but her lips held a stiff smile.
"Hello, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry said politely, looking at Draco for instructions but he was shifting like a little kid caught stealing cookies.
"Do come in, Mr. Potter," Narcissa Malfoy said, her thin lips forming every word carefully. Now Harry knew where Draco got such thin lips from. He had seen Mrs. Malfoy before but that was years ago, when he didn't care about making comparisons between Draco and his mum. When he still wished they would just go to Azkaban and stay there.
Harry looked at Draco, who nodded and gestured ahead of him. Harry entered, feeling as if he had just walking into a trap. The dread displayed plainly on Draco's face showed him otherwise. Knowing very well that the Malfoys were following him, Harry walked into the sitting room and stood stiffly as the other two settled onto the furniture.
"Sit," Mrs. Malfoy said gently. "I would hate for Draco to be a horrid host." She gave him a stern look and Draco waved his hand at the armchair closest to Harry. He took it, grateful to sink into the cushions. It felt so strange sitting in Draco's house with another person. In the past half year Harry had spent many nights and days in the house but never once was there someone else in it. They didn't do that. It was always private with a few outings far away from where people who knew them would be.
No one was speaking. Harry didn't dare open his mouth because he didn't know what to say and whatever he did say would be the wrong thing. It always worked out that way.
"Are you two friends?" Mrs. Malfoy asked, adding a wink in Draco's direction. Both Harry and Draco's mouths dropped open. "Oh, do shut your mouths. You'll catch flies." But she was smiling knowingly.
Draco's eyes narrowed in an all too usual gesture. Harry himself had been on the receiving end of those looks recently. It seemed whatever he said or did was the wrong thing.
"No," Draco answered smoothly, no hesitation in his voice. "We're just fucking."
Harry spluttered. Narcissa Malfoy's eyes widened significantly but she recovered and nodded, her lips in a tight line.
Draco caught Harry's eyes and Harry held the look, trying to conceal his emotions. It really didn't mean anything else to Draco. Suddenly, Harry wanted to leave more so than he ever had. He smiled at Draco and nodded at Mrs. Malfoy. Draco narrowed his eyes at him.
The sound of footsteps brought Harry out of his thought. "I'll show you to the door," Draco said, not waiting for Harry to stand. Determinedly not looking at Mrs. Malfoy, Harry followed him, too disappointed to admire the way Draco's trousers clung to his arse. Or maybe he was admiring because he didn't notice Draco stop and he ran into his back.
"Ophf!"
Draco rolled his eyes and opened the door. He checked to make sure his mum hadn't followed then grabbed Harry's chin and pulled him forward. "Come back after supper tomorrow," he said, warm breath ghosting over Harry's lips. Harry didn't dare say anything for prolonging the moment that Draco kissed him.
But he didn't. He just hovered there. Harry leaned in to do it himself when Draco tongue darted out and swiped Harry's bottom lip. His mouth fell open automatically. With a smirk, Draco pulled away and shut the door between them.
Harry stubbed his foot on the stone porch.
July 22nd
"I think Seamus, Dean, and Neville. Luna. Harry works with Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott, doesn't he? How about them? What about Colin? It would be funny to watch Colin drool over Harry." Hermione raised her eyebrows but Ron chuckled and waved his hand. "No. Trust me. You weren't there last week. We ran into Colin in Diagon Alley. That boy was almost crawling after Harry."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at her friend's raucous laughter. Sometimes he was so immature. She pulled her laptop towards her and pulled up a Microsoft word file. "Ginny and I had already chosen a few people. We have Seamus, Dean, Neville, Luna, Fred, George, Susan, and Hannah on the list. And we want it to be a small party. Not a whole lot of people. Harry would like that better."
Ron snorted, trying to get his laughter under control. Hermione rolled her eyes and looked disdainfully at him. "Fred and George are out of the country for the rest of the month. For business. Neither of you remembered?"
"I guess not," she answered dryly, resisting with difficulty the desire to strangle Ron. He was so infuriating. That had never changed. Not like the intense crush she'd carried on him throughout their Hogwarts years. With the changing days that had disappeared, as had Ron's feelings. They never spoke of it but they both knew it. Or, Hermione figured Harry had helped him realize it. Ron never was good with stuff like that.
"Well, anyway, he talks about Logan Winterfeild, Stephen Cornfoot, and Trenton Quipper from work. So we can invite them too."
The clicks of the keyboard dyed off and Hermione counter the names. "That's nine, not including us three and Harry. I think that sounds good. Do you?" Ron nodded. "Then print out nine invitations, would you? I'll look up the addresses in the wizard owling book."
Once Hermione stood up Ron shoved his way into her seat. She shook her head and sat cross-legged on the living room floor. After a few minutes of the printer running and quill scratching over parchment, Ron called, confusion in his voice, "Since when do you look at girl porn?"
"What?" Hermione screeched, rushing up behind Ron. The printer chose that moment to stop and they stood there, the silence stretching between them. Both of their eyes were on the laptop screen where Ron had pulled up the exact site Ginny was looking at yesterday. The history was pulled up on the side.
"I wasn't. It was," she hesitated, "Ginny."
Ron twisted around and looked in disbelief at her.
"Is she a lesbian?" Hermione asked, trying to sound casual, but she knew she failed. Ron's face showed confusion, disbelief, and some other kind of emotion Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to decode.
"No," he answered slowly. "A few days ago she went out with a co-worker. You know, from the day-care." He paused. "It was a bloke."
Hermione struggled to grin. It was such an uncomfortable conversation. It didn't help that every time she broke Ron's eye contact she saw the girls behind him. Maybe she's bisexual, ran through her head no matter how much she tried to suppress the thought. That should squash her hopes, not create new ones. She should give up on Ginny.
Ron exited out of the server and turned the computer off. It wasn't until he stood up that it hit her. "You took off the content blocker again!" She pointed an accusatory finger at him. The sneaky bastard. "I downloaded that specifically because of you."
Ron shrugged and smirked half-heartedly. Hermione deflated. He was disgusted, wasn't he? She turned her back on him and picked the invitations out of the printer. There were one, two, three, four, five, six -- Ron grabbed them out of her hands roughly, almost creating a paper cut. Hermione scowled at him but due to the fact that she was avoiding looking at him it wasn't really effective.
"I'm just going to drop these off at the owl post. Have all the addresses?"
Hermione quickly found the rest and handed them over to Ron. They stood awkwardly, neither looking at each other. Ron waved the invitations at her and smiled before walking out of the house. Hermione sagged against the door. Ron figured it out, and he was disgusted.
Trying not to think of what strain it would put on their relationship, she headed up to her bedroom, looking for something to do. Eventually she started stripping the wallpaper off. It would look better in a nice burgundy colour. She soon forgot all about what had happened downstairs as the yellowed wallpaper crumbled and became lodged up her fingernails.
"We're going out to eat. Meet me at Flamperdors in an hour." Without waiting for Harry's answer he hung up the phone, looking distastefully at it, and strode to his room. He had only recently got a telephone because Harry kept urging him to and it was easier to make and cancel plans than waiting for an owl to make the delivery. That didn't mean Draco liked it though. It was still pathetic muggle junk that he had to charm how many times for it to work in his manor.
Exactly one hour later Draco entered Flamperdors. It was a high class wizard restaurant that didn't let any type of paparazzi in. It was one of the only places Harry and him would meet at outside of their homes. Although, they were almost always at Draco's because Harry lived with Weasley. Draco scowled just thinking about it.
A rumpled robe was tossed over the metal chair in front of him. Harry plopped into it and rubbed his eyes. Draco eyed him. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, leaving his collarbone out. Draco had the sudden urge to lick the skin. He would have to do that later. The restaurant was too high class for that type of display.
"Why'd we have to meet here? It's so far away," Harry whined, rubbing his unruly black hair.
"Don't do that," Draco snapped, standing and gesturing for Harry to do that same. Sighing heavily, he did and leaned across the table, letting Draco press their lips together. Harry didn't react at all. Miffed, Draco slid his tongue into Harry's mouth. The moment their tongues met, Harry pulled away and sat back.
"People are looking," he hissed. Sure enough, when Draco looked around a few people had their attention on them. Draco sneered. Bloody nosy people.
A waiter stopped by their table and took their order with a strong Irish accent. As the waiter walked away Draco's eyes followed the curve of his arse. Those trousers were rather tight. He licked his lips. He hadn't been laid in a week, having only gotten back from a long meeting about Malfoy property in Cancun the other day. He looked at Harry, hardly able to wait for after dinner when they would head back to his house. Draco planned on tearing Harry's clothes off with his teeth. He'd always wanted to do that. Suddenly Draco realized that Harry was scowling at the table.
"You're the one who said you don't want anyone to know," Draco said. Harry looked up and blinked, then comprehension dawned and he bit his lip, leaning forward. Once Harry's hand started rubbing circles on the back of Draco's hand he continued, "Besides that they have wonderful food."
The soft pressure on his hand left. "It takes so bloody long for the food," Harry said irritably.
A few minutes of silence and Draco was getting angry. Didn't Harry miss him? The sap usually did. After watching Harry roll and unroll the crisp white napkin over and over again a terrible thought occurred to him. Apprehension filled him, shooting to his toes and making them curl. Maybe Harry was losing interest.
"So," Draco purred, leaning across the table and snatching Harry's tan hand away from the napkin. He snaked his fingers into Harry's palm, spreading it, and then trailing lightly up his arm, pushing the shirt up as he went. "For your birthday. What do you say instead of staying cooped up in my bedroom we try something different?"
Harry's head popped up with an audible crack. His eyes shifted uneasily. Draco resisted rolling his; Harry was always so nervous about trying new things. Like the first time they went out. The first time they kissed. And especially the first time they shagged.
"I was thinking of a threesome. Maybe we could get that fit waiter to join in." He craned his neck, looking for said waiter.
Harry blanched. "Er, no. No. Besides, I forgot to tell you, Ron and Hermione are taking me to the beach."
"Is that so?" Draco asked coldly. Harry couldn't just bail on their agreement. They had decided on that a week ago, right before he left on the trip. But of course. Weasley and Granger came before anyone.
"Yeah," breathed Harry. Shortly after that the waiter came back with their food. Draco didn't spare him a glance. He was busy alternatively glaring at Harry and anyone else who happened to look in their direction. Dinner passed in silence, save for Harry's pathetic attempts of conversation that Draco put an end to with a sneer.
Draco stood stiffly. "Night, Potter." He wasn't in the mood for a shag at that moment anyway. With satisfaction he heard Harry sigh heavily and clink his fork on the plate.
July 24th
Her hands pulled at the short skirt, then pulled her blouse down. Up. Down, letting a large amount of breasts show. They primped thick brown hair. Picked up a little boy and kept him steady on her hip. Landed on Ginny's arm, stroking ever so lightly.
Ginny jumped. The woman's hand fell off and tugged her son's grubby hands away from her shirt. The boy was tugging it down so that one half of her lacy bra hung out in the open. For the world to see. Ginny gulped heavily.
"...bacteria. I don't want Cody to get sick. And he gets sick easily, don't you, baby?" Her voice turned into a coo as she spoke to her son. But then she was talking to Ginny again and her voice sounded nothing like that. It was low, moderated, sounding familiarly like a bedroom voice. Ginny shivered. The woman kind of reminded her of Hermione. Well, not really. Just her hair. It wasn't as wild as Hermione's but it was almost the same shade and thickness. What would it feel like to moan into while fingers probed?
"Shit!" Ginny exclaimed under her breath. Then she slapped a hand to her mouth. She couldn't be swearing in a day-care. Looking around she noticed that no one had heard her. The woman was still talking, dark eyes lidded heavily. Sexily. Stop it, Ginny!
The woman -- what did she say her name was? -- raised her eyebrows, waiting for an answer. "Sorry, what did you say?"
"I was wondering if you wanted to discuss this further out for lunch." She smiled warmly and Ginny didn’t miss the underlying promise. To make it obvious the woman winked.
"I -- I'm sorry. I'm working through lunch." She scurried off, knowing it was rude, knowing she would be scolded for it later, but also knowing that she was so close to saying yes and leaving with the woman. What was wrong with her?
A young man walked over and tried giving her a stern look. He only succeeded in having a pained look. Everyone knew he fancied Ginny.
"Yes?" she asked sweetly.
"You should be nicer to the potential clients." He gave her his crinkled smile. "Even if she was hitting on you."
Ginny raised her eyebrows. Tim was notorious for noticing nothing. "You saw that too?" She tried to make her voice humorous, casual, but it quivered. Tim nodded and Ginny noticed he had gorgeous eyes. A soft warm brown. They didn't remind her of Hermione, either. They didn't. "Want to go out for our lunch break?"
A giant smile spread across Tim's face and Ginny felt instantly regretful. But going out with a man always made her forget about her...appreciation of the woman's body. Maybe she would bed him. That might make him happy. And if it was terrible he wouldn't feel bad when she never went out with him again.
You are cordially invited to help us celebrate Harry Potter's twenty-first birthday. It's a surprise party so please don't let it slip to Harry. The party will be head at a beach house at...
It took a few minutes for Draco to react. What? Why would he receive an invitation to Harry's birthday? Granger and Weasley didn't know about him. From what he knew, they weren't even aware of the fact that Harry had seen him since they were out of school.
Unless...
Unless Harry had told them without telling him. The twat! And what the fuck did he say that made them think Harry and him were serious? At least, serious enough for birthday invitations. Harry had made it perfectly clear with the sneaking around and meeting in private places that he didn't want anyone to know. Draco was fine with that. That made sense. This didn't.
Draco hadn't told anyone. No, he kept quiet. The only person that he told was his mother and Harry was there for that one.
Sure, Draco relented, they had never actually said they couldn't tell anyone, but it was practically an unspoken agreement. In fact, it was an unspoken agreement. Potter had no right to tell his pathetic friends.
Consumed with anger, Draco picked up the cursed muggle phone and dialed Harry's cell (he didn't have a home phone). After four rings Harry picked up and spoke loudly. "Hello!"
"Potter. Lower your voice. It's annoying." He waited rather impatiently while Harry mumbled something to someone else. Did he have someone at his house? Draco's anger flew up even more. Wait. Harry lived with Weasley. Feeling foolish, Draco clutched the phone tighter. He needed to calm down.
Finally the background noise disappeared and Harry whispered, "What is it?"
"We need to talk."
There was a long silence. Draco almost laughed aloud once he realized what he'd said. It was those words everyone dreaded to hear.
"Erm. Can it wait? I'm helping Hermione paint her room. Do you want to talk later?" Harry's voice was hesitant and Draco was sure he was just prolonging the conversation.
"No. I need to talk to you. Face to face."
There was a deep sigh on the other line and then Harry said, "Look, Draco, I need to go. Hermione’s yelling about something -- no really, listen." There was silence and sure enough someone was yelling. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Potter, tomorrow I'm going to Pansy's wedding. I'll be gone for six days."
Harry whined, "But you just got back."
Draco passed a weary hand over his face. He suddenly didn't want to deal with Harry and the confusion that surrounded him. "We'll have dinner when I get back. At my house. I'll owl you with the time and date. Okay?"
There was another long silence. If Draco strained his ears enough he could hear the background noise. It sounded like trashy music. Probably muggle since he was at Granger's house.
"Fine," Harry sighed. Before Draco hung up the phone he could of swore he heard Harry mutter "Potter?"
July 30th
Everywhere he turned there were couples. Okay, maybe not always actual couples, but people who were interested in each other. Hell, he was stuck with two of them. And that rather bothered him, but he pushed it to the back of his head. No. He wasn't going to think about his sister and best friend like that. But it was obvious.
It really wasn't fair. Harry had Malfoy, no matter how screwed up their relationship probably was. Their relationship didn't even mean anything since they didn't tell anyone about each other. Still, Harry had someone. Most of the men and women on his Quidditch team were either married, seeing someone, or going on random dates with people. The last time Ron had gone on a date was a month ago. He needed to get out more.
Ginny let out a giggle. Ron glared. "Yes, Hermione. I'm sure Harry will appreciate the pink banner."
"Well, it's the last one!" Hermione protested, shoving Ginny on the arm lightly. They both grinned and Ginny picked it up, scanning it critically. "You're right. We'll look somewhere else."
"Just get it," snapped Ron. They had already wondered the party store for an hour. An hour! It wasn't a large store. If he had known shopping with them would be this torturous he wouldn't have gone with. Actually, watching Hermione and Ginny interact was enough to make him wish he hadn't gone.
Did they always touch that much, Ron wondered as they playfully fought over getting the pink banner. Maybe he just hadn't noticed Hermione's lingering looks, soft smile, and trailing fingers before. Maybe he had completely skimmed over Ginny's shy looks. Though, Ginny was more adapt at hiding them. She always looked angry afterwards, like she knew she had showed it.
"Ron, we're done," Hermione said kindly, curling her nimble fingers over his left shoulder. Ginny beamed up at him, the pink banner now adorned with Happy 21st Harry! When had they done that? "You okay? Want a headache potion. We can pick one up on the way back to my house."
Ron sighed heavily. They didn't even know they fancied each other, did they? But Hermione was smart. She had to see it. Ginny wasn't dumb either. It was practically crawling on top of them, scratching skin open. They had to see it. Maybe it was only obvious to him because Hermione had practically spelled it out for him about a week ago.
"I think I got one somewhere in here," said Ginny as she riffled through her impossibly small purse.
"No. I'm fine." Hermione and Ginny stared at him.
Hermione dared to open her mouth and say "You're being awfully crabby." Ginny smothered her laughter with a hand.
"Let's go pay for this stuff," he, yet again, snapped. He could hear the girls whispering behind his back as he led the way.
"So," started Ginny once they were paid for. "Hermione and I forgot to tell you. I'm going up to the beach house when the guests are supposed to arrive. You two will take Harry up slightly later. You didn't tell Harry you I was coming, did you?"
Ron shook his head. He had forgotten about Ginny going with. He was too busy being angry about Harry and Malfoy at the time.
"Good!" Ginny smiled cheerily and Hermione relieved him of a few bags. She threw one at Ginny, who gaped at her as it fell to the ground.
Ron groaned. They were going back to Hermione's yet. He wasn't sure how much of them he could take. If only Hermione hadn't spelled it out for him. Then he wouldn't be any the wiser.
"Did you ever tell anyone about us?" Draco asked casually, wrapping his long fingers around a glass. Harry stared at him. Draco downed the alcohol in an attempt to hide his emotions. Harry tapped the table and switched his gaze from Draco's face to the table. It was a new table. Draco was rather proud of it. Goblin made, no wood grain visible, expensive, and elegant.
"No." He hesitated. "Should I have?"
The confusing brunette was grinning widely. So widely that Draco wasn't sure how to respond. Sometimes Harry said or did something that completely threw Draco's careful words out the window.
And did this mean Harry hadn't told anyone? Or was he lying? How else would Granger have known? Maybe Harry kept a diary...
"I guess if you really want to there's nothing much I can do," he drawled slowly, thinking his words through.
Harry's grin only widened. "So, tell me about the wedding. How boring was it?"
Half an hour later and an empty bottle of wine, Harry was laughing wildly about everything Draco said. They weren't drunk, Draco knew. Just tipsy. Harry was a very horny drunk and Draco a sleepy one, which resulted in humorous situations of Harry trying to tempt Draco into the sack when he was already falling asleep.
"So then this house elf pops up from no where," Draco practically giggled. Harry nodded and hopped up on the counter, pulling Draco by the shirt collar between his legs. Draco willingly allowed it, latching onto Harry's neck and sucking. "Anyway, where was I?"
"The house elf," Harry prompted, locking his ankles around Draco's hips. He dug a heel into Draco's back, bringing him flat against the edge of the counter.
"Ah, yes. That house elf popped out of no where and shouts out 'Neako object!' right after the bloke asked if anyone disagreed with the ceremony." He paused, ignoring Harry's sceptical eyebrows. "Why do they even ask that? I mean, what do they do if someone actually objects?"
"You're having me on," Harry announced, plopping his head on Draco's shoulder and licking. Draco couldn't resist the little shiver that ran through him. He loved having his neck licked. Or any part of his body really.
"Nope," Draco lied, nudging Harry's cheek with his chin. Harry pulled his head straight and looked at him, their faces a mere inch apart. Harry grinned and rolled his eyes. The smell of wine rose from Harry's mouth and curled in Draco's nose. "No, but I'd love to have you on this counter. How's that sound?"
"Rather lovely," Harry breathed, grin turning feral. He scooted as far back on the counter as possible, until his back hit the cupboards. Draco hoisted himself up and pushed Harry onto the hard marble. His fingers fumbled with the buttons while their tongues tried skimming over every expanse.
Finally, finally, Draco had all the buttons undone. He nipped a path down Harry's chest, feeling fingers weave in his hair and tug until his face hovered over Harry's.
Harry whispered, "I missed you."
Draco winked. "Course you did. No one else is a better shag."
In retaliation Harry crossed his legs around Draco and pulled him flush against him. "Did you miss me?" he asked, grinning wickedly and pressing his pelvis into Draco's straining cock.
"Mmm." Draco concentrated on pressing back, thrusting and setting a rocking pace that left Harry groaning, a light sheen of sweat breaking across his forehead.
But Harry was persistent. "Did you?" His voice was rather level. Draco slid his hand down Harry's pants, bypassing his trousers. He needed to take care of that.
"Perhaps." Draco grinned cheekily. "No one quivers quite like you." Harry opened his mouth to protest but Draco quickly twisted his wrist in the tight space between Harry's skin and pants. He pressed a finger against Harry's hole, rubbing softly.
Naturally, a quiver raced through Harry. He frowned once he realized what happened. Draco grinned and rested atop him, connecting their lips chastely.
"Why, are you seeing other people?" Harry whispered. He shifted underneath Draco until he removed his hand from Harry's pants.
Fruitlessly Draco tried gaining eye contact. He didn't understand what went through Harry's head. First he didn't want anyone to know. They went to places people they knew wouldn't find them. Harry whispered in the phone when talking to him. He seemed strangely happy about Draco asking if he'd told anyone. And now he was angry because he somehow came to the conclusion that Draco was seeing other people.
"Just what type of relationship do we have going on, Harry? Tell me that," Draco snapped, fed up with whatever game he was playing.
Harry squirmed and Draco sat up, straddling Harry's thighs. Harry sat too, placing his hands behind him for balance. "I don't know what you mean. I was just passively asking if you were seeing anyone else. I don't care if you are. I could be too, you know."
Draco's eyes flashed and he clutched Harry's shirt. The slight tug made it fall off Harry's shoulders to pool around his elbows. Harry wasn't seeing anyone; he couldn't be because Draco wasn't seeing anyone else. If Harry was and Draco wasn't, well, that just made him pitiful, didn't it?
Harry started chewing on his lip. "I'm not, okay? Are you?"
Draco sighed, loosening his grip. There were deep wrinkles in the shirt now, not that there weren't already from their previous activities. "No. Just forget about it." Carefully, making sure Harry's head wouldn't hit the counter, he eased them into a laying position. "But I still want you on this counter. Preferably sometime today."
Harry grinned and relaxed, pressing a hand down Draco's back. Draco moved to kiss him but a voice interrupted. "It looks like much more than you insist."
Draco snapped his head up and scowled at his mother. Why was she here? She always let him know beforehand when she was visiting. He eased off the counter and dropped to the floor, skidding slightly thanks to his socks. Harry awkwardly followed after him, trying to button up his shirt and succeeding in getting them in all the wrong holes. Draco winced; how Harry managed to dress himself every morning he hadn't the faintest clue.
"You don't know what you're talking about," Draco growled, yanking Harry's hands away from his shirt and fixing the buttons.
By the time he finished Harry was blushing like mad and looking over Draco's shoulder. Draco turned around to find his mother standing there with her eyebrows raised, hands on her hips, and lips pursed in that infuriating 'are-you-kidding-me?' look.
"I don't know, Draco. But you two were cuddling and that conversation is a little too advanced for people merely in a fling." She brushed her long white-blond hair over her shoulder and took a seat at the table, calling for a house elf to clean it. Draco fumed silently. She had no right to come in and say what constituted for one type of relationship. Who died and made her all-knowing? Besides, she was still in love with his father, who had been in Azkaban ever since Harry vanquished the Dark Lord three years previous.
Draco prodded Harry to the doorway. "Harry has to be leaving now." Harry nodded vigorously and Draco sent him a grin for agreeing so readily. He needed to have a talk with his mother, alone.
Narcissa waved her long fingers at the door. "No, no, don't let me interrupt. I believed you had some unfinished business with that counter there."
Draco flushed but was satisfied to see Harry do the same.
"I really do got to go." Narcissa turned her steely eyes on Harry. "Erm, you know, Hermione wants more help painting."
Narcissa quirked one side of her mouth. "At midnight?" Draco would have smirked but he was angry at her.
Harry laughed uneasily. "She's insane."
Before Narcissa could hold Harry up any longer, Draco pushed him to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow," he hissed, shoving Harry roughly.
Harry frowned at him and wrenched out of his grip. "Tomorrow's my birthday. I'm going to the beach with Ron and Hermione, remember?"
Tomorrow? Draco stopped shutting the door and looked at him. One last time; maybe Harry really didn't tell them. "So, I'll see you the day after tomorrow."
"Yeah." Harry nodded, backing down the walkway. "I think they mentioned staying overnight. Should I stop by or call when I get back?"
"Just stop by," Draco said in a rush. He really hated those muggle phones. He moved to close the door -- his mother's footsteps were echoing on the hardwood floor -- when Harry quickly said, a pained look on his face, "You're mum won't be here, will she?"
"No. Night, Harry." But he didn't answer, having already headed down the walkway, hands in his pockets. Draco waited until he left the anti-apparation wards with an audible crack. Failure to perform silent apparation was the number one reason Harry worked for the Ministry under the Treatment of Muggles instead of Auror.
A hand landed on his shoulder and Draco sighed heavily. "You're utterly besotted, Draco darling." Her fingers squeezed gently. Draco jerked away. He glared at her, unable to voice his anger. Couldn't she just let him go? Did she want him to be in love with Harry Potter? In love. Shit.
Wearily Draco passed a hand over his face. Maybe he shouldn't show up to Harry's birthday party. He needed more of that wine. "Don't talk to me," he breathed, pushing past his mother and walking into the kitchen. To his surprise she didn't follow. Later, when he fell asleep half on the table and half on the chair he felt her carry him to bed.
Second Half