Only I Know [Harry/Draco - R]
Author: naturegirlrocks
Title: Only I Know
Prompt: #26 Submitted by: sketchio]
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Warnings: Infidelity, bottom!Draco
Word Count: just shy of 1,800
Summary: It has been ten years since 8th year. Harry and Draco have had casual sex all this time, but only Draco knows that it is not casual anymore.
Notes: Dear sketchio, your prompt made me think of the song Careless Whisper by George Michael - from there it became a song-fic. I hope you like it.
Only I Know
Draco had done it again.
He had stood in front of Harry Potter with his empty hand stretched out before him. This time Harry had extended his own hand and placed it on Draco’s. It should have had felt wonderful to feel that warm skin against his again. But he felt more unsure than ever. Maybe it was the fact that their eyes never met as he led Harry to the dance floor.
It was the ten year reunion of the infamous ‘eighth year’. The Great Hall was decorated in white, light blue and silver. The long house tables had been replaced with smaller, round tables with white tablecloths and flower-filled table pieces. Half the room was a dance floor where old friends came together to jump to the sounds of rapid music.
Harry’s and Draco’s dance did not match the frantic beat. They seemed to dance to their own slow melody, heads on each other’s shoulders, eyes closed. Not caring about the stares and whispers, they rocked smoothly in their own world of memories.
Memories of soft skin against hard. Memories of physical pain and hurtful words. Memories of love, passion, lust, hurt, disappointment and broken hearts.
The frantic music died away to leave way for a softer tune. As this was a sign, their eyes finally met. Draco saw a mist in Harry’s green eyes. It spoke more than words could ever say. It spoke of all their sad good-byes and the prospect of yet another.
“I don’t think I ever can dance again,” whispered Draco. “It would be like betraying this moment.”
“Is that guilt?” asked Harry, still not looking away.
“Guilt is an easy enough emotion to fake…”
“Don’t play me for a fool, Draco,” Harry snapped. “You have done that plenty of times before.”
With that the black-haired man disentangled himself and left Draco alone on the dance floor.
Another given chance wasted. Draco turned back to his table were he continued to drown his sorrows in fine champagne. It had been his fault, everything was his fault.
Nobody needs to know, they had said to each other ten years ago as they tumbled between sheets, soaked in sweat, semen and the occasional drop of blood from bitten lips and rough scratches.
Those words had followed Draco as he took lover after lover behind Harry’s back. Nobody needs to know. But he had been wrong. Draco had known, and as it turned out; Harry had known as well. Draco should have known better to cheat on the Boy Who Lived thinking that nothing would come back and bite him in the ass.
He was never going to dance again, he decided as he drained another glass. He was never going to dance again if it was not with Harry.
Ten years had done nothing to mend their relationship. Harry had taken on the role of just another of the meaningless fucks that occasionally passed through Draco’s life and bed. But the sleeping form of Harry was the only one of his lovers he could whisper careless words to. Nobody needed to know that either
It was easy to ignore his heart and mind. He had lived on denying his entire life. Denial was in his blood. Truth would give him no comfort. If he submitted to the truth, he would find nothing but pain.
He looked out over the dance floor. There was a surprising amount of marriages and friendships among the former eighth years. Perhaps it was the intense closeness that had formed during that special year. A year not divided in to houses but unified by memories of battle, sorrow and death.
Harry had apparently not made a promise never to dance again. Draco watched gloomily as the loss of his life shuffled his feet to no particular rhythm holding on to a slightly pregnant Granger. Five months, Draco guessed, drawing on his Healer-experience. How long had it been since he’d seen her at St. Mungo’s bearing her latest Weasley child? Not even a year. Harry had visited her.
Draco had been fucked against the wall in the linen closet, his lime green robes hiked up to the waist and his trousers around his knees. He had not seen Harry for more than two months after that. He had missed him, but only he had known that.
It had been so easy to pretend that Harry Potter was a fool. For Merlin’s sake, Draco had known the scar-head was a fool ever since first year. It was not much difference. But the day Harry had walked in on him and a fifth-year Ravenclaw boy, Draco knew that he had made a mistake. ‘Just tell me when it’s my turn’, the green-eyed boy had said and left with a sigh. The Ravenclaw had not even had time to stop his inexperienced pounding on Draco and had orgasmed inside him just as the door closed behind Harry.
No, Harry was no fool. Draco knew that now.
Harry would fuck a cheater, but he would not cheat. Under the last ten years the Saviour of the Wizard-world had had three serious relationships. Draco had not seen him for months and months. Only when the relationships were over, then he got the pleasure of seeing Harry between his legs again.
After each of those three times Draco had felt that he had missed a chance. The precious few moments between the rebound-fuck and the callous sex slipped away from him like smoke.
Three months ago, Harry had arrived to Draco’s examination office at St. Mungo’s, dressed in his official dark blue Auror robes. He had even scheduled time with the nurse. Draco, thinking this was just one of those callus times again had just leaned over the table.
“Quick then,” he had said. “I have patients.”
“I can’t do this any more,” Harry had made him stand up face to face.
“What?” Draco had bit his lip, worried. “Have you met someone?”
“No, but that is just it. I can’t find anyone if we go on like this. I want a normal life, Draco.”
‘Normal life’, Draco began to feel a little tipsy. Good thing he did not dance anymore.
He had drowned his sorrows in the gay clubs of Muggle-London. But the knowledge of the final breakup made the sex even more meaningless than ever. He would find himself stroking the sensitive scar across his chest after each worthless orgasm, thinking of green eyes and black hair.
The music was far too loud, Draco winced. He had been approached by several old classmates but soon been left alone again. It was clear that he was brooding and drinking himself in to a stupor. There are too many people here, thought Draco as another person joined him. Why couldn’t they all get lost?
How had he ended up like this? Why hadn’t he apologised to Harry right away that time ten years ago? Why had he never begged for forgiveness? He had no answer to those questions. The eighteen year old Draco had been overjoyed to find out that Harry would still sleep with him, sharing him with the others. The eighteen year old Draco had not needed deep conversations as long as he could get of. The twenty eight year old Draco had a broken and jaded heart.
It was probably better this way, with the unresolved issues. If he and Harry would ever begin to talk, really talk, they would only end up hurting each other more than they already had. Draco was hurt. He was hurt from Harry leaving and leaving and leaving, never fighting for him. He was hurt from seeking comfort in strange arms. Harry was the only one he faced during sex. No need telling that to anyone.
Once maybe they would have been good together. Draco stood up; he was a little unsteady on his feet. Now it was too late for apologies and it was too late to begin again. Harry had ended it. Never again, Draco.
Still… Harry had conceded to dance with him. Draco could be happy dancing like that forever. But now who was going to dance with him? Harry was going to find someone. He needed to find someone as well. He wobbled slightly across the dance floor and stood still.
It was Granger noticing him first. She stopped dancing and nudged Harry, making him aware of Draco. Harry’s eyed widened. Several other couples had stopped dancing, just looking at them. They probably thought that it was going to be a fight. All knew what a slut Draco had been in eighth year. All knew that Harry had slept with him then, who hadn’t? Nobody knew what happened after that. Nobody but Harry and Draco.
Once Harry left, it would only be Draco.
“Please stay.”
Harry shifted. Granger held on to his arm, her brown eyes alight. Maybe she knew too.
“I’m never going to dance again!” proclaimed Draco loudly before the entire Great Hall.
“Draco…” Harry reached out and took his arm. “You’re drunk.”
“I pretended you were a fool!” Draco grabbed hold of Harry’s neck pressing their foreheads together. “But you’re not…” he whispered quietly.
“No, I’m not,”
“I know that.” Draco had trouble keeping his legs under him.
“Let’s go outside for some air, yeah?”
Before Draco could protest, Harry had half carried, half shoved, him out of the castle. Draco sank down to the stone stairs and breathed hard. Shit. That was not good; a sober part of his brain told him. You are Healer to some of the people in that room, they are never going to trust you again.
“Feeling better?”
He looked to his side to see Harry sit next to him with a concerned face,
“I should have known better back then,” Draco rubbed his face, turning away. “Shit, I should know better now…”
They sat there for several quiet minutes. Draco glanced at his silent companion several times but turned away every time green eyes met his. Harry shifted and sighed.
“I’m going back inside now,” he said rising to his feet. “I hope we still can be friends.”
Draco then recognised the moment for what it was. Another lost one.
“For what it’s worth…” Harry said before he entered the castle, “I don’t think I’m going to dance anymore either. I was never good at it anyway…”
“I was wrong,” whispered Draco to the disappearing back of the lost love of his life. “I was so wrong, and only I know how wrong I was.”
And Draco was left alone.
Please stay.
Title: Only I Know
Prompt: #26 Submitted by: sketchio]
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Warnings: Infidelity, bottom!Draco
Word Count: just shy of 1,800
Summary: It has been ten years since 8th year. Harry and Draco have had casual sex all this time, but only Draco knows that it is not casual anymore.
Notes: Dear sketchio, your prompt made me think of the song Careless Whisper by George Michael - from there it became a song-fic. I hope you like it.
Only I Know
Draco had done it again.
He had stood in front of Harry Potter with his empty hand stretched out before him. This time Harry had extended his own hand and placed it on Draco’s. It should have had felt wonderful to feel that warm skin against his again. But he felt more unsure than ever. Maybe it was the fact that their eyes never met as he led Harry to the dance floor.
It was the ten year reunion of the infamous ‘eighth year’. The Great Hall was decorated in white, light blue and silver. The long house tables had been replaced with smaller, round tables with white tablecloths and flower-filled table pieces. Half the room was a dance floor where old friends came together to jump to the sounds of rapid music.
Harry’s and Draco’s dance did not match the frantic beat. They seemed to dance to their own slow melody, heads on each other’s shoulders, eyes closed. Not caring about the stares and whispers, they rocked smoothly in their own world of memories.
Memories of soft skin against hard. Memories of physical pain and hurtful words. Memories of love, passion, lust, hurt, disappointment and broken hearts.
The frantic music died away to leave way for a softer tune. As this was a sign, their eyes finally met. Draco saw a mist in Harry’s green eyes. It spoke more than words could ever say. It spoke of all their sad good-byes and the prospect of yet another.
“I don’t think I ever can dance again,” whispered Draco. “It would be like betraying this moment.”
“Is that guilt?” asked Harry, still not looking away.
“Guilt is an easy enough emotion to fake…”
“Don’t play me for a fool, Draco,” Harry snapped. “You have done that plenty of times before.”
With that the black-haired man disentangled himself and left Draco alone on the dance floor.
Another given chance wasted. Draco turned back to his table were he continued to drown his sorrows in fine champagne. It had been his fault, everything was his fault.
Nobody needs to know, they had said to each other ten years ago as they tumbled between sheets, soaked in sweat, semen and the occasional drop of blood from bitten lips and rough scratches.
Those words had followed Draco as he took lover after lover behind Harry’s back. Nobody needs to know. But he had been wrong. Draco had known, and as it turned out; Harry had known as well. Draco should have known better to cheat on the Boy Who Lived thinking that nothing would come back and bite him in the ass.
He was never going to dance again, he decided as he drained another glass. He was never going to dance again if it was not with Harry.
Ten years had done nothing to mend their relationship. Harry had taken on the role of just another of the meaningless fucks that occasionally passed through Draco’s life and bed. But the sleeping form of Harry was the only one of his lovers he could whisper careless words to. Nobody needed to know that either
It was easy to ignore his heart and mind. He had lived on denying his entire life. Denial was in his blood. Truth would give him no comfort. If he submitted to the truth, he would find nothing but pain.
He looked out over the dance floor. There was a surprising amount of marriages and friendships among the former eighth years. Perhaps it was the intense closeness that had formed during that special year. A year not divided in to houses but unified by memories of battle, sorrow and death.
Harry had apparently not made a promise never to dance again. Draco watched gloomily as the loss of his life shuffled his feet to no particular rhythm holding on to a slightly pregnant Granger. Five months, Draco guessed, drawing on his Healer-experience. How long had it been since he’d seen her at St. Mungo’s bearing her latest Weasley child? Not even a year. Harry had visited her.
Draco had been fucked against the wall in the linen closet, his lime green robes hiked up to the waist and his trousers around his knees. He had not seen Harry for more than two months after that. He had missed him, but only he had known that.
It had been so easy to pretend that Harry Potter was a fool. For Merlin’s sake, Draco had known the scar-head was a fool ever since first year. It was not much difference. But the day Harry had walked in on him and a fifth-year Ravenclaw boy, Draco knew that he had made a mistake. ‘Just tell me when it’s my turn’, the green-eyed boy had said and left with a sigh. The Ravenclaw had not even had time to stop his inexperienced pounding on Draco and had orgasmed inside him just as the door closed behind Harry.
No, Harry was no fool. Draco knew that now.
Harry would fuck a cheater, but he would not cheat. Under the last ten years the Saviour of the Wizard-world had had three serious relationships. Draco had not seen him for months and months. Only when the relationships were over, then he got the pleasure of seeing Harry between his legs again.
After each of those three times Draco had felt that he had missed a chance. The precious few moments between the rebound-fuck and the callous sex slipped away from him like smoke.
Three months ago, Harry had arrived to Draco’s examination office at St. Mungo’s, dressed in his official dark blue Auror robes. He had even scheduled time with the nurse. Draco, thinking this was just one of those callus times again had just leaned over the table.
“Quick then,” he had said. “I have patients.”
“I can’t do this any more,” Harry had made him stand up face to face.
“What?” Draco had bit his lip, worried. “Have you met someone?”
“No, but that is just it. I can’t find anyone if we go on like this. I want a normal life, Draco.”
‘Normal life’, Draco began to feel a little tipsy. Good thing he did not dance anymore.
He had drowned his sorrows in the gay clubs of Muggle-London. But the knowledge of the final breakup made the sex even more meaningless than ever. He would find himself stroking the sensitive scar across his chest after each worthless orgasm, thinking of green eyes and black hair.
The music was far too loud, Draco winced. He had been approached by several old classmates but soon been left alone again. It was clear that he was brooding and drinking himself in to a stupor. There are too many people here, thought Draco as another person joined him. Why couldn’t they all get lost?
How had he ended up like this? Why hadn’t he apologised to Harry right away that time ten years ago? Why had he never begged for forgiveness? He had no answer to those questions. The eighteen year old Draco had been overjoyed to find out that Harry would still sleep with him, sharing him with the others. The eighteen year old Draco had not needed deep conversations as long as he could get of. The twenty eight year old Draco had a broken and jaded heart.
It was probably better this way, with the unresolved issues. If he and Harry would ever begin to talk, really talk, they would only end up hurting each other more than they already had. Draco was hurt. He was hurt from Harry leaving and leaving and leaving, never fighting for him. He was hurt from seeking comfort in strange arms. Harry was the only one he faced during sex. No need telling that to anyone.
Once maybe they would have been good together. Draco stood up; he was a little unsteady on his feet. Now it was too late for apologies and it was too late to begin again. Harry had ended it. Never again, Draco.
Still… Harry had conceded to dance with him. Draco could be happy dancing like that forever. But now who was going to dance with him? Harry was going to find someone. He needed to find someone as well. He wobbled slightly across the dance floor and stood still.
It was Granger noticing him first. She stopped dancing and nudged Harry, making him aware of Draco. Harry’s eyed widened. Several other couples had stopped dancing, just looking at them. They probably thought that it was going to be a fight. All knew what a slut Draco had been in eighth year. All knew that Harry had slept with him then, who hadn’t? Nobody knew what happened after that. Nobody but Harry and Draco.
Once Harry left, it would only be Draco.
“Please stay.”
Harry shifted. Granger held on to his arm, her brown eyes alight. Maybe she knew too.
“I’m never going to dance again!” proclaimed Draco loudly before the entire Great Hall.
“Draco…” Harry reached out and took his arm. “You’re drunk.”
“I pretended you were a fool!” Draco grabbed hold of Harry’s neck pressing their foreheads together. “But you’re not…” he whispered quietly.
“No, I’m not,”
“I know that.” Draco had trouble keeping his legs under him.
“Let’s go outside for some air, yeah?”
Before Draco could protest, Harry had half carried, half shoved, him out of the castle. Draco sank down to the stone stairs and breathed hard. Shit. That was not good; a sober part of his brain told him. You are Healer to some of the people in that room, they are never going to trust you again.
“Feeling better?”
He looked to his side to see Harry sit next to him with a concerned face,
“I should have known better back then,” Draco rubbed his face, turning away. “Shit, I should know better now…”
They sat there for several quiet minutes. Draco glanced at his silent companion several times but turned away every time green eyes met his. Harry shifted and sighed.
“I’m going back inside now,” he said rising to his feet. “I hope we still can be friends.”
Draco then recognised the moment for what it was. Another lost one.
“For what it’s worth…” Harry said before he entered the castle, “I don’t think I’m going to dance anymore either. I was never good at it anyway…”
“I was wrong,” whispered Draco to the disappearing back of the lost love of his life. “I was so wrong, and only I know how wrong I was.”
And Draco was left alone.
Please stay.