Fic: After Effect, Harry/Draco, NC-17, [Complete]
Title: After Effect
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Summary: No one knew Draco had a daughter, but due to unfortunate circumstances surrounding the end of the War he'll have to bring her to school for his eighth year. Perhaps a bit of innocence can help to open eyes.
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Chapter Four
Having their own rooms had been a blessing so far. This wasn’t the first time Harry and Ginny had taken advantage.
This was, however, the first time he’d not wanted to participate in the intended activities.
Ginny crawled on top of him, covering his body with her smaller one, planting a small kiss on his chin. He tried to clear his mind of all thoughts and just focus on the sensation of the warm girl above him, but couldn’t seem to do so. He’d never had this problem before. In fact, he’d found in his sixth year that he was rather sexual indeed, always ready and willing to do anything Ginny was in the mood for.
Not tonight, though. And that wasn’t the worst part. The worst of it was that he wasn’t necessarily not in the mood-he just wasn’t finding Ginny to be particularly … to his taste right now. No, the one person whose face wouldn’t seem to leave him alone was someone whom Harry had certainly been plagued by before, though not quite in the same way.
Malfoy’s face was not a new occurrence in his mind. Sixth year he’d been plagued by it as well, though back then it had been accompanied by Dark Marks and fear and a tingling scar.
Now it was accompanied by a very unnerving stirring in his groin and a warmth in his belly.
“Harry?” He was pulled from his thoughts by Ginny’s voice, and when he refocused he found that she was staring down at him with furrowed brows.
“Hm?” he mumbled stupidly.
“Harry, are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m…” He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before opening them again. “I’m sorry, Gin, I guess I’m just not in the mood tonight.” That was a lie if he’d ever told one. He was half hard, though he couldn’t honestly say it had anything to do with Ginny. He’d been feeling uncomfortably aroused ever since Hermione had let slip the very interesting news about Malfoy’s sexuality.
Ginny crawled off of him slowly, a look of contemplation on her face.
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
He wondered if that was a good idea. Was it dangerous territory? Although, why should it be? It wasn’t as though he was actually attracted to Malfoy. It was just a new thought. Something that was messing with his mind.
He decided he may as well share this with her.
“Did you know Malfoy’s gay?” he blurted out. Ginny’s eyebrows rose beneath her hairline.
“Er-no, I can’t say I did…”
“Right, you wouldn’t,” he mumbled. “Hermione told me and Ron today.” Ginny settled back against Harry’s headboard beside him and stared ahead of her, a mixture of annoyance, reluctant interest, and suspicion playing on her face.
“Did she find this out during their little playdate?”
Unlike when Ron had said it, Harry found it annoying coming from Ginny.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“And did she say how she figured it out?”
Harry was confused. “What do you mean?”
“Well, he didn’t just up and tell her, did he?” she chuckled. From the look on Harry’s face she must have gathered that this was exactly what had happened and she frowned. “He told her that?”
“That’s what she told me,” said Harry.
“Well, what about the mother?” He didn’t know why, but he could sense anger bubbling below the surface. Ginny was getting upset.
Harry briefly explained what Hermione had told him and Ron about Emilie and Ginny seemed as equally aggravated as she did genuinely sympathetic.
“So what are you getting at?” she asked finally. Harry raised a brow. “You’re not in the mood because you found out Malfoy’s gay?” Even to Harry that sounded bad. He remained silent. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” he said quickly. “I was just thinking about it. It’s a lot of information at once.”
“Fine, but why is it preventing you from getting hard?” she asked crudely. Harry felt a deep blush color his cheeks and crawl along his neck. He bit his lip and looked down at his lap, entirely ashamed to see the very slight bulge in his baggy jeans. Ginny, too, looked down and closed her eyes slowly when she spotted the half-erection.
“Ginny-” he began, but she raised her hand and effectively stopped him mid-sentence.
“It’s not because of me,” she quietly accused.
“I-” He stopped himself this time as Ginny climbed off the bed and gathered her sweater which had previously been removed. “Ginny, wait, it’s not-”
“It’s exactly that, Harry,” she said flatly. He swallowed but said nothing. “You need to figure this out. When you do, let me know.” And with that she left the room, shutting the door behind her.
“Fuck.” He slammed his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He opened them again moments later and stared at the ceiling, trying and failing to make sense of this mess in which he’d quite suddenly found himself. He scowled. Malfoy always managed to find a way to crawl under his skin and make him squirm, whether it be physically fighting, verbally fighting, taunting him with a hidden Dark Mark, or saving his arse in his own home while his father and lunatic aunt watched. This was different, though. This had a different feeling. After all, never before had Harry’s prick taken interest in the situation. He banged his head against the wall again and closed his eyes.
He thought about Malfoy for a few seconds, running through different scenarios where they’d fought, for that really was the only time they’d ever had contact. He thought about the way Malfoy had grown over the years, both mentally and physically. He remembered sixth year when Malfoy had begun to look so haggard and worn, remembered when he’d shown Dumbledore his Mark on the astronomy tower and the way his eyes had looked red and puffy. He thought about how Malfoy had looked like a skeleton when he’d seen him in the Manor when he, Ron, and Hermione had been captured, and he especially focused on the way Malfoy’s eyes had looked when he’d lied and said he hadn’t recognized Harry.
Harry’s train of thought drifted a bit and he thought about how Malfoy had had a daughter at that point. Somewhere in France Carina had been living with her grandparents, her mum already long gone.
And then he thought about the mum herself, and very suddenly he began wondering about her and Malfoy, how they’d met, if Malfoy had really liked her. How many times they’d had sex. He bit his lip as images of a naked Malfoy pounding into another body filled his head and he distinctly felt himself harden further, while simultaneously he felt his muscles tense up in annoyance.
Had she loved him?
He allowed his mind to drift further, if only because he simply couldn’t help his curiosity, and instead of a girl lying beneath Malfoy on a bed, he pictured Malfoy lying on the bed and Harry on top of him; he pictured Malfoy arching up into him as Ginny did, except in this scenario Harry felt hard muscles contract beneath the sweaty skin, and instead of blue eyes staring up at him they were gray. They were nearly black with lust and they were filled with the passion and angst and hatred of seven years finally being realized as they writhed together naked on a bed.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut as he felt himself reach full erection.
There was simply no way around it, though he tried desperately to search for an explanation. He was turning himself on with the thought of having Malfoy naked and wanting on his bed.
Perhaps it was a power trip, he thought. Or maybe just the absurdity or forbidden nature of the situation. Either way, he knew he could have easily wanked to the thought right now.
But he didn’t let himself. That felt much too immoral somehow.
It didn’t stop him from thinking, though.
* * *
“What happened with Ginny last night?”
Harry nearly dropped his wand, only just managing to grasp it before it fell. He looked around quickly to make sure no one had heard before looking to Hermione, his eyes wide.
“What are you talking about?” he bit out through clenched teeth. Ron was close by, trying desperately to charm a small jewelry box to dance. Hermione turned back to her own box and flicked her wand, causing it to do a graceful leap.
“She was in a foul mood this morning and I know she’d gone to your room last night. She had told me she was going to.”
Harry silently cursed Hermione for being so observant.
“Nothing happened,” he lied. He looked at the jewelry box sitting before him but didn’t bother trying to charm it. He wasn’t in the mood. Hermione’s comment had put him on edge. He’d already been feeling anxious since he'd woken up and Malfoy had immediately flooded his mind. He’d glanced at him several times at breakfast and found himself looking forward to Transfiguration, where he knew he’d see Malfoy and his daughter.
“Oh, hush,” Hermione said with a smirk. “I know you too well for that. Something happened. Did you fight?”
“No, we didn’t fight!” he said just a tad too loudly, for Ron looked over and raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t blow a fuse, mate,” Ron laughed. Harry made a childish face at him and Ron chuckled before returning to his project.
“So, what did you fight about?”
Harry groaned, leaning his elbows on the table and burying his face in his hands.
“Malfoy,” he mumbled into his palms.
“Sorry?”
He stood up straight and glared at her.
“You heard me.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, though a small, satisfied smile tugged at her lips.
“You fought about Malfoy?”
“Shh!” Harry whispered harshly, once again looking frantically around the classroom. Hermione chuckled.
“No one’s listening to us, Harry,” she said. “What about him?”
Harry leaned against the counter, the edge digging into the middle of his back. He contemplated his words.
“I was just being … distant and she got frustrated. I told her I was thinking about Malfoy, just about the stuff you’d told me! It was a lot to take in!”
“It was,” Hermione agreed. He wished she would stop smiling like that. Like she knew something. “Were you thinking about anything in particular?”
She knows, he thought. And though he wanted to tell himself there was nothing to know, he couldn’t. The simple fact of the matter was that he’d imagined fucking Malfoy last night. End of story. He wanted to take back everything he’d said. He wanted to kick himself. He should have known better than to say anything Hermione could even possibly interpret. The woman was like living, breathing Veritaserum. She could force the truth out of you without you even realizing it was happening.
“No,” he said, purposely not meeting her eyes.
“So just thinking about him in general, then?”
Harry groaned. Of course she’d find a way to make his words sound bad anyway. He looked over at her to find that she was watching him patiently, the slightest hint of a knowing smile playing on her lips.
“What are you getting at?” he asked finally. She raised her hands in defense.
“I’m not getting at anything. I was just trying to figure out what happened with Ginny and you went all Malfoy on my arse.” She laughed out loud when Harry glared at her. “Hey, we can drop it, if you’d like. Obviously it’s not something you’re comfortable talking about yet.”
“There’s nothing to talk about!”
“Alright, alright!” she laughed, turning back to her jewelry box. “I’m sorry for assuming.”
Harry merely sighed and rolled his eyes. He ignored Hermione’s continued chuckling.
When Transfiguration came around Harry was a nervous wreck. As soon as they walked into the classroom he’d spotted Malfoy sitting in the seat he’d occupied last time, his daughter on her knees in a chair beside him. She was doodling on a piece of parchment.
“Hi, Carina,” Hermione said as they passed them. “Malfoy.”
“Hermany!” Carina shouted. Hermione laughed and Malfoy smiled.
“It’s ‘her-my-oh-knee,’ darling,” Malfoy said, but Carina ignored him, continuing instead to focus on Hermione. Hermione smirked.
“No one seems to be able to pronounce my name,” she joked.
“Yeah, what was it Krum called you? ‘Herm-oh-ninny’?”
Hermione rounded on Ron with a glare while Malfoy let out a bark of laughter. It seemed to Harry that the apocalypse was not yet finished, because he could have sworn he saw Ron smirk at Malfoy, who laughed in return.
“I’m sorry, Ron, what was it Lavender called you? Won-Won?”
“Alright, kids, that’s enough,” Harry said, placing a hand on both their backs and leading them down the aisle toward three free seats.
“Always the mediator, eh, Scarhead?” Harry nearly felt the anger from years past boil up inside of him, but when he turned to face Malfoy he saw that he was smirking. His stomach churned.
“Someone’s gotta do it, hm, Ferret face?” Malfoy went beet red, but he didn’t look angry.
“Papa, what’s a ferret?” Carina asked. Harry burst into laughter as he joined Ron and Hermione at their table.
Link to Chapter Five
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Summary: No one knew Draco had a daughter, but due to unfortunate circumstances surrounding the end of the War he'll have to bring her to school for his eighth year. Perhaps a bit of innocence can help to open eyes.
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Chapter Four
Having their own rooms had been a blessing so far. This wasn’t the first time Harry and Ginny had taken advantage.
This was, however, the first time he’d not wanted to participate in the intended activities.
Ginny crawled on top of him, covering his body with her smaller one, planting a small kiss on his chin. He tried to clear his mind of all thoughts and just focus on the sensation of the warm girl above him, but couldn’t seem to do so. He’d never had this problem before. In fact, he’d found in his sixth year that he was rather sexual indeed, always ready and willing to do anything Ginny was in the mood for.
Not tonight, though. And that wasn’t the worst part. The worst of it was that he wasn’t necessarily not in the mood-he just wasn’t finding Ginny to be particularly … to his taste right now. No, the one person whose face wouldn’t seem to leave him alone was someone whom Harry had certainly been plagued by before, though not quite in the same way.
Malfoy’s face was not a new occurrence in his mind. Sixth year he’d been plagued by it as well, though back then it had been accompanied by Dark Marks and fear and a tingling scar.
Now it was accompanied by a very unnerving stirring in his groin and a warmth in his belly.
“Harry?” He was pulled from his thoughts by Ginny’s voice, and when he refocused he found that she was staring down at him with furrowed brows.
“Hm?” he mumbled stupidly.
“Harry, are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m…” He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before opening them again. “I’m sorry, Gin, I guess I’m just not in the mood tonight.” That was a lie if he’d ever told one. He was half hard, though he couldn’t honestly say it had anything to do with Ginny. He’d been feeling uncomfortably aroused ever since Hermione had let slip the very interesting news about Malfoy’s sexuality.
Ginny crawled off of him slowly, a look of contemplation on her face.
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
He wondered if that was a good idea. Was it dangerous territory? Although, why should it be? It wasn’t as though he was actually attracted to Malfoy. It was just a new thought. Something that was messing with his mind.
He decided he may as well share this with her.
“Did you know Malfoy’s gay?” he blurted out. Ginny’s eyebrows rose beneath her hairline.
“Er-no, I can’t say I did…”
“Right, you wouldn’t,” he mumbled. “Hermione told me and Ron today.” Ginny settled back against Harry’s headboard beside him and stared ahead of her, a mixture of annoyance, reluctant interest, and suspicion playing on her face.
“Did she find this out during their little playdate?”
Unlike when Ron had said it, Harry found it annoying coming from Ginny.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“And did she say how she figured it out?”
Harry was confused. “What do you mean?”
“Well, he didn’t just up and tell her, did he?” she chuckled. From the look on Harry’s face she must have gathered that this was exactly what had happened and she frowned. “He told her that?”
“That’s what she told me,” said Harry.
“Well, what about the mother?” He didn’t know why, but he could sense anger bubbling below the surface. Ginny was getting upset.
Harry briefly explained what Hermione had told him and Ron about Emilie and Ginny seemed as equally aggravated as she did genuinely sympathetic.
“So what are you getting at?” she asked finally. Harry raised a brow. “You’re not in the mood because you found out Malfoy’s gay?” Even to Harry that sounded bad. He remained silent. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” he said quickly. “I was just thinking about it. It’s a lot of information at once.”
“Fine, but why is it preventing you from getting hard?” she asked crudely. Harry felt a deep blush color his cheeks and crawl along his neck. He bit his lip and looked down at his lap, entirely ashamed to see the very slight bulge in his baggy jeans. Ginny, too, looked down and closed her eyes slowly when she spotted the half-erection.
“Ginny-” he began, but she raised her hand and effectively stopped him mid-sentence.
“It’s not because of me,” she quietly accused.
“I-” He stopped himself this time as Ginny climbed off the bed and gathered her sweater which had previously been removed. “Ginny, wait, it’s not-”
“It’s exactly that, Harry,” she said flatly. He swallowed but said nothing. “You need to figure this out. When you do, let me know.” And with that she left the room, shutting the door behind her.
“Fuck.” He slammed his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He opened them again moments later and stared at the ceiling, trying and failing to make sense of this mess in which he’d quite suddenly found himself. He scowled. Malfoy always managed to find a way to crawl under his skin and make him squirm, whether it be physically fighting, verbally fighting, taunting him with a hidden Dark Mark, or saving his arse in his own home while his father and lunatic aunt watched. This was different, though. This had a different feeling. After all, never before had Harry’s prick taken interest in the situation. He banged his head against the wall again and closed his eyes.
He thought about Malfoy for a few seconds, running through different scenarios where they’d fought, for that really was the only time they’d ever had contact. He thought about the way Malfoy had grown over the years, both mentally and physically. He remembered sixth year when Malfoy had begun to look so haggard and worn, remembered when he’d shown Dumbledore his Mark on the astronomy tower and the way his eyes had looked red and puffy. He thought about how Malfoy had looked like a skeleton when he’d seen him in the Manor when he, Ron, and Hermione had been captured, and he especially focused on the way Malfoy’s eyes had looked when he’d lied and said he hadn’t recognized Harry.
Harry’s train of thought drifted a bit and he thought about how Malfoy had had a daughter at that point. Somewhere in France Carina had been living with her grandparents, her mum already long gone.
And then he thought about the mum herself, and very suddenly he began wondering about her and Malfoy, how they’d met, if Malfoy had really liked her. How many times they’d had sex. He bit his lip as images of a naked Malfoy pounding into another body filled his head and he distinctly felt himself harden further, while simultaneously he felt his muscles tense up in annoyance.
Had she loved him?
He allowed his mind to drift further, if only because he simply couldn’t help his curiosity, and instead of a girl lying beneath Malfoy on a bed, he pictured Malfoy lying on the bed and Harry on top of him; he pictured Malfoy arching up into him as Ginny did, except in this scenario Harry felt hard muscles contract beneath the sweaty skin, and instead of blue eyes staring up at him they were gray. They were nearly black with lust and they were filled with the passion and angst and hatred of seven years finally being realized as they writhed together naked on a bed.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut as he felt himself reach full erection.
There was simply no way around it, though he tried desperately to search for an explanation. He was turning himself on with the thought of having Malfoy naked and wanting on his bed.
Perhaps it was a power trip, he thought. Or maybe just the absurdity or forbidden nature of the situation. Either way, he knew he could have easily wanked to the thought right now.
But he didn’t let himself. That felt much too immoral somehow.
It didn’t stop him from thinking, though.
* * *
“What happened with Ginny last night?”
Harry nearly dropped his wand, only just managing to grasp it before it fell. He looked around quickly to make sure no one had heard before looking to Hermione, his eyes wide.
“What are you talking about?” he bit out through clenched teeth. Ron was close by, trying desperately to charm a small jewelry box to dance. Hermione turned back to her own box and flicked her wand, causing it to do a graceful leap.
“She was in a foul mood this morning and I know she’d gone to your room last night. She had told me she was going to.”
Harry silently cursed Hermione for being so observant.
“Nothing happened,” he lied. He looked at the jewelry box sitting before him but didn’t bother trying to charm it. He wasn’t in the mood. Hermione’s comment had put him on edge. He’d already been feeling anxious since he'd woken up and Malfoy had immediately flooded his mind. He’d glanced at him several times at breakfast and found himself looking forward to Transfiguration, where he knew he’d see Malfoy and his daughter.
“Oh, hush,” Hermione said with a smirk. “I know you too well for that. Something happened. Did you fight?”
“No, we didn’t fight!” he said just a tad too loudly, for Ron looked over and raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t blow a fuse, mate,” Ron laughed. Harry made a childish face at him and Ron chuckled before returning to his project.
“So, what did you fight about?”
Harry groaned, leaning his elbows on the table and burying his face in his hands.
“Malfoy,” he mumbled into his palms.
“Sorry?”
He stood up straight and glared at her.
“You heard me.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, though a small, satisfied smile tugged at her lips.
“You fought about Malfoy?”
“Shh!” Harry whispered harshly, once again looking frantically around the classroom. Hermione chuckled.
“No one’s listening to us, Harry,” she said. “What about him?”
Harry leaned against the counter, the edge digging into the middle of his back. He contemplated his words.
“I was just being … distant and she got frustrated. I told her I was thinking about Malfoy, just about the stuff you’d told me! It was a lot to take in!”
“It was,” Hermione agreed. He wished she would stop smiling like that. Like she knew something. “Were you thinking about anything in particular?”
She knows, he thought. And though he wanted to tell himself there was nothing to know, he couldn’t. The simple fact of the matter was that he’d imagined fucking Malfoy last night. End of story. He wanted to take back everything he’d said. He wanted to kick himself. He should have known better than to say anything Hermione could even possibly interpret. The woman was like living, breathing Veritaserum. She could force the truth out of you without you even realizing it was happening.
“No,” he said, purposely not meeting her eyes.
“So just thinking about him in general, then?”
Harry groaned. Of course she’d find a way to make his words sound bad anyway. He looked over at her to find that she was watching him patiently, the slightest hint of a knowing smile playing on her lips.
“What are you getting at?” he asked finally. She raised her hands in defense.
“I’m not getting at anything. I was just trying to figure out what happened with Ginny and you went all Malfoy on my arse.” She laughed out loud when Harry glared at her. “Hey, we can drop it, if you’d like. Obviously it’s not something you’re comfortable talking about yet.”
“There’s nothing to talk about!”
“Alright, alright!” she laughed, turning back to her jewelry box. “I’m sorry for assuming.”
Harry merely sighed and rolled his eyes. He ignored Hermione’s continued chuckling.
When Transfiguration came around Harry was a nervous wreck. As soon as they walked into the classroom he’d spotted Malfoy sitting in the seat he’d occupied last time, his daughter on her knees in a chair beside him. She was doodling on a piece of parchment.
“Hi, Carina,” Hermione said as they passed them. “Malfoy.”
“Hermany!” Carina shouted. Hermione laughed and Malfoy smiled.
“It’s ‘her-my-oh-knee,’ darling,” Malfoy said, but Carina ignored him, continuing instead to focus on Hermione. Hermione smirked.
“No one seems to be able to pronounce my name,” she joked.
“Yeah, what was it Krum called you? ‘Herm-oh-ninny’?”
Hermione rounded on Ron with a glare while Malfoy let out a bark of laughter. It seemed to Harry that the apocalypse was not yet finished, because he could have sworn he saw Ron smirk at Malfoy, who laughed in return.
“I’m sorry, Ron, what was it Lavender called you? Won-Won?”
“Alright, kids, that’s enough,” Harry said, placing a hand on both their backs and leading them down the aisle toward three free seats.
“Always the mediator, eh, Scarhead?” Harry nearly felt the anger from years past boil up inside of him, but when he turned to face Malfoy he saw that he was smirking. His stomach churned.
“Someone’s gotta do it, hm, Ferret face?” Malfoy went beet red, but he didn’t look angry.
“Papa, what’s a ferret?” Carina asked. Harry burst into laughter as he joined Ron and Hermione at their table.
Link to Chapter Five