HP Fanfic: The Sweetest Sound (Harry/Draco) (NC-17)
Title: The Sweetest Sound
Author: khasael
Beta/Britpick: groolover
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5041
Warnings/Contains: Parseltongue, a bit of scar!kink, trainsmut
Summary: Harry doesn't want to sit with Ron and Hermione on the train.
Author's Note: Written as a stocking stuffer for nursedarry .
Harry was trying to wrestle his trunk onto the Hogwarts Express and failing miserably at it when someone bumped into him from behind. He dropped the trunk directly onto his foot and swore.
"Merlin, Potter, you haven't forgotten you're a wizard, have you?" he heard from somewhere behind him, and he knew without a doubt who had slammed into him. "Levitate the damned thing. Heavy lifting is for Muggles and poor wizards who don't have the proper help or charms skill."
Gritting his teeth, Harry waited until Malfoy had passed before he muttered the spell and directed his trunk in the appropriate direction. He was still grumbling to himself when he entered the compartment with his best friends. He threw the door open and watched them jump apart. He kept interrupting their private little moments. He was happy for them, really, even if it had taken them far too long to act on their feelings. But he was in no mood to watch them sit in each other's laps. "What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked, tugging at the bottom of her blouse to straighten it.
"Nothing."
Hermione and Ron exchanged glances. He hated when they did that, like he couldn't see it. "Are you certain?"
"I'm fine, Hermione," Harry said, trying very hard not to snap at her. She was giving him that look that said she was debating just how volatile he might be if she pressed further. "All right, I'm frustrated. But I don't want to talk about it. It's nothing."
"If you say so."
She and Ron exchanged that look again and, out of desperation, Harry reached for the Quidditch magazine Ron had brought along with him. "Mind if I read this?"
"Nah, mate, go ahead. I've probably read it a dozen times already." He sounded cautious, and Harry bristled and opened the magazine to keep from having to look up.
Harry did not actually see a single word in front of him. He could have been holding the thing upside down, for all the enjoyment he was getting from it. But he steadfastly kept his head down and his eyes on the page, which he even remembered to flip now and then.
At the point where he heard Ron murmur something (and Hermione giggled in response and told him to hush), Harry decided he had had enough. He was still fuming over Malfoy's nerve, and hearing his friends being so affectionate with each other just made him want to punch something. He would settle for just shouting at Malfoy. The actual beating, he could restrain himself from. Probably.
"I'm going to go for a walk," he announced loudly, before putting the magazine down on the seat next to him, just in case they needed time to pull their hands from anywhere inappropriate before he looked up.
He got no argument. "See you," Ron said as Harry headed for the door. The look on his face convinced Harry that it would probably be better for everyone if he did not return to the compartment any time soon. Hermione gave him a concerned look before she turned back to Ron and swatted at him. Harry stepped out into the corridor without looking back, more than half afraid of what he might see.
He stormed up and down the corridor, wondering where the hell Malfoy could have gone to. There were only eighth-year students on the train today; everyone else would be along in two days. He stopped in front of the compartment where the Slytherins had always congregated before. He only saw Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass. Blaise ignored him completely, listlessly leafing through some Italian magazine, and Daphne only gave him a quick look before offering a hesitant smile. He just scowled and turned his back, determined to search every compartment, the loo, and even the damned top of the train if he had to. He needed to release his anger somewhere, and Malfoy seemed like the perfect person to take it.
He finally found Malfoy in an empty compartment at the very back of the train. Instead of being surrounded by his friends and bragging (which Harry had half-expected, even though his brain knew that there were very few Slytherins returning to finish their final year of true education), he just sat silently. He had expected to hear him say something about how he had escaped without paying much of a price. And that was true. Harry had been there during the verdict.
"Potter," Malfoy said quietly, fiddling with what looked like a folded piece of parchment or envelope in his hands. "What brings you here?"
"Don't you 'Potter' me, Malfoy," Harry exploded, watching the other boy blink up at him in surprise. "I thought things might be different this year, but it looks like I was wrong."
"I'm sorry, what are you ranting about?" Malfoy asked with his eyebrows raised. "I've just been sitting here, behaving quietly. You're the one who barged in here and began yelling."
"Don't play stupid with me, Malfoy. Oh, wait, you're not playing, are you?"
"I beg your pardon?" Malfoy looked up at him with one eyebrow now arched higher than the other. It was a look Harry couldn't pull off. It was probably specific to haughty blond Pureblood prats.
"Outside, on the platform," Harry said, resisting the urge to pull his wand and hex the other boy. It was part anger and part habit. "You bumped into me, and then you made that crack."
"I have no idea what you're on about, Potter. It wasn't me who collided with you, though I did see who did. I suppose it's not fair to tell you who it was, lest you turn your rage on them. As for a supposed crack, I don't quite follow. I simply suggested you levitate your sodding trunk. It looked heavy."
"Yeah, and you said that heavy lifting was for Muggles and poor wizards without the proper help or those who were unable to cast the appropriate charms."
Malfoy nodded and gave him a look like he was mad. "And?"
"I'm tired of your insults, Malfoy."
"That... wasn't an insult, Potter. Quite the opposite. I meant it as a compliment. I merely gave you the suggestion, specifically meaning that I did not equate you with a Muggle or some poor person without adequate help. You're better than that."
Harry furrowed his brow. What? "Well, it was still insulting to someone, wasn't it?"
Malfoy shrugged. "I suppose. I hadn't thought of it in that light. Fine, then."
There was no apology, though, and that really grated on Harry. He moved close and Malfoy stood and took a step backwards until he was pressed against the wall. "I thought," he said, very deliberately, injecting as much force as he could into each word, "that with everything that's gone on the last few months, things would be different."
"Different?" Malfoy stared at him. "Whatever do you mean?"
"I pulled you out of the Room of Requirement on the back of my broom. I testified at your trial. I watched you and your entire family during the whole thing, Malfoy, and I would have done it even if I hadn't offered testimony. I thought I understood why you did everything. And I thought you had changed after that. Even if you never said thank you. I would have just waved it off, if you had. I did what was right." He took a deep breath then and let it out slowly. He felt a little better. Oh, he was still angry, but he thought he might actually leave the room without throwing a punch.
"Are you quite done?" Malfoy asked him softly. Only then did Harry take stock of the situation. They were... um... very close. He could probably count the prat's eyelashes, if he wanted. Not that he wanted. That would be weird.
Harry moved backwards just a little. He did not want to appear as if Malfoy had made him uncomfortable, or that he was showing some sort of weakness. "Maybe."
Malfoy huffed at him. "You have an awful lack of respect for personal boundaries, Potter. And if you don't learn to fix that, someone might think to teach you a thing or two."
"And just how would they do that, Malfoy?" Harry said with a smirk. He still had Malfoy's wand, buried deep in his trunk. He had hoped they'd have a civil conversation and he could give it back respectfully. It was a very nice wand, even if it did belong to a total git. He probably had a replacement, though-one that cost more money than anything Harry had ever bought. Still. Harry was certain any replacement wouldn't be as good as the one that had chosen Malfoy when he was eleven.
"Like this," Malfoy said, taking a very sure step forwards. He grabbed a handful of Harry's robes and tugged, pulling him in close. He pressed his lips against Harry's and kept them there, not relinquishing his grip at all.
Startled, Harry forgot how to breathe. It wasn't that the kiss was so good he held his breath or anything. It was more like he was so surprised he simultaneously gasped and tried to exhale, and it turned out that didn't work very well. He tried to pull back, but Malfoy wasn't having any of that. Instead, he parted his lips and poked his tongue out against Harry's mouth. Surprising himself, Harry opened his own mouth and let Malfoy in. He was not certain how his body could be okay with it, but the only thing protesting was his brain, and even that was floundering, the fight becoming feebler with every passing second.
When Malfoy reached his hand around and cupped Harry's arse, Harry moaned and immediately cursed his traitorous body. It paid him no mind, instead letting one of its hands work its way into Malfoy's robes, burrowing underneath the layer of standard-issue cotton and the layer of something that was smooth and soft like silk underneath that. His hand came into contact with the warm skin that was Malfoy's shoulder, and, underneath his fingertips, Malfoy shivered, sighing into Harry's mouth.
It was encouragement enough to successfully override any remaining reservations Harry had, which was ridiculous. He had defeated the most evil Wizard in generations-perhaps ever. And yet his self-restraint crumbled at a passionate kiss and contact with another warm body. Well, he supposed he could be thankful no one on Voldemort's side had figured this out during the war. What an inglorious ending that would have been.
"Fucking focus, Potter," Malfoy muttered. "You're a Gryffindor. Either give it your all, or give up."
Harry's sense of pride rose to the occasion. It was not the only thing to do so. He pressed Malfoy's back against the wall, pinning him there with his hips, feeling the other boy's cock swell against his thigh. Well, that was something. Harry's body might be a traitor, but at least Malfoy's was as well. Then again, this had been his idea. Maybe not traitorous at all. The thought unnerved him a bit: the fact that this was no real surprise to Malfoy, who most definitely did not seem upset about this development.
The kissing was nice, but Harry's anger had been at boiling point for long enough that the sharpest edge of it had evaporated away, leaving only a hotter, more sustainable pool of molten lead in his belly. He wanted something to quench that heat, and Malfoy's tongue in his mouth was simply not going to be enough. He used both hands to undo Malfoy's robes and the silk shirt underneath. Too many fucking layers. Pretentious bastard. Harry would fix that. He slid both articles of clothing off Malfoy's shoulders and shoved them down to the ground, hearing them land at his feet with a faint slither.
It sounded like a seductive whisper, a promise that did not have an English equivalent. Without really thinking, Harry echoed the sound, his tongue fluttering at the soft curve of Malfoy's neck.
"What did you just say?" Malfoy asked, in a voice that faltered. He pulled back, his grey eyes wide. Harry got a good look at the boy in front of him then, nude and trembling with something that wasn't fear. Silvery scars crisscrossed his chest and abdomen, and Harry remembered with a very unpleasant twisting in his belly exactly how they had got there.
"Nothing," he said, trying not to stare at the scars. One of them twisted at both ends, not a proper slash like the others, but like something serpentine and alive. It grazed Malfoy's left nipple and wound its way up onto the left shoulder, the shallower end trailing casually down Malfoy's right side and down to his hip before it faded into nothing. Until that moment, he had not realised he had still retained the ability to speak Parseltongue. He had assumed the talent had gone away when the bit of Voldemort's soul had left him.
"No. Say something else," Malfoy said. "I want to hear it."
With only a brief pause, Harry complied. He let his tongue flick against Draco's skin on the last syllable, the air twisting and winding around in his mouth. He felt Draco shudder beneath him, his breath little more than a ragged moan, and when he felt hot hands undo his robes and push at the material, he did nothing to stop them. He let his desire out in another sibilant hiss, enjoying the way the words felt on his tongue, the way they flowed so effortlessly, as if they were merely an extension of the sensations swirling inside him.
Malfoy dropped to his knees in front of Harry and looked up with a face that was flushed and naked. "Keep talking, Potter. Don't you dare stop." Before Harry properly processed what was happening, Malfoy had taken him into his mouth and cupped his hands behind Harry's thighs. The hiss was torn from him, not an actual word this time, but a simple noise of desire and need. Malfoy's mouth was hot and wet and provided the perfect amount of suction, and it took a surprising amount of effort to remain upright, as all Harry wanted to do was collapse in a heap of raw nerves. Malfoy ran his tongue along the bottom of Harry's shaft, adding a little swirl as he twisted his head a bit to the side now and then. When Harry breathed something that translated to roughly as "oh, yes", followed by Malfoy's own name, Malfoy moaned. The vibrations were almost enough to make Harry come almost instantly, and he fought to keep control of himself. He wove his fingers through Malfoy's blond hair, feeling the strands slip between his fingers, and kept up a steady litany, not really caring how coherent it was. He found that every time he uttered the other boy's name, even in a language he did not speak, Malfoy responded with a moan he seemed helpless to control. As Harry felt himself draw closer to orgasm, he spoke not the word "Malfoy", but "Draco", injecting as much heat and seductive, undulating movement as he could into the word.
The hands against the backs of his thighs clenched, fingernails digging into Harry's skin, and Draco let out a whimper. Harry gave the hair wrapped in between his fingers a firm tug, unable to give any other warning as to how close he was. Malfoy kept his lips firmly wrapped around Harry's cock, only slowing his rhythmic rocking as he took in all of Harry's release. Harry felt the increase in suction as Malfoy swallowed before pulling back. His legs shook and he worried that if he didn't find support soon, he would fall over.
Raising his arms and supporting himself against the wall he had previously had Malfoy pinned against, Harry managed to take a few deep breaths with his eyes closed. He half-felt and half-heard Malfoy get off the floor and come to stand in front of him, Harry's hands on either side of his head.
"Touch me."
Harry opened his eyes. Malfoy's lips were red and swollen, his cheeks stained with a hectic flush. He looked down at his own cock, and Harry followed his gaze. It bobbed as Malfoy shifted, and Harry could see the gleam of a bead of precome over the head. Tired of trying to remain upright, Harry grabbed one of Malfoy's wrists instead and tugged him towards the floor, with a hiss that said "follow me" but also hinted at dark promises made of equal parts life and poison.
Whether he understood the idea behind the command or was simply responding to the harsh exhalation that smoothed out at the very end, Malfoy allowed himself to be pulled down without protest, situating himself underneath Harry, who straddled the other boy's thighs and took him into his hand. He stroked slowly, smearing the precome around the head of Malfoy's cock and down the shaft with his thumb. "I never knew you wanted this," Harry whispered, that luxurious sound filling his mouth and dancing on his tongue. "I never knew I wanted it."
Below him, Malfoy squirmed and brought his hands up to grip Harry's hips. "Merlin, yes, Potter. Just like that. Please don't stop."
Harry leaned down as much as he could while still stroking. He rested his forehead against Malfoy's abdomen and traced a small section of one of the scars with his tongue. Malfoy's hips thrust upwards as far as Harry's weight would let them and he swore in a low voice. Harry only smiled, his face hidden against the other boy's torso. He whispered Malfoy's name over and over, speeding up the motion of his hand, and watched as Malfoy writhed beneath him.
"Oh fuck," Malfoy panted, his eyes squeezed shut. "I'm so fucking close."
Harry sat back and took one good look at him, taking in the fine sheen of sweat on Malfoy's chest, the way it seemed to make the scar tissue nearly iridescent; the tousled hair and the flush over face and neck. "Come for me," he whispered, the words sliding out of him as smoothly as the richest oil, spilling out into the room and flowing over them both. "Come for me, Draco."
Malfoy tensed and raised himself up with a grunt, seeking the back of Harry's head with one hand. Harry let himself be pulled down and forward into the kiss, tasting the hot copper of exertion and desire on Malfoy's tongue and a bit of the lingering bitterness that was himself tangled with it. He felt Malfoy's cock pulse in the palm of his hand before he came in short spurts, not breaking the kiss, not even when his breath caught as he rode out his orgasm.
Harry gave them both a moment, and then slid off Malfoy's legs. He cast a quick cleaning charm over them both and stood, offering his hand down to the other boy after a moment. Malfoy grasped it, still breathing heavily, and hauled himself up. "Fuck, Potter."
"Yeah." Anything else he might say would only be awkward. Some little voice at the back of his head, muffled by a high tide of endorphins, reminded him that he had been livid when he walked in here. The reason seemed unimportant now.
"What was it you said, at the end?" Malfoy asked as he picked his shirt and both of their robes off the floor. He shrugged into his shirt and did up the buttons with trembling fingers, then slipped into his robe as Harry did the same.
"What do you mean?"
"There was something short, a word or phrase, I guess. It was the last thing out of your mouth before each of us came. It sounded different from everything else. Sweeter. Smoother. It sounded... like a mixture of how honey and dark chocolate taste. It's hard to describe."
Harry thought about it for just a moment. "Like this?" He uttered the name 'Draco' again, drawing it out just a bit more than he needed to, letting the last note dance on his tongue before it faded away..
Malfoy shuddered. "Yes. That. That's exactly it."
With a long look at the other boy, Harry smiled slightly. "That's the name 'Draco'." He repeated it again, looking into unflinching light grey eyes.
Malfoy sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. "Oh." He straightened his robes. "You should probably go, Potter. We're nearly at Hogwarts." He felt around in his pockets, patting them and apparently not finding what he was looking for in his robes. "Ah, there," he muttered after a moment, stooping to pick up the envelope he had been fiddling with when Harry had come through the door. "Here, Potter. This is yours. Read it in private, would you?"
Harry took the envelope, which had no writing at all on the outside. It was sealed with a bit of silver wax, an ornate letter M stamped onto the surface. "Yeah, all right." He felt a little bitter that this was the end of things. No discussion. No promise of next time. He walked out into the corridor with his jaw clenched. He couldn't stay in there, and he didn't particularly want to go back to the compartment with Ron and Hermione. Maybe once they actually arrived.
With an irritated sigh, Harry leaned up against the wall outside the compartment he had just exited. There was nothing else to do, so he cracked the wax seal on the envelope and pulled out the single sheet of paper inside, feeling the weight of the parchment, thick and lush between his fingers. He unfolded the note and read:
Dear Potter,
I'm writing this because I can't bring myself to say it. I've tried. This seems the only option left.
I'm sorry. For all the years we've wasted hating each other, and for all of my poor decisions that led me to where I am now. I can't change a thing. All I can do is move forwards.
On that note, I want to thank you for everything you've done for my family, and especially for me. You didn't have to, and you'd probably only claim Gryffindor nobility if I mentioned it, and I don't think I have it in me to handle that yet. Mercy is not something I'm well-acquainted with.
I know you may never do any more than tolerate me, but if you can, I would like us to get to know one another as actual people, and not who we think we know the other as. I extended an offer of friendship once. I'd like to do it again, if you're willing.
Regards,
Draco
(please, call me that)
Harry slid down the wall and sat on the floor, the letter still clutched in his hand. What the fuck...? He had started out the trip absolutely livid, had replaced that with being so lust-addled that rational thought wasn't possible, and now he was just...confused. He was still trying to sort things out when Hermione popped out from around the corner. He stood up hurriedly.
"Harry! There you are. Ron and I have been looking everywhere for you! We're almost at the castle, and..." She trailed off, looking him up and down. "Where exactly have you been?" Her tone was sharp.
He was halfway through a mumbled lie of omission about wanting to find somewhere quiet to read a letter he had received when the door to the compartment opened. "Potter, I'm glad I caught..." Malfoy caught sight of Granger and promptly stopped speaking.
She looked back and forth between them and shook her head. "Oh, for heaven's sake."
"Problem, Granger?" Malfoy asked, looking as if he was trying very hard to remain composed.
She smirked at him. "No. No problem at all, actually."
"Oh. Good." He looked at Harry and cleared his throat. "Potter, could you come here for a moment? I have something to tell you."
"Oh, just go ahead and kiss him or whatever it is you want to do in private," Hermione sighed, throwing her hands up in the air.
"Excuse me?" Malfoy exclaimed, looking affronted, at the same time Harry yelled, "what?". "I think perhaps you've been under a lot of stress, Granger. What in Merlin's name makes you think-"
"You have on the wrong robes," Hermione said mildly, still smirking. "Unless you're somehow Gryffindor now. And Harry's randomly been resorted Slytherin." She pulled out her wand. "Honestly." She danced the tip of her wand in front of each of their faces, not even moving her lips, and Harry watched as the flush faded out of Malfoy's cheeks, the remaining swelling in his lips went down, and the sweat that still dampened the roots of his hair dried. He felt the heat dissipate from his own face.
She gave them each a considering look, her head cocked to the side. "Yes, that will do. We'll be at the station within a few moments. You might want to get your robes exchanged before then." And with that, she turned and walked away, giggling to herself.
Harry turned back to Malfoy. "She's right. She can keep a secret, but it's not staying one for long if anyone else sees us like this. Unless you want to claim some odd Polyjuice prank."
"Right." He ducked back inside the compartment and Harry followed, undoing the buttons on his robes as soon as they were inside.
Malfoy didn't say anything for several moments. Finally, robes in place, he gestured to the crumpled piece of parchment in Harry's hand. "I see you read it. It's fine if you don't want to take me up on my offer, you know. But I had to say those things."
Harry looked down at the letter and set it down on the nearest seat. He cleared his throat. "And I have to say something back."
"Oh?" Malfoy looked sceptical.
"Yes." He took a deep breath and let it out. He held Malfoy's gaze steadily. "Draco." He said it in Parseltongue, quietly, the sound swirling around in the air. When Malfoy closed his eyes and shuddered softly, Harry did it again and moved closer. He reached up and ran a thumb against Malfoy's lips. "Draco." That time, it was in English, and Malfoy opened his eyes, the flush back in his cheeks.
"Harry."
Harry nodded and parted his lips slightly, meeting Malfoy's with his own. As the train stopped moving, Harry smiled. "Draco," he hissed again, this time into Malfoy's mouth, the sound vibrating off his tongue.
He was going to enjoy calling him that.
Author: khasael
Beta/Britpick: groolover
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5041
Warnings/Contains: Parseltongue, a bit of scar!kink, trainsmut
Summary: Harry doesn't want to sit with Ron and Hermione on the train.
Author's Note: Written as a stocking stuffer for nursedarry .
Harry was trying to wrestle his trunk onto the Hogwarts Express and failing miserably at it when someone bumped into him from behind. He dropped the trunk directly onto his foot and swore.
"Merlin, Potter, you haven't forgotten you're a wizard, have you?" he heard from somewhere behind him, and he knew without a doubt who had slammed into him. "Levitate the damned thing. Heavy lifting is for Muggles and poor wizards who don't have the proper help or charms skill."
Gritting his teeth, Harry waited until Malfoy had passed before he muttered the spell and directed his trunk in the appropriate direction. He was still grumbling to himself when he entered the compartment with his best friends. He threw the door open and watched them jump apart. He kept interrupting their private little moments. He was happy for them, really, even if it had taken them far too long to act on their feelings. But he was in no mood to watch them sit in each other's laps. "What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked, tugging at the bottom of her blouse to straighten it.
"Nothing."
Hermione and Ron exchanged glances. He hated when they did that, like he couldn't see it. "Are you certain?"
"I'm fine, Hermione," Harry said, trying very hard not to snap at her. She was giving him that look that said she was debating just how volatile he might be if she pressed further. "All right, I'm frustrated. But I don't want to talk about it. It's nothing."
"If you say so."
She and Ron exchanged that look again and, out of desperation, Harry reached for the Quidditch magazine Ron had brought along with him. "Mind if I read this?"
"Nah, mate, go ahead. I've probably read it a dozen times already." He sounded cautious, and Harry bristled and opened the magazine to keep from having to look up.
Harry did not actually see a single word in front of him. He could have been holding the thing upside down, for all the enjoyment he was getting from it. But he steadfastly kept his head down and his eyes on the page, which he even remembered to flip now and then.
At the point where he heard Ron murmur something (and Hermione giggled in response and told him to hush), Harry decided he had had enough. He was still fuming over Malfoy's nerve, and hearing his friends being so affectionate with each other just made him want to punch something. He would settle for just shouting at Malfoy. The actual beating, he could restrain himself from. Probably.
"I'm going to go for a walk," he announced loudly, before putting the magazine down on the seat next to him, just in case they needed time to pull their hands from anywhere inappropriate before he looked up.
He got no argument. "See you," Ron said as Harry headed for the door. The look on his face convinced Harry that it would probably be better for everyone if he did not return to the compartment any time soon. Hermione gave him a concerned look before she turned back to Ron and swatted at him. Harry stepped out into the corridor without looking back, more than half afraid of what he might see.
He stormed up and down the corridor, wondering where the hell Malfoy could have gone to. There were only eighth-year students on the train today; everyone else would be along in two days. He stopped in front of the compartment where the Slytherins had always congregated before. He only saw Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass. Blaise ignored him completely, listlessly leafing through some Italian magazine, and Daphne only gave him a quick look before offering a hesitant smile. He just scowled and turned his back, determined to search every compartment, the loo, and even the damned top of the train if he had to. He needed to release his anger somewhere, and Malfoy seemed like the perfect person to take it.
He finally found Malfoy in an empty compartment at the very back of the train. Instead of being surrounded by his friends and bragging (which Harry had half-expected, even though his brain knew that there were very few Slytherins returning to finish their final year of true education), he just sat silently. He had expected to hear him say something about how he had escaped without paying much of a price. And that was true. Harry had been there during the verdict.
"Potter," Malfoy said quietly, fiddling with what looked like a folded piece of parchment or envelope in his hands. "What brings you here?"
"Don't you 'Potter' me, Malfoy," Harry exploded, watching the other boy blink up at him in surprise. "I thought things might be different this year, but it looks like I was wrong."
"I'm sorry, what are you ranting about?" Malfoy asked with his eyebrows raised. "I've just been sitting here, behaving quietly. You're the one who barged in here and began yelling."
"Don't play stupid with me, Malfoy. Oh, wait, you're not playing, are you?"
"I beg your pardon?" Malfoy looked up at him with one eyebrow now arched higher than the other. It was a look Harry couldn't pull off. It was probably specific to haughty blond Pureblood prats.
"Outside, on the platform," Harry said, resisting the urge to pull his wand and hex the other boy. It was part anger and part habit. "You bumped into me, and then you made that crack."
"I have no idea what you're on about, Potter. It wasn't me who collided with you, though I did see who did. I suppose it's not fair to tell you who it was, lest you turn your rage on them. As for a supposed crack, I don't quite follow. I simply suggested you levitate your sodding trunk. It looked heavy."
"Yeah, and you said that heavy lifting was for Muggles and poor wizards without the proper help or those who were unable to cast the appropriate charms."
Malfoy nodded and gave him a look like he was mad. "And?"
"I'm tired of your insults, Malfoy."
"That... wasn't an insult, Potter. Quite the opposite. I meant it as a compliment. I merely gave you the suggestion, specifically meaning that I did not equate you with a Muggle or some poor person without adequate help. You're better than that."
Harry furrowed his brow. What? "Well, it was still insulting to someone, wasn't it?"
Malfoy shrugged. "I suppose. I hadn't thought of it in that light. Fine, then."
There was no apology, though, and that really grated on Harry. He moved close and Malfoy stood and took a step backwards until he was pressed against the wall. "I thought," he said, very deliberately, injecting as much force as he could into each word, "that with everything that's gone on the last few months, things would be different."
"Different?" Malfoy stared at him. "Whatever do you mean?"
"I pulled you out of the Room of Requirement on the back of my broom. I testified at your trial. I watched you and your entire family during the whole thing, Malfoy, and I would have done it even if I hadn't offered testimony. I thought I understood why you did everything. And I thought you had changed after that. Even if you never said thank you. I would have just waved it off, if you had. I did what was right." He took a deep breath then and let it out slowly. He felt a little better. Oh, he was still angry, but he thought he might actually leave the room without throwing a punch.
"Are you quite done?" Malfoy asked him softly. Only then did Harry take stock of the situation. They were... um... very close. He could probably count the prat's eyelashes, if he wanted. Not that he wanted. That would be weird.
Harry moved backwards just a little. He did not want to appear as if Malfoy had made him uncomfortable, or that he was showing some sort of weakness. "Maybe."
Malfoy huffed at him. "You have an awful lack of respect for personal boundaries, Potter. And if you don't learn to fix that, someone might think to teach you a thing or two."
"And just how would they do that, Malfoy?" Harry said with a smirk. He still had Malfoy's wand, buried deep in his trunk. He had hoped they'd have a civil conversation and he could give it back respectfully. It was a very nice wand, even if it did belong to a total git. He probably had a replacement, though-one that cost more money than anything Harry had ever bought. Still. Harry was certain any replacement wouldn't be as good as the one that had chosen Malfoy when he was eleven.
"Like this," Malfoy said, taking a very sure step forwards. He grabbed a handful of Harry's robes and tugged, pulling him in close. He pressed his lips against Harry's and kept them there, not relinquishing his grip at all.
Startled, Harry forgot how to breathe. It wasn't that the kiss was so good he held his breath or anything. It was more like he was so surprised he simultaneously gasped and tried to exhale, and it turned out that didn't work very well. He tried to pull back, but Malfoy wasn't having any of that. Instead, he parted his lips and poked his tongue out against Harry's mouth. Surprising himself, Harry opened his own mouth and let Malfoy in. He was not certain how his body could be okay with it, but the only thing protesting was his brain, and even that was floundering, the fight becoming feebler with every passing second.
When Malfoy reached his hand around and cupped Harry's arse, Harry moaned and immediately cursed his traitorous body. It paid him no mind, instead letting one of its hands work its way into Malfoy's robes, burrowing underneath the layer of standard-issue cotton and the layer of something that was smooth and soft like silk underneath that. His hand came into contact with the warm skin that was Malfoy's shoulder, and, underneath his fingertips, Malfoy shivered, sighing into Harry's mouth.
It was encouragement enough to successfully override any remaining reservations Harry had, which was ridiculous. He had defeated the most evil Wizard in generations-perhaps ever. And yet his self-restraint crumbled at a passionate kiss and contact with another warm body. Well, he supposed he could be thankful no one on Voldemort's side had figured this out during the war. What an inglorious ending that would have been.
"Fucking focus, Potter," Malfoy muttered. "You're a Gryffindor. Either give it your all, or give up."
Harry's sense of pride rose to the occasion. It was not the only thing to do so. He pressed Malfoy's back against the wall, pinning him there with his hips, feeling the other boy's cock swell against his thigh. Well, that was something. Harry's body might be a traitor, but at least Malfoy's was as well. Then again, this had been his idea. Maybe not traitorous at all. The thought unnerved him a bit: the fact that this was no real surprise to Malfoy, who most definitely did not seem upset about this development.
The kissing was nice, but Harry's anger had been at boiling point for long enough that the sharpest edge of it had evaporated away, leaving only a hotter, more sustainable pool of molten lead in his belly. He wanted something to quench that heat, and Malfoy's tongue in his mouth was simply not going to be enough. He used both hands to undo Malfoy's robes and the silk shirt underneath. Too many fucking layers. Pretentious bastard. Harry would fix that. He slid both articles of clothing off Malfoy's shoulders and shoved them down to the ground, hearing them land at his feet with a faint slither.
It sounded like a seductive whisper, a promise that did not have an English equivalent. Without really thinking, Harry echoed the sound, his tongue fluttering at the soft curve of Malfoy's neck.
"What did you just say?" Malfoy asked, in a voice that faltered. He pulled back, his grey eyes wide. Harry got a good look at the boy in front of him then, nude and trembling with something that wasn't fear. Silvery scars crisscrossed his chest and abdomen, and Harry remembered with a very unpleasant twisting in his belly exactly how they had got there.
"Nothing," he said, trying not to stare at the scars. One of them twisted at both ends, not a proper slash like the others, but like something serpentine and alive. It grazed Malfoy's left nipple and wound its way up onto the left shoulder, the shallower end trailing casually down Malfoy's right side and down to his hip before it faded into nothing. Until that moment, he had not realised he had still retained the ability to speak Parseltongue. He had assumed the talent had gone away when the bit of Voldemort's soul had left him.
"No. Say something else," Malfoy said. "I want to hear it."
With only a brief pause, Harry complied. He let his tongue flick against Draco's skin on the last syllable, the air twisting and winding around in his mouth. He felt Draco shudder beneath him, his breath little more than a ragged moan, and when he felt hot hands undo his robes and push at the material, he did nothing to stop them. He let his desire out in another sibilant hiss, enjoying the way the words felt on his tongue, the way they flowed so effortlessly, as if they were merely an extension of the sensations swirling inside him.
Malfoy dropped to his knees in front of Harry and looked up with a face that was flushed and naked. "Keep talking, Potter. Don't you dare stop." Before Harry properly processed what was happening, Malfoy had taken him into his mouth and cupped his hands behind Harry's thighs. The hiss was torn from him, not an actual word this time, but a simple noise of desire and need. Malfoy's mouth was hot and wet and provided the perfect amount of suction, and it took a surprising amount of effort to remain upright, as all Harry wanted to do was collapse in a heap of raw nerves. Malfoy ran his tongue along the bottom of Harry's shaft, adding a little swirl as he twisted his head a bit to the side now and then. When Harry breathed something that translated to roughly as "oh, yes", followed by Malfoy's own name, Malfoy moaned. The vibrations were almost enough to make Harry come almost instantly, and he fought to keep control of himself. He wove his fingers through Malfoy's blond hair, feeling the strands slip between his fingers, and kept up a steady litany, not really caring how coherent it was. He found that every time he uttered the other boy's name, even in a language he did not speak, Malfoy responded with a moan he seemed helpless to control. As Harry felt himself draw closer to orgasm, he spoke not the word "Malfoy", but "Draco", injecting as much heat and seductive, undulating movement as he could into the word.
The hands against the backs of his thighs clenched, fingernails digging into Harry's skin, and Draco let out a whimper. Harry gave the hair wrapped in between his fingers a firm tug, unable to give any other warning as to how close he was. Malfoy kept his lips firmly wrapped around Harry's cock, only slowing his rhythmic rocking as he took in all of Harry's release. Harry felt the increase in suction as Malfoy swallowed before pulling back. His legs shook and he worried that if he didn't find support soon, he would fall over.
Raising his arms and supporting himself against the wall he had previously had Malfoy pinned against, Harry managed to take a few deep breaths with his eyes closed. He half-felt and half-heard Malfoy get off the floor and come to stand in front of him, Harry's hands on either side of his head.
"Touch me."
Harry opened his eyes. Malfoy's lips were red and swollen, his cheeks stained with a hectic flush. He looked down at his own cock, and Harry followed his gaze. It bobbed as Malfoy shifted, and Harry could see the gleam of a bead of precome over the head. Tired of trying to remain upright, Harry grabbed one of Malfoy's wrists instead and tugged him towards the floor, with a hiss that said "follow me" but also hinted at dark promises made of equal parts life and poison.
Whether he understood the idea behind the command or was simply responding to the harsh exhalation that smoothed out at the very end, Malfoy allowed himself to be pulled down without protest, situating himself underneath Harry, who straddled the other boy's thighs and took him into his hand. He stroked slowly, smearing the precome around the head of Malfoy's cock and down the shaft with his thumb. "I never knew you wanted this," Harry whispered, that luxurious sound filling his mouth and dancing on his tongue. "I never knew I wanted it."
Below him, Malfoy squirmed and brought his hands up to grip Harry's hips. "Merlin, yes, Potter. Just like that. Please don't stop."
Harry leaned down as much as he could while still stroking. He rested his forehead against Malfoy's abdomen and traced a small section of one of the scars with his tongue. Malfoy's hips thrust upwards as far as Harry's weight would let them and he swore in a low voice. Harry only smiled, his face hidden against the other boy's torso. He whispered Malfoy's name over and over, speeding up the motion of his hand, and watched as Malfoy writhed beneath him.
"Oh fuck," Malfoy panted, his eyes squeezed shut. "I'm so fucking close."
Harry sat back and took one good look at him, taking in the fine sheen of sweat on Malfoy's chest, the way it seemed to make the scar tissue nearly iridescent; the tousled hair and the flush over face and neck. "Come for me," he whispered, the words sliding out of him as smoothly as the richest oil, spilling out into the room and flowing over them both. "Come for me, Draco."
Malfoy tensed and raised himself up with a grunt, seeking the back of Harry's head with one hand. Harry let himself be pulled down and forward into the kiss, tasting the hot copper of exertion and desire on Malfoy's tongue and a bit of the lingering bitterness that was himself tangled with it. He felt Malfoy's cock pulse in the palm of his hand before he came in short spurts, not breaking the kiss, not even when his breath caught as he rode out his orgasm.
Harry gave them both a moment, and then slid off Malfoy's legs. He cast a quick cleaning charm over them both and stood, offering his hand down to the other boy after a moment. Malfoy grasped it, still breathing heavily, and hauled himself up. "Fuck, Potter."
"Yeah." Anything else he might say would only be awkward. Some little voice at the back of his head, muffled by a high tide of endorphins, reminded him that he had been livid when he walked in here. The reason seemed unimportant now.
"What was it you said, at the end?" Malfoy asked as he picked his shirt and both of their robes off the floor. He shrugged into his shirt and did up the buttons with trembling fingers, then slipped into his robe as Harry did the same.
"What do you mean?"
"There was something short, a word or phrase, I guess. It was the last thing out of your mouth before each of us came. It sounded different from everything else. Sweeter. Smoother. It sounded... like a mixture of how honey and dark chocolate taste. It's hard to describe."
Harry thought about it for just a moment. "Like this?" He uttered the name 'Draco' again, drawing it out just a bit more than he needed to, letting the last note dance on his tongue before it faded away..
Malfoy shuddered. "Yes. That. That's exactly it."
With a long look at the other boy, Harry smiled slightly. "That's the name 'Draco'." He repeated it again, looking into unflinching light grey eyes.
Malfoy sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. "Oh." He straightened his robes. "You should probably go, Potter. We're nearly at Hogwarts." He felt around in his pockets, patting them and apparently not finding what he was looking for in his robes. "Ah, there," he muttered after a moment, stooping to pick up the envelope he had been fiddling with when Harry had come through the door. "Here, Potter. This is yours. Read it in private, would you?"
Harry took the envelope, which had no writing at all on the outside. It was sealed with a bit of silver wax, an ornate letter M stamped onto the surface. "Yeah, all right." He felt a little bitter that this was the end of things. No discussion. No promise of next time. He walked out into the corridor with his jaw clenched. He couldn't stay in there, and he didn't particularly want to go back to the compartment with Ron and Hermione. Maybe once they actually arrived.
With an irritated sigh, Harry leaned up against the wall outside the compartment he had just exited. There was nothing else to do, so he cracked the wax seal on the envelope and pulled out the single sheet of paper inside, feeling the weight of the parchment, thick and lush between his fingers. He unfolded the note and read:
Dear Potter,
I'm writing this because I can't bring myself to say it. I've tried. This seems the only option left.
I'm sorry. For all the years we've wasted hating each other, and for all of my poor decisions that led me to where I am now. I can't change a thing. All I can do is move forwards.
On that note, I want to thank you for everything you've done for my family, and especially for me. You didn't have to, and you'd probably only claim Gryffindor nobility if I mentioned it, and I don't think I have it in me to handle that yet. Mercy is not something I'm well-acquainted with.
I know you may never do any more than tolerate me, but if you can, I would like us to get to know one another as actual people, and not who we think we know the other as. I extended an offer of friendship once. I'd like to do it again, if you're willing.
Regards,
Draco
(please, call me that)
Harry slid down the wall and sat on the floor, the letter still clutched in his hand. What the fuck...? He had started out the trip absolutely livid, had replaced that with being so lust-addled that rational thought wasn't possible, and now he was just...confused. He was still trying to sort things out when Hermione popped out from around the corner. He stood up hurriedly.
"Harry! There you are. Ron and I have been looking everywhere for you! We're almost at the castle, and..." She trailed off, looking him up and down. "Where exactly have you been?" Her tone was sharp.
He was halfway through a mumbled lie of omission about wanting to find somewhere quiet to read a letter he had received when the door to the compartment opened. "Potter, I'm glad I caught..." Malfoy caught sight of Granger and promptly stopped speaking.
She looked back and forth between them and shook her head. "Oh, for heaven's sake."
"Problem, Granger?" Malfoy asked, looking as if he was trying very hard to remain composed.
She smirked at him. "No. No problem at all, actually."
"Oh. Good." He looked at Harry and cleared his throat. "Potter, could you come here for a moment? I have something to tell you."
"Oh, just go ahead and kiss him or whatever it is you want to do in private," Hermione sighed, throwing her hands up in the air.
"Excuse me?" Malfoy exclaimed, looking affronted, at the same time Harry yelled, "what?". "I think perhaps you've been under a lot of stress, Granger. What in Merlin's name makes you think-"
"You have on the wrong robes," Hermione said mildly, still smirking. "Unless you're somehow Gryffindor now. And Harry's randomly been resorted Slytherin." She pulled out her wand. "Honestly." She danced the tip of her wand in front of each of their faces, not even moving her lips, and Harry watched as the flush faded out of Malfoy's cheeks, the remaining swelling in his lips went down, and the sweat that still dampened the roots of his hair dried. He felt the heat dissipate from his own face.
She gave them each a considering look, her head cocked to the side. "Yes, that will do. We'll be at the station within a few moments. You might want to get your robes exchanged before then." And with that, she turned and walked away, giggling to herself.
Harry turned back to Malfoy. "She's right. She can keep a secret, but it's not staying one for long if anyone else sees us like this. Unless you want to claim some odd Polyjuice prank."
"Right." He ducked back inside the compartment and Harry followed, undoing the buttons on his robes as soon as they were inside.
Malfoy didn't say anything for several moments. Finally, robes in place, he gestured to the crumpled piece of parchment in Harry's hand. "I see you read it. It's fine if you don't want to take me up on my offer, you know. But I had to say those things."
Harry looked down at the letter and set it down on the nearest seat. He cleared his throat. "And I have to say something back."
"Oh?" Malfoy looked sceptical.
"Yes." He took a deep breath and let it out. He held Malfoy's gaze steadily. "Draco." He said it in Parseltongue, quietly, the sound swirling around in the air. When Malfoy closed his eyes and shuddered softly, Harry did it again and moved closer. He reached up and ran a thumb against Malfoy's lips. "Draco." That time, it was in English, and Malfoy opened his eyes, the flush back in his cheeks.
"Harry."
Harry nodded and parted his lips slightly, meeting Malfoy's with his own. As the train stopped moving, Harry smiled. "Draco," he hissed again, this time into Malfoy's mouth, the sound vibrating off his tongue.
He was going to enjoy calling him that.