Cherish, PG-13
Title: Cherish
To: ran-mouri
Pairing/Threesome: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Epilogue Compliant, if that's a warning...
Word count: 2,104
Summary: Harry wants to snatch whatever time he can with Draco, even if it means deceiving their families. For the hds-beltane exchange and fulfilling my 100quills prompt 'Glimpse' (prompt table here).
&&-"Dost thou love life? Then squander not time, for that is the stuff life is made of."
Checking the scrap of parchment from his pocket then comparing the time scrawled on that to his watch, Harry impatiently decided that it was close enough, and slung his cloak on, tucking the letter he had also just finished reading into his pocket. DisApparating out of his house, the man squinted at his new surroundings, mostly characterised by large amounts of nature starting to be tinged blue by the oncoming dusk. He shoved the note away and started up the path. It wouldn't do to seem too familiar, and so he had Apparated to just around the corner.
Tapping the ostentatious gates with his wand, the man made his way up the ridiculously long driveway trying to appear as if he was highly incensed about something just in case someone happened to be watching. The purpose of the driveway, other than to tire their guests out, defied Harry, since wizards had no abnormally long cars to roll up the long path. The fact that one could not Apparate directly on to the Malfoy grounds just made everything even more annoying, although he supposed that those iron-wrought gates would serve no purpose if one could get to the house without ever having admired them
Grumpily arriving at the front door, Harry Potter checked his watch again, even though he knew that his timing was perfect. He had had the opportunity to fine-tune it frequently, and it helped that the Malfoy family ran like exceedingly well oiled clockwork - by, more specifically as he had discovered recently, the ancient grandfather clock in the hall. He gathered in a heavy breath, and composed himself upon the front doorstep. Ringing the antique doorbell, the ornate door opened almost immediately, revealing Astoria Malfoy in a beautiful set of turquoise wool plush robes, looking as if she was dressed very much to be looked at. "Here again, Potter?" she asked, one perfectly plucked eyebrow raised. Her tone was amused, almost mocking. Evidently Harry came over somewhat frequently, and usually for the same reason.
"Your son," Harry nearly bellowed at her, "beat up my son! AGAIN!" The woman merely stood aside to let him in, a little smile playing across her thin lips. Harry continued blithely. "And he writes to tell me that you two are encouraging that son of yours! My son was hospitalised!" A second figure appeared, coming through from a door off the hall. It stared at them for a moment, before emerging all the way from what was evidently a study, coming up behind Astoria to place an arm around her.
Draco Malfoy nodded congenially. "Hello, Potter. I thought I heard your dulcet tones. Seven o'clock on the spot, old boy. Here whining about how pathetic your son is again?" He patted his wife on the arm, saying to her, "You go on. Potter have a tantrum shouldn't keep you from having a good time. I'll deal with this." He winked at her, which caused Harry to round on him in turn.
"Your son is a bully! An absolute thug!" raved Harry, pointing a finger right between Malfoy's eyes from about an inch away and causing the other man to go cross-eyed looking at it for a moment. Astoria slid out, pointedly snickering, leaving the two men to it, her pointed expression decidedly cheerful as she headed off for her social dinner. Malfoy started heading inside the house; Harry followed, still yelling about Scorpius' terrible behaviour and how his parents were obviously a bad influence. They were about halfway up the first flight of stairs when Harry stopped yelling, and listened curiously for any sounds. "Is she gone yet?"
Tilting his head and listening too, Draco bit his lip then nodded as only silence filtered through, the ticking of the ostentatious grandfather clock in the hall excepted, reminding them of the time and how little of it they had. "Yeah, I think so. Come on." He dashed for one of the spare bedrooms.
&&...
"I can smell her perfume on you." Drawing away slightly, Harry Potter fixed his eyes upon his lover. He tilted his head towards the en-suite door. "Go wash it off." His tone of voice was strangely paradoxical, pleading and yet stern. He could pretend to be annoyed, but his lover could tell that he was more upset and wishful than actually irritated. The blond's eyes narrowed, and searched the face in front of him, before sighing and sliding off the bed. He disappeared quickly into the bathroom. Harry heard muffled sounds for a moment, before the distinctive sound of a tap running. Hasty scrubbing sounds emerged. The bathroom cabinet's contents clinked, and a smile spread over Harry's face as he lay back on the bed, waiting.
When the door next opened again, a different smell wafted out, distinctly masculine. It was that aftershave that Harry liked. He tugged the other man to him, his spare arm tucked around Draco's waist, grinning as he saw Draco break into a smile. "Much better," he approved. He raised his eyebrow though: "Doesn't your wife wonder why you keep aftershave in the spare en-suite?" He never referred to Astoria by name. Neither did Draco, when he was with Harry.
Draco shrugged, that minute shift of his shoulders that was more elegant than Harry could ever hope to be; he had given up long ago, spending his time watching Draco be graceful instead. "No? She never checks in here. She just orders them to be kept clean and breaks them out when the relatives swarm in around Christmas." Lucius and Narcissa had retired to a small villa in the south of France, although Harry knew that the villa was only relatively small compared to the mansion: it was still larger than his house.
"I hate it when you smell of her. We get so little time together, I don't want to be reminded of her in the middle of it," Harry sighed and pressed his lips to Draco's. His lover curled into his embrace, massaging back with his own lips as they collapsed down onto the bed that was, for now, theirs. Harry's expression had darkened so visibly when Draco had first suggested temporarily borrowing Astoria's half of the bed the first time that they had trekked around for a comfortable spare bedroom, occasionally pausing in the corridors to momentarily appease their lust before continuing on.
"So demanding," Draco teased as he pulled Harry down on top of him. "I'm sorry," he added, even though he knew that Harry didn't blame him in the slightest. "And you know that I love it that you get jealous so easily." He leaned into the other man; Draco liked to be held, to be worshipped like a heathen god. Harry laughed easily; the possessive monster inside him curled up again, appeased momentarily.
"Did Scorpius really beat up Albus again? He's got it into his head that's it's not 'cool' to be writing to parents frequently, so we're only getting one letter a fortnight or even less from him at the moment. She still writes every other day though." He was curious, of course, but it did seem to not bother him so very much when Harry took his time answering and chose to bestow another round of kisses up his neck and across his jaw first instead. "Mmm," he murmured into the other man's mouth, feeling warm breath swirling across his cheek. "Or was that just an excuse to see me?"
Harry chuckled; Draco felt his entire body thrum with the vibration, and shivered slightly. "Your son really did beat up my son, but is that really anything new? Besides, Al gave him a thrashing back." A muffled snort sounded from his lover as he continued, "Neville wrote to me. He was quite perplexed. Apparently, they were found thwacking each other with the ends of their wands. What in Merlin's beard has happened to civilised duels?" A small giggle escaped Draco, not a sound that Harry often heard, and not ever when they were in public. He savoured provoking emotions and reactions out of Draco that he rarely saw. It somehow proved to him that he was special; he alone could make Draco react that way.
Getting to his grand finale, Harry grinned broadly. "And they were hospitalised. When Neville came across them on one of the night patrols, they were so startled that they took a trip down the stairs in the dark and got concussion." Draco, whose hands now starting to wander a bit, choked, and shook his head despairingly. "Oh, mmmm, that's nice." Harry changed his tack with no warning whatsoever. "I like your seeker hands." He kissed Draco again, who squealed into the kiss. "And I see that you like my seeker hands," he whispered huskily; a smug, very masculine smirk brushed across his lips.
"Bastard," Draco sulked, wriggling closer despite it all.
"I did want to just see you anyway too," whispered Harry. "I hate that you're married. I know I am too, and it makes no sense for me to be complaining, but I'm still insanely jealous anyway." His hands placed on Draco's body were warm, a heat radiating through his robes. His fingers gripped around the back of Draco's hips, clutching the plump flesh just at the top of the smooth curve of Draco's backside. "Mine," he stated firmly, almost childishly, throwing everything he was feeling into that one word.
Draco draped both arms around his lover's neck, sliding his long, pale limbs so that their legs intertwined. He gazed up at the man who spent so little actual time in his life and yet occupied so much of it. "Yours."
&&...
Moments together were to be cherished, to be snatched whenever possible, to be plucked out of non-existent time itself. "It's almost half nine, Harry." Draco murmured the words into the shell of the other man's ear slowly, as if he would be more the poorer for having given them away. Harry leaned over to kiss the unwanted words out of the blond's mouth. That didn't slow the clock's progress though.
He sighed. "Ding dong. Even Cinderella got until midnight." Harry disentangled his limbs from Draco's whiter, slimmer limbs. He had told Draco the story of Cinderella months ago, when the Pureblood hadn't understood the reference. He had scoffed at the idea of glass shoes, and Harry had gazed amusedly at his pragmatic analysis of the fairy tale, feeling that the literal witticisms were a part of what made him so terribly fond of the other man.
Donning their garments in silence, the two men glanced at each other occasionally, not having anything to say that the other didn't already know. Their hips bumped as they moved; an arm occasionally fleetingly brushed a stomach, a shoulder. Draco reached up automatically in an attempt to ruffle the unkempt black hair into something vaguely resembling neatness and failed, as he always did. Draco's hair, as always, was perfect. Harry curled his fingers through the soft blondness anyway. "Next time, my son is going to beat the stuffing out of your son," he teased.
"And then I'll say that your son is becoming a bad influence on my son and have an excuse to come see you again," Harry added, making Draco chuckle, but only briefly. There was no time for chuckling when they only had a few minutes left. Stealing his last covert kisses as they made their way downstairs, Harry ran down the drive to disApparate off the Malfoy land before Astoria arrived home. The cool wind against his sensitised skin caused him to shiver; he cast a single backwards glance at the figure silhouetted in the doorway before he went.
Stepping back into his own home, Harry smiled, the memory of the evening warming him even though the heating in his house was off. He would see Draco at work tomorrow, at the Ministry. With any luck, they might even exchange a few words, or have half a minute alone in the busy office complex. Half a minute was enough though, when every second with Draco meant so much to him. They might even be able to spend an evening together again soon. Astoria went to a lot of social dinners. Either way, it didn't matter. Of course he wanted to spend more time with Draco. Since he couldn't, what time they had was enough. He would continue to skirt around both of their families and timetables. He would Apparate halfway across the country on a second's notice.
It was a statement; his testament of how much he would give for this to continue.
&&-"There is not enough time to do everything, but there is always enough time to do the most important thing."
To: ran-mouri
Pairing/Threesome: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Epilogue Compliant, if that's a warning...
Word count: 2,104
Summary: Harry wants to snatch whatever time he can with Draco, even if it means deceiving their families. For the hds-beltane exchange and fulfilling my 100quills prompt 'Glimpse' (prompt table here).
&&-"Dost thou love life? Then squander not time, for that is the stuff life is made of."
Checking the scrap of parchment from his pocket then comparing the time scrawled on that to his watch, Harry impatiently decided that it was close enough, and slung his cloak on, tucking the letter he had also just finished reading into his pocket. DisApparating out of his house, the man squinted at his new surroundings, mostly characterised by large amounts of nature starting to be tinged blue by the oncoming dusk. He shoved the note away and started up the path. It wouldn't do to seem too familiar, and so he had Apparated to just around the corner.
Tapping the ostentatious gates with his wand, the man made his way up the ridiculously long driveway trying to appear as if he was highly incensed about something just in case someone happened to be watching. The purpose of the driveway, other than to tire their guests out, defied Harry, since wizards had no abnormally long cars to roll up the long path. The fact that one could not Apparate directly on to the Malfoy grounds just made everything even more annoying, although he supposed that those iron-wrought gates would serve no purpose if one could get to the house without ever having admired them
Grumpily arriving at the front door, Harry Potter checked his watch again, even though he knew that his timing was perfect. He had had the opportunity to fine-tune it frequently, and it helped that the Malfoy family ran like exceedingly well oiled clockwork - by, more specifically as he had discovered recently, the ancient grandfather clock in the hall. He gathered in a heavy breath, and composed himself upon the front doorstep. Ringing the antique doorbell, the ornate door opened almost immediately, revealing Astoria Malfoy in a beautiful set of turquoise wool plush robes, looking as if she was dressed very much to be looked at. "Here again, Potter?" she asked, one perfectly plucked eyebrow raised. Her tone was amused, almost mocking. Evidently Harry came over somewhat frequently, and usually for the same reason.
"Your son," Harry nearly bellowed at her, "beat up my son! AGAIN!" The woman merely stood aside to let him in, a little smile playing across her thin lips. Harry continued blithely. "And he writes to tell me that you two are encouraging that son of yours! My son was hospitalised!" A second figure appeared, coming through from a door off the hall. It stared at them for a moment, before emerging all the way from what was evidently a study, coming up behind Astoria to place an arm around her.
Draco Malfoy nodded congenially. "Hello, Potter. I thought I heard your dulcet tones. Seven o'clock on the spot, old boy. Here whining about how pathetic your son is again?" He patted his wife on the arm, saying to her, "You go on. Potter have a tantrum shouldn't keep you from having a good time. I'll deal with this." He winked at her, which caused Harry to round on him in turn.
"Your son is a bully! An absolute thug!" raved Harry, pointing a finger right between Malfoy's eyes from about an inch away and causing the other man to go cross-eyed looking at it for a moment. Astoria slid out, pointedly snickering, leaving the two men to it, her pointed expression decidedly cheerful as she headed off for her social dinner. Malfoy started heading inside the house; Harry followed, still yelling about Scorpius' terrible behaviour and how his parents were obviously a bad influence. They were about halfway up the first flight of stairs when Harry stopped yelling, and listened curiously for any sounds. "Is she gone yet?"
Tilting his head and listening too, Draco bit his lip then nodded as only silence filtered through, the ticking of the ostentatious grandfather clock in the hall excepted, reminding them of the time and how little of it they had. "Yeah, I think so. Come on." He dashed for one of the spare bedrooms.
&&...
"I can smell her perfume on you." Drawing away slightly, Harry Potter fixed his eyes upon his lover. He tilted his head towards the en-suite door. "Go wash it off." His tone of voice was strangely paradoxical, pleading and yet stern. He could pretend to be annoyed, but his lover could tell that he was more upset and wishful than actually irritated. The blond's eyes narrowed, and searched the face in front of him, before sighing and sliding off the bed. He disappeared quickly into the bathroom. Harry heard muffled sounds for a moment, before the distinctive sound of a tap running. Hasty scrubbing sounds emerged. The bathroom cabinet's contents clinked, and a smile spread over Harry's face as he lay back on the bed, waiting.
When the door next opened again, a different smell wafted out, distinctly masculine. It was that aftershave that Harry liked. He tugged the other man to him, his spare arm tucked around Draco's waist, grinning as he saw Draco break into a smile. "Much better," he approved. He raised his eyebrow though: "Doesn't your wife wonder why you keep aftershave in the spare en-suite?" He never referred to Astoria by name. Neither did Draco, when he was with Harry.
Draco shrugged, that minute shift of his shoulders that was more elegant than Harry could ever hope to be; he had given up long ago, spending his time watching Draco be graceful instead. "No? She never checks in here. She just orders them to be kept clean and breaks them out when the relatives swarm in around Christmas." Lucius and Narcissa had retired to a small villa in the south of France, although Harry knew that the villa was only relatively small compared to the mansion: it was still larger than his house.
"I hate it when you smell of her. We get so little time together, I don't want to be reminded of her in the middle of it," Harry sighed and pressed his lips to Draco's. His lover curled into his embrace, massaging back with his own lips as they collapsed down onto the bed that was, for now, theirs. Harry's expression had darkened so visibly when Draco had first suggested temporarily borrowing Astoria's half of the bed the first time that they had trekked around for a comfortable spare bedroom, occasionally pausing in the corridors to momentarily appease their lust before continuing on.
"So demanding," Draco teased as he pulled Harry down on top of him. "I'm sorry," he added, even though he knew that Harry didn't blame him in the slightest. "And you know that I love it that you get jealous so easily." He leaned into the other man; Draco liked to be held, to be worshipped like a heathen god. Harry laughed easily; the possessive monster inside him curled up again, appeased momentarily.
"Did Scorpius really beat up Albus again? He's got it into his head that's it's not 'cool' to be writing to parents frequently, so we're only getting one letter a fortnight or even less from him at the moment. She still writes every other day though." He was curious, of course, but it did seem to not bother him so very much when Harry took his time answering and chose to bestow another round of kisses up his neck and across his jaw first instead. "Mmm," he murmured into the other man's mouth, feeling warm breath swirling across his cheek. "Or was that just an excuse to see me?"
Harry chuckled; Draco felt his entire body thrum with the vibration, and shivered slightly. "Your son really did beat up my son, but is that really anything new? Besides, Al gave him a thrashing back." A muffled snort sounded from his lover as he continued, "Neville wrote to me. He was quite perplexed. Apparently, they were found thwacking each other with the ends of their wands. What in Merlin's beard has happened to civilised duels?" A small giggle escaped Draco, not a sound that Harry often heard, and not ever when they were in public. He savoured provoking emotions and reactions out of Draco that he rarely saw. It somehow proved to him that he was special; he alone could make Draco react that way.
Getting to his grand finale, Harry grinned broadly. "And they were hospitalised. When Neville came across them on one of the night patrols, they were so startled that they took a trip down the stairs in the dark and got concussion." Draco, whose hands now starting to wander a bit, choked, and shook his head despairingly. "Oh, mmmm, that's nice." Harry changed his tack with no warning whatsoever. "I like your seeker hands." He kissed Draco again, who squealed into the kiss. "And I see that you like my seeker hands," he whispered huskily; a smug, very masculine smirk brushed across his lips.
"Bastard," Draco sulked, wriggling closer despite it all.
"I did want to just see you anyway too," whispered Harry. "I hate that you're married. I know I am too, and it makes no sense for me to be complaining, but I'm still insanely jealous anyway." His hands placed on Draco's body were warm, a heat radiating through his robes. His fingers gripped around the back of Draco's hips, clutching the plump flesh just at the top of the smooth curve of Draco's backside. "Mine," he stated firmly, almost childishly, throwing everything he was feeling into that one word.
Draco draped both arms around his lover's neck, sliding his long, pale limbs so that their legs intertwined. He gazed up at the man who spent so little actual time in his life and yet occupied so much of it. "Yours."
&&...
Moments together were to be cherished, to be snatched whenever possible, to be plucked out of non-existent time itself. "It's almost half nine, Harry." Draco murmured the words into the shell of the other man's ear slowly, as if he would be more the poorer for having given them away. Harry leaned over to kiss the unwanted words out of the blond's mouth. That didn't slow the clock's progress though.
He sighed. "Ding dong. Even Cinderella got until midnight." Harry disentangled his limbs from Draco's whiter, slimmer limbs. He had told Draco the story of Cinderella months ago, when the Pureblood hadn't understood the reference. He had scoffed at the idea of glass shoes, and Harry had gazed amusedly at his pragmatic analysis of the fairy tale, feeling that the literal witticisms were a part of what made him so terribly fond of the other man.
Donning their garments in silence, the two men glanced at each other occasionally, not having anything to say that the other didn't already know. Their hips bumped as they moved; an arm occasionally fleetingly brushed a stomach, a shoulder. Draco reached up automatically in an attempt to ruffle the unkempt black hair into something vaguely resembling neatness and failed, as he always did. Draco's hair, as always, was perfect. Harry curled his fingers through the soft blondness anyway. "Next time, my son is going to beat the stuffing out of your son," he teased.
"And then I'll say that your son is becoming a bad influence on my son and have an excuse to come see you again," Harry added, making Draco chuckle, but only briefly. There was no time for chuckling when they only had a few minutes left. Stealing his last covert kisses as they made their way downstairs, Harry ran down the drive to disApparate off the Malfoy land before Astoria arrived home. The cool wind against his sensitised skin caused him to shiver; he cast a single backwards glance at the figure silhouetted in the doorway before he went.
Stepping back into his own home, Harry smiled, the memory of the evening warming him even though the heating in his house was off. He would see Draco at work tomorrow, at the Ministry. With any luck, they might even exchange a few words, or have half a minute alone in the busy office complex. Half a minute was enough though, when every second with Draco meant so much to him. They might even be able to spend an evening together again soon. Astoria went to a lot of social dinners. Either way, it didn't matter. Of course he wanted to spend more time with Draco. Since he couldn't, what time they had was enough. He would continue to skirt around both of their families and timetables. He would Apparate halfway across the country on a second's notice.
It was a statement; his testament of how much he would give for this to continue.
&&-"There is not enough time to do everything, but there is always enough time to do the most important thing."