Author'sNotes: Written for the Fabulous No-Pressure Laissez-Faire HP_Unfaithful Challenge. Prompt 196: "You can't hide your lying eyes, and your smile's a thin disguise. I thought by now you'd realize, there ain't no way to hide your lying eyes." (The Eagles). A 'tell' is a poker term for a subtle, unintentional but detectable change in a player's behavior or demeanor that gives other players a clue as to what is in his hand. Thanks to my always faithful beta reader, jadzialove.

The Tell

It was almost nine…and for not the first time, Draco lamented to himself that Harry worked too hard. How many times had he told him, "I don't get it. You don't need the money, you don't really like the job, and yet you let them do this to you. Why?"

"I do like my job," Harry'd muttered. "It's the other parts…"

"The extra projects…late hours, the ones only you can do?" Draco asked pointedly.

Harry sighed. "Yeah, you know me. Can't say no."

"Well, you'd better start soon, or they're going to run you into the ground."

It was after ten when Draco heard the Floo. One look at Harry, and Draco said the by now familiar three little words. "Supper. Shower. Bed."

There was no argument from Harry—just a wan smile and willing obedience.

oooOOOooo

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Hey, new robes?"

Seeming startled, Harry looked down and then smoothed his hands across his chest. "Yeah, stopped off on my lunch hour. Thought I'd splurge a bit."

Critically appraising the cut and color, Draco slipped his arms around Harry's waist. "They look good on you. I've been after to you to get some new things for months. I could've gone with you," he chided. "I'm the expert, you remember?"

Harry pulled away and stepped to the Floo with a laugh. "All right, I'll let you gussie me up—I need a few more sets, and some shoes, and a few pairs of Muggle jeans."

"Saturday afternoon?" Draco asked, his eyes alight.

"You're on," Harry called over his shoulder.

If there was one thing Draco loved more than adding to his own wardrobe, it was adding to Harry's. The man had never cared much about what he wore, so this was a first. Draco was already mentally planning their itinerary…. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember the last time they'd spent a Saturday afternoon out together.

Harry definitely worked too hard.

oooOOOooo

"What kind of wine is this?" Harry asked at supper one evening, lifting his goblet to the light.

Draco studied him warily. "Why? Don't you like it?"

"No, I do, I was just wondering…" He glanced guiltily at Draco. "Don't know much about wine—you're the one who does."

As he poured more for both of them, Draco told him, "Chateauneuf-du-Pape, Grenache noir."

"In English, please," Harry snorted.

"That's its name, idiot," Draco smiled.

"Oh…well, it's good," Harry said with a shrug, staring as he swirled the wine in his glass, then looked up at Draco. "I'd like to learn…more about wine, besides just knowing I like it."

"Name the time, we've got a cellar full of it," Draco said slowly as he narrowed his eyes. "What brought this on?"

Harry smiled lopsidedly. "What? Maybe I want to get a little culture too."

"It'll take more than knowing the names of a few bottles of wine for that, Potter. You're hopelessly uncouth."

Eyes glittering, Harry answered, "Which you love about me, since it makes you look so much better."

"True…so, how about after dinner? We'll take some fromage down to the cellar, and I'll teach you everything I know."

"You're on," Harry said. "And…it's been a long time since we've…you know, down there," he said in a surprisingly seductive voice…for Harry.

"That also can be arranged," Draco said blandly, but was thrilled all the same.

He couldn't remember the last time the two of them had done anything remotely spontaneous, so far as sex was concerned. Harry just worked too damn hard.

oooOOOooo

Sometimes, Draco would awaken in the night and the bed would be empty. He'd find Harry walking the garden, or asleep in his chair in the sitting room, a book open on his chest. He'd take him by the hand and lead him back to bed without a word. The two of them didn't talk about it anymore, this demon that Harry still had that wouldn't let him sleep, but Draco noticed that ever since Yule, it was happening more often.

He worried and fretted when Harry wasn't there, filled with a nameless anxiety that something was wrong, that damn it, he was Harry's lover and partner, and if he couldn't find something to make the man sleep when he so desperately needed it, well then, who the bloody hell could?

He had a wild urge, now and then, to storm the Ministry and find Shacklebolt or whoever was responsible, and none too subtly remind them that Harry'd practically given them his soul, for fuck's sake, so couldn't they at least let him have his life now?

But…of course he didn't. They wouldn't listen, least of all to Draco, who was still persona non grata after five bloody years.

"I'm sorry, it's tonight. You remember, don't you? I asked you if you wanted to come," Harry said uncertainly as he did up the buttons of one of his new robes. A set of green ones this time, and he looked so incredibly…well, almost edible in them, that for a moment Draco did consider changing his mind.

But then he remembered what it would be like…what it was always like…

He'd circulate among the guests, holding onto Harry's arm. Everyone wanted a piece of Harry Potter; there'd be polite conversation where Draco was largely ignored, but he'd see it in their faces…in their eyes.

He could've had anyone…

He must be a fantastic fuck, if Harry Potter keeps him…

What a disgrace…he should've gone to prison like his father…

It won't last…

Draco looked up and smiled sourly. "And I still don't want to go. Not my idea of a good time."

He was sound asleep when Harry came home that night, but was vaguely aware that the clock had struck midnight long ago.

oooOOOooo

"Don't squirm, and keep your hands to yourself," Draco muttered through his teeth as he brought the needle up. "I still can't believe you…"

Harry hissed as Draco pieced his nipple, then drew the needle under the flesh to exit at the other side of it. Quickly extracting it, he inserted the small gold ring that Harry'd bought the day before. Wiping away the blood, Draco sat back to admire his handiwork.

"Keep it clean. It'll heal in a few days." He watched as Harry stood and turned to admire himself in the mirror. "What's got into you lately? New clothes, and now a nipple ring," he muttered, but he had to admit it looked good on Harry.

"Thought it was time for a bit of…decoration," Harry said as he turned back to him and puffed out his chest. "And so…lickable." Draco laughed out loud when Harry waggled his eyebrows at him.

"Hmmm, yes, I'll be looking forward to that part," Draco murmured truthfully. "But I'm still shocked. You with a nipple ring."

Harry fell to his knees in front of Draco's chair and insinuated his head into Draco's lap. "You should talk—huge, ugly snake tattoo on your arse."

"I was sixteen at the time," Draco gasped as Harry rubbed his face in his crotch.

"Sooo….I'm a late starter. And…" Harry braced his elbows on the chair on either side of Draco's hips as he undid his flies. "…I think I'd like to take a look at that snake again…if you don't mind?" He looked up and smiled as he tugged at Draco's trousers.

Of course, Draco didn't mind…not at all.

It was odd, though, he thought later when Harry was snoring beside him. They'd come to that place where although sex wasn't exactly boring, it'd become predictable. Gentle and measured and pleasurable, but nothing like it'd been when they'd first started out—those marathon fucking sessions that'd seemed to last for hours…god, even days. Those first few years when sex had been sudden and frequent and full of variety and surprise and discovery. Not that it still wasn't good, but sometimes Draco missed the way they used to be…

But lately…

Lately, Harry'd become even more of an…animal than the old Harry'd ever been. As hard as he worked, as late as he was some nights, he seemed to pull energy and passion and, yes, novelty, from out of nowhere. He fucked with a ferocity that made Draco howl and claw at the sheets, making him feel like whatever had been missing, for only god knew how long and why, was suddenly back… He wasn't complaining, but sometimes he wished he understood…where it'd gone…and what had made it reappear…

Draco decided that he could put up with Harry's late hours, as long as he kept coming home with a hard-on.

oooOOOooo

"You have to go back tonight?" Draco asked, outraged. "It's already six…why…it's something that can't wait until morning?"

Twirling his spoon in his soup, Harry's eyes briefly met his, then looked down again. "I should've stayed and finished…but I wanted to eat with you, and catch a shower. Need to get my second wind. It'll only take me a few hours. I'll be home by nine, maybe ten," he murmured apologetically. "I'm sorry, I should've Flooed and let you know. I'll…I'll make it up to you on Saturday. We can go into Muggle London and hit a few clubs, how's that?"

Draco was still flummoxed. "I'm not a woman, Potter. You don't have to make it up to me. I just don't understand why you let them do this to you; you're dead on your feet as it is," he said with disgust as he threw his napkin to the table and stood. "Take your shower; maybe it'll make you look half-human. You're not sleeping worth a damn, and you've got circles under your eyes. You need to talk to them, Harry. God knows I wish I could."

Standing, Harry took his bowl to the sink and ran the water. Turning back, he nodded. "I appreciate that, but I'm a big boy." He walked to drape his arms around Draco's shoulders, then breathed into the hair at his neck, "Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about. I'm just sorry for you. You work too hard," he finally added, but Harry didn't hear him, already on his way for the shower.

oooOOOooo

It was the middle of the night when Draco awakened; he smiled at the warm weight of the leg thrown over his hip, and turned in the bed, fluffing the sheet up so he could move closer.

He loved these middle of the night readjustments, feeling Harry's arms reflexively tighten to hold him in his sleep, smelling the earthy odor of sex they'd left on the sheets only hours before….

Except…

He'd been asleep when Harry'd come in, and there'd not been any sex that he could remember, and he knew he wasn't so far gone that he'd forget that.

Taking a deep breath, he inhaled again…and there it was…not Harry, definitely not himself…but someone.

Frozen in place, his heart pounding, Draco stared at the clock on the bedside table. Three a.m. Four hours to go yet…and he suddenly decided that this bed wasn't big enough for the three of them…

Slipping to the edge, snagging his pillow, and a sheet from the chair, Draco fumbled his way out of the darkened room, and then lay, stunned, on the settee for the rest of the night.

oooOOOooo

Still rubbing sleep from his face, Harry wandered into the sitting room, then stopped to stare down at him. His eyes grew wide as he took in the pillow and sheet…and Draco laid out on the settee.

Funny, Draco thought to himself, how unnecessary words were at a time like this. Just looking at Harry's eyes, he could read the months' worth of guilt and guile there…all the dissembling and smoke and mirrors—it was all there, shimmering out from those damnable green eyes, a confession for anyone who'd care to take the time to…

And that was the problem, wasn't it? Draco'd lain there and figured it all out, in that longest short space of hours of his life. All the late nights, new clothes and the sudden interest in being wine-savvy, the piercing and worsening sleeplessness, and of course, Harry's very welcome but puzzling, almost insatiable appetite for his partner….

Draco'd missed all those clues, he knew, but as he stared at Harry's face, and searched those eyes…it was then that he realized that he'd really needed none of them to know…that the eyes themselves, had he been paying attention, would've given the man away in a heartbeat. Because although those lips could lie…the eyes had always been an open book.

Harry fell into the chair opposite, then put his head in his hands. "You know," he said flatly and resignedly.

Draco sat up and dragged the sheet to cover his lap. "Yeah, I do. If you do it again, would you shower before coming to bed? You reek of him," he said almost conversationally, belying the fact that he'd wanted to shriek that last part.

Looking up, his face suddenly flushed, Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry. I...I don't have an explanation. It isn't you," he said miserably. "It's me."

"Oh, thanks for telling me," Draco said softly. "I've been lying here, wondering about that." He bit his lower lip. "So…why?" He hated himself just a little for having to ask, for caring about what his answer would be…but it was true. He did care, desperately.

Harry twisted his hands together, then faltered, "I…think I…wanted to feel the way I felt before." When Draco stared at him uncomprehendingly, he added, "What is was like in the beginning."

Draco's mouth dropped open for an instant, before he recovered. "Beginning of what?" he asked.

"You and me," Harry motioned between them. "And the odd thing is, over the past month or so…it's started to feel that way again…between you and me. And I've wanted to stop…with him, I really have." He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "But I was afraid…that I'd go back to feeling that same old way again."

Draco eyed him shrewdly, and then had to force his voice to remain even. "A chance you'll have to take…because if you don't, well. I realize your life is sort of split. Maybe that's part of your problem. I'm here, and your life is there. But you knew that from the start, and you made a choice. Remember, I warned you, so…" He looked down and picked at a thread in the sheet. "Go take your shower, go to work, and do what you have to do, do you understand me?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. There was such emotion in his face that Draco was almost moved to open his arms, to do whatever he could to wipe the anguish out of those eyes…but he knew they'd both be sorry, in the end, if he did.

"I'll…see him tonight and…"

Draco waved a hand as he stood. "Don't want to know."

Harry came to stand beside him, his arms at his sides, but wisely didn't make a move to touch him. "You're the one I've always wanted. Loved," he said hoarsely.

Draco pushed him toward the shower. "Well, we'll see, then."

oooOOOooo

He heard Harry come through the Floo at precisely seven, then turned in his chair as he sensed him awkwardly stop on the other side of the table.

"I'm home…and I was wondering…if we might talk things out…because I don't want to lose you." His cheeks were pale, his lips cracked and dry, his eyes red-rimmed.

Draco frowned and pointed to Harry's hand. "What's that?"

Harry lifted the bottle and said uncertainly, "Dom Perignon…you said it was good, so I thought…" He held the green magnum up for Draco to see.

Talk. He wants to talk about us. I should hold out…make him suffer a bit…but, I don't want to lose him either.

For the first time that day, Draco smiled slightly. "That's a good start."

FIN