|Two's Company, Three's a Crowd
Author: Kira O'Hara PM
Four years after the War, Draco and Hans have been together for just over a year. Out of the blue, Hans suggests a threesome with a famous Muggle that he rather admires. Draco reluctantly agrees. Little did he know that it was fate. SLASH, MATURE, HPDM.Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Drama - Harry P. & Draco M. - Words: 27,901 - Reviews: 44 - Favs: 219 - Follows: 15 - Published: 06-13-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7080225
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Title: Two's Company, Three's a Crowd
Author: Kira O'Hara
Pairings: Harry/Draco, Draco/OMC, Harry/Draco/OMC
Word Count: 26,501
Warnings: Threesome, slash, swearing, minor scar!kink, mature sexual content.
Summary: It has been four years since the War, and Draco and Hans have been together for a little over a year now. Out of the blue, Hans suggests a threesome with a famous Muggle that he rather admires. Draco reluctantly agrees. Little did he know that it was simply the strings of fate falling into place.
Betas: The wonderful and lovely SPark, who is one of my best friends in the world.
Author's Notes: Um, I've never written smut before. …Ever. Please be gentle. Also, I still haven't convinced myself to actually pick up Deathly Hallows and get the reading of it over with, but I used info I've picked up from the fics I've read for the scant few things I included. . I'm fairly certain I'm long-winded enough to make even Tolkien cry, so I sincerely apologize in advance if it gets boring... ALSO! The name Hansel has this meaning: As long ago as the year 1200, English speakers were using the ancestor of 'handsel' for any good luck charm, especially one given at the start of something new. By the 1500's, traders were using 'handsel' for the first cash they earned in the morning – to them, an omen of good things to follow. Middle English 'hanselle' came from Old English 'handselen'("a handing over" from 'hand' + 'selen'). *dork*
Gift Fic For: killerangels13
Written For: HD Smoochfest 2009 on LJ
Prompt: Prompt #65:
Time-Period/Theme: Post-Hogwarts, EWE
Place: Muggle apartment/flat/house
Object/Word Prompts: nipple ring, tattoo, doorbell.
Action: Draco's partner invites 'Muggle' friend Harry Evans to join them, with Draco's permission of course.
Preferences/Other Notes: If, in the moment, Draco and Harry neglect their third but don't entirely forget him.
Disclaimer: 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 Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Two's Company, Three's a Crowd
Draco gazed out of the window from where he sat propped on the windowseat. His twenty-second birthday was only a week away, and he still had yet to come up with a proper present for himself. It was a tradition – in his family, at least – that one should always get oneself an extravagant present. It hadn't really been a problem in most of the years past – excluding perhaps his seventeenth birthday, but that was for different reasons which he wasn't overly keen on ruminating over. This year, however, he was honestly stumped and it was starting to make him grumpy. He knew his parents would load him down with gifts, and that his friends and lover were sure to get him several rather enjoyable things. But his present to himself…
Hoping for inspiration, he cast a bored look over at the couch where his lover was sprawled haphazardly and chuckled quietly. He was watching that abominable television again. Draco couldn't for the life of him understand the fascination. He much preferred books and plays and concerts to the dull, two-dimensional images portrayed on the screen (though he would grudgingly agree that some of the films they had gone to the theater to see were rather entertaining). Alas, he figured there would always be some things that they would never see eye to eye on. They had been living together for a little over a year now, so they had apparently managed to see eye to eye on enough things.
Following the end of the War, Draco had spent a year helping to rebuild his family's home as well as argue their cases to keep them all out of Azkaban. He'd somehow managed to study in-between all that and sat his N.E.W.T.s with the rest of the students who had missed seventh year due to the War – which he, of course, passed spectacularly. After that, he had been so tired of England and all of the turmoil that he'd decided to travel for awhile. England would always be 'home' and he knew he'd come back eventually, but he needed some time away. There was also the fact that, now that he was free to live life as he chose, he really had no idea what – or, above all, who – he wanted to be.
He'd been visiting with some distant cousins in Germany when he'd been introduced to Hansel. They'd hit it off as friends and dallied together a few nights, but that had been all. Draco had moved on in his travels and all was well. It was in Sweden, near the end of Draco's travels, that they crossed paths again and began a tentative relationship. After almost two years of traveling, Draco finally felt settled enough to come home. When he did, he shyly asked if Hans wanted to accompany him. And Hans had agreed.
They got an apartment together in a section of London that was mixed Wizarding and Muggle – though the Muggles were largely ignorant of that fact. Draco took on a public relations position in his mother's clothing company and had managed to spread the business across the Continent. His parents approved of Hansel (and his pure-blooded family), which was a relief to Draco. He still suspected that his mother expected him to marry and produce an heir one day, but he gracefully ignored such conversation starters for the moment being. He and Hans were happy with one another, certainly, but they had come to the understanding early on that what they had was not the 'forever' type of love. Marrying for anything less – and especially going through the potentially dangerous process of spells and potions that would allow two men to bring a child into the world when they likely would not be together forever – was an offensive idea to both of them. At one point, Draco would have married whatever pretty little pure-blooded bride his parents had told him to, but he wasn't that person anymore.
Instead, Draco and Hans had spent the last year content in their spacious flat. Hans, he had found out, was somewhat fascinated with the Muggle world – though thankfully not to the point of the Weasley patriarch. Draco teased him about it, but with no real malice. He'd come to appreciate some of the things that Muggles had created with their odd technology. Still, he thought most of it was silly, much like the telly that his beloved boyfriend would watch when he was bored. Hans loved to cook, and had made his own money from selling his recipes to various cookbooks (mostly to prove to his relations that he wasn't just some trust fund leech). But when he wasn't bustling around the kitchen cooking (or cleaning up his latest spectacularly explosive disaster, of which he'd had a few, during which Draco would mutter about his possible relations to the Longbottom family), he really had nothing else to do other than lavish attention on Draco. And while Draco often thought it a worthwhile endeavor, he liked having his own space sometimes too, so he sometimes found himself silently thankful to whatever gadget had caught his lover's attention.
In the last year, several people – men and women alike – had attempted to come between the two of them, but none had been successful thus far. They were both a bit of the jealous sort, so monogamy was demanded on both sides. They knew that if someone else caught either of their eyes enough to tempt them into dalliance that it would be best to end it then. Their friendship was strong enough that neither would be too put down about it, save for the fact that they wouldn't have a dependable partner to look to. Most of the potential suitors' attempts were laughed at by the two of them later.
Draco smiled in the direction of the lanky man across the room. He normally spent a while making his hair look tame, but today his curly dark brown hair was still proudly mussed with bed-head. Draco, despite his insistence on being immaculately groomed himself, rather preferred Hans's hair like that. There was something endearing about it. As if sensing Draco's gaze, a pair of soft, cerulean blue eyes turned his way and Hans returned his smile. Draco mentally stomped on his own foot to keep the smile from faltering on his face.
He was never sure why, but sometimes Hans's eyes would strike him in an odd way – and not exactly a good one. They were beautiful, of course, but…there was always something off about them that Draco couldn't put his finger on. When he'd tried to think about it once, all he came up with was that they weren't vivid or deep or bright or dark or beautiful enough. They just weren't right and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. He'd scolded himself severely for such a thought and tried not to let it bother him. Every now and then, though, he'd catch Hans's gaze and the feeling of wrongness would wriggle at the back of his mind.
Perhaps, he'd thought once, it's because they aren't the eyes that should be looking at you that way. He had a way of ignoring such thoughts, though. He'd accepted it as probable truth once he and Hans had come to the understanding that their love was not eternal. He was content for now though, and he wasn't going to let even his own mind ruin that for him.
He looked down at his recently abandoned copy of the Daily Prophet and flipped a few pages again. He had been hoping to find something to inspire him towards his own gift, but so far the paper had been wholly unhelpful. Which wasn't particularly surprising, but it didn't stop him from pulling a face at it. Nothing within today's edition really struck his fancy or interest on a personal level. He'd combed the business and fashion sections for work purposes and the sporting section for the latest Quidditch scores, but none of the everyday headlines were all that alluring. Some official got married, the Aurors had broken a small potion-smuggling ring, more conflicts between wizards and magical creatures, and the almost-weekly obligatory article wondering at what had befallen the Boy-Who-Lived-(Twice).
Draco had found those articles interesting for a time when he'd returned from his travels. It seemed that he wasn't the only one who had needed a break from his old life. After the conclusion of the War's events, Potter had promptly told the press to sod off and dropped off the face of the Wizarding world. Draco had snickered a bit at his terse final statement before taking his leave. All of Potter's close friends claimed to know his whereabouts and activities, but that it wasn't open for discussion. They would confirm that Harry was just fine but would refuse further comment. Draco had spent a few times chuckling over the difference between Harry's little Gryffindors (and the few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who'd wriggled their way close to him) and his own Slytherin friends. His friends would probably have had a price. Some would consider it sad, but being a Slytherin himself Draco just shrugged it off as being the way of life.
Hans had wondered about his 'fascination' – as Hans had termed it – when they first moved back. The War had been mostly centralized in England, though a few tendrils of it had slithered elsewhere. The Wizarding world as a whole knew about the Dark Lord and praised the name of Harry Potter, but outside of the British Isles not many people knew too many of the sordid details. Hans had been familiar with the story and with Potter's name – and not much more than that. Draco had told him a few stories here and there, but wasn't entirely comfortable with spilling everything about he and Potter's mutual enmity.
Sighing, he flung the pages of the Prophet shut and grumped his way into the kitchen. Maybe food would fuel his thought processes. …Or perhaps just some chocolate ice cream. Hans's amused voice calling after him from the couch to 'eat some real food' put a scowl on his face and a damper on that plan, though.
Fate just was not on his side today.
Later that night, Draco sat in the study with a cup of tea and a book that he just couldn't concentrate on. It was a favorite of his and he'd read it a million times before – which he might have attributed his inattentiveness to if he didn't already know why he lacked concentration.
He still had yet to think of a birthday present for himself.
There were only six days left until his birthday now. If he didn't come up with something soon, he was going to miss his own birthday. The last time he'd done that, there had been the extenuating circumstances of the War and being on the run. This time…this time there was only his own perplexity.
Finally giving up on the farce of reading, he sat back in his chair and scowled at the book. At this rate, by June fifth, his face would likely be stuck in a scowl.
Looking to the clock, he idly wondered when Hans would be home. Maybe he could provide some…distraction. Draco let a small smirk creep across his features. Hans was very good at distracting him when something was bothering him. And, were his normal habits any indication, he would be home soon.
Hans and a few of his friends liked to frequent some of the Muggle clubs in the city, which Draco wrinkled his nose at. They were always dirtier and smellier and too hot (or sometimes too cold). The selection of alcohol wasn't the greatest either. It was a wonder that Muggles had somehow not yet stumbled across the various forms of Wizarding alcohol. And then there was the fact that Draco refused to get a credit card (why should he, when he bought so few Muggle things?) and would have to pay cash, which meant going to Gringotts and going through the hassle of withdrawing it and having it changed over from Wizarding to Muggle currency. There also was the fact that Draco's style of dress was often seen as a bit odd to most Muggles, which Hans laughingly agreed with. Robes would naturally call attention, and many of his shirts and trousers were of a design or cut that was not on par with the disastrous styles that Muggles somehow considered 'fashionable.' Most of his clothing that would have fit in with Muggles was stuff that he wore for the comfort of it and would not be suitable to a night out clubbing. Certainly, he could have simply purchased a few outfits for that purpose, but he preferred to be stubborn on that issue. He was in the business of fashion and he wouldn't sink so low – or so he claimed.
So, whenever Hans got it in his head to go to a particularly Muggle club, Draco could usually be found enjoying a quiet evening at home. He liked the peace every now and then, and if he got bored he had his parents and plenty of his own friends to visit or invite over.
Propping his chin on his hand, Draco lightly drummed his fingers on the desktop. After a few minutes of that, he went and made that huge bowl of chocolate ice cream he'd been denied for lunch. It wasn't until he was blissfully about halfway into it that Hans came waltzing in the door, a mischievous grin on his face. Draco cocked an eyebrow in response, waiting for the explanation that was sure to come in three, two, one…
"You'll never guess who I met at the club tonight!" Hans was nearly bouncing.
Working fastidiously to control the roll of his eyes, lest his darling lover take it the wrong way, he swallowed his mouthful of chocolate before obliging in asking. "Okay, I give up. Who did you see at the Muggle club that has you about to bounce out of your socks?" He spoke it in a bored tone, knowing it would annoy Hans.
True to form, Hans sent a mock glare in Draco's direction, knowing exactly what he was getting at. Draco stared back innocently, making him snort. "Why, just the singer and lead guitarist of one of my favorite bands. I couldn't believe my eyes, really, when he wandered into the club. Turns out the band's in town for the week while doing an interview on some late night talkshow – on the telly, that is – before they head to their next stop on their current tour."
Draco did roll his eyes now. Such a fanboy. I'm rather glad he wasn't around when Potter was. I might not have been able to stand him.
"Oh, hush and quit rolling your eyes at me-"
"I didn't say anything?" Draco interrupted impishly before licking the spoon clean in a suggestive manner.
Hans glared at him again, but Draco could tell he was trying not to laugh. "Hah bloody hah. Honestly. Well," he continued from before, flopping onto the other end of the couch, "he's even hotter in person. You never think it'll be like that, with the way they touch up photos to remove blemishes and the like. But somehow, he pulls it off. I don't think the camera does him justice at all." There was a look of contented appraisal in Hans's unfocused eyes that made Draco scowl.
"Well, if you think he's so hot, then perhaps you should be fucking him." Draco knew he sounded catty, but was already in a grumpy mood and his boyfriend clamoring over another bloke's looks was not helping.
Hans chuckled and slid closer on the couch next to him, trying to pull him into an embrace. Draco remained stubbornly curled around his ice cream bowl, deigning only to take another bite. Hans laughed and settled with curling around him, accustomed to Draco's moods.
"Now, now then, meine Liebe. He will be gone in a week – why would I ever give you up for something like that? It is nothing like that. Well, actually…" Draco couldn't help the small amount of stiffness that sprang into his shoulders and back. Hans tried to nuzzle his neck reassuringly, but Draco yanked to the side and narrowed his eyes at the other man.
"What, are you actually asking for permission?" Draco bit out.
"Not exactly, no."
"Then what exactly, pray tell, do you mean?" His teeth were gritted and he knew that it made his words sound a bit odd, but he didn't care.
"What I meant was…well, I wanted to see if maybe you would allow him to join us. Really, he's more your type than mine, both physically and personality-wise, though I do find him rather attractive. I really do admire him quite a bit, too. He and his bandmates all grew up as orphans and met when doing charity work for some of the organizations meant to help kids like they had been. The whole reason they formed the band in the first place was for a fundraiser, and then they were discovered and took off. Most of their proceeds still go to various organizations, and they often participate in conferences that call for changes in the system that will allow for better care for orphaned children as well as stricter screening of potential parents. Recently, with two of the members outing themselves as bi, they also joined in the Muggle fight for gay couples to adopt. Can you believe that, for all their advancements, Muggles still discriminate against things like that? Ugh, it's sickening, really. …Um, Draco?"
Draco listened to him ramble on, acknowledging the information he was given only barely. What was racing through his mind and preventing him from processing the rest in its entirety was the very first sentence and what it suggested. "Join us. Join us how?" Draco's mind had come up with a likely explanation of that phrase, but he wasn't quite sure he wanted to believe it just yet. His mind liked to come up with some awful interpretations at times.
Hans laughed – albeit slightly nervously at Draco's tone. "To be absolutely blunt, love? I think that I could convince him – if you will allow it – to have a threesome with us. Honestly, I think you'd like him. And I think he's wonderful. And it's not like he's going to stick around, being a star and Muggle and all. I think it would be an interesting experience for us." Hans shrugged once and quirked his head at Draco, awaiting his reaction.
It was exactly as Draco had thought, and it made him a little uncomfortable. "But…well, I mean, we've never allowed anyone else into our bed. Neither of us has dallied on the side. Why…do you want to change that?" Draco squirmed inside with the self-doubt that threatened to wash over him. "Didn't we agree that…we'd end it before cheating on one another?"
"Draco, love, listen to me. It wouldn't be cheating. It would be by both of our consent, and with both of our participation. It would not be a dalliance on the side. And yes, I know we've never allowed anyone else into our bed before. I was just curious if you might want to try it. It can actually be a bit of fun." Hans grinned at him and Draco was reminded of the fact that Hans had led a very active sex life before he'd chosen to shack up with him. It would not be too much of a stretch of the imagination to assume Hans had been in a threesome before. Hell, he'd probably been in an orgy, though Draco had carefully never asked, not really wanting to know. As far as he knew, Draco was Hans's first monogamous relationship since his younger schooldays.
When Draco only chewed his lip in response – which Hans found adorable – he continued. "He's actually very intelligent, and witty to boot. He has that sort of underhanded dry sarcasm that you indulge in so much. Took me a few minutes to get that he'd even made jokes on some things, or that he'd teased me. He backed off of the small amount of flirting he was doing once I mentioned I had a lover already, though I think he might not object if you were agreeable. The band's fame has spread all across England, and even to the Continent and the Americas, but he's still remarkably humble about it. He accepts the fame, stating that it's something he worked hard for and that he'll always put it to good use in furthering warranted causes. I think he's a mite shy around people in general, but he'll talk to whoever makes the effort to catch his attention. He's been outed as bi, though I think it's been said he slightly prefers men."
Draco stared into his slightly melted bowl of ice cream as Hans rattled on about the man's attractive features. Okay, so the bloke seemed a tad overly righteous, but Hans was generally correct. He was very much Draco's 'type.' And the righteousness might be inflated somewhat by Hans's fanboy attitude and the media attention his actions received. Draco knew that the media often skewed things disproportionately. He'd used that against Potter more than once, and he'd had to battle it to save his own family's reputation after the War.
Hans really believed he could talk this bloke into their bed. Draco knew for a fact that Hans could be dreadfully convincing on many issues, especially in the interpersonal relationships department (the bastard usually got his way in their conflicts because of it). He'd counseled many of Draco's friends with relationship advice and played matchmaker to countless others. Hell, if Draco didn't know better, he'd think that Hans was almost trying to set him up with the other man. The sheer idiocy of the thought made him chuckle silently.
After a few more minutes of Hans extolling the virtues of the bloke's attractive features, Draco rolled his eyes and reached up to flick Hans at his temple. "Alright! Enough already!" Hans stuck his tongue out in response, making Draco roll his eyes again and try to playfully snatch at it with his fingers. "So…you really want this?"
A smile slowly grew on Hans's face. "Yes, I think I do. And for some reason, I think it'll be good for you too. Just a gut feeling." Draco knew that Hans's gut had an uncanny sense of things. Which is likely the only reason he told himself 'what the Hell, right?'
"…Fine. But if I don't like him then I'm kicking him out and I don't want to hear a peep from you about rudene-"
Hans silenced him with and exuberant kiss. "Thank you, Draco. I promise you won't regret it." Draco put up with Hans's ecstatic cuddling for a bit, finishing off his ice cream in-between demands for kisses. He was still vastly uncertain about it, but that uncertainty now held a fair amount of curiosity as well.
And, in the midst of it all, he was indeed distracted from thinking about his present to himself.
Draco Malfoy was nervous.
He hated being nervous, but there he was, rechecking the apartment to make sure any blatantly Wizarding items were put away. The last thing he – of all people – needed was some Muggle (a famous one, no less) coming to some form of harm in his home because he'd touched something he shouldn't have.
He knew it would probably have been easier to just take the pictures down for the moment being, but he couldn't stand how forlorn the flat looked without them. Instead, he had painstakingly gone and put a freezing charm on each and every one of them. He would grumble at himself for being a sentimental pillock later when he had to go undo all of the charms. The people in the pictures would likely glare or make rude faces at him for keeping them frozen so long, too. He'd already had a time of it getting the blasted things to freeze in flattering ways as the pictures inhabitants apparently thought his exasperation at them funny.
Everything was immaculate now. He and Hans weren't overly messy people on a normal basis, but they were still men in their early twenties and a bit of clutter was the norm. One of the House Elves from the Manor would come over to do the actual scrubbing once a week, so any mess was just the random piece of clothing that got tucked into the couch or books left out in various places or a piece of paper wedged somewhere that must have made sense when it was done. And now that all of those things had been taken care of, he was fidgety.
Sighing, he ran a hand over his face, massaging his forehead. Somehow, in all of Hans's chatter, Draco had forgotten to ask what the Muggle's name was. And now Hans was out at that club convincing the man to come back to the apartment. Perhaps he really should have given in and gotten one of those odd Muggle communication devices – sell-fones, if he remembered correctly – so that he could at least ask Hans before they got back. Swearing silently to himself, he hoped it wouldn't be too awkward. If anything, he'd probably be the awkward one, which irked him to no end. The other bloke was famous, and from what he had heard most gays their age weren't as into monogamy as he and Hans. He'd probably be the only one who'd never been with more than one partner at the same time.
Huffing softly, he somehow managed to refrain from just beating his head into the wall and avoiding the embarrassment by getting his arse sent to St. Mungo's. Hearing the bolt turn over in the lock, he resigned to berate himself later. Instead, he took care to stand casually in the living room, as if he'd only just now gotten up at hearing the door. Quickly giving himself a once-over, he nodded approvingly. The khaki dress pants would make him more approachable than black, with his complexion. The light, airy, silk-like button up would add a touch of decadent softness. He'd neglected wearing socks so he wouldn't have to go through awkwardly removing them or earrings just in case things got a little…rough. He gently spun the Malfoy signet ring he wore on his right ring finger, pondering for the millionth time if he should remove it. He never did any other time, he consoled himself, so why should he now? Satisfied, he raised an eyebrow at the voices in the entryway that sounded as if they had just been laughing.
"Ah, I've…admittedly never really done something like this before. With, um, three, that is," one of the voices said with a touch of embarrassment. Draco was struck for a moment at that voice. Had he heard it before? It seemed oddly familiar, but he couldn't for the life of him place it. After a moment, he realized he'd likely heard it on the radio or telly, since the man was apparently in a band Hans enjoyed.
"Oh, not to worry, it's not as complicated as it must seem," Hans replied good-naturedly. "As a couple, he and I haven't either, though I've done it before." He finally started into the living room as the noises of the stranger removing his shoes still sounded. Seeing Draco, he grinned at him. "Ah, love! There you are." Draco smirked at the underlying possessiveness in Hans's voice. After all, it was his idea to bring the other man here. He barely restrained a laugh at the equally possessive hand Hans slipped to the small of his back when he pecked his cheek in greeting. "This is the bloke I told you about yesterday, Harry Evans. Harry, do come in, don't be shy now!"
His blood turned to ice and his chest seized up as if in a vice. No. It simply couldn't be. His luck was just not. That. Bad.
Okay, so 'Evans' was Potter's mother's maiden name. But, to be honest with himself, neither 'Harry' nor 'Evans' were uncommon names. Neither was 'Potter,' for that matter, but he scowled inwardly and brushed that thought away. Thoughts of Potter always popped up at the most inconvenient times.
After a moment, the other man stumbled through the doorway between the entry hall and the living room. "Crap, ow. Er, sorry, my boot got a bit stuck on my trouser leg," he said sheepishly, adding a nervous laugh to the end of it. He was still looking down and patting at the offending material, and absently Draco thought he was likely glaring at the half of a heavy black boot that was tipped through the doorway behind him. What occupied his attention, though, was the telltale messy black hair – curls and flyaway hairs falling in every direction (including up, somehow). He couldn't see any glasses hanging off the face, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Getting one's eyes fixed was an easy enough procedure most of the time.
Draco bit the inside of his lip so it wouldn't show, as the emotions twisting in his chest battled and wavered between anxiety and – strangely enough – hope.
"If you'll pardon my delay," the visitor said with a laugh, "Hans told me some rather lovely things about you." Then his vivid green eyes, crinkled in amusement at his awkward entrance, glanced up at him. And grew wide as saucers as the warm smile faltered on Harry's face. "Oh. Well. That explains a few things."
Draco just stared back for a moment. This, simply, could not be happening. Harry Potter. In his living room. About to have a romp with him and his boyfriend. Masqueraded as a Muggle (okay, he'd admit the last one wasn't entirely farfetched given his disappearance from the Wizarding world, just really bloody unlikely). Finally, Potter's words registered. "Wait, what do you mean it 'explains a few things'?"
Hans had been looking back and forth in-between the two in confusion (and a small amount of worry) ever since Draco's back had stiffened when he'd introduced Harry. He wondered if Draco – usually so aware of his own physical actions and reactions – even noticed he'd done it. Or that the slight flaring of his nostrils showed that he was breathing quickly, yet quietly. Even more puzzled by the initial interaction, he finally cleared his throat and asked, "Do you two…know one another…?"
Sighing and scrubbing a hand over his face, Draco half-grumbled out his response. "We used to, yes. For one, he is definitely not a Muggle. For two, we were…schoolmates. For three, that is very much not his real name." Well, last name, anyway. He angled a look at Harry, somehow managing to both glare and look inquisitive. "So you used your mother's maiden name?"
Harry looked a little sheepish again. "Ah, yes, I did. I was…more than tired of all the attention my father's family name had brought me. I wanted something to discern between that kind of attention and anything I might receive because of my band."
Draco scoffed. "Couldn't stay out of the spotlight, then, could you?" he sneered out, making it plain what he thought of Potter's fame-mongering.
Anger flashed across Harry's features, his mouth twisting for a moment as if he'd snarl out a retort – but just as quickly he sighed and closed his eyes, as if forcing himself to let it go. Draco studiously ignored the part of him that was a bit miffed at not being able to make the Gryffindor react like he used to. "It is nothing of the sort you are implying, Malfoy," he intoned icily. Draco barely held back his own urge to deck Potter with the way he intoned his family's name as if it were an insult – or an admonishment. "I just wanted to be recognized for something that I did intentionally and by my own choice. Not by accident. Not because it was necessary." He opened his eyes then, staring levelly into Draco's.
The stare unnerved Draco more than he'd care to admit. However, he could admit that he'd been the one to make the contemptuous implication. He'd known for a long time that Potter had no wish for the fame he'd garnered as the Boy-Who-Lived. Sighing again, he apologized. "Yes, yes, I know. I apologize for my antagonism. I supposed some old habits are hard to break." Well, he apologized as best as anyone would get a Malfoy to apologize.
He smirked in Potter's direction and concentrated a moment on not laughing when Potter scowled back at him. It seemed he had indeed picked up on Draco's inference that it was Potter's old habits that were unbroken, not necessarily his own.
Still confused, Hans gently cleared his throat again. "Do we…have a problem?" Embarrassingly, Draco started at Hans's interjection. He'd sort of forgotten that the other man was listening in.
Harry had tilted his head to the side slightly, studying Draco. One of his eyebrows raised and a small smirk dawned across his own face. Before Draco could open his mouth to respond, he ventured his dare. "Perhaps not? …Malfoy?" Draco chose to focus more on the undertone of challenge in Potter's voice rather than the faintest of purrs that was added to his name.
Of course Draco would rise to any challenge that Potter presented – and naturally best him at it. Thinking quickly, he issued his own counter-challenge. "Only if you keep calling me by my family name. Unless you'd care to be thinking of a different Malfoy." He made a small face of disgust at the thought to prevent himself from laughing as Potter went a little green. He looked as if that thought might just kill it for him. "Of course, I could just refer to you by your family name – your father's family name, that is."
"I'd rather you didn't," was the reply, tinted with a slight growl. There was a bit of a feral grin on his face now, and Draco laughed back at it. He could feel Hans's confusion still radiating from him, but didn't feel like explaining. To be perfectly honest with himself would be to admit that not even he was entirely certain he knew exactly what was going on. Did Potter mean he'd rather Draco not call him 'Potter' in front of Hans, or that he'd prefer Draco to call him 'Harry'? Why did the latter make his chest – and groin – feel a bit tighter? Then again, Draco was rarely perfectly honest with himself. So, as per usual when he was uncertain, he ignored the confusing questions and pretended to know everything.
Hans chose that moment to butt in (and hopefully lighten the mood a bit). "I don't usually use my full first name, myself. For me, it's more because I tired of jokes about breadcrumbs and Gretel's whereabouts." He angled a mirthful, lop-sided grin at the two of them and was glad when he saw a little tension drain from their stances. He even got an eyeroll from Draco and a chuckle from Harry. Good, this would go much better now.
"Well, if there aren't any problems…then perhaps we could move this conversation to somewhere more, mmm, comfortable?" He let a bit of heat seep into his voice, hoping now to bring both of them back into what they were supposed to be doing at the moment. He saw Draco bite the inside of his lip, which he seemed to think no one could see him do, and slowly nod his assent though his eyes were still trained on Harry. Hans was a little put off about that, but brushed it off as Draco just being wary of the outsider. Harry flicked his eyes to Hans and inclined his head, indicating Hans should lead the way.
He circled them to the hallway and started backing down it with a grin on his face, crooking a finger at them. He slowly turned as he walked until he faced away from them. He was back in control of things, which was good, since neither of the other two knew what they were doing. Now that they were over their initial surprise, everything should go smoothly. The way their eyes lit on and studied each other bothered him slightly, but he explained it away as the curiosity of what the evening would hold with the other in it. Harry must have just gotten over looking at Hans that way on the way to the apartment.
Hans was a little surprised to learn that Harry was a wizard. Thinking about it now, he couldn't believe he'd ever thought differently, as he'd never seen a Muggle with eyes quite like that. Power crackled just beneath the surface, there. Hell, he'd only seen a few people amongst the Wizarding populace that had eyes quite like that. Draco and his mother – when they were angry and let their masks slip ever so slightly – were among those. He knew it was a sign of power, and was suddenly filled with all sorts of curiosity about Harry. He'd managed to get under Draco's skin somehow – which was incredibly hard to do, if he knew anything from their interaction and the stories that Draco had told him from his childhood. He wondered who from those boyhood stories that this stranger was. After all, Draco had said that Harry Evans wasn't his real name, which Harry had admitted. Was Harry his real name, even? He wanted to ask, but felt that there was some line drawn in the agreement between the other two that said they wouldn't speak about names anymore.
He shook off his thoughts. There would be time to speak with Draco about it later, but right now he could not afford to be distracted. A thought sparked in him. "So, Harry, since you're a wizard, then perhaps you will not mind a bit of magic? I've always preferred lubrication charms over the messy tubes and jars of the stuff, myself."
A slight blush colored Harry's cheeks, as it often did during the awkward questions of a new lover. "I don't think I'll mind, no," he replied quietly. "I've, um, actually not been with many wizards, admittedly. Mostly Muggles." From the uncomfortable tone of his voice, Draco wondered if any of his previous lovers had been wizards and he just didn't want to confess to such. "I mean, I know a lubrication spell, certainly. I'm fairly certain that at some point all young wizards learn one or another." He grinned and chuckled at this, eyes flashing with amusement. "Other than that, though… I'm also fairly certain there's other spells some people use during sex, but I've not encountered them as of yet. I would, ah, very much appreciate it if you would warn me before using one. I…tend to not react very well to foreign magic." Hans, facing away from him, agreed with a laugh. Draco, pacing level with him, saw the tightness at the corners of his smile. 'Tend to not react very well' indeed. I wonder how far through the wall he'd likely end up sending one of us.
Finally turning into the bedroom, Hans strode up the length of the bed to empty his pockets on the nightstand. Draco stepped in front of Harry with a smirk and entered the room next, lightly swaggering over to the far corner of the bottom of the bed and leaning against the post. Rolling his eyes at Draco's antics, Harry walked in and lingered nervously near the door, his eyes flicking between the two. He just barely suppressed the urge to bite his lip and dig his toes into the carpet. The room was nice, as he'd expected. A large bed that looked incredibly comfortable (especially after the hotels he'd been staying in; sometimes it sucked not being able to just Apparate from home) dominated most of the room, though there was a squashy armchair as well as the usual bedroom necessities. It looked as if the lights could be turned up to a normal brightness, but right now they were pleasantly dimmed.
He sincerely hated this part, though he'd never been as awkward before. At least, the first time he'd entered a lover's bedroom before, he usually had some idea of what his place was. Whether it was a relationship or one of the very few one-night-stands he'd had, it had usually been established by the time he was there what role he should take and he could certainly improvise from there (he'd certainly never had any complaints on that). But now… They were the ones in the relationship, and he was outside of that. They knew how each other would move, and he knew nothing. It would only be him trying to figure out what they would and wouldn't like, since they already knew each other. It would only be him stumbling blindly. There was no foreplay or heated kissing or verbal teasing. There was little to nothing to give him any cue for what he should do. His nerves were already shot, what with it being a threesome and then – of all people – Draco Malfoy being another willing participant in it… It was only with a lifetime of practice with awkward situations that kept him from hyperventilating and dashing out right then. He had said he would do this, so he would. He'd just have to laugh his way through any mistakes and carefully shield any insecurity he felt, like he'd done in so many other situations.
Draco tried to seem as casual as he could while he leaned against the bedpost. His mind was frantically trying to figure out just how he'd let himself get into this situation. He was here now, though, and he might as well make the best of it. He simply refused to be outdone, and so attempted to catch Hans's eye hoping for some sort of cue. The fact that Potter had never done this either was heartening, though he wouldn't tell the git that. He'd had a few fumbled relationships and a fair share of short-term lovers during his schooldays and travels – though he knew he was nowhere near as experienced as Hans – and he knew he was good. He had no idea what Potter's - Harry's, he corrected himself – level of experience was, but somehow knew that he likely wouldn't be terrible; it had used to irk him that Potter couldn't be terrible at anything if he tried (except perhaps the use of a comb), but for right now it served Draco well.
Hans, completely oblivious and at ease, turned back around to smile at Harry. "Do come in, we won't bite. Well, unless you're into that sort of thing," he teased with a grin and a chuckle. He could almost feel both of them trying not to roll their eyes at him. He wasn't sure, but he thought he might have heard Draco quietly knock his forehead against the bedpost. Blithely, he moved on. "So, you've never had a threesome before? Ah, no worries, my friend," he said at the sheepish look Harry shot him. "For starters, do you normally have a preference for top or bottom?"
Harry absently chewed his lip in thought. "Well, not particularly. I suppose I'm somewhat fond of being in control, but like everyone I enjoy a little pampering too. I do, however, usually end up topping." He rolled his eyes in exasperation at pretty much the whole of his ex-lovers. "So I probably have a mite more experience there. …Yourself?" he asked almost shyly, his head ducked a little so his gaze was directed through his lashes. Draco raised an eyebrow at that, not expecting shyness from Potter as much as haphazard posturing.
"Sounds like you and Draco are on about the same level in that regard. Myself?" He leaned back against the nightstand casually. "I have a, ah, fair amount of experience as both. I do prefer topping," he smirked when he felt Draco's glare burning a hole in the side of his head, "but Draco here has given me a new, mmm, appreciation for bottoming." He shot his lover a lecherous grin. Draco rolled his eyes.
"Well, it seems as if you've already answered for me," he drawled with an obviously feigned look of one displeased. Secretly, he was glad he wouldn't have to put it into words himself. It wasn't exactly that he truly preferred topping – either was fine for him with a competent lover – it was just a complicated matter of trust, pride, and the fact that his long, slim torso and limbs had sometimes made it a bit awkward when he'd bottomed in the past.
He took a moment to study Harry's build unobtrusively (even if he likely wouldn't have been ridiculed for looking over a man he was at some point planning to sleep with). He'd been tall and lanky as a teenager, but it looked as if he'd finally grown into some of his height. The black jeans he was wearing were tight around his hips, but baggy around his legs and pooled slightly at his white-socked feet. The effect was probably very nice when he was wearing those heavy, black boots that Draco had caught a glimpse of in the entrance hall, but now it actually made him look rather…adorable. Rolling his mental eyes at the silly sentiment – Potter? adorable? – he continued his perusal. His shirt was long-sleeved and dark green, looking like it was made of a soft cotton material, with an intricate black design of a bird accented with gold in swirling lines across his chest. It was nicely fitted – not tight, but enough so that it would pull attractively over his form when he moved. It seemed like either Potter had finally found a sense of fashion or someone had dressed him; Draco would have found the latter more likely, but knew better now than to ever assume anything about one Harry Potter. The most surprising parts of his attire were the twin piercings in his lower lip, which Draco remembered were referred to as 'snakebites' with a flash of amusement. Potter must know the joke there; he had never been quite that daft. There were also a few additional hoops in his ears and a small cuff on the cartilage of both. Draco could see a gold ring decorating his right ring finger, but couldn't see it well. He spun the Malfoy signet ring on his own finger as he pondered it.
Potter - Harry, he reminded himself again – had definitely grown up, and seemed to be only slightly broader than Draco himself. …Well, it would likely make positioning not all that awkward, he decided. He glanced back at Hans and knew from his grin that he'd been caught conducting his appraisal. He managed to refrain from scowling back, but only just barely.
Having allowed the other two to get more accustomed to being in the bedroom – he silently wondered if they really thought they were hiding their tension well – Hans grinned and edged backward onto the bed, beckoning to the other two once he was situated against the pillows and headboard. "Now then, no one ever said we'd have to stay in one position all night? Perhaps we'll all get a, ah, chance." He let his gaze trail up and down Harry's form as the man tentatively crawled onto the bottom corner of the bed closest to him. He then turned and winked at Draco, who had already slid around the post in a fluid manner to slip onto the bed and was sitting on his knees nearby.
Hans reached forward with both hands. The right he used to grab one of Harry's hands to slowly pull him closer. The left he hooked around the back of Draco's neck to pull him into a kiss. Draco had always delighted in how good of a kisser that Hans was, and Hans knew it was a good way to make him relax as well as excite him. After a few moments, they pulled back slightly and grinned at one another. At a slight flick of Hans's eyes, they both turned those grins on Harry.
Harry was promptly given the impression of being sized up by two very hungry predators who had just encountered a delicious meal, but masked his unease by raising an amused eyebrow at them.
Draco angled a smirk back at Hans and raised an appraising eyebrow, then glanced back over to Harry. Drawing their eyes up and down Harry's form, they began to converse with one another. "Well, go on then," Hans urged.
"Oh, so you weren't going to demand dibs?" Draco teased back.
"Well, you did know him first," was the conciliatory reply.
"Ah, but you, darling, are the little fanboy, aren't you?"
"All the hotter I'll get watching the two of you," Hans practically growled back, making Draco laugh lightly.
"Well, if you insist then." Leaning back more from Hans, Draco reached out and twisted his fingers into a handful of the front of Harry's shirt and tugged him forward. "Come here, you."
Harry grinned at him then, the shyness and nervousness slowly melting away as he was presented with something he was more familiar with. He slowly gave in to the pull on his shirtfront, leaning over Hans's legs and in towards Draco. He had to put a hand down to ensure he kept his balance, but didn't think much of it when it came down on Hans's thigh. Draco was leaning forward a little too, but they stopped a scant few centimeters away from one another. They tilted their heads ever so slightly back and forth, feinting towards one another as if to close the distance, soft smiles on both of their faces. They bumped their noses together softly as they got the feel of one another's movements. Somehow it felt important to make this first kiss good.
Slowly, their lips came together and apart a few times, breaking away teasingly each time. Their mouths were parted slightly, not so much kissing as brushing against one another. With a matching set of grins, the brushes grew a little sharper, as if they were aiming to bite each other's lips instead. Finally, Harry pushed his lips forward just a little more to completely catch Draco's, sealing their mouths together. Opening up a little farther, each ventured forward a tentative tongue, slipping past teeth and brushing against each other. Harry made a quiet sound of satisfaction that Draco felt more than heard and tilted his head a bit more to the right. Draco followed suit, refusing to be outdone, and the tentative exploration ceased with the kiss's deepening.
Their tongues thrust into one another's mouths, coming together to battle slightly before returning to mapping all the little areas they could find that would make one of them inhale a bit sharper. Harry grinned into the kiss as he favored a more sensitive spot, which caused Draco to moan softly and tangle the fingers of one hand in the hair on the back of Harry's head, pulling him closer. Draco – more dazed than he'd like to admit – had been treated to another surprise in the form of the metal rod through Harry's tongue, and tried to twist his tongue around it when Harry made it scrape teasingly along the roof of his mouth.
After a few more moments, they slowly broke apart, feinting once again – though now with open, grinning mouths, as if promising kisses and then denying them. With one last bump of Harry's nose against Draco's, they sat back, smiling at each other and panting softly.
"Dear Merlin, that was hot."
Hard-learned practice was all that kept Draco from jumping out of his skin when Hans spoke. It had somehow slipped his mind that the other man was sitting there watching them, and he suddenly felt slightly self-conscious. Judging from the way Harry's eyes were cast to the side and his sheepish laugh, Draco was almost certain he wasn't the only one in quite that situation.
Hans apparently wasn't cognizant of their memory lapse, since Harry's hand had unconsciously gripped at his thigh and his own hand was rubbing the visible bulge in his tight blue jeans. Harry chuckled softly and raised his eyebrows at Draco, motioning over to a glaze-eyed Hans with his eyes, making Draco smirk in return. They both leaned in toward him. Draco began trailing his nose and lips across Hans's cheek and down his neck, breathing hotly and fluttering half-kisses in his wake. Harry leaned forward to nip at Hans's lips slightly, demanding the entrance he was easily granted.
Draco chose not to think about the pang of jealously that shot through him upon seeing that – especially when it occurred to him that he wasn't jealous of whom he should be jealous of. There was a small bloom of satisfaction that Harry didn't take his time figuring out how Hans would want to be kissed, instead pushing in and dominating the kiss, but he explained it away as his own love of special treatment.
Hans was whimpering softly from the pleasurable sensations caused by both men. Harry and Draco had both gotten the idea to undo Hans's shirt and – though there was a chuckle or two as their hands fumbled over each other – they somehow managed to concert Harry's right hand with Draco's left to undo all of the buttons without its wearer noticing. They had begun alternating who was kissing Hans and who was attached to either side of his neck, and he was simply too far gone in bliss. Harry laved his tongue up the side of Hans's jaw as they tugged the tight, white shirt off of his shoulders to expose his chest. Their hands slid over the exposed skin and occasionally one of their mouths would drop lower to nibble at his collarbone.
They were both pretty sure that Hans was completely out of his mind at the moment, knowing quite well what they were doing. His hands had struggled free from the shirtsleeves at some point, and now he wrapped them in fistfuls of blond and black hair. Harry, unconsciously attempting to expedite the activities, dipped a bit lower and captured a nipple with his teeth. Hans gasped, but yanked them both back insistently. Draco was a little confused, and Harry's eyebrows drew together in worry. Before he could ask if he'd done something wrong, Hans breathlessly addressed them. "W-wait, I-I want to see you." His voice dipped into a rougher timbre as he said, "Both of you."
Slowly, they both pulled back and sat on their haunches, eyes flicking between Hans and each other. It was rather obvious that Hans probably didn't have the ability to take the initiative at that moment. Grinning, Harry decided that maybe it was his turn to get a fistful of shirt.
Reaching over, he gathered up a bit of the delightfully soft material and began tugging it out of Draco's trousers. Honestly, he normally might have not minded leaving it on so he could rub his own skin against it, but he wasn't about to stop. And maybe he was more than a bit curious about what lay beneath. Smirking at him, Draco began unbuttoning it so it could be removed. Hans shuddered and recovered enough to splay his hand across the exposed portion of Draco's upper chest, rubbing gently. Draco paused then to undo the buttons on his cuffs, a small voice in his head cursing at himself for picking a shirt that required so much effort to remove.
As soon as Draco's wrists were free, neither of the others waited for him to finish the buttons shielding his lower torso and dragged it up over his head. Harry tossed the shirt to the side and off the bed, something Draco absently noticed he would have been more than miffed at Hans for doing. The almost urgent tugging of Harry's deft fingers at his belt and the hungry gaze that was trained on him seemed to make it unimportant.
Finally getting the clasp free on Draco's belt and sliding it out of the loops (tossing that to the side too), Harry reverently trailed his fingers up Draco's chest. Hans had taken over the annoying trouser fastenings, leaving him free to explore. Softly, he traced his fingers in a small berth around Draco's nipples – and the gold hoops piercing them. Draco couldn't completely bite back a soft moan, urging Harry's dancing fingers to touch by pushing his chest forward a little. Harry smirked slightly back into Draco's half-lidded eyes right before flipping one of the rings up, catching it as it fell back down and tugging gently. A groan issued forth from Draco, followed by a gasp and a twitch of his hips as Hans's wrist knocked against his trapped erection while attempting to remove his trousers. Harry, clearly fascinated, pinched the other nipple slightly while using another finger to pull the ring back a little. Draco cried out then, and quickly acquiesced to Hans maneuvering him to remove his trousers completely – much more readily than he normally would have.
He hadn't worn any undergarments, partially in anticipation of the night's activities and partially because he wasn't sure what kind to wear – silk boxers? tight briefs? – to be appropriate for their bedroom's addition. Hans grinned at him in amusement, not entirely knowing the whys but liking it all the same. Harry made his tongue ring click against his teeth with unspoken promise, and Draco's breath caught.
He could feel Hans's breath fanning out over his stomach and thighs now, his fingertips just barely making contact with his cock as they roamed the same areas. He had begun panting at some point, not realizing it until Harry leaned forward to latch his mouth onto the crook between his shoulder and neck, his teeth gently worrying at the flesh there. A slight 'ngh' sound issued from his throat, but he managed to gather enough of his wits back to gently push at Harry's chest until he moved back. Harry seemed to be just as sorry about having to release his neck as Draco was to push him away. Especially if he thought about what Harry might have done with that tongue ring if he'd inched just a bit lower… He stopped that train of thought before he gave in and dragged him back. "N-not fair. You're still f-fully clothed," he managed to breath out.
Harry smiled at him and leaned back, the shirt pulling across his chest to hint at the delicious toning underneath it. "Then I suppose you'll just have to help me with that, won't you?" Draco silently cursed the steadiness of Potter's – Harry's – voice, but was slightly mollified by the glazed heat in the eyes that swept over his nude form. At that point, it was only Hans's hands on Draco's thighs that kept him from crawling over to straddle Harry's lap and snog him into senselessness.
Managing to shoo the not-exactly-offending appendages away enough by pushing lightly on Hans's shoulder to move him back, he refocused both of their attention on Harry. From the way he leaned back on his hands, he seemed relaxed, but it also removed that illusion by clearly displaying the bulge tightening his trousers. The tilted angle to his head and the steady – though heated – and taunting look in his eyes said that he knew very well just how hot he looked right then. With a growl, Draco lunged forward toward Harry and once again pulled him closer by his shirtfront.
He bit Harry sharply on the neck, earning him a rough chuckle. Grabbing the hem of the shirt, he tugged it up forcefully, running his other hand up Harry's stomach as he continued pushing the material up his torso. Harry lifted his arms obediently and finished pulling it off, chucking it in the same direction as Draco's discarded clothing. Draco ran his hands down Harry's raised arms and then down his sides. Pulling back to get a better look at what the shirt had hidden, he found that Harry's torso was not quite what he expected.
Certainly he was thin – though no longer skinny – and rather well toned for his lean build, but there were two surprises. The first things he noticed were the tattoos. There was an Ouroboros circling his right bicep, and the tip of another tattoo peeked a little above his waistline near his left hip. From what could be seen, it looked almost like the top of a shield-crest. Draco raised an eyebrow and ran his finger over the serpent, snatching it back when he felt a small crackle of power underneath it. He could feel Harry's gaze on him, daring him to ask just what he'd been up to and just what spell was contained in the obviously Wizarding tattoo. But Draco was all too aware of another presence in the room, who was uncharacteristically quiet. He couldn't ask now. Or ever. I doubt I will get this sort of chance again. The second surprise consisted of the myriad of scars – both small and large – that littered Harry's torso. From how some of them twisted, he was certain that the haphazard patterning extended past his waist and around his back.
Curious as to the silence radiating from his lover, he turned to favor Hans with a puzzled expression. Hans, however, was simply eying Harry's chest with a slightly troubled look on his face. Why had he stopped participating? Harry quirked his head to the side and was about to ask what was wrong when Hans shook himself and carefully ran his hand up one of Harry's arms. Draco stared at him oddly, still clueless as to what had disrupted his fervor, and wondered further when he saw comprehension dawn across Harry's features.
"You don't need to avoid them. I haven't hidden them for years." His voice was gentle, but Hans still flinched, shooting him an apologetic look. "It's okay if they make you uncomfortable. …You won't have been the only one." Harry smiled at him reassuringly – but Draco didn't miss the tightness to that smile, or the tinge of sadness coloring his voice. He silently scoffed at the fact that Potter was probably being daft and thinking that people didn't find him attractive once all the scars were bared, or some such nonsense.
With a start – and from the way Harry's words seemed to have affected Hans – Draco was struck with the fact that some people might actually not find the scars attractive. He knew his fascination with them was somewhat traceable to his younger years of studying Dark Arts and Potions, both of which gave him a hearty respect for someone who literally bore the scars of their labor and experience. They were marks of survival through the harshest of circumstances, and were to be honored and revered as such. The only reason he'd teased Harry about the scar on his forehead when they were younger was because it got a reaction out of him – and, he could admit now, because he was jealous of the attention he'd received because of it.
In an effort to show Harry just what he thought of the scars, he reached out and softly trailed his nails down Harry's chest, though not hard enough to scratch. He followed random patterns through, around, and across the scars, not stopping save to change direction. Harry shivered and gasped, shocked eyes locking on Draco's intent gaze.
Hans, quietly and with a little discomfort, ventured, "I thought scars reduced sensitivity…? They're just dead patches…" Harry shook his head weakly, seeming to be a bit more shaken now with small tremors erupting under his skin. Draco could feel them through his fingers and a small smile curled the corner of his mouth.
"That's only p-partially true." Draco smirked in triumph at finally disrupting Harry's speech. "It does deaden skin a bit – with normal scars. Some of them are – ah! – like that. Some, however, are the result of magic, which makes it possible for the sensitivity to have e-either remained the same – or increased. S-since I heal somewhat rapidly from m-my own magic and it was at times c-combined with others' healing spells, the magic sh-shifted the spectrum a little. Some of them – a-actually, most of them – the edges right next to the scar patch are…somewhat oversensi-TIVE!" Harry had to gasp the last syllable, as Draco had figured out the ending of the babbling sentence a little early and sought to test the theory – by way of scraping his nails hard along the edge of a larger one.
Harry's back arched into the touch a bit, and then he once again focused shocked eyes on Draco. The rest of his expression was indiscernible. Draco smiled at him – a small smile, but a real one – and leaned forward to trace another edge with the tip of his tongue. Harry managed to make a sound partway between a moan and a whimper, his eyes threatening to flutter closed. They would have if they had not been glued to Draco's, wholly unable to look away.
When Draco pulled slowly away, he saw indecision flash briefly in Harry's eyes. Before he could think too much on it, let alone ask, Harry's hand had tentatively reached out and gently brushed his chest. It took him a moment to realize that Harry was now staring at the three long scars that decorated Draco's own chest, his expression indiscernible again.
Draco hadn't really thought too hard about it before when Hans had pretty much ignored the three large – though pale and faded – scars across his mid-chest. He'd either keep to the skin above or below that area, or focus on his nipples. It wasn't until Harry's fingers connected with his skin to trace the uppermost one that he realized that he had wanted that.
He had always been proud of his appearance, though there was a period of a couple years that the scars had been a personal embarrassment despite his respect for them on others. To him, they had represented a moment of weakness when he'd let his guard down because he was upset. During his travels, he'd come to terms with the fact that it had been the wizard powerful enough to defeat the Dark Lord that had cast the curse in the first place, and he was lucky to have survived it. They were his personal scars of battle, now.
With a shudder, he let his eyes flicker closed for a moment, basking in the reverence with which Harry's fingers traveled. When he finished with the uppermost, he traced the middle one, and then finally the lowest. Draco knew that, should he open his eyes, he'd find a tinge of regret in Harry's for just how he had gotten those scars. He probably still thought Draco blamed him for them, even as he traced the now-cherished imperfections with a fair amount of muted awe. It appeared that Harry had been quite confident enough with his shirt on, but was significantly more vulnerable without it. Draco realized, as he opened his eyes and saw the soft, guarded expression on Harry's face and the puzzled expression on Hans's, that he probably would have gotten defensive if Hans had tried to initiate the same contact.
The small, absent-minded comparisons were starting to form a niggling sort of worry at the back of Draco's mind. He resolutely tamped down on it, saving the pondering of it for later. It didn't have to matter right now.
What did matter, however, was bringing back the heat that had been raging before, which had quieted to a slow simmer.
Catching Harry's hand as it was about to retreat, Draco pressed it down over the scars with his own, smiling softly at him. "I thought we were undressing you now."
"Well, not my fault you got distracted," he quipped back with a small grin, the pads of his fingers rubbing softly where they lay. Draco scowled at him, which only made Harry's grin widen and twitch with suppressed laughter.
"Well then, perhaps it would be good to get back on task," Draco bit back out, causing Harry to snort through his chuckles. At Draco's tone, Hans seemed to shake himself out of whatever cloud of thought that had been plaguing him.
"Perhaps it would," Harry agreed, snatching back his hand quickly before Draco decided to take vengeance upon it for his cheek.
Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes and instead moved so he was sitting on his knees. Hooking a finger in the waistband of Harry's trousers, he tugged at them. "Up, you. These are coming off now."
Harry laughed, but complied with the order, rising to his knees so that his trousers could be unfastened and – along with his simple cotton boxers – shimmied down his hips and upper legs. Draco noted that he wasn't as hard as he had been a few minutes prior, but the gentle twitching showed that he would be soon. Harry adjusted his position so he could finish removing the clothing from his legs, tugging his socks off while he was at it. He had delightfully muscled legs, and Draco was fairly certain that the slowly hardening flesh between them was of an equally delightful size.
Draco had to bite his tongue hard not to burst out laughing when he spied what the smaller tattoo was of. It was the Hogwarts crest, complete with the Latin motto. Sentimental Gryffindork, he thought in amusement.
As Harry straightened, facing the other two, his eyes flicked between them nervously again. He and Draco were both completely naked now, and Hans had stopped them from doing anything further to him so he could 'see' them. He wasn't quite certain what to do now. He likely should not try to start anything with Draco without Hans, but he wasn't sure how much of an eyeful Hans wanted before he could be properly disrobed. Or what exactly to do after that.
Hans, promptly ignoring his reservations about Harry's scars (though it surprised him that Draco seemed to enjoy them more than mind them), realized when he was needed to direct things along. Both of the other two looked a little anxious and once again nervous, though Draco also looked oddly amused. While he often liked to fawn over Draco a bit, he didn't think either of their nerves could take that delay. And, while he still found Harry extremely attractive on the whole, the scars did unnerve him a bit too much for focused attention. He knew it was rather superficially shallow, but everyone was to some extent. The fact that Harry didn't blame him for it and Draco seemed only more aroused by them rankled at him a little, but he could ignore that for now in favor of more pleasant thoughts.
Qualifying his reactions to himself, he decided his focus would be on Harry first. He grinned lecherously at the two of them again, sliding his eyes back and forth between them, as if thinking. Reaching out, he cupped a hand around both of their necks, pulling them closer a little. Turning a little more toward Draco, he leaned forward and quietly said, "I think I'd like to have you inside me." Then, turning his full attention to Harry, he leaned forward to whisper against his lips, "And I want to be in you." The shudder that passed over Harry was definitely pleasing, but not nearly as much as the eager hand that blindly ran up his thigh towards the fastenings on this jeans.
Draco leaned in toward Hans's neck, nibbling before asking, "Just how are we going to do this, darling?" His own hand was sneaking up to aid in the removal of Hans's trousers, and he let out a chuckle when it encountered Harry's.
Hans frowned slightly at the endearment. Draco usually only called him darling when he was teasing him – or sarcastically when they were fighting. It was usually only during moments of passion that he would call him 'love,' which was what Hans was more expecting at the moment. He didn't know what to think of it right now. But there were hands rubbing at him and urging him to move in some way that facilitated the removal of his last article of clothing, and he thought it was probably best to just not think right now.
He leaned back on his hands and lifted his hips, allowing the tight jeans to be tugged down and off, gathering his white socks in the pant-legs as they went down. Harry looked nervous still, and Hans started to maneuver himself to where he would need to be, realizing he hadn't answered Draco's question yet. "Harry, probably on your back against the pillows. Draco, behind me would likely be best. It's the easiest way to do this, I think, and probably the best bet with the two of you being so new at this." He grinned at them both, receiving another sheepish blush from Harry and a scowl from Draco – which put him more at ease, since they were acting as he expected again.
Harry crawled his way up to the pillows and turned toward Hans. He very tentatively laid back, but only spread his legs partway. He had his arms wrapped around himself and a flush staining his cheeks. He could feel the insecurity rising up. Perhaps Hans didn't find him attractive anymore. Would he ask him to leave? Was he just continuing on because he had said he would…or out of pity? Biting down hard on the inside of his lip, Harry scolded himself. He hadn't felt so self-conscious in a long time, so it was hard to push away, but he did. He forced his arms away and smiled up at Hans, who'd had his attention on Draco. He didn't notice that Draco's attention had been on him, and started when he felt a hand stroke reassuringly at the shin resting behind Hans's turned back. He was blushing again with a small smile on his face when Hans turned back to him.
"Now then… There are a couple of spells I'd like to use. Of course a lubrication charm, but also one that will aid the muscles in relaxing and a cleaning charm modified for, ah, exactly our purpose." He grinned down at Harry, who nodded silently. Grabbing his wand off the nightstand, he first cast the spell to help with the muscles. He still liked stretching manually, but Harry was tense enough that he would likely need it. Next came the cleansing spell, which caused him to laugh softly at the screwed up look on Harry's face. That one wasn't entirely pleasant, but he was rather certain neither of them wanted any surprises. Coating his fingers in the lubricant, as well as pouring a little bit over Harry and himself, he reached down and began tracing the puckered flesh.
Harry only tensed for a moment before forcing himself to relax. It was fine, he was okay, though he wasn't really used to his first time with someone having him as the bottom. But it was okay – more than okay, now that a careful finger had slipped inside of him and was stroking gently – and Hans was leaning over to kiss him. He spread his legs a little wider to allow the other man better access, and wrapped his hands in his hair to keep their lips sealed. He felt Hans gasp against his mouth, his arm shuddering, and figured that Draco must have begun preparing him as well. Now that it was starting, this actually seemed somewhat thrilling – and then Hans added another finger and he told his brain to stop trying to think.
Hans broke their mouths apart to lean his head on Harry's shoulder, angling himself even better to receive Draco's wonderfully non-gentle fingers. He gasped and shuddered, but still managed to remember to keep moving his fingers in Harry, adding a third finger as well. A few more moments was all he could take of it though, with Draco knowing exactly where to push to force a response from him. "Enough!" he cried hoarsely. "Now. Please." He cleared his throat to help force the guttural sound from it. He needed to keep his accent subdued for now and not start gibbering in German, as he might need to give further instruction.
Draco situated himself first, moving close to Hans and slowly sliding himself in. He bit his lip hard, but couldn't quite stifle the satisfied groan that bubbled forth. It was with long practice that he knew to keep his hips still for now, until he felt Hans move back. He was definitely a bit rougher than Hans, but was considerate where necessary. He felt Hans's hand come around to grip his hip to keep him sheathed, but then he was moving forward and – oh. Harry's gasps reached Draco's ears and he grinned at knowing that Hans was trying to push in as slowly as humanly possible. It had driven him mad before, and snickered when he peeked over Hans's shoulder and saw an expression quite like that on Harry's face. In the guise of 'helping' – though really just making it even worse for Harry's impatience – he gently grabbed the knees situated around him and Hans and pressed them back. Harry cried out and Draco shivered, feeling Hans slip forward a little further.
It was somewhat awkward acquiring a rhythm until Draco let Harry's legs fall again in favor of grabbing Hans's hips. Hans had been wavering between pushing back against Draco's thrusts and thrusting into Harry himself. With his legs free, Harry managed to dig his heels into the bed and thrust back upwards in time with Draco. It caused Hans to gasp, and they managed to exchange smirks over his shoulder before setting up an identical rhythm.
Hans was in heaven. He knew Draco was a quick study, but it pleased him ever so much that Harry was as well. He eventually gave up on trying to thrust, bracing himself on his hands and knees against the sensations and screwing his eyes shut. It had been so long since he'd done this sort of thing and he'd forgotten just how very good it could feel. Too good, in fact, as he felt himself peaking under Draco's expert aim at his prostate. Wrenching his eyes open again only to see Harry undulating gracefully under him, he knew he needed to get his bearings back – which he wouldn't be able to do like this. "Ah, s-stop!" he managed to cry out, feeling Harry freeze immediately under him (as if he could possibly have hurt Hans from underneath him?) and Draco slowly slide to a halt.
"Wh-what's wrong?" Draco puffed out against his back, just barely managing to keep from plunging in again.
"Ah, a-as wonderful as this is, I th-think we need to switch. You kn-know me too well. I…wouldn't have lasted another five minutes. Hell, a minute, even, between the two of you," he panted, resting his head on Harry's shoulder to catch his breath. He could feel the indecision from the other two and chuckled. "Switch around, love. Let's get you under me instead."
Draco let out a soft whine and leaned forward to bite Hans's shoulder. Hans simply chuckled back at him, ignoring his frustration. He carefully slipped out of Harry, and had to stifle a snicker when it took him a few moments to steady his legs enough to get up. Harry managed to crawl out from under him to behind him, and Draco slid gracefully into his place. "Well, hurry up, then," Draco grouched at him half-heartedly.
Hans shook his head and laughed. He knew Draco didn't honestly think his heightened state of arousal would somehow make him forget to be gentle, but the bugger would still hope. He would acquiesce to starting with two fingers to speed things along, but he was going to go slow. Except he forgot an important detail. When he'd gotten the tips of the fingers inside just enough, Harry chose to slide quickly into his already stretched hole. He had gasped and inadvertently shoved the rest of his fingers in. Draco cried out in pleasure, then relaxed back to the bed with a Cheshire grin on his face, obviously pleased with the turn of events. Hans half-heartedly glared back at Harry, who was grinning smugly and rocked forward once to wipe the glare off his face. Scowling down at Draco again, he sighed and shook his head in good humor. The brats were working against him now, apparently. Just for that, he took his time making sure that Draco was completely stretched before deigning to enter him, and would push back every time Harry tried to pull out for a thrust.
When the other two were both properly frustrated, Hans grabbed Harry's hip to keep him sheathed while he finally slid into Draco. It took much less time for them to figure out a rhythm this time, though Harry's movements were not as attuned to Hans as Draco's had been. Harry was a very forceful lover, and Hans reveled it in for a moment. Draco was too, which he liked, but there was somehow more strength behind Harry's thrusts, which pushed him harder against Draco. He'd managed to locate Hans's prostate and began hitting it maybe every third thrust. Hans was thankful that he didn't have quite Draco's accuracy, because combined with the muffled whimpers and soft cries issuing from underneath him, he was getting close again. Part of him wasn't sure if they were simply that talented or if he was just out of practice, since he almost never got riled up this quickly.
When his limbs began to shake, he knew he had to stop them again. There was a growl from behind him and a whine of protest from underneath him, but they complied. He was somewhat glad that Harry had caught on that it wasn't because he'd done something wrong, though that growl had made it even harder to hold back.
"What now?" Draco demanded, his hips twitching with the wish to move again. Harry had leaned forward and captured Hans's earlobe, tugging insistently on the gold hoop there in an attempt to get him to let them start again.
"I…I think someone else needs to…to be the center." He had to choose his words carefully, as the first words that came to mind were the German ones. Draco knew German, but Harry might not and…something told him that it might be frustrating, but his brain wasn't functioning at an optimal level, so he just figured he would try to keep speaking English. "I, ah, think I n-need to lie back."
Harry drew out of him with a hiss, and Draco whimpered and tried to clench around Hans as he withdrew. Groaning, he shooed Draco and took his place, flopping thankfully against the pillows and sprawling his still shaking limbs. His palms were pressed to his eyes while he attempted to regain control of his breathing, so he didn't notice Harry and Draco sizing each other up.
With a grin, Draco stalked behind Harry as best as he could while crawling. Harry followed him with his eyes only, but Draco could see the muscles tensing in his back. Rising to his knees and pressing up against Harry with an arm around his waist, Draco spoke quietly in his ear. "Scared, Potter?"
Some of the tension drained as Harry chuckled softly. Turning his head so he could catch Draco's eyes, he murmured back, "You wish." They smirked at each other and could feel a chuckle pass between their bodies.
Hans was recovered enough to begin again and flinched slightly when he opened his eyes and saw the look being exchanged between the other two. He cleared his throat softly, and both heads snapped back to him and grinned. He wasn't sure he liked the small blush staining either of their cheeks, but he put that thought to rest. He knew better than to think that he was neglected if he wasn't given every scrap of attention during a threesome. Of course they would pay some attention to each other, too.
Harry decided to try a slightly different tactic than Hans had and hoped it would work. He grabbed a few pillows and had Hans lift up so he could wedge them under his hips. He could have a bit more control over the thrusting than Hans that way, which he preferred. Hans might have been fine with letting Draco and Harry do most of the work, but Harry was very bad at just sitting back and not acting. Even as a bottom, he'd get frustrated when expected to remain entirely passive. Plus, it would make it easier to get at Hans's prostate from this angle, which caused him to grin wolfishly down at the man as he slid in.
Draco ran his nails down Harry's back, grinning as they caught the edges of the scars there too. Harry shuddered and cried out softly, his torso pitching forward a little, which caused him to slide slightly out of Hans. Draco took the opportunity to press into Harry, groaning softly into the back of his neck as the tight heat surrounded him. Harry hissed slightly, having tightened up a bit again with nothing inside him to keep him stretched. After a moment, Harry pulled away from Draco to slide into Hans, and then back again. Draco tried to time his thrust to catch Harry while he was sheathed, and was both smug and startled at the loud gasp that accompanied it.
"N-not at the s-same time. F-feels w-weird. Not bad, just weird, and not really good either," Harry babbled at them, his body wracked with shudders. Draco pulled him around the waist to come back with him, biting along his neck and shoulder until the shaking stopped.
"You okay now?" he asked and nuzzled the side of Harry's head.
"Y-yeah. I'm good. S-sorry, just surp-prised me." He sighed softly, then took hold of Hans's hips and drove forward. Hans, who had been puzzling over the tenderness that Draco had shown Harry, cried out sharply, the moment forgotten.
Harry set a brutal pace, and Draco quickly accustomed himself to it, slamming forward on every one of Harry's backstrokes. Harry's fingers were digging into Hans's hips a little harder than he preferred, but the man could barely gather the breath to moan, let alone say anything, so just kept his hands gripped on Harry's forearms. Harry growled out for him to touch himself, and Hans more than readily complied, stroking himself quickly.
The rhythm slowed just slightly as one of Harry's hands let go of Hans's hip. Hans managed to roll his eyes back from the back of his head, wondering why, and caught his breath at the sight before him. Draco and Harry were both upright on their knees, their hips crashing together in perfect rhythm, even as Harry's hips slammed into Hans when they parted. Their heads were turned toward one another, their lips sealed in a fervent kiss. Harry's hand had reached up to tangle in Draco's hair, keeping him close even as they broke apart to pant every couple seconds. Hans knew it was the look in their eyes when they pulled back slightly and the look on their faces when their lips met again that sent him over the edge.
With a shout, Hans came – to probably the most erotic image he'd witnessed in all of his twenty-four years. Yes, the amazing sex had brought him close, and his hand closer, but that image…
The other two broke apart suddenly, blinking the lust from their eyes as they slowed to a stop and studied the thick globs of white splattered across Hans's chest. Harry's hand removed itself from Draco's hair, but only to loop backwards around his neck. Hans could only stare and blink up at them for a moment, catching his breath.
He hadn't expected to come first. The other two had less experience than he, and he had prided himself on his stamina in years past. But it had happened, and it was slowly dawning on him that the other two didn't seem overly disappointed about it – or smug. They just watched him evenly, Harry's arm wrapped around Draco's neck, and Draco's arms encircling his waist and rubbing his hips and stomach gently. Their eyes were still clouded with heat, and their breath was coming in pants. Draco's hips flexed just slightly back and forth in time with his breathing. Hans especially didn't want to allow it now, but he knew there would be no real justification for him to deny them to continue. He had come, and they hadn't yet.
He laughed and let a shaky smile spread on his face, making a joke before pulling off of Harry and sitting up. He got grins for his joke, and they both seemed to buy it that his shakiness was simply the after-shudders of his orgasm. Draco looked puzzled and asked him where he was going when he started to back away to the edge of the bed. He managed to pull a grin. "I get to watch now." Let them think he meant it in a perverse manner. He needed to figure out the little things he'd been catching and brushing off too often since the moment Draco had heard Harry's name. Maybe watching them would help.
Harry blushed at Hans, but he had insisted. After a moment, he bit his lip and turned his head to narrow his eyes at Draco. "My turn."
"Oh really?" he teased back, circling his hips, causing a 'ngh' sound in Harry's throat.
Harry's nails dug into the back of his neck in response. "Yes, really," he grit out through his teeth. "Now get down there."
Draco growled back at him, biting his shoulder hard enough that it would definitely leave a mark. "Make me."
With a snarl, Harry managed to pull his hips forward enough to remove Draco's erection, then twisted his torso to grab Draco. He attempted to flip him over his hip, but Draco was a bit stronger than he thought. It might have worried Hans, if they hadn't started laughing as they struggled. Eventually, Harry managed to dig his fingers into Draco's ribs, causing him to yelp and loosen his grip. He flipped him over and pinned him against the pillows, a self-satisfied grin gracing his features. Draco spluttered up at him for a moment.
"You-! You tickled me!" he screeched indignantly.
"Yup," was the gloating response.
"You absolute prat!"
"Well, 'all's fair' and all," Harry said with a grin, not wholly sure why he felt awkward completing the worn saying.
"I hate you." Draco scowled at him in what he probably thought was a threatening manner.
"No you don't," Harry responded, and then bent to place a chaste kiss on the tip of Draco's nose. Draco squawked in outrage, but Harry sealed their mouths together before he could add further comment. The kiss was sweeter than any of the ones that had been shared before – even though Draco was apparently still trying to argue into Harry's mouth and Harry was laughing. They broke apart to breathe properly, still laughing quietly. "Now, are you going to make me have to maneuver you the whole way, or are you going to give a little?"
"I should make you work for it," Draco quipped conversationally, though he was already moving to position himself better under Harry.
"Oh, hush." Harry was rolling his eyes as he leaned down to bite along Draco's neck, eliciting a small 'mmm' of contentment.
"Berk," was the muttered reply, but it was obvious by Draco's failed attempt to smother a grin that it was only token grumpiness. "Don't even think about it," was the next reply, as Harry's hand closed around one of the pillows he'd used to prop Hans up.
Harry pulled back and raised an eyebrow. "It'll make it easier."
"If you think I'm just going to lay back here and take it like some girl-" he cut off the growl when Harry started laughing.
"Oh, I know quite well that you're not a girl. I just had this inside me, after all." He gripped at Draco's cock, eliciting a small moan. "And I don't think a girl could handle what I'm about to do to you," he growled hotly in Draco's ear.
Draco moaned loudly, his legs spreading wider. Harry took his chance to slide into the 'V' and grind down, rubbing them together roughly. Grabbing under one of Draco's knees, he pushed it up. Draco lifted his other leg helpfully, exposing himself. Harry pressed his mouth to Draco's as he deftly guided himself in. It was Draco's turn to grunt as his muscles were forced to stretch again to accommodate Harry. Harry let go of the knee, and Draco braced that leg to help him move. His other leg he wrapped around Harry's flank, rubbing against him as he urged him closer.
"You good?" Harry asked. Exuberant nodding and a breathless 'yeah' was the response. He slowly pulled out halfway, then slammed back in, forcing a cry from Draco. He repeated the action several times over, just watching the reactions on Draco's face. He could tell Draco was getting impatient, but he wanted to make sure he was ready first.
"Damnit, Harry, just fuck me already," Draco finally growled out loudly. Harry took this as his cue and pulled nearly all the way out, then snapped his hips back toward Draco. His thrusts sped up, yet didn't diminish in force. Draco was crying out loudly, not even making an attempt to muffle himself as he normally did. Using his own legs, he pulled Harry to him and bucked back up against him in time with the thrusts.
It turned out that having Harry between his legs was not at all awkward. Their long frames melded well together with their faces almost level, and long legs simply wrapped together in harmony. And, dear Merlin, the way he was thrusting… Draco had always liked it a bit hard, though he welcomed sweetness on occasion. Hans had always felt badly about being rough, thinking that he would hurt Draco – despite Draco's insistence that he was not, in fact, made of porcelain and would not break so easily. His exes had all either been too gawky about it or – in two cases – gone a bit too far because they ignored Draco's actual responses. But this…this was perfect. He arched his back so he could feel the slide of their sweat-slicked chests against one another, Harry's scars running over his own.
Harry had long since devolved into harsh grunts, but moaned loudly and curved himself to Draco when he arched. Rolling his hips, he made sure to rub hard against that spot that had Draco practically crying. Blinking his eyes open so that he wouldn't miss a moment of the wonderful faces the other man was making, Harry had to bite his lip to hold himself back. Draco was beautiful, with his hair all mussed and his skin flushed and his head thrown back to cry out. Instinctively, Harry bit his way down the bared neck and across an elegant shoulder, not caring that he would definitely be leaving marks behind. He wanted to, and a part of him wished he could see his handiwork later when they were well and purple. Shifting his angle slightly so he could pull his torso back, he bowed himself so he could kiss his way down Draco's chest. After kissing and biting his way down his abs to his navel, Harry ran his tongue all the way up – to catch his tongue piercing on one of the rings in Draco's nipples.
Draco had squirmed a bit at the attentions until that point, but when he felt the metal catch on Harry's tongue and pull, he writhed. He vaguely registered calling out the other man's name, one hand gripping the hair at the back of Harry's head and the other digging nails into his shoulder. Harry teased him to the point that he knew that he was sobbing some continuous combination of 'Harry,' 'please,' 'yes,' and 'more.'
Harry could feel himself growing closer, and if the tremors in Draco's legs were any hint, he was as well. He finally pulled away from Draco's chest to look him in the face, lust-darkened green locking with reverent grey-blue. It would be hard to classify the look on Draco's face as anything short of adoration.
He caressed a hand up the arm that had been gripping his hair, the fingers loosening their grasp. A small part of him mind registered that it was Draco's left arm, and his eyes were drawn to it with burning curiosity. He leaned up enough so that he could see his forearm – though never ceasing the motion of his hips – Draco's eyes watching him the whole time. What he found there was not the Dark Mark. Instead, there was another scar, too circular to be natural, that looked suspiciously like a burn. Harry had known that the Marks had lost all of their power the instant Voldemort had died, but they didn't just disappear. That circle… He was struck with wonder at what Draco must have done to rid himself of that horrible reminder of his childhood terror.
He brushed his thumb softly over it, his eyes sliding back to Draco's. They were half-guarded, as if he expected Harry to reject him all over again for simply having borne the Mark. Harry knew words wouldn't do at that moment, and had a feeling that talking in this room about such things was a bad idea. Instead, keeping his eyes on Draco's, he closed his mouth over the shiny circle of skin and sucked. He kneaded at it with his teeth as well, determined to make his own mark there. He didn't know why exactly he'd done it. Draco wasn't his to mark, to own, to claim – and he knew that, somewhere in the back of his mind. But the fire he found in those stormy eyes as he did it, all masks and guardedness falling away…was more than enough to tell him he'd done the right thing. After removing his mouth with gentle suction, he swooped down to capture Draco's lips.
The kiss was both slow and urgent. They couldn't taste each other enough, even as they moaned into each other's mouths. One of Harry's arms wrapped under Draco's shoulder to grip there, pulling him closer as he thrust forward with his hips. Draco's arms had wrapped about Harry's neck, hands gripping shoulders as if for dear life.
Harry's other hand had wormed its way between them to take hold of Draco's weeping prick. He stroked as best he could in time with his thrusts, twisting his hand to add even more friction. "Come for me," he scarcely managed to pant out against Draco's mouth. It took only a few more thrusts until he felt Draco's muscles clench around him, his name screamed from that beautiful mouth as he threw his head back. It was enough for Harry. His eyes squeezed shut as the shudders wracked through him, exploding out to finally fill Draco with his seed. Harry curled around the other man with his torso, feeling every muscle in his body tense from his jaw down to his tightly curling toes. He knew he must have shouted Draco's name as well, but he wasn't listening.
They collapsed together, Harry's hand sliding out from between them to caress along Draco's side. He let his head rest on Draco's chest, not caring about the small amount of slickness he could feel under his chin. Managing to remain inside Draco, Harry did his best to cuddle up in their position. He could feel Draco tracing languid circles over his back as their breathing returned to normal. He would have been hard pressed to think of a moment in his life when he was as content and relaxed as he was right then. With a goofy smile at the sentiment he twisted his head to place a few chaste kisses along Draco's neck and jaw.
Draco was reeling, both physically and mentally. He'd never felt like this before, but he'd also never let himself go quite as much either. He had barely held back at all, and the thought came to him of what it would feel like if he held back nothing, forcing a shiver to radiate along the length of his body. He knew there were reasons he always held back, but he couldn't think of them at that moment. The only thing his mind seemed capable of telling him to do was hold the man in his arms – to hold Harry – as tightly as he could and not let go.
Harry knew the exact moment he had to pull back. It was the moment he remembered where he was and what exactly that night had entailed. Draco wasn't his. Not his lover, not his anything – not his. Draco's boyfriend was sitting not five feet away, probably getting off on watching them. As soon as Draco came back to his senses, it would all be over. Harry would leave that night, and Draco would go back to living happily with the man he loved. He could feel something breaking inside of him as he forced his limbs to move, to let Draco go, to slide himself back and out and away.
Draco was confused at first when he felt the warmth leaving his chest, trying to clutch at it absentmindedly. A spark of panic lit when he felt Harry slip out of him. What was wrong? What was-?
His frantic glance around had caught him a glimpse of Hans, sitting in the armchair next to their bed, looking tired. Panic shot through him again, but of a different sort. What was he thinking? How could he have been so far gone that he…? He managed to keep his features schooled, lazily grinning at both of the others. He could do this. He could pretend that he hadn't been thinking…
Harry let out a small bark of a laugh. "I, uh, think I got a bit carried away." He flashed an amused smile at them both, as if he were laughing at himself. Which wasn't entirely untrue, but it was a completely different kind of laughter than he wanted them to know.
Hans joked with them quietly, looking like he was exhausted. He got them some towels to clean themselves off with, not feeling like bothering with magic at the moment.
Harry was quiet as he redressed, sighing in annoyance when he had a spot of trouble finding one of his socks. He laughed and politely responded to Hans's weak attempts at conversation, but couldn't bring himself to do more than that.
Draco donned his trousers and slid into his shirt, leaving it unbuttoned. He feigned lassitude as he leaned against a bedpost and watched the two men converse. He felt something twist in his stomach when he noticed how mussed both men's mops of hair were. He ignored it for the time being, storing it with all of the other little things that had bothered him that night. He was having a hard enough time pretending that everything was okay and he wasn't confused as Hell. He really was rather worn out, to boot, which was making it harder.
Hans walked Harry to the door with Draco trailing behind. He could hear the echo of the words Hans had spoken to him just the night before in that same living room. 'He will be gone…why would I ever give you up for something like that? And it's not like he's going to stick around, being a star…and all.' Draco felt like banging his head against the wall again. How could he even be thinking such a thing? Hans had been nothing but wonderful to him and – as much fun as Harry had been that night – he sincerely doubted that Potter would even think about him again once he walked out that door. He felt the throb of the bruise left on his left arm as he tried to cross them over his chest, and had to swear at himself for thinking it could mean anything real.
Hans thanked Harry for the night, and Harry felt he needed to say something. "I…thank you, too." He cupped Hans's cheek and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "Tonight was…wonderful, really. I doubt I'll try it again, but I'm glad I did. You were amazing." He meant it all. He didn't think he could muster the ability to lie any more than he would need to when he walked out that door acting as if he wouldn't be fighting the urge to look back.
Turning to Draco, he had a bit of a harder time. "I'm…glad this happened. So much. I…" He worked his mouth for a moment before giving up. "I'm just as bad with words as I used to be when I can't write them in advance." He grinned a bit, laughing at himself again. He was too scared to let himself babble – too scared of what would come out. Instead, he took Draco's face in both of his hands and pressed a closed-mouthed kiss to his lips, allowing himself one more taste. He felt Draco's fingers gingerly rest at his hips as he pressed his lips back gently, and Harry knew he needed to pull away.
His eyes were shuttered as he smiled at them both and walked out of the door. As soon as it was shut behind him, he looked back and forth and Apparated back to his hotel room. He knew he wouldn't be able to stand taking the Muggle route.
Fate just was not on his side.
Two hours later, Hans could be found sitting on the couch dazing out at the telly. He didn't really want to go back to bed just yet. What he'd witnessed there earlier that evening… It would be awhile before he felt comfortable lying in that bed with Draco again. Part of him felt slightly badly for it. It was all his idea, wasn't it? He should have the grace to not be so upset.
He could hear Draco listlessly walking through the apartment, thumbing through books or pushing things around in the fridge. Draco was still there. Hans was distracted from thinking on what that meant when the program changed to one he had been waiting on before and had forgotten about.
Draco sighed at the contents of the icebox again. He wasn't really hungry, but he just felt like he should be doing something and food had seemed like a good idea when he'd wandered into the kitchen. And ice cream was always good – except for perhaps right this instant. None of his books had held any interest for him either when he'd walked a few circles around the library.
Finally, he sighed and leaned against the counter, letting himself think.
Hans had seemed upset. Superficially, Draco couldn't see why. He'd gotten what he'd wanted, right? The threesome and the romp with the famous faux-Muggle he admired. But Draco knew it was more than that. He wanted to think that maybe Hans was just upset that he'd finished early and had to sit out for part of the fun, but he was ready to quit lying to himself. Something had happened in there between him and Harry, and Hans had seen it.
He scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, tugging at it gently. Harry. Somehow, the most poignant moments in his life all traced back to Potter. The very first refusal of his hand by anyone. Being beaten at Quidditch. Making him rethink his family's values. Cursing and scarring him. Saving him from the Fiendfyre. Taking his wand to kill the Dark Lord, which ultimately left him free to live his life. …And now this. He bit his lip and tried hard to push away the thought that this might be the most memorable of them all.
It's not fair! Potter just waltzes in and…and…messes up everything! Everything changes because of him. Why? Why this? Why now? Why did he have to come stumbling in and make me… He growled softly, and asked himself for an honest answer about what Harry had made him do. Feel incredible. Wanted. Comfortable in my own skin, scars and all. Lo-
No, he would not think that.
Potter was gone now. It was just one night. Not even that – only a few hours. The night would be over in a few more. Life would continue on, as it always had. And it would be with Hans. Hans, who was still there, even if Draco knew he'd fucked up somehow. Hans, who would smile at him tomorrow and be good to him, who wanted him and loved him.
But not the forever kind of love.
He swore quietly at himself. He shouldn't be feeling pain. Or sadness. Or loss. Or dread when he thought about waking up tomorrow to stare into cerulean eyes.
He couldn't feel any of those things.
He could feel his eyes start to itch in that annoying way they did when he was upset. He scrubbed his hands over his face again and absently thought of what his mother would say about his bad habit. He usually kept it in check, but right now he didn't have the strength.
With a sigh, he went to find Hans, hoping to talk through this. Hoping that maybe he, at least, would understand what was wrong with him.
He walked into the living room, not entirely surprised to find him watching the telly again. Drawing the breath to clear his throat so he wouldn't sneak up on the other man, he felt it catch in his throat when he noticed what Hans's attention was focused on.
He remembered then that Hans had said that Harry's band had been in town for an interview on one of those late night talkshows before continuing on their tour. He hadn't given the idea much thought. Then again, he hadn't known that it would be Potter. And once he knew, things had just gotten confusing enough that he hadn't had the brain power to think about anything else.
But there he was, sitting on a tacky couch that some Muggle likely thought was fashionable, in the very same outfit he'd been wearing earlier but with the addition of square, black-rimmed glasses resting on his face. He looked impeccable, and was full of smiles and laughs. There were four other men there with him – presumably his bandmates – and they were all laughing and joking with the host. He must have done the interview only a short time before he had come home with Hans.
Draco swallowed heavily and darted his eyes to Hans. His eyes were trained on the telly and it was likely he had not noticed Draco behind him. Leaning against the doorframe as quietly as he could, Draco crossed his arms over his chest and chose to watch.
Despite being the lead, Harry was more than willing to let the others talk more, piping in only occasionally and answering any questions directed at him. They all took turns giving a brief history of themselves and how they had all been orphans at one point, then moved on to talk about their cause. They wanted to help other children who had been unfortunate enough to lose or never have parents. They all enjoyed music, and when they heard Harry singing quietly to himself at one benefit they had all been attending they practically badgered him into singing for the band they were putting together for a small fundraiser. They had gotten such an overwhelming response that they stuck together and performed at more benefits and fundraisers, and were eventually noticed and offered a recording contract. Now, most of their proceeds went to various charities and movements that had to do with their cause.
They were obviously very good friends, cracking jokes at one another and telling embarrassing stories to amuse the audience. Draco couldn't help but crack a grin every time Harry got teased, whether he rolled his eyes or got mock-indignant over it. Whenever Harry would get a rather wicked glint in his eyes and shoot a sly comment back at them, Draco had to try to contain a few snorts of amusement.
He wondered, idly, if that was what Harry had always been like with his other friends – wicked, funny, sly, full of smiles, and not afraid to trade insults. He thought back to some of the insults that he and Potter had hurled at one another in their younger days, and had to wince slightly. Those were a bit more barbed and nothing at all like the pleasant back-and-forth going on before him.
They talked about many of the more mundane aspects of their lives, such as how Harry usually wore his glasses, but would switch them out with those things called 'contacts' when he feared they might get knocked off his face – such as when he was on stage or going clubbing. Like he had been that night, which was why he hadn't had them. Draco realized that he'd never gotten to ask if he'd gotten his eyes fixed – though it was now quite apparent that he hadn't. He hadn't gotten to ask him a lot of things – but he was observing and not thinking right now, so he ignored that thought. He managed to tune back in just in time to hear Harry being teased about the glasses being a reminder of his father. Draco shook his head and chuckled silently. Ridiculous, sentimental pillock.
The host was asking questions again, and Draco felt his heart seize up in his chest when he asked about their love-lives. Draco knew that it was a typical question asked of celebrities and had often rolled his eyes at the public's fascination with such things. Right now, though… He actually wondered how Potter would react, as he'd always been snappish toward any Wizarding reporter who had asked him such questions.
The others all went on and on about current significant others (or how they were still looking) and how they viewed love. It seemed to take them forever, and Draco was certain Fate was mocking him right now. He didn't give two shits about their relationships or one-night-stands, but they wouldn't shut up. Finally, though, it was Harry's turn, and he let out a small laugh as he blushed. Draco could feel himself leaning forward to see the expression on his face better, more curious than he'd care to admit.
"Oh, um, I'm not seeing anyone at the moment. I haven't been for a few months now. I much prefer relationships, though I'll admit I've hand a couple of one-offs. I just can't seem to keep the relationships, though," he said with a self-deprecating laugh. The host pressed on, though, saying that Harry seemed to think there was a reason he couldn't keep a relationship going. "Well, I guess, eventually they don't measure up."
"Well…" Harry bit his lip and looked nervous, clacking his lip piercings against his teeth in thought. He looked like he was deciding if he wanted to tell or not more than thinking about the answer.
Draco silently urged him to spill.
He shifted and sighed, seeming to give in. "Okay, so, I'm openly bi, so I hope no one's too surprised by this story. Anyway, when I was younger, there was this one bloke I sort of fell for. Nowadays, I can think back and tell you I had fallen for him long before I had even figured out I swung that way, and I was completely oblivious of the fact for several years.
"He was one of those people that I wanted to save from everything – but he was always such a berk!" He laughed. "Honestly. I think I used to get frustrated with him most of the time because I knew how intelligent he was and yet he was constantly acting like an idiot. I swear, if there was a wrong path to walk, he'd at least stumbled down it a few steps – unless it was something that might mar his family's reputation.
"I had a bit of an inflated reputation in the school because of my own family – my parents, that is – but he was one of the few people that treated me like I was any other normal human being. Not like I was something great that needed to be either coddled or revered. Oh, but he made sure I was quite aware of his opinion, too." He grinned. "He'd make fun of me like there was no tomorrow.
"It wasn't that I really liked that so much, but… When I'd get fed up with everyone else mocking me up into this almost super-hero, I'd find him. I'd make it look accidental, of course, since we weren't friends and I thought no one would really understand it. Anyway, he'd mock me, and I'd scream at him, and he'd scream back, and maybe we'd fight or throw things at one another. …And I always felt so much better afterward, because it was okay to yell and scream when it came to him. Everybody else…" He waved a hand to indicate the masses of people. "Well, people always got so upset if I got angry or was even slightly mean, and it was so. Bloody. Frustrating.
"I think I was a bit of an outlet for him, too. He had a tonne of pressure on him – from his parents and his peers and, Hell, the world in general. I was someone that he could openly get mad at and yell at and mock and blame for everything that went wrong. I'm rather certain I saw things in his eyes and face and gestures and body language that he'd never willingly show the rest of the world. I don't think he realized that, but he couldn't really hide it when he was so focused on me.
"I'm both somewhat thankful and somewhat sad I hadn't figured myself out back then. Perhaps I would have understood my fervent wish to shove him up against a wall a bit better," he said cheekily. "Who knows? Maybe snogging him mid-fight would have changed my life! …Or possibly given him reason to kill me, but that's not the point, really." He chuckled again, the audience laughing along with him.
"Beyond that, even, he was hilariously funny. Well, if you didn't take the things he said personally, at least. And, dear Merlin," – Draco could tell he'd said 'Merlin,' but had to suppress a snort since Harry had muffled it by running a hand over his face, likely used to trying to hide his Wizarding habits and oddities – "the snark. If he hadn't been actually insulting me and my friends so much, I probably could have listened to him lay into the whole school and been naught but a puddle of weeping laughter. He was…very creative with his insults.
"I heard him joke about normal things, too, sometimes. I had to try not to laugh, because the rest of the school likely wouldn't have understood that I actually found him funny." He rolled his eyes in exasperation. "And he was usually talking to his friends at those points, and I had only happened to overhear as I walked by.
"He was gorgeous, too. More than hot. Hell was likely jealous – and of the one deemed the 'Ice Prince' of the school, no less." He snickered at his joke. "Tall and lean and muscled just enough to be athletic without being bulky. Graceful as a cat, too, which was incredibly annoying at times since we played the same position in our inter-House sports games. He had this white-blond hair that he used to keep gelled back; it looked so soft though when he finally started letting it hang loose, and I always was struck with the strange urge to touch it. Piercing grey-blue eyes, too, that I was never sure if they looked more like ice or storm clouds or slate.
"We were rivals from start to finish. It sort of started, I think, when he offered to be my friend on the first day of school and I rather rudely turned him down. In my defense, he was being an absolute prick to my best friend Ron, but I think that I probably could have handled the situation slightly better than I did. We matched fairly evenly in most of our classes, though I think he often thought my friend Hermione was his only competition for the head of class." He grinned wickedly. "And there was the school sports teams. Our school was incredibly private, so instead of playing against other schools we had competitions between the four Houses of students. We played this odd sport that they called Quidditch, which I don't feel like detailing past that it had four balls, seven players to a team, and four different positions. As I said, we played the same position, and, well… I hate it that it sounds sort of cocky, but he was really the only opponent I ever found a challenge in. He and I would both dominate the other two Houses." Harry scratched the back of his head shyly. "I eventually beat him every time we played against each other, but it was always just barely." There was a nostalgic smile on his face, as if he were remembering the matches.
"Ah, well, anyway, he ended up studying elsewhere during our last year, so I never really did get to see him again after a certain…conflict. I would have loved to talk to him, seeing as there wasn't any real reason for there to be any hostility between us anymore – save for anything residual from our childhood. I guess it was during that last year at school that I realized how very much I missed his presence. But…well…I can be pretty damn brave about most things, but I could never find the courage to actually send any of the letters I wrote him. Or hunt him down – which likely wouldn't be too hard, given that I know where his family lives.
"Every now and then I'll hear a snippet of something about him from a friend or acquaintance. Like how he traveled after graduation and is now some sort of executive in his mother's business. But…still. I'm kinda afraid that if I showed up on his doorstep one day he'd still slam the door in my face before I could say 'hi.' Or perhaps break my nose first, then close the door with precisely the amount of force necessary to show how little I affected him." He was chewing on his lip and staring at the ground, the self-consciousness almost palpable.
"Actually, probably the only reason I can talk about this right now is because I highly doubt he'll ever find out about it. I don't think he or any of his friends are the type who watch the late night shows – or the telly at all, really. He probably wouldn't even like the band's style of music, and likely doesn't even have a clue I'm a musician now. My close friends from school all already know who he is and how I feel, but I managed to get them to swear not to go marching up to him and tell him. …It was sadly a worry, with some of them." He laughed softly. "And, well, I doubt anyone listening in has enough information to go on to track him down." He smirked slightly, but the effect was lost with the subdued look in his eyes.
One of his bandmates took a moment to lighten the mood, dramatically pouting about how Harry had never told him about this mystery bloke. Harry just laughed and blushed more, promising to show him a picture later, if he could find one.
"Anyway, back to the initial question… Well, whenever I start dating someone…it always comes back to him. I'm not stupid – I realize the image I have of him in my head has probably been idealized or something over the years. Or I guess I am stupid, because I still hold people to that standard. I always end up comparing them. And, sadly, they've all fallen short. Something is always just not right. I'd been right content with some of the people I've dated – would even go so far as to say I loved them – but it wasn't enough, and with some of them I broke it off simply because it was unfair to them. They didn't deserve to be compared against that image and found wanting all the time. I've welcomed the challenge of someone coming along and making me forget, but…" He shrugged and stared at the ground again, scratching his neck softly.
"So, you would say you love this bloke, then?" was the excited question.
"I, um, well, I guess I'd like to think so. Maybe I love the idea of him. I…can't really be sure anymore, to be perfectly honest." He bit his lip like it pained him to admit it. "See, I think of it this way: you can love a lot of different people in your life in various ways, but you only fall in love once. You love your family and friends in a certain way. And you can even have really loved other significant others in another way. But that special person…they only come once. And that's it, forever and ever. Soulmates, or whatnot. Yeah, it's possible to love again if that person somehow falls out of your life, but it will never quite compare." He waved a hand as if exasperated at his inability to express himself. "Anyway, I'm not claiming that he's necessarily that one for me, but…" He shrugged. "Well, I wouldn't mind having found out." He ducked his head shyly and smiled up through his lashes.
"But you won't contact him?"
"No! Haha! I'm not nearly that brave," was the wry response.
"What if you could have him for just one night? What would you do?"
"Hah! Just one? Oh…well, I'd take the chance, no question about that. It'd kill me to walk away after that. Probably the only thing to keep me from going mad would be the knowledge that my godson looks to me a lot since his own parents died; I would pull myself together for his sake, at least. But, no, I couldn't deny him for all the world. Even if all I'd ever have would be one night," he replied earnestly. He smiled at the host, but the sadness that lay just under the surface of it was plain as day.
There was a commercial break then, and the host thanked them for sharing their stories before asking that the viewers stay tuned to catch a performance from the band at the end.
Draco knew he was staring. He also knew that there was a scratchy wetness in his eyes threatening to fall. He was sure he was almost biting through his lip. What he couldn't figure out was whether his heart had stopped or if it was just beating so quickly that he couldn't keep track of it anymore.
Potter. After years of antagonism and absence. The Gryffindor Golden Boy. Just admitting to the whole of the Muggle world that he'd had the hots for one Draco Malfoy, the Ice Prince of Slytherin.
And Draco would never have known it. And none of his old friends would have known it. He'd made quite a few friends and acquaintances with half-bloods and Muggleborns since the War's end, but most of them didn't pay much heed to the Muggle world either.
Except Hans. Who was now sitting on the couch. Draco's eyes flicked to him, and it looked like he couldn't breathe. His face had gone white. His expression was wholly unreadable – some mixture of stricken, relieved, and the sort of look one gets when his theory is proven correct, but isn't pleased about what that means. He took a long blink and a deep breath, turning around to see Draco standing in the doorway.
Anything Hans would have said – possibly accusatory – died on his tongue as soon as he saw Draco's face.
His eyes were wide, unblinking, and twitching frantically, as if his mind was going a mile a minute and he couldn't quite keep up. His face was even paler than usual. His mouth was parted just slightly, and his shallow breathing could just be heard – rapid, but not quite to the point of hyperventilation. He was visibly shaking, the arms that had been casually crossed over his chest now clutching tightly as if he might fall apart if they let go.
Hans sighed and looked down at his hands while thinking, then raised his eyes back up to Draco. The commercials buzzed on in the background remorselessly.
"Draco," Hans said quietly. Draco jumped slightly, his eyes snapping to Hans and focusing intensely. "Draco, how did you really know each other?"
"I…" Draco had to swallow the lump in his throat and force himself to breathe properly. "W-we were schoolmates. …Rivals. I-…there was a point when I thought I hated him. …Then I learned what hate really was, and why he was always so upset with me. I saw how horrible I was – had been. I…didn't accept that right away – I was a child, still. Seventeen, yes, but still a child. I…" Draco's hand gripped his left forearm painfully over the now bite-bruised scar and his breath caught at the twinge it caused. "Y-you know that I was f-forced to be a Death Eater." Hans flinched slightly, and Draco shifted uncomfortably; they'd never been able to discuss it in detail. "I…didn't want to be. I thought he thought I did, but I didn't. I thought…he might have realized after it was too late that I didn't… He saved my life, during the final battles. …He took my wand and used it. Used it to…to…" His voice faded away in a whisper, the thoughts swirling too quickly now for him to focus enough on them. He was staring into space again.
"Draco," Hans said to regain his attention, continuing when the over-bright eyes turned back to him. "You said Harry Evans wasn't his real name." Draco nodded slowly, his eyes shifting to stare somewhere between the couch and the floor. "What is his real name?"
Draco swallowed painfully and took a deep breath, closing his eyes to brace himself as he breathed it out. "Harry Potter."
In the background, the break had ended and the sound of music could be heard. Harry's voice rose above it, singing about endings and beginnings, how it's never too late to change one's life, and how love is the driving force behind the greatest of changes.
Harry sighed softly as he aimlessly strummed his fingers over the strings of the acoustic guitar resting on his lap. He knew that he should be happy. Knew it. Knowing didn't make him any happier, but he supposed it counted for something.
Since the end of the War, he'd been able to completely remake his life. He still kept all of the friends he'd made during his schooldays – and some of the acquaintances too. Magic was still very active in his home life, since there was no way in Hell he would ever give that up completely, but he had found his public niche in the Muggle world. He had somehow ended up as a public figure once again, which he wasn't entirely so hot about, but now it was because he had chosen to be. And it was for a good cause. And it was unlikely to have any powerful, psychopathic madmen intent on killing him attached to it.
He sighed again and shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the few pieces of hair that were falling in his eyes – which of course only made the problem worse. He scowled and raked his hand back through his hair. Teddy giggled at him from the other side of the couch and Harry glared at him playfully. He hid his grin behind his hand, but it didn't quite stifle the giggles. Harry rolled his eyes and made as if to snatch at the little boy, who quickly squirmed out of the way and dashed to the other side of the dressing room, a big smile lighting his features.
And then of course there's Teddy, he thought to himself. Andromeda still took care of the boy for the most part, but Harry made sure he saw him at least once a week and would sometimes take him for a week in its entirety. They had agreed that Harry was a bit too young to be a single father, especially to such a rowdy little boy. And, in her seemingly endless maternal wisdom, Andromeda seemed to know that Harry needed some time to figure himself out before he could ever hope to provide a stable enough home for his godson.
Harry closed his eyes and, for a brief moment, a scene played out behind his lids:
It was morning – too early for any decent person to be awake, but late enough that the sun was pouring in the windows. Harry had been peacefully asleep until he'd been awoken by an armful of cackling little boy. Laughing and shaking off the last vestiges of sleep, Harry growled playfully and grabbed the child around the middle, dragging him over to tickle him in vengeance.
After a bit of squealing and squirming, they managed to come to a truce, motioning over at the other large bundle of blankets with their eyebrows. At once, they attacked the lump and heard a displeased – though muffled – groan issue forth. More tickling and squirming ensued. Harry and Teddy were laughing loudly, and they'd managed to even catch a few barks of laughter through the thick duvet. The covers swept back suddenly, and scowling over at them was Draco in all his glory.
And here, the vision altered slightly from the one that Harry often had. Harry had tried to imagine what Draco would look like a bit older, but now he knew. It was frightening how much more attractive he was than Harry had previously managed to conjure in his imagination.
The effect of the scowl was somewhat lost, what with the grin threatening at the corners of his mouth and his hair sticking up at odd angles. Harry grinned when he saw Draco's hair, knowing that he had caused much of the disarray the previous night. After a few more moments, Draco gave up on scowling and dragged Teddy over to exact his own vengeance-by-tickling.
Harry lay back against the pillows again, a content smile on his face and happiness curling warmly in his chest. He laughed at the howls of laughter the bright-haired little boy let forth, wriggling frantically to get free. He was only given a few moments to admire his happy family, though, before being dragged back into the fray – by way of a pillow to the face.
He shook his head swiftly in an attempt to clear it. There was no reason for him to keep dreaming – to keep deluding himself. He'd gotten his night with Draco, just like that talkshow host had joked (and then gone promptly home to get himself properly pissed). He'd felt that piece of his heart break painfully with the knowledge that it would never be, but now he had to keep going. For Teddy's sake. The child had lost two parents before he'd known them, and had a chance to have a happy life with his godfather. Harry wouldn't let that be taken away from another little boy if he could help it.
It had been five days, and he had survived just fine. He could make it.
He realized he'd been mulling over it with his eyes closed and opened them. It had been quiet, and when it was quiet it meant that Teddy had found some sort of mischief. Harry had to blink a few times in surprise, as the aforementioned four-year-old was now staring at him with big eyes from about four inches away from his face. "What's wrong?"
Harry laughed and pecked a kiss on Teddy's forehead, which he jerked away to wipe at furiously. "Oh, just daydreaming. Don't worry about me, kiddo." He smiled at the glare he was receiving. It had amused him endlessly when Teddy had decided that kisses from his family were embarrassing.
Quickly forgetting his displeasure at his godfather's kiss, Teddy jumped back on what he'd wanted to ask. "Sing to me? Please? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeese, Uncle Harry?" He put on his best puppy-dog face, making Harry chuckle.
"Oh, I don't know…" he teased. The puppy-dog face grew more desperate – the eyes widening and the bottom lip jutting out more. Harry knew he'd never be able to stand up to that face, and worried for the future because of it. "Oh, well, if you insist." He sighed dramatically, making Teddy stick his tongue out at him. "Whatcha wanna hear, then?"
"Ummm…I forget. That pretty one. With the rain and stuff. I like that one. …Even if it talks about kisses. Eurgh." He squinched his face up in thought, blinking up at Harry innocently.
Wonderful, Harry thought morosely. A love song. Just what I really don't feel like singing. …He probably doesn't even really get what it's about though. …Well, besides kisses and rain. Despite his lack of enthusiasm at the choice, he didn't dare to brave The Face again. Plus, it was something that he only played on the acoustic and never on stage, so he couldn't just promise to play it during the show later.
He settled himself comfortably on the couch and removed his glasses so he could let his mind and eyes unfocus. He made sure the old Potter signet ring he'd found in his vaults was shoved securely to the base of his finger, idly reminding himself that he'd meant to get it sized. He began plucking the strings deftly, joining in with the first verse a few chords later. He often sang with a much rougher voice on stage, but that was in counterpoint to the electric instruments and loud drums. He had a guilty pleasure, though, for creating a few softer songs to be sung with acoustic accompaniment.
Behind him, he only vaguely registered the chime on the door to the backstage room. One of his bandmates had found it might be a good idea to install a doorbell that sounded whenever someone tried to turn the knob. Though they always secured the door when they were away to prevent their possessions from being stolen, they sometimes forgot to lock it when they were in there. It had given them the moment's notice necessary to cover up when someone had walked in on them changing a few times. At the moment, though, he didn't really mind anyone walking in on him singing.
Draco Malfoy was nervous.
He didn't show it, naturally, but he was still nervous. He'd managed to get backstage just fine – he had no problem buying the special backstage pass. He had figured it would be hard to get access to Harry himself, but then he'd stumbled across one of his bandmates. The man's jaw had dropped and he'd taken a few moments to blink. Draco wasn't entirely unused to being stared at, but it still made him wonder if anyone taught their children manners anymore these days. He chided himself mentally when he recalled that, as one of Harry's bandmates, it was likely that he hadn't had anyone there to teach him such things.
Draco raised an elegant eyebrow when the man began laughing. His eyes were full of mirth and mischief when he pointed off down a hallway. "Harry's that way," he said. "Through the door with the odd-looking creature on it." He'd given a quick salute and then trotted off in the other direction, laughing again.
It had unnerved Draco at first, but he vaguely remembered Potter promising to show his mates a picture. He idly wondered where Potter had managed to procure a picture of him. …And if it was a good picture.
Well, it was good enough to be recognizable, at least.
He must have paused outside the door with what looked like a cartoonish chimaera pasted on it for a good ten minutes, chewing through his lip. Then he realized he was doing it and scolded himself for the bad habit – his mother would have been furious. Mustering his courage, he opened the door and stepped in, hearing a chime as he did so.
What he encountered inside almost made him step right back out.
There was Potter – Harry, his mind taunted him. Sitting across the couch from him was Draco's cousin's child (and the werew- Lupin's, he recalled), whom he had only seen a handful of times when his mother and Andromeda had decided they were on speaking terms. …And his hair was neon blue and green. Draco felt a frown starting, but kept it carefully in check. He was glad he did when the child – Teddy, he remembered – looked at him quizzically. After a moment, he recalled that his cousin had been a Metamorphmagus and had a fondness for pink and purple locks; the boy must have inherited her gift. Draco smiled gently at him, and the boy smiled back before returning his rapt attention to Harry.
But it wasn't the child that had frightened him (though he figured it might be a bit harder to discuss the other night with him present). It was Harry. Sitting there, looking for all the world like a man in love. And his voice…bright Merlin, his voice. It was even more gorgeous than he'd ever heard it before.
Draco closed the door softly behind himself to make sure he couldn't run away. He'd scraped together his courage thus far, but he wasn't one to tempt the Fates.
The song came to a close, and a sad little smile graced Harry's still distant features. Teddy grinned triumphantly as Harry fumbled for his glasses, and it made Draco curious as to why.
Harry slid the frames back on his nose and blinked a few times to get used to being able to see again. He didn't see any of the others in his peripheral vision and Teddy hadn't moved from his spot (though he looked awfully smug, the brat). Either someone had only peeked his or her head in, or he or she was still standing by the door. From Teddy's flickering gaze, Harry guessed it was the latter. He turned around curiously. His eyes widened and he inhaled sharply when he saw Draco standing there.
He didn't trust himself to stand just yet. "Dr- er, I mean, Malfoy? Um, uh, wh-what are you doing here?" He looked almost lost, or like he was trying to not to hope at all, which caused something to constrict around Draco's heart. Potter had always been rather terrible at concealing his emotions, but Draco was glad for it and let a small smile grace his features.
"Hello, Potter," he responded. But now he was nervous again. He hadn't really gotten around to planning how things would go from this point. Not like anything ever went according to plan around Potter anyway, but it would have been nice to have had a little structure to cling to. And Teddy was there now too, so he couldn't just blurt out what he needed to say and snog the other man senseless. He sighed and was only just barely able to divert the hand heading to rake through his hair to rub the back of his neck instead. He swore inwardly at how much more of a nervous gesture it probably looked like, and at the fact that Potter seemed to bring out his bad habits more often.
Teddy's eyes flicked between them with curiosity. Harry looked puzzled, but managed to slowly raise an eyebrow, which made Draco realize he hadn't answered Harry's question. …Not that he was ready to answer it just yet. At least, not directly.
"Perhaps you noticed, but Hans has a bit of a thing for Muggle culture." Harry shifted awkwardly, his eyes flicking between Draco and the door as if waiting for Hans to step through it. "Including that blasted television." Harry looked more uneasy, but was giving Draco his undivided attention now. "And, of course, your band." He looked like he was starting to get exasperated, sighing quickly and leveling a stare at Draco that said he'd like him to get to the point already. Draco smirked for a second before indulging him. "So, it would stand to reason that he might have, say, been watching a certain interview – even as tired as he was." Draco grinned at him, not leaving much room for Harry to mistake what he was referring to.
True to form, Harry blushed a bit and looked down at the floor. "Oh," he said. "You, uh, saw that then, did you?" He looked incredibly nervous now and was furiously worrying at his lower lip.
It was all Draco could do to keep himself from marching closer and taking over that action. He knew he used to have better impulse control at one point, and he wasn't quite sure when it had deigned to go out the window. Probably when Potter started being so damn irresistible. …Perhaps when I learned there might be a chance. He sauntered forward to stand only a foot and a half away from Harry before he answered. "Yes, I did," he said quietly.
Harry looked on the edge of panic, his teeth clamped down on his lip so hard that Draco wondered if he would draw blood. His eyes flicked rapidly between Draco and Teddy. Draco was a bit surprised at himself when he didn't mind that Harry's attention was split between him and the child. He figured that it was the knowledge of how much Harry cared for the little boy, if his statements during the interview were anything to go by. Finally, Harry forced himself to take a deep breath to bolster himself. "And…you're here."
"Yes. I'm here."
"…Hans?" he asked quietly, his eyes flicking to the door again.
Draco raised a teasing eyebrow. "Did you want him here too?"
Harry shot a glare at him. "No, you jacka-" He quickly snapped his mouth shut and sent a terrified look in the direction of a snickering Teddy. "I didn't actually say it, so no telling Andromeda on me."
Teddy tapped his chin thoughtfully. "…If I get ice cream?"
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, ruffling Teddy's hair. "Yes. Yes, okay, sure," you manipulative little brat. "After the show?"
Teddy nodded and smirked up at him, and Draco was hard pressed to stifle a guffaw. There was a small swell of pride that Teddy apparently had enough Black blood to be a little schemer at…four, was it?
After the near-disaster was averted, Harry sighed and turned back to Draco, gulping. He scowled when he noticed that Draco was trying very hard not to laugh. "Oh, sod off. I just don't feel like getting another lecture on swearing. Merlin, but that woman can make you feel like less than a dust mote when she lectures," he grumbled, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. Draco wondered with a silent chuckle how many times Harry had gotten raked over the coals by his aunt.
"Well, she is a Black by birth. It is only fitting she would make you feel inferior."
Harry shot him another glare, but it didn't hold as much rancor as it once would have. "Whatever. As I was attempting to say, no, I had no wish to see him here. Not that he's such a bad sort or anything, but- just- Draco, why are you here?" He sounded more than a bit desperate, and one hand had come up to yank torturously at his hair. "I-if it's to tell me to sod off and give up then please just- just say it, okay? I…please just don't rub it in." He sounded miserable as he trailed off.
Draco wanted to smack himself – or possibly Harry, but with his luck he'd take it the wrong way. It seemed that the darling little self-conscious Gryffindor needed to be reassured. Then again, he had called him Draco instead of Malfoy this time, so that could possibly be a good sign. "That's not why I'm here, Harry."
Draco sighed softly. "Hans and I were friends before we ever became l-" he chanced a glance at the intently curious little boy and figured he might want to reevaluate his wording, "more than friends. We both knew that what we felt wasn't forever, wasn't real love. We were content where we were for the moment being, but were both aware it wasn't the end-all-be-all."
"…You broke up?"
"Yes." Trust Potter to sum that up in a few simple words.
"I…um, I'm sor- er, no, I mean, I'm not exactly, but I apologize." He shifted a bit, looking a bit uncomfortable.
"Don't be. He was the one who broke it off. Apparently he realized something a long time ago that it took an interesting evening, a television interview, and him beating me over the head with the information to make me understand. He knew as soon as I told him what your real last name was."
Harry looked at him skeptically. "My last name."
"Worry not, Potter, he's not the type to go to the press with it." He noticed Harry relax just slightly. "He has a great deal more discretion than that. He is notsuch a bad sort, as you said." Draco smiled. "And we're still friends and care about each other as such, much like before we were together." He saw Harry squirming slightly and chewing his lip, as if he wanted to say something but didn't want to interrupt. "What?"
Harry flicked his eyes to Draco sheepishly. "But…okay, so, you and Hans are…just friends now. …And you're here. …Why? What…what was it that he realized that you didn't?"
Draco smirked. "Ah, ah, ah, Potter. I think I've answered enough questions for just this moment. Now it's your turn. I want to know what you meant when you said it 'explained a few things' when you saw me."
Unexpectedly, Harry blushed and started fidgeting. "First off," he grumbled, "you haven't really answered any questions. I've dragged a few convoluted statements out of you that I had to piece together to figure out anything." Draco grinned at him, and he rolled his eyes. "I'm still confused as Hell. But…okay, fine. Just…promise you won't laugh?" Draco inclined his head, so Harry continued. "Um, well…when Hans was talking to me at the club, he described you. I didn't manage to catch your name, but he told me so many other things about you. Snarky, gorgeous, blond, intelligent, cutting wit. It just...well, it sounded so much like you. I mean, the actual you. I… Well, most of the people I've been, uh, more than friends with I dated for their own personalities. But…well, whenever it was one of those 'just once' times? It was…me indulging myself. Not that way! Just…they all…well, they all either looked…like you. Or talked like you. Or carried themselves like you did. I…am sure I sound incredibly creepy right now, which is why I didn't want to explain, just-"
"So you came with Hans that night simply for the chance to…be with someone like me?" Harry shook his head just slightly, refusing to meet Draco's eyes. "To…fantasize that it was me?" Harry nodded minutely, his face somehow managing to become redder. "And it turned out to actually be me." A choked off 'yes' was his response. "…And was it what you expected?"
Somehow, Harry managed to reply evenly. "No." Draco felt his own nervousness niggling at him again. He had wondered if Harry had wanted him, but then discovered that it wasn't really what he wanted. "It was so much better." Draco's breath caught. Harry bit his lip hard and winced, still looking at the floor, expecting to get made fun of.
Draco sensed he needed to tread carefully no so as to not allow any room for Harry to believe whatever ridiculous self-doubt he was harboring. "It…was, wasn't it?" That made Harry glance up at him, and Draco smiled softly. "And…you think I'll find you creepy for fantasizing about me? Why would I; I could hardly blame you for doing so," he said in a haughty manner. He grinned as he observed Harry fight hard against the eyeroll that threatened. "But, to answer your question… Apparently, I talked about you quite often. Whenever I would tell Hans stories about my past and childhood, the memories always had you. You might be a part of the story, or perhaps I'd reference you somewhere, or mention what you would have thought about it or done instead. Whenever I talked about something that irked me…or made me happy…somehow I'd have a story about you connected to it.
"Even…" It was Draco's turn to shift uncomfortably. It had taken Hans awhile to get Draco to accept this part, even though he'd known it to be truth. "Hans is a very upright sort of man. He can be cunning when he wants or needs to be, but usually prefers straightforwardness. His curls? He spends forever making them manageable, and I always preferred them mussed. And…I was often chiding myself when I'd start thinking that his eyes weren't the shade they should be. I knew that I'd seen eyes…both bright and dark, always vivid, flashing one moment and deepening to the point you think you're drowning the next. I…tried not to think about it, but it was always there.
"I always wondered where you'd gone to. Sometimes I'd get embarrassed because Hans would see me staring off into space and ask what I was thinking about and...well, it was you. Where you'd gone. What you were doing. While I'd scoff at them out loud, I would always read every detail of any article that mentioned you. Your friends would always say you were fine when they were asked, and they always sucked at lying, so I knew you were, but…" Draco unconsciously gave back in to the urge to bite his lip.
"I…have always been incredibly bad at analyzing myself. I suppose I'm too scared of what my own mind holds. Or that I might figure out that something about me is unsatisfactory. But…Hans knew. He knew that the day Harry Potter ever walked back into my life would be the day he would step down." He let out a small, weak laugh. "Hell, if he wasn't so honest and unselfish, I would have spent so much longer trying to convince myself that I was still content with him. He was the one who finally made me realize what it was that I wanted, though."
Harry's voice was extremely quiet when he spoke. "…Which is?"
"I think even you can figure that one out, Potter," Draco teased back just as quietly.
And then Harry was off the couch, standing in front of him. They stood there, barely a foot apart, simply staring for a moment. Both sets of eyes quickly darted over to glance at Teddy, who had gotten bored with all the talking and had started playing with some toys several feet away. When Draco's grey eyes slowly came back to rest on Harry, they were met with a fierce, burning green. It was the kind of look he had been wanting to be the object of. From the eyes he'd craved so much. From the person he'd craved so much.
"This is mad, you know." It was Harry who spoke, almost conversationally but with a hint of a tremble. "We don't really know each other – not really. We could be wrong. You could be giving up everything you had for nothing. It might not work. I want it – so, so much. But-"
"Okay." And then Harry's lips were on his, and it was bliss. There was no shyness, only exultation. And a few snickers as they figured out where to place their hands and arms now that they weren't attempting to balance themselves or grope each other. When they finally did break away, it was with a breathless chuckle. They stood there for a moment in each other's embrace, simply smiling at one another.
"It's still mad, you know," Harry stated again, though happier this time.
"Harry, when has anything either of us has ever done been sane?"
"Very true. Wouldn't want to break with tradition and all."
"And you know how much I so love tradition."
Harry snorted. Then he kissed him again. And Draco couldn't have come up with a better birthday present for himself if he'd tried.
When Harry went on stage that night, he couldn't keep the smile off his face. It only grew wider when he'd look to his right and see Draco standing there with Teddy, talking quietly – or as quietly as was possible backstage at a rock concert – and smiling at him when he'd catch their eyes. They had gotten along marvelously after Draco had mentioned that Andromeda was his aunt. And, of course, after Teddy had sung the obligatory children's song about 'Harry and Draco sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.'
When he turned away and toward the crowd, it wasn't his fans that he was seeing. Instead, in his mind's eye, he was playing out a scene depicting a bright and early morning pillowfight. He didn't push it away now, instead letting it fuel him. The knowledge that it seemed more and more possible grew every time he glanced to his right, and he let it buoy him through the performance.
Some would say it was the best he'd ever given.