Title: The Art and Practice of Absolute Pitchi
Chapter One: Coming Home
Pairing: DM/HP and others
Warnings: This fic is slash. There is intermittent use of profanity and also sexual encounters. I warn prior to each sexually explicit scene, but there are some places where there is mention of it. Please abide by the rating, and if you make the decision to read on, do so responsibly. The rating will likely rise.
Summary: Sequel to 'Life As Experienced Through Your Fingers'. Seven years after graduation and a now twenty-four year old Draco is struggling to maintain his life. With a job he hates, that keeps him away from home for months at a time, he tries to keep together his friendships. Everyone is back (well, everyone that counts)! Join the crew as they find their way in the 'real world', and also, struggle to find and maintain love and happiness.
He stepped through the circular doors and onto the familiar grey marble tiles. With a sigh, he dropped his bag beside him and simply took in the large and wonderfully familiar entranceway. After a month of frantic practices and stressful performances, scant hours spent in a cramped hotel room, just being back in the large building was wonderful.
"Mr. Malfoy," a tall, frail looking man greeted, coming out from behind his large desk and hurrying over to Draco. "It's wonderful to have you back, sir. How was your trip?"
"It was quite fine, Dobby, but it's wonderful to be back."
The man nodded sagely at him and Draco picked up his bag, ready to make his way over to the elevators. "Would you like me to bring up your things?" Dobby offered. Draco always found it funny that the man fussed like that. This man was the owner of the building and acted as a sort of concierge, but he never fussed over the other people in the building the way he fussed over Draco. Draco thought he knew the reason for the special attention and the reason always brought a smile to his face.
"No, thank-you, Dobby. I'm eager to get back. I'll just head up."
"No problem, sir. Have a lovely evening." Draco nodded to Dobby and headed towards the elevators.
When Draco had found the place, he had been drawn to the bold elegance of it. The lofts were large and the people were polite and friendly and knew better than to intrude on his privacy. Draco was very fond of his privacy.
He walked down the hallway and dropped his bag down beside him as he reached into his jacket pocket and fumbled for his keys. It was a relief to be home, finally, and Draco felt a knot of impatience that had been torturing him since he had left, begin to ease and yet intensify at the same time as he continued to search for his keys. So near and yet so far, he thought.
As he checked his pants pocket, Draco was almost certain that he could hear music from the other side of the door. He paused and pressed his ear to the thick wood. Though faint, Draco, who had always had a sharp ear, could make out what sounded like 'Genie in a Bottle', coming from inside his loft.
With a smirk, Draco fished out his keys and opened the door, shoving his bag inside and then quietly crept towards the kitchen, following the music. As he peered around the partition, Draco's grin was certainly uncontrollable at the sight that greeted him.
Harry Potter, clothed in faded jeans and a tight white T-shirt, stood on the island in the middle of the kitchen. Arms reaching above his head, tugging his T-shirt up to reveal a tantalizing strip of flesh, and bare feet anchored on the granite counter top.
He was dancing.
Harry was, by nature, quite shy. It was something Draco couldn't help but find endearing, but right now, this Harry didn't at all seem like the shy blushing young man that Draco had become accustomed to.
Swinging his hips slowly with the music, Harry sank down, running his hands through his hair and then down passed his neck, skimming over his chest before letting them drop to the counter top as he crouched, still moving his hips and tossing his head with the music.
He was mouthing the words and, as he slowly rose again, swinging his hips and letting his hands wander alluringly over his body, Draco felt his earlier impatience morph into a familiar demon – lust, and, in a strange and yet familiar blend, love. He had been away for so long that coming home to this enticing scene, regardless of whether or not Harry thought he was alone, made Draco's return seem sweeter.
Draco watched Harry dance, leaning casually against the wall to the kitchen and when the song began to come to a close he reluctantly pushed away from the wall and returned to the front door which he opened, and then shut again, loudly.
He paused a moment and smiled as he heard Harry land on the tile floor in the kitchen, and a moment later, the radio was switched off.
"Draco?" Harry called, poking his head around the partition. Draco smiled and Harry rushed forward, pulling his lover into a tight hug. "I missed you," Harry murmured, tucking his head under Draco's chin and inhaling the familiar scent.
Draco let his eyes fall closed, savoring the feeling of being back where he belonged. He'd missed Harry horribly and couldn't deny how wonderful it felt to be back. "What were you up to before I came in?" he asked after a moment, unable to get the sight of Harry dancing erotically on the counter top in their kitchen out of his head.
"I was cooking dinner," Harry answered, smiling and taking a step back, though not relinquishing his hold on Draco, just as Draco refused to remove his hands from Harry's waist. "I wasn't expecting you back today."
"Hm. I couldn't stay away another night," Draco answered, and kissed Harry's temple. "And if that's what you cooking dinner looks like I'm going to have to insist that you do it more often."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, though Draco saw the beginnings of what promised to be a beautiful blush creeping up his lover's cheeks.
Draco pulled Harry closer and whispered in his ear, "I saw you."
"You –" Harry paused, stepping back and looking oddly stricken. "You were watching me?"
"Mm. I think we've discovered another of your ample talents," Draco said. "Now, would you mind if I asked you to put off dinner and allow me to," Draco paused, grinning mischievously. "Rub you the right way?" he questioned, quoting a line from the song Harry had just been dancing to.
Harry flushed quite darkly and smacked Draco's hand away. "Prat," he chided, and Draco grinned.
"Aren't you going to allow me to reacquaint myself with my favorite genie?" Draco continued to tease.
"Don't be an utter arse. And I'm your only genie, thank-you very much," Harry said, turning away and lifting his nose in the air, pretending to be in a huff. "And what kind of a 'hello' is that? You come back after over a month and all you can do is tease me?"
"I can do a lot more than tease you, Harry. Especially after the performance I just witnessed and –" Draco grabbed Harry's arm when Harry moved to step away. "It was bloody good to come home to that." Draco took advantage of Harry's exposed throat and his lover moaned.
"You have to promise –" Harry said, though his voice was breathless. "Never to tease me like that – mm," he continued. Draco hmmed his agreement and slipped a hand under Harry's T-shirt.
Already, he was pushing his lover in the direction of the couch, having decided that the bedroom was a bit too far. "But you haven't told me – mm," Harry tried to speak as Draco continued his ministrations. They toppled onto the couch, Draco draped over Harry, his hands underneath the white shirt and his lips still exploring his lover's throat. "How the concert - God, do that again – went. And I want – uh, that feels – but don't you –Yes!" Harry voiced as Draco proceeded to reacquaint himself with Harry's body.
"Later," Draco mumbled as he sat back from Harry in order to pull off the T-shirt.
Harry, for once, did not argue.
Harry opened his eyes sometime later and smiled as grey eyes and the sensation of fingers in his hair immediately confronted him. "It's good to have you back," he mumbled as he stretched.
Suddenly becoming aware of the comparative roughness of the surface he was on, Harry raised his head and looked around. "Oh," he said, as he realized they were sprawled on their leather sofa and not the bed, which was the usual place they ended up like this. "We didn't even make it to the bedroom?" Draco smiled at him and shook his head. "Apparently it was very good to be home, then," Harry offered and was rewarded by Draco's buoyant laugh.
They lay there for a while, Harry's head resting against Draco's chest as Draco had one arm resting around Harry's shoulders and the other still stroking Harry's hair. It didn't matter that they were sprawled in their living room, both naked, with a trail of clothes leading from the front door to their current location. They hadn't seen each other in a month and it felt so perfect to be back, and together, and it wasn't as if someone would walk in.
"I thought you said you were making dinner?" Draco asked after a while when he realized that if Harry's statement had been true, something should be burning, yet he couldn't smell smoke.
"I think I know our habits well enough to have the foresight to turn the oven off as soon as you got home," Harry mumbled, craning his head so he could quirk an eyebrow at the blond.
"This is becoming a bit of a tradition, isn't it?" Draco said with wry amusement.
"Hm," Harry agreed, closing his eyes and resettling himself. Draco shrugged, only to realize that Harry's form was restricting the movement of his shoulder and he settled for raising a hand and running it through the soft ebony hair that he had been missing. "Will you tell me about the trip, now?" Harry asked in a sleepy voice.
"It wasn't anything interesting. The symphony's replaced a few players and we sound less than wonderful." Harry snorted at this, since he knew that Draco's tastes were really quite high. Though it might be true that the orchestra sounded a bit rough due to the fact that several of their players had quit or left for various reasons, Harry doubted that they sounded as horrible as Draco was making them out to sound.
"I wish you'd taken that first violin position they offered you. I mean, I know why you didn't, but at least we could have had someone competent there," Draco whinged.
Harry chuckled at this familiar rant. Draco had gone through university majoring in music and immediately following his graduation; he had been offered a position in a major orchestra as a viola. It hadn't been his first choice, since Draco favored the piano, but there had been no other job offerings on the horizon, and since Draco liked to play things safe, he had taken the spot. While it was true that whenever a piano was needed, Draco was always called up, pianos were not needed all that often, and sometimes the conductor refused to let Draco play piano because he was desperate for talented violas.
Unlike Draco, Harry had gone through university via correspondence, since, upon his graduation from high school, he had been offered a deal with a record company. Harry was a solo violinist and gave concerts throughout the year. It had been difficult when Draco had been at uni, because Harry had to do concerts and sometimes, after he had become established, he had to fly to different places.
He was surprised that he was quite popular. When Harry had accepted the job, he'd been excited because it gave him a chance to simply play. Most of the time, he played his electric violin, Little Mischief, but other times, when it was a more formal concert, he'd play Komm Susser Tod.
Since Draco had graduated, two years ago, and he and Harry had moved in together, it had been difficult to arrange time when they could be together. If it wasn't Draco being called away for a month, it was Harry. But still, most of the times Harry was able to wrangle his agent into setting concert times that mirrored Draco's schedule, so that when they were home, they were together.
It was a relief to Harry that Draco didn't resent the fact that he had made such a seemingly easy step from high school into a full career. When Draco's orchestra had begged Harry to take a position as lead violin, it had been Draco that had been angry with him for even considering it.
"The concerts went fine," Draco continued, as Harry came out of his thoughts. "I think we had a few standing ovations but it might have been because they had been serving quite a nice champagne in the foyer, so I didn't put much stock in them. What have you been up to?"
"Hm..." Harry purred, as Draco was still stroking his hair. "I was down at the studio for the recording. We finally finished it, even though, at one point, I was about ready to throw myself out of the building. No one could make up their mind about the sound."
"You didn't destroy your bow again, did you?" Draco asked with a smirk.
"No. And that was an accident. You know I'd never willingly destroy an instrument, and that includes a bow," Harry defended.
Harry might have had quite a temper, but usually it took a very long time for it to snap. Recordings, Draco knew, were very stressful on his lover, and, on the event in question, the recording had been quite stressful indeed. There had been an endless list of things going wrong, piled with the huge egos of Harry's agent, Finbar Matheson, and the people from the recording studio.
In the end, everyone had been shouting over each other to be heard, and Harry had been caught in the middle of it and his temper had finally bubbled over and then snapped. The only problem was that, in his anger, Harry had forgotten he was still holding his bow and one emphatic gesture and a sharp impact with a music stand had led to the delicate thing being snapped in twain. Draco, and their friends, had never let Harry live it down. It was still oddly endearing that Harry felt so guilty about it. It was quite a sensitive topic for him.
"Hermione's working on a new composition, and she insists that we test it out," Harry said.
"Apparently, I haven't really had a chance to talk to her too much about it. I told her we'd call her when you'd gotten back so we could figure out a time when we're both free."
"And willing to spend that free time doing anything other than shagging wondrously?" Draco asked with a quirked eyebrow.
"Well, yes," Harry said, blushing slightly. "That was implied."
Draco grinned and kissed Harry's nose. "Perfect. Then I think now is a good time for dinner." Harry nodded and slid off of Draco and the couch, reaching for his boxers and pulling them on quickly. He snatched up his shirt when Draco snatched it back again. "Really, Harry," he chided. "What's the point?" Harry rolled his eyes, but let the shirt go, walking instead into the kitchen and clicked the oven on to heat the dinner he had prepared.
A moment later, Draco walked in wearing his boxers and a devilish grin. Harry was just taking the food out of the oven and, as he reached in to pull out the lemon chicken he'd made, Draco smacked his arse and Harry yelped. "Bastard!" he growled.
"But you love me," Draco said, blinking innocently. "Honestly, can you blame me? Waving that thing around – it's a wonder I haven't pinned you against the counter for a go."
"You have a one track mind," Harry chided, placing the lemon chicken onto the serving dish and setting it on the table.
"I have an excuse. I've been gone a month and thus have been without sex. And now here I am. Alone. With you," Draco purred, pulling Harry close to him and kissing his neck.
"Dinner's ready, and I refuse to foster anymore of your bad habits," Harry retorted, setting out the rice and a bottle of wine since he considered Draco's return a special occasion.
"Are you calling sex a bad habit?"
"Food. Eat. No talky the sex talk," Harry said, and Draco grinned and rolled his eyes. It was one of Blaise's sayings and everyone had taken to using it, often in response to Blaise's monologues about that very subject.
Draco smiled as Harry lit a candle and then settled into his seat. The dinner looked really wonderful, he'd already discovered that Harry was quite talented in the kitchen. His head was spinning; it felt so perfect to be back, at home, with his lover. He had never quite gotten used to being away from Harry for any length of time.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked. "Is it too sweet or something?"
The concerned look on his lover's face made him smile and shake his head. "It's perfect," Draco answered. Because it was.
Draco's eyes snapped open and it took him a moment to realize what had woken him. The shrill piercing shriek of the telephone's ring had him snarling and reluctantly relinquishing his grasp of his lover as he turned over to the night stand and snatched the phone up. "What?" he snarled.
"Draco?" a timid but familiar voice on the other line questioned.
"Hermione?" he asked, a bit dazed. He glanced at the clock. The hour was not as obscene as he had thought when he had first woken, only seven o'clock, but still, he'd just gotten home, and had been up for most of the night. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing?" she replied, rather unconvincingly. "Welcome back. I thought you were coming tomorrow?" she said, though she sounded distracted.
"Change of plans," he dismissed. "Now, what is wrong?"
"Uhm – Can I speak to Harry?"
"Hermione, it's seven in the bloody morning."
"I know. I'm so sorry," she responded, sounding quite sorrowful. "And you just got back. I'm really sorry, Draco, it's just that – well, I need to speak to him," she said in a rush.
"Well, you know how he is. I'll get him up, but you'd better call back in fifteen minutes or so," he said, looking at his lover's sleeping form with exasperation. Harry was definitely not a morning person at all.
"Thank-you so much, Draco," she said, and hung up.
Draco replaced the phone into its cradle and turned to cuddle Harry back into his arms again. "Harry?" he called softly, running a hand through the ruffled black hair. He spared a moment to feel guilty for keeping the young man up so late and then brushed it off, after all, he'd heard no complaints. Then again, Harry probably didn't know that he wasn't going to be allowed to sleep in. "Harry, you've got to get up," he tried. He was rewarded with a groan. "Hermione called, Harry. She said it was important." Harry shifted and stuffed his head under a pillow. "Harry, she sounded upset."
"Mm – Draco, it's seven in the bloody morning," Harry responded, sounding groggy.
"I know, but Hermione wanted to talk to you and she sounded really upset," Draco repeated. "Come on, get your lovely arse out of bed, and I'll fix some coffee. She's calling back in fifteen minutes." Another groan, but when Harry shifted this time, at least it was in the direction of the edge of the bed.
Draco encouraged and poked and prodded and pestered Harry until he stumbled into the kitchen and into a chair. Then Draco set to work on brewing some coffee for the both of them.
They sat in silence, sipping their coffee when the phone rang again. With a smirk, Draco brought it over to Harry, who glared at it a moment before answering.
"Hermione? What's wrong?" Simple, and direct. Draco smiled as Harry suddenly seemed quite awake and concerned. He thought of how everyone in their circle of friends often came to Harry when they were upset or having trouble because the dark haired boy was always so understanding and helpful, and would always set everything aside to be there for his friends when they were in need.
"What's up?" Draco asked, when, after a brief conversation, Harry hung up the phone and quickly downed the rest of his coffee.
"Hermione's really upset and she wants me to come over. Do you mind?" he asked.
"No, she sounded awful. But if you're not back by lunch, then I'm coming over and stealing you away."
"I have no problem with that," Harry said with a grin. He stood up, placed his mug in the dishwasher, gave Draco a quick kiss on the temple and rushed into the bedroom.
"I may consider taking our phone off the hook at night, though," Draco mumbled darkly into his mug.
"I heard that!" Harry called from within the bedroom; he'd left the door open. "And don't you dare. What if an emergency happened? No one would be able to contact us!"
Draco heard the sound of running water and smirked to himself. He loved how, whenever he got back from being away for any length of time, things always fell back into place. There were no awkward moments or uneasy silences, things just went on.
"Anyway, you said yourself that Hermione sounded upset, and she is. Very much so," Harry said as he emerged from the bedroom, washed, dressed in dark jeans and a T-shirt. "I'll be back soon, and we'll do something."
"A picnic," Draco said. "I want to go up to that really nice park Seamus was telling us about."
"That wasn't a park, Draco, Seamus was talking about one of his fantasies," Harry said with a grin.
"Oh," Draco said, blinking. "Right. Well, I usually just tune him out. He has a one track mind." Harry laughed and brought his shoes over to the sofa and sat down to tie them up. "Well, we should do something special."
"Are you implying that last night wasn't special?" Harry teased. "Anyway, you know tradition. Tonight we have our customary trip to the club to get smashed and reacquainted," Harry said.
Draco sat back in his chair. He liked the welcoming home tradition that their group had set up with each other. It hadn't ever been openly acknowledged as a tradition, and no one had planned it to become one, but still, whenever a member of their group of friends returned, they were always granted one night to acclimatize to being home, and then they were dragged out to a pub or nightclub to party with those who had not left the city. "And Sirius is coming down tomorrow. Did I tell you?" Harry asked.
"I don't think I gave you the chance," Draco said with a satisfied grin.
"Prat," Harry chided as he sprang up from the couch, grabbed his coat from the closet and returned to where Draco was seated. "Welcome home," he said, and kissed Draco soundly before wrapping his muffler around his neck, adjusting his coat and whizzing out the door.
At eleven o'clock, Draco was impatient and fled the loft.
He knew he'd told Harry twelve, but still, he hadn't actually thought that Harry would be gone this long. So Draco hopped in his car and drove out to Ron's place.
It was a small, two-story home with a nice garden and an ornate door. Draco barely noted any of the changes that had been made as he rushed up the small walk and knocked on the door.
A moment later, the door was thrown open by Ron himself. "Oh, Draco. Welcome back," he greeted, though he seemed a bit distracted.
"Hello, Ron. Sorry to bother you but, I seemed to have misplaced my lover," he said wryly, quirking an eyebrow.
"Funny," Ron retorted. "I seemed to have lost a wife." They shared a concerned look before Ron stepped aside. "You'd better come in," Ron said.
"Did something happen yesterday?" Draco asked as he settled into one of the plush couches and Ron poured some tea for them.
"I'm not sure," Ron said. "Well – I don't –"
"You had a fight?" Draco asked ruefully.
Ron handed him the tea and then settled down on the opposite sofa. "I expect I'll be hearing from Harry, next," Ron stated, wryly.
"Probably," Draco answered with a grin.
"How was the concert?" Ron asked.
"Same old crap. Different setting," Draco said, waving his hand dismissively. He frowned suspiciously when Ron leaned forward with a conspiratorial expression.
"Have you given any thought to what you were mentioning earlier? You know, the thing," Ron asked. Draco looked away from the curious redhead and pretended not to have heard. "Oh, come on!" Ron shouted.
"We'll see," Draco answered, cryptically. Ron was opening his mouth to press onward but the front door opened and Harry called out.
"In here, Har!" Ron replied. Draco quirked an eyebrow as his lover stepped into the living room.
"Draco," Harry said, a smile splitting his face. He checked his watch. "You're early," he scolded.
"Couldn't be helped. I found myself pining away in your absence," Draco teased, flopping back onto the couch and pretending to be pining.
"Enough of that," Ron said with a grin. "Where's my wife?"
"She's fine," Harry replied, sitting down on Draco's legs as the blond squawked. "She just needed some time to herself."
"I don't see what the fuss is about," Ron muttered.
"Even if you don't, you need to ease up. She's under a lot of pressure with the play and also her own personal compositions, she doesn't need to be thinking about all this added stuff now. You're married, which means you've got plenty of time," Harry said.
"Fine," Ron muttered.
"Hermione's doing a play?" Draco asked as he wiggled his legs free from beneath Harry and sat up, immediately pulling the dark haired boy into his arms and settling him against his chest.
"Yeah, she's doing the music for Blaise's play – I forget what the hell he called it," Ron said.
"The Carnival," Harry replied.
"Right, I remember now," Ron said.
"Who is he going out with now, anyway?" Draco queried.
"Now? I dunno, I think it's Susette," Harry answered.
"No, Susette was two weeks ago. Now it's Alexandra," Ron corrected.
"Oh, right," Harry said.
"Well, it'll be serious when he brings her to meet us. Until then, I hardly see the point in keeping track of the names," Draco responded.
"I still don't understand what was wrong with Pansy," Harry said, shifting his head from where it rested on Draco's chest.
"Yes, but we all know you're a hopeless romantic, Har, and would prefer to believe in high school romances," Ron retorted.
"Excuse me, mine seemed to work," Harry replied. "And, if I may be so bold, you're married to yours!"
"Oh," Ron said. "Right."
"Is Pansy in town for tonight, anyway?" Draco asked.
"Yeah. She'll be there," Harry answered, leaning up and giving his lover a peck on the cheek.
"You know, it's funny, but I was under the impression that this was my house," Ron said. "But you two seem more at home here than I ever have," Ron teased.
"It has good chi," Harry retorted, settling down on the couch, where he was sprawled on Draco.
"Stop with the 'chi' thing. You know you don't believe in Feng Shui," Ron said.
"I do!" Harry replied, sounding indignant. "A lot of what it says makes sense."
"Except about messes. You're still quite fond of making messes," Draco responded.
"I think artistic messes are very good Feng Shui," Harry mumbled. "Prat," he scolded.
"Are you coming tonight, Ron?" Draco asked.
"Could I miss it?" Ron retorted. "I mean, really, would it be possible? I have some vague recollection of Dean's welcome home party when I was in a business meeting, and Blaise kidnapped me."
"Right," Draco said, laughing at the memory. "Well, you can't ever break with tradition," Draco retorted.
"You should probably head out," Ron said, his voice suddenly dropping to a whisper. "I think our little Prodigy is about to pass out." Draco looked down and, sure enough, Harry's eyes were drooping.
"Shuddup," Harry retorted blearily.
"Late night?" Ron teased.
"Quite late," Draco grinned. He ran a hand down Harry's chest and settled it on his lover's hip where he stroked the patch of exposed skin between the T-shirt and the jeans with his thumb.
Ron turned red and shook his head. "I surrender."
"Damn right," Draco said. "Come on, Harry. I'm not carrying you to the car."
"Shit, I took my car here," Harry mumbled.
"Well, you're half asleep and I forbid you to drive. We'll come pick it back up later on," Draco responded.
"Kay," Harry said before he yawned. "Bye Ron. And ease up on Herm," he added as he made his way out the door.
When they got to the car and Harry had settled himself into a position that looked quite awkward to Draco, but which the dark haired man didn't seem to mind, Draco started the engine and backed out of the driveway. "I take it the damage control wasn't that bad?"
"It was nothing serious," Harry said as he yawned again. "Ron was just being a thick-headed prat."
"So, nothing unusual," Draco said with a smirk. He was answered by a light snore.
Regardless of any threat Draco had made while at Ron's house, he found himself entering their building with his arms full of Harry, who had stubbornly refused to wake up when Draco had called him. Though, admittedly, Draco had not tried too hard, as Harry had looked quite peaceful.
"Mr. Malfoy," Dobby greeted, rushing forward. Draco was amused by the man's behavior as he had kept his voice quiet, and was looking at the dark haired man asleep in Draco's arms as Draco tried to maneuver them towards the elevator. "Ah, asleep, I see," Dobby said.
"Hello, Dobby. Would you mind pressing the button for me?" Draco asked as he tried to juggle the keys in his hand without disturbing his lover.
"Of course, if there is anything I can help you with, please let me know," the man offered. "He's had a busy time of it," Dobby said with a fond smile.
Draco stopped by the elevator and glanced down at the lax features of the sleeper, now that he really looked, Harry did have signs of stress, the familiar dark smudges, faint as they were, were still present. "Has anything been wrong?" Draco asked.
"I think, work," Dobby answered. Draco knew that Dobby had a soft spot for Harry. Dobby had known of Harry before Draco and he had moved to the building, because Dobby was a fan. It was always a comfort for Draco to know that when he went away, Dobby would be keeping an eye on Harry and making sure everything was all right.
The elevator chimed happily, announcing its presence, and the doors slid open. "Well, there you go," Dobby said. "Take care."
"Thank-you," Draco said as he stepped into the elevator and managed, with only minor difficulty, to press the button for their floor.
Well, here it is. The sequel to Life, As Experienced Through Your Fingers. It's been released, and on the anniversary of the release of 'Life' as well! There will be several different pairings, some of the het, some of them slash, but the main focus is, of course, Draco/Harry. It isn't really necessary to have read the original Life, but it helps set-up background, and I'd recommend it. I don't intend to re-narrate everything I wrote there, so there may be times that someone who didn't read 'Life' may feel lost. I know this chapter wasn't stellar, but I had to set everything up. I promise it will get better. (erm. I hope.)
ALSO, anyone who endured 'Life' knows quite well that I respond really well to reviews. Please, taking the time to let me know that you liked a chapter or a certain scene, or even suggesting (helpfully) something that can be chang