JK Rowling owns the boys, I just take them out and play with them every so often.
Wearily, Draco shrugged off his overcoat; a long black woolen one to protect him from the fierce winter wind, the green and silver cashmere scarf slithering off the collar. He was bitterly tired. Bone-achingly tired, exhausted in both body and mind. The stress of being an up and rising young entrepreneur was taking its toll on him. Business was booming, clients were streaming in, referrals were being made, money was coming in hand over fist, but all it had brought Draco was a crushing tiredness and, if he would be truthful with himself, a sort of emptiness. An emptiness that couldn't be filled with any item bought from a store, but only something time could cure. Time. The one item in any man's life, Muggle or wizard that couldn't be bought or traded. The one article more valuable than any possession, fought over by kings and commoners. And the one thing denying Draco from being with Harry.
"You're home," Harry stated, looking up from the magazine he'd been idly leafing through. It was almost half past ten, supper had dried up in the oven, and the candles he'd lit earlier had burnt down into little pools of shimmering wax.
Draco blinked. Harry's tone was one of tired acceptance, not the usual cheerful greeting that he received upon returning home, nor was there the gentle kiss that always accompanied it. Or the kiss that said, Bed! Now! Or the one that whispered of tender lovemaking and gentle touches.
Flopping into the armchair next to the sofa, Draco laid his head back, the weariness making him feel years older than Merlin himself. This wasn't the way he wanted it to be. Silent nights, cold nights, nights of passionless life. And this was what it was becoming day after day, night after night.
Harry watched the tired man collapse into the squishy chair. He could see the dark circles under his lover's eyes, the hollowness of his cheeks, and weariness that seemed to seep from him into their flat, their bedroom, and their very lives. And this is what it had become, a lonely life of evenings spent alone, even when Draco was there.
Crossing to the chair, Harry stood and gazed down at Draco, whose eyes were shut, his lips slightly parted. This was not the man who he'd met in the shop almost a year ago, but some stranger who'd taken his lover's body and life.
Brushing the mussed blond hair from his eyes, Harry watched the blue-grey eyes open slowly and come into focus. Harry's hand ghosted across the sharp cheekbones, his fingers trailing over the pale skin stretched taut in a tired parody of the man he knew so long ago.
"Harry," Draco murmured, the words slurring from between his lips. "Hey…"
"Baby, I missed you today," Harry said, squatting down beside the chair, his hand slipping down Draco's shoulder to entwine in long pale fingers. Pressing a soft kiss to fingers that had brought him pleasure night after night, Harry sighed.
Draco glanced down guiltily, he had been neglecting Harry, and yet, here he was, waiting for him; begging him without words to be a part of his life and not an afterthought. And there was never enough time.
Meeting Harry's gaze, Draco stared into green concerned eyes. Nodding, he reached over and traced the lines of Harry's lips with a long elegant finger. "I missed you, too," he whispered, his fingers brushing gently over his cheek and chin then coming to rest atop Harry's hand entwined with his. The warm feeling transmitted through flesh and bone comforted him, and he smiled, a small tender flash of happiness flitted across Draco's face.
"I'm drawing a bath for you, and you're sleeping in tomorrow. And then we're going to talk," Harry said, rising. He placed a finger to Draco's lips; the warmth from the chapped digit warming him like nothing else had that day. "Shush…no arguments."
Draco watched as Harry went into the bathroom, and the gurgle of water filling their tub was heard. The soft sound of water running made him drowsy, and he laid his head back against the back of the chair. His eyelids drooped perilously, Bath or not, he could fall asleep here, in his clothes, filthy and sticking of hair potions and coloring solutions. The faint sounds of Harry rummaging about in the bath, the hissing sound of cursing parseltongue, the squeaking of the taps, and the skritch of a match met his ears.
He'd have to remind the super to fix the hot water tap. It seemed to stick every time for Harry. Draco chuckled at the low stream of parseltongue coming from the bathroom. The sounds of water trickled off, and Harry emerged, his glasses fogged slightly from the steam.
"Come on, you," Harry ordered, grasping Draco's hands and pulling him out of the chair. Staggering slightly, the blond allowed his lover to tug him into the hot, steamy bathroom.
The fog dissipating slowly from the heat of the fat candle set on the shelf above the toilet.
Nimble fingers tugged at his clothing, and while Draco's fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Harry brushed his hands away saying, "Let me."
Draco nodded. He couldn't concentrate on more than one thing right now, and that was standing up. He watched mutely as Harry undid the buttons of his shirt, his fingers ghosting over his wrist as he undid the cuffs. Smiling, Harry, pushed the shirt off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor in a messy heap. His undershirt was next, and Harry tugged it over his head and dropped it carelessly next to his shirt. Draco shivered, even though the room was warm, he still had a chill from the evening walk home.
A slight frown crossed Harry's face, and he wrapped his arms around Draco and nuzzled the side of his face. It felt good to just have Harry holding him; the warmth of his embrace banishing the shivers that trembled across his skin. Draco sighed, Harry could touch him anywhere, and he would feel warm and loved. Harry shifted, his arms still around Draco, but Harry moved until was spooned up behind him, his lips pressing to the nape of his neck, his nose brushing the tie of his ponytail.
"Trousers, now," Harry said, his words slithering across his ear, his lips kissing the soft patch of skin beside his ear, his fingers working at the clasp and zipper of his black trousers. The dropped to the floor, pooling around his feet, his boxers following as Harry slid them over his slender hips. "Toe off your shoes," Harry ordered, dropping down to help Draco untangle his feet from the clothes, shoes, and socks. Finally, Harry tugged the black ribbon from Draco's hair, letting the pale blond hair free to drift around his shoulders.
"Water's a little hot, be careful, mind you," Harry said, guiding Draco toward the tub and into the water. Foggily, Draco looked at the condensation pooling on the blue tiles of the bath, the small droplets, forming, and then sliding down the tiles to drip back into the tub. The water was not uncomfortably hot, but was warm enough to leech some of the weariness from him. He felt tired muscles in his legs relax, and he drew a knee up and tucked it underneath his chin, wrapping his arms around it.
"Don't lean back just yet," Harry said, pulling his own jeans and tee shirt off as quickly as possible. The tee shirt was tossed across the room to land by the door, and his jeans dropped in a heap near Draco's own clothing. Simple black glasses were set on the sink countertop with hasty care.
Draco watched numbly as the tawny flesh was uncovered. If there was anything left in him, he would have responded, but yet, Harry was handsome, and his heart beat a little faster when his briefs hit the floor beside Draco's boxers. Somewhere in his befuddled brain, one coherent thought surfaced, how did he ever end up with such a thoughtful boyfriend?
Easing himself into the tub, Harry slipped in behind Draco, and rested his back against the tub wall. He slid down enough so that he was covered by water from the waist down. "Alright now, lean back," Harry whispered, on arm automatically circling the blonds trim waist.
The water slopped a little over the side of the tub as Draco scooted back, Harry's arm drawing him closer with practiced ease. He settled unto Harry's chest, and Harry wrapped a leg over Draco's.
Harry reached down, his hand cupped and brought the warm of water up and poured it over Draco's hair. The impossibly blond hair darkened to the color of molten honey with each pass of Harry's hand. It stuck to Draco's shoulders, the rivulets of water trickling downward to return to their origin.
Draco sat up straight for a moment when Harry's hand left his waist, but then slid back against Harry again, when he felt his long hair lifted and draped it over Harry's shoulder so it wasn't caught between the two men. Harry sat back against the tub, his arms resting on the edges, an unspoken invitation to Draco to be embraced. A faint smile quirked his lips and Draco leaned into the smooth, muscular chest of his lover, warm skin pressed against his back, their hearts falling into a steady rhythm in this quiet moment in time. Lately it seemed there had been very few quiet moments.
They sat there, a minute, or five, the water lapping around their waists, the faint drip of the spigot, the only interruption in their contented silence. Then Harry's hand left its lazy perch.
His fingers drifted down Draco's arm, his touch light and sure. Broom-roughened fingers traced the curves of his arm, following the line of muscle to his wrist. Common fingers slid over his pulse, waiting, testing his reaction before teasing over his fingers. Harry's fingers brushed a slow path up, and then down the soft, white digits, softly entwining his hand in his.
A hum of contentment escaped Draco's lips, and he turned his head to gaze at Harry. Endless green eyes, heavy lidded with desire stared back at him. Harry's mouth met his, and his other arm held him close; Draco's far hand was draped around Harry's neck, his fingers caressing his skin, the damp hair sliding through his grasp. No frantic fuck me kiss, but one that was unusually gentle, lips brushing against his lips, almost soft enough to be called chaste, but intense enough to speak to him of quiet yearning.
"Harry," Draco whispered, when their lips parted. A single word spoken, breathed across slightly parted lips, and Draco laid his head against the shoulder of his lover, his nose nuzzled into Harry's neck. This was home, this body of bone and sinew, soft golden flesh pressed against his creamy white skin. Draco closed his eyes, a feeling of comfort and, then again, that one word, home, enveloping him.
Harry's hand left the shoulder it had been resting upon. One finger sketched over his collarbone, following the hollow between shoulder and chest, only stopping to touch his pulse beating in the notch of his throat. Could Harry feel how his soft touch was affecting him? Draco wondered idly, his eyes drowsily flickering against Harry's chest. He could feel and hear the rapid thudding of Harry's heart, the strong thud a thump resonating through his skin.
The one finger had been joined by its mates, Harry's fingertips ghosted over Draco's chest, sometimes running the length of a rib, sometimes just in random circles. And then he stopped, his palm cupped over his nipple. The slight twitch in his fingers gave it away to Draco. He could almost feel the want, the need in those fingers of Harry to brush over his tense nub. Sighing, Draco didn't open his eyes. He wanted Harry to touch him, use him, anything to make him feel something other than dead.
The twitching fingers finally stilled and then moved downward. Draco parted his legs, willing Harry to go lower, touch him there, and maybe even there.
His eyes opened slightly as Harry's hand lifted off his belly. Draco blinked sleepily, watching the rogue hand lift bath oil from the shelf near the tub, and before he knew it, Harry was pouring Draco's bath oil into the tub near his leg.
Harry swished the water making honey and cream scented bubbles float in the warm water around their legs. Scooping a handful, he rubbed them on Draco's belly, the popping bubbles leaving a softly scented residue on him.
Draco sighed with pleasure, the scent of honeyed bubbles wafting upwards from the steamy water, tickling his nose, and Harry's hand moving in slow, purposeful strokes up and down his abdomen, sliding gently along his muscles and ribs. If there could be Heaven on earth for a wizard such as he, this would be it.
Harry's hand drifted beneath the water. Draco shivered, not from the cooling water, but from the gentle pleasure Harry's hand was bringing him. Resting his full weight against the toned chest of his lover, he could feel Harry's erection pressed into the small of his back. And Draco knew that if he turned and touched the hardened flesh, he would feel the insistent throb of Harry's heart beating through his skin. And if it entered him, he would feel a pulse of desire beating into him. And even in his exhausted state, he would offer himself to Harry, even if it wasn't for his own pleasure.
"I could ride the broom tonight, if you want," Draco said, slowly leaning forward, his hand gripping the edge of the tub. He could bottom passively tonight, and Harry could fuck him senseless. He would do that for Harry.
Laughing softly, Harry, pulled Draco back against him, his hand resting possessively on Draco's thigh, his thumb making small circles on the pale white skin. The blond curled into Harry's embrace, his ear pressed to his lover's breast. He could hear the steady beat against his face, and this was home. Draco's sigh was a quiet whisper of breath against Harry's skin, and his tired eyes slowly closed.
Silken blond strands of hair drifted through Harry's fingers as he played with his lover's hair. How relaxed Draco looked when he slept. His face unlined, the furrows from the day's worries now gone, the tenseness around his mouth, gone, and the exhausted look erased from his body. Harry watched the blond doze, his hand still sifting the damp locks. He pressed a gentle kiss to Draco's forehead, then laid his cheek atop the blond's head.
Tomorrow, they would talk. Tonight he would let him sleep, at least until the water cooled beyond a warming charm. Then, he would rouse him and shuffle him off to bed. And he would hold him throughout the night. For tonight, that would be enough.