Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.
Title: Fear Not for the Future, Weep Not for the Past
Rating: NC-17 (Sexual content! Please heed the warning!)
Word Count: 4200
Genre: Romance, Flangst
Summary: Harry reflects on his last year at Hogwarts, frightened that the happiness he had found would be taken away from him.
Warnings: Fluff, Happy fic of Happy, Hogwarts!fic, Painfully romantic, also smutty with toppy!forceful!Harry. Also, Harry-centric. Also, kinda sappy. :blush:
Note: This is a fic that only aims to put a smile on people's faces, in an 'awwwww' sort of way. :D
Title stolen from Percy Bysshe Shelley.
Fear Not for the Future, Weep Not for the Past
Fear Not for the Future, Weep Not for the Past
Harry blinked, stretching lazily, oddly unable to fall asleep even though he had felt tired just a little awhile ago. The ground beneath him was uneven and cold and slightly damp from the night's dew; however, his body was protected by a warm blanket, originally carefully placed on the ground, but now rumpled; an occasional bump digging into Harry's back.
But Harry didn't mind his uncomfortable position. He felt more peaceful and content than he had for — well, he had never felt quite like this before. He had never thought it would be possible to feel so happy. It was almost ... terrifying. Because usually, when something good happened to him, it was soon ruined by a tragedy and happiness was snatched away from his clutch, no matter how desperately he had tried to hold on to it. And good things had been rare. There was always Voldemort to worry about, and after he had been defeated, Harry's happiness had been marred by grieving for those that had lost their lives.
The initial numbness that Harry had felt after Voldemort's death, hadn't faded as quickly as Harry hoped it would. When he had returned for his final year at Hogwarts, he had quickly concluded that that had been a mistake. Too many people died there and every time Harry entered the Great Hall, he was assaulted by horrific memories. Sadly, being in Hogwarts Castle again served only to turn Harry's numbness into depression.
Harry would have still been depressed if he hadn't been offered an unexpected cure. Well, the cure itself hadn't been that surprising, but the source of it most certainly was.
Harry had realized only today that he had been feeling happy for quite some time now. He became aware of it in the middle of his speech that he had been forced to give earlier this evening.
Exactly one year ago the Wizarding World's nightmare had ended, and on this day, wizards and witches alike set their worries aside, and Hogwarts had become a place of celebration. Harry could no longer hear cheers, laughter and music, not so far into the Forbidden Forest, but he imagined that the party was at its highest peak.
Harry had done his duty and had given his speech as requested. Hermione had graciously helped him write it and Harry had every intention of simply reading it, having more trust in Hermione's linguistic abilities than his own, but at some point, as he stood in front of the mass of people; friends and assorted Weasleys — his family, the letters turned blurry and Harry had let the words flow out of his mouth without thinking, his gaze searching for support in a pair of piercing eyes Harry had grown to love.
He couldn't remember what he had said exactly, and he feared that he had been rambling something painfully embarrassing. He knew he had mentioned people who had given their lives so they could all be here today; he had talked about Dumbledore and about all that Harry had learned from him. And he might have said something truly cheesy about love and its potency. One particularly blinding smile in the audience assured Harry he was being silly. Nonetheless, when he was done, everyone had stood up and clapped for a long time, drying their eyes and blowing their noses. But Harry suspected that they were all quite drunk.
And after that, Harry had left. Not because he hadn't wished to be with them, he had, but as he was giving that speech and reflected on the painful past, as well as the hopefully bright future, he had realized that suddenly, the present seemed much more important. And he wanted to spend the rest of the day with the person who had made every moment not only bearable, but worth of remembrance.
Harry took a lungful of fresh air and turned his head, to look at the figure next to him; half-expecting to see no one there; half-terrified that he had simply imagined the recent events that led to his current happiness. But Draco was lying by Harry's side, eyes closed, breathing rhythmic, looking peaceful and fast asleep, and entirely there. Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry looked back up at the small patch of the night's sky visible through the dense tree branches. It was a beautiful night, with just a hint of breeze and a clear sky, though now and again, a stray cloud floated slowly above them temporarily hiding the bright stars, and then the only light came from the flock of fairies that was scattered all over the tree branches. The usual sounds of the forest blended into the background so it was fairly quiet, and Harry was glad they had come here to be alone.
After his speech, spurred on by the sudden onslaught of feelings, Harry had grabbed Draco's hand and led him into the forest. Draco had complained, naturally, but he had followed nonetheless. Amusingly, he stayed close to Harry's side, continuously muttering about werewolves and centaurs, but Harry had assured him that they would go far enough from the Hogwarts wards so they could Apparated on the odd chance that something dreadful happened.
When they had reached a moonlit glade, Harry had Conjured a blanket with devious as well as romantic thoughts on his mind. However, they had ended up on the ground, fully clothed, lips pressed firmly together; legs intertwined, frantically seeking friction. It was frenzied and amazing, quick and breathtaking; and Draco had cried out too loudly, instantly forgetting about werewolves and centaurs.
It wasn't exactly what Harry had had in mind, but they had the whole night ahead of them. So Harry had said nothing when Draco murmured something unintelligible, then rolled to his side and fell asleep. Noting Draco's flushed cheeks and tired appearance, Harry had concluded that Draco had indulged himself in too much wine like everyone else.
Harry had remained awake, however, felling too excited; too alive to fall asleep. He couldn't stop thinking about how much his life had changed. It was staggering to even imagine it, but Harry was sure that he had fallen very much in love. With Draco Malfoy, of all people.
Had someone suggested this to Harry a year ago, he would have kindly escorted them to the special ward of St Mungo's for a thorough check up.
Harry had never even contemplated having a relationship with someone of his own gender. He had rarely contemplated romance and sex in general. Constant fear that someone he cared about would die, always preoccupied Harry's night time thoughts. There was an occasional fantasy here and there, but nothing that would have made Harry wonder. He still couldn't completely define his sexual preferences. At one point he had enjoyed Ginny Weasley's kisses, so he wasn't quite sure he preferred boys to girls. However, he could claim with absolute surety that he preferred Draco to everyone else.
Then there was of course the problem of mutual animosity between them, though things weren't quite the same as they were back in their sixth year. Horrible things that had happened in the last few months before Voldemort's death changed many people.
When they had returned to school, the change in Draco's attitude had been barely perceptible. He had merely stopped insulting Harry at every turn. Though it seemed as if he wanted to, but didn't dare. Ridiculously, Harry had found himself missing the familiarity of Draco's insults. It was just one more thing that had slipped through his fingers; just one more thing that made Harry feel as if he had served his purpose and now he was unimportant. Not even interesting enough to be the target of Draco's insults. It had occurred to Harry only then that he used to be the very centre of Draco Malfoy's attention. Perhaps that was the thing that he missed, not the silly insults.
The Slytherins in general had become a subdued bunch. It was odd seeing them like that, especially Draco who had always been the loudest. Harry had been unnerved by their behaviour. He hadn't known whether they were merely frightened and worried or were they up to something. So he had probed and prodded, trying to make them react, trying especially to get a rise out of Draco. However, when he had finally succeeded to spur Draco into action, Draco hadn't assaulted him with his fists or his wand or even his words; instead, he had assaulted Harry with his lips.
Amazingly enough that was all that had been needed for Harry to open his eyes. He couldn't be sure was it because Draco had kissed him in the right moment, or the kiss had merely made him realize some of his repressed feelings, or maybe it was some special power of Draco's kisses, but Harry was powerless to forget the feel of Draco's lips against his; the urgency of their kiss, the way Harry's body reacted, the way he had responded, surprising both Draco and himself with the sudden hunger for more.
Ron and Hermione had claimed Draco had in fact slipped him a love potion. Harry would have believed them, but Hermione had made him drink various antidotes and did all kinds of spells on him, and no evidence of a love potion could be found. From that moment on, all that had happened had been filled with confusion and fear but also, with intensity and dizziness.
Everyone who knew about Harry's sudden crush on Draco Malfoy, and not many have, had been shocked and some even outraged. They could not understand what Harry saw in him, and Harry couldn't find a satisfying explanation because he wasn't really sure how all this happened in the first place.
Draco hadn't changed, not really, Harry was aware of that, but he liked to think that he knew Draco better. Draco still insulted Harry's friends; he was rude and sometimes said awful, hurtful things to anyone who had stepped on his toes. He still hated Muggles and he hated not being in the centre of attention; he was bad tempered and wilful and utterly spoilt. Harry couldn't even claim he had fallen for his looks. Though he had seen him in a different light and could no longer bear to think of him as a ferret-faced git, Harry was still aware of Draco's pointed chin and skinny, thin frame.
Missing the sight of the said pointed chin, Harry turned around and propped himself on his elbow, so he was able to look at his sleeping lover. Draco's pale skin was even paler on the moonlight, and sharp lines of his face were emphasized by the shadows. It was not a face of an angel, but Harry knew that Draco's hard looking lips were capable of gentle, passionate kisses; he knew that if he would stroke Draco's cheek it wouldn't be girly-soft, but it would be warm, and Draco would close his eyes and shudder, leaning into Harry's touch. And Harry knew that Draco's fancy clothes hid sharp hipbones and protruding ribs that nonetheless felt wonderful and familiar beneath Harry's fingertips.
As though shaken out of his dreams by Harry's careful scrutiny, Draco blinked and frowned, waking up slowly, eyelashes fluttering and nose twitching as a strand of hair had fallen forward on his face and it must have been tickling him. Grey eyes opened and after a moment they focused, looking straight at Harry. The second Draco saw him, he smiled, the action transforming his face in an instant. It was a real smile, the kind of which Harry had used to think Draco was incapable of producing; but there it was caused by nothing else except seeing Harry the instant he had woken up.
Clearly puzzled with Harry's continuous staring, but disinclined to show it, Draco rose up a little, brining his lips closer to Harry's own and tilting his head slightly. Smiling brazenly, he murmured, "You can touch too, you know."
Harry watched as Draco kept still, unaware that there were twigs in his rumpled hair and dirt on his shirt. His lips were parted in offering, his expression slightly unsure, but clearly demanding a kiss. The grey eyes that usually looked cold and disinterested, were now unguarded and filled with warmth and trust and expectation.
And in that moment — he was beautiful. And Harry knew exactly what he had seen in him. And he no longer cared he couldn't explain it to others. In fact, he didn't wish to. This was just his. Draco, unguarded and unrestrained, trusting Harry enough to let him see every emotion on his face and in his actions. It wasn't something Harry wanted to share with anyone.
Harry leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to the inviting lips, moving his mouth slowly over Draco's and then trailing his tongue over the bottom lip before nipping it slightly with his teeth. Draco growled deep in his throat, and grabbed the back of Harry's head puling him in, deepening the kiss and coaxing Harry to lie on top of him. Harry went willingly, pressing Draco on the blanket, pushing his tongue inside Draco's mouth, groaning when Draco responded, at the same time parting his legs so Harry could settle snugly between them.
Harry forgot himself as always, forgot to be gentle and slow, but instead attacked Draco's mouth with his tongue and his teeth, until Draco's lips were full and puffy, but still eager for more.
They struggled out of their clothes, fighting a seemingly hopeless battle against buttons, and pausing the press kisses to the newly revealed skin. They did not manage to get fully undressed, but just stopped the process when Harry took off Draco's underwear, and then pulled Draco's cock into his mouth. He was still amazed that he liked doing this to Draco, loved it even; he loved the warm weight of it on his tongue, and the unique taste and familiar scent; the feel of Draco's body writhing in his firm grip and the crazy incoherent words Draco panted, his fingers occasionally stroking and occasionally pulling Harry's hair. As though he couldn't quite decide whether he wanted to be nice or not.
When Draco began to buck his hips wildly, trying in vain to push himself deeper into Harry's mouth, Harry reluctantly released the spit-slicked cock with a slurp. After sucking the skin of Draco's left hipbone hard enough to bruise, at the same time tickling Draco's sides, which earned his some delicious noises from Draco's mouth and a lot of painful hair-pulling, Harry released the struggling man beneath him and reached for his disregarded cloak that lay above Draco's head for some lubricant. It was a struggle to find it since Draco had pressed his lips to Harry's collarbone, nipping and sucking until Harry knew he'd have a mark there. The amazing feeling of Draco's hands that had pushed beneath the waistband of Harry's trousers, pulling them down so he could squeeze and knead Harry's buttocks, hindered Harry in his quest further. Finally closing his hand around the tube, Harry quickly squeezed out a small amount of the sticky substance on his hand, paused to give Draco one more toe-curling kiss, and then returned to his previous position between Draco's legs. Smearing the lube over his fingers, he sat back on his heels, his trousers lowered on his thighs, cock jutting out, red and leaking and achy, and holding Draco's full attention.
Harry paused for a moment, savouring this, reminding himself that tonight he wanted to feel as much as he could. He stared at Draco, burning the image he presented into his mind. Draco was lying on his back, his normally tidy hair splayed around his face; face that was no longer pale but flushed with arousal, lips parted as Draco was still catching air that Harry had stolen from him with his kiss. Draco's shirt was still on his shoulders but it was open, baring his chest and stomach to the cold air and Harry's gaze — expanses of white skin occasionally marred with reddens inflicted by Harry's mouth and teeth. The marks stood out clearly, the sight of them sending unexpected jolts of pleasure through Harry's body. One of Draco's hands was wrapped around his own cock, which was still shiny from Harry's saliva; Draco's long fingers were pressed around it tightly, stroking leisurely — up and down with slow strokes that caused shiny droplets to glisten on the swollen head. That entire display made Harry's mouth water with the desire to wrap his lips around Draco's cock again. Draco's legs were spread wide, pulled up and bent at the knees, exposing him entirely to Harry, letting him admire the view, which Harry did — devouring the sight of rounded buttocks and the small ring of furrowed flesh, that until recently caused Harry great anxiety, back when he was sure he could not fit a finger in there let alone his cock.
Draco was waiting, not even trying to hurry Harry along, just lying there looking beautiful and perfect and Harry's.
Licking his dry lips, Harry reached out and slowly stroked the crease of Draco's arse with one slick finger, then pressed it to the pink opening that twitched beneath his touch and then opened acceptingly when Harry pushed two fingers inside.
He would have stared at his hand, watching his fingers disappear inside Draco, but he wanted to see Draco's face. Grey eyes were looking straight at Harry, dark with desire, making Harry's hand move more surely, and soon Draco was panting and writhing on the ground. He had released his cock, probably out of fear of coming too fast; his hands were now clutching the blanket, rumpling it further.
Harry could not look away, could not stop his hand from moving, amazed that he could bring such pleasure to Draco just with his fingers. But Draco groaned, losing his patience, and grabbed his cock again, growling, "Get on with it, Potter!"
His mouth twitching and his mind plotting wickedly, Harry steadied his hand and pulled out his fingers. Fixing his gaze on Draco, making sure that Draco watched carefully, Harry grabbed his tie, untying it and taking it off. Holding the ends of the fabric, he leaned in closer to Draco and stretched the tie between his hands.
"Put your hands here," he said in a low voice he could barely identify as his own.
Draco looked at him with wide eyes, his gaze flickering between the red Gryffindor tie and Harry. Judging by the perplexed expression on Draco's face, Harry was sure Draco would refuse, but then Draco raised his hands and crossed them, pressing his wrist together, and stretching them towards Harry in clear offering. Something wild erupted in Harry's chest at seeing Draco agreeing to be restrained so willingly; so trustingly. With shaky fingers, Harry wrapped the tie around Draco's wrists, tying it into a firm knot, careful not to cut off Draco's circulation.
"Put them above your head," Harry whispered.
Swallowing heavily, Draco did as he was told without complaint, his cock twitching each time Harry spoke. "I don't want you to touch yourself," Harry murmured, his fingers at Draco's opening again. "I want you to come like this. Just like this."
Draco shuddered, looking doubtful but aroused, and apparently entranced by something in Harry's expression because he did not seem capable of looking away from Harry's face. Finally, he nodded, and then promptly gasped as Harry pushed his fingers inside of him again. Harry was no longer taking it slow. He found Draco's prostate, massaging it steadily, knowing how Draco wanted to be touched. Draco liked Harry's touch to be forceful and firm, even though it made him thrash around and whimper as though he had asked for more than he could handle.
Harry pushed his fingers as deep as he could, loving the strength of Draco's body as it clenched around them; strength that still yielded to Harry's fingers. Draco's body was twisting on the ground as he rolled his hips, pulling Harry's fingers in, beads of sweat breaking on his forehead, and face scrunching up as though he was in pain, though his moans assured Harry in the opposite. Harry's cock was aching so much, Harry almost gave in and pulled his hand away, but the lure of witnessing every second of Draco's pleasure was greater.
"Come for me, Draco," Harry meant to whisper, but the words came out like a growling order, and Draco's whole body convulsed. He pressed his teeth together and threw his head back, clamping down on Harry's fingers. Crying out despite of trying to resist, Draco shuddered, a white stream of liquid bursting out of his cock and splattering his stomach and chest.
Harry continued the movements of his hand for a few more seconds, but he couldn't wait any longer. He pulled his hand away and scooted closer, leaning in and aligning his cock to Draco's still twitching hole. Lowering his body, he grabbed Draco's wrist in one hand and pushed inside, penetrating Draco easily with one sure thrust. Draco made a choking sound, his legs wrapping firmly around Harry's body, his heels digging sharply into Harry's arse cheeks. Harry didn't dare to move, not yet, so he struggled to stay still, his muscles straining from the effort.
"Move," Draco bit out through clenched teeth.
Harry almost keened in relief and then pulled out and slammed back in, gasping at the incredible feeling of tightness and heat and friction. He grabbed Draco's tied wrists with both hands for leverage, and looking down at Draco's flushed face, he continued to pound inside of him, now only thinking about his own pleasure. Draco's whole body was quivering, his eyes wide and bright on the moonlight, but he pushed back nonetheless, his legs pulling Harry in, encouraging him to move even faster. Which Harry did, not feeling even remotely embarrassed at the wet slapping sounds that could be heard each time he slammed inside Draco's body.
But Harry couldn't last for very long, he had been nearly undone by the image of Draco climaxing, impaled on Harry's fingers, and this was too good not to end quickly. He shut his eyes, and thousand stars exploded in front of him as white-hot pleasure shot through his body, leaving him breathless and weak.
He collapsed on top of Draco, burying his head in the crook of his neck, inhaling Draco's scent and trying to calm his breathing. He barely managed to steady his rapidly beating heart when Draco spoke so quietly it almost seemed like he didn't really wished to be heard.
"I'm not going anywhere, you know."
Confused, Harry raised his head to look at Draco's face.
Draco looked serious, frowning at Harry with an uncharacteristic, almost tender expression. "You were talking about a bright future today," Draco began, his voice hoarse, "but I don't think you believe in it. Every time we ... do this, you're acting as this is our last time together. Like you have to memorize every moment because it won't happen again. Well, it will. Because I'm not going anywhere." Draco inclined his head towards his tied wrists, still in Harry's grasp. "You caught me."
Harry shook his head, swallowing heavily. "I'm not ... I don't think you'll leave me —" Even as he said it, Harry's insides clenched, his hard acquired happiness threatening to disappear at the mere thought that he could lose Draco.
"No, you're afraid I'll leave you. But, Harry, I won't."
Harry blinked, trying to clear the blurriness in front of his eyes. "I'm just happy. I'm so incredibly happy and ..." Harry's hands tightened around Draco's. "I'm just not very use to it. I'm not sure how to deal with happiness. Except ... waiting for it to vanish."
Draco's jaw clenched visibly and he struggled free of Harry's grasp. Harry quickly untied him, murmuring an apology, something that seemed to have annoyed Draco even more. With a heavy sigh, Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's waist and gave him a withering look. "You better get use it. Because making people happy is one of my many talents." Harry bit his lip, looking at Draco doubtfully, making Draco roll his eyes and relent. "Well, all right. When I say people I mean just you. But you're one grouchy individual so it's still a huge talent."
Harry smiled widely, not inclined to deny Draco's statement for it was true. He settled his head back in the crook of Draco's neck, pressing a small kiss there before murmuring. "I'll get there." Harry hoped that was true. "But it's a process."
"Good. Just as long as you're aware you don't exactly have a choice here." Draco tightened his hold on Harry. "Because now that I got you, Potter, I'm not letting you go. For purely selfish reasons."
Harry closed his eyes, feeling drained and sated, and ready to fall asleep. Yawning and quite possibly snuggling deeper into Draco's embrace, he mumbled, "'s why I love you."
"Sap," Draco grumbled, but Harry could feel Draco's heartbeat had sped up, so he smiled against Draco's skin, daring for a moment to truly believe that he could face his future without fear. But it was all bound together; Draco and happiness, Draco and future, Draco and Harry.
But as he drifted off, Harry's ears caught Draco's impossibly quiet "Love you too."
And in that moment, the future really did seem bright.