A/N: Thank you to Dark Lunar Love, Whispering Flutterflies, and Lori for their help/opinions/suggestions on this story. Double thanks to Midnight's Violet Haze for going through it twice for me. You are all INCREDIBLE!
"Potter?" It has taken ten years - seven without so much as seeing him and three seeing him almost daily - for that voice to stop grating on my nerves. I'm not sure when it started putting a smile on my face.
"Yes, Malfoy?" I stop and turn to face him in the hall outside my rooms.
"The Headmaster would like to see us. He said there was something of utmost importance that he needed to discuss with us," He isn't smiling, but he isn't glaring at me either. It's funny how I not only enjoy, but find our friendship relieving. There was a time when it would have been disconcerting, to say the least.
"Right now? Doesn't that man ever rest? What could he possibly need?" Malfoy chuckles, it sometimes still takes me by surprise that we can have a civil conversation where even laughter can be commonplace.
"I have no idea, after all I'm just the lowly potions professor. Aren't you his second in command?" Now he is smiling and after two years of friendship, it still takes my breath away to be on the receiving end of a true Draco Malfoy smile.
After the war, and Professor McGonagall's death, Snape's name was cleared and he was appointed Headmaster. Everything in the magical world was so chaotic at the time that he was allowed to choose his second. I had just applied for the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor; not only did I get the position, but I was appointed Head of House for Gryffindor and Deputy Headmaster as well. I was finally home. It's a huge workload, but I love being here.
Snape and I still aren't best mates, but we get on well enough. We've even been known to take tea together on occasion. He still finds ways to insult me, but after all this time and everything I know about the man, it doesn't rile me up. It's just his way and I can hold my own. I wish, out of respect for Dumbledore, I could say that even knowing the circumstances it had taken me a while to forgive Snape, but it didn't. Times were hard and dangerous; it was difficult to trust anyone fully. When he willingly offered his memories - during what he thought were his last moments - I was able to understand and respect the man who had really saved us all.
Malfoy applied for the position of Potions Professor three years ago. I was very proud of myself for not tossing his application straight into the rubbish bin. He really was the best suited for the job, and I went as far as to admit that to Snape. He was hired without an interview. I was the one to recommend that he take over as Head of House for Slytherin as well. Professor Peabody had held both positions, so it seemed natural her successor should as well. I think he was surprised, but it's so hard to tell with him. Anyway, we did have a few quarrels during his first few months here, but after a strong talking to by the Headmaster, we toned it down.
The first year was bumpy, but we made it through with very few incidents. By the end of the year we were having tentative conversations. Now, we're almost inseparable. We do still get worked up over Quidditch, but only when it's our own houses playing against each other. Snape allows us that, as he and Professor McGonagall used to carry on in much the same fashion.
"Yes, well, let's get this over with, I'm exhausted." We've just started the school year and the first few weeks are always the hardest.
"As am I. Is it just me or does it seem as if the first years get denser every year? Can you believe that one actually asked me if we would be using an electric or gas stove to heat our cauldrons?" I have to laugh at this.
"Malfoy, surely after three years you've realized that not all of your students will be familiar with how the wizarding world works?"
"Yes, but, Potter, it wasn't a muggle born student. Had it been, I might have understood. As it is, I am still utterly confused."
"You have to be kidding. I think I understand why Snape was always so sour in class," I shake my head in disbelief and Malfoy snorts.
"He is still sour and he hasn't taught a class in years. Do you think that's what we have to look forward to?" I shudder at the thought, only partially in jest.
"I certainly hope not," Malfoy gives me another smile as we round the corner and almost run into the man himself.
"There you two are, I swear if I had known the consequences of forcing the two of you to stop hexing each other, I would have reconsidered. Well, do not just stand there gaping, I would like to sleep at least a few hours tonight, come along," He turns and nearly sprints toward his office, robes billowing around him as usual. I'm still not sure how he does that, and I've practiced. It seems to only work for him.
"Merlin's beard, Severus, you act as if Potter and I make it a habit of keeping you waiting. I did have to go all the way to Gryffindor Tower from the dungeons and then back again. I still do not know why you refuse to use the Headmaster's quarters. They are in a centralized location for a reason."
Snape doesn't stop or offer an explanation. It's not really as if he needs to though. Malfoy and I both know why he doesn't. I think for a very long time Dumbledore was the only true friend Snape had. No matter the reason, it has to be devastating to be the cause of a friend's demise. I think there are just too many reminders of what he's lost in that office. To my knowledge he hasn't been there since his horrendous stint as Muppet Headmaster during what was supposed to have been my seventh year.
I've offered to bring Dumbledore's portrait to his dungeon office, but he steadfastly refuses. Dumbledore and I have discussed it and he feels it's better to let the man come around in his own time. Dumbledore thinks that Snape doesn't feel as if a portrait can give him the absolution he desires. I don't think anyone or anything can give him that. If Dumbledore himself were to rise from the dead with the sole purpose of forgiving Snape his supposed transgressions, Snape would still carry his burden of guilt. I think he's scared to move on. He's spent so many years in misery that he's terrified of discovering that life truly does go on and that happiness is possible, even for the most broken of souls.
"Potter? Do you mind to come back from the tropical island on which you're vacationing at the moment?"
"Huh?" I see a hint of the old Malfoy in his smirk.
"Oh, so eloquent, Potter. It's a wonder you don't have to beat the ladies off with your broom handle. 'Huh' isn't a word. Did you know that? No, I suppose you didn't."
"Oh, shut it, Malfoy. Sit down so Snape can tell us what's got him in a snit and then we can retire to my couch and share a bottle of wine. It's been a long week and I think we deserve to put our feet up for a bit," I flop down in one of the chairs in front of Snape's desk and seriously contemplate actually putting my feet up on his desk before I push the thought away. Doing something like that would probably be enough to make the older wizard use a few hexes of his own.
"Why do we always end up on your couch? Mine's just as comfortable," It's the same argument we have every week.
"No, yours is stylish, mine is-"
"Will you two please stop bickering like an old married couple? I have an important matter to discuss with you and then I do not care whose couch on which you cuddle, as long as it is not mine." I want to protest, but the opportunity to jab at Malfoy a little is just too great.
"He never wants to cuddle," I allow my mouth to drop into a pout as I continue, "All he cares about is-"
"One more word, Potter, just one more and I will hex you into next week," Draco's voice is deadly, as always, but just under that is a touch of mischievousness and the barest hint of a smile. There are times when I think that I really wouldn't mind cuddling with him.
"Boys! Can we please get on with this?" He waits a full minute before continuing - I think sometimes that he rather likes listening to us go on like this, "Thank you. As you know this was to be Madam Hooch's last year with us. However, that has changed. I am afraid her sister has taken a turn for the worst and will be requiring immediate attention and care. She is packing to return home as we speak. Now, this leaves us in quite a predicament. Madam Alden will not be able to take up the post as Flying Instructor and Quidditch Referee until the beginning of first term next year-"
"So, I guess that's where one of us comes in? Honestly, Snape, I only have one free period a day and I can't use that for marking like the other Professors because I'm busy handling Hogwarts paperwork," I wonder if Snape isn't passing off most of the paperwork to me purposely. Quite often I am of the mind that Snape offered me the position just to try and kill me with roll after roll of parchment.
"Even I have to back him on that, Severus. He is constantly begging for my help with marking his papers-"
"Telling you I can't fly until my work is done is hardly begging, Malfoy."
"Of course, I kindly offer my assistance-"
"I wouldn't exactly call making absurd comments on my students' work helpful."
"I usually spend my afternoons in his office, slaving over essays and -"
"Making paper airplanes out of them doesn't count as slaving over them."
"Come to think of it, Headmaster, maybe I deserve a raise…"
"What you deserve is a good swift kick in the -"
"Enough! I will be taking over your second year classes and I have devised a schedule that will allow you to get enough class time in your respective subjects. You will work together with them for flying lessons. If we do it that way no one can complain about who teaches them and you can train all the first years at the same time. The staff will take turns refereeing the matches to avoid any conflicts of interest with your houses. You will treat each other with respect and keep your bickering to yourselves. Absolutely no suggestive or inappropriate jokes in front of the children. Do I make myself completely clear?" Snape is leaning back in in his chair waiting for our agreement.
Instead of answering him right away, I look to Malfoy, "What do you think, blondie? Can you behave yourself?"
Draco scoffs, "Me? I'm not the one who is always making propositions."
"When have I ever seriously propositioned you, Malfoy? Better yet, when have you ever been offended by anything I've said?"
"Potter, I am offended every time you open your mouth," On cue my mouth falls open and he turns to Snape, "I think we'll manage just fine, Headmaster. Let's go, Potter. I believe you said something about your couch and a bottle of wine?"
"Couch and wine, yes. See you later, Snape," I hear him grumble something about idiotic, blind boys as we're walking away. I consciously choose to ignore him. I have enough going on in my own head where Malfoy is concerned without adding Snape's opinion to it.
I've started to notice… things, things a friend shouldn't notice- like his eyes. What color are they exactly? Well, that depends. If he's smiling, they are luminescent silver. If he's had a hard or trying day, they are the dark grey of a turbulent sea. If he's upset, mostly when he makes those draining trips to visit his father in Azkaban, his eyes are the light grey that signals the arrival of a spring thunderstorm. If he's angry, thankfully not an emotion directed at me any longer, they are the steel grey of a storm's eye.
Now, maybe that knowledge in and of itself isn't damning, but if you add in the fact that I want to know what color they are when he's aroused… Yeah, I'm starting to move past friends. I just hope I'm not moving alone.
"So, flying lessons. This should be interesting. I can't imagine teaching a class with you," He glances my way but quickly turns his head forward again.
"Oh, come on, it won't be that bad, will it? Do you not want to do this, Malfoy? We don't have to, one of us could take it on our own," I'm kind of scared he really doesn't want to work with me.
"No, not bad. I'm looking forward to it. It won't be half as boring as my normal classes. I… I like having you around. Why do you think I always come to your classroom to mark papers? I love that we have the same free period to spend together. Hell, why do you think I come to your rooms every Friday? It isn't for the wine, that's for sure." Did he really just admit to enjoying my company? Yes, I think he did, but we're friends, right? There'd be something wrong with us if we didn't like spending time together.
"Are you saying there's something wrong with my taste in alcohol?"
"Not in alcohol; you buy fantastic scotch. You just need a little help with your wine selection, that's all."
"You've never complained before."
"I'm not complaining now either, I told you, I don't come for the wine," He graces me with a small grin. It's the kind that is reserved just for me and my heart flutters just a little.
"Ok, Mr. Wine Aficionado, why don't you provide the spirits next time? Teach me about good wine," I return his smile and suddenly we're no longer moving. We're just standing in a hall somewhere between the dungeons and the second floor grinning stupidly at each other.
He clears his throat and reaches out to gently grab my elbow, still smiling he says, "Come to my rooms tonight. I happen to have in my possession a fantastic red wine that I think you'll enjoy."
It should be an innocent invitation, in fact it probably is, but with his hand on my arm and the way he's staring intently into my eyes, it doesn't feel that way.
"Don't argue with me, we always go to yours, let me be the host for once, okay? Besides, we're closer to mine anyway, come on," Who can argue with that logic or the way I am being physically pulled?
This isn't the first time I've been to his rooms, but it is the first time we've had our weekly 'meeting' there. As we enter I begin unbuttoning my robes; it gets so hot with my muggle clothes underneath. Draco, who spends his days hovering over boiling cauldrons, only wears his teaching robes. So, on Fridays, I usually loan him a t-shirt and pair of denims. He looks simply edible walking around in my too-big clothes.
"Excuse me for just a moment, I want out of these," I nod my head and make my way to his couch. One of the main reasons I prefer my rooms is that stupid couch. It's fine for sitting, but doesn't look comfortable for lounging, or sleeping. We don't always get pissed enough for him to sleep on my couch, but it does sometimes happen. I think that tonight I will watch how much I drink so that I'm able to go back and sleep in my cozy bed.
When he comes out of his bedroom I can't control a smirk, "I was wondering what happened to that shirt, I ought to have known you had it," It's an old one that's almost threadbare, but just perfectly worn in. It's light blue and has the name of some band on it, and it looks stunning on him. That's the reason I let him use it in the first place.
"I like it," he says as he rummages around in his small kitchen and comes out with a bottle of very expensive looking wine and two glasses.
"It suits you," I want to say more, maybe I should tell him how it makes his eyes seem brighter, or how it hugs his chest invitingly (I outgrew it a while back), but I don't.
He sits down beside me and pours us each a glass before he leans back and curls his bare feet under him. That's another thing, he's normally so refined and carries himself with an air of dignity, you wouldn't think that he walks around after hours bare foot. You wouldn't think that he puts his feet on the furniture or - if we've had a little more to drink - my lap. You wouldn't know that he can laugh from his belly just like everyone else. He's human, strange that it should take me so many years to realize it, but it did.
"So, what do you think?" For a minute I'm confused. Then I realize I'm just holding the wine and staring at him. I take a quick sip, never breaking eye contact over the rim of the glass.
"Absolutely delicious," I know, quite obvious that I'm not just talking about the wine, but I can pass it off as a joke if I need to. That's actually what he was referring to earlier in Snape's office. I can't help but to make bold comments like that (I suppose it's the Gryffindor in me), but I always brush them off with a laugh. He smiles and I realize he's blushing, just a little. Does he always do that or is this a new development? Definitely new or at least new-ish, I think I would have noticed if he'd been doing it all along.
I want to push forward, see if it's just me that's been feeling a slight shift recently, but decide against it, "So, your student that asked about stoves, who was it?"
"I'm not going to tell you, I think you'll be having them in class tomorrow. I want to see if you can pick them out," Now we're back on safe, steady ground.
"Oh no, that bad?" He grins and nods his head, "Merlin help me."
"You'll need it, that's for sure," The next hour goes on much like that, discussing the new students and enjoying his wine, which is rather good. We don't usually nag each other so bad when we're alone, which is nice.
About the time I notice the wine bottle is halfway empty he starts to stretch and I know exactly where his feet are going to end up.
"Oh no you don't," I quickly kick off my trainers and pull my legs up on the couch as well.
"What?" He really sounds innocent, but his eyes are twinkling with mischief.
"Why do I always end up rubbing your feet? I think it's high time you repay the favor," I expect him to argue, but he doesn't. Instead he raises his arms and motions for me to prop my feet on him.
"I like it when you rub my feet, but you are correct. It's only fair that I should do it for you on occasion as well," Once my feet are on his lap he sets his glass on the end table. He catches my eye as his hands curve around my left foot. There's a heavy pause before his thumbs press firmly up the middle of my foot. My eyes fall shut and I moan. He continues working my foot and I'm sure that I've made some rather embarrassing sounds. When I open my eyes, he's staring fixedly at my face. There's something there, in his eyes, for just a brief moment before he pulls it back in. I cant never get a reliable read on him because he's always doing that. He'll let something slip through the cracks of his armour once in a while, but it's always gone before I can identify it.
I'm startled when, instead of switching feet, his slim hands slide up my leg, just a little. He pushes my trouser leg up and starts rubbing my calf. I don't know that I'll be able to reciprocate tonight, Little Harry is loving this.
"Wow, Malfoy. Where did you learn to do that?"
"Does it feel good?"
"Bloody hell, do you even have to ask?" I'm fighting the urge to thrust into the air, which would have the effect of letting him know exactly how good it feels.
"I guess it's just another talent of mine. I've never given anyone a massage before, so it must come naturally to me," His hands try to press up further but are hindered by my clothing. He makes a sound of frustration before abandoning my left leg and moving to my right.
"You are very talented, and you know that's a huge compliment coming from me. I never stroke your ego," I blush a little deeper when I think about what I wouldn't mind stroking for him. He winks at me and lets his hands wander up my right leg as well.
"You have very nice calf muscles, Potter. I think it's all that flying I insist we do. I often wonder how pale and flabby you'd be if I didn't force you out of this castle once in a while."
"Malfoy, you know I want to be out there everyday, but I haven't the time. By the time I'm done with my Professor and Deputy Headmaster duties, it's always dark."
"Who says it has to be daytime to go flying? I'm quite fond of flying at night myself," He knows why I don't fly at night, but he's been after me to work past that for the last few months.
"I know, but we can make new memories," His voice is so low, and I swear there's just a bit of longing there. His hand squeezes my calf particularly sensually and I do arch, just a tad. It's getting just a little warm in here. He's giving me chance after chance to make that leap, and I'm starting to think it wouldn't be such a bad idea. It's just the wine though, I know. It's too dangerous. We've been so close, so good for each other and I don't want to risk that. He's my best friend, but if things went badly, given our history, it could be apocalyptic.
"Draco. Why do we still call each other by our surnames, it's a little ridiculous, don't you think? Especially when you consider the number of foot massages and bottles of wine between us," He is no longer rubbing my legs, but he hasn't released them yet either.
"I don't know, it just feels normal? I think it'd be a little strange to call you Draco," God, I love the way his name feels on my tongue. I'm scared to use it though, I'm terrified of what I might unwillingly reveal if I had to call him that.
"Only for a while, Harry, then you'd become accustomed to it and that would feel normal," I can't believe he really just called me 'Harry'. My first name has never sounded so erotic. Yeah, now I know I've had too much wine. There's no way I'm making it back to my chambers tonight.
"Okay, Draco, are we going to the Three Broomsticks tomorrow for dinner?" A smile like none I've ever seen lights his face. He is positively beautiful, even more so because I am the cause of his joy.
"Don't we usually? My treat this time," He is languidly running one finger up and down the top of my foot; I think I like using him for a footstool. Luckily, my arousal has abated some. I can probably keep it under control as long as his finger wanders no farther.
"Sounds good, do you want to go over lesson plans tomorrow morning?"
"Perhaps tomorrow afternoon, I have an appointment in the morning," I notice a slight wince when he says 'appointment', and I don't need him to tell me where he's going.
"Malfoy, why do you keep putting yourself through that? All he does is drag you down. I know he's your father, but I hate the way you come back from that place," He's usually despondent for the first few hours, then he'll tell me what Lucius said or did, then he drinks himself into oblivion. I don't mind hugging him as he sobs uncontrollably. I don't even mind holding his hair when he sicks up. What I do mind is that he lets that man have that much power over him.
"This will be my last visit, I promise. There's something I have to discuss with him, something I want him to know before I leave him to rot," He's serious. I've never heard him speak of his father in this manner.
"Alright, let's skip the Three Broomsticks though. We'll have the elves bring something to one of our rooms and I'll pull out a bottle of scotch," I'd rather not have to drag him back from the pub.
"I don't think that will be necessary. I've been considering things since my last visit. There's something I want - more than anything ever before - and maybe I'll never have it, but I know I can't while he's still towering over me. I'm at peace with what I've decided to do and even he can't change my mind. But, let's forget about that. Azkaban in the morning, lesson plans in the afternoon, dinner in Hogsmead, then a night time fly around the castle, yeah?" I want to ask him what that 'something' is, but I can't. I can't decide if I'm more scared that it will or won't be me.
"No, absolutely not. Malfoy, you know I can't fly at night," I try to pull my feet away and sit up, but he holds them firmly in his lap. I've tried to fly after dark, but every time I get off the ground I hear the screams, see Hedwig fall, remember His face swirling in a black mist, then the world tilts and I usually end up on the ground and crying. Its quite embarrassing when it happens in front of the person over whom you're obsessing
"You can and you will. I thought I'd never be able to break free from my father, but I'm doing just that. Do you know why? Because I know I'm not alone. You'll be here, waiting for me. You're not alone either, Potter. I'll be with you, and I already have a plan for a distracting you. So, here's the deal, you don't want me to visit my father anymore, right?" I can only nod, he's just said something profound and I can't wrap my fuzzy brain around what it means.
"Ok, that played a huge part in my decision. So, I want you to fly with me tomorrow night, will you try? Give and take, Harry, isn't that how we got where we are now?" He just called me 'Harry' again, and bloody hell, as much as I want to deny it, he's right.
"If I freak out-"
"I'll be there to hold your hand."
"If I fall-"
"I'll catch you; that's what friends are for, right?" He says 'friends' but I hear something different, or maybe it's just the wine. I really need to get some sleep and think about all this in the morning with a clear head.
"You've got a deal; I'll give it my very best. Malfoy? I'm tired and I don't think I can make it to my room. Could you get me a blanket so I can have a horribly uncomfortable sleep on your stupid couch?"
"Ah yes, and there's my slightly petulant Potter. I'll do you one better. I happen to be a wizard, and as such have the ability to perform magic. Out of thin air I will procure you a most comfortable bed in which to sleep," I want to argue that he won't be pulling it out of air, he'll have to transfigure it - and why do I never think of things like that? - but I keep replaying the way he said 'my Potter'. Yes, there was a tiny insult thrown in the middle, but he definitely said 'my'.
"My hero! My knight in shining armor! My prince charming!" I give him a cheeky grin.
"You know, Potter, I'd thump your forehead if you weren't so bloody cute right now. Move to the chair and I'll make the softest bed you've ever seen," Cute? I'd much rather he think I'm sexy, but I'll take what I can get.
True to his word, in mere seconds the couch is replaced with a full sized bed complete with bedding and huge fluffy pillows. It's a nice touch that it's Gryffindor red and gold. In my slightly inebriated state, I think it's the sweetest thing he's ever done for me. What can I do but hug him for it?
He isn't expecting to suddenly have an armful of me, but he doesn't pull away. As much time as we've spent together, as many times as we've touched, I think this is the first time we have hugged that one of us isn't emotionally distraught.
My arms go around his neck and even though he's startled, he responds almost immediately by throwing his own around my waist, "If I'd known a little bit of transfiguration would earn me your undying devotion, I might have done it sooner. It never hurts to have the 'Hero of the Wizarding World' at your disposal."
Again, I have an urge to admit things to him that I shouldn't. I suppress that urge as much as I can, "You earned it long before tonight."
I feel him relax a little against me and I know one of us should let go now, but it isn't going to be me. I bury my head in his neck and feel him shiver when I breathe him in as deeply as I dare. He pulls me in tighter but is able to keep our lower halves apart, which is a very good thing. Little Harry is trying to assert dominance over me, but I'm keeping him in check - barely.
"Harry," His voice is unsteady and I think he may be breathing a little heavier than normal, "We really should get to bed, we've got a busy day tomorrow."
I'm transfixed by the hitch in his voice, did I really hear that, or am I imagining it? What I know for sure is that he still isn't letting go of me. His hands, which were resting innocuously on the small of my back, are moving. They slide smoothly from my back to my hips and I feel his thumbs start to stroke teasingly over the now exposed skin of my stomach.
I don't know if it's the wine, or his actions making me bolder, but I let one hand wrap itself in his hair. We're teetering on the edge of something and it scares the shit out of me, but I can't pull away. I feel him slowly shifting our bodies and my heart begins to race when I realize what he means to do. As I feel our groins touch for the first time, I turn my head slightly and flick my tongue out to trace the shell of his ear.
He moans and moves that final inch very suddenly. Oh, Merlin help me, he's hard. He's just as hard as I am and fuck I want him naked. As I open my mouth to say as much, he pulls away. He doesn't look me in the eye. Instead he makes his way quickly to the door of his bedroom and pauses with his hand on the doorknob.
He turns and says, "Get some sleep, Potter. We're both a little drunk and could use a good night's rest to clear our heads," he doesn't wait for me to reply. He's gone before I can tell him that I can't clear my head because he's always there. I belong to him just as surely as the sun will rise in a few hours, and after tonight, I'm certain I wouldn't have it any other way.
I come to consciousness slowly. Before I even open my eyes the night's events wash over me. I hugged Malfoy, he hugged me back, we were both turned on, I licked his ear. That thought might terrify me except he enjoyed it. Then again, seconds later, he ran from me. Bloody hell, I think I screwed up, big time.
I don't even want to open my eyes. He's probably upset with me, but I won't accept responsibility for this alone, he is just as guilty as I am. I finally, finally, work up enough courage to pop one eye open. He must have been watching me from the chair because he responds immediately.
"Well, good morning sleeping beauty, did you finally decide to join the living world?" Apparently we're going the route of denial. Oh well, I can work with that.
"I suddenly hate myself for introducing you to muggle fairytales. Hangover potion?" My voice sounds steady and calm, good.
"On the table beside you, and I rather enjoyed the fairytales. I'm strangely satisfied by the fact that we've infiltrated muggle lore," As I grab the potion, I notice he's already dressed. He's wearing one of his better robes and I remember where he's going.
"What time do you have to be there? You should have woken me earlier."
"I'll get there on time, and if not, he'll just have to wait for me. It's not like he's going anywhere. I am going to head out in a few minutes though, but don't hurry yourself. You can sleep a little longer if you want. I can wake you when I get back," I hope he doesn't notice my sigh of relief. If he's still ok with me lounging around his rooms, then maybe everything really is okay.
"Nah, I have some marking to do. I'll get up in a few minutes, I'll be in my office when you get back."
"Alright, well, there's tea in the kitchen and the house elves insisted on bringing you a hearty breakfast. I tried to tell them you wouldn't much feel like eating, but you know how they are," He stands and tosses his copy of the Daily Prophet in the chair, "We're still on for tonight, right?"
"Yeah, dinner and flying. Oh! Don't forget lesson plans, but I think that can wait until tomorrow if you'd rather," I still doubt he's going to be in a mood for anything but drinking when he returns.
"We'll see. I have to go, but I'll be back soon. Make yourself at home, Harry," My mouth flops open at his easy use of my first name but he's out the door before I can decide whether or not to comment on it.
I find it hard to concentrate for the rest of the morning. I'm worried about him and I keep thinking about last night. I know I should be more concerned with the possibility that we've damaged a hard earned friendship, but I just keep thinking that I didn't get to see his eyes. He was aroused right in front of me and I didn't pay attention to what color his eyes were. Of course, that leads me to another dangerous line of thinking. Surely that wasn't the first time he's ever been horny in my presence? I've just always been so focused on my own reactions that obviously I've missed his.
He seemed pretty intent on not mentioning our little moment. Maybe he doesn't remember. No, of course he remembers, we weren't that far gone. I was, by far, more intoxicated than he was and I didn't forget. Maybe it was a mistake. He hadn't wanked in a while and anybody would have received that reaction. That sounds silly even as I think it, so I try to push it to the side as I enter my office. I have over thirty essays on werewolves that need to be marked.
I've just reached the preposterous declaration that sleeping in the light of a full moon will turn you into a werewolf when I hear my office door creak, "Malfoy, you could have said something, how long have you been standing there?"
"Some excuse for a defense professor you are, I've been watching you for at least five minutes," He looks calm and relaxed, which isn't his normal demeanor after a visit with his father.
"How are you? Did everything go alright?"
"It did for me. He, on the other hand, had a conniption fit. I don't think he was prepared for everything I had to say. I feel better though, better than I have in quite a while. I think I should have done this sooner. I don't much feel like working on lesson plans. What do you say we walk out to the lake? You can teach me how to skip rocks," I've tried before, but he always said it was foolish. I think he just didn't want to admit there might be something I can do better than him.
"Really? You've just come back from visiting him, and you want me to teach you to skip rocks? Where is the Malfoy I've known for the past three years. What have you done with him?" I narrow my eyes in mock suspicion, but I can't contain my grin, not when he's wearing his sunny smile.
"He's still here, he's just a little lighter and lot more carefree. Drop that quill right now and let's go!"
We end up just sitting quietly by the lake rather than skipping rocks, but I don't mind so much. It's not an uncomfortable silence and he doesn't seem depressed, though I can tell something is on his mind.
"What is it, Malfoy?"
"I'm sorry?" He looks confused, so I clarify.
"What did you tell your father today?"
"I'll tell you later. Suffice to say, he knows I won't be visiting him anymore and I think he doesn't mind so much now," His knees are drawn up to his chest and he turns his head and rests it on them to look at me.
"You're really okay with that? What does your mum think about it?" Draco loves his father, but his mother is a goddess as far as he's concerned.
"She'll be fine, especially when I tell her why," He's being so mysterious, but I'm not sure I want to know just yet, so I don't push the issue.
"I was thinking that instead of going into town, that we might have dinner in my room, like you suggested. No scotch though, just you, me, a bottle of wine, and a nice, private dinner. Does that sound good?" He's looking as me as if I might decline.
"Of course, whatever you want. It doesn't much matter to me where we eat, so long as we do," I'm horrified when I realize I'm extending my hand to brush his hair out of his eyes. By the time I'm aware of what I'm doing, it's too late to stop. He doesn't pull away though. He closes his eyes and sighs as my fingertip brushes his forehead.
"No one has ever taken care of me like you do, Harry," It's almost a whisper, like he's not sure that he wants me to hear.
"You take care of me too," And because he called me by my name, I do the same, "Draco."
"It's what friends do, right?" He echoes his words from last night, but it sounds a little poignant today.
"It's what you do when you care about someone," I won't argue the fact that we're friends, but I don't want to close the door on other possibilities.
"Do you, Harry? Do you care about me?" I know he knows the answer to that question, but maybe he needs reassurance. He's watching my face intently as I answer.
"Of course I do. I think I care about you more than I've ever cared about anyone," Maybe I'm going too far, but I think the time for reigning everything in is slipping past us. It's time to start moving forward. I don't feel like jumping just yet, but I'll scoot closer to the edge with him.
My reply satisfies him and he smiles, "Let's retire to my rooms. We can work on lesson plans for a bit before dinner," He stands and offers me his hand. I take it. It may be a simple offer of assistance, but it feels like so much more. It feels like the beginning of something.
We focus on the flying classes for a little over an hour. We manage to come up with a suitable plan for the first week and I suggest we sit down again at the end of that week to consider how we should continue.
"That sounds good. We can't expect them all to be on the same level. It's possible that some of them who've never been on a broom will take to the air like birds," He grins and I know he's referring to me.
"Yeah, and some of them will have a natural grace that allows them to fly flawlessly," I return his compliment. He then says something that fills me with dread.
"Of course, we could have some that end up smashing into the side of the castle," Chances are that most of them will do just that if they make it off the ground the first few times.
"Ok, that thought is enough to make me want to reconsider agreeing to this."
"You only agreed in the first place because Severus didn't leave us a choice, and you get to work with me," He's right about at least half of that, so I don't argue.
"I also love to fly," I just don't get to do it much anymore.
"Yeah, but this isn't flying, this is teaching other people to fly. Small, ignorant people."
"Yeah, I guess you're right. So, I guess I am only doing this because of you," He watches me for a moment to judge the honesty of my statement. I guess he finds what he's looking for, because he says something I don't expect.
"Like flying tonight? Are you doing that just because of me?" I want to just say yes, but there's more to it.
"Partly, I wouldn't even think about doing it with anyone else. However, I have several reasons for wanting to be able to fly at night again. Though, I guess one of those involves you," He's pleased with my answer.
"You really trust me that much? Which one of your reasons involves me?"
"Of course I trust you, Malfoy. You are always there for me. I want to be able to just say yes when you ask me to fly with you, no matter what time of day it is," I love flying with him. It's fun, but a challenge at the same time. He really is marvelous in the air.
"Good, then we'll work on it, yeah? If tonight doesn't go so well, then we'll come up with another idea and go from there. I really want to help you get past this, Potter."
"I've been thinking about something you said last night," I don't acknowledge his blush, I've decided that I don't want to deny what happened. Even if it never happens again, I won't bury it.
"Maybe we should start attempting to call each other by our first names. The more I think about it, the more it feels like we're clinging to the past. We aren't those boys anymore, Draco." He smiles again, another sunny smile.
"No, we aren't. I like to think that we've grown, become smarter, realized that we're better together than we are apart," His expression is open and for once, he doesn't reel it back in quickly enough, and I see. I know, in that blissful second, that he wants more. I almost move in for the kill, I've waited long enough for Merlin's sake, but he gets up suddenly.
"Are you ready for dinner? I was thinking we'd have fish and white wine tonight. I will only have sip, but I was thinking you should have a hearty glass. Only enough to dull your senses slightly. You need to be relaxed, but not intoxicated," I want to disagree. If I'm climbing on a broom shortly, I'd rather be happily pissed. He's right, though, so I just nod.
We talk about everything but what's on my mind during dinner. It only takes a few minutes for me to understand that he's as set on avoiding it as I am on getting it all out there. I don't push him. Now that I know he's aware and I know we are on the same page, he can take as long as he likes. I'm not worried about someone whisking him away, he's mine.
I finish my glass of wine just as he finishes his dinner, "Well, let's not dawdle, our food will settle by the time we get to the broom shed and I don't want your false courage to wear off."
"Hey, I agreed to this before the wine, so even if it's magnified a little by the drink, the courage is real."
"Right you are, Harry, so let's get you there while it's still magnified."
Draco out of the shed with only one broom.
"Uh, Draco," Will I ever get used to or tire of the way that sounds? "I think you forgot something."
"What did I forget?"
"A second broom? I'm not going up alone," Surely he doesn't think that.
"No, you're going up with me, on the same broom. You said it was a little easier if you're not alone, so I figured if you are on the same broom as I am, it will be even better," Maybe he's on to something.
"That makes sense. Are you going to tell me what you've planned to distract me?"
"Now, if I told you that, it might not work. A distraction works best if you have the element of surprise on your side," When did he become so brilliant.
"Just don't scare me and make me fall off."
"I know, I know, I'm just nervous."
"Well, don't be, trust me, alright?" I already do, and he knows it.
He straddles the broom and indicates that I should climb on in front of him. I adjust myself so that we're touching, but not directly against each other. It becomes obvious right away that it isn't going to work. He's sitting directly in the middle of the handle and my weight on the front is going to tip us over.
"Scoot back, Harry. Lean against me, we need to balance our weight," I take a deep breath and fit myself against his chest.
"Perfect," He murmurs into my ear, "Now, I'm not going to take us far off the ground yet. I want you to watch the ground and see that we aren't going up," I lift my legs and he does the same. We're just hovering over the ground. I'm scared, but not because I'm having flashbacks yet, but because I know they will come.
"Now close your eyes and relax into me. Do not open your eyes unless I tell you to. I just want you to get the feel of floating here," I do, and feel some of the tension leave my body.
"That's it, Harry, let it all go," His hands, which were wrapped tightly around my waist, shift and settle on the tops of my thighs. It causes me to feel a little insecure and I reach forward to grip the broom.
"I've got you, Harry. I have the broom as well. Just lean back and relax," It's a huge feat for me, but I relinquish my hold on the wood and let myself fall into him again.
He gives me a few seconds to adjust before his hands start moving again. His fingers drift downward and he's almost gripping my inner thighs. I don't object when they move closer to my crotch, instead, I spread my legs, as much as I can, to make room for him.
"I'm sorry about last night, Harry. It was bound to happen, but I never meant to take advantage of you while you were drunk.
"You didn't - "
"Ssshhh. You're not drunk now, though, are you?" His hands creep farther and I shift trying to get them where I want them.
"Good, sit still. I have everything under control. Just calm down and trust me to handle this," I want to ask what he's going to 'handle'. The broom? The shift in our relationship? My cock? Hopefully, for now, the first and the last, though I don't know if he can do both at once.
His fingers are now playing with the zipper on my jeans. He lingers there for so long that I whimper.
"Are your eyes still closed?"
"You were what I had to discuss with my father. I want more with you, so much more. Do you want this, Harry? Do you want me?"
"Yes, for so long," He moans as he finally, blessedly, unzips my jeans and pulls my pants out of the way enough that my erection springs free. He isn't in as big of a hurry as I am and he takes a minute to just feel me.
"Absolutely exquisite," I feel him shift slightly and then there is a hardness throbbing against my lower back.
"Do you feel that? That's what I suffer every time you touch me, sometimes just a look will do that to me."
His hand grips me more firmly and he begins to stroke. Tortuously slow movements that make me want to thrust into his hand. My arms fly up to weave themselves around his neck.
"Be still, Harry, let me do this for you," His hand starts to move faster and I shamelessly start to beg.
"Please, Draco. Wanted this last night, I've wanted this for so long, please," His hand speeds up even more and his grip is more determined.
"Do you want to come, Harry? Do you want to spurt all over my hand? I want that, want to feel you spill everywhere. I want you to come undone for me," I nod to let him know I have the exact same goal in mind.
He starts to nip gently at my ear, flicking my lobe with his tongue, "When we're done here, I'm taking you back to my room, to my bed, and I'm going to make love to you."
"You have to come for me first, Harry," His hand starts to twist and I know I'm only moments away from giving him just want he wants.
"Open your eyes," It's hard to comply, he's forcing so much pleasure through my body that I have to fight to lift my lids. When I do, I'm rewarded with a breathtaking view of the Black Lake as my orgasm takes me.
My sigh of contentment makes him chuckle as he begins to lower us to the ground. I'm tucked neatly back into my trousers and he cleans us with a wave of his wand. Still facing away from him, I can feel how turned on he still is. His eyes.
I missed my chance last night, but I'm determined that won't happen again. Spinning in his arms, I tilt his head toward mine. Black. His eyes are almost completely black, the very outmost rim reflecting the moonlight and shinning brightly. The contrast between his pupils and irises is so severe; I don't think they've ever been so beautiful.
His gaze settles on my lips and I tremble in anticipation. As his hands come up to cradle my face, I let my fall to his shoulders. At the first touch of his mouth, I moan and nearly melt into him. I've waited for this - needed this - for so long, and he doesn't disappoint. He laps teasingly at my lips for endless seconds before pushing his tongue gently into my mouth. Its so achingly tender and sweet that I find it difficult to catch my breath when he pulls away.
I'm pulled firmly against him and his words blow hotly into my ear, "Yours or mine?"
Automatically my normal response flies from my mouth, "My couch is more comfortable."
"Ah, yes, but we are in need of a large and sturdy bed. I believe mine would be better for the activities I have planned."
He leads me into the castle, and when we turn in the direction of his rooms, I don't argue. It seems I may have to get used to that hard, lumpy piece of furniture after all. Oh well, I can live with it, after all couches can be transfigured, and I am getting my man. Its a fair trade.