Title: Endurable Detour
Prompt: 3.4 Swallowing His Snitch
Summary: Harry and Draco have plans for their much deserved holiday, but when Harry is asked to take a small detour to Hogwarts, how could he possibly resist?
Contains: Sex weapons and crumpet porn.
Word Count: 4,935
Author's Notes: I started, and then tossed out, 4 different stories before this one, and just as I'm breathing a sigh of relief, it hits me that I'm not even 100% sure I did it right. Was this supposed to be systematic PWP? Hope not. Anyway, thanks and inappropriate gropage to my usual suspects.
"Potter!" Draco's angry tone carries through the room, sending a shiver up Harry's spine. He doesn't have to look at him to know the expression of ire the other man is wearing. Harry squeezes his eyes shut tightly, bracing for the onslaught. "I have worked my arse off over the last few months so that your precious friends here at the Ministry would see fit to grant me the holiday I was promised."
"It's two days. I couldn't get out of it," Harry says, eyeing the parchment on his desk. Glittering golden letters seem to mock him as they shift around.
"I hate you."
"I don't think you actually grasp the depths of my loathing."
"Are you even listening to me, Potter?"
Harry's head snaps up at the sound of his name, his gaze meeting grey eyes that flash with anger. Truthfully, he had been listening. He just doesn't know what else to say. "I'm sorry," he settles on, finally. "I didn't mean to involve you. I just hoped…"
"Oh, please. Don't give me that kicked puppy rubbish." Draco sighs, and Harry can see his defenses melting away quickly. "Just what were you thinking, anyway?"
"I was thinking…that I owe it to them to be there. I was asked to be a guest lecturer. Hogwarts was like home to me for so long, I couldn't say no."
"So instead, you decided to take me down with you? There's an island off the coast of Kenya that I can practically hear calling to me. That is where I'm supposed to be heading. Not some rainy, damp castle full of," Draco shudders theatrically, "children."
"We'll stay at the Bramble Inn. You'll be completely safe from children there." The newer inn was far more upscale than any of the other buildings in Hogsmeade, despite the recent increase in populace in the once small wizarding town. Built during the reconstruction after the war, Bramble Inn was designed with modest comfort to accommodate families who were still uneasy with the idea of sending their children off to Hogwarts after all that had happened there. Now it, along with the few others constructed for the same purpose, is mostly used for tourists who come to see the memorial.
Harry pushes his chair back and rises to his feet. He points his wand at the office door, slamming it shut and sending sheets of parchment drifting to the floor. He's angry that his opinion suddenly, after over a year together, seems to mean so little to Draco. An island holiday will be a lovely retreat for the two of them; one that Harry certainly doesn't intend to forfeit, but for two bloody days, he will be going to Hogwarts to give a lecture and Draco will be accompanying him. Even if Harry hadn't already sent his acceptance to Headmistress McGonagall, he would demand they go, if only on the basis of teaching Draco a lesson.
"Since when do you call all the shots?" Harry asks defensively, crossing the room to stand before his partner-slash-boyfriend. Their relationship has always been something of a power play, first in school, then in Auror training, then as partners forced to share a workspace, and now as lovers. But, somehow, there has always been a balance. Neither of them get their way all the time. Compromise is key, and Harry knows that he isn't giving in on this one, but perhaps he'll have to make the prospect seem more appealing to the other man, offer a bit of a reward for his submission. Draco is a right poncy, spoiled git. But he's Harry's.
Harry's hands are balled into tight fists, his eyes practically burning into Draco's as he stands just inches away. Sometimes he really hates the way Malfoy affects him. Harry's always been the less sexually adventurous one in the relationship, more reserved than his boyfriend and possibly a little shy. But here, right now, Draco's jaw clenched in anger, grey eyes flashing with challenge, all Harry wants to do is kiss him...well, maybe not all he wants to do.
He leans in close, his hands reaching out to take Draco's, and brushes his lips against his lover's ear. "It won't be long. We'll leave as soon as I'm through speaking. And I'll make it up to you, I promise."
Long fingers encircle Harry's wrists, and Draco yanks him forward so that their bodies are pressed together tightly.
"Inappropriate work decorum, Auror Potter," Draco whispers harshly as Harry nips and licks down the column of his neck.
"Mmm…isn't this what you always ask for?"
"A tongue bath at work? Frottage against a bookcase? Not likely."
"No?" Harry asks, pulling back slightly and arching one eyebrow. His hands are already working to unfasten Draco's belt buckle, and at this point he knows he won't back down. "So, when I leave to get coffee in the morning, you don't ask for a crumpet and a blowjob?"
"I ask you to bring me back a crumpet and a blowjob. That could mean from anyone."
Harry ignores the retort and slips his fingers into the waistband of Draco's trousers. "Should I go get Nott, then? I'm sure he'd be more than happy to take care of this while I watch."
"Fuck off." Draco grabs Harry more firmly, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him roughly. "The only throat I'll ever be fucking again is yours."
Harry groans into Draco's mouth, pressing his hips firmly against him. His fingertips graze the sliver of exposed skin just above Draco's waistband, coming to rest on his hips, smooth and warm and Harry wants nothing more than to bite him right there. Or, better yet, bend him over the desk and fuck him until he forgets the reason he was upset in the first place.
"You know what I want?" Draco murmurs against Harry's lips, thrusting against him in a way that leaves no doubt at all of his own arousal.
"Name it," Harry breathes, pressing his palms to the wall on either side of Draco's shoulders.
"I want…" Draco's hands slide to Harry's arse, gripping and kneading and pulling him closer as he exhales a shaky breath. "I want…you," he bites Harry's lip gently, "to…suffer until we get to Lamu Island."
Harry stills, and with one last, gentle kiss, Draco twists out of the cage of Harry's arms and reaches for the door. "I've a report to finish before I leave tonight, and I suggest you get yours done as well."
He exits the room, leaving Harry leaning against the wall, frustrated, alone, and painfully aroused.
"Sex weapons," he grumbles, readjusting his straining erection before turning his attention back to the files on his desk.
With a flick of his wand, Draco draws the drapes shut tightly, effectively blocking out the picturesque view of Hogwarts and the lake beyond. Always cautious,—and possibly a touch paranoid—Draco moves into the room first, Holding his arm out in a signal that tells Harry to stay put. He immediately casts Revelio and Finite Incantatem in all directions. Harry rolls his eyes and drops his luggage by the door as he slips inside. He knows Draco is too preoccupied with his own routine to notice Harry exploring the space.
The room bears all the same luxuries as the hotel they had stayed at in New Zealand last fall: a large fireplace, fluffy robes and bath sheets, squashy bedding, and a small refrigerator complete with various bottles of colourful alcohol, potions and snacks. Harry helps himself to a butterbeer and plops down onto the edge of the bed, watching, waiting.
When finally Draco is satisfied that the room is clear and no one has set any traps to hurt them,—he'll never be able to fully trust the residents of Hogsmeade since the incident with Rosmerta— he turns toward the door, casting Colloportus. An odd, wet sound emanates from all sides as it seals itself shut against any possible intruders. Only then does Draco allow himself to relax.
"So, I guess this means you'd rather not go out tonight," Harry says with a wry smile.
Draco sits down beside him, resting his elbows on his knees, fingers laced tightly together as he stares at the ground. Harry's focus is immediately drawn to the smooth curve of Draco's neck and he finds himself biting the inside of his cheek to keep from latching onto it.
"You know how much I hate coming here," Draco responds, snapping Harry's attention back to the conversation.
Harry does know. It isn't easy for Draco to come back to this place after all that had happened here, and he never could understand how Harry always looked forward to it. Investigations they had been assigned, leads in other cases, something always seemed to bring them back to this part of the country, back to the painful reminders of their past.
Harry slips his hand up the back of Draco's neck, dragging his fingertips through the soft, blond hair at his nape. "I'm sorry. You can stay in the room if you want. You don't even have to come up to the school with me tomorrow."
Draco laughs mirthlessly. "Of course I'm staying in the room. How do you think they'd react if they saw me there?"
Harry watches as Draco's eyes flick to the Dark Mark on his forearm—the stigma of his past and the reason he's so reluctant to return to Hogwarts. Guilt consumes him, even after all this time.
"Considering it's been nearly ten years, I'd say you're more worried about that than they are."
"What is this a lecture on, anyway?" Draco asks, by way of diversion.
"I was just asked to speak to the N.E.W.T. level students."
"What, are you going to teach them to disarm the bad guys to death?"
"Actually, prick, I wasn't asked here to speak as the hero who defeated Voldemort. McGonagall wants me to talk to them about overcoming differences and rising above less than ideal circumstances."
Draco snorts with laughter. "Less than ideal? Is that what you're calling it?"
Harry sighs. It's more complex than that, but he doesn't care to elaborate. He certainly wishes Draco would be there, but given the other man's history, he understands why he'd rather not. Still, that knowledge won't stop him from trying. "The invitation was for you, too, Draco. You're more than welcome to come."
Draco turns his gaze to Harry, eyes searching thoughtfully for long moments before a small smile graces the corner of his mouth. "Wouldn't that be something?" he says, lying back on the mattress and pulling Harry down with him. Softly, he presses a kiss to Harry's forehead; a subtle reminder that, although he can be immensely complicated sometimes, he still loves Harry and will always be there for him.
"It sometimes slips my mind just how important Hogwarts was to you." He brushes his lips over Harry's gently before kissing him, tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth as he pulls away and Harry groans.
He hitches a leg over Draco's hip, locking their bodies together as he slides his parted lips up the smooth skin of his boyfriend's neck. It probably isn't the best time to try and start things up, but Harry's cock heeds to no rules of ethic, apparently. The press of Draco's body, the moist heat of his breath in Harry's ear, the gentle thrum of his heart beating against Harry's are all too much to ignore.
"I suppose two days is tolerable…You win, then."
Draco rolls onto his back, kicking his shoes off. For an immeasurable sliver of time, Harry actually allows himself to hope that Draco has lifted the imposed sexual restriction. Nothing would ease the stress of public speaking—no matter the audience—better than a thorough fucking the night before. But then Draco casts him the most undeniably wicked smirk and Harry knows the block is still in full effect.
"I'm going to pick up dinner," Harry says, rubbing his hand over his eyes in an attempt to clear his mind. He readjusts his glasses and, reluctantly, climbs off of the bed. "And when we get to Lamu Island, I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk for two days. That will be my payback for this."
"We'll see who's fucking whom," Draco replies without missing a beat.
He's already got his book out, reading as he sits propped up against a pile of soft pillows. Harry watches as his eyes scan the page, his lips moving the slightest bit as if unconsciously trying not to form the words. Harry has always loved that about him—though, if asked, Draco denies he does it at all.
Shoving his hand into his pocket, Harry pulls out a pair of Protean Charmed galleons and examines them in the dim light of the room. Since they first became Auror partners two years ago, Draco has insisted that they each carry one when they're apart as a means of keeping in contact should anything happen. It's another facet of his deep-seated paranoia that Harry reasons is probably not entirely without merit.
He places one of the galleons on the bedside table, noticing with warm affection when Draco's eyes flick to it and then back to his book. He doesn't remember what it was exactly that occupied the holes in his life before Draco Malfoy managed to fill every one of them, but Harry is grateful that he did. Draco may feign disinterest like it's an actual art form, but in the years they'd gotten to know each other, Harry has learned all of the silent words spoken through tiny movements. A fleeting glimpse at the charmed galleon is Draco saying "thank you for indulging me," just as the narrowing of his eyes as he looks back at his book says "please don't be long."
Harry arrives back at the room to find Draco shirtless, leaning against the desk, long fingers gripping the edge as he watches the door. He's opened the drapes again, and the way the silver moonlight plays on his pale skin is so entirely distracting that Harry nearly misses the table when he sets the take-out bag down. He imagines himself pounding into that perfect arse while Draco's hands are splayed out on the cool glass window, shamelessly pushing back into him as he begs for more, harder, faster.
"Did you miss me that much?" Harry manages, resisting the urge to cross the room and run his tongue over every inch of exposed skin. He knows the game Draco is playing, and has decided not to let it get to him. Easier said than done.
"Actually, yes," Draco responds, crossing one ankle over the other. His teeth press into his bottom lip as his gaze rakes over Harry's body slowly, leaving a burning trail of desire in its wake.
Harry turns to the table, taking the food from the bag and setting it out for them. He will not be tempted only to be turned down again and, if needs be, a quick wank in the shower before the lecture tomorrow will sate him just fine. Or, perhaps he'll bring himself off in bed right next to Draco, with the visual aid to guide him through fantasies of licking his smooth skin as he drives his cock deep into him.
"I've thought about it," Draco says, making his way across the room slowly, tantalizingly. "And I've decided that, since it's important to you, I'll go with you tomorrow."
Harry looks up in surprise, not at all expecting that Draco would actually relent. His eyes narrow as he searches Draco's expression for any hint of a catch. Soft eyes watch Harry, unblinking. He says nothing else as he slides into his seat at the table and opens the take-out box. There is no catch.
"It's probably safe to assume there's nothing more than macadamia nuts left in the mini bar?" Harry jokes, passing Draco a fork.
He laughs and shakes his head. "No, honestly. I really did just consider it. You don't ever ask much of me, and look at all you tolerate," he begins. "And, like I said, I know Hogwarts means a lot to you. Even if I don't have very many fond memories of it, it's the place that made you the man that you are."
Harry smiles fondly, pushing the food around on his plate. It isn't very often that either of them get sentimental, but that only makes little confessions like this one that much more important to him.
Harry's more than a little nervous with all eyes on him in the Great Hall. He never did like all the unbidden attention he'd received as a teenager, and now is no different, but as he narrows his attention to the one pair of eyes that matter, Harry finds himself flowing through his speech with ease. He envisions himself speaking only to Draco in the intimacy of their own home as they've done so many times.
The Hall is silent but for faint murmurs of agreement as he moves from one point to the next. He speaks of the trials that are set before everyone, be they large or small or, in some exceptional cases, as heavy as the world itself. He talks about the somewhat unorthodox paths taken to get to where one needs to be in life, cognitive planning, crucial decision making, and the importance of not taking a single moment for granted.
There's a warmth against Harry's thigh as the galleon in his pocket begins to heat. He doesn't have to take it out to know that it's some encouraging message of affection from his boyfriend. Harry smiles to himself as he continues on.
Throughout the lecture, his gaze travels over the crowd of students, observing the eagerness in their expressions, and he envies them the normalcy they've been granted in comparison to his own life at that age. What would it have been like to be here in the peaceful comfort of this castle during his final year, without the worries of war and death?
As if they know, each time Harry's stomach begins to twist, he catches a reassuring glance from the headmistress or Draco himself, small smiles and nods of agreement. Pride radiates from both of them, easing him while at the same time warming Harry with a tinge of embarrassment and causing him to divert his gaze back to the cards in his hands.
He tells the students that, while he hopes they each find their own way without facing the sort of tribulations that fate had set before him, he also hopes for them that they will know what it means to work for their happiness.
He looks up, meets Draco's gaze from across the hall. There's an unholy look in his boyfriend's eyes that sends a tingling sensation of renewed desire throughout Harry's body and, once again, he has to tear his gaze away.
"Don't waste your lives looking back at the past, wondering what you could have done differently. With each dawn comes a new day, a new beginning, a new chance to shake the hand that was once offered to you." Harry looks up at Draco once again, somehow more thankful now than he's ever realised for second chances.
The students clap and cheer with Harry's closing, but everything seems distant to him, faded as if he's in a dream-state. The only thing he sees is Draco and his completely unguarded smile as he stands by the door waiting.
The headmistress catches Harry as he makes his way through the room, hugging him and thanking him for coming.
"Stay for supper, at least, won't you?" she asks. "Both of you." She looks from Harry to Draco as he approaches, reaching out to take Harry's hand.
"I'd love to, but I've got a promise to keep."
"Two, actually," Draco qualifies, with a secret smile.
They thank her again for inviting them, and bid farewell to the rest of the faculty before Draco impatiently tugs Harry out into the main corridor. As soon as the voices have faded beyond the closed door, Draco pushes Harry against a wall and attacks his throat with a series of hot, eager kisses.
As he slips a knee between Harry's legs, rubbing against him in all the right places, Harry can't even find the presence of mind to ask Draco if he's lost his. It's a school full of children, not to mention the headmistress, who would hex their bollocks into their own throats the instant she caught them.
"Do you have any fucking idea how good you looked up there?" Draco murmurs darkly against Harry's lips, sending another rushing wave of desire straight through him. Draco kisses him sweetly, softly, belying the desperate tone of his voice.
The sounds of shuffling feet down the corridor wrench them apart, but Draco won't take his eyes off Harry as the students pass. He doesn't know if it's the thrill of danger at being caught, or simply the fact that all he's done for days is want Draco, but Harry finds himself so incredibly aroused that the sudden distance between them is almost painful. He tries to even his breath and calm his desires, but all he can think of is how badly he wants to drag Draco out the doors of the castle and back to Hogsmeade, back to the Bramble Inn, or anyfuckingwhere in the world where he can get him naked.
As soon as the group of students have passed, Draco presses his body to Harry's once again, his tongue tracing the line of Harry's jaw and eliciting a needful whimper. Harry's fingers twist into the back of Draco's robes, pulling him closer. For another fleeting moment, Harry's mind supplies the theory that this is just another tease from Draco; a way to gain the upper hand and watch Harry come completely undone with desire. But Draco's hard, so fucking hard and Harry can feel him through all the layers of their clothing.
When a second barrage of students walk past, Draco takes Harry's wrist firmly and pulls him down a hall he's never been before but has seen on the Marauder's Map. There's an alcove at the end, just behind a tapestry, and Draco wastes no time at all getting them there.
Again, Harry's back is pushed against the cool stone wall as Draco all but attacks him with lips and tongue and teeth and all Harry can do is whimper softly as he returns the attention. Draco's skin tastes warm and welcoming as Harry sucks at the spot just below his ear. His mind is in a haze of lust and need, but on the edges of his conscious lies the niggling reminder that, as an Auror, he is well aware of the list of charges that could be brought against them both for such lewd behaviour. Still, he can't quite gather enough will to pull away from the searching kiss as Draco slowly grinds his hips against Harry's. It's only been days, but he knows he can come from that friction alone.
Draco's fingers work Harry's robes open, pushing fabric out of the way and never breaking the deep, reverent kiss. He rubs his hand up the front of Harry's trousers with just the right amount of pressure to make Harry's knees weaken.
"Oh, fuck. We can't do this here," Harry whispers harshly.
Draco doesn't respond. He simply moves his way down Harry's neck, thumb grazing a hardened nipple through his shirt and slowly drops to his knees.
"Godfuck, what are you doing?" Harry rasps.
"Not much of a detective, are you?" Draco looks up at him through thick lashes, that same unholy expression from earlier gracing his beautiful features.
Dragging his hands up Harry's thighs, Draco leans forward and mouths the front of his trousers, hot breath seeping through the fabric and causing Harry's cock to twitch in anticipation. He holds his breath, watching as Draco's fingers work open his buttons and zip. Harry moans as a cool rush of air caresses him seconds before Draco's mouth is sliding up the side of his shaft, sucking the foreskin between his lips and tugging lightly. A dull thud sounds as Harry drops his head back against the wall, one hand splayed out on the cool stone beside him, the other twisting into Draco's hair of its own volition.
Despite long, hard days of training and fieldwork as an Auror, Draco's fingertips always feel so soft and gentle when he touches any part of Harry's body, but especially his cock. Long fingers slide down his shaft, encircle and giving him a long, slow stroke. Harry closes his eyes, focusing entirely on the feel of the warm, wet tongue that is now teasing and circling the head of his cock.
It feels as if his entire body is on fire, hot with need and it takes all of his will to resist thrusting into the wet mouth. Draco's hand is flat against Harry's stomach, holding his shirt out of the way and, at the same time, pressing him firmly against the wall with lithe, powerful strength. Harry watches as Draco's tongue slips out again, pressing flat against his slit and dragging upward achingly slow. He hums his pleasure, looking up at Harry again as he takes the head of his cock into his warm, wet mouth, his lips pushing the foreskin back at an agonising pace. He's moving slow, so fucking slow that Harry can hardly stand it. And then, all at once, he pulls away, and Harry groans, tightening the grip he has on Draco's hair.
Silver eyes narrow in warning as Draco looks up, his hands tugging Harry's trousers down for better access. Though he's still mostly clothed, Harry has never felt quite so naked in his entire life. He tries desperately to split his focus between the man on his knees before him and any possible sounds of people approaching, but it's difficult with the things Draco is doing.
His thumb slides up the v at the underside of the head of Harry's cock just as his tongue presses to his slit again. Harry is certain that Draco's trying to kill him, but in such a delicious way.
He can see the tombstone now: Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, Death by Blowjob.
He's so near to begging that he's already drawn in enough breath to speak when finally Draco plunges down onto him, taking his entire length into his mouth. He holds Harry's hips firmly as he works him up and down, his tongue massaging the vein at the underside of Harry's cock. His swollen lips look gorgeous stretched around Harry's width, and if it didn't feel so unbelievably fucking good, Harry would want to drag him to his feet and kiss him. He can't help the uninhibited groan that escapes him as his cock hits the back of Draco's throat over and over again.
Draco sucks, hollowing his cheeks each time he pulls nearly all the way off of Harry, but then plunges right back down again. Gently, he cups Harry's balls, rolling them in the upturned palm of his hand. There's a twisting sensation deep within him as he feels his orgasm approaching already.
"Fuck, Draco," Harry hisses. "So fucking good."
Draco hums in agreement, sending an incredible wave of vibrations straight to Harry's balls. When Draco's hands finally move from steadying his hips to gripping his arse tightly, Harry knows that he's free to let go. Draco tilts his head back to allow for more ease of movement. With a groan of satisfaction, Harry begins to thrust forward, fucking Draco's throat as he swallows around him.
When he feels Draco's finger press firmly to the sensitive spot behind his balls, Harry loses it entirely. His muscles tense and his lips part as he looks down into shimmering grey eyes before everything in his vision seems to go bright white. His release pulses out of him in a rush of pure ecstasy and Draco swallows every bit. He kisses and licks Harry's over-sensitive cock until the sensation becomes too much and Harry whimpers in protest, unable to actually form words.
He definitely feels his knees weakening now, but before he has the chance to slide down the wall, Draco is standing in front of him, tucking Harry back into his trousers and straightening his robes for him.
He smiles wickedly. "I love you," he says before running his tongue along Harry's bottom lip.
Harry kisses him, tasting the salty, somewhat bitter flavour of his own release. "I know."
Draco's smile softens as he presses his forehead to Harry's. "I don't think you grasp the depths of my love for you."
"I might." Harry returns the smile and kisses him again.
When finally he's certain his legs won't give out beneath him, he relinquishes his hold on Draco and they move out from the alcove. It's some miracle that the corridor is still entirely empty and Harry squeezes his eyes shut, offering up his thanks to any deity that's bothering to listen.
"Maybe we should stay for supper after all," Draco says, surprising Harry yet again. He shrugs at Harry's wide-eyed expression. "Lamu Island will still be there tomorrow…and now I actually have a good memory to associate with Hogwarts." Draco laces his fingers through Harry's as they make their way up the corridor.