Pour L'Amour de Pain - Part 2
Oct. 10th, 2010 01:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alexcasterTitle: Pour L'Amour de Pain
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, past Draco/Blaise
Summary: Draco Malfoy has lost his common sense and Potter is a tease. Bugger it all.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Epilogue compliant? EWE
Word Count: ~16,500
Author's Notes: Thank you to my lovely, wonderful, awesome beta without whom I would have never been able to finish this! Also, a great thanks to the mods for organizing the fest and putting up with me! Again, this was one I'd written awhile back for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hd_smoochfest but never posted on my journal.
Draco sat sipping his tea. Last night’s date was actually a lot of fun, even though it was completely gauche and Muggle. Draco loved it. Pansy thought it was a condition. According to her, since he had been raised in the upper crusts of pureblood society, he would, of course, be attracted to only the most gauche elements of Muggle society. She was one to talk, though, considering she shared his affinity for gin martinis, Cuban cigars, and dive bars.
He could still remember that one evening where they had indulged themselves in all three vices at once. Pansy had just broken up with Tim, Tom, Todd, or whatever his name was, and Draco had just ended things with his seven-night stand. They were both giddy with liberation and had gotten absolutely pissed in some dive bar in Manchester.
He couldn’t remember how many gin martinis he had had that night, but what he could remember of the night was nothing but brief flashes of cigar smoke and dancing atop the bar whilst singing out of tune to Freddie Mercury. It was a fabulous night, that.
Draco shook his head and laughed. There was no time to get caught up in the past. He had the present to look forward to, and a pigeon named Prince to wait for.
As expected, Prince was at his windowsill when Draco went down to his kitchen for his morning tea. He liked the bird a lot more now that Potter had taken him to that record store. He took the note from Prince, who didn’t shite on his hand this time, and gave the pigeon a piece of toast before it flew off.
Draco,
I have to portkey over to the States from Friday to Monday. I’m sorry I can’t take you out again this week. Can I still see you Thursday morning?
Love,
Harry
Well, that was disappointing. Draco jotted down his reply, something along the lines of ‘Yes, of course. You’d better be there Thursday morning, if you plan on abandoning me on Friday and leaving me to my own devices,’ and sat down to enjoy his tea. Now what was he supposed to do Friday night?
It hadn’t been that long, but Draco honestly couldn’t remember what he had done with himself on Friday nights before Potter had come into the picture. It was nice, however, that Potter thought to inform Draco of his plans beforehand. Were they at that point in their relationship where they told each other of their whereabouts and plans?
Were they even in a relationship at all? This whole thing was new to Draco, since he had always started his relationships with sex. Meet, judge, shag, and then either continue to date and shag like bunnies, or go their separate ways. That was how he had always done it.
Now. Now, everything was different. Potter refused to shag him, but insisted on continuing to see him. What the hell was wrong with Potter?! For the first time since he had broken up with Blaise, Draco actually had a genuine interest in someone. He had had a few one-offs here and there with men he couldn’t be arsed to remember, but he had stopped even that much when he found that it wasn’t the same. He wanted what he had with Blaise, only without the fighting and cheating and lying.
And the weird thing was he wanted it with Potter. The others, the one-night stands in the months following his breakup from hell, hadn’t meant a thing to him. It had been two years since Blaise and so far, Draco’s best friend had been his right hand. He was horny, slightly desperate, and he really wanted Potter. The fact that Potter wanted to date him and not have sex with him yet was a good thing…right?
Draco sighed and dropped another cube of sugar into his cup of tea. It would be utterly undrinkable now, considering the small mountain of sugar at the bottom of his cup. Ever since last Saturday, when he had so idiotically had that conversation with himself, he had been testy and annoyed. He couldn’t figure out what Potter wanted from him.
One only dated someone one liked, right? Draco knew this, but the more he thought about it, the more confusing it became. Now, after talking himself in circles inside his mind, Draco was hopeless confused. He wasn’t even sure if Potter liked him anymore. Maybe Potter was just putting up with him because he had nothing better to do.
Without the sex part of the equation, what did Draco really have? He was arrogant, petulant, bitchy, always had to have his way, and he was pretty sure he was a little mental half the time. He gave excellent head, but Potter didn’t know that, now did he? When he thought about it, he didn’t really have any redeeming qualities that would hold someone’s interest outside of the bedroom.
A human-shaped shadow cast itself over his table, and Draco looked up, ready to bitch at Potter for standing in his light.
“Blaise?” Draco stared in disbelief. It was really him. It was really Blaise.
“Draco,” Blaise said, with a smile.
Draco continued to stare, partly from shock, partly from the need to take inventory of the man he used to call his lover. Blaise looked sturdier, the difference two years could make to maturing a man of twenty-something. He looked more filled-out in a fit way, but the smile he wore was still the same. It was boyish and charming, and Draco felt his breath hitch.
“You’re back.” Blaise had left for Italy after their breakup. It’s a humiliating thing, to find yourself drunk off your arse and looking for your cheating ex so you could have the kind of sex you would no doubt regret in the morning, only to find that he had cleared out of the flat you had shared for two years.
Blaise pulled out the chair in front of Draco and sat down. “You look good, Draco.” He waved the waitress over and ordered a cup of Earl. He always used to drink Earl, and only Earl. “I knew I’d find you here.”
Draco bristled at the implication that Blaise still knew him so well. He had his set patterns and his routines, but he was not the same person that Blaise had cheated on two years ago.
“Why are you here?” Draco asked.
“I missed you.”
Draco scrubbed his hands over his face. Merlin, this was a tiring morning. “It’s been two years, Blaise. I hear nothing from you for two years, and now you come back and tell me you miss me?”
“You said you never wanted to see me again.”
“I said that every time we fought!”
“I know,” Blaise answered. He looked sad. Draco should feel good, feel victorious, that Blaise looked sad, but for some reason he didn’t. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“It’s a bit too late for that,” Draco scoffed and shook his head. “Two years too late, in fact.”
“Back then, I--”
“Hello?” Draco jumped as he felt Potter’s hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t even noticed the other man approaching. Potter leaned down and tilted Draco’s chin up, letting their lips meet in greeting, something he had never done before. “Good morning,” Potter said with a smile.
Draco looked from Potter to Blaise, and then from Blaise to Potter. Blaise’s demeanor didn’t change, but Draco had known him for too long, and that little twitch in Blaise’s left eyebrow was all he needed to see to know that Blaise was jealous. Draco snorted to himself. What right did Blaise have to be jealous?
Draco reached up and pulled Potter down for another kiss, this one deeper than the last. “Good morning,” he said. “You remember Blaise, don’t you?”
Potter thrust his hand across the table and shook Blaise’s hand. “Long time no see,” he said.
“Since Hogwarts,” Blaise nodded in acknowledgement. He looked between Draco and Potter. “I didn’t realize you two were on friendly terms.”
“Oh, I’d say we’re on more than friendly terms,” Potter laughed. He pulled up a chair and sat next to Draco. “How about you? Revisiting old acquaintances?”
“Didn’t he tell you? We’re much more than old acquaintances. We were together for two years, weren’t we, lover?”
Draco gritted his teeth. He hated this. He hated that Blaise was here, ruining the only good thing to happen to him in the last two years. He hated that Potter was playing right into Blaise’s hand, and he hated being thrown between them like some sort of party favor.
“Ex-lover, you mean?” Potter smirked and laid an arm across Draco’s shoulder, pulling him close.
Draco counted to ten in his head, like Pansy had taught him, and only got to four before he slammed both hands down onto the table and stood up, dislodging Potter’s arm from around him. “If you two are done with this little cock fight you’re having,” he hissed. “I think I’ve had quite enough.”
Grabbing his papers, Draco made for the door and didn’t turn back. What did he care what they were saying? They were both perfectly capable of carrying on a conversation without him.
Draco laid on the soft cushions of Pansy’s Italian leather sofa, his head in her lap, contemplating the state of his life. With her fingers carding through his hair, he came to the conclusion that it was indeed pathetic. Once upon a time he would have loved to have the two of them fighting over him, but now he was just tired.
“I love you, you know that?” Pansy looked down at him and ran her fingers through his hair. It had always soothed him when she did that, even when they were children.
“I know, Pansy.” He took her hand into his own and laced their fingers together, kissing the back of her hand. “I know.”
“So, he’s back, huh?” She rubbed the smooth pad of her thumb against his knuckles. He nodded. “What will you do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you still love him?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head. Blaise had been a major part of his life. He had been the only person Draco had ever truly called a boyfriend, and he had also broken Draco’s heart. He wanted to just hate Blaise and be done with it; a part of him did hate Blaise, but Draco knew that there was also a part of him that would always love Blaise. It was bloody confusing. “I’m so confused.”
“What about Potter?” Pansy giggled a bit, bringing their joined hands to her mouth to cover it in an attempt to be ladylike. “Do you realize that the corners of your lips twitch upwards when I mention Potter?”
Draco rolled his eyes. That was another part of the confusion. Potter…what the hell was going on between him and Potter? Potter had obviously been jealous of Blaise in the bakery. Was that just a territorial thing? Because if it was, then Draco was going to be mightily pissed, or was it that Potter was afraid of losing Draco to Blaise? It was all so bloody confusing!
He was still angry at the both of them for acting like he was some sort of possession, but he wanted to see him quite desperately. Which him it was though, was the problem. With Blaise, they had had so much history and passion between them. And then Blaise had cheated on him, broken his heart, and then did the Wizard mambo on its bloody remains. With Potter, Draco didn’t know what to expect. It was all new and exciting, but was there any future there? Could there be? He honestly didn’t know.
Thankfully, though, a knock at the door saved him from having to think about it any further. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair to give it a semblance of normality, while Pansy got the door. “I guess you do know me after all,” Draco shrugged and leaned back into the cushions.
“We were friends for years before we were lovers, Draco,” Blaise said with a smile, as he came over and leaned down, kissing Draco’s cheek in greeting. It felt wrong, Draco realized, for Blaise to be kissing him on the cheek. That was Potter’s thing, wasn’t it?
“Yes, we were,” Pansy answered for him. She sat herself down on the sofa right next to him and took his hand. “You should know that right now I am already planning your untimely demise, and if you even think about hurting Draco again, I will make sure to desecrate your corpse.”
Draco smiled at the thought. He wouldn’t put it past her to have poisoned Blaise’s tea, just in case. He brought her hand to his lips again and kissed it. “Thanks, love, but I think I can handle it from here.”
She scrunched her nose at him and then disentangled their hands. When they were free, she grabbed his face and kissed him solidly on the lips. “I will kill him, I hope you know,” she said seriously, as she looked into his eyes.
He smiled and nodded, swatting her on the arse as she got up to leave them in privacy.
Blaise laughed and shook his head. “She’s still quite protective of you.” He wisely pushed the cup of tea she had given him aside. He had known her as long as Draco had.
Draco shrugged. He smiled inside. At least he would always have Pansy. “What do you want, Blaise?” he asked. He was sick of all these social niceties and all the small talk. He was grouchy and irritable, like he always was when confused, and he hadn’t gotten any sleep last night.
“I already told you, Draco. I miss you.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“I miss us.”
“After two years of not even a whisper, that’s not nearly enough. What do you want, Blaise? And none of this I miss you shite.”
Blaise took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I want you back,” he said. “I made a mistake, and I want you back.”
Draco tilted his head up and looked at the ceiling of Pansy’s flat. He had always thought her mad for texturing it with swirls, but now he thought it was pretty interesting. It gave him something to look at, at least. He sat there and just breathed. If he could wait for two years, then Blaise could wait while he thought about his answer.
So, Blaise wanted him back. It would be easy to say that their love just miraculously disappeared when Blaise had cheated on him, but it wasn’t like that. They had been in love. Blaise might have been unfaithful, but that didn’t mean that Blaise hadn’t loved him. It also didn’t mean that Draco had stopped loving him, after the fact. Why was life never as easy as black and white?
“You broke my heart, Blaise.” Sod the Slytherin mentality and the idiotic pureblood pride. Blaise had broken his heart, and they both knew it. “You broke my heart, and then you left for Italy. You didn’t even have the decency to stay and grovel.”
The look of miserable guilt didn’t sit prettily upon Blaise’s face. It marred his features in a way that was utterly unsatisfying.
“I couldn’t face you,” Blaise finally said. “We had been together for two years, we were living together, and things were so serious between us. I loved you, and I hate that I might have made you think differently, but I did love you. It just scared me, how serious our relationship was getting, and I took the coward’s way out. I was twenty-two, Draco, and I was in love with you, and it scared the shite out of me.”
That was perhaps the most honest thing Blaise had ever said to him. Draco nodded in acknowledgement of the fact that it must have taken a lot for Blaise to admit that much. Blaise had never been one to share his emotions. That was one of the reasons they had always fought. Draco had wanted to know everything, and Blaise had shared nothing.
“I know it’s infantile of me to blame this on my mother, and my therapist is probably cursing all the way to Aruba right now, but you have to understand that the only relationships I had ever seen growing up were my mother’s endless line of marriages. I looked at her, and then I saw us, and I ran. I’m my mother’s son, Draco; that’s all I’ve ever been. I didn’t know how to be anyone else, and when I looked at you and saw the way you looked at me, I got scared. I never meant to hurt you,” Blaise said quietly, “not like that.”
Draco nodded again, processing all that Blaise was telling him.
“So, what’s changed?” he asked. All this, all these confessions, didn’t mean much, did they? Had anything really changed? How long would this try last before Blaise ran away again when things got serious?
Blaise laughed miserably. “Every time I hold someone else in my arms, I imagine it’s you.” That’s all he said in reply, and Draco supposed that that was enough.
“I don’t know that I love you the same way anymore, or that I even can,” Draco answered. Honesty was the least he could do, what with Blaise spilling his heart out like this. They needed a little more honesty between them to begin with.
Blaise nodded in agreement. “That’s fair.”
“I don’t trust you to not break my heart again.”
“I know.”
“I might be in love with Potter. Either that or a very serious state of like.”
Blaise sighed. “I know that as well.”
“You do?”
Blaise laughed. “You melt into him when you kiss him.”
“I did the same with you!” Draco protested.
“No, you pushed me against a wall and ravished my lips. Quite forcefully, I might add, but you never melted into me like that.”
Draco pouted.
“I don’t know if he even likes me.”
He slumped down into the sofa. It was quite an odd sensation, talking to one’s ex-lover about one’s feelings for someone else. He was sure it would be frowned upon in polite circles, but then again what did he care about them?
“Considering that he wanted to hex me in the bakery, I’d say he’s quite smitten with you.” Blaise stood up and came over to Draco’s sofa. He laid down upon it and pulled Draco to lie on top of him.
Draco stiffened at first, but then relaxed against Blaise’s body. It was comfortable, being like this with Blaise. “You’re not going to say yes to me, are you?” said Blaise. Draco buried his face into Blaise’s shoulder, something he used to love doing when they were dating, and shook his head.
“I need to know if whatever the hell Potter and I have is going to go anywhere,” Draco mumbled against the soft fabric of Blaise’s shirt, “even if he refuses to shag me.”
Blaise laughed, and it rumbled through Draco’s body. He leaned his head down and laid a kiss upon Draco’s hair. “I’m sorry I lost my chance, but I hope it works out for you. You deserve to be happy, love. He does make you happy, right?”
Draco smiled and nodded against Blaise as he sighed happily. He realized that even without the shagging and the physical aspects of relationships that he had always been accustomed to, Potter really did make him happy. Now all he had to do was wait until Potter got back from the States to tell him that.
Draco fidgeted in his seat. He had been waiting all week for Thursday to arrive, and now that it had, he was nervous as a first-year waiting to get sorted. He had missed Potter terribly.
He had ended up camping out the whole week at Pansy’s. Blaise had stayed as well, and the three of them had caught up on the good old days when they were still children and didn’t know anything about sex and hormones and boys. After the third day, Pansy had even stopped poisoning Blaise’s tea.
He had always kept a closet of clothes at Pansy’s, as she did with him, and he wasn’t looking forward to all the correspondence he had ignored all week. He hadn’t even been back to his flat yet, but he knew there would no doubt be avian shite to Scourgify off his window ledge. Though he still snarled any time he heard a word that even rhymed with Millicent or Bulstrode, things were better between Blaise and him now.
Of course, Blaise continued to sexually harass him, but now that he knew what he really wanted, and that being Potter, Draco didn’t mind. It was fun to banter with Blaise. That was one of his favorite things about their relationship. Things just seemed to get easier for him now that he had figured out that he really did genuinely want to give it a go with Potter and try to make whatever they had work.
So, Draco waited. For an hour, and then two, and then three. By the time night rolled around, Draco very nearly wanted to cry. Potter had never showed.
On Friday, Draco was depressed. He was a third of a stone heavier from chocolate ice cream alone and he couldn’t remember the last time he had drunk so much vodka. He much preferred gin martinis, but those were for celebrations and general merrymaking. Vodka was for getting sloshed off one’s arse because one was heartbroken.
At first, it was just a sullen state of misery, but then, by the time Friday night rolled around, about the same time he would have normally been on a date with Potter, who had apparently lost all interest in him, Draco felt truly and utterly wretched. That was when Pansy had brought out a blunt. It was all a haze after that. The only thing Draco knew was, right now, the Saturday morning sun was killing him. It was literally killing him!
He sat up slowly, untangling his arms and legs from Pansy’s and Blaise’s. They had all fallen asleep on the floor of Pansy’s living room. Apparently, Draco had neglected to follow through with his nighttime rituals before passing out, because his tongue tasted like he had licked the underside of a Chinese water buffalo.
“Never again,” Draco moaned, as he stood up and had to hang onto the edge of Pansy’s sofa in order to not fall over. Bloody cheap vodka. Bloody Pansy who insisted cheap vodka was the only kind one was supposed to drink whilst heartbroken. Bloody Potter!
Draco trudged into the bathroom. The only thing blessed about it all was that he had never been the type to sick up after drinking. That was just undignified. And gauche. It was undignified and gauche.
You know what was also gauche? Not meeting someone for coffee. So what if he and Potter had never actually made an appointment to meet Thursday mornings? It was their unspoken thing! How could Potter not show up? He hadn’t heard anything, not even a peep, from Potter, ever since that day he had stormed out of Pour L’Amour de Pain.
Was Potter simply not interested in him enough to put in the effort now that Blaise was back? Was he so insignificant and unworthy of being fought over? Draco supposed that the thing that hurt the most was how easily Potter had cast him aside. After all that flirting and pursuing, and those kisses that he was sure they had both felt, Potter hadn’t even bothered to try and fight for him.
Perhaps Potter didn’t think he was worth the trouble. Draco sighed and splashed water onto his face. He looked into the mirror. His hairline was retreating faster than the French and he could see the impression of crow’s feet starting to get deeper at the corners of his eyes. He was pale and pasty and his eyes were red-rimmed from all the alcohol. Wonderful. He looked like his great, great Aunt Mildred.
Draco turned around when he saw Blaise’s reflection in the mirror.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Blaise said, as he stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. “But you’re wrong. You’re gorgeous, and Potter would be lucky to have you.”
“He doesn’t want me anymore,” Draco shrugged. It was that simple, really. They had tried that horrible dating thing, and it hadn’t worked out. They were adults. Adults moved on, and he would too, even though at the moment he really wanted to pull Potter’s hair and maybe kick him in the shin. Why didn’t Potter want him?
“Did he tell you that?” Blaise asked, pointedly.
Draco shook his head. A week of silence and the fact that Potter hadn’t shown up on Thursday morning or pigeoned Draco to ask him out for Friday night was enough indication.
“It’s as good as said, Blaise. What do you want me to do, go to his office, demand an answer from him, and then humiliate myself to the entire Ministry in the process? No, thank you.”
“So, you’re just going to give up?”
“Looks like it.”
“That’s not the Draco I used to know.”
“Well, you cheated on the old Draco, so what does that tell me?” Blaise’s jaw tightened and Draco took a deep breath. Blaise hadn’t deserved that. “I’m sorry,” said Draco, “I shouldn’t have said that. I know you’re trying to help, but please just leave it, Blaise.”
“I’m sorry I made you lose so much confidence in yourself,” Blaise surprised him by saying.
“Look, Blaise, this doesn’t--”
Blaise held up his hand, stopping Draco before he could say any more.
“You were the best thing that had ever happened to me, and I think you should know that the only reason I slept with Bulstrode was because she was a total troll. I know it’s weird, and you might not understand it, but she was the only person I could stomach cheating on you with because she was so utterly dreadful. It made it feel like less of a betrayal back then. If I had known that it would have made you doubt yourself so much, I would have slept with some good-looking bloke instead.”
Blaise walked into the bathroom and pulled Draco into his arms. Draco didn’t resist, and rested his head against Blaise’s shoulder. “I never meant to break your heart.”
“But you did,” Draco mumbled.
Blaise kissed the top of Draco’s head. “I know.”
They stayed like that until Draco finally spoke again. “Why doesn’t he want me?”
“Ask him,” Blaise said gently.
“It’s humiliating, and not to bring up old scars, because I think I can understand what you were thinking now, but I’m so sick of being humiliated.”
“If you don’t risk it, then you’re just going to be letting him go without a fight.” Blaise tightened his arms around Draco. “Now you have to decide. Is he worth it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then find out, love,” Blaise said as he pulled back from their hug with a smile. He leaned in and kissed Draco softly on the lips. “Just know that Pansy and I love you, no matter what you decide to do.”
Come Monday morning, Draco Malfoy was a man on a mission. After a very slow Saturday, during which he gathered his bearings and swore on the purity of his blood that he would never drink cheap vodka again, Draco had spent that Sunday thinking about what Blaise had said. He hated the fact that his cheating ex, whom he hated but loved at the same time, was right.
He had been prepared to give up Potter without a fight. The prospect of fighting for Potter and convincing Potter that Draco was worth his time was daunting, but the possibility of Potter rejecting him was frightening. If he backed off now; if he just let what they had slowly die, then he would be able to salvage the very last bits of his pride.
What would he have left if he pursued Potter, only to have Potter reject him? A broken heart and absolutely no pride left, that was what. Oh, and let’s not forget the two hundred stocks he had purchased yesterday from some Russian company that made paperweights which insulted and cursed at you in five different languages when you used them. He really did have to stop this habit of trading while being emotionally distressed.
But then, because Pansy had stuffed him full of waffles, which always made him strangely optimistic, he thought of the possibility that it could might just work out between Potter and him. Maybe Potter had been absent because he was in the wilds of Africa, helping a female hippopotamus give birth? Perhaps Potter had gone into the Amazon, gotten knocked unconscious by a banana-flinging monkey, and was now wearing a loin cloth and swinging from the vines, completely unaware that Draco was waiting for him because Potter now had amnesia?
Both Pansy and Blaise pointed out to him that both scenarios were highly unlikely, but he didn’t care. Now that he had gotten that niggling little seed of hope in mind, it just wouldn’t go away. There were a million different ways it could go, and a million different things that could influence his situation if he did choose to fight for Potter’s attention. The important thing was, there was hope. Draco couldn’t stand the thought of being disappointed again. He had recently found a company that made attachable sixth toes, and he really didn’t want another ridiculous investment in his portfolio.
Draco was utterly disappointed. He had gone all the way to the Ministry and to the Auror Department even, to look for Potter, only to be told that Potter was still in the States and wouldn’t be back until Wednesday. Well, that was good, at least; in that it meant Potter hadn’t been there last Thursday because he wasn’t even on the continent. It made Draco feel a bit better. Still, Potter could have pigeoned…
Draco left and Apparated back to his flat. He hadn’t been there in nearly two weeks. He had never returned to it after Potter didn’t show up Thursday morning. Pansy had been a wonder, and he was sure she would let him stay there permanently if he wanted, but he knew he had to get back to his own flat sooner or later.
When Draco landed in his living room, he was hit with the overwhelming smell of rotted flowers. He looked around, and his flat was filled with wilted white roses. The sight would have been depressing if it hadn’t meant that Potter had filled Draco’s home with his favorite flowers. Draco knew that it had to be him. White roses, kisses on the cheek, and coffee on Thursday mornings were Potter’s things.
Draco banished the flowers because the smell was just horrid, but not before he plucked a petal and saved it. He wasn’t being girly; he just wanted a keepsake! He made his way into his room and flopped down on his bed. He turned his face into the pillow and inhaled. It smelled like Potter.
Did that mean…?
Draco grinned, the heavy mood that had settled over his shoulders lifting immensely. Potter had come to his flat, filled it with flowers, and apparently waited for him…in his bed!
Now, Draco just felt like an idiot. He should have gone back to his own flat right away after storming out on Blaise and Potter that day. Instead, he had gone to Pansy’s and stayed there for two weeks, agonizing over the fact that everything with Potter was ruined, when he could have been home shagging Potter the whole time!
That’s it, Draco decided. He was going to try his damndest to make things work out with Potter. Any man that filled his flat with white roses just had to be worth a gamble.
They hadn’t told Draco what time on Wednesday Potter would be back, so Draco had sent an owl first thing in the morning to Potter with a note asking Potter to meet him at his flat. It would be perfect. Potter would show up, Draco would seduce him with his ruggedly manly wiles, and then they would shag and live happily ever after.
When Potter Apparated into Draco’s living room, however, Draco found himself faced with an angry- looking Potter, who was very much not in the mood to be seduced. He could feel the frustration and suppressed anger rolling off of Potter. He was a bit scared, but then of course that only made him harder than he had already been from thinking about all the things he and Potter would do.
Potter stood there, stock still, his fists clenched at his sides. “Where were you?” he asked.
Draco’s brows furrowed, partly from annoyance and partly from confusion. Did Potter think he had a right to come into Draco’s home and interrogate him?
“I don’t think I appreciate your tone, Potter,” he sneered. He crossed the room and stood in front of Potter, his finger poking at Potter’s chest.
Draco suddenly found himself pressed flush against the wall. Considering the swiftness and efficiency Potter used, it should have hurt, but Draco found himself landing very softly; Potter’s hand was cupped behind his head so that it didn’t slam against the wall.
“Well, you know what? I don’t appreciate not hearing from my boyfriend for two weeks. I waited for you,” Potter hissed. “I waited for you in your flat every day for a week, and you didn’t even show up! Like I had asked before, where were you?”
Draco blinked. The only things he registered was that Potter’s body was pressed against his own, that he was pinned between Potter’s hard chest and the wall, and that Potter had called him his ‘boyfriend’.
“Answer me,” Potter said. It wasn’t angry, though. Potter sounded almost unsure of himself. It was adorable.
“I was at Pansy’s,” Draco replied. He watched Potter’s lips. He liked the way Potter’s tongue would surreptitiously peek out and wet them.
Potter seemed to sag with relief against Draco, and Draco found himself practically holding Potter up.
“I was worried,” Potter said, quietly. He put his forehead to Draco’s and let out a shuddering breath. “I thought you had gotten back together with Zabini now that he was back, and then, when you didn’t even come home for the whole week, I was worried half to death, thinking something had happened to you.”
Draco smiled and took Potter’s face into his hands. He brushed a strand of Potter’s hair from his forehead.
“I’m sorry,” he said, with a small smile, “I didn’t mean to worry you. I thought you would be in America, so I didn’t bother trying to contact you. I figured we would just see each other Thursday morning like usual, but then you never showed.”
“I was supposed to go, but then after I made an arse of myself and you stormed out, I begged off of the trip so that I could sort things out with you first. By Wednesday, when you still hadn’t showed, the situation in the States turned serious and I had to go. I just got in a few minutes ago, actually. I came straight here.”
Draco counted his blessings and kissed Potter solidly on the lips. Gods, he had missed kissing Potter!
“I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”
Potter looked at Draco incredulously. “How could you possibly even think that?!” He grabbed Draco and kissed him again. “Is it because we haven’t had sex yet? Because I can’t think of anything else I’ve done that could lead you to think that I’m not absolutely mad over you.”
Draco looked down. It was embarrassing how much validation he took out of sex sometimes. “Kind of,” he mumbled. “I know, intelligently, that you wouldn’t have stuck around for so long if you didn’t like me, and it’s stupid, but some part of me still thinks that without sex, there can be no real possibility. I know it’s not right, but I can’t help thinking like that sometimes.”
Potter looked at Draco, straight at him, for a moment, before he took Draco’s hand and led him into the bedroom.
“What are you doing?” Draco asked.
“We’re going to have sex,” Potter announced.
Draco dug his heels in and pulled back. “I know you don’t want to yet, and I can wait, alright? Let’s not do it just to prove some stupid point. I don’t want it like that.”
Potter ran his hands through his hair and pulled a bit, making it even messier than usual. “It’s not just to prove a point. I wanted to wait because I thought it would add more stability to our relationship if we built it around something other than sex, but I can see now what that’s doing to you, and I don’t want that. I don’t want you to doubt the fact that you’re my boyfriend and that we’re in a relationship.”
Draco smiled and bit his bottom lip to try and control it. It didn’t work. He was full-out grinning. “Do you realize that’s the second time you’ve called me your boyfriend?”
Potter’s eyes widened and then he slapped a hand to his forehead. “Of course, you’re my boyfriend! We’ve only been dating for nearly two months!”
“Well, I didn’t know,” Draco explained. Potter pulled him into a hug again. “I didn’t know, because you never said anything.”
“I didn’t think that I had to,” Potter said, after he leaned down and kissed Draco again. “I thought you knew.”
“I didn’t.”
“Well,” Potter said with a soft smile, “do you know now?”
Draco smiled back and nodded. “Yeah, I think I do. I also think I know what I want to do next.”
Potter took Draco’s hand and laced their fingers together. “What is it?” He brought their joined hands up to his lips and kissed Draco’s knuckles.
“Let’s have at that sex thing you were planning on a minute ago.”
“I thought you said you didn’t want to.”
“Well, that was before I knew I was your boyfriend and that you’re madly, deeply, hopelessly in love with me,” Draco replied, with a wink.
Potter chuckled. “Taken a few liberties with my words there, haven’t you?” He let Draco lead him into the bedroom.
“Oh, I’m about to take liberties with much more than just your words,” Draco said, lasciviously. Potter laughed as Draco led him into the bedroom.
Draco moaned as Potter pressed against him. They hadn’t even managed to close the door before they were attached at the lips. It was all friction and touches after that.
Draco arched off the bed, pressing up against Potter’s body. He could feel the heat radiating off of Potter and it was intoxicating. Draco loved the way Potter smelled! It was all sex and sweat and he thought he had never smelled anything quite as fantastic. It smelt like adrenaline, just not of the dragon shite variety.
Potter leaned down and pressed his lips against Draco’s, claiming a kiss quite forcefully. “Don’t disappear on me again,” he said.
Draco pulled Potter down, not only feeling eager for the taste of Potter’s lips but also feeling how desperately Potter seemed to need the reassurance.
“I won’t if you won’t,” Draco promised. When did it go from him being the unsure and needy one to Potter? Perhaps Potter had always felt the same insecurities as he had, only Draco had never noticed because he was too busy with his own thoughts and emotions.
“You’ve never called me Harry,” Potter said, as he kissed down the nape of Draco’s neck. “Did you know that?”
Draco chuckled. Yes, perhaps Potter truly did need just as much reassurance as he did.
“Harry,” he said, testing the name out on his tongue. It tasted better than ‘Potter’ did, and Draco thought that he could definitely get used to the taste of it. “Harry.”
Potter moaned.
“Thank you,” he said, as he feverishly kissed Draco’s chin and jaw. He slid his hand down to the buttons of Draco’s robe, popping them open with swift efficiency. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Potter chanted as he kissed a trail down Draco’s bare chest.
“Harry, please,” Draco moaned. He writhed under Potter’s sometimes gentle, yet urgent touches.
Potter sat up and pulled his robe over his head, tossing it carelessly to the floor. He scooted down the length of Draco’s body and stood, kicking off his trousers as he went. His hands were on the zip of Draco’s trousers and Draco swore he could have finished just like that.
Potter yanked, and Draco found himself lying naked on the bed. He was hot, filled to the brim with absolute need as Potter’s eyes swept over his body. He spread his legs and looked into Potter’s eyes.
“Fuck me,” he said.
He could see Potter swallow. It was the kind of swallow you made when you saw something you wanted, but were afraid to touch. “Please, Harry, I want you,” he said, as much for Potter as for himself. He had been waiting for this for so long now.
Potter quickly divested himself of his trousers and settled between Draco’s legs. Draco felt the cool, wet sensation of a lubrication spell against the crack of his arse. It felt splendid, and was only surpassed by the smooth entry of Potter’s slick finger inside of him.
Potter was careful and thorough as he stretched Draco out. Draco didn’t know whether he wanted to kiss Potter or kill him. He appreciated how much care Potter took in preparing him, but then on the other hand, he had been five seconds away from coming for the last ten minutes. First, he had lost his common sense, and now Potter was making him lose his mind. Splendid.
Finally, after what felt like ages, Draco felt the blunt head of Potter’s cock against his arsehole. As Potter slid home, which was exactly what it felt like, home, Draco lost the final strings of his coherent thought. Potter felt big, deceptively so, and Draco almost envied Potter his length. That wasn’t to say the girth was lacking, because it wasn’t, not in the slightest. Apparently, Potter was a ‘grower’, because Draco didn’t remember it being so big when he had gotten many glimpses of it while Potter prepared him. Draco himself had always been more of a ‘shower’.
Draco felt the heaviness of Potter’s bollocks resting on the curve of his arse and he moaned with pleasure. Merlin, how he had missed sex. Potter went slowly, as he always seemed to go at first, and Draco was grateful. He hadn’t had sex in so long that it was almost uncomfortably tight, even with all of Potter’s careful preparation.
Potter thrust smoothly and began to pick up the pace. It was exquisite, the feeling of Potter’s long, hard cock sliding in and out of him. It was the kind of sensation that he could never really describe, because for someone that had never had anal sex, they would never be able to truly understand the particular sensations of it. It burns, Merlin, it burns, but it’s such a lovely, welcome burn that accompanies the stretch of pleasure that the human body derives from penetration.
Poetically, one would describe it as melding of mind, body, and soul into an unending chasm of pleasure. Bluntly, it was just plain fucking fantastic. It was sex, pure and primal, and it was a splendid thing indeed.
Potter thrust deeply, angling it perfectly, as Draco moaned in exquisite pleasure. He could feel himself near the edge and he knew he couldn’t go on much longer. Potter’s hand was wanking him, and the overload of sensations was more than Draco could handle, as he spilled himself on his stomach with a groan.
He felt Potter still and stiffen inside of him before the hot spurt of Potter’s orgasm filled him. Potter pumped shallowly, wringing the last vestiges of pleasure from their spent bodies. Yes, sex was indeed glorious.
Draco woke up delightfully achy and ravenously hungry on Thursday morning. He stretched languidly and then curled himself up into a ball again. A strong arm automatically wrapped around him and he sighed in contentment.
“Morning, love,” Potter said, with a yawn.
“Good morning,” Draco said, as he wrapped an arm around Potter’s waist and pulled him close. It was heavenly waking up to someone you still wanted to see in the morning. “I’m starved,” Draco said with a laugh when his stomach rumbled.
“Me too,” said Potter. They made no move to separate or even get up, though. It felt far too good lying in bed with one’s boyfriend.
“Do you have to go in to work?” Draco asked, as he marveled upon the fact that he was in bed, experiencing a very good morning after with his boyfriend. The distinction alone made him feel giddy with happiness.
Potter shook his head. “Since I was in the States for so long, I have the rest of the week off. Why?”
Draco untangled himself from Potter’s limbs and sat up. There was a pleasant, tingling throb in his arse. He relished it. “I was thinking we could go have breakfast.”
Potter sat up against the headboard and pulled Draco to sit between his legs. Draco very much liked the feel of Potter’s chest against his back. “Pour L’Amour de Pain?” Potter asked.
Draco grinned and snuggled back into Potter’s warmth. “You’ve read my mind,” he said with a smile.
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, past Draco/Blaise
Summary: Draco Malfoy has lost his common sense and Potter is a tease. Bugger it all.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Epilogue compliant? EWE
Word Count: ~16,500
Author's Notes: Thank you to my lovely, wonderful, awesome beta without whom I would have never been able to finish this! Also, a great thanks to the mods for organizing the fest and putting up with me! Again, this was one I'd written awhile back for the
hd_smoochfest but never posted on my journal.Draco sat sipping his tea. Last night’s date was actually a lot of fun, even though it was completely gauche and Muggle. Draco loved it. Pansy thought it was a condition. According to her, since he had been raised in the upper crusts of pureblood society, he would, of course, be attracted to only the most gauche elements of Muggle society. She was one to talk, though, considering she shared his affinity for gin martinis, Cuban cigars, and dive bars.
He could still remember that one evening where they had indulged themselves in all three vices at once. Pansy had just broken up with Tim, Tom, Todd, or whatever his name was, and Draco had just ended things with his seven-night stand. They were both giddy with liberation and had gotten absolutely pissed in some dive bar in Manchester.
He couldn’t remember how many gin martinis he had had that night, but what he could remember of the night was nothing but brief flashes of cigar smoke and dancing atop the bar whilst singing out of tune to Freddie Mercury. It was a fabulous night, that.
Draco shook his head and laughed. There was no time to get caught up in the past. He had the present to look forward to, and a pigeon named Prince to wait for.
As expected, Prince was at his windowsill when Draco went down to his kitchen for his morning tea. He liked the bird a lot more now that Potter had taken him to that record store. He took the note from Prince, who didn’t shite on his hand this time, and gave the pigeon a piece of toast before it flew off.
Draco,
I have to portkey over to the States from Friday to Monday. I’m sorry I can’t take you out again this week. Can I still see you Thursday morning?
Love,
Harry
Well, that was disappointing. Draco jotted down his reply, something along the lines of ‘Yes, of course. You’d better be there Thursday morning, if you plan on abandoning me on Friday and leaving me to my own devices,’ and sat down to enjoy his tea. Now what was he supposed to do Friday night?
It hadn’t been that long, but Draco honestly couldn’t remember what he had done with himself on Friday nights before Potter had come into the picture. It was nice, however, that Potter thought to inform Draco of his plans beforehand. Were they at that point in their relationship where they told each other of their whereabouts and plans?
Were they even in a relationship at all? This whole thing was new to Draco, since he had always started his relationships with sex. Meet, judge, shag, and then either continue to date and shag like bunnies, or go their separate ways. That was how he had always done it.
Now. Now, everything was different. Potter refused to shag him, but insisted on continuing to see him. What the hell was wrong with Potter?! For the first time since he had broken up with Blaise, Draco actually had a genuine interest in someone. He had had a few one-offs here and there with men he couldn’t be arsed to remember, but he had stopped even that much when he found that it wasn’t the same. He wanted what he had with Blaise, only without the fighting and cheating and lying.
And the weird thing was he wanted it with Potter. The others, the one-night stands in the months following his breakup from hell, hadn’t meant a thing to him. It had been two years since Blaise and so far, Draco’s best friend had been his right hand. He was horny, slightly desperate, and he really wanted Potter. The fact that Potter wanted to date him and not have sex with him yet was a good thing…right?
+++
Draco sighed and dropped another cube of sugar into his cup of tea. It would be utterly undrinkable now, considering the small mountain of sugar at the bottom of his cup. Ever since last Saturday, when he had so idiotically had that conversation with himself, he had been testy and annoyed. He couldn’t figure out what Potter wanted from him.
One only dated someone one liked, right? Draco knew this, but the more he thought about it, the more confusing it became. Now, after talking himself in circles inside his mind, Draco was hopeless confused. He wasn’t even sure if Potter liked him anymore. Maybe Potter was just putting up with him because he had nothing better to do.
Without the sex part of the equation, what did Draco really have? He was arrogant, petulant, bitchy, always had to have his way, and he was pretty sure he was a little mental half the time. He gave excellent head, but Potter didn’t know that, now did he? When he thought about it, he didn’t really have any redeeming qualities that would hold someone’s interest outside of the bedroom.
A human-shaped shadow cast itself over his table, and Draco looked up, ready to bitch at Potter for standing in his light.
“Blaise?” Draco stared in disbelief. It was really him. It was really Blaise.
“Draco,” Blaise said, with a smile.
Draco continued to stare, partly from shock, partly from the need to take inventory of the man he used to call his lover. Blaise looked sturdier, the difference two years could make to maturing a man of twenty-something. He looked more filled-out in a fit way, but the smile he wore was still the same. It was boyish and charming, and Draco felt his breath hitch.
“You’re back.” Blaise had left for Italy after their breakup. It’s a humiliating thing, to find yourself drunk off your arse and looking for your cheating ex so you could have the kind of sex you would no doubt regret in the morning, only to find that he had cleared out of the flat you had shared for two years.
Blaise pulled out the chair in front of Draco and sat down. “You look good, Draco.” He waved the waitress over and ordered a cup of Earl. He always used to drink Earl, and only Earl. “I knew I’d find you here.”
Draco bristled at the implication that Blaise still knew him so well. He had his set patterns and his routines, but he was not the same person that Blaise had cheated on two years ago.
“Why are you here?” Draco asked.
“I missed you.”
Draco scrubbed his hands over his face. Merlin, this was a tiring morning. “It’s been two years, Blaise. I hear nothing from you for two years, and now you come back and tell me you miss me?”
“You said you never wanted to see me again.”
“I said that every time we fought!”
“I know,” Blaise answered. He looked sad. Draco should feel good, feel victorious, that Blaise looked sad, but for some reason he didn’t. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“It’s a bit too late for that,” Draco scoffed and shook his head. “Two years too late, in fact.”
“Back then, I--”
“Hello?” Draco jumped as he felt Potter’s hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t even noticed the other man approaching. Potter leaned down and tilted Draco’s chin up, letting their lips meet in greeting, something he had never done before. “Good morning,” Potter said with a smile.
Draco looked from Potter to Blaise, and then from Blaise to Potter. Blaise’s demeanor didn’t change, but Draco had known him for too long, and that little twitch in Blaise’s left eyebrow was all he needed to see to know that Blaise was jealous. Draco snorted to himself. What right did Blaise have to be jealous?
Draco reached up and pulled Potter down for another kiss, this one deeper than the last. “Good morning,” he said. “You remember Blaise, don’t you?”
Potter thrust his hand across the table and shook Blaise’s hand. “Long time no see,” he said.
“Since Hogwarts,” Blaise nodded in acknowledgement. He looked between Draco and Potter. “I didn’t realize you two were on friendly terms.”
“Oh, I’d say we’re on more than friendly terms,” Potter laughed. He pulled up a chair and sat next to Draco. “How about you? Revisiting old acquaintances?”
“Didn’t he tell you? We’re much more than old acquaintances. We were together for two years, weren’t we, lover?”
Draco gritted his teeth. He hated this. He hated that Blaise was here, ruining the only good thing to happen to him in the last two years. He hated that Potter was playing right into Blaise’s hand, and he hated being thrown between them like some sort of party favor.
“Ex-lover, you mean?” Potter smirked and laid an arm across Draco’s shoulder, pulling him close.
Draco counted to ten in his head, like Pansy had taught him, and only got to four before he slammed both hands down onto the table and stood up, dislodging Potter’s arm from around him. “If you two are done with this little cock fight you’re having,” he hissed. “I think I’ve had quite enough.”
Grabbing his papers, Draco made for the door and didn’t turn back. What did he care what they were saying? They were both perfectly capable of carrying on a conversation without him.
+++
Draco laid on the soft cushions of Pansy’s Italian leather sofa, his head in her lap, contemplating the state of his life. With her fingers carding through his hair, he came to the conclusion that it was indeed pathetic. Once upon a time he would have loved to have the two of them fighting over him, but now he was just tired.
“I love you, you know that?” Pansy looked down at him and ran her fingers through his hair. It had always soothed him when she did that, even when they were children.
“I know, Pansy.” He took her hand into his own and laced their fingers together, kissing the back of her hand. “I know.”
“So, he’s back, huh?” She rubbed the smooth pad of her thumb against his knuckles. He nodded. “What will you do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you still love him?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head. Blaise had been a major part of his life. He had been the only person Draco had ever truly called a boyfriend, and he had also broken Draco’s heart. He wanted to just hate Blaise and be done with it; a part of him did hate Blaise, but Draco knew that there was also a part of him that would always love Blaise. It was bloody confusing. “I’m so confused.”
“What about Potter?” Pansy giggled a bit, bringing their joined hands to her mouth to cover it in an attempt to be ladylike. “Do you realize that the corners of your lips twitch upwards when I mention Potter?”
Draco rolled his eyes. That was another part of the confusion. Potter…what the hell was going on between him and Potter? Potter had obviously been jealous of Blaise in the bakery. Was that just a territorial thing? Because if it was, then Draco was going to be mightily pissed, or was it that Potter was afraid of losing Draco to Blaise? It was all so bloody confusing!
He was still angry at the both of them for acting like he was some sort of possession, but he wanted to see him quite desperately. Which him it was though, was the problem. With Blaise, they had had so much history and passion between them. And then Blaise had cheated on him, broken his heart, and then did the Wizard mambo on its bloody remains. With Potter, Draco didn’t know what to expect. It was all new and exciting, but was there any future there? Could there be? He honestly didn’t know.
Thankfully, though, a knock at the door saved him from having to think about it any further. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair to give it a semblance of normality, while Pansy got the door. “I guess you do know me after all,” Draco shrugged and leaned back into the cushions.
“We were friends for years before we were lovers, Draco,” Blaise said with a smile, as he came over and leaned down, kissing Draco’s cheek in greeting. It felt wrong, Draco realized, for Blaise to be kissing him on the cheek. That was Potter’s thing, wasn’t it?
“Yes, we were,” Pansy answered for him. She sat herself down on the sofa right next to him and took his hand. “You should know that right now I am already planning your untimely demise, and if you even think about hurting Draco again, I will make sure to desecrate your corpse.”
Draco smiled at the thought. He wouldn’t put it past her to have poisoned Blaise’s tea, just in case. He brought her hand to his lips again and kissed it. “Thanks, love, but I think I can handle it from here.”
She scrunched her nose at him and then disentangled their hands. When they were free, she grabbed his face and kissed him solidly on the lips. “I will kill him, I hope you know,” she said seriously, as she looked into his eyes.
He smiled and nodded, swatting her on the arse as she got up to leave them in privacy.
Blaise laughed and shook his head. “She’s still quite protective of you.” He wisely pushed the cup of tea she had given him aside. He had known her as long as Draco had.
Draco shrugged. He smiled inside. At least he would always have Pansy. “What do you want, Blaise?” he asked. He was sick of all these social niceties and all the small talk. He was grouchy and irritable, like he always was when confused, and he hadn’t gotten any sleep last night.
“I already told you, Draco. I miss you.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“I miss us.”
“After two years of not even a whisper, that’s not nearly enough. What do you want, Blaise? And none of this I miss you shite.”
Blaise took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I want you back,” he said. “I made a mistake, and I want you back.”
Draco tilted his head up and looked at the ceiling of Pansy’s flat. He had always thought her mad for texturing it with swirls, but now he thought it was pretty interesting. It gave him something to look at, at least. He sat there and just breathed. If he could wait for two years, then Blaise could wait while he thought about his answer.
So, Blaise wanted him back. It would be easy to say that their love just miraculously disappeared when Blaise had cheated on him, but it wasn’t like that. They had been in love. Blaise might have been unfaithful, but that didn’t mean that Blaise hadn’t loved him. It also didn’t mean that Draco had stopped loving him, after the fact. Why was life never as easy as black and white?
“You broke my heart, Blaise.” Sod the Slytherin mentality and the idiotic pureblood pride. Blaise had broken his heart, and they both knew it. “You broke my heart, and then you left for Italy. You didn’t even have the decency to stay and grovel.”
The look of miserable guilt didn’t sit prettily upon Blaise’s face. It marred his features in a way that was utterly unsatisfying.
“I couldn’t face you,” Blaise finally said. “We had been together for two years, we were living together, and things were so serious between us. I loved you, and I hate that I might have made you think differently, but I did love you. It just scared me, how serious our relationship was getting, and I took the coward’s way out. I was twenty-two, Draco, and I was in love with you, and it scared the shite out of me.”
That was perhaps the most honest thing Blaise had ever said to him. Draco nodded in acknowledgement of the fact that it must have taken a lot for Blaise to admit that much. Blaise had never been one to share his emotions. That was one of the reasons they had always fought. Draco had wanted to know everything, and Blaise had shared nothing.
“I know it’s infantile of me to blame this on my mother, and my therapist is probably cursing all the way to Aruba right now, but you have to understand that the only relationships I had ever seen growing up were my mother’s endless line of marriages. I looked at her, and then I saw us, and I ran. I’m my mother’s son, Draco; that’s all I’ve ever been. I didn’t know how to be anyone else, and when I looked at you and saw the way you looked at me, I got scared. I never meant to hurt you,” Blaise said quietly, “not like that.”
Draco nodded again, processing all that Blaise was telling him.
“So, what’s changed?” he asked. All this, all these confessions, didn’t mean much, did they? Had anything really changed? How long would this try last before Blaise ran away again when things got serious?
Blaise laughed miserably. “Every time I hold someone else in my arms, I imagine it’s you.” That’s all he said in reply, and Draco supposed that that was enough.
“I don’t know that I love you the same way anymore, or that I even can,” Draco answered. Honesty was the least he could do, what with Blaise spilling his heart out like this. They needed a little more honesty between them to begin with.
Blaise nodded in agreement. “That’s fair.”
“I don’t trust you to not break my heart again.”
“I know.”
“I might be in love with Potter. Either that or a very serious state of like.”
Blaise sighed. “I know that as well.”
“You do?”
Blaise laughed. “You melt into him when you kiss him.”
“I did the same with you!” Draco protested.
“No, you pushed me against a wall and ravished my lips. Quite forcefully, I might add, but you never melted into me like that.”
Draco pouted.
“I don’t know if he even likes me.”
He slumped down into the sofa. It was quite an odd sensation, talking to one’s ex-lover about one’s feelings for someone else. He was sure it would be frowned upon in polite circles, but then again what did he care about them?
“Considering that he wanted to hex me in the bakery, I’d say he’s quite smitten with you.” Blaise stood up and came over to Draco’s sofa. He laid down upon it and pulled Draco to lie on top of him.
Draco stiffened at first, but then relaxed against Blaise’s body. It was comfortable, being like this with Blaise. “You’re not going to say yes to me, are you?” said Blaise. Draco buried his face into Blaise’s shoulder, something he used to love doing when they were dating, and shook his head.
“I need to know if whatever the hell Potter and I have is going to go anywhere,” Draco mumbled against the soft fabric of Blaise’s shirt, “even if he refuses to shag me.”
Blaise laughed, and it rumbled through Draco’s body. He leaned his head down and laid a kiss upon Draco’s hair. “I’m sorry I lost my chance, but I hope it works out for you. You deserve to be happy, love. He does make you happy, right?”
Draco smiled and nodded against Blaise as he sighed happily. He realized that even without the shagging and the physical aspects of relationships that he had always been accustomed to, Potter really did make him happy. Now all he had to do was wait until Potter got back from the States to tell him that.
+++
Draco fidgeted in his seat. He had been waiting all week for Thursday to arrive, and now that it had, he was nervous as a first-year waiting to get sorted. He had missed Potter terribly.
He had ended up camping out the whole week at Pansy’s. Blaise had stayed as well, and the three of them had caught up on the good old days when they were still children and didn’t know anything about sex and hormones and boys. After the third day, Pansy had even stopped poisoning Blaise’s tea.
He had always kept a closet of clothes at Pansy’s, as she did with him, and he wasn’t looking forward to all the correspondence he had ignored all week. He hadn’t even been back to his flat yet, but he knew there would no doubt be avian shite to Scourgify off his window ledge. Though he still snarled any time he heard a word that even rhymed with Millicent or Bulstrode, things were better between Blaise and him now.
Of course, Blaise continued to sexually harass him, but now that he knew what he really wanted, and that being Potter, Draco didn’t mind. It was fun to banter with Blaise. That was one of his favorite things about their relationship. Things just seemed to get easier for him now that he had figured out that he really did genuinely want to give it a go with Potter and try to make whatever they had work.
So, Draco waited. For an hour, and then two, and then three. By the time night rolled around, Draco very nearly wanted to cry. Potter had never showed.
+++
On Friday, Draco was depressed. He was a third of a stone heavier from chocolate ice cream alone and he couldn’t remember the last time he had drunk so much vodka. He much preferred gin martinis, but those were for celebrations and general merrymaking. Vodka was for getting sloshed off one’s arse because one was heartbroken.
At first, it was just a sullen state of misery, but then, by the time Friday night rolled around, about the same time he would have normally been on a date with Potter, who had apparently lost all interest in him, Draco felt truly and utterly wretched. That was when Pansy had brought out a blunt. It was all a haze after that. The only thing Draco knew was, right now, the Saturday morning sun was killing him. It was literally killing him!
He sat up slowly, untangling his arms and legs from Pansy’s and Blaise’s. They had all fallen asleep on the floor of Pansy’s living room. Apparently, Draco had neglected to follow through with his nighttime rituals before passing out, because his tongue tasted like he had licked the underside of a Chinese water buffalo.
“Never again,” Draco moaned, as he stood up and had to hang onto the edge of Pansy’s sofa in order to not fall over. Bloody cheap vodka. Bloody Pansy who insisted cheap vodka was the only kind one was supposed to drink whilst heartbroken. Bloody Potter!
Draco trudged into the bathroom. The only thing blessed about it all was that he had never been the type to sick up after drinking. That was just undignified. And gauche. It was undignified and gauche.
You know what was also gauche? Not meeting someone for coffee. So what if he and Potter had never actually made an appointment to meet Thursday mornings? It was their unspoken thing! How could Potter not show up? He hadn’t heard anything, not even a peep, from Potter, ever since that day he had stormed out of Pour L’Amour de Pain.
Was Potter simply not interested in him enough to put in the effort now that Blaise was back? Was he so insignificant and unworthy of being fought over? Draco supposed that the thing that hurt the most was how easily Potter had cast him aside. After all that flirting and pursuing, and those kisses that he was sure they had both felt, Potter hadn’t even bothered to try and fight for him.
Perhaps Potter didn’t think he was worth the trouble. Draco sighed and splashed water onto his face. He looked into the mirror. His hairline was retreating faster than the French and he could see the impression of crow’s feet starting to get deeper at the corners of his eyes. He was pale and pasty and his eyes were red-rimmed from all the alcohol. Wonderful. He looked like his great, great Aunt Mildred.
Draco turned around when he saw Blaise’s reflection in the mirror.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Blaise said, as he stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. “But you’re wrong. You’re gorgeous, and Potter would be lucky to have you.”
“He doesn’t want me anymore,” Draco shrugged. It was that simple, really. They had tried that horrible dating thing, and it hadn’t worked out. They were adults. Adults moved on, and he would too, even though at the moment he really wanted to pull Potter’s hair and maybe kick him in the shin. Why didn’t Potter want him?
“Did he tell you that?” Blaise asked, pointedly.
Draco shook his head. A week of silence and the fact that Potter hadn’t shown up on Thursday morning or pigeoned Draco to ask him out for Friday night was enough indication.
“It’s as good as said, Blaise. What do you want me to do, go to his office, demand an answer from him, and then humiliate myself to the entire Ministry in the process? No, thank you.”
“So, you’re just going to give up?”
“Looks like it.”
“That’s not the Draco I used to know.”
“Well, you cheated on the old Draco, so what does that tell me?” Blaise’s jaw tightened and Draco took a deep breath. Blaise hadn’t deserved that. “I’m sorry,” said Draco, “I shouldn’t have said that. I know you’re trying to help, but please just leave it, Blaise.”
“I’m sorry I made you lose so much confidence in yourself,” Blaise surprised him by saying.
“Look, Blaise, this doesn’t--”
Blaise held up his hand, stopping Draco before he could say any more.
“You were the best thing that had ever happened to me, and I think you should know that the only reason I slept with Bulstrode was because she was a total troll. I know it’s weird, and you might not understand it, but she was the only person I could stomach cheating on you with because she was so utterly dreadful. It made it feel like less of a betrayal back then. If I had known that it would have made you doubt yourself so much, I would have slept with some good-looking bloke instead.”
Blaise walked into the bathroom and pulled Draco into his arms. Draco didn’t resist, and rested his head against Blaise’s shoulder. “I never meant to break your heart.”
“But you did,” Draco mumbled.
Blaise kissed the top of Draco’s head. “I know.”
They stayed like that until Draco finally spoke again. “Why doesn’t he want me?”
“Ask him,” Blaise said gently.
“It’s humiliating, and not to bring up old scars, because I think I can understand what you were thinking now, but I’m so sick of being humiliated.”
“If you don’t risk it, then you’re just going to be letting him go without a fight.” Blaise tightened his arms around Draco. “Now you have to decide. Is he worth it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then find out, love,” Blaise said as he pulled back from their hug with a smile. He leaned in and kissed Draco softly on the lips. “Just know that Pansy and I love you, no matter what you decide to do.”
+++
Come Monday morning, Draco Malfoy was a man on a mission. After a very slow Saturday, during which he gathered his bearings and swore on the purity of his blood that he would never drink cheap vodka again, Draco had spent that Sunday thinking about what Blaise had said. He hated the fact that his cheating ex, whom he hated but loved at the same time, was right.
He had been prepared to give up Potter without a fight. The prospect of fighting for Potter and convincing Potter that Draco was worth his time was daunting, but the possibility of Potter rejecting him was frightening. If he backed off now; if he just let what they had slowly die, then he would be able to salvage the very last bits of his pride.
What would he have left if he pursued Potter, only to have Potter reject him? A broken heart and absolutely no pride left, that was what. Oh, and let’s not forget the two hundred stocks he had purchased yesterday from some Russian company that made paperweights which insulted and cursed at you in five different languages when you used them. He really did have to stop this habit of trading while being emotionally distressed.
But then, because Pansy had stuffed him full of waffles, which always made him strangely optimistic, he thought of the possibility that it could might just work out between Potter and him. Maybe Potter had been absent because he was in the wilds of Africa, helping a female hippopotamus give birth? Perhaps Potter had gone into the Amazon, gotten knocked unconscious by a banana-flinging monkey, and was now wearing a loin cloth and swinging from the vines, completely unaware that Draco was waiting for him because Potter now had amnesia?
Both Pansy and Blaise pointed out to him that both scenarios were highly unlikely, but he didn’t care. Now that he had gotten that niggling little seed of hope in mind, it just wouldn’t go away. There were a million different ways it could go, and a million different things that could influence his situation if he did choose to fight for Potter’s attention. The important thing was, there was hope. Draco couldn’t stand the thought of being disappointed again. He had recently found a company that made attachable sixth toes, and he really didn’t want another ridiculous investment in his portfolio.
+++
Draco was utterly disappointed. He had gone all the way to the Ministry and to the Auror Department even, to look for Potter, only to be told that Potter was still in the States and wouldn’t be back until Wednesday. Well, that was good, at least; in that it meant Potter hadn’t been there last Thursday because he wasn’t even on the continent. It made Draco feel a bit better. Still, Potter could have pigeoned…
Draco left and Apparated back to his flat. He hadn’t been there in nearly two weeks. He had never returned to it after Potter didn’t show up Thursday morning. Pansy had been a wonder, and he was sure she would let him stay there permanently if he wanted, but he knew he had to get back to his own flat sooner or later.
When Draco landed in his living room, he was hit with the overwhelming smell of rotted flowers. He looked around, and his flat was filled with wilted white roses. The sight would have been depressing if it hadn’t meant that Potter had filled Draco’s home with his favorite flowers. Draco knew that it had to be him. White roses, kisses on the cheek, and coffee on Thursday mornings were Potter’s things.
Draco banished the flowers because the smell was just horrid, but not before he plucked a petal and saved it. He wasn’t being girly; he just wanted a keepsake! He made his way into his room and flopped down on his bed. He turned his face into the pillow and inhaled. It smelled like Potter.
Did that mean…?
Draco grinned, the heavy mood that had settled over his shoulders lifting immensely. Potter had come to his flat, filled it with flowers, and apparently waited for him…in his bed!
Now, Draco just felt like an idiot. He should have gone back to his own flat right away after storming out on Blaise and Potter that day. Instead, he had gone to Pansy’s and stayed there for two weeks, agonizing over the fact that everything with Potter was ruined, when he could have been home shagging Potter the whole time!
That’s it, Draco decided. He was going to try his damndest to make things work out with Potter. Any man that filled his flat with white roses just had to be worth a gamble.
+++
They hadn’t told Draco what time on Wednesday Potter would be back, so Draco had sent an owl first thing in the morning to Potter with a note asking Potter to meet him at his flat. It would be perfect. Potter would show up, Draco would seduce him with his ruggedly manly wiles, and then they would shag and live happily ever after.
When Potter Apparated into Draco’s living room, however, Draco found himself faced with an angry- looking Potter, who was very much not in the mood to be seduced. He could feel the frustration and suppressed anger rolling off of Potter. He was a bit scared, but then of course that only made him harder than he had already been from thinking about all the things he and Potter would do.
Potter stood there, stock still, his fists clenched at his sides. “Where were you?” he asked.
Draco’s brows furrowed, partly from annoyance and partly from confusion. Did Potter think he had a right to come into Draco’s home and interrogate him?
“I don’t think I appreciate your tone, Potter,” he sneered. He crossed the room and stood in front of Potter, his finger poking at Potter’s chest.
Draco suddenly found himself pressed flush against the wall. Considering the swiftness and efficiency Potter used, it should have hurt, but Draco found himself landing very softly; Potter’s hand was cupped behind his head so that it didn’t slam against the wall.
“Well, you know what? I don’t appreciate not hearing from my boyfriend for two weeks. I waited for you,” Potter hissed. “I waited for you in your flat every day for a week, and you didn’t even show up! Like I had asked before, where were you?”
Draco blinked. The only things he registered was that Potter’s body was pressed against his own, that he was pinned between Potter’s hard chest and the wall, and that Potter had called him his ‘boyfriend’.
“Answer me,” Potter said. It wasn’t angry, though. Potter sounded almost unsure of himself. It was adorable.
“I was at Pansy’s,” Draco replied. He watched Potter’s lips. He liked the way Potter’s tongue would surreptitiously peek out and wet them.
Potter seemed to sag with relief against Draco, and Draco found himself practically holding Potter up.
“I was worried,” Potter said, quietly. He put his forehead to Draco’s and let out a shuddering breath. “I thought you had gotten back together with Zabini now that he was back, and then, when you didn’t even come home for the whole week, I was worried half to death, thinking something had happened to you.”
Draco smiled and took Potter’s face into his hands. He brushed a strand of Potter’s hair from his forehead.
“I’m sorry,” he said, with a small smile, “I didn’t mean to worry you. I thought you would be in America, so I didn’t bother trying to contact you. I figured we would just see each other Thursday morning like usual, but then you never showed.”
“I was supposed to go, but then after I made an arse of myself and you stormed out, I begged off of the trip so that I could sort things out with you first. By Wednesday, when you still hadn’t showed, the situation in the States turned serious and I had to go. I just got in a few minutes ago, actually. I came straight here.”
Draco counted his blessings and kissed Potter solidly on the lips. Gods, he had missed kissing Potter!
“I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”
Potter looked at Draco incredulously. “How could you possibly even think that?!” He grabbed Draco and kissed him again. “Is it because we haven’t had sex yet? Because I can’t think of anything else I’ve done that could lead you to think that I’m not absolutely mad over you.”
Draco looked down. It was embarrassing how much validation he took out of sex sometimes. “Kind of,” he mumbled. “I know, intelligently, that you wouldn’t have stuck around for so long if you didn’t like me, and it’s stupid, but some part of me still thinks that without sex, there can be no real possibility. I know it’s not right, but I can’t help thinking like that sometimes.”
Potter looked at Draco, straight at him, for a moment, before he took Draco’s hand and led him into the bedroom.
“What are you doing?” Draco asked.
“We’re going to have sex,” Potter announced.
Draco dug his heels in and pulled back. “I know you don’t want to yet, and I can wait, alright? Let’s not do it just to prove some stupid point. I don’t want it like that.”
Potter ran his hands through his hair and pulled a bit, making it even messier than usual. “It’s not just to prove a point. I wanted to wait because I thought it would add more stability to our relationship if we built it around something other than sex, but I can see now what that’s doing to you, and I don’t want that. I don’t want you to doubt the fact that you’re my boyfriend and that we’re in a relationship.”
Draco smiled and bit his bottom lip to try and control it. It didn’t work. He was full-out grinning. “Do you realize that’s the second time you’ve called me your boyfriend?”
Potter’s eyes widened and then he slapped a hand to his forehead. “Of course, you’re my boyfriend! We’ve only been dating for nearly two months!”
“Well, I didn’t know,” Draco explained. Potter pulled him into a hug again. “I didn’t know, because you never said anything.”
“I didn’t think that I had to,” Potter said, after he leaned down and kissed Draco again. “I thought you knew.”
“I didn’t.”
“Well,” Potter said with a soft smile, “do you know now?”
Draco smiled back and nodded. “Yeah, I think I do. I also think I know what I want to do next.”
Potter took Draco’s hand and laced their fingers together. “What is it?” He brought their joined hands up to his lips and kissed Draco’s knuckles.
“Let’s have at that sex thing you were planning on a minute ago.”
“I thought you said you didn’t want to.”
“Well, that was before I knew I was your boyfriend and that you’re madly, deeply, hopelessly in love with me,” Draco replied, with a wink.
Potter chuckled. “Taken a few liberties with my words there, haven’t you?” He let Draco lead him into the bedroom.
“Oh, I’m about to take liberties with much more than just your words,” Draco said, lasciviously. Potter laughed as Draco led him into the bedroom.
+++
Draco moaned as Potter pressed against him. They hadn’t even managed to close the door before they were attached at the lips. It was all friction and touches after that.
Draco arched off the bed, pressing up against Potter’s body. He could feel the heat radiating off of Potter and it was intoxicating. Draco loved the way Potter smelled! It was all sex and sweat and he thought he had never smelled anything quite as fantastic. It smelt like adrenaline, just not of the dragon shite variety.
Potter leaned down and pressed his lips against Draco’s, claiming a kiss quite forcefully. “Don’t disappear on me again,” he said.
Draco pulled Potter down, not only feeling eager for the taste of Potter’s lips but also feeling how desperately Potter seemed to need the reassurance.
“I won’t if you won’t,” Draco promised. When did it go from him being the unsure and needy one to Potter? Perhaps Potter had always felt the same insecurities as he had, only Draco had never noticed because he was too busy with his own thoughts and emotions.
“You’ve never called me Harry,” Potter said, as he kissed down the nape of Draco’s neck. “Did you know that?”
Draco chuckled. Yes, perhaps Potter truly did need just as much reassurance as he did.
“Harry,” he said, testing the name out on his tongue. It tasted better than ‘Potter’ did, and Draco thought that he could definitely get used to the taste of it. “Harry.”
Potter moaned.
“Thank you,” he said, as he feverishly kissed Draco’s chin and jaw. He slid his hand down to the buttons of Draco’s robe, popping them open with swift efficiency. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Potter chanted as he kissed a trail down Draco’s bare chest.
“Harry, please,” Draco moaned. He writhed under Potter’s sometimes gentle, yet urgent touches.
Potter sat up and pulled his robe over his head, tossing it carelessly to the floor. He scooted down the length of Draco’s body and stood, kicking off his trousers as he went. His hands were on the zip of Draco’s trousers and Draco swore he could have finished just like that.
Potter yanked, and Draco found himself lying naked on the bed. He was hot, filled to the brim with absolute need as Potter’s eyes swept over his body. He spread his legs and looked into Potter’s eyes.
“Fuck me,” he said.
He could see Potter swallow. It was the kind of swallow you made when you saw something you wanted, but were afraid to touch. “Please, Harry, I want you,” he said, as much for Potter as for himself. He had been waiting for this for so long now.
Potter quickly divested himself of his trousers and settled between Draco’s legs. Draco felt the cool, wet sensation of a lubrication spell against the crack of his arse. It felt splendid, and was only surpassed by the smooth entry of Potter’s slick finger inside of him.
Potter was careful and thorough as he stretched Draco out. Draco didn’t know whether he wanted to kiss Potter or kill him. He appreciated how much care Potter took in preparing him, but then on the other hand, he had been five seconds away from coming for the last ten minutes. First, he had lost his common sense, and now Potter was making him lose his mind. Splendid.
Finally, after what felt like ages, Draco felt the blunt head of Potter’s cock against his arsehole. As Potter slid home, which was exactly what it felt like, home, Draco lost the final strings of his coherent thought. Potter felt big, deceptively so, and Draco almost envied Potter his length. That wasn’t to say the girth was lacking, because it wasn’t, not in the slightest. Apparently, Potter was a ‘grower’, because Draco didn’t remember it being so big when he had gotten many glimpses of it while Potter prepared him. Draco himself had always been more of a ‘shower’.
Draco felt the heaviness of Potter’s bollocks resting on the curve of his arse and he moaned with pleasure. Merlin, how he had missed sex. Potter went slowly, as he always seemed to go at first, and Draco was grateful. He hadn’t had sex in so long that it was almost uncomfortably tight, even with all of Potter’s careful preparation.
Potter thrust smoothly and began to pick up the pace. It was exquisite, the feeling of Potter’s long, hard cock sliding in and out of him. It was the kind of sensation that he could never really describe, because for someone that had never had anal sex, they would never be able to truly understand the particular sensations of it. It burns, Merlin, it burns, but it’s such a lovely, welcome burn that accompanies the stretch of pleasure that the human body derives from penetration.
Poetically, one would describe it as melding of mind, body, and soul into an unending chasm of pleasure. Bluntly, it was just plain fucking fantastic. It was sex, pure and primal, and it was a splendid thing indeed.
Potter thrust deeply, angling it perfectly, as Draco moaned in exquisite pleasure. He could feel himself near the edge and he knew he couldn’t go on much longer. Potter’s hand was wanking him, and the overload of sensations was more than Draco could handle, as he spilled himself on his stomach with a groan.
He felt Potter still and stiffen inside of him before the hot spurt of Potter’s orgasm filled him. Potter pumped shallowly, wringing the last vestiges of pleasure from their spent bodies. Yes, sex was indeed glorious.
+++
Draco woke up delightfully achy and ravenously hungry on Thursday morning. He stretched languidly and then curled himself up into a ball again. A strong arm automatically wrapped around him and he sighed in contentment.
“Morning, love,” Potter said, with a yawn.
“Good morning,” Draco said, as he wrapped an arm around Potter’s waist and pulled him close. It was heavenly waking up to someone you still wanted to see in the morning. “I’m starved,” Draco said with a laugh when his stomach rumbled.
“Me too,” said Potter. They made no move to separate or even get up, though. It felt far too good lying in bed with one’s boyfriend.
“Do you have to go in to work?” Draco asked, as he marveled upon the fact that he was in bed, experiencing a very good morning after with his boyfriend. The distinction alone made him feel giddy with happiness.
Potter shook his head. “Since I was in the States for so long, I have the rest of the week off. Why?”
Draco untangled himself from Potter’s limbs and sat up. There was a pleasant, tingling throb in his arse. He relished it. “I was thinking we could go have breakfast.”
Potter sat up against the headboard and pulled Draco to sit between his legs. Draco very much liked the feel of Potter’s chest against his back. “Pour L’Amour de Pain?” Potter asked.
Draco grinned and snuggled back into Potter’s warmth. “You’ve read my mind,” he said with a smile.
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