hd_hols (hd_hols) wrote in hd_holidays,


Author: lavillaneuva
Recipient: The hd_holidays community!
Title: Light to a Blind Man
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: Sometimes love makes us stupid.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warnings: Angst, frottage, masturbation, come play, light orgasm delay, borderline PWP.
Epilogue compliant? Epilogue-ambiguous; set before either of them would have been married and had children.
Word Count: 3,500
Author's Notes: Original inspiration was a shared love for H/D with a long and confusing path to a relationship. Unfortunately I couldn't achieve a story of quite that scope, so I hope you can see this for what it is intended to be: a microcosm of their entire relationship. With extra porn. :D Title from a T.S. Eliot quote: "We can no more explain a passion to a person who has never experienced it than we can explain light to the blind." Many, many thanks to my darling beta, and to the mods for their infinite patience. ♥
Mod Note: w00t another pressie!! And it's not over yet - more to come later!

For being the fountainhead of the wizarding world's shadiest deals, the Leaky Cauldron was surprisingly short on dark and shadowy corners.

So when Harry walked in, it wasn't hard to pick out the blond shock of Draco's head, bent over a table on the far side of the bar.

For the briefest of moments, Harry was tempted to leave. Draco hadn't seen him yet; if Harry walked out, Draco would never know he'd been there. He'd never know Harry had come as called, dropped everything at a moment's notice on the promise of a night together.

What if he did? Would Draco wait for him? He might. Maybe he'd retire to the room, leave a message with Tom in case Harry came looking. Or maybe he'd go find the nearest willing body. Bring them back.

Harry didn't want to know.

"Hi," he said, approaching the table.

"Harry." Draco smiled at him, warm and happy, and Harry kicked himself for waiting that extra half-hour to come. "You made it."

Taking the seat opposite Draco, Harry could see his eyes were dark and lidded and his skin was flushed warm. So that drink wasn't Draco's first of the afternoon. And that smile wasn't for Harry.

"I did." He nodded at Draco's glass. "Though it looks like you were having fun without me."

"It would have been more fun with you," Draco said, nudging Harry's foot beneath the table. When Harry didn't respond he lowered his voice, almost too low for Harry to hear over the raucous pub patrons. "You're late."

There was nothing Harry could say to that. He ran a hand through his rain-damp hair, adjusted his glasses. Draco wasn't looking at him. "I'm here now," he offered.

"Yeah." Draco turned his head away and scanned the room, like he was searching out eavesdroppers. Harry stared down at the tabletop, traced over the runes someone had carved into it with a fingertip. Chance, he read. Creation. Destruction.

"Did you want a drink?"

Harry slapped his hand over the carvings. "What? Yes." God yes. "Whatever you're having."

With muted pop the drink appeared in front of him, the liquid smooth and still as if it had always been there. Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" Draco asked, hand hovering over his own glass.

"Nothing, just." Harry ducked his head, smiled to himself. "It's like magic."

Of course it's like magic, you impossible Mugglebred. The words echoed through his head without Draco needing to speak them. "Nevermind," he said, and downed his drink in one blazing swallow.

He coughed, but just a bit, and Draco pulled a face. "That's a '48 Coleraine HC, you know."

Harry caught the bartender's eye for another. "So?"

"It's not for shooting."

Harry shrugged, but limited himself to half on his next sip. "Just trying to catch up."

"We can bring the bottle if you want," Draco said. "Or you can finish it now, if you're short on time."

"Not at all." Harry drained his glass and stood. "I'm all yours."

* * *

They had the third floor corner room again. Harry didn't know how that always happened; did Tom have it set aside, on the off-chance? Anyway, he liked it. Liked walking into familiar territory. Liked pretending it belonged to them.

The sun still hung in the sky, painting the room bright, and that was different. Nice. Draco preferred to wait 'til dark - he hated being watched. Or hated watching, maybe.

Harry felt his guts twist and wished they'd brought the bottle after all. He'd never learnt Draco's rules, but at least when he was drunk he didn't care.

"What, uh," he said as he watched Draco remove his overcoat. "What did you want to do?"

Draco's mouth dipped into a frown as he unbuckled his watch, a heavy gold thing that tended to catch on Harry's hair. "You are in a rush, aren't you?" He set the watch on the desk alongside his wand and lifted his chin. "Have someplace else to be?"

Harry flinched. That wasn't fair. Draco had to know by now that there was no where else for him to be. He'd never once told Draco no, never tried to cut the night short, never did anything but ask where and when.

"Of course not," he said, and hated how true those words were. "It's early, is all, and I haven't eaten, I don't know if you-"

"Harry," Draco said, standing in front of him and resting his hands on Harry's shoulders, "shut up."

"Okay," Harry agreed, a half-second before Draco crowded him close and touched their mouths together.

He ought to have been used to the feel of Draco's mouth on his by now. He wasn't. His heart still did that embarrassing tripping thing, and he could never seem to catch his breath.

The edge of the sofa knocked against the backs of his legs before he realised they were moving. He let Draco push him down on the over-soft cushions, breaking the contact between them only long enough for Draco to climb onto his lap. He found Draco's hips with his hands and pulled them forward, forcing Draco to spread his long legs wide.

Draco laughed into the kiss. "Impatient much?"

"Shut up," Harry said. He tucked his fingers under Draco's belt and held tight. "Been a while."

"Yeah," Draco said, like he agreed, like he'd been waiting just as long. Harry kissed him again and tried to believe that was true.

Draco moved in his lap, a slow and steady back-and-forth that had Harry aching to open his fly, shove his jeans to the floor. He wasn't willing to let go though, not in this rare moment where he had permission to touch.

He clenched his hands around Draco's belt and urged him closer, faster, harder. It was imprecise and near-painful, his dick trapped at an awkward angle, but it was Draco and that alone had him hot all over.

"Fuck." Draco's careful rhythm faltered as he ground down, thrusts verging on violence. "God. Fuck." He dropped his head to Harry's shoulder, no finesse to his snapping hips as he worked himself to the edge.

"Wait," Harry pleaded as Draco made a desperate, choked-off noise. "Slow down." He wanted this, so badly, and maybe they had only this night but the night was measured in hours, not minutes, and he wouldn't let it rush by.

"Later," Draco said, hoarse and whispered. "Later. We can- We have-"

"I know." Harry slid his hands up Draco's back but he couldn't find a grip on the sweat-slick skin, couldn't hold on. "I know."

"Harry." Draco's fingers curled in Harry's shirt and then he was coming, body going rigid in Harry's arms, heat spreading between their thighs.

"Jesus, Draco." He pulled Draco close, held him in place and rocked their hips together. It shouldn't have worked, shouldn't have been enough, but he was so ready he was shaking and Draco was calling his name and that was it, that was perfect, that was all he needed.

He came back to himself a moment later, sparks shooting through his body, Draco's head resting on his shoulder, and a stupid smile stuck on his face.

"If you fall asleep," Draco said, lips brushing Harry's neck, "I'm pinching your boxers and selling them to the highest bidder."

Harry laughed, weightless and easy. "You'll have to get them off me first."

Draco dipped one hand into Harry's pants, rubbed his knuckles over Harry's stomach. "That can be arranged."

"At least give them a good Scourgify before the auction, will you?" Harry squirmed. "No one wants my sticky boxers. I hope. Oh God."

"Don't worry." Draco sat up straight, popped the button on Harry's jeans and tugged them over his hips. He climbed off Harry's lap, pulling Harry's jeans down with him as he went to his knees. "I'll clean you up."

"You'll-" Harry sucked in a breath as Draco licked a line up his inner thigh. "Oh."

"Yeah," Draco said. He leant over, plucked the hem of Harry's tee with his finger. "Shirt off."

Harry complied at once, though a good look at himself made him wish he hadn't. He was naked and scrawny, rubbed red and covered in come. And Draco was looking at him without the cover of darkness for the first time in ages.

If Draco was disappointed, though, it didn't show on his face. He stared up at Harry for a long moment, like he was contemplating something, and then he moved forward to press a kiss to Harry's stomach - just below his navel, just above the mess Harry'd made when he'd come in his pants.

Draco pulled back from the kiss only to return with a bite, teeth sinking into Harry's raw skin and making him shout. He let go, dragged his tongue over the welts, then slipped down so he was licking the come from Harry's abs.

Harry choked on the suddenly too-thick air as he watched Draco wash him clean. It had to taste disgusting, bitter and salty, but Draco lapped at the crease between Harry's thigh and groin like he'd never had anything better. Harry spread his legs and tried to memorise it all: Draco's mouth on him, his come on Draco's tongue, Draco swallowing it down. It was so fucking hot that Harry had to remind himself to breathe, and it didn't even matter that Draco had his eyes squeezed shut.

He was half-hard - still or again, he didn't know - and he jerked when Draco's scruff scraped his oversensitive cock.

Draco glanced up at him. "Problem?"

"Too soon," he panted, though he didn't really mind. His spine vibrated with thrills too intense to be called pleasure that felt amazing nevertheless.

Draco blew a soft stream of air over his dick, and another of those thrills shot up Harry's back. "I can wait," he said, and started in on Harry's other side.

He wasn't going to have to wait very long. Harry could feel the blood rushing down already, nevermind he was tender and sore. It hurt, but not enough to stop. Not nearly enough.

Draco was pushing harder now, tongue rougher, following each swipe with a light scrape of teeth that had Harry arching up into the contact. His nerves felt raw and exposed and somehow that only made it better, more intense. The rational part of Harry understood that half the reason it was always so good between them was because he forgot, after, just how it felt to have someone else touch him, how good it could be. The rest of him knew there was no way it could be anything like this with anyone else.

Draco ran his tongue over Harry's balls and Harry thought he might catch fire. Too much stimulation, he was burning up inside and out - there was no way he'd survive Draco's mouth on his abraded cock. Another lick to his balls and Harry shuddered, his full erection knocking Draco's cheek.

Draco smirked and moved closer, his wet, red mouth barely a millimetre from Harry's cock. "Now?" he asked, and Harry nodded, though he knew it was going to sting.

It did. It stung and burnt like a trail of fire that not even Draco's gentle tongue could soothe. Harry squirmed, wanted more, wanted less, wanted to come all over Draco's face and rub it in so deep no one else could ever mistake him for theirs.

"I can't," he said, "I have to-"

Draco sat back and looked him straight in the eye. "Do it," he said, and slid his open mouth over the tip of Harry's cock.

Harry groaned and bucked up. The burn receded, eclipsed by something stirring deep in his gut that grew stronger with each snap of his hips.

He was there, almost there, right on the edge and torn between letting himself go and trying desperately to hold back, make this last a little longer when he noticed Draco's arm. It was shoved down between his own legs and moving in quick, sharp jerks. He was wanking. With Harry in the room. With Harry's cock in his mouth. Jesus. It was dirty and scorching hot, would have been the hottest thing Harry had ever seen if not for the way Draco had his eyes shut tight. The way he was refusing to see Harry in front of him.

"No." His voice cracked as he reached for Draco's arm, drew it away. Draco pulled off and stared at him, half-confused and half-angry. Harry didn't care. He got Draco once a month, twice if he was lucky; he wanted Draco here with him. "Not yet."

Draco blinked, and the anger drained from his face. "All right," he said, and brought up his hands to rest on Harry's knees. Then he leant forward, keeping his eyes locked on Harry's, and took Harry's cock in his mouth again.

Fucking hell. Harry bit his lip, scrabbled at the sofa cushions, anything to keep himself from thrusting mindlessly until he came. When he thought he could control himself, he arched his back, pushing his cock into Draco's mouth just the slightest bit and then pulling back. He did it again, and again, and again, enraptured by the sight of Draco's lips stretching and going thin as he moved. He raised one hand to trace over Draco's jaw, his slick chin, the tight circle of his lips. Draco whined when Harry brushed over his lower lip, the one he liked Harry to bite, and that was all Harry could take. His head fell back and his hips surged forwards and he came deep into the warm suction of Draco's mouth.

As soon as he could move again he was bending over, kissing Draco for all he was worth. "What do you want?" He could taste himself on Draco's lips, his tongue, his teeth, everywhere he put his mouth, and it was making him dizzy. "What do you want?"

"Wanted to get off," Draco said between kisses. "Someone stopped me."

"Can I-" Harry took a breath, hoped he wasn't pressing his luck. "Can I watch?"

"Um." A blush crept across Draco's already pink cheeks. "All right."

He stood, his movements slow and stiff as he unbuttoned his shirt, pushed his trousers to the floor. He stopped when he was naked, fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. He looked like he might change his mind.

Harry held out a hand. "Come here," he said softly.

Draco did. He settled into Harry's lap again, leaving just enough space between them to fit his hands, spread over Harry's chest. "What, uh." He laughed a little. "Should I-"

"Here." Harry twined Draco's fingers with his, wrapped them around the base of Draco's cock and held them in place. "How- however you like it," he said, because he didn't know. He had an idea - he'd wager Draco liked it fast and just a shade too hard, but that was only a guess. Now, though, now was going to know. And he was probably going to be the only person aside from Draco who did, the only person who knew how this looked.

"Oh," Draco said, and started moving his hand. Slowly at first, and not any tighter than Harry's grip on his fingers required, but faster and with more assurance as he went on. "Is- like this?"

"Yeah," Harry breathed, "that's perfect."

It was. Harry felt lightheaded, watching Draco, cataloguing all the ways his technique differed from Harry's. Draco liked long strokes, his fist gliding over the head of his cock until he was barely touching it, then sliding back to the base, pausing, and doing it all over again. It was deliberate and thorough and yeah, perfect. Harry was going to picture this in the shower for months to come.

He felt Draco's fingers squeeze down around his cock and followed the movement, locking them in tight. Draco gasped and tried to pull away, but Harry's free hand swung around Draco's back and kept him close. "Come on," he said, mouth near Draco's ear, "let me see."

Draco whimpered but nodded, moved his hand in time with Harry's. They set a rapid pace, so fast their dry fingers would tug at Draco's delicate foreskin and make him cry out, but Draco made no further attempts to stop. Within minutes he was bucking his hips, fucking into the hot channel of their hands and babbling nonsense that mostly sounded like Harry, God, and please.

"Do it," Harry told him, "on me. Come on me. Let me see."

Draco froze - eyes closed, mouth open - and then he was coming, shooting all over Harry's chest. Harry waited until the worst of it was over before he gathered Draco in his arms, pulled him in and kissed his swollen lips.

They kissed until Harry's pulse had just about returned to normal. Draco sat back on Harry's knees, still breathing heavy, and wrinkled his nose at the blots of his come on Harry's body. "Oh, that's disgusting," he said, and wiped it off on the sofa.

Harry shook his head. "Tom's going to charge us for that, you know."

"And what if he does?" Draco said, climbing to his unsteady legs and staggering towards the bathroom. "It's your turn to pick up the tab."

He turned on the shower, and Harry was tempted to join him. God knew he could use it. But he'd pushed Draco's boundaries enough for one day.

"If you think you're spending the rest of the night covered in dried come and sweat, you have a slate loose. Get in here," Draco called. "But Floo the kitchen first, I'm starved."

Harry stood and very nearly skipped to the bathroom. "Now who's impatient?" he asked, settling down with his back against the wall. He'd prefer to follow Draco into the tiny stall, but they'd learnt their lesson on that one.

"Get stuffed," Draco said, and flipped him off. "I sucked your dick. You have to feed me."

"Who made that rule?"

"I did. After I sucked your dick."

Harry laughed, and tried to say something auspicious, but what came out was: "Are you ever coming back?"

Draco paused, then moved under the spray without answering. Harry cracked his head against the wall behind him. So much for not pushing any more boundaries.

"To old Blighty, you mean?" Draco said, long after Harry had given up any hope of a response. "I don't know. Maybe."

Harry nodded. Maybe. That was better than no. "You like Paraguay, then?"

"It's Uruguay, idiot," Draco said, stepping out of the shower and flicking water at him. He wrapped a towel around his waist and inspected himself in the mirror, combing back his hair and rubbing at the freckles that had appeared on his nose and cheeks after the move to South America. "It's fine. Mum likes it."

"Do, um," Harry said, starting to wish he wasn't naked, "do you miss England?"

Draco tilted his head, eyes still on his own reflection. "Some things," he said. He cleared his throat. "Get in there. I'll call the kitchen, since you're obviously incapable."

"Oh, yes sir," Harry said, giving him a good thwap on the leg as he walked by.

* * *

The morning came too soon.

They'd stayed up late, fucking until neither of them could get it up again and then making a sizable dent in a bottle of Firewhiskey. Harry'd only had six hours of sleep; he could do with a cup of coffee, a fry-up, and another four hours in bed at least. More if Draco was there with him.

But Draco was already up and getting dressed, doing up the buttons on his wrinkled shirt. "Hi," he said when he noticed Harry was awake.

"Hi," Harry said, and stopped. He didn't have anything else to say that wouldn't make him sound pathetic. Do you have to go? When are you coming back? Why can't I come to visit? He kept quiet instead, and contented himself with watching Draco fold his sleeves over his elbows.

"So," Draco said, "I'm supposed to attend this conference next week, in Zurich."

"Yeah," Harry said.

"My father was going to go, but, you know."

Harry nodded. "I know." Lucius Malfoy's failing health didn't concern him the way it did Draco, but he was Draco's dad, and that- Harry understood that.

"I was thinking," Draco said, and Harry sat up to look at him. He was fastening his watch. It was taking longer than usual. "Maybe you could come with me."

"Yeah?" Harry's heart did that tripping thing again, and Draco wasn't even touching him.

"Yeah." Draco snuck a glance at Harry from under his eyelashes. "It's all right, though, if you have to work. I understand."

"No, it's fine." It wasn't really; Shacklebolt was going to have kittens when Harry told him, and he'd have to take someone's Christmas shift, but that was so far from important.

"Oh. Good." Draco gave him a nervous smile. "So you want to come?"

Harry beamed. "I'd love to."
Tags: [fic], genre: pwp, rated: nc-17, round: winter 2009

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