Gift for: 1ightning Happy hd_holidays!
Disclaimer: The world of HP is sadly not mine. *sigh*
Beta: The Magnificent saladbats
Summary: Five years after the battle in the Department of Mysteries, a strange twist of fate brings Sirius back into Harry's life – a life that now includes Draco.
Original request: UST, plot, voyeurism, seduction, frottage, wanking, jealousy, blowjobs, IC characters (I tried my best to get all of those in, but I may have implied a few along the way. *smile*)
Thanks to scwolf_10k for giving me a great bunny to fit the request. *loves*
Comments always welcome.
A year's worth of expecting Draco's late-night Apparation allowed Harry the luxury of sleeping through the soft 'pop' when his lover returned. Yet when the mattress dipped beside him, he always rolled toward the familiar movement, eyes still closed, to meet the cool fingertips that never failed to brush his cheek before expected lips would press against his own in practised greeting.
When the anticipated kiss didn't come, and the fingers tightened painfully around his throat, Harry came awake with sudden panic, gasping for air and cursing his arms and legs to start fighting back. The hands continued to squeeze, and a stranger's body crushed down on him. Despite Harry getting in a few solid punches to his attacker's temple and stomach, he couldn't get the upper hand.
Long hair lashed at his face as he thrashed out with all he could muster. He tried to wiggle a knee into a vulnerable spot between the other man's legs, reasoning that if he moved enough weight off to the right, he'd be free to swing his knee up and cause a bit of damage.
He only managed to knock them both from the bed and onto the unforgiving floor.
The bedroom door burst open revealing a wand-ready silhouette of Draco. Light poured into the room from behind him. Relief flooded Harry as he realised half of the panic he'd been carrying had been for Draco's safety. He fought back with renewed vigour, but the hands crushed him, cutting off the little air he had left.
"Lumos!" Draco roared.
The shadows vanished. Harry pushed, half-dazed, against the heavy chest above him and gasped as his throat was released. The room vibrated and hummed, but he couldn't tell who was causing it. Purple and black dots danced in front of his vision as Draco's blurred outline came nearer.
"Get the fuck away from him! Harry, are you all right?" Harry nodded and shuffled away until his back hit the nearest wall. He noticed the man was shaking, staring at him through a curtain of black, messy hair. He thought he heard a growl.
"Harry?" the man repeated in a stunned whisper, shaking his shaggy head side to side. "No, no. Harry's still a boy."
All at once, the black head swung toward Draco, and this time the growl was unmistakable. In a blur of sudden motion, the man was inches away from Harry again, grasping at his clothing.
"James, get down, it's Lucius!"
The panic and fear the man's voice shocked Harry to the core.
"Draco, throw a fucking curse!" Harry yelled, not having enough strength left to start another wrestling match.
The man let go and looked back at the intimidating stance of the enraged Malfoy. "Draco? No, Luciu…"
The name died on the man's lips as Draco's 'Petrificus' took hold. Harry rolled the body face up and pushed aside enough of the hair to get a look at the hollow eyes that stared back at him.
Eyes he knew well.
Harry's chest and jaw started to ache. He pulled back trembling fingers and took a strained breath.
"Fucking hell…" Draco whispered.
"Sirius," Harry whispered, reaching out to touch his Godfather's rough cheek.
Draco took a step toward him. "No, Harry, he's dead. It's a trick. Come here."
Harry studied the man laid out on their bedroom floor; he looked exactly like the last time he'd seen him in the Department of…
Harry waved a hand over the body. "There's no glamour, no transfiguration aura, and…" He patted down the loose-fitting robes. "No Polyjuice bottles. Take the spell off," he ordered.
"No. I know what you're thinking, but it's not possible. Let's at least notify the…"
The last thing Harry wanted was Draco in a worse mood, but he needed answers, and the only one he wanted them from was the man who was currently unable to respond. "It has to be him. How else would he have been able to just Apparate into our bedroom?"
When Draco's reply didn't come, Harry silently summoned Draco's wand, ended the freezing spell, and then returned it to its owner. 'Sirius' sat up almost at once, but instead of the urgent panic he displayed before, he was now quietly staring at Harry, his mouth opening and closing a few times, but not managing any words.
Harry moved a bit closer, and asked the first thing that came to his lips. "Are you Sirius Black?"
Draco snorted from the door post.
Sirius nodded, and studied Harry with puzzled eyes. "Where have I…James, I'm so sorry about… I wasn't sure where I... What were you doing in my bed?"
Harry gave him a weary smile, trying to keep the tears at bay. "You gave me the house. I live here. Sirius, it's me, Harry," he said softly, reaching for the nearest hand and giving it a squeeze. When Sirius didn't vanish, Harry let out the breath he'd been holding.
Sirius shook his head again. "No, Harry's still in the Department of… but I just – Bellatrix." He pushed out, voice cracking with emotion. He stared into Harry's eyes and whispered something about the colour. "It is you," he whispered.
Something pulled tight in Harry's chest. "Yes. God, Sirius, that was five years ago."
Draco pointed his wand toward the fireplace. "That settles it. I'm contacting…"
Sirius shifted closer to Harry. "Why is he here?" he asked quietly, gesturing toward Draco. "Are you his prisoner?"
Another snort followed by a few muttered words from where Draco was standing.
Harry couldn't hide his shock. "What? No. Draco is - we're – he's my…" For some reason he couldn't quite locate the words 'boyfriend' or 'partner', but his body managed to colour his face enough to fill in the blank.
"Lover," Draco supplied crisply. "Not that it's any of your fucking business, whoever you are. I know it can't be Polyjuice, but you're not who you appear to be, so show yourself before I curse you again," he finished, punctuating the sentence with a forward jab of his wand.
Sirius turned pleading eyes on Harry. "I'm…Harry, you know it's me." He turned again to face Draco. "I'll try to explain, just give me a moment. Put the wand down, please."
Draco sneered. "Oh, please From Sirius Black, is it? Now I'm convinced. Stand back, Harry."
Harry scrambled into a protective position between them. "Wait."
"Harry," Draco warned, his voice low and dangerous.
Harry risked ignoring him to ask Sirius a question. "You sent me something at the end of my third year at Hogwarts, what was it?"
"The Firebolt," Sirius answered without hesitation.
"What did you tuck inside the package?" Harry continued, feeling the knot in is chest unwind slightly.
Sirius' voice faltered as he choked out the answer. "A feather…from Buckbeak."
Harry gave a small laugh of relief, and sent a brilliant smile over his shoulder to Draco, who looked less than convinced.
"What was my dad's Animagus form?"
"A Stag. Harry I don't know what's…"
Unable to stop the momentum of the emotions spreading through him, Harry fell forward and wrapped his Godfather in a breath-stealing embrace. "God, Sirius, I thought you were gone! Everyone said you were dead. I watched you fall."
Arms slowly closed around Harry and held him tight. His tears soaked into Sirius' robes, but he couldn't be fussed to care about holding back any longer. Sirius was alive again – somehow – but there was still the fear that it would all be snatched away again. Harry clung to the man he had already mourned for, not wanting to risk letting go.
Sirius spoke then, his words rolling out as he rocked Harry in his arms. "When I fell, I felt a sharp tug - like a port key. I remember thinking at that moment… that the veil was how the Death Eaters had gained access to the Ministry. I tried to Apparate a safe distance away within the room, but I was already moving."
"And then?" Draco snapped.
"I landed here, in my bed, and then…" Sirius pulled back and looked down at Harry. "Voldemort, is he..."
"Gone," Harry whispered.
Harry lowered his eyes. "Two years after you - fell."
Draco filled in the blanks. "Three years ago."
Sirius choked out a humourless laugh. "Seems I've missed out again. Tell me what happened tonig…the night I...vanished."
Harry rattled off the events as he remembered them, from Kreacher's misdirection to the moment he saw the glow of Bellatrix' hex hit his Godfather square in the chest.
"I was screaming your name, convinced that you were just out of sight, hiding, maybe, but you never came out. When I tried to get to you, Remus grabbed me. Everyone was still fighting – so much noise, but I didn't care. I kept watching the veil for you, waiting."
"…and Remus – is he…?"
The tightness in Harry's chest returned. He fought to release the trapped words. "He's gone…the other werewolves…I’m sorry."
He watched helplessly, as Sirius seemed to shrink before his eyes. His heart broke for the man who'd lost even more than he had.
Harry turned to face Draco. "We should call an Order meeting, right now. Nobody will care if we wake them up – not for this."
"No, please," Sirius whispered, looking at a knot in the floorboard under his hand. "I'd like to clean up – rest before I see everyone. Do you mind if I…"
"No, of course not," Harry said, getting to his feet. You rest, and I'll – we'll see you in the morning."
With alarming speed, Sirius got to his feet as well, and stopped Harry's retreat with an unsteady hand on his shoulder.
"Who else didn't make it, Harry?"
Taking a deep breath, Harry picked a spot on the wall behind Sirius, and listed off the names. "Nearly everyone from his side – the rest are either in Azkaban or hiding. From our side: Tonks, Arthur, Flitwick, Moody, Slughorn, Wood…Dumbledore." The last name barely came out as a whisper. He usually avoided taking about…
Sirius sighed, rubbing at his forehead. "Too many."
Harry shrugged. "It was war."
Sirius reached out and cupped Harry's cheek. "You look so different."
Harry smiled softly. "You look exactly the same."
Six days passed in a rush of Order members, Ministry 'experts', a flood of Weasleys, and scores of unnamed witches and wizards Draco had never seen before.
Through the interrogations, tearful reunions and blundering apologies, Harry took up a protective position at Sirius' side, and would only stand back if the situation called for some privacy.
Draco had tried to be patient, understanding, play the gracious host to the throng pouring out of their Floo connection at all hours, but his nerves were wearing thinner with every night he climbed into the empty guest bed, and with every morning he woke up alone. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he missed Harry, ached for him.
Harry had insisted on giving Sirius his room back – their room for the past three years. It was the proper gesture, and he understood the reasoning, in theory. Still, it irked him to be shuffled out and asked to sleep in a bed that didn't feel right.
As for being the sole inhabitant of the room – there were several reasons for that.
The first few evenings, Harry and Sirius had talked, laughed and cried away the hours, trying to make good on five years of missed opportunity. A few times, one or two well-meaning but time-zone challenged visitors would Floo in at hours reserved for the uncivilised. Reasoning that a long-lost enemy might get the same idea, Harry had set up extra wards, and had taken to sleeping on the sofa in front of the fireplace, wand under his pillow – just in case.
Twice, Draco had tried to recreate their nightly ritual, enlarging the sofa and slipping naked under the covers next to his lover, but Harry had only allowed him a few hurried kisses. Somehow, Draco always found himself back in the strange bedroom, taking care of his own frustrations while silently repeating the list of promises Harry had sworn to make good on once the chaos around Sirius subsided.
"No, Sirius, I can't."
Harry's protests filtered down the hall to Draco, who was taking advantage of a lazy Saturday evening in the library. At the first sound of impending commotion, he set down his book and made his way toward the raised voices.
"Harry, sit down and listen, please," Sirius pleaded, sounding as if he were holding on to the last bit of his patience.
Draco smiled, secretly amused that Harry's stubborn streak could pull the same reaction out of someone else. He lingered out of sight in the hallway, not wanting to enter until he was called upon to settle the dispute, or until one of them did something embarrassing that he could benefit from witnessing.
Harry's protest continued. "But it's yours. I'm not even a…"
Draco heard the unmistakeable sound of Harry dropping down into the sofa, the way he usually did when he was losing a debate.
"This wasn't a last minute decision. Whatever I owned when my time was up, was to be given to you. It's been that way since the day James named me your Godfather. I'll take whatever's left in the vault, but the house is yours, and anything in it."
Harry sighed. "I never touched the vault; it's all there. But the house - I only moved in because you were…because I wanted to remem…"
Draco heard a thump, and swung his head around the corner to investigate. Sirius had landed on his knees in front of the worn sofa, his hands rested on Harry's knees.
Draco pulled back and summoned a hand mirror.
"Thank you, Harry. I know it's not much, but I'm happy you've made a life here with Draco. Most of my memories of this place are nothing I want to hold onto, except for that last Christmas, when we were all here together. Do you remember?"
Harry's reflection smiled sadly and nodded. Draco almost felt bad for watching, but he'd been kept out of nearly all their other conversations, so he figured as long as Black was still touching Harry, it was well within his rights to keep an eye on things.
"If you want me to stay, fine, but I want you to move back in," Harry said, sounding very sure of his decision.
Draco shook his head furiously from the hallway. He had grown used to having Harry all to himself – all over the house. He didn't hold anything against Black - he hardly knew the man, but if his re-introduction into his former home meant that Harry's recent trend of playing 'celibate protector' was going to continue, well then Draco would certainly have something to say on the matter.
"I can't, Harry. I'm sure you can figure out the reasons for yourself. Now I'm a free man, I think I'd like to see more of the world, and really see it, not just through Snuffle's eyes, hiding from the authorities."
Draco celebrated with a silent victory punch into the air.
"I understand," Harry mumbled, sounding miserable – sounding fifteen again.
"If you really don't want to keep the house, I'll give it to Draco, or sell it. Remus left me his cottage, so I think I'll explore country life before I take off on a world adventure. I really just wanted to give you a place to help you make your own way, build the family you've always wanted."
Draco nearly dropped the mirror at hearing the word 'family'. Harry had never mentioned…
"I don't know about Draco, but I'm sure the Potter line ends with me. Last time I checked, two wizards can't make a baby."
Babies? Draco added his other hand to the handle to steady the shaky image in the mirror.
"There are Wizarding adoption agencies all over the…didn't you tell me last night you wanted to be a father?"
"I had a lot of wine by that point, Sirius. Anyway, Draco and I, we're not…" Harry pulled a hand through his hair, and let his head fall back to rest against the cushions.
"Not what?" Sirius asked, echoing Draco's thoughts.
A painful ache started in Draco's jaw. He massaged it, only to discover the tightness had moved down into his chest. He weighed the pros and cons of returning to the library, but found he couldn't move.
"I see," Sirius said quietly. "What makes you so sure?"
"He doesn't…it's complicated," Harry finished with a sigh.
And suddenly Draco's ache was replaced with a flash of anger. He pocketed the mirror and turned the corner at last. The doorway cast a shadow over him, and he remained unnoticed by the two men now holding hands, consumed in studying each other.
"I'll have to be honest, Harry, I knew it would be hard to see everyone again – after so much time, but to be reunited with you, meet your lover, spend all this time – it's been harder than I expected. Every morning, I'm still shocked when you come down for breakfast, instead of the boy I remember."
Harry's hands reached out to cup Black's face.
"I'm still me."
Draco didn't understand why they couldn't feel his presence, hear his shallow breaths – sense his fury at the amount of intimate touching...
"Yes you are," Sirius replied, bringing up a hand to cover Harry's. "I lost your parents, missed out on my own young adult years, couldn't be there for you when you needed me most, and now I've missed seeing you grow into this man who's the best of both worlds." He smiled sadly up at Harry. "It's almost like having them back again," he added, pulling back from Harry's grip. "It's not easy on the heart, boy." He chuckled then, and punched Harry playfully on the shoulder.
Harry was still laughing quietly when Draco first caught sight of his tears.
"They would be so proud of you, Harry," Sirius choked out as Harry crumpled onto the floor and into his arms.
It was heartbreaking to watch, and yet a little voice inside Draco's mind kept chanting Isn't that your place? Shouldn't you be the one holding him, consoling him? Sirius rocked Harry in his arms, whispering words of love and comfort. Harry buried his head against his Godfather's chest and held on as the moments ticked away.
When Harry had emptied most of his grief onto Sirius' robes, he pulled back and sat up slightly, so that they were face to face again. He had shifted just enough that Draco could not longer see his face clearly, but he had an unobstructed view of Black. As he watched, Sirius slid a hand behind Harry's neck, urged him forward and pressed kiss after kiss into Harry's fringe, and across his forehead.
Draco stepped out of the shadows.
Sirius froze at the sudden movement, and was met with furious eyes.
Draco turned stiffly, and exited the room as silently as he had entered.
Draco stood in the center of his temporary room, wand out, and swiftly orchestrated the packing of his bags. Clothes flew out from the wardrobe, folded themselves for travel, and landed neatly in the waiting trunk on the bed. His mind replayed endless images of Harry, eyes wet and closed tight, allowing another man's lips to touch his face, kiss away his tears.
He ignored the knock coming from the doorway.
"Draco, do you have a moment?" Sirius asked.
Draco's grip tightened on his wand. "Not for you," he answered flatly.
"Fair enough, but I think you need to hear…"
He spun on the man entering the room, blocking his trunk from view. "Don't bother, I'm leaving."
"Fine, but I think we should all talk when you get back."
Draco gave him the coldest smile he had in his arsenal, and turned to snap down the lid of his trunk. "Not coming back, so best of luck with that."
"I know what you saw, what it must have looked like."
"Do you? Congratulations. Get out."
Black stepped into the room and closed the door behind him "Five years, Draco. How many other people get more than one chance? At first, I thought I was finally getting a reward for all the hell I've been through – that I had James back again."
Draco shook his head at the nerve of the other man. "Make sure you yell out his father's name when you finally get him into bed. I'm sure he'll appreciate that."
The mirror hanging beside Sirius' head groaned menacingly; cracks formed along the edges and crept toward the center. Black held up his hands.
"Malfoy, listen, damn it! I don't want him that way. I never have!"
"Save your lies, cousin. I saw how you couldn't stop touching him– kissing him!"
The mirror shattered and lost its grip on the wall as Sirius moved swiftly to avoid injury.
"Do you love him, Draco?"
"Oh, not you too," Draco scoffed, turning his eyes to the ceiling. Why does it always come down to…"
Sirius leant back against the door. "Because it's something he needs to hear. He's convinced himself that you don't, but we both know better, don't we?"
Draco studied the glass fragments strewn across the floor. "I heard what he told you. I'm not 'forever material'. He wouldn't believe me now anyway, so there's no point..."
"How do you know?"
Draco waved a hand lazily to the side, and the mirror pieced itself back together. When it was harmlessly hanging again, Draco sat down heavily on the bed, and stared at the door handle through Sirius' fingers. His anger had drained away and he didn't have the energy to hunt it down.
"Because, unlike you, Black, I know Harry."
He Apparated away the moment his fingers closed around the handle of his trunk.
Harry stood in the intimidating shadow of Malfoy Manor and took a few unhelpful deep breaths, steeling himself for what kind of reception he'd receive once he walked through the ward barrier. He turned toward the gardens where someone, probably the one remaining house elf, had cleared a path through the snow and trimmed the hedges into cherubs and wreaths of varying shapes and sizes.
He scraped his feet along the path to the miniature maze, watching his breath make foggy clouds that quickly vanished, wondering if Draco would order his removal from the grounds. As if in answer to his silent inquiry, Draco appeared with a 'pop' on the stone path directly in front of him. Harry took in the hurriedly buttoned coat, slightly tilted fur hat, and the impassive expression his lover wore.
"Oh, hello, Potter. Did I leave something behind?"
"Yeah, me," he snapped back.
He had taken time to calm himself before running after Draco, but the frosty greeting had reminded him who had done the leaving in the first place.
"I meant something that belonged to me," Draco countered cruelly.
Harry bit his tongue and took another deep breath. He knew how Draco took things too far when he was jealous, so he tried to remain in control of his own emotions, not wanting to make things worse. Despite Draco's unpredictable moods, ingrained arrogance, and persistent need to 'own', Harry loved him. He'd seen the other side of Draco: the part of him that was capable of tenderness and passion that Harry had never encountered before in anyone else. He tried to hold onto that image of Draco, even as the current version was glaring at him, arms crossed and head tilted in cold indifference.
He started with the truth. "I talked to Sirius, and I know what you think you saw, but it's not like that between us. I promise."
Keeping his stance the same, Draco exhaled sharply, creating his own cloud of warm breath that was quickly swallowed up by the chilly air. "Then why was he touching you?"
Harry pulled his hands out of his pockets. "It's not the same kind of…he's my Godfather, Draco, he's allowed to touch me."
"It went beyond Godfatherly actions and into the realm of inappropriate!"
Harry rolled his eyes and wondered if he'd come looking for Draco too soon. It didn't seem as if the anger or jealousy had cooled at all. He reached out for Draco's hand and tried a different tactic.
"When my parents died, I was too young to know what was happening, and Sirius was dragged off to Azkaban. Neither one of us had a chance to mourn them properly, or were ready to, until just now – that's all we were doing. You know how much it means to me to have him back in my life. I thought I had lost everyone I'd ever loved."
As Harry talked, he noticed Draco relax his stance a fraction, but after the last word he drew back from the soft touch on his arm and snapped straight again.
"Yes, well, now where do I rate in this list?"
Harry dropped his gaze to the base of a plump cherub-shrub. "You know how I – it's…"
Harry looked up again. "What do you want me to say, Draco?"
"Oh, don't tax yourself searching for explanations," Draco said, taking a seat on a stone bench seat that seemed to have several lengths of brass organ pipe making up the backing. "I've had plenty of time alone to draw up my own conclusions without your help."
Harry sighed and tentatively sat on the opposite end. "I know I've been distant since he came back, but I never dreamed something like this would happen, Draco, he's…"
"Family?" Draco pushed out, as if it were something bitter he couldn't wait to get out of his mouth.
"Well, yes – closest thing I have to one, anyway," he said softly, preparing for the backlash he could feel building from the man beside him.
"And what was all that about children? You never once mentioned that you…"
"Because I didn't think you wanted anything permanent," he mumbled, feeling his irritation building into something much more dangerous.
Draco spoke slowly and clearly, turning to face Harry. "So, to you, this has been a three year one night stand?"
Something snapped. Harry's promise to stay calm against the wake of Draco's bitter storm broke free, allowing all the hurt to rush to the surface. He stood and shoved his shaking hands back into his coat pockets.
"Fine. You want to talk about this now? Here's your answer – I don't know what we are! How long were you planning on staying, Draco? How long would you have lived in that ugly house with me?"
Draco rested back against the organ pipes and crossed his legs. "Did it seem, before your dogfather arrived, that I was going anywhere? I would think, for anyone else, that three years would be evidence enough to suggest…"
Harry cut him off. "What about love?" he asked, feeling warmth rush into his colouring cheeks.
The pebbles under their feet started tapping out an uneven rhythm against each other, and the branches that bookended Draco's bench began to quiver. Draco ignored it all and stood to confront Harry.
"What about it?"
Harry curled his hands into fists. The organ pipes joined in the song he was unconsciously directing, vibrating a low hum into the space around them. "Two years ago, Christmas," he answered, voice breaking near the end.
Draco swore under his breath. "It's just a word, Harry."
"Not to me!" He shouted over the din he had created.
Harry cursed himself for the unexpected tear he felt running down his cheek. He'd already cried enough, in his opinion. He wanted to be strong and not show Draco how much this fight was costing him, but considering the chaos flaring around him, he gave up and let his emotions take control.
Strangely, at Harry's surrender, the noise and commotion stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The resulting silence was unsettling.
Draco seemed to deflate slightly, his eyes losing the fighting glare they had just worn. His cold fingers brushed the back of Harry's hand. "I didn't know how to respond. I've always assumed it was only what women wanted to hear."
Harry took a step back. "I felt like an idiot, lying there, waiting for you to say it back."
Draco advanced again. "Harry, I - I tried to show you. I thought that would be…"
Their eyes met.
"I know." Harry whispered. "That's why I never said anything again. I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable. I thought that if I brought it up again, you'd feel like I was rushing you, forcing you to say it when you weren’t ready - but I won't lie to you, I kept hoping you'd tell me some day. But when two more years went by, and still nothing, no mention of plans for the future, I started to put away my dreams for us. I tried to just be happy with whatever you were willing to give me."
"Gods, Harry," Draco said on a loud exhale. The colour drained from his face.
"When Sirius was holding me, telling me that my parents would be proud of the man I've become, I couldn't stop thinking that maybe he was wrong. Maybe they would have been disappointed with how I've done almost nothing since the war, hidden away in an old house, holding on to memories - committed to a man who isn't in love with me."
"Shut up, Potter." Draco took a quick step forward and pulled Harry against his chest. "It's unlikely I'll ever advertise our arrangement on a screen at the Quidditch World Cup, however…I do love you, idiot." He pulled back until they were face to face, cheeks pink from the sharp wind. "Know that I love you."
Something warm snaked around Harry's heart, and for a moment, he felt more vulnerable than he ever had before.
Chilled lips melted on his own, and suddenly the fight, the worry, even the words didn't seem as important any more. He'd been foolish to doubt, and Draco had been foolish to jump to conclusions, but patience and humility had never been high on the list for either of them when passion and pride took a spin around the pitch.
Harry yielded to the tongue coaxing his mouth open, and silently admitted to himself how much he'd missed the feel of Draco's predatory kisses and the press of his lover's arms wrapped around him. He pushed back, playing their familiar game, but this time it was coloured with an assurance that hadn't been there before.
Draco slid his hand down to the base of Harry's back and urged him closer. Harry moaned out his approval and tightened his own grip on Draco's back until their bodies were pressed solidly together – reconnected again, separated only by their warm coats and a few buttons.
This was the part they were good at – the language of touch and taste, where words just got in the way, and time stepped aside - but Harry hoped that they would learn how to communicate, that they would have enough time to build something that would last, something strong.
"I can't sleep without you," Draco confessed against Harry's lips.
"I'm sorry. I just got caught up in everything, and I didn't think it was fair for us to…in the house, when Sirius doesn't have anyone."
Draco lifted an eyebrow then, just before displaying his lower lip in a magnificent pout. "He's been without before. I, on the other hand…"
Harry couldn't hold back his smile. "Oh, really?
"Indeed. Thousands of conquests." He winked, and then rocked his hips forward. "I'll have you know I had quite the reputation before you came along."
Harry laughed and made a show of looking around the garden. "Well, they're not here now, so I guess that means I win?"
Draco kissed him again. "Want to go home to claim your prize?" At an enthusiastic nod from Harry, Draco smiled and said, "Hold tight."
The sudden thrust of Draco's lower body caused Harry to gasp, and immediately warm from head to toe. He took a shaky breath and stared past the lust and saw the Draco he had lost his heart to.
"Strangers can't Disapparate in the gardens, I'll be bounced back, idiot," Harry whispered against Draco's ear.
"No you won't. You're family."