Posted originally on the

Archive of Our Own

at

http://download.archiveofourown.org/works/679184

.

Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

F/M

,

M/M

Fandom:

Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Relationship:

Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

,

Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley

Character:

Draco Malfoy

,

Harry Potter

,

Hermione Granger

,

Charlie Weasley

,

Lucius Malfoy

,

Narcissa Malfoy

,

Astoria Greengrass

Additional Tags:

Angst and Humor

,

Unresolved Sexual Tension

,

Explicit Sexual

Content

,

Kidnapping

,

Vacation

,

Pining

,

T-Shirts

Stats:

Published: 2013-02-10 Completed: 2013-03-10 Chapters: 5/5 Words:
12039

The Secret Charm Of Things Forbidden

by

Darkrivertempest

Summary

A vacation intended for Hermione Granger turns out to be a refuge for Harry and a newly

kidnapped Draco.

Notes

Written for Coonassblondie over at the 2010 HP_porninthesun on LiveJournal. This story

has two main pairings: Draco/Harry and Charlie/Hermione.

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters and canon Potter Verse belong to JK Rowling and

associates. I am in no way affiliated with Warner Brothers, JK Rowling, or Scholastic. I do

not make any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

Many thanks to my betas: Sotia, IBE and Mari - thank you for working with my sick and

twisted mind. ;)

Chapter 1

“Harry, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Hermione whispered to her best friend.

He looked over his shoulder and frowned at her. “I know, but I can’t let him do this.”

She scanned the gathered crowd and shook her head. “It looks like he’s already made his choice.”

She held out her hand to indicate the people. “I mean this is pretty final, wouldn’t you say?”

“He was forced!” Harry ground out loudly.

“Keep your voice down, they’ll hear you!”

“Good, let them.”

“You don’t mean that.” She crossed her arms. “You’ll embarrass him.”

Running his fingers through his unruly hair and sighing in disappointment, Harry finally nodded

his head. “You’re right.” He pressed the heel of his palms against his eyes to keep the tears from

welling. “But I just want to talk to him before he does this—see if what happened back then meant

anything.”

Hermione bit her lip. “It was the end of the war, Harry... we all did things we regret.”

He knew she was talking about the impromptu shag that she and Ron had had that fateful night in

May the year before. When things hadn’t turned out quite the way they had planned, they’d

quietly gone their separate ways, though Molly Weasley had made it difficult for Hermione to

show her face around the Burrow again. Harry knew Ron would never ostracise their best friend

—the result of Molly’s cold behaviour towards Hermione—and it made his falling out with Ginny

even easier—never mind his growing attraction for someone of the Slytherin persuasion.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today...”

“No!” he hissed in frustration. “I won’t let him go through with this!”

“Harry!” She tried to grab hold of his suit jacket, but it was too late. Watching him stride down the

aisle towards the couple standing before a representative of the Ministry, she began contemplating

escape routes for them both, hoping to avoid incarceration—or worse—for daring to interrupt

Draco Malfoy’s wedding.

~*~

Draco stared numbly straight ahead, giving no thought to the beautiful woman by his side. It

should’ve been the most joyous day of his life. Instead, he felt quite ill. Nothing could be done for

it, really, not with his father right behind him, pointing the proverbial wand to his son’s back to

make sure he went through with the ceremony.

It was a breezy day in the month of June. The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and the

blushing bride was... blushing. He wished he could’ve said it was all perfect, except that he’d just

met his wife-to-be the day before at the rehearsal brunch. In fairy tales, a couple fell in love first

before even contemplating marriage, he mused, but then he remembered his last name and the

dream dissipated into reality.

Marrying Astoria Greengrass wouldn’t have been so bad if she didn’t have that damned laugh, the

kind where you didn’t know if the person was dying because of the sounds emanating from their

mouth. That, or she brayed like an ass—a loud one. He found that out when his father had made a

quip about how Narcissa had had too much to drink and kept referring to Astoria as a vacuum

with nipples. Astoria had thought Lucius had been referring to another guest and had so decided

to join in the laughter. Draco mentally groaned at the remembrance of that loud, obnoxious

hooting and tried to resign himself to living with it the rest of his life. He cringed again. What if

she did that during sex? Oh, God! He was starting to fidget and panic now.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today...”

Was he seriously thinking about going through with it? He wiped his sweaty palms on the fine

material of his formal dress robes and quickly glanced at his intended. She gave him a simpering

smile and he had to force himself not to retch.

“If there be any among you that has just cause why these two should not be joined in the bonds of

eternal matrimony, then speak now or forever hold your—”

“Harry!” a feminine voice cried out, startling the audience.

“I do!” The saviour of the Wizarding world walked hurriedly up the aisle, drawing gasps from the

crowd, his gaze intent on Draco.

Draco’s eyes widened and he retreated so far that he backed right into the Minister.

“You do what, Mister Potter?” Lucius drawled off to Harry’s left.

Harry had faced Lucius many a time over the years and had never once been afraid of him. But

that was different; this concerned his heart, not whether he lived or died. The glare sent his way

from the Malfoy patriarch was more menacing than anything he’d previously beheld.

“I-I—”

“Well?” Lucius snapped, moving closer. “Eloquent as always, Mister Potter.” He looked the

younger man up and down with a sneer. “My writing a cheque to the Ministry does not mean an

automatic invitation to Draco’s wedding. Why are you here?”

“I object,” he answered with a little more strength behind it. “To Draco’s getting married.”

Since the wedding was being held outside, the only thing that could be heard at that point was the

occasional trill of a peacock; the scene had descended into complete silence.

Glancing between his son and the dark-haired man, Lucius was overcome with an uneasy feeling.

Shifting until he was nose to nose with the younger wizard, he bared his teeth in a predatory smile.

“And why, pray tell, would Draco be concerned if you object or not?”

Swallowing audibly, Harry closed his eyes and then reopened them. “Because I love him,” he

whispered so low, only Lucius heard him.

Murderous thoughts filled Lucius’ mind and shone through his narrowed gaze. “You have taken

many things from my family, Harry Potter, but you will never have my son.”

“Luuuuciusssss,” Narcissa called from behind her husband, her inebriation evident. “What’s going

on?”

“Not now, Cissy,” he gritted through clenched teeth, never removing his attention from Harry.

“It’s just a misunderstanding, that’s all.”

“You wish,” the other taunted under his breath.

“Why are you here?” Draco asked Harry hesitantly. It surprised him to see his former nemesis

standing there, toe-to-toe with his father, but the reaction in his chest surprised him even more. “I

don’t recall sending you an invitation.”

Harry turned and looked at the blond in sad longing. “You didn’t.” He moved away from Lucius.

“I need to talk to you,” he whispered. At Draco’s arched eyebrow, he added, “Privately.”

Grabbing Potter’s arm, Lucius began pulling him away from the couple. “You’ll leave your

felicitations for the wedded pair at the door, won’t you?” He shoved Harry past the curtained pillar

entrance.

“Draco, please!” Harry cried.

Astoria looked utterly confused. “Why didn’t you let him stay? He’s very famous.”

A sneer grew on Draco’s face. “Shut up, you vacuous hyena!”

She frowned in confusion. “What’s a hyena?”

“Never mind,” he said with disgust, throwing off her hand when it clung to his arm. “Stay here.”

To everyone’s astonishment, the would-be groom marched up the aisle to where his sire was

about to hex Harry, and grabbed his wrist as he raised his wand. “Don’t, Father.” His tone was

low and dangerous. “Need I remind you he saved my arse multiple times?”

His lip curling in disgust, Lucius shook off his son. “Since I am neither doddering nor on the

verge, then no, Draco... you don’t need to remind me.”

“I don’t think this would look good to our guests, do you?”

The ex-Death Eater had to bite back the Unforgivable just begging to be let loose. “You have five

minutes.” He gave the bespectacled young man a faux smile. “I highly suggest that you are not

present once those five minutes have passed, Potter.” Straightening his cravat, he tilted his neck

until it cracked. “Otherwise, hero or not, anyone that is not a pure-blood will be nothing but a pile

of ash.” He inclined his head and left.

Both young men watched him leave, though neither said anything for a full minute.

“Clock is ticking, Potter,” Draco reminded the man in front of him. “What do you want?”

Inhaling deeply, Harry slowly approached the blond until he stood slightly off to his right. “Tell

me you felt something that day,” he said, voice low as a breath.

Draco’s brow furrowed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“That day, after the mess in the Room of Requirement.” Harry licked his lips and moved closer.

Eyes widening a fraction, Malfoy backed away as he remembered the passionate kiss he’d

indulged in with Potter. “It was a mistake.” He held up his hand to keep the other wizard at bay. “I

was grateful to be alive.”

Harry snorted. “So grateful you snogged the hell out of me?”

Hermione poked her head around the diaphanous curtain. “Harry, we seriously need to—oh, hello

Ferret.”

“Mudblood.” He returned her greeting without its usual venom. He looked at Harry pointedly.

“Potter was just leaving before he becomes Floo powder.”

Not caring if he was overstepping his bounds, Harry grabbed the fabric of Draco’s robes, and

pulled him near. “Let me prove to you that snog wasn’t just a one off.”

Wrapping his long fingers around the shorter wizard’s wrist, Malfoy tightened his grasp until

Harry released his grip. “There is nothing to prove, Potter.” Without letting go, Draco glanced at

his timepiece. “And your time is up.”

“Stupid men and their recalcitrant emotions,” Hermione huffed. She stuck her hand in the pocket

of her skirt and withdrew a rather bulky pamphlet. “Hold on.”

Without giving either man much choice, she embraced them both the exact same moment that the

familiar suction of a Portkey whisked all three away from the Malfoy estate.

Chapter 2

Chapter Notes

Pardon the pirate language. I don't even know what happened.

Hermione, Draco, and Harry all landed with a bone-jarring impact in a grassy clearing surrounded

by a thick forest.

Unfortunately, Malfoy was the first to recover himself. He stood and wobbled just a bit. “What the

bloody fuck, Granger?”

“Don’t touch her!” Harry shouted and stood in front of her as she gained her bearings.

“Don’t touch her?” he growled, a murderous glint to his eyes. “I’ll wring her filthy neck if she

doesn’t take me back now.”

Both wizards turned to see her looking very sheepish. “I-I can’t.” Her fingers were fidgety, and

she bounced lightly from foot to foot. “It’s an untraceable Portkey that I’d bought months ago for

a holiday.” She glared at her best friend. “It was supposed to be for me, but it seemed you two

needed it more.”

Draco stalked up to her and shoved Harry out of the way. “Then obtain another Portkey.”

She crossed her arms, daring the blond to come any closer. “Oh, trust me, if I could I would’ve

done it before Harry decided to crash your party.” Biting on her lip, she glanced at the ground.

“But this holiday is special.”

“In what way?” her best friend asked. “I mean, where are we?”

Her response was mumbled so low neither man heard it.

“If I have to hex you, Granger, I will.” Draco’s threatening tone matched his words.

Narrowing her eyes, she gave him a mutinous tilt of her chin. “Try it, Ferret.”

“No!” Harry stepped in front of her, but, despite reaching her in time, he didn’t get to save her.

Nothing had happened when Draco had tried to make good on his promise.

Draco stared at his wand... his ineffective wand. “What. Have. You. Done?” he intoned in such a

low voice it sent shivers up both Gryffindors’ backs.

Hermione spread out her hands, a bright smile on her face. “Welcome to the Idle Hands Retreat.”

Seeing them look at her in confusion, she rolled her eyes and explained. “This retreat is famous for

forcing those who are stress or anxiety-filled to relax and take a break. Once you arrive, you can’t

leave—at least not via magical means—and your magic is useless until you Portkey out of here.”

She smirked at the look of outrage on Draco’s face. “Swim back to England if you want.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “We’re not even in England?”

“To be honest, I have no idea where we are. The location is only known to the approved Secret

Keepers and all reservations are booked through them.” She snatched the pamphlet that had fallen

to the ground when they landed. “We’re here for a week... or at least I was booked here for a

week.”

“Then what?”

Flipping through the pages, she sighed. “Then this turns back into a Portkey.” She stopped on one

of the pages. “Oh, look! Horseback riding.”

“I don’t want to ride a bloody horse; I want to go home and get married!” the blond shouted.

“No you don’t,” Harry countered.

“You’re not the know-it-all here, Potter. Granger is. Leave it up to her.”

“Hey...”

“Oh, don’t sound affronted at being called a walking encyclopaedia,” Draco said, pointing a

finger at her. “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have booked a holiday in this god-forsaken end of the

world.”

“That’s enough, Malfoy—”

“I’m just getting started!”

“Quiet!” A booming voice from a nearby log cabin startled them into silence.

“Charlie?” Hermione looked at the bedraggled redhead currently heading their way. “What are

you doing here?”

He lifted his arm and all three of the newcomers grimaced. “Reserve orders: have to take some

time off and let this heal.” The whole of his right arm was swathed in bandages up to his shoulder.

“You lot were yelling so loudly, I decided to see what the fuss was all about.”

Draco raised his wand to cast a cooling charm since the temperature was rising, but was once

again reminded that magic didn’t work here. “I’ll pay you a thousand Galleons to get me a

Portkey back to Wiltshire,” he promised the dragon-keeper.

The second-oldest Weasley grinned at him. “Sorry, mate. My Portkey only goes to Romania and it

won’t activate for another four days.”

The blond turned his heated glare on Harry. “This is your fault for being at the wedding, for

bringing her with you, for everything!”

“Me?” Was it wrong that a trill of excitement made its way up his spine from the look Malfoy was

giving him?

“Don’t play coy, Potter,” Draco snarled. “You don’t have the bollocks to pull it off.”

“For your information, Ferret, I wanted to come with Harry, to keep—”

“I loathe you,” Draco spat at her.

“Well I’m not pleased with you, either,” she retorted. “You and Harry can have my cabin. I’ll

have to convince the manager that I need some other place to stay.”

“Why?” Harry asked, though mostly for Hermione’s benefit. He didn’t want Malfoy getting the

impression that he’d planned this beforehand. He couldn’t have wished for a better scenario,

though, to convince Draco that he belonged with him: a week, isolated from society, and nothing

to do but what held their fancy. “There should be enough room for the three of—”

Hermione held up her hand. “No. I refuse to stay in an enclosed space listening to two men

shagging their brains out.”

Harry was secretly cheering inside at her insistence of relocating.

“What?” Draco yelled, spittle flying. “I am not going near Potter, nor am I staying in some hovel

that is probably crawling with all manner of insects and—”

“Mine has a Jacuzzi,” Charlie offered with a waggle of his brows. “Plus, a fully stocked pantry, a

wide four-poster bed, and blessedly chilled air.”

“Deluxe suite?” she asked with envy.

He nodded. “The Reserve spares no expense when a keeper is injured. They need us at our best in

a short amount of time.” He noticed that she smiled as if she was happy for him and it intrigued

him. “If you don’t mind my snoring, I’ve got plenty of room should you want to stay with me.”

“No,” Draco interjected. “I’ll stay with you. She can stay with four-eyes.”

There were several loud cries of disagreement, most pointedly from Harry. “We’re stuck here for

the week, Malfoy. Why don’t you stay with me in Hermione’s cabin and discuss things?” he

asked pleadingly. At this point, he was willing to do whatever it took so that Malfoy would listen

to him, even...

“There’s nothing to dis—” His words were cut off when Harry pressed his lips to his. He fought

the kiss at first, but the soft probing of the other wizard’s tongue coaxed him to open his mouth,

and he was soon light-headed from the rush flooding his body. When he pulled away, Draco had

to stop himself from reaching out to keep the shorter man close.

“Please?” Harry whispered desperately.

Covering his mouth, knowing his skin was mottled red, Draco hesitantly nodded. He glanced

warily at Hermione. “Where are these luxurious accommodations?”

“Cabin twenty-three,” she supplied, suppressing a smirk. “It’s supposed to be near a stream.” She

unfolded the pamphlet, which had a map on the back. “You take this path until you reach the fork,

and then go left.” Running her finger along the lines leading to each cabin, she showed them

where they needed to go.

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry murmured and kissed her cheek.

She cleared her throat, her own face sporting a profuse blush. “I-I’ll just be going with Charlie

then?” She tried to hide her knowing grin, but it didn’t work. “I have a good feeling about you

two.”

He looked over his shoulder at Draco, who was standing on the path that led to into the forest,

waiting expectantly. “So do I.” He bussed her cheek once more and held out his hand to Charlie.

“Take care of her,” he said with a faint threat, and winked at him. “She needs her rest.”

“Harry Potter!” she hissed and shoved him towards Draco. Charlie just laughed and grabbed her

hand to pull her along with him. “No bloody noses!” she yelped before she was dragged through

the door of the nearby cabin.

“Neanderthal,” Draco muttered and set off on the marked path.

“I don’t know,” Harry posed quietly. “Charlie has a certain charm with the ladies. He’s very

observant.”

“She’ll probably bore the dragon-hide boots right off his feet.”

The dark-haired wizard sniggered. “If he even puts them on.”

Draco stopped suddenly, causing Harry to run right into the back of him. “Let’s get one thing

straight. I’m here for the week—no more. Is that understood?”

Harry thinned his lips, but nodded. “I understand.”

“I have to get back,” the blond reiterated, “or they’ll tear the Wizarding world apart to find me.”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want them to find me like this.”

Laying his hand on the other wizard’s arm, Harry squeezed gently. “I promise to let you go when

the week is up.” He bit the inside of his cheek savagely to keep his despair from showing.

Draco stared at the swirling emotions he could see in the depths of Potter’s green eyes, and it

caused that familiar ache to blossom in his chest. “You know they’ll never let this happen,” he

whispered, wanting to see if Harry’s skin was as soft as his lips.

“I only know what you tell me.” Harry swallowed and he watched as Draco’s gaze focused on the

bob of his Adam’s apple. He leaned closer and was surprised when the other man didn’t pull

away.

As if mesmerised, the taller wizard lowered his head until their lips were a hairsbreadth apart,

panting with restrained passion. “I’m telling you what I know.” Draco closed the distance and

once again thrilled in the maelstrom that built within his soul from the feel of his mouth on...

Stepping back suddenly, he stared at a dazed Harry. When the fog cleared, the blond shook his

head and marched off, threading his fingers through his hair. What on earth was he doing?

Harry remained still and silent until he muttered, “Wrong way,” when Draco took the right fork.

He watched the man stumble through some brush and then head in the other direction. Sighing, he

began following him at a discreet distance, his heart cracking with each step.

~*~

“You weren’t kidding about the amenities,” Hermione said, observing the lavish interior of

Charlie’s cabin.

The ceiling was of cathedral height, with several skylights embedded in the roof letting the sun

shine into the main room. Polished oak beams criss-crossed the length of the entire living space,

and the kitchen was the wet dream of professional chefs everywhere. There were several over-

stuffed, light-coloured leather pieces of furniture, including three chairs, a two-person sofa, and a

long sectional in the sitting room. Waxed hardwood floors with braided throw rugs in multiple

colours scattered about could be found in each room. A massive rough-cut stone fireplace was the

centrepiece in the larger living area, complete with a black fur pelt in front of the hearth.

Charlie watched her with a keen eye. He noticed when her gaze lingered on the fireplace and the

kitchen, he smiled to himself when she moved towards the bedroom door, and wondered what her

reaction would be if he mentioned that she looked adorable in her pleated skirt and casual top. He

wasn’t celibate by any means, but neither was he a rogue—as his mother referred to it; casual

affairs left a sour taste in his mouth. When he’d laid his eyes on Hermione for the first time in what

seemed like years, however, he could honestly say he wanted to be near her. A lot.

“Do you mind if I take my stockings off? It’s quite warm and...”

He lost track of what she said after ‘take off my stockings’. Of course she could! What he

wouldn’t give to see if she had nail polish on her toes, or to observe the flex and strain of her calf

muscles. Damn. He needed to stop or else a very long and frigidly cold shower would be in order.

“Charlie?”

“What?”

She smiled at his bemused expression. “May I take off my stockings?”

He blinked. “Sure.” Indicating with a hand gesture that she was to follow him, he led her to the

bedroom and flicked on the light. “You can change in here.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh no!”

“What’s wrong?”

“My clothes!” She looked down at her rumpled state. “I just brought Harry and Draco here and

didn’t think about needing clothes, or toiletries, or anything.” Dropping onto the small settee at the

end of the bed, she buried her face in her hands. “They’ll certainly kill each other if Draco doesn’t

have his tailored robes.”

Sitting on her right, he nudged her with his shoulder. “Let them be. If they need us, they know

where to find us. Besides, it seems like they have a lot to work out, and not to sound arrogant or

anything, but you sticking your nose in their business just might muck it up.”

She gave him a half-hearted glare. “Well, if they pound on your door in the middle of the night,

don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He tugged on one of her curls, secretly loving the way it bounced back. “I’ve faced worse, trust

me.” Standing, he crossed to the closet and rifled thought it. “I have some shorts and shirts that

might fit you.”

“Really?” she asked meekly, leaning against the door to the miniature room that held several racks

full of clothing. “I mean, I don’t want to put you out.”

“You’re not,” he assured her. He nodded over his shoulder. “See how many clothes they’ve

provided me?”

“So Idle Hands fills each cabin with their guest’s wishes, like food, clothing—”

“Everything.” He handed her a maroon tee-shirt and a pair of light grey cotton shorts that had a

drawstring waist. “These should work.”

Out of habit, she brought the proffered garments to her nose and inhaled deeply. “Mmmh, they

smell like you.” With a smile on her lips, she found her way to the loo and shut the door quietly

behind her.

Charlie was still standing in the closet with his jaw slack when she emerged, dressed in his

clothes, and barefoot. Her dainty nails were brushed with pearlescent pink, and he nearly moaned

out loud when he took in the shapeliness of her legs, ankles, and feet. Why a woman’s legs

aroused him, he’d never understood, but this was going to be sheer torture for the next four days.

“How do I look?” She twirled for him.

Too good. Too bloody good. He licked his lips and swallowed heavily. “They fit you just fine.”

Damn fine. The shorts, while somewhat flared towards the bottom, cupped her arse like a lover at

the top. The tee was roomy, but he could tell that her breasts were high and perky underneath. The

tightening of his own trousers caused him to close his eyes and breathe deeply.

“Charlie? Is something wrong?”

Oh, there were several kinds of wrong. “Nothing,” he warbled, then cleared his throat. “Can you

imagine the looks on Harry and Malfoy’s face when they open your closet to see lots of girly

things for them to wear?”

“Merlin, that’s right,” she gasped and laughed. “I know Harry won’t be able to wear most if any

of my clothes, but Draco...” She shrugged. “Who knows?”

“Thank you, I now need to burn my eyes from their sockets,” he teased, leaving the interior of the

tiny room.

She giggled. “How about I make a light tea to compensate for your loss of vision?”

He couldn’t help himself from liking her more as the minutes passed; she was such a breath of

fresh air to his stale life. “Tis only right you feed me, wench!” He moved to slap her bum with his

uninjured hand, but she’d anticipated his manoeuvre, and fled from the room, squealing.

“You may have boarded my ship, Captain One-Armed Weasley, but you shan’t have my booty!”

she yelled from the kitchen while he was still in the bedroom.

Charlie bit his lower lip in a smirk. “We’ll see about that.”

~*~

“So, do you want the blue tee that reads Opinion Donor, or the red one that reads Years Of

Therapy Go Down The Drain After One Conversation With you?”

Draco stepped into the closet with Harry and sneered at the shirts he was holding up. “Is this

seriously what Granger wears?”

Since the blond hadn’t chosen either, Harry just shoved the blue one in his hands. “Sometimes,

though I think this retreat chooses things based on the person’s personality more than their actual

tastes.”

Holding the tee like it was about to bite him, Draco finally resigned himself to the situation. “She’s

mental.”

Harry couldn’t hide his smirk. “That’s what Ron calls her.”

“If you ever tell Weasley that I agree with him on something, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?”

He sighed. “Nothing.”

Ignoring the awkward moment, Harry asked, “Are you hungry?”

Glancing at his watch, Malfoy snorted. “Well, considering I was supposed to be cutting my

wedding cake with Astoria right about now, I’d say I’m ravenous.”

A look of immense regret overcame Harry, and he quietly left the room after telling Draco that

he’d see if he could whip up a curry.

Once he was gone, Draco slammed his palm against the wall in frustration. Nothing in his life was

simple. If he displeased his parents, he would lose everything that made him a Malfoy. If he

pleased himself, he would bring down the wrath of everyone around him except for the one that

mattered the most, though it was highly doubtful he’d ever tell Potter that he held such sway over

him. Shrugging off his robes, he decided there was nothing to be done for the problem at hand, at

least not for the moment.

He tried on the clothes he’d snagged from Hermione’s closet that might fit him and decided they

didn’t look half bad—not that he would ever tell her or Potter that. Stripping down, he entered the

bathroom, turned the spigot to ‘hot’, and waited until the temperature was as he liked it. Opening

the glass door, he stepped inside and gratefully let the steamy water cascade over his head and

down his back.

~*~

Harry moved the pot of rice off the burner to steam. Though he hated living with them, the

Dursleys had at least forced him to learn how to cook the Muggle way, and it was times like these

when he spared them a modicum of appreciation. The chicken was simmering, so all that was

needed were the two people to eat it. Because Draco had not emerged from the bedroom yet,

Harry wondered if what he was doing was really the right thing.

He quietly entered the room and noticed the blond’s dress robes and other wedding paraphernalia

scattered across the floor. Picking up the green vest, Harry rubbed his thumb over the pattern and

closed his eyes.

“Fuck, yeah!”

Freezing on the spot, Harry slowly turned his gaze towards the bathroom to see the door cracked

open an inch. The way the shower was situated allowed for a full view due to a large wall-to-wall

mirror on the opposite side. Damning his own curiosity, he crept closer to the door, pushing it

slightly. The shower had no curtain, only a clear glass sliding door to protect the floor tiles from

stray splashes of water, and the image in the mirror left nothing to the imagination.

Draco Malfoy was tall and nicely sculpted in all the right places, his gorgeous platinum blond

locks curling wetly around his ears. Subconsciously licking his lips, Harry pressed the side of his

face against the doorframe and watched as Draco’s hands moved all over his body, wishing

desperately he could be a flannel right now. His breath left him when he spied the pure-blood’s

hand travel extremely south, to his groin, and he cursed the rising fog in the room for starting to

obstruct his view.

“That’s right, suck me off,” Draco purred.

Oh God! Craning his neck around the door, Harry realised it was some fantasy that had to be

playing in the Slytherin’s head. He watched the long, nimble fingers wrap around… oh my God,

if that wasn’t the nicest cock he’d ever seen!

One of Draco’s palms was propped on the tile wall, the other stroking his rigid flesh, thick and

heavy balls dangling low, caressing his inner thighs. Every few upstrokes, Draco would slide his

thumb over the dusky-rose head and rub the gathering fluid on his glans, rimming the edge with

his finely manicured nail.

“Merlin, yes… use your teeth,” he moaned, his head thrown back.

Harry closed his eyes and palmed his erection through his trousers. He could feel the wet spot of

fabric near the top where his own precome now leaked from his slit as he imagined himself in the

shower with Draco, doing those things to him. Slowly, he lowered the zip on his trousers and

slipped his fingers inside his boxers, gripping his hard shaft and stroking up and down at a steady

pace. Biting his lip, he gently swirled the pad of his finger around the head of his cock, his gaze

never leaving Draco.

“You want to suck on my balls, don’t you?” the blond muttered.

Even though Draco couldn’t see him, Harry nodded, tracing his lips with his free hand, pulling a

digit between his teeth and biting lightly.

“Merlin, that’s good… Now put them in your pert mouth.”

Obeying him, Harry sucked three fingers inside his mouth, tonguing the groves as if he were

actually licking Draco’s scrotum. He even imagined the smooth flesh of the other man’s sac and

running his tongue along the raphe line separating his testes.

Draco’s groans grew louder and Harry’s pants grew harsher. “Now stop. I want to come all over

your face.”

Taking his fingers out of his mouth, Harry nearly whimpered as he began rapidly tugging on his

rigid length, every few moments sliding his thumb over the weeping head, writhing against the

doorframe. He even knelt down and began thrusting his hips so that he could enjoy the fantasy

Draco had provoked in him.

The constant slap of Draco’s hand sliding up and down on his thick cock grew more intense, more

passionate, and Harry could not stop himself from increasing the pace of his strokes, the heat

rising within him.

“That’s it… going to come and you’re going to swallow all of it, Potter,” Draco snarled feverishly,

caught up in the excitement overtaking him.

Harry watched Draco’s back arch, one hand clutching at the wall, the other pumping his dick

furiously, and fell over the edge with him. They both shouted their release, long and hard, as ropes

of thick come splattered the marble lining the shower.

Startled by the other voice, Draco cut the shower off immediately. He shoved the glass aside and

nearly slipped when stepping out, which forced him to grab hold of the towel bar to steady

himself. Finding the bathroom door ajar, he yanked it open fully to find Harry kneeling in the

entranceway, his face extremely flushed. He immediately deduced that Potter had watched him

wank off, especially when seeing one hand was still wrapped around his softened penis and

covered in come.

He should be upset that Potter was so persistent with his advances and not respecting his privacy.

He’d made his choices, and sharing a wank with Harry-bloody-Potter wasn’t among them, for

better or worse. He should be upset. Instead, giving Harry a smirk, Draco stood with his hands on

his hips, not bothering to cover himself. “Enjoy the show?”

“Will there be a repeat?” Harry dared to ask, gazing hungrily at the blond’s athletic body.

“We’ll see.”

Chapter 3

Charlie watched Hermione scurry around the kitchen to prepare their tea. He almost told her not to

go through so much trouble, but he wanted to see her worry her lower lip with her teeth some

more whenever she was concentrating on something, so he let her continue. He nearly came in his

khaki Bermuda shorts when she stepped on a stool to look into the cupboard over the cooker for

olive oil. She rose up on her tip toes, which made her arse stick out somewhat for balance.

“Is spaghetti okay?”

He needed to stop staring at her, or she was going to think he was simple and couldn’t understand

the words coming out of her mouth. “Sounds great.” He raised his left arm. “I can dice tomatoes

for the sauce.”

She gave him a curious smile. “I didn’t know you were left-handed.”

Pulling a cutting board from one of the drawers, he smirked as he looked for a knife. “Well, you

know what they say.”

“What?”

“Everyone is born right-handed—only the gifted overcome it.” He winked at her and thoroughly

enjoyed her blush.

“Ah, so that’s why you’re so special,” she said teasingly. “I’ll be sure to explain things very

slowly.”

Unable to stop himself, he crowded her against the counter, his front to her back. “Someone has a

high opinion of themselves,” he whispered in her ear, delighted when she tried to squirm away.

She succeeded, but only so she could turn and face him. “Everything I say is fully substantiated by

my own opinion.” Placing her hands on his barely covered chest, she made to push him back

when he grasped one of her wrists and held it tightly.

“I have no doubt.” Slowly, he brought her wrist to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss on the inside.

“W-what’re you doing?” she murmured, hating that she sounded so breathy.

His mouth never left her skin as he continued to pepper her wrist and arm with languid kisses.

“Proving how special I am.”

“The water is boiling,” she said absentmindedly, unwilling to claim her limb and intent on letting

him do as he pleased.

“There’s lots of water in the pot.” He reached the crux of her elbow and darted out his tongue, to

lave the tender flesh. “I find I’m hungry for something else.”

Her head angled back so that he could continue his ministrations across her collarbone and neck.

“What are you hungry for?” she rasped, her chest now pressed intimately to his.

Nipping her chin, he raised his eyes to finally stare at her the way he had wanted to since he’d first

glimpsed her. “I thought you were a clever witch.” He brushed his nose against her upturned one.

She could feel his straining erection at the apex of her thighs, so she thrust her hips into his,

smirking when he groaned from the contact. “I’m not as gifted as you.” She did it again, thrilling

at the feral growl he uttered. “Perhaps you could show me?”

“I’ll show you,” he breathed against her lips. “I’ll even give you a detailed description.” He sealed

his mouth over hers and kissed her soundly.

~*~

“I’d like to know why Granger thinks this resembles a stream,” Draco groused, pointing out the

kitchen window at the body of water. “It’s a bloody lake!”

Harry looked over Draco’s shoulder. “I think she’s kept the habit of downplaying things or events

from when we were fighting. Used to say we would’ve never done half of what we did if we

knew the true scope of things.”

“Smart tactic,” the blond admitted without thinking.

“That’s our Hermione,” Harry said with a knowing smirk.

Draco snorted. “That’s your Hermione, not mine.” He frowned at the other wizard’s stare.

“What?”

Shaking his head, Harry studied him. “It’s just the way you said her name. A-are you... you

know...”

“Am I what?” Draco looked expectantly at him.

A sinking feeling spread through him and he gritted his teeth. “Do you fancy her?”

Narrowing his eyes, Malfoy approached until he was nose-to nose with Harry. “According to you,

I fancy blokes, not birds.” He gave the shorter man a sneer. “So which is it? Am I here to shag

Granger into the ground—”

“Draco...” Harry said on a low warning note.

“Or am I supposed to bugger you until I get it out of my system?”

Harry’s temper flashed through his glare. “Do you fancy Hermione?”

“No!” he spat. “Are you happy now, Potter?”

“Not yet.” Harry grabbed him by the nape of the neck and firmly kissed him.

Once again, the blond wizard fought it, but he was soon throwing himself into the mesh of lips

and tongues, starting to hate the fact he was craving the feelings the other man was creating in

him. When Harry’s hand drifted low, past the waistband of his pants, Draco reciprocated in like

fashion, eager to feel the fleshy cheeks of the dark-haired man’s arse.

Draco began pressing open-mouthed kisses along Harry’s neck, licking his pulse point, feeling it

throb with the steady beat of his heart. Wanting more friction while his hands were busy, he

moved their bodies away from the window and towards the counter, Harry’s front caught between

the countertop of the island and the hard reminder of his passion for him. Draco began thrusting

shallowly against Harry’s arse, his fingers seeking out the other man’s hard length, cupping him

and palming the increasing heat.

One hand remained pressed against Harry’s shaft while the other made its way down to the

buttons on the dress shirt Potter still wore, flicking each one away until there was nothing left to

keep his toned body from view. Slowly, Draco slid his palm over the slight swell of pectoral

muscle, tweaking a nipple as he moved down to the jut of Harry’s hip. When he reached his waist,

he practically pinned him to the counter with his hard cock.

“How long have you wanted this?” Harry gasped where he was laid prone on the marble top. The

way Draco was taking charge, Harry knew the blond had more than considered him as a romantic

interest.

Draco bent over him and hissed in his ear, “Years. For years I’ve wanted to wipe that smirk off

your face.” He thrust his hips, the fabric creating a delicious roughness. “Wanted to prove to you

that I was worthy.”

It was as if a Lumos had shed light on their entire animosity towards each other. Draco had

wanted Harry from the beginning, but Harry had shunned him. Desperate to make amends, Harry

reached around and cupped the blond’s balls.

“Fuck!” Draco ground out, and stilled his motions.

He whimpered Draco’s name as he sagged against him in complete surrender.

“You’re mine now,” Malfoy grated harshly.

Moving a nimble hand down the flat plane of Harry’s belly until he reached the top of his dress

slacks, Draco slid the trousers and boxer shorts down his muscular thighs and sculpted calves,

flinging the offending clothing on the kitchen floor. On his way up, his questing fingers found

Harry slick with precome, and he rubbed his thumb over the silky glans, spreading the sticky fluid

all around the head.

“Merlin, Draco...”

“Say my name again,” Draco demanded, pressing a little harder on the tip of Harry’s penis.

“Draco Malfoy,” Harry panted, thrusting into the other wizard’s hand impatiently.

The blond swiped a digit across Harry’s slit, prodding it open a little wider. “I want you to scream

my name when you come.” He began stroking in earnest now, loving Harry’s whimpers that were

a tell-tale sign he was close.

It wouldn’t take but a few more tugs to bring Harry over, so Draco stopped and pulled him until

he was upright once again, and drew him in for another kiss, catching his lower lip between his

teeth.

Harry groaned in response and ground against Draco’s bulge, where it was still covered by the

borrowed shorts.

Draco’s hips were rocking into him, his long fingers finding Harry’s thick cock to start stroking

him again. He quickened his pace when he felt the foreskin slide easily over the tip and back

down.

Harry’s chest heaved and, with a last hard pull, he was screaming Draco’s name and spurting into

the blond’s hand, liberally coating his fingers.

Slowly withdrawing, Draco brought his fingers to his mouth, and sucked them clean of Harry’s

spendings.

Harry’s eyes were closed in ecstasy, euphoria spreading throughout his entire being, his thoughts

and feelings rising to the surface to make themselves known. “That was incredible.” Smiling

tremulously, he raised his hand and brushed his thumb against one of Draco’s cheeks, looking him

straight in the eye. “I love you.”

Instinctively, Draco stiffened and pulled away. “We only have this week.”

“Then I want you to be true to yourself while you’re here.” Tears misted Harry’s vision as he

cupped Draco’s cheek and brought him closer to his hard body, kissing his temple. “If I only have

this week with you, then I want to remember it as the best time in my life.”

Wrapping his arms around Harry, Draco held the other man tightly, afraid to let go. “Say it again,”

he whispered.

Returning the embrace, Harry soon let his fingers drift down the front of Malfoy’s shirt to cup the

bulge that still lingered, and squeezed for emphasis. “I love you.”

Hissing, Draco grasped his wrist and pressed his cock into Harry’s hand further. “Again.”

“I love you,” Harry reaffirmed, unzipping the blond’s trouser-shorts.

Draco lay hard and smooth in Harry’s hand as the latter moved his fingers from base to tip in a

teasing manner.

Harry pressed his thumb lightly on the slit and was rewarded with a slight ooze of precome, which

he swirled around the head while he listened to Draco’s harsh pants, watching him intently. He

stroked him leisurely for a moment, but found he really wanted a taste and so brought his thumb to

Draco’s lips to coat them with his own fluid, and let his tongue lick it off.

Eyes dilated at the erotic sight of Harry’s lips glistening with his precome, Draco nearly spilled

himself in the other man’s hand at the thought of that mouth on him. “Suck me,” he pleaded.

Kneeling down, his back against the island and eye level with Draco’s bobbing cock, Harry

brought his hands to the back of the muscular thighs that were covered in light blond hairs, and

caressed his way up to clasp his arse. Kneading Draco’s backside, Harry started circling his

tongue around the blond’s glans, alternately rimming it and dipping into his wet slit.

Draco couldn’t hold back his feral growls of pleasure while Harry licked the length of his hard

shaft with slow, deliberate swipes. Fisting his hands in the wizard’s wild black hair, he started

pumping his hips against Harry’s face. When he saw the head of his penis slip between Harry’s

lips, his desire nearly drove him to his knees. The way the man hummed around him and began

pumping the base of his cock, set up a vibration in Draco’s lower half that had his eyes crossing

with the need to spill himself right then and there. He nearly whimpered when Harry ceased his

touch.

Stopping but for a moment, Harry pushed the blond’s trousers and pants further down his legs to

gain better access. He then used one hand to fondle Draco’s balls and puckered hole, while the

other worked in tandem with his mouth, sliding down as far as his throat would let him and

squeezing on the way up.

Draco’s fingers clenched tighter in Harry’s hair and he began to thrust in earnest, Harry’s mouth

taking his hot length. Watching his cock slide in and out between the other wizard’s soft lips with

increasing speed was pushing Draco ever closer to the edge. He was so transfixed by those green

eyes, that he only became aware of a barely lubricated finger just moments before it slipped inside

his arse to massage his prostate. Harry’s purring hum sent him over the edge before he could ever

contemplate protesting.

The storm of Draco’s climax hit him hard enough that he couldn’t hold back his bellow of

completion. It felt like the room was tilting as he jetted his seed into Harry’s waiting mouth, the

other man’s clever tongue extending the sensations of his orgasm, the sure fingers of a fellow

Seeker guaranteeing he was milked for every last drop.

“Bloody fuck!” Draco hissed, finally slipping from Harry’s lips with a soft, wet plop.

“That’s just the beginning,” the Harry assured him.

Chapter 4

Hermione sat on the back of Charlie’s legs, while he was sprawled out face-first on the huge bed,

kneading the taut muscles in his lower back, loving his groans of appreciation.

“Your hands are heaven-sent, love,” he murmured into the pillow.

She smirked, though he didn’t see it. “So, all I have to do in order to have my wicked way with

you is promise a massage?”

He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at her over his shoulder. “You can always have

your wicked way with me.”

Ignoring the implications of his statement, she moved her fingers higher and began rubbing the

middle of his back, only to be startled by the image that appeared. “Charlie!” she squealed.

“I see you’ve met Achlesydd,” he chuckled. He lay flat again so she could peruse his back.

Amazed at the sight before her, she watched the imprint of a beautiful, iridescent blue dragon

uncoil itself from the middle of his back and stretch out to what must have been its original

placement on Charlie’s skin. The wings spanned the width of the redhead’s shoulders and curled

over his arms. The body covered the entirety of his upper and middle portion of freckled skin, and

the tail ran the length of the dragon-keeper’s spine, ending just before the top of his bum. It was

magnificent.

Daringly, she reached out and touched it, running her fingertip along the indentation of muscle,

bone, and inked tail. “Is this a tattoo?”

“Sort of,” he murmured, loving the feel of her hands as they moved over him. “I was working in

Wales for a short time and found several Welsh-Green younglings... devouring what was left of a

man’s livestock. We captured them and took them back to the Reserve. All but two made it. The

man turned out to be a cruor mage in hiding. He was so grateful about the livestock and my

willingness to take a vow to never reveal his whereabouts that he offered Achlesydd to me.”

Her left palm hovered over Charlie’s neck. “Did it hurt?” She’d heard about cruor mages, that

their practise of blood magic had been outlawed years earlier, and if any were ever found they

were to be put to death on sight. She understood the mystery man’s fright for his life and the

blessed relief Charlie had offered. But she also knew that any gift they granted came with a price.

“Like the fire of Hades,” he explained. “It was a long process. Some nights I’d be lucid and wish I

wasn’t, and then others I would scream my bloody head off to be released from the damn thing.”

“Oh, Charlie,” she whispered and caressed his right shoulder blade, where part of a wing resided.

“All that pain.”

He shifted closer. “Ah, but it was worth it, truly.” He turned his head to the side and gazed at her.

“If not for Achlesydd, I’d have been killed long ago.”

Eyes widening, she looked at the dragon again... and it stared straight back at her. Small tendrils of

smoke escaped its nostrils as it shifted its body on Charlie’s back to have a better look at who was

touching its owner.

“Don’t be frightened,” he said quietly. “He wants to meet the one I care about.”

She darted her gaze to his, butterflies filling her stomach at the look he was giving her—

affectionate with something a little more she dared not name. “What does he do?”

“Watch.”

The tattoo rippled over his body like light shimmering on the water’s surface. A small vibration

started at the narrow head and made its way down Achlesydd’s body, all the way to its tail.

Slowly, the dragon lifted itself from Charlie’s skin and became a living, breathing entity.

“Oh my, God!” Hermione gasped. She remained frozen, sitting on her knees beside the redhead

who, unbeknownst to her, was grinning like a fool at her stunned expression. “Is it real?”

“Touch him and find out,” he challenged.

Though her look was dubious, she hesitantly placed a finger on the top of Achlesydd’s head and

began stroking him. It seemed the creature loved the attention; he arched his neck to nuzzle against

her hand.

“He’s silky,” she said, surprised.

Charlie was content to watch her pet Achlesydd for some time, never saying anything, just letting

her make observations here and there. “He’s only visible if I’m feeling acute pain or he feels I’m

going into a stressful situation—like when I’m at the Reserve. He must’ve reacted to the pressure

you put on a strained muscle. He separates from my body and protects me if I’m in trouble,” he

offered. “This could’ve been much worse, if not for him.” Charlie raised his right arm a little.

Nodding, Hermione scratched under Achlesydd’s chin and delighted in his warbled purr. “Thank

you, little one, for saving my Charlie.”

He knew it was a slip of the tongue, but he wasn’t about to correct her. Instead, he basked in the

knowledge that the woman he’d shagged six ways to Sunday for the last three days was well on

her way to becoming his Hermione.

~*~

They’d been dancing around each other for three days. Three days of lingering touches, of tasting

one another and never having enough, of avoiding the looming end of their week together.

Harry was quite sick of it.

Turning over onto his right side, he studied the relaxed countenance of Draco Malfoy in the

morning light. Earlier in the week, they’d ventured to Hermione and Charlie’s cabin to raid the

redhead’s closet, fed up with trying to find clothes that wouldn’t question their preference, let

alone their gender. Hermione had done the same, raiding the closet that had been specified for her

originally, and raising an eyebrow at the shirt Draco was wearing, that read, My Family Tree Has

Some Pretty Twisted Roots.

Now, they meandered around the cabin, which was an exact replica of Charlie’s accommodations,

wearing mostly cargo shorts and light shirts—it was so hot, they’d sometimes even forgo a shirt

altogether. Those days were torture for Harry, since all he wanted was on display, but not for the

taking. Draco dictated the pace of their affair away from home, and it had one speed: his.

Some days Harry would be allowed to suck Draco off, others he wouldn’t be able to get within

five feet of him. The best day had been the second one, when Draco had invited him to shower

with him and they’d re-enacted the same scenario from the first time Harry had watched him toss

off.

But every time Harry had tried to take it further, Draco had backed off significantly, so much to

the point Harry had had to reconsider whether his initial assessment of Malfoy being at least bi

was correct or not. Was Draco scared of becoming too attached emotionally? Or was the entire

experience so new to him that he would have to ease into anything he wanted to try, albeit very

slowly? Harry pondered those things and more as he brushed away the stray locks that fell across

Draco’s eyes... which were now staring at him.

“Potter,” Draco said in greeting, yawning and stretching.

Harry’s lips thinned. “I hate when you call me that.”

Draco stopped mid stretch. “I’ve spent over half my life calling you Potter. Think on that for a

change.” He tossed the covers to the side, got up, and entered the loo.

Hearing the other wizard relieve himself, Harry sighed and gave Draco’s words some thought.

He’d called Ron and Hermione just that all the time that he’d known them. To call them

something else would be strange and make him feel uneasy. Eyes widening, he groaned into the

pillow he’d brought to his chest. “Stupid, stupid,” he repeated at his own obliviousness. “He’s

always called me Potter. To say anything different would’ve meant he changed his feelings for

me. He’s always...”

Harry bolted out of the bed and entered the loo without permission, to see Draco turn on the

shower. “You love me,” he blurted out.

Slowly, Draco turned and stared at him, nodding hesitantly.

Harry’s expression fell somewhat. “Why won’t you say it?”

Straightening, Draco let his gaze linger on the shorter man. “If I say it out loud, if I verbalise the

slightest hint that I...” He faltered, but continued. “Then it’s real.”

“What I feel for you is real!”

“You don’t understand.”

“Help me then,” Harry pleaded, striding towards him. “Make me understand.”

Cupping his face, Draco leaned his forehead against Harry’s. “If I say it, I can’t take it back. Isn’t

it enough that you know?”

Harry shook his head that still rested against Draco’s. “Are you ashamed of me? The whole

fucking Wizarding world loves me, except the one person I need.”

Draco pressed his lips to Harry’s soft ones, trying to muffle the sob that was welling within his

chest. “If it’s real, then I can’t face the life I have to go back to.” To keep him from protesting,

Draco pushed him into the steamy shower and proceeded to kiss, lick, and suck every available

inch of skin. He wasn’t gentle, but then again, they never were. He nipped Harry’s jaw and neck,

biting lightly on the crux of his shoulder and eliciting a fevered moan. Making his way down the

wizard’s body, he didn’t stop until he reached the straining erection waiting just for him.

He engulfed Harry in his hot mouth, sucking hard and kneading his tight arse as he deep-throated

his entire length. When Harry threaded his fingers through Draco’s hair and gripped, Draco knew

the other wizard was close.

Releasing Potter’s cock from his mouth, Draco stood and gripped Harry’s shoulders to push him

to face the corner of the large stall. “Bend over, hands on the walls,” he instructed.

Harry did as he was told and waited impatiently.

Draco scanned the shelves that were littered with... wait a moment. Granger, you little minx!

Lying amongst the shampoo bottles and liquid soaps, lay a small container of lubricant. Since it

was her cabin, he concluded that she’d either planned to indulge herself at some point or had

intended to entertain someone during her stay. He secretly thanked her foresight and grabbed the

bottle, squeezing a sizable dollop of the clear solution onto his palm.

Stroking Harry’s taut backside, Draco eased his fingers between the cleft of Harry’s arse, slicking

it with the fluid. When he felt Harry relax the tiniest bit, he inserted one of his digits into the tight

hole, pressing past the tight ring of muscle that tried to prevent him from going further. When

Harry started pushing back against his hand, clearly seeking more if the sound of his groans were

anything to go by, he added a second finger, and soon after a third, scissoring them in the orifice

to allow for maximum pleasure.

Harry bucked against Draco’s questing fingers, wanting to stroke his own cock, but was afraid

Draco would stop his ministrations if he moved from the position he’d been ordered into. He’d

had one previous lover, bearing a very strong resemblance to the man currently behind him, and

he wondered if even back then he was trying to replace his object of desire with something of

lesser value. Though he had tried to love her, he’d never gone past heaving petty and thorough

snogs with Ginny, so he was quite certain he was gay by that point.

Satisfied with Potter’s readiness, Draco coated his rigid shaft liberally, and lined up the tip of his

penis, slowly pushing into Harry’s body, gritting his teeth against the bruising grip of his arse.

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

“Have you ever... oh, God... done this before?” Harry managed between pants, pressing himself

back into Draco’s first thrust.

“Twice,” he ground out and withdrew, only to thrust forward with increased force. “One was a

woman, but neither was memorable.” He soon set up a rhythm that was pleasing to them both.

Reaching around Harry’s body, Draco began stroking Harry’s shaft as he pumped into his body,

the simultaneous actions spurring moans that echoed off the marble walls. “I want to come in your

arse, Potter,” he purred in the wizard’s ear. “That way, you’ll always have something of me.”

“Merlin, yes!” Harry nearly shouted and took over stroking his own cock while Draco gripped his

hips and began driving into him in earnest. “Let me have you.”

The slaps of their flesh became loud and hurried until they both reached the pinnacle at the same

time.

“Draco!” Harry screamed, spilled against the tile in the shower. Liquid warmth soon filled his

arse.

“Fuck!” Draco spurted into Harry, still thrusting through his orgasm, watching his cock slide in

and out of Harry’s body and coating it with his come.

Panting and breathless, Harry reached over his shoulder and pulled Draco’s face to his, so they

could press their lips together. “You don’t have to tell me; I know.”

Nuzzling Harry’s cheek, Draco closed his eyes to ward off the tears. “Good.”

Chapter 5

Charlie traced the curve of Hermione’s hip with his right hand, the injury to his arm healed. Weak

morning light shone through the diaphanous curtains, allowing her face to be bathed in a soft

glow. A rumble of thunder in the distance echoed the storm in his heart.

She shifted in her sleep, unconsciously seeking his body, settling again once her back was flush

with his front.

Gods, he loved it when she did that. He responded by wrapping his arm around her middle and

nuzzling the nape of her neck. His morning erection was definitely making itself known, and he

gently rocked his hips against her bum.

“Charlie,” she breathed on a sigh. She laid her hand on his muscular thigh and started caressing it.

“Want you,” he whispered in her ear. He dipped his hand down into her sparse curls, found her

clit, and circled it slowly with his index finger. “Always want you.”

The moment he gave a tap to her clit, she arched her back, moaning. “Please,” she whimpered.

He said nothing else, instead lifting her leg and placing it over his so he had better access to her

hot core. Lining up with her sex, he thrust home into her waiting sheath. They both groaned their

delight at being joined.

“Come home with me,” he pleaded as he angled his hips and drove his cock deep inside. It was

the day of his departure, and an ache had taken root in his chest when he thought about leaving.

Tears misted her lashes, though he didn’t see them, and she bit her lip to keep from sobbing. “I

can’t,” she said so softly he barely heard her. She gripped the hand that clasped her to him.

Delivering a particular brutal thrust, he ground out, “Why? I’m only good enough to fuck, but not

have a relationship with? Is that it?”

“No!” she cried, panting from his fierce attention. “You wouldn’t want a know-it-all in your life;

I’d only mess it up.”

He withdrew from her body and shifted until her lithe form was beneath his. Spreading her

quivering thighs, he entered her once more and set up a punishing rhythm. “It’s too late for that,”

he growled, staring at her with unabashed adoration. “You’d only mess up my life if you weren’t

in it.” He buried his face in the crux of her neck, clutched her shoulders, and he drove his rigid

shaft deeper, hitting her womb. “I can’t let you go.”

“God, Charlie!” She clung to him as their movement became frantic, the slap of their bodies

frenzied. “Don’t let me go.”

“Never,” he said on a snarl, and emptied himself in her grasping quim, their mutual cries of

completion bouncing of the rafters.

~*~

“Charlie leaves today,” Harry quietly mentioned, his head propped on Draco’s chest.

“Is Granger going with him?”

Harry drew lazy circles around the blond’s nipples, loving they way they peaked at his touch. “I’d

question her sanity if she didn’t.”

Closing his eyes at the sensation of nimble fingers finding his pleasure spots, Draco smirked to

himself. “He does have it rather bad, doesn’t he?”

Pressing a kiss to Draco’s chest, Harry began peppering him with love nips, moving lower after

each bite. “So does she, but she’ll stubbornly dismiss the idea.” He smiled when he buried his

nose against Draco’s inner thigh. “She doesn’t exactly have the highest self-esteem in that

department.”

Draco threaded his fingers through Harry’s unruly locks. “She’s not a bad looking bird. Don’t see

why—”

“Ron,” Harry muttered and gave Draco’s turgid cock a long slow, lick. “He did a number on her.”

“Prat.” Draco hissed his pleasure when Harry engulfed his shaft in his hot mouth. “Harder. Use

your teeth.”

Doing as his lover ordered, Harry bobbed up and down on the thick girth of Draco’s penis,

tonguing the ridge around the head on the upstroke, loving the taste of him. He lightly scraped his

teeth over the silky rod and increased the pressure when he heard him moan appreciatively.

“Fuck, Potter.” Draco tightened his grip in the other man’s hair. “Who knew you had such a

talented mouth?”

Releasing Draco’s cock, Harry sat up and leaned over to rifle through the nightstand drawer.

Finding the bottle of lube they’d found in the shower, he liberally coated two of his fingers with

the clear fluid and positioned them at the entrance to Draco’s arse. “Let me, please?”

Draco had watched him the entire time he’d prepared himself, knowing very well that he could

refuse him. He’d yet to let anyone top him, let alone Harry, and he wondered if the departure of

Charlie and possibly Hermione brought things to a head. Without answering, Draco raised his legs

and spread them wide to give Harry better access.

Slowly, Harry pressed one finger into the puckered hole, just past his knuckle. “Relax, Draco,” he

instructed gently.

“Just do it, Potter,” Draco gritted out between clenched teeth.

Harry likened it to removing a plaster, the quicker the better, at least in this case. Withdrawing his

finger, he inserted a second one past the tight ring of muscle, scissoring the tight sheath until he

was moving a little more freely.

Clutching the bed sheet in his hands, Draco was having second thoughts, especially since Harry

was thicker than he was longer. He soon changed his mind, though, when Harry began using

three fingers and the sensation turned from burning pain to a wonderful fullness that disappeared

when he pulled out.

Applying a fairly large amount of the lube around his own length, Harry lined up his cock with

the now somewhat enlarged entrance to Draco’s body. He slipped the head just inside and

allowed the blond to get used to the different girth. When Draco nodded for him to proceed, Harry

buried his shaft to the hilt in one thrust, pushing through Draco’s grunt.

Caressing Draco’s thighs, he drove his hips against the plush arse, loving the pained and delirious

expression on his lover’s face. He bent over Draco, staring into his eyes as his thrusts increased.

“Do you love my cock fucking your filthy hole?”

“Yes!” Draco snuck his hand down to fist his aching shaft. “Fuck me harder, Potter.”

“You like calling me Potter, don’t you?” Sweat now beaded on both their bodies.

“Gods, yes!” Draco closed his eyes in ecstasy and tugged fiercely on his cock while Harry

slammed into his arse. “Shit, right there... yes!”

Harry sat up a little, grabbed Draco’s thighs, and shifted them higher until he was able to plunge

deeper into his body. “Say my name,” he ground out. A violent twist of his hips sent Draco

shouting.

“Fuck, Harry!” he screamed as his warm, sticky seed shot out onto his chest in several spurts.

“Yes!” Harry emptied himself into Draco’s gripping arse, tears clogging his throat.

Both panted in gulping breaths, trying to regain control of their emotions. It was a long time before

either said a word.

~*~

Hermione did indeed Portkey back to Romania with Charlie, where he promptly kept her secluded

with him for another week before taking her back to the Burrow. When Molly opened the door to

them snogging like randy teenagers, she told them in no uncertain terms that she’d better be

hearing wedding bells before she heard the pitter-patter of little feet.

~*~

The day to return back to his pre-ordained life sounded like a death knell in both Draco and

Harry’s hearts. Harry wisely never mentioned the slip of words, but Draco knew what he’d said...

and it ate at him constantly.

“It’s time to go,” Draco said flatly, indicating the pamphlet on the marble counter.

They were both dressed in the clothes they’d arrived in a week prior, looking exceedingly

miserable and resigned.

“May I write to you?” Harry asked forlornly.

“No.”

“But I—”

“What part of no don’t you understand, Potter?” he bit out harshly, internally cringing at the look

on Harry’s face. “You promised to let me go at the end of the week. Your time is up.”

Harry nodded, tears filling his eyes. “I haven’t forgotten.” He sniffed loudly, but raised his chin

with pride. “I want you to know that I’ll always love you.”

A pained expression creased Draco’s brow. “I know,” he whispered. He suddenly pulled Harry in

for a desperate kiss, pouring everything he had into that one action, hoping Harry understood.

Embracing Draco tightly, as if he’d never let go, Harry nuzzled his cheek, the tears making their

skin slick. “I know, too.”

Draco savagely bit the inside of his cheek to keep from joining the other man in his sobs. Finally,

he pulled away. “Time to let go, Harry.”

Clasping their hands together, Draco laid their palms on the Portkey and they both disappeared.

~*~

“Draco, love,” Narcissa cooed as she straightened his formal robe. “You’ve changed.”

He arched a brow in a frightening imitation of Lucius. “You’re mistaken, Mother.”

She tilted her head and studied her son. “No, I’m quite sure you’re in love.”

He stared at her non-plussed for a moment, then recovered. “I’m getting married today. Shouldn’t

I be in love?”

“Yes,” she said with a knowing smirk. “But it helps to be in love with the one you’re marrying.”

“You weren’t in love with Father when you married,” he pointed out. “Why should I?”

“Oh, we were well on our way,” she countered. She brushed his shoulders, smoothing out the

creases in the rich fabric. “I was fortunate to have been schooled alongside Lucius, so I knew

what he was like. In fact, I was quite thrilled when my father said a contract had been brokered

between the Malfoys and the Blacks.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I fancied him desperately.”

Draco couldn’t help but smile a little at her confession, but then his expression dulled. “I don’t

have that luxury.”

She cupped his cheek, worried at the pain she glimpsed in his eyes. “If you had your way, whom

would you choose?” His silence spoke volumes, so she answered for him. “Harry Potter is held in

the highest esteem in the Wizarding world, Draco.”

“I-I—”

“And I know for a fact that should you choose to align yourself with him, I would support you.”

She caressed the dark circle under his eye with her thumb. “Your father? Well, I lied to the Dark

Lord to save your Harry. Who says I can’t take on Lucius?”

“He’s not my Harry,” he whispered. “How did you know?”

Laying a finger on the side of her nose, she tapped it twice. “A mother’s intuition. And the fact

that you looked ready to bolt last time, but calmed a great deal when he appeared in the midst of

all the chaos.”

“That led you to believe I was in love with Harry?”

“No, it was how you acted when you reappeared three weeks ago.” She embraced him and kissed

his cheek. “Though you tried to hide it, your lovesick expression hung around you like a noose.”

She pulled back. “I put two and two together.”

Tears welled in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

She brushed at the fringe of hair that obscured his vision. “I’m not. A mother’s dearest wish is to

see her children happy and well-loved.”

Draco bowed his head a little. “I-I can’t do this, Mother.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.”

“So am I,” a voice said from the doorway to the room.

Draco’s attention snapped to the entrance and his eyes widened when he saw Harry standing

there, leaning against the frame. “Potter?”

“The one and only,” Harry replied with a smirk.

Draco drank in the sight of him. He’d lost considerable weight and his cheeks were a bit hollow,

but he was still the messy-haired wizard whose attention Draco had craved most of his life. So

intent was he in his study of Harry, he didn’t realise his mother had quietly left the room.

“I just wanted you to know, that I promised I’d let you go,” Harry said, approaching him slowly,

“but I never said anything about not chasing you.”

Closing the distance, Draco swept him up in a deep and passionate kiss, only breaking apart when

they both needed to breathe. “Harry,” he said and cooed, nuzzling his neck and laving the pulse

that beat just for him.

Harry cupped the blond’s head and pressed a kiss to his temple, relishing the scent of his lover

once more. “I love you, too, Draco.”

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