Here & Now

A/N Ok, I’m very nervous because this is an experiment in present tense writing and I could very well be way out of my depth. Oh well – it’s all a learning curve. Please review, please, please, please, with a naked and lubed up Harry Potter on the top. Also I don’t have a beta but I’m looking for one, any volunteers?

Disclaimer: Not mine but JKR\'s *rage, weep, hiccup*

Here and Now

The light bulb flickers and finally dies with a metallic pop. Not that the dim artificial light is needed; the moonlight streaming through the small, grime streaked window is sufficient for their needs. It bathes their bodies with thin splinters of silver light, marring the perfection of fair and bronzed skin alike.

Draco’s heels sink into the bare and dingy mattress; the sheets are twisted, torn and abandoned on the dusty wooden floorboards.

‘Harry…please’ he begs, as fingers, oiled and clever, slip into his welcoming body.

Harry pauses and looks up at his lovers face, spellbound by the look of intense pleasure suffusing his delicate features. A soft pink blush decorates his sculptured cheekbones and the tips of his small ears.

‘What is it that you want Draco?’ He asks quietly, slipping two fingers back into his lover’s tight arse. His movements are torturously slow.

Draco’s hips buck and his body tries to suck the probing fingers in further. His rigid penis jerks with the movement and then settles back against his hard stomach.

‘Harry please…need more…need your cock in me’, he implores, parting his creamy smooth thighs wider and arching his back as Harry’s fingers continue to fuck him unhurriedly.

‘I want to take it slow this time love’, Harry whispers. He concentrates on slipping a third finger into the slicked up passage. He watches them disappear, and can’t wait to sink his cock into the incredible heat.

Draco mutters now, constantly; dirty words and broken sentences, words that Draco would never dream of uttering in the presence of another living soul. This part of Draco belongs to Harry, and Harry alone.

He pulls Draco’s slender hips up off the bed and grasps his arse pulling the cheeks wide apart and placing the tip of his throbbing cock at Draco’s entrance.

Draco pushes down on to the blunt rod and impales himself slowly. Harry watches captivated as flesh gives way to flesh.

Draco cries out and then sucks in a sharp breath when Harry pulls out, all the way, and plunges back in once more.

He licks his lips and sighs. ‘Wish you could see Draco…looks incredible’ he groans pulling out again.

Draco twists beneath him, urging him on with soft moans and delicious pleas.

When Harry finally picks up the pace Draco wraps his long legs around Harry’s waist. Soon thrusts give way to erratic pounding.

Draco screams as he comes and Harry bites his bottom lip, black hair falling rakishly over eyes squeezed tight shut.

This is all they need, each other, and in these hot silken moments nothing else matters. Not the seedy hotel room with the broken mirror and peeling wallpaper and not the knowledge that in the morning they will have to walk away from each other yet again.

Draco traces Harry scar with a long pale finger and Harry plays with a lock of Draco’s long silver hair. Neither says a word, Harry because he doesn’t feel that he needs to and Draco because the thought of actually having a conversation with Harry terrifies him. They eventually fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The next time they see each other, they don’t speak.

Draco is sitting by the fire, straight backed with a look of cold distain on his face as he watches a serving boy pour him brandy.

The pub is warm and luxurious and very colourful, like all the magical establishments Harry and his friends visit. The deep red furnishings give Harry a headache and Hermione, who won’t shut up about the wedding, unwittingly makes it worse. Harry as to sit and listen with a look of carefully arranged interest whilst Draco sits barely fifteen feet away looking so much like his late father it hurts.

When Ron arrives he orders a firewhisky and rather than sitting next to his fiancé, he takes the high-backed chair next to Harry, sandwiching Harry between his two best friends.

They regale him with stories of their recent holiday in Germany and Harry knows that his false laugh is too loud because Draco glances over. The look on his face is one of pure hatred and it causes Harry’s breath to catch in his throat mid-laugh. The effect is a strangled hiccup, which he tries to cover with a cough.

Unfortunately this draws Ron’s attention to Draco and the atmosphere in the room turns black.

‘What’s he doing here’, Ron asks loudly, pulling a packet of cigarettes from his robes, ‘I’ve never seen him drinking in here before’.

Hermione, the more tolerant of his two friends, tuts and tells Ron to keep his voice down, but there is a hard frown on her face and no warmth in her eyes when she looks over at the blonde.

Ron lights a cigarette and offers one to Harry. Harry declines.

‘Well, you’d think he’d be ashamed of himself, walking around looking like his father, acting like his father’.

‘He can’t help the way he looks any more than you can help the way you look Ronald Weasley’.

‘What’s that supposed to mean? What’s wrong with the way I look?’

Hermione’s purses her lips and tells them she needs to use the ‘Little Girl’s Room’. Her silly Muggle expression makes Ron laugh affectionately and Harry breathes a mental sigh of relief at the distraction.

The relief is short lived however.

‘Hey Harry, remember when Crouch turned Malfoy into a ferret. Shit that was funny, watching him bounce up and down the corridor’.

Harry stares down at his butterbeer and shrugs.

‘And all those jibes about dead parents, shoes on the other foot now hey Harry?’ Ron says with a nasty brittle laugh.

‘And how about all the times you beat him at Quidditch, he never could beat you could he, Harry?’

Harry refrains from answering; the questions are clearly rhetorical and asked only for Draco to overhear.

Ron, happy with his taunts, wanders off to the bar to get more drinks and Harry uses the time alone to sneak another look at his secret lover. He is dressed immaculately as usual, his regal posture and flawless tailoring makes Harry feel like a lowly commoner in his muggle jeans and t-shirt. His profile is outlined dramatically against the licks of red and amber fire, the high collared black robes contrast heavily with his pallid skin and Harry can see even form this distance that Draco’s jaw is clenched in suppressed anger. He wills with all his heart for Draco to turn his way so that he can offer him a smile, anything to soften the rigid jaw. But Draco doesn’t look.

Hermione returns from the restroom, and immediately starts talking about the wedding again. But the mood is ruined and they all feel it and decide to leave. It takes every single ounce of Harry’s self-control not to look back at Draco as they walk out of the door.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Harry waits in the cold, shabby hotel room for four hours before he can admit to himself that Draco isn’t coming.

He’s not surprised. He is stunned that their little arrangement lasted as long as it did. Two years. Two blissful years of having something that belonged solely to him. Unspoilt by the masses. Untarnished by the tabloids. He is thankful of that and will never regret it, but it still feels like his heart is being slowly ripped out. He wonders if he’ll ever feel whole again.

There is no way for him to communicate with Draco and he wouldn’t even if he could. If Draco doesn’t contact him in the next seven days, he will know it’s over. That is one of their rules.

He walks all the way to Westminster Bridge and watches the barges crawl along the river and disappear into the inky blackness beyond. It’s not until Big Ben strikes seven and the sun starts to rise that he remembers he as to be at the Ministry in one hour.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Three weeks pass before he sees Draco again. He is sitting at a table outside Florean Fortescue\'s, forcing himself to eat a plate full of chocolate and raspberry ice cream. He’s finding it hard to eat anything of late. It seems that even the sweet tooth he’s had since childhood is failing him.

He catches a glint of silver out of the corner of his eye and turns. Draco is standing next to a tall man with dark hair. He looks amazing in green velvet robes, he as a small smile on his face and doesn’t seem to mind that the dark haired man is standing so close.

The man leans closer to Draco, hooks a finger through the silver trestles that fall around his face, and places a reverent kiss on his lips.

Harry watches attentively, green eyes impossibly wide and unblinking, as they walk passed the ice cream parlour. He drinks in every breath that Draco takes, every step, every gesture. Draco finally spots Harry and his smile falters for a fraction of a second before he quickly averts his eyes and walks on.

Harry places his spoon gently into the half empty bowl, stands up slowly, counts out eight silver sickles and sets them carefully onto the table; all his movements are measured and precise.

He ignores the stares of all he passes. He’s Harry Potter and people stare. That is the way it is and the way it will always be.

He walks with a gentle tread to an empty alley and apparates home. He manages to reach his bathroom before he looses control of his stomach and vomits. He crawls into bed and stays there for the remainder of the day.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Harry is ill, he hasn’t been able to get out of bed for days. He as a fever and Hermione won’t leave him alone because he refuses to see a healer.

He can hear her talking to Remus in the next room; he makes out the words ‘won’t eat’ and ‘hallucinating’ before he passes out again.

When he wakes Remus is sitting at his side reading.

‘I sent Hermione home, she was exhausted’ the werewolf says softly. He closes his book and places it on Harry’s bedside table.

Harry requests water with a voice as dry as old parchment. He holds down the water but the vegetable soup that Remus kindly makes for him comes straight back up.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

‘How long have you been in love with Draco Malfoy?’ Remus says, in the same calm intonation he uses to ask if Harry would like a cup of tea.

Harry stares at his friend in horror, the obvious question on his lips.

‘You call out his name in your sleep’. Remus explains.

Harry as done so on numerous occasions since his sickness. It is a guttural cry, soaked in need and Remus as never heard anything so heart wrenching.

Remus looks at the young man he’s grown to love like a son; a son that the fates chose to deny him.

‘Tell me everything Harry, and know that not a single word of it will leave this room’. Remus says this with such an air of authority that Harry doesn’t hesitate.

Harry speaks to Remus in a way that he as spoken to no one since Albus passed on.

He tells Remus everything. He cries and rages and purges his soul. He talks of obligations and reputation, of need and love and loss. And Remus listens and doesn’t say a single word. Doesn’t judge. When it is all over Remus rocks him to sleep like a newborn.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Harry is well again.

It as been three months since he last held Draco Malfoy in his arms and some days he can even smile, but mostly he works, eats and sleeps, and that is all.

Today is the day of the wedding and he is the best man.

Hermione looks radiant, Ron glows and Harry tries to be happy for them.

His speech is short but heartfelt. Hermione cries and the guests applaud. Harry wonders if the applause is for the speech or for Harry Potter. He snatches another glass of Champaign from a floating tray and decides that he doesn’t give a shit.

He talks to Minerva about Hogwarts and when Charlie Weasley flirts with him he gets embarrassed, but he hides it well. He even manages a civil conversation with Professor Snape about the Ministry’s dogmatic laws regarding the brewing of certain potions. But Harry is aware that Snape is the closest thing that Draco as to family now that both his parents are dead. This disturbs his train of thought so much that Snape eventually gives up and walks away.

Once again it is Remus that rescues him and carries him home when the alcohol finally causes his legs to give way.

The last thing he remembers is Snape’s disapproving face floating past.

They are quite the spectacle and the picture makes the front page of the Prophet; Remus Lupin leaving the reception banquet with a grinning and droopy-eyed Harry Potter slung over his shoulder.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The next day he feels like he’s been hit with a sledgehammer, he stumbles into the kitchen in search of liquid. He reads the note that Remus as left on the kitchen table along with a blessed hangover potion.

Harry

You can’t go on like this. It’s breaking my heart. If there is any hope for you and Draco then by all that is magical, Harry Potter, grasp it.

It seems to me, that you need to take a good hard look at your life and decide what it is that you really want. Do you really want to live your life for Hermione and Ron, Harry? Because they won’t thank you for it! Do you really care for your reputation as ‘the boy who lived’ that much; you’ve done everything that was expected of you and more and more besides.

It won’t be easy, but then love very rarely is. And I’m absolutely positive that every single person you know (and many that you do not) will have something to say about your relationship with Draco Malfoy. But they are irrelevant; it’s what you think that matters. What DO you think?

Love Remus

Harry folds the note carefully and stands on shaky legs. He knows that Remus means well but he also knows that it is too late for him and Draco. Harry knows that Draco does not love him and that he probably never did. He decides to go for a walk by the river to clear his head.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

He doesn’t see the person that casts the spell, just a blurred reflection in the dark waters. The world fades to grey and then black.

When he regains consciousness Draco stands over him like an avenging angel, just as beautiful and twice as terrifying.

‘Get up Potter’ he snarls and points his wand at Harry’s face. He looks wild and unkempt, and his wand hand shakes.

Harry stands, it is not easy because his hands are tied behind his back.

‘What are you doing Draco?’ he asks softly.

They are in a large, ornately furnished bedroom, beyond that he as no idea where he is or where his wand is. He as never felt so vulnerable.

‘Don’t call me that, you don’t get to call me that anymore’.

Harry cringes at the harsh tone, a tone reminiscent of their school days.

‘Back up against the wall and don’t move unless I tell you to’.

‘What are you going to do Draco’ he asks again and backs away till he feels rough stoned wall behind him.

‘I haven’t decided yet potter’.

Draco watches a nervous look flit across Harry’s dirty face. His hair is messier than usual, he as lost his glasses and his feet are bare. He looks knackered, defenceless and totally delectable. This angers Draco to the edge of madness.

‘First of all, you’re going to answer a few questions’, he bites out and Harry flinches.

Draco paces the room for a few minutes, clearly agitated. He finally stops next to the four-poster bed in the centre of the room and takes a deep breath.

‘How long have you been fucking the werewolf?’

Harry’s eyes widen.

‘What?’

‘Were you fucking him whilst you were fucking me Potter?’

Harry stares at Draco, shocked.

‘Answer me’, Draco roars, and flies towards Harry, wand in hand.

‘I have NEVER fucked Remus Lupin’, Harry yells back suddenly finding his voice.

Draco laughs hysterically.

‘Just how stupid do you think I am’ he growls ‘I’m well aware that you were ashamed of the little THING we had going, I am after all the son of two convicted Death Eaters. But I had no idea that you needed to hide our affair because you were already in a relationship with that fucking half-breed’.

Harry cringes and feels the hot burn off tears behind his eyes.

‘They are not the reasons that I kept you a secret’ Harry husks.

Draco ignores him, he stands so close he can feel his breath on his face and Harry wants nothing more than to lean forward and kiss him regardless of the situation.

Draco backs up a step as though reading his thoughts.

‘My pride died for you, Potter’, he says backing away further ‘You turned me into a fucking slut, reduced to begging for sleazy little meetings in filthy hotel rooms’.

Harry gasps and looks at Draco, baffled.

‘And then I had to sit there and listen whilst you and your friends laughed and joked. I had to sit there and listen to Weasley say those things about me and you said nothing, I had sit there and listen to the fucking Mudblood defend me and you said nothing’. His voice his tinged with indignant fury.

‘I realised that day just how little I meant to you. I can’t believe that I was a fool for so long’.

Tears spill down Harry cheeks. And Draco’s silver eyes liquefy. He turns away quickly but Harry more than suspects that Draco’s cheeks are now streaked with matching silver tears.

‘Do you have any idea what it feels to be on the outside looking in?’ Draco asks but doesn’t turn round.

‘Yes’, Harry says quietly.

‘Like fuck you do’.

‘Well I do’ Harry states stubbornly. ‘All my life’, he says to Draco’s rigid back.

‘My Mother’s sister never wanted me. The Weasley are always wonderful but I’m not really one of them. Ron and ‘Mione are great but they’re a couple’.

After a long pause Harry whispers ‘You’re the only person that’s ever made me feel like I belong’.

Draco spins round suddenly, Harry is right about the tears but the fury is still there.

‘And you repay me by screwing the werewolf.’ He spits out.

You’re the only person I’ve slept with in the last two years’, Harry spits back.

Draco pulls a copy of the daily prophet out of his robes and throws it at Harry feet.

‘That proves nothing, shit Draco I was legless, my two best friends had just tied the knot and you had disappeared into the wide blue yonder. I was feeling fucking sorry for my self so I got pissed and Remus had to carry me home, end of story. I haven’t so much as looked at another person since my first night with you, can you say the same’ Harry demands, suddenly angry.

‘How can you even ask me that?’ Draco seems shocked at the suggestion.

‘Oh I was in Diagon Alley that day Draco I saw that man kiss you.’

‘That was nothing’

‘It was more than that’, Harry yelled pointing at the picture on the front of the prophet.

‘And that’ he grates out, beside himself with anger ‘is the reason that I kept you secret’.

He kicks the Daily prophet across the room in disgust and glares at Draco.

‘Oh I admit that part of it was worry about what my friends would say, what my colleagues would say but mostly I just wanted to keep you for my self. You were my very own. My secret. When I lived with the Muggles I had nothing, nothing of my own and then when I came to Hogwarts everyone knew my business I couldn’t sneeze without the Daily Prophet writing a four-page article about it. Don’t you see? The only way I could keep you for my own was to keep you separate, keep you secret. That was why I always insisted on meeting you in the hotels in muggle London other wise we’d have been splashed all over the front pages of the papers’.

Draco blinks, his eyes for once bigger than Harry’s.

‘Is that true?’

‘Yes’ he roars and with a sharp burst of wandless magic his hands are untied and wrapped around Draco\'s neck.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Harry lies on his back naked. Draco licks the head of his cock once and then blows and Harry thinks his brain might explode.

‘How long have you loved me?’ He asks without looking up from Harry’s engorged cock.

‘For just under two years, I guess’, he answers and then shouts out ‘fuck’ as the head of his cock is sucked into Draco’s mouth and released slowly till Draco’s bruised lips are barely kissing the swollen tip.

‘I win, I’ve loved you since our last year at Hogwarts’ he states placidly The words vibrate on Harry’s heated flesh driving him wild. He is finding it very hard to concentrate on the conversation.

‘Draco please’ he begs.

‘You want me to suck your cock love?’

‘Oh Merlin yes’.

Draco grins and wraps his beautiful mouth around Harry. His eyes close with pleasure, he tastes so delicious. He hums till Harry bucks up, fucking his mouth.

‘Gods, you look hot with my cock in your mouth’. Harry groans.

Draco pulls his mouth away and watches as Harry is left fucking air. Harry growls his disappointment, grabs his abandoned cock and glares at his tease of a lover.

‘That’s right, touch yourself baby’ Draco encourages. He sits back to enjoy the show.

Harry bites his bottom lip and slides his hand down his cock, slick with pre-come and Draco’s saliva. Draco’s silver, cat like, eyes watch his every movement. Harry arches into his hand and spreads his thighs in a way that he knows exposes himself wantonly, silently begging Draco to fuck him. Draco gasps at the sight and slips his fingers inside the tempting hole, twisting them just so until Harry screams and yells at him to – ‘get the fuck inside me now’.

Harry is out of his mind, sweaty, flushed and lost in sensation by the time Draco sinks into his willing body. He is aware of two beating hearts, a cock up his arse and the slide of his own hand around his tortured flesh. Everything else is irrelevant.

Harry comes first, screaming words of love. Pearly streaks of come decorate his chest. Draco comes moments later, milked dry by Harry’s tight, grasping arse.

He whispers his love as he traces Harry’s scar with a long pale finger and Harry plays with a lock of Draco’s hair.

This time they talk.

Fin~