Ten Steps

Author’s Note: Thanks to Kasey and Shannon for the beta and thanks to all who have reviewed this story so far. The feedback on this one has been phenomenal!! Thanks so much! Okay, so this is the chapter you've all been waiting for. Are you ready?

Chapter 15 Hands On Professor

Harry knew he had promised Draco that he would come right over after he left the office, but he couldn’t see the man in his current state. His mind was whirling with mixed messages from the blond, and aching with the fact that he knew it shouldn’t even matter. He wasn’t dating Draco. It shouldn’t make any difference to him that the Slytherin was being flirtatious one moment and a world-class git the next. Harry was with Oliver, and they were growing closer every day, and there was no reason that the blond should still be lodged in his head the way he was.

Except, if he allowed himself to consider it too long, he’d realize his feelings for Draco ran deeper than his feelings for Oliver.

In the next moment, Harry reminded himself that if that were true, that it was all his fault. Sure, Oliver was spending a lot of time traveling and training, but Harry could make the effort to visit him out at the Puddlemere pitch, or insist on a bit more time alone with the man and he hadn’t done any of that. Instead, he’d contented himself with Draco’s company and allowed himself to grow closer to the Slytherin instead of his own boyfriend.

And clearly Draco was a smooth flirt, but Harry didn’t have to encourage it the way he knew he sometimes did. He liked that Draco found him attractive, and that, had they met a few years ago, before Harry had been repeatedly burned by terrible boyfriends, and before he learned what he truly wanted in life, Harry would have enjoyed trying to date Draco. They certainly had more in common than Harry could have ever expected, their time together was always entertaining, and there was no denying the sexual tension between them. Draco most likely took the starring role of many a wet dream for half the city of London.

But just when Harry had been willing to entertain the idea that Draco wanted more from him than just a heated shag, the blond had denied it with silence.

Harry had no idea what he would have done if Draco had confessed to wanting something more. Just that morning, he’d been resolute in his decision to avoid the topic altogether, but with Draco standing there today, those piercing mercurial eyes boring into him, suddenly he’d needed to know. The worst part of it was, Harry had known in that moment, that had Draco confessed to wanting him, honestly wanting him, he would have given in and issued Oliver a solemn goodbye.

But Draco’s silence had spoken volumes to Harry and made the Gryffindor feel like the fool Draco was always calling him.

As it was, when Harry finally felt he’d put enough of a dent in his workload for the day, he couldn’t bear to see the smug, cold face Draco had left his office with just hours before, but he hated to cancel the meeting. At least now that he knew the truth, he could push the traitorous thoughts from his mind and focus on Oliver, who was the one who wanted a life with him.

Harry gathered his things and left the Ministry building, and even as he entered the alley to the nearest Apparition point, he still wasn’t certain where he was going. Home, Draco’s…neither sounded very promising.

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Hermione wasn’t alone, as Harry had hoped she would be when he arrived at the doorway to her office. As before, she was entertaining both Luna and Ginny over tea, and the three women eyed him hungrily as if he was the latest issue of Witch Weekly for them to gossip over. He sighed and put on his bravest smile and entered the den of the beast. They’d already seen him, so there was no backing out now. If he could face Voldemort, surely he could withstand the probing questions of three childhood friends, but he worried about the truth of that statement the moment he sat down.

“Harry,” Hermione greeted serenely. “What brings you here?”

“I just needed to get away for a bit,” he admitted. Luna passed him a teacup and Harry took it gratefully, letting the warmth of the porcelain against his hands soothe away his troubles.

“Trouble with Oliver?” Ginny asked, all too brightly, but her smile fell the moment he shook his head.

“Not really. Oliver’s great,” he replied, but all three women honed in on the fact that he ended the sentence before he’d said everything.

“What’s bothering you, Harry?” Hermione asked, her hand falling to his knee. “Is it Logan?”

Harry blinked for a moment before the words began to make sense to him. He’d nearly forgotten about Logan with everything between he and Draco. “No, there isn’t anything between Oliver and Logan, no matter what Logan wants.”

“How do you know?” Ginny prodded.

“Well, for one, he told me,” Harry replied, snapping a bit more than usual. “And I trust Olli. I know he wouldn’t carry on with someone else behind my back.” Which only served to make Harry feel guiltier because he thought that was exactly what he’d been doing to Oliver with Draco. Not that anything had happened. Yet.

“Well, if Clive had some other woman gazing at him the way Logan does with Oliver, I would be livid,” she pointed out.

“Oliver can’t help it if someone else fancies him,” Harry rebuked. “He’s a celebrity Quidditch player, after all, and he’s quite handsome.”

“That’s true enough,” Ginny admitted. “Besides, I’m sure he was fine about seeing you and Draco together Sunday night.”

Harry’s jaw dropped in answer, but he only spared a moment wondering about how Ginny knew about that. Clive must have told her, of course. For a Slytherin, the man was rubbish at secret keeping. “He was concerned, but not overly so. It wasn’t as if anything happened,” he added defensively.

Ginny quirked an eyebrow and shot Harry a crooked grin. “I hadn’t suggested that something had happened, but you seem rather nervous, Harry.”

“I’m not nervous,” he bit out. “I just don’t understand why I’m getting the third degree when I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Because you’re acting guilty,” Ginny said silkily. “What happened with you and Draco? It’s not as though you have to worry about us running and blabbing to Oliver.”

“We’re your friends, Harry. If you can’t talk to us, who can you talk to?” Hermione added.

Harry sighed and eyed the Spanish Inquisition warily. “Why aren’t you piping in, Luna?”

The blonde shrugged dreamily and sipped her tea. “I’d prefer you not cheat on Oliver, Harry, but I can’t deny that Draco would be hard to resist,” she replied after a long moment.

“Nothing happened,” Harry repeated through gritted teeth.

“So, then what almost happened?” Ginny asked, sensing the cause for Harry’s tension.

“I don’t have time for this,” Harry replied, standing up and setting his tea on the table. “I’m supposed to be meeting with Malfoy, and I was hoping to relax before that, but I just feel more wound up. Thanks,” he huffed sarcastically and made his way to the door.

“Harry!” Hermione called out after him and followed him through the door and into the hall. “Ignore them,” she whispered as he pulled Harry away from her office and the snickering women. “Something’s really bothering you, isn’t it?”

Harry sagged against the wall and let his breath out in a violent whoosh. “I’m so confused, Mi,” he admitted at last. “I really like Oliver, I can see us together forever, but Draco….”

Hermione smiled at the easy use of Malfoy’s given name and placed a warm hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Harry, you know that no matter what you decide to do with your life, your friends will still love you. None of us hold any animosity toward Draco, and we want you to be happy.”

“Oliver makes me happy,” Harry pointed out. “Draco makes me crazy!”

“Crazy how?” she asked.

“Like my body is on fire and my mind has turned against me, crazy,” Harry explained. “He’s sweet one minute, a prat the next. He’s far more attentive than I’d bet he was with you and Neville, but at the same time he denies that there is anything between us and he’s still helping me to court Oliver. What am I supposed to think?”

Hermione chewed her bottom lip and absorbed Harry’s frantic state. Maybe trying to push Harry and Draco together was a bad idea. She’d honestly thought that the two would be ideal together, especially after hearing Ginny’s news about them being matched as well, but if he was hurting Harry this bad with his indecision, perhaps it was folly to think they could work things out. Hermione thought that Draco had grown up more than this, that he was ready to settle down, but she must have been mistaken. It looked like he was up to his same old games with her friend and she felt guilty for having encouraged it. “I don’t know, Harry. I’m so sorry. Maybe you should tell him how you’re feeling?”

“I did!” he exclaimed. “He was going to kiss me Sunday night, Mi. Kiss me! And you know what’s worse?” he nearly shouted, his voice echoing through the hall. “I was going to let him. I was going to stand there and cheat on Olli, because I like him, Mione. I like him so much,” he sighed, the wind knocked out of him. “But then today, I asked him if he wanted more from me, if he wanted a relationship, and he was silent. Not a bloody word,” he breathed, letting the hurt of that moment wash over him before he quickly dispelled it and pulled himself up to his full height again.

Hermione’s chocolate brown eyes had taken on an angry glint and she stared fiercely back at Harry. “Just ignore him, Harry,” she advised firmly, knowing that Ginny would be snarling mad for losing the wager they’d made. This was larger than that though. She only made that bet when she thought it would help Harry to think about Draco, not hurt him. “I thought he was done playing games, but apparently he’s not. I’m sorry, Harry. I really am. I never should have even put the idea in your head.”

“It’s not your fault,” Harry replied with a heavy sigh. “I shouldn’t have given into him in the first place. I shouldn’t have let him get to me. I know better.”

Hermione pulled Harry into a suffocating hug, and Harry let her, knowing that no matter what happened with Draco, or with Oliver, he still had people in his life that loved him, so all was not lost. It gave him the strength to face Draco, the power he would need to resist the man’s confusing advances, which is what he had hoped to take away from this meeting. “Thanks, Mione,” he sighed into her hair as he pulled away. “Thanks for chasing me down.”

“Anytime, Harry. Anytime,” she beamed.

She walked him to the gates with idle chat about Neville’s newest botanical creation. Something about crossing a pumpkin with a Venus fly trap that sounded rather terrifying to Harry, but apparently Neville was quite excited. They parted ways with one last hug and Harry Apparated to the street outside Malfoy’s flat, wondering if he would be grilled for being late.

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Draco was watching Harry standing on his doorstep through his dining room window. The Gryffindor kept raising his hand to knock, only to let it fall before his knuckles touched the wood, and then he’d shift back and forth on the balls of his feet before starting the process all over again. Draco tried to find it annoying, but the only words that accompanied the nervous gestures were phrases like ‘adorable’ and ‘cute’. It was infuriating.

He’d plastered every corner of his house with the images of Harry and Oliver that had been printed in the various wizarding papers and magazines. He hoped they would serve as a constant reminder of his obligations to the magic and might help to balance his out of control longing for the messy haired Gryffindor.

It had been working all afternoon, Draco hadn’t had a single inappropriate thought, but then the man showed up on his doorstep and the newspaper clippings might as well have been cake recipes for all the good they did him to keep his mind off of Harry when his paramour was within reach.

Eventually, he grew weary of watching Harry dance on his doorstep and went to open the door, grinning smugly as Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. “Are you quite finished with your moral dilemma’s or should I leave you out here to stare blankly at my door for another twenty minutes?”

“Can I come in?” Harry asked, trying his best to pretend he hadn’t been doing exactly what Draco teased him about. His chest was puffed up and his shoulders were squared and he was glaring at Draco as if the Dark Mark was emblazoned on his forehead.

“It would be my pleasure,” Draco answered dramatically, holding the door open with a bow. He couldn’t see Harry’s face as the man made his way into Draco’s sitting room, but he could tell the Gryffindor was rolling his eyes. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Whatever you’re having,” Harry replied distractedly, so Draco brought him a glass of wine and sat down in the chair directly across from him. “Already collecting notes for your big celebrity matchmaking endorsement?” Harry asked, gesturing toward the clipping Draco had on top of the mantle.

He hadn’t meant to leave any of them in plain sight, but he’d forgotten to clear that one away when he’d heard the wards indicate he had a visitor. “Yes,” he lied, because he couldn’t very well tell Harry what the real reason for having them about was. He was still a bit spooked by how thoroughly the magicks had refused to let him say anything to Harry about his affections that afternoon. He could only remember feeling that way once before and that was while trying to resist the influence of Veritaserum. He felt as compelled to hold his tongue that afternoon, as he had felt compelled to let it loose under the potions effects.

“I can’t understand you,” Harry sighed, shaking his head as he stared into Draco’s eyes. He was searching for something, but for what, Draco couldn’t guess.

“That’s because you haven’t really tried,” Draco replied softly, he was tired of this back and forth, but he didn’t know what to do. He wanted Harry, but he couldn’t have him. He wanted to be honest and confess his feelings, but the magic wouldn’t allow it. He was stuck and it was infuriating. He’d always prided himself in his control, in his unwavering ability to direct any given situation to bend to his will, but he was at a loss here – when it came to one of the most important moments in his life - and he hated it.

“I have,” Harry countered. “I’ve spent hours, days, trying to decipher your actions, but every time I think I’ve figured you out, you go and contradict every conclusion I’ve come to!”

Draco sighed; a deep and weary sound, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on from his desire to break through the walls the magicks had erected around his life to prevent him from spilling his soul to Harry. Harry didn’t deserve to be so confused, but it wasn’t as if Draco was doing it on purpose. “I don’t know what to tell you,” he said at last. “I don’t know what I can tell you,” he added, to be more accurate.

“Are we friends?” Harry asked and Draco nodded easily. “Are we more than that?” Harry asked, but Draco’s mouth dried up as it had back at Harry’s office and all he could do was shrug and swallow copious amounts of wine to try and loosen his throat.

“The lesson,” Draco rasped, when he could speak again. “I think that’s why you’re here.”

“Right,” Harry muttered, looking dejected all over again. Pain ripped through Draco at the sight, at the knowledge that he’d turned the once proud and confident Gryffindor into a broody shadow of his former self. “So. What number are we up to?”

“Five,” Draco replied automatically. They were only halfway through the program, which was actually impressive for how little time they’d been working together, but it meant that weeks of torture still loomed in front of Draco’s vision. Why had he agreed to this? Oh, right. He couldn’t manage to deny Harry anything he asked for, except the truth. And it was only going to get worse, as the lessons from here on would start to seal the bond between Harry and Oliver, starting tonight. “It’s time to discuss your first kiss with Oliver. Please, tell me you haven’t already caved and ignored my warnings to abstain?” he asked with mild annoyance.

“I’m just as pure as I was when I showed up at your door weeks ago,” Harry assured him sarcastically.

“Good,” Draco sighed, meaning more than Harry probably guessed with the answer. He had to get through this, no matter how much Harry and Oliver snogging was going to kill something inside of him. He shuddered as he thought of how much worse this was going to be when they reached step seven. “The first kiss is so much more important than people realize. The number of people who base a relationship’s future on the first kiss is actually quite staggering, which is why I make my couples wait until step five to allow it.”

“So, it’s normal for you to forbid your client’s from snogging for this long?” Harry asked, his eyes narrowing as if he was trying to decide something.

“Yes,” Draco replied, looking irked at Harry’s doubtful expression. He would make Harry wait forever if he could, in the hopes that lack of intimacy would eventually drive Oliver away, but he knew that Harry would give in before he allowed that to happen, so it was better to proceed with Draco’s instruction. His life depended on this relationship working out, after all. “This way, even if one or both of you is rubbish at it, you’ll have four steps worth of common ground and romance building to balance it out and keep the relationship from fizzling. You can’t underestimate the power of the first kiss, Harry.”

“I never have, but you sound like a bit of a hypocrite, Malfoy. What about our kiss in the wine cellar?” he reminded Draco, making the man raise a delicate eyebrow in response.

“So, you do remember that? I thought perhaps I’d merely dreamed it by the way you adamantly avoided the incident,” Draco chirped, a cheeky grin gracing his features at Harry’s blush.

“I remember,” Harry whispered faintly, his fingers going to his lips for the barest of seconds. “But doesn’t that break all of your rules?”

“Did it surprise you?” he asked and Harry nodded. “Did it take your breath away?” he asked, leaning a bit closer. His heart raced when Harry nodded again, slower this time. “Did it leave you wanting more?” Harry swallowed thickly and Draco had his answer. “Then no, it didn’t break any of my rules,” he answered with a smile that shattered through Harry’s anger and confusion and right into his heart. “Tonight, I’ll teach you how to make your boyfriend feel the same way.”

“Show me,” Harry whispered, still entranced by Draco’s lips and smooth, deep voice.

Draco threw caution to the wind and heeded Harry’s words, curling his long, pale fingers in Harry’s wild mane and pulled him forward, pressing their lips together in blissful union at last. He didn’t know how he could have ever mistaken Harry for a fling. He tasted like fire, passion, heat and confidence, all the things Draco craved to have in his life. Cradling Harry’s jaw in his hand, Draco controlled the kiss like he hadn’t been able to control anything about their relationship so far. When his tongue grazed Harry’s lips, begging for entrance, Harry’s mouth parted to allow it at once, moaning against him at the heady contact.

The sensation pulled Draco in, drowned him in the feel of kissing the man he was always meant to kiss. This was his one, his only, and as Harry’s hands found Draco’s waist, drawing him closer, Draco knew that everything else he had ever experienced paled in comparison to this single moment with his soul mate.

His heart was racing like a thoroughbred when they parted, swallowing down all the air they’d sacrificed while their lips were joined. “I meant, show me on your hand or something,” Harry rasped, his face flushed with lust and yearning to match Draco’s own.

“Liar,” Draco challenged, his voice still breathy, only having a second to notice Harry’s blush deepening before the man was attacking his lips with renewed desperation.

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Harry knew it was wrong, knew it was terrible and unfaithful and sickening of him to be kissing Draco while he was dating Oliver, but his mind couldn’t have possibly outweighed his heart and his body teaming up together on this particular matter. It was like a Chaser having to make a goal when the other team had ten times as many Bludgers to work with. One of those heavy balls was bound to crash into the Chaser eventually, taking him down for the count. Harry felt like he’d been hit with several, and was left dazed in the wake of Draco’s intoxicating taste in his mouth.

There was no spot that felt neglected by Draco’s tongue, no space on his body that didn’t burn like wildfire as the blond dug possessive fingers into his back. Harry wanted to be absorbed, to be devoured, to fall hopelessly into the endless depths of Draco’s arms. “Harry,” Draco whispered, a hair’s breadth away from his lips. His long fingers moved to caress a hot path along Harry’s cheek, twining haphazardly in the man’s hair. “Harry, I-”

Then he was met with silence once more as Draco swallowed and cringed. “You what?” Harry prompted, begging for the words he needed to hear. Pleading for his indiscretions to be worth it, because Draco wanted him, or maybe…. Harry shook his head. He couldn’t think that word. He couldn’t hope that the blond felt something so strongly when he refused to say anything at all. He couldn’t do that to himself, put him through that agonizing torture of wondering if the blond would ever, could ever love him. “You what?” he pressed again, and he knew his voice was desperate this time, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He needed to know, needed to hear something, anything, to justify what he’d just done.

Instead he got a growl of frustration as Draco threw his form back and away from Harry and leaned his forehead against the cool, marble mantle. A silent, wracking sob shuddered through Harry’s body as he stood. Harry wanted to touch him, hold him, but it was obvious Draco didn’t want him. If he did, he would have said so by now. Harry had ruined everything, his friendship with Draco, his relationship with Oliver, and now he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“Just go,” Draco rasped, his voice strangled and dry.

“I deserve an answer, Draco,” Harry spat, knowing full well that Draco would be able to hear the unshed tears in his voice. “What is this?!” he demanded.

“Just get the fuck out, Potter!” Draco shouted through gritted teeth without even bothering to turn around, and Harry gasped, whirled and stormed out of Draco’s flat for what he expected to be the last time.

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The moment Draco heard the door click shut he let out the scream he’d been holding in and his legs collapsed out from under him as he fell to the ground. Pain like nothing he’d ever felt before laced up his body and twined through his veins, crippling him worse than the Cruciatus could ever dream of. He dug his fingernails into the soft bed of his palms and wailed, trying to ride it out, all while hoping that this wasn’t the last sound he would ever make.

His heart ached at the pain and desperation he’d heard in Harry’s voice, but he had to make the stubborn man leave. If Draco was going to die tonight, he didn’t want Harry to witness it.

Author’s Note: UHG! This chapter just kills me. This was one of the scenes I’ve looked most forward to writing and I hope it unfolded for you the same way as it’s playing in my head. Heartbreaking. Keep your eyes open for a new oneshot called 'House of Masks'. I should be posting it Wednesday (tomorrow). Also, if you haven't already noticed, I posted two other oneshots (Queer as Foto and Trick or Treat) and I've updated the Twisted Faerie Tales with Sleeping Beauty, so be sure to check those out as well. These fingertips have been busy.