Twist of Fate

See chapter 1 for disclaimer, etc.

Chapter 2: Denial is Not Just a River

Draco’s Christmas was as it always was – prim, proper and done according to Malfoy tradition. He saw little of his father, which suited him just fine. Christmas Day came and went with Draco receiving an obscene amount of presents, once again, as it always was. Draco spent much of his time alone and found his thoughts drifting to Harry. He relived their many moments of passion, most especially the last one. The memory of that tight heat on his cock was driving him wild, causing him to find solace in his own hand night after night. Draco was most surprised to find that he had thoughts of Harry that had nothing to do with sex at all. He thought about their conversations, the way he looked in class or in the Great Hall, the way he laughed, even the way he ate. Draco missed Harry terribly.

Draco and his mother had a long-standing tradition that they alone shared – afternoon tea. It had begun when Draco was a very small boy and continued to the present day. They would share a pot of Earl Grey, a plate of assorted sweets, and conversation, usually. It didn’t really matter if they spoke much or not, what mattered was that this was their time together.

On the afternoon of December thirty-first, Draco sat in the parlour, awaiting his mother’s arrival. The silver tea service was neatly laid out on the table, flanked by a pair of fine bone-china cups, sugar, cream and lemon slices, and a large plate of Draco’s favourite treats. Draco smiled as he helped himself to one of the mincemeat tarts. His mother always allowed herself exactly one of the sweets, whatever the house-elves had deemed suitable, the rest being quickly scoffed by Draco himself.

Narcissa at last appeared, floating into the room on a cloud of sweet perfume, her silken robes swirling around her feet.

“Do forgive my tardiness, Son. Dealing with the house-elves is always so tedious.”

“That’s all right, Mother. The tea has only just arrived.”

Narcissa ran her slender fingers through Draco’s fringe and then cupped his chin in her hand, tilting it upwards so that he could meet her gaze. She lingered, staring deeply into the grey eyes as if she were searching for something as yet unknown. She reached down and pecked his cheek quickly before taking up her usual seat opposite Draco.

“Do be a dear and pour, Son.”

Draco smiled; he always poured the tea. He had been doing it for years but his mother still felt the need to ask him. He prepared her cup just as she liked it, one slice of lemon, no sugar and handed it to her. He placed her one temptation on a small plate, picked up a linen napkin and set them both before his mother on the table. He proceeded to serve himself, two spoons of sugar and cream in his tea, of course, and three tarts. The rest would follow later.

“You never said, dear, how is Severus these days? Is he treating you well?”

“He is fine, Mother. He always treats me well, you know that. It helps that Potions is my best subject.”

“And your other subjects – are you doing as well?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Such a clever boy! I do suppose that I should refer to you as a clever young man from now on. You are hardly a little boy anymore.”

“No, I’m definitely not.” Draco allowed a smirk to form in his teacup as his thoughts drifted back to Harry and their trysts. Mother’s little boy had found a new way to play.

“Is there anything going on at school that I should know about?”

“Nothing I can think of.”

“You have nothing to tell me, then?”

Draco pondered for a moment and shrugged his shoulders. “I really don’t have anything to say. Everything is just perfectly ordinary at Hogwarts – classes, studying, Quidditch, the usual.”

“Good,” replied Narcissa as she patted her mouth with the napkin. She had just finished her one tart while Draco was reaching for numbers five and six.

Taking a sip of tea, Narcissa asked out of the blue, “Draco, are you in love?”

Draco blanched. “No Mother, of course not! I’m not in love with anyone.”

Narcissa studied Draco briefly and turned back to her teacup. “Pity.”

The conversation suddenly ended along with Draco’s appetite. The remaining tarts stayed right where they were, causing the house-elves to fret that there might be something wrong with Master Draco. He always emptied the sweet plate.

His mother’s question knocked Draco for a loop. How could she possibly think that he was in love? It was absurd, outrageous and totally preposterous. She must have been fishing for information, presuming that since seventeen-year-old boys were often given to such flights of fancy that he must be as well. As the years went by, he had seen many the schoolboy in love. He knew the signs – the far away expressions, the mooning, lovesick look, the puppy-dog eyes, the goofy grins. This was NOT him. Draco shook his head; he was not in love, no bloody way. It never occurred to him to ask his mother why she had asked him that question. Her answer would have astounded him.

The rest of the Christmas holiday passed very slowly for Draco. He snorted in disdain each time he thought of his mother’s question. His hand found his cock every time he thought of Harry. Draco, intelligent as he was, never put the two together until he returned to Hogwarts.

Harry was on the platform when the Hogwarts Express pulled in. He greeted his friends jovially and gave Hermione a big hug as she stepped off the train. He turned around and came face to face with Draco quite by accident, their bodies mere inches apart. Harry couldn’t help but gasp, no one knowing that the sharp intake of air was due to more than mere surprise.

“Malfoy,” said Harry with as much calm as he could muster.

Draco let his gaze linger before nodding and moving on saying only, “Potter.” Draco walked quickly away, pulling his coat tightly about him to cover the bulge in his pants. Being in close proximity to Harry had caused him to grow instantaneously and achingly hard.

“That’s not like him at all,” said Ron. “He missed a golden opportunity to get in a dig at you, Harry. That’s pretty queer, if you ask me.”

Harry smirked at Ron’s choice of words. “Who knows, Ron, maybe Malfoy is changing.”

“Not bloody likely,” quipped Ron.

“Anyone can change, Ron,” said Hermione. “Even Draco Malfoy.” Ron just rolled his eyes, making sure that she couldn’t see him. The trio set off on foot towards the school.

Ron and Hermione got settled back in and were sitting in the common room chatting. Harry was sitting beside them keeping completely silent. He barely heard what they were saying; his was mind obviously elsewhere.

Suddenly, Harry stood up and said, “Shit, I’ve just remembered something I have to do! Won’t be long. I’ll see you guys later.” He was gone before they could say one word.

“Don’t you find that he does that a lot lately?” inquired Hermione.

“What’s that?”

“He disappears, giving us some lame excuse, like he just did.”

“So you don’t think he has something to do?”

“Honestly, Ron. You can be so clueless at times,” sighed Hermione. “I think he’s meeting someone.”

Ron was taken aback. “Who?”

“I haven’t figured that one out yet. When I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Hermione, you’re wrong. Harry would have told us if he were seeing someone.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Please! We’re his best friends. He has to tell us.”

“What if it were someone he thought we might not approve of?”

“Harry would never go with someone like that.” Hermione crossed her arms and looked at him. “Would he?” Hermione nodded. “Nah, no way, Hermione.” Ron thought for a bit and added, “Hmm, I wonder?”

Harry had known. He opened the door and found a very naked Draco waiting for him. Broad grins formed on two faces.

“I thought you’d never get here,” said Draco as he pulled Harry to him.

Before he let himself get lost in the kiss Harry quickly mumbled, “Couldn’t think of a way to ditch Ron and Herm…ummm.” Harry never got a chance to finish; Draco’s tongue slid into his mouth and all thoughts of his friends vanished.

Draco, having been the one to initiate the kiss, was the first to pull away. He ground his hard cock against Harry’s and then said into the mouth only an inch away from his own, “Suck me, Harry.”

Harry drew his tongue across Draco’s full bottom lip. “Only if you do me as well. I haven’t been able to think about anything else the whole time you were away.”
“Seems that great minds do think alike,” whispered Draco as he began to undress Harry.

Draco climbed onto the bed and lay back. Kneeling beside him, Harry asked,
“Together or one at a time?”

“Together. I don’t want to wait for my turn.”

Harry grinned and said as he swung around, “Neither do I.” He moaned as Draco swallowed him, moving quickly to mirror the action. The room was soon filled with the sounds of throaty moans as two hot mouths went to work on two very hard cocks. Draco managed, only Merlin knows how, to hold himself off until he felt Harry’s balls tighten in his hand. He let go and drank down Harry’s come greedily, just as Harry did the same for him. When every last drop was spent and consumed, Draco pulled his lover up into his arms and sighed contentedly. They lay together for some time, enjoying quiet conversation as well as the physical contact.

Reluctantly, Harry said, “I guess I should be going. I told them I wouldn’t be too long. I don’t really want to leave, though.”

Draco ran his hand up Harry’s smooth back and said, ‘So stay, then, if that’s what you want.”

Harry shivered under the caress. He sighed, “It’s not that easy. They’re bound to start asking questions soon. I don’t want to have to lie to them.”

Draco nodded and watched Harry dress. A strange sensation suddenly spread through his belly. He frowned.

“Is there something wrong, Draco?” asked Harry with concern.

“No, just sorry you have to go, that’s all.” Harry smiled and turned to leave. “Wait!” called Draco. Harry stopped in his tracks and he felt a pair of arms slip around his waist. Before he knew it, Draco had turned him around and had begun to snog him gently. “I…I just wanted to say that I missed all this while I was away, Harry.”

“So did I, Draco, so did I,” replied Harry softly. “I really have to go. Bye.”

“Bye.” Draco slowly dressed and sat down on the bed. What was that feeling all about? It was the most curious thing he had ever felt – not unpleasant but completely unknown. What…Draco stopped mid-thought and gasped. No, that wasn’t it. It has to be something else, it HAS to be. He sprung to his feet and began to pace about the room. His mother’s words came back to him. No, no, no!

“I am NOT in love with him,” Draco told himself. “We are about the sex, nothing more than that.” He searched his mind for an expression he had once read. “That’s it! Harry and I are fuck-buddies. That’s all. We are convenient sex partners, using one another for pleasure until someone else comes along.” Draco left the room and walked briskly back to the dungeons. “I do not love Harry Potter,” he swore vehemently.

For weeks Draco pushed aside his feelings. He even went so far as deciding to break things off. He met with Harry one night with the full intention of ending their hot but illicit affair. He had his speech all worked out, intending to tell Harry it had been fun but enough was enough. It was time to move on. One kiss from Harry vanished Draco’s plan faster than you could say Evanesco. Unable to stop, Draco continued on just as he had been, each time rationalising the encounter by saying that it was just sex. Every time he walked away vowing that he did not love Harry.

Then came the epiphany, the moment when Draco finally saw the truth. It was so clear, so evident that he had no choice but to finally accept reality. Harry and Draco met almost every day without fail; the Thursday night at the beginning of February was no exception. It began as usual, the snogging quickly leading on to bigger and better things. Harry begged Draco to fuck him, saying that it had been so long since had felt the blonde deep inside of him.

“Want you in me, Draco. Please!” whispered Harry. Draco was more than happy to comply with the request. He slid into Harry and was soon lost in the tight heat that he had come to adore. Harry was on his back with his legs around Draco, keeping himself angled in just the right position for complete and utter sexual bliss. Draco had his eyes closed and so did Harry; each was lost in their own world. As chance would have it, they both opened their eyes simultaneously. Draco peered down into those burning green eyes and Harry smiled. It was a smile of joy, of complete contentment and it went straight to Draco’s heart. His moment of clarity hit him like a thunderbolt, causing his stroke to falter. He stopped and stared down at Harry as if he were seeing him for the first time. He DID love him. Dear sweet Merlin, he was in love with Harry Potter!

“What’s wrong, Draco?” panted Harry. “I was almost there.”

“Uh, I was too. I…I just stopped so I wouldn’t come until you did,” covered Draco quickly. He felt Harry give him a squeeze and he began to pound into Harry again with renewed vigour. Suddenly, he wasn’t having sex; no, it had become more than that. Draco was making love to Harry.

Harry came shouting Draco’s name loudly. It was all that Draco could do to stop from calling out I love you at the point of his own climax. A part of him wanted to say those three little words but his fear was too great. He collapsed on top of Harry and held on with all his might.

“You’re trembling,” cooed Harry. “You must be cold.” He pulled up the blanket and rubbed Draco’s back to warm him up. Draco agreed knowing full well he had never felt so warm in his life.

Sleep escaped Draco that night. The thoughts were racing through his mind at the speed of light. Question after question dogged him, nipping at his heels, demanding his attention. The inquisition was relentless.

How can it be?
It just is. It happened by chance. It snuck up on me.

Why him?
Why not him?

What will Father and Mother say? They don’t even know I’m gay.
They love me; they’ll accept it, hopefully. If they don’t, too bad; I make my own decisions.

Are you sure you love him?
Yes.

What will your fellow Slytherins say when they find out you’re in love with a Gryffindor? Not just any old Gryffindor, but Harry Potter. What will Severus say?
Who cares; it is my life. Fuck them all.

Are you sure?
Yes.

Does he love you?
I don’t know. I hope so.

How will you ever tell him?
I’ll find a way somehow.

Why do you love him?
I am happy when I’m with him. I can tell him anything and he doesn’t judge me. He makes my heart feel like it will burst. With him, I feel joy; he is my joy, my life. He is everything I am not. He completes me, makes me whole.

Are you sure?
Yes.

Does he love you?
He HAS to! I will die if he doesn’t.

How do you know you love him? It might still just be about the sex.
I know I love Harry. It started out as just sex, but it is so much more than that now. I can feel it.

Are you sure, Draco Malfoy, that you love Harry Potter?
Yes.

Are you sure?
Yes!

Are you SURE?
YES! Yes, yes a thousand times yes!

The next morning, Harry looked at Draco with concern. The blonde had dark circles under his eyes and could barely stay awake. His night of torment had done him little good. It had only deepened his fears. Harry managed to slip Draco a note between classes and Draco was able to give him one back in reply. Harry had asked if he was sick, to which he answered he had had nightmares and had not slept well. Harry nodded and gave him a little smile of sympathy. He knew all about nightmares.

Evening after evening, Harry and Draco made love and spent quiet time together afterwards in each other’s arms. It was not a lack of opportunity that kept Draco silent; it was a petrifying, all-encompassing fear that held his tongue. So many times the words found their way up to the surface, but Draco quickly swallowed them back down again lest they choke him.

This was a whole new experience for Draco. For the first time in his life, he was not in complete control of everything around him, nor of himself. His world had been turned topsy-turvy. Draco had always seen his life as being more or less planned out for him. He would marry some witch with impeccably pure blood and produce an heir to carry on the great name of Malfoy. It was of no import that his sexual proclivities did not fit the picture; he would do what was expected of him, no questions asked. There were many ways for a man to obtain what he needed outside of the marriage bed. Draco had never stopped to consider that he might fall in love along the way thus throwing a spanner into the workings of his parents’ carefully thought out plan.

The emotions were foreign to him as well. Draco had never been in love before and he mused to himself that this was perhaps the reason it took him so long to see that he really was in love with Harry. Hell, his own mother had seen it before he did. Draco prayed that it wasn’t a stupid, sappy grin that had given him away. Once he acknowledged that it was indeed love, Draco had no doubt it was the real thing. Harry was the first thing he thought about when he opened his eyes in the morning and he when he finally found sleep, a smile graced his lips as he drifted off with a vision of sparkling green eyes dancing in his head. Harry had become the most important thing in Draco’s life; to Draco, he was life itself.
Fear was also a new emotion to Draco. He had, of course, felt it from time to time in his young life, just as any child would – the fear of being separated from one’s family, of being caught in the act of some misdeed, of reprimand and punishment. Those fears seemed so insignificant to what he was feeling now. Draco Malfoy was terrified to reveal his true feelings to Harry. Harry had never given him the slightest indication that there was anything more to their encounters than sex. He could see that Harry was happy when they were together but that was all he could see. There had been no little caresses, no whispered words of affection, no gazes filled with longing to betray the dark-haired Gryffindor’s emotions. Harry looked upon Draco with a lustful eye, his touches, while gentle, were demanding, from his lips issued the sounds and words of sex. Draco wished for some little sign, no matter how minute, that his feelings would be returned and found none. In actual fact, it was not a fear of saying those three little words that kept Draco silent, it was the dread that Harry would not say them back because he did not love the Slytherin in the least. Draco fretted until he was beside himself. “What if he doesn’t love me?” was the only question that now plagued him. Draco thought he would surely die if Harry didn’t love him. “What to do? What do I do?” asked Draco of himself. The answer was still unclear.

Harry continually asked his lover what was wrong; it was plain, not only to him but to everyone, that something was weighing heavily on the blonde’s mind. Draco maintained his story of nightmares and shrugged the whole thing off as if it were nothing. Harry, too, shrugged off Draco’s answer. Somehow he knew that Draco was lying, but since he seemed unwilling to confide in him, there was precious little he could do to help. Harry told himself that he would be there if and when Draco decided to come clean. Until that day, he would say no more on the subject.

In his desperation one evening, Draco prayed for guidance and enlightenment.
“Dear Creiddylad, sweet goddess of love. Won’t you show me what to do? Help me, please!” pleaded Draco. “Can you in your heavenly wisdom tell me if he loves me or not? Please, Creiddylad, I have to know so that I might do the right thing!” He fell to his knees, “Please, I am in torment day and night. A sign will do, anything at all. Won’t you help?”

Part of Draco half expected to find the goddess beckoning to him and showing him the path to happiness and fulfillment, but his room was silent save for the sounds of his sobs. There would be no divine intervention for him. He sank back against the side of his bed and buried his face in his hands. He sat in solitude, miserable and with no solution to his dilemma. After some time, he crawled into his bed and, drawing the covers tightly about himself, fell asleep.

TBC