Trophy

Author’s Note: Thanks to my beta, Angel for her work on this chapter. For those of you unaware, I've also posted a new oneshot called 'For the Best'. Also, I rarely plug other people in my own chapters, but if you haven't read 'Caught' by arineat you should do so (right after you read this. lol) It's a Draco/Harry & Scorpius/Albus story that she's nearly finished with and it's quite fun (and I'm not just saying that because I like her, though I do, and you all should as well). It's her first story in the fandom and I'm looking forward for her next one.

Chapter 20 Rampant

Draco yawned and stirred, basking in the glowing light filtering in through his windows. The night before came crashing to the forefront of his mind and he blinked his eyes open and glanced at the empty spot next to him in bed. Had he imagined it? Had he just dreamed of the brilliant sex with Harry, the man he’d been chasing after for months?

A noise to his right made him turn and look as he watched Harry pad naked and glorious from the adjoining bathroom, scooping up the remnants of his clothes that had been discarded in haste the night before. “Where are you going?” he asked blearily.

Harry shivered with a start and stood, glancing over to the bed as Draco sat up, letting the sheets pool in his lap. “You’re up,” he mused, a haunted smile on his face as he pulled his trousers on. “I’m going to be late for work. I just wanted to keep sleeping.”

Draco smiled languidly at his words and patted the empty mattress beside him. “I could make you even later if you like?”

A crooked grin erupted across Harry’s features before disappearing behind a cloud of doubt. “Have you decided?” he asked abruptly and Draco frowned back at him.

“Decided what?”

“Decided to keep me or not?” Harry asked, slipping his shirt over his head to hide the torment on his face from the quiet man in bed. The longer the silence dragged on, the worse Harry felt about his choice to bed the blond in spite of his lack of commitment. Perhaps his decision-making skills shouldn’t be tested with a smoldering man grinding against him, but that wasn’t entirely fair. If Harry was honest with himself, he would realize that he’d made the decision to sleep with Draco the moment the word love came tumbling from his mouth when Harry was Polyjuiced. It was silly and juvenile to feel such a swelling at a simple endearment, but Harry still strove to grasp the elusive feeling even after all these years.

“This is all very complicated,” Draco said at last and Harry turned away from him, taking a deep breath as he banished the tears from his eyes with a wave of his wand. Fully fastened and put together, Harry finally turned back and nodded curtly.

“Well, let me help you make it less complicated.” The words stung his throat even as he uttered them. “Last night was fun but I don’t think we should see each other again.”

Draco blinked and leaned in, as if he suspected his ears of betraying him. “What?”

Harry laughed and shook his head lightly, using both gestures to mask his breaking heart. “It wouldn’t have worked out between us,” he reasoned. “You and I are just too different.”

“Are you…breaking up with me?” Draco asked, his frown deepening as the concept was lost on him. He was a Malfoy, if anyone was going to be breaking up with someone here, it should be him!

“Feel free to keep these for your trouble,” Harry whispered, tossing him the silky black boxers he’d worn the night before. They landed in a small heap near Draco’s thigh and he didn’t even reach for them, his eyes were too focused on Harry’s retreating form. “I’m sure they’ll mark your crowning achievement,” Harry added over his shoulder as he calmly fled the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

He took a deep breath, leaning against the back of the door for support as he allowed his walls to move up and encompass him; brick by impenetrable brick. He’d allowed hope to make him foolish, but one tiny indiscretion wouldn’t tear down everything he’d done to separate himself from his past. If Draco wasn’t ready for a relationship, it was better that Harry knew now. Just because Harry had condemned and banished his own whorish behavior didn’t mean he could force that decision on Draco, no matter how much he might like to.

With a fresh air of confidence to face the world, Harry pulled himself away from Draco’s door and looked back and forth, trying to gauge which way would lead out of this blasted marble maze. He wasn’t searching long, for just further down his own corridor a figure emerged. Harry saw the long blond hair and assumed it was Lucius, but he should have known better. The person standing in the corridor staring at him was slighter and paler than Draco’s father, and he recognized her face even from this distance, even though he’d only seen it a handful of times.

“Narcissa,” he greeted, bowing slightly as she approached him. “Good morning.”

“Good morning indeed, Harry,” she replied lightly, pulling him into an unexpected embrace. Her body was thin but her hold on him was firm as she hummed a haunting tune into his hair. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with my son,” she remarked, a statement, not a question.

“I have,” he replied as she pulled away and gazed demurely into his eyes. “I’m afraid you won’t be seeing much of me around the manor anymore though.”

“Oh?” Her eyes lit up with amused concern but her smile faded somewhat around the edges. “Grown weary of cold marble surfaces?” she asked, and Harry didn’t know if she’d intended to mean more with her words than a reference to the décor, but it was exactly how Harry felt.

“Yes, Madam,” he replied with a heavyhearted sigh. “Very weary.”

Her smile returned but it was more comforting than the excited grin she’d worn upon first seeing him outside Draco’s quarters. Harry found himself wishing for a moment for his own mother as he looked upon her delicate face. “It warms in time, I promise, but the life of a Malfoy is not made for everyone. No one would begrudge you a swift and harmless escape.”

Harry could hear both the tenderness and warning in her tone, but it was unnecessary. Harry didn’t wish the Malfoys any harm, not even Draco. It was always his decision to let his heart get broken; he’d known from the start that it was a probability. He bowed slightly again and offered her as much of a smile as he could muster.

“I bear no one in this house ill will, I assure you,” he replied and the harshness in her smile fell away leaving only mild curiosity.

“He loves you,” she whispered, looking as if she might chastise herself like a house-elf in the next moment for interfering. “You know that, don’t you?”

Harry nodded, just a simple lowering of his head as he let that fact filter through him and then simmer along the cracks of his broken heart. “I know that. I just don’t think he’s ready to be in love with me yet.”

“He’s always been fearful where emotions are concerned. Lucius helped him with that, but I’m afraid I wasn’t much help either. Perhaps with some time,” she suggested, but Harry cut her off with a sharp smile.

“Perhaps he would come around eventually,” Harry sighed, “but I can’t put my life on hold for him. I’ve done that for too long already.”

“Of course,” she replied gracefully. “No one would ask you to sacrifice anything for love.” Harry winced at her words, feeling both suitably chastised and affronted all at once. She was right in a way, love was certainly worth waiting for, fighting for, but hadn’t he been doing that this whole time? “Just think about it,” she prompted and Harry nodded, promising he would before she let him leave her presence.

Harry Potter must be rather special for her son to take him into his private quarters, and somehow she felt confident that Draco would reach the same conclusion in time to repair the rift between them.

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Draco stared at the door Harry had just shut softly behind him. There was no slamming, no crying or yelling, just a quiet and firm departure from his room, his bed and his life. It seemed like he could still feel the brunet there, as if he could sense the man’s presence lingering close by, but after a moment that tether snapped and broke and left Draco bereft.

The haughty Malfoy didn’t much like feeling sorrow fill his veins, so he replaced it with rage. The audacity of Harry walking out on him so abruptly made for easy fuel for his anger, and he swept out of bed, intent on spending not even a second longer wallowing in the bed he’d shared with another for the first time.

His movement caused the black silk boxers to slink down to the floor and Draco picked them up and automatically pressed them to his chest, hating that they felt so soft and smelled so intoxicating. He snarled as he balled them up in his fist and marched into the trophy room. There in the center, exactly where he’d left it, was Harry’s tag. With a wave of his wand the marker adhered to the ebony material, gleaming golden in the light.

Tracing his finger along the letters of the name carved on its surface, Draco let out a deep sigh. He should be celebrating, popping open a bottle of champagne for his victory. Harry Potter, his newest and brightest conquest had lived up to the challenge. He had been an exquisite fuck, just the right ratio of confidence and begging. Harry was a man who knew exactly what he wanted and it showed in every movement and every powerful touch.

Draco closed his eyes as he let his mind fill with memories of their first and only time together. He’d be lying if he said it hadn’t been the best he’d ever had. Harry was wildly passionate and not the least bit reserved in his lust. And afterward, he’d never felt closer to another human being than he had as he held Harry pressed against him as they slept.

But worse, those qualities leaked into the rest of Harry’s personality as well. Quick tempered, stubborn, generous, kind, sneaky and beautiful. It was as if every movement, every word he spoke contained all of those characteristics at once.

With an angry growl, Draco shook his head, clearing the mushy thoughts that threatened to buckle his knees with grief. He held up his trophy and placed it on the mantel he had made for it. This was all Potter was to him, another notch, another conquest. Nothing more.

But the more he tried to affirm it to himself, the emptier he felt inside. He didn’t feel like celebrating at all, he felt like mourning the loss of his greatest love. He knew it was ridiculous to feel that way, but he couldn’t help it, not that it changed anything. Harry was still gone and he wasn’t coming back.

Folding his arms across his chest, Draco slumped from the room, casting one last glance at his newest trophy. Perhaps he would add another to his collection tonight, maybe he’d even find an easy target that afternoon, someone new would erase the image of Harry in his bed, someone new would ease the pain he felt in his heart. He was sure of it.

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Lucius was glaring at his reflection in his study window, scrutinizing the fine lines that had marred the skin around his eyes and lips. Narcissa tried to assure him that the marks made him look wise and distinguished, but she covered over her own with cosmetic potions and mild glamours, not that he was foolish enough to point that out to her. No, for him to say such a thing would be admitting he had noticed them, which would be the same as accusing her of having them, which she most certainly could not. Narcissa was far too young to bear the signs of aging. He was trainable, even in his own old age, and he would wisely keep his mouth sealed about whatever crows feet his wife may or may not possess.

The lines weren’t what was really bothering him now though. It was Potter’s words from the evening before, Potter’s accusations that Lucius hated his son. He sighed as he looked into the icy gaze reflected back at him through the glass. To an outside observer, he could see how such a misconception might occur. He was harsh with Draco, always applied a firm hand, but he did this because he loved the boy so much that he couldn’t bear to see him suffer the same mistakes Lucius had. He wondered though, did Draco think that his own father hated him? He’d always assumed the boy knew how he felt, he was blood after all, but maybe he’d been so worried about being the powerful mentor that he hadn’t spent enough time being the loving father.

He wished that Draco would find a Narcissa Black of his own, someone who would stand by him, kindly tell him when he was being foolish, but love him all the same. He was sure that Draco could find that match in Potter. He’d seen it with his own two eyes when he saw Potter slipping out of a guest room the night before. He had the power and command about him that Draco would automatically respect, and the charm and wit that it would take to hold his interest. He was just as cunning as any Slytherin Lucius knew, but maintained his upstanding reputation as a kind and courageous Gryffindor. The boy was an enigma, and it would take someone that unique to grab and hold onto his slippery son.

His talk with Narcissa this morning over tea had been stunted when she told him of who she found lingering outside Draco’s door that morning. They’d had a row, perhaps Potter had found the Trophy room or maybe Draco had just been insensitive, either way, it seemed things were over between them.

As if hearing his father’s thoughts, Draco went storming passed his study, glancing in and attempting to rush by when he saw Lucius standing there. “Draco, a word,” he called after the boy and watched as he reluctantly slinked back to hover in the doorway.

“Father,” he greeted, tipping his head slightly.

“I hear that you entertained Potter in your private rooms last night,” he mentioned, as if commenting on the weather.

“Yes, I believe he was very entertained,” Draco replied with a sneer. Still, it wasn’t lost on Lucius that it had taken the boy a heartbeat to recover from some deeper emotion that had run briefly through him.

“I’m sure he was,” Lucius replied with his lips pursed in disdain. “Why did he leave in such a hurry?”

“Why do any of them?” Draco replied with that elegant shrug that always infuriated Lucius. “I tossed him out.”

Lucius could tell he was lying by the way he held his body, slumped somewhat to try and hide behind his false words, and as usual, his eyes were a dead giveaway. They were practically swimming with hurt and guilt. “If that’s true than you’re more foolish than I ever suspected. Potter was your match in every way.”

Draco’s nostrils flared and his body tensed, as if he might spring across and strangle him for his presumptions, but a moment later he sighed and the tension flew from his body on blackened wings and Draco fell against the doorframe, as if all that rage had been the only thing holding him up. “Apparently Harry disagrees.”

“What happened?” Lucius asked, stepping forward until he was less than an arm’s length away. He wanted desperately to hold his boy, pull him into a warm embrace, but he had no idea how such an action would be received, so he stood there and merely stared for a long moment as his son fought for the words to explain.

It fell out of his mouth in a rush, the explanation of his conquest from the club last night, that it had been Harry all along. How Draco had went to him and demanded to know how Harry felt about him. He told Lucius about the trophy room and Harry’s reaction to it and about their night together, though thankfully he used less detail there, explaining only how it had been the best night ever. Then he went on to tell his father about that morning, about his and Harry’s parting words and when it seemed he was done, Lucius sighed and clapped his hand on Draco’s shoulder.

“You love him,” Lucius said simply.

“I do, but that doesn’t seem to matter. I’ll foul it up somehow no matter what,” he groaned.

“You’re fouling it up now if you don’t go to him,” Lucius replied.

“He doesn’t want to see me,” Draco grumbled. “He made that pretty clear.”

“I don’t care what the idiot said. He wants you, Draco. He loves you. Go to him, apologize, work everything out,” Lucius prompted.

Draco shook his head and stood straighter, flushing all the emotion out of his face before meeting Lucius’ heavy gaze. “No. Malfoys don’t beg. Potter has made his choice, because I couldn’t seem to make mine.”

And for the first time in a very long time, Lucius Malfoy lost his temper. The cool façade he worked so hard to maintain melted and pooled at his feet as his face twisted in anger and disappointment, equally directed at both Draco and himself. “Is that all I’ve taught you?” he demanded. “That Malfoys should never show weakness, that they should always be bowed and catered to? Have I not shown you that Malfoys bleed just as surely as anyone else, and that our hearts are just as capable of breaking as a Muggle’s?”

Draco blanched and retreated a step, trying to wait out his father’s wrath as he stared transfixed by the obscene display of emotion being wrought upon him. “You’ve always said-” he began to point out but his father swiped the air between them as if to cast Draco’s words to the ground.

“Forget everything I’ve told you and listen to me now. You will be nothing without him. You will spend the rest of your days wondering what would have happened if you had just discarded your Malfoy pride for one hour and told Potter that you needed him. Trust me, Son. I speak from a lifetime of regrets. My life has been riddled with achievements, power and glory, but the only thing that holds any worth to me now is you and your mother. I would be lost without her, Son. She’s my soul mate just as surely as Potter is yours.”

Tears streamed down his face and Draco stared wide-eyed as his father lost all sense of decorum and composure right before his very eyes. What would he have done if he’d known his father felt so strongly about his happiness years ago? He couldn’t answer that, but he knew what he was going to do now. With shoulders leveled, Draco grabbed his father around the waist and pulled him into a fierce hug. Suddenly he felt like he was seventeen again with the last remnants of the war waging around them, which was the last time his father held him close.

“I love you, Son,” Lucius whispered chokingly into his son’s ear.

“I know you do,” Draco replied, pulling back and gazing at his father with watery eyes. “I love you, too.”

“And Potter?” Lucius pressed.

“I love him as well,” he whispered, clutching his chest with the force of it.

“Then go get him,” Lucius ordered, pointing at the door. Draco nodded, steeled himself and made his way to the Floo, calling out the Ministry address as he approached. The green flames barely had a chance to dissipate before he heard someone clapping from inside his study. He turned to see his beautiful wife standing in the opposite doorway with a beaming smile on her face.

“Such a lovely performance, Brava,” she exclaimed as she made her way over to her husband’s arms.

“It was necessary,” Lucius replied, his tone never betraying the fact that his face was mottled with tears. “The usual methods weren’t working.”

“Well, I think this will work splendidly, though, if the manor is to be filled with drama queens I might exile myself out to the pool house,” she quipped, smirking slightly.

Lucius rolled his eyes and kissed Narcissa feverously, pulling her close as he ran his fingers though her flaxen hair. “Even if the display was exaggerated, the words were not,” he told her when they broke apart.

“I’ve never questioned your feelings for me or Draco, Lucius, and I doubt that Draco ever will again,” she replied, her smile as soft and sweet as the first time they’d met. “Our son will always have us if he needs us, and now he knows that, but I doubt it will be of much use to him. He and Potter will be perfect together. I can feel it in my bones.”

Author’s Note: Only one chapter left!! I realized recently that I’ve been leaving off my gifts as of late, so, sobby, sweet Lucius’ to all who review!! ;) Only one chapter left!!!