Funerals and Weddings

For disclaimer, summary, story codes and other information, please see the prologue.

Chapter the Twentieth: Meanwhile, in Harry’s brain…
11 October, continued: later that night

Harry didn’t speak to Ron for the rest of the day. He skipped dinner, begging a meal from Dobby and the other house elves instead. Wandering the grounds while munching a turkey sandwich, he eventually found himself at Hagrid’s enormous pumpkin patch. Butting up against the Forbidden Forest as it did, the patch was mostly in shadow at this time of evening. Flopping onto the ground, Harry rested his back against a pumpkin the size of Grawp’s head and sighed. His emotions in upheaval, Harry was torn between anger at Ron’s insensitivity and disbelief at his own defence of Malfoy.

‘I can’t believe I did that. Bloody hell, did I really just do that? Did I really just take Malfoy’s side against Ron? Defend my enemy from my best friend? Arrgh!’ Harry let his head drop back against the enormous pumpkin with a thud. ‘How do I get myself into these messes? Oh, I know! I’m a stupid fucking Gryffindor with more balls than brains!’

Harry smirked to himself as he thought how quickly Malfoy would agree with him on that assessment. Realising what he had just thought, Harry banged his head on the gourd again. “Fuck me!”

Hearing his own voice echo in the looming forest, he looked around quickly to make sure no one was in earshot. ‘Fuck me!’ he thought again. ‘Malfoy! Why is that arrogant git popping into my head all the time these days? I don’t get it. First, some bizarre urge causes me to ask Malfoy for his Potions notes and then he’s actually decent to me when he loans them. Then, we’re partnered in DADA and he’s asking for a truce! A truce! We’ve been enemies for how long now? And he suddenly wants a truce? And will wonders never cease, but I go and agree to it!’

Harry rubbed his hands roughly over his face, then squeezed the heels of his palms against his temples, as if to squash his brain’s ability to think of Malfoy any more. Unfortunately, from Harry’s point of view, it didn’t work.

‘If someone had told me this time last year—hell, this time three months ago!—that I’d agree to a truce with Draco Malfoy and that he’d actually stick to it, I’d have carted them off to St. Mungo’s straight away! Merlin, I can’t even imagine the odds a truce between the Boy-Who-Lived and Mr. Junior Death Eater would have in Seamus’ betting pool. Talk about long! Hmmm…maybe I should suggest it to Seamus…’

Shaking his head, Harry tried to steer his train of thoughts back on track. ‘So I agree to a truce. And we’re actually tolerating each other…well, better than tolerating each other really, we’re actually quite good as partners… But then I need to take a piss—is that too much ask?—and I have to go and choose that particular loo—one I’ve maybe used twice in my entire career at Hogwarts—and I walk in on Malfoy having some sort of…meltdown! Why the bloody hell couldn’t I have used the toilet outside the Great Hall? Nooooooooo, I had to go and pick that one, didn’t I? Bloody wanker.’

Not really sure if he was referring to himself or Malfoy as the wanker, Harry shifted, shivering a little as a cold wind gusted across the lawn. Withdrawing his wand, he cast a warming charm before delving back into his thoughts.

‘And being the ruddy great Gryffindor that I am, when I see Malfoy’s in a blind rage, what do I do? Do I leave? Do I run and hide? NO! I ask the prat if he’s all right! Am I completely mad? I must be. Not only am I sitting here, outside in Scotland in the middle of October, but I’m having a conversation with myself to boot! So naturally I ask a fire-breathing dragon if he’s ok. What’s surprising is that said fire-breathing dragon didn’t roast me for dinner!’

Harry frowned. ‘Come to think of it, that is surprising. Malfoy was pissed as hell and he didn’t take the opportunity to hex me or anything. In fact, he warned me to leave. Odd. Things with Malfoy this term are definitely…off. Is that why I felt so compelled to tell Dumbledore about the state Malfoy was in? Because everything with Malfoy has been off this term? And why didn’t I feel more threatened? I’ve seen what he’s capable of—seeing Malfoy that enraged should have scared the shit out of me…but it didn’t. I was more concerned about Malfoy doing something to hurt himself than I was about Malfoy doing something to hurt me. Odd. Very odd. And what had Malfoy’s knickers in such a twist anyways?’

Pondering for a moment, Harry rolled onto his back to look at the stars blinking into view over the castle. Rightly figuring that he’d be there all night trying to puzzle out what had Draco so angry, he pushed the thought aside.

‘Which brings me to today. First, Malfoy the Amazing Bouncing Ferret apologises to me and then seems genuinely concerned that he’s buggered up our truce. And then the capper: Ron opens his gob and Malfoy rips him a new one, whips out his wand and threatens to torture him. And what do I do? I disarm Ron! Not Malfoy—Ron! I turn my back on an armed Death—‘

Harry’s head spun for a moment he sat up so fast. ‘I turned my back on Malfoy…when he was armed? And angry? I must be the biggest idiot alive! Why would I trust Malfoy of all people…trust Malfoy? Trust Malfoy.’ Harry said the words aloud, testing them. “Trust Malfoy.” Nope, they sounded just as strange aloud as they did inside his head. ‘Do I trust him? Well, I guess I do, a little—I mean, I have to in DADA class. But that wasn’t a practise session. Maybe the Prophet had it right last year—I am a nut case. Have I really started to trust…a Malfoy? The son of Voldemort’s right hand man? Poster child for Death Eater recruitment? Funny how Malfoy hasn’t been putting his little Death-Eater-in-Training act on much this year. Come to think of it…I don’t think he’s called Hermione a mudblood since term started. Could his loyalties be wavering…?’

Another cold gust of wind cut through his warming charm. Picking himself up off the ground, Harry decided that defending Malfoy from Ron, realising he trusted Malfoy and wondering if he was leaning away from the Dark was a bit much for his brain to handle in one day. Brushing himself off, he returned to the castle to do his homework—and maybe sort things out with Ron. But the seed had been planted…

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Ron was exiting the 6th year dormitory just as Harry was going in to get his books. They both looked at each other a moment, then began to speak at the same time:

“Mate, I was off…”

“Ron, I’m sorry I…”

Both broke off and grinned awkwardly. Harry nodded at Ron. “You first.”

Ron cleared his throat. “Look, Harry, what I said today—it was off. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I didn’t mean it at all. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too, Ron. I shouldn’t have reacted as strongly as I did. I really don’t know why I did, I guess you just hit a nerve. I didn’t mean to jump down your throat like I did.” Harry gave Ron an apologetic smile.

“S’alright, mate. Besides, it was Malfoy who jumped down it first. What do you reckon got into him?”

“The same thing that got into me, I s’pose. The Cruciatus. I guess Malfoy’s had a run it with it as well, judging by his reaction,” Harry paused. “Ron, do you think Malfoy’s been acting…odd…lately?”

“Odd? Odder than usual, you mean?”

“Yeah. Like…quieter. Not nearly as annoying. I don’t think he’s insulted Hermione at all this term—and he hasn’t tried to hex me once. Don’t you think that’s odd?” Harry pressed his point.

Ron pursed his lips. “Yeah, well, now that you mention it…he hasn’t been as much of a git as usual this year. He’s laid off insulting my family too, come to think of it. You’re right, Harry, it is odd. You think it means something? Like he’s up to something?”

Harry shrugged a shoulder. “I dunno. Thinking about Malfoy gives me a headache and I’ve still got Potions homework to do. Have you done yours yet?”

“Nah, was just gonna get started when I ran into you. Er, um, are we…good now?” Ron gave Harry a hopeful look.

Harry laughed and pushed his way past Ron into the dorm to grab his homework. “Yeah, mate, we’re good. Let’s get this damned Potions essay done, shall we?”

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The Potions homework took forever, as did Flitwick’s assignment. Harry had hoped to start his DADA work, but seeing as he was falling asleep whilst still writing the final sentences of his Charms essay, he gave it up as a bad job and stumbled to his bed. He didn’t waste time disrobing, but fell straight onto his pillow and dropped into the darkness.

His cock was as hard as a spike and ached like a bitch in heat. His entire body was overheated and he could feel the sweat dripping down the back of his neck. He’d been teased within an inch of his sanity. And he’d had enough.

“NOW, Draco!” he shouted. “Gods, please…I need…”

The slick feeling of a lubricated finger sliding along his entrance had never felt so good. He moaned and threw back his head, panting. “Yes, please…”

At last, the slippery digit pushed its way inside him. Slowly. It twisted as it moved in and out, in and out. He thrust against, silently asking for more. A second finger joined the first, stretching him more as it moved within his clenching orifice. He was more than ready, but his tormentor didn’t seem to think so and added a third finger, still moving torturously slow. Stretching the tight muscles, twisting and caressing, preparing him for what was to come. And he couldn’t wait any longer to come.

“FUCK! Now, Draco, fuck me now!” He was practically crying in need.

“Harry,” Draco’s voice whispered seductively over his burning skin. “Is this what you want?”

With that, Draco thrust himself hard and deep into his channel. He screamed in a mixture of a little pain and a vast amount of pleasure. “YES! Yes, gods, yes!”

Draco withdrew then thrust in again. “More?”

“Yes, you bastard. More!”

At last the teasing ended and Draco began to thrust in earnest. Draco positioned himself so that each deep push hit the sweet spot. He keened as each slam of Draco’s hips sent sparks of fire through his body. Harder, faster, deeper, harder, faster, deeper. Arching his back completely off the bed, he came harder than he thought was possible. Spattering both of their chests with his cum, his muscles clenched around Draco’s cock as he thrust once, twice more, finally shooting his load deep within him. Draco’s arms gave way and he collapsed on his chest. A few more shallow thrusts as Draco rode out his orgasm. He somehow managed to lift his arms to wrap them around his lover’s back and nuzzled his face in the tousled strands of blonde hair. Exhausted, they fell asleep still joined, and completed sated.

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A/N: Not much action in this chapter, I know, so I threw in a little smut to make everyone happy.*wink* But I wanted to let you all inside Harry’s brain so you could see where he stood—it’s much more obvious where Draco stands, so I thought it was only fair. And to Ritinha: Thanks for the lovely compliment and you’re right, Harry has experienced all 3 Unforgivables (gee, lucky boy), but he could only describe two for the assignment, seeing as he was too young to remember being hit with AK. And iris—your ‘pouncing’ comment made me laugh! Thanks!
Question: How are the sexy bits? I’ve never written any before so let me know how I need to improve. Thanks!

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