Shades of Truth

Shades of Truth

Chapter 22

*****

“This is ridiculous.” Narcissa Malfoy was not as happy as she could have been. “Why stay in some hovel in London when you could be home with your dear mum?”

“First, as I already told you, Harry’s house is the old Black mansion on Grimmauld Place, and you know very well that it is not a hovel. Second, please remember that I am no longer five years old, and do not speak to me like that.” Draco’s voice was weary, and Harry could tell that this discussion had started hours before his own arrival at Azkaban.

“But…you’re a Malfoy! Wouldn’t you be happier at Malfoy Manor?” Narcissa persisted.

“No, mother, I’m a grown man. I want to live on my own. Please respect my wishes.” Draco didn’t even bother to look at her, possibly because he didn’t want her to see the irritation etched deeply in his expression. “I love you, and I appreciate all that you’ve done to help exonerate me, but my wish is to live in London. Harry was gracious enough to offer me a room while I find a nice flat of my own. And I assure you, if I decide to come home, I will. In the mean time, I suggest you enjoy your life as an eligible widow with a sizeable estate.”

“Are you…do you suggest I should remarry?” Narcissa was clearly scandalized. “But, wouldn’t you be devastated?”

“Mother, I killed your last husband.” Draco told her in a dry tone. “I should be the last person whose opinion should worry you. And in any case, I wouldn’t care one fig. I’m sure you’d be a lot less meddlesome if you had some hot young wizard to occupy your time.” Harry could barely stifle his laughter as Draco left his mother flushing madly and speechless while the pair of them left with Draco’s personal effects in tow.

“I can’t believe you said that to your own mother.” Harry shook his head once she couldn’t possible hear them.

“What? She needs a good shag.” Draco answered with a perfectly innocent expression, causing Harry to nearly collapse with mirth. “She does.”

----------

“So this is my room.” Harry opened the door so Draco could see the freshly tidied space. “And I…well, I wasn’t sure, so I made a bed up for you over here.” He closed the door and led Draco down the hall to another room. “I picked this one because it has the biggest closet…and I didn’t know…well…” Harry decided to stop talking about sleeping arrangements. “And the bathroom is right over here. Well, there are other ones, but I don’t really use them, so they might be a bit dusty.”

“Oh…could I…I mean, would you mind?” Draco had drifted into the bathroom and was lovingly stroking the edge of the shower. “It’s been so long since I had a proper shower. With real shampoo…” Draco was now practically salivating. So was Harry, but likely not for the same reason.

“No, that’s fine. Help yourself. I can put out some of my clean clothes as well, if you want. They aren’t…” Draco pounced on him, kissing him enthusiastically.

“That would be great.” He smiled warmly. “And…I’m a little hungry…” he somehow made that sound like it had two meanings.

“I’ll make some lunch.” Harry told him immediately, feeling his cheeks reddening.

“Thanks,” Draco dropped another swift kiss on his cheek before pushing him out of the bathroom. “Love you!”

“I…” Harry was still struggling with himself when Draco closed the bathroom door. Taking a deep breath, he went to his own room and found a t-shirt and jeans that were clean, walked back to the bathroom, and knocked.

“Thanks again!” Draco cracked the door to get the clothes, affording Harry a glimpse of his pale, naked chest. Harry was still standing outside the bathroom when the shower was turned on, and his mind was suddenly full of images of Draco, naked, wet, rubbing himself…

Harry decided to concentrate on lunch. He made sandwiches, although he realized part of the way through their creation that he wasn’t sure if Draco liked sandwiches a particular way, but he figured that if he did something wrong, Draco would just tell him.

Typically, sandwich construction was a rather quick affair, but he was worried about making them look nice, and he kept getting distracted by thoughts of Draco showering, so it took him nearly forty minutes before he set the plates on his dining room table, finally satisfied with the results. That was when he realized that Draco took very long showers.

He wasn’t sure that this bothered him. In fact, the idea of Draco in a shower for any length of time seemed pretty great to him. Just as he was trying to decide how he would feel about Draco in a bath, the man in question entered the room, Harry’s clothes looking a bit large on his emaciated form.

“I look skinny in these.” Draco spoke in a bemused tone.

“You are skinny.” Harry replied.

“They smell like you.” Draco told him, joining Harry at the table. “I like them.” Harry didn’t know how to answer to that, so he concentrated on eating.

“I didn’t know how you liked your sandwich.” Harry spoke after a few bites. Draco was clearly ravenous, but somehow managed to look proper and prim with a third of the sandwich crammed in his mouth. When he finished his bite he smiled at Harry.

“I usually ask for no mayonnaise, but I’ll let you get away with it this one time.” He finally spoke.

“If you’re still hungry…” Harry began as Draco polished off the meal.

“No. Can we go shopping?” Draco’s question caught Harry by surprise. “I mean, it’s nice that I can borrow these, but I’d really like some of my own clothes. And you need far more hair care products in there if you want to see my hair restored to its former glory. I mean, you don’t even have conditioner.”

“I’m…well, okay.” Harry wasn’t sure there was a point in arguing. So they went shopping in the muggle area of London to try and avoid press, which was boring, except for the fact that Draco had a knack for finding moments to kiss or touch Harry when no one could see them.

When they returned home, Harry could barely wait to get inside the door to begin kissing Draco, pinning him against the entryway as he paid tribute to the slender column of Draco’s neck, only pausing to nearly rip Draco’s shirt off. Draco seemed to be on board with this course of action, and he quickly began a campaign to get Harry’s shirt unbuttoned , which was rather difficult when Harry kept finding interesting new areas of skin to investigate.

Harry knelt after Draco had only succeeded in liberating four of the buttons, and held Draco’s hips while enjoying the softness of the skin on his stomach against his face, breathing harshly as he tested the flavor of this skin against that on his neck, his collarbone, his shoulders, and his chest. Unable to stop himself, Harry found his fingers struggling with the fly of the jeans he had loaned to Draco, panting against his navel while Draco made some rather interesting noises of encouragement.

That was when the doorbell rand.

Draco yelped and looked around for his shirt while hurriedly refastening his pants. Harry fixed his own shirt and ran a hand through his hair, which Draco thought was rich, since honestly, it was a mess no matter whether he’d just been snogging someone or not. When they both looked presentable, Harry answered the door.

It was Hermione.

“Hello!” she entered rather cheerfully, hugging and kissing each boy in a friendly manner. “I hope I haven’t come at a bad time.”

“Not at all.” Harry managed while Draco did his very best not to glare at the woman who had just interrupted a very good snog.

“I brought a few things…” this was clearly an understatement. Hermione had such a prodigious collection of bags and parcels that it was a wonder she could carry it all. “I figured you would want to avoid Diagon Alley for a few weeks, but I don’t want you to do without…I got three sets of robes…Pansy helped me with that, she wanted to come herself, but I wasn’t sure if it would be awkward.” Hermione pulled out the contents of one bag. “But she said if they need any adjustments, she’d be happy to do them here if you’re wanting to stay in for now.” She shrugged as Draco felt the fabric and gave a soft smile of approval. “And she said I should bring this. She said it was your favorite—“

“Yes, oh yes!” Draco nearly ripped the bottle out of Hermione’s hand.

“What is that?” Harry frowned as Draco lovingly stroked the bottle and held it close.

“It’s the secret to perfect hair.” He told them both. “It’s been so long. Thank you.”

“And…um,” Hermione had clearly not expected such excitement. “There’s some other stuff here…she said it was what you had at school, and that you were very particular.” She handed him a bag of various hair and skin treatments and Draco sorted through it with no small amount of glee.

“Oh, dear Pansy,” Draco sighed softly, “she knows me so well.”

“And she told me you could never resist the éclairs from this bakery, and we both think you could do with putting on a bit of weight, so I…” Hermione opened one box, displaying a dozen pastries, and then gestured to another box that clearly contained the same thing. Draco immediately snatched one and managed to get it down in two bites with absolutely no mess. “I just…I’m really happy for both of you, but I wanted you to know, Draco, that if you need anything, or if you want someone to talk to, while I’m sure Harry will do anything he can, I want you to know that I…well, I consider you a friend, and I want you to know that I’ll be there, if you need me.”

“Thanks,” Draco reached over and grabbed her hand, “I’ll never say no to éclairs.” She giggled, and he offered her one of the pastries she had brought, which she readily accepted. “Isn’t it odd, though? The two of us being friends, I mean. I have to say, if I were in your place, I wouldn’t ever want to be friends with me. I was horrible to you.”

“That was years ago.” She shrugged, flushing slightly, “Besides, I was no sweetheart to you.”

“That’s right…I recall you had a rather impressive right hook.” Draco rubbed his chin ruefully.

“I thought she only slapped you.” Harry recalled the incident.

“Let him have his dignity, Harry.” Hermione finished off her éclair neatly.

“It’s a good thing you brought me presents.” Draco stretched out one leg luxuriously, leaning back in his seat. “I was getting quite a snog, and there you come, before things can get really interesting.” Hermione giggled wickedly and Harry flushed deep red, only prompting her to laugh harder than before.

Harry excused himself and hid in the kitchen while Draco and Hermione chatted and laughed. After a long time, he decided he might as well start dinner, and maybe that way he wouldn’t have to be embarrassed any more that evening. He was boiling some noodles to go with a sauce he had prepared when he noticed it was rather silent in the other room. Before he could investigate this further, Draco entered the kitchen looking rather content.

“Where’s Hermione?” Harry asked as he let the other man wrap his arms around him, resting his thumbs on the hem of Harry’s trousers.

“She went home.” He answered, kissing the back of Harry’s neck, his fingers wandering to unfasten the first button they found, letting one hand investigate Harry’s stomach.

“I’m trying to cook.” Harry advised him.

“I’m trying to distract you.” Draco told him, nuzzling Harry’s ear.

“So you’ll have more lurid stories to tell Hermione?” Harry asked, feeling only vaguely aggrieved.

“I only said we were having a snog.” Draco protested, working diligently to completely untuck Harry’s shirt. “Just thought I’d give her something nice to think about when she’s with Weasley.”

“Draco,” Harry sighed as the other man triumphantly removed his shirt and tossed it aside. “I don’t think it’s hygienic to cook half-naked.”

“Then come away from there.” Draco tugged at Harry’s waist with no success. “Let’s go back to the front room. We were having a good time out there.”

“Dinner will burn if I just ignore it.” Harry was still making an attempt to resist.

“If you ignore me, I’ll hex dinner and you.” Draco insisted.

“Like you could hex me.” Harry teased, chuckling slightly as he attempted to ignore the fact that his trousers were being unfastened by deft fingers. “And you’ll be hungry later, and then you’ll be upset because I’ll have to start dinner all over again, since you ruined this one.”

“Well, then turn off the stove, you git.” Draco looped his thumbs over the hem of Harry’s pants and began pushing them down over his hips. “Finally, I’ll be able to learn the answer to the question on every witch’s mind.”

“What’s that?” Harry grabbed hold of his pants in an attempt to keep them on.

“Does Harry Potter prefer boxers or briefs?” Draco answered, yanking futilely at the pants that Harry was struggling to keep up. “Come on, then, inquiring minds want to know.”

“Stop that!” Harry tried to twist away, but it was rather difficult, since Draco had him pinned to the stove. “Not in the kitchen!”

“What, like someone’s going to see us?” Draco raised a pale brow. “Unless Bill Weasley really is living with you.”

“No, but—“

“Then live a little!” Draco tried a new tactic, moving one hand and sliding it down Harry’s open pants. “Ah, so it’s boxers.”

“Would you…” Harry was flustered and embarrassed, but he couldn’t stop himself from reacting to Draco’s fumbling touches, and that only aggravated him more. He wasn’t sure if he was still annoyed at Draco for talking about their private moments with Hermione, or if it bothered him that the other man had ignored his hesitation and refusal and seemed determined to have a snog, whether Harry wanted to or not. In any case, he could feel himself getting angry, and he couldn’t stop it. “Just stop!” he lashed out, and just as Draco twisted his head to try and get a better view of Harry’s bare chest, his elbow flailed against the other man’s temple.

“Everything froze. There was a long moment of silence as Harry felt his anger swiftly evaporate, to be replaced with regret.

“Fine.” Draco’s voice was ice, and his expression was completely unreadable as he retracted his hands and left the kitchen before Harry could think of what to say or do. For what felt like an eternity, Harry stood at the stove, his head swiveled so that he was facing Draco’s exit, his elbow midair, his other hand clutching his trousers. He was certain that he had very little romantic savvy, as Draco had once observed. He was just as certain that he’d really messed up. Part of him was sure it was Hermione’s fault, since everything had been great until she came over. The rest of him knew that was stupid, and that he was the one to blame here.

He refastened his pants with fumbling fingers, grabbed his shirt, and went upstairs to apologize. The living room was empty, so he felt sure that Draco would be in his room. When there was no one there, Harry felt a bit at a loss. At first he worried that Draco was gone, but Harry doubted he would have left all his things behind. Sighing, he realized he’d have to search all the rooms one at a time.

He found Draco in the very next room he checked. His own. The blonde man was in Harry’s bed, curled up and clutching a pillow, his back to the doorway where Harry stood.

“Get out.” He spoke as soon as the door opened, and Harry almost left before he realized that this was, after his house, and his room as well.

“It’s my room.” He answered, feeling foolish and wishing he could have started this better.

“I’ll leave, then.” Draco flung the covers back and threw the pillow at the wall. He attempted to storm out, but Harry blocked the door.

“Don’t. I’m sorry,” he hoped he was doing this right. “I didn’t mean to hit you, I just…”

“Forget it.” Draco cut him off.

“Does…does it hurt?” Harry reached forward hesitantly, and Draco swept his hand aside.

“I’m fine!” he snapped. “You don’t have to coddle me. You said stop, I didn’t stop, I got what I deserved, right?”

“But…I…it got out of hand,” Harry tried again. “I’m not mad at you, and I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“I guess I was expecting things between us to be a certain way when I moved in, and I was wrong.” Draco told him in a calm tone that Harry recognized as his I’m-Not-Going-To-Tell-You-How-I-Really-Feel Voice. “I’ll just go back to my room now, if that’s all right with you.”

“Draco, please,” Harry felt desperate. “I’m not going to pretend I know the right words to say, but please, I love you, and I’m sorry, okay?” Draco was silent, but he wasn’t attempting to leave, which Harry took as a signal to continue. “If you want to be in here, or sleep in here, you can. I just didn’t know if you’d want your own space…and, and if you want, I’ll take my pants off. Or you can. In any room. Okay? Because I’m sorry. And…”

“No, please,” Draco’s face twisted oddly before he just burst out laughing and nearly keeled over, “Stop apologizing!”

Harry wasn’t sure that laughter was the desired reaction to an apology, but at least Draco was smiling, so that had to be a good sign. “I am sorry.” He repeated for good measure.

“It’s okay,” Draco finally stopped laughing. “I was pushing you and it wasn’t fair.”

“You just wanted to be with me.” Harry shrugged, blushing. “I was being stupid.”

“But you’re always being stupid, and I don’t usually get angry at you for it.” Draco told him with a slight grin, and Harry felt so relieved that they weren’t fighting that he enveloped the other man in a fierce embrace and kissed him deeply. Draco returned the kiss at once, and it wasn’t long before they were pulling at each other’s garments and stumbling onto the bed, where they began exploring each other’s newly exposed flesh. Harry was fascinated by the contrast of Draco’s pallor against his own skin. He’d never thought of himself as dark, but against the milky backdrop of Draco’s stomach, his arm suddenly looked very brown.

He was rubbing Draco’s bare hip and kissing imaginary trails over his neck and chest, which was great, and he could see that Draco also felt it was great from the noises Draco was making while he continually ground his erection against Harry’s and he felt like this was the time to broach a sensitive subject.

“Do…should we…well, you know…” Harry was struggling. “I don’t really…well, I’ve never…”

“You’ve never had sex?” Draco breathed the question before continuing. “Neither have I.”

“No, I mean…” Harry could tell from the heat in his cheeks that he was blushing very deeply, which struck him as odd, since it wasn’t really the moment to be shy. “I have, just never with another guy, and I don’t really know…how, well, I know basically, but I’ve never…I mean, not that way.”

“You’ve had sex?” Draco’s hips stilled, and Harry felt this was a shame, as it had felt rather nice. “With who? When?”

“Is it so hard to believe someone would sleep with me?” Harry asked wryly.

“Well…but that’s not fair!” Draco pouted. “I can’t believe you’ve had more sex than me!”

“Barely. I only did it once, and it was with a girl, so it’s not much help here.” Harry admitted.

“Who?” Draco looked aghast. “Was it…Ginny Weasley?”

“No…no, I never had a chance to…” Harry regretted having spoken; they’d been having such a good time. “Well, because we only dated for a little while, and after that she was killed.”

“Who, then?” Draco insisted.

“Why does this matter so much?” Harry wanted to know, but Draco’s expression made it clear that he wouldn’t be able to sidestep the question. “Cho Chang, okay? It was just after Ginny died, and I was a mess, and I wasn’t…”

“Ew!” Draco’s face twisted in grimace. “I can’t believe you slept with that…that hussy!”

“It wasn’t my finest hour, all right?” Harry huffed. “No one knows, either, so don’t tell Hermione. She’ll give me hell, and I don’t think I should be punished for something that happened over two years ago. Plus, after that…well, Cho thought we were going to date…it was awkward.”

“I still can’t believe you slept with her.” Draco rolled over and grabbed his underwear, starting to get dressed.

“Are…are we…are we done?” Harry was momentarily confused.

“You think I can keep it up while picturing Cho Chang naked?” Draco snorted. “Yeah right. Go make dinner, I’m hungry.”

“Oh.” Harry pouted a moment before getting up. “Okay, then.”

He only remembered he’d left the stove on when he got downstairs, and he ended up having to scrape up what had been burned starting over again. He blamed Cho.

*****

To be Continued…