Ten Steps

Author’s Note: Many thanks to Kasey and Shannon for looking this chapter over for me and thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! You have pushed me up and over 1000 reviews for this story, making it my most popular yet. I heart you guys!! You can thank NightlyCrazex for the quick update this time. She went to extra lengths to ask for a new chapter to be posted, so how could I not oblige? *squishes

Chapter 22 The Next Level

Seventeen hundred and eighty two.

That’s how many florets made up the centerpiece in Harry’s bedroom ceiling. He knew, because he’d counted them all himself when he should have been sleeping. The trouble was, he couldn’t sleep. It was now two o’clock in the morning and Harry hadn’t shut his eyes even once except to blink when they became too dry.

And every time he did, the face of a certain blond Slytherin would occupy the dark space on the inside of his eyelids. So, he tried not to blink unless it was absolutely necessary. He was ignoring his need to sleep, afraid that those brief glimpses would turn into movie-reel dreams and some how manage to make him even more aroused – though Harry wondered if it were possible at this point.

The moment he stopped counting plaster decorations, the memory of Draco’s thighs pinning him to the overturned chair filled his thoughts, and no matter how much he wanted to banish the traitorous feelings, his cock twitched in answer. “No,” he hissed to himself. “I will not wank off to the image of being fucked into the ground by Draco Malfoy. Especially when I have a perfectly fit and attractive boyfriend that I’m allowed to fuck if I want.”

Chastising himself did nothing to decrease his erection, however, so he just sneered down at the traitorous appendage. “And who the hell does he think he is, giving us permission to sleep with another man?” Harry growled. “As if I need his blessing to shag Oliver!”

If his cock had its own voice, it would have pointed out that Harry was mostly upset because he’d walked away from the man he really wanted to sleep with and now he couldn’t seem to think straight. Harry had lived alone for far too long, and he was starting to worry about his mental health – arguing with himself – or his erection - was rather pointless.

He slipped a tentative hand to grip his shaft roughly and his eyelids fluttered shut at the contact. He tried to think of Oliver. His dark hair that carried just a hint of red, his muscular, Quidditch-toned build, his dark, smoldering eyes. It was easy to see why the man was sought after, his photo gracing hundreds of magazine covers. Oliver Wood was the epitome of athletic grace and power.

It didn’t take long, however, before Oliver’s hair shifted into pristine blond tendrils, his body became sinuous and pale and his eyes changed to an icy gray that sent shivers along Harry’s spine.

Harry gasped at the feel of his own hand stroking his throbbing prick, coupled with the image of Draco plying his neck and chest with fevered kisses. His movements grew more frantic as his fantasy Draco engulfed Harry’s cock with the wet heat of his mouth. He could easily imagine that tongue gliding along his shaft, and the cheek-hallowing suck he would employ to get Harry off. He’d already witnessed the talent of that delicious mouth when they’d kissed some time back.

It seemed like ages ago now, but he knew it had only been a few weeks since he and Draco had kissed, and only hours since he’d felt Draco’s hot breath caressing his face. He would have let Draco have his way with him tonight, had he pressed his advantage. Harry could have thrown him off, just as he’d thwarted others who had put him in similar positions. Whether during a duel with a Death Eater or an amorous drunk at a club, Harry had experienced his fair share of lap straddlers before. All it would have taken was a well-placed knee and a bit of force and Draco would have toppled right over. But that knee had never come, and loath as he was to admit it, Harry knew exactly why.

In that moment, with Draco looming over him like some kind of wicked angel, Harry had wanted him, plain and simple. Even the seething tone Draco had used to goad him had managed to stir some deep lust within Harry. He secretly loved that he could so easily evoke such feelings in the blond, because Draco certainly made Harry feel like a madman. It was nice to have the ability to return the favor once in awhile.

And with no further prompting other than the image of Draco performing a relatively mundane – if anything involving Draco could be mundane - act of fellatio, Harry came harder than he ever had. As much as he deprecated himself for wanking off to another man, Harry hoped at least it would take the edge off so he could get a few hours of sleep before he had to get up for work in the morning.

However, he couldn’t seem to quell the fire in his gut, even then. “Fuck, fuck, fuck bloody fuck!” Harry growled, tossing the soiled sheets away from his body. He got out of bed, and stalked naked into his bathroom, turning the shower to cold.

He winced as he got under the spray, but eventually the warmth drained out of him, and the lusty blaze Draco had started along with it.

But he still didn’t get any sleep that night.

“Well, don’t you look thoroughly debauched,” Oliver commented when Harry came downstairs the next morning. “Should I be checking your bed for strange men?”

Harry had an odd sense of deja vu when he walked into the kitchen to see his boyfriend there with tea and a paper. “Er, Olli?” he asked, not sure what to say to the man who had seemingly broken into his house for breakfast. He pinched himself just to ensure he was awake.

“Sorry,” Oliver said with a flush. “I didn’t think you’d mind my being here.”

“I don’t,” Harry rushed to correct. “I just…wasn’t expecting to see you this morning.”

“I have to leave for Japan in an hour or so, but I wanted to see you before I left. I know it’s hard on you when I’m away…and I really wanted to make every effort,” he replied, getting up to thread his arms around his boyfriend’s naked torso. Oliver ran his fingers just under the waistband of Harry’s pajama bottoms and purred sweet nothings against the man’s ear. “I don’t suppose you could skive off work for an hour or so this morning?” he whispered.

“I shouldn’t,” Harry replied, his voice suddenly breathy as his earlobe was enveloped in Oliver’s mouth. “Especially if I’m to put in my resignation. I’ll have a lot to do.”

Oliver pouted, sinking his fingers deeper into Harry’s flesh, eliciting a moan from the brunet. “Are you sure?” he rasped against the shell of Harry’s ear. “I’ll be gone for a whole week.”

“A week?” Harry whined, pushing the man away. “That’s all the more reason to wait. I don’t want some frenzied fuck only to have you disappear for a week.”

“Come with me then,” Oliver offered, and Harry merely blinked in response.

“You’re serious?” he asked.

“Of course,” Oliver told him. “There’s still time to get you a Portkey.”

Harry bit into his bottom lip and seriously thought about what his boyfriend was offering. Oliver was going to be in Japan for an entire week, which would be a very lonely week for him. More than that, he had actually invited Harry to participate in part of his life. “What would I do in Japan?” he asked.

“Well, I’d be busy a lot of the time with practice and games, but I’d have most of my nights free, and hotel sex is always fun,” Oliver said, waggling his eyebrows. “You could see all sorts of sites while I’m at work though.”

“By myself,” Harry pointed out.

“Well, yes,” Oliver replied with a sigh. “I take it that means you’re not coming?”

Harry shook his head. Here in London he had his job at least, and friends he could go have drinks with and…Draco. It sounded as if he’d be even more miserable in Japan, waiting in the hotel room for Oliver to come back. Besides, he didn’t know if he was ready to sleep with Oliver yet. “Sorry, but I don’t think so. I should really get a jumpstart on my paperwork so I can have everything organized for my replacement. Soon enough I’ll have plenty of time to accompany you on your trips.”

Oliver nodded, smiling weakly and pressed a kiss into Harry’s forehead. “That’s very responsible of you, Harry. I’ll miss you, but I’ll write when I can.”

“I will too,” Harry replied and clutched his boyfriend against him for a proper snog.

When Oliver pulled away, Harry escorted him to the front door. “Love you,” Oliver said, blowing Harry a kiss from the bottom of the stoop.

Harry swallowed thickly, and waved. “You too!” he shouted before shutting the door and leaning his back against the cool wood. What in Merlin’s name was he doing? Wanking off to Draco’s image at night, turning down a shag from his boyfriend when he was still horny as hell this morning, making excuses not to go with him to Japan, when it was perfectly clear that Harry was only staying for one reason.

Draco.

He was systematically ruining his relationship with Oliver on the off chance than Draco might return an inkling of Harry’s feelings for him. It was ridiculous! Nothing could be done about thefact that after a few months of dating, Harry still couldn’t admit that he loved Oliver. He liked him, a lot, and could clearly see all the reasons why he should love the gorgeous, considerate Quidditch Keeper, but the spark he often felt in Oliver’s arms was greatly diminished by the feeling he got just being in Draco’s presence.

It was infuriating.

Worse still, he knew that he was in love with the blond, knew it all the way down to his toes, but Draco had made it quite obvious that while he would be up for a shag, he didn’t return Harry’s feelings for him. Why else would the man avoid the topic as much as possible and remain silent when it did come up? Why else would he have been so adamant to tell Harry that their relationship was all business? Even if none of those examples had existed, Draco’s fit of anger after they kissed couldn’t possibly bode well. Even though the man had never explained it, Harry had a feeling that it had to do with the magic they had both invoked that first evening.

After his brief discussion with Hermione, Harry had been mulling over all the parts to this puzzle, and only one thing seemed clear to him. Even if Draco felt anything for him, the magic obviously didn’t like him interfering in his and Oliver’s relationship. That much he supposed was obvious based on the Vows they’d both made, but Harry suspected it proved something deeper. Even if Draco was in love with him, it didn’t matter, because the magic wanted Harry with Oliver, and there had to be a good reason for that.

Harry had hoped that Draco would sit down and explain it all to him as he’d promised in hospital, but so far the man had avoided that particular subject. Eventually, Harry knew he was just going to have to corner the blond and drag the information out of him, but Harry was afraid. It took him a long time to admit it to himself, but he was scared to discover that he was right, and that Draco wasn’t anything more to him than an instructor and perhaps a friend.

Earlier on, that was the answer Harry would have expected and welcomed, but over the last few weeks, he’d grown so close to Draco that he didn’t think he could bear to find out that his feelings for the man had no merit. Instead of falling in love with his match, Harry had fallen in love with the man who had told him about it. It was backwards and nonsensical, he knew, but Harry couldn’t help the tug he felt when he was near the blond, or the way he couldn’t seem to stop smiling, even when Draco was being a world-class git.

What if he learned that there was no reason for him to feel that way? That once again, Harry had just managed to fuck up another relationship with his misreading of the other person. It had happened with George, when Harry saw a love interest there that was clearly nonexistent. It had happened with Marius and Orsino as well, both men he thought could be ‘the one’ but both turned out to be using him for their own needs.

What if he wanted Draco to love him so much that he’d been imagining all the signs that seemed to prove it possible? Harry didn’t think he wanted to know if that were the case. He felt more comfortable in his ignorance, as frustrating as it was.

Draco didn’t know why he even bothered. Wood was obviously smitten with Harry, and even if Harry wasn’t ready to admit it, his actions proved that he was in love with Oliver as well. Why else would he agree to quit the job he loved just to make the other man happy? Still, it made the next lesson only that much more appropriate, because Harry needed some time away from everything to think - Draco only wished he could send himself along with the Gryffindor instead of Oliver.

It did no good wishing for things that were impossible though, so Draco quickly banished the thought.

He’d anticipated the knock before it happened and opened the door to a dapper looking Harry Potter. The Gryffindor wore only Muggle denims and a plain black shirt, but the simplicity made all the extraordinary things about him stand out that much more. His hair was a mess, but Draco could scarcely believe that Harry’s tangled locks had once annoyed him. Now he would do anything to run his fingers through that wild mane. The lack of robes also did great things for Harry’s body. Draco knew that the man was fit, of course, having seen his perfectly bare torso before, but the way his jeans hugged his legs and his bum made Draco anxious. He couldn’t afford to make another rejected pass at the Gryffindor. Not only would his pride never recover, but the magicks were growing weary of Draco’s game.

He’d been carefully toeing the line between friendship with Harry and more, but after the incident the other night, he wasn’t sure how many more chances the magicks were going to give him. The fact that he was Harry’s soul mate was probably the only thing keeping him alive after he so blatantly attacked the Gryffindor and ignored the magicks previous warnings.

But like an obedient wizard who respected the spells he worked with, Draco had backed down and Harry had gone back to Oliver once more. He wondered if Harry had slept with the Quidditch star yet or if he had refrained as promised.

Draco realized it wasn’t a really a promise, but it felt that way.

“Alright, Malfoy?” Harry asked, pulling Draco from his silent musings.

“Fine, Potter, just fine,” he replied, eschewing the Gryffindor inside. “About the other night,” he began, but Harry just shook his head.

“Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen, shall we?” he suggested, avoiding the chair he’d been sitting in the night in question in lieu of the sofa. His emerald gaze just stared at the armchair, as if he were replaying the event over and over again in his mind. Perhaps he was. Draco had certainly done so several times since Harry left that night. He kept wondering why he’d snapped, why he’d chosen that moment to press his advantage. The answer seemed to still revolve around the fact that Harry was giving up everything he was to be what Oliver needed, but Draco didn’t believe that love should change a person so completely. Harry was kidding himself if he thought quitting the Auror department wouldn’t change who he was at the core.

Harry was a hero, he needed to help people and he was going to be miserable if he couldn’t.

“Have you put in your resignation yet?” Draco asked, curiosity getting the better of his manners.

“No,” Harry admitted. “Oliver’s going to be out of town for the next few days and I think I’ve been stalling.”

“For good reason, I’m sure,” Draco offered, taking a spot on the sofa as well. He knew he should have sat in his usual chair and that being so close to Harry was dangerous to his ability to be logical, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Thankfully, Harry didn’t seem to mind. He turned until his knee grazed Draco’s and sighed.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted. “I care about Oliver, I honestly do, but I don’t want to quit being an Auror. I don’t even know if I can. What am I supposed to do with myself everyday if I’m not out catching bad guys?”

“Why don’t you talk to Oliver about it? It seems like you two should be able to reach a compromise,” Draco suggested, even though he would have rather told Harry to give his ungrateful boyfriend the sack.

“I told him about us,” Harry breathed, so quietly that Draco wasn’t sure he heard him correctly.

“You what?”

“I told him why I was coming over here, why you and I were spending so much time together,” Harry explained.

“And what did he say?” Draco asked, his heart beating wildly in his chest. Had Harry come over here to break off their arrangement? Was this the last time he’d be seeing his lovely soul mate?

“He was relieved,” Harry told him. “He thought that there was something else going on between us.”

“I’m sure you explained how unlikely that was,” Draco replied, his feelings mixed on the subject. He was grateful that Harry wasn’t leaving him high and dry, but he didn’t know what to make of this cryptic line of conversation.

“Is it?” Harry asked, leaning in just a little bit closer. “I can’t help but wonder if Oliver’s right.”

Draco swallowed thickly as he took in the full extent of Harry’s half-lidded gaze and his full, pouting lips. He wanted to kiss the man so badly, but a harsh shock of electricity burned through him as a reminder of where that course of action led. “What exactly are you saying, Harry?”

“I’m saying that I feel like I’m cheating on Oliver with you,” he replied. “I know we’ve done nothing more than kiss, but I think the way I feel for you is a betrayal of my relationship with him.”

Draco’s heart beat as if it would come right through his ribcage and it was all he could do to remain impartial. He still had a job here, and that was to ensure Harry’s happiness with Oliver if it could be ensured. “I think you need to go away.”

“What?” Harry balked, standing up as if he were going to run out the door.

The idiocy of Draco’s own words hit him in the next moment and he stopped Harry with a firm grip on his wrist. “That came out wrong, I’m sorry,” he said. “What I meant was that the next step is for you and Oliver to take a vacation together. Most people use that time to propose, but-” he began, and Harry interrupted him with a nod.

“Ron proposed to Luna in Cabo and Clive proposed to Ginny in Bora Bora,” Harry recalled aloud. “I’m not ready to propose to Oliver,” Harry said in the next moment, no longer looking reminiscent but rather panicked instead.

“I’m not saying you should,” Draco quickly corrected. “But a vacation might clear your head – make what you want more obvious to you.”

“Oliver had invited me to Japan with him,” Harry sighed.

“And you didn’t go?” Draco asked.

“Obviously not.” Harry rolled his eyes, but he shot Draco a soft smile. “I didn’t want to leave…London.”

“I see,” Draco replied. His heart was bouncing around his ribcage like a child with too much candy, and he had no idea how to stop it. “Well, London will be here when you return,” Draco assured. “And so will I.”

“Promise?” Harry asked, his voice breathy and wild all at once. Draco stood and placed himself directly in front of the Gryffindor. He wanted to twine his hands around the man’s waist, or thread their fingers together, but the grip on Harry’s wrist would just have to do. He was afraid to push things any further.

“For you, Harry, I’d promise anything,” Draco replied softly.

Harry’s breath caught and his cheeks flamed a bright pink. Before Draco realized what was happening, the brunet had leaned in to capture Draco’s lips, but a firm hand blocked his path. Draco held him off, but just barely. The need to attach himself to the Gryffindor and never let go nearly outweighed his own survival instinct.

“I’ve been wrong to flirt with you this way, Harry. You and I can’t do this. Not now,” he whispered.

Harry looked crushed and Draco wanted to assure him that his heart beat only for him, but Harry only nodded and turned. “You’re right,” he sighed and left Draco’s living room with one final, lingering glace, a glance that nearly had Draco on his knees, begging Harry to come back.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind his Gryffindor, Draco fell to the sofa. “I fucking love you, Harry!” he shouted as loud as he could, knowing it would make no difference. The wards around his home were even more solid than the impenetrable block construction. Harry couldn’t hear him, which was the only reason the magicks had allowed him to utter the words.

Author’s Note: The end is nigh and patience is a virtue and yes, I’ve said this all before. It doesn’t help, does it?