Unintended Consequences

Unintended Consequences



Chapter 3



Harry and Draco were still wrapped around each other when they Disapparated into the living room of Harry’s London flat. Harry sighed when he realised that if he didn’t let go of the delicious man in his arms soon, the situation would start to get rather awkward. Leaning in to breathe the exotic fragrance emanating from Draco’s long, silky neck, he clung to the embrace for as long as he dared. Quietly savouring the sensation of a strong, hard chest against his own, he marvelled at the turn of events that had brought them to this moment. While it was true that he had fully intended to honour his promise to bond with Ginny, it seemed that Providence had thought otherwise, delivering instead his gorgeously fuckable dream man literally straight into his arms.



Not that Draco had any idea how he felt, mind. Indeed, Harry was quite sure the other man was only playing along at all because he was drunk to the eyeballs. Harry sighed again as he wondered how difficult it would be to convince Draco to consummate their bond in order to fully activate the magical connection between them. It was the only way he’d be able to convince Ginny that his bond with Draco was real and therefore couldn’t be broken. Of course, Harry himself had no problem at all with the idea of consummating the bonding. Draco had been the subject of Harry’s fantasies for years, ever since he’d seen him snogging Blaise Zabini in the stairwell of the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts in seventh year. Harry had been heading up the stairs to get some fresh air after a particularly nasty detention with Snape, when he’d come across the pair snuggling in an alcove. Blaise had been sucking rather enthusiastically on Draco’s throat, his back towards Harry. The moonlight that beamed in through the leadlight windows above them had thrown delicate patterns of light across Draco’s face as he’d thrown his head back, exposing the long, delicate line of his neck. Harry had stood mesmerised at the beauty of the boy and when Draco opened his lips slightly to utter a whimpering moan, the sound had gone straight to his groin, and he’d nearly moaned himself.



Since that evening, he had quietly watched Draco as he’d gone about his days in the castle, catching a glimpse here and a peek there of the stunningly elegant boy. Draco was everything Harry was not and, like the opposing force of a magnet to a piece of steel, he was everything Harry had ever wanted. He’d followed Draco around as often as he could, staring in awe at the way his silky, flaxen hair framed the soft, fair skin of his delicately angular face and the way he moved, exposing the long, clean lines of his torso and limbs. At night, Harry had lain in bed and imagined those limbs wrapped around him, clinging to him with abandon as they engaged in acts of pure unadulterated lust. Indeed, it wouldn’t be going too far to say that said imaginings had fuelled more than a few nocturnal emissions, leaving Harry drenched in sweat (among other things) and trembling with the intensity of it all.



When they’d left Hogwarts, Harry had thought he would never see Draco again, and had consoled himself with Ginny, who was more than eager to satisfy his appetites. Well, satisfied wouldn’t be quite the way to describe the effect Ginny had on him in the bedroom. Truth be told, she was a bit of a prude, and Harry had made a habit, more often than not, of closing his eyes during sex, ostensibly in passion, but in actuality so that he could picture himself plunging root deep into a slim, hard body whose blond hair splayed out over the pillow and whose long, pale limbs wrapped around his back. Ginny had never been the wiser.



He’d seen Draco at all the parties of course, usually on the arm of some pretty girl or boy, but had rarely spoken to him, let alone told him how he felt. Instead, he had contented himself with Ginny’s eager attentions, while at the same time enjoying the boisterous warmth that was the Weasley family. He had, it seemed, long ago forgone any hopes of attaining the prize he presently held so longingly in his arms. The silkiness of Draco’s skin, the softness of his hair, the silvery sparkle of his eyes, seemed to engulf him in a radiant glow of warmth that ebbed and flowed through and around him like a soft but steady heartbeat—like his very own life source.



Stifling a sigh he pulled away from Draco to look into his eyes. They were rather unfocussed and appeared to be gazing through him. Harry cocked his head and tried to lock Draco’s gaze in his. Fuck! Draco probably didn’t even register what had happened in his drunken state. He didn’t want to take advantage of the blond, but his choices were limited here. If they didn’t consummate the bond, sealing it forever, Ginny would have an out. On the other hand, Harry was well aware of the fact that bonding to a drunken partner was hardly the ethical thing to do. He pondered his options carefully. It didn’t really matter if they waited until tomorrow to consummate. But would Draco want to, if sober? Could he take that risk? Perhaps he could make him an offer he couldn’t refuse—like a life debt or something. Draco had at least seemed amenable to kissing Harry. And Draco was gay—or at least bi--that he knew. And it’s not as if Harry was the most unattractive man in the world. Not by any stretch. So, the question was: Strike now while the rod—er, iron—was hot, or wait for tomorrow when Draco could give his complete informed consent to the consummation?



What to do? What to do?



In the end, Harry decided to go with the flow. If Draco wanted him, as he appeared to, then it really wasn’t taking advantage, was it? And if Draco really regretted it tomorrow, he could make sure that they came to some amicable agreement about how to go forward. As long as they sealed the deal, so to speak. So, having decided on the best solution, Harry now had to think of the best method for attaining his goal. After much deliberation, the direct approach, he decided, was probably the best way forward.



Stepping away slightly from his non-con husband, he ran his thumb across Draco’s cheekbone before leaning forward and whispering against his lips, “You realise now we have to fuck to make this official, right?” Draco opened his eyes wide and gasped, before rolling his eyes back and fainting dead away.



---------------



When Draco awoke, he couldn’t immediately remember where he was and his head was pounding. There was the chapel in Ottery St Catchpole, smelly flowers and lots of fake doves, he recalled, but looking up at the ceiling above him, he could find no evidence at all of that venue. No, this ceiling was much lower and there were no bunches of white camellias dangling hideously from it. Indeed, it was bare but for a Muggle lightshade made of some kind of glass. What a Muggle lightshade would be doing at a Wizard’s Bonding was anyone’s guess. Perhaps it was part of the ritual—you know, wizard-Muggle relations being the big thing these days and all. Perhaps he had passed out and they had dragged him away and dumped him in some unsuspecting Muggle house nearby.



And what was he doing on the floor, anyway? Oh, that’s right, he had been on the floor at some stage, tied to Potter—lying on top of Potter, in fact. And kissing him! Oh, the kissing! He closed his eyes and swallowed deeply as he recalled that yummy little sliver of memory, lounging and revelling in it as if letting it go would make it disappear forever. Mmmmm… those lips, so soft, so yielding… but passionate, almost scorching! Abruptly he felt his cock stand to attention and his eyes flew open as he looked around to make sure no one was there to notice that little detail. Concentrating hard (he sniggered to himself at his little mental pun) he tried to take his mind back to the chapel—to after the kiss. What then? His poor throbbing head reminded him how drunk he had been and he wondered if he had passed out from complete inebriation. He’d managed to work his way through almost a whole flask of Firewhisky and surely that would be enough to pass out on.



But no… he had been attacked by some Weasleys after the kiss, hadn’t he? Right, yes, the Weasleys. And then? He groaned as he fought through the cobwebs in his brain, trying to focus. The fight, yes, then the red-haired harpy screaming all over the place, and then? Oh. Right. Potter had gone and bloody kissed him again! And then he had Apparated them. So this was where they had Apparated to. Moving his head to look sideways, Draco could make out a couch and coffee table, some kind of big black metal and glass box and a fireplace with a mantle. So, Potter’s house? He was lying on a rug that felt soft to his fingers when he splayed them out. Not bad. The décor was acceptable, he supposed, if a trifle garish. That mirror above the mantle for example. What a horridly ornate frame! What was Harry thinking? And that side table was positively hideous. Who bought oak these days? It was so last year.



But wait. He still didn’t know why he was lying on the floor. Maybe the Apparating had knocked him out. His Apparating record for the day had already been off, so maybe the second Apparation was just too much for him. Yes, that could be it. That must be it. Slowly raising his head and shoulders, he gingerly eased himself upwards to lean on his elbows. So where was Potter? “Potter?” he called out in what was supposed to be a loud voice but which ended up more of a squeak, er, a manly whisper—one that caused him to quickly reach up and grab his temple in pain.



Potter suddenly appeared in the doorway, looking anxious. “Draco? You’re awake! Thank God!” He moved over to where Draco lay on the floor and knelt down beside him. “Are you all right?” He peered into Draco’s eyes worriedly, the sheer greenness of those orbs making Draco blink rapidly as if he’d been struck by a lightening bolt. “Oh God, I am so sorry for being so forward. Honestly, I know you were under the weather but under the circumstances, I thought….” Potter shrugged then. “Well, you seemed to like the kissing….” He finished lamely and a light bulb the size of the Tower of London went off inside Draco’s head. Holy, fuck. Potter had asked him for a shag. His cock, which had wilted slightly in his confusion, sprang immediately to life again, struggling painfully against the buttons of his trousers.



Not one to waste a perfectly good opportunity when it all but cuffed him in the face, Draco immediately gulped a deep breath and reached up to drag Harry—yes! It was Harry, he remembered—down on top of him, conveniently forgetting that Harry only wanted to shag him to seal the bond. Well, perhaps he didn’t forget, as such. It was more in the realm of—oh, say—fuck motivations, let’s get on with it that crossed his mind. To his credit, Harry didn’t miss a beat, obligingly jumping on top of Draco and parting his lips to let Draco once again despoil the inside of his mouth. As far as opportunities were concerned, Draco knew this could very well be—indeed, most probably was—a once off deal, so he determined to put all his enthusiasm into shagging Harry senseless. With that in mind, he set forth to give Harry the fuck of a lifetime, no holds barred.



So he was quite surprised when Harry pulled back suddenly, panting heavily. “Oh God, Draco, you’re still drunk aren’t you? Are you sure you want to do this?”



Jaysus, Mary and Joseph, was the man insane! Here was Draco practically throwing himself at Harry, and Harry—God bless him—was having a bloody full-on, get-thee-to-a-nunnery, Gryffindor moral attack. Draco inwardly rolled his eyes and tied to control his breathing, which had become quite, er, laboured under the aforesaid lustful onslaught. Harry was looking down at him anxiously again and Draco knew there would be nothing for it but to play his cards for all he was worth.



“Harry, I’m quite, quite sober now,” he purred in his most reassuring voice, making sure to lower his lashes provocatively. “And I’m quite happy to help you, here. Who’d turn down a perfectly good shag?” Draco tried to sound matter-of-fact, but Harry still looked doubtful. So he laid down his trump card. “Anything to get back at the Weasleys.” He shot Harry his most devious smirk, the one where he looked both sexy-as-hell and amused-beyond-belief at the same time.



“Well… if you say so, Draco. If you’re sure….” Harry gazed down at him with the cutest look on his face—all concerned but with traces of lust around the edges, and Draco knew he had him.



“Of course I’m sure.” Draco sat up further then and made to stand, reaching down to grab Harry’s hand as he did so. He dusted himself off before turning to help Harry do the same, his hands lingering a little longer than necessary on the other boy’s arse. “Look, let’s be civilised about this. I’m sure you have a bed around here somewhere. We want to make sure we do this properly.” He winked at Harry, who blushed ever so sweetly. “You know, for the, er, bond and all.”



“Right! Right. The, er, bond. Yes, of course.” Harry flushed beet-red then and looked away quickly. Oh, God, he was gorgeous when he was embarrassed. “The bedroom’s down here.” Harry took Draco’s hand in his and pulled him gently down the hallway towards what Draco supposed was Harry’s own bedroom. Harry opened the door to a large, airy bedchamber furnished with a huge, carved, mahogany four-poster bed dressed with a subtly elegant emerald and silver coverlet. There were delicate lace curtains at the window that let the light through in soft, muted patterns across the Audubon rug that lay at the centre of the room. Draco inwardly sqeed at the perfectly romantic tableau it presented. Outwardly, however, he looked around the room non-committedly as if to say it’ll do.



“Slytherin colours?” Draco raised his eyebrows at Harry, who squirmed uncomfortably. Draco took pity on him then, and moved to draw him into a warm embrace. “Looks very comfy,” he added, looking earnestly into Harry’s eyes, which had clouded over with lust. Yes! He still had it! He smoothly moved in for the kill, capturing Harry’s lips, tenderly at first, just nipping and sucking at the soft edges before raining kisses down Harry’s jaw. When he reached the place where Harry’s earlobe joined the tender skin of his throat, he nibbled gently, taking the lobe in between his teeth before sucking it tenderly and moving his tongue along the curve of the shell of Harry’s ear. He felt Harry relax in his arms, shivering noticeable with pleasure.



“Draco?” Harry’s breath was coming in short gasps as Draco licked and sucked on the tanned skin of his neck.



“Mmmm?” Draco was a little distracted, as you can imagine.



“Um, I’ve, er… Oh, that feels so good!” Harry leaned his head further back to give Draco better access.



“What’s that, sweetheart?” Draco replied absently as he nipped a line along Harry’s collarbone.



“Unnhhhhhh! Ohhh! Oh, Draco….” Harry’s breath was coming in soft rasps now. “I’ve, um, never… Oh, oooooh! Oh…. I’ve never been… Gahhhh! With another man before.”



Oh, Fuck! That did it. Draco sighed and pulled back slightly. He could pretend Harry really wanted him. He could pretend he was giving Harry what he wanted and that it was for Harry’s own good. But he was damned sure he couldn’t possibly take advantage of someone—of Harry—his Harry—when they were in such a vulnerable state. He had adored Harry from afar for so long, he knew it had to be prefect.



Sighing gently to himself, Draco let go of his dream and carefully pulled Harry flush against him, gently massaging his back in small, reassuring circles. Tenderly pushing back a stray strand of hair from where it hid Harry’s scar, Draco looked at him tenderly and said, “Okay, Harry, You can fuck me first, then.”