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The Thing About One-Night Stands
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
7
Views:
10,933
Reviews:
110
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
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Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
7
Views:
10,933
Reviews:
110
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Companionable Magic
Thanks again to everyone who’s been reading and reviewing. *Does a happy dance*
Special thanks to the wonderful tari_sue on LJ who has offered to beta for me. Although the updates might be a bit delayed, the reading should be a lot smoother with the fixed grammar and what not. :)
***
“I don’t understand what you were thinking. What in the world was going through your head?” Hermione’s voice was confused and prodding, but not harsh.
“It just… I wasn’t thinking, alright? I got caught up in the moment,” Harry said in a tone a child might use when being scolded by his parents.
“Really? Are you sure that when you went out there with him sex wasn’t something you were hoping for?”
Harry squeezed his hands into fists. He didn’t know anymore, everything had become all cluttered in his mind. “It was a really bad idea. I should have never agreed to anything with Malfoy in the first place.”
“I could have told you that, mate,” Ron said, still looking very pale from learning of what had just happened. For a while he had mumbled something about ‘just outside my bookstore’ a few times to himself with distantly focused eyes.
Harry winced when he felt a sharp jab in his neck.
“Sorry,” Hermione mumbled, lifting her wand back a little to perform the healing spell. Malfoy had left fucking love bites all over his neck, the sod. What worried Harry so much was that when Hermione had pointed the marks out and offered to heal them, a large, treacherous, part of himself didn’t want them gone.
“So what’s next? Was that all he wanted, a quick…” Hermione faltered for a moment, cheeks tinting pink, “sexual interaction?”
Harry sighed and took off black-framed glasses to rub his eyes with the back of his fist. “He was – propositioning me. I don’t know if… if what we did was ever planned or not, how can you tell with Malfoy? But it doesn't matter, that’s the end of it.”
“Harry,” Hermione said with an exasperated sounding voice.
“Okay,” Ron said, standing up and clapping his hands together. “Moving on then. We should get back out there, Sara can’t handle all those customers herself.”
Hermione looked about to argue, but then her brow wrinkled and her eyes widened, a worried look settling into her features and she nodded hastily.
“Right. Harry,” she said as she opened the door to of the employee lounge, “we’ll talk later at the Weasleys’ tonight. You are coming, aren’t you?”
Before he could even answer she was rushing out the door, off to the checkout section at the front of the store. Snickering, Ron followed.
***
It didn’t take long for Harry to figure out he was the only one at the Weasleys’ dinner party without a date. Okay, so that wasn’t exactly true. Teddy didn’t have a date. Of course, Teddy also wore diapers and called Hermione ‘Hiimoo’ so he wasn’t exactly in the same boat. Harry loved the Weasleys, they were as close a thing to a real family he had ever had, but walking around at their party made him feel lonely. He might as well have worn a sign that said ‘SINGLE LOSER’, seeing all the pitied looks from them.
They joked and smiled and shared secret looks with their dates and by the dessert course Harry shoveled his food down just so he could excuse himself for a bit of fresh air. Of course, as he walked past the table he had to clench his jaw shut from shouting at them to stop looking so sympathetically at him. He was single, for Pete’s sake, there were worse things to be. It wasn’t like he was about to go off and face a dark lord and die or something. Again.
On his way out of the kitchen’s back door he had to side step Fleur and Bill kissing, both sets of hands on her very swollen belly. Joy, soon even Teddy would have a partner, of sorts, at these little get-togethers. Harry sighed and tried to fight down the feeling of loneliness.
The air was cool against his flushed skin. With all the warm bodies moving around the Burrow, it was only natural that the place got a bit stuffy at these gatherings. While his eyes were adjusting to the dark, his ears still rang with the sound of clinking silverware against dishes and the rumbling of chatter. He watched as a gnome made its way carefully across a stretch of grass, hopping on its stubby legs quickly, and dived for cover into the first bush it reached.
He felt something brush his skin and a cool hand was placed at the nape of his neck.
“Hey Ginny,” he said, smiling down at her. She looked up and rested her head on his shoulder, red hair spilling down his chest.
“You look sad,” she said, pouting, “What’s wrong?”
Harry shrugged, causing her head to lift with his shoulder. “I’m fine.”
She was quiet for a while, studying his face. He noticed the splash of makeup across her cheekbones and eyes. The blue eye shadow matched the color of her summer dress quiet nicely and Merlin could he be any gayer?
“They’ve all been talking,” Ginny said quietly. “We’re worried about you.”
“Hmm.” It was bad enough Hermione and Ron knew so much about his – very personal – sex life. He wasn’t particularly up for a conversation again with anyone, so he hoped maybe she could get the clue from his dismissive attitude.
She obviously chose to ignore it and plunged on. “You don’t have a job. Your only hobby is flying, which you don’t do much anymore. The only time you ever socialize with anyone is when Hermione or Ron drag you along. You’re… you don’t have a boyfriend.”
“I keep myself busy helping Andromeda watch over Teddy,” he said, racking his brains for a change of subject. “So how are things with Smith?”
Smith, in his opinion, seemed like a right bastard most the time. But he made Ginny happy, and as long as that was the case they all accepted him. It still didn’t mean Harry had to like the arse.
“We’re happy,” Ginny said, smiling brightly up at him. “I feel so lucky every day to have him. I love him so much.”
Harry nodded and listened to her rambles about what a great bloke Smith was while trying to keep down his dinner. Her arms moved swiftly in grand gesticulations, punctuating her words with a physical exclamation. At least Ginny had evidently forgotten about him and the topic she had been pursuing.
“… and every morning he wakes me up and we make breakfast together. He’s really good at making eggs just how I like them. He’s so—”
“Ginny?” Harry interrupted when he didn’t think he could take much more of her saying he’s so perfect. Besides, a question had been brewing in the back of his mind for a while and he was itching to ask it. “You and Smith, well, it all started as a bit of bad judgment when you were drunk, didn’t it? I remember you crying to Hermione about what a mistake it was.”
“Hermione telling you I cried to her isn’t the same thing as you remembering,” she said, placing her hands on her hips and lifting her chin.
“Uh. Right, sorry. But I was wondering… what changed? How did it go from a one off to… to what it is now?”
Ginny smiled again, a dreamy look in her eyes. “I found out how perfect we are for each other.”
Ugh. If she started spewing stuff about soul mates and destined lovers he might really be sick. “How?”
“Well, mostly because of our magic. It was hard to remember that from the first night. I was just so…” she blushed but continued, “drunk. But I learned later we have companionable magic.”
“Oh,” he said and shifted a bit on the heals of his feet. “What’s that mean?”
“Sometimes I forget you were raised by muggles. Its every little girl’s dream when she’s young, to find someone with companionable magic to hers,” she said, looking up at the sky and smiling. “It’s exactly as it sounds, their magic reacts together in a friendly sort of way, playing off each other and combining to strengthen and grow.”
“I’ve never heard of that.”
“Really? Ask Hermione, she was studying it a while back, I think.”
“How did you know? With Smith, I mean.”
She shrugged. “Sometimes these things just draw people together. Sometimes our magic seems to have a mind of it’s own, you know? But there are certain things that happen.” She paused and her eyes took on a dreamy look. “With Zach, sometimes when we… you know, I can almost hear a whisper of our magic in the air when I know what to listen for. Like bees buzzing really far away.”
Harry could feel his whole body stiffen, forcing away the thoughts threatening to make their way into his mind.
“Did I ever tell you that Zach is related to the Helga Hufflepuff? It’s no wonder he was put into Hufflepuff, he’s closely related to the late Hepzibah Smith, who was a descendant of Helga Hufflepuff.”
“Fascinating…” Harry mumbled, too lost in his own thoughts to listen. He thought perhaps he should talk with Hermione, but wondered how much he could say without giving out too much information.
The timing turned out perfect. He heard Ginny squeal as she took off running. When he turned he saw a blond head of hair bobbing through the gardens, a look of disgust on his face as he eyed the patchy grass and overgrown bushes. Harry ignored Ginny and Smith’s reunion kiss and made his way back into the Burrow.
***
A cast-iron skillet flew by his head, missing by hardly an inch. It arched around and landed in the sink, where a few other pots and pans were hovering in the air as a sponge worked its way over their surface.
“Sorry dear!” Mrs. Weasley said, bounding into view to check the non-existent damage. She clucked her tongue. “Percy has me out of sorts with all this dreadful news he’s bringing home from the ministry. Talk of that awful serial killer never fails to upset me.”
“It’s alright. Have you seen Hermione?”
“Yes, dear. Right through there,” she said, distractedly pointing her wand towards the living room.
Not surprisingly, he found Hermione glued to Ron’s side. They were sitting in an armchair, Hermione on his lap and his arms around her waist, talking to Charlie and his new girlfriend. They were in the middle of a conversation that, by the sounds of it, pertained to the latest dragon project. Harry caught Hermione’s eye silently, hoping she’d get the message.
As proof to their deep connection, during a pause in the conversation she faked a few sneezes and excused herself, saying she needed a bit of air. Ron, knowing her well enough and catching Harry standing in the doorway, went along with it easily and accepted after one turned down offer not to accompany her. The three of them really were synced well.
Silently, he made his way with Hermione back outside, returning to the same little spot in the Weasley backyard that Harry had been talking with Ginny only moments before. Hermione was tugging at her hair and wrapping it around her index finger, a nervous habit he noticed she had picked up.
“Relax Hermione. I wanted to ask you something that’s all, seeing as how you’re a walking fountain of knowledge.”
She nodded, and gestured towards the ground. They sat on the grass with their sides pressed against each other, facing away from the burrow. Her wand twitch didn’t go unnoticed and he knew she had cast a nonverbal privacy spell.
“Ginny tells me she and Smith have companionable magic,” he said.
“Or so she thinks.”
Harry frowned. “What’s that mean?”
“Companionable magic isn’t quite as simple as she thinks it is.” Hermione paused to draw in a large breath. “No one is really sure if it’s a separate reaction of two wizards’ magic, or if it follows after the wizards establish a bond. There are arguments for both sides.”
She huffed for a moment, her eyes bright with knowledge. “The one thing that is known is that actual companionable magic is a very rare thing. The French call it magie de l'amant, or lovers’ magic because it only happens with people who are, well, lovers and is completely different from the magical bonds between family members and friends. ”
Harry took a second to digest her quick-spoken words. “So you don’t think she has it with Smith?”
Hermione sighed and leaned a little more against him. “True cases are just really rare, only a handful recorded in history. I think she wants to have it so badly that she’s convinced herself she does.”
“But what about – she told me that she can hear buzzing sometimes with him. Isn’t that proof?”
“Maybe. The buzzing is actually just the magic at a greater concentration outside the wizard’s body than they’re normally used to. Supposedly it mingles around them with their partner’s magic.” She paused for a moment to pluck a few blades of grass and toss them in front of her, watching as they swirled to the ground.
“And it’s true, some wizards with proven companionable magic bonds claim they can hear a faint buzzing when the couples are doing something… significant together. Like making love or fighting in life or death situations.” By this point, Hermione’s voice had slipped into what Harry liked to call lecture mode. When it usually happened, he tended to tune out, but now he was completely enraptured.
“There have been two studies to confirm that couples magic reacted so much that people could actually hear the buzzing for themselves. Francis Dienrent, a specialist who has studied cases of companionable magic, theorizes that it’s possible for magic to be so compatible that it can merge together and manifest itself into energies much more powerful than any known magic produced with a wand, including the Elder wand.”
“Is it…” Harry swallowed. “Is it like the zapping sound of static electricity?”
“I— some people have compared it to the sound of muggle electricity.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know,” he said, his voice rising a little in pitch. “I’m just trying to get a better idea of it, that’s all. Is it ever a loud noise in… in sexual situations?”
She continued to study him suspiciously for a moment, then shook her head. “No, never. It’s always so quiet that unless the witch or wizard is listening for it, it wouldn’t be noticed. The only time it’s ever been at a decently audible level was under life and death scenarios.”
Harry let out a deep breath very heavily. So relieved was he that he could have jumped up and done a little jig right there. He must have imagined things or heard something else with Malfoy because that noise had been damn pronounced their second encounter. And even the first, if he thought about it. Or at least, it was decently audible. And really, lovers’ magic? He and Draco were anything but lovers.
“What did you think of Brandon?” Hermione asked so quietly he almost didn’t hear her. The change of subject disoriented him for a moment.
“Um. Nice bloke. Good looking. Seems fun.”
“Only worth sentence fragments?” She said, a ghost of a smile on her lips.
Harry shrugged. “I didn’t really get to know him before Malfoy showed up. Seemed nice enough.”
“He’s asked for your floo address. Do I have your permission to give it to him?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“You only guess?” Hermione said, nudging his shoulder.
He smiled at her. “I would like to see him again sometime. Maybe get to know him.”
“And is,” Hermione bit her lip for a moment, but continued. “Is Malfoy out of the picture?”
Harry wanted to kill the little voice in his head that said not if he could help it.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t sound very certain.”
His mind, the treacherous little bugger, flashed memories of how charming and gentle Malfoy had been in all their… encounters. So what if he was a generous- lover. He wasn’t Harry’s lover, that was for sure. The thing about one-night stands is they aren’t permanent. And still, Malfoy’s offer had lingered in the back of his mind since earlier that day.
Whatever the case was, he didn’t really feel like sitting here and talking relationships with Hermione. He was gay, not a gossiping girl. He nudged her playfully, quickly thinking of ways to get the attention off him and her talking again. “You tell me what to do about him, Hermione. You’re always right.”
She huffed. “I am not perfect, and I certainly don’t always know what’s right.”
“Sure,” Harry said teasingly.
“Harry, you are talking to a girl who once said that death was worse than expulsion.”
Harry laughed and ignored her glare. The sincerity of it was lost by the way the corner of her mouth twitched upwards.
“I remember that. Then you were corrupted by Ron and myself,” he said, wagging his eyebrows.
“Please,” Hermione scoffed. “I just straightened out my priorities.”
“You went from your greatest fear being expulsion, to skipping out on your seventh year to help me.” He closed his mouth at the swell of emotions that came out of nowhere and bubbled to the surface, threatening to spill over in words.
He smiled and gave her a one armed hug around her shoulders. He didn’t know if she would ever understand how important she had been to him through the years. He’d have been dead long ago if it weren’t for her and Ron.
Strangely enough, his mind snuck in the thought that he’d have been dead if it weren’t for what Malfoy did during the war. And then another treacherous thought came to mind, a question that he had to fight down. What if Malfoy and he had companionable magic, and that had been the reason his wand had worked so well for Harry?
But that was preposterous.
***
Harry paced back and forth in front of his kitchen table, a quill in one hand while the other ran nervously through his hair. He hadn’t been able to sleep at all. Actually, after hours of trying and failing to work things about Malfoy out in his head, he’d been able to sleep. Except, that was, for a dream that left him uncomfortably aroused and with even more thoughts to haunt his sleep.
He’d received a number of owls the past few days from Malfoy reminding him of the offer that still stood. A few said that the wards at Malfoy’s house were open to him and anytime he wanted to stop by would be fine. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought Malfoy really wanted him to come. He snorted to himself. He’s just desperate for sex is all, the horny bugger.
Now it was five in the morning and he had spent the past half hour writing out a pros and cons list of sleeping with Malfoy. It started out with his fear that sex with a man would hurt, but he knew from previous experience that Malfoy would be gentle and slow and no doubt make it pleasant for him. Plus, he couldn’t really find a way around that, considering he was gay and all.
He’d written out a few things, mostly repetitive ideas, a few treacherous things he had to cross out and correct, but he couldn’t be blamed because it was early morning and he hadn’t slept at all that night. No, the dream didn’t count as sleep.
He had tried to distract himself with music and books, but his mind kept traveling back to Draco. A brown owl hooted near the window and he sighed, hoping it wasn’t another letter already. Quietly he made his way over to the owl and opened the window, watching as it flew in and dropped the Daily Prophet on the table. Usually it just left the morning edition outside, but he figured since his lights were still on it decided to deliver it directly. He fished around for a bit of bread and opened the window when the bird had finished.
He glanced down at the tightly rolled up paper, a curved picture warped in the bend. Maybe there would be something in the Prophet to take his mind off things. He picked up the paper and let his eyes scan the headline. Heart Killer’s Latest Victim Found!
Harry cringed and through it down. That was a pleasant reminder why he never read the newspaper.
Dragging his hand through his hair again, he looked down at the list once more.
Bad
1. Might Hurt
2. I’d be losing my virginity to him
3. He’d be an arse to me after
4. The sex might be awkward
5. He’s a complete bastard
6. He’s Malfoy
7. What would my friends think?
8.
Good*
1. He’d make it good (most likely)
2. Don’t be such a girl
3. He’d be {-sweet-} careful during sex
4. The sex would most likely be fantastic
5. {-I like him-} He’s attractive
6. I don’t {want} have anyone else
7. It’s just a one-night stand
8.
Number eight had a bunch of black smudges next to it where he had laid his quill multiple times to write more, only to be stumped. Next to the list was Malfoy’s latest letter, deeply creased where he had folded it so many times. He was not going to read it again. Especially because the last time he had, he’d been forced to… get rid of a little problem afterwards. Not exactly wanking, more like rutting against his mattress desperately until he came. Not that he had read it in bed on purpose. That was just… coincidence.
Okay, well maybe he should read the letter one more time. After all, it had Malfoy’s reasoning of why he should consider it. It’s only fair to evaluate the situation from all angles in order to make the best decision, that’s what Hermione would have told him to do anyway. And he was just taking the letter into his bedroom because he wanted to get some sleep afterwards, that’s all. And, well, his pajama bottoms were a tad uncomfortable, that was the only reason he was taking them off.
He started to read Malfoy’s poncy handwriting, ignoring the fact that he was already rubbing himself with the palm of his hand. He was just, um, itching is all.
Harry,
Quit being stubborn. These letters will keep coming until you agree. I know you want it. Sex would be mind-blowing between us, and there’s no reason to deny yourself that since you’re not currently involved with someone. Once again, the wards have been set to let you in whenever you decide to come.
I’ll tell you another scenario of what could happen if you visited. I’d greet you at the door with nothing on. I know you appreciate my body, soft and firm and warm, begging for your touch. I’d let you do whatever you wanted to me, right there and right then. Knowing you, that would start with a touch.
You’d run your hands all over my skin as I trembled from the erotic nature of you feeling me. Where would you touch me, Harry? My arms? Down my chest, up my thighs? You’re shy, that’s just your charming nature, so I don’t think you’d touch my cock without prompting.
So I’d prompt you. I’d be so turned on from your teasing and I’d need more, harder, firmer, dirtier touches. I’d take your wrist and move it down until you squeezed at the head. You’d pull and pull, applying pressure to every sensitive area in the most magnificent ways. I’ll tell you a secret, you know how to touch me just right, and you drive me absolutely berserk with desire. Since the first time I felt your hands on me, I’ve wanked imagining it was you touching me, caressing me, bringing me unimaginable pleasures.
After you brought me off, I’d be able to think more clearly. And I’d think you were wearing far too much. I’d strip you of your clothes, slowly, sensually, making sure to brush your skin ‘accidentally’ with my knuckles as I pulled off your garments. Merlin you have a wonderful body, who would have ever thought with the hideous clothes you wear? I’ve been dreaming of your golden skin for days, let me see it again.
You want to find out what happens next? Come, Harry, you know you’re dying to. Think about it: tremendously hot sex without any emotional attachment getting in the way.
-Draco
Harry cast a quick cleaning spell over himself and let the letter drop from his limp fingers to the floor. Rolling over, he sighed and pulled up the covers. Even in his letters Malfoy was an arrogant sod. Thankfully, he was sure to get some sleep now.
He had made his decision.
***
TBC
A/N
Sorry, in the "good" list above, I can't make the text have a strike through it. >.<
Just uh... pretend {-blah-} is a crossed out word. *cough*
Special thanks to the wonderful tari_sue on LJ who has offered to beta for me. Although the updates might be a bit delayed, the reading should be a lot smoother with the fixed grammar and what not. :)
***
“I don’t understand what you were thinking. What in the world was going through your head?” Hermione’s voice was confused and prodding, but not harsh.
“It just… I wasn’t thinking, alright? I got caught up in the moment,” Harry said in a tone a child might use when being scolded by his parents.
“Really? Are you sure that when you went out there with him sex wasn’t something you were hoping for?”
Harry squeezed his hands into fists. He didn’t know anymore, everything had become all cluttered in his mind. “It was a really bad idea. I should have never agreed to anything with Malfoy in the first place.”
“I could have told you that, mate,” Ron said, still looking very pale from learning of what had just happened. For a while he had mumbled something about ‘just outside my bookstore’ a few times to himself with distantly focused eyes.
Harry winced when he felt a sharp jab in his neck.
“Sorry,” Hermione mumbled, lifting her wand back a little to perform the healing spell. Malfoy had left fucking love bites all over his neck, the sod. What worried Harry so much was that when Hermione had pointed the marks out and offered to heal them, a large, treacherous, part of himself didn’t want them gone.
“So what’s next? Was that all he wanted, a quick…” Hermione faltered for a moment, cheeks tinting pink, “sexual interaction?”
Harry sighed and took off black-framed glasses to rub his eyes with the back of his fist. “He was – propositioning me. I don’t know if… if what we did was ever planned or not, how can you tell with Malfoy? But it doesn't matter, that’s the end of it.”
“Harry,” Hermione said with an exasperated sounding voice.
“Okay,” Ron said, standing up and clapping his hands together. “Moving on then. We should get back out there, Sara can’t handle all those customers herself.”
Hermione looked about to argue, but then her brow wrinkled and her eyes widened, a worried look settling into her features and she nodded hastily.
“Right. Harry,” she said as she opened the door to of the employee lounge, “we’ll talk later at the Weasleys’ tonight. You are coming, aren’t you?”
Before he could even answer she was rushing out the door, off to the checkout section at the front of the store. Snickering, Ron followed.
***
It didn’t take long for Harry to figure out he was the only one at the Weasleys’ dinner party without a date. Okay, so that wasn’t exactly true. Teddy didn’t have a date. Of course, Teddy also wore diapers and called Hermione ‘Hiimoo’ so he wasn’t exactly in the same boat. Harry loved the Weasleys, they were as close a thing to a real family he had ever had, but walking around at their party made him feel lonely. He might as well have worn a sign that said ‘SINGLE LOSER’, seeing all the pitied looks from them.
They joked and smiled and shared secret looks with their dates and by the dessert course Harry shoveled his food down just so he could excuse himself for a bit of fresh air. Of course, as he walked past the table he had to clench his jaw shut from shouting at them to stop looking so sympathetically at him. He was single, for Pete’s sake, there were worse things to be. It wasn’t like he was about to go off and face a dark lord and die or something. Again.
On his way out of the kitchen’s back door he had to side step Fleur and Bill kissing, both sets of hands on her very swollen belly. Joy, soon even Teddy would have a partner, of sorts, at these little get-togethers. Harry sighed and tried to fight down the feeling of loneliness.
The air was cool against his flushed skin. With all the warm bodies moving around the Burrow, it was only natural that the place got a bit stuffy at these gatherings. While his eyes were adjusting to the dark, his ears still rang with the sound of clinking silverware against dishes and the rumbling of chatter. He watched as a gnome made its way carefully across a stretch of grass, hopping on its stubby legs quickly, and dived for cover into the first bush it reached.
He felt something brush his skin and a cool hand was placed at the nape of his neck.
“Hey Ginny,” he said, smiling down at her. She looked up and rested her head on his shoulder, red hair spilling down his chest.
“You look sad,” she said, pouting, “What’s wrong?”
Harry shrugged, causing her head to lift with his shoulder. “I’m fine.”
She was quiet for a while, studying his face. He noticed the splash of makeup across her cheekbones and eyes. The blue eye shadow matched the color of her summer dress quiet nicely and Merlin could he be any gayer?
“They’ve all been talking,” Ginny said quietly. “We’re worried about you.”
“Hmm.” It was bad enough Hermione and Ron knew so much about his – very personal – sex life. He wasn’t particularly up for a conversation again with anyone, so he hoped maybe she could get the clue from his dismissive attitude.
She obviously chose to ignore it and plunged on. “You don’t have a job. Your only hobby is flying, which you don’t do much anymore. The only time you ever socialize with anyone is when Hermione or Ron drag you along. You’re… you don’t have a boyfriend.”
“I keep myself busy helping Andromeda watch over Teddy,” he said, racking his brains for a change of subject. “So how are things with Smith?”
Smith, in his opinion, seemed like a right bastard most the time. But he made Ginny happy, and as long as that was the case they all accepted him. It still didn’t mean Harry had to like the arse.
“We’re happy,” Ginny said, smiling brightly up at him. “I feel so lucky every day to have him. I love him so much.”
Harry nodded and listened to her rambles about what a great bloke Smith was while trying to keep down his dinner. Her arms moved swiftly in grand gesticulations, punctuating her words with a physical exclamation. At least Ginny had evidently forgotten about him and the topic she had been pursuing.
“… and every morning he wakes me up and we make breakfast together. He’s really good at making eggs just how I like them. He’s so—”
“Ginny?” Harry interrupted when he didn’t think he could take much more of her saying he’s so perfect. Besides, a question had been brewing in the back of his mind for a while and he was itching to ask it. “You and Smith, well, it all started as a bit of bad judgment when you were drunk, didn’t it? I remember you crying to Hermione about what a mistake it was.”
“Hermione telling you I cried to her isn’t the same thing as you remembering,” she said, placing her hands on her hips and lifting her chin.
“Uh. Right, sorry. But I was wondering… what changed? How did it go from a one off to… to what it is now?”
Ginny smiled again, a dreamy look in her eyes. “I found out how perfect we are for each other.”
Ugh. If she started spewing stuff about soul mates and destined lovers he might really be sick. “How?”
“Well, mostly because of our magic. It was hard to remember that from the first night. I was just so…” she blushed but continued, “drunk. But I learned later we have companionable magic.”
“Oh,” he said and shifted a bit on the heals of his feet. “What’s that mean?”
“Sometimes I forget you were raised by muggles. Its every little girl’s dream when she’s young, to find someone with companionable magic to hers,” she said, looking up at the sky and smiling. “It’s exactly as it sounds, their magic reacts together in a friendly sort of way, playing off each other and combining to strengthen and grow.”
“I’ve never heard of that.”
“Really? Ask Hermione, she was studying it a while back, I think.”
“How did you know? With Smith, I mean.”
She shrugged. “Sometimes these things just draw people together. Sometimes our magic seems to have a mind of it’s own, you know? But there are certain things that happen.” She paused and her eyes took on a dreamy look. “With Zach, sometimes when we… you know, I can almost hear a whisper of our magic in the air when I know what to listen for. Like bees buzzing really far away.”
Harry could feel his whole body stiffen, forcing away the thoughts threatening to make their way into his mind.
“Did I ever tell you that Zach is related to the Helga Hufflepuff? It’s no wonder he was put into Hufflepuff, he’s closely related to the late Hepzibah Smith, who was a descendant of Helga Hufflepuff.”
“Fascinating…” Harry mumbled, too lost in his own thoughts to listen. He thought perhaps he should talk with Hermione, but wondered how much he could say without giving out too much information.
The timing turned out perfect. He heard Ginny squeal as she took off running. When he turned he saw a blond head of hair bobbing through the gardens, a look of disgust on his face as he eyed the patchy grass and overgrown bushes. Harry ignored Ginny and Smith’s reunion kiss and made his way back into the Burrow.
***
A cast-iron skillet flew by his head, missing by hardly an inch. It arched around and landed in the sink, where a few other pots and pans were hovering in the air as a sponge worked its way over their surface.
“Sorry dear!” Mrs. Weasley said, bounding into view to check the non-existent damage. She clucked her tongue. “Percy has me out of sorts with all this dreadful news he’s bringing home from the ministry. Talk of that awful serial killer never fails to upset me.”
“It’s alright. Have you seen Hermione?”
“Yes, dear. Right through there,” she said, distractedly pointing her wand towards the living room.
Not surprisingly, he found Hermione glued to Ron’s side. They were sitting in an armchair, Hermione on his lap and his arms around her waist, talking to Charlie and his new girlfriend. They were in the middle of a conversation that, by the sounds of it, pertained to the latest dragon project. Harry caught Hermione’s eye silently, hoping she’d get the message.
As proof to their deep connection, during a pause in the conversation she faked a few sneezes and excused herself, saying she needed a bit of air. Ron, knowing her well enough and catching Harry standing in the doorway, went along with it easily and accepted after one turned down offer not to accompany her. The three of them really were synced well.
Silently, he made his way with Hermione back outside, returning to the same little spot in the Weasley backyard that Harry had been talking with Ginny only moments before. Hermione was tugging at her hair and wrapping it around her index finger, a nervous habit he noticed she had picked up.
“Relax Hermione. I wanted to ask you something that’s all, seeing as how you’re a walking fountain of knowledge.”
She nodded, and gestured towards the ground. They sat on the grass with their sides pressed against each other, facing away from the burrow. Her wand twitch didn’t go unnoticed and he knew she had cast a nonverbal privacy spell.
“Ginny tells me she and Smith have companionable magic,” he said.
“Or so she thinks.”
Harry frowned. “What’s that mean?”
“Companionable magic isn’t quite as simple as she thinks it is.” Hermione paused to draw in a large breath. “No one is really sure if it’s a separate reaction of two wizards’ magic, or if it follows after the wizards establish a bond. There are arguments for both sides.”
She huffed for a moment, her eyes bright with knowledge. “The one thing that is known is that actual companionable magic is a very rare thing. The French call it magie de l'amant, or lovers’ magic because it only happens with people who are, well, lovers and is completely different from the magical bonds between family members and friends. ”
Harry took a second to digest her quick-spoken words. “So you don’t think she has it with Smith?”
Hermione sighed and leaned a little more against him. “True cases are just really rare, only a handful recorded in history. I think she wants to have it so badly that she’s convinced herself she does.”
“But what about – she told me that she can hear buzzing sometimes with him. Isn’t that proof?”
“Maybe. The buzzing is actually just the magic at a greater concentration outside the wizard’s body than they’re normally used to. Supposedly it mingles around them with their partner’s magic.” She paused for a moment to pluck a few blades of grass and toss them in front of her, watching as they swirled to the ground.
“And it’s true, some wizards with proven companionable magic bonds claim they can hear a faint buzzing when the couples are doing something… significant together. Like making love or fighting in life or death situations.” By this point, Hermione’s voice had slipped into what Harry liked to call lecture mode. When it usually happened, he tended to tune out, but now he was completely enraptured.
“There have been two studies to confirm that couples magic reacted so much that people could actually hear the buzzing for themselves. Francis Dienrent, a specialist who has studied cases of companionable magic, theorizes that it’s possible for magic to be so compatible that it can merge together and manifest itself into energies much more powerful than any known magic produced with a wand, including the Elder wand.”
“Is it…” Harry swallowed. “Is it like the zapping sound of static electricity?”
“I— some people have compared it to the sound of muggle electricity.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know,” he said, his voice rising a little in pitch. “I’m just trying to get a better idea of it, that’s all. Is it ever a loud noise in… in sexual situations?”
She continued to study him suspiciously for a moment, then shook her head. “No, never. It’s always so quiet that unless the witch or wizard is listening for it, it wouldn’t be noticed. The only time it’s ever been at a decently audible level was under life and death scenarios.”
Harry let out a deep breath very heavily. So relieved was he that he could have jumped up and done a little jig right there. He must have imagined things or heard something else with Malfoy because that noise had been damn pronounced their second encounter. And even the first, if he thought about it. Or at least, it was decently audible. And really, lovers’ magic? He and Draco were anything but lovers.
“What did you think of Brandon?” Hermione asked so quietly he almost didn’t hear her. The change of subject disoriented him for a moment.
“Um. Nice bloke. Good looking. Seems fun.”
“Only worth sentence fragments?” She said, a ghost of a smile on her lips.
Harry shrugged. “I didn’t really get to know him before Malfoy showed up. Seemed nice enough.”
“He’s asked for your floo address. Do I have your permission to give it to him?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“You only guess?” Hermione said, nudging his shoulder.
He smiled at her. “I would like to see him again sometime. Maybe get to know him.”
“And is,” Hermione bit her lip for a moment, but continued. “Is Malfoy out of the picture?”
Harry wanted to kill the little voice in his head that said not if he could help it.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t sound very certain.”
His mind, the treacherous little bugger, flashed memories of how charming and gentle Malfoy had been in all their… encounters. So what if he was a generous- lover. He wasn’t Harry’s lover, that was for sure. The thing about one-night stands is they aren’t permanent. And still, Malfoy’s offer had lingered in the back of his mind since earlier that day.
Whatever the case was, he didn’t really feel like sitting here and talking relationships with Hermione. He was gay, not a gossiping girl. He nudged her playfully, quickly thinking of ways to get the attention off him and her talking again. “You tell me what to do about him, Hermione. You’re always right.”
She huffed. “I am not perfect, and I certainly don’t always know what’s right.”
“Sure,” Harry said teasingly.
“Harry, you are talking to a girl who once said that death was worse than expulsion.”
Harry laughed and ignored her glare. The sincerity of it was lost by the way the corner of her mouth twitched upwards.
“I remember that. Then you were corrupted by Ron and myself,” he said, wagging his eyebrows.
“Please,” Hermione scoffed. “I just straightened out my priorities.”
“You went from your greatest fear being expulsion, to skipping out on your seventh year to help me.” He closed his mouth at the swell of emotions that came out of nowhere and bubbled to the surface, threatening to spill over in words.
He smiled and gave her a one armed hug around her shoulders. He didn’t know if she would ever understand how important she had been to him through the years. He’d have been dead long ago if it weren’t for her and Ron.
Strangely enough, his mind snuck in the thought that he’d have been dead if it weren’t for what Malfoy did during the war. And then another treacherous thought came to mind, a question that he had to fight down. What if Malfoy and he had companionable magic, and that had been the reason his wand had worked so well for Harry?
But that was preposterous.
***
Harry paced back and forth in front of his kitchen table, a quill in one hand while the other ran nervously through his hair. He hadn’t been able to sleep at all. Actually, after hours of trying and failing to work things about Malfoy out in his head, he’d been able to sleep. Except, that was, for a dream that left him uncomfortably aroused and with even more thoughts to haunt his sleep.
He’d received a number of owls the past few days from Malfoy reminding him of the offer that still stood. A few said that the wards at Malfoy’s house were open to him and anytime he wanted to stop by would be fine. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought Malfoy really wanted him to come. He snorted to himself. He’s just desperate for sex is all, the horny bugger.
Now it was five in the morning and he had spent the past half hour writing out a pros and cons list of sleeping with Malfoy. It started out with his fear that sex with a man would hurt, but he knew from previous experience that Malfoy would be gentle and slow and no doubt make it pleasant for him. Plus, he couldn’t really find a way around that, considering he was gay and all.
He’d written out a few things, mostly repetitive ideas, a few treacherous things he had to cross out and correct, but he couldn’t be blamed because it was early morning and he hadn’t slept at all that night. No, the dream didn’t count as sleep.
He had tried to distract himself with music and books, but his mind kept traveling back to Draco. A brown owl hooted near the window and he sighed, hoping it wasn’t another letter already. Quietly he made his way over to the owl and opened the window, watching as it flew in and dropped the Daily Prophet on the table. Usually it just left the morning edition outside, but he figured since his lights were still on it decided to deliver it directly. He fished around for a bit of bread and opened the window when the bird had finished.
He glanced down at the tightly rolled up paper, a curved picture warped in the bend. Maybe there would be something in the Prophet to take his mind off things. He picked up the paper and let his eyes scan the headline. Heart Killer’s Latest Victim Found!
Harry cringed and through it down. That was a pleasant reminder why he never read the newspaper.
Dragging his hand through his hair again, he looked down at the list once more.
Bad
1. Might Hurt
2. I’d be losing my virginity to him
3. He’d be an arse to me after
4. The sex might be awkward
5. He’s a complete bastard
6. He’s Malfoy
7. What would my friends think?
8.
Good*
1. He’d make it good (most likely)
2. Don’t be such a girl
3. He’d be {-sweet-} careful during sex
4. The sex would most likely be fantastic
5. {-I like him-} He’s attractive
6. I don’t {want} have anyone else
7. It’s just a one-night stand
8.
Number eight had a bunch of black smudges next to it where he had laid his quill multiple times to write more, only to be stumped. Next to the list was Malfoy’s latest letter, deeply creased where he had folded it so many times. He was not going to read it again. Especially because the last time he had, he’d been forced to… get rid of a little problem afterwards. Not exactly wanking, more like rutting against his mattress desperately until he came. Not that he had read it in bed on purpose. That was just… coincidence.
Okay, well maybe he should read the letter one more time. After all, it had Malfoy’s reasoning of why he should consider it. It’s only fair to evaluate the situation from all angles in order to make the best decision, that’s what Hermione would have told him to do anyway. And he was just taking the letter into his bedroom because he wanted to get some sleep afterwards, that’s all. And, well, his pajama bottoms were a tad uncomfortable, that was the only reason he was taking them off.
He started to read Malfoy’s poncy handwriting, ignoring the fact that he was already rubbing himself with the palm of his hand. He was just, um, itching is all.
Harry,
Quit being stubborn. These letters will keep coming until you agree. I know you want it. Sex would be mind-blowing between us, and there’s no reason to deny yourself that since you’re not currently involved with someone. Once again, the wards have been set to let you in whenever you decide to come.
I’ll tell you another scenario of what could happen if you visited. I’d greet you at the door with nothing on. I know you appreciate my body, soft and firm and warm, begging for your touch. I’d let you do whatever you wanted to me, right there and right then. Knowing you, that would start with a touch.
You’d run your hands all over my skin as I trembled from the erotic nature of you feeling me. Where would you touch me, Harry? My arms? Down my chest, up my thighs? You’re shy, that’s just your charming nature, so I don’t think you’d touch my cock without prompting.
So I’d prompt you. I’d be so turned on from your teasing and I’d need more, harder, firmer, dirtier touches. I’d take your wrist and move it down until you squeezed at the head. You’d pull and pull, applying pressure to every sensitive area in the most magnificent ways. I’ll tell you a secret, you know how to touch me just right, and you drive me absolutely berserk with desire. Since the first time I felt your hands on me, I’ve wanked imagining it was you touching me, caressing me, bringing me unimaginable pleasures.
After you brought me off, I’d be able to think more clearly. And I’d think you were wearing far too much. I’d strip you of your clothes, slowly, sensually, making sure to brush your skin ‘accidentally’ with my knuckles as I pulled off your garments. Merlin you have a wonderful body, who would have ever thought with the hideous clothes you wear? I’ve been dreaming of your golden skin for days, let me see it again.
You want to find out what happens next? Come, Harry, you know you’re dying to. Think about it: tremendously hot sex without any emotional attachment getting in the way.
-Draco
Harry cast a quick cleaning spell over himself and let the letter drop from his limp fingers to the floor. Rolling over, he sighed and pulled up the covers. Even in his letters Malfoy was an arrogant sod. Thankfully, he was sure to get some sleep now.
He had made his decision.
***
TBC
A/N
Sorry, in the "good" list above, I can't make the text have a strike through it. >.<
Just uh... pretend {-blah-} is a crossed out word. *cough*