A Dark Time For The Light

32

In the event, Draco worked extra hard to try and make up his hours. He’d discreetly collared a member of the House’s staff and was informed that the party would end on the Sunday night, but one or two of the guests were scheduled to stay on until the Tuesday morning.

Fortunately most of the finer work was either up in the ceiling or in the workshop set up in one of the outbuildings, so Draco left for London on the Thursday before the guests turned up on the Friday evening. Jacinta smuggled him out, crouched down low in the back seat of her car. They missed the turn-off to Buxton. Draco was puzzled, “Don’t be daft, Draco. Supposing they come by train or something. Bollocks to it, sweetie, I’m taking you to Manchester and I’ll call and give the all-clear. No trying to come back before then. No job is worth losing your liberty over. Enjoy the break with Harry”, she grinned at him in the rear view mirror. Draco leaned forward and squeezed he shoulder, “Thanks, Jace, you are a star”.

They drove in silence for awhile, “Jace, could you keep an eye out for me, you know, take a look at the guests if you can. I’ve got a feeling my parents could be attending if this is the cream of the Death-Eaters. You cannot mistake my father, we look so alike. My mother is just the opposite. Black hair, dark blue eyes. If you can just tell her that Ginny and I are fine. Don’t give her any more details, but if you get the chance, ask her how my son is, would you?”, all in a mournful voice. The woman caught Draco’s eyes again, to see his red-rimmed and tearful. She nodded, “I’ll do what I can, Draco, I promise”.

She hugged him as she dropped him at Piccadilly Station, and he found himself a quiet seat, letting his nerves start to settle, then phoned Harry as the train started to move.

The journey was anything but restful. First there was a stranger trying to make eye contact with him through the reflections in the windows. When their eyes met briefly, the man leered and his hand travelled to his crotch. Draco gave his best Death-Eater glare and sneer and the man desisted.

Next, a noisy family got on with what seemed like a billion wailing children who were allowed to run up and down the aisle while their parents ignored them. Draco slumped in his seat, trying and failing to sleep. It was a grumpy Draco that Harry met at Euston.

Harry took the whinging for a while until they were on the sparsely populated Tube station, then pressed Draco to the wall and kissed him soundly. They were ignored. Harry knew that Draco was scared, even while he covered it up with bluster. He relaxed against Harry’s hands holding him up and smiled, “Sorry, Harry, for being a git. I’m just so bloody tired. Scared, too. I’ve had to keep my head down all week. When I heard Bellatrix’s braying I nearly shat myself”. He buried his head on Harry’s shoulder.

The aromas hit him as soon as Harry opened the front door, “Wow, Harry. Cooking?”, he sounded faintly amazed, as they climbed the stairs. Draco unpacked his bag and had a shower while Harry saw to the food. Draco sat down in the living-room as Harry dished up, then gasped as he saw the latest improvements. A large widescreen TV and a collection of small slender silver boxes stacked underneath. He crawled across the floor to investigate as Harry came in bearing food on a tray.

He set it down, “What do you fancy, Dragon, music or a movie?”. Draco chuckled as he moved back to lean against the sofa, accepting a plateful of home-cooked curry and rice, “Just you, Harry. Maybe a bit of peace and quiet for now, though I want to know what all of this lot does”, he waved his fork at the display. They ate in a comfortable silence. “This is bloody good, Harry”, the only comment until both plates were cleared.

Draco sighed and leaned back contented. Harry cleared the plates away. Then brought in a couple of cans of beer and sat beside Draco on the floor. They talked and drank and held each other, then Draco yawned widely as the beer flushed his cheeks and his eyelids grew heavy. Harry lifted his can away and stood, holding out a hand and hauling his beloved to his feet, “Come on, you. Bed”. Draco hummed and laid his head on Harry’s shoulder, “And no ideas, my Dragon. You need to sleep”. A mumbled, “Yes mum”, made Harry chuckle.

They kissed a little and curled up, Draco wrapped in Harry’s arms, his head in the crook of his neck, asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. Harry lay a while, listening to Draco’s breathing and sighed. He was a bit unhappy at Draco being away all the time, but for now, glad to have him back. He held him tighter, nuzzling into Draco’s hair. With a murmured, “Love you, my Dragon”, he, too, slept.

Harry shivered at a slight draught along his bare back, then the mattress dipped and warm arms wrapped around him, then a warm body draped around him, light kisses dotted along his shoulder. He sighed and turned in Draco’s arms, they bumped into each other in the soft dark tinged with pale grey, but by instinct their lips found each other for a sleepy kiss, just feeling each other’s lips brushing together. They both smiled against each other’s mouths, loving the tease. Draco broke first snaking the tip of his tongue out and tasting his Harry, gently parting Harry’s lips, they opened readily, inviting him in. He held his own tongue back, letting Draco taste all of his mouth, then uncurled the tip and met his lover’s. One of them groaned.

The kiss grew stronger and wetter, tongues plundering then retreating, small bites along swollen lips, then more kisses, hands roaming and clutching, lightly scratching or grabbing hard enough to mark, then Harry nudging Draco’s thighs apart with a knee, climbing on top, rubbing solid cocks together, his hips rolling, Draco jerking upwards, mouths smashed together again, Draco’s leg, flung over Harry’s back, closer, closer still. Then an urgent hand between them trapping them both together, precome as lube, faster, more friction, harder, closer, Draco pushes hard, goes rigid. Harry feels his lover come all over his cock and belly, one more stroke, he adds himself to the mix, looking down, watching himself spray his beloved.

They both flop together chuckling and kissing, “That was almost as quick as our first time, love”. Harry laughed, then kissed his Dragon long and slow.

Lower Sixth. Outside the Advanced Potions lab. One on the way to borrow a book from his House-Master. One just finishing detention. Neither paying attention. CRASH! Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy both on their backsides in the corridor. They both glare at each other, “Watch where you’re going, Potter, you bloody elephant”. But Harry was laughing at him as he climbs to his feet and readjusts his glasses on his nose. He holds down a hand to his sworn enemy and hauls him up. They dust themselves down. Harry is still amused as they begin to retrieve their dropped items. Harry reads the spine of a book, “This must be yours”. Malfoy accepts it with a nod. Harry keeps a momentary hold on the volume, “You know, if you had been paying attention then you could have missed me, so I reckon that makes this officially an accident and therefore nothing to fight about”, he relinquishes the book.

Draco just glowers and tucks the book into his bag. He gathers up a mess of quills, “These yours?”. Harry extends his hand, “Thanks”, a genuine smile. That completely disarms Draco. He gulps and the sneer drops momentarily. Harry sits back on his knees and stares into space, “Why do we still fight, Draco?, because I’m really not sure any more”. Malfoy’s eyes widen, “Because we hate each other, you idiot!!”. Harry tips his head slightly, “I heard that you refused the Dark Mark this summer, and for that, I can only admire you. That took great strength and courage, but it must have been bloody scary”, his voice was gentle.

Their eyes meet but there is no guile on Harry’s face, no pity and certainly no hatred, just....understanding...empathy?. Draco prepared to hitch his haughtiest sneer into place but had the wind knocked out of his sails by Harry’s expression. Instead he rocked backwards and sat heavily, then crossed his legs, an elbow on each, his head hanging between.

“It was. Bloody scary. I felt so bloody alone in front of Him. My Father looking on. I almost took it for shame...fear of shaming the Family name...but realised that’s no reason to do anything. It was then I think I knew what real hatred is, Harry, and whatever you and I feel, it’s nothing like that. I felt my Father’s eyes bore into me. I watched that bastard lick his lips and sneer. My Father apologised and said I was just suffering from adolescent nerves. He himself was a year older than me and wouldn’t His Worship allow me another year. He reluctantly agreed although he was seething. If my Father was not so high up in his estimation, I would probably have been tortured into accepting. I don’t know how much I could have withstood. So you see, Harry, it was my Father who saved my sorry arse, not some act of bravery or defiance. Once I am of age, I’ve more or less been promised to him. I want to either be dead or in Outer Space by then, but I. Do. Not. Want to take the Dark Mark!!”, each word spat out.

Harry is aghast, his eyes huge behind his glasses at this confession. He can do nothing but stare at the dejected figure before him. One splash onto the trouser leg, then another. Draco’s shoulders shake and in seconds Harry has his arms around him a bit awkwardly, but the intention is plain. As he sobs, Draco leans in and takes the comfort offered. Harry rocks him gently, murmuring low and instinctively strokes his hair. Draco turns into his chest, his sobs lessening. Harry tightens his arms, his eyes close and he’s ghosting tiny kisses along Draco’s parting in his hair. Draco’s head tilts back, his eyes are red and Harry looks down into the tear-streaked face. He thumbs away the tears under Draco’s eyes, then strokes Draco’s cheek, “I know what it’s like. What it’s like to face him alone and refuse him. You’re braver than you give yourself credit for”.

Draco’s eyes never leave Harry’s as he threads long delicate fingers into Harry’s thick mane and pulls him closer, “Thank you, Harry”, and their lips touch then part, neither quite sure what to do. Harry teases the tip of his tongue around Draco’s lips, before dipping inside, a soft curcuit over sensitive inner lip skin, beyond the teeth, then a moan as he meets Draco’s. The blond’s tongue unfurls and answers and soon both are embroiled in the best kiss either of them ever had before, moving around each other to a better position, then deepening the kiss still further until lack of air forces them to emerge, red-faced and breathless, each has his arms around the other. They are in a bubble of two and it is intoxicating to both.

They kiss again and come up for air grinning. Draco murmurs, “This is better than fighting, Harry”. The brunet blushes and agrees, “Though we should take this elsewhere because, a) this floor is freezing and my arse is going numb, and, b) Snape is still the other side of that door and could emerge at any time”. They both giggle quietly and help each other to stand. Limbs are indeed stiff and they look like a pair of old blokes as they iron the kinks out of back and bum.

They heft their bags onto opposite shoulders and start down the passage stealing looks at each other, shy smiles, then Harry’s fingers reach out and curl around Draco’s. The blond responds. Their smiles are tremulous and gentle even while a warmth builds just under the skin.

One floor down, an empty classroom. Both tip in, running, after checking up and down the corridor. The door locked and dodgily warded in haste. Bags down. Then hard wet kisses, hands everywhere seeking skin. Impatience and a giggle as cloth tears audibly. Their hands are cold and both gasp, skin goosefleshing on contact, then fingers warm and breathing deepens. More kisses, bodies leaning together, rubbing and rolling, hardness evident between them. Harry’s hands on Draco’s hips, pulling urgently, tongue in the blond’s mouth. Draco’s arm around Harry’s shoulders, his other hand on Harry’s arse pressing them closer. Breaths faster, ragged, hips thrusting wildly, biting at each other’s necks, then loud cries both going rigid as they came, then a soft collapse, both braced against the wall, Draco taking some of Harry’s weight.

When his legs could bear his own weight, Harry stands, still holding Draco’s hips and looks down at them both. Sticky wet patches on their trousers, “Thank fuck for cloaks”. They both start laughing, then hold each other and kiss again. They are awkward now as they pull apart and make to leave. Picking up their bags, Draco opens the door. Harry pauses and Draco turns, silhouetted against the light in the corridor, “Draco, can we stop fighting now, please?”, a soft voice, “And can we do more of this?”, even softer. He moves toward the door, Draco waits for him, then leans down and kisses the shorter boy on the forehead, “Yes, and, yes”. They wander back to their dorms sneaking kisses and holding hands where they dare, both stunned and delighted by the turn of events, both a little wary and more than a little confused. One last sweet kiss and they part.