Redeem Me

DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write…are dominated by gay themes and characters. That's how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.

Redeem Me…by Samayel

Chapter 43: Winding Down…And Winding Up


The crowd was far above the average for a Cannons game, and Draco found the press of humanity a bit stifling. He’d spent a long time in the company of very few people, and his last memories of crowds were less than savory, and involved being pelted with garbage and cursed at while he fled. At least people moved out of Harry’s way, and once they’d presented their tickets and VIP passes, they were ushered to the Skybox by an attendant.

In Quidditch, as in all things wizarding, the Skybox was a bit different. Here, it was an actual room that, once it was occupied, floated up into the sky above most of the crowd and allowed the occupants to enjoy a bird’s eye view of the game, surrounded by food and drinks and with restrooms and other necessities on hand. The Skybox was spelled against foul weather, and enchanted to appear as though it was had no walls or ceiling, but still held those within safe and sound, with no risk of falling out.

Draco had been in a Skybox once. His father had taken him to a Falcons exhibition game, and had reserved the Skybox for them. At fourteen, he’d been so woefully spoiled that he simply took the entire experience for granted, assuming that it was his rightful due as a Malfoy, and he really hadn’t properly enjoyed the event as much as he could have. This time was completely different. Harry was imposing enough to make people move aside on the way to the still-grounded Skybox, and once they were ushered into place and made comfortable, the Skybox rose slowly and gently into the air, scarcely rattling the glasses and beverages left for them. Draco couldn’t keep the giddy smile off of his face the entire while, and Harry was kind enough to not tease him for looking like a kid in a candy shop.

There were hors d’oeuvres aplenty, and Draco hadn’t had a canapé in years. The game was a goodly while from starting, and he’d worked half the day before Harry came to pick him up. The twins attended games regularly, but hadn’t come to this one, opting to finish their workday and catch one of the later season games. Draco greedily worked his way through the hors d’oeuvres, but passed on the wine and champagne that had been left. As common as it looked, he found a Butterbeer and opened it, feeling a bit more comfortable with that. Too many bad memories were still attached to wine and harder spirits, but a Butterbeer wouldn’t hurt.

Harry called to him from the viewing seats, which looked plush and comfortable even from across the room. It was still eerie, having no real walls around them, but for a wizard born to such things, it wasn’t as unnerving as one might have thought.

“Oy! Draco! Ron left us gifts! Boxed and wrapped and everything. That great git…wonder what he got us.”

Draco ambled over, content to sip his Butterbeer and wash down his snacks before speaking. The package was wrapped in green, with a silver-gray ribbon, while Harry’s was red with gold. House-colored packages had been in vogue back in school, and to be honest, it was the first time Draco had unwrapped a gift since Hogwarts. That Ron Weasley had been the person to change that was a real shock, but Draco picked up the small green box and started peeling away the wrap. Harry already had his half open, and reached in with a look of surprise.

Harry pulled out a clear crystal or glass stag, detailed down to the hooves and antlers. It was an impressive piece of work, and it had been charmed to paw and snort occasionally, bowing its head every so often. There was a letter beneath it, and Harry opened it and read it while Draco opened his gift.

Draco’s box contained a green glass dragon, crafted even more painstakingly than the stag that Harry held. Its tail flicked occasionally, and it would flex its wings every so often, like a real dragon at rest. The long, scaled neck would crane out and look about, then curl close to its body as it settled back down. It was exquisite, and while he’d seen costlier things in his time, this was quite unique in its own way, as well as lovely in its own right. A letter waited for Draco at the bottom of the box, and he read his own while Harry crowed aloud about Ron’s gifts.

“Can you believe it? He made the bloody things himself! Charmed against breaking and magically animated. Nice! I didn’t even know he could do that. The stag is the form of my Patronus. This is the coolest thing he’s ever given me. Go, Ron, go!”

Harry settled into his own snacks and took a Butterbeer of his own, while Draco read his letter from Ron.

Draco,

Cheers, mate! If you’re reading this, then you and Harry made the game. I’ll see you when we take off and do our fly-by, but here’s a little something to say thanks for coming.

I made this the night I screwed up, after I went home and decided to quit the booze. I guess I just needed a hobby to keep myself busy nights, and this works out pretty well.

Anyway, this is the one I made for you. I know the dragon reference and the color choice are pretty obvious, but what the hell, right? I figured you probably wouldn’t mind.

Hope you like it, and we’ll see you both at the after game party in the clubhouse. Harry knows the way, and your passes grant you all access. Enjoy the game. I’ll be pretty busy once we hit the sky, but cheer for us even if I can’t hear it…we need this win if we want to lead the league, and there are observers looking at recruits for the World Cup match right now.

Yours, Ron Weasley

Draco turned to Harry in muted surprise.

“I had no idea he could even be that nice. Skybox, VIP passes, and presents he made himself…that don’t suck at all. Quite the opposite actually. I don’t know what to say when we see him.”

“Don’t worry. Ron’s an easy going fellow when you know him. Just shake his hand and say thanks. He’ll be fine. Leave trying to hug him half to death to me. He might weigh two stone more than me, but I can still pick him up off the ground when I want to!”

They bantered cheerfully, still impressed by Ron’s gifts, and Draco made up his mind to relax and enjoy himself as much as possible. With Harry beside him and in good spirits, nothing could go wrong, and he felt as safe as anyone in the world could be.

A couple bottles of Butterbeer and a fair number of hors d’oeuvres later, Draco lounged in his chair as the game kicked off, starting with the introduction of the teams and their players, as they each did a circuit of the stadium. Ron waved to the crowd, but gave an impromptu salute as he tore past the Skybox, and Harry cheered deafeningly, an orange Cannons’ pennant held aloft in one hand, while Draco waved back cheerily.

The game was a real stunner, and hard to follow, even with the magically enhanced devices provided for same. Professional Quidditch was played at a pace that far exceeded what they’d seen at Hogwarts, and even Harry had only executed a fraction of the in-flight maneuvers that were used in play. The speed of the game was unrelenting, and Ron was one of a half dozen orange blurs on the pitch. The only easily observed players were the Keepers, who were in fair form and were making both teams work hard for a single score.

The game stayed tied at zero-all for longer than Draco had imagined possible, and despite the absence of actual points on the board, the action was fascinating. Harry was also enraptured, and other than the occasional cheer for the Cannons, neither of them said a word. The Tornados' light blue uniforms flashed past the box as often as the Cannons’ vibrant orange. The Chasers and Beaters were owning the game, competing against each other to keep or take the Quaffle, and they still distracted the Seekers regularly. When Ron sent Bludgers flying, it was always with a loud crack so distinctive that it could be heard across the pitch, and no small number of players immediately shifted course when they heard that noise, dodging just in case it had been aimed at them. Ron was playing a great fair game, but his reputation as ‘the Breaker’ was still intact, and no one wanted to be hit by a Bludger sent by him!

There was a flurry of action near the Cannons’ hoop, and a cluster of pale blue Tornados hemmed in their Chaser, clearing the way for a shot. It was a fast feint, and the Cannons’ Keeper finally overextended, letting the score shift to ten-zero, in favor of the Tornados. The noise of the crowd was deafening, and Harry groaned along with them, but there was nothing to be done for it. It was a perfect play, and you had to admire it, even if it had been executed by the other team.

Now the Cannons took control, and hungry to keep the game tied, they launched an all out assault on the Tornados’ hoops. The moves came so fast that it was like watching a hive of orange and blue bees that had been hit by a rock. Ron wasn’t in the heart of the formation, but outside it, and Draco saw why in a hurry. One Beater was attached to the chaser with the Quaffle, and Ron was above for a good reason. The Cannons’ other Beater sent a Bludger careening toward Ron, knowing full well that Ron would make use of it. A second later, the loud crack of his blow was heard everywhere at once, and a screaming Bludger cleared a path through the Tornados’ defense, which was quickly exploited. At ten and ten, the game was back to tied, and the Cannons’ fans, who were in the majority, roared.

The commentary from the observers was crisp and professional, and helped to keep the events of the game clear despite the flurry of activity. Draco missed any number of things, but regretted nothing…since everything he watched was fascinating. It was a lot to absorb, and he missed the Quaffle changing hands again, this time back into the Cannons’ hands. This time Ron was circling the Cannons’ Chaser like a mother hen, bat at the ready. He muscled several Tornados’ players out of the way, just by looking like he might resort to violence, and pulled away only when the Chaser put the Quaffle through on the far left, barely avoiding a mid air pile-up as the opposing teams split at the same time to strike new formations.

A brief scuffle between the two Seekers took place, and the crowd held its collective breath when they realized the Snitch was on the line and the game was only at twenty and ten. Some games ran long, and the Snitch almost wasn’t needed to decide victory, but if it were snatched now, the game would have been less than a half hour all together. Fenton, the Cannons’ well-ranked Seeker, had been focused entirely on the Snitch, and so was his rival Seeker. Fenton had the edge by more than a foot or so, and that likely prompted the intervention by the Tornados’ Beaters. A short dust-up later, the Snitch was lost in the mix, and both Seekers were forced to switch back to ‘patrol mode’, scanning the pitch for any sign of their tiny golden quarry.

Draco’s level of excitement couldn’t be sustained forever, and somewhere around his third Butterbeer, which left him warm and cheerful, he felt slightly drowsy and tried to shake it off. He’d been sitting for more than an hour, and raptly attentive for all of it, but he was slowly winding down. Food, comfortable seats, and good drink, as well as Harry’s intoxicating nearness, all contributed to the desire to rest just a little. Naturally, once he was half conscious, it made perfect sense to make himself a little more comfortable…and lay his head on Harry’s shoulder. His subconscious could hear the crack of bats, the buzz of scored points and the omnipresent roar of the crowd, but the rest of his mind was only aware of how genuinely good he felt, fed, warm, safe and wonderfully close to Harry, who now scarcely budged, refusing to disturb Draco.

Draco wasn’t sure how long he dozed, but the roar of the crowd shifted patterns, and he let his eyes flutter open. It was slowly growing darker outside, and while he hadn’t been napping long, the change of atmosphere was surprising. Draco quietly thanked Harry for putting up with him, then nervously fumbled for Harry’s hand. It was a truly strange and joyful feeling…knowing that Harry was there for him to touch when he was ready, and how he was comfortable. The absence of expectation somehow made it easier. Sometimes, when Draco felt like something was expected or necessary, he just tried too hard, and he’d get too tense and fall apart inside. Harry was quiet and easy-going so often that Draco felt complete freedom to do what he pleased, when it pleased him to do so…and that made things so much easier.

’I’m in the Skybox, with Harry, watching pro Quidditch at its best. I can even nap on his shoulder, or hold his hand all night if I want to. This is definitely the best day I think I’ve ever had.’

Draco sat bemused, not watching the game anymore. It didn’t matter who won. Draco had the only prize worth concerning himself over. He stared at Harry unashamedly and smiling wide, while Harry gawked at the game looking a lot like the animated and largely cheerful boy he’d been at Hogwarts. Harry finally noticed the scrutiny he was under, and paused to look back at Draco quizzically.

Draco leaned forward and sat halfway up suddenly, impulsively kissing Harry on the mouth, and he wasn’t concerned with propriety at the moment. Harry melted into it easily, happily snogging Draco back, keeping their hands together but never quite reaching out to pull or grab Draco and bring him closer. That self restraint was all that made this possible, and if he’d clutched at or pulled Draco roughly into some embrace, it likely would have induced panic, but that was something Harry wouldn’t let happen.

Draco crawled off of his seat, never quite breaking contact, and safe in the privacy of the Skybox, deep in the middle of the most intense snogging he’d allowed himself yet, he moved onto Harry’s lap, curling an arm around Harry’s neck, letting his legs and feet rest on his own chair, while he made himself comfortable, propped against Harry’s chest. This was probably the most daring he’d felt in years, and Harry was worth being daring over. Especially when the tips of their tongues brushed together, or wrestled softly for dominance in Harry’s mouth. Draco knew his body was responding to all this, and even if there was no visible evidence of his arousal, it was still very real. In all the little snogging sessions they’d had so far, Draco had never actually felt more than tension and vague arousal, mingled with fluttering nerves and a slight urge to panic that he always carefully smothered. This was perfect, and the usual things that ruined the moment for him were entirely absent.

His hands could run through Harry’s hair, his lips could do whatever they wanted to the strong lines of Harry’s neck and nape, and he could return to the familiar pleasures of Harry’s lips at any moment he chose. Draco may have been cognizant of the stiffness in his groin, cramped by his snug clothing, but he honestly didn’t care at the moment.

Gradually, he became aware of a rather serious erection trapped beneath him, straining against Harry’s clothing, and absolutely rigid against Draco’s backside. Harry was as turned on as Draco was, and that was a powerfully aphrodisiac knowledge. Draco’s cheeks were burning with the realization that Harry was so clearly excited by him, and knowing that it wouldn’t go any further than he wanted it to made the entire situation not only tolerable, but superb.

Harry tried to stutter out some inquiry as to whether Draco was comfortable or not, nobly intentioned, and Draco silenced him with another long kiss, deeper than any they’d had at home. Draco occasionally had to twist or shift himself to stay aligned properly for snogging, and he was becoming familiar with the rather impressive bulge in Harry’s slacks. It was a safe fantasy, separated by layers of clothing, and the fact that Harry was almost completely at his mercy was intoxicating, but he was imagining sitting astride Harry, pierced by Harry‘s rampant erection, spattering his own come across Harry‘s chest. It was a safe fantasy for Draco, but Harry was having more than an idle fantasy.

Harry whimpered into Draco’s mouth, suddenly wide-eyed and taut with excitement. Draco silenced him again with an even fiercer kiss, and he noticed that Harry’s responses were completely off. Harry fidgeted beneath him, moaned into their kiss again, and clenched the armrests of the seat with a ferocity that looked impressive. His eyes were screwed shut, and Draco felt the heavy pulsing and sudden flexing of flesh under his bum. Harry was coming! Draco never stopped their kiss, determined to savor every last second before reality crashed in on them.

‘Oh, Merlin! I just made him come! I didn’t do anything but curl up with him and snog him senseless, and he got off. I did that!’

Draco slowed the pace of his kiss as Harry, flushed scarlet and paralyzed with mingled relief and embarrassment, took a few halting breaths and relaxed.

‘He is sooo mine.’

The crowd was cheering outrageously. They glanced at the board as one. It was 190 to 40...Fenton had caught the Snitch.

“Draco…I’m…I am so sor-”

Draco cut Harry off with a much gentler kiss. His own aching erection would have to wait until he could deal with it, since he wasn’t quite ready for anything more advanced than what had just come about by accident, but he wasn’t in the mood for apologies. Mostly, he was just flushed with pride that his closeness to Harry was enough to make the man come in his pants.

“No…not sorry…at all, Harry.”

Draco leaned in close to Harry's ear and whispered breathily.

“I thought it was sexy…and perfect…that you came for me…because of me. Don’t be sorry, Harry.”

Draco uncurled himself off of Harry’s lap, after one last, brief and somewhat more innocent kiss, and let Harry right himself and use the restroom before the Skybox drifted earthward. It wouldn’t do to walk out of here and off to the party with incriminating stains on his pants.

Harry was brilliantly red in the face, and kept sheepishly looking Draco’s way with a blend of awe and adoration. It was impossible to think of Harry as anything but a smitten boyfriend when he was like this, and it was a wonderfully refreshing change from thinking of Harry as a killer. There were so many serious things to worry about, but they could all wait for tomorrow. Tonight, Draco had a victory party to attend with his boyfriend, and he would wear a look of confidence in public for the first time, nearly drunk on the knowledge that Harry desired him so thoroughly, and that he had the means to please Harry if and when he desired to.

TBC!!!