Secondhand Robes: Epilogue

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.


Secondhand Robes: The Epilogue (part 7)

Draco’s eyes fluttered open, and a creeping sense of warmth and comfort stole over his still half sleeping mind. Harry’s arm was around his waist, and they were comfortably ‘spooned’ together on the bed in the Room of Requirement.

’Oh! I fell asleep. Merlin’s Beard! This was supposed to be our night, and I passed out like a drunken troll. Why didn’t he wake me up?’

The answer came to Draco almost as quickly, and a dreamy smile crept across his face when he realized how much he adored Harry. The prat had come in, found his sleeping boyfriend, and just climbed into bed rather than disturb his lover. How strange to think that, only a year ago, such Hufflepuffy sweetness would have left him retching. It really wasn’t too bad, being on the receiving end of that kind of thing though.

That sparked another thought in Draco’s mind. Speaking of receiving ends, he was wonderfully conscious of Harry’s warmth behind him, and his body was already sluggishly responding to that presence. He wriggled a little, making himself more comfortable still, and relaxed again, savoring the way Harry’s soft breath slid across his neck regularly. Not a bad way to wake up, really, even if he had botched their original plans.

Here, surrounded by Harry, feeling almost unbearably close and warm, it was hard to remember being nervous about anything. A sense of absolute and complete safety permeated the room, as well as Draco’s entire being. Nothing bad could happen here, not with Harry beside him.

The soft breaths behind him stopped suddenly, and Draco realized that he’d been idly stroking the arm that Harry had around his waist. Warm, dry lips ghosted along the nape of his neck, raising gooseflesh down his entire body, before settling in for a long slow suck that made his skin tingle, and then Harry’s teeth gently nipped that very spot.

Draco was instantly aware that he was painfully erect, and his slacks were still on, impeding his freedom of ‘movement’ quite badly. He shifted his weight a bit, hoping to find a more comfortable position, and wound up fully conscious of the hardness that pressed into his backside for the first time.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Harry cooed into the shell of his ear. “Love you.” Then he went back to the nibbling of oversensitive flesh.

Draco melted into a puddle on the sheets. Harry’s half sleepy voice behind him and the soft but insistent attention to his neck left him wanting to…well…purr like a starving kitten when presented with a saucer of cream and a tin of fish. His overtaxed brain floundered for a response.

“Didn’t mean to fall asleep, luv. Just got…you know…comfortable, and then I was out like a candle. Mmmm, I like the wake up though. This is nice. What’s the time, Harry?”

Harry plucked his wand from the bedside and cast a quick Tempus. “Just shy of two in the morning. We both needed a little rest, I guess. Draco?” He left the question hanging while he returned to kissing Draco’s nape and shoulders.

“Yeah? Mmmm, don’t stop that!” Harry’s tongue on his shoulder blade made him shudder wonderfully.

“If…if you’re not ready for this, it’s okay. You don’t have to do this now if you don’t want to. You know that, don’t you, luv?”

Draco warred between bristling at the implication of fear on his part, and melting completely at Harry’s seemingly inherent sweetness. It was mind boggling to remember that a person this good and considerate had spent a lifetime suffering at the hands of vicious Muggle relatives.

“I know, Harry. I was…worried before, but not now. I want this, I don’t know how to say how much. I just do, and I wouldn’t want it with anyone but you.” It was a sobering confession, and a playful smirk crossed Draco’s lips while Harry kissed the lobe of his ear. “Keep doing that, and I’ll be doing anything you want!”

Harry pulled back a moment, catching Draco a bit off his guard, then gently pulled Draco onto his back, so that Harry could sit astride him and kiss him properly on the mouth. Draco eventually became aware of how still Harry was…apparently his boyfriend didn’t dare grind his hips for fear of instant orgasm, and it occurred to Draco that this might well be the most relaxed they’d ever been as a couple.

Relaxed or no, Harry was fumbling with the buttons of Draco’s shirt, while Draco slid his hands along Harry’s tanned and silken chest. Harry made an exceptionally considerate lover, given that he’d long been the more aggressive of the two of them, and Draco counted his blessing while Harry peeled away his clothes for him.

With a minimum of shifting about and only a bit of cheerful giggling, they finally got the last of Draco’s clothing off, and made themselves comfortable with a long snog to celebrate the accomplishment. Granted, as far as they were concerned, waking up was sufficient cause for a celebratory snog!

Harry was rather cautious about rubbing to hard against Draco’s hips as they rolled about. His cock was already leaving wet little trails along Draco’s hips and stomach, and had been stone hard since they’d first awakened. Eventually, Harry just slid back and onto his knees, giving himself a comfortable position from which to work.

Draco closed his eyes and sighed contentedly at the familiar and much loved feel of Harry’s mouth wrapping around the head of his cock, and the calloused, yet gentle hand that stroked him into that mouth was just as skillful as his own. Small waves of pleasure lapped at his mind, and Draco lounged comfortably, twitching or cooing only a little when Harry teased instead of aiming for completion.

The tongue that so often had pleased him moved to his inner thigh, and Draco hissed with mingled pleasure an apprehension. Harry’s hands were respectful, but they were subtly preparing to move Draco’s legs up and back, and it was clear what that would lead to! Draco hesitantly took the cue, and slid his legs up and back, while Harry’s hands supported him just beneath the underside of his knees. He’d never felt so vulnerable, so exposed, or so essentially feminine before. It was a little frightening, but far more arousing than he’d imagined.

The soft, warm velvet of Harry’s tongue swept down the smooth crevice that led to single and obvious destination, and when it brushed gently against the tensed pink whorl, Draco gasped sharply…then sighed. Such a private place, and such a gentle invasion of it, were beyond most people’s experience. He remembered how much Harry had enjoyed it, and now he knew why!

Harry teased and lapped in earnest while Draco shifted his hips in ticklish delight, occasionally finding himself almost involuntarily opening himself up to further conquest by Harry’s tongue. Little trickles of saliva rolled down his backside, cooling in the air and invoking mingled sensations of coolness next to the fiery warmth of Harry’s tongue. Then a finger pried gently at the edge of his arse cheek, opening him even more to Harry’s advances, and by now he was panting heavily, dizzy, unsure of anything but his desire for more.

The finger that prodded gently was almost a relief to a body that was craving more by the minute…and he barely remembered to ask that his bottle of lubricant be brought into play. The half coherent sentence must have made sense to Harry somehow, because with the pop of a cork, and a few seconds time, the incredibly viscous liquid was being massaged into him, and there was nothing that could have prepared him for the way it felt.

He couldn’t have imagined anything making his cock harder than it had been, but within seconds of Harry applying it to him, waves of warmth filled his nether regions, his muscles there relaxed entirely, and yet their sensitivity to contact was still there. When Harry’s finger slid cautiously in, Draco’s erection became so hard it very nearly hurt, and Draco found himself pushing onto that finger urgently while clenching the sheets and keening with desire.

His entire groin seemed to throb in time with his heart, and pleasantly so, while Harry manipulated him slickly with first one finger, and then two. Opening himself for the second finger was effortless, and the feeling of stretching to accommodate them was utterly, indescribably good, as his nerve ending didn’t register pain, yet remained sensitive to contact. The time he’d spent making the stuff had paid off…in spades!

Begging piteously to be shagged into the mattress, off the bed, and through the floor, was not a thing heard from Malfoys. It simply wasn’t in their character…until tonight. Draco pleaded openly, frantic to be filled, sated, joined with Harry as closely as they could be. There was little that was rational or calm in the wide gray eyes that looked up to Harry hungrily, and when Draco saw the thick prong spearing upward from Harry’s groin, his entire body shuddered with need.

Harry relented, withdrew his wickedly talented, yet woefully insufficient, fingers, and slicked himself with same substance that he’d worked so lovingly into Draco. The look of satisfaction on his face as he rubbed it on was gratifying, but Draco was certain that if Harry didn’t stop looking so pleased and get back to putting his cock into his boyfriend, he’d just kill the bastard out of pure frustration!

One firm hand was around his ankle, another was guiding the head of Harry’s leaking stiffness into Draco. At the first touch against his throbbing entrance, Draco promptly sighed and flowered outward, offering no resistance of any kind. Despite the thickness that Harry possessed, which was significantly more than Draco’s, his lover’s prick slid gently into him, touching off an explosion of sensation inside his body that left his head reeling, and ultimately proved more than his groin could handle.

Draco came helplessly, crying out with relief and laughing deliriously while he clutched Harry’s hand tightly. Words of love spilled off his tongue at random, utterly beyond his control.

“Merlin! Ha-harry! Oh…oh, bloody hell! HarryIloveyou…loveyousomuch…’s good. Soooo good!”

Harry held his clenched hand, and leaned close, brushing his lips against Draco’s before veering to the left and kissing him just below the ear. Harry’s voice whispered to him, confident and peaceful, making his heart leap in his chest with happiness.

“I love you, too, Draco. I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t sure of it. You are the only man I’ve ever loved, and this…this is everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

Tears were shining in his eyes, blurring his vision, but he could make out Harry’s face, beaming with pride and naked adoration above him. Then he felt Harry’s heavy cock throb inside of him repeatedly, and he knew that Harry was coming. His lover was coming inside of him. It was an intoxicating realization, knowing that the man he adored was deep inside of him, and the very essence of life itself was spilling into him, brought forth by an act of love.

Harry began to move after a few seconds pause, and apparently his sudden orgasm hadn’t diminished his appetite in the slightest! Draco felt the organ inside him sliding back…and then in again, with slow and even strokes, and his head was quickly on fire with rising excitement. The lubricant was working its magic, and every stroke of Harry’s cock left a trail of warmth and throbbing pleasure in its wake. Draco’s newly spent prick was still spitting small droplets of come onto his stomach, and before it could fully soften, it was already swelling again. How could he have ever feared this night? It looked so silly to have worried over it now!

Harry’s movements became more confident, fueled by Draco’s obvious pleasure, and the feeling of warmth and thickness tunneling into him became more and more distinct. Harry pushed hard moving deeper into Draco’s arse than before, and the wicked little upward curve at the head of Harry’s cock worked a magic of its own. With every deeper stroke, that perfectly shaped tool struck Draco’s prostate, and further transformed a traditionally reserved and dignified young man into a whimpering, gasping wreck, so overwhelmed by pleasure that he could no longer speak with any hope of coherence.

There was no reckoning time while Draco languished in ecstasy, his every depth plumbed by Harry’s unflagging cock. His head was swimming with the wonder of it, when Harry’s body shifted, pulling him up slightly from the bed, and partly onto Harry’s lap. The hand that once held his own moved away, and wrapped firmly around the base of Draco’s erect cock.

Harry’s movements slowed to just short little thrusts, and Draco’s vision cleared just enough to see Harry bend low…just low enough to take the head of Draco’s cock into his mouth! The warmth and soft suction weirdly paralleled the gentle pressure inside him, and Harry’s hand was stroking him gently into his hungry mouth. It didn’t take much before the shock of it wore off, and Draco was thanking the heavens that the Room was hidden from all and essentially silenced, because his screams were raw and guttural when he came, this time violently arching his back, almost tearing the sheets while his fists clenched and thrashed.

‘The books…he really has been at those bloody books! If I live through this, I’m thanking Granger, on my knees…in public!’

The wild frenzy that overtook him faded, and he flopped, boneless as an eel, back onto the bed, whimpering, as his drained cock fell from Harry’s mouth and back onto his own stomach. Harry pulled close, bringing himself deeper into Draco, who was too overcome to care, and kissed Draco deeply, letting the mingling flavors of their own mouths and Draco’s freshly claimed come drift across both their palates. It would have been a more shockingly intimate act, but Draco was too far gone for semantics, and frankly, at this point, he wanted nothing more than to feel Harry thrusting into him deeply again.

That desire wasn’t long unfulfilled, because Harry had not come yet, always taking longer for his second time, and Draco suddenly realized that he’d come both sooner and more often than Harry for the first time. It was a strange thing to think of, but a moment later, anything resembling thought was gone, as Harry was sundering his sated, yet pliant, body again, and whispering soft devotions to him, throatily, between deep breaths as he thrust again and again.

Something stole over Draco then, a subtle shift of mind that changed him utterly. For the first time, he felt utterly, gloriously free, and he had no inhibitions or restraint in him. Muggle drugs and powerful potions were said to have similar effect, but this was caused by none of those. Any other time, a blush would have crept to his cheeks at such thoughts, and disparaging words might have rung in his ears. Whore…slut…punk or bitch might have come to mind, ugly and hateful, implying that he should be ashamed of such wantonness, but not now…not anymore.

Draco was thoroughly lost in his desire for Harry, insatiable and crazed with the need to feel Harry inside him, and the change may have been subtle, but it was potent and irreversible. It made it so easy to understand why Harry gave himself so freely…to feel this wondrous, inchoate freedom. As the night wore on, Draco never relented, coaxing Harry to further and further heights, shamelessly demanding more and more savage entry, shifting positions and ruthlessly seeking out new pleasures for himself.

There were no windows to see it by, but the sun crept through the sky well before they finished, sweat drenched, replete, and completely exhausted. Draco scarcely surrendered, even as slumber overtook him, having insisted that Harry remain inside him as they curled together. It was a neediness he’d never imagined he could feel that ruled him, jealously guarding the sense of fullness he’d just learned to crave. Cradled in Harry’s arms, bodies flush against one another, Draco drifted to sleep still dazed and drifting, visions of the nights passion still flickering through his mind.

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Draco looked back at that night often during the weeks that followed. He’d be leaving for the summer soon, and spending it with Harry in the old Black estate. It was finally accepted that he was irrevocably Harry’s lover, and despite the ridiculous stack of oaths he’d had to swear at first, he was glad he’d done it.

Whatever it took, it was worth it. He was painfully aware that two months without Harry would be like a sentence to hell, and any indignity was worthwhile to avoid such a thing.

Their relationship had known only a single, petty, little strain. Well, it seemed petty to Draco, anyway. To Harry’s everlasting regret, or so he claimed, Draco’s introduction to the role of bottom had resulted in Harry’s needs sometimes taking second place. Sometimes meaning that, in truth, it was very nearly a fight to get Draco to show interest in anything else. Not that Harry wasn’t horny for him all the time, but Draco suspected that it was mostly just an excuse to play for sympathy…and he knew full well that Harry wasn’t without a few Slytherin qualities of his own.

However discreet Draco might be in public, a switch had been thrown in his mind that night, and a need had flared to life inside him that he refused to ignore, deny, or limit. It had all been well and good when Harry had been the aggressive, demanding one, always pushing things further, but the shoe was on the other foot now, and Draco always knew exactly what he wanted, and he made sure that Harry fulfilled that want at every opportunity.

He could play the reserved, but dutiful, boyfriend for the world, but he also knew that he could turn Harry on with nothing more than a look…and he exploited that power ruthlessly to guarantee his own pleasure. There were times when Harry was especially insistent, or occasionally just so unbearably attractive that Draco gave in and put aside his wants for a bit, doing his best to deliver a searing shag, but he made sure that Harry never fell under the misimpression that he was excused from the expectation of returning the favor…immediately…and repeatedly.

Odd to think that, once upon a time, he’d been the shy one of the two, so uncomfortable with himself, and so fearful of every step forward. He never let himself forget that Harry had been the one coaxing him from his shell, opening his mind…and other places…to things he hadn’t even imagined were possible. What his life had been like before, seemed a distant and empty world compared to this…now; waking up in a lover’s arms, knowing with certainty that, come what may, one person was always waiting for him, or just being able to talk to someone without any boundaries or borders.

So much in front of them. Another year of school, a war on the brink of exploding into sudden and immediate reality, a government that plodded and bungled its way along at the best of times, and the possible scorn of the many that loudly proclaimed, ‘It will never last’, at the sight of them together. But they had friends, real ones, the kind that helped you when you had nothing to offer in return, and they had allies, powerful ones that would never rest until the war was over and Harry was victorious.

They had one other thing, as well. Something that no one could have known save Harry or Draco. Though they rarely ever spoke of it, few people had ever touched each other’s minds as they had. Most muddled through life never really knowing what kind of person they were dealing with, and even lovers, however close, could never really know the depth of feeling in another person’s heart. What the nay-sayers could not know, and could never hope to understand, was the way that Harry and Draco understood each other.

Draco knew who Harry truly was, more intimately than anyone in Harry’s life ever had, and even if that knowledge had been taken by force and guile, it had built a bridge between them. Draco knew that the miracle of Harry was that, having endured so much, having paid in blood and loss and grief for the crimes of others, Harry had grown into a kind, compassionate, decent young man who constantly strove to help those who needed it. Other people might have become twisted and hateful in the face of privation and abuse, but Harry was the gentlest, fiercest and most giving person Draco had ever known, and it was a tragedy that so many others couldn’t see it beneath the fame and accolades. He knew these things more absolutely than any other could, and he treasured Harry above all others for good reason.

As for Draco, Harry knew his every fear, his every weakness and sorrow. He’d seen the arrogant, happy little boy that entered Hogwarts without the façade he’d carefully crafted, and he knew that Draco had seen his world torn out from under him. He’d seen his parent’s love bleed away into disinterest, and finally blind and terrifying rage. He’d watched all that he’d been raised to respect become pitiful and meaningless in front of him, and endured the loss of everything that had been dear to him. Home, family, power, wealth and comfort had all abandoned him, leaving a frightened fifteen year old slinking around Diagon Alley, half starved and dangling on the precipice of total collapse. Harry knew his insecurities, his weaknesses and his occasional pettiness, and loved him anyway.

Harry knew all these things, and guarded them faithfully, when everyone that Draco had ever known would have made cruel use of that knowledge. To crown that trust, Harry had silently seen that Draco had suffered no further shame, feeding him when he was hungry, clothing him as befit a person of a certain status, and keeping him safe from the vicious tongues of classmates, all without the expectation of reward. That knowledge was always in the forefront of Draco’s mind, and he never let it drift far.

No…those who said they wouldn’t last would never know these things, but Draco and Harry did. Draco knew with diamond clarity that school would be finished, wars would be fought, and times would ebb and change throughout…but what they had would only grow, and deepen, and endure. Harry Potter would never again weep alone in a cupboard beneath a stair, and Draco Malfoy would forever have one person he trusted with his very heart and soul. They would struggle, labor, fear, and love as one…now…and always, and nothing spoken ill of them by the ignorant would ever change that simple truth.

The door to the Room creaked open, and Draco sat up, smiling widely, and leaned into Harry’s kiss, savoring the softness of Harry’s cheek next to his own. Warm lips traced down the skin of his neck, and whispered words of adoration ghosted past his ears. Draco closed his eyes, hoping that undignified tears of happiness wouldn’t show…and smiled.

FIN