Finding the Lost

Title: Finding the Lost
by: Tracy7307 (feedback: tracy7307@hotmail.com)
PairiHarrHarry/Draco
Rating: NC17
Summary: Early one morning, Harry decides he needs to write a poem. Draco couldn't agree more.
Timeline: 5 years after graduation
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnin M/M M/M sexual relations and fluff/romance in its purest form.
A/N: Thanks to Gwen, without whose encouragement, I would never have done this. I owe you bigtime, dear!


So silently, Harry pushed back the covers and crawled down the bed, then tiptoed across the bedroom, his bare legs highlighted momentarily by the early morning sun slicing through the crack in the curtain. He sat down at his desk and ran a hand through his unruly inky hair, peeking back at the sleeping form on their bed.

Draco. His lover of five years. Harry's eyes trailed over the white blonde locks, clumped together in the way only a night of sleep can manage. The covers settled around Draco's narrow hips, framing his alabaster skin and just hinting at a trail of soft hair leading downwards. A rather silly lopsided grin broke out on Harry's face as he watched the quiet rise and fall of his lover's chest, and licked his lips at the strawberry coloured nipples that he spent so long sucking and nibbling at last night.

Shaking his head, Harry focused on the task that had called him so urgently from their bed. Picking up a quill and a scrap piece of parchment, the nervous thrill of the act of writing rushed through his veins. His heart rate picked up a bit and he stared nervously at the blank paper, waiting for the words to pour out of him like they always did.

Write what you know, his writing professor at the muggle university had told him. Write what you know, and that is always what Harry did. Harry knew a lot of things. Harry knew the thrill of catching the snitch and having swarms of people cheering for you. Harry knew what humiliation felt like, at the hands of the Dursleys. Harry knew the satisfation that came with enduring friendships. And Harry knew love- he knew Draco.

He scratched his quill across the parchment-

Finding the lost

or rather, finding what you didn't
even know you were looking for.

Harry paused to recall the first time that Draco kissed him. It was more like a car crash than anything- it happened so quickly he didn't even have time to pause and ask himself the obligatory "Why are you suddenly being snogged? Why are you suddenly being snogged by a man? Why are you letting a man snog you? And Draco Malfoy, of all people?" All he knew was that, five years ago, while looking out over the Thames on a summer night, and having a surprisingly pleasant laugh with his former enemy, a pair of hands pulled his face upwards. Full, pink lips crashed down onto his. A strangled cry escaped his throat, which, when a warm tongue swiped across his lips, turned into a moan.

Sometimes it requires a slap
across the face, and sometimes it
feels like an accident, two cars
colliding in slow motion.

As soon as the crash had started, it ended. Draco pulled his mouth off and backed up several steps, a look of horror in his eyes. "Bloody hell, Harry. I'm so sorry. I don't know what's come over me," the blonde said with a quavering voice, turning from Harry to face the river. His gaze locked onto the Westminster Bridge, trying not to look at the bright green eyes that sought his own from behind flowing strands of raven hair.

Flashlights and flares
Candles and cigarettes
Light bulbs and sunrays
torches and matches
you and I

Harry walked over to Draco, loo int into the steelgrey eyes. Seven years of watching Draco lept to Harry's advantage- he saw the pain lurking behind the supposedly indifferent gaze that pretended to settle in the distance, but in actuality lingered on Harry, desperate for acceptance. Finally the blonde looked down at Harry. "Look, just pretend it didn't happen, alright? Bloody stupid of me."

An obscured object floats
in front of me across
the water. I reach out for
it but it slips from my
oiled fingers.

Harry stepped into Draco's personal space. He took a moment to consider the whiteblonde fringe that fell elegantly and in a perfectedly messy manner across the pale skin of Draco's forehead. A delicate nose showed a flush of pink from prolonged exposure to the sun. A blush, like a rosebush, crept slowly up Draco's neck and onto his cheeks. Grey eyes with flecks of dark blue around the iris steadfastly watched the Bridge, however, flickered in Harry's presence. Enough was enough, Harry decided, and wrapped his fingers around the hair on the back of Draco's head, and pulled him down. Eager lips met his, and he released a breath he had been holding for seven years.

As I wash my hands of
the oil I realize the
inherent beauty of
a car crash.

At his desk, Harry held up the finished product and started to read it to himself. As his lips moved silently, green eyes moving from left to right, a pair of lips began leaving wet trails across the sensitive skin of the back of his neck. "Good morning, Harry," said a very sleepy Draco, voice still full of honey and gravel. Harry laid the parchment back on the desktop.

"Mmm. Morning, love. It's early, you don't have to-" only to have his words cut off by a mouthful of Draco's tongue. "Mmmph," Harry mumbled into the blonde's mouth. Draco pulled his lips off Harry's, tugging playfully on the brunette's lower lip with his teeth before letting it go.

"Was cold in bed. Come back," Draco demanded with his perfectedly pouty lips and eyes, pulling on Harry's hand. Then his eyes drifted towards the parchment. "What's that? Writing again?" he asked with a smile. His stomach flipped, and his eyes flashed with excitement. Writing always put Harry in the best of moods afterwards, and if the hourslong lovemaking sessions that always happened afterwards were anything to go by, Draco always benefitted from it.

He picked up Harry's parchment and quickly scanned the poem. "Beautiful, love," Draco breathed, and dipped in for another taste of his lover's lips. When Harry responded to the kiss with a moan, Draco peeked down with one eye to see Harry's erection standing tall and proud. 'Merlin, I love it when he writes,' Draco thought.

Nudging Harry's knees apart, Draco slid down his lover's body, trailing his mouth down Harry's neck, nibbling a path across his collarbone, before gazing at the puckered brown disc of Harry's nipple. He leaned forward and sucked the disc into his mouth, laving the tight bud with his tongue, while his hand crept up Harry's chest to take care of the jealous right nipple that had hardened in sympathy.

"Oh Draco, oh gods Draco," Harry panted, his hips rocking unconsciously, cock screaming for attention. The blonde took pity on his lover and trailed his fingers from the base of Harry's swollen member to the head, fingertips smearing the pre cum leaking from the tip of his erection. While Draco nibbled lightly on Harry's right nipple, he took the brunette's moist shaft in his hand and started stroking, up down, adding the twist he knew would make his lover beg. "Please," Harry whispered, "please."

Not one to deny Harry anything, Draco kissed a path around Harry's navel, briefly dipping his tongue inside, eliciting a sharp gasp from his lover. His tongue painted a path downwards, until his nose buried itself in Harry's nest of dark curls, and Draco inhaled deeply, ingraining the musky scent of his lover into his nose. Draco looked up at Harry, his silvergrey eyes meeting Harry's green gaze, and rubbed his cheek along the side of his lover's erection, whispering "beautiful, Harry. Beautiful."

Through half lidded eyes, Harry watched as Draco licked along the underside of his cock with the flat of his tongue, his hand gently pulling back Harry's foreskin. The tip of his tongue followed the retreating skin, sliding down into the slit of the head as Harry released a moan. Draco took the head of Harry's cock in his mouth, humming in appreciation, sucking it gently. When Draco worked his lips slowly down the rest of Harry's cock, the brunette threw his head back with a prolonged moan, eyes closed, fingers wrapping themselves in long blonde locks.

Draco's head began bobbing up and down in Harry's lap, his tongue caressing the underside of Harry's shaft during every upward suck. The blonde reached down and grabbed his own weeping erection, smearing his fluid over his shaft and began stroking himself in time with his minstrations on Harry's cock. "Fuck Draco, you feel so good," Harry said, watching his saliva slickened member sliding in and out between his boyfriend's lips, "always so good, love."

The blonde let his lover's rigid cock slip from his lips for just a moment, letting is slap wetly on Harry's stomach, long enough to stroke Harry's inner thigh softly and say, "I love you, Harry." When Draco returned his mouth to Harry's erection and swallowed until it hit the back of his throat, Harry started moaning a series of high falsetto notes. His cock throbbed as Draco audibly sucked up and down its length, his balls tightening, Draco's hand furiously pumping at his own shaft, and Draco hummed around Harry's cock as he shot his seed over his own hand. As the blonde came, he stilled his lips at the base of Harry's cock and sucked, and Harry started his favorite chant, "DracoDracoDracoDraco." Harry wrapped his fingers around the blonde locks, his entire body freezing and his lungs locked with pleasure, before spilling down his boyfriend's throat.

After Draco had milked every drop Harry had to offer, he reluctantly let his boyfriend's cock slip from his mouth, and laid his head to rest on the brunette's thigh, his heart rate slowly returning to normal. "Ready to come back to bed now?" he asked, a sly grin spreading across his face. Harry's fingers idly toyed with Draco's hair.

"Yes," he replied, taking his boyfriend's hand and leading him back under the covers. He looked across at the silver eyes, as he lay facing his lover. Slowly he ran his tanned fingers through the whiteblonde locks, and thanked Merlin that he found what he hadn't even known he was looking for.

End.