Secret Worlds and Wedding Parties

You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul.

Julie-Jeanne-Eleonore de Lespinasse


The band was playing something fast and cheerful and Ginny was dancing with one of the twins while Harry watched them with a sugar-false smile on his face and sipped the disgusting pink punch Ginny liked so well. For the first time all day, no one was paying him any attention and Harry took that chance before it was gone and silently slipped away.

He fled to one of the rooms, a study, it looked like, just off the huge ball room where they were holding his wedding reception and took a deep sigh of relief when he found it vacant. Not that he had expected anything else--everyone was dancing or getting drunk or lurking around the punch bowl for the chance to shake his hand and pat him on the back and congratulate him--but one never knew. There was always the chance that Ron, who was still having a difficult time wrapping his mind around his best friend fucking around with his little sister, had had the same idea to get away for a few minutes as Harry did.

But there was no one there and, for the first time all day, Harry was alone. He sighed, sat on the window seat with his back to the window, and slumped a little, hands between his knees.

“Well, Harry, you just look positively flush with marital bliss.”

Harry's head snapped up and he narrowed his eyes at Draco, who was leaning insolently in the closed doorway. “What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy?”

Draco arched a brow at him and jerked his shoulder, pushing away from the door frame and walking further into the room. “I was invited, if you'll recall,” he said calmly. “And since it was your handwriting on the invitation, I should think that you would. Potter.”

Harry tensed. “Don't call me that,” he said. “I hate you when you call me that.”

“And I hate you when you call me that,” Draco said, walking up to him to stand between his legs, forcing Harry to sit up. “It makes me want to hex your balls off. A purely juvenile reaction, I know, but you do tend to bring out the spoiled, bratty, little rich boy in me.”

“Mhmm, and that's so hard to do,” Harry grumbled.

“Thanks to your Ministry, the 'rich' part of that statement is no longer true, alas,” Draco said softly, leaning down and over Harry until he leaned back on the window seat. “And you're just being an ass, Harry, and really, if anyone has any right to be an ass right now, it's me.” He braced one arm on the cushion by Harry's shoulder and ran his other hand down Harry's chest, grinning wicked and cat-like when Harry glared at him with his emerald eyes. “After all, your lover didn't just marry himself off to a Weasley.”

Harry put his hand flat to Draco's chest and shoved him back, sitting back up. “Yeah? But he did marry himself off to a Parkinson,” Harry snapped.

Draco shrugged and moved back as Harry got to his feet. “Comes back to that rich boy thing, Harry, you know that.”

“I know that you left my bed for hers without saying anything about it more times than I think I'd like to know about,” Harry said. “I know that you did it the day you married her and I know that you never sent me an invitation.”

“You would rather I did send you an invitation?” Draco demanded. “That would have been nothing more than a petty way of rubbing your face in it.”

Harry's lips twitched with smug amusement. “I know.”

Draco gave him a keen look and smirked, then put both of his hands flat to Harry's chest and shoved his back against the wall by the window. “Yes, I know that you know,” he said, voice low, humming against Harry's mouth.

He shifted until he was pressed flush against Harry's body, moved his hands to the wall on either side of Harry's shoulders, and deliberately ground against him. Harry hissed out a breath through his teeth and tried to push Draco away. He managed to shove him back only a little before Draco threaded his fingers in the back of Harry's dark hair and, with a low growling sound of negation, jerked his head back.

“Missed you, Harry,” Draco murmured, brushing his lips up the clean line of Harry's throat, under his chin. He nipped Harry's bottom lip lightly and grinned when he caught his breath.

Shivering, Harry closed his eyes and turned his face to the side. “No,” he said softly, voice cracking a little.

“Oh, but I did,” Draco said. He gentled his hand in Harry's hair to a caress, sliding his fingers through it. He moved his mouth up the curve of Harry's jaw to his mouth and licked, pleased when Harry's lips parted on a sigh. “Come back to me, Harry?” he whispered, tempting.

“No,” Harry said stubbornly. He opened his eyes and looked at Draco. He swallowed a moan, bit it back and crushed it, when Draco rolled his hips and ground against him again. “You're married... So am I... So no.”

Draco chuckled, low, deep, and wicked, silver eyes flashing with amusement. The sound, so familiar, and like liquid gold dripping into whiskey, had another longing moan rising in Harry's throat and he brought his hands up, clutching at Draco's back, fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulders through his shirt. Draco moved into him willingly, his slim, long-fingered hands moving to Harry's shoulders, up his neck, cupping his face and tilting his head back. He lowered his mouth and kissed Harry, soft and gentle at first, asking for acceptance and seeking a reaction.

He half expected that reaction to be resistance, but it wasn't.

“Bastard,” Harry muttered, and kissed him back. He pushed against him, slanting his mouth over Draco's and nipping, just this side of biting him.

Drawing back slightly, Draco looked down at him and smiled his gentle, knowing smile. The one that said I know you, and because of how I know you, I know what you want. Arrogant, but not entirely unjustified, and as familiar as his laughter.

Draco moved one of his hands up a little on Harry's face, the pad of his thumb lightly caressing back and forth in the hollow of Harry's eye. “So fierce, Harry,” he said, gently teasing mockery in his tone.

“Months,” Harry whispered back, voice brittle with shaking, breathless, astonished laughter. “Three months. Fierce? Oh yes, I think so.”

He tugged at Draco's shirt until Draco obligingly lifted his arms so he could pull it off. Draco moved his mouth over the line of Harry's throat as Harry stretched to pull the shirt off and smiled against his skin when he shivered.

“Your wedding party... your new bride will be wondering where you are,” Draco murmured, even as his clever fingers quickly unfastened Harry's own shirt and pulled it open.

“Ha, and your wife will be wondering where you are,” Harry shot back. He brushed Draco's hands away and removed his shirt himself, tossing it on the floor without looking away from Draco's face. “So what?”

“My wife,” Draco said softly, darting his tongue over Harry's open, panting mouth, “was getting drunk on whatever that pink swill is--”

“Punch,” Harry informed him. He smoothed his hands up Draco's stomach, fingers lingering for a moment on the scar crossing his chest before sliding his hands back down and plucking at his fly. “Some disgusting combination of sorbet, club soda... and champagne.”

“Wonderful,” Draco said dryly. He eased back and shifted, pressing his hip against Harry's and maneuvering him backward toward the window seat. “Perhaps she'll get sick,” he added, an almost hopeful note in his voice.

Harry laughed a little, his breath catching and the laughter turning to a moan as Draco jerked Harry's trousers open and shoved him back against the wall right next to the window seat. The the paneled corner of the wall bit into the small of Harry's back and he hissed a curse between his teeth and pushed Draco back enough to turn around.

“I'm fierce, but you're being really damn pushy,” Harry murmured, looking at Draco over his shoulder.

Draco slid his hands down Harry's sides, fingers gliding down his rib cage to the waist band of his open trousers, lower to grasp his hips. He leaned forward, his chest to Harry's back, and nipped the back of his neck possessively. “Like you said, Harry,” Draco whispered into his ear, “it's been months.”

Harry twisted around a little to kiss Draco, moaning into his mouth when Draco ground against his ass. “Tease,” he breathed against Draco's lips.

“Not at all,” Draco said. He slipped Harry's wand out of the back pocket of his trousers and dropped it with a clack on the floor. “Not... at... all,” he repeated between nipping, sucking kisses down Harry's spine as he slowly pushed his trousers down. He dropped his head to lightly graze his teeth over the little dimples at the base of Harry's spine, just above the swell of his ass. “But I want you naked, so take your shoes off.”

Harry nodded and reached down with shaking fingers to yank his shoelaces free. He stood back up, arms braced on the corner of the wall, and used his toe on the heel of each shoe to push them off. Draco knelt behind him as he dragged Harry's trousers and underwear down his legs, nipping the swell of his ass and the back of his thigh with his teeth as he did. Harry shivered and stepped out of them as Draco stood back up, his body pressed against Harry's back, sliding up him the whole way.

Draco nibbled Harry's ear lobe and nudged his hip, moving him toward the window seat. He tumbled Harry down on the cushion on his back, grinning at the look of surprise on Harry's face when he looked around at where they were, the window seat seeming to have expanded to the width and length of a medium sized bed.

“Magic,” Draco whispered, crawling over him.

“But...” Harry reached around and snatched Draco's wand out of the back pocket of his trousers and held it in front of his nose with a lifted brow.

“Not my magic,” Draco said. He took the wand from Harry's hand, dropped it on the floor and reached up to pull the curtain that went over the window, effectively closing them into their own bright little world. Temporary world, but that was how it went.

“I hate your wife,” Harry said suddenly. “I don't even know her, really, and I hate her. And sometimes I hate you too.”

Draco stretched out on top of him, arms resting on either side of Harry's shoulders, fingers gently caressing the dark circles under his green eyes. “I hate your wife too, Harry. Get an annulment. Please.”

Harry frowned at him and tried to push him off. Draco growled, grabbed Harry's wrists in his hands, and held his arms down. “Or don't,” Draco said. He ground down on Harry, pressing against him through his trousers, pleased when Harry gasped. “Keep her if it's worth that much to you to think that I suffer over it. But tell me something, Harry. How does a man fake an orgasm? Or... perhaps you're not the only one faking it, hmm?”

“Get the fuck off me,” Harry snapped, bucking up against him, intent on throwing him off.

Still holding his arms down, Draco kissed him. Harry tried to bite him and he laughed. “I don't think so,” Draco said. He caught Harry's bottom lip between his teeth and tugged lightly, then let go and licked his mouth. “I think we're going to finish this. Even if it's the last time. Especially if it's the last time. At least I get to know it, right?”

Harry stilled and took a breath, regarding Draco with more confusion now than outrage. “There is no 'last time',” he muttered, and looked away.

He blinked at the bright sunlight coming through the window, then looked back at Draco and studied the glow of light on his pale skin and casting soft colors in his white blond hair. Harry tried to lift a hand to brush his fingers through it, touch the stray locks that had fallen to frame his face, but his arms were pinned down and Draco tightened his grip.

“Draco,” Harry said calmly, “let go of my arms. I'm not going anywhere.”

Draco cocked his head a little to the side and smirked. “Maybe I just like holding you down,” he said, but he let go, palms sliding down to Harry's elbows before he moved his hands away.

Bracing one arm on the cushion over Harry's shoulder, Draco lifted up, the flat his other hand moving down Harry's stomach. Draco let his fingers caress up and down Harry's cock, watching his face as his eyes drifted closed and his lips parted, his breath coming fast and harsh.

“Open your legs for me, Harry,” Draco whispered, coaxing. He ducked his head and swiped his tongue over one of Harry's nipples, then nipped it and blew on the sensitive flesh lightly until Harry squirmed. “Open for me.”

Harry blinked up at him, then with a soft huff of breath, lifted his knees up and spread his legs, cradling Draco's hips. Draco moved his hand from Harry's cock and pressed a finger slowly inside him. He thrust his hand against Harry's ass and hooked his finger, pressing as he drew it out and pushed it back in.

Harry whimpered and reached out to dig his fingers into the muscle of Draco's upper arms. “Tease,” he said again.

“Mhmm.” Draco pushed a second and third finger inside him and thrust them deep, twisting as he pushed them in, opening them as he pulled them back. Harry cried out and jerked and Draco's lips twitched with smug satisfaction.

“Bastard,” Harry hissed. He let go of Draco's arms and reached between them, fumbling with Draco's belt. He got it open and tugged at his zipper. “You arrogant fucking bastard, stop playing with me and fuck me now or get off me.”

Draco narrowed his eyes and drove his hand against Harry's ass one final time, tearing a strangled sound from him and forcing his body to tighten and his hips to buck. Harry lay back panting and shivering and Draco shoved his trousers down his hips, then grabbed Harry's waist and dragged him across the cushion. Draco slid his hands down to Harry's hips, gently, almost petting, then dug his fingers in and tilted him up and back. He watched Harry's eyes as he pushed inside of him, being careful and penetrating him slowly, mindful of the fact that they had nothing but Draco's precum to ease the way.

Harry grumbled impatiently and tightened his legs around Draco's waist, knees digging into his back below his shoulder blades. When Draco started to move, pulling out and thrusting back with agonizingly slow, careful strokes, Harry arched his back a little off the cushion and thrust down to meet him. Draco's breath hitched on a moan and Harry did it again, rolling his hips and grinding his ass against him.

Daco hissed out a curse between his teeth and Harry reached up and twisted his fingers in the back of his hair, pulling his face down to lick his mouth and kiss him. “Fuck me,” he said roughly with his mouth pressed to Draco's. “I won't break, you know that. I'm not going anywhere, so stop treating me like spun glass and fuck me or I'm going to scream and bring the entire wedding party running.”

Draco grinned down at him and thrust into him hard. Harry bit down on his bottom lip and moaned, head dropping back on the cushion, rocking his hips up. Draco caught the motion and moved into it, moving inside Harry with slow, deep strokes, then altering his pace and slamming into him hard and fast.

The pulling, almost slick sensation of Draco's cock stroking in and out of him had Harry's breath coming in short, hitching pants. He moaned deeply and his back bowed a little as he worked his hips and tried to keep to Draco's slow rhythm. Then Draco snapped his hips forward, his pace suddenly quickening, becoming nearly brutal, and Harry cried out and dragged his fingers down Draco's back.

“Hush,” Draco whispered. He leaned down, lowering his head to lick and kiss Harry's mouth. “I didn't lock the door. You don't want your sweet little wife to...”

“I don't care,” Harry rasped. Draco slowed his rough, pounding rhythm and Harry whined deep and desperate in the back of his throat. “Don't stop,” he pleaded. “Don't...”

“I'm not,” Draco said. He shifted his angle a little and thrust again, his hip bones slamming into Harry's ass, cock stroking over Harry's prostate. Harry tensed and made a sound just short of a scream that Draco cut off by pressing a hard kiss to his lips. “Shh, I'm not.”

“--I don't know where he went, Ron. He's probably in the gardens passed out drunk in a rose bush, but I seriously doubt he's in here reading a book or--”

“He might be. You don't know.”

Draco pressed his face into Harry's shoulder and laughed silently, shoulders shaking, and stilled his thrusting hips. Harry whimpered and clutched at his back, keeping as silent as he could with Draco's cock deep inside him, making his body throb.

“Besides, Dean said he thought he saw someone come in here about forty minutes ago, and that could have been Harry.”

“It could also have been any number of other people. More than half of the wizarding world was at that wedding.”

Draco shifted on top of Harry to peek over the side of the window seat and make sure that their clothes and wands were on their side of the thick curtain separating them from Harry's nosy little friends. The movement had him pushing deeper and Harry moaned softly and bit down on his shoulder.

Draco turned his face to the side and nuzzled his neck, just below his ear. He licked Harry's ear lobe, tasting salt musky sweat, and rolled his hips, grinding against him, inside him without withdrawing. Harry growled low in his throat and clutched at Draco's shoulders. Draco clenched his teeth, biting back a cry as the sound hummed down his skin. He could feel his own impending orgasm building in the pit of his stomach and the base of his spine, little tingling fingers of pleasure reaching out. From the way Harry was trembling all over and contracting around him, his breath puffing in unsteady bursts against Draco's sweat damp shoulder, he was in the same condition.

“Ron, there's nobody in here but us. Come on. Let's go check the garden again.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right.”

“She is right, you prat. Get the fuck out of here,” Draco whispered into Harry's sweat tangled hair.

Harry laughed silently and flicked his tongue over the flesh of Draco's shoulder between his teeth.

Retreating footsteps... the door opening and closing...

“I hate your friends as much as I hate your wife,” Draco grumbled the moment they were alone again. “Nosy, interfering--fucking god, Harry, don't do that.”

Harry made an amused chuffing sound and deliberately rolled his hips up, slow and deep and grinding, clenching down as he did so that it was like a tight hand gripping Draco's cock and sliding down. “I'll get an annulment if you get a divorce,” Harry murmured.

Draco gasped and thrust, hips slamming forward with an involuntary jerk. “I... can't,” he panted. “I married her... for her money. Signed a... contract... motherfucking god, Harry, you little fuck... calling me a tease...”

“You are a tease,” Harry said. He moved his hips, thrusting up in a rolling rhythm, drawing Draco into it. “Break the contract. I have money, you don't need...” Harry's voice trailed off on a breathless cry.

Draco tossed his head, shaking his pale hair out of his face, and matched him stroke for stroke. He felt Harry tense, this time without his volition, and moved faster.

Shuddering, Harry arched off the cushion with a shout that went un-muffled into the room as he came. Draco's eyes flared triumphantly and he fucked him right through it, never hesitating as Harry shook and writhed beneath him.

Harry fell back on the cushion, eyes slipping closed, then snapping open to meet Draco's, watching his face as he moved over him. He reached up and ran his fingers, brushing light, down Draco's cheek and Draco moaned and let his head fall forward as he moved, sweaty tendrils of his hair dusting over Harry's face and throat.

His orgasm hit him abruptly and raked down his spine in brittle sharp waves that throbbed in time to his erratic heartbeat, deliciously slow and lasting. Draco slumped forward on Harry, bracing his weight on his forearms on either side of Harry's shoulders, his face pressed into Harry's chest as he came.

They lay like that for several long minutes, Draco's shoulders heaving as he caught his breath, Harry drifting toward sleep with his fingers petting through the hair at the nape of Draco's neck. Draco finally pulled out of him and scooted down a little on the cushion to rest his head on Harry's belly.

Harry murmured contentedly and stretched, his eyes closed, staring at the red of the sunlight behind his eyelids.

“What did you say?” Draco asked. His mouth was dry and he licked his lips and grimaced. They felt chapped and parched.

“I said, I missed you too,” Harry said, voice an exhausted purr.

Draco tilted his head back and rolled his eyes up to look at him. He couldn't see much from that angle other than the underside of Harry's chin and the tangled mess of his black hair. He turned his head back down and closed his eyes.

“People fall down the stairs and break their necks every day,” he said after a moment.

Harry pushed up on his elbows and looked down at him. “What?”

“We have a nice, long staircase at the Manor,” Draco went on as though Harry hadn't spoken. “Peruvian marble is very hard, especially if you hit your head on it. And my wife wears these atrocious spike heels. It would be a shame if she were to twist her ankle and die and leave me all her money.”

“Shame,” Harry repeated dully. “Ah... So I suppose I'll be looking into that annulment after all.”

“Unless you'd rather I throw her down the stairs as well,” Draco said with a wicked grin.

“No, I don't think that will be necessary.”

“You're absolutely right, that would look a tad suspicious, wouldn't it?” Draco said.

Harry rolled his eyes and flopped back on the cushion. “Draco?”

“Hmm?”

“Maybe we should lock the door.”

Draco reached down and blindly rummaged around on the floor in their clothes for one of their wands. He found one--Harry's, by the feel of it--pointed it through the curtain at the door and muttered a spell under his breath. The lock clicked into place and he dropped the wand back on the floor.

“Better?”

“I don't guess I could convince you to just divorce her instead of tossing her down the stairs, could I?”

“I doubt it.”

Harry sighed. “Then yes, that's much better. Thank you.”

Draco smiled faintly. “You're welcome, Potter.”


//finis//