7 February, 2004: Saturday
“I can't do this, Hermione.”
“Don't be ridiculous.”
“I'm not an auror anymore. I gave up field work years ago, and for good reason.” Harry sighed and stared at the ceiling. “Besides, it's Malfoy . I can't keep my personal feelings from interfering. Please, Hermione, get me taken off this case.”
“That's impossible, and you know it” Harry hadn't expected her to say she'd try, but he had hoped for a tiny bit of sympathy. “You can do this, Harry, auror or no. You're just going to have to work through your childhood animosity.”
Harry snorted. He wasn't going to tell her that the animosity wasn't the problem. The problem was that Harry wasn't ready for this assignment. He was feeling things he hadn't expected to feel, and it was interfering with his ability to do his job – as limited as that was to begin with. “Fine,” he muttered. “But I thought you, of all people, would understand how hard this is for me.”
“I do, Harry. But you've been there nearly a week, and Malfoy would be suspicious if you disappeared and someone new from the Ministry of Magic showed up to take your place.”
“I know, I know. Forget it.” Harry stretched under the sheets, yawning. “Why do you have to call me so horribly early? You have no idea what kind of hours Malfoy keeps.”
“Oooh, really?” Hermione cooed. “Has he been taking you clubbing? Is he...?” She paused.
“Yes, he is,” Harry said. “As are quite a few of the people who live round here.”
“You're comfortable with that, then?”
A little too comfortable , Harry thought. “Of course,” he replied. “Did you think I wouldn't be?”
“No...”
“Did you know Neville was gay?” Harry mused, twisting the phone cord around his finger.
“Yes. Everybody knew that.”
Harry frowned. “Am I the only one who didn't?”
“Harry dear – I love you, but sometimes you're completely oblivious.” Harry opened his mouth to protest. “It's nearly time to pick up the twins from day care, so I need to go. I'm going to send you a fax before I leave the office. It's very important that you read it straight away. I can't say more with people around.”
“I... All right.” Harry closed his eyes. “Thanks. Bye.”
He replaced the receiver and rubbed at his eyes. He was tired, and irritable, and confused, and horny as hell. He hadn't had sex for months, which hadn't bothered him until... lately. It had to be the result of the blatant display of sex and sexuality he'd been exposed to recently, courtesy of Draco Malfoy.
Of course, he'd been thinking quite a lot about Malfoy lately, and not always in ways that were comfortable. But that didn't mean anything, did it? The bathroom incident had happened while he was drunk, after all. He'd been hard before he even saw Malfoy there.
But he didn't have an excuse for his reaction to the kiss. He'd been sober then, and he didn't even like Manny – though he couldn't deny the man was gorgeous. It wasn't difficult to see what Malfoy liked about him. Harry had always been attracted to girls who were the aggressive ones in bed, and something about Manny just taking a kiss from him had triggered his arousal in a way he hadn't experienced in a long time. His stomach fluttered a bit just thinking about it.
He was stroking himself before he even realized it, and jerked his hand away in frustration. “You're not going to wank thinking about Manny,” he chastised himself.
He had to admit it made sense, though. Maybe he really was attracted to men as well as women. There had been so many moments in his life when he'd found himself inexplicably drawn to one of his male friends, in a way he had always sensed they hadn't felt in return. It had added to his sense of isolation. Marrying Cho had been an easy way out of that emotional mess.
And then there was Ron, and the kiss they'd shared as teenagers. Harry closed his eyes at the memory. He hadn't meant for it to happen. They were horsing around one moment, and the next, they were grinning at each other, far too close for comfort. Harry had kissed him because he thought Ron had felt the little shiver in his stomach too. He hadn't, it turned out. Things were awkward between them for months aftwerwards.
Harry managed to go back to sleep, but was plagued with dreams that kept him perpetually aroused. He finally got up and into the shower, washing Malfoy's styling products out of his hair before he let his hand drift down again. Water streamed over his chest and down his thighs, and he focused on the image of Malfoy, back against the wall, trousers around his knees. It was an image that had been working itself into his thoughts with alarming frequency.
He stroked his cock to hardness, letting the image evolve in his mind. Malfoy was biting his lip, eyes closed. The man at his feet – who was bearing more and more resemblance to Harry in this fantasy – was taking his time, swallowing Malfoy's shaft and releasing it again, licking at the head, making little sounds of pleasure in the back of his throat.
Harry leaned back against the cool tile of the shower, realizing he was adding details of a particularly good blow job he'd once received from a Muggle he'd picked up in a bar. It had been one of the few one-night-stands he'd ever had, and he'd never seen her again. He hadn't thought of it in years, but the memory flooded his mind now, unbidden. He concentrated on the things she'd done to him, imagining Malfoy's trick doing the same. His own reactions melded with Malfoy's: the image in his mind moaned with him when he sped up the pace, roughly stroking his water-slicked cock. He was close now, at the point where he usually would back off and wait before pushing himself to the edge of orgasm again. Manny's kiss popped into his mind out of nowhere, and in his fantasy Harry stepped forward and pinned Malfoy to the wall with one hand on his chest, and kissed him. Malfoy's lips parted for him, and Harry deepened the kiss, feeling Malfoy begin to tremble, close to coming.
Harry's hand was a blur, and he let the image go as he felt the tightening in his groin begin. He gritted his teeth and groaned as he came, then collapsed to the shower floor. He panted, shivering though the water was hot.
That was one of the best orgasms he'd ever given himself. Maybe he really didn't need the hassle of a partner after all.
In another ten minutes he was clean, shaved, and feeling significantly more relaxed. He walked out of the bathroom – and nearly cried out in surprise. Malfoy was sitting on the bed, dressed for work, and flipping through the San Francisco! tourist magazine that had been sitting on the nightstand.
“Fucking hell, Malfoy, what are you–” Harry began, and then remembered he was naked. He fished his towel from the bathroom floor and wrapped it around his waist.
Malfoy didn't even look up from the magazine. “Have a nice shower?” he asked, tone suggesting he knew exactly what Harry had been doing.
“What do you want?” Harry said, feeling tension creep back into his body again. “Why are you here?”
Malfoy tossed the magazine aside and smiled knowingly at Harry. “Just thought I'd pop in on my way to work. See how you were doing.”
Harry gritted his teeth. He really needed to put up some wards. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten, again. “I'm fine, honestly.”
“You didn't seem fine last night. I was hoping we could talk.”
“Malfoy, please...” Harry whined. “I'm tired. I'm naked. I'm not in a very good mood. Can we not do this now?”
“Oh, of course not now,” Malfoy said, standing. “I wanted to know if you could come over for dinner tonight.” At Harry's skeptical look, he said, “I can cook, I swear. Just you and me.” Harry's expression brightened. The idea of spending some time alone with Malfoy was appealing after the more disastrous events of the last two nights. “Some friends will come over later, but it'll be just you and me until then.”
Harry's expression faltered a bit, but he nodded. “What time?”
“I get off at six tonight. Why don't you just come on over when you're ready?”
After he'd disapparated, Harry realized Hermione's latest coded fax had been slipped under the door while he was in the shower; it had been lying on the floor the entire time. Not that Malfoy could have read it, but if he'd seen it, he would likely have known what it was. Harry retrieved it with a sigh, and tried to remember where he'd left his wand.
He'd been so absent-minded over the last week, but he had the feeling he'd been this way for a long time. Why hadn't it been an issue before? Had people simply tolerated him? Taken care of him? Protected him?
No wonder the Ministry had given him such a high-paying desk job after the War. Perhaps they were prepared to pay any price to get him out of the field and tuck him safely away. Harry sighed. Based on his performance so far, he could hardly blame them.
Harry spent the day sightseeing on his own. He'd finally relocated the copy of San Francisco: The Wizard's Guide that Hermione had thoughtfully bought for him at Heathrow, buried at the bottom of his rucksack. He'd planned to go down to Haight-Ashbury , but changed his mind at the last minute, thinking he might still be able to convince Malfoy to go with him later.
He had dim sum in Chinatown and then visited a famous shop owned by an old Chinese wizard. It was cleverly disguised as a “junk” shop, full of $3 t-shirts and cheap porcelain dishes. The sheer array of potions ingredients he'd never heard of was fantastic, though he wasn't sure what one did with dried dragon's penis.
He climbed up past Union Square to Nob Hill, but it was so foggy he couldn't see anything. He kept walking, slipping the guidebook out of his coat and peering at it occasionally. It had been charmed to look like a Tom Clancy novel to passing Muggles. Harry supposed that even wizards didn't want to look like tourists if they could help it.
He stumbled across a small square with a flea market and remembered he'd promised to buy gifts for Hermione's children. He paused at a table of handmade toys, thinking of the morning's fax again. He'd read it with a mix of emotions, and still felt uneasy. The summary of the CIA update had made it clear the agency was on Malfoy's trail as well, and they were prepared to take him into custody if he appeared to be a threat. Based on the earlier reports he'd read, Harry wasn't certain exactly what would constitute a sufficient “threat.” He hoped he could convince Malfoy to return to the UK before he unwittingly did something threatening.
Of course, Malfoy would hardly be welcomed back to the Ministry with open arms, either. Bass and Fallin wanted him brought in for questioning immediately, and they were considering bringing charges against him for collusion and obstruction of justice. Harry wasn't certain why the Minister for Magic had taken such an interest in this case. Fallin had even requested that Harry personally fax him a report of everything he'd learned so far.
The problem was, he still knew next to nothing, and even if he did know what was going on, he was less and less certain he would simply turn Malfoy's story over to the authorities. It was only Saturday, though, and he wasn't supposed to fax his report in until Monday. He had time to find a way out of doing it.
He bought some hand-painted wooden trains for the twins – things they could practice their blossoming magic on – and decided to look for something for Hermione as well. She had a fondness for quirky jewelry, and there was a large selection of that at the market. He was trying to decide between two necklaces of the chunky ethnic style she seemed to appreciate when a display of jade jewelry caught his eye. In particular, there was a brilliantly hued necklace of jade beads.
He fingered the ring on his right hand – it had a jade stone set into it, and there was something about the color that had always fascinated him. Hermione had smiled at him when she'd caught him staring at it one day. Maybe it's because of your mother, you know? Everyone's always said you have her eyes.
“I'll make you a deal on that one,” the seller said, having noted his gaze. “It was part of a set, but one of the earrings is gone.”
“I'll take it,” Harry replied, not even inquiring about the price. “And how much for the one earring?”
Later that afternoon, he stared at his purchases, sitting on his bed and wondering what had possessed him to buy a present for Malfoy as well. He cast a small protection charm on both pieces – not something very effective in reality, but usually considered a thoughtful touch, and tucked the earring into his pocket.
He was useless at cleaning spells – at least, that was what Cho had always said – so he'd had the Inn do washing for him. Malfoy's black shirt had come clean, to his relief. He decided to wear it again, as Malfoy had liked it so much a few nights ago. He pressed the buzzer outside the door of Malfoy's building at 6:30 , having waited as long as he could bear before walking over.
“Hiya,” he heard behind him, and turned to see Malfoy walking up the steps with a sack of groceries. “Keys are in my pocket.”
Harry blinked at him for a second before realizing Malfoy wanted him to open the door. He reached into Malfoy's coat pocket.
“Not that pocket,” Malfoy said, grinning.
“You're so predictable,” Harry said, digging his fingers into the front pocket of Malfoy's chinos. He grinned back, though, and Malfoy had the grace to blush when Harry realized he had the wrong pocket and tried the other one.
“Your hands are cold,” Malfoy said when Harry's fingers brushed against the bare skin of his stomach. Harry pressed his fingers against the warm skin under his shirt, and Malfoy yelped.
“Oh, but you're so warm!” Harry said, laughing. Malfoy looked strangely unsettled as he squirmed away.
“Just open the fucking door already. I've been carrying this bag uphill for eight blocks, and it's heavy.” Harry took the bag from him instead, and held out the keys. “What a gentleman,” Malfoy smirked, unlocking the front door.
As they walked up the stairs, Harry tried to look anywhere but at Malfoy's arse. It was difficult, since it was so conveniently located in front of his face. He almost ran into it when Malfoy paused at the top of the stairs, for no reason Harry could discern.
And that was when he first felt the wards. He wasn't sure if they'd been there before and he simply hadn't noticed, or if they were new, but there they were: pulsing mildly around the perimeter of Malfoy's flat, and a little stronger around the door. Harry frowned, wondering what else he'd been missing.
Once in the flat, Harry couldn't help but glance around for any evidence of what might have happened after he'd left the night before. The flat was in its typical immaculate state, however. There was only one coffee mug sitting on the counter. Harry pursed his lips. Maybe Manny never stayed the night. But he had a key, and–
“Just put the bag on the table,” Malfoy said as he hung up his coat. “Want some wine?”
“Please.” Harry set the bag down next to an unusual-looking plant. He stared at it for a moment, wondering why it looked so familiar. “Bonzai?” he asked, knowing better than to touch a strange plant.
“Opercularya decaryi,” Malfoy replied, rummaging through the bag for the wine bottle. “You know, good for anti-depression potions and such.” Harry blinked at him, and Malfoy gave him a long look. “You did earn a NEWT in Herbology, didn't you?”
“Well... yes, but that was ages ago,” Harry stammered. “I'm just surprised; that's all.” He looked around the flat and realized Malfoy had a number of magical plants, tucked away in corners and on shelves. “I would never have guessed you'd have a green thumb,” he mused.
“I dated Neville,” Malfoy stated, as if this should explain everything.
Harry was only allowed to watch while Malfoy threw together a simple meal. He insisted the kitchen was too small for two people, and that he had it under control. Harry was amazed that he was cooking entirely without magic.
“I like to cook,” Malfoy said when he pointed that out. “I only use magic for the shit I hate to do, like dishes, or cleaning the toilet.”
Harry decided his job was to keep Malfoy's wine glass full, and they'd finished an entire bottle before they sat down at the table.
“If we keep going at this rate, I may have to call in sick tomorrow,” Malfoy said with a wink, ladling Bolognese sauce over farfalle and handing the finished plates to Harry to take to the table.
“What, out of hangover potion?”
“As of this morning, yes,” Malfoy replied.
Harry struggled to open the bottle of Barolo Malfoy had just handed him. “I didn't think you were that drunk last night.”
“You left early, remember?” Malfoy tapped the top of the bottle with his wand, and the cork popped half a meter into the air before sailing into a basket full of corks in the corner.
Harry refilled their wine glasses and sat. “So you... hung around with Manny after I left?”
Malfoy took a bite of pasta and wrinkled his nose. “Ugh. It's fucking impossible to get good tomatoes this time of year.” Harry stared at him until he rolled his eyes and sighed. “All right. I was upset after you stormed out, with no explanation. You wouldn't even look at me.” His tone was stilted, and Harry could almost imagine a bit of hurt behind the words. “So I had several cosmos, and Manny fucked me, and then he left.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Why do you feel a need to give so much detail?”
“It's what you want,” Malfoy replied, raising an eyebrow. “Isn't that what you were asking, really?”
Harry stared at his plate. If he was completely honest with himself, he had to admit that was exactly what he'd been asking.
“And that's not detail, Potter. Detail is telling you that he sucked me off first, then fucked me on this very table.” Harry dropped his fork, and Malfoy's expression became predatory. “You want more detail? It all started when he told me about kissing you, and how hot it was to think about the three of us together. While he was inside me, he kept telling me how much he wanted to watch you fucking me.” He casually took a sip of wine, as if he'd been discussing the weather.
Harry still hadn't picked up his fork. He wasn't sure whether to be shocked, or jealous, or disgusted, or aroused by the thought of Manny fucking Malfoy and talking about... him . He took several sips of wine, unable to meet Malfoy's gaze.
“I'm sorry,” Malfoy said, with a hint of humor in his tone. “Maybe you didn't quite want that level of detail.”
“I...” Harry began, but didn't know what to say. He looked up and saw Malfoy watching him with a thoughtful expression.
“So he kissed you?” Malfoy asked, and took a bite of pasta.
“Yeah,” Harry said, picking up his fork and pushing the farfalle around on his plate. “He kissed me.”
“Well?” Malfoy asked, mouth full.
“It wasn't bad,” Harry said, starting to smile despite himself. “He's a good kisser.”
Malfoy grinned. “Is ickle Harry coming out at last?”
“I'm not gay,” Harry replied, gesturing with his fork. “I like women. I like the way their bodies feel, all soft and curvy. I like breasts.”
Malfoy made a face. “Breasts are for feeding babies, you know. You really ought to grow out of your Oedipal complex.”
“I like pussy,” Harry said, grinning. “I like the way it smells, the way it tastes.”
“Okay, please stop,” Malfoy said, holding up one hand. “That's far too much detail.”
Harry laughed. “Can't handle a bit of your own?”
“Oh, no,” he retorted. “That's not it at all. You see, I don't like women. I'm about as gay as a man can be. I've never even seen pussy, and unless one of my friends has a baby under some sort of dire circumstances and I have to deliver it, I doubt I ever will.” He paused and picked up his wine glass, leering at Harry over the rim. “You, on the other hand, seem to find men at least a bit attractive.”
“I can't say I'm averse to this idea,” Harry replied. It was true, after all.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow and refilled Harry's glass. “First Weasley and now Manny. Two boys in the last ten years? You're practically bisexual.”
Harry chewed his pasta and smiled. He was relieved they'd returned to their flirtatious banter as if nothing had happened. But a lot had happened in the last 24 hours. He wasn't certain what it would be like when the others arrived, but at least they were talking again.
They lingered over the wine, tongues loosened, and reminisced about their school days. Not surprisingly, they had vastly different perspectives on many of the major events of their adolescence.
“Oh come on,” Harry groaned, gesturing broadly with his wine glass. “Umbridge was an evil bitch!”
“She was nice if you played her game,” Malfoy countered. “Honestly, Harry, you could have saved yourself an awful lot of trouble fifth year if you'd just kept your mouth shut about Voldemort. Everyone who really mattered knew you were telling the truth.”
“She was spreading lies and propaganda,” Harry replied. “I couldn't not respond. So many lives could have been saved if the truth had been acknowledged sooner.”
“Are you so sure?” Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “I doubt things would have turned out any differently had the news come out then or a year later.” He paused, studying his empty wine glass. “Denial is a powerful emotion, especially when fueled by fear.”
Harry stared at him for a moment, wondering if he was implying something about Harry himself. “Maybe,” he replied, uncomfortable with that possibility. They were both quiet for a while.
“I watched you with Ginny Weasley once,” Malfoy said at last, words slurring just a bit.
“You're joking.” Harry felt himself blushing, though he was thankful for the change of subject.
“You were in the Room of Requirement.”
“Oh god,” Harry replied. He remembered that day very well. He and Ginny had been dating off and on that year, and she'd been trying to get him into bed for months. It was just after he'd had his falling out with Ron, and he didn't think fucking his friend's little sister would have helped to heal the rift. Ginny had finally cornered him one day in March, and had convinced him she needed his help with a DADA spell. She'd taken him to the Room of Requirement and flirted with him for nearly half an hour before finally pushing him to the floor and kissing him. She'd got his trousers pushed down and her hand on his dick before he'd realised what was about to happen. She hadn't been wearing anything under her plaid school skirt, and had simply impaled herself on him, right there on the floor.
Harry exhaled. “That was my first time, actually.”
Malfoy snorted. “Right.” At Harry's earnest expression, his jaw dropped. “You're kidding!”
“No,” Harry replied, then blushed. “Well, my first time doing that , at least. How did you get in there, anyway?”
“You weren't the only person in that school with an invisibility cloak.” Malfoy cast a spell on the dishes and watched as they floated into the kitchen and emptied their contents into the garbage disposal before depositing themselves in the dishwasher. “I told you I did a lot of looking.”
Harry's eyes narrowed. “What else did you see?”
Malfoy stood, grinning, but didn't answer.
They lounged on the sofa, nursing their wine and half-watching the episode of “Survivor” Malfoy had Tivo'd. Harry complained about the shite Malfoy considered entertainment, but he watched it anyway.
He mostly watched Malfoy, though. He watched his face go from confusion to amusement, to surprise, to glee, over and over. He watched the way Malfoy's eyes flicked to Harry when he thought Harry wasn't looking. He watched the way Malfoy cast his eyes down when Harry teased him. Harry found himself longing to touch Malfoy in some way; to take his hand, to touch his hair, to press his thigh against Malfoy's – anything.
It felt like any other awkward date he'd ever been on; he knew he liked the person, but he was afraid to make a move. Despite the fact that he'd been pursued by women for his entire adult life, he'd never thought of himself as particularly handsome. He'd always been afraid of being rejected. Besides, the girls who wanted him had always just come on to him .
Maybe men were different. Maybe Harry , with men, was different. He swallowed, staring at Malfoy. Could he really do this? It was one thing to find a man attractive, but it was another thing entirely to have sex with one. Malfoy seemed to approach sex very casually, and though that wasn't something Harry was entirely comfortable with, perhaps sleeping with him would get Harry closer to his goal of gaining Malfoy's trust.
He dug into his pocket and pulled out the earring. “Hold out your hand.”
“What?” Malfoy asked, suspicious.
“I have something for you, stupid. Hold it out.” Malfoy did, and Harry dropped the jade stud into his palm.
Malfoy stared at it for a moment. “You bought this for me?” Harry nodded. “Why?”
“It made me think of you,” Harry shrugged, suddenly embarrassed.
Malfoy studied it. “It's beautiful. How sweet, you even put a protection charm on it.” Harry blushed scarlet, realizing what a hokey thing that had been to do.
“Apology accepted,” Malfoy smiled, exchanging the silver stud in his ear for the jade one.
I didn't apologize, Harry thought, clenching his jaw, but he knew better than to say it out loud.
Malfoy smiled at him then, and Harry's breath caught in his throat. He was radiant , though that word seemed a strange one to apply to a man. Malfoy's eyes were more silver than grey at the moment, and his hair fell loosely around his face. He tilted his head, and a red-streaked lock fell over his eyes. Harry reached out to tuck it behind an ear, then cupped Malfoy's cheek in his hand. Malfoy's eyes were wide, and his expression soft – a look that was almost inviting. Malfoy swallowed, and then his lips parted, just barely.
It seemed such a perfect moment to kiss him, so Harry did, tentatively pressing his lips against Malfoy's. He expected resistance, and when he didn't find it, he pressed a little harder, threading his fingers into Malfoy's hair and cupping the base of his skull. He swept his tongue across Malfoy's lips and felt more than heard the responding whimper. He opened his mouth and felt the movement mirrored beneath his lips. After that, it was a blur of tongues sliding together, and a bit of teeth, and heat, and the taste of wine. He hadn't been aware Malfoy was trembling until it stopped and Malfoy's arms were around him, pulling Harry down on top of him.
Oh god, Harry thought, feeling himself getting hard. He pressed Malfoy into the sofa, automatically sliding a knee between Malfoy's thighs to push them apart.
A buzzing sound caused Malfoy to stiffen beneath him. “Shit,” he muttered, pulling out of the kiss. “They're here.”
Harry sat up, trying to control his breathing. They stared at each other for an awkward moment before Malfoy straightened his clothing and walked to the door, pressing the intercom button. “Yes?”
“Dude, hurry the fuck up! We're freezing out here,” they heard. Malfoy pressed another button and took a deep breath before turning back to Harry. Neither of them said anything.
Harry had a flash of the terrible moment after he'd kissed Ron: the stunned expression on his face, the way his eyes had widened and then grown hard before he'd pushed Harry away and said, “What the fuck did you do that for?” Harry had stuttered an apology, but Ron had just left, and had avoided him until after Christmas. It had crushed Harry, and he'd sworn to himself he'd never do it again.
But he just had. Fuck, he thought.
Malfoy smiled at him and shrugged. “Bad timing. Of course, they all think we're fucking each other anyway.”
Harry glanced down at his obvious erection and panicked. “I'll just... uh... be in the toilet, then,” he mumbled, making as graceful an exit as possible. He was freaked out enough that willing his erection away was easy, and he stared at himself in the mirror for a long moment. “What the fuck are you doing?” he whispered to his reflection. It wasn't a magical mirror, so it had no advice for him.
He returned to the main room to see that Colby had arrived with a couple of boys Harry hadn't met before. “Oh, and this is Harry!” Colby said, by way of introduction. The new boys smiled at him.
Malfoy went to the kitchen for drinks, taking the boys with him so they could tell him what they wanted. Colby slid an arm around Harry and smiled. “You both look a little rumpled. Sorry if we interrupted anything.” He grinned when Harry blushed.
Ten minutes later, Jeremy arrived with another man; Colby told Harry they'd been dating off and on for a few months. Malfoy set the satellite radio on a channel playing mellow music, and they all sat around and talked. Harry was mildly entertained for a while – the conversation centered on local politics mostly, and the two younger boys turned out to be students at San Francisco State University . They related a particularly funny story about a recent campus altercation between the Young Republicans and the Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, and Transgendered Student Alliance that had ended with the president of the Young Republicans being forced to write a public letter of apology for his insensitivity in using the word “freaks.”
“At least you have such organizations,” Malfoy snorted. Harry missed the rest of what he said, because Malfoy had seated himself very close to one of the students and was smiling at the boy in a way that was all too familiar. Harry's jaw clenched.
Jeremy and his friend were busy working with something that Harry soon realized was a pipe. They passed it around as the conversation continued, and Harry hesitated a moment before lighting it for himself. He'd smoked a lot of pot in the months after the War, and he and Cho had both sworn off drugs when she'd found out she was pregnant.
He watched Malfoy nuzzling the neck of the student, and forced himself to look away. Malfoy was being anything but careful around strangers, and Harry was starting to wonder if his behavior was intentionally self-destructive. Of course, the wards around the flat were strong. Harry doubted anyone would be able to do any harm to Malfoy while they were up.
Colby coughed and nudged him, and Harry looked down at the pipe in his hand. Best to blend in with the crowd, for the sake of the mission. Besides, he could always throw off the high with a spell, if he had to. He'd have to step into the toilet to do it, but–
Malfoy laughed across the room, and the sound of it made Harry grimace. He wasn't jealous so much as irritated by the situation. He would probably need this tonight if he were going to keep his cool. He flicked the lighter on and brought the pipe to his lips.
The hit felt stronger than he remembered, but didn't make him cough. Like riding a bike , he thought as he passed the pipe to Colby. He stared across the room at Malfoy and his trick-of-the-moment. Harry swallowed down his frustration, trying again to convince himself he wasn't jealous. After all, this boy was nothing more than a potential fuck for Malfoy. The odds of him being dangerous were low. Still, it might not hurt to remind Malfoy of what had happened between them earlier.
He got off the couch and crossed the room, stopping before Malfoy. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Malfoy looked up at him. “What, now?”
Harry folded his arms over his chest, embarrassed. He hadn't meant to make a scene. “Yes, now.”
Mafloy nodded his head very slightly towards the boy next to him, who was taking a hit off the pipe. “I'm a little busy at the moment.”
It was a struggle not to glare at him. “Please?” Harry said, hoping he didn't sound too pathetic.
After some eye-rolling and a promise he'd return quickly, Malfoy trudged after Harry into the bedroom.
“What is it, then?” he asked, clearly annoyed.
Harry couldn't help but snort in response. “You really have no idea why I want to talk to you?”
“No,” Malfoy replied. “I haven't.”
“You were kissing me not twenty minutes ago, and now you're–”
“Oh, for fuck's sake,” Malfoy groaned. “I knew that was a mistake. Harry, look – you should know by now what I'm like.”
“What are you like, Draco?” Harry asked. “Please tell me, so I won't misunderstand whatever it is that's happening between us.”
Malfoy's jaw dropped. “Harry, there is nothing happening between us.”
“Then why did you kiss me like that? Why were you looking at me like–”
“I do that with everybody! Do you think you're special?”
“I... no,” Harry replied, feeling more hurt than he wanted to admit. Somehow this conversation had become very real, and it caught him by surprise.
“No, I think you do,” Malfoy retorted, shaking his head. “You always did. Well, I'm not going to be a part of your little post-divorce bi-curious fling. You can find someone else to fuck before you go back to England , back to the real world. This is my fucking life , Harry, not some sit-com you can pop into when you feel like it, just because you think you might like boys.”
“I'm not ... it's not just...” Harry paused, flustered. “Draco, I like you.” And he meant it, he realized. He did like Malfoy, very much. When had that happened?
Malfoy inhaled and looked away. “Look, Harry, I like you too. I really do, but... I can't...” He exhaled, as if trying to work up his courage. “My life is a bit complicated right now. We're only going to be friends, nothing more. I'm sorry.” He left the room quickly, without looking at Harry again.
Harry felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. He sat on the bed for a moment, bewildered. What the fuck was happening? Malfoy had just looked at him like he really felt something, like getting involved with Harry was a risk he didn't dare take. And the kiss had been real, Harry was certain of that. His stomach did a flip at the memory of it.
Harry scrubbed at his face with his hands. This was all happening so fast, and he didn't have time to sort it out properly. He'd thought he could just have Malfoy if he wanted – after all, the man was hardly picky about whom he slept with. But seducing Malfoy didn't seem like a stealthy ploy anymore, but something real and dangerous. And what about Harry, himself? What did he really want? He wasn't sure of anything at the moment.
He opened the door and the scent of pot washed over him, along with the sound of laughter from the group. He returned to his place next to Colby on the sofa, noting that Malfoy had picked up right where he'd left off with the student. He didn't even glance in Harry's direction.
Harry gritted his teeth and let his head fall back against the sofa cushions. He didn't know how he was going to be able to stay in the same room as Malfoy tonight. He felt a hand on his thigh, and then someone leaned more closely against him. He opened his eyes to see Colby smiling at him.
Colby was cute, certainly. Harry smiled at him experimentally, and Colby smiled a little wider. Harry wasn't sure he was ready for a casual fuck with anyone, but Malfoy had known Colby for a while. Maybe getting closer to Colby would be useful, and could yield some important information about Malfoy's past. And perhaps if Harry appeared not to be taking sex very seriously, Malfoy would reconsider. Harry wasn't sure if he was ready to have sex with a man at all, but when he was, Colby would probably be obliging.
Harry put an arm around Colby and pulled him closer. Colby looked like Christmas had come early.
The pipe was refilled and passed around several more times, and more rounds of drinks were produced. Harry had no idea who was making them; they just seemed to appear before him. Encouraged by Harry's lack of resistance, Colby had started kissing his neck. It was rather nice, and reminded him once again how long it had really been since he'd had sex with someone other than himself.
“Having fun?” a familiar voice spoke in his ear. It was Manny – Harry had missed his entrance completely. He suppressed a groan. He'd had too much to smoke and drink, and his awareness had slipped dangerously. Time to consider that sobering spell.
“Yes,” he said, wincing as Colby climbed into his lap so that Manny could sit next to them.
Manny started talking about something, but Harry had trouble paying attention. Colby was squirming very purposefully in his lap, and it was distracting. He pinched Colby's arse in an effort to get him to stop. Colby resumed kissing Harry's neck instead.
Manny seemed unfazed by all of this activity occurring during a conversation. “Where's Derek?” he asked, glancing around.
Harry blinked. “I don't know. He was–” He pushed Colby away and looked across the room. “He was over there a little while ago.” How had he lost track of Malfoy too? Definitely time for the sobering spell.
Manny shrugged. “Probably taking a piss.” Harry looked around the room again. The boy Malfoy had been so cozy with was also nowhere to be seen.
“Maybe he went out for a smoke,” Harry said, and pushed Colby off his lap. “I need to piss, actually.” Colby's eyes lit up, and Harry shot him a warning look. “No, really. You stay here, like a good boy.” Colby smiled lazily and did as he was told, to Harry's relief.
The hall toilet was occupied, so Harry had an excuse to head towards the one in Malfoy's bedroom. He pushed the bedroom door open.
He wasn't really surprised by what he saw. Malfoy was naked from the waist down and straddling the student on the bed, his white shirt just grazing his hips. Harry stared, until he realized he could actually see the student's cock in Malfoy's arse, could see Malfoy stretched wide and taking it in as he moved down, pushed up, and moved down again. The movement was surprisingly fast, and the boy's hips were snapping up in an effort to match Malfoy's rhythm.
Harry stared, not certain what he should feel about this. He wasn't angry, strangely. He felt something else altogether.
“Go the fuck away!” Malfoy shouted, not turning to see who it was. Harry backed out and closed the door, then leaned against it and closed his eyes.
Part of him wanted to cry. Part of him wanted to cast a cruciatus at the kid in there fucking Malfoy. Part of him wanted to drag Malfoy off to a dark corner and pound some sense into him. And part of him wanted to show Malfoy he didn't care.
“You okay?” It was Colby, standing before him.
Harry shrugged, pitching around for an appropriate response. “I should know by now what he's like.”
Colby smiled, and then kissed him. It was sweet at first, gradually becoming more intense. Colby was nowhere near as good a kisser as Malfoy; he was far too enthusiastic with his tongue and seemed to think licking Harry's tonsils was a good goal to shoot for. But it wasn't bad , per se. Colby pressed him into the door, and Harry became aware of an erection against his thigh.
“God, I want you,” Colby whispered. “I want to suck your cock. I want to fuck you. Ever since the first time I saw you.”
Harry struggled not to laugh in response to what sounded like bad porn dialogue. “Okay,” he mumbled, wondering if he was making a mistake.
They almost fell through the door when it opened.
“Finally!” Colby muttered, dragging Harry through the door. Harry couldn't help smirking at the expression of surprise on Malfoy's face. Malfoy caught his hand as he passed and shot him a curious glance. Harry paused. It was on the tip of his tongue to say, “ See? I can be like you. How does it feel ?”
“Oh, no you don't,” Colby said, glaring at Malfoy. “You can't just fuck everyone you like and expect the rest of us not to do the same.” Malfoy smiled tightly and let go of Harry's hand.
It was only when the door closed that Harry began to panic. He was about to have sex with a man ?
“Fuck,” he whimpered, remembering what Colby'd told him he wanted to do. He wasn't sure he wanted anything up his arse, especially not... that .
Before he could think of a way out of the situation, Colby had pushed Harry into a sitting position on the bed and unfastened his jeans. They were pulled down to his knees roughly, and then Colby's mouth engulfed his semi-hard cock.
Harry gasped at the sensation – it had been a while after all. It wasn't the best blow job he'd ever had, but it was certainly above average, so he tried to relax and enjoy it. Colby was enthusiastic and thorough, and it wasn't long before Harry realized he was about to come.
He pushed at Colby's forehead with one hand, muttering, “I'm... I'm gonna...” But Colby didn't stop, and Harry came in his mouth. It was a moment before he realized Colby had swallowed, and he was both flattered and surprised. Harry wasn't sure how he felt about swallowing semen. At this point, he wasn't sure how he felt about sucking dick, either.
Colby released his cock when Harry started to grimace from over-stimulation, then stood and kissed him. Harry tried not to freak out about the fact that he could taste his own come. Cho had always hated it when he kissed her right after going down on her, and until now, he'd never quite understood why.
“God, that was hot,” Colby whispered between kisses. The frantic pace of the kissing had slowed down, and Harry was starting to reevaluate his first impression. Colby's tongue circled his and teased it out of Harry's mouth so he could suck on it. Harry's brain was starting to melt. Why had he thought Colby a bad kisser?
Colby shifted closer and Harry felt the wet tip of Colby's erection press against his bare thigh. When had he dropped his trousers? Harry tried not to panic; he realized he should probably think of something to do before Colby suggested something he didn't want to do. Harry had no experience with sex with men, but there was one thing he knew he was good at. He took Colby's cock in his hand and squeezed.
Colby whimpered, and Harry tried not to make a surprised sound. Colby's dick was... well, small . He felt a bit more confident then, and started to stroke slowly. Colby pressed his forehead into Harry's neck and moaned.
A bit of movement across the room caught Harry's eye. He squinted, and slowly, a shape came into focus.
Malfoy was sitting against the wall. He was using a standard concealment spell, one of the ones they'd learned to see through in auror training. It was almost as if he'd wanted Harry to see him there. Harry's eyes narrowed, and Malfoy grinned.
Harry wasn't sure whether to be angry, embarrassed, or flattered that Malfoy was watching. Not that he could do much about it anyway. Malfoy's eyes were following the movement of Harry's hand, and he was sitting so that Harry couldn't tell if he was aroused by what he saw or not.
There was a tube of lube on the nightstand. Harry reached out for it and then pulled Colby's chin up. “Turn around,” he said. Colby's eyes got wide, but Harry only smiled and turned him, pulling Colby's back tightly against his chest.
He squirted a bit of the lube into the palm of his right hand and then closed his fingers around Colby's cock. Colby shuddered as his hand began to move, slowly at first – long strokes, fingers lingering at the head. Colby was circumcised, which Harry hadn't seen up close before. He traced his fingers along the ridge and looked back up at Malfoy.
Malfoy only smiled.
Harry held Malfoy's eyes, even when he kissed Colby's neck, or nibbled on his ear, his hand moving slowly on Colby's shaft. He sped up his movements when Colby begged him to, and then slowed down again when Colby seemed to be getting close.
“Not yet,” he told him, and trailed his lips down Colby's neck. Colby moaned and leaned against him, his head falling back on Harry's shoulder, exposing his throat. Harry looked away from Malfoy then, focusing instead on the rise and fall of Colby's chest, the way his mouth opened and closed, the sound of his breathing. He had little freckles on his nose, and his eyelashes were long and dark.
Harry added a bit more lube and sped up the motions of his hand again. Colby whimpered. Harry traced the shell of Colby's ear with the tip of his tongue, and noticed his own breathing was speeding up. He kissed Colby's cheek and then Colby turned his head enough that Harry could kiss his mouth.
It was incredibly erotic, Harry mused, to know he was the one doing this to Colby. Colby was moaning softly into his mouth now, so much that it made kissing difficult, and Harry went back to his ear.
“That's it, come on,” Harry whispered, stroking hard and twisting his hand at the head, fingers sliding easily against lubed skin. Colby started muttering “oh god” over and over, finally tensing against Harry as he came. He relaxed then, nearly sliding to the floor. Harry caught him under the arms and pulled him back up, laughing.
“That sounded good,” he said, not resisting the temptation to nibble on Colby's neck.
“Fuck,” Colby replied, collapsing against him. “That was... Ah, shit.” He was looking at the floor. “Derek's gonna kill me for spooging on that rug. I'd better clean it up.” He pushed himself to standing and turned to kiss Harry before pulling up his jeans and heading to the bathroom.
Harry glanced in Malfoy's direction to see he was laughing and shaking his head. Harry grinned, and Malfoy applauded silently. He glanced pointedly at Harry's exposed crotch and raised an eyebrow. Harry was strangely unembarrassed about being on display and grinned back.
Colby reappeared then with a wet cloth and started to scrub the rug furiously. Harry watched him, glancing up at Malfoy occasionally. Malfoy didn't look that concerned about his rug.
“I imagine that's enough,” Harry said at last.
Colby sat back on his heels. “I guess. I'd just hate to get on his bad side, you know?” Malfoy raised an eyebrow across the room.
“Yeah,” Harry replied. This would have been a good opportunity to quiz Colby about his relationship with Malfoy, were it not for Malfoy's presence.
Colby smiled at him and crawled to rest his head in Harry's lap, eyeing Harry's still-swollen cock with interest. “Up for another round?”
Harry was, truth be told. “No,” he said, pulling Colby up to kiss him. The kiss was a sweet, lingering one, and Harry had to push Colby away before his lie became evident. “Maybe later.”
“Hmmm,” Colby replied. “You're probably just saving it up to fuck Derek later. Lucky bastard.”
“If I can pry him away from the other boys,” Harry retorted. It was all he could do not to look at Malfoy.
“That's the trick, isn't it? Well, I need another drink.” Colby retreated with a grin, closing the door behind him.
Harry turned to where Malfoy was sitting, but he wasn't there. Harry glanced around the room, but there was no sign of him: he'd gone. Harry sighed.
The sex had been fun, and he didn't regret it – not a bit. Colby was sweet and enthusiastic, and Harry couldn't deny that he found him attractive. Malfoy had called Harry bi-curious earlier, but the more Harry thought about it, the more he doubted that was true. It wasn't just curiosity about what sex with men was like. He could actually envision himself in a relationship with a man, and that seemed to make all the difference.
He gave himself a few minutes to get dressed and cleaned up before he returned to the party. Malfoy was still nowhere to be seen. Colby was deep in conversation with the university students, and Jeremy and his friend were making out in a corner of the room.
Harry retrieved an Amstel Light from the fridge and sat on the sofa alone. Colby turned to wink at him, but otherwise ignored him. Harry couldn't help but feel a bit empty. Even Colby was looking for his next fuck? Harry sipped his beer, trying not to look like he was sulking.
A noise behind him drew the attention of everyone in the room – Malfoy and Manny were exiting the hall toilet, both suggestively rumpled and grinning. Harry bit his cheek and looked away.
“Roughing it, eh?” Jeremy quipped, having come up for air.
“Well, someone was hogging the bedroom,” Malfoy retorted, collapsing onto the sofa next to Harry.
“As if you weren't doing that earlier,” Manny said, settling on Harry's other side.
Harry tensed and swigged his beer.
“Aw, don't be like that,” Malfoy cooed in Harry's ear, kissing his cheek. He was very drunk, Harry realized, much more so than he'd seemed in the bedroom. Malfoy leaned across Harry to kiss Manny, and Harry closed his eyes. He wanted to be anywhere else right now, anywhere else at all.
Malfoy turned and lay back with his head in Harry's lap, grinning up at him. “You're no fun.”
“You would know,” Harry grumbled.
“I need a drink,” Malfoy proclaimed, and stumbled to his feet. He was distracted by the students halfway to the kitchen, however, and ended up in the lap of the one he hadn't yet had sex with. Harry felt his jaw clench.
Manny slid an arm around Harry. “You really shouldn't let it get it you,” he said.
Harry let his eyes dart toward Manny, but he didn't turn his head. “That's easy for you to say. You already have his attention whenever you want it.”
“And you don't?” Manny retorted. “All I hear is ‘Harry this' and ‘Harry that'. I see the way he looks at you.”
Harry turned towards him then. “What do you mean?”
Manny shook his head. “And the way you look at him. The only reason I'm still in the picture is because he knows you're leaving.”
Harry swallowed, uncertain what to make of that comment. He was leaving, it was true. He was also hoping to convince Malfoy to leave with him. “Do you think he'll go back to England someday?”
Manny's eyes narrowed. “With you, perhaps?”
Harry swallowed. “Possibly.”
“I doubt it. He's very happy here.” They stared at each other for a moment. Manny seemed to be making an effort to control his emotions. “Tell me, Harry, what exactly is it that you do in England ?”
Harry smiled tightly. “I work for the government.”
“Of course,” Manny replied. “Doing what?”
Harry shrugged. “Paperwork.” It was the truth, of course. Manny could make what he wanted of it.
“Right,” Manny said, giving him a long look. Harry took a swig of his beer and continued to smile.
“You boys look far too serious,” Malfoy said, flopping onto the floor in front of them.
Manny shook his head, amused. “Derek, you're absolutely wasted.”
Malfoy grinned. “Yes, I am! Who wants to fuck me?”
Harry choked on his beer.
“That's a sign that the night is over,” Manny muttered. Harry nodded at him.
Fortunately, everyone else seemed to agree. Jeremy and his friend had reached the “get a room” point, and made a graceful exit. Colby announced he wanted to go dancing, and the university boys cheered.
“The clubs are closing, you know,” Manny said.
“Oh, then I suppose we'll have to go back to my place then, hmmm?” Colby grinned. Manny called them a taxi.
Ten minutes later, Harry was helping Colby and company into a taxi, as all of them were so drunk they could barely speak clearly. Harry handed the driver a twenty and repeated Colby's address to him. The driver – whose native language wasn't English, let alone drunken American English – seemed to take it all in stride.
Harry glanced up and down the street before retrieving his wand from his jacket and casting a sobering spell on himself. He was a bit out of practice, so it didn't clear his head completely, but it certainly helped. The rush of sensation into his brain reminded him of a caffeine high.
He headed back up to the flat to find Manny and Malfoy glaring at each other.
“I'm only trying to help you,” Manny hissed, and looked away when he realized Harry had overheard.
“I don't need your help!” Malfoy exclaimed. “You think you can run my life, and I'm sick of it!”
Harry cleared his throat. He hadn't meant to barge in on a row. He wasn't entirely displeased they were having one, he had to admit.
“Fine,” Manny retorted. “I have better things to do with my time anyway.” He shot Harry a vicious look and left, slamming the door behind him.
Harry turned back to Malfoy, uncertain what to say.
Malfoy collapsed on the sofa. “What the fuck am I doing, Harry?”
“You're going to bed,” Harry said, crossing to the sofa and pulling him to his feet. “And tomorrow you'll feet like shit, and then you'll start to sort things out properly.”
“But I've fucked everything up,” Malfoy moaned as Harry led him towards the bedroom. “I hate myself. I hate all of this. God dammit!” He wrenched himself loose and stripped the duvet from the bed, as violently as he could manage.
“Calm down,” Harry said, pushing him towards the bed. “Everything will be fine in the morning.” He tugged at Malfoy's shirt, and Malfoy raised his arms over his head. Harry pulled it off, smiling at Malfoy's mussed hair.
“Promise?” Malfoy asked, lying back on the bed.
“Yes,” Harry said, feeling confident that Malfoy would remember none of this in the morning. He ought to try to cast a sobering spell on Malfoy, but... the man deserved a good hangover, after the way he'd behaved. Maybe it would teach him a lesson. He unfastened Malfoy's trousers and pulled them off, then pushed his legs up onto the bed and retrieved the duvet to tuck over him.
“Can I trust you, Harry?” Malfoy asked, eyes closed.
Harry paused and petted Malfoy's forehead. “Of course.”
“I want to trust you. I really do. Manny says I shouldn't.”
“Manny's a selfish prick,” Harry whispered, kissing his forehead.
“Ooo, that was nice,” Malfoy mumbled. “Do it again.”
Harry kissed his forehead again, and stroked his cheek, considering his options. He couldn't have asked for a better opportunity to question Malfoy about why he was here and what he was doing. Malfoy wanted to trust Harry, it seemed. He wanted to confide in him. Should Harry push him now, or wait until he truly had that trust, when Malfoy was sober?
“Oh, Draco,” he sighed, forcing himself to stand and step away. “You're going to hate yourself in the morning.”
“Stay with me,” Malfoy whispered, pushing at the duvet as if to make room for Harry. “Please.”
Harry bit his lip. It would be so easy to slip out of his clothes and curl up under the duvet. He had little doubt as to what would happen if he did. But as much as he was starting to want Malfoy, he didn't want him like that. It had only been a few hours since Malfoy had told him they would never be more than friends. A drunken fuck wasn't what Harry wanted at all.
No, he wanted Malfoy to come to him willingly – as a friend, a confidant, a lover. And he knew that would take time.
“Good night,” Harry whispered. He closed the door behind him and stretched out on the sofa. He turned the TV to CNN and turned the sound all the way down, and tried to go to sleep.