royal_musings | Dark Marks [01] for Circumpolar

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Dark Marks [01] for Circumpolar

This was not the way Harry Potter had imagined his life to be when he was a first year back at Hogwarts and just learning about this world.

Of course, after that first year and the years following, he thought himself lucky if he made it past Hogwarts in the first place.

It had been five years since the end of the war. The wizarding community was continuing to be rebuilt as the days, months and years went by. He had friends that had been a invaluable support to him during and after the war. Not only that, but he had a strong and beautiful woman who had been by his side since that final battle.

A woman that would be his wife in less than 48 hours.

It wasn't who he had expected by any stretch of the imagination but she had been there and they had grown closer than he ever imagined he would after Draco.

Draco, the boy Harry had considered his best friend for a number of years had ran off at some point during that final battle and he hadn't heard from him since. It had been infuriating but most of all, he had been... upset when he hadn't heard a peep from him the years since.

Harry shook his head and gave himself a look over in the mirror. It didn't do to dwell.

He had never been a vain man but he wanted to make sure the fit and color was just right. It was. He had learned some things over the years being best friends with a boy who made sure he looked impeccable.

He thanked the shop keeper after changing back into his every day robes, hung the dress robes over his arm and left the shop. It was mere minutes later that he returned to the flat he was renting and banished the robes to his closet. Harry took a moment to look around the front room and allowed himself a little smile. It was a far cry from where he started.

He wasn't needed anywhere for another few hours. It was just plenty of time to have some tea and catch up on some communication with friends.

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Draco had run seeing the man he loved dead. He had wanted to tell him for a year, not sure how to approach it and then he was gone. It was months after he had run before he knew that Harry wasn't dead. By then Draco and his mother were far from London. The Dark Lord might be dead and gone but his followers were not and Draco and Narcissus had turned on them. Including Lucius himself.

Now though Draco knew he couldn't stay hiding. Not without having his say to Harry Potter before his former best friend belonged to another.

The note was amongst the rest of the mail, a folded slip of midnight black paper. The writing was in silver and appeared only as Potter looked a it. When he looked away, it vanished.

It has been too long, my friend. Midnight. Diagon Alley. You know where.

The moment Harry saw the folded slip of black paper with the silver writing amongst his mail he knew exactly who it was from. It was how they had communicated with each other ever since they had met when they didn't want anyone else to read their notes - however simple they had been at the time. He couldn't help the way his hands trembled as he unfolded then read the note. The moment he looked away, it disappeared but it didn't matter. Harry had it memorized. He knew exactly when and where.

Draco was back.

The man he had loved was back.

Of course, after all this bloody time, the git decided now to make a come back.

Minutes later, as the kettle whistled, he realized he had been scowling at the table as though it had been the table's fault he was sent the note.

"Bloody git," he muttered before standing and fixing his tea.

He briefly thought about not going but who was he kidding. He'd go. If only to hear what Malfoy had to say for himself.

As upset as he had been, he missed his best friend.

At midnight, Harry walked into the small, dark pub they had once frequented. It was fortunate that Ginny was busy with other matters so close to the wedding that Harry hadn't needed to make an excuse why he was leaving in the middle of the night. He wore dark robes and allowed a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit bar then made his way over to a figure in the corner - the corner they would usually sit at.

"What brings you back to London?"

Draco's heart was racing. He was not certain the hard pounding of it might not break one of his ribs. He thought to run, and instead had a drink, downing it without a single thought as the fire whiskey burned down into his gut.

He knew he was there before Potter even approached him. A black beanie covered his shockingly pale hair, and when he raised his head to look at Potter, there was a scar along the pureblood's jaw that hadn't been there before.

"Mother... she told me about your wedding coming up. I need to say something to you." His voice was as wary as the look in his eyes. "Well, a few things. Starting with... I'm sorry."

Harry took a seat in front of Draco and looked over at the bar man, motioning for two additional shots to be brought over. He took a moment to look over Draco Malfoy's face, lingering on the scar. He couldn't help but wonder how the pureblood got it and what had been up to since he left.

But then he spoke and Harry set his jaw.

"Sorry? For what?" After all, there were a number of instances that happened for which one or both of them could apologize for.

Admittedly, he was interested in why Draco was really here for - what he truly had to say other than apologizing.

Bright blue eyes stayed on Potter, afraid if he looked away the other man would be gone. Taking a breath, he sighed out softly, wondering how to word this. Apologize for running? For leaving him when he wasn't dead? For never telling him how he felt about him?

"You were dead and I ran," he said in a low voice. "Mum and I, we kept running. They came for us, and I knew then I wouldn't come back. Not if it meant bringing the death eaters to you." He touched his jaw. "I almost didn't make it," he whispered. "And I wouldn't let them get you."

As Draco spoke, he didn't move his gaze from him. "I didn't stay dead," he accused him, though his words weren't full of heat. For any other person on Earth, if they died, they normally stayed dead. He had faced his own number of death eaters who wanted him dead after the fall of their lord and master. They didn't last long before they were put away in Azkaban.

He flicked his gaze to the scar. If anything, it made the man look more handsome. "You know as well as I do that I can take care of it, Malfoy," he said, softer then. "It's been five years..."

"No, you didn't," he agreed, knowing because he had done his best to keep track of him thorugh the years. "But then I thought it was better if I did. Do you think I didn't hear the wear both ways spoke of me? Of seeing you moving on with your life and wondering..."

He shook his head. "The truth was, I wasn't ready to face you. You gave me an out, Potter, and instead I followed Father. I didn't want to see that look on your face. Now though..."

Then his gaze did drop. "They got my mother. About a month ago. She put herself in front of me, Harry. Second time in my life my mother has put herself, or gotten another to put themselves, between me and certain death. Both she and that person are dead now," he said, looking up at Harry. "So before I'm next, I needed to see you again. One more time. It's selfish, I know, but what else do you expect from me?"

He offered a smile then, so much like the smirk of his youth.

Harry stayed silent for a long moment as he considered the man in front of him. Long gone were the days that he would fly off the handle in some sort of teenage angst now he thought and considered. More like a Slytherin than in those early days. "No, I imagine with your Mum's contacts and hand in things, you would have heard talk from all sides of the spectrum," he admitted after a moment. He had just been glad Draco was alive at the end of it all - that he had survived and though he wasn't here with Harry, that he was alive somewhere.

He wanted to ask what changed - why now as Draco had insisted. But then, he heard about Narcissa and Harry's face fell. Despite their history, that was something he never wanted to hear. Although he and Lucius got on like a house on fire, he was friendly with Narcissa and hated that she had gone like that.

"I am so sorry, Draco," he said, looking at him, knowing how close they were. He wanted to reach out for one of Draco's hands - do something but he didn't. "She loved you. It's what mothers do...," or so history had proven in the case for his own mother, for Mrs. Weasley and for Narcissa.

Ah and there was that trademark smirk of his. He allowed himself a tiny smirk. "No, I don't think I could expect anything less," he admitted and glanced over as soon as the barman brought over two shots of fire whiskey then walked away.

"It was almost like old times getting a note like that...," he admitted, picking up his shot and held it between his fingers. He had missed it.

Edited 2015-09-30 00:54 (UTC)

Harry wasn't the only one aching to touch the other. Sitting in that pub was the first time in five years that Draco hadn't felt that he was one foot in the grave and one foot on a banana peel. It was the first time he felt alive, that he might make it through all of this.

"Thank you," he murmured. Then he did slide his hand half way across the table, not forcing the issue but reaching for him. "Mum... She told me while we were in hiding that you were the one good thing that had come into my life since her, and that she should have let you take me away from her and the Death Eaters."

Beyond what he wanted to say to Harry, he figured that Potter needed to hear this.

"I killed them. By my calculations there's maybe only a dozen of them left," he noted, serious in that moment. "I have a list. It's yours if you want it," he said, smirking once more. "Auror. Just so you know who is still out there and who isn't."

He smiled at him then. "I'm glad you came. I wasn't sure you would," he admitted. "I just... I.. Okay, this is cruel of me again, but I need to say it. You and I... We have been best friends for a long time, but you have to know that I loved you. I always have. From first year even."

It was cruel telling him that at this point and time in Potter's life, but he couldn't help himself.

If he thought about it long enough, sitting in that pub with Draco was the first time in five years that he felt like everything was coming together again. This was the boy who was his first best friend and the first boy that Harry had felt a particular attraction to and fell in love with somewhere along that twisted and turvy road.

He watched as Draco's hand slid across the table and quickly cast a privacy charm around them before reaching out. Harry was surprised to hear that from Draco. He had wished for days and weeks (and months) after all of it that he had taken his hand, taken his way out instead of following his father. But he didn't and he had to face that. "I wish you had come with me," he admitted out loud but Malfoy probably knew that.

Harry took Draco's hand in his and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"You know I can't say no to something like that," he admitted at the offer of the list. A list of any remaining Death Eaters? He couldn't pass something like that up. He was, admittedly, a little surprised and yet pleasantly so. He had never wanted to see Draco become a murderer but, there was a small part of him that understood the feeling. Understood the feeling of wanting revenge. Especially after the death of his mother.

It was absolutely cruel and unfair of Malfoy to admit something like that to Harry after five years of complete silence and less than 48 hours from his wedding to Ginny. Harry was glad that he had cast the privacy charm because he wouldn't have wanted anyone to over hear this conversation. Not at the moment in any case.

"You git. You realize you have some nerve to tell me this right before I'm getting married don't you?" But of course he did. Malfoy knew all about it because he had just admitted that it was cruel of him to admit to him. He frowned and yet, at the same time, he knew he didn't want to keep his feelings hidden from him anymore than Draco did.

Draco Malfoy didn't do words. Didn't do admission of feelings very often.

"Had you said something earlier, I would have told you that you were my first best friend," Harry started then paused. "And that at some point, I fell in love with you. I still love you."

He knew he should have been over it years ago after Draco walked (ran) away but it had never really gone away.

He was getting married for Merlin's sake! What was he thinking?!

All of this was wrong on so many levels. He shouldn't have done this to Potter. He shouldn't have put him in this position. Draco could have stayed away, and let Potter start over again and have his life and probably kids and he'd be happy. Except that Draco knew he was doing this for more than just knowing that Harry would always remember he loved him.

"I'll get you the list. I know I'm taking a chance being here but if they see me with an Auror, so what?" He laughed, the sound bitter and cold as he poured himself another drink, holding the bottle out to Harry. "Way I figure it, I'll be dead by years end so it's not like they're going to do any worse to me."

And it was cold saying it that way as well but what skills he'd had for playing the games of the purebloods had been lost in the last five years. Not that he'd had them much to begin with.

"Don't argue with me either. Best I can tell, unless they're hiding better than I am, there's only maybe a handful of us left that bear the mark and walked away from the order when he died," he muttered, not thinking about it as he rubbed at his arm where his long sleeve hid the mark. Giving a tug on it, he showed the very end, scarred and burned but still there. "I haven't found a way to get it off. Not yet. Still trying, but those odds aren't good. My best hope is that Father will insist they keep me around, trying to bring me back to the fold but..."

He shook his head. He wouldn't accept that. Even if he died fighting them.

"So, yeah. I'm a git for telling you, Potter, but I figured this was my last chance. Once you say I do, I didn't think you would meet with me and take the chance," he admitted, downing the shot of fire whiskey with a sad smile at Potter's admission.

"Well, glad to know it's not just me. Hate to think I spent five years pining over you for you to forget my name," he teased, trying to sound like the boy he had once been. "Earlier we were boys and then Father was putting pressure on me and I had to take the mark and..." And he hadn't wanted to drag Potter into the life he couldn't escape.

Although it had been five years since the end of the war, even Harry Potter couldn’t deny there were still sympathizers out there. Afterward and after so many of their kind had been put away or given the kiss, they had become quieter but he knew they were still out there. Draco had just confirmed as much. “No one has seen you in England in years – no one will recognize you in here.” Besides, Draco had changed so much that he doubted that anyone would notice. Not in here at least.

Harry removed his hand from Draco’s and took the shot of fire whiskey then nodded to Draco and allowed him to fill it again. He never had the stomach for it but on the rare occasion, like this, he could indulge.

“You’re not going to die. Not going to let that happen.” Malfoy should probably have expected Harry to say something like that. He was Harry Potter after all. Although he was sorted into Slytherin and blossomed in Slytherin, he still had a few Gryffindor tendencies. He narrowed a gaze at the other man then let his eyes trail down to the sleeve Draco tugged on. “Have you tried a magical tattoo? Instead of trying to get rid of it – you can cover it up. A couple blokes went in a place recently to get one – they turned out great.”

If Draco couldn’t get rid of it, then at the very least, he could cover it up. Take control of it instead of allowing it to haunt him.

He hated the idea of Lucius trying to bring Draco back into the fold – it made him want to hit something. But he resisted that urge and took the next shot.

Merlin.

He was going to feel that tomorrow.

“You are and were my best friend, Malfoy. I would have still come,” he said and looked at him evenly. “Even if it was to tell you how much of a ridiculous git you are.” For running away and not getting in contact with him sooner.

“No. Not just you.” Not that it made his life any easier at all. Especially knowing it wasn’t just him either.

The Dark Lord was gone, and the war was over, but the battles still tried to flair up. A handful that remained still wanted the pureblood world they had been promised and they seemed unwilling to bow down until they were all dead... and taking as many with them as they could. "I hope you're right. For your sake," he said, making a face. "The remaining death eaters know I'm alive though, so they'll be looking for me," he admitted, shaking his head and sighing softly.

"Potter, don't," he said, fixing him with a hard, wary look. "You're an auror, but you're bound to the Ministry. You can kill but you'll face prison if you fight this battle. They want to deny they're still trying to form. I wish I knew the leader now, though I'd hate to have to name a name." Because they both knew. If someone was trying to rally them, it would be Lucius.

The suggestion though got a considering look out of him, shaking his head. "Actually, no, I hadn't. I tried burning it off and I tried magically scrubbing it. Let me know the name of the place. They could still track it that way but it's better than looking at it ever day."

And he hated staring at it, seeing it, knowing what he had done and nearly done.

"I know I'm a git for coming now, telling you this. Maybe it's my own mortality but I think it's... really? A Weasley?" He shook his head, trying to smile about it as he had once been. "Think of the children, Potter."

Truth was, Harry didn’t care for his sake. He cared for Draco’s sake. He had fought and won against Lord Voldemort. As far as he saw it, he could handle a few rogue Death Eaters if the need came to it. In any case, with his stint as an Auror, he had handled a few rogue Death Eaters. It wasn’t out of the realm of a normal day to him. It wasn't ego that told him this, it was history proving itself over and over and over again.

“We could keep you hidden, Draco. If you stayed in one place long enough to do so.”

Harry narrowed his gaze for a second. “Auror or not, I’m a Slytherin, Malfoy. I’m not going to do something so flashy as to kill them and leave my mark. Give me a little credit. I have learned a little subtlety over the years.”

Draco didn’t have to name names. Harry knew as well as he did that if there was anyone who would try to band everyone together again for a reunion tour, it would be Lucius Malfoy. Despite their best efforts, and oh you can bet your arse Harry tried, he had practically disappeared after everything happened. Even after faced with the very real possibility that Draco could have died during that final battle, Malfoy senior hadn’t changed.

It was revolting.

Harry reached into his inner cloak pocket and pulled out a business card with a phoenix flying around it, pausing once in a while to blow fire. The fire revealed the name and address of the shop in Diagon Alley. “I heard they were discreet,” he said and passed it over to him. “It’s an idea.”

His mouth curled up on one side into a smirk, pouring himself another shot then pouring another for Draco. “Untamable red hair.” Though, truth be told, he never imagined himself being a parent. He was pretty sure he had told Draco this, years ago during one of the many nights they stayed up talking and studying.

"Stay in one place. Merlin's Beard," he sighed. "I don't even remember what that's like," he admitted.

It was nearly an understatement. Five years and he hadn't had a home. Five years and he had gone from one place to another, hiding in shadows, sleeping on the floor. His life had turned upside down in a single moment, one day, and his father would tell him this was what he deserved for failing. Yet he would never accept that. He hadn't failed. He hadn't. It's what he had to keep telling himself.

A brow arched then and he snorted. "The boy who lives knows subtle? Is that so?" He smiled then. A flash of the boy he had been before he'd been forced to grow up. If you say so," he laughed, actually winking at Potter even as he took the card he offered.

"It's more than an idea, Potter. It's hope. Thank you," he said, the words honest and heartfelt.

The smile faded though, thinking about Potter's kids with anyone, not just a Weasley. "So you're getting married, huh? Shouldn't you be having your stag night or something?"

Harry didn’t speak for a long moment as he studied the man in front of him. It was true, the years had been hard on the both of them – pre, during and post war. Now, they were older and they had seen far more than any one their age normally did. “We do have certain charms and spells we can use to hide you for a while.” Not to mention a magical version of witness protection.

“I learned subtlety my first year,” he said, acting a little (more teasing than he was serious) haughty. “Besides, had I not been subtle, you may have known how much I liked you sooner.”

He took the shot and sat the glass down onto the table. Harry felt himself relax little by little and whether that was because of the company or because of the firewhisky, he wasn’t sure.

It was probably a bit of both.

“If you want someone to go with, I’ll go,” he offered, looking at him. Draco Malfoy didn’t need anyone holding his hand but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to offer it.

Harry turned the glass around on the table, looking lost in thought where the years had gone, his reasons for marrying Ginny and how things felt now with Draco’s return.

It shouldn’t have changed anything and yet… things felt changed. Felt charged.

“You know me, it’s not my thing.” Besides, if he were to ever have a stag party and the other party wasn’t Draco, he’d have wanted Draco to be the one to plan it. After all, once upon a time ago, they had known each other as much as they had known themselves.

Edited 2015-10-08 03:49 (UTC)

It felt like so much longer than a few years, more than just a scant handful of years rather than the lifetime it felt like, everything they had been changed in such a short time. Yet sitting there, looking at Potter's face, he wanted to ignore the way he felt, to go back to how life was and reclaim what he'd had and who he had been. Who he could have been.

"Yeah, I see how it is. Get sorted into Slytherin and think you're not Harry Potter still," he teased, smirking.

Though he had him there and Draco couldn't help but smile. "YOu learned it from me then," he pointed out. "Where else would you get it?" Which was likely true in many ways. Not all of it but many ways.

That got a soft smile though, an honest one. "I'd like that. Only company I had for much of this was mother and... I miss people," he admitted. He had never been the most social but cut off as he had been, that had definitely been hard on him.

"No, but I would have thought Ron would have made you," he pointed out. "He standing with you?" It was hard to ask that just as it was hard to ask about Ginny in general.

He chuckled and settled back in his seat, his legs sprawled out in front of him. He portrayed a man who felt relaxed and at ease. The truth was? He was at ease and at the same time, he could feel a burst of energy working it's way through him. This felt familiar, as it always had with Draco Malfoy.

"You taught me many things, Malfoy," he admitted and sent the other man a smirk. It was because of Draco urging that he had gone out and bought himself some real clothes and got his glasses changed. What was the point in having money if he didn't use it for what mattered?

Harry was glad when Draco didn't brush off his offer to go along with him. "Whenever you want to do it then, let me know. Maybe I'll get one myself." While Draco had never been the most social, Harry couldn't have imagined Draco not having other people around him. He could only imagine how much he'd want company after spending so much time with Narcissa.

He shook his head at Draco's comment about Ron. While he was getting along with Ron a lot more these days than he used to, he still found the other man a little hot headed at times. He wasn't as close to that particular Weasley as he was with others of the family. "No, I asked Blaise to stand with me," he admitted and looked at Draco. "He was thrilled as you can imagine." Zabini had remained neutral during the war and they had always been close during school. While not as close as he was to Draco, he'd count Blaise as one of his close friends. As close as you can be in Slytherin in any case.

Draco was quiet for a moment, long, nimble fingers toying with his glass but his gaze was entirely for the man across from him. Taking in the way he sat, the long, lean lines of his body, the beauty that such an awkward child held after a few years as a Slytherin. It wasn't just the right clothes, the rich color of his eyes without glass to obscure them. It was so much more. It was all that Draco had fallen for, knowing he could never have, and then lost in so many ways. Family. The Dark Mark. War.

"I should have taken the time I had to teach you so much more," he said, meaning it in every wicked, dirty innuendo-ey way that he could. "You poor thing, left out there in the world to do things on your own." He shook his head with a sigh.

He chuckled at that, arching a brow. "And a tattoo of what? Do share?" He peered at him, looking him over. "And where?"

He could try hard to be lighthearted, like this was nothing, like this wasn't him thinking he was there to die and saying his last goodbyes.

"You and Blaise, you're still close?" He was glad to hear that, both of them needed to talk to one another, to be there for each other. Life was tight and they only had so many they could rely on.

Before Hogwarts, Harry Potter was never in control – not of the way he looked, or dressed or even the way he lived. It was only after becoming a wizard that Harry had a chance of becoming someone else, someone different. Of course, after he was told he was a wizard, he soon realized he wasn’t in control of the way he lived either and had a madman after him.

The way he looked and the way he dressed however was something he was finally able to control for himself. He finally burned the second hand castoffs from Dudley and bought clothes that were actually in his size. He had Draco to thank for that (and probably much of their year).

He lifted his gaze from the glass before him and allowed himself a slow smirk at Draco’s words. “It’s a shame you didn’t,” he said, paused deliberately then continued, “Although I have no doubt that you still have much you could teach me.” He meant it in every dirty and wicked way it could be interpreted. Did he mention he was much better at being subtle?

Harry poured them both another glass before setting the bottle down. “I’ve thought of a dragon, a snitch or a phoenix – all of which are apt.” He glanced over at him and grinned, taking a sip from his drink. It felt so easy to talk to Draco even though they hadn’t talked for five years or more. He felt easy to fall back into the easy conversation they’d always had before expectations were placed on the both of them. “Haven’t decided on a location yet,” he admitted with a grin. He had held off on getting a tattoo primarily because he felt, if he was going to do something so permanent like that, he wanted to be absolutely sure on both what and where it was.

“Yeah, were still close. We get together for drinks pretty regularly. You should get in contact with him,” he said and looked at Draco. “It may do you some good as well.”

There were meant to be words here. Words about ink and people and tattoos and Blaise. Talk about their past, and maybe the future, and ignoring that Draco thought he was heading off to die, and Potter was going to be married in two days.

That was what it was meant to be, but Draco had no hope in hell of speaking about any of that. Not in the least. Not when Harry said what he did, about their still being time to teach him, and he wasn't being at all subtle. Not to Draco.

Shifting in his seat, wincing at the pain of tight trousers as he leaned over the table closer to Harry.

"Potter, I have not had human contact in five years. I haven't had a lover, haven't had a friend. You are getting married in two bloody days," he growled, eyes narrowed and aching to literally leap across the table and take Potter then and there. "Don't tease me. I will not fight my death if I come in my bloody trousers because I've wanted you for about ten years, Potter."

Harry was promptly ignoring and dismissing any notion that Draco Malfoy was going to die at any point in the near future. This was mostly due to the fact of Draco being here, with him, and now that he was here? He was sure as hell not going to let the blonde go so easily. No matter what the nature of their relationship was.

It had always been fascinating to watch the emotions filter over Malfoy’s face as he considered thoughts, ideas, concepts and the hidden meanings behind words. Of course, not everyone was able to read the other man so well but Harry wasn’t just ‘anyone’. He could see the exact moment the thoughts changed in the other man’s head.

He shouldn’t be considering this. Shouldn’t even be subtly – not-so-subtly suggesting it!

But, he sure as fuck wasn’t backing out now though or taking back what he said.

Harry had always wanted to know what it would have been like, to be with Draco. Someone he loved and cared about and wanted to be with like this.

His trousers felt tighter, and not for the first time, Harry was thankful for robes. He shifted in his seat before meeting his gaze again.

“There are much better places to come than in your trousers,” he said, leaning over the table to meet him before giving the other wizard a slow look over. “You’re not the only one - I’ve wanted you for years, Draco.”

God, five years was a long, long time to go without a lover or a friend.

I could be both.

That was all Draco needed to hear. It was more than teasing, more than his desire making the pureblood wizard hear the things he wanted to hear.

He moved to quickly to his feet that his chair hit the wall with a loud crack. Even then he didn't care. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but Potter.

"Come on," he said with a jerk of his head, not caring if standing over Potter like that Harry could likely see the hard press of his cock against the tight fly of his trousers. "I've got a room upstairs," he said, picking up the fire whiskey bottle to take with them. "I am guessing you would rather do this up there than me bending you over this table," he murmured, staring down at the other man, eyes bright with lust.

"Coming?"

He could feel his body start humming with arousal the moment Draco stood from the table. He hardly noticed the way his chair hit the wall or the way others started turning in their direction before looking away again.

Harry licked at his bottom lip and stood from the table, not missing the way Draco's cock was pressing tight against his trousers. "Much rather do this in a room, thanks," he murmured with a little smile, his eyes darted with lust and want.

He nodded and walked around the table, lifting the silencing charm and letting Draco take the lead up to his room. "After you."

Merlin. This was everything he had fantasized about for years.

There was no hesitation in Draco now. Not with Potter on his heels. Heading straight for the stairs, only making it about half way up them before he turned to Harry. His fingers gripped the other man's robe, jerking him close.

The kiss was hard, needful, desperate for so much more and yet unable to wait, not even a few more steps, to taste the man he had missed for all this time.

His hand fairly shook, tongue plundering Harry's mouth, tasting him with a soft sound that anyone that didn't know the man Draco held himself to be might have been a whimper.

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