55Chapter 32: PU 5: The Heat Is on
Parallel Universe, part five: The Heat Is on
"What's wrong with you?" Piper asked as she sat down at the breakfast table the following morning. "You look as if you've been haunted by nightmares all night and been deprived of all your sleep."
Draco chewed in silence. When Harry and he had risen in the morning to take Joz to the magical day-care centre, they had agreed never to speak of last night again. It was best if they simply forgot it ever happened. Therefore, he cleared his throat nervously and shrugged. He kept chewing on his toast, hoping that Piper would drop the subject.
"Where're all your children?" Harry asked in a brave attempt to make conversation and change the subject without raising too much suspicion.
"They're with Yousuke," Piper informed them, yawning. "Man, you never get any sleep when you have babies," she complained, and rubbed her sleepy eyes.
"Guess not," Harry said.
All of a sudden, Piper started in her seat as if she had been hit by lightning, but Draco assumed that she had merely been hit by one of her very rare epiphanies. "Oh! Right! Before I forget—" She pointed at Harry. "—you have Quidditch practice this afternoon between noon and four! Harry left me his schedule and said it was very important that you attend all practice sessions. And there was something else … er, something important, too … Dammit, where is my memory this morning?"
She furrowed her brow in a most thoughtful manner. "Oh, yeah! Now I remember! Thursday is September 1, and you are expected to be at Hogwarts at least two hours prior to the Sorting to participate in the preparations."
When she had finished, she looked at the raven-haired man in silent expectation.
Harry merely blinked sheepishly at her. "Wha'? But I graduated six years ago …"
"Silly! You're not going back to school! You're teaching!" Piper howled with laughter and bent double over the table.
Harry dropped his toast. Gaping like a fish, he emitted small squeaky noises.
Draco watched him, torn between the old need to laugh at him for looking so dorky and a weird urge to pat him consolingly on the shoulder.
Piper did not seem to understand Harry's panicked face. "What? Too much information at once? Should I repeat the last part for you?"
Harry slowly shook his head. Then, an expression of utmost despair in his face, he sank back in his chair and sank down a foot or so. "I'm supposed to teach?" he echoed blankly.
"Um, yeah, that's right," Piper said, her mouth full of grapefruit.
"Teach what?"
"Students, I presume. I don't believe they accept goblins now, do they?"
Harry ignored the irony in her tone and shouted: "What bloody subject is it I'm supposed to be teaching?!"
"Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
"Uh-huh."
"Did they ever consider that maybe that's not so clever since my parents are working directly under Voldemort?!"
Draco almost fell out of his chair. "Don't say his name!" he shrieked, his hand clutched over his heart. "You almost gave me a friggin' heart attack!"
Harry gave him a sceptical look. "You're his right hand and you can't even bear hearing his name? You're fucking pathetic, Malfoy. You're always acting so tough, but when it comes right down to it, you're nothing but a wuss."
"What about you, then?" Draco retorted. "You know loads about Dark Magic, but you don't have the guts to teach kids to defend themselves from it just because your parents are Dark wizards! Hello! You're not even in your own world anymore, remember? You're supposed to be this other Harry whose parents have been dead for twenty-two years—your students won't know shit about your parents! Fucking pull yourself together, you're a disgrace to wizards all around the world!"
He fell silent when Piper began to chuckle perversely.
Her pale grey eyes glittered with mischief and self-satisfaction.
"Something's happened between the two of you, hasn't it?" she stated, and baffled them both. "The way you're quarrelling like that … You're not trying to kill each other anymore, you're not even rowing like you used to. You're trying to sound hostile and vile, but all you can muster is some sort of pseudo-irritation that doesn't even fool me. Something's happened between you. Tell me what it is. What did you do?"
They stared down at their food.
"You're wrong," Draco muttered after a moment's silence.
Suddenly, his porridge and toast did not seem so appetizing anymore.
"Did you shag?"
"Excuse me?!" Harry expelled incredulously.
"Kiss, then?"
"You wish," Draco grimaced in disgust.
"Maybe you just touched, then?" Piper suggested dreamily. "Who touched who and where? Come on, lads! Give me something here! Something juicy! I could live off of one single juicy detail for months, and I really, really miss my brother and his sex toy—I never have anything exciting to spy on when they're gone! Would you please just tell me what you did? Pweeeaaaze?"
Draco sighed irritably. "Would you stop it already? You're giving me a headache. We haven't done anything, and we certainly don't intend to. We've only agreed on a temporary truce, that's all. As soon as we get back to our world we'll forget all about this embarrassing experience and kill each other the good old fashioned way. Happy?"
Piper pouted. "No, but I guess that'll have to do for now. I know you're up to something, and I'm gonna find out what."
She rose from the table and strutted off towards the stairs.
Draco exhaled in a deep sigh of relief. That had been close. He certainly did not want her to find out that he had kissed Harry, because that would mean having her pining after them 24/7.
Harry rose, too. "I'm going upstairs to take a shower," he said numbly. He still looked rather pale, what with the news of Quidditch practice and Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching.
Draco nodded and kept chewing his suddenly dry bread and tasteless porridge.
Four days. It had only taken him four days to kiss him. When Piper had told them about this world's Harry and Draco and their close relationship (did they really shag five times a day?!) he had refused to listen. And when she claimed that he would fall for the Harry of his own world, he had waved it away as nonsense. But now …
Looking back at the four days that had passed … Had he really been as hostile as he had thought? Had he ever been as hostile towards Harry as he liked to believe that he was? Looking back on the past, he realised that he had always felt … something … when he was close to Harry. Well, maybe not always, but from the age of thirteen or fourteen. When his hormones had started raging, it had not been girls coming to mind—it had been Harry. That was why he had been so hateful towards him during their school years; he was afraid that his forbidden feelings would show. So he used that as an excuse to mock him and condemn him and blamed it on the fact that the raven-haired boy had betrayed him and changed houses.
"Shit," he whispered to himself as he realised that there had always been an undeniable attraction between them.
Had Harry felt it, too? Was that why he …?
Scared half out of his wits by his own line of thought, Draco swiftly pushed his chair back and stood up. He did not bother to clean up after himself but left for the third floor immediately. He was used to having half-a-dozen house-elves taking care of that for him.
When he reached his bedroom on the third floor and prepared to get dressed, he remembered that he had left his wand in the bathroom last night. He needed the wand to be able to clean himself up without having to bother with showers or baths; he was feeling lazy today.
Feeling somewhat embarrassed and stupid, he stole out into the hallway and over to the bathroom door. He could hear the water running in there.
He knocked on the door.
When no answer came, he called, "Harry?"
Still no answer.
Dammit, he thought. I need that wand!
Feeling very awkward—feeling like a bloody peeping Tom, for crying out loud!—he carefully opened the door an inch or so and called again. "Harry? Sorry to bother you, but do you think you could hand me my wand, please? I left it in there by accident last night, and I really need it. Sorry, but it can't wait …"
"Oh, sure," Harry said, "no problem."
When he heard the water being turned off, Draco looked. He could not help it. It was as if some divine force compelled him to look. He was being coerced by his long suppressed desire to get close to Harry again. Through the two-inch-wide crack, he could see every inch of Harry's wet, muscular body before he elegantly slipped a towel around his waist; his wide shoulders, his toned chest and abs, his hips, and his …
Draco swiftly turned his face away, retrieved the wand through the narrow opening, and fled back to his bedroom. The door slammed shut behind him. Breathing hard, heart racing, he leant against the closed door. He could not get the image out of his head. Harry was … and his …
"My God, he's huge!" he whispered dazedly.
What was it, like nine inches?!
"Shit …" How was he supposed to pretend as if nothing had happened now? "Oh my God, I hope he didn't see me looking …"
There was a knock on the door.
Draco jumped involuntarily. "Ye-yeah?"
"Are you okay in there? You ran off so fast I thought you were on fire or something …"
I was, Draco thought miserably. Oh, dear Merlin, I was.
Right about then, he noticed a difference beneath the belt.
Little Draco had risen to the occasion, indeed.
Draco gave a frustrated growl. "God, I'm sick!" he exclaimed, and tore at his hair.
"What?" Harry said on the other side of the door. "Do you need me to get you anything?"
Why do you care so much about me all of a sudden?! Draco wanted to scream, but was still too distracted by his unexpected hard-on to remember how to speak. Get down! he thought, as if his penis was actually able to intercept telepathic messages. Get down, get down, get down! You're not supposed to do that when you see a bloke naked!
"Draco?"
"Coming!" he yelled desperately, but then he hit himself in the side of the face. Do not use that word in this situation! You are not coming! You're merely yearning … sort of … right?
Wait, what was he thinking? He was panicking! And over what?!
Taking a few deep breaths, he finally managed to calm down, and warily opened the door. Harry was dressed now, of course, and he was wearing a pair of those odd trousers that Piper called 'jeans' and a pale blue shirt. His hair was damp and tousled. "Are you all right?" he asked worriedly.
Piper was right. Something had changed between them. They were no longer acting like jerks towards one another; they were actually quite friendly with each other.
Draco forced a faint smile. "Yeah, just a little … er … stomach ache. Nothing serious. Must've eaten too much for breakfast."
"With your appetite? Hardly!"
Draco laughed. He had a feeling Harry would ask him to practice Quidditch with him on the grounds outside, because he knew for a fact that Harry had not played since his school days. He needed to refresh his memory if he was to fool his team mates that afternoon. And they only had two hours.
Passing Harry in the doorway, their shoulders brushed against each other, and Draco stopped. A shiver of anticipation travelled down his arm and back from the spot where Harry's shoulder had touched him. For a moment, he dared not move. He could feel every muscle in his body tensing. Then he felt that compulsion again, that divine force that coerced him into acting in a way so out of character for him. Slowly, as if he was not moving at all, he turned his face to the right, and closed his eyes.
Harry's lips met his an instant later, so soft and warm … Almost instinctively, he opened his mouth. Harry's tongue searched its way inside, wet and hot and exploring.
Draco closed his arms around Harry's neck and pressed their chests together. Now that they were so close, he could feel their hearts beat a speedy lub-dub, lub-dub in unison. Both reluctant to break the magical kiss, they opened their mouths to quickly inhale some oxygen at the same time before resuming their intimate snogging.
Harry's hands tentatively searched their way down the front of his dressing-gown and began to tug at it. Draco meowled into his mouth. They found the string. Undid the knot. The dressing-gown fell open and bared the blonde's chest. Still with their tongues entangled, the raven-haired man's hands moved naturally from fabric to skin; from cold to warmth.
Draco briefly broke the kiss when a pleading moan escaped him, but Harry instantly recaptured his mouth with his while simultaneously working his way down Draco's chest towards his abdomen, then past his navel and down to the elastic in his underwear …
"Harry? Are you up there? I need to talk to you about this Quidditch thing …" Piper's footsteps were quickly coming towards them up the stairs from the second floor.
As a reflex, they instantaneously broke apart, Draco backing into the bedroom and shutting the door behind himself and Harry sprinting-sneaking down the hall in the direction of the bathroom. Draco could hear the door slam shut just before Piper reached the top of the stairs, and exhaled in a deep sigh of relief.
Fuck. Why did she have to come now? That kiss had been so lovely … and Harry's hands …
Draco grinned dreamily and felt rather kinky when he thought about it. If Piper had not come, he probably would not have been wearing those boxers much longer …
He opened the door a few inches to listen to their conversation. He wanted more—needed more. More of Harry. He would sneak back out as soon as Piper had left.
"Are you decent?" he heard her asking, and assumed that Harry was safely in the bathroom.
The door opened. "Yeah. What is it?" He sounded a bit touchy.
"I forgot to tell you one thing," Piper said. "Er, about your broom. I don't know what kind of broom you had during your school years, or even which kind of broom is popular in your world, but Harry's got a Firebolt 4000—"
"A Firebolt 4000?!" Harry exclaimed violently. "You're joking!"
"No, I am quite serious. So, you've heard of it, then?"
"Heard of it?! They only made five of them! Wow! Does your Harry really have one? A real Firebolt 4000? That's bloody awesome! And I'm going to fly it?! For real?!"
"See, that's just the thing … Harry's really fond of his broomstick, so he would be devastated if anything happened to it. Draco gave it to him for his eighteenth birthday, you see. So I thought maybe it would be better if you tried his old Firebolt first? To see that you can handle it, I mean, 'cos these things move much faster than the Nimbus 2000 series …"
"I know! And that's not going to be a problem at all! I'm still going to be flying a real Firebolt! Wow!"
Draco chuckled quietly to himself. He could picture Harry's beaming face with his inner eye. He listened as Piper urged Harry to come outside and try the racing broom, but Harry said he needed to finish something first. Piper sighed and walked back downstairs. "Ten minutes," she said.
Good boy, Draco thought, grinning broadly, come back to me now.
"Sorry 'bout the interruption," that sexy semi-hoarse voice said in his ear.
Draco jumped slightly. Harry had crept up to him so silently that he had not even noticed until he was standing right next to him. "Don't worry," he said now, "I'm used to waiting."
To his surprise, it was much easier to continue where they had left off than he had first thought it would be. They just kind of 'fell into the kiss.' It felt so natural, as if they had never done anything else their entire lives.
Draco unconsciously stuck out his chest to invite Harry's hot hands again, and the raven-haired man loyally obliged. This time, he began to pull the dressing-gown down over Draco's shoulders, his fingers sort of massaging the blonde's upper arms. Harry released Draco's tongue and traced the blonde's chin and neck with hot kisses.
Draco threw his head back slightly, breathing hard and fast, his eyes closed in euphoria. His back pressed painfully against the doorframe, but he did not care. Harry nibbled at a soft spot on his nape and elicited a half-suppressed cry from Draco.
Grinning mischievously, the raven-haired man looked up at him. "Like that, do you?" he asked teasingly.
Draco did not know that he opened his mouth to answer, did not know that his lips formed those particular words—he had meant to say, 'Oh, yeah, I love it'—until he heard himself saying, "I saw your penis."
Harry gave a snort and doubled over with laughter. "You what?!" He looked like he was dying from laughter.
Draco just wanted to die. What the fuck had he just said?! His cheeks burnt with shame as he lowered his gaze. Suddenly, he could not bear to look Harry in the eye anymore. "Er … I, er … I sort of happened to look when you came out of the shower …"
"So you did check me out?" Harry stated, and laughed even more. "I knew you did, you little bugger! You're quite the peeping Tom, aren't you, Draco?"
The blonde lifted his gaze and blinked at him. He had thought that Harry would be angry with him for peeking, but he was smiling! But then he realised that, if Harry had been worried about being seen naked, he certainly would not undress Draco with the intention of sleeping with him … He would have to be naked for that, so it did not matter if Draco had already seen him in the nude.
He was just about to reply when that annoying Piper called from the floor below again. "Harry! Where are you? I said ten minutes! What on Earth are you doing up there?!" It sounded as if she was ready to stalk back upstairs, so Harry hurried to call out, "No! Don't come here! I'm ready now! I just needed to … change my clothes. Those jeans were too tight."
She sighed down there. "Oh, all right. Just get your arse down here now. I haven't got all day."
Harry turned to the blonde with an apologetic look in his emerald eyes. "I'm sorry. Seems as if we'll have to do this some other time."
Draco planted a brief, but sweet, kiss on his soft lips, and said, "When you get back from practice this afternoon," he promised. "I'll be waiting for you."
Draco woke with a start and sat up straight in bed, gasping for breath but feeling as if someone had cut off his oxygen. Squeaking pathetically, he reached out his hand and shook Harry awake. He peered up at the blonde with sleepy half-open eyes, but when he saw the utter fear in his husband, he became wide awake.
He pulled himself up. "What's wrong? What's happened?" he asked, and gazed around the room as if he expected them to be surrounded by sinister creatures.
Draco feverishly shook his head. He could not speak. He could only make small gestures that Harry did not understand.
The raven-haired man frowned. "Wha'? You have another dream or something?"
Sighing with relief because Harry had hit the spot and grasped the situation, Draco nodded. Suddenly, it was as if his body began to work properly again, for now he could both breathe and speak. "I saw him—I saw James! He's … he's … he's with Vo-Vo-Voldemort!" he stuttered with horror.
Harry jerked. "He's what?"
"Yes! I saw him, he's …" He fell silent, and grabbed the collar of Harry's pyjama top. "Harry, he's been observing Voldemort all this time, I'm sure of it. This was no regular dream, this was a premonition, it had to be, it was much too vivid to be a normal dream. James found a way to study Voldemort up close—he's already developed his fascination with the Dark Arts! Harry, we've got to do something! We've got to do something before he turns into Tom!"
The moment Harry came back from Quidditch practice with the Puddlemere United—he still could not believe he had flown a Firebolt with a professional Quidditch team!—he was beat and aching all over, but when he recalled Draco's promise, his body filled up with energy. The prospect of sharing a bed with Draco Malfoy made him quiver with expectation.
He had had many lovers before, but all of them had been female. Now he was craving a man. And he had never craved anyone like this before; he had never yearned so desperately for another person before, male or female. What he had felt when kissing Draco earlier that day had been so pure … he had never experienced anything of the sort before, and it was brilliant.
He said an indifferent "Hey" to Piper as he passed her on his way towards the staircase. She asked him how it had gone, and he told her he still got it. Although the professional players played in a completely different league from what he was used to from his school days, it had not been all that difficult for him to catch up—and he had caught the Snitch every time.
"What's for dinner?" he asked over his shoulder. "I'm starving!"
"Oh, I don't know … I haven't really thought about it … It's so different now that Draco's not here. He used to do the cooking. Well … I'll think of something. You want me to start right away?"
"Yeah, please do," Harry said, because that would keep her busy and far, far away from Draco's bedroom where Harry planned to spend the next hour or two. He took the stairs two at a time and reached the third floor as quickly as he could manage. Stomach filled with butterflies, he knocked on the bedroom door.
"Who is it?" Draco's voice called from the other side.
"It's me," Harry said as indifferently as he could.
The door was instantly flung open and almost knocked him down. Fortunately, he jumped aside just in time, otherwise he probably would have wound up with a broken nose—or worse.
"Oh, sorry," Draco said, "must've been a little too eager there. Come in."
He was wearing moss green robes and a black cloak over that, and his silver blond hair was neatly styled. Harry was quite impressed that he had managed to do something with that shoulder-length, wild hair—and he liked it.
He smiled up into the blonde's pale face, drawing closer until their noses were just two inches apart. "Miss me?" he asked teasingly.
"Awfully," the blonde replied, and pressed his lips to Harry's.
They had reached yet another unspoken agreement, but this time it was not to pretend as if nothing had happened between them; this time it was quite the opposite. The attraction between them was so strong that neither of them could deny it anymore, so they had silently agreed to act on it and go with the flow.
Harry placed his hands on the blonde's shoulders and began to remove the heavy black cloak. "What're you wearing this inside for?" he asked between kisses.
It slipped down Draco's back and got stuck around his wrists.
The blonde's lips were on his cheek.
"I was just outside," he replied, his hot breath on Harry's prickling skin.
Harry freed Draco's hands from the sleeves of the cloak.
Draco's tongue played along his jawline; he bit down on his earlobe.
The cloak fell to the floor; they both kicked it away.
"Outside?" Harry said, swallowing hard as the blonde licked away at his ear.
Draco tugged at Harry's blue Quidditch robes, fumbling for naked skin.
His lips to Harry's ear, he whispered, "Needed some fresh air."
As much as he loved this tentative game, Harry was starting to get impatient, and Draco seemed to know nothing about Quidditch robes, so he pulled them off himself. Then he undid the blonde's robes and let them fall to the floor, too. Dressed only in wizard's trousers now, their upper bodies bared, they looked deep into each other's eyes.
The blonde traced a finger on the raven-haired man's chest.
Harry shuddered with anticipation.
There was a knock on the door.
Both stiffened.
"Draco? Are you in there?" It was Piper's voice. So typical of her to ruin the mood every time they were finally getting somewhere … "You have a visitor."
"Vi … visitor?" Draco called in a disappointed tone.
"Yeah, Ron's here to see you. Do you know where Harry is? I can't find him, and I could swear he walked up to the third floor just five minutes ago."
Draco bit his lower lip. "Harry?" he echoed. "No, I have no idea where he is. I just came up here myself; I've been outside all afternoon. You want me to look for him?"
"Would you? Thanks, bro." She went back down the hall.
Harry sighed with resignation. "Seems like there's always an interruption," he complained, disheartened.
Draco lovingly caressed his cheek. "Don't worry, we'll have our time," he promised. "I want you just as much as you want me, and I'm bloody fed up with waiting—but if we're going to keep this secret we'd better go downstairs and be sociable for twenty minutes."
Harry sighed again. "Okay."
They put their robes back on and walked downstairs together, both straining to suppress their frustration. Ron was standing in front of the oval disc that functioned as a portal to their world, peering inside with a bewildered expression on his face. "What's this?" he asked, apparently hearing them approaching. He stretched out his finger as if to touch it.
"Don't!" Harry said sharply.
Ron jerked and jumped back from the portal.
"That's the doorway to the Dark Plane—you do not want to go there, believe me," Harry told him. "Our world is nothing like yours."
The redhead scowled. "You two seem to have … buried the hatchet," he pointed out somewhat awkwardly. "Reach an understanding, did you? Good."
Harry sat down in one of the armchairs. "Is this a social call or has something happened?"
"No, no, this is definitely a social call," Ron assured him.
"Great. Where's Hermione? I haven't seen her around at all. You guys have a fight as usual?" He grabbed a few grapes from the fruit bowl on the coffee table and threw one into his mouth.
Ron stared at him for a long while before answering. "Harry … Hermione is dead."
Harry froze. "What? She's dead? How did that happen?"
Ron told them about the unfortunate events that had taken place at the Manor six years previous.
"You don't have a Hermione in this world?" Draco concluded.
"No."
"Lucky you," both Draco and Harry said longingly.
Ron raised his eyebrows in bafflement. "What makes you say that?"
"Well, she's a bloody pain in the arse, obviously!" Draco exclaimed irritably.
"She's been a real nuisance the past three years," Harry said. "She's always so awkward around me nowadays. Can't seem to put aside the fact that we slept together."
Draco dropped his wand on the floor with a loud clank!
"You slept with her?!" he and Ron yelled in unison.
"Yeah." Harry shrugged. "It was just something that happened after Ron died. We were both rather miserable and feeling lonely … Oh, come on! Don't look so shocked—it was just sex! It happened once—unlike with Ginny …"
Ron stiffened. "Ginny? You slept with my sister, too?"
"Unfortunately. But I couldn't make her understand that it was a mistake so she sort of announced herself as my girlfriend. Been ever since, and for some reason she thinks I like slutty girls when I don't like girls at all." Directly after saying that, he realised his mistake. But it was too late to take it back.
"You … you don't like girls at all?" Ron repeated. "So, you mean to say you like blokes, then? I sort of got the impression you were straight in that world—no offense, Harry. So, are you and Draco …?"
"No," Harry said firmly. "Like I said, I'm with Ginny. Have to do something about that, won't I?" He sighed deeply. "I do not want to return to those two anytime soon."
"Er … 'those two?' You mean Hermione's still alive in your world?"
"Unfortunately," both Harry and Draco said with resignation.
They never could have anticipated what Ron was about to do; without another word, he took the final step into the Dark Plane.
"Who are you?"
Ron swirled around towards the low, melancholy voice that had spoken. A boy of about sixteen with light blond hair and dazzling green eyes was studying him from the other side of the small, empty, white-walled room. He was so strikingly like Draco in his facial features and body structure that Ron assumed him to be that son they were always talking about—the one that came to visit them from the future now and then. This was the first time Ron had come face to face with him, though, and it gave him the creeps. This boy gave off fine vibrations of pure evil.
"Oh, it's you," the boy suddenly said with disgust. "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here. There is no-one to take your place if you leave your own world. You're risking the existence of time itself by coming here."
Ron did not understand a word the boy was saying. "I'm … I'm here to get Hermione," he said insecurely. Regardless of how strange that sounded, it was true. The moment he had learnt that Hermione was alive in this reality, he had made up his mind; he was going to get her. He needed to know what might have been if Hermione had not died. For six years, he had unconsciously been searching for answers, and now he was going to get them.
The boy seemed to be able to read his mind. With a thoughtful expression, he scratched his chin. "Really? How interesting … I like it. All right, you may go inside. But remember; time is on you now."
Ron still did not grasp a word the boy was saying, but he nodded simply to get away from him. That boy gave him the collywobbles, and he hoped that his Harry's son was nothing like him.
Draco's back slammed into the wall beside the bed, and Harry pressed himself onto him, desperately tearing the robes off the blonde's tensed body. They kissed hungrily, almost eating each other up. Hands travelling all over each other's bodies, they fell onto the bed, Harry squirming to get out of his robes. He desperately placed semi-hard, quick kisses on the blonde's neck, shoulders, and chest while simultaneously unbuttoning and pulling off his trousers.
The blonde gasped for breath and clasped Harry's shoulders. Forced him around on his back. Straddled him. Harry looked up into his glittering, grey eyes, mesmerised. Why had not he noticed how beautiful they were before?
Draco gently, tentatively pulled his trousers off, exposing prickled skin. Tenderly, sensuously, he caressed and stroked Harry's thighs, up and down in sweeping movements, as if to protest to the desperation they had moved with just a moment ago. Slowly, slowly, much too slowly, he removed Harry's boxers, and then his own.
Suddenly hesitant, he stopped, and searched for comfort in Harry's eyes. "I don't know how to do this," he said almost apologetically, "I've never done this with a man before."
"Neither have I," Harry murmured. "Just go with it. You'll know what to do."
He nodded and carefully lay down on top of Harry, steadied himself—
And suddenly he knew exactly what to do.
So did Harry. When Draco was ready to enter him, he lifted the lower part of his body slightly off the bed in welcome. The moment they were joined was like a bolt of thunder. It was as if they had both been waiting for this moment as long as they had lived. Draco would have wanted their first time to be sweet and prolonged, but they were both too eager for that.
Both filled with pent-up sexual frustration that had plagued them for several years without their knowledge, they moved at a crazy rate that took their breaths away.
Draco thrust deep into the raven-haired man beneath him, rocking his hips obscenely, while Harry eagerly rose to meet him. Muscles whispered sweet love stories as skin smashed against skin, making that unmistakable sound of friction—poetry to Draco's ears.
He bent low without breaking his rhythm, the hallowed rhythm, and put his lips to the soft skin on Harry's nape. The raven-haired man raised his arm and buried his fingers in the blonde's tousled, untidy hair. Until then, not a single sound had escaped them except their strained breathing, but now Draco could not hold back anymore; he had to give voice to everything that he was feeling. Uttering moans and grunts of pleasure, he thrust harder, deeper, faster, feeling Harry's body clench around him, and he forced more power into his hips, more—
Harry found his ear and bit down on his earlobe. Draco gasped, arched his back. Trembling fingers travelled up and down his back; fingertips bore into his shoulder blades. Draco momentarily lost his balance—he concentrated too hard on the wonderful sensation of those hot, tentative hands on his back—and slid at an odd angle inside Harry.
Harry cried out in sudden euphoria and startled Draco.
Did he do that?
Marvelling at the raven-haired man's strange response to that temporary mistake, he did the same thing again and elicited the same sort of ecstatic cry. Encouraged by his lover's new behaviour, he shifted his weight and began to thrust towards that special spot every time, harder and faster than ever before, while Harry thrashed and bucked beneath him, his face screwed up in exquisite pleasure.
Watching him writhing like that—almost too ecstatic to bear it, the pleasure being too much for him to handle—Draco felt his own excitement increasing, and he wanted to get ever deeper into the warmth of Harry, wanted them to be joined like this for ever.
A strange, tingling sensation began to rise from his crotch, spreading through the pit of his stomach and out into each and every limb and muscle of his body. A shudder developed. Biting down hard on Harry's neck, he felt the other man wrapping his legs around him and squeezing around his buttocks; as Harry evidently reached a peak in his pleasure so strong it completely destroyed him, he pressed down upon Draco's behind, forcing him deeper than deep inside him, and his desperate cry rang in the blonde's ears.
Being forced so bluntly inside this beautiful creature, Draco exploded in a rain of stars, his nervous system going haywire as he reached the ultimate climax. For a moment, time appeared to be standing still, but then the spell broke and he fell down onto Harry's chest, panting and shuddering.
The raven-haired man closed his arms around him once more and kissed the top of his head. "I've never felt anything like that before in my life," he whispered, awestruck.
"Me neither," Draco murmured, eyes shut and cheek comfortably resting on Harry's chest.
Tenderly stroking the blonde's back, Harry asked, "May I stay here with you tonight?"
"Yes, you'd better! I don't want you to leave now, silly. I want you to sleep beside me, for ever."
He kissed the blonde's hair again. "I'll never leave. I love you."
Creeping up on the Dark Lord was a perilous business, and avoiding the Death Eaters an impossible one. Yet, they managed to steal up to the Manor and hide themselves in a particularly bushy patch of shrubbery. Apparently, the residents of this universe gave no thought to exterior appearances; there had not been anything done to the garden in ages.
Harry thought it was eerie, seeing the grounds around the Manor so overgrown and unattended, because he was used to flowers and bushes and trees bristling with every colour imaginable. But this time's Piper could probably care less for gardening; according to Draco, she was a deranged, vicious, cold-hearted, weapon-crazy, sadistic kamikaze who enjoyed watching people suffer and cursed her subordinates for no obvious reason just because she was bored.
Harry did not wish to meet her.
When they had been stationed in their bush for nearly an hour without the slightest sign of either James or the Dark Lord—or anyone else, for that matter—Harry started to get impatient. His muscles were itching with the need to act, and had it not been for Draco's presence he probably would have turned kamikaze himself and launched himself at one of the French windows.
After another hour of dull waiting, Draco poked him in the back with the tip of his wand.
"What?" Harry said. "You see anything?"
Draco turned to frown at him. "What? I haven't said anything."
"No, but you poked me in the back."
"No, I didn't."
A really bad feeling piercing his heart like a knife, Harry reluctantly turned around to check who had poked him if Draco had not—and found a dozen or so Death Eaters standing behind them.
Piper could not sleep. She just kept tossing and turning in her bed, and the fact that Yousuke snored softly did not comfort her as usual, but annoyed her immensely. Ultimately, she got out of bed and decided to use her excess energy for something good instead. It was only three in the morning, so the Manor was completely silent—except for Yousuke's snoring, that is. She decided to do what she always did when she had trouble sleeping; concoct a new potion.
For that, she needed material and facts. Books.
Careful not to make too much noise, she sneaked up the stairs to the third floor with the intention of fetching a few books from the library. But when she reached the top of the stairs, she stopped, listening. She did not know exactly what it was, but there was something different about the third floor. Something in the air. Furrowing her brow, she turned to gaze down the left-hand hallway towards her brother's room.
The door was ajar.
It was too tempting. She could not resist it.
Silently, slowly, carefully she crept up to the door and peered inside.
A shocked gasp escaped her.
Draco was not alone in bed—Harry was lying beside him! They were spooning, butt naked beneath the thin, white sheets, and the blonde's arms were closed protectively around the tasty Quidditch player.
They had had sex.
And they had told her nothing had happened! She could not believe that they had begrudged her the pleasure of wallowing in the delicious stories of their sex life! The nerve of it! That was a right as a sister! One of the privileges of siblinghood!
Now she surely would not be able to sleep at all.
Although irritated with the two of them for keeping this a secret from her, she wore a very kinky smile when she left the third floor that night.