182Summary: Harry is trying to find himself, and Draco is trying to hide away. An unexpected meeting in Amsterdam teaches them that the past is nothing but water under the bridge, and that sometimes, what you need most is just a bit of bad luck.
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR and the people who bought it. I'm not one of them.
Betas: anthimaeria, bewarethesmirk, gurliemoviegeek, and lilyfirebolt - the most wonderful betas anyone can ever ask for! Thank you, ladies! I couldn't have done this without you. And another special thanks goes to hpbritglish.
Spoilers: This fic was written after Half-Blood Prince and before Deathly Hallows. So no spoilers.
Author's Note: Sorry it took so long! This chapter was finished a month ago, but Deathly Hallows' release and all the HP cons caused a delay. And speaking of DH – I hope you enjoyed it. And if you didn't – thank God for fanfiction, right?
So here's the final chapter. I hope it'll be worth your wait!
New Dawn
Harry stretched languidly, snug in the warm sheets that slid against his naked skin, feeling more rested and peaceful than he had in a longer time than he could remember. He could not recall his dreams, but the absence of disturbing mental images and muscle stress told him he had not suffered any nightmares.
Something was weighing on his chest, and in the fogginess of early morning, Harry thought it was Crookshanks sleeping on him again. Then he remembered that he was not in Hogwarts any more, and lazily cracked one eye open to glance down at it.
It was a hand. And it was not his own.
Harry's other eye flew open, and he turned his head slowly to stare at the sleeping figure beside him, memories of the previous night flooding his mind. Shadows obscured Malfoy's face, but the light of dawn from the window behind him lit the hair around his face with soft glow, like a halo.
Malfoy sleeping was nothing new; Harry had seen him asleep during the last few days, but he seemed different this time. On the first night they had been forced to spend together, Malfoy was an annoyance, albeit a rather attractive one in all his glorious nakedness. On the second night, after the Quidditch game and the fiasco with the Frenchman, Harry had thought of him as a comrade and a confidant. And now, after last night, Malfoy had become… a lover? Was that what they were?
An overwhelming wave of emotion surged through Harry as he thought of the amazing night they had shared together. He grinned at the ceiling. There was no doubt in his mind – he was gay. Very gay. As gay as it gets, even. And he did not mind, not at all. In fact, he felt the urge to jump on a broom, fly to the rooftops, and shout it at the top of his lungs. He was not ashamed anymore – he had the most incredible sex of his life, and it was only the beginning. He could finally picture himself spending the rest of his life happily with a man. He studied Malfoy's face pensively and gently brushed the white-blond strands from where they fell on Malfoy's cheek. Even with this man, he thought, heart skipping and head spinning at the realisation.
A sweet smile adorned Malfoy's pink lips when Harry's fingers touched his cheek, and his eyes fluttered open, silvery eyelashes moving like fairy wings. Then the smile vanished and Malfoy sat up, staring horror-struck at Harry.
"Oh God," he said in a high-pitched voice, and pulled the duvet up to his chin. "Oh God, oh God, oh God. Tell me last night was a hallucination."
Harry's heart sank, seemingly along with the ground beneath him. This could not be happening, not now when everything had finally started to brighten up. The hollow feeling that grew inside him threatened to swallow everything into the void, like an inner Dementor that fed on Malfoy's words. "No, don't do this, please," he said, pleading, willing to shatter any dignity he had left, anything but accept Malfoy's regrets. He shivered. The wind was cold over his exposed chest where the duvet was snatched away, like thousands of stinging pins. But his body was numb and he could not bring himself to move
"I can't believe it happened. I think I'm going to be sick." Malfoy was gulping and breathing heavily, and Harry was worried he really was going to throw up. He was about to go fetch Malfoy a glass of water, or a bucket, when Malfoy spoke again. "How could you make me do it?"
Indignation bobbled in Harry and surfaced over his other emotions of hurt and loss. He sat up too, and tugged at the duvet, wrenching it from Malfoy's grip and covering himself. "Make you? You wanted it! I didn't force you into anything!"
"Yes, you did!" Malfoy shouted and tugged at the duvet, but Harry held on to it with all his strength.
"No, I didn't! You wanted it, Malfoy."
"I never wanted it! I could never want it!"
"You practically spread your arsecheeks and begged to be fucked!"
The second the words left his mouth, Harry wished he could take them back. But it was too late. Malfoy's expression reminded him of the wavering reflections on the surface of the canals. The little colour Malfoy still had drained off his face, his lips trembled, and an alarming sheen covered his eyes. There was distinct wetness gathering on his lower eyelashes.
Harry wanted desperately to do something – anything – to make things better, but there was nothing he could do except pray he would wake up again and discover the last minutes were a bad dream. He looked away, pretending not to notice Malfoy's tears. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I said that, but you can't make it my fault. You wanted it as much as I did." From the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy wipe his face on the back of his hand, and a wave of self-hatred threatened to drown him. He should have never succumbed to his urges. He should have known better; should have been more responsible and stopped things from going too far.
"I was drunk. I can't be held responsible," Malfoy said, and Harry was not sure which one of them he was trying to convince.
It was hard not to lose his patience again. Harry raked his hand through his hair and breathed deeply through his nose. "We were both drunk," he said as evenly as he could. "But we were both also sober enough to know what we were doing."
Malfoy shook his head. "No. No, no, no, you don't understand. I didn't want this, I couldn't have, I'm not queer. I'm not. I can't be." It was like a chant – a hopeless prayer. He bent his legs and hugged his knees, burying his face in them.
Wishing to soothe him, Harry raised his hand to Malfoy's back. But he was too afraid to touch. His hand just hovered there, stroking empty air, inches above his skin; above where the freckles were, the freckles he had kissed last night. He could still remember the taste of Malfoy's warm, salty skin on his lips, and it made his heart ache knowing he would never taste it again.
After a long awkward moment, Harry lowered his hand and released the duvet, silently offering it to Malfoy.
Malfoy did not move. He was still sitting with his cheek on his knees, facing away. His back was bare and Harry could not stop staring at the smooth planes of pale skin. The bow of Malfoy's back made his spine protrude, and Harry could count the vertebrae almost all the way down to just a bit above where the dark line between his buttocks started and disappeared beneath his body. I was there, Harry thought. I was in there. Images of that soft flesh bouncing as he hit it from behind poured into his mind, waking parts of his anatomy that he preferred to ignore. He wondered if maybe he would have had been better off castrated.
"Where's my wand?" Malfoy asked, still facing away.
Sudden cold seized Harry. No, please don't leave. He wanted to say it, not ready for Malfoy to disappear out of his life, but he knew it was better left unsaid. "It's probably somewhere in your clothes." Where he chucked them yesterday while undressing Malfoy.
"Accio it."
Reluctantly, Harry groped under his pillow for his own wand. But it was not there. How could he have slept without it? He climbed off the bed and retrieved both their wands. He was very self-conscious of being naked and exposed in front of Malfoy, even though it made no sense after everything they had done only hours before. He returned to the bed, covered himself, and handed Malfoy the wand – hesitating for a second before letting go.
"Close your eyes," Malfoy asked.
"Why?"
"Just do it!"
Harry closed his eyes. He felt the bed shifting, but the mattress still weighed down, meaning Malfoy was still there. Then he smelled… soap? It was some kind of a cleaning spell, possibly Tergeo if he recognised the scent correctly.
"You can open them now."
Harry opened his eyes. Malfoy was sitting with his back against the headboard, staring resolutely ahead and ignoring him completely. Harry tried to speculate what he spelled clean. First he thought Malfoy might have had used it to clean his teeth, but it was unlikely. Harry, like every wizard kid, tried it once, and it tasted vile. Malfoy surely knew not to use it. He could have had used it to clean the bed, but there was no reason for it – all the mess they created at night was on top of the thick duvet and on the underside of the pillow Harry slept on - it could not have bothered Malfoy.
Harry glanced at Malfoy again and noted his pink-flushed cheeks. Then Malfoy's fantasy sprang to his mind and he remembered how Malfoy's mystery man cleaned him afterwards with a napkin, and it dawned on him. He scolded himself for not doing something similar. It was hard to realise that he was not the perfect lover he opted to be.
"You can use the toilet," Harry blurted before his brain had the chance to block the words. He cringed and smacked his hand on his mouth.
Malfoy's ears gained the colour of his cheeks. "I'm fine," he said, sounding not fine at all.
"Sorry. I only meant… you know. If you need something. Er. If there's anything I can do…" Probably shut the hell upalready, Harry mentally answered himself.
"I said I'm fine," Malfoy repeated, glaring at the wall.
Silence stretched between them again, heavy and stifling, and Harry squirmed under its weight. He heaved a loud sigh, trying to catch Malfoy's attention, but it did not work, so he cleared his throat, and spoke. "Last night was great," he said, wondering why on Earth he could not keep his mouth shut.
Malfoy's head snapped so fast, it was a miracle he did not sprain his neck. He gaped at Harry.
"W-wasn't it?" Harry asked timidly, already knowing he would not like the answer.
"It was the Worst. Night. Of my life," Malfoy said, lips moving fastidiously around each word.
"Liar," Harry muttered, irritated. Malfoy's nostrils flared, and the tiny movement renewed Harry's confidence, goading him to continue. "For someone who usually can't get it up during sex, you really shouldn't complain. After all, you were very hard last night. And you came."
"I DID NOT!
This was too easy. Harry leered. "There's a pillow here that can prove otherwise. Shall we take a look?" he said calmly and reached for the pillow he was sitting on.
"No, don't!" Malfoy grabbed Harry's arm and pulled it away. Then he seemed to realise where his hand was and dropped it quickly, as if burnt. Harry smirked and Malfoy's shoulders slumped in visible defeat. He closed his eyes. "Fine, Potter, you win again. I came. Are you happy now?" He kept his eyes closed as he spoke.
No, Harry thought solemnly. The admission blew all the wind out of him. He was happy that Malfoy enjoyed the sex, but he wished Malfoy had been happy about it too. "I don't understand why you're making such a drama out of this."
Malfoy glowered at him. "You made me gay, that's why!"
This was the most ridiculous conversation Harry had ever had. If he were not feeling so wretched, he would have laughed. "Listen, Malfoy. What we've done doesn't make you any gayer than you already were," he said, tired of playing games. And just to make it clearer, he added, "Which was already very, very gay."
Malfoy huffed and crossed his arms. "You don't understand anything."
"Oh, but I understand perfectly. You're trying to live a lie. And I understand it, because I've been doing the same thing. But trust me, it doesn't work. You'll just be miserable."
"It could've worked!" Malfoy spat, glaring at him. "It could've been easy, but now it's going to be impossible, isn't it?" There was a hint of panic in his voice as it began to shake. "How am I supposed to do this now, huh? How am I supposed to go on living my life, sleep next to my wife every night, have sex with her, raise a child, act as if nothing's wrong? How am I supposed to live that life now that I… now that I know what I'm missing?"
Malfoy's voice broke on the last word, and Harry's throat tightened in sympathy. He thought there might have actually been a compliment hidden somewhere in Malfoy's words, but the pain he heard in them made it trivial. He wanted to touch Malfoy, just hold him, to comfort him somehow and smooth the pain away. But his hands stayed where they were, in his lap, over the covers. So much for Gryffindor bravery…
"It doesn't have to be that way," Harry said. He was no better conveying comfort with words than he was with touch, but it was safer to try. "Nobody's forcing you to marry her and live that life."
"I'm a Malfoy, I have duties to fulfil, a status to live up to. There are expectations of me; I can't just do whatever I want."
"You're telling me about expectation? I'm going to disappoint everyone – the entire wizarding world, to lose friends, to fail all the people who believed I was… that I was… worthy." Harry had a sudden vivid mental image of the Dursleys looking down at him with their usual disdain and a 'we knew you were up to no good' expression, and he felt like a little boy again. "I will be back to being a freak."
The memory of the frenzy the public had gone into when he and Ginny divorced, and the amount of angry mail and Howlers he had received from those who oppose such practices was still fresh in Harry's mind. He could not imagine what would happen when this comes out. His lips twisted into a dark smile. I'm going to need a fucking owlery on my roof for all the hate mail I'm going to get.
"So you agree it's a stupid thing to do," Malfoy said.
"No. I agree that it's going to be tough. But it's not a stupid thing to do, it's the only thing to do. It's who I am, I can't hide it anymore." Harry caught Malfoy's gaze. "We can't run from ourselves; we'll always lose. You should do the same. You can come out, and -"
"And what?" Malfoy snapped. "Be a laughing stock? Make even my mother hate me? Live alone till I die? No, thank you"
"Who said you need to be alone? You can live with a man."
The expression on Malfoy's face as he shook his head, the pursed lips and half-closed eyes, was of pity. "Potter, Potter." He sighed theatrically. "It's time you woke up to the real world. Maybe the depraved Muggles have plenty of queers, but it's rare amongst our kind. There aren't many gay wizards around."
"You don't need many; just one."
"And where am I going to find him?"
Hello, remember me? I'm sitting right here, both a wizard and gay. It was what Harry wanted to yell, but was too proud to do so. Instead, he shrugged one shoulder and dragged his finger over the sheet between them, drawing imaginary lines and circles on the wrinkled fabric.
"See?" Malfoy said smugly. "You don't have an answer. Welcome to the real world." His voice dripped with malice and his eyes narrowed, leaving only a vicious glint visible through the slits. In a second, he transformed back into the boy Harry hated so much in school.
Irritation started simmering inside Harry. He inhaled deeply through his nose, held the air in for as long as he could, and exhaled loudly through his mouth. Feeling a bit more composed, he turned to look Malfoy straight in the eye. "I do have an answer. Though I thought it was obvious enough to not warrant a spoken acknowledgement." Malfoy frowned at him, clearly not following. "Me, Malfoy. I'm gay."
Malfoy opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. He sat, head tilted and jaw hanging, and gawked silently at Harry, making him fidget. "I don't understand," he finally said. Right before Harry lost it completely and started shouting, he added, "I know you're gay, but how does it help me? What's it have to do with me being alone?"
It was good that the head of the bed was near the wall – useful as a backrest, and just hard enough for Harry to bang his head against it. He was wondering if Malfoy was being difficult on purpose. "Do I need to spell it out for you? I'm gay, you're gay. Connect the fucking dots."
Malfoy tilted his head to the other side, reminding Harry of a puppy. His eyebrows rose slowly. "Are you suggesting we meet for sex?"
"No. We can talk, too. And maybe… do stuff together." Harry rubbed the back of neck, trying to appear nonchalant while he avoided Malfoy's searching gaze. "Like friends."
"Friends," Malfoy echoed, as if testing the word on his tongue.
"Who also have sex," Harry emphasised. It was important.
Malfoy scratched his chin while thinking it over. "Friends. Who have sex," he repeated slowly.
Looking down, outlining the pattern of a flower on the duvet and still avoided Malfoy's eyes, Harry added quietly, "Exclusively."
The silence that followed made it seem as if time froze. Harry glanced up warily, and bit his lip when he found Malfoy gawking at him.
"Friends. Who have sex. Exclusively," Malfoy said, forming each word painstakingly slowly, gauging it heavily. Harry held his breath as Malfoy fell silent again. Then Malfoy's face split in a huge, toothy grin. "Mother's going to die."
Harry laughed. It was as if an enormous load had been lifted off his chest and allowed him to breathe again. "My friends won't be pleased either, but look at the bright side – they're going to be in such a snit that it's you and me, that it might distract them from the fact we're gay."
The expression on Malfoy's face was of pure awe. "It's so crazy, it just might work!" He dragged his eyes down Harry's body, and up again, making Harry's cock stir optimistically. "I swear there's some Slytherin in you."
"Maybe there is. Though… I wouldn't have minded if it was the other way around. You know. If I was in some Slytherin." He nudged Malfoy with his elbow and winked suggestively.
Malfoy snorted and rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you used that line! It's so corny! Every boy in Hogwarts used it at least once."
Damn. "Oh. Really? I didn't know." He thought he was being original. "Ginny was a Gryffindor; I never had a reason to use it."
Malfoy shuddered dramatically. "Don't remind me – the Weasley bint. Now that I think of who you shagged before, I'm not so sure I want you shagging me too."
"Too late for that now," Harry said, leering. "But if you don't want to, I won't force you," he added, happy it came out sounding indifferent and not as he felt. He made to climb off the bed, moving much slower than necessary.
"No, wait, I didn't say I didn't want to," Malfoy said, words chasing each other in complete contrast with his usual drawl.
Harry paused and turned back. "What are you saying, then?"
"I say… I need to think about it."
It was the wrong answer. Harry leaned closer until his breath ruffled Malfoy's hair, his lips inches from Malfoy's ear. "Think fast," he whispered.
Malfoy shivered.
Encouraged by the reaction, Harry decided to fight harder and bring out the big guns. He shifted his hips, spread his legs a little and let the duvet slip down his thighs, revealing himself. He knew Malfoy's eyes were on him, because he could feel the warmth radiating from Malfoy's cheek, and hear him gulp. Harry congratulated himself on a job well done. "Well?" he goaded, bottom lip grazing Malfoy's earlobe, remembering how sensitive Malfoy's ears were.
"I… I say… er..."
It was refreshing having Malfoy in a loss for words, but the risk Malfoy would decline the offer was nerve-wracking. More coercion was in order. "We're perfect for each other. Think about it – you have a cowboy hat, and I… I have a dining table with a white tablecloth that I would love to bend you over."
He knew Malfoy could see how the prospect of having him bent over a table was affecting Harry's body, but it did not worry him – the tenting in the bedclothes covering Malfoy's nether region told him it was mutual.
"T-table?" Malfoy repeated, voice husky and breaths quicker. He licked his lips.
"Though I'd rather keep your mother out of it, if it's all the same to you."
Malfoy laughed, a breathless and a slightly hysterical tinkly kind of laugh. Then he raked a shaking hand through his hair. "This is mad. People will go ballistic. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy – there will be outrage! It will be all over the papers."
Harry leaned back on the wall, his face still turned towards Malfoy, but giving him more space. "Front page, special edition, undoubtedly. So what? There will be a huge uproar, and then it will blow off, like it always does." In a year or two, he added to himself.
"And what if…" Malfoy turned his head away as he spoke. "There aren't that many queer wizards, but I'm sure there's more than just the two of us. What if after everyone finds out that you're gay, you'll start getting bett... I mean, other offers?"
"I don't want someone who only wants me because I'm Harry Potter."
Malfoy's hands fidgeted in his lap, and his lips moved soundlessly for a while, as if he was reluctant to say what he wanted to say. Finally, he sighed and spoke quietly. "They'll have more reasons than that."
It must have been a compliment, though Harry wished Malfoy had been more specific. He could use the ego boost.
Malfoy turned to him again, with an accusatory look in his eyes. "Other men will want you, you'll leave, and I'll be left alone with everyone knowing that I'm a... a you-know-what."
"I will never do that!" Harry said automatically.
"So what are you saying, that we'll be together forever and ever? Us?"
"Why not? We've been getting along great in the last… er… three days." It suddenly seemed like such a short time. It felt like longer before he said it aloud.
"Three days is much shorter than forever and ever!"
"I can't promise you forever."
"I wasn't asking you to! I'm not a girl," Malfoy said pointedly. "I just meant… it's a huge risk."
"Not really. What are you risking, marrying a woman you don't like and being miserable?" Harry said. "Forever and ever?" he added.
"And not having an heir. I'm too rich to not have one, and I can't have it without a woman."
It was the worst reason to have children Harry had ever heard. "Hermione suggested once that I adopt a war orphan. I like that idea. Maybe we could do it together one day when we're older. We can name him Potter-Malfoy."
"Malfoy-Potter," Malfoy said. He smirked. "It's by alphabetical order."
Harry laughed.
"This is utterly mad," Malfoy said. His eyes met Harry's, and Harry's heart leapt. There was a definite yes in those eager grey eyes.
"So… what's your answer?" Harry wanted to hear it. A simple yes or no. If it were possible, he would have had preferred to have it in writing, too, but thought it would probably be too much to ask.
"I'm not shaving my head for you," was what Malfoy said instead.
"Er… OK…"
"I mean it, Potter. So you can forget it."
Harry frowned. "OK."
"And if you ever – ever – come anywhere near me with a razor or scissors, I'll cut your dick off with it. So don't say I didn't warn you."
Maybe he was making a huge mistake. Malfoy was obviously much crazier than Harry knew. "Then I won't go near you with a razor," he said, wincing at the grisly thought. "Er. Why would I want to go near you with a razor?"
Malfoy bowed his head and pointed his hand at his hair, fingers held like a flamenco dancer. He looked campier than Harry had ever seen him. "To make me bald, of course! Like you said you liked."
Harry burst out laughing.
"Your perversions aren't funny, Potter!"
It was time to come clean. "I don't like bald men," Harry confessed.
"But you said –"
"I lied. I didn't want you to know that I actually like… well… blonds."
Malfoy blinked a couple of times. Then his eyes widened, together with his grin. "Hey, I'm blond," he said as if suddenly remembering.
"I noticed."
"Natural blond," Malfoy clarified unnecessarily.
"I noticed that, too."
They grinned at each other.
The early morning light became slowly brighter, the storm long gone, leaving the air fresh and crisp. The rising birds filled the calmness of the early hour with cheerful twitters and chirrups.
"Can I ask you something?" Harry asked.
"What?"
"May I kiss you?"
The wisp of breath on his face was warm as Malfoy emitted something between a chortle and a gasp. His cheeked flushed pink and he averted his eyes, though his head was still turned towards Harry. "That's such a ludicrous question," he said. His voice was low, almost shy.
Harry leaned sideways, a little closer. "Well, I wouldn't want you to say afterwards that I made you do it," he whispered. He trailed the tip of his tongue across his lips, slowly, moistening them. It caught Malfoy's attention, and he followed Harry's tongue with a keen look, mimicking the movement. "So… may I?"
Malfoy closed his eyes and leaned closer, sliding his back across the wall until their noses touched.
Their hot breaths ghosted over each other's lips, no longer smelling like minty toothpaste, but Harry did not mind. The cold tip of Malfoy's nose as he brushed it slowly against Harry's and the gentle drag of Malfoy's lips over the corner of his mouth sent shivers of anticipation down Harry's belly, along his skin, and to his fingertips, making him tingle all over. But despite the protest of his body, he did not move – letting Malfoy initiate the kiss.
It happened excruciatingly slowly. Harry had to fist his hands and recruit all his willpower in order to hold himself from grabbing the back of Malfoy's head and pull him into a proper kiss. Malfoy's breaths came out in shallow shudders as he angled his head and slid his nose across Harry's cheek. It reminded Harry of the way Malfoy rubbed his cheek against his cock the previous night, and although it felt like a tease, he knew it was not. He could sense Malfoy's nervousness, the tension radiating off him in waves, and thought he could even hear the loud drumming of his heart. It was a big step for Malfoy, something he had to make on his own, and though Harry wanted to speed things up, he wanted to let Malfoy make the choice.
When Malfoy's lips touched Harry's, ever so lightly, they were incredibly soft and moist, and Harry's breath caught at the back of his throat. The significance of this kiss was brimming in the air between them. After everything they had done last night a kiss was a minor detail, and yet, something about that light contact of lips made Harry's chest tight; made him want to put his arms around Malfoy and just hold him.
The press of lips became more persistent, and after what felt like forever, the wet tip of Malfoy's tongue slipped out to trace Harry's lips and prod them apart. Harry welcomed it gladly, sighing around it and meeting it with his own tongue, sliding them together languorously.
Malfoy leaned towards him and farther from the wall, laying his hand over Harry's chest, palm sweaty and warm. Harry placed his own hand over Malfoy's, knowing it was just as clammy and knowing that Malfoy could feel his heart beating widely against his rib cage, and he let him, wanting Malfoy to know that it was a big step for him too, that it was significant.
The kiss was tender and unhurried, almost innocent, and their touches were light – hands remaining above the waistline even though Harry was painfully aware of the naked flesh just below the covers.
They remained that way for a long time, just kissing and caressing. Harry could not remember ever experiencing such intimacy. He lost himself in the comfort of Malfoy's closeness, in the contentment of the sweep of lips and tongues against his mouth, and the stroke of fingers over his skin and in his hair. A whole new world of experiences had opened up before him, and he could not wait to start on this wonderful new path ahead of him. He let go of Malfoy's lips, and tilted his head back, just enough to be able to see Malfoy properly, unable to contain his smile, happy in knowing they would be travelling along that new path together, hand in hand.
They smiled silently at each other. "If I tell you something, do you promise not to laugh at me?" Harry asked.
Malfoy snorted. "Of course I don't."
"I liked waking up next to you," Harry told him anyway. The widening in Malfoy's eyes made him wonder if he said too much too soon, so he quickly added, "Before you woke up too and flew off the handle, I mean."
Malfoy's eyes narrowed again, to even more than they were before. "At least unlike some other people in this room, I don't wake up homicidal," Malfoy drawled.
Guilt twisted Harry's insides at the reminder, and he felt his smile fade away, as if gravity suddenly enforced its hold on the corners of his lips. He opened his mouth to apologise.
"Instead of homicidal, I wake up homo," Malfoy interjected before Harry had the chance to speak. His voice was light again, and his dazzling smile sufficiently disarmed any discomfort his previous words caused.
Thank you, Harry thought, and kissed the tip of Malfoy's nose. It was cold, as always, but it was the only thing about Malfoy that still was, and for that Harry was grateful. "You went to sleep pretty homo too," he said, trying to keep up with the blithe conversation.
Malfoy ignored his comment. "You know… I don't remember falling asleep. I think I blacked out or something."
"Yeah, something like that. You were sleeping like a drunken troll in seconds. I had to drag and manhandle you under the covers."
Malfoy's eyebrow quirked up. "Manhandle me, huh? I wager you liked manhandling my gorgeous, naked body."
"I like your gorgeous naked body very much."
Malfoy's lips formed a small O, and Harry wondered if maybe Malfoy was not as self-assured as he tried to appear. But the surprised expression was short-lived, and a moment later Malfoy rearranged his features back into the usual haughty smugness. "So you admit that I'm gorgeous. I suppose your eyesight is better than I realised."
It was a strange way of saying thank you, but Harry was getting used to Malfoy's diversion techniques. "You're welcome," he said.
Harry swept his hand down along Malfoy's arm, circled his fingers around Malfoy's wrist, and then slid his hand up again over the smooth skin, up and down in slow, firm movements. "Are you tired?" he whispered, making his voice as suggestive as his hand.
Malfoy's eyelids fluttered and he shivered at the touch. "No," he half-gasped, half-said.
Happy with the encouragement, Harry leaned closer, hand leaving Malfoy's arm to crawl over his hip.
"But," Malfoy stopped him with a hand on the middle of his chest, "I… I need to use the loo," he whispered, suddenly bashful.
"Oh. Me too, actually. I can probably pee an ocean." Harry smiled at Malfoy, letting him know there was no need to be embarrassed.
"You go first," Malfoy said. Harry was about to protest, but was silenced with a finger across his lips. "Go."
"Fine, fine, I'm going." Harry's feet were already on the scratchy rug when a sudden urge overtook him. He turned back, stretched towards Malfoy, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Malfoy's eyes widened and Harry's face felt warm. "Don't go anywhere," he said, only half-jokingly, and went to the loo.
"I couldn't go even if I'd wanted to," Malfoy called after him. "You know I'll never find my way out of Muggledam."
Harry peeked from the door. "Good."
After a bit of a battle with his own body and a rather uncomfortable peeing, brushing his teeth, and futilely trying to comb his hair, Harry stepped out of the bathroom. He caught Malfoy standing with his back to the tall mirror that was attached to the inner side of the cupboard door, looking at it over his shoulder. "What are you doing?"
Malfoy jumped and moved away when he heard him. "Nothing," he answered, a little too quickly. He did not meet Harry's eyes, and a sense of foreboding fell on Harry.
Walking slowly towards him, Harry asked, "I. Er. I didn't injure you or anything, did I?" He wished he had been gentler during their nightly activity.
"No, I'm fine. Really." Malfoy turned his back to the mirror again, craning his neck as he tried to inspect his rear. "It feels a bit strange, but it looks normal."
Harry looked at the white, perky cheeks. "Mmmm," he hummed in appreciation, a goofy grin plastered on his face. When he realised Malfoy was staring and smirking at him with an arched eyebrow, he ducked his head, climbed on the bed under the covers, and turned on his side to hide the evidence of his rising interest. He ignored Malfoy's sniggers until the sound disappeared behind the bathroom door.
Malfoy returned, and crawled beside him under the duvet, lying on his back with his arm and the side of his leg touching Harry's front. "Well, well, well. Is that a wand in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" he asked, glancing at Harry from the corner of his eyes.
Harry chuckled. "And you dare accuse me of using corny, clichéd lines?"
Malfoy huffed indignantly. "Well, I never had the chance to use it before, as I never was with someone who had a… well. Wand."
Harry buried his face in Malfoy's chest, and laughed. It felt so wonderful being able to do that. When he raised his head again, they grinned at each other, and Harry could clearly tell that the glorious bliss that thrummed in his body and made his heart swell was equally shared. It was in the relaxation of Malfoy's body as Harry slid on top of him, and in the easiness in which he spread his legs apart to allow Harry between them. In the offhanded sweep of his fingers over Harry's nape that made Harry want to purr, the sparks in his eyes, and the wrinkles at their sides as he smiled – so openly and inviting.
It was the most breathtaking smile Harry had ever seen. Not just because Malfoy had perfect white teeth. Not just because Harry knew how marvellous that smile tasted. But because Harry knew it was real. He had never seen it on Malfoy before they met in Amsterdam, never imagined Malfoy was capable of it. It was… sweet. And human. Tearing his long-established impression of Malfoy to shreds, and leaving behind someone new, someone Harry was eager to get to know better and have at his side. Maybe even someone he would be able to… who knows? The future was wide open before them, full of promise.
Their mouths met halfway, lips – still stretched into smiles – brushing together, leisurely at first and then a bit more persistent as Malfoy's fingers tightened in Harry's hair and pulled him closer to deepen the kiss. Malfoy tasted like Harry's minty toothpaste again. Soon the smiles were replaced with wet, gliding tongues and biting teeth and soft, throaty sounds that streamed down Harry's insides to spark fire in his groin.
As their bodies slid easily against each other, it was just as exciting and thrilling as the first time. Ever more, because now Harry knew it would not be the last. He knew there was no need to rush because they had all the time in the world, but Malfoy's hardness pressing against his belly was maddening – he wanted to touch it, to feel it, to taste it. God, how he wanted to taste it.
"Can I suck you off?" Harry whispered breathlessly against Malfoy's swollen lips.
Malfoy's hips bucked and he made a needy, choked sound in the back of his throat.
Harry raised his head to look down into Malfoy's eyes. They were as dark as they had been last night, even though it was much brighter out. "I suppose that was a yes?" he asked, thrusting his hips to meet Malfoy's.
"That was a 'what the fuck are you still doing up here'!" Malfoy said and rolled his hips as if to make his point clearer.
Giddy with what he was going to do, though a bit apprehensive since he had never done it before, Harry gave Malfoy's sharp chin a small nip. "I'm never going to get a simple yes or no answer from you, am I?"
Malfoy made that needy sound again, and used the hand still clutched in Harry's hair to nudge his head down.
This wanton Malfoy was going to be the end of him. And what a magnificent end it would be, Harry thought. He beamed at Malfoy and pushed his head up against Malfoy's hand to capture his mouth in a fierce, searing kiss that left them gasping for air. Then he moved downwards.
Harry kissed his way down Malfoy's body, slowly and thoroughly, letting the softness of Malfoy's skin stroke his lips, and rolling its salty tinge on his tongue. Cool morning breeze blew in through the open window and mussed his hair, and then his head disappeared under the covers and between Malfoy's thighs.
Now this was what Harry had expected his holiday in Amsterdam to be like.
The EndAuthor's note: Thank you all for reading and sticking with me until the end! I hope it was worth it.
Please don't hesitate to leave a review – feedback, concrit, flame; the good the bad and the ugly – whatever it is, I appreciate it a lot!