Entry tags:

hp fic, hp fic: harry/draco

Learning to Breathe - Harry/Draco, NC-17. Part Two.
Learning to Breathe Part Two.



“Hi,” Potter said. He sat down into the chair opposite Draco. Draco put his menu down carefully, making sure not to disturb the knives and forks that were laid out on the table. He took a deep, steadying breath before he raised his eyes to meet with Potter’s.

“Potter,” Draco said. “How… how are you?”

“Good,” Potter said. “Very good.”

“How was the honeymoon?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. He leant his elbows on the table before him and steepled his fingers. He ignored the speed at which his heart was racing.

“It was… nice. Never been to Italy, so it was nice to you know… see stuff,” Potter bluffed.

“Indeed,” Draco said. “Did you go to that restaurant I recommended?”

“Yes,” Potter said, a beaming smile appearing on his lips. “It was lovely. The best one we went to I reckon.”

Draco started slightly at the casual ‘we’ that fell from Potter’s mouth. Potter obviously noticed, as he blushed slightly and an awkward silence fell over the table.

A few minutes later, Potter looked up from his menu. “How’s Astoria?”

“She’s well,” Draco told him. “I have approached a few apothecaries about beginning to supply them with potions as well.”

“Oh really?” Potter asked, sounding exceedingly grateful for a conversation topic that wasn’t too volatile. “How come?”

“I don’t like accounts very much,” Draco said. “I can pay somebody to do them with the income from the potions. I just want something different to do.”

“Have you thought about going back to school and doing a Masters in Potions?” Potter asked him, sipping his water.

“You don’t go back to school for that, Potter, if you can afford it, the Ministry will test you. There’s a long assessment period at the Ministry over the summer where Potions applicants are undergoing tests,” Draco told him.

“Oh,” Potter said, sounding very confused. “How do you learn the material then?”

“Teach yourself,” Draco told him simply. “There aren’t enough Masters in Britain to be teaching all the applicants. I suspect three a year pass the assessment and gain their Mastership out of the twenty or thirty who try.

“Really?” Potter asked. “Wow.”

“A lot of people do it to fast track to the Unspeakables,” Draco said. “Most that try that aren’t good enough though.”

“Oh, wow,” Potter repeated himself. “I guess you’ve thought about it then?”

“Astoria and I have discussed it. We agree that I should begin to study for it after we’re married.”

“Fair enough,” Potter said. “G – Ginny is on tour with the Harpies at the moment. She went the day after we got back. I don’t even feel like I’m married. I thought she’d be here to start with.”

“Is that why I’m here?” Draco asked.

Potter snorted. “Don’t be daft. You know you’d be here even if she spent all day, every day at home.”

Draco nodded. Inside, he was berating himself for setting up that line of conversation. For needing Potter’s reassurance.

The thing was, he suspected that Potter had needed to say it out loud just as much as Draco needed to hear it.

: :

After Draco and Astoria’s marriage, time seemed to

stop

dead

still.

Draco began to study for his Potions Masters, Astoria occupied her days socialising with various friends, and by night, they tried to conceive their first child. Potter had finally passed Auror training and was frequently out of the country on missions, which seemed to suit him fine since Weasley was often out of the country playing Quidditch anyway.

And life continued that way for years and years.

He and Potter saw each other when they could, which was generally two or three times a month. Whether they went out and got rat-arsed, before falling into a hotel for the night, or they ran into each other in Diagon Alley, bumping each others shoulders and exchanging heated gazes. Those times usually meant Potter sneaking into the Manor, or Draco visiting Potter’s home if Weasley was away. She was away a lot. Draco didn’t blame Potter in the slightest for wanting some company.

Until one day. Potter’s Owl came late one Wednesday night. Draco was sitting in the living room with Astoria when the owl flew in, a house elf running after it, flapping its hands.

“Master Malfoy, I was not being able to stop it!” the house elf screeched. Draco waved his hand in dismissal. Potter’s bloody owl never let the house elves take the letter. The bird always flew directly to him, no matter where he was. It was most perplexing.

Draco took the letter from the owl – he had never learnt its name – and the bird took flight again, soaring out the open window. Pulling the letter from the envelope, he unfolded it.

Draco,

Ginny’s pregnant.
What do I do?

Harry x x

“What’s that, dear?” Astoria asked, looking up from her book.

Draco took a steadying breath and put his hands on his knees. It would be no good for Astoria to see his hands shaking. “Potter’s got his wife pregnant,” he said. He was very impressed that his voice did not waver once.

“Oh?” she said. “Why did he find it necessary to inform you of this development?”

“He fancies us friends,” Draco said.

“Well you do see each other now and again,” Astoria acquiesced. Her gaze returned to her book.

“We discuss how awful the Ministry is, and my Potions Masters, and give each other someone to be drunk with so we don’t end up lonely, drunk men in pubs.”

“That sounds like friends to me,” Astoria said. “Or as close as you two will ever be.”

: :

One evening, several weeks after Potter’s little revelation, Potter turned up in Draco’s Entrance Hall.

“What are you doing here?” Draco asked. A house elf had alerted him to Potter’s presence in his home. Astoria was already in bed; otherwise she would have been here first.

“I needed to see you,” Potter said.

“You couldn’t have Owled?” Draco asked. He began to walk, leading Potter down to his laboratory. Potter followed.

Once in the room, Draco pushed Potter up against a wall. Potter’s eyes bore into him, getting under his skin, inside him, until it consumed him.

He rested his forehead upon Potter’s. “What the fuck is wrong with us, Potter?”

Potter visibly gulped. “I haven’t got a fucking clue.”

Before either of them could stop themselves, their lips were crashing together, tongues slipping into each others mouths, hands pulling each others hair.

Draco crushed Potter against the wall harder. He slipped his knee in between Potter’s legs and ground his thigh into Potter’s crotch. He loved listening to Potter moan, he did it so prettily.

Potter reached his hands around to grasp at Draco’s arse, pulling him closer, his knee closer. Draco could feel Potter’s cock, hard, needing, desperate.

Their kiss had regressed to little more than biting at each others’ mouths in desperation, all teeth and tongue as they let out every ounce of aggression and frustration upon each other.

“Potter, you have to fuck me,” Draco said desperately into his mouth.

Potter moaned and nodded. “I do…”

Draco pulled away from their kiss with regret. He turned around, bending over and resting his hands on the wall. They never fucked face to face. They saved that for their wives.

Potter groaned again. If there was one thing he loved about being with Potter, it was how vocal he was. There was never any doubt how much he wanted it, how much he wanted Draco.

Draco felt his trousers being pulled down, then his boxers, both of them pooling at his ankles, releasing his aching cock. He was desperate to touch, to be touched but knew Potter would take care of him soon. After all, he could hear the sound of a zipper was heard, some ruffling, and then a loud thud.

Draco didn’t turn around to see what that was. He loved the surprise of not knowing what would happen first. And fuck, his arse cheeks were being pulled apart roughly. Hot breath blew over his arsehole and then a tongue delved deeply into his hole, over and over again.

The tongue left his arse. He didn’t want to be empty.

“No fucking lube,” Potter growled, and then the tongue was back, plundering him oh-so-fucking brilliantly, again and again and again. Potter reached round and grasped his cock roughly and Draco almost lost it.

“Potter, now!” Draco sobbed desperately.

“You’re not ready. I’ll hurt you,” Potter, the annoying git insisted. One final swipe of his tongue over Draco’s crack, and he stood up. But before Draco could protest, Potter slipped a finger into his arse, then a second.

Draco moaned as Potter spread his fingers, stretching him out, getting Draco ready for his cock. Potter withdrew his fingers quickly, and Draco felt those sticky fingers holding onto his hips tightly, perfectly. He would have to spell the bruises away after Potter went home.

Potter lined up his cock and pushed before he pushed against Draco’s arse, which put up little resistance. Potter moaned as he sunk each inch of himself into Draco slowly. As Potter drove into his arse, the burn died down and Potter managed to hit that place inside him that made him moan and beg and come against the wall in messy spurts.

As Potter fucked him, groaning above him, Draco allowed himself to breathe. Some days he thought he would suffocate under the weight of his life. He clenched his arse muscles as he thought about the fact that the only time he ever felt all right was when Potter was desecrating him. Potter came with a noisy shout, pulled out of his arse and Draco stopped breathing.

: :

Draco’s father killed himself on a Tuesday. It was, with the kind of irony that Draco enjoyed, the same day that Potter’s first son was born.

He, his mother and Astoria were the only people to attend the funeral.

Draco didn’t cry. He didn’t have the energy or the inclination.

: :

One thing Draco had never counted on was how difficult it was to get pregnant. He and Astoria had been trying ever since they were married, which was years ago, and they still had not conceived.

Over time, at least in part because he really preferred men’s company to women’s anyway and that he had to have sex with his wife a lot more frequently than he had ever planned, he had come to resent Astoria. It wasn’t through any fault of her own, it was just the way circumstances had dictated their lives. Once upon a time he had hoped they could keep up the friendship they had first struck up, and perhaps even grow into love, even if it wasn’t all consuming and passionate. Who knew, maybe they could rekindle their relationship after they finally had a child.

Sighing, Draco headed upstairs to look for Astoria. He was considering booking his Masters test for that coming summer; he finally felt ready.

Astoria was sitting on the floor of the bathroom when Draco entered. There were tears down her red, blotchy face, and her robes were creased. Her long, blonde hair was thrown on top of her head messily.

“Oh,” Draco said and sank onto the cool tiles next to her.

Astoria buried her head into Draco’s robes, and he sat there stiffly, unsure what to do. He put his hand on her back and began to rub, in small circles which were meant to be soothing. It apparently worked because after a few minutes her sobs subsided.

“I got your robes dirty,” she said, sniffing. She pulled a long length of paper of the toilet roll holder and blew her nose messily.

“You did,” Draco agreed. As she threw the balled up paper into the toilet bowl he pushed the handle and they both watched the water splash and disappear.

“I’m not pregnant,” Astoria told him. She dusted some invisible dirt off Draco’s robes. He caught her hand and brought it to his lips.

“I thought as much… it is… unfortunate to say the least,” Draco said stiffly.

Astoria laughed wetly, almost hysterically, seemingly on the edge of tears once again. “That, my darling, is an understatement.”

“I’ll take you to bed,” Draco decided. “You need your rest, I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“I am, Draco, I am. So very tired.”

They both knew that the pregnancy troubles were not what she was talking about. It was their whole life.

Draco stood up, his knees clicking as he did so. He held out his hand and Astoria looked at it for a minute before she took it. Pulling her up, he rested his chin on top of her head.

“It will be all right,” he said.

Astoria wiped a tear away from her eyes and nodded. “Of course it will,” she said dismissively. Draco smiled. It almost broke him to see her during one of her most vulnerable moments. He needed to see her bounce back as she always did.

“I think I will take a few moments alone though,” she said pointedly.

“Ah,” Draco said. “Of course. I’ll see you for dinner later though?”

“You will,” she confirmed. “I think I’ll go and visit Daphne afterwards though. Will you join me?”

“Unfortunately, I already have a commitment this evening,” Draco lied. He pulled Astoria’s robes around her, straightening them up.

Astoria looked at him shrewdly. “No matter. Perhaps I shall invite Daphne and Blaise round for dinner on Sunday.”

Draco nodded. “It has been a while since we were together, it will be a nice change.”

“I thought so,” Astoria said. Her face had almost returned to its normal pale shade. “I’ll see you for dinner then.” With that she left the bathroom and disappeared down the corridor. Draco suspected she needed to build her walls back up before they spoke again.

As awful as it was, Draco needed her to do that. He had no idea how to cope with an emotional woman apart from hold her and let her ruin his robes with mascara and tears.

Her footsteps grew fainter and Draco walked in the other direction to his study. He sat down behind the desk and pulled out a quill out of the drawer. It had a large white feather from one of the peacocks that roamed the grounds. Draco ran his fingers along the edge and dipped it in the turquoise ink in the well.

Potter,

Floo to the Manor tonight, after eight.
There is no need to reply unless you cannot make it.

D. Malfoy.

He looked at the parchment until the words all blurred together. Before he could stop himself, before he tore the parchment up and forgot the name Harry Potter, he rolled the parchment up and sealed it.

Calling for a house elf, he handed the scroll over. “Harry Potter,” he said. “Give it to one of the barn owls.” He thought they were more likely to be discreet than the eagle owls. Much less noticeable. The house elf disappeared with a quiet pop.

Draco laid his head upon the cool desk and tried to stop thinking. It didn’t work. It rarely did.

He spent the rest of the day in his office going through his accounts. His adviser had told him that it would be prudent for him to become involved with one specific charity rather than several different ones. As the hour grew near to dinner, he realised there was not one which he favoured, nor one he had donated more to in the past. Maybe Astoria would have a preference. It would be better than another conversation about babies, and the lack thereof.

At exactly 8.03pm that night, the fire in the Entrance Hall blazed green and Harry Potter stumbled out. Draco was waiting, reclined on the third step of the stairs, resting his elbows on the fourth.

“What’s this about, Draco?” Potter asked. He sounded tired. Exhausted even.

“You know exactly what it’s about,” Draco answered lazily.

Draco stood up and began to head up the stairs. Halfway up, almost as an afterthought, he turned around. Potter was staring after him. He was absentmindedly fiddling with a loose thread on the cuff of his robes and biting his lip in a most perplexing manner. He looked as tired as Draco felt.

Sometimes Draco thought the only time he felt alive, was when Potter had him up against a wall, knee between his legs, tongue in his mouth.

“Well,” Draco said. “Are you coming or not?” This time he didn’t turn back. He never did. He never needed to. Potter always followed.

: :

After another year of trying, of embarrassing tests in St. Mungo’s and perfunctory sex night after night, Astoria was pregnant. Apparently so was Potter’s wife.

The idea that his and Potter’s child would be in the same year at school made him run to the bathroom. He kept remembering rejected handshakes, midnight duels and finally “Sectumsempra!” in the bathroom. He hung his head over the toilet bowl. It felt like his body was trying to eject every last bad memory of Potter through his mouth.

For a while Draco toyed with the notion of sending the child to Durmstrang or Beauxbatons for a while, and fantasised about how simple that would make his life. But he knew he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. But it was a nice diversion from the mental chaos that was his mind.

He found Potter fucking him until he couldn’t remember his own name a much better distraction.

Astoria didn’t have an easy pregnancy. They should have expected it, given how many years it took them to conceive in the first place. It was never going to be easy. Not for them.

There were only so many potions she could take without harming the baby, only so many charms he could cast to make her comfortable, only so many times he could rub her feet and hold her when she cried.

After six months, the Mediwitch at St. Mungo’s put her on bed rest, only giving her bathroom privileges. Draco didn’t think she would ever stop crying. The more often he held her as she soaked his shoulder with her tears, the further away he felt her drift.

He wondered if he could get away with never touching her again. He never wanted her to have to go through this again, not because of him. And Draco doubted he would, more’s the pity.

Draco was sitting in his study when he heard a blood-curdling scream echo down the halls. Without a moments hesitation he threw his quill down on the desk, hitting the inkwell, knocking it over, sending a cascade of ink over the whole desk. As Draco ran up the stairs to his wife, blood red ink dripped onto the carpet.

“Astoria…” he said breathlessly when he arrived in their bedroom.

Her long blonde hair was splayed like a fan over the pillows. Her skin was almost as pale as the crisp, white sheets, only marred by a high rose blush that covered her cheeks. There was a large red stain on the quilt that seemed to spread as he stood there in a daze.

“Fuck,” he whispered, before he threw back the quilt and took Astoria into his arms. Her head lolled worryingly before resting on her chest. Her forehead burned through his shirt. “Oh, fuck.”

Draco strode down the halls, and carefully walked down the stairs. The only fireplace that was big enough for two people at once was in the Entrance Hall. With difficulty he managed to get a handful of Floo powder from the jar, and yelled, “St. Mungo’s,” hoarsely.

As he fell through the fire, he absently wondered when he had begun to cry.

The hours after that were a blur. After he arrived at St. Mungo’s Astoria was taken away from him and whisked into a private room. Draco had never seen so many Healers and Mediwizards and nurses run into one room. He wasn’t allowed in and secretly, he was relieved. When he closed his eyes all he could see were walls covered in blood and the words, “I’m sorry, Mr Malfoy,” echoing in his exhausted, distorted mind.

More people rushed past him into the Astoria’s room. Draco put his head between his knees as nausea rose in his throat. He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Draco looked up.

Potter. Draco put his head on his chest and let his tears soak Potter’s horrible checked shirt.

“What are you doing here?” Draco asked into Potter’s chest.

Draco felt Potter swallow. “I – Ginny had our baby last week. I’m picking up a potion, he’s unwell.”

“Oh,” Draco said. While ugly, Potter’s checked shirt was very soft. He rubbed his cheek against it for a moment, relishing in the momentary comfort it brought him.

“He’ll be OK though,” Potter said confidently. “Er… what…”

“Astoria has been on bed rest for the last three months… I heard her scream this afternoon and she was in bed… unconscious. There was a lot of blood. I don’t know, I’ve been here for fucking hours,” Draco said. He wiped his face with Potter’s shirt.

“Thanks, Malfoy,” Potter said in disgust. “Do you want me to ask the Healers how things are?”

Draco shook his head. “No. If things have gone wrong, I would rather be ignorant. My family can’t be gone, Potter, it can’t.”

Potter pulled Draco closer to him, squeezing his arm painfully. Draco held on just as tightly.

The door opened. Draco jumped up. A Mediwizard stood in front of him, white robes stained with blood.

“Mr. Malfoy,” he said.

Draco walked up to him hurriedly.

“It has been difficult, but… your son and wife will be fine. We’re still working on your wife, but we are very positive.”

“I have a son?” Draco whispered to himself.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy. You have a son.”

Draco whipped around. “Potter - ” But Potter was gone.

Draco spent the next three hours looking in a window, gazing at the boy. There was no more news about Astoria - at the moment the only thing that was keeping him upright was the phrase, ‘no news is good news’.

His son was perfect, ten fingers, ten toes. Draco wasn’t allowed in the Special Care Baby Unit to see him, he was apparently too fragile. But Draco had a perfect view of his son, laying in a healing bubble from the window.

There were footsteps in the corridor, but Draco didn’t turn around. Suddenly there were lips on his neck. He looked up and could see Potter’s reflection licking his own.

“He’s beautiful, Draco,” Potter said, licking down Draco’s neck.

Draco nodded, his eyes welling with unshed tears. Not now, Potter, not now.

“How’s your wife?” Potter bit his earlobe.

“No news,” Draco said throatily. He couldn’t take his eyes off Potter’s reflection. “Potter, we can’t, not here, not now…”

“It’s been months,” Potter growled. “I’ve missed you.”

Draco’s heart leapt in his chest. He spun around and grabbed Potter by the shoulders, holding him away at an arms length.

“I was preoccupied with my wife being extremely ill. She still is extremely ill,” Draco said harshly.

Potter leant forwards to whisper in his ear. When had his arms begun to draw Potter closer to him rather than push him away? “I want you to fuck me,” Potter said.

Draco’s breath hitched. “I can’t, Potter,” he said weakly.

Potter pulled Draco closer, their crotches pushing against each other. Draco could see the fire in his eyes, could feel Potter’s hard cock pressing against his own burgeoning erection.

“Potter…” Draco whined. He ran his hands up and down Potter’s sides, coming to rest on his hips.

Potter looked around the corridor and glanced back at Draco. “In here,” he said, tugging Draco with him into an empty treatment room. Draco spared his son a fleeting glance before he let Potter take him away.

Draco sat down silently on the bed as he watched Potter cast all manner of protective charms over the room and themselves. There was enough to show him that this was not just going to be a quick fuck.

“How did you get away?” Draco asked. Potter turned away from the door, a predatory look in his eyes.

“I told Ginny that I had a few questions for the Healers. She didn’t really care, both the boys are asleep, she nearly fell asleep during our conversation,” Potter told him. He took a step towards Draco, who spread his legs, hooking them on the corners of the bed. There was a pleasant burn in his muscles that was only ever there when he was with Potter. He never spread his legs for anybody else.

“I told you, Draco, I want you to fuck me.”

Draco made a come-hither motion with his finger, and was delighted when Potter growled and stepped forwards and pulling Draco up to his chest, forcing him to his feet.

Potter turned them around and sat on the bed, removing his trousers and boxers off as he sat. He undid the buttons of his shirt, leaving it to drape off his shoulders.

He was gorgeous, Draco thought. All sharp angles and flat planes of skin. Dark brown nipples stood out on Potter’s tanned chest and his dark hair fell into his eyes. Draco loved the seductive look Potter gave him from underneath his wayward fringe.

Draco undid the clasp to his robe and it fell on the floor. He stepped out of his trousers and boxers, leaving them in a puddle next to his robe. Draco grabbed Potter’s hips and took his long, thick cock into his mouth greedily.

The room was filled with sucking noises and wet squelching as Draco let Potter’s cock fall onto his mouth and come to rest on his bottom lip. The slit at the end of Potter’s cock rested against Draco’s teeth, and Draco nipped the end. Potter keened, arching his back. Draco knew he loved it.

“Draco,” Potter whined, spreading his legs.

“Lube?” Draco asked.

Potter nodded fervently. “The pocket of my trousers.”

Picking up the lube, Draco slicked it onto two of his fingers before putting it on the bed next to Potter. Draco put his fingers to Potter’s arsehole, circling around the pucker, massaging the muscles, before pressing in. Potter groaned and clenched around Draco’s fingers. Draco wanted that feeling around his cock. He slipped another finger into Potter briefly, stretching him. It had been months, he didn’t want Potter in too much pain. A little was fine. A little was what they needed.

“Turn over,” Draco said, urging Potter onto his front with the hand on his hip.

Hesitating briefly, Potter’s eyes flashed with something Draco decided resolutely was not regret.

Potter turned over, sticking his arse in the air. Draco grabbed him and hauled him closer, so his chest was flush with the table and his head awkwardly pushed down.

“All right, Potter?” Draco asked. He grabbed his cock and lined it up against Potter.

“Do it, Draco, please,” Potter whined into the table. He pushed his arse towards Draco, the head of Draco’s cock slipping past the relaxed muscle.

Potter moaned ever so prettily, like a wanton whore.

Draco thrust forwards, with one long, hard thrust, and allowed himself to breathe. Then he fucked Potter with every fibre of his being, until Potter was moaning and groaning his release into the hospital bed.

“Oh, God, Draco, fuck me, pleasepleaseplease, you feel so good inside me, oh, God, Draco, harder please, ohhhhhh, fuck…”

Draco came with the force of a thousand freight trains, deep in Potter’s arse, his finger tips leaving bruises on Potter’s hips and his nails leaving scratches on his back. He pulled out of Potter’s arse and cast a Cleaning Charm over both of them. He pulled his boxers back up, did up his trousers and walked to the door. Potter was still bent over the table, breathing quickly. Draco shook his head and left.

: :

In Draco’s opinion, the best night he and Potter had ever shared, on both a physical and emotional level, was the one after Potter was named Head of the Auror Department at the age of 29. It was a week after they’d celebrated Draco’s notification that he’d passed his Master’s in Potions and could now produce potions for the hospital as well as conduct research into inventing his own. They hadn’t managed to catch each other after that until Potter had Owled with his news, and to tell him that Weasley was taking the kids to her mothers. They had both spent the rest of that day half hard waiting to see each other.

If it had been anyone but Potter who had been promoted – Weasel, for example – Draco would have begun to look for the Imperious Curse on the Minister for Magic. But it was Potter. And anyone who was around Potter for any more than ten minutes and got him talking about the Auror Department knew he was more than qualified for the job.

Somehow, when Draco hadn’t been looking, Potter had grown up. Draco suspected that he hadn’t noticed as Potter was now on the same wave-length as normal people rather than behaving like a hormonal fifteen year old all the time. A lot of people had expected Potter to ignore politics completely when he’d entered the Aurors, and expected him to be out in the field constantly. But he hadn’t; proving them wrong.

While Potter had relished the field assignments that sent him far and wide before his first son was born, since then he had stuck to England and even more to his own desk. Between them, Potter and Weasel had apparently made a lot of changes and the majority of them seemed to be working.

In all honesty, Draco wasn’t too bothered about the Auror Department. As long as they stayed away from him he was happy. Potter seemed to enjoy his job though. Sure, some nights when Potter appeared at his door he was too tired to do anything except lie on the sofa and fall asleep with Draco, but generally, Potter appeared to love his job. Which put him in a fantastic mood, especially after his promotion.

It was one of the weekends when Astoria took Scorpius to visit her mother in France and Potter’s wife was apparently spending the evening with her mother. She was pregnant with her and Potter’s third child (“Definitely the last,” Potter said with a yawn one night, curling into Draco’s side) and wanted Potter to celebrate his promotion even if she was unable to accompany him.

This set of events which found Draco sitting in a Muggle bar with Potter, drinking any drink which struck their fancy. Their anonymity in the bar lead a tipsy Potter to become very handsy.

“Potter, we’re in public,” Draco said, removing Potter’s hands from his thighs.

“No one knows us, Draco,” Potter said seductively. “Isn’t it nice not to have to hide, just the once?”

It was, although Draco wasn’t going to admit it. He just snorted and took a gulp of his very pink drink. “What the fuck am I drinking, Potter?”

“A strawberry Woo Woo,” Potter said chirpily, taking a sip of his own.

“Where did they find you, Potter?” Draco said in mock disgust.

“Probably in your bed, with your cock in me.”

“Indeed.” Draco shifted slightly in his seat to disguise his reaction to that statement.

“Can we go upstairs?” Potter asked. “Put that into practise perhaps?”

“Good idea,” Draco said, standing up quickly. He took Potter by the hand, who gave him a sappy grin. Leading Potter through the bar, they reached the stairs. They had booked a hotel room for the night to allow them to fully relax with each other for once. So far the evening had been a success. Their meal together had been pleasant, the meal was delicious and they had enjoyed a conversation about their respective career advancements. Their hour or two in the bar had produced some flirting which they usually didn’t get round too, normally too desperate to taste each other to worry about verbal foreplay.

Draco pushed Potter into their room, locking the door behind them and putting a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the handle as he did.

“I miss you, Draco,” Potter said. He sat on the bed, undoing the buttons of his shirt.

“Miss me?” Draco managed a shaky laugh. “I’m right here.”

“Yeah, but when you’re not here…” Potter said. He threw his shirt and it pooled in a heap at Draco’s feet.

“Don’t be silly, Potter,” Draco said. He couldn’t take his eyes off Potter as he laid back on the bed to undo his jeans. “You’ve just drunk too much.”

“No I haven’t.” Potter frowned. He pulled his jeans from around his thighs and over his feet. They too ended up on the floor. “I… I wish it could be us… all the time.”

Draco swallowed his heart, which at some point had ended up in his mouth. “Potter, you know that’s impossible.”

“Maybe at the moment,” Potter agreed. “But not forever. It used to be enough, just having you every now and again. But it’s not anymore. Don’t tell me that you’re satisfied with having me in your bed once a week.” Potter leant down and pulled his socks off. Draco’s eyes flickered down to see the red mark which the tight elastic of the socks had left. He wanted to lick the mark.

“I… of course it’s not,” Draco said. His mouth was suddenly very dry and he licked his lips, trying to rehydrate them.

“Can you imagine what a life together would be like?” Potter asked. He turned over and crawled up the bed before settling against the fluffy pillows that leant against the padded headboard.

“We’d spend all day bitching at each other,” Draco said.

“And all night fucking,” Potter said. He rested his hand on his chest, running his fingers over his nipples. “Come to bed, Draco.”

Draco pulled his jumper from over his head and took a step towards the bed. “Is that really what you want, Potter?”

“Of course,” Potter said immediately. “I want you properly. I can’t do this forever.”

“I can’t until Scorpius is at Hogwarts,” Draco replied quickly. “I know that’s a long time.”

“Eight years,” Potter sighed. “On the plus side, it’s shorter than the time we’ve already been hiding this.”

“You… you agree?” Draco couldn’t believe it. He lowered his shaking hands to his trousers and pulled down the zip carefully.

“I think I do,” Potter said with a scared laugh. He allowed his hand to drift lower, until he was palming his cock through his bower shorts.

“We’re really going to do this?” Draco lowered his trousers and stepped out of them.

“Boxers too,” Potter insisted. “And yes. We are going to do this. We’re going to be ‘us’ at some point, it has to happen.”

A smile spread over Draco’s face until it was a verifiable grin. Draco saw the same expression mirrored on Potter’s face and he moved across the room to join him on the bed. Potter took him by the hand and pulled him flush against his body. The two of them held each other in a sort of half-hug until their mouths found each others. Draco slipped his tongue into Potter’s mouth, who readily accepted it, sucking it into his mouth. They broke apart smiling widely again, before they both erupted in delighted and disbelieving laughter at the impossibility of the situation that had just occurred. At last they had a future. They finally had something concrete to look forward to, and for once, for the first time in a long time, Draco began to look forward to tomorrow.

: :

“Scorpius,” Draco said, “this is Potter. Harry Potter.”

Potter snorted under his breath, although Draco had honest-to-God no idea why. “Hello, Scorpius,” Potter said.

“Daddy,” Scorpius said. “Can I have some juice?”

Draco blinked at his son and marvelled at the fact that this was happening and his son was so oblivious about who this was that he was meeting. Potter had suggested the meeting after Draco had spent three consecutive hours talking about Scorpius.

One thing Draco had not been expecting from his marriage, which was passionless at the best of times, was how far in love he was going to fall with his son. On quite a few days, Scorpius was the only reason Draco got up in the mornings. Potter was the other reason.

Draco sighed and picked Scorpius up, arranging him on hip comfortably. He inclined his head for Potter to follow him to the kitchen, which he did. There was an odd look on his face which Draco couldn’t interpret.

“Would you let Potter hold you while I get your juice?” Draco asked his son. He nodded his tiny blond head and sucked his thumb. It was an awful habit which Astoria was trying her hardest to discourage against, but nothing seemed to stop Scorpius. “Thumb,” Draco warned.

Scorpius pulled his thumb out of his mouth and stuck his lower lip out. Draco rolled his eyes and handed Scorpius to Potter.

“Hello,” Potter said.

Scorpius eyed Potter up from as far a distance away as he could manage, sat on Potter’s hip. “Hello,” Scorpius said warily before cuddling into Potter’s chest, his thumb flying back into his mouth once again.

“I’ve got a son your age,” Potter said. He sat down at the kitchen table carefully. “He never shuts up though.”

“What’s his name?” Scorpius asked.

“Albus,” Potter said with a big smile on his face. “He’s got a big brother as well, his name’s James, and a little sister called Lily.”

“I haven’t got any brothers or sisters,” Scorpius said.

“I know,” Potter said.

“Means Mummy and Daddy only play with me though.” Scorpius sounded delighted. “And Grandma as well. And I’m the only one that plays with the peacocks!”

Potter laughed throatily. “That’s true. Your Daddy loves you a lot you know.”

Scorpius nodded. “I know.”

Draco turned around, his heart in his mouth and put a glass of juice in front of Scorpius, who was still perched on Potter’s knee. He couldn’t believe how surreal it was to have his two favourite people in the world together and talking and touching. His stomach lurched as he thought about how much he wanted his entire life to be like this. He wanted to wake up every morning to see Potter in his bed, at his kitchen table eating breakfast with his son. He wanted Potter to be the last person he saw before he went to sleep, and to be there after he returned to bed after Scorpius had had a nightmare. He wanted Potter, more than anything or anyone he had ever wanted in his life.

: :

Draco climbed into bed. He smoothed the cool green sheets over his body, just the way he liked it and laid his head on the pale gold pillows. A few moments later Astoria came through the door to the right of their bed. Her long blonde hair was in a long plait over one shoulder and she was dressed in a deep navy night dress.

His heart beat heavily in his chest as he wondered whether she would want to do more than sleep. She was gorgeous, there was no doubt about it. Inwardly, he told himself off. There was not a chance anything was going to happen. They’d had sex four times since Scorpius was born six years ago, and three of those times they’d been drunk. He often considered telling her she should go and find someone who really loved her, who wanted her. The only things that stopped him were his mother, and the fact that they had both known it was more than likely going to be like this when they were married. Neither of them had expected true love and passion, they weren’t fools. Their marriage was pleasant, it could have been an awful lot worse; Astoria knew this from a lot of her female friends.

She got into bed next to him, smoothing the covers over her body, just as Draco had done moments before, but it was wrong. He let out a loud breath as the sheets were pulled away from him.

“How has your day been?” Astoria asked. She picked up her reading glasses from the bedside cabinet and put them on her face, then picked up a book as well.

Draco coughed. “Fine, thank you. I was in the lab for most of the day, but… Potter asked to see me in the Auror office. He needed someone to identify a Potion for him.” He didn’t need to fuck Draco in his office, but he had.

Astoria nodded. “Important case?”

Draco shrugged and sighed quietly. “I suppose so. It wasn’t too difficult, but he’s bloody useless.”

She raised an elegant eyebrow. “Indeed. How is his family?”

Draco blinked. He hadn’t asked in a while actually. He supposed they were all right, Potter usually mentioned if anything was wrong or going on. “All right, I think. I didn’t really get a chance to ask today.”

“That’s good to hear,” she said.

“How was your day?” Draco asked. His eyes were starting to fall shut. He hoped she wouldn’t be reading too long.

“Fine,” she replied blandly. “Scorpius and I had a walk around the grounds collecting conkers and he chased the peacocks again. Until your mother told us off of course. I really don’t see the problem,” she said petulantly.

Draco sighed again, rubbing his eyes. “Neither do I. My father was the one obsessed with them, as I’m sure you remember. No harm is going to come to them from Scorpius chasing them. He trips over his own feet before he catches them.”

“I know,” Astoria said. Her voice sounded sad.

They sat in silence for a while. It could have been hours.

Draco had almost fallen to sleep when he heard Astoria once more. “I … think I may go and stay with my mother.”

“Oh,” Draco said. “For how long?”

There was a long silence, and Draco’s heart felt like it was inexplicably gripped by an ice cold hand.

“Indefinitely.”

“I see,” Draco said, his voice stuttering slightly. “If you think that is best.”

Astoria sighed. “I do. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Draco said. “It’s been coming.”

“I’ll go and sleep in a spare room,” Astoria said, slipping out of their bed. “Good night, darling.” Draco knew it would be the last time he heard her say that.

“Good night,” Draco said, and Astoria left.

: :

Potter,

Astoria and I have decided to separate. Scorpius is going to reside with me for the majority of the time. The divorce should be through in about four months time. It should be quite simple.

Your turn.

D. Malfoy

: :

Since Potter had introduced Draco to Teddy Lupin, all those years ago, Draco had attempted to maintain a relationship with him. There were a number of reasons for this, the first being that he actually enjoyed spending time with the boy. In addition to this the boy had no one. No one at all, apart from his Grandmother and Potter. Plus, Lucius would have hated it.

The boy was seventeen now, and Draco had to admit, between them they had done a good job. Teddy had just finished his final year at Hogwarts, and had done reasonably well. He wasn’t a flyer, he had declared, at eight years old after Potter had brought him a training broom. Apparently it wasn’t for him. Once he made a decision, he stuck to it resolutely. Plans for his future were not yet forthcoming, he had considered becoming an Auror, like Potter, but had dismissed this quite quickly.

“I’m going to be a Mediwizard,” Teddy announced.

Draco put down his cup of tea. “You are?”

“Yes,” he said resolutely. His hair shone brightly, the sun streaming through the windows lighting up his lime green hair. “I’ve been looking at the training programme. I’ve missed it for this year though.”

“But you’re going to do it next year?” Draco asked.

“Yeah, I am,” Teddy said. “I’m going to visit Uncle Charlie in Romania for a while, and do some volunteering as well.”

Draco nodded. “That sounds like a good plan. I could help you with the Potions portion of the Mediwizardry course if you like. Perhaps you could help in my lab for a few weeks to get you back into the swing of Potion making?”

“That would be brilliant,” Teddy said excitedly. “I’m a bit shit anyway, I only got an E.”

“An E is not ‘shit’ as you put it,” Draco said with a roll of his eyes. “Potter barely got that if I recall correctly, look at him now.”

Teddy laughed. “Yeah, he got an E. I suppose he’s done all right for himself.”

All right was an understatement, they both knew this, and they smiled. The smile faded from Teddy’s face quickly, and Draco frowned. He raised an eyebrow, and Teddy shook his head.

“I don’t suppose you know do you?” Teddy asked.

An icy bolt of fear shot through Draco’s spine and he had to swallow back bile. “Know what?” he asked hesitantly.

Teddy looked at him shrewdly. “Aunt Ginny is ill. Really ill. I wasn’t sure whether Uncle Harry would have told you yet…”

“Is… is she going to be all right?” Draco asked hesitantly.

Teddy shook his head. “I… I don’t think so.”

“Oh,” Draco said, wondering why Potter hadn’t told him yet. He mentally shook himself as he remembered that when Astoria was ill with Scorpius, he hadn’t told Potter. He’d ignored him in fact.

“He hasn’t told the kids yet,” Teddy said with a sigh. “What can he tell them?”

“I have no idea.”

“Nor does he.”

The door flew open. “Dad! Oh, hiya, Teddy, I didn’t know you were here.” Scorpius flung himself at Teddy, sitting close to him on the sofa. Teddy swung his arm around the younger boy, squeezing his shoulder.

“All right Scorp?” Teddy asked. He changed his hair blonde so he resembled Draco’s son. Draco marvelled at how, even though they were only distantly related, they looked so similar when they had the same colour hair.

“I got my Hogwarts letter, Ted!” Scorpius said happily.

“Ahh yes, I remember, someone was eleven recently weren’t they?” Teddy said playfully.

“You know I was,” Scorpius said with a laugh, “You sent me a letter from Hogwarts, remember?”

Teddy laughed. “Oh yes, so I did. Next year you’ll be sending me birthday letters from Hogwarts, won’t you?”

“Of course I will!” Scorpius said.

Draco smiled at his sons enthusiasm, watching as Teddy and Scorpius chattered away. The only thing he could think of at the moment was Potter, and how much Draco needed to talk to him, and hold him.

: :

Draco,

Ginny’s dying.

Harry x x

: :

Draco’s hands were shaking. The day had finally come. Scorpius was due to start Hogwarts in just hours.

He and Potter hadn’t spoken for a few weeks. Draco was too nervous; every time he opened his mouth he was scared he was going to be sick. Potter had an awful lot on his plate at the moment. He’d been on compassionate leave for the last two months, and was for the foreseeable future. Not that anyone really expected Weasley to last that much longer.

Astoria had agreed to meet Scorpius and Draco in a tea shop an hour before the train left for Scotland. They hadn’t spoken very much in the last few months, only to drop Scorpius off and pick him up. They weren’t bitter towards each other; they just had nothing to say. Astoria was busy building her life back up, Draco had heard from his mother that she was seeing somebody already, and he was glad for her, he hoped that she would find someone who made her happy. Like Potter made him.

After an awkward meeting and a shared pot of tea, their small, dysfunctional family stood on the platform nine and three quarters at Kings Cross. The platform was as crowded as Draco remembered. The gleaming red train waited proudly on the tracks, small excited children already sitting in the windows.

Scorpius’s hand gripped Draco’s tightly. His trunk floated in front of them, brand new name plate shining in the sun. There was one last squeeze from Scorpius before he let go and took hold of his trunk. Draco bent down to his knees. His son stood slightly taller than him that way.

“Scorpius… we have discussed the possibilities of your schooling… it may be difficult, but you are ready. You are strong. You are a Malfoy, yes?”

“Yes, Dad,” Scorpius said. His eyes shone with determination, and Draco was so proud of his son in that moment, of how he and Astoria had brought up their son. While he could see the resemblances between his son and his eleven year old self, he could see the glaring differences as well. Scorpius has seen his father struggle through the years to get what they deserved, to have their family viewed as not just a name. He understood that which Draco had not, how to make his family proud in the right way.

Draco had not introduced his son to Potter’s children; he didn’t want to tempt fate. Whilst he would encourage a friendship if one occurred, he wanted Scorpius to make his own choices. He would not be persecuted for becoming the enemy of a Potter, like Draco had. Hell, if Scorpius wanted to befriend various Weasleys, he could. Scorpius’s happiness was foremost, not age old rivalries.

Scorpius had moved over to hug his mother, who was clutching at him as if he was her lifejacket. She was whispering in his ear and Draco looked around, not wanting to see the raw emotion all over her face.

Potter. Fuck. With all of his groupies as well. And they were all looking at Draco. He nodded once and looked away. Potter’s wife looked awful, pale and withdrawn. He wondered how much the children knew. Surely they had to know. Although, it didn’t appear they did. James was bounding around the platform, and Potter was talking to Albus. Lily was holding hands with Granger, smiling widely.

He turned back to his family. Today was about them. Not Potter.

: :

Draco,

The funeral is next Monday.
Please tell me you’ll be there.
Will you come over tonight? The children aren’t coming back from school until tomorrow.
I need you. Please don’t die.

Harry x x

: :

Potter looked at Draco. He had a look on his face. He knew what that look meant. He sighed and turned to look at him properly.

“Out with it,” Draco ordered.

Potter blinked, his long dark lashes fluttering over the smooth skin of his face. His eyes were wide and green, and not for the first time that day, Draco felt himself being sucked into them.

“Do you ever feel like we got off too easy?” Potter said quietly. “Please don’t make any jokes about come, I’m being serious.”

Draco swallowed down a number of jokes that had been on the tip of his tongue. “Nothing about this has been easy, Potter. It took us twenty years to get to this point. Twenty fucking years. Who knows how long it would have been if the Weaselette hadn’t got ill?”

“She never knew though. She should have, shouldn’t she?”

“If you knew she was going to get ill, would you have told her? It would have made her illness worse she only lasted those last six months to see your children for one more Christmas,” Draco said quietly.

“You don’t know that.” Potter sniffed.

“No, I don’t,” Draco agreed. “But wouldn’t you have rather given her a good, happy six months with her family than dragging her through the process of breaking up with her husband of twenty years? Who knows what would have happened.”

“You’re right.” Potter rested his head on Draco’s shoulder. “At least she was happy at the end.”

“After waiting twenty years for you, Potter, six months was nothing.”

“I knew you weren’t the cold-hearted bastard everyone thought you were.” Potter sounded positively delighted.

“Don’t go spreading it around, Potter, you’ll ruin my reputation.”

Potter laughed. “Draco, it would probably improve your reputation rather than ruin it.”

“Do shut up, I am a perfectly respectable member of society,” Draco sniffed, but his smile softened it.

“I know you are,” Potter said. He buried his head into Draco’s shoulder, nuzzling at his neck.

“Are you going to shut up about this getting off too easy business now?” Draco asked. He grabbed Potter’s hand and twined their fingers together.

“Yeah,” Potter said. “I was being stupid. No stupid jokes please.”

“Can I make come jokes now, then?”

“If you have to.”

Draco paused thoughtfully then sighed. “Moment’s gone. Don’t worry about it.”

Potter laughed. “OK, Draco. OK. I’m sure there will be plenty more opportunities for come jokes.”

“Twenty years worth perhaps,” Draco said lightly.

“Only twenty? I was thinking of a few more than that hopefully,” Potter said with another laugh.

“Maybe if you’re lucky, Potter,” Draco teased.

“Are you ever going to call me Harry?” Potter asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Probably not,” Draco admitted. “I’ve called you Potter for the last thirty years.”

“Maybe for the next thirty you could try Harry?”

“Can I call you Potter after that?”

“I suppose,” Potter said happily.

“I can’t guarantee it will hold during sex, orgasms especially,” Draco told him.

“I’ll forgive you for that,” Potter told him.

“As ever, Harry, you’re my hero,” Draco teased.

Harry snorted with laughter and pushed Draco off the couch. Draco landed with a squawk before he pulled Harry on top of him, and the two of them began their life together. Right then, right there. Face to face.

-fin-