Learning to Breathe - Harry/Draco, NC-17. Part One.
Title: Learning to Breathe
Pairing (s): Harry/Draco, Harry/Ginny, Draco/Astoria.
Summary: Draco knew what his life was going to be like, there was never any doubt. He never expected to fall in love, especially with someone who wasn't his wife. But, he did, and somehow, Harry Potter became the thing that kept him breathing.
Rating: NC-17.
Recipient: lesyeuxverts00 in hd_holidays.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warnings: Excessive use of profanities, explicit sexual situations, angst, infidelity.
Word Count: 18,000
Author’s Notes: I adored writing this fic, so thank you for the opportunity, I very much hope it is to your liking lesyeuxverts00. Happy Holidays.

Thank you to love_stoned0_0 for reading this numerous times and helping me along, charmstyle for an early read and reassurance and leela_cat for beta-ing this. Any remaining mistakes are my own.



‘… the three Malfoys, huddled together as though unsure whether or not they were supposed to be there…’ (pg 597, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Bloomsbury British Children’s Edition)

Apparently not many people at all thought the Malfoys were meant to be in the Great Hall that day. No one spoke to them, and Draco found it equally impossible to speak to his parents.

Sat on the floor of the Great Hall, Draco watched as his father was taken away, bound and silenced. Lucius didn’t protest, make a fuss, or even say goodbye. The Auror that took his father away barely spared Draco a glance.

His mother on the other hand, was due in for questioning in two weeks time. When the sleeve of her robe was pulled up to reveal her pale, bare forearm, Draco had to close his eyes, he couldn’t bear to watch. He felt safe about his mother’s future. While he knew she hadn’t opposed the Dark Lord, she had never taken part in Death Eater activities either. His father, on the other hand, was a different story. Draco had no illusions about his father’s fate at all.

Draco and his mother spent that night in a small, dingy room above the Hogs Head. The single candle barely gave out any light. He wanted to go home. The Manor was not fit for inhabitants ostensibly, although they would have to visit early in the morning to fetch a change of clothes.

“Mother…” Draco whispered into the darkness. He did not want to wake her unnecessarily, but her breathing was irregular. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

“Yes,” she replied with a sniff.

They were sharing a single bed. Draco had only a few Galleons with him that night, just some loose change in his pocket. His mother never carried money.

“It’s going to be all right,” he told her.

“Draco…” she said. “Don’t follow your father’s path. The Malfoys will be lucky if we come out of this unscathed…”

“But we won’t be lucky, will we?” he asked, his voice catching in his throat.

“No,” Narcissa replied sadly. “Not this time. This time we are at the mercy of the Ministry… money cannot buy everything. Remember that, my darling.”

“I will, Mother,” Draco promised. “I will.”

Draco and his mother clasped hands. They barely slept a wink that night. In the morning, neither of them mentioned their late night conversation. There was no need. Draco knew what he had to do.

Despite the fact that today was supposed to signal freedom, of all things, Draco felt the walls around him closing in.

: :

The next month, for Draco, seemed to consist solely of sitting in waiting rooms. By the time the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was finished interrogating his mother, Draco had read every old copy of Witch Weekly, Challenges in Charming and The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle that was available. He knew the layout of the department precisely, and who worked in each office. By the end of those weeks, he knew about more atrocious things his father had done than he had known were possible. He only threw up once during his own questioning; he was fairly pleased with that total.

On the last day, when he and his mother were finally allowed to go, Harry Potter appeared in front of them, harassed and looking ten years older than he should.

“Malfoy,” Potter greeted him.

“Potter,” Draco said with a stiff nod.

“I have your wand. Would you like it back?” Potter said quickly. He glanced behind Malfoy, then peered at his watch.

“Yes,” Draco replied. “You seem busy. Owl me and I’ll collect it, if that’s acceptable to you.”

“Er,” Potter said. “That’s fine. Thanks. I’ve gotta go.” Potter squeezed his shoulder as he passed before he walked straight into the office of the Head of Magical Law Enforcement.

Draco shook his head and sighed.

“Let’s go, Mother,” he said.

When Draco and his mother arrived at the Manor, the morning after the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco’s heart had jumped into his throat. His home… it was practically destroyed.

The peacocks were walking around the gardens, carefully avoiding the rubble that had once been the fountain. Inside was not much better. Only five rooms were untouched. One of the peacocks was scorched, dark burn marks visible all over its body.

As well as the havoc which had been wreaked by the Dark Lord when he had been in residence there, the Aurors had done their own share of damage. Both Draco and his mother had been given Veritaserum whilst at the Ministry. They had spilled everything that had ever happened, to their knowledge, at Malfoy Manor.

And somehow, thanks to his mother saving Potter, they had both escaped the Ministry unscathed. Draco strongly suspected Potter had something to do with it, but thought he’d never know for certain.

Every last item to do with the Dark Arts was gone, along with quite a lot else. Draco was glad to see it go. There was no way to start again if there were reminders of their awful past all around. And that, Draco had decided, was exactly what they were going to do. Start again, from scratch.

The next morning Draco got a hastily scrawled letter from an unknown owl.

Malfoy,

If you’re free tomorrow night, do you fancy meeting
in the Three Broomsticks at eight o’clock?
Would appreciate a chat if you don’t mind, if
you do, I’ll give you your wand and leave.

Owl back if this is not acceptable.

Harry Potter.

It was an awful letter. Potter obviously did not have Granger around to do his work for him anymore.

Draco had the overwhelming urge to tell Potter no, that time was not acceptable. Except that it was fine. Draco hadn’t spoken to anyone but his mother in a month and was quite eager for a conversation that didn’t include what colour the drawing room should be, and how to get scorch marks off a peacock. Plus, he wanted his wand back. He had an old one from the family crypt, but it was awful, sparks kept flying everywhere. His mother had actually banned him from working on the house with it. Draco knew he’d go.

: :

Taking a gulp of his fifth Firewhisky, Draco was unsure when the room had begun to spin, and when Potter had become funny.

Potter was making large gestures with his hands, but Draco couldn’t hear what he was saying anymore. He felt like his ears were full of candyfloss.

Potter fell off his chair and Draco began to laugh.

“Ow,” Potter said with a pout. Draco stuck out a hand to pull him up, but it didn’t quite work, and he ended up on top of Potter, giggling, with Firewhisky all over them.

“Out,” a firm voice said. Draco looked up and saw a woman frowning down at them.

Potter began to snort with laughter before he clambered up, holding onto the table for support, helping Draco up as well.

Draco couldn’t remember leaving the pub, but they must have because he and Potter had wandered down into an alley he didn’t recognise. Potter dropped down onto a wooden crate that sat down next to a skip.

Draco looked at him and blinked.

“Why are we down an alley?” Draco slurred. He held onto the skip so he didn’t fall over.

“Oh,” Potter said, looking around. “Is that what this is? Why am I sitting down?” He laughed to himself and held his hand out to Draco. Draco took it automatically.

“Why’m I holding your hand, Potter?” Draco asked.

Appearing confused, Potter looked at their joined hands. “Oh,” Potter said. “I don’t know. Come sit down.”

Draco sat on the edge of the crate tentatively before Potter pulled him back to lean on the skip with him. Potter’s head dropped onto his shoulder.

“You’re not so bad, y’know, Draco,” Potter told him. Draco could feel Potter’s breath on his neck.

“Thanks, Potter,” Draco said. What was that on his neck? It was warm and wet, God it was Potter’s tongue.

“Potter?” Draco asked, his breath getting quicker. Potter pulled away from his neck and looked at Draco. They sat and looked at each other for a couple of minutes, then Potter grabbed him, pulling him on his feet.

Draco felt his back connect with the skip, and then Potter was everywhere. His tongue was in Draco’s mouth; his fingers were fumbling with Draco’s belt and trousers.

Potter crowed in delight as he got Draco’s trousers undone and they fell to the ground, and oh God. Potter was on his knees in a puddle, looking at Draco with his big green eyes as he took Draco’s cock out of his boxers and took it in his mouth.

Draco let out a low groan in appreciation and thrust his hips forwards, pushing his cock down Potter’s throat. Potter coughed around his cock and took his mouth off for a minute, his eyes shining brightly with tears, before he went back to sucking. Potter’s cheeks were hollowed out, sucking for all he was worth. Tears were running down Potter’s face, and Draco reached down to wipe them away. He raised his fingers to his mouth to taste Potter’s salty tears.

Draco howled. “Oh yeah, Potter, yeah… yeah…”

Potters fingers reached back to tug at Draco’s balls and circle his arsehole, and Draco had a sudden vision of himself bent over the skip, Potter’s cock in his arse, shouting, yelling, begging for it, harder, faster, more. Draco came harder than he had before, and his knees gave way and he sunk to the floor next to Potter.

Draco’s hand found Potter’s, and together, not looking at each other, they took Potter’s cock from his trousers and began stroking until he was loudly shouting his release into the palms of their hands.

“Fuck,” Draco said as he looked at Potter’s come on his hand.

Potter was collapsed on the floor, breathing quickly. “Well, gimme a minute,” he said cheekily.

Draco looked at him. “N’t t’night, Potter, I have a headache.” Draco didn’t understand exactly why this sent Potter into peals of laughter, but it did. He stood up and Potter scrambled to his feet as well, tucking himself back in as he did.

“I better go,” Potter said awkwardly. He wiped his hand on the wall. Draco did the same.

“Yes,” Draco said. “This was… interesting Potter.”

Potter laughed. “Yeah. I’ll see you, yeah?”

Draco nodded, even though he didn’t have a clue what Potter meant. Suddenly he was very tired again.

Potter smiled and kissed Draco on the cheek. “Bye,” he said and Apparated away, leaving Draco alone in the filthy alley. His trousers were still around his ankles, and he suddenly realised that he was stood in a yellow polystyrene take-away box with mayonnaise on his shoe. He had to get out of there.

: :

After the ‘alley incident’ as Draco now referred to it in his head, he was unable to get bloody Potter out of his mind. He’d been attracted to men before, even got off with a couple in rather similar situations to the alley incident. But the next morning, he’d never had any trouble forgetting them. However Potter was always different, wasn’t he? He had a way of getting under Draco’s skin, and Draco couldn’t help but be a moth to Potter’s flame.

Despite all of this, Draco still had the willpower to avoid Owling Potter, or accidentally on purpose running into him. However, when Potter Owled him, there was nothing on earth that could stop Draco from meeting him. Not even a herd of Manticores.

“Potter, what is that?” Draco asked as soon as he had straightened himself out. Potter’s Owl had asked him whether he wanted to visit his house, and had given him the Floo address.

“That,” Potter said, “is your cousin, and my godson, so be nice, you arsehole.”

Draco blinked and looked at the child, who was lying on the floor surrounded by toys of varying kinds. The one that currently held his attention was a wooden model of the Hogwarts Express.

“I have a cousin? Why does it have turquoise hair?”

“He’s not an it,” Potter told him. He moved over on the couch to leave room for Draco to sit down. Draco did so, sitting as far away from Potter as he could without it being ridiculous. “His name is Teddy, and he is a Metamorphmagus.”

“He’s Nymphadora’s whelp,” Draco declared triumphantly.

Potter frowned and sighed. Draco made a mental note not to insult the child again. Not out loud anyway.

“How old is he?”

“Seven months,” Potter said fondly.

“Why do you have him?”

“I look after him sometimes when Andromeda needs a rest. It’s not an easy job taking care of a baby,” Potter told him.

“Ahh,” Draco said. “I see. Other than that how is dear old Aunt Andromeda?”

“She’s OK. She’d hit you if she heard you call her old. Still mourning obviously, but she’s doing better,” Potter said. He slid down to the floor next and sat next to Teddy; who had moved himself to a sitting position. “He’s only been sitting on his own for a few days.”

Draco frowned and joined them on the floor. Teddy turned to look at him, with big blue eyes. He reached his arms out for Draco to pick him up. Draco stared at the child in disbelief before taking him and sitting him on his lap. Teddy’s hair turned purple.

Teddy gurgled and grabbed at Draco’s hair.

“Fucking hell,” Draco whined. He tried to pry his hair out of Teddy’s chubby fingers, but Teddy was having none of it.

Draco glanced at Potter whose mouth was wide open. “Potter, shut your trap. You’ll swallow a fly.”

Potter closed his mouth and swallowed audibly. “He likes you,” Potter said.

Draco snorted. “Of course he fucking likes me, Potter, what’s not to like?”

“I’m not going to answer that question,” Potter said with a laugh.

“And why would that be?” Draco asked. Teddy grabbed his nose and began to laugh excitedly.

“I was once told that if I had nothing nice to say, I should say nothing at all,” Potter recited.

“You seemed to think I was nice enough the other night,” Draco said, the words slipping from his mouth before he had a chance to reel them in.

Potter opened and closed his mouth several times. Draco noted that he looked rather like a fish. “Er…”

“Oh, Potter, your eloquent words do mean ever so much to me,” Draco said dryly. “Forget I said anything, you stupid prat.”

“No,” Potter blurted out. “Er… Hear me out, all right? I mean I know we were absolutely wankered and that, although it was you know fun? But I’ve got Ginny to think about so it probably can’t happen again, right?”

Draco looked at him coolly and considered his options. Potter sounded very much like he wanted Draco to say, ‘Yes, Potter, it can happen again, Weasley will never find out’ and in all honesty, that was what Draco wanted to say as well. It wasn’t as if he wanted a relationship with Potter. It was just a bit of fun, to keep Potter from getting any further under his skin. It would keep him at bay, and in his place.

Except, that wasn’t what Draco said. “Oh, do shut up, Potter, I’m not going to tell your girlfriend if you don’t. You deserve a bit of fun before you marry yourself off to her anyway. I bet she keeps you waiting ‘til the wedding night.”

Potter made a noise of disgust. “You shut up.”

“That’s a yes then?” Draco asked, holding Teddy out in front of him. The annoying brat had finally let go of Draco’s hair.

“I can’t do that to Ginny,” Potter said, quietly, very reluctantly.

Draco nodded. “Fair enough, Potter. We can just be friends then. I’m quite enjoying the opportunity to get to know young Theodore here.”

“No one calls him that,” Potter muttered, looking at his hands.

Draco actually had no intentions whatsoever to just be friends with Potter. He was almost 100% sure that if, after their next encounter, he pushed Potter up against a wall and kissed him until he was breathless, that the other boy would have no qualms about it at all. It sounded like a perfect plan to Draco.

Two weeks later Draco sees Potter again, and he Apparated home, satisfied after sucking Potter to orgasm and getting a fantastic hand job back.

: :

“Mother,” Draco said one day, as the two of them sat down to breakfast in the dining room, “I have been thinking about my schooling.”

“Have you decided to return to Hogwarts?” his mother asked.

Draco shook his head. “I don’t wish to, although if it is the only option, I of course will. I was wondering however, if it would be possible to hire a tutor? I don’t want any distractions. I just want to do my exams and get on with my life.”

Narcissa nodded slowly. She put down her knife and fork. “Well, there would be benefits to going back to Hogwarts. The connections you could make…”

“Mother, the only worthwhile connection I could make at Hogwarts is with Potter, and I’ve already managed that. There are no other Slytherins in my year returning. I would be completely alone. I would rather remain here with you and I can certainly live without worrying that someone will attack me on the way back from the library,” Draco told her.

“I’ll look into it,” she said simply.

“Thank you,” Draco said gratefully. As tempted as he was to go back to Hogwarts (there were a few benefits - Potter had an awfully talented mouth) he knew it was a bad idea. He had no illusions that this little fling with Potter would ever become public, or even last that long. There wasn’t any way he could foresee Potter looking out for him at school, and by God, he knew he was going to need looking out for if he returned. Besides, the sooner he began to learn the ropes of the family affairs, the sooner he would be able to pull the Malfoys’ reputation and social standing back up from the gutter.

It would be better for everybody if he didn’t go back. Plus, his mother needed him. Not that she would ever admit it. Draco had seen her eyes mist over upon occasion, usually when Hogwarts or anything about Father was mentioned in The Daily Prophet and when anything to with Father was ever mentioned as well. Lucius was still in custody at the Ministry of Magic. Despite a great deal of protest from the Malfoys’ legal team, war laws were in place and the Ministry could keep Lucius in their holding cells for up to a year if necessary. It had already been over a month and there’d been no progress yet.

: :

Draco had noticed one thing in particular during his various episodes of being pushed against walls by Potter. It was the word, ‘yeah’. That word had never been part of his vocabulary before now. It wasn’t even a proper word, but it was one he was now uttering a lot more frequently whenever Potter had his tongue anywhere but his own mouth. It was most perplexing.

One time he had attempted, most resolutely, not to use the word at all. Potter had called him up on it.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Potter said, breathing heavily. He pushed his glasses up his nose before frowning and throwing them from his face and onto the floor.

“Nothing,” Draco said, quite honestly. “Apart from the fact you stopped sucking my cock, you twat.” He pushed down on Potter’s head to try and get him to finish what he was doing.

“You’ve barely said a word,” Potter said petulantly. “I’d got used to all sorts of moans and screams and ohmygodPotteryeah!’s and now you’ve turned into a mute.”

Draco blushed slightly. He pushed Potter again who bit his hip bone in retaliation. “Nothing is wrong, Potter. I was just being quiet, that’s all.”

“Well, from the amount of hair that you appear to have pulled out my head, I know I’m not doing anything wrong, so leave my hair alone, and just scream it out like a good boy, yeah?” Potter said before he took a deep breath and sucked Draco’s cock down his throat.

Draco nodded and resigned himself to incoherency. “Oh God, yeah, Potter, fuck just there, yeah…”

: :

The day before Potter returned to Hogwarts was a Sunday. Potter had invited him over to Grimmauld Place for the day. Apparently they were to spend the afternoon with Teddy to give Potter an excuse for Draco’s presence. Over the summer holidays, Draco had developed quite a fondness for his second cousin. He’d spent a fair few afternoons with Potter and Teddy, and now the child had learnt how to crawl and stand he was quite entertaining. Especially since he had developed a habit of stealing Potter’s glasses and biting his nose.

“Hello, Potter,” Draco said. He’d Flooed over and walked into an empty living room, but heard a commotion coming from the kitchen.

“Er, hiya,” Potter said. Teddy was sat on the kitchen bench, absolutely covered in flour. “We’re making a cake. It’s not going well.”

“Is that because you can’t cook to save your life?” Draco asked.

“I’m quite a good cook, thank you, arsehole. No, I just didn’t think it through, should have waited for you. I can’t leave him alone on the bench and do things…I just don’t have enough hands,” Potter admitted sheepishly. He wiped his hands on his jeans, leaving big floury hand prints. He groaned.

“Well, I’m here now,” Draco said. He walked over to Teddy and took the boy onto his hip.

“You’ll get floury,” Potter said weakly.

“I’ll spell it away later,” Draco told him. “We’ll have to give him a bath after this you do realise?”

Potter nodded. “Yeah, I realised that when he upended the bag on his head. Stupid spells will never get all that out of his hair.”

“Probably not, you are rather shit at them.”

“You’re no better,” Potter said petulantly.

“Never said I was, did I?” Draco said. “What’s left to do with your cake then?”

Potter looked at him from underneath his fringe. “Just giving it a good mix really, then cooking it. We’ll do icing after we’ve given him a bath, I just won’t let him near the ingredients this time.”

“Good plan,” Draco said dryly. He watched as Potter wiped his face and left a cake batter smear on his forehead. “I think we might have to give you a bath as well, Potter.”

Potter laughed. “Maybe after Teddy has gone, would be a bit indecent otherwise.”

Draco nodded. “We’ll see.”

Teddy rested his head on Draco’s shoulder and put his thumb in his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut and his hair faded from violet to its natural shade of black.

“Potter, it’s fallen asleep,” Draco said quietly.

“Oh fuck,” Potter said. He bent down and put the two cake tins in the oven. He turned a couple of dials then pulled out his wand, casting an alarm for 25 minutes. “We might be able to bathe him without waking him. He can’t sleep in all that flour.”

Draco snorted lightly. “He’ll wake up, Potter, don’t kid yourself.”

Potter just rolled his eyes and motioned for Draco to follow him up the stairs to the bathroom.

Teddy did wake up, as Draco had predicted, and proceeded to scream the house down. It took twenty more minutes to get him back to sleep and settled in the cot Potter had set up in one of the spare rooms.

It was lunchtime by the time Draco and Potter sat down, and only twenty minutes before Teddy was due to be picked up. None of this served to deter Draco. Who knew the next time he was going to have sex after today? Not that he would admit it to Potter, but he suspected he would quite miss their little trysts.

“Draco, we can’t,” Potter whined. Draco ignored him and clambered on top of Potter, straddling his lap. He licked down Potter’s neck and was rewarded with a long, guttural moan. “Just wait ten minutes and Teddy will be gone, and we can do whatever you want, all right?”

There was a loud knock at the door and Potter jumped up, knocking him to the floor.

“Oi,” Draco complained. “That hurt.”

“I’ll kiss it better in a minute, just be nice and sit there while I get the door, yeah?” Potter said as he left the room.

Draco picked himself up slowly, brushing invisible bits of dust from his robes, before he sat down on the couch with folded arms.

“Hello, Draco,” Andromeda greeted him from the doorway.

“Hello, Aunt Andromeda,” Draco said as pleasantly as he could manage.

“How has Teddy been this afternoon?”

Draco could hear Potter thundering about upstairs, gathering up bits and pieces as well as the child himself.

“He and Potter had a mishap trying to bake a cake, but we cleaned him up,” Draco told her.

Andromeda rolled her eyes. “Dear me,” she said. “I think Harry forgets he’s not quite a year old yet.”

“Potter is an idiot,” Draco said.

Andromeda laughed. “Oh, you boys. How… how is Narcissa?” she asked hesitantly.

“Quite well,” Draco lied. “I’ll let her know you asked after her.”

“Thank you, Draco. I shall have to visit her one of these days.”

“Indeed,” Draco said, before Potter appeared at the doorway, Teddy in his arms, rubbing his tiny fists in his eyes.

“Hello, Teddy,” Andromeda cooed, taking the tired baby into her arms.

Teddy made a noise of dissatisfaction before burying his head into Andromeda’s robes.

“Oh, he is a tired little boy isn’t he?” Andromeda said with a sigh. “We better be off. Good luck back at Hogwarts, Harry. Goodbye, Draco.”

Harry escorted Andromeda and Teddy to the front door. The two of them said their good byes and Andromeda left. Potter returned to the living room, hovering in the doorway.

“Upstairs,” he said, and turned and headed up there before Draco could get a word in edgeways. Not that Draco had any protests at all to be honest.

By the time Draco had walked up the stairs, Potter was already in his room, stripping off.

“Christ, Potter, we’ve got literally all day and night, slow down a bit,” Draco said, a bit shakily. He raised his hands to undo the buttons of his shirt.

Potter looked at him from underneath his fringe, his gaze was smouldering and made Draco feel like Potter could see inside him, everything he was, everything he was about. Something was different, Draco could feel it in his waters.

“Potter,” he said hesitantly. “Are you quite all right?”

Potter let out a strangled laugh and sat down on the bed heavily. His t-shirt lay on the floor in a crumpled mess and his jeans were halfway round his thighs. “I’m fine, Draco, really.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Draco said. He folded his shirt up and placed it on the dressing table. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Potter said. “It’s just I…”

Draco stood in front of Potter so that their knees were touching. Potter looked up at him. Draco could see that Potter’s brain was warring against his mouth to say what he wanted.

“You what?” Draco said quietly. He undid his trousers without his gaze leaving Potter, but Potter broke the stare, glancing down at Draco’s crotch.

“I want to fuck you,” Potter said. His eyes didn’t leave Draco’s boxers.

With those words, Draco felt a surge of blood flow to his cock. All summer they had been messing around, wanking and sucking each other off, but neither of them had suggested this before. It was so… dirty. Draco wanted to do it more than anything he’d ever thought about.

“Then I want you to fuck me,” Potter finished.

Draco nodded hurriedly. “Yeah… yeah, ok.”

“Really?” Potter squeaked and a blush rose on his cheeks. He coughed once. “Really?” he said in a much deeper voice.

Draco laughed and then nodded in a way he hoped was seductive, biting his bottom lip. He pushed his trousers all the way down before he bent over to disentangle them from his feet. He pulled his socks off while he was down there as well. By the time Draco had straightened up, Harry was reclined on the bed, with his hands underneath his head. Still not undressed.

Kneeling on the cool wooden floor beside the bed, Draco grasped Potter’s jeans in his hands firmly, before pulling them off and throwing them to the side. He pulled off his socks one by one, then rested his hands on Potter’s boxer short clad thighs.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me first?” Potter said.

Draco frowned but didn’t argue. He stood back up and lay on the bed next to Potter. Before he had even lain down comfortably, Potter was on top of him, straddling his hips and his lips were on Draco’s.

Opening his mouth to allow Potter to slip his tongue in and swirl round his mouth, exploring every last inch, Draco moaned into the kiss. He put his hands in the rats nest that Potter called his hair and pulled him down, needing his mouth to be closer, tighter, harder against him. Potter bit suddenly on Draco’s bottom lip and Draco keened upwards, driving his cock against Potter’s.

“Fucking hell, Potter,” Draco moaned and grabbed his arse, pulling him tight against his own body.

Eventually, Potter sat up, his chest rising and falling with every panted breath. “Have you ever… you know, with your fingers?”

Draco’s eyes widened and he felt his face heat up with a blush. “Potter,” he squeaked.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” Potter said with a wide, shit-eating grin. Draco decided against dignifying this with an answer. He threw his arm over his eyes so he could no longer see Potter’s smug face.

Potter didn’t seem to let this deter him as the next thing Draco felt was Potter’s fingers roughly twisting his nipples, then his soft wet tongue gently licking them. Draco moaned quietly. In the back of his head he just knew that Potter had that awful grin on his face again.

The next thing he felt, after a few whispered words by Potter, was lubricated fingers gently caressing his balls and then moving further and further back. Unceremoniously (Draco personally thought the loss of this particular kind of virginity was something to celebrate; but Potter obviously didn’t), a finger slid into his arse and Draco threw his arm away from his face to grasp the bed covers tightly.

“That all right?” Potter asked.

“Yeah,” Draco said, clenching his arse muscles around Potter’s finger. Potter whimpered slightly and Draco smirked.

“’Nother one?”

“Yeah,” Draco said, gasping slightly as another finger joined the first. He felt as Potter separated his fingers slightly, stretching him and Potter moving his fingers in and out gently, getting him used to the sensation. And then, as Potter was doing some ridiculously fantastic corkscrew movement with his fingers, Potter brushed his prostate. That feeling was such a fucking turn on, and Draco felt his cock getting harder and harder. Draco cried out loudly, arching off the bed, needing moremoremore right that second.

“Now, Potter,” Draco said as he began to writhe on Potter’s fingers, beginning to fuck himself. Fuck Potter, he thought, fuck Potter, this is working just fine for me.

Potter pulled his fingers out quickly, before he slicked up his cock with lubricant.

Draco whined. “Fucking hell, Potter, what are you playing at?”

“Shut up,” Potter said crossly. “Are you ready?”

“Er,” Draco said. Mind racing, he turned over so he was resting on his elbows and knees. Spreading his legs, he leant his hot forehead on his forearms. He heard Potter take in a ragged breath from behind him, and then felt the head of Potter’s cock was in the crack of his arse.

“Like this?” Potter asked. “You sure?”

“Potter, if you don’t fuck me NOW, I am going to fucking kill you,” Draco said harshly.

Potter laughed and finally, finally, he lined his cock up correctly and slowly began to push in. Draco knew he was supposed to be pushing back on Potter at this moment in time, but frankly, it fucking hurt. Pain had currently overtaken all of his thought processes. He whimpered. Potter stopped as soon as he realised that every muscle in Draco’s body had tensed.

“You ok?” Potter asked. Draco could almost imagine him sweating with the effort it was currently taking for him to not push in any further.

“Hurts,” Draco choked out, blushing at the fact that he had to admit that to Potter.

“OK,” Potter said. “OK. I won’t move. Just try pushing back when you feel like you can, yeah?”

Draco nodded and took in a few deep breaths. The pain lessened slightly and he pushed back slightly until it was too much again. Potter groaned from somewhere behind him and the fingers on Draco’s hips tightened significantly.

“How far?” Draco asked through clenched teeth.

“Couple of inches,” Potter said.

“OK,” Draco said. “Do it.”

Potter moaned and the sound sent a shiver down Draco’s spine. Before Draco knew what was happening, he could feel Potter’s hips against his arse, and after a moment, the pain died down. Potter moved slowly – he had obviously done his homework on gay sex etiquette.

“All right?” Potter asked as he pulled out and pushed in.

“Yeah, fine now,” Draco said. “Have to get used to it I guess.”

“Yeah,” Potter said. “Can – can I go faster?”

“I think so,” Draco said. “Work up to it.”

Draco didn’t get an answer, but he felt it. Potter quickened his pace, but took one hand off his hip and reached for Draco’s cock. The feel of Potter’s hand touching his cock distracted him from the uncomfortable fullness. Potter pulled Draco’s hips backwards and slid in at the same time and there it was; the right angle, the right speed, it was just fucking perfect.

Draco groaned loudly, and Potter, thankfully, got the hint and carried on like that, pushing and pulling. The feeling of Potter’s cock inside him somehow became fucking fantastic rather than fucking painful and Draco couldn’t think anymore. All too quickly Potter was coming in his arse and sagging against Draco’s back.

Whining, Draco collapsed on the bed. He turned himself over and took his cock in his hand. Potter growled and batted his hand away, taking it in his mouth and giving a few powerful sucks before Draco arched his back and saw stars, coming in Potter’s mouth.

Potter lay down next to him and for a few moments, the two of them were silent apart from the ragged breaths coming from both of their throats.

“Was that OK?” Potter asked quietly.

“Yes, Potter,” Draco said, pulling the covers over his body. “That was very, very OK.”

“Good,” Potter said. “Good.”

: :

Potter and Draco tried not to mention Ginny Weasley. They both knew she existed (obviously, as Potter was very definitely attached to her at the hip apart from when he wasn’t sucking Draco’s cock). But there were times when she was unavoidable.

“You’re marrying her?” Draco asked incredulously. Potter had Flooed to the Manor after a very hastily scrawled note that morning.

Potter nodded, looking at his shoes. His very ugly shoes.

“You asked her to marry you?” Draco said, needing on some perverse level, to hear Potter say it.

“Well…” Potter said.

“I fucking knew it.”

“She suggested it, but it was going to happen anyway!” Potter insisted. Draco wondered idly why Potter felt compelled to defend himself.

“She’s only been out of school six months! You still don’t know her middle name, Potter,” Draco crowed.

“She hasn’t got a middle name,” Potter yelled at him.

“You fucking idiot, even I know her middle name,” Draco scoffed. That shut Potter up for once. “I suppose I should say thanks for telling me rather than letting me read about it in The Daily Prophet.”

Potter grunted and sat down on the couch next to Draco.

“I-”

“If you’re going to tell me we’re over, Potter, don’t bother,” Draco said quietly. Confidently.

“We are, we have to be,” Potter said desperately, with a sniff. “It’s bad enough I cheat on my girlfriend on a regular basis This is my fiancé, my wife.”

“They’re the same person,” Draco reminded him gently. “It’s just a bit of paper.”

“I know,” Potter replied. “It’s just…”

“It’s just what?”

“I don’t want to say goodbye to you,” Potter told him. “I need you.”

Draco couldn’t say anything for a very long time. Potter sat in silence, and Draco could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. Potter opened his mouth at least once every two minutes to say something but nothing ever came out.

“I need you too, Potter. God help me, but I do,” Draco finally said. He could hardly believe he was admitting that out loud. They may not have a conventional relationship of any kind, they may not talk like other couples do. But they both knew. They knew that something had begun, something that wasn’t punching each other in the face and calling each other names (although both still happened on a regular basis), something from which there was no turning back. The obsession that had possessed them both as school boys was just as present now they were adults, only now they called it passion. Although Draco expected that more than a bit of obsession still lingered in both of them.

“I think I need her too,” Potter told him. He took Draco’s hand in his and rubbed his thumb in soothing circles on the palm of Draco’s hand.

“I know you do,” Draco admitted. “I never expected you to give up a family for me. You don’t expect the same of me, or at least I hope you don’t. You’ve wanted a family since you’ve found out what a real one was, and I have to have a family or my father will cut my bollocks off. Not literally of course, as that would make conceiving a child even trickier.”

“Trickier than the fact that you’re as gay as gay can be?” Potter teased gently.

Draco nodded sadly. “Indeed.”

“So…” Potter said, after a few more minutes of hand holding.

“So…” Draco repeated. “We do what we can. When we can, where we can, as often as we can. I don’t think I could bear to be in the same country as you if I wasn’t able to touch you, or be with you.”

Potter nodded knowingly. “We’ll carry on. When we come to bridges, we’ll cross them. Until then, we’ll do our best. I really do need you, Draco.”

“I need you too, Harry.”

: :

It took Potter getting engaged to knock some sense into Draco. Or perhaps it wasn’t Potter but the headboard. He would never know, but that evening he went home to his mother to discuss his own marriage.

“Where’s Father?” Draco asked as he entered the drawing room. His mother was perched on the edge of a sofa, watching a levitating teapot pour tea into a delicate china cup.

“Puttering about upstairs,” Narcissa said with a roll of her eyes. “Best to leave him to it.”

Draco nodded. His Father wasn’t quite the level headed man he used to be. Something about spending a year in the Ministry holding cells and being sentenced to house arrest had sent Lucius deep into his own mind. He seemed very reluctant to leave it, spending the majority of his days fussing over the peacocks and roaming the library.

The year Draco had spent at home rather than at Hogwarts was coming in very handy. Draco was unsure whether his father even knew the meaning of the word ‘accounts’ anymore.

“Indeed,” Draco said, and took a seat next to his mother.

“Is everything all right, Draco?” she asked.

Draco nodded hurriedly. “Of course, of course. I have been thinking though, perhaps it is time for me to… ah how do I phrase it?”

“If this is to do with getting rid of your father, at this point in time it would be too suspicious,” Narcissa said with a raised eyebrow.

“No, no, Mother, I realise the Ministry monitors who enters the Manor and that apart from us there are approximately four others who visit regularly,” Draco said dismissively. “We shall wait ‘til after the monitoring ends.”

“Delightful,” Narcissa said, and they both smiled softly at their harmless repartee. “What is it then?”

“To put it frankly, I think I would like it if you would arrange for me to marry,” Draco said. He ran his finger over the pattern on the sofa and decided resolutely NOT to look at his mother.

“Of course, darling,” Narcissa said thoughtfully. “I have fielded several inquiries into your future. Perhaps I shall arrange a meeting.”

“That would be most agreeable,” Draco said. He raised his eyes to his mother. “Anybody I know?”

“Perhaps one,” Narcissa told him. “Do you remember Daphne Greengrass? I believe she was in the same year as you.”

“She was a Slytherin, Mother, of course I remember,” Draco said impatiently.

“Her parents have been searching for a match for her younger sister, Astoria. She is quite a young little thing, so a long engagement would be a good idea,” Narcissa mused.

“She must have just left Hogwarts,” Draco said. That would make her the same age as Potter’s bint.

Narcissa nodded and picked up her cup of tea, taking a sip. “She has had tea with her mother and I before, she is quite a lovely young girl. Pretty too.”

Draco didn’t really care how pretty the girl was or how nice she was. He idly supposed that at least they would have attractive children. A long engagement would serve to develop a friendship between the two of them. At least Astoria should have no qualms about what their life would be like. Children of high society parents knew what was expected of them, Draco certainly did, and he was sure Astoria would as well. It would be fine. Perfectly fine.

: :

When Draco received his invitation to Potter’s wedding he threw it in the fire. His mother, however, chose to keep hers. She also chose to reply with her and Draco’s thanks and acceptance.

“Mother, please,” Draco whined.

“I thought you were friends,” she said.

Draco hesitated. “Well we are. That doesn’t mean I want to watch him marry that Weasley girl. Think of all the red hair, Mother, it will give me a headache.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “Perhaps Astoria could come.” Draco knew that meant that his mother had already asked her.

“Perhaps,” he said with a sniff.

“It would do us good to be seen at an event such as this, Draco,” Narcissa said quietly. “We will be perfectly behaved and you shall be perfectly charming to all.”

: :

Draco, Astoria and Narcissa were seated behind a lot of Weasleys. Not that Draco’s gaze was on the front of the church anyway. Not at all. His view was partially obscured by a vile hat. Except the hat only stood to block Weasley from his view, not Potter as well.

Potter looked good, as reluctant as Draco was to admit it. He was wearing perfectly fitted robes in black with black satin serving to line it as well as be the cuffs and collar. His hair had been partially tamed – Draco knew, after many hours of trying that to flatten it entirely was impossible.

A strange feeling in his stomach was the current train of thought which was currently occupying his mind. It served to distract him from Potter getting married right in front of his eyes, as well as the monstrosity that was the set of dress robes Weasley had chosen to marry in. It offended his eyes. The robes as well as the occasion.

“You may now kiss the bride,” a voice came floating down from the altar. Draco snapped back to attention, leaving his musings to one side. He watched as Potter took Weasley in his arms and kissed her gently, his eyes closed with a hint of soft pink tongue. Then; Potter’s eyes opened as he kissed Weasley and he looked straight ahead. At Draco. While he was kissing Weasley. Even from this distance Draco recognised the fire in his eyes, but his head hurt as he wondered who the passion was for. Him or his wife?

Before Draco knew what had happened, it was over, Potter was really married; he was really not Draco’s anymore. They both knew this day had been approaching, but somehow neither of them thought it was actually going to happen. And now it was almost over, and what the fuck was going to get Draco through the rest of his life.

Draco wondered, if he had been the first of the two to marry somebody else, would Potter be sitting here in the pews, his chest aching with a feeling that was not his heart breaking? Draco hoped he would be, but somehow he doubted it. Potter had a future that didn’t include Draco. He loved that Weasley bint, and while Draco was very fond of Astoria, he didn’t love her. One day, perhaps.

Potter had a promising career in the Aurors. It was widely speculated that he would be head of the department before he was thirty. Draco’s life consisted of polite teas with his fiancée, his interfering mother, his slightly crazy father and a study full of accounts. And Draco knew that, that despite all his earlier protesting, that Potter would eventually forget about him. There was no happy ending in their future. None at all.

Potter shut his eyes and pulled away from Weasley to a smattering of applause. The two of them walked down the aisle, but Draco kept his eyes on the floor until the moment Potter passed him.

Then, Draco cursed himself for insisting upon the aisle seat as Potter’s leg brushed against his own as he walked past. Potter turned briefly to look at Draco, raising an eyebrow at the blush which was settling on Draco’s cheeks. Potter turned away quickly and carried on walking. With his wife.

Later on that evening, Draco had mellowed down somewhat. The seven glasses of champagne had helped in that respect. His mother had disappeared
Somewhere. Making connections, Draco supposed. Astoria was off dancing with a random Weasley who had taken pity on her as all Draco seemed to want to do was brood in the corner.

He leant back on his chair taking advantage of the rare moment of peace and closed his eyes. The chair next to him squeaked as someone sat in it. His mother.

“Are you finished whoring yourself, Mother?” Draco asked. His eyes felt nice closed.

“You shouldn’t talk to your mother like that, you arsehole.”

Not his mother apparently. Draco opened one eye. Potter. “Oh, Potter. You still haven’t realised that arsehole is in fact not a term of endearment. We shall have to get you enrolled in etiquette lessons as soon as possible, I don’t know how you’ve managed all these years.”

“You’re such a pisshead,” Potter said, sighing. He took his glasses off and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He rubbed the lenses until they were clean and put them back on his nose.

“Potter, be thankful I am not barfing, I thought it would take a lot more alcohol than this to be able to get through tonight,” Draco said.

“Yeah,” Potter said. “I didn’t expect you to come, you know.”

“Mother insisted. I threw my invite in the fire,” Draco told him. Potter inched his chair closer to Draco’s so they were touching. Potter grabbed his hand and squeezed it hard before letting go.

“Is that Astoria?” Potter asked. Astoria was currently being spun around the dance floor by Neville Longbottom.

“It is,” Draco said.

“She’s pretty,” Potter said.

“She is,” Draco agreed.

“Am I going to get an invite to your wedding?” Potter asked tentatively.

“Probably,” Draco said haughtily. “Mother may even insist on you being my best man.”

“I think I would actually kill myself if you asked me to do that,” Potter said. “I can’t imagine how hard it was watching that today.”

“In a year’s time you won’t have to imagine,” Draco said.

Potter sighed. “I suppose not.”

“It’s not as if you were paying attention to Weasley anyway,” Draco said scathingly. “I saw you looking at me while you kissed her. Did you wish it was me?”

“I wish I cared that you’re a total dickhead,” Potter said. “I think I’m immune to it now.”

The two men sat in silence for a few moments.

“Am I going to see you again?” Potter asked, vocalising the question Draco had been gathering up the courage to ask. There were benefits to sleeping with a Gryffindor.

“Do you want to?” Draco asked. He drank from his champagne flute. He loved Re-filling Charms more than life itself.

“Yes,” Potter said. He grasped Draco’s hand once again.

“Why, Potter,” Draco said. “Surely our lovely groom isn’t thinking about being fucked up the arse at his reception dinner. You should be saving yourself for tonight.”

“Draco,” Potter whined. “I know we can’t. Not today. You know too. I don’t think I can go through with tonight, fuck, with my life, if you don’t tell me I can see you again.”

Draco was slightly scared at how Potter’s thoughts mirrored his own from earlier in the evening. Not for the first time, Draco wondered why they were doing this, why they were going through with these fucked up relationships on the side of what they both knew was ‘the real thing’. It had made sense a year ago, but it didn’t anymore. But they were too far in to get out now. Too many people would be hurt. If the two of them had to suffer a little to make so many other people happy, then so be it. Draco knew that was what Potter thought as well. More fool them.

“You can see me again,” Draco said quietly.

“Thank you,” Potter said. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Part Two