Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Harry, Draco/Astoria, Harry/Ginny, background Ron/Hermione, mention of Draco/OMCs
Rating: eventual NC-17
Word Count: ~1,800/~37,000
Content/Warnings: post-war, post-hogwarts, auror Harry, professional Seeker Draco, blow jobs, fingering, first time, anal sex, rimming, intergluteal sex, comeplay, switching, fuck buddies, epilogue-compliant
Summary: More than a year after the end of the war, fate seems intent on pushing Harry and Draco together.
Read on AO3
Previous Chapter on LJ
France was just as beautiful as Draco remembered, but Draco found himself eager to return home. This was the first winter since the beginning of the war that his family had been able to make what had once been an annual retreat to their Chalet in the French Alps. He had been looking forward to it, but he was disappointed to realise that, like so many of his childhood memories, the magical sheen of nostalgia had faded. There was an emptiness to the pleasure now, no matter how hard he tried to recapture those joyous feelings from his youth.
Draco had always adored these winter trips as a boy, shopping at the ridiculously expensive village boutiques during the day, sneaking sips of champagne at his parents' lavish and exclusive parties at night. He had even learned to ski, a Muggle sport that his parents were barely tolerant of, and only because the Descoteaux family, some of the most influential wizards in Paris, were quite taken with the "quaint" pastime.
Draco loved it. It was almost like flying on the ground, the icy wind whipping against his face, the scenery a gorgeous blur as he whooshed down the mountainside. He'd had his first kiss on one of these trips, on a ski-lift with Pansy, the first and only time he had convinced her to try the activity. More memorably, was when he had lost his virginity, the last winter they had made the trip. He had snuck off with the handsome older cousin of one of the various pure-blood witches and wizards he was allowed to socialise with. They had been drunk on expensive wine and rich chocolate torte, giddy and high on their reckless daring. There would have been hell to pay if they had been caught—considering they were both very male—but it had felt worth it, at the time.
This place was filled with memories, but the years since Draco had been back had changed him. Winter trips to the French Alps belonged to a different Draco, and now he felt out of place, trying to squeeze himself back into a box that he had outgrown.
It didn't help matters that, now that Draco was of age, the elegant parties that his parents threw served a different purpose. Draco no longer had to sneak sips of champagne, but he also could not sneak out with the rest of the children. He couldn't grab a bottle of wine and play strip-chess with a pretty boy while his mother and father carried on downstairs, blissfully unaware and unconcerned with his whereabouts. No, now he was paraded about, his mother introducing him to every unattached witch of appropriate standing.
There was no escape. Every conversation with his parents seemed to revolve around family and legacy, about marriage and heirs and carrying on the family name. The pressure to pick a match and get started with his familial duties seemed to mount each day, until Draco felt he'd go mad from it. He knew his duty. He knew that one day he would have to marry and sire an heir. The Malfoy name was not worth much in Britain these days, and it was up to him and his offspring to work towards restoring their family to its former glory. Coming out and finding a nice young man to settle down with was completely out of the question, not if he didn't want to find himself disinherited. His parents loved him, but Draco knew that love came with strings, and he was far from willing to test their strength.
Unfortunately, the only topic his father enjoyed bringing up almost as much as Draco's lack of a bride, was his current form of employment. While most families would be thrilled to have their child playing for a professional Quidditch team, Lucius deemed such physical pursuits beneath the Malfoy name. He wasted no opportunity in lamenting Draco's decision to lower himself to such a dirty, public spectacle. Malfoys were meant to be the men behind the scenes, greasing wheels and lining pockets and pulling the strings of their public puppets. Draco's arguments of the positive publicity, the way the public clung to their Quidditch teams with an adoring fervor, how becoming a star and household name could help bring back some of the shine to their tarnished reputation, all fell on deaf ears.
But Draco stayed strong. He would give in to their ploys for a daughter-in-law and grandchildren, but he would not give up Quidditch. Marriage and procreation would be for the good of the family, and so was his career. No matter what his father's thoughts on the matter were. Draco had learned the hard way that Lucius Malfoy did not know everything, especially when it came to deciding what was best for their family.
He wondered what his father would think of his acquaintance with Potter. Draco still was not entirely sure what their lunches really meant, but there was certainly something there. His father would probably tell him to use the connection and arrange for a Prophet photographer to capture one of their outings. If the great Harry Potter did not mind Draco Malfoy's company, then maybe he wasn't so bad? Yes, he was sure that was what his father's suggestion would be, but Draco knew that would be a horrible idea. He and Potter may not be friends, but they had reached a sort of tentative understanding, and Draco was loathe to let that go. Especially for a ploy that would no doubt blow up in his face.
The truth was, Potter had never been far from his mind these past few weeks—these past few months, really. There was something so magnetic about him, something fascinating and captivating. He wasn't the most handsome person Draco had seen, and Draco had certainly been with more attractive men, but there was an undeniable aura about him that set Potter apart. That combined with his newly broad shoulders, easy smile, and striking eyes that managed to stand out even hidden behind those awful glasses...Well, Draco was willing to admit there might be some attraction there. If he was not mistaken, he was not the only one who thought so.
Draco knew it was dangerous, thinking of Potter this way. There was no way it would be worth the risk, a quick tumble with the Saviour could ruin everything he had been working for. Not to mention the fact that Draco was relatively sure that Potter had no experience with men. He had probably not even acknowledged to himself that he was attracted to blokes. Draco wanted sex, not a relationship, and virgins were hardly the best bet when it came to the kind of arrangement Draco was interested in. Though his cock didn't seem to mind the fact that Potter was likely untouched. Indeed, it seemed to find the idea of being the first one inside him to be a most alluring prospect.
Draco grit his teeth against his arousal, refusing to wank to thoughts of Potter with his large hands and tight arse. He was horny and frustrated and for the first time this trip, he cursed the fact that Franciose had not shown up with his family this year. Blowing off some steam with a friendly face would have been a welcome distraction.
No matter. He would be back in Britain in just a few more days. Then maybe he could get himself laid, and stop fixating on things he was not allowed to want.
Draco had barely been home for an hour when a familiar owl came swooping into his kitchen. He smiled as he read the invitation for lunch the following day at another unknown Muggle restaurant. Training did not start up again for another few days, so he penned a quick response, and with an affectionate nip, the owl was off. He felt pleased that Potter had remembered when Draco was due back from France. Dangerously pleased. Draco scolded himself for reading so much into it. Potter had probably completely forgotten he was even away. It was only a coincidence.
The place Potter had decided to try this month was a little nicer than his usual picks. Apparently they were known for their phenomenal sushi. Potter had always seemed like a meat and potatoes type of bloke, but Draco supposed he should not be surprised that all of that Gryffindor courage applied to his meal choices as well.
"How was France?" Potter asked, in between bites of something that Draco was fairly certain had tentacles.
"France was...tense." Draco considered leaving it at that, but at Potter's curious glance he continued, "My parents are of the opinion that it is high time I chose a wife."
"Ahh, playing matchmaker?"
"In their way. I don't think there is a single eligible witch left in France that I have not yet made the acquaintance of."
Potter laughed, the sound warming Draco just as well as the jasmine tea. "And you're not interested in getting married?"
Potter's question was innocent enough, but there was a glint in his eyes that told Draco that was not the real question he was asking. "No...not yet. I'm sure I will settle down one day, but in the meantime, finding myself a wife is not my priority...I'm more interested in other pursuits, at the moment."
Draco smiled at Potter, the hint of suggestion playing at the corners of his mouth. Potter stared at him for several heartbeats before coughing and looking away.
Potter scratched at the back of his neck. "I, erm, was wondering if you were still interested in getting your old wand back."
Draco did his best not to roll his eyes at the obvious change in subject. "Yes, of course."
"Why don't you come over to Grimmauld place on Friday. You mentioned you have training, but you could come over after. Get your wand back, and I could show you the house?"
"Inviting me over on a Friday night, Potter? No hot date?"
Potter blushed and fidgeted, sucking nervously on an edamame pod. Flecks of sea salt sparkled on his lips, and Draco wasn't sure he was successful in masking the hunger in his eyes as Potter licked them off.
"If you've got plans, we can reschedule. I thought you'd want your wand back sooner, is all. That's the earliest I'm free."
Draco knew it probably wasn't the best idea to go over to Potter's house alone on a Friday night, but he really did want his wand back. He could behave himself for one evening. "Friday after training should work fine for me. Does eight suit?"
Potter relaxed back in his chair and nodded, taking another large bite of something slimy and unnaturally pink. Draco smiled, even as he tried to squash the annoying bubble of excitement that was welling up inside of him at the prospect of their date of Friday.
No. Not a date. Just two non-friends seeing each other in a totally platonic and hopefully civil way. Draco closed his eyes and prayed that he hadn't just made a terrible mistake.
Next Chapter on LJ