Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Harry, Draco/Astoria, Harry/Ginny, background Ron/Hermione, mention of Draco/OMCs
Rating: eventual NC-17
Word Count: ~2,600/~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.
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Previous Chapter on LJ
Harry was distant. They still met up most nights for sex and food and long conversations, but more and more Draco would look up to see an owl flying towards his window with a scribbled apology and a cancellation. The sex was as good as ever, but after the night of Ginny's offer, the night that Harry fucked Draco until they were both shivering emotional wrecks, well...there was a space between them now that had never been there before. It was as if they'd both realised they had gone too far and decided to pull back. Draco hadn't understood just how much he'd been counting on Harry's Gryffindor bravery, on his tendency to go rushing in head first with no thought of the consequences.
Harry seemed to be thinking of the consequences now. Every time he got that far off expression in his eyes when he and Draco were together, Draco couldn't help but wonder if he was pondering his future. Draco couldn't help but wonder if he was in it.
The problem was, after that night together, after they had made love—and there was no denying that was what they had done—Draco no longer had any doubts that Harry cared for him. That he maybe even loved him. Or, he didn't have very many doubts, at least. The very idea of it filled Draco with a sort of terrified elation, a kind of petrified, euphoric dread. That somebody like Harry, somebody good and brave and kind and noble could love Draco was...it was frankly unbelievable. As much as he was convinced of what he saw, what he felt, not only when they'd fucked, but every moment they had been together for the past year and a half, there was still a part of him that was unsure.
Harry hadn't said it. Hadn't said anything. Hadn't once verbally indicated that this arrangement between them had become more than sex for him. Surely if Harry's feelings had changed, he would say so? Draco knew he hadn't exactly been subtle with his own growing emotions, and between the two of them, Harry was far and away the more courageous one.
Draco knew he could still say it, just as he had known it that night as they'd walked home together under the stars. But every time he opened his mouth to say the words, they died in his throat. What if he was wrong? He couldn't risk it. Couldn't risk his life or his heart by being the first one to say those words, the first one to break.
He wasn't the one with another tempting offer on the table, and he would be damned if he poured his heart out only to watch Harry still choose Ginny. Draco had his pride, after all. Who was Draco trying to fool anyway? Harry was going to choose her. He was always going to choose her, no matter what his feelings for Draco might be. Draco was inconvenient, and even if Harry loved him, he loved Ginny as well. With time, his feelings for Draco would fade, and he would be free to live the life of his dreams with the woman who could give him everything he wanted.
What Draco should really do, was call off his and Harry's arrangement. He should pat Harry on the cheek and say that they'd had a good run, but now Draco was ready for some variety. He should save Harry the uncertainty of having to decide his future, the guilt of having to choose, of having to break someone's heart. Draco should call things off now, while he still had a chance to have the last word. While he still had a chance to be the one leaving, instead of the one being left.
Draco couldn't. He was too selfish. He didn't want to leave Harry. He didn't want to lose a single moment of the time they had left. Draco knew he was being foolish, that he was taking the ephemeral pleasure of the now over the long-term satisfaction of his pride, but there was nothing for it. He might not be able to tell Harry that he loved him, and he might not get to keep him forever, but Draco wouldn't leave Harry's side until Harry told him that it was over. As it had been so many times before, Draco's fate was in Harry's hands.
It was an engagement that finally did it. Not between Draco and some poor, deluded pure-blood witch. Not between Harry and the flame-haired Ginevra. No. It was the engagement of Granger and Weasley that brought Draco's world crumbling down around him. He thought they would be quite pleased if they knew, though Draco was sure they never would. There would be no point in Harry telling them now.
Harry was buzzing with excitement the night after the engagement, clearly thrilled for his friends. Apparently Weasley had been asking Granger to marry him for ages now, and she had finally been worn down. Privately, Draco thought she'd had the right idea to begin with. He could only hope the poor girl came to her senses before she ended up bonded to the buffoon for all eternity. Draco mustered a small, tight-lipped smile at the news, but he could tell that Harry was disappointed by his lack of enthusiasm. What did he expect? It wasn't as if they were friends, and while he knew they were important to Harry, Draco had never been able to understand what it was about them that was so special. A small part of Draco could acknowledge that maybe it was jealousy over the relationship they had with Harry, the confidences they had shared since they were eleven, that made Draco so reluctant to see the good in them. But he locked that thought firmly away. It wasn't as if they were desperate to become bosom buddies, either. They loathed Draco so much that Harry had never mentioned that he had managed a civil conversation with Draco, let alone that they were fucking. Not that Draco didn't deserve their ire, but he tended to dislike people who disliked him on general principle. Draco disliked a lot of people.
After the engagement, the gulf between them seemed to widen impossibly fast. Harry was silent and irritable, his eyes never softening when they landed on Draco's form. They still had sex, but it was fast and brutal, Harry scratching at his back and demanding it harder, faster, biting Draco's lips in a poor facsimile of a kiss. It made Draco tense and prickly, his temper flaring in response, until they could hardly speak without getting into a fight. Their barbs didn't hold quite the sting of their childhood arguments, but there was a resentful undercurrent that Draco was finding harder and harder to ignore.
"What are we doing, Draco?" Harry asked, voice weary. They had just gotten into another spectacular fight after Draco had said some less than flattering things about one of the Weasleys—Draco couldn't remember which one. It had ended in sex, as it always did, this time with Harry fucking Draco's mouth until he came, then wanking Draco with rough, fast motions until he spilled over Harry's hand. They had partially dressed after and were now seated on the sofa, their bodies curled up on opposite ends, no part of them touching.
"We're sitting. You know, it's that thing you do when your arse—"
Harry growled. "Cut it out. I'm serious. What the fuck are we doing? Because last I checked, having a fuck buddy is supposed to be fun."
Draco's stomach dropped, and he fought back a wave of nausea. "You're not having fun?" he asked mockingly. "It wasn't fun when you wound your hands into my hair and pulled my mouth down onto your cock?"
Harry ran his hands through his own hair and looked at Draco. "Yeah, sure that was fun. It felt good. But maybe what I meant is...I don't think fun is enough for me anymore."
Draco's hands shook, and he shoved them under his legs, hoping that Harry hadn't seen. A month ago, that hope would have been futile, Harry's perceptive gaze would have been on him, noticing every minute expression. He almost wished now, that Harry had seen, if only to prove that Harry was still watching him, that he still thought Draco was the most interesting thing in the room.
"No? What is it that you want then?" He cleared his face of emotion, doing his best to hide the tumultuous storm within him.
Harry finally looked at him and stared into his eyes for long moments, as if searching for something. He looked away, an emotion almost like disappointment flickering over his face, before his expression set in determination. "I don't think we should do this anymore."
"Do what, exactly?" Draco voice didn't even shake. His father would be proud.
Harry waved his hand around encompassing them both. "This. All of this. It was good, great even. But I don't just want somebody to have sex with. I want a partner. I want...I want what Ron and Hermione have. I want somebody to go to their wedding with. I want somebody I can build a life with, build a family with."
Harry's words fell like daggers, landing hard and sharp into Draco's skin. This was...fuck, it was exactly what he'd expected, and somehow, he had almost thought it wouldn't actually happen. He had wanted Harry Potter to be the exception to the rules of the universe. He had wanted to be wrong.
"Ah yes, well, I can see how our arrangement might make that difficult."
"Yes—uh—exactly." Harry frowned, as if he hadn't been expecting Draco to agree. As if he thought Draco would fight him on it. Did he think that Draco had so little pride? That he would get on his knees and beg Harry to stay? You could, a small, seductive voice whispered. He ignored it.
"We both knew this wouldn't last forever."
"Yeah. And, uh, I know coming out isn't in your plan."
Draco lips twisted into a humourless smile. "Quite right. I still have to carry on the family name. Kind of you to think of me."
Harry bit his lip. "So, that's it? We're done."
Draco took a deep breath to calm himself, to not let himself linger on how easily Harry had just discarded him. "Of course. This isn't a break-up. We weren't dating, it was only sex. We were having it, and now we're not. End of story."
Harry frowned again and opened his mouth as if to say something, before promptly shutting it. After several seconds, he said, "It's not as if we can't still be friends. We can—"
Draco laughed, not a little meanly, and felt viscously pleased by the flash of hurt that crossed Harry's face. "Friends? We were never friends. You couldn't even bring yourself to mention my name in front of your real friends, Potter." Harry flinched at the use of his surname. Good. "What? Did you think we would keep sneaking off to get lunch together once a month? Pretend that you'd never had my cock in your arse?"
Harry blushed and sputtered. "That's not—"
"No, it's not. How long do you think that would last before somebody found out? Before your friends or the Prophet started asking questions."
Harry looked crestfallen. "But aren't you going to…" Miss me?
Draco looked away. "This was always going to be temporary. It was fun. Convenient. But I think it's time for us both to make a clean break of it."
"I—yeah, if you think that's best." Harry sounded unsure, but Draco knew what he had to do to protect himself.
Draco nodded and turned towards Harry, unable to meet his eyes and focusing on a point on the wall just over Harry's right shoulder. "Yes, I do."
He stood and summoned his clothing, dressing as quickly as he could. His entire body felt heavy, as if his veins were filled with solid iron. All he wanted to do was collapse in a heap. Maybe with a bottle of Firewhisky.
"Are you going now?" Harry's voice was high, almost panicked.
Draco's heart clenched, his fingers fumbling over his shirt buttons as he tried to slip them in the tiny holes. He needed to get out of this house. He needed to get away from Harry before the giant cracks in his composure finally split open. Draco thought he might actually die if Harry realised how much he hurt—it wouldn't change a thing.
"Why should I stay?"
"Oh." A tiny breath of word. Sad, but not an argument. Not a plea to stay.
Harry hadn't moved from his position on the sofa. He looked somewhat shell shocked, as if he hadn't expected things to go the way they had. Draco knew he'd been thinking it over for a long while, and it was probably strange for him to finally have it done with. Harry was not an idiot, he had to have known that there were feelings on Draco's side, and he had clearly been expecting some resistance. But Draco knew the arguments probably better than Harry did. This was the only way. Knowing that did not make it hurt any less, and the pain threatened to overwhelm Draco. He swayed, before catching himself and stumbling towards the door.
"Are you okay?" Harry was up in an instant, stopping only a few steps away, concern evident in his eyes.
"I'm fine." It almost sounded like the truth.
Draco prepared himself to Apparate, but could not resist one last look at Harry. He was naked but for a pair of tattered pants. His hair was sex-wild, and there was a bright red mark on his clavicle from where Draco had sucked a love bite while Harry had wanked him off...was it really less than an hour ago? His last time with Harry, and he hadn't even known it. He hadn't had the opportunity to savour it. He wondered how long that love bite would last. How long until the last of Draco's marks faded from Harry's skin forever?
Part of him wanted to drop everything and pull Harry toward him. He wanted to take Harry's mouth in a kiss, and then take his arse one last time, right there in his living room. Harry would let him. One last hurrah. But if Draco touched Harry again, he didn't think he would ever be able to stop. He would confess everything, he would break down and sob, plead with Harry not leave him, beg Harry to walk with Draco into their destruction.
No, it was better to leave now, to make a clean break like he had said. Harry's bright green eyes burned with some unfathomable emotion, and his hands twitched as if he had the same desires as Draco. Just like Draco, he kept his hands at his sides.
"Take care of yourself, Potter."
Harry's face crumpled a little, his voice wavering as he responded, "You too, Malfoy."
Draco grit his teeth and thought of the Manor, as he felt the world dissolve around him.
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