So long, fair well…
Nov. 26th, 2002 12:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hackthis_archiveIt’s always nice to finish a story, but finishing a series is even better cos then when people start saying ‘write something new’ I can say ‘fuck off and die, I just wrote a series’. *g* Anyway, tomorrow is my birthday so I can do whatever I want (especially considering I’ll be spending a 1/3 of it in the air).
So. As always it's been lovely -- but it's over now...
I: The Agreement -- II: The Rules -- III: The Loophole -- IV: The Clause -- V: The Proposal and...
Contract VI: The Settlement
Harry Potter has a little divot above his upper lip that Draco wants to taste.
Potter also has a little hollow where his neck and his collarbones meet that’s currently being hidden by his school uniform. It’s a small patch of skin, about the size of a sickle, but the idea of exposing it has been taunting Draco for several minutes, possibly several lifetimes. That’s why he grabbed Potter by the tie and dragged him down a random hallway when they were both already late for lessons. That tempting area of skin explains why Draco’s fingers are busy loosening Potter’s tie and unbuttoning his shirt. Draco only wets his lips because they’re dry, not because he suddenly has the very strong urge to lick Potter. Draco has licked Potter before; he’s had the urge before. It’s never been this strong. Of course Draco has never had to repress his desires this much either.
Life was easier when he just shagged girls and Slytherins, although one never excluded the other, and Potter is *not* supposed to bat Draco’s hands away.
Refusal and rejection are not a part of their agreement. However, if Draco hadn’t made this arrangement then he never would have known what he‘s missing. So, in a sense, he’s brought this all upon himself, and that‘s why Potter takes such satisfaction in restraining Draco’s wrists. Potter wants to punish Draco for his staggering lack of foresight, and complete and utter stupidity in thinking he could make an agreement with a sodding Gryffindor. Or maybe this predicament is Draco’s fault for being tempted to keep his word in the first place. He’s not supposed to make contracts and agreements, and then actually *keep* them; that’s for the hoi polloi.
If Draco hadn’t attempted to be so noble and forthright then he would still be in the dark without his wand, and maybe that would have been for the best. At least then Draco never would have been foolish enough to risk putting his needs on display for the rest of the wizarding world to laugh at. In an open hallway where *anyone* can see. He might as well ride Potter’s broom during a Quidditch match: it would be less obvious.
Draco can‘t even malign the youngest Weasel for her hero infatuation, because obviously, Draco’s just as gone as she is. If he weren‘t, he would never have thought to ambush Potter when they‘re both supposed to be in Potions. There will be a month’s worth of detentions at the very least, but anyone could make a wrong turn in the dungeons. It happens all the time.
Just not to sixth years who aren’t in Hufflepuff.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
Some magic can be done without wands, some magic can be done without words, but there are some things that have nothing to do with magic at all. Draco’s longing for Harry Potter defies reason and magic, and will most likely get them both killed. Draco can be pragmatic about some things, just not about Potter avoiding him for the last eight days.
Draco doesn’t *need* Potter, but he might want him badly enough not to care.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Maybe there are some things that magic can control, but this particular pairing doesn’t fall under that heading, and for the last week Draco has been living inside a bubble. The restrictions are driving him barmy. He can’t get out, he can’t get warm, he’s just floating around waiting for someone to come along and pop it. The only thing Draco can think about is how snappish (even for him) and out of sorts he’s been recently. He’s lost pleasure in his ritualistic tormenting of the Hufflepuffs, and he skived off Quiddich practice the other night because he just couldn’t be arsed. His hands have taken on a decidedly blue undertone, and at breakfast Pansy said he looked pale. Snape even inquired if he’d been to see Madam Pomfrey yet, but Draco knows that his recent pseudo-illness has nothing to do with herbs and drugs and things that are brewed in a cauldron.
Although perhaps a potion could take care of all this nonsense. If Draco had had an inkling of how this was all going to turn out, he never would have gotten involved to start with. Naturally, it’s too late now. He’s signed his name on the proverbial dotted line.
Draco made a deal with Harry Potter; he might as well have cut out his tongue and handed it over on a silver platter. It’s not love, it’s worse – whatever worse happens to be.
Of course, hindsight is always perfect vision.
“Don’t mess me about.”
Draco‘s life has always been very simple. In his world, people don’t apologise. They don’t say ‘sorry’ or ‘pardon’ or even ‘please.’ When someone mucks up: they die. End of story. No further thought regarding the matter.
If Potter lived in Draco‘s world instead of outside it, then this entire arrangement would be over, and Draco would be dead. Either that, or Potter’s parents would be Death Eaters, and together with the Malfoys they would throw the boys an engagement party. However, Potter doesn‘t seem to exist outside or inside any world Draco knows. Potter seems to exist in a place all his own, and the fact that he‘s got Draco‘s wrists in a very firm grip, instead of breaking them leaves that in very little doubt.
Wherever Potter is, Draco thinks he might like to go there as well.
“I wouldn’t have thought you’d even notice.”
Of course, if Draco were to actually go through with what he might potentially be thinking about, he knows everything would fall apart. Being disowned would be an honour, and being killed in his sleep would be a pleasure. There would be a constant concern that around every corner was a Death Eater waiting to off him. He would be shunned by everyone who’s come to fear him; and his mother would probably Erase him from the family history. Just like his great, great, great, great, great Uncle Stephen. Of course for someone who‘s been Erased, it‘s strange that Draco knows his name at all. Maybe it’s an omen. Perhaps his mother might forgive him one day, and then his father will become best mates with Dumbledore.
Right, and then maybe Draco will suddenly start advocating for Mudbloods.
“Then you would be wrong.”
There are some things that will never happen, and there are some things that are unforgivable. Draco once thought that letting Harry Potter get the better of him would fall into both categories, now, it falls into neither. Two minutes ago, Draco had Harry Potter against a stone wall in the dungeons, and now the roles have reversed. Potter has Draco against the wall, and Draco is doing nothing to get away. Everything he knows has no place here. Whatever exists between him and Potter has nothing to do with Malfoys and Mudbloods and house pride.
At least Draco can finally admit that there might be something there.
Giving it a name would be pushing him too far.
“What exactly are you saying?”
For all the things that Draco doesn‘t know about Potter, there are a few tidbits he’s willing to bet upon. If Potter wants to go public, then Potter wants him. Badly. Perhaps as badly as Draco wants *him*. It’s possible that whatever Draco has been attempting to ignore for the last several weeks has finally come to the fore. Of course it’s also possible that Draco has completely lost the plot, and will jump up on the table at dinner and do an owl impersonation, but he thinks not. After all, Potter has moaned for him, and bitten him. He’s heard Potter chant his name loud enough to bring the entire school down.
Potter may be angry, he may be hurt, but that’s not Draco’s concern right now. It’s still about what Draco wants; his desired end point has simply changed. He may know fuck all about apologies, but he knows how to get what he wants, and if Draco wants Potter, then he‘ll have him.
Gryffindors may be loyal and brave, but Slytherins play dirty.
“Look, Potter --”
No matter what Potter says, or doesn’t say, Draco has seen how he responds to him. Power resides in recognizing those responses, in being able to elicit them at will. Draco may act unaffected, but he’s caught Potter’s stares and not-so-subtle glances. Not all touches require fingers, and if Potter insists on keeping hold of Draco’s wrists, then he’s obviously isn’t thinking about all the other weapons at Draco’s disposal, like his mouth and his hips.
Draco may not have the use of his hands, but Potter’s body is against Draco’s in an unnecessary, but much enjoyed, chest-to-knee body press. Potter’s hips twitch of their own accord, and Draco doubts that Potter even knows it. His breath is hot and damp against Draco’s face, and Draco can distinctly smell pumpkin juice and something that might be lemon tarts.
Potter must have had an early tea.
“Harry.”
All it takes is for Draco to crane his neck a few inches and place his mouth in contact with Potter’s, his tongue very much wanting entrance. Judging by Potter’s moan and the way he drops Draco’s hands to grab at fistfuls of his robe, Draco’s hasn’t misjudged the situation. Potter can pull at his robe, and Draco can reach up and reposition Potter’s head. And for once, Draco can admit that it’s not a fluke that his thumbs rub along Potter’s cheekbones, and that he sucks on Potter’s bottom lip hungrily. Yes, Draco has rules, and yes, he should listen to them, but everyone knows that rules are actually only suggestions.
No contract is fully binding – not even the kind that comes with a tattoo.
“Harry.”
Draco can deny a lot of things to a lot of people, but he thinks it‘s about time he at least stops lying to himself. Standing in an empty corridor, with Harry Potter panting inches away from him, Draco can admit that he wants to kiss Potter - Harry, repeatedly. He wants to suck on Harry’s tongue and lick the little divot above his lip. Draco wants stubble burn on his jaw and more shiny black hairs littering his robes. The truth of the matter is that Draco likes the feel of Harry beneath him, calling his name; and he likes the way that Harry‘s eyelashes flutter when he comes. At night, Draco has incessant dreams about touching Potter‘s face and stroking his forearms.
When Draco leans in to kiss Harry again, he does so with his eyes open and very much focused on the target at hand. The moans are the same, but the taste of Harry’s mouth is better, sweeter than Draco remembers it being. However, that could just be down to the realization that Draco could give up everything for this, and if it’s not the best thing ever, he’ll be completely up a tree with a million Death Eaters looking for him.
Behind fingerprint-smudged glasses, Harry’s eyes are closed, and for the first time Draco notices how long Harry’s eyelashes are.
“Draco.”
Draco‘s fingers have migrated from Harry‘s face down to his robes, and it strikes Draco, not for the first time, that Hogwarts students wear far too many layers. Robes, jumpers, shirts, ties, and Merlin forbid, it be cold enough for long underwear. Draco doesn‘t have patience for all that business, not today. He‘s been kept waiting for eight long days, and no bloody shirt is going to keep him from what he wants. Pushing Harry‘s robe over his shoulders, Draco’s hands pull and yank at articles of clothing until they make contact with skin. Finally.
"This will never work you know."
Harry‘s forehead rests against Draco‘s, and he breathes against Draco‘s nose. That’s why Draco shudders, and he can feel the corners of his mouth wanting to curl. If Draco lifted his eyes they would be staring at each other, but Draco’s much more interested in where he‘s hands are. The skin over Harry‘s hips feels surprisingly cool to touch. Draco‘s been feeling cold all week long, but now he‘s warm and Harry‘s not, and he can’t get Harry’s belt unfastened quick enough. When Harry’s hands come down over his hands, they get in the way, but Draco really can’t bring himself to care. If he was being honest, he would say that he’s missed Harry’s touch. But who needs to be honest when they’ve already ruined sixteen years of training for a really good shag with brilliant green eyes and pouty lips?
Draco doesn‘t have many standards left, but he needs to observe at least one: *he* is in charge. He does what he wants; Potter is along for the ride.
It just may prove to be a very long ride indeed.
"You don’t know that for certain."
There should be something extremely wrong with Draco falling to his knees in front of a Gryffindor, and one he‘s spent the majority of his school career loathing at that. Draco can‘t bring himself to see it that way. Control doesn‘t come from positioning; it‘s all psychological. He wants Harry Potter. Judging by the groan Harry gives him when Draco nuzzles his cock: Harry wants him as well. And something that starts off frantic, with Draco just wanting to taste Harry, turns into something far more gentle than anything else Draco has been taught to expect. The weight of Harry in his mouth makes Draco whimper loudly, and he can feel his fingernails digging into Harry’s hips, marking and branding him. Draco’s mouth is slick and wet; and every few seconds he pulls away to touch and lick, but his hands are constantly busy, petting and fondling.
“Everyone’s going to think you’ve lost the plot, but you don’t seem to be questioning *that*.”
Draco relishes giving Harry the sort of blow job that brings new meaning to the word ‘greedy.’ In the seconds before Harry comes, he cups Draco’s face in his hands and watches intently, mouth open and whispering quietly as he can between soft groans. He’s certainly exercising more control than Draco feels capable of. When Harry finally comes, Draco works his throat tirelessly. At least all those Death Eater garden parties his mother throws every summer have been good for learning something. When Harry carefully pulls free of Draco’s mouth, Draco can’t help but rest his head against Harry’s hip. Just for a moment. It’s just possession. It turns out to be less than a moment when Harry grabs hold of Draco’s hair, and drags him to his feet for the sort of kiss that he’s only read about in those picture novels his mother claims not to read.
“Malfoy – Draco, are you willing to give this a go?”
For something Draco has fought exceedingly hard to keep control of, he suddenly feels perfectly content to settle for this - whatever it happens to be.
"Yes."
-FINIS-
This entire series is dedicated to Kassie, although I know she doesn’t want it and would trade in the entire thing in heartbeat for Murderous!Draco and Psychotic!Harry with some rather distasteful (at least to me) H/H/R. Sorry, babes, just gonna have to make due.
Additional thanks for pilfering, support, read-throughs and the like to:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
addictedkitten, bonibaru, and fearlessdiva. To paraphrase Fay, 'y'all rock like something that really rocks.'
+++
Before I forget, I also want to give huge thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
obsessedmuch, holographis, spasticat (where's my H/D?) and The Chamber of Icons for providing me with some of the most gorgeous icons ever.
So. As always it's been lovely -- but it's over now...
I: The Agreement -- II: The Rules -- III: The Loophole -- IV: The Clause -- V: The Proposal and...
Contract VI: The Settlement
Harry Potter has a little divot above his upper lip that Draco wants to taste.
Potter also has a little hollow where his neck and his collarbones meet that’s currently being hidden by his school uniform. It’s a small patch of skin, about the size of a sickle, but the idea of exposing it has been taunting Draco for several minutes, possibly several lifetimes. That’s why he grabbed Potter by the tie and dragged him down a random hallway when they were both already late for lessons. That tempting area of skin explains why Draco’s fingers are busy loosening Potter’s tie and unbuttoning his shirt. Draco only wets his lips because they’re dry, not because he suddenly has the very strong urge to lick Potter. Draco has licked Potter before; he’s had the urge before. It’s never been this strong. Of course Draco has never had to repress his desires this much either.
Life was easier when he just shagged girls and Slytherins, although one never excluded the other, and Potter is *not* supposed to bat Draco’s hands away.
Refusal and rejection are not a part of their agreement. However, if Draco hadn’t made this arrangement then he never would have known what he‘s missing. So, in a sense, he’s brought this all upon himself, and that‘s why Potter takes such satisfaction in restraining Draco’s wrists. Potter wants to punish Draco for his staggering lack of foresight, and complete and utter stupidity in thinking he could make an agreement with a sodding Gryffindor. Or maybe this predicament is Draco’s fault for being tempted to keep his word in the first place. He’s not supposed to make contracts and agreements, and then actually *keep* them; that’s for the hoi polloi.
If Draco hadn’t attempted to be so noble and forthright then he would still be in the dark without his wand, and maybe that would have been for the best. At least then Draco never would have been foolish enough to risk putting his needs on display for the rest of the wizarding world to laugh at. In an open hallway where *anyone* can see. He might as well ride Potter’s broom during a Quidditch match: it would be less obvious.
Draco can‘t even malign the youngest Weasel for her hero infatuation, because obviously, Draco’s just as gone as she is. If he weren‘t, he would never have thought to ambush Potter when they‘re both supposed to be in Potions. There will be a month’s worth of detentions at the very least, but anyone could make a wrong turn in the dungeons. It happens all the time.
Just not to sixth years who aren’t in Hufflepuff.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
Some magic can be done without wands, some magic can be done without words, but there are some things that have nothing to do with magic at all. Draco’s longing for Harry Potter defies reason and magic, and will most likely get them both killed. Draco can be pragmatic about some things, just not about Potter avoiding him for the last eight days.
Draco doesn’t *need* Potter, but he might want him badly enough not to care.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Maybe there are some things that magic can control, but this particular pairing doesn’t fall under that heading, and for the last week Draco has been living inside a bubble. The restrictions are driving him barmy. He can’t get out, he can’t get warm, he’s just floating around waiting for someone to come along and pop it. The only thing Draco can think about is how snappish (even for him) and out of sorts he’s been recently. He’s lost pleasure in his ritualistic tormenting of the Hufflepuffs, and he skived off Quiddich practice the other night because he just couldn’t be arsed. His hands have taken on a decidedly blue undertone, and at breakfast Pansy said he looked pale. Snape even inquired if he’d been to see Madam Pomfrey yet, but Draco knows that his recent pseudo-illness has nothing to do with herbs and drugs and things that are brewed in a cauldron.
Although perhaps a potion could take care of all this nonsense. If Draco had had an inkling of how this was all going to turn out, he never would have gotten involved to start with. Naturally, it’s too late now. He’s signed his name on the proverbial dotted line.
Draco made a deal with Harry Potter; he might as well have cut out his tongue and handed it over on a silver platter. It’s not love, it’s worse – whatever worse happens to be.
Of course, hindsight is always perfect vision.
“Don’t mess me about.”
Draco‘s life has always been very simple. In his world, people don’t apologise. They don’t say ‘sorry’ or ‘pardon’ or even ‘please.’ When someone mucks up: they die. End of story. No further thought regarding the matter.
If Potter lived in Draco‘s world instead of outside it, then this entire arrangement would be over, and Draco would be dead. Either that, or Potter’s parents would be Death Eaters, and together with the Malfoys they would throw the boys an engagement party. However, Potter doesn‘t seem to exist outside or inside any world Draco knows. Potter seems to exist in a place all his own, and the fact that he‘s got Draco‘s wrists in a very firm grip, instead of breaking them leaves that in very little doubt.
Wherever Potter is, Draco thinks he might like to go there as well.
“I wouldn’t have thought you’d even notice.”
Of course, if Draco were to actually go through with what he might potentially be thinking about, he knows everything would fall apart. Being disowned would be an honour, and being killed in his sleep would be a pleasure. There would be a constant concern that around every corner was a Death Eater waiting to off him. He would be shunned by everyone who’s come to fear him; and his mother would probably Erase him from the family history. Just like his great, great, great, great, great Uncle Stephen. Of course for someone who‘s been Erased, it‘s strange that Draco knows his name at all. Maybe it’s an omen. Perhaps his mother might forgive him one day, and then his father will become best mates with Dumbledore.
Right, and then maybe Draco will suddenly start advocating for Mudbloods.
“Then you would be wrong.”
There are some things that will never happen, and there are some things that are unforgivable. Draco once thought that letting Harry Potter get the better of him would fall into both categories, now, it falls into neither. Two minutes ago, Draco had Harry Potter against a stone wall in the dungeons, and now the roles have reversed. Potter has Draco against the wall, and Draco is doing nothing to get away. Everything he knows has no place here. Whatever exists between him and Potter has nothing to do with Malfoys and Mudbloods and house pride.
At least Draco can finally admit that there might be something there.
Giving it a name would be pushing him too far.
“What exactly are you saying?”
For all the things that Draco doesn‘t know about Potter, there are a few tidbits he’s willing to bet upon. If Potter wants to go public, then Potter wants him. Badly. Perhaps as badly as Draco wants *him*. It’s possible that whatever Draco has been attempting to ignore for the last several weeks has finally come to the fore. Of course it’s also possible that Draco has completely lost the plot, and will jump up on the table at dinner and do an owl impersonation, but he thinks not. After all, Potter has moaned for him, and bitten him. He’s heard Potter chant his name loud enough to bring the entire school down.
Potter may be angry, he may be hurt, but that’s not Draco’s concern right now. It’s still about what Draco wants; his desired end point has simply changed. He may know fuck all about apologies, but he knows how to get what he wants, and if Draco wants Potter, then he‘ll have him.
Gryffindors may be loyal and brave, but Slytherins play dirty.
“Look, Potter --”
No matter what Potter says, or doesn’t say, Draco has seen how he responds to him. Power resides in recognizing those responses, in being able to elicit them at will. Draco may act unaffected, but he’s caught Potter’s stares and not-so-subtle glances. Not all touches require fingers, and if Potter insists on keeping hold of Draco’s wrists, then he’s obviously isn’t thinking about all the other weapons at Draco’s disposal, like his mouth and his hips.
Draco may not have the use of his hands, but Potter’s body is against Draco’s in an unnecessary, but much enjoyed, chest-to-knee body press. Potter’s hips twitch of their own accord, and Draco doubts that Potter even knows it. His breath is hot and damp against Draco’s face, and Draco can distinctly smell pumpkin juice and something that might be lemon tarts.
Potter must have had an early tea.
“Harry.”
All it takes is for Draco to crane his neck a few inches and place his mouth in contact with Potter’s, his tongue very much wanting entrance. Judging by Potter’s moan and the way he drops Draco’s hands to grab at fistfuls of his robe, Draco’s hasn’t misjudged the situation. Potter can pull at his robe, and Draco can reach up and reposition Potter’s head. And for once, Draco can admit that it’s not a fluke that his thumbs rub along Potter’s cheekbones, and that he sucks on Potter’s bottom lip hungrily. Yes, Draco has rules, and yes, he should listen to them, but everyone knows that rules are actually only suggestions.
No contract is fully binding – not even the kind that comes with a tattoo.
“Harry.”
Draco can deny a lot of things to a lot of people, but he thinks it‘s about time he at least stops lying to himself. Standing in an empty corridor, with Harry Potter panting inches away from him, Draco can admit that he wants to kiss Potter - Harry, repeatedly. He wants to suck on Harry’s tongue and lick the little divot above his lip. Draco wants stubble burn on his jaw and more shiny black hairs littering his robes. The truth of the matter is that Draco likes the feel of Harry beneath him, calling his name; and he likes the way that Harry‘s eyelashes flutter when he comes. At night, Draco has incessant dreams about touching Potter‘s face and stroking his forearms.
When Draco leans in to kiss Harry again, he does so with his eyes open and very much focused on the target at hand. The moans are the same, but the taste of Harry’s mouth is better, sweeter than Draco remembers it being. However, that could just be down to the realization that Draco could give up everything for this, and if it’s not the best thing ever, he’ll be completely up a tree with a million Death Eaters looking for him.
Behind fingerprint-smudged glasses, Harry’s eyes are closed, and for the first time Draco notices how long Harry’s eyelashes are.
“Draco.”
Draco‘s fingers have migrated from Harry‘s face down to his robes, and it strikes Draco, not for the first time, that Hogwarts students wear far too many layers. Robes, jumpers, shirts, ties, and Merlin forbid, it be cold enough for long underwear. Draco doesn‘t have patience for all that business, not today. He‘s been kept waiting for eight long days, and no bloody shirt is going to keep him from what he wants. Pushing Harry‘s robe over his shoulders, Draco’s hands pull and yank at articles of clothing until they make contact with skin. Finally.
"This will never work you know."
Harry‘s forehead rests against Draco‘s, and he breathes against Draco‘s nose. That’s why Draco shudders, and he can feel the corners of his mouth wanting to curl. If Draco lifted his eyes they would be staring at each other, but Draco’s much more interested in where he‘s hands are. The skin over Harry‘s hips feels surprisingly cool to touch. Draco‘s been feeling cold all week long, but now he‘s warm and Harry‘s not, and he can’t get Harry’s belt unfastened quick enough. When Harry’s hands come down over his hands, they get in the way, but Draco really can’t bring himself to care. If he was being honest, he would say that he’s missed Harry’s touch. But who needs to be honest when they’ve already ruined sixteen years of training for a really good shag with brilliant green eyes and pouty lips?
Draco doesn‘t have many standards left, but he needs to observe at least one: *he* is in charge. He does what he wants; Potter is along for the ride.
It just may prove to be a very long ride indeed.
"You don’t know that for certain."
There should be something extremely wrong with Draco falling to his knees in front of a Gryffindor, and one he‘s spent the majority of his school career loathing at that. Draco can‘t bring himself to see it that way. Control doesn‘t come from positioning; it‘s all psychological. He wants Harry Potter. Judging by the groan Harry gives him when Draco nuzzles his cock: Harry wants him as well. And something that starts off frantic, with Draco just wanting to taste Harry, turns into something far more gentle than anything else Draco has been taught to expect. The weight of Harry in his mouth makes Draco whimper loudly, and he can feel his fingernails digging into Harry’s hips, marking and branding him. Draco’s mouth is slick and wet; and every few seconds he pulls away to touch and lick, but his hands are constantly busy, petting and fondling.
“Everyone’s going to think you’ve lost the plot, but you don’t seem to be questioning *that*.”
Draco relishes giving Harry the sort of blow job that brings new meaning to the word ‘greedy.’ In the seconds before Harry comes, he cups Draco’s face in his hands and watches intently, mouth open and whispering quietly as he can between soft groans. He’s certainly exercising more control than Draco feels capable of. When Harry finally comes, Draco works his throat tirelessly. At least all those Death Eater garden parties his mother throws every summer have been good for learning something. When Harry carefully pulls free of Draco’s mouth, Draco can’t help but rest his head against Harry’s hip. Just for a moment. It’s just possession. It turns out to be less than a moment when Harry grabs hold of Draco’s hair, and drags him to his feet for the sort of kiss that he’s only read about in those picture novels his mother claims not to read.
“Malfoy – Draco, are you willing to give this a go?”
For something Draco has fought exceedingly hard to keep control of, he suddenly feels perfectly content to settle for this - whatever it happens to be.
"Yes."
-FINIS-
This entire series is dedicated to Kassie, although I know she doesn’t want it and would trade in the entire thing in heartbeat for Murderous!Draco and Psychotic!Harry with some rather distasteful (at least to me) H/H/R. Sorry, babes, just gonna have to make due.
Additional thanks for pilfering, support, read-throughs and the like to:
addictedkitten, bonibaru, and fearlessdiva. To paraphrase Fay, 'y'all rock like something that really rocks.' +++
Before I forget, I also want to give huge thanks to
obsessedmuch, holographis, spasticat (where's my H/D?) and The Chamber of Icons for providing me with some of the most gorgeous icons ever.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2002-11-26 08:39 pm (UTC)It happens all the time. Just not to sixth years who aren’t in Hufflepuff.
What I esp. like about your stuff is that it's serious work and the characters are developed and the writing is brilliant and everything, and it's funny too, and often self-aware, and you do that in a way that just works so well. It's very impressive. And causes me to snort unexpectedly and frequently while reading, and often to state aloud, "god, that's great!" I try to read your stories when my roommates aren't lurking about. *g*
So thank you thank you thank you for this wonderfulness that has given me so much entertainment and joy. :)
And, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! (I'll be away and with sporadic internet until Sunday, so I"ll say it now) Hope it's great.
Last thing - I love your new icons, esp. the tree! is beautiful! but my computer won't read the slytherin or tom ones! Sad...
no subject
Date: 2002-11-26 10:39 pm (UTC)well, here's the slytherin icon for you to see - it makes me quite proud of my house. *g* with regards to the story, thank you so much for all your lovely words about my writing. i appreciate it immensely. you're very kind. :)