Non-fluffy Advent fic, part 8
Dec. 9th, 2013 12:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
omi_ohmyI had to wait all day for a chance to write, and technically it's Monday now... But for me, and Harry, it still feels like Sunday night.
Summary: Harry has almost forgotten what it is to be happy in love and life, until Draco gives him twenty-four chances to remember.
Word count (this part): ~640
Rating: Probably will be R or NC-17 overall.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
<<Part 7
8.
“Harry, I can’t come. I’m on nights again.” Malfoy’s shoulders dropped.
He remembered this, but even if he didn’t Harry’s thoughts were transparent on his face. Such disappointment. And then a hint of hope.
“How about breakfast? When you get off?”
Malfoy smiled, slow and full. “I could do that. If you don’t mind the fact that I can barely talk at the end of a night shift.”
“Why don’t I come to you?” The words rushed out. “I’ll bring breakfast with me.”
Harry snorted. That had always been the plan: breakfast with Malfoy. Although not with a night shift beforehand. Harry had been driven to distraction by Malfoy in those early days, yet it had taken them a while to move beyond increasingly heated kisses. Not for want of trying, for either of them. More the demands of Healer and Auror training.
Such a short glimpse, but Harry could see why Draco had chosen it. There hadn’t been a golden period when they’d had enough time for each other. They’d always been busy.
After the soup the day before, Draco had begun to yawn and despite sleeping most of the day away, he’d gone back to bed. Harry had followed, but he’d fallen into a dead sleep rather than Draco’s arms. It felt… too soon somehow. When Harry hadn’t seen Draco all week, he found it always took a few days to become accustomed to his presence in the house again. They would sit together like polite strangers until everything felt familiar again.
Sunday passed in a gentle series of traditions: papers and food and a snooze in the afternoon. When Harry woke up, Draco’s head was resting on his shoulder, a warm pressure. Harry let himself breathe in Draco’s rhythms. This was what he needed to relearn: the way that Draco’s chest rose and fell, the pulsing of the blood in his veins, the gentle flow of magic around him. Harry’s fingers found the short hair at the back of Draco’s neck, the quivering point at his neck, the soft line of his lips.
Draco woke into a smile as Harry’s fingers drew the shape of his mouth. He didn’t say anything, just brought his own hand to Harry’s free arm, seeking the space between sleeve and skin. His eyes were clear now, so much brighter than they had been the night before. Warm breath touched Harry’s skin before Draco’s mouth - hot, dry, wet – landed on his own in a kiss.
Harry couldn’t stop looking at Draco’s eyes. Such a pale grey, the always seemed to hold sunlight. Harry had stared at them for days, before. He kissed the soft signs of the years passing at their edges, and then made his way down to Draco’s neck. So warm, and just a trace of sandalwood. So Draco.
Draco’s shirt was totally undone, and Harry’s on the floor when Ron’s Patronus appeared beside them.
“Harry, you’re needed in Hampshire,” Ron’s voice said, from the mouth of the silver terrier staring blindly at them. Harry groaned, and with a heavy sigh yanked his hand out from the back of Draco’s trousers.
When he got back from a freezing cold field in the middle of nowhere, it was dark and Draco was asleep. Harry was knackered, but before he went to bed he watched the memory of the breakfast-promise.
His mind wandered back to what they'd been up to before Ron had interrupted earlier. They hadn’t got too far, but it was still more than they’d done in ages. Rather than the usual quick fumble late at night, kissing and stripping each other on the sofa had been fun, and hot, and Harry wanted to do it again. Instead of feeling guilty or resigned, Harry felt hopeful. Soon, he would take all of Draco’s clothes off, and do terrible things to him. He couldn’t wait.
>>part 9
Summary: Harry has almost forgotten what it is to be happy in love and life, until Draco gives him twenty-four chances to remember.
Word count (this part): ~640
Rating: Probably will be R or NC-17 overall.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
<<Part 7
8.
“Harry, I can’t come. I’m on nights again.” Malfoy’s shoulders dropped.
He remembered this, but even if he didn’t Harry’s thoughts were transparent on his face. Such disappointment. And then a hint of hope.
“How about breakfast? When you get off?”
Malfoy smiled, slow and full. “I could do that. If you don’t mind the fact that I can barely talk at the end of a night shift.”
“Why don’t I come to you?” The words rushed out. “I’ll bring breakfast with me.”
Harry snorted. That had always been the plan: breakfast with Malfoy. Although not with a night shift beforehand. Harry had been driven to distraction by Malfoy in those early days, yet it had taken them a while to move beyond increasingly heated kisses. Not for want of trying, for either of them. More the demands of Healer and Auror training.
Such a short glimpse, but Harry could see why Draco had chosen it. There hadn’t been a golden period when they’d had enough time for each other. They’d always been busy.
After the soup the day before, Draco had begun to yawn and despite sleeping most of the day away, he’d gone back to bed. Harry had followed, but he’d fallen into a dead sleep rather than Draco’s arms. It felt… too soon somehow. When Harry hadn’t seen Draco all week, he found it always took a few days to become accustomed to his presence in the house again. They would sit together like polite strangers until everything felt familiar again.
Sunday passed in a gentle series of traditions: papers and food and a snooze in the afternoon. When Harry woke up, Draco’s head was resting on his shoulder, a warm pressure. Harry let himself breathe in Draco’s rhythms. This was what he needed to relearn: the way that Draco’s chest rose and fell, the pulsing of the blood in his veins, the gentle flow of magic around him. Harry’s fingers found the short hair at the back of Draco’s neck, the quivering point at his neck, the soft line of his lips.
Draco woke into a smile as Harry’s fingers drew the shape of his mouth. He didn’t say anything, just brought his own hand to Harry’s free arm, seeking the space between sleeve and skin. His eyes were clear now, so much brighter than they had been the night before. Warm breath touched Harry’s skin before Draco’s mouth - hot, dry, wet – landed on his own in a kiss.
Harry couldn’t stop looking at Draco’s eyes. Such a pale grey, the always seemed to hold sunlight. Harry had stared at them for days, before. He kissed the soft signs of the years passing at their edges, and then made his way down to Draco’s neck. So warm, and just a trace of sandalwood. So Draco.
Draco’s shirt was totally undone, and Harry’s on the floor when Ron’s Patronus appeared beside them.
“Harry, you’re needed in Hampshire,” Ron’s voice said, from the mouth of the silver terrier staring blindly at them. Harry groaned, and with a heavy sigh yanked his hand out from the back of Draco’s trousers.
When he got back from a freezing cold field in the middle of nowhere, it was dark and Draco was asleep. Harry was knackered, but before he went to bed he watched the memory of the breakfast-promise.
His mind wandered back to what they'd been up to before Ron had interrupted earlier. They hadn’t got too far, but it was still more than they’d done in ages. Rather than the usual quick fumble late at night, kissing and stripping each other on the sofa had been fun, and hot, and Harry wanted to do it again. Instead of feeling guilty or resigned, Harry felt hopeful. Soon, he would take all of Draco’s clothes off, and do terrible things to him. He couldn’t wait.
>>part 9
no subject
Date: 2013-12-09 01:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-24 10:39 am (UTC)Hope instead of guilt is so much more healthy, I agree.