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“Fuck, Harry, you feel so good,” Draco groaned, pistoning his hips.
Harry moaned, “Merlin, keep your voice down!” He gasped as Draco hit his prostate head on. “Someone might hear you.”
Draco growled, leaning forward to sink his teeth into the back of Harry’s neck, and Harry whined and arched his hips backward. Draco pounded into him, sucking a bruise into Harry’s skin while Harry writhed beneath him. The bitten off moans falling from Harry’s lips both pleased and infuriated him; they’d been sneaking around for months, desperately tearing at each other’s robes and sinking into each other in quiet pleasure, but the secrecy was wearing thin. Draco wanted more; he wanted a relationship, or at the very least public acknowledgment that he and Harry were more than they appeared, and while Harry said all the right things while getting his dick sucked, he’d yet to make any formal declaration.
Draco pulled out abruptly, and Harry let out a desperate cry. “Why’d you stop?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.
Draco stretched out onto the pile of coats they’d knocked down with an arched brow. “Get on.”
Harry huffed, but scrambled to straddle Draco’s hips, reaching behind him to line Draco up. As soon as Draco felt the edge of Harry’s entrance, he thrust his hips up, sliding into him in one smooth motion. Harry gasped a moan and slumped forward, his fingers curling against Draco’s chest as Draco slid out and straight back in. Harry panted, bending to plant a sloppy kiss on Draco’s lips before rising up and swiveling his hips.
Draco groaned, his fingers tightening in a bruising grip on Harry’s hips as he chased his orgasm. Harry’s leaking cock bounced against his stomach with the force of his thrusts, and he slid his knees upward for more leverage. Harry tilted his head back with a deep groan as Draco again found his prostate, wrapping his fist around his prick and pumping in time with Draco’s flexing hips.
Draco bit his lip as his orgasm approached. He knew as soon as they both came, they’d have to return to the party and pretend they hadn’t just fucked in the coat cupboard. The charade was getting old, and Draco felt a bit more downtrodden each time, though clearly not enough to break things off. Harry’s hips began to stutter, and Draco ran his palms up his sides, curling his fingers and running his nails forcefully down Harry’s back.
Harry cried out, throwing his head back as he came into his fist, his back bowing with the pain of Draco’s possession. Draco moaned, returning his hands to Harry’s hips and thrusting into him as he slipped over the edge. The pulsing of Harry’s arse around him forced his orgasm to the surface, and he filled Harry with a satisfied groan only moments later. Harry whimpered, working through the last of his pleasure, and Draco smiled. Harry slumped forward, smearing his come over his and Draco’s abs as he panted against Draco’s neck, and Draco ran soft fingers through Harry’s hair.
“I promise,” Harry said, kissing Draco’s cheek, “It’s only for a little longer.”
Draco hummed noncommittally. He didn’t think Harry was lying on purpose, but rather that he was simply too comfortable with how things had been going up to that point. He knew the easiest way to force action was to stop having sex with him, but Draco very much didn’t want to do that, so he’d come up with Plan B.
“Of course, my love,” Draco murmured, turning his head to catch Harry’s lips. “Whatever you say.”
They snogged until they’d both fully deflated, and Draco had slipped out of Harry, then Harry stood with a groan and reached for his wand. He cleaned them both up, watching Draco stand with heavy-lidded eyes, then turned his back.
“Will you heal these, please?”
Harry loved when Draco got possessive, but he couldn’t very well walk around with the evidence of their tryst, could he? He allowed Draco to mark him any way he liked, but always asked them to be healed before they parted ways, and Draco always obliged. At least, he did until now.
“Of course.”
Draco waved his wand, casting not a healing spell, but a numbing one, along with a temporary glamour. It would feel like he’d healed them, but the marks would become visible again in a matter of hours. He knew he was taking a chance, that Harry might break things off for a stunt like this, but he was sick of feeling like a dirty little secret. It would be easier, if Harry ended things, because Merlin knew he wasn’t strong enough to say no when Harry approached him with lust-filled eyes.
“Thanks, love,” Harry whispered, rising onto his toes to press a kiss to Draco’s lips.
Draco sighed into the kiss, wrapping his hand around the back of Harry’s head. If this was to be the last time, he wanted more than a perfunctory peck. Harry hummed, pressing his palms into Draco’s chest for stability, then pushed him back when Draco began nibbling on his lower lip.
“We don’t have time,” Harry said with a chuckle, “We’ve already been gone too long.”
Draco took a deep breath, “Right.”
They got dressed quickly, and Harry stepped from the cupboard first. Draco waited a few minutes, as was customary, then slipped back into the party unnoticed. He tried not to watch Harry too closely, but as with everything else relating to Harry, he couldn’t help it.
***
The party was beginning to wind down, and Harry sighed as he moved around the room to make his final goodbyes. He loved his friends, and he enjoyed seeing them whenever time allowed, but he began to get antsy after a few hours at any gathering, even one not Ministry-sanctioned. It had been less than a year after the final battle, and he still felt eyes on him constantly. His skin itched with their stares, and whispers still followed him from time to time, not to mention Prophet reporters. He even felt it now, at Neville’s birthday celebration. He was constantly being watched, unendingly reported on, and all he wanted was some peace.
He glanced up after hugging Hermione goodbye, meeting Draco’s stare. He knew it was unfair, what he was doing. What they were doing, but he wanted to keep their relationship to himself a bit longer. As soon as the story broke, he’d be hounded from all sides, and it would change everything. He took a deep breath, shaking his head before slowly making his way over. The least he could do was appear friendly with him.
“Malfoy, pleasure to see you,” Harry said as he approached, holding out his hand.
Draco arched a brow, glancing between Harry’s face and open palm before accepting the handshake. “Likewise.”
Harry nodded, squeezing Draco’s hand before sliding his free. “Perhaps we’ll run into each other again.”
Draco licked his lips. “One can only hope.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed briefly, and he spun toward the door as whispers followed. He could only imagine the story in the paper the next day. Something about Harry befriending the less fortunate, or some such rubbish, he was sure.
“Merlin’s balls! Did you get into a fight with Crookshanks or something?”
Harry looked over his bare shoulder at Ron, who stood in the doorway with his mouth hanging open. He was staying at the Burrow while he decided if he wanted to try and push past the trauma and live in Grimmauld Place or find a flat, and Ron had barged into his room while Harry was changing out of his pajamas. It had been a small miracle that Ron had let Hermione bring Crookshanks at all, but he hadn’t seen the kneasle in at least a week.
“No, why?”
Ron’s eyes were nearly popping out of his head, and he quickly stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “Mate, have you been attacked?”
Harry frowned, crossing toward the wardrobe. “No.”
Ron sucked in a breath when Harry turned to find a suitable outfit, his eyes catching on the deep purple bruise on the back of his neck. “Harry, are you seeing someone?”
Harry froze, the top he’d decided on still half on the hanger. “Why would you think that?” he asked carefully.
“Oh gods, it’s not Gin again, is it? I can’t handle it if you’ve gotten back together. Honestly, you two aren’t any good for each other! You need to move on, find someone who doesn’t drive you spare! And you’re not any better, mind you! If I have to have one more conversation about how you don’t-”
“I’m not dating Gin, again,” Harry cut in.
Ron huffed, “Well, good, then.” He crossed his arms and moved to sit on Harry’s bed. “So, who is it?”
“Who’s who?” Harry asked evasively, pulling the top over his head.
Ron rolled his eyes. “The person who left you all marked up.”
Harry straightened, a flash of fear in his eyes. “What do you mean?”
Ron scoffed, “Clearly someone’s been sucking on your neck. Unless you ran into a vampire?”
Harry furrowed his brows at the almost hopeful tone to Ron’s question. “Erm, no, no vampires.”
Ron looked at him expectantly, and Harry turned to change into a pair of loose denims. He was silent, frantically searching for some sort of satisfactory answer while attempting to ignore the searing rage that shot through him. This was exactly why he always had Draco heal him.
“Well?” Ron asked as Harry sank down onto the bed next to him to slip on his trainers.
Harry met his quizzical gaze, tinged with hurt, and his heart dropped. He’d wanted to ease his friends into the knowledge, especially Ron and Hermione. Their history with Draco was far more intertwined than any of the others, and he knew they likely wouldn’t understand how he’d been able to move on from the past so easily. The truth was, the entire situation with Draco had begun as self-punishment. He was ashamed to admit that he’d practically searched Draco out, hoping to provoke him enough to return the favor he’d so recklessly provided in that loo during Sixth Year. What happened instead was a lot of painful, deeply cathartic conversations, and they’d fallen into a much more amorous dynamic as the year wore on. He knew that none of it would have been possible if Hermione hadn’t talked him into returning for Eighth Year, and he truly had her to thank for one of the only bright spots in his life.
“Ron, I-”
The door burst open, and they both looked up with a frown as a fuming Ginny stomped into the room, brandishing the Sunday edition of The Daily Prophet.
“Merlin, Gin, haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” Ron asked, irritation clear in his voice.
“What’s this?” She growled, tossing the publication at Harry.
Harry caught the paper in one hand. “What’s what?”
Ginny pointed, her finger trembling “On the front page! What are they talking about? Who are you dating? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Harry gasped, “What?” He quickly unfolded the paper, eyes widening as the headline stared him in the face. Apparently, some reporter had caught him as he was leaving Neville’s, snapping a photo of the clear bite mark on his neck. He reached his hand up, sliding his fingers over where he knew Draco had left the imprint, but didn’t feel any pain or tenderness.
“Who is she?”
Harry sighed and dropped his hand, looking up from the paper to flick his eyes between the Weasley siblings. “I’m really not ready to talk about this, right now.”
Ginny scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “But you are seeing someone?”
Harry looked at her sadly, shifting his gaze between her eyes. “Gin, we talked about this. It’s never going to work with us. You had to know I’d start dating someone else eventually.”
Ginny gasped, her face crumpling, and she twirled to exit the way she’d come. Harry sighed as he watched her go; he hoped, in time, she’d find someone who made her as happy as Draco made him. Well, at least he did before this whole fiasco.
“So you are dating someone?” Ron asked softly.
Harry’s shoulders dropped. He knew Ron, and Hermione to a lesser extent, would take it personally that he hadn’t told them first, and he’d been trying to find the right time to share his secret relationship with Draco, but it never seemed to come. “I promise, I’ll explain everything as soon as I’m ready, but it looks like I have something to handle first.”
“Malfoy!”
Harry stormed through Malfoy Manor, The Prophet clutched tightly in his hand. He’d had to fight his way out of the Burrow, as surrounded as it was by reporters, and he’d barely managed to Apparate away without any hangers on. The wards at the Manor had been changed for months, allowing him entry whenever he liked, but he rarely visited, afraid of being caught and forced to explain his actions. Now, with the photo of someone’s clear ownership on his neck for the entire world to see, he was less than concerned.
“If I have to search every single room in this god-forsaken Manor to find you, I will!” Harry bellowed.
Draco sighed, stepping into the corridor from the library, a snifter of brandy in his hand. “I see you’ve read the paper.”
Harry growled, stomping up to him and tossing the publication at his feet. “The entire Wizarding world has read the paper! What the fuck, Malfoy?”
Draco bit his lip; Harry only called him by his last name if they were in public, or if he was well and truly pissed off. Harry’s gaze dropped to Draco’s mouth, and he exhaled loudly and turned his head away. “I didn’t think this would happen.”
Harry turned an incredulous gaze back to him. “You didn’t think what would happen? You didn’t think some reporter would snap a photo and publish it in the most circulated paper in Europe? You didn’t think Ron would see the scratches and start questioning me? You didn’t think Ginny would lose her bloody mind?”
Draco huffed a laugh despite the fury he could feel radiating from Harry. “Did those last two really happen?”
“Yes, Draco, they did, and now Ron feels left out of my life, everyone wants an explanation, and the Burrow is swarming with reporters!” Harry growled and stomped past Draco, headed directly for the liquor cabinet tucked into a corner of the library. “I’m going to have to hold a bloody press conference,” he muttered, splashing a few fingers of brandy into a snifter.
Draco turned, watching him with an arched brow as he leaned against the door frame. The deep purple bruise he’d left on the back of Harry’s neck was still completely visible, and he wondered if he hadn’t covered or healed it because he secretly liked sporting a beacon of ownership, or if he was simply so angry that he’d forgotten before he left the Burrow. “Would you like me to come?”
Harry sighed as he plopped into the closest armchair, closing his eyes as he took a large swallow of the brown liquid. The burn of it helped to cool his ire, and he focused on the ache in his throat for a moment before refocusing on Draco. “Come where?”
Draco tilted his head, moving into the room. “To the press conference.”
Harry furrowed his brow. “How would that help?”
Draco perched on the edge of the chaise next to Harry’s chair. “Well, if you were going to announce our relationship, it would be a good idea if I were there.”
Harry spluttered, “Announce our- Why in Merlin’s name would you think I’d do that?”
Draco took a deep breath, sliding back until his back met the cushion. “I see. Well, it was nice while it lasted, then.”
Harry shook his head. “I think I’m missing something, here.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Potter, all anyone cares about is who you’re shagging. Don’t you think that’s going to be the only question at this little press conference? What are you going to do, make up someone more acceptable? Pay some bint to pretend to be your girlfriend? Let the public think you’re a slag who sleeps around?” Draco stood, his anger rising with each word. “I’ll not be shoved aside like something you’re ashamed of. I won’t be humiliated like that.”
He turned toward the door, taking long strides until he reached the corridor, and Harry hastily put his snifter on the table and stood. “Draco, wait, I didn’t think about it like that!” He ran after him, but an invisible barrier prevented him from climbing the stairs to the First floor. He was rebuffed at the base, and so stood calling for Draco to return instead. “Draco, please, come back down so we can talk about this!’’
Harry begged until his voice was hoarse, but Draco never returned. He realized too late how much the entire situation had hurt Draco, and now, he may have lost him forever.
A week later, Harry found himself standing behind a podium on the steps of the Ministry of Magic, a large crowd gathered at the foot.
After he’d dragged himself away from Malfoy Manor, he’d gone directly back to the Burrow to explain everything to Ron and Hermione. The flow of reporters was never-ending; they crowded around the doors, peeked into the windows, and trampled Molly’s azaleas, and they wouldn’t leave until Harry stepped out and promised them all a press conference the following Sunday.
The conversation with Ron and Hermione was difficult; they couldn’t understand how he’d gone from hating Draco with a burning passion to loving him with the same intensity, just as he’d predicted. He answered every question they asked, including, “You’re gay?” from Ron’s gobsmacked mouth. Amusingly, Hermione had shoved him in the arm with an admonishment that they had far more important things to discuss.
While he felt he owed the rest of the Weasleys a bit of an explanation too, Molly had assured him that they supported him, no matter who it was that had managed to capture his heart. He hoped she felt the same way once the truth came out. Ginny avoided him as much as possible, hiding in her room or rushing into another when Harry entered the one she was currently occupying, and he gave up trying to speak with her after several days of this behavior.
To their credit, the rest of his friends hadn’t so much as sent an owl after the story came out, though he was sure they were all burning with curiosity. He decided it would be easiest to tell them all at once and get all of the questions and shock out of the way, instead of going through the same reaction a dozen times. He sent an owl, inviting everyone to lunch on the Friday before the press conference, and he’d received an RSVP from everyone almost immediately. He’d chuckled to himself, knowing they must be chomping at the bit for more information.
The lunch went as well as could be expected, and after a full minute of stunned silence, the questions began. How did this happen? How long has it been going on? What’s your plan for the future? Why did you keep it a secret for so long? Malfoy? Really? (That one was Seamus, of course). He answered them all, with as much information as he was willing to share, and by the end, he was relieved to find that he hadn’t lost any of his friends over it. He chuckled softly when Neville pointed out that what he’d just been through was good practice for the press conference in a few days’ time, certain the reporters wouldn’t be nearly as kind to him. When Luna asked if Draco would be there with him, he didn’t have an answer.
As he stood before the Ministry that Sunday, trying not to fidget, he scanned the crowd for Draco’s signature platinum locks. They hadn’t spoken since he’d barged into the Manor, though he’d sent a few owls in between, and he was concerned that he’d blown up his relationship right before he was to reveal its existence to the world.
“Good afternoon,” Harry began, nodding vaguely to the gathering, “And thank you for coming. I won’t pretend that I don’t know why you’re all here, so let’s just get on with it, shall we?” Hermione had offered to write a speech for him, or practice talking points with him, but Harry was afraid it would sound too formal, too rehearsed, and he wanted at least one person to know that what he said was straight from the heart. If that person decided to show up, that is.
“Mr. Potter, who gave you the love bite?” A wizened wizard in the front asked.
“Mr. Potter, are you in a secret relationship?” A witch wearing a wide-brimmed hat and large sunglasses questioned. Harry frowned; it wasn’t even particularly sunny outside.
“How long have you been dating this person, and why have you kept it hidden?” Rita Skeeter asked, Quick Quotes Quill already flying over her parchment.
“Why didn’t you heal the bite?” A reporter, no more than a few years out of Hogwarts, asked timidly.
Harry laughed, pinning the young reporter with an amused stare. “I thought he had.”
The noise in the crowd rose, questions about Harry’s sexual preferences now being lobbed along with the expected ones, and Harry blew out a breath. He should have known he’d get those as well. He held up his hands, quieting the reporters, and took a deep breath.
“I’ll answer your questions, but I’ll only do it once, so everyone better listen.” He straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat, scanning the crowd one last time. There was no flash of blonde to be seen. “My sexual orientation has no importance here. Suffice it to say, I look for a partner who can be my equal, who will bring joy to my life and listen to my woes, without focusing on their gender.”
Several reporters asked him questions in quick succession, and Harry lifted a brow.
“I’ve been in a secret relationship for six months now, and I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”
He lifted his hands again as several variations of “Who is it?” were thrown at him.
“We’ve kept it from the public at my request. I knew that the moment the Wizarding world found out about us, everything would change, and I was afraid we wouldn’t survive. I also wanted to protect him from you vultures,” he eyed them all with a narrowed gaze, “Because I knew we would have a tough road ahead of us. I hope that he can forgive me for wanting to keep him to myself just a little longer.” He paused, taking a deep breath in preparation for the hell that was about to break loose, when a ripple went through the crowd.
“I can.”
Harry turned swiftly to find Draco standing behind him on the upper steps, and a wide grin spread over his face. “You came.”
Draco descended the steps quickly, pausing directly in front of Harry. “I almost didn’t.”
“What made you change your mind?” Harry asked breathlessly.
Draco smirked, “I figured you’d eventually figure out that you were being an idiot, and throwing away the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
Harry scoffed, “You’re such a snob.”
“I’m your snob,” Draco said, leaning forward.
“That you are.” Harry slid his hand behind Draco’s head, pulling him closer as he slipped his other hand over Draco’s waist, and Draco grinned as dozens of cameras went off behind Harry. Their lips met in a familiar dance, the frantic shouting of questions falling away as Harry finally announced to the world that he was Draco’s, and Draco was his.