7: Never Mind Success

Disclaimer: You know this shit ain't mine. You do realize that these disclaimers don't do one damn thing to protect us from prosecution if the People With All the Money decide they really want our arses in a sling...right?

Chapter 7: Never Mind Success

Draco kept his face buried against Harry's shoulder even after the door slammed shut. "Well, that effectively killed the mood."

"Did it? I guess I'm more used to the monsters barging in." Harry's tone was quite mild. His finger, tracing aimless patterns on the small of Draco's back and occasionally teasing the very top of his crack, was considerably hotter. Somewhat paradoxically, Draco shivered.

"Are you cold?" Harry whispered the question against Draco's neck, lipping softly.

"No," Draco whispered back. He looked up in some alarm when Harry slipped a hand through his hair, coming perilously close to that shameful bit of scalp in front. "Don't."

"Your hair is so soft. I can't help it." Harry gently tangled both hands in the surviving tendrils, and Draco looked away, not quite able to face Harry's appreciative expression.

"I don't like to be reminded of my... visible signs of aging." Though you seem adept at making certain parts of me feel significantly younger.

Harry turned Draco firmly to face him. "Like I'm looking younger."

Draco studied the little white kinks in the dark mess of Harry's hair and the fine little lines around his eyes and mouth. Yes, but on you, it looks... rugged. "Bother. I didn't treat my lines this morning."

"I never do. I don't charm the gray out, either."

"You shouldn't...I like the curls." Draco wrapped one of the locks in question around his finger. There was something ridiculously endearing about the whole glossy heap. "As for treating the lines, I could do it for you."

"Should laugh lines be a deal-breaker, then?" Harry traced the little smile crease in Draco's cheek. Draco couldn't help but smile a little, deepening the groove for Harry's thumb to follow.

"No. I just want to..." Draco demonstrated with light touches to Harry's cheeks and eyebrows, and around his lips, "apply the lotion."

Harry turned into the touch to nuzzle Draco's palm. "Oh. I think I could learn to like that." He licked a little circle on the sensitive skin there, and Draco shivered again. "Hmm... It's too cold for you here. I think I should take you to bed and warm you up."

"Okay." Harry smiled brilliantly at Draco's acquiescence and stood, obviously prepared to swing Draco up and carry him off in style. Draco stopped him with a serious expression and a stammered, "W...wait."

Harry blinked at him, looking worried and slightly rejected. Draco grimaced slightly but said what had to be said. "Harry? When you said you don't have much... company... Does that mean that we don't need to worry about... ah... medical issues?" Draco felt as if his face might spontaneously combust. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd had to ask something like this. "Because I was tested after my wife left. You know. In case she'd had something on the side."

Being a responsible adult is so embarrassing.

"Oh! Er, yeah, no... nothing like that. We get tested every year because of work. You know, in case a suspect spits in your eye or something like that. No... um... bugs. Clean." When he blushes the color of a cherry tomato, it emphasizes his eyes. Bastard.

"Oh, good." It was awkwardly silent for a moment.

You have skills equal to this situation. It's been a while, but come on... you remember flirting...

Draco let a strand of hair fall into his eyes and did his best to smile coyly. "So, you mentioned something about a warm bed?"

"I did, didn't I?" This time Harry did swing him up, and it was much more fun when Draco was sober enough to enjoy it. Harry yanked loose the remaining sleeve that Draco more or less still had on his arm. "Lose that tatty gown. Except for the word 'sexy,' it doesn't suit you in the slightest," Harry whispered.

"Only if you lose the pants. You should let your children dress you more often." Draco was too happy to smirk properly and too turned on to care that they were grinning at each other like fools or that Harry had idiotically tried to kick his stupid novelty boxers off while he was walking.

"Maybe I'll just wear Warming Charms." Before Draco could come up with a suitable retort, Harry curled his tongue around the nearer of Draco's nipples. If Draco could have managed anything more articulate than a shuddering moan, he would have heartily endorsed Harry's new wardrobe plan, at least while they were indoors.

How far is it to the bed?

They got as far as the bottom of the steps when the pounding commenced at the front door.

Draco started at the sound and slipped in Harry's arms. Harry didn't quite drop him, even though Draco's limbs bumped inconvenient places and flapped rather awkwardly as Harry guided them to a sort of controlled fall across the stairs.

"Potter? Potter, answer the damned door!"

"What the...?" There was something familiar about that shout, but all that Harry could call to mind was an image of a witch with really big... lungs.

"Have you got Draco in there?"

"Not yet, he hasn't. But if you'll bugger off, Millie, I'm sure he will."

"Do we need to wait for her to go?" Harry murmured. Draco looked at him, the paleness of his eyes making his expression even more startled. Harry smiled and twirled his tongue around what was fast becoming his favorite nipple before licking a long stripe down the center of Draco's body. Between the breathy little moans falling from Draco's lips and anticipating what his final destination would taste like, Harry was almost inclined to start humping the stair carpet. One more inch...

"Lucky bitch, managing to find him without me. I don't blame you; I'd be gay for an arse like that. Grabbing it was like seeing the face of Merlin."

Harry's head shot up before his tongue could do more than barely, frustratingly, brush the pleasantly salty head of Draco's cock. Draco's squeal was half-choked off, half-lost in Harry's incredulous shout. "That was you?"

"Touch him again, and DIE!" Apparently Draco wasn't quite as far gone as he'd sounded. Harry felt a bit flattered at the possessiveness, though.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist. Speaking of twist, did you notice any other Slytherins from our year or the two years above us at the party last night? Someone trapped the bathroom door with that bloody Delayed Trip Jinx that was spreading like clap during fifth year. Turned my ankle. Good thing my shag was used to minor burns."

Harry got comfortable on Draco's stomach, watching with interest as Draco's Adam's apple bobbed nervously. "I was rather indisposed, but if I remember anyone, I'll let you know."

"You do that. And remember, I called dibs on..."

"Yes, yes, you're hired. My one and only fag hag. The pay is nil but the benefits of my extraordinarily fashionable company are enormous. Now, vanish."

"Love you, too. And I want details." A dramatic crack marked Millie's Disapparation.

"Does she always know where you are?"

"Um... not always. But often enough to be annoying. Sorry about that."

"Funnily enough, stranger things have happened to me than listening to a crude conversation about shagging being yelled through my front door. Thank Merlin for privacy wards, otherwise the neighbors would be lapping this up." Harry lifted his head and turned, realizing that Draco's cock was still very much in the mood, despite the interruption.

Speaking of lapping...

This time Harry started with Draco's balls. His nose quivered delightedly at the soapy-and-lightly-musky scent as he stretched out his tongue to trace the dividing line. "Fuck, that feels good," Draco groaned, and it was a glorious sound, except that his word choice pulled Harry's mind into a bad place.

Harry made a pained face, trying to focus on the enthusiastic, dark pink cock bobbing happily just in front of his nose. "I can't believe I was felt up by Millicent Bulstrode."

"It happens to all of us eventually."

"You don't mean..."

"I'd rather not talk about it."

Harry didn't have a chance to refrain from asking, because the bloody doorbell rang loudly enough to wake the dead.

"Circe's twat! Is that your doorbell, or is the Apocalypse being announced?" Draco thought, based on Harry's expression, that it might be the latter.

"Only one person I know rings like that." Harry sighed. The rush of air was an invigorating sensation for Draco's cock. The voice that penetrated the door was... not.

"Harry! Harry, open the door THIS INSTANT!"

"Hermione, I'm busy right now," Harry yelled.

"As in 'busy,'" Draco clarified, just as loudly.

"He's with you now?"

"Yes, and unless you want to see a great deal more of both of us than anyone except a Healer has recently, you'll keep to that side of the door," Harry said in a warning tone.

"I'll bet she always knows where you are." Draco would have found it all very amusing if his cock were not left standing there, not being sucked, as a result.

"Often enough to be annoying."

"HARRY! We need to DISCUSS this and not through a door!"

"I don't suppose you're here offering to be my fag hag, are you?"

This apparently crossed some line. The Emergency Apparation provision in Harry's general wards was invoked, and Draco was quite startled (though not precisely surprised) to see Hermione standing in the hallway, hand over her eyes. She flung the 'Daily Prophet' in their general direction and Disapparated with a veritable explosion.

Draco relaxed his death grip on Harry's shoulders. "I didn't realize that it was possible to Disapparate disapprovingly. Does Granger always break and enter to deliver your paper?"

"Only when she's mad as hell and I refuse to answer the door."

"So, it's a regular thing."

"Oh, sod off."

"Well, we've been trying, but our friends and family aren't cooperating."

Harry flopped back onto the stairs beside Draco. "Sorry, but for a variety of reasons, her voice just..." He looked down his body with a disgruntled expression. "Give me a few."

Draco decided to satisfy his curiosity since the chances of other parts of him being satisfied were looking slim at the moment. "Is it true what they say about her parties?"

"Ever since George nearly incited an orgy at Ron and Hermione's fifth wedding anniversary...well, let's just say that there's a reason we call that one 'the party to end all parties.'"

"Wow."

"Yeah. Well. Shall we see what the shit stirrers have done with the cesspool?" Harry Summoned the paper. "I think this takes some of the mystery out of how Millie found you."

Draco stared at the image. He had to admit, he and Potter's own little Dolce and Gabanna had talent. It helped that they were designing for fairly impressive bodies and that the photo was taken in moonlight, against the backdrop of gracious architecture; but still, the leather alone was a work of art. In fact, if the image in question was in a frame on Draco's bedside table, he would consider it...well, he would 'consider' it nightly before sleeping (assuming Harry wasn't actually with him).

On the front page of the paper, however...

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes."

"This has to be doctored. Even drunk off my arse, I don't smile like that."

As much as Harry would have liked to join Draco in denial, he had a pretty clear memory of that little moonlit carrying-over-the-threshold moment. Harry would be happy to have the memento if he wasn't sharing it with the entire newspaper-reading public. "Um, I'm afraid you did."

"Yeah, well, you look pretty chuffed yourself. And your hand is on my arse."

"From this angle it looks like yours is going after a nipple. And I admit I wasn't exactly unhappy just then. After all, you really are very charming at around three or four sheets to the wind."

Draco 'humphed' and tried to look entirely displeased.

"Face it, Draco: we really are on the cover of the 'Daily Prophet,' looking like...I don't know...some gay magazine's Fetish Wedding Couple of the Year." Harry could see why the boys didn't want their design activities acknowledged. Any guy who dressed males in that getup had best be prepared to field lots of interested looks from their fellow males. Though Harry was rather at a loss as to figure where Al had come by such a talent; Merlin knew that Ginny had as little color sense as her dear, maroon-sweater-and-red-hair-pairing mother. And, well, Harry's idea of success on that front was not letting it be generally known that he possessed and occasionally wore novelty boxers.

This yielded another sound of contempt. "Well, at least we look fabulous. And far more original than this headline. 'The Word is 'Out!' Lifelong Rivalry a cover for what was going on under the covers!' Do we even want to read the article?"

Draco was sort of cute when he was being snarky about other people, Harry decided. Even so, he tossed the paper across the room in annoyance. "Stupid, bloody paper."

"Down with the 'Daily Fishwrapper.'" They sprawled side by side on the stairs for a while, casually intertwined.

"Our children are annoying," Harry said with a sigh.

"Absolutely."

"Our friends are intolerable."

"Indubitably."

Cue another knock at the door. "Harry?"

"Speak of the fiends...friends..."

Harry flopped over on his back, staring at the ceiling with a familiar 'Why me?' feeling. "Shut up, you." More loudly, he called, "Yes, Luna?"

"Are you okay?"

"Considering that so far today I've traumatized my children, pretty much come to grips with the whole bisexual thing, and been yelled at by Hermione, I'd say I'm actually doing rather well. Oh, and I found out that I was groped by Millicent Bulstrode last night."

"Ah. Happens to everyone eventually."

Draco shook with suppressed laughter against Harry's shoulder. Was I the only one who escaped school unmolested by Millicent?

Luna continued without missing a beat. "So, you've seen the 'Prophet,' then?"

"Hasn't everyone?"

"Sorry about that. Tatiana didn't realize it was you."

"Which one of us?" Draco asked. "Oh, wait. I can guess," he added, sounding rather bitter.

"Not necessarily. We're talking about a woman who, upon meeting me, said, 'There's something on your forehead, honey,' and tried to wipe off my scar with her handkerchief." Harry was actually a little fond of Tatiana on account of it.

"You know that poor Tatiana has no memory for faces. She hadn't the least idea who either of you were last night when she took the photo." Pitching her voice as if talking over Harry's head...a curious effect, considering she was still outside the door and presumably couldn't see them...Luna called out, "Sorry, Draco. Tatiana was horrified when she found out they'd said such vulgar things. She's taken quite a liking to you."

Draco wiggled around to reverse their positions. "Quite all right," he said, a trifle pompously. He ignored Harry snorting practically in his ear and settled his thighs around Harry's hips, which brought a much more interesting sound.

In a slightly strained voice, Harry called, "Luna, if you don't mind... We've got some...er...business to attend to."

"Really? You might want this, then."

For the second time that day, one of Harry's friends abused their emergency house entering privileges to toss something to him. Luna didn't bother not trying to look, though.

Harry studied the little tube and swallowed. He was afraid to unroll the piece of paper for fear it had instructions or something. "Do I want to know why you carry lube around with you?"

"No. Have fun! Or, more fun, rather."

She stepped out and Disapparated.

Draco's face remained glued to Harry's neck, radiating heat. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that she just saw my arse."

"Whatever wasn't covered by my hand. Think of it this way: better Luna than Hermione."

"Point."

Draco contemplated the lube. "Are we ready for quite this much 'fun?'"

Harry joined him in solemn evaluation of the little container. "There's nothing wrong with blowjobs," he finally pronounced sagely.

"Hmm, yes. No need to rush into...other things." Where does one find out about this sort of thing so as not to look like an utter ninnyhammer? And... how do you decide who puts what, where? Draco wondered if the accompanying piece of paper had anything useful towards that end on it.

Before he could consider whether he really wanted to know what Luna considered 'useful' with regards to gay sex, he unrolled it.

"Oh," Draco said softly. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the image repeating on the page.

"What? Don't tell me that Luna..." Harry stopped when he looked at the photo. "Oh." Then, "I'm glad they didn't print this one."

Photo-Harry, his entire body and facial expression shaped in a reassuring, protective attitude, gently nuzzled photo-Draco's cheek again and again; each time, photo-Draco turned to look at photo-Harry with an open, unguarded expression of absolute trust. The soft flicker of candlelight gave it an intimacy and warmth missing from the pretty, sparkling front-page shot, and Draco completely understood why Harry wanted to keep this image to themselves.

Harry cleared his throat, and it sounded like a fearsome beast growling in his chest. It was all Draco could do not to startle quite violently.

"So... I'm going to a wedding in December," Harry said. He left it there, a noncommittal statement with fear, anticipation, and a wealth of hope quivering behind it.

"What a coincidence. So am I." Draco felt the heartbeat beneath his ear speed up, and his own breath came a little faster, stirring the black hairs on Harry's chest with each little pant. "On Christmas Day."

"Amazing. Sounds just like the one I'm going to. My evil, manipulative daughter is marrying this relatively nice, if a bit high-strung, young man whom she met at school. I'd worry about him except that he's a Ravenclaw, so I assume that he's clever enough to figure out what he's getting into."

"Hmm. That sounds so familiar, I must conclude that it's the same wedding. Except that I think the high-strung fellow is pretty manipulative in his own right. Comes from a rather dodgy family, you know."

"So I've heard. Dodgy, but incredibly good-looking."

That deserved some sort of reward, Draco decided. He curled his fingers around Harry's hand, and they made love to each other's palms.

"You make an excellent point. At least your spoiled, manipulative, fairly clever grandchildren will look fabulous."

"And that's the main thing, of course."

"Of course. So... do you have a date?"

"I should have one, otherwise my ex might be insufferably sympathetic." Harry cleared his throat again and stroked Draco's hair as if it was something fragile. "I'd like to have one."

Draco shivered and manfully restrained the urge to bounce up and down on the stairs...and possibly on Harry...squealing, 'Yes, of course I'll go with you, you tosser!'

"Hmm. I should have a date, too." He nuzzled in, making sure that Harry could feel the smile on his lips. "It would be even better if he was someone who would embarrass my son and scandalize my ex. Of course... I'd have to go on practice dates with him beforehand. You know. To work out if we made a good looking couple, could keep a conversation going... find out if he makes breakfast consistently well... that sort of thing."

"Well, if that's what you need, I'm your man." It was said playfully, but Harry's voice was warm and full of all sorts of delightful implications.

Draco felt Harry press a grinning kiss against his hair. Felt his own face open into a wide smile, shining with mischief and satiety and a hopeful anticipation.

"Yeah... you are."

FIN

Notes:

Okay, I know it's crackfic... but, unless I'm writing characters who are in an established, monogamous relationship (or the Mutual Deflowering Scenario OF DOOM), I do try to make a point of mentioning precautions against disease. 'Cause really, the universe is funnier and hotter without spreading VD.

My original estimate for this fic was ca. 8,000 words. 35,000 words later...

A drabble writer I am not. Thank you so very much, SeverusLovesUs, for continuing to work with me on this despite my constant underestimates of how long this would be.

Thanks also to Ravine and Red_Rahl, who both commented on the first very, very rough draft of the first chapter, and encouraged me not to chuck the whole business in the bin out of frustration.

And finally, thank you to SS Lupin, who convinced me to reveal the original nucleus of this idea during our Sunday morning walk to Mass while we were attending Terminus in Chicago and who subsequently cajoled me into not letting the idea go. :- )