rurounihime (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rurounihime) wrote2004-12-10 11:02 pm
rurounihime) wrote2004-12-10 11:02 pm
Entry tags:
- fic,
- h/d,
- villaverse
Fic
Okay, this is already up on Fru's lj (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dacro), and I am now posting here as well.
Title: The Dance (aka Six Hours)
Author:dacro and rurounihime (Fru and Ru)
Pairing: H/D
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not ours, sadly. They are JK’s.
Summary: Draco craves a little night life and some things cannot be lived without.
Written in the Six Days at the Villa and At Night universe.
Betas:saladbats and lilysunshine1 *hugs* Thanks guys!
To Fru: Girl, you are so wonderful. It's been a pleasure writing with you. It's wonderful to have something to call ours. Thanks for all your hard work. ^_^
…
…
He carefully crawled back into bed and passed me a latte that smelled like heaven. I knew I was in trouble.
“Harry. As much as I love the way we’ve been filling our evenings…” His cool index finger traced a trail around my navel. I almost spilled my coffee. “…I think it may be time to see the world outside your bedroom.”
“Our bedroom.” I reminded him. “This smells wonderful, thank you.” I set my cup down on the bedside table. I rested my head on his chest and his arms surrounded me. The warm, sweet scent of the vineyard mixing with the rich aroma of the espresso took my mind away from the conversation momentarily. He quietly asked me if I had plans for the evening. “Not yet. Should we have someone in for dinner, or go to a movie?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of ‘night life’, Harry.” He scooted down until we were eye to eye. If the latte hadn’t already made me his slave, the pink tongue along his bottom lip closed the deal. “Can you dance, my love?”
I could dance. But not like he could. It was enough to see him swaying to a beat I could not hear. Maybe it was the beat of the Florentine countryside. The wind has its own rhythm at night.
He looked otherworldly when he moved. His shirt slid around his waist in slight shifts when he twisted, and rode up when he raised his arms. When he danced with no shirt on, I could see every muscle. The ghost of his hand where it trailed over his skin.
“I don’t dance.”
He looked at me silently and then eased off the bed and padded from the room. I felt the silence pressing in on my ears. I looked at my drink where it sat on the bedside table and fell back, closed my eyes. The room felt colder.
His hands jolted me, soft skin against my fingers. He pulled me to my feet and put a hand over my lips. He tilted his head as if listening and I heard it. The chimes. He’d opened the veranda doors.
“Just move, Harry.” He guided me against him until our chests were touching and began to sway. On the low chimes he dipped. On the high chimes he rocked backward and forward. I went with him and it was easier than I remembered. His mouth met mine once, twice, and the dance became breathing.
I closed my eyes, bewitched by the chimes and the sweet fragrance just behind his ear. Our hands wandered, mirrors of each other. First hips, then backs, shoulders, hair. It was intoxicating.
I smiled at him. “You’re an excellent teacher.”
“Yes, I know,” he said with a smirk.
We fell onto our bed, soft laughter breaking the heat of the moment. I kissed him as images of how ‘my house’ had so quickly become ‘our home’ played through my mind.
Later, he asked again and I agreed. A night of dancing. I’d only do this for him and he knew it.
We ate a late dinner and chatted comfortably while washing up. When we were done, he kissed my nose and told me to wait in the living room. I read the paper until I heard his footsteps again.
Bare feet, black leather, snug cotton t-shirt, silver chain and a smirk.
“Acceptable?”
I could barely speak.
“Gods, you’re beautiful.”
* * *
He’d dressed me in clothing I had pushed to the back of the closet, looked me over in silence for several minutes, and led me to the front door of the house. The way his eyes gleamed, I could tell he was pleased. But I felt inadequate next to him. Green shirt to his black one, dark brown trousers. He’d tousled my hair with gentle fingers.
The doors opened at nine. I rested my chin on his shoulder and we inched forward in line. His back warmed my chest and I looped my arms around his waist; the cold air was whipping my own back. He made an appreciative sound and laced our fingers.
The room was vast and full of people. We passed a group of men. He laughed and murmured, “They’re looking at you.”
I shook my head, looked around. He smiled. The music was steady, a thumping pulse that beat into the floor and up into my feet. The dance floor was almost empty and I stared at the large space. He caught me looking and guided me to a table instead.
“Most clubs are pretty calm like this until after ten.” He squeezed my hand.
“Oh…yeah.” I squeezed back and tried to relax, but I was out of my element. Two men in front of the bar yelled at each other in Italian, my free hand was stuck to the table, and someone had activated the smoke machine. Draco turned my face to meet his.
“We don’t have to stay.” I believed him.
I shook my head. “No. I’m…this is fine.”
He nodded, and then waved his hand in the air. A young man wearing faded jean shorts and well-worn trainers balanced a neon tray. He grinned, jutted a hip and stared, but not at me.
“Wine? Something stronger?” He winked.
“Wine,” I said. The waiter looked at me, then turned away frowning. I watched him weave through the chatting people near the bar.
“Harry?” A touch on my arm. I looked at him, his silver hair shining under the lights. His eyes were narrowed and he leaned in. “You alright?”
“Just wanted wine.” I smiled at him and he smiled back. When he looked away again, I let myself frown briefly. Then his fingers wove through mine and pulled my hand toward him, cradling it against his chest. The waiter arrived with our drinks, looked at our hands, and walked away without a word.
I was suddenly ready to dance. We drained our glasses and I tilted my head toward the rapidly filling dance floor.
“You sure?” He licked the last drop of wine from the corner of his mouth.
“Yeah, I love this song.”
The steady Latin beat drowned out further conversation, and the smoke gave a strange, surreal feeling to the moment. He fell in like he was born to it, a smile for me before he closed his eyes and let the rhythm take him.
All I could do was watch. The lights flashed through the haze, bathing his skin and hair with colour. His hands slid up his chest, and then into the air, hips leading his body in a slow turn away from me.
I wasn’t the only one watching. Other men’s eyes, some women’s, on his body, the way the light accented each curve. He opened heavily lidded eyes and grasped my hand, pulled me to him, and I wondered if he’d seen them too. His hands wavered down to my hips, showed me how to move. I felt him firm against me and flushed, pulled closer without thinking about it. He murmured beneath the droning thump of bass and smiled, tucking his head onto my shoulder. I felt his lips skim my neck and forgot the staring gazes, the other bodies around us.
We swayed, and the music pulsed deep. His hips circled, hands guiding mine to follow. I knew this. It felt familiar. I slid down his body, trailed fingers down his chest, saw the surprised smile on his face. The air was getting warmer, more bodies writhing to the music. He tugged me back up with two fingers beneath my chin and thrust his hips lightly into mine.
My turn to smile.
The music slipped seamlessly into a slow throbbing undertone. He pulled me against him smoothly, looped his arms around my neck. I slid my hands back and forth around his waist before clasping my arms around him. The heat radiated through his shirt into my skin. I could see the sweat on his temples, the glow in his eyes. He was having fun, and I realized that at no time during his two months at my home – our home – had he looked quite like this. My gut clenched and I thought back.
He had not looked like this on the veranda. In bed, his irises dark from the heat of our bodies, he had come close, but the look in his eyes had not reached this sort of intensity. Superseded by a different intensity, something deeper down. He wanted me when we made love. Fun was only part of it and the rest was… It made my chest feel like bursting every time. But this…
I realized I wanted him to have fun. With nothing else attached. The rest was for us alone. Now he needed this contact with others. I made my choice, kissed the sweat from his brow and worked my way around to his ear.
“Enjoy yourself. I want to watch.”
His eyes flew open, searching my expression. I wasn’t prepared for the kiss he gave me, sudden, burning and urgent. I wondered if I could let go.
“Good. I want to dance for you.” His voice breathy, thick with arousal, even over the wave of music. “Don’t go far, love.”
I shivered against him, then took a breath and stepped back. The tempo clicked up a notch and a mischievous grin played across his lips. We locked eyes as my back hit a pole on the edge of the dance floor. Our young waiter bumped into me. I bought two shots of something amber, draining one instantly.
I looked back through the sea of bodies and found him easily. A loose circle had formed around him, but his eyes met only mine. He was like a magnet, everyone was pulled to him. I didn’t trust them. He blew a kiss as his hips and feet found the new beat. Two attractive brunettes fell in step beside him and copied his movements. The dance floor filled up and the ring of bodies closed tighter around him. I had to keep moving to see him.
He closed his eyes and spun, arms outstretched. I could tell the music was consuming him. Dark patches formed on his shirt, and his fringe stuck to his face as he matched the pulse and passion of the steady beat. I swallowed the second shot, fists clenching as the dancers filled up the remaining space around him. Everyone was watching, no one touching. Not yet.
I’d seen enough. I wanted him back.
I started weaving through the nameless bodies, trying to keep him in view. A large hand grabbed his shoulder. I was almost there. He opened his eyes and turned to the intruder. A tall man, skin shining with sweat, pulled Draco toward him, saying something I couldn’t make out.
Draco didn’t speak Italian, but he could understand a little. Every day at the small markets along the road he picked up more. But not enough. I shoved another man aside and stepped into the circle. Draco looked relieved. The man said it again.
“He’s not,” I answered in Italian, taking his hand from Draco’s shoulder. Draco sighed and moved closer to me. The man reached again. I felt bodies bump mine, pushing me back. The man pulled Draco against him again. Draco frowned, shoving his hand away. His blond hair was slicked back against his head, the ends beading with sweat. I could smell his cologne around me like a soft curtain.
The man backed up and Draco pulled me closer until our bodies were touching again. “What did he say?”
“He said you’re too hot to be dancing alone.”
Draco sighed, slung an arm around my neck and bent backwards until his hips were pressed against mine. “Something he’ll just have to live with.”
I drew in a breath at the contact and smiled. He leaned back in and kissed me slowly, the music beating frantically around our ears. His mouth was hot, his shirt damp where it touched me. I felt through his hair, fingered the sweaty strands, and heard him moan softly against my lips. His hips rocked me into harder motion and I went.
I never behaved this way in public. Another thrust and ‘Harry’ whispered against my temple and I forgot the crowd entirely. I couldn’t get close enough. I fed off the room’s energy, the burn of the alcohol and the raw need pouring off both of us. My hands left his hair, his face, and moved lower. He hissed approval, throwing his head back. I forgot about dancing and squeezed the cloth and flesh under my hands, rubbing against him without shame, eyes closed. The music pushed us on.
Then I was holding nothing.
The same tall man from before blocked my path, smirking. I reached for my wand instinctively. It was at the villa. I scanned the crowd for Draco.
“Harry!”
He was being spun around by another man who was trying to kiss him. I moved forward, but the tall man held my shoulders, pushing himself against me. My fist stung after he fell. Draco pushed free and said something I couldn’t hear. The man with him backed down quickly. The music continued, bodies parting for him as he made his way back to me. He was in my arms again. I melted into him and did the only thing that I knew would protect us.
Suddenly, there was only silence, and his warmth.
“Harry, we’re on the veranda.”
The air was cooler than I could handle just then. I tugged the doors open and went inside, and he waited a moment before following me. I walked to the kitchen, filled a glass with water and drank it in three swallows. He watched me from the doorway. He was still breathing hard. I could see his shoulders rising and falling.
“Why did you do that?” he asked. His voice was not hard. Just curious. I handed him a glass of water.
“I don’t know.”
He drank, wiped his mouth with the back of his arm, and set the glass down. “Harry, it was alright. He wasn’t going to do anything.”
I put my glass beside his and walked past him. I felt itchy and alone, and wanted to be moving, going somewhere else, but I didn’t know where. Just away. I’d pushed things. Ruined his fun.
He followed me down the hall and then grabbed my arm, turning me toward him. He pushed me against the wall and kissed me hard.
“Dance with me,” he murmured. His voice was soft.
He pulled me into the living room and turned on the stereo, never letting go of my hand. The drum thudded beneath electric guitar and he came around behind me, trailing his fingers over my chest. His lips were at the bend between my neck and shoulder and he whispered my name.
I closed my eyes and imagined other people around us. His hand fingered my collar and I felt his body heat against my back. Images of my behaviour at the club flashed across my mind. I stepped out of his embrace, suddenly ashamed. I backed away slowly, staring at one of his hands.
“I’m going to bed.”
The hand I was watching grabbed mine.
“Listen, Harry. It’s fine. They just wanted what they couldn’t have. We’re irresistible.”
I looked away from his smile stubbornly.
“Someone took you away from me, and I didn’t have my wand, Draco. Anything could have happened!” I headed for the door. He ran and stood in the opening, hands pressed against the frame.
“I adore you for wanting to protect me, but you should know better than anyone that I am fully capable of taking care of myself.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I sighed and looked down the hall behind him. “I’m going to bed,” I repeated, taking a step forward.
His hands were cool when they cupped my face. The tightness in my jaw lessened, and I closed my eyes. I knew he was mine, had given himself to me, but the doubts still swirled around my heart, making it hard to believe the truth. I wasn’t used to jealousy. It stung.
“Harry, love, please tell me what’s wrong.”
I dropped my head on his shoulder and stepped into his arms.
“I made a fool of myself. You were having a good time and I…overreacted and messed up the only thing you’ve ever asked me for since you got here.”
“No, it’s not your fault. I should have warned you about…never mind, it’s over now.” His arms tightened around me. “Please dance with me now? Once more to get it right?”
I looked at him closely. His eyes were warm, full, as they had been at the club. But he was here with me. I could not move for looking into his eyes, and he slowly set us both in motion, his slender hands on my hips. He closed the distance between our bodies in a smooth step and I felt the music beating through me again.
It was different from the dancing at the club, and I realized gradually that he had been holding back when I had not. His cheeks were hot, pupils dilated now as they had not been at the club, and his body was shivering. His fingers traced the seams of my trousers, nudging me closer. He lowered his head and breathed against my throat. I swallowed. I could feel him pressed against me, chest to groin. He rolled his hips once and I think I gasped.
His lips brushed mine. They were hot, teasing. I let him tease, ran my hands beneath the cleft of his shirt. His skin felt slick with sweat and he murmured something against my throat. I pulled him to me firmly and dipped as the music heightened, and he hissed, dropping his head back and clutching my shoulders. When he raised his head again, he kissed me harder than before.
My back was sweating already. The music thrummed, a deep underground pulse. The wind blew in through the veranda doors and he shivered in my arms. I touched my lips to his throat and he pushed against my body with his. I had to stop, pull in a breath, and then he was kissing me, his tongue languorous.
He moved a hand over my torso, unbuttoning my shirt. I felt the cold bite of the air on my back. My shirt slipped to the floor and he smiled. Blond hair brushed my forehead.
“I’ve been waiting all night to do that.”
“You have?” I sucked in a breath as he pressed a kiss into the flushed skin above my heart.
“Oh, yes, and this.” He crossed his hands across his stomach and pulled his t-shirt up and over his head. It made a mess of his damp hair. I wrapped him in my arms again and tasted the gooseflesh that covered his right shoulder.
“Mmm…me too.” I grinned against his collarbone.
The music changed to something a bit slower. I took the lead and swayed to the smooth female vocals. He hummed the chorus.
“This is perfect, Harry.”
His hands slid back to find mine, entwining our fingers. He unfurled then, stretching both of our arms out to the sides, and slowly up into the air, still joined. Skin pressed against skin, cool and hot at the same time. We kissed and I felt whole again. I was his. I suddenly wanted to show him what that meant to me.
One of my hands left his and trailed around his waist, tracing his belt until I found the buckle. I managed to get it undone with one hand, and dragged the fingers of the other down from his hand along the underside of his arm all the way to his torso. He lowered his arm, following my hand down to his belt, and it hovered there while I tugged the long strip of leather through the loops of his trousers. When I touched the buttons there, he made a small sound and intertwined his fingers with mine.
There was a small space between our hips, warm with the heat of our bodies. I felt like I was in a pocket of air meant only for us, with the sound of the chimes we both knew so well mingling with the languid pulse of the music. He slid his hand over the top of mine where I gripped his waist just below the top edge of his trousers. I could feel him fingering my belt line below the small of my back. My hands slid lower on his hips and he shivered, pressing the palm of his hand flat against my back and pulling me toward him. His mouth was on mine and it was so warm, his lips were hot, his tongue burning. I dipped lower against him with the music and his body began to shake. He bent, rested his forehead against my shoulder. I felt his fingers clench against my skin.
And there was a sound. Not from the music. Chittering. I lifted my eyes and saw an owl the color of the hills under twilight perched on the veranda railing. I stopped moving and Draco made a soft murmur into my shoulder, lips brushing my skin. His tone sounded desperate and his fingers edged under the waistline of my trousers.
I raised my hands to his face and lifted it, turned him toward the owl. His eyes looked hazy for a second, then they narrowed and he stopped moving. I felt him step backward and pulled him more tightly against me.
He turned grey eyes to me. They were dark and hard, but the anger wasn’t directed at me. “Bloody… Who is it for?”
“Don’t go anywhere, we’re not done yet.” I kissed him quickly and watched a half-smile appear. “I’ll just untie it from her leg, and then we can get back to our…dance.” I winked, but his eyes were focused on the veranda.
Once the letter was in my hands, I was very impressed with the small owl. The envelope was thick and heavy. I didn’t have to turn it over to know who it was from, or that I didn’t want to open it. I made my way inside, closing the doors behind me, shutting out the cold night air and our chimes.
“It’s for me…from the Ministry.” I set it down on the coffee table. “I’ll look at it tomorrow.” I wanted to pick up where we left off, wanted to fall into his arms and allow his skin to warm mine again.
“You should read it now.” He bit his bottom lip and stared at the envelope.
He was shifting back and forth on his feet, arms crossed, looking uncomfortable. I noticed he had pulled his shirt back on. I sighed, picked up the letter again and walked to him.
“Are you sure? I doubt it’s good news.”
He nodded his head wordlessly. His eyes were fixed on the envelope. I watched him, using my finger to rip through the top edge, and pulled the sheaf of papers out. There were quite a few of them, but on top—
“They… want me to come back.”
He said nothing. I skimmed over the letter again. “They’ll give me my old job back. No questions asked. If I come back within a week.”
“Why.” It was soft, not a question. I read on.
“Uprising. Possibly some of the survivors from Voldemort’s side. People missing from certain villages… wizards, some Aurors. It’s been years, though. Voldemort’s dead. I can’t see why they would—”
His shoulders hunched and he looked past me to the glass veranda doors. I stepped closer to him, and then stopped. There was something in the way he stood. His body was so stiff.
“You know I’m not going, Draco.” I put the letter and envelope down on the top of the couch. “Draco?”
His eyes flickered to mine. They were narrowed. He glanced at the letter for a long moment and his shoulders dropped. I barely saw the movement. Just the idea of it.
He sighed.
His hand found mine and linked our fingers. He drew me from the living room in silence, led me down the hall into the bedroom and shut the door. The music was muffled, barely audible. He pulled me slowly to him and began to kiss me intensely. I fell into it, and when we parted for breath, I tried to look at him. His eyes were lowered.
“Draco?”
He lifted his hand, stilled my lips. “Just… Make love to me, Harry.”
I blinked and touched his fingers where they rested against my mouth. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head, and I felt his hands sliding over me urgently. His face tightened and he closed his eyes. “Please.”
I wanted to talk about it, calm his fears, but his hands kept moving, distracting me. I wrapped my fingers around his wrists and held them until his eyes finally opened. He dropped his gaze down at our hands. I brought his fingers to my mouth, and kissed each knuckle. I heard him swallow.
“I won’t leave you. Please believe me.” My voice sounded strained, but I meant every word. Living without him again was not an option. He smiled faintly and lowered our hands, moving in for a kiss, but his mouth stopped a fraction away from mine. He was so close I could feel the heat hovering between us.
“Shh...” he whispered, breaking the last sliver of space that separated us, moulding his body to mine, finding my lips, invading my every thought.
My heart sped up as I buried my face in his hair and inhaled the sweat, smoke, and night air that clung to each strand. He moaned across my ear and I responded, pushing him backward until we were against the wall. He guided my hands to the bottom of his shirt and I knew what he wanted. I pushed it up his chest, tasting all the soft skin hiding beneath the fabric. He moaned again and I slid the shirt over his head, up his raised arms, and twisted it around his wrists. I held him there with my left hand and savoured the view. He was breathtaking, arching away from the wall, head back, eyes shut tight. I stroked his stomach and shivered when he hissed, stepping forward until his back was flush against the wall.
He held my gaze and opened his stance. Permission.
I released his arms, and he looped them over my head, his chest rapidly rising and falling. My hands traced leather-covered hips, down, then forward. His heat rushed to meet my fingertips and my throat gave a low hum. He lifted one leg, running it leisurely up the outside of mine, inviting me closer. I pulled his leg up to my hip. He looked at me, licking his lips. I dove in to taste him again.
He wrapped his other leg around me as I lifted him off the floor, making contact with a hardness that mirrored my own. The wall took some of his weight. He lowered his mouth to mine once more and I rolled my hips. We fit together perfectly. He was the only man I ever wanted this with. I couldn’t even imagine anyone else.
His hands were hot against my face and he whispered something. I lowered his feet to the floor and undid the buttons on his trousers, sliding the glossy fabric down over his hips. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath. His skin was so pale beneath my hands. Even the Italian sun had not darkened it there. He lifted himself again until he was wrapped around my waist, off of the floor, his back to the wall. I kissed his chest and he rested his head against the wall, lips parted. Eyes shut.
I found my own zipper and slid my trousers off. His fingers drifted down my back, clutching at me, and I pressed my hips into his until he gasped. He opened his eyes and watched me, breathing hard as I prepared him and summoned a condom. His irises glinted silver in the lamplight. He kept his eyes fixed on me until he was ready; they drifted almost shut when I entered him, but opened quickly, flicking over my face. I breathed a question – “Tell me… what’s wrong?” – but he shook his head and shut his eyes again, and any other words caught in my throat.
Just before he came, his eyes flew open and they were wet with tears. His voice whispered like the breeze, catching at the end. “Don’t go.”
I kissed the wet skin under his eyes. “Never… leave you,” I promised, breathing heavily. “Only yours.”
“Mine,” he whispered, tears now flowing freely. He lifted a trembling hand to my damp cheek. “I love you, Harry.”
I threw my head back and found release, surrounded by his warmth, shuddering against him. He wrapped me tighter, breathing my name against my scar. I could never leave this. I knew where I belonged.
We climbed beneath the cool sheets and held each other silently. He fell asleep half-draped over my chest.
My thoughts returned to the letter. I knew there would be consequences for declining their offer, but I couldn’t dwell on the unknown just yet. I looked down at the man asleep in my arms and ran my hand along the ridges of his back. I listened to his soft breathing, and the faint song of our chimes through the open window.
* * *
It was the next morning at the breakfast table when he looked at me with clear eyes set in a worn face and told me he wanted me to go back. The letter sat between us, the details of the bodies of missing Aurors discovered in the countryside around the Cotswolds. He swallowed, his throat bobbing, and said it again, Go, and then looked away, out over the auburn hills, and I didn’t know what to say.
...
Pt 4: The Return
...
...
Thanks for reading!
dacro), and I am now posting here as well. Title: The Dance (aka Six Hours)
Author:
dacro and rurounihime (Fru and Ru)Pairing: H/D
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not ours, sadly. They are JK’s.
Summary: Draco craves a little night life and some things cannot be lived without.
Written in the Six Days at the Villa and At Night universe.
Betas:
saladbats and lilysunshine1 *hugs* Thanks guys!To Fru: Girl, you are so wonderful. It's been a pleasure writing with you. It's wonderful to have something to call ours. Thanks for all your hard work. ^_^
…
…
He carefully crawled back into bed and passed me a latte that smelled like heaven. I knew I was in trouble.
“Harry. As much as I love the way we’ve been filling our evenings…” His cool index finger traced a trail around my navel. I almost spilled my coffee. “…I think it may be time to see the world outside your bedroom.”
“Our bedroom.” I reminded him. “This smells wonderful, thank you.” I set my cup down on the bedside table. I rested my head on his chest and his arms surrounded me. The warm, sweet scent of the vineyard mixing with the rich aroma of the espresso took my mind away from the conversation momentarily. He quietly asked me if I had plans for the evening. “Not yet. Should we have someone in for dinner, or go to a movie?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of ‘night life’, Harry.” He scooted down until we were eye to eye. If the latte hadn’t already made me his slave, the pink tongue along his bottom lip closed the deal. “Can you dance, my love?”
I could dance. But not like he could. It was enough to see him swaying to a beat I could not hear. Maybe it was the beat of the Florentine countryside. The wind has its own rhythm at night.
He looked otherworldly when he moved. His shirt slid around his waist in slight shifts when he twisted, and rode up when he raised his arms. When he danced with no shirt on, I could see every muscle. The ghost of his hand where it trailed over his skin.
“I don’t dance.”
He looked at me silently and then eased off the bed and padded from the room. I felt the silence pressing in on my ears. I looked at my drink where it sat on the bedside table and fell back, closed my eyes. The room felt colder.
His hands jolted me, soft skin against my fingers. He pulled me to my feet and put a hand over my lips. He tilted his head as if listening and I heard it. The chimes. He’d opened the veranda doors.
“Just move, Harry.” He guided me against him until our chests were touching and began to sway. On the low chimes he dipped. On the high chimes he rocked backward and forward. I went with him and it was easier than I remembered. His mouth met mine once, twice, and the dance became breathing.
I closed my eyes, bewitched by the chimes and the sweet fragrance just behind his ear. Our hands wandered, mirrors of each other. First hips, then backs, shoulders, hair. It was intoxicating.
I smiled at him. “You’re an excellent teacher.”
“Yes, I know,” he said with a smirk.
We fell onto our bed, soft laughter breaking the heat of the moment. I kissed him as images of how ‘my house’ had so quickly become ‘our home’ played through my mind.
Later, he asked again and I agreed. A night of dancing. I’d only do this for him and he knew it.
We ate a late dinner and chatted comfortably while washing up. When we were done, he kissed my nose and told me to wait in the living room. I read the paper until I heard his footsteps again.
Bare feet, black leather, snug cotton t-shirt, silver chain and a smirk.
“Acceptable?”
I could barely speak.
“Gods, you’re beautiful.”
* * *
He’d dressed me in clothing I had pushed to the back of the closet, looked me over in silence for several minutes, and led me to the front door of the house. The way his eyes gleamed, I could tell he was pleased. But I felt inadequate next to him. Green shirt to his black one, dark brown trousers. He’d tousled my hair with gentle fingers.
The doors opened at nine. I rested my chin on his shoulder and we inched forward in line. His back warmed my chest and I looped my arms around his waist; the cold air was whipping my own back. He made an appreciative sound and laced our fingers.
The room was vast and full of people. We passed a group of men. He laughed and murmured, “They’re looking at you.”
I shook my head, looked around. He smiled. The music was steady, a thumping pulse that beat into the floor and up into my feet. The dance floor was almost empty and I stared at the large space. He caught me looking and guided me to a table instead.
“Most clubs are pretty calm like this until after ten.” He squeezed my hand.
“Oh…yeah.” I squeezed back and tried to relax, but I was out of my element. Two men in front of the bar yelled at each other in Italian, my free hand was stuck to the table, and someone had activated the smoke machine. Draco turned my face to meet his.
“We don’t have to stay.” I believed him.
I shook my head. “No. I’m…this is fine.”
He nodded, and then waved his hand in the air. A young man wearing faded jean shorts and well-worn trainers balanced a neon tray. He grinned, jutted a hip and stared, but not at me.
“Wine? Something stronger?” He winked.
“Wine,” I said. The waiter looked at me, then turned away frowning. I watched him weave through the chatting people near the bar.
“Harry?” A touch on my arm. I looked at him, his silver hair shining under the lights. His eyes were narrowed and he leaned in. “You alright?”
“Just wanted wine.” I smiled at him and he smiled back. When he looked away again, I let myself frown briefly. Then his fingers wove through mine and pulled my hand toward him, cradling it against his chest. The waiter arrived with our drinks, looked at our hands, and walked away without a word.
I was suddenly ready to dance. We drained our glasses and I tilted my head toward the rapidly filling dance floor.
“You sure?” He licked the last drop of wine from the corner of his mouth.
“Yeah, I love this song.”
The steady Latin beat drowned out further conversation, and the smoke gave a strange, surreal feeling to the moment. He fell in like he was born to it, a smile for me before he closed his eyes and let the rhythm take him.
All I could do was watch. The lights flashed through the haze, bathing his skin and hair with colour. His hands slid up his chest, and then into the air, hips leading his body in a slow turn away from me.
I wasn’t the only one watching. Other men’s eyes, some women’s, on his body, the way the light accented each curve. He opened heavily lidded eyes and grasped my hand, pulled me to him, and I wondered if he’d seen them too. His hands wavered down to my hips, showed me how to move. I felt him firm against me and flushed, pulled closer without thinking about it. He murmured beneath the droning thump of bass and smiled, tucking his head onto my shoulder. I felt his lips skim my neck and forgot the staring gazes, the other bodies around us.
We swayed, and the music pulsed deep. His hips circled, hands guiding mine to follow. I knew this. It felt familiar. I slid down his body, trailed fingers down his chest, saw the surprised smile on his face. The air was getting warmer, more bodies writhing to the music. He tugged me back up with two fingers beneath my chin and thrust his hips lightly into mine.
My turn to smile.
The music slipped seamlessly into a slow throbbing undertone. He pulled me against him smoothly, looped his arms around my neck. I slid my hands back and forth around his waist before clasping my arms around him. The heat radiated through his shirt into my skin. I could see the sweat on his temples, the glow in his eyes. He was having fun, and I realized that at no time during his two months at my home – our home – had he looked quite like this. My gut clenched and I thought back.
He had not looked like this on the veranda. In bed, his irises dark from the heat of our bodies, he had come close, but the look in his eyes had not reached this sort of intensity. Superseded by a different intensity, something deeper down. He wanted me when we made love. Fun was only part of it and the rest was… It made my chest feel like bursting every time. But this…
I realized I wanted him to have fun. With nothing else attached. The rest was for us alone. Now he needed this contact with others. I made my choice, kissed the sweat from his brow and worked my way around to his ear.
“Enjoy yourself. I want to watch.”
His eyes flew open, searching my expression. I wasn’t prepared for the kiss he gave me, sudden, burning and urgent. I wondered if I could let go.
“Good. I want to dance for you.” His voice breathy, thick with arousal, even over the wave of music. “Don’t go far, love.”
I shivered against him, then took a breath and stepped back. The tempo clicked up a notch and a mischievous grin played across his lips. We locked eyes as my back hit a pole on the edge of the dance floor. Our young waiter bumped into me. I bought two shots of something amber, draining one instantly.
I looked back through the sea of bodies and found him easily. A loose circle had formed around him, but his eyes met only mine. He was like a magnet, everyone was pulled to him. I didn’t trust them. He blew a kiss as his hips and feet found the new beat. Two attractive brunettes fell in step beside him and copied his movements. The dance floor filled up and the ring of bodies closed tighter around him. I had to keep moving to see him.
He closed his eyes and spun, arms outstretched. I could tell the music was consuming him. Dark patches formed on his shirt, and his fringe stuck to his face as he matched the pulse and passion of the steady beat. I swallowed the second shot, fists clenching as the dancers filled up the remaining space around him. Everyone was watching, no one touching. Not yet.
I’d seen enough. I wanted him back.
I started weaving through the nameless bodies, trying to keep him in view. A large hand grabbed his shoulder. I was almost there. He opened his eyes and turned to the intruder. A tall man, skin shining with sweat, pulled Draco toward him, saying something I couldn’t make out.
Draco didn’t speak Italian, but he could understand a little. Every day at the small markets along the road he picked up more. But not enough. I shoved another man aside and stepped into the circle. Draco looked relieved. The man said it again.
“He’s not,” I answered in Italian, taking his hand from Draco’s shoulder. Draco sighed and moved closer to me. The man reached again. I felt bodies bump mine, pushing me back. The man pulled Draco against him again. Draco frowned, shoving his hand away. His blond hair was slicked back against his head, the ends beading with sweat. I could smell his cologne around me like a soft curtain.
The man backed up and Draco pulled me closer until our bodies were touching again. “What did he say?”
“He said you’re too hot to be dancing alone.”
Draco sighed, slung an arm around my neck and bent backwards until his hips were pressed against mine. “Something he’ll just have to live with.”
I drew in a breath at the contact and smiled. He leaned back in and kissed me slowly, the music beating frantically around our ears. His mouth was hot, his shirt damp where it touched me. I felt through his hair, fingered the sweaty strands, and heard him moan softly against my lips. His hips rocked me into harder motion and I went.
I never behaved this way in public. Another thrust and ‘Harry’ whispered against my temple and I forgot the crowd entirely. I couldn’t get close enough. I fed off the room’s energy, the burn of the alcohol and the raw need pouring off both of us. My hands left his hair, his face, and moved lower. He hissed approval, throwing his head back. I forgot about dancing and squeezed the cloth and flesh under my hands, rubbing against him without shame, eyes closed. The music pushed us on.
Then I was holding nothing.
The same tall man from before blocked my path, smirking. I reached for my wand instinctively. It was at the villa. I scanned the crowd for Draco.
“Harry!”
He was being spun around by another man who was trying to kiss him. I moved forward, but the tall man held my shoulders, pushing himself against me. My fist stung after he fell. Draco pushed free and said something I couldn’t hear. The man with him backed down quickly. The music continued, bodies parting for him as he made his way back to me. He was in my arms again. I melted into him and did the only thing that I knew would protect us.
Suddenly, there was only silence, and his warmth.
“Harry, we’re on the veranda.”
The air was cooler than I could handle just then. I tugged the doors open and went inside, and he waited a moment before following me. I walked to the kitchen, filled a glass with water and drank it in three swallows. He watched me from the doorway. He was still breathing hard. I could see his shoulders rising and falling.
“Why did you do that?” he asked. His voice was not hard. Just curious. I handed him a glass of water.
“I don’t know.”
He drank, wiped his mouth with the back of his arm, and set the glass down. “Harry, it was alright. He wasn’t going to do anything.”
I put my glass beside his and walked past him. I felt itchy and alone, and wanted to be moving, going somewhere else, but I didn’t know where. Just away. I’d pushed things. Ruined his fun.
He followed me down the hall and then grabbed my arm, turning me toward him. He pushed me against the wall and kissed me hard.
“Dance with me,” he murmured. His voice was soft.
He pulled me into the living room and turned on the stereo, never letting go of my hand. The drum thudded beneath electric guitar and he came around behind me, trailing his fingers over my chest. His lips were at the bend between my neck and shoulder and he whispered my name.
I closed my eyes and imagined other people around us. His hand fingered my collar and I felt his body heat against my back. Images of my behaviour at the club flashed across my mind. I stepped out of his embrace, suddenly ashamed. I backed away slowly, staring at one of his hands.
“I’m going to bed.”
The hand I was watching grabbed mine.
“Listen, Harry. It’s fine. They just wanted what they couldn’t have. We’re irresistible.”
I looked away from his smile stubbornly.
“Someone took you away from me, and I didn’t have my wand, Draco. Anything could have happened!” I headed for the door. He ran and stood in the opening, hands pressed against the frame.
“I adore you for wanting to protect me, but you should know better than anyone that I am fully capable of taking care of myself.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I sighed and looked down the hall behind him. “I’m going to bed,” I repeated, taking a step forward.
His hands were cool when they cupped my face. The tightness in my jaw lessened, and I closed my eyes. I knew he was mine, had given himself to me, but the doubts still swirled around my heart, making it hard to believe the truth. I wasn’t used to jealousy. It stung.
“Harry, love, please tell me what’s wrong.”
I dropped my head on his shoulder and stepped into his arms.
“I made a fool of myself. You were having a good time and I…overreacted and messed up the only thing you’ve ever asked me for since you got here.”
“No, it’s not your fault. I should have warned you about…never mind, it’s over now.” His arms tightened around me. “Please dance with me now? Once more to get it right?”
I looked at him closely. His eyes were warm, full, as they had been at the club. But he was here with me. I could not move for looking into his eyes, and he slowly set us both in motion, his slender hands on my hips. He closed the distance between our bodies in a smooth step and I felt the music beating through me again.
It was different from the dancing at the club, and I realized gradually that he had been holding back when I had not. His cheeks were hot, pupils dilated now as they had not been at the club, and his body was shivering. His fingers traced the seams of my trousers, nudging me closer. He lowered his head and breathed against my throat. I swallowed. I could feel him pressed against me, chest to groin. He rolled his hips once and I think I gasped.
His lips brushed mine. They were hot, teasing. I let him tease, ran my hands beneath the cleft of his shirt. His skin felt slick with sweat and he murmured something against my throat. I pulled him to me firmly and dipped as the music heightened, and he hissed, dropping his head back and clutching my shoulders. When he raised his head again, he kissed me harder than before.
My back was sweating already. The music thrummed, a deep underground pulse. The wind blew in through the veranda doors and he shivered in my arms. I touched my lips to his throat and he pushed against my body with his. I had to stop, pull in a breath, and then he was kissing me, his tongue languorous.
He moved a hand over my torso, unbuttoning my shirt. I felt the cold bite of the air on my back. My shirt slipped to the floor and he smiled. Blond hair brushed my forehead.
“I’ve been waiting all night to do that.”
“You have?” I sucked in a breath as he pressed a kiss into the flushed skin above my heart.
“Oh, yes, and this.” He crossed his hands across his stomach and pulled his t-shirt up and over his head. It made a mess of his damp hair. I wrapped him in my arms again and tasted the gooseflesh that covered his right shoulder.
“Mmm…me too.” I grinned against his collarbone.
The music changed to something a bit slower. I took the lead and swayed to the smooth female vocals. He hummed the chorus.
“This is perfect, Harry.”
His hands slid back to find mine, entwining our fingers. He unfurled then, stretching both of our arms out to the sides, and slowly up into the air, still joined. Skin pressed against skin, cool and hot at the same time. We kissed and I felt whole again. I was his. I suddenly wanted to show him what that meant to me.
One of my hands left his and trailed around his waist, tracing his belt until I found the buckle. I managed to get it undone with one hand, and dragged the fingers of the other down from his hand along the underside of his arm all the way to his torso. He lowered his arm, following my hand down to his belt, and it hovered there while I tugged the long strip of leather through the loops of his trousers. When I touched the buttons there, he made a small sound and intertwined his fingers with mine.
There was a small space between our hips, warm with the heat of our bodies. I felt like I was in a pocket of air meant only for us, with the sound of the chimes we both knew so well mingling with the languid pulse of the music. He slid his hand over the top of mine where I gripped his waist just below the top edge of his trousers. I could feel him fingering my belt line below the small of my back. My hands slid lower on his hips and he shivered, pressing the palm of his hand flat against my back and pulling me toward him. His mouth was on mine and it was so warm, his lips were hot, his tongue burning. I dipped lower against him with the music and his body began to shake. He bent, rested his forehead against my shoulder. I felt his fingers clench against my skin.
And there was a sound. Not from the music. Chittering. I lifted my eyes and saw an owl the color of the hills under twilight perched on the veranda railing. I stopped moving and Draco made a soft murmur into my shoulder, lips brushing my skin. His tone sounded desperate and his fingers edged under the waistline of my trousers.
I raised my hands to his face and lifted it, turned him toward the owl. His eyes looked hazy for a second, then they narrowed and he stopped moving. I felt him step backward and pulled him more tightly against me.
He turned grey eyes to me. They were dark and hard, but the anger wasn’t directed at me. “Bloody… Who is it for?”
“Don’t go anywhere, we’re not done yet.” I kissed him quickly and watched a half-smile appear. “I’ll just untie it from her leg, and then we can get back to our…dance.” I winked, but his eyes were focused on the veranda.
Once the letter was in my hands, I was very impressed with the small owl. The envelope was thick and heavy. I didn’t have to turn it over to know who it was from, or that I didn’t want to open it. I made my way inside, closing the doors behind me, shutting out the cold night air and our chimes.
“It’s for me…from the Ministry.” I set it down on the coffee table. “I’ll look at it tomorrow.” I wanted to pick up where we left off, wanted to fall into his arms and allow his skin to warm mine again.
“You should read it now.” He bit his bottom lip and stared at the envelope.
He was shifting back and forth on his feet, arms crossed, looking uncomfortable. I noticed he had pulled his shirt back on. I sighed, picked up the letter again and walked to him.
“Are you sure? I doubt it’s good news.”
He nodded his head wordlessly. His eyes were fixed on the envelope. I watched him, using my finger to rip through the top edge, and pulled the sheaf of papers out. There were quite a few of them, but on top—
“They… want me to come back.”
He said nothing. I skimmed over the letter again. “They’ll give me my old job back. No questions asked. If I come back within a week.”
“Why.” It was soft, not a question. I read on.
“Uprising. Possibly some of the survivors from Voldemort’s side. People missing from certain villages… wizards, some Aurors. It’s been years, though. Voldemort’s dead. I can’t see why they would—”
His shoulders hunched and he looked past me to the glass veranda doors. I stepped closer to him, and then stopped. There was something in the way he stood. His body was so stiff.
“You know I’m not going, Draco.” I put the letter and envelope down on the top of the couch. “Draco?”
His eyes flickered to mine. They were narrowed. He glanced at the letter for a long moment and his shoulders dropped. I barely saw the movement. Just the idea of it.
He sighed.
His hand found mine and linked our fingers. He drew me from the living room in silence, led me down the hall into the bedroom and shut the door. The music was muffled, barely audible. He pulled me slowly to him and began to kiss me intensely. I fell into it, and when we parted for breath, I tried to look at him. His eyes were lowered.
“Draco?”
He lifted his hand, stilled my lips. “Just… Make love to me, Harry.”
I blinked and touched his fingers where they rested against my mouth. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head, and I felt his hands sliding over me urgently. His face tightened and he closed his eyes. “Please.”
I wanted to talk about it, calm his fears, but his hands kept moving, distracting me. I wrapped my fingers around his wrists and held them until his eyes finally opened. He dropped his gaze down at our hands. I brought his fingers to my mouth, and kissed each knuckle. I heard him swallow.
“I won’t leave you. Please believe me.” My voice sounded strained, but I meant every word. Living without him again was not an option. He smiled faintly and lowered our hands, moving in for a kiss, but his mouth stopped a fraction away from mine. He was so close I could feel the heat hovering between us.
“Shh...” he whispered, breaking the last sliver of space that separated us, moulding his body to mine, finding my lips, invading my every thought.
My heart sped up as I buried my face in his hair and inhaled the sweat, smoke, and night air that clung to each strand. He moaned across my ear and I responded, pushing him backward until we were against the wall. He guided my hands to the bottom of his shirt and I knew what he wanted. I pushed it up his chest, tasting all the soft skin hiding beneath the fabric. He moaned again and I slid the shirt over his head, up his raised arms, and twisted it around his wrists. I held him there with my left hand and savoured the view. He was breathtaking, arching away from the wall, head back, eyes shut tight. I stroked his stomach and shivered when he hissed, stepping forward until his back was flush against the wall.
He held my gaze and opened his stance. Permission.
I released his arms, and he looped them over my head, his chest rapidly rising and falling. My hands traced leather-covered hips, down, then forward. His heat rushed to meet my fingertips and my throat gave a low hum. He lifted one leg, running it leisurely up the outside of mine, inviting me closer. I pulled his leg up to my hip. He looked at me, licking his lips. I dove in to taste him again.
He wrapped his other leg around me as I lifted him off the floor, making contact with a hardness that mirrored my own. The wall took some of his weight. He lowered his mouth to mine once more and I rolled my hips. We fit together perfectly. He was the only man I ever wanted this with. I couldn’t even imagine anyone else.
His hands were hot against my face and he whispered something. I lowered his feet to the floor and undid the buttons on his trousers, sliding the glossy fabric down over his hips. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath. His skin was so pale beneath my hands. Even the Italian sun had not darkened it there. He lifted himself again until he was wrapped around my waist, off of the floor, his back to the wall. I kissed his chest and he rested his head against the wall, lips parted. Eyes shut.
I found my own zipper and slid my trousers off. His fingers drifted down my back, clutching at me, and I pressed my hips into his until he gasped. He opened his eyes and watched me, breathing hard as I prepared him and summoned a condom. His irises glinted silver in the lamplight. He kept his eyes fixed on me until he was ready; they drifted almost shut when I entered him, but opened quickly, flicking over my face. I breathed a question – “Tell me… what’s wrong?” – but he shook his head and shut his eyes again, and any other words caught in my throat.
Just before he came, his eyes flew open and they were wet with tears. His voice whispered like the breeze, catching at the end. “Don’t go.”
I kissed the wet skin under his eyes. “Never… leave you,” I promised, breathing heavily. “Only yours.”
“Mine,” he whispered, tears now flowing freely. He lifted a trembling hand to my damp cheek. “I love you, Harry.”
I threw my head back and found release, surrounded by his warmth, shuddering against him. He wrapped me tighter, breathing my name against my scar. I could never leave this. I knew where I belonged.
We climbed beneath the cool sheets and held each other silently. He fell asleep half-draped over my chest.
My thoughts returned to the letter. I knew there would be consequences for declining their offer, but I couldn’t dwell on the unknown just yet. I looked down at the man asleep in my arms and ran my hand along the ridges of his back. I listened to his soft breathing, and the faint song of our chimes through the open window.
* * *
It was the next morning at the breakfast table when he looked at me with clear eyes set in a worn face and told me he wanted me to go back. The letter sat between us, the details of the bodies of missing Aurors discovered in the countryside around the Cotswolds. He swallowed, his throat bobbing, and said it again, Go, and then looked away, out over the auburn hills, and I didn’t know what to say.
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Pt 4: The Return
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