Draco and Harry: Escorts Entangled

Chapter Two

Spain was not Draco's favorite place. It always seemed hot and dusty to him and the sight that currently met his eyes did nothing to negate that opinion. Heat waves rippled over the twisted rows of ripening grapes and the tang of dust seemed heavy in the air. He snorted. A vineyard. Who would have guessed?

Draco swirled the wine in his glass and took a drink. The cool liquid did nothing to alleviate the sweat he felt collecting beneath his arms and he had already shucked his robes in favor of trousers and shirt. He wished he had thought to bring a pair of his Muggle sunglasses. Spain was damnably bright.

His host finished scratching figures on parchment and tossed aside his black quill before leaning back in his chair.

"All right, suppose you tell me what inescapable trauma spurred this visit? You have been quite obedient for the past six years, leaving me to my solitude, as requested."

"I would not have disturbed you if it was not urgent," Draco said and spun the liquid to watch the spidery legs crawl down the sides of the crystal.

"I can only assume it involves your idiotic paramour?" he sneered and Draco looked at him in surprise.

"You know about that?"

A contemptuous growl greeted Draco's words. "I might be in exile, but I still subscribe to the Daily Prophet. I feel it prudent to stay abreast of happenings in the dear homeland."

Draco gulped another mouthful of wine, disturbed even though he should have expected it. In a way, it made things easier, but he had already rehearsed the words intended to break the news gently. The Daily Prophet. Well then, he already knew most of it, albeit a somewhat skewed version.

Is it true the mighty Saviour broke you out of Azkaban?"

If the words were intended to degrade Draco, they failed. He turned to face his host directly. "He loves me," Draco said simply. He raised his chin defiantly. "And I love him."

Two palms slapped loudly against the desk as the man shot to his feet. "God damn it, Draco! How the hell did you allow that to happen? You know what he is!"

Draco met the black eyes angrily. "And what is he?"

The man swept around the desk with a whirl of dark robes. Even in the beastly summer heat, the bastard would insist on dark colors. Frankly, Draco was surprised they weren't black. The green was dark enough that it was difficult to tell.

"He's a Gryffindor! Not to mention he is the worst bloody Gryffindor of all!"

The words hit home, but not at all in the way intended.

"He is not so Gryffindorish these days," Draco said blearily. "That's the problem."

The man glared at him and stalked to the sideboard to pour a second glass of wine. He tasted it carefully and muttered something about "perhaps a bit more concord in the next batch." Draco had to smile.

"It is hard to believe you have become a premium winemaker," he said.

"It is hard to believe you have allowed your prick to turn you into Harry Potter's rentboy." Draco clenched his jaw but said nothing. He had expected resistance. His host sighed and continued, "Winemaking is not so different from brewing potions, actually."

He gestured to a set of white chairs around a table on the veranda. Draco exited and obediently sat, grateful for the slight breeze that drifted across the open porch.

"All right. Start from the beginning and tell me what you need." The man sat across from Draco and steepled his fingers in a familiar gesture.

Draco smiled. "I'm glad Neville Longbottom did not kill you."

A snort answered his words. "As if I could be taken out by that incompetent imbecile."

"Not so incompetent now. Thinking he destroyed you gave Longbottom quite a boost of confidence. He turned into quite the hero."

"So I've read. Polyjuice abounded on the battlefield that day." The comment was full of wry humor.

"The Ministry is still searching for Avery."

"They need only look in the grave marked 'Severus Snape.' Enough stalling, Draco. Spill your sordid tale of woe."

Draco sighed. He felt slightly guilty going to Snape for help, especially considering the man's past history with Harry, but Draco was desperate. He sat back in his seat and started to talk."

xxXxx

Harry was drunk. He seldom drank at all, other than an occasional ale or glass of Draco's wine, but he had stopped at a pub to try and drink up the courage to return home and face his lover. His exalted Gryffindor bravery had been difficult to locate and now Harry could barely stand.

He Flooed home and spared a drunken mumble of thanks for the wizard that had been released from Azkaban and repaired the Floo Network. With Umbridge gone, things were beginning to return to pre-war normalcy. The identity of the Benefactor had never been discovered, although his tentacles had been located here and there throughout the Ministry. The Aurors still sought information and Harry helped when he was not trying to destroy the remaining areas of Dark Magic.

The fireplace spat Harry out and he landed on his hands and knees in Draco's study at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Harry had hoped the blond would be in attendance, but there was no sign of him. He staggered to his feet and immediately banged into a side table, knocking over a candlestick and a small vase. The candle rolled onto the floor. Harry reached down to pick it up and fell over completely with an onrush of vertigo.

"'M really drunk," he murmured from the floor. He thought about calling for Draco, but remembered the baby at the last moment. It was late and Harry did not want to wake Lyra. Mainly because Tonks would have his bollocks for target practice if he did. The floorboards felt nice and cool so Harry stayed where he was for a bit.

After a time, he noticed a pair of feet in front of his face and he reached out to pat one. "Pretty foot," he mumbled.

"Potter, what the hell are you doing on the floor?"

"Fell down," Harry clarified and moved his hand from the nice foot to its attached ankle, slipping his fingers beneath the concealing trouser leg. He wanted to touch even more of his lovely Draco, who suddenly knelt down and wrapped his fists in Harry's robes. Draco hefted him partially upright.

"You're drunk?" Draco asked in a tone of disbelief.

"Maybe," Harry said cagily and grinned. He swayed forward, hoping to press his lips to the Slytherin's, because the blond looked so incredibly sexy. His hair was slightly disheveled, as if he had been sleeping. He was shirtless and clad only in black silk pyjama pants.

Draco dodged Harry's lips, but shifted until his arm was beneath Harry's.

"Come on, let's get you up to bed," he said with a sigh.

Harry was far more interested in nibbling on Draco's jaw than making the long trek upstairs, although he gladly wrapped his arms around Draco's neck.

"Are you still mad at me?" Harry asked suddenly, recalling the reason he had been drinking to begin with.

"No, Potter, I'm not mad at you."

Harry squeezed tightly, but he was not reassured. "But you're calling me Potter again," he whispered loudly.

Draco sighed explosively. "Harry, my beloved, precious darling, come upstairs before you knock over something important and wake up everyone in the house. All right?"

The tone was sarcastic, but Draco's hand slipped beneath Harry's shirt and moved over his ribs in a gentle caress. Harry melted against him, which nearly sent them both to the floor.

"'M sorry," Harry said. "Going upstairs now, Draco." He giggled and added, "Precious darling."

Harry managed to ascend the stairs with Draco's help, and did not bump into the wall more than a couple of times. He sprawled gratefully on the bed and rolled over to look at Draco, who began to unlace Harry's shoes.

When shoes and socks were gone, he moved on to the jeans, and Harry obediently lifted his hips to allow Draco to pull them off. Harry sighed in relief when his erection was freed from the confining denim. His boxers tented noticeably. Draco pulled the covers roughly over him and moved around the bed. Harry pouted.

"Aren't you going to take off my shirt?" he asked as Draco slid into the bed next to him.

"No. Go to sleep."

"But it has buttons just for you. And it's a green shirt 'cause green is your favorite colour." Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and maneuvered himself close to the hard body. "Fuck me, Draco," he whispered.

xxXxx

Fuck me, Draco.

The words seared into Draco's mind and his arms tightened around the man pressed against him. Harry placed soft kisses over Draco's throat. God, he was drunk, but he was acting like the old Harry. The darkness and near-violence that always seemed to possess him were absent tonight. Lately Harry insisted on taking the top position, pounding into Draco without mercy until they were both sore and bruised, sated with violent release.

Harry threw back the blankets and began to unbutton his own shirt. "Please, Draco," he begged in a voice thick with need. The sound of it sent the blood scrambling to Draco's cock in a rush of glee. He swallowed hard and welcomed the answering flood of desire. He levered himself up and straddled Harry before pushing the Gryffindor's fingers away.

"Buttons, eh?" he murmured and tore the shirt open, sending the buttons flying and baring Harry's chest to Draco's heated gaze. "Damn, you're gorgeous, Harry. So bloody gorgeous."

He bent his head to taste the banquet that lay so docilely before him. Harry's hands skated over Draco's shoulders, light as silk. Draco could barely remember a time when his lover had been so tender. As if to underscore the thought, Harry's fingers touched Draco's chin to coax him into a kiss. Draco groaned as their tongues met and followed paths long trod but never dull.

Draco's erection, still bound by silk, rubbed against Harry's. He shifted his hips somewhat to make the motion more obvious and Harry moaned into Draco's mouth, a sensation that made the breath catch in his throat, even after all this time.

Harry arched slightly, pleading for more without words and Draco frotted against him, but lightly, a tease that only hinted at fulfillment. The Gryffindor whimpered and his hands moved down to clutch at Draco's arse, urging him to press harder and faster. Instead, Draco pulled away completely, causing Harry to cry out in frustration.

For a breathless moment, Draco worried the action would send Harry back into his usual near-rage, but the green eyes stayed clear as they watched Draco step out of his pyjama bottoms. A soft smile curved Harry's lips and Draco sighed in relief.

He crawled back over the prone Gryffindor and kissed a hot path from Harry's groin to his collarbone. He moved his body higher and this time when their cocks touched there was nothing between them. Harry gasped and Draco smiled wickedly.

"You like that, love?" he asked. "How about this, then?" He slid his fingers gently over Harry's length and then wrapped his hands around it.

"Oh god," Harry half whimpered. "Gonna come."

Draco squeezed beneath the hood, halting that idea before it saw fruition. "Oh no you don't. Not yet, precious darling," Draco warned. A few quick spells readied his panting lover and then Draco was inside Harry and fuck if that wasn't the best thing ever. He had nearly forgotten how good it felt. The Gryffindor made a guttural noise and levered himself upward, driving Draco even deeper.

Now it was Draco in danger of coming prematurely.

"Hold on, love," he said, gripping Harry's hips to prevent the lovely devil from moving again. He held tightly until the need for release subsided and then a bit longer to test Harry's patience. The Gryffindor finally squirmed and made an impatient sound. Draco chuckled, pulled out almost completely and rammed in hard and deep.

Harry cried out and nearly arched off the bed, much to Draco's delight. He continued the motion and timed each thrust with a practiced twist on Harry's cock. Every panting gasp that made it past the Gryffindor's lips carried Draco's name.

As soon as Harry shouted his release and tightened around Draco in that brilliant fashion, Draco lost control. He kissed Harry to muffle his scream and drown his own as they shuddered together in mutual bliss.

Draco collapsed bonelessly on Harry's sweat-soaked body and tucked his arms close to the Gryffindor to hold him as tightly as possible.

"I've missed this, my beautiful Harry," he said softly and rubbed his cheek against the Gryffindor's. Harry's hands skated over Draco's back before hugging his waist tightly.

"I'm sorry. Maybe I should drink more often," Harry said sleepily.

"I hardly think that's a long term solution."

Harry sighed. "I suppose not."

Draco rolled away lest he crush Harry, but pulled him into a close embrace with Harry's thick hair tucked beneath his chin.

"I love you, Draco." Harry's voice was barely audible and his lips brushed Draco's chest.

"I love you, too, Harry.' His arms tightened and he felt a sudden certainty that he was doing the right thing. This was the Harry he needed and Draco would have him back by any means necessary.