A Stranger Garden

Chapter 13

2050

"Nice to have you home again, Father," Lily said as she hugged Harry.

"I was only gone a few days, Lily," he replied, grinning and hugging her back. It was good to be home and see everyone again. The quiet of his hotel room was daunting after becoming used to six young people of various ages running riot in the Manor. And if they all managed to have their friends around at the same time, it was bedlam. Luckily, Lily's kids were working during the day and Al and Scorpius' were at school but come weekends it was like Kings Cross station on the first day of term at Hogwarts.

"Come into the parlour, I've made afternoon tea for us," she said. "Al and Scorpius will see us at dinner, of course, so it will be just you and I until the children are home from school."

"Lovely. I'll just put these things away and meet you there."

"Oh, don't worry about those. Let the house-elves do it. Just leave them in the entrance and let them do their job."

"All right, well, I will have to take this into Draco first. I don't trust the elves with it." Harry held up a package that was rather obviously a painting, wrapped in brown paper for travelling.

"Now, Father, don't you worry yourself about that portrait. You just come in and rest after your journey and let someone else take care of your purchases."

Harry frowned. "Lily? What are you doing? I am neither tired nor infirm and I resent that you appear to be of the mistaken opinion that I'm becoming senile or losing my marbles."

"Of course not, Father, I just think that you're getting on in years and should be taking things easy now, rather than tiring yourself out with unnecessary things."

"There is nothing wrong with me, Lily, as you well know. I am well aware of your distaste for the time I spend speaking with Draco and your attempts to get me to stop are clumsy at best. This is my house and I will thank you not to interfere with any enjoyment I derive from living here."

"He's really done a number on you, hasn't he? You even sound like him."

"When did you speak to him? The wards are set to only let a few people through." Harry tried to recall if Lily had ever spoken to Draco.

"It doesn't matter," Lily replied hurriedly, moving towards the parlour.

Harry reluctantly rested the picture against the wall and followed her.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing, Father. Why have the wards been set to refuse me entry to the Ballroom?"

"Draco was worried that with so many children living in the house that one of them might come into the ballroom and damage one of the paintings."

Lily looked at him as if expecting something else; what he had no idea. But when he didn't continue, she looked away as if that wasn't the answer she was looking for. "Right. All right, that makes sense."

"Why are you here at this time of day? Don't you have a paper to run?"

"Not much for me to do these days. I seem to be able to hire decent staff and the manager doesn't need my help except with the editorial. Will you lift the wards on the Ballroom, please?"

Her defiance was unnerving Harry and he shook his head. "I'm sorry, that will be up to Draco. It's up to him who he wants to see."

Lily looked incredulous. "But this is your house, you have the authority here, not him."

"Yes and I have to live with him if he's in a snit because he's bothered by people he doesn't want to see. So, it is easier to set the wards to allow only those he wants to see. I will ask him if he wants to see you."

"He's sitting in there, all high and mighty, accepting or rejecting people like they're asking for an audience?"

"No, it's not like that at all," Harry protested.

"Yes it is. He has his own little kingdom in there. And you're too stupid and blind to see what he's doing." She was getting angry now and flecks of spittle sprayed from her lips. Harry went very cold and still.

"I don't believe I asked for your opinion, Lily, so I'll thank you to keep it to yourself."

"I'm your daughter!" Lily yelled. "I have more right to anything than that portrait. It should be reduced to nothing more than a pile of flammable rags one can throw a match on."

She seemed to realise that she had gone too far and closed her mouth but she still held a defiant tilt to her chin and unrepentant glint in her eyes.

"What do you have against him? He can't hurt you. He is, as you so kindly pointed out, a portrait. He has no magic, cannot ever leave that room and has no connection to the outside world other than what I tell him."

"He's just...taken you away from us all. You talk about him as if he's your lover. People think you are going senile and you're embarrassing all of us." She was petulant now, though, so certain that she was right. Harry could almost see the way her mind worked. She thought that once Harry knew he was being made a fool of, he'd come round to her way of thinking and admit he was wrong.

"Why do you care what anyone thinks of me? I never have. People have said worse things than that about me. I don't care. I'm sorry if you're embarrassed. You sound so much like your mother."

He hadn't meant to say that to her - it was no compliment - but he was so angered over her superficiality that it slipped out. Her face crumpled and he felt awful that she was in pain but he wasn't going to have her lash out at whoever happened to be around.

"I know you've been badly hurt by Mattie's cheating but that's not an excuse to take your pain out on me."

"I'm sorry, Daddy, I..." She broke down sobbing and Harry gathered her in his arms and held her. She was still his little princess, even though she was a mother herself now. "I can't seem to do anything right, these days. First Mattie, and I tried, Daddy, I really tried to get past it, but the more we agreed to be honest with each other and talk about our problems, the more women I found out about and then it just seemed like I didn't even know him anymore. Maybe never had."

Harry was not surprised to find out that his son-in-law had such a history of cheating on Lily. He remembered the advice Teddy had given him all those years ago when Lily and Mattie were still dating and there had been rumours about Mattie's habits while on a tour to America. It was lucky that Mattie was not present or Harry would have had a hard time refraining from doing the man some serious damage for hurting his little girl like this. As he held a still sobbing Lily in his arms, he vowed to help his daughter in what ever way he could. Taking her anger out on him and Draco wasn't going to help her get back on her feet or build up her confidence in herself again.

When she seemed to be reduced to sniffles, he judged the worst of it to be over and stepped back a little, fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket to give to her. She blew her nose and continued. "And now the manager at the paper says that I don't even need to be there anymore. Me! The editor! I feel like I've been ousted from my own paper." She sniffed and Harry hugged her again. "And Draco was an easy target, he can't fight back."

"I know. But you're well rid of Mattie and you'll find someone better, if that's what you want. If not, then you'll have a great life anyway. As for the paper, did I raise you to be a quitter? To let people walk all over you whenever they feel like it? No. If you want your paper back, go and fire your manager. You still run it, so go and stand up for yourself."

Lily looked at him for a long moment and then smiled through her tears. "You're right, Daddy. The paper is mine and I don't have to let some sniveling arse of a manager steal it out from under me."

"That's more like the Lily I know."

She nodded. "I still would like to speak to you about Draco," she warned. "I'm still not happy about the time you spend with him. But it can wait for another day, I need to get back to the office and kick the manager's arse." She caught sight of herself in a mirror on the wall. "After I go and clean myself up, I look a fright."

Harry laughed. "Off you go then." He hugged her. "Don't ever forget I love you and am very proud of you."

Lily hugged him back, kissing his cheek. "Thank you, Daddy, I love you, too."

.o0o.

Draco thought it was funny that he had begun to take even more meticulous care with his attire. Certainly, Harry didn't notice, but then Harry wasn't the type to be swayed by finely combed hair or exquisitely made robes. Harry was more likely to appreciate the swell of his arse or the smooth contours of his chest.

Or perhaps the smile on his face. To be completely honest with himself, he loved seeing Harry's face light up in genuine pleasure when Draco smiled a real, open smile.

Dressing and grooming well always made Draco feel better, though. Always had. It made him feel more in control of something. Even when he was alive, he'd enjoyed dressing well. His father had insisted upon it as befitting a Malfoy but Draco had chosen his own clothes, finding that if he had no control over what was happening in his life, he at least could control how he looked.

He had such little influence over anything about his existence these days, only in what order he did things on a daily basis. He could have breakfast late, or not at all. He could decide where to spend his days and what he did, but it was a restricted choice, the boundaries very clearly delineated and defined.

Harry had given him more choices, and Draco would be forever grateful for those. He now had a wide variety of music he could listen to instead of playing the harp for himself. He could read the newspaper every day, as long as he remembered his manners to get the pages turned. There was somewhere for him to go to remember his parents, more particularly his mother, and he now had a further sanctuary to play in.

He supposed it was gratitude that made him want to preen and show off a little for Harry. The flirting between them had continued - how could it develop into anything else - and there was an attraction there albeit not an openly acknowledged one. Draco recognised that it was only because of his terrible secret that he was holding himself back from admitting to Harry he'd fallen for him. So many times he'd gone to finally tell Harry about the reason he was tied up in the dungeon and the restrictions on him after he died, but he'd been too scared that it would destroy their friendship and that Harry would destroy the painting. And after that, even if all Harry did was to abandon him, then Draco would be doomed to be alone for all eternity until age ruined the paint in his portrait and the spells dissipated.

Perhaps it would be better not to tell him anything at all. Feign ignorance when Harry realised he couldn't leave the Ballroom. That would work... but then Draco was developing too much respect for Harry to lie to him like that. At least so far this was only a lie of omission.

He sighed as he stripped off his outdoor clothes and dropped them on the chair in the corner of his bedroom. For a moment he contemplated taking a shower; freshening up after his walk would make him feel clean but he reckoned it was getting late and Harry was expected soon, back from his trip to Italy.

Pleasure fluttered sweetly in his stomach when he thought of seeing Harry again. It had only been a few days - it had been a work trip - but still Draco missed him.

He moved slowly, choosing his clothes carefully, though part of him wanted to stay naked, push Harry into appreciating him. And whilst he had nothing against a little manipulation, it came with associated guilt and a sense of futility. If Draco wasn't careful he could fall into a depression over the fact that he was never going to be able to do anything about this crush.

More than a crush, if he were to have to describe it to anyone.

So, it was completely by accident that Draco was dressed only in a shirt when Harry entered the Ballroom.

Not displeased, however, Draco smiled as he turned away from Harry to button up his shirt.

"Don't dress on my account," Harry said. "I like looking at you. And your arse is a spectacular view." Predictable, Draco thought, pleased as punch.

"Well, you're already getting a good view of my arse, what more do you want?"

"You want the truth? Even from an old guy like me?"

"Of course, Harry, you're too noble to lie to me." Draco smirked, hiding a twinge of guilt that he couldn't say the same thing about himself.

He stopped dressing but didn't turn around, instead busied himself by pretending to do up another button.

"Well, truthfully, I want to watch you use a big fat dildo on yourself so I can imagine it's me fucking that tight little arse."

Shocked, and not a little turned on by that statement if the twitching at his groin was any indication, Draco turned and stared at Harry.

"And what makes you think I have any big fat dildos in here?"

"I don't. Wishful thinking on my part. Yours too by the look of it." Harry looked down at Draco's groin, which had taken a decidedly interested position, poking out from between his shirttails.

Draco bit his lip, not arguing with Harry. How could he? The evidence of how much the thought of a huge big dildo...all right, Harry, fucking him turned him on, was plain to see. He sat down on his bed weakly, knees already beginning to shake.

"Harry..."

"Too much for you?" Harry asked, lowering himself onto the couch.

Draco swallowed, shifting uncomfortably on the bed, but not answering.

"You don't want to hear that I'd like to bend you over the table and fuck you?"

"It's really unfair of you to say that when you can't go through with it. Get me all worked up and wishing for nothing."

"Are you all worked up?"

"I thought you said you could see."

"I can see you're hard, wasn't sure how much of that was for what I said."

"Harry." Draco let out a shaky breath, his hand sneaking down to press against his throbbing groin. "I think it's fair to say that the thought of you even touching me could make me hard. I wish..." He stopped there because this could not end well, only in more pining and futile wanting. And several nights of wanking alone and lonely in his bed wishing that Harry was with him.

"You wish, what?"

Draco shook his head, trying not to move his hips and thus rub his aching erection.

"How about I tell you what I wish for?" Harry said.

Raising his eyes to Harry's bright green ones, Draco nodded.

To Draco, Harry looked much as he had fifty years ago. Though the hair was grey, it was still messy. The lines around Harry's eyes had deepened, but the fire in them was still the same. When Harry stood, it took him longer to make his limbs work, but to Draco he looked strong and beautiful.

Harry moved until his nose was almost pressed against the canvas. His hand reached out and stroked over the canvas right where Draco's legs were, over his knee and up along a thigh. Draco sighed sadly that he couldn't feel it, but he watched Harry's fingers, age having thickened some of the joints, making their movements stiff and jerky at times.

"I wish..." Harry started, whispering. "I wish I'd found out what you were like before now. I wish I'd fallen for you when we were at school."

Harry's hand slid over the canvas like he was cupping Draco's groin and Draco sighed, a lost, forlorn sound.

"I'd give anything just to be able to touch you, Draco." Harry's voice was trembling, even as he was whispering.

"Harry..." Draco's hand wrapped around himself and he began to stroke, unable and unwilling not to. His head dropped back and he looked at Harry through slitted lids. "Tell me what you'd do with me if you could."

"Oh, fuck, Draco..."

"Please, Harry. I've wanted you for years."

"But, I'm too old... and we can't..."

"I don't care. Tell me what you'd do to me if you could."

Draco saw Harry take a deep breath. "I'd have you just as you are, spread your legs a little so I could kneel between them, putting me in just the right spot to swallow you down. Right to the base."

The hoarse tones in Harry's voice went right to Draco's groin, which throbbed hotly. He tried to imagine Harry's lips stretched around it and the mere thought made him shiver.

"Then I'd just stay still for a while, letting my throat convulse around you so deep inside. When I finally had to breathe, I'd pull back and begin to suck. Long and hard, making a lot of noise, showing you how much I am enjoying having you in my mouth. Showing you how much I want your taste on my tongue, dominating my senses."

The lump in Draco's throat twisted hard and jagged and he couldn't form words to express how much Harry's need and his own made him ache.

"Lift your leg, Draco, expose your self to me." Harry's voice was rough and Draco did what he was told.

"Close your eyes, pretty. Use your fingers, push them deep inside yourself, one at a time and imagine it's me."

Merlin... Draco heaved a breath and closed his eyes, wondering if he was going to last long enough to use more than one. He soaked one finger in saliva, swirling it around on his tongue, before reaching down and slowly breaching himself, shaking with tension and arousal, his other hand motionless around his erection, too scared to keep stroking for fear of coming and losing this wonderful intimacy that had sprung between them.

"Tell me how it feels, Draco."

"It's...it's..." Draco whimpered softly, the feeling of being breached and imagining it was Harry was too intense and yet nowhere near intense enough. He just wanted it so damned much that the knowledge that he couldn't have it overrode his imagination. "It's not enough, Harry," he sobbed softly. "It will never be enough." The last was whispered as Draco's voice failed him entirely.

"I know. Keep stroking yourself and riding your fingers. I want to watch you come for me."

Draco heard Harry's voice, so laden with emotion that he thought if he opened his eyes and looked at Harry, he might see suspiciously damp eyes. That would be too much for him to bear in his current frame of mind and so he silently complied, letting himself groan as a second and then third finger penetrated.

"Harry...I want to see you."

"You can open your eyes then, pretty."

"No," Draco said, biting back a gasp as his finger rubbed over his prostate. "I want to see you."

"No, you don't. I'm-"

"You are not! I want us to come together. Please?"

"Draco--"

"Please, Harry, I can't hang on much longer."

Draco could feel himself tightening all over, knew that the curling in his muscles meant that his orgasm was close. Every time he timed his stroking right, he felt his arousal hitch a notch higher and he knew he was going to fall any minute.

He heard the faint chink of Harry unbuckling his belt and lowering the zipper of his trousers. Then a rustle of clothing meant Harry's trousers and pants had been dropped to the floor and a soft groan indicated that Harry had hold of his erection.

Draco finally opened his eyes, wanting desperately both to come and to prolong this bliss. This was the first time he'd seen Harry even close to naked and even now he could barely see a thing, apart from still strong looking thighs, lickable hips and only a glimpse of his manhood. To Draco it was like watching a slice of heaven and he must have hissed because Harry moved closer to the portrait and rested his forehead against Draco's, locking their eyes together.

"You're...Merlin, you're beautiful, Harry," Draco managed to say.

"I wish...God, how I wish we'd done this before."

"No regrets, Harry. If this is what we have...shit..." Draco lost track of his words after that. His back arched and he climaxed, gasping at the waves of sensation.

He vaguely heard Harry swear and give a loud groan, which signaled Harry's own climax.

After several minutes spent recollecting himself, he admitted sadly that he'd been right.

His heart ached even more in his yearning for Harry.