Of Forgiveness and Seduction

Author's Note: Rated for Slash. Thank you to Phantom of Delight for beta-ing.

~*~*~*~*~

Draco stretched, turned lazily onto one side, and let his hand skim along the planes of the shoulder before him. He climbed his fingers up the ridges of the spine. Inched forward and pressed his nose into the mass of unruly black hair before him even as his hand continued its exploration, mapping out a jutting hip bone and sketching along the line of a buttock.

"Okay, I understand now." His lover's voice sounded muffled through the feather pillow. "You're awake. Good for you. I'm not."

Draco tried pressing a gentle kiss over the pulse point behind his bedmate's ear. Harry always liked that.

Well, evidentially with the exception of today. Harry had determinedly rolled away, taking the majority of the bed coverings with him. Draco could have pouted, but that would have been wasted on Harry's back. Instead he decided he might as well aid the journey by rising up onto his knees, gathering up a handful of strategically selected cloth trapped beneath his lover and - ignoring the startled yelp - tumbling the other man onto the floor.

Cursing ensued. There may have been a plea for coffee in there. There was certainly a request for some deity or other to carry Draco off and lock him away for a very, very long time.

Draco slid off the bed to pool himself in Harry's lap. "Why, Darling, you never mentioned having a kink for strangers in our bed."

There was a groan below him and possible movement within the sheets. Draco decided to help wakefulness along with a slow grinding of his hips that was intended to arouse interest.

The result was not desirable: strong arms emerged from the blankets and shoved him off. "G'way. 'M sleeping."

Really, there was no helping some people, Draco decided as he stalked off towards the shower. Turning on the cold water he felt a little more reasonable. Maybe he'd head down to have breakfast and perhaps a slow walk around the grounds. Give Harry a chance to sleep in a little. After all, it was their holiday. He was being a little demanding to expect Harry ready and eager to attend his every need. Especially after last night...

Not that there was any need to let Harry know about his generous forgiveness... Oh yes, make him feel guilty, just for a minute of two, before lying back to enjoy the make-up sex. Sometimes having a communication-stunted lover really did pay off, especially when it came to resolving 'issues'.

Besides, the locality was meant to be lovely. They were staying at a converted hunting lodge buried deep within the Black Forest of Germany. Millie had recommended it to him. Apparently her father used to bring her here upon occasion when she was younger, back when it actually was still a hunting lodge.

There were only twenty or so guest rooms, making the lodge intimate. That, coupled with the exorbitant expense did rather put off certain elements of Wizarding society. For instance all of Harry's little stalkers. Also people with a tendency to stare rudely and, wonderfully, the paparazzi. Though to be fair, the last was probably due more to the owner's fearsome reputation than her screening of the guests. Apparently Madam Gutentag really had won the nineteen thirty's Caber Toss (not only the first witch to do so, but also the first person from the German Wizarding world) and, with a name that already told you she was done talking with you, there never seemed to be much room for argument.

Wandering down from his shower, which had turned into a bath, which had almost become a swim due to the bath's size, Draco picked up the local paper and sat at one of the darkly polished oak tables in the Morning Room. Shaking the paper open while a cup of coffee - black, no doubt with five sugars, just the way Draco preferred - appeared before him, Draco sighed and got up again. He really should remember that he was in Deutschland. And, needless to say, that most of the papers would be in German. Still, he located that day's French edition in the paper rack easily enough and sat back down. The only English paper had been the Sun.

Draco didn't think that Harry spoke any languages other than English. Maybe a smattering of Latin from his years in Hogwarts and the odd Celtic or Saxon word. Not enough to read a paper, however. Thankfully Harry never had been much of a newspaper type of person. Said that he 'found the Prophet quite depressing and ill-informed, really'. Most of Draco's friends might have agreed with that, but the fact that Harry had, upon occasion, been spotted reading the Quibbler made them somewhat less than eager to lump themselves into the same newspaper reading category. The consequences might have been political or something. Draco found this type of worrying hilarious.

After finishing his eggs and bacon and then the French paper, Draco started into an Italian one - see, Father, all that pillow talk with Blaise wasn't wasted. However, Harry still hadn't arrived, so he left his second cup of coffee, walked over to the window and inspected the weather. It was raining. Unfortunate, really. So much for having a walk.

Wandering around the ground floor of the lodge, Draco found a spacious library decked out in red and black, with the spines of a thousand books presented ready to peruse. But really, he'd read enough this morning and besides, having one person in a couple with glasses was interesting and varied, having two was just geeky. Not to mention that he'd probably end up having glasses which reflect right back at every photo ever taken of him and then future generations of Malfoys would be convinced that he had no eyes. Just as Draco was utterly convinced that Silent Aunt Selena had no teeth.

On the other hand, there might not be any future generations of Malfoys, though Harry seemed interested in adoption when tipsy. Draco thought that maybe they should hold off, at least until Harry was capable of articulating what he wanted from life without the aid of alcohol. Sometimes Draco thought that Harry was dumb and foolish and that he'd picked up an utterly useless Gryffindor. Then he'd remember that Harry had nearly been placed in Slytherin and that, therefore, he clearly knew what he wanted - his ambitions in life so to speak - but was just incapable of confessing them. Presumably because he didn't expect other people to want to help him.

When Draco remembered that he either got very angry or went and cast subtle but annoying hexes on those Muggles of Harry's. Last week he'd made all dairy products placed in the Dursley's fridge go mouldy within five minutes. Draco had to admit that it sounded rather pathetic even to himself, but he reckoned that the last six months of odd occurrences had to be adding up and, anyway, he didn't want to upset Harry. Which would inevitably happen if he was found out.

Behind the library there was the Snooker Room.

For a moment, just a moment, Draco felt a shiver of something approaching extreme dislike for the room. He wasn't quite certain what had caused it however, and glaring around at the elegant black wood with its gilded details seemed rather, well, idiotic. So did playing against oneself, but Draco had spent eleven years prior to Hogwarts living the life of an only child and had had every holiday to remind him of the lessons learned.

He'd potted all of the balls once and had removed most of the reds a second time when Harry finally deigned to grace the room with his presence. There was something odd in Harry's eyes as he gave the room the same once-over that Draco had. It made Draco almost want to pursue the 'there's something odd about this room' issue, but then Harry picked up a second cue and so he decided to let it slide.

It took Draco about two seconds to realise that Harry had clearly never played Wizarding Snooker before. He let out a shocked gasp when the holes slowly danced around the table's perimeter and seemed confused when the balls swapped colours. Well, how else was it going to quicken your reflexes? One might spend hours lining up a shot just so if the table didn't challenge one, Draco thought.

After about five minutes it dawned on him that Harry had probably never played the Muggle version either. Or, if he had, he was just naturally awful. Draco rather suspected the former case and wondered if the Ministry would notice him sending a very small plague of aphids to Number 4, Privet Drive to eat the Dursley's roses.

Still, if nothing else, it gave Draco ample opportunity to slip his arms around Harry and bend him low over the table. He gently adjusted Harry's grip on the Snooker cue and tried to keep his mind at least half on the game and not purely on the press of Harry's ass against his hip or the sensual slide of the cue through both their fingers as Harry made a few practice moves before the final thrust.

If it had been a sporting tale, Harry would have pocketed the ball. If it had been an erotica, Draco would have thrown Harry down upon the table and ravished him thoroughly. As it was, there was a rather long, drawn out game as Harry repeatedly failed to pocket anything and Draco deliberately missed shots so as not to make his lover lose too badly. And maybe ever so slightly because he was enjoying the view.

Heck, no one ever said that Slytherins didn't have ulterior motives.

The game was finally finished before Harry asked, "Does this room remind you of anything?" He ran one hand over the mahogany table and Draco imagined it was his flank instead.

"No, not really."

"Oh." Harry slowly turned full circle. Draco noticed that he was wearing the black linen slacks that fitted just so. Harry tilted his head back to gaze up at the ceiling. Draco noticed the bite marks low down near the collarbone. Harry tilted his head in Draco's direction and gave him an amused smile. Draco noticed that he'd been caught, but that Harry looked suddenly contemplative rather than annoyed.

He smiled winsomely at Harry and was rather peeved to find that Harry had already turned away and was prowling about the room. poking at the heavy velvet drapes. Closing them to look at the embroidery. When had Harry ever cared about things like that? Opening them to look out, over the slopes of the forest around the Lodge. Closed them again. Tilted his head in a way that Draco knew meant he was thinking about something.

"They've embroidered the view from this window onto the curtain. Here, Draco, have a look." Harry sounded excited and Draco gravitated to his side with all the free will of a rock falling to earth.

The velvet was heavy in Draco's arms, its pile brushing softly against his palms. Harry leant over the burden, pointing out the large tree before them and the spire of a distant church standing tall above the forest. His fingers bushed, warm and callused, over Draco's, the gentle catching of skin on skin causing heat to rush and pool in his groin.

Harry was so very close, his head tilted down so that all that Draco could see of his face was the curve of one cheekbone and the left arm of his glasses. His hair smelt of the lodge's complimentary lemon shampoo.

Leaning forwards, Draco's lips brushed the very tips of Harry's wild upturned hair, but before he could press the kiss home on his lover's crown, Harry had gone; stalked off across the room and leaving Draco feeling startlingly cold by the window.

"Hey, look! They all have different embroidery so that they can also show what's outside the window."

"You didn't think that they all showed the same scene, did you?" Draco snapped, frustrated.

He felt guilty a moment later when Harry's confused, wide eyes latched on to him. "I didn't mean to annoy you."

"You didn't." Drat it all! They were here to relax, not get wound up with one another. "Come here."

Harry ignored him for a moment, closing all of the curtains and striding around the room apparently to inspect them all. Draco could think of better things to do with the curtains closed. "It's like being able to see the view even now," Harry declared, folding his arms and nodding his approval.

Draco wondered if it was rather inappropriate for his mind to calculate the distances between their bodies, between Harry and the wall, and between the Pool Room and the Dinning Hall. There was a library in between the Snooker Room and the rest of the building, so he reckoned that the noise would probably be negligible in the rest of the lodge and that, if someone was perusing the library at this hour of day, giving them a thrill was probably the charitable thing to do.

Besides, Harry had closed all of the curtains, naive and trusting as he was.

"Draco? Are you alright?" Light from the torches glinted off Harry's glasses and but cast most of his face into shadows. There was something slightly funny about Harry's posture, but Draco couldn't figure out what. He didn't really care either.

He was six paces from Harry.

Or should have been. Harry, naturally, had moved by the time that Draco got there. Currently, he was pacing the perimeter, running his fingers over the elaborately carved wooden panels. The black wood had been picked out at strategic points with gold, presumably to match the curtains and chandelier and, in fact, all of the other accessories in the room. The snooker table was a blaze of green in the centre of all that black and glitter.

"Does this remind you of anything?" Harry asked. Draco decided that actually, now that he thought about it, there was something about the patterns which seemed familiar, but then Harry started to trace a swirl along the wall, his fingers skimming along the graven lines and dipping into a shallow cup at the design's heart. He seemed to like the texture, fingers sliding round and round and in and out and Draco could almost hear his pulse speeding up. Unfortunately it wasn't moving blood in the direction if his brain.

"Erm." His voice squeaked. Draco coughed which seemed to help a little. "Nope?"

"Really?" Harry raised startled eyebrows, the torchlight casting deep shadows from the furrows on his forehead. He looked innocent and pure and utterly, infuriatingly unaware of the effect he was having on Draco.

"Really. Should it remind me of something?"

Harry shrugged. Turned back to his inspection of the woodwork. "Yes." There was a tension in his shoulders that made Draco think for a moment that he must have forgotten something important. The dread was almost enough to drag his thoughts back out of the gutter, but instead the icy wave of adrenalin just seemed to push more blood from his extremities and to his core.

Besides, Harry had all the subtlety of a brick. If something was bothering him Draco would know about it by now. It was one of those things that Draco cherished about Harry. Either everything was fine and any mistakes or errors brushed off, or he'd snap the complaint straight out to your face.

Stepping around the table, Draco stopped behind Harry. Reached up one hand to still Harry's on its seemingly endless little dance. Clasped it tightly, the heat of another's flesh almost soothing in the way it focused his thoughts. Harry. Harry and some privacy preferably, and a whole lot less clothing.

He drew Harry's hand back towards himself and felt Harry turn with it. Turn into his arms. Draco kissed the knuckles softly. Watched Harry's eyes dilate and knew, suddenly, that Harry's tension had very little to do with walls or forgetfulness or the like. He held Harry's hand in both his own. Turned it. Uncurled the fingers. Kissed the palm. Harry's eyes fluttered shut and he almost slumped against the wall.

Yes.

Draco stepped in. One hand still held Harry's, but his knee was between his lover's and he was pressing in, holding Harry there, and that contact was... well... More. And yet, not more. It wasn't enough. Nowhere near enough. And the very idea that this could be more satisfying than kissing Harry's hand was ludicrous, because they were close, almost together, and that only served to highlight the knowledge that they weren't together.

He pressed closer. His hips ground into Harry's. His free hand was curling in thick locks of hair, twisting them savagely around his fingers and yanking Harry's head back. Pressed his mouth onto the one below his. Parted the lips with his tongue. Nipped at the lower one and moved on, deeper into the mouth. Pressed harder everywhere they were connected. Mouths. Chests. Thighs.

He didn't realise that Harry had entwined their fingers until he dropped Draco's hand. That was fine - Draco set to work on buttons and enjoyed Harry's hands on groping up to his shoulders.

Draco did not enjoy Harry's hands when they gripped his shirt and pushed him back, the cold air surging between them with all the shock capabilities of a slap to the face.

Before Draco could do much more than whimper, Harry's fingers were on his lips. "I'm going to lock the door." He brandished his wand.

Maybe Draco could forgive him. Especially when he looked so utterly debauched with his hair even wilder than usual and his lips all red and swollen.

Parting was such sweet sorrow. Releasing Harry felt like he was uprooting himself, while watching Harry walk over to the door felt like the deepest of follies. He wanted to stalk Harry, pounce on him, throw him to the ground and never let him up.

Somehow he managed to give Harry thirty seconds to lock and ward the door, but then Draco was on him. His hands grasped at clothing, bunching it up in his fisted hands as he pressed Harry back against the doorway. Something tore, but for once Draco wasn't worried about the state of Harry's clothing and he thought the robe was just about ready to give in and surrender when Harry spoke.

"Do you remember spending all of sixth year fixing that vanishing cabinet?"

"Harry, now is not the time to be talking about that." Clearly the man was raving. It was just as well that he had someone as kind and caring as Draco to look after him. He bit at Harry's earlobe and was rewarded with a little gasp.

"Actually now's exactly the right time." Draco might have tried to question that statement further, but Harry chose that moment to thrust up, hard, into Draco's groin and, really, it wasn't the time to think and it was kind of nice to know that Harry was enjoying this as much as Draco was from the feel of things. The conversation attempts had had him slightly worried.

He wrenched the cloth in his hands. Harry's robe gave, crumpling to the floor and catching on their bodies. The collar had left angry, red marks on Harry's neck, so Draco though he'd best kiss it better before he dealt with the T-shirt.

"Draco?"

"Ummm." There were fingers sliding into his hair.

"It's my fault the Vanishing Cabinet was broken."

"Ummm." What on Earth was Harry rambling about now? Draco bit down, hard, on Harry's collarbone and felt the body beneath his shudder. Good. Served him right for not paying bloody attention.

"-me?"

Irritated, Draco actually made himself put Harry down and stop playing with him. "What?"

"Do you forgive me?"

"Yes. Whatever. Can we have sex now?"

"Promise that you forgive me and won't take it out on me later." There was something almost calculating in Harry's eyes, but Draco didn't really care.

"I told you: Yes! I promise, damn you! So there!"

Harry pushed him away and stalked away from the door. For a second Draco thought that maybe, just maybe, he shouldn't have sworn, but Harry was smiling so maybe things were alright. Then he tugged the T-shirt over his head and Draco conceded that things were definitely alright.

His body was greedier than his mind, however and his hands were undoing Harry's fly and pushing his trousers down even as Harry pulled him in for a kiss.

The Snooker table wasn't quite high enough for comfort, but Draco was beyond caring. Harry's mouth was hot and damp against his own and, yes, getting kissed back was much better than having a distracted, talking Harry. His hands caught at Harry's hips, lifted him up. He felt legs wrap around his waist and fingers slipping into his clothes. Nails traced down his back.

There were a few moments of arrangement and preparation and then the glorious feeling of moving to one rhythm with the one that you loved. Their moans. Your sighs. A crescendo building up and up and up.

And then, finally, peace.

~*~*~*~*~

It took a long time to work up the energy to be bothered to open his eyes. Even longer to think about moving, especially with Harry caressing gentle circles against his neck. Every now and then there'd be a slight twinge as he brushed a scratch. Draco didn't think he ever felt warmer, safer or more content than he did in moments like these.

He kissed Harry's neck one more time then made himself get up and sort his clothes out.

Draco's fingers were just helping Harry with the last attached button on his robe when he remembered what they'd been talking about. It paused him in his activity as he frowned into Harry's eyes. Harry smiled angelically. "You promised not to hold it against me." Maybe he could read minds.

Then the impertinent half-blood even had the nerve to press a chaste kiss on Draco's nose! "Honestly, you think that Vanquishing Voldemort gives you all sorts of rights." Draco spluttered.

"Of course it does." Harry grinned easily and slung his arms possessively around Draco's neck. Draco was very proud of that grin. It had taken him almost a year to get Harry wearing it again after... Well: After. "I vanquished him and now you're mine."

"That's not the point. What in blazes were you doing smashing up valuable objects like that cabinet in the first place? Do you know how expensive those things are? And what the Hell made you think of it now? It's not very complimentary to my seduction skills you know. I should warn you that you're in grave danger of being made to sleep on the floor." Draco tried to sound stern, but had the impression that he had failed spectacularly if Harry's lack of remorse was anything to go by.

"Draco, the entire room looks like that cursed cabinet. Or at least like it did before you were done with it. I'm amazed I ever realised that it was the same cabinet after all the 'repairs' that you made to it.

"And, anyway, who says that you were seducing me?" Draco opened his mouth to argue. "It took me ages to figure out how to make you forgive me. Well, most of our game of Snooker." Draco shut his mouth.

Opened it again. "You manipulated me!" He was outraged. He was also rather conflicted. Torn between irritation at the deception, a tiny sting of betrayal, and a huge swell of pride and amusement.

"But it was for sex and forgiveness. Can you blame me?" Harry looked far too smug as he sauntered over to the far wall, opening all of the curtains. "Oh! It's stopped raining. Do you want to go for a walk?"

"Only if you promise to tell me how you so utterly destroyed the cabinet." Draco held out his hand.

Harry smiled easily, accepting Draco's grip and interlacing their fingers as he allowed Draco to guide him outside. "It's really quite a short story. I was talking to Nearly Headless Nick after Quidditch back in second year when Filtch got really wound up about the mud and dragged me back to his office. Well, Nick was worried and got Peeves to come along and cause a distraction with this god-awful bang which apparently was caused by him dropping..."

They walked out hand in hand.

~*~*~The End~*~*~