Chapter Text
Draco’s memory came slowly back to him, the aches in his body reminders of what happened the night before. He felt the heat of Harry’s body against him and curled into it, exhaling a long breath as he squeezed his eyes shut and then blinked. From what he could tell, he was in a hotel. That made little sense, because he couldn’t have been carried outside naked—but he didn’t think that anyone would be dull enough to decorate their own home with the pathetically ordinary decor of a hotel, so—that’s where he had to be.
Harry stirred behind him, looping a muscular arm across Draco’s chest to pull him backward against him. He gently kissed the back of Draco’s shoulder and neck, sending Draco’s tired heart racing.
“How do you feel?” Harry whispered, dragging a hand down Draco’s side.
Draco’s first attempt at speaking came out in a puff of air and he cleared his throat, huffing out a laugh. “I’m okay,” he answered. “Sore.”
Harry’s hand trailed to brush across the sensitive skin of Draco’s arse and his body jolted, sore muscles complaining at the movement.
“I’m sorry—I put lotion on last night, but…” Harry slid his hand down Draco’s bare leg.
“S’okay,” Draco said. “Definitely worth it.”
Harry chuckled softly and kissed his shoulder again.
“Where are we?” Draco asked, rubbing at his face.
“Hotel above the club. Part of the service they offer,” Harry murmured, and Draco nodded, taking in a deep breath as he stretched his tired arms and rolled onto his back.
He groaned and arched his back, letting himself go limp again as Harry sat up on his elbow and peered down into Draco’s face.
“I had fun last night,” Harry said softly, pushing his fingers across Draco’s forehead to move a few strands of hair.
“Me, too,” Draco sighed, smiling up at him. “I never said goodbye to… what was his name?”
“Gio.”
Draco grunted and wrapped his arms around Harry’s shoulders, pulling him close so that they could kiss.
“I wanted to check in with you afterward, but you were asleep before I had even put you to bed,” Harry said softly, his hand still trailing the side of Draco’s body.
Draco kissed him again, sighing against Harry’s mouth. He made a noise of protest as Harry pulled away, frowning at the amused smile pulling at Harry’s lips.
“I’m absolutely, one-hundred percent fine, Potter. Now, what do I have to do to get you to kiss me?”
Harry laughed breathily, but seemed a little relieved as he pecked another kiss to Draco’s lips. “I’m sorry—I can’t. I’ve got to set up the banquet tonight, remember? I was supposed to be there an hour ago.”
Draco groaned and tightened his arms around Harry’s neck, but his exhausted limbs gave up quickly and thudded onto the bed again.
“Do I have to come? I don’t know if I can walk. You fucked my guts out last night.”
Harry laughed loudly and shook his head, sliding a hand across Draco’s stomach.
“If you do, I promise it will be worth your time. I’ll rent you a wheelchair if I must.”
“And someone to push it?”
“Consider it done.”
Draco rolled his eyes and groaned as he sat up, his feet reaching down to the cold floor. He braced himself and stood, his lower back aching even worse than his arse. He saw finger-shaped bruises on his hips and rubbed them gently, reaching for his neck as he stepped toward the mirror to see that it was mercifully cream-colored and not bruised, as it certainly felt.
“Alright?” Harry asked, and Draco nodded, bracing a hand on his hip like an old man.
“I’ll recover.”
Harry smiled and pecked his cheek, patting his arse gently as he passed by him and went to the washroom.
“It starts at seven and I invited your parents.”
“You think they’ll come?”
“I know they will—Narcissa RSVP’d.”
“You know, that only deters me even further.”
“Trust me, will you? You’ll have fun.”
Draco sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, noticing his clothes in a crumpled heap in the nearby chair. He looked down at his bare knees and feet, his stomach swooping with unease as he considered seeing his father again for the first time since their argument. He shook his head and ran his hands through his hair and across his face, plopping backward on the bed.
"I know this isn't a great time to ask, but I did want to go and see Oliver again. It's been a few days, I was hoping his condition had improved."
Harry looked at him from over his shoulder in the mirror. “Of course, go and see him. I think it’s a great idea—he must still be so confused and scared.”
“I know,” Draco said with an air of relief. “But, I need you to be there. You and the lawyers, I mean—I’m not allowed—”
“Right,” Harry said at once, nodding slowly.
His brow creased and he exhaled through his teeth, watching his hands as he buttoned his shirt.
“It’s alright, I can wait—”
“No. How is two o’clock? I’ll call my lawyer and I should be done with the banquet set up. I only need to check a few things and the rest is up to the staff.”
“I’ll get my lawyer, too,” Draco said, smiling at Harry’s reflection, and he couldn’t help but stand and walk to him, draping his bare arms across Harry’s chest. “The more clothes you put on the more I want to take them off.”
“Menace,” Harry murmured, and the clink of Harry’s belt made goose pimples form on Draco’s arms.
They looked at each other in the mirror and Harry grinned, clearly seeing Draco’s response, and Draco rolled his eyes, returning to the bed.
“I think I’ll spend the morning lounging and order room service while I call my lawyer. Sure you can’t join me?”
“I’d love to,” Harry murmured as he approached the bed.
He pulled the duvet up to Draco’s shoulders and kissed his forehead and then his lips, tucking him into the warm bed.
“But I can’t,” Harry continued. “I’ll see you this afternoon, alright? Perhaps we can give you and Oliver a bit more privacy.”
“Maybe. It’s okay, I like having you there,” Draco said, fighting back a yawn. “Reckon I can sneak in a kip before I have to check out?”
Harry shook his head and Draco sighed, stretching his sore arms.
“See you,” Harry said, and Draco kissed him again, resisting the urge to grab him by the collar and pull him into bed.
****
Oliver’s dark eyes were surprised and curious as Draco walked in, trailing to observe Harry and both of their lawyers as they followed. The security guard that was there exited and shut the door behind him, leaving the five of them to look at each other and decide who was going to speak first.
“How are you?” Draco said, approaching the side of Oliver’s bed.
He looked worse than he did before, and Draco was surprised that was possible. He had gone a yellow tinge, the darkness under his eyes purpling, and he was thinner than Draco remembered.
“Alive,” Oliver said, his voice raspy. “The police have left me alone now, so that’s an improvement. Now I get babysat by a nurse.”
Draco sighed and sat down on the edge of Oliver’s bed, taking his hand between both of his own. His knuckles were bony, fingers cold and unfamiliar, and Draco squeezed it to try and find some resemblance of the man that he knew.
“Why do these people have to be here? Why can’t it just be us?” Oliver asked, his brow furrowing.
Draco looked over his shoulder toward his lawyer, seeing the stern expression on his face.
“I’m sorry, we need witnesses. Nobody knows the truth—the real story of everything, so it’s all a bit messy. Thank you for keeping my secret. I know it must have been difficult especially at first when the police were questioning you non-stop.”
“Honestly I was so out of my mind, I don’t remember. I went to your house to find you, and the next thing I knew I was here and everyone was asking me…” he trailed off with a sigh. “I just knew that I needed you—that I’d be alright once you were here.”
Oliver raised a hand to the side of Draco’s face, brushing his fingers against his cheek briefly before he lowered his arm again.
“Tell me, amorcito, what is going on? I was away for so long and yet… here you are. What does this mean? What can I do to thank you for everything you have done to help me?”
“Don’t worry—it’s nothing,” Draco said, feeling the heat of Harry’s gaze on the back of his head. “I’m just glad that you’re okay. Have the doctors figured out what was in the drugs?”
Oliver’s gaze lowered and he shook his head, his dark cheeks reddening at Draco’s question.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Draco said softly, touching his shoulder and then his face. “It’s okay, I’m not judging you. We all make mistakes, alright? I’ll get you any help you need. I’m here for you.”
“Me, too, if it matters,” Harry spoke up, and Draco turned to look at him.
“Right…” Oliver said. “And, who are you, exactly?”
“Er—” Harry tugged at his tie and Draco took a bracing breath as he turned back to Oliver.
“He’s—he… was the detective working your case. I hired him to try and find you, and, well… it worked. He’s the reason your photo was in the newspaper. He’s how you ended up at my beach house. I don’t know what would have happened if—” Draco’s throat went tight and he cut off, surprised at how emotional he felt at the thought of losing Oliver forever.
“Is that why I haven’t been arrested for possession? Did you stop them?”
“I… persuaded them that the drugs didn’t belong to you,” Harry said, and Draco frowned at him.
“I didn’t know that. Harry, you shouldn’t—”
“I was merely doing what was best,” Harry said. “It was a simple thing to avoid a big headache and it’s not illegal either because it’s true.”
Harry’s lawyer gave a firm nod.
“Well, the drugs—” Draco’s hand had flown to cover Oliver’s mouth before he could say another word, and Oliver looked at him in confusion.
“The drugs were his. That’s all,” Draco said sternly.
Oliver’s frown didn’t fade, but he didn’t say anything else as Draco lowered his hand away from Oliver’s mouth.
“Okay,” Oliver murmured, “Well, they were his.”
“Can we avoid the subject of drugs, please? Other than to inquire about his health?” Harry’s lawyer piped up.
“Right,” Draco said, pushing his hair out of his face. “Well—Harry is—er—he’s my—I mean—”
“Mr. Malfoy, I’m not sure—”
“We’re dating,” Draco blurted out before his lawyer could intervene. He heard a soft groan from across the room and glanced back to see Harry’s uncomfortable expression as he regarded the chair which sat next to Oliver’s bed.
“Oh,” Oliver said, his gaze dropping to Draco’s hand which was intertwined with Oliver’s. “Right, of course.” His face colored again and he swallowed audibly, avoiding Draco’s eye. “I’m not one to talk—I brought a guy over to your beach house, didn’t I?” He said with a breathy laugh and Draco tilted his head, smiling sympathetically.
“It’s okay. I just want you to be healthy again and get discharged—do they know when you’ll be able to go home?”
“Not yet… The police were determined to keep me here, but now that they don’t have much of a case they seem to have given up. I suppose an accidental overdose is much less interesting than murder.”
Draco touched his cheek again and then his coarse hair, feeling the sharpness of his buzzed haircut under his palm that was once so familiar.
“I’ll have the beach house set up for you so that its ready when you get out.”
Oliver blinked a few times and then raised the back of Draco’s hand to his mouth, kissing it.
“Gracias, I will never be able to repay you. I am so grateful.”
Draco hushed him and glanced over his shoulder toward Harry who seemed neutral about the interaction.
“I still have so much love for you. You’ll get through this, and I’ll be here, okay?”
Oliver nodded and smiled at him briefly.
“Once you’re out of here we’ll talk properly. I’ll be back to check on you every few days.”
“Gracias,” Oliver said, giving Draco’s hand a quick squeeze.
Draco kissed Oliver’s forehead as he stood, smiling at him reassuringly. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Bueno.”
Draco hurried from the room as inconspicuously as he could, grabbing Harry’s hand once they were further down the hall.
“That could have been worse,” he whispered, and Harry smiled at him.
“I agree,” he said, but he pulled his hand from Draco’s a moment later. “Don’t want anyone to see. Might raise questions for you,” he explained, and Draco rubbed his palm.
“Right,” Draco agreed at once, but the action still stung.
He turned to their lawyers.
“That’s all, thank you. Sorry for interrupting your workdays,” Harry said, and Draco’s lawyer looked to him for dismissal.
“Thanks,” Draco said, nodding at him, and they left a moment later.
“Think he’s okay?” Harry asked, glancing down the hall toward Oliver’s door.
“He’ll be fine. Maybe a bit surprised for now, but he’ll move on.”
Harry glanced around the empty hall and then stepped back toward a supply closet. Draco frowned but followed him in, clicking the lock as he shut the door. Harry hugged him, arms wrapped tightly around Draco’s body, and Draco exhaled, not realizing how tense he had gotten while in Oliver’s room.
“You’re such a good person, Draco. I’m glad he has you.”
“I’m not that great,” Draco murmured against Harry’s neck, his face burning.
Harry kissed him instead of answering him, fingers sliding into his hair. They didn’t often kiss like this—gentle and sweet—but Draco loved it as much as anything else. Harry’s hand ran down Draco’s side, pressing into his lower back to keep him close, and Draco idly wondered if they could get away with a quick shag in a hospital supply closet. Before he could solidify the thought Harry was pulling away.
“I have to get going. The gala will start soon—are you coming?”
“Do I have to?”
“No, but I think you’ll have fun.”
“Harry, the last time I saw my father I told him I hated him. I don’t think this will be fun in any sense of the word.”
Harry smiled and rolled his eyes, shaking his head.
“Don’t you trust me?” He asked, a glint in his eye.
Suddenly memories of them together flashed through Draco’s mind, bent over a desk, on his knees, a belt tied around his wrists.
“Yes,” he said, swallowing thickly.
“Then come.”
The corner of Draco’s mouth quirked.
“Maybe after the gala.”
Harry smiled and sighed, shaking his head, but this was as good as an agreement as far as Draco was concerned.
****
“I thought you said Astoria invited you?” Lucius asked Narcissa as Harry took the stage and adjusted the microphone, silver rings glinting near dark nail polish.
“Hush, Lucius,” Narcissa said, brushing him off, and Draco looked toward his mother in surprise. She didn’t look at him.
“Thank you all for coming,” Harry said, flashing a brilliant smile. “Its wonderful to see how much all of you care about the rights of queer people, especially in today’s world where—”
“I thought you said this was about the homeless population!” Lucius hissed, grabbing Narcissa’s arm. She yanked it away from him and stepped to the other side of her son, wrapping her small hands around Draco’s elbow. “Draco—did you know about this?”
Draco looked at him—at his cold, angry eyes that looked too similar to his own. At the harsh lines around his mouth and the twitching of his hand.
“I knew nothing. Though, it would look quite bad if you were to storm out now, wouldn’t it? How about you shut up and let us listen?”
Lucius let out a squawking nose as Draco turned away, a smile pulling at his mouth as he watched Harry and listened to the rest of his brief speech. He waved quickly and stepped down from the podium to join the crowd, and both Draco and Narcissa stepped forward to find him—stopped by Lucius’ tight grip on their shoulders.
“I will not affiliate us with these people!” Lucius hissed venomously, scowling and peering out of the corners of his eyes to be sure that they did not overhear him. “It’s unbecoming.”
“We’re already here,” Narcissa argued, trying to temper his anger. “Let us make the rounds and then we’ll go, okay? It’s as Draco said. It wouldn’t look good if we left so soon.”
Lucius seemed to chew on these words and then nodded, clearly agreeing that consorting with queer people would do less damage to his reputation than revealing himself to be a homophobe. Draco followed Narcissa through the crowd, only realizing that she was moving in Harry’s direction when he spotted his curly dark hair from over someone’s shoulder. Draco swallowed nervously and hesitated, causing his father to bump into him and swear.
“Go, you blithering fool—” he spat, jabbing Draco’s rib with his knuckle.
Draco winced and moved forward slowly, his eyes hovering on the back of Harry’s shoulder as he waited for his mother to be acknowledged. His attention was currently occupied by the Greengrasses, Astoria the most exuberant of all, and her eyes lit up when she saw Draco and his family.
“Draco!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck, and Draco couldn’t keep the smile from his face, shyly meeting Harry’s gaze.
“Hi, Tori,” Draco said to Astoria, holding her hand when she nudged it with her knuckles.
“Oh, Uncle Lucius, I’m so happy to see you here! What a lovely surprise!”
“I beg your pardon?” Lucius asked, a brow arched.
Astoria looked from him to Draco, over to Harry, and then back again, laughing nervously. “Er—well, not that we have the most political conversations you and I, but… I always assumed…”
Draco squeezed her hand and Astoria looked at him, bringing a finger to her mouth before she exhaled a laugh again.
“Well—I just mean that it’s nice to see you supporting—”
She cut off when Draco gripped her hand harder, shaking his head at her once.
“I-I—er—well… it’s good to see you.”
“Right,” Lucius murmured, his eyes narrowing at her and then at Draco. “Let it be known that had I been aware of the… subject of this banquet, I would not have attended if my life depended on it. However… as it seems, we must remain here to keep up appearances and then we will go,” he sniffed and lifted his chin, lips thinning. “between you and me, this type of lifestyle is… not welcomed within my beliefs. I will have to make sure my wife is more attentive of the invitations she RSVP’s to.”
Draco grit his teeth and looked away from him, feeling angry heat climb up the back of his neck.
“Sorry, dear,” Narcissa said under her breath, lowering her head as she stepped toward her husband.
In an attempt to diffuse his anger, Draco looked toward Harry to see an unreadable expression on his face. Indignation, perhaps, or maybe something closer to pure offense, but he said nothing, and instead turned his back on the lot of them and approached the stage again, lifting a hand and looking apologetic as he caught everyone’s attention again.
“Apologies, apologies—I’m sorry, there’s one thing I forgot to say—” Harry said, his eyes gleaming in the spotlight. “I wanted to extend a big thank you to the person who arranged and funded tonight’s event—who acknowledged the suffering that we go through in the queer community, and wanted to do something about it,” Draco held his breath, because he wasn’t sure where this was going, but he had a suspicion and if he was correct, it meant the end of all of them. “That man—a very close friend of mine and my father’s—is Lucius Malfoy!”
Harry stepped away from the mic and clapped as the audience joined in with their own confused and hesitant applause. Draco’s father stood as still as a statue, his lips parted in shock—eyes narrowed with a rage unlike anything Draco had ever seen. There was a mischievous smile playing on Harry’s lips as he hooted loudly and whistled, encouraging the crowed as Lucius’ objections were drowned out by congratulations and surprised remarks on his involvement in the queer community. Draco looked to his mother, seeing a smile hiding underneath her thin fingers, and Draco looked up at Harry again, his heart pounding.
Astoria had joined him now, hugging him and laughing so hard that she had to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. As she turned to the microphone, she played this off as raw emotion, her voice hoarse. “Uncle Lucius’ support has given me the courage I needed to come up here today,” she said, and Narcissa took in a sharp breath. “It’s about time I finally said it, but—I’m gay!”
Whispers broke out, followed by timid claps and then applause as Astoria bowed, reaching over to hug Harry, who looked delighted by her announcement that anyone close to her had already known. She stepped back and looked up at the ceiling, taking in a deep breath and letting it out with a heavy exhale that seemed blissful. He couldn’t image the pure relief of finally admitting what he’s been hiding for his entire life. What he has taken extraordinary lengths to keep hidden from the press and his family. Her shoulders drooped and when she lifted her head again, her cheeks were wet with tears, and a smile pulled at her mouth.
Draco hadn’t realized that he was walking toward the stage until he had gotten to the stairs, his knees trembling as the spotlight found him and followed him across the small stage towards Harry and Astoria who were both looking at him in shock. He rested shaky hands on the podium, spotting his father’s face of outrage in the crowd, next to his mother’s watery-eyed smile, and he looked away, toward the camera of the press which were flashing bright lights as they photographed the scene.
“Yeah—er… me, too,” Draco said lamely.
Murmurs spread—thick silence unbroken by any type of cheer or applause. Clearly, this held much more weight and disappointment for the room, and Draco took in a deep breath as he stepped back, feeling faint. The spotlight felt hot on his face, leaving a dark spot in his vision as he turned his gaze to Astoria and then to Harry. He wasn’t sure that he had really gotten his point across, since he hadn’t explicitly said the words, and maybe that was the reason his father hadn’t yet stormed the stage to murder him. However, he didn’t want to leave any room for interpretation, so he grabbed Harry’s face in both hands and stepped toward him, pausing for a moment to take in his expression—the gleam in his eye—the grin on his mouth as the flashbulbs on the cameras popped nearby—and then Draco kissed him.
Relief, unlike anything he had ever felt, flooded through him as he wrapped an arm across Harry’s shoulders and pulled him tight, smiling against Harry’s mouth as he felt his strong hand press into the small of his back. Suddenly, the room was cheering and applauding even louder than they had done for Astoria, whistling suggestively and shouting as they pulled away from each other. Draco laughed breathily as he pressed his forehead against Harry’s, holding him close.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting that,” Harry murmured, but he pulled Draco closer to show him he liked it. “What will Oliver think? What will your father think? Draco, did you think about this at all?”
Draco shook his head and laughed harder, leaning to kiss Harry again because now he could finally do it without the paralyzing fear of being caught or seen by someone. Without having to look over his shoulder and make sure he wasn’t being followed in order to keep their relationship a secret. They could kiss, and everyone knew, and the photos would be all over the paper as if it was a scandal to be in love. For once in his life—he couldn’t find it within himself to care. Not about his father, or the press, or about his status as a baron—because none of that seemed real. But Harry was. He was the realest thing that Draco had ever known, and he would be damned if he was about to let this facade of a life tear that away from him.