Work Text:
Discovered Truths
It was raining, the drops falling heavily against her umbrella. Hermione quickened her pace, sidestepping the puddles that had formed in the brick sidewalk, her free hand pulling her cloak more tightly around herself to ward off the cold. The hour was late and the street was empty as Hermione made her way to the front gate of her house.
She eased open the gate, wincing as it let out a squeak – she'd told Ron to oil it while she'd been away – and hurried up the walkway towards her front door. She juggled her umbrella and her bag, searching her pockets to find her keys. While most people tended to rely on spells to lock their doors, she and Ron lived in a mostly Muggle neighborhood, so they tried to keep any outward signs of magic to a minimum. Admittedly, a spell would have been simpler, she thought, as she finally located her keys, dropping her still-open umbrella in the process. She managed to get the door open, scooping the umbrella up with one hand, and stepped inside, setting her bag on the floor. She quickly closed the umbrella, gave it a shake outside to remove the excess water, and placed it in the stand next to the coat rack. She silently closed the front door and took a moment to look around.
It was always such a relief to come home after a long trip. Her job at the Ministry as the Head of the Wizarding Relations Committee took her all over the world, sometimes for days on end. She’d met people from different countries, eaten all kinds of interesting and unique dishes, and stayed in the world’s finest hotels. And yet, what she wanted most was to be in England, back in the home she shared with Ron.
The grandfather clock in the foyer tolled midnight as Hermione hung up her cloak. She was surprised to notice that the house was silent. Harry was staying with her and Ron after his break-up with Ginny, and was usually up until all hours of the night, listening to various programs on the Wireless or watching late-night sports on the television. The rooms on the lower level were all dark, though, so Harry must have decided to retire early for once.
Hermione quietly climbed the stairs, heading towards the room she shared with Ron, though she knew he wouldn’t be there. Ron had Firecalled her while she'd been in Buenos Aires to tell her that he was being sent away on assignment for two weeks. He'd sworn to her that this mission was not nearly as dangerous as the previous one had been, when they'd been tracking Augustus Rookwood all over Ireland. Just as they had gone to make the capture, Rookwood had hit Ron with Sectumsempra.
Harry and Ron had been working the case with two other Aurors, thank goodness, or the situation could have been deadly. Harry had hit Rookwood with an anti-Apparition spell as soon as Ron had been injured and ordered Stephen Cornfoot to Apparate Ron to St. Mungo's immediately. In the brief moment that Harry's back had been turned delivering orders, Rookwood had fired another horrible curse at Harry, which shattered the bones in both of his arms, causing him to black out instantly from the pain. Luckily Lisa Turpin, Cornfoot's partner, had still been there and had hit Rookwood with a Stunning spell that was perhaps slightly more powerful than necessary. She had called for backup and followed Cornfoot to St. Mungo's with Harry unconscious in her arms as soon as that backup arrived. Ron had been patched up fairly quickly during an overnight stay, but Harry's recovery had taken a lot longer.
Harry was actually still on medical leave, thanks to some unforeseen complications. He'd been forced into it by Kingsley, which no doubt was one of the reasons for his moodiness of late. But Hermione figured that the bigger – and overriding – reason for that moodiness was the dissolution of his and Ginny's relationship of three years. However, Harry refused to talk about that, as did Ginny, both saying that they were better off without each other. Harry had simply shown up at the house, all of his belongings shrunk into the three bags he was carrying. He'd smiled slightly at Hermione when she'd opened the door and said, "I'm sorry to intrude, Hermione, but could I please stay with you and Ron for a while?" Hermione had readily agreed and Harry had been there ever since.
That had been nearly six months ago, though, and Hermione was curious as to when he'd finally move out. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy his company – both she and Ron actually loved having him around so much, as he hadn't been around a lot while dating Ginny – but she knew it was time for him to move on. Ginny was currently once again dating Dean Thomas, and Hermione hoped that Harry would soon find that someone special himself.
As she reached the top of the stairs, Hermione heard a noise that made her pause. It had sounded like a chuckle, which was odd, as she'd thought Harry would be in bed. There was no Wireless or television in the room he was using, so unless he had a guest – which was impossible, surely – there was nothing in the room that would cause him to laugh. And it was definitely Harry, she determined, as she heard the sound again.
She started down the hallway, stopping suddenly as another sound reached her ears. This one was not a chuckle; it was a moan, and Hermione felt herself flush in response. Harry's door was open just enough that a small sliver of light shone on the blue carpet of the hallway, and Hermione felt herself drawn to that opening, curious to see exactly what was going on.
With every step she took she chastised herself. Harry was, after all, a twenty-two-year old man, and she wasn't stupid enough to think he didn't occasionally indulge in a spot or two (or three, or four…) of masturbation. She did it herself, when she had to be away from Ron for long periods of time, and it was ridiculous to think that Harry was doing any differently. But that didn't really explain the chuckle she'd heard, so she allowed her curiosity to get the better of her and continued walking towards the bedroom door.
She stopped just outside the door, head tilted just enough to allow her to peer inside. The bed in the room was positioned perfectly, allowing her a clear view of what was going on.
She brought a hand up to stifle the gasp that escaped at the sight: Harry was being straddled by Draco Malfoy.
Malfoy was sitting with his knees on either side of Harry's hips, the low light from the lamps glistening off his pale, bare skin. One of his hands was sliding slowly along Harry's left arm, from shoulder to wrist and back up again. Held in the long fingers of the other hand was a brilliant white feather. As Hermione watched, Malfoy took the feather and teasingly brushed it across Harry's chest, earning another of those moans that Hermione had heard from the hallway. Harry's back arched towards the feather as Malfoy moved it away, and Harry groaned again, earning a slight laugh from his blond companion. Malfoy removed his hand from Harry's arm and placed it on his chest, pushing him back down flat against the mattress.
"Relax, Harry," Malfoy crooned. "I'm trying to make you feel better."
"You're such a fucking tease," Harry said, voice rough. He tried to arch up against Malfoy's hand, but was held down firmly. He growled in frustration.
Malfoy chuckled and returned the feather to Harry's chest, moving it in a pattern that Hermione couldn't exactly make out from her position, but which clearly felt good to Harry, if the sound he made was anything to go by. Malfoy's free hand cupped Harry's face for a moment, before sliding back into his hair. They were silent for a minute, Harry's erratic breathing loud in the room, the rain that was still falling outside the only other sound.
"You're not supposed to strain yourself," Malfoy finally said, his voice infinitely gentle. "The Healers said your arms are still weak, that you're supposed to take it easy. Please, Harry. Just lie back. Let me take care of you."
Hermione felt her eyes widen in surprise at this – this Malfoy who was speaking to Harry in a way she'd never heard him speak to anyone before, this Malfoy who really, truly seemed to care about Harry's well-being. This Malfoy, who was carefully carding his fingers through Harry's hair, and leaning down to kiss Harry on the lips, who'd dropped the feather he'd been holding and was now twining their fingers together, right over Harry's heart.
"God, Draco," Harry murmured, once Malfoy had broken the kiss. He raised their entwined hands to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of Malfoy's wrist, before settling himself on the bed again. "Whatever you want."
She saw Malfoy smile as he released Harry's hand and once again picked up the feather. "Close your eyes, Harry," he said, and Harry obliged, eyes falling shut with a sigh.
Hermione watched Malfoy lazily trace the feather across Harry's skin. It moved down his face, over his nose, then the lips that opened in a gasp at the sensation. It slid slowly down the side of Harry's neck, over the hollow of his throat, and down his sternum. Malfoy moved it back up, brushing it teasingly across first one nipple than the other, and Hermione blushed scarlet at the sounds coming out of Harry's mouth. Malfoy continued stroking the feather across Harry's chest, moving it in what looked like a zigzag pattern down his abdomen, before sliding it back up towards his throat.
Malfoy moved so that he was seated lower on Harry's legs, giving Hermione a perfect view of Harry's erection, and she quickly jerked her gaze back to Harry's face. It was bad enough to be watching them do this, she knew, without staring at a part of Harry that she had no business at all seeing. She knew that Ron would kill her if he could see what she was doing.
But she couldn't make herself look away.
As Malfoy ran the feather down Harry's left arm, pausing for a moment to flip over Harry's hand, drifting the feather across each fingertip, she couldn't help but stare – they were such a striking pair. Harry’s tanned skin and dark hair contrasted beautifully with Malfoy’s fairness, and his blond hair gleamed in the lamplight.
While she watched Malfoy move the feather to Harry's other arm, she searched her brain for any signs she'd missed that might have clued her in to how this relationship had come about. She remembered Harry telling her and Ron that he'd gone to the Manor and returned Malfoy's wand, but that had been several years ago, shortly after the war had ended. She knew Harry and Malfoy had kept in touch, that they'd even become friends, but she couldn't remember anything from any of the times she'd seen them together that would have signaled the start of this type of relationship. And Harry had been with Ginny, hadn't he? Surely he wouldn't have been seeing Malfoy at the same time?
"Draco," Harry said, and Hermione snapped out of her contemplation. "Draco, please."
Hermione looked on, wide-eyed, as Malfoy took the feather in his hand and brushed it right over the tip of Harry's erection. Harry's hips bucked as he cried out, "Fuck!" and Malfoy made a shushing sound, before repeating the move again and again. He then slid the feather down the side of the shaft before bringing it back to the top. The sound that came out of Harry's mouth this time made Hermione feel quite warm and she was suddenly aware that Harry was not the only one who was aroused.
"Draco," Harry said again, as he reached out with one trembling hand towards the blond. Malfoy raised his free hand and gripped Harry's wrist lightly, rubbing his thumb slowly across Harry's palm.
"Shh, Harry. I know," Malfoy murmured. Harry sobbed in frustration as Malfoy trailed the feather down the other side of his erection before once again bringing it back to the tip. His hips bucked again and Malfoy brought Harry's hand up to his mouth, placing a kiss in the center of the palm. "All right, Harry. All right."
As Hermione watched, Malfoy dropped the feather to the floor beside the bed and shifted slightly, lowering his head. He slid his hands up and down Harry's sides, and as Harry gasped harshly below him, closed his mouth over Harry's cock.
Harry hauled himself up on his elbows, and Hermione noticed how badly his arms were shaking. Malfoy, who had his eyes locked on Harry's, made a noise in his throat, although he didn't pull away from what he was doing, and slid a hand around to the center of Harry's back. She was positive that Harry's shaking wasn't just passion-induced; she could see just how much strength that one move had taken, and how weak he really was. He'd been hiding this weakness from her and Ron; in fact, he'd been doing a lot of things he probably wasn't supposed to be doing. But he'd brushed away her concerns, and even snapped at Ron whenever they'd brought it up.
As Malfoy bobbed his head up and down Harry's erection, he brought his free hand up to Harry's mouth, pushing two of the fingers between his lips. Harry sucked on them, all the while holding Malfoy's gaze, and Malfoy actually groaned low in his chest as he removed his fingers from Harry's mouth. He then brought them down further between Harry's legs. Although Hermione couldn't see exactly what was going on from her position, she was fairly positive she knew what Malfoy was doing, especially when Harry's back arched again and his hands clenched in the sheets. She gripped the doorframe with one hand for support as Harry made a keening sound, and felt herself flush more deeply in response.
"Draco," Harry said, eyes falling shut briefly before opening and settling on Malfoy again. "God, I'm close." Harry's voice was tight, fingers white-knuckled in the bedding.
Malfoy hmmed and Harry jerked. His body went tense, and with a strangled cry he came. Malfoy didn't move away – Hermione could see his throat working as he swallowed –instead tightening the hand on Harry's back, trying to keep some of the strain off Harry's arms. After a moment Harry's head fell backwards as he attempted to haul some air into his lungs, and Malfoy sat up, helping Harry lie flat on the bed. As Harry's body shook slightly, Malfoy wrapped him in his arms and brushed kisses across his face, murmuring words too low for Hermione to hear. Harry brought his arms up around Malfoy's back, pulling him closer, and sighed. Hermione couldn't help but smile; she'd never seen Harry quite so relaxed and content in all the years she'd known him.
"All right?" Malfoy asked, leaning down to kiss Harry again. One of Harry's hands slid up into Malfoy's hair, twisting the blond strands between his fingers. "Harry?" Malfoy said, as he broke the kiss.
"God, yes," Harry murmured. He held Malfoy close for a minute, then released him slightly. "Let me do something to help you."
"Harry, your arms – you're not supposed to—" But Harry shook his head.
"I'll be fine," he said.
Malfoy nodded, then leaned forward for another kiss.
Hermione was still very very aroused, and couldn't wait to get into her bedroom to do something about it, and even though she knew she should go, should stop watching, she couldn't do it. This was something she was sure she'd never have a chance to witness again, and by God she was going to watch, even if it meant she'd have a hard time staring Harry in the face the next time she saw him. She could just see Ron's face in her mind if he knew what she was doing, but she shoved that image away. Harry and Malfoy were so beautiful together that she would have had to have been made of stone to not be affected or want to spend just a little more time in their presence.
Malfoy rolled off of Harry and sat up, pulling Harry up so he was sitting beside him. He leaned across Harry and reached into the drawer of the bedside table, pulling out a small jar. Harry took it from him and twisted off the lid, before leaning forward and kissing him. Malfoy dipped his fingers into the jar, then pulled Harry closer, positioning his body so he was straddling Malfoy's thighs. He slid his hand slowly down Harry's back as Harry wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Hermione watched that pale hand slide down lower, one finger disappearing into Harry's body. Harry pushed down with his hips and a second finger joined the first, moving in and out in a slow, easy rhythm.
Malfoy broke the kiss, and said, voice quiet, "It's your show, Harry. How do you want me?" As he spoke, he pushed a third finger into Harry's arse, and Hermione saw his wrist twist. Harry groaned as he tilted his head back. It took a minute for him to respond, during which time Malfoy removed his fingers.
"I want to see you," Harry finally whispered. "Come here." He tugged at Malfoy's neck, bringing him forward as Harry fell onto his back. Harry hooked his legs over Malfoy's arms as Malfoy braced himself on his hands. Harry still held the lubricant in one hand, and dipped the fingers of his other hand into the jar, coating them in the clear substance. He dropped his hand down between Malfoy's legs and gripped Malfoy's erection. Malfoy hissed between his teeth at the contact.
"Enough," he gritted out, as Harry gave a final squeeze, "or it'll all be over in a hurry."
Harry gave a breathless laugh before dropping down completely onto the bed. Malfoy positioned himself, and moved forward. Harry's eyes fell shut as Malfoy brought their bodies together in a slow glide.
"God, Harry," Malfoy said after a moment, "you feel so good." His head was thrown back, muscles taut as he spoke.
Harry's eyes opened and Hermione saw his lips curve up into a smile. Malfoy was starting to shake a bit, his arms trembling, and Harry arched his back, saying, "Go on, Draco.Move."
Malfoy's breath caught in his throat at the command and he opened his eyes as he drew himself back before slamming forward again. Harry gave a cry and his toes curled as Malfoy repeated the process again and again. Malfoy leaned forward and kissed Harry, shifting his body so that he was supporting his weight on one arm, the other reaching to grasp Harry's erection. Harry was whimpering, one hand curled around Malfoy's bicep, fingers tightening each time Malfoy thrust forward.
As the sounds that Harry and Malfoy were making filled the room, Hermione finally reached her breaking point. She grasped the hems of her robes and slipped one hand underneath, fingers shoving her knickers to the side. She watched those two beautiful men move against each other and she slipped her fingers inside, mimicking the act she was witnessing. She bit her lip to stifle her gasps, keeping her eyes locked on the two bodies in the next room.
She was so aroused, so close, that she knew it wouldn't take very much to push her over the edge. Her thumb brushed her clit as she moved her fingers in and out, and as Malfoy's hand tightened around Harry's cock and he gave one more thrust forward, she came, exactly at the same time as Harry. She groaned, unable to silence the noise completely, but Harry had cried out as well, masking the sound. Malfoy gave two more hard thrusts forward and then he came as well.
"OhmyGodHarry!" he cried hoarsely as his back went taut. While Malfoy came down from the high, Hermione pulled out her wand, muttering a cleaning charm on her hand. As she straightened out her robes and tried to calm her erratic breathing, she glanced up and gasped.
Because Harry had his head turned towards the door, and was looking straight at her.
Malfoy had collapsed against Harry's chest with his eyes closed and his chest heaving, and Harry was running a hand soothingly up and down his back as his body shook in aftershocks, but his eyes were right on Hermione. As she watched, the grin he gave her was absolutely smug, and Hermione flushed bright red.
"God I love you," Malfoy breathed, bringing Harry's attention back to him. Malfoy reached out one shaking hand, cupping Harry's face in his palm.
The proclamation nearly made Hermione's breath catch in her throat, because she knew that Draco Malfoy didn't toss those words around unless he knew they would be reciprocated. She watched as Harry turned his head and kissed Malfoy’s palm, holding her breath to hear his response, even though she was sure she knew what he was going to say.
“I love you, too,” Harry finally said, very quietly, before lifting his head to give Malfoy another kiss.
Malfoy broke the kiss after a minute or so and rolled sideways, pulling Harry with him. He maneuvered them around so that they were lying at the head of the bed and enfolded Harry in his arms. They lay quietly for a bit, and when Malfoy spoke again his voice was heavy with reluctance.
"I should probably go," he said, placing one final kiss on Harry's shoulder and starting to sit up.
"No," Harry murmured. He was once again holding Hermione's gaze, a question apparent in his green eyes, and Hermione nodded her head. Harry smiled again, this time one of sleepy contentment. "Stay. It's time to tell everyone, Draco."
Malfoy's body tensed; Harry must have felt it through the hand still on his arm, because he rolled over to face him, running one hand slowly from Malfoy's throat to his navel and back up again.
"Please stay, Draco," Harry said. Hermione drew herself as far away from the opening in the door as possible while still being able to see, as Malfoy was facing her direction and she most certainly did not want him to see that she was there.
"Are you sure, Harry?" Malfoy's voice was hesitant, uncertainty apparent in his words. "I don't want to cause any problems between you and the Weasleys."
"I'm positive." Harry's voice, in direct contrast, was firm. "I love you."
"I love you, too," Malfoy whispered. The room was silent for a moment, and Hermione risked another glance through the door. Harry was lying on his back, Malfoy leaning over him, one of Harry's hands wrapped around his pale wrist. He seemed to be searching Harry's face for something, because he finally gave a nod. "All right, Harry. I'll stay."
Harry pushed himself up on his arms and kissed Malfoy fiercely. Malfoy made a noise of disapproval in his throat, immediately wrapping Harry in his arms and placing him back against the bed. Harry held him tightly against him and nuzzled his nose into Malfoy's hair.
Malfoy moved again, loosening Harry's grip. He regarded Harry solemnly, then said, "If we're going to tell Hermione tomorrow, then there's something I want to ask you. I've been wanting to ask you this for what seems like forever, but I knew it wasn't practical. But now, well…." Malfoy trailed off, his face shining with uncertainty.
Harry raised one hand and ran his fingers lightly across Malfoy's cheek. "What, Draco?"
Malfoy drew in a deep breath. "Will you move in with me, Harry?" Harry didn't respond right away, so Malfoy continued in a rush. "I know it won't be easy, and I know people will probably disapprove, so I'll understand if you don't want to, of course, but I just thought I'd ask—"
"Shut up, Draco," Harry said fondly. He leaned up for another kiss. "Of course I'll move in with you. I've been waiting for you to ask."
Malfoy snorted. "So sure of yourself, aren't you, Harry?" He softened his words by lowering his head and nuzzling Harry's nose with his own. Harry sighed again and curled his body into Malfoy's chest.
"Not really," Harry murmured sleepily. "But I was sure hoping I was right in this case."
Malfoy kissed Harry's forehead, pulled up the blankets, and waved a hand to extinguish the lamps. "I love you," Malfoy whispered for the third time that night. Harry's reply was murmured against Malfoy's chest, and Hermione reached out and silently closed the bedroom door.
Well, that was certainly interesting, Hermione thought to herself as she walked down the hallway to her bedroom. The conversation the next morning would be even more so, of that she was certain, but Harry looked happy, and it was obvious that Malfoy cared about him. Ron wouldn't like it one bit, but Hermione figured if she worked on him long enough that she could bring him around. She flushed scarlet as she remembered the smug look on Harry's face when he'd caught her watching them, and moved into the bathroom to splash her face with some cold water and brush her teeth.
There were a lot of questions that she wanted answers to, namely exactly how this had all come about and where Ginny had fit in. The confrontation with Ron and the other Weasleys wouldn't be pleasant, but she knew that everything would work out. As she changed into her pajamas and climbed into bed, she decided that there wasn't anyone else in the world that deserved happiness as much as Harry did, and knew that she'd do whatever it took to make sure he had it.
Even if it meant meeting Harry's knowing look straight on at the breakfast table tomorrow morning.
END