The Master

[bleedingangel84]

Title: The Master
Author: bleedingangel84
Rating:PG -13 to R-ish
Genre:Flangst-ish
Word Count:1967
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Warnings: Past established relationship, reference to oral sex, slash, improper usage of a piano
A/N: Thanks to nenne for the idea of Harry as a piano teacher in the Muggle World. My brain took this and wandered away with it, but I hope you like it. It's the first bit of slash I've done in ages, so I hope it's okay. <3

The Master

     

          Harry Potter was amazed when he opened the door of his apartment to see none other than Draco Malfoy standing there. His grey eyes appeared clouded and stormy. Harry stood for a moment in silence, feeling as if he was waiting for a storm to break over him.

“Potter, you idiot, didn’t it occur to you that they’d send someone to look for your hare-brained arse?” Malfoy asked. The blond quickly swept a hand through his hair in what might be called a nervous gesture from anyone else, but from a Malfoy, it somehow seemed deliberate and calculated.

“You may as well come in, Draco. It looks as though you’ve gotten rained on,” Harry observed. The young man cleared his throat, gesturing for the slightly damp-looking former Slytherin to enter. Before closing the door, he noted the damp patches on the carpet left behind by Malfoy’s shoes.

“Ahh, so it is still raining, then. I really must tell Mrs. Blakeney to do something about those footprints. She just adores that rose carpet, and the mud would ruin it,” Harry said. He looked calm, Draco thought, as though he hadn’t a care in the world. His voice, however, was just a shade too casual to be believable.

“Cut the bullshit, Potter, really. It’s quite poor form, you know, and it doesn’t suit you in the least.” Draco’s lips were smirking, but his eyes had had acquired a look that was somewhere between sadness and anger, and were full of questions.

Harry looked back at him, his glance a mixture of apology and stubborn defiance.

“Malfoy—Draco, I had to. I deserved a life of my own. You know what it was like after Voldemort. Everyone still expected me to play the hero, after I’d already died to save them. I couldn’t do it anymore, so I ran. I teach music at a Muggle school now.”

Draco’s grey eyes widened in astonishment at that announcement.

“Music, Potter?” he sneered, “That’s a bit outside your area, isn’t it? As I recall, you could hardly tell Beethoven from Wagner, and now you teach music?”

“Stranger things have happened, Draco. Music is my passion now.” The glare Harry sent his former nemesis was a pointed barb.

Malfoy couldn’t help the flinch that overcame his body as his mind was overcome with memories of the two of them together. From the beginning, they’d known each other, though there hadn’t always been the instinctive knowledge of one another that developed later. Prior to Harry’s departure from the world of magic, it had felt as if the two of them were capable of reading one another’s thoughts.

“You didn’t even bother to tell me, Harry. Why? I would’ve understood. I’d have offered to come with you. But you left, like a coward. That’s not how you’re meant to behave.”

Draco hated the plaintive note that crept into his voice at the end of his speech, but faced Harry with his shoulders high. He wanted answers, and he was determined to have them.

Harry took a deep breath and sighed, looking suddenly older than his 29 years.

“Draco, that, there, is precisely why I had to go. Everyone and his great and Minnie was telling me how I was meant to behave, and they just expected me to lie back and take it, like I was some sort of golden child up on a pedestal. That’s not who I am. You should know that better than anyone.”

Malfoy had the grace to look the slightest bit contrite for his earlier statement, but he was determined to hear the entire story.

“What about the rest of it, then?” Draco queried, “Why could I not have come with you?”

Harry took Draco in with one swift look, noting everything from his designer business suit to his highly polished leather shoes. Though his platinum-white hair was mussed from its earlier ruffling through his nervous fingers, his bearing was impeccable, and he carried an unconscious air of entitlement that Harry had only ever observed in pureblooded wizards.

“Don’t be daft, Draco,” Harry snorted, “I could never have asked that of you. You’re too good. Too perfect. Too refined. You can benefit the magical world in ways I would’ve never been capable of, and you know that. Just…go back there and let me be, yeah? I’m fine here, and I‘m quite sure everyone is doing well without me.”

If Harry’s words had ended on a slightly lonely, bitter note, Draco pretended not to notice it.

“Oh, so now who’s being daft, Harry? W-They miss you. Why else do you think I’d be dragging myself through the Muggle world looking for you? It’s certainly not for my health.”

With that, Draco loosed a powerful sneeze, and Harry saw with some surprise that he was shivering.

“Did you forget how to perform a drying charm, Malfoy? I would’ve thought you’d want to save those shoes, if not your suit. It looks rather high end to me,” Harry stated, only half teasing.

“Oh, do shut up, Harry. Smugness does nothing for that hideous-looking head of yours,” Draco responded.

Harry couldn’t help but laugh, even as he took pity on Draco long enough to perform drying and warming charms on him. His eyes turned wistful at the familiar jibe.

“It’s nice to know some things don’t change, Draco,” he said softly, “You always did like to insult my hair.”

“How could I not? It always looks as if you’ve been caught in a storm or interrupted during a battle with a giant who tried to scalp you,” Draco answered.

Harry smiled at the familiar snarky tone, beginning to feel the comfort that had only come to him when he was with Draco.

“I’ve missed you, too, Malfoy. How is everyone?” Harry inquired.

“I’m not here to play messenger boy, Potter. I’m under strict orders to bring you back. Don’t make me face the wrath of a pregnant Weasley, Potter, or I swear to Merlin I will flay you myself.”

“Pre-pregnant? W-Weasley? How? W-who?” Harry stuttered.

“Hermione Granger-Weasley, if you must know. The woman has been like a dog with a bone since you left the magical world. She said to tell you in no uncertain terms that she expects you there for the birth of your godchild.”

Harry sighed in relief, having for one awful instant thought that Draco was speaking of Ginny, who was still a bit of a sore spot for him, having tried to trap him into a relationship shortly before his departure from the world of wizards.

Harry's sense of reprieve from his inevitable entrapment was so great that it took quite a few moments for Draco’s words to register. When they did, his smile widened into a shocked grin.

“Godchild? They’re naming me the godfather of their baby?” Harry asked in wonder.

“Yes, Potter, they are. Is there an echo in here? Or has such momentous news rendered you incapable of intelligent speech?” Draco inquired. His tone was cool, but the smile that was playing around his mouth spoke of his joy in seeing Harry so happy.

For Harry, such news brought with it an overwhelming mix of emotions. Joy, pride, love and responsibility were all mingling in his thoughts, along with a bittersweet sadness. He sat, or more accurately, flopped, onto his overstuffed, cushy tan sofa.

Draco eyed Harry with concern.

“Are you all right, Harry?” he asked, “Oh Merlin, I’ve botched it. Granger’s going to hit me again. That witch has a wicked right hook, Potter, in case you’ve forgotten. She hits harder now than she did in third year.”

“Draco, would you calm down? Hermione will not need to hit you. I’m going back. It seems as though I don’t have much of a choice now, do I?” Harry looked resigned, but happy. It was time to go home.

“Oh, Harry, thank you!” Draco exclaimed. “I truly didn’t fancy facing Granger if you hadn’t agreed to return. She’s one smart witch, and she knows too many spells that aren’t good for one’s health.

Harry laughed aloud at that.

“Don’t ever change, Draco,” he said fondly.

Harry’s eyes had softened to the hue of a summer forest. The look in them was enough to make Draco catch his breath with longing. Draco nearly pinched himself to keep from leaning forward and capturing Harry’s lips with his own, but stopped himself. Malfoys were above the need for such plebeian means of dissuasion, after all.

Harry, however, was waging his own internal war. He could not stop staring at Draco’s soft lips. He wondered if his kisses would still feel the same as they had before. Seeing Draco standing before him pulled his thoughts backward to a time when Draco had been everything to him. Before he realized what he was doing, he had stood and pressed Draco to the wall, tilting his head to facilitate a thorough plundering of Draco’s mouth.

Draco sighed in contentment, relaxing against the wall in relief, simply letting himself give in to the kiss, tasting the familiar flavor of the cinnamon candies Harry was forever sucking on. He sought more of that flavor with his tongue, briefly dominating the kiss before breaking it reluctantly.

“Don’t think that one kiss means I’ve forgiven you for leaving me behind, you evil Gryffindork,” Draco whispered intently, “You should have let me come with you. I-I missed you, Harry. Nothing is the same without you.”

Draco closed his eyes, feeling the sadness of their time apart hit him all at once.

“I’m here now, Draco, and you won’t lose me again. No matter what I’ve done, or where I’ve gone, I never stopped loving you. I’m just sorry you had to be the one to find me and bring me back home. I know you hate the Muggle world.”

“It’s not so bad. You’re here,” Draco said.

“You’ve really turned into a sap since I’ve been gone Draco,” Harry taunted.

“Bite your tongue, you liar,” Draco offered in response, his nose wrinkling in a show of displeasure that didn’t reach his bright eyes.

“I will not, it’s true,” Harry said, looking extremely pleased by the fact.

“You will never hear me admit that, Potter.” Draco warned.

“I’d never expect anything less, Draco,” Harry reassured.

Draco looked around him at the plush furnishings, noticing a piano taking up one large corner of the room.

“So, Harry, you play that thing?” he asked.

“Why, Malfoy, you interested in learning? I am a teacher, after all."

“I am hopeless at such things. Mother tried to teach me when I was younger, but I never was able to learn."

“Yes, well, my method would likely be somewhat different than your mother’s. I’m rather fond of using…positive reinforcement,” Harry admitted.

His raised eyebrow left little doubt in Draco’s mind that Harry’s methods would indeed be more enjoyable than those employed by his previous instructors.

“Sounds promising, Professor Potter,” Draco breathed, his whisper almost a purr.

“Come on, Draco, let me show you the proper…technique,” Harry rasped.

Hours later, thoroughly disheveled, Draco sat on top of Harry’s piano, Harry’s hands in his hair, his lips being nibbled by his seemingly ravenous lover.

“Sweet gods, Harry, you may be good at playing this piano, but you are a master at playing me,” he admitted, shocking himself with his candid statement.

The next noise heard in Harry’s flat was a series of discordant notes as his body rested on the keys, while his face was buried in Draco’s crotch, reducing him to helpless whimpers and moans with talented sweeps of his tongue and suction from his hot, wet mouth.

Harry did not pull off until Draco had come in long, hot pulses down his open throat.

“Always was, love. Always was,” Harry said happily.

Comments

[nenne.livejournal.com]

I think anyone could learn to play the piano with that kind of reinforcement. *G*

That was lovely. I'm happy that my idea could inspire this!

[bleedingangel84.livejournal.com]

I'm happy I was able to write it. It wasn't quite what I intended to write, but I like it overall.

[veritas03.livejournal.com]

Sweet gods, Harry, you may be good at playing this piano, but you are a master at playing me." Love that line!
Poor Draco - Harry must return - if for no other reason than to save Draco from the wrath of Hermione! Thanks for linking me to this! ♥

[bleedingangel84.livejournal.com]

I am so glad you like that line. I wasn't sure of this at all, so it's really good to have positive feedback on it. Thanks for reading it. <3

[my_thestral]

You usually write in snippets - a single conversation or situation that may be continued - but this is a fully-fledged story, that has lots of background and some promise of future and I really like that. :) It's a very well painted picture of Harry's reason that made him run, as well as the circumstances Draco finds him in. I imagine Harry needed to get away in order to define himself as something other than everyone's favourite hero, because that comes with a lot of expectation and exposure. But I'm really happy that he didn't run away from friendship and such, and that the promise of responsibility in the form of godfather, immediately makes him decide to come back - I imagine this is one role he'd like to do right.
Even if it's not described in much detail, it's obvious that the bond they have with Draco runs deep, since they practically fall around each other's neck or, uhm, other body parts, LOL, the first time they see each other after a while. The void that forms between people who part without a proper goodbye doesn't seem that hard to bridge. :)

[bleedingangel84.livejournal.com]

I'm so glad that you appreciated this one. This was honestly my first attempt at a story in so long that I was nervous to post it. I imagine being a godfather would be the one thing that would make him feel the need to return to the magical world after years away. And having Draco there would just be added incentive, I imagine. :)

One reason that I tend to write in dialogues when I write for hogwarts365 is because of the word limit. I try to tell the story mostly though dialogue and characterization because there is only so much story you can tell in 365 words. The funny thing is, I used to be really uncomfortable writing dialogue, and now it's the writing text bit that makes me anxious. I reckon I'll have to try to get past that hurdle at some point, but part of me is afraid that i won't do things the justice they deserve.