Apologies

Title: Apologies
Author: drusillas_rain
Spoilers:None really, although certain things were adjusted after reading HBP
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: So not mine. I just like making sure Harry gets some.
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Wordcount: 3,045
Summary: Harry discovers that people really can change, but is he too stubborn to accept this?
Contains: Fluffy Smut, blow jobs, glory holes, Clueless!Harry, Post-War/Post-Hogwarts, one-shot
A/N: Dedicated to my wonderful and talented betas delly16 and oddnari. Thank you for making my fics better and for showing me how to improve my writing. (Any mistakes are mine)





Everyone was blind.

Ron was the first to go. He had received a carefully hand-written note, detailing every transgression, along with an oddly sincere apology. This was followed by a genuine invitation to help start a new Wizarding Chess Club, so that skilled players could compete against one another.

After the first meeting, sponsored by a generous, local butter beer supplier, Ron had shrugged and simply said it was “the best ruddy game he’d played since the amateur Hogwarts tournament”.

Hermione was next. She had been very suspicious when she had received her own hand-written, meticulously detailed note of apology. She also received an invitation to be the guest of honour at a dinner party, where not only did she meet the topmost researchers in her field, but also those interested in funding her experiments. Her only comment was that people have been known to change.

The Gryffindors were falling like flies. Neville was given a rare copy of a book on musical plants that had been in the pureblood family for countless generations, and invited for a personalized tour of the numerous Manor greenhouses. Collin Creevy was introduced to a successful art gallery owner who was interested in displaying his photographs and a series was commissioned from the talented photographer to “brighten up the house”. Seamus was invited to accompany him on a two-day Firewhiskey tour across the UK. Luna received information that Crumple-horned Snorkacks were spotted in Kenya and that a local tribe would be willing to help her locate them.

And they all received hand-written, detailed notes with sincere apologies for the past.

All except Harry.

It was a ploy to drive the Boy-Who-Lived-And-Survived batty. He was sure of it. His friends gave him pitying looks whenever he pointed out that this could all be a ruse of some sort, and then went back to their newfound appreciation for the enemy.

Not that he really ever had been the enemy.

He had been an annoyance during their years at Hogwarts, but never once managed to catch the snitch or get the best of any of them.

He had the Dark Mark, but had defected to the side of the Light before he could do anything truly evil, and had even fought gallantly in the final battle.

After his father died, he had become pleasant, and was frequently mentioned in the newspapers for his various charitable donations and rebuilding efforts.

He was even currently considered the Wizarding world’s most eligible bachelor, even though he wasn’t a hero, and the public quickly forgot his ancestors’ sins.

But Harry was convinced that all the carefully constructed, seemingly sincere notes were a ploy of some sort to turn every one against him.

And then take over the world.

Yes, that was it. The prat was vying for the new evil overlord title that had been left vacant for ten years.

“Harry, aren’t you a little old to be carrying a childhood grudge?” his friends would cry, giving him distressing looks as if he’d lost his mind.

***

Fuming, Harry wandered the desolate streets of Muggle London at three in the morning. He only ever ventured here when he was stressed, and the last month of “oh, Draco is so wonderful”, “oh, isn’t Draco just so sweet” and “oh, Draco’s absolutely gorgeous” had been unbearable.

Reaching a decrepit building, he made his way down into the basement, until he entered a dimly lit hallway lined with booths. Settling into one, he fed the machine some tokens until a small window opened, and he leaned against the flimsy door to view the show. He unzipped his pants and began stroking himself, watching as a bleached blond took a sable-haired bloke into his pretty mouth.

A sharp tapping noise caught his attention, and he turned towards a glory hole where well-manicured fingers beckoned him. He stuck his hard cock through the hole and was immediately rewarded with a warm mouth closing over the head, a tongue exploring the exposed flesh.

Harry pressed his palms against the battered wall as the skilled stranger teasingly licked up his shaft, then suddenly enveloped him again, eliciting a loud moan. He completely lost himself in the sensations, as he felt the back of the stranger’s throat.

Harry’s eyes were drawn back to the peepshow, the blond wantonly spreading himself on a platform, the raven-haired boy taking him quickly, harshly. He moaned as the stranger’s teeth roughly grazed his cock, inhaling as the mouth relaxed. Closing his eyes, Harry pictured himself on the stage, being watched by an audience, and fucking the blond as others fisted themselves in time.

He could feel himself close to coming, he wanted to watch the couple on the stage, wanted to forget all his problems with Malfoy, wouldn’t let the prat break his concentration, couldn’t let the stranger stop, he needed this…

With a shudder, Harry came, thrusting into the stranger’s mouth till he was spent. He stayed still as the now gentle tongue cleaned his tender cock, then pulled out of the glory hole. Still leaning against the wall, he tried to even his breathing and zip himself up with shaky fingers.

A tiny movement from the opening caught his eye, and he wondered if the stranger wanted a blowjob in return.

Instead, to his dismay, he found a thick, rolled-up piece of parchment tied with green silk and sealed with the Malfoy crest.

***

“Are you still going on about that bloody blowjob?”

“It was a violation!”

“It was a glory hole.”

“Exactly. It was supposed to be anonymous.”

“Did he lure you there?”

“No.”

“Did he force your dick into his mouth?”

“No.”

“Are you upset because it was the best blowjob you’ve ever had?”

“…”

“Well, now that that’s settled I’ve got to run. I’ll Floo-call you tomorrow, Harry.”

***

Harry couldn’t believe his friends. Best blowjob ever. As if.

Grudgingly, Harry had to admit the ferret’s tongue was talented. It would have been wonderful to just grab onto that unnaturally blond hair and push Malfoy down to his knees. Not to mention the tongue stud that felt heavenly, sliding up his shaft…

With a groan, Harry couldn’t believe he had that image of Draco permanently etched into his mind. And since when had he become Draco? It was as if the wall never existed between them that night and every time he wanked he saw the scene unfolding in front of his eyes. Short of purging his head with an Obliviate spell, Harry did the only thing he could think of. Find a one-night stand.

The dance club was loud, busy and dirty, both in décor and clientele. Large cockroaches skittered across the sticky tables, the bathroom lights weren’t working properly, and there were rumours of what was really in the beer on tap. But the energy of the packed dance floor couldn’t be replicated, and the writhing mass of semi-nude flesh never failed to entice.

After hastily downing several vodka shots, Harry grabbed a Rev and made his way through the sweaty crowd, scanning the men as he passed. He felt an arm encircle his waist, and tried to twist around to face his captor. But there were too many people around, and all he could tell was that a tall, lithe body was pressed against his.

Arms and flesh met, boldly pressing and exploring. The stranger licked up Harry’s neck and unbuttoned his shirt, his hands and hips moving to the music. Harry reached behind his back and pulled the slim hips closer. The stranger’s tongue moved to his ear, teasing and gently tracing the outer shell, his long fingers flicking Harry’s sensitive nipples. Harry tilted his head back onto the stranger’s lean shoulder as supple hands made their way down the exposed torso and slipped inside his loose jeans.

The other hand unbuttoned his pants and Harry felt his hard cock being pulled out. The song changed to a languid rhythm, and the stranger took his time, writhing against his back, his hand stroking the shaft at a leisurely pace. Harry felt teeth grazing his neck, and eyes closing, he slowly turned towards the other man. He kept his head on the stranger’s shoulder and planted kisses along the already bare chest.

Harry’s breathing became ragged as the strokes became faster, and he searched for the other man’s lips. Kissing him furiously, his tongue pushed into the other man’s mouth, as he felt himself get closer. Suddenly the stranger pulled away, but before he could get a good look, the man was on his knees and Harry’s cock was in his mouth.

Already so close, Harry whimpered as he felt the back of the stranger’s throat. Looking down to grasp the other man’s hair, he opened his eyes. Horrified, he was suddenly aware of the shoulder-length blond hair, the tongue stud, the familiar hot mouth, and in a sea of confusion and lust, Harry came.

Closing his eyes again in disbelief, he felt as the other man tucked him away, stood up, and pressed a rolled-up piece of parchment into his hands.

“I’ve done a lot of things to you in the past fifteen years,” Malfoy whispered. “There’s a lot I need to atone for.”

Harry stood in the centre of the dance floor, the parchment tightly clutched in his hand as he felt the other man leave. The other dancers began to move closer to him, and a feeling of claustrophobia overtook him. Leaving the club, he took one last look around for the pale blond, before Apparating home to take a long, hot shower.

***

Harry decided he would no longer be able to attend any social engagements. Every meeting, every party, every Ministry lunch he always found himself paired up with Draco Malfoy. This time, someone had even managed to invite the Slytherin to his own house for his own dinner party, and yet again, the Gryffindor discovered, they were seated next to one another.

Each festivity followed the same routine. Draco was charming, engaging him in topics that the Gryffindor was interested in, always downplaying his own expertise on the subject, and instead changing the focus back on Harry, as if he was the most fascinating person in the room. Then when the event was over, there was a hurried blowjob or hand-job in a bathroom, a back alley, or coat closet. And once Harry had gotten off, a thick piece of tightly rolled up parchment, sealed with the Malfoy crest, was left in his shaking hands.

The dinner at Harry’s own home had been the worst. Draco was praising everything from his cooking skills to his decorating taste. He even complimented Harry on his outfit, saying “it’s great that you’ve come so far since Hogwarts when it comes to fashion”. He then helped say goodnight to Harry’s friends, stripped the Boy-Who-Defeated-Voldemort and reduced him to a quivering mass as that talented, pierced tongue licked around his hole.

They didn’t even make it out of the hallway as the door was closed behind the last guest. Draco pounced, eager to hear Harry moan. Malfoy pulled out his wand and with a hurried Evanesco, the Gryffindor’s clothing was removed. He was roughly pushed over the oak banister, and heard the blond noisily hit the ground as he kneeled on the hardwood floor. The Slytherin pulled Harry’s hips closer to his face, burying his nose in between the firm cheeks.

Harry couldn’t help the sounds that were escaping his mouth as his former arch-nemesis skilfully tongued his crack. He was sure the neighbours were scandalized by his vocal reaction, but Harry only screamed louder as he thought of the two of them on a platform being watched, just like that first night. Malfoy’s eager tongue was pressing in now, and he longed for the other man to touch his throbbing cock. Instead he felt the blond’s hand move from his thighs to his hole and he started as a finger pushed in.

“Please,” he begged.

Harry was so ashamed that he was falling right into the hands of evil, but it was so sweet and good and he would come right there, if only the stupid prat would stroke him already. Instead the fingers continued pushing in, the wicked tongue licking the stretched opening.

“Please,” Harry repeated. “Don’t tease me.”

For the first time, Harry could hear Malfoy fervently remove his own clothing. A hurried spell coated slender fingers with lubricant and he could feel an imperceptible tremble as the other man leaned against his naked back to prepare him. Holding his breath, he felt Malfoy’s cock push against him.

“Oh, Merlin…” Harry groaned, as inch after inch slid in. He tightened his grip on the banister, his own cock aching for release. Impatiently, he pushed back into the other wizard, grinning at the moans. After months of torture, he wanted his turn to play, and Harry wasted no time setting a rhythm that the blond couldn’t help but respond to.

Shifting his hips, he took Draco in deeply, and shivered as his prostate was brushed. Clenching his muscles, he heard another groan, followed by profanity as he repeated the action. He wanted to reach behind him and touch Draco, his desire to stay in control warring with the intense orgasm that was impending, but all he could do was strengthen his grip on the spindles and push back faster and harder.

Draco had at first grasped onto his hips, but as the speed increased he leaned over Harry and pressed himself against his back. Kissing and nipping his shoulders and neck, he swore again, and reached around to Harry’s cock. Stroking it in tandem with his thrusts, the wizards came within moments of one another.

“Does this mean you’ve forgiven me?” mercury grey eyes hopeful as Harry was gently turned around to face him.

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t read the fucking letters have you?” Draco looked crestfallen, and he stood up slowly. “Merlin, Harry. What do you want me do to? How much more do you want from me?” The blond dressed hastily, biting down on his lip and breathing loudly through his nose. Harry sat on the steps, running his sweaty hands through his hair, wondering why he felt like a world-class idiot.

Once Malfoy was dressed, he crouched down in front of the Gryffindor.

“Has this just been some stupid way for you to get your revenge? I thought you of all people wouldn’t lead me on. But no – why shouldn’t perfect Potter treat me like shit. After all, just because I’ve made amends with everyone else, I’m a still a worthless Death Eater.”

Harry was gobsmacked. He hadn’t bothered reading the letters, but began to suspect that the plan wasn’t an attempt to take over the world. Instead it appeared to be a genuine attempt at seduction.

“Are you going to say anything or just sit there staring at me?” he spat. “You know what? I don’t need this.”

“Wait,” Harry cried out as he realized that the blond was moving towards the front door. “Don’t leave yet,” he pleaded.

He ran up to his study and retrieved the sealed scrolls, then ran back down to his living room, hoping that the Slytherin was still there. He opened the letters and saw that only the thickest two contained a list of transgressions in point form, organized by date. The others looked like diary entries, and were all addressed to Harry.

Dear Harry,
We’re starting another school year tomorrow and I can’t wait for you to apologize for hexing me on the train last spring…

Dear Harry,
I’m so lonely. Now that mother is gone, I no longer have anyone to talk to. No one trusts me, and I wish that I had the courage to approach you sooner…

Dear Harry,
I can’t wait to finally get the chance to meet you. Father has told me so much about you and I’m sure we’ll be the best of friends…

Dear Harry,
I saw you dancing with that loser again. I don’t think I can stand the thought of his disgusting hands all over your body…

Dear Harry,
You’re probably wondering why I haven’t fucked you yet. I’m beginning to suspect you think I’m forcing myself on you, so I won’t cross that line until you ask me to. I need to know that you’ve forgiven me before I can, well, give myself to you.

Oh, Merlin, Harry thought.

“These go back since Hogwarts?” Harry enquired.

“Yes.”

“But…why?”

“I don’t know,” Malfoy shrugged. “When I was younger, mother always made me write letters to my friends, and then later I continued to do so out of habit.”

“Even though you hated me.”

“I didn’t say it made sense. You were never actually supposed to see those letters.”

The two wizards sat in prolonged silence as Harry absentmindedly played with the scrolls.

“Look, I had planned on making amends with everyone, so that I could move on with my life. I wasn’t sure how best to approach you, so when I saw you at that peepshow I acted impulsively. I was headed there myself and happened to walk in right behind you. Then I saw you at that nightclub, and I thought you knew it was me. It wasn’t until you panicked that I realized you had no idea.”

“And you just happened to have the letters with you?” Harry asked incredulously

“Well, the first two times I Apparated home to retrieve them, but then when we started seeing each other everywhere I carried the old letters with me. Besides, I thought you were enjoying it,” Malfoy sighed in frustration. “Look Potter, I’ll just leave and won’t bother you anymore. I’d appreciate it if you kept all this to yourself.”

“Please,” Harry whispered. Draco looked down at the unexpectedly kneeling Gryffindor. “It’s late, and it seems we have a lot to talk about,” Harry said carefully, his movements cautious as though he didn’t want to startle the other man. “Why don’t you come upstairs with me and we’ll talk about this over breakfast?”

The blond smiled and lifted the Gryffindor onto his feet. Their lips met, just as Harry whispered “Oh, and you’re forgiven.”