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themostepotenteTitle: If Wishes Were Horses
Pairing: Harry/Draco -- past implied Harry/Ron
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Harry and Draco spend the day together at a carnival.
Kinks: Established relationship, rimming, a bit o' fisting
Disclaimer: Oh, so not mine. This market's been cornered.
A/N: This was written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ficbymarks' birthday. Better late than never I always say :-)
Betaed bycawti and cave_canem. Invaluable advice from cluegirl and sharp_tongue.
This is the first of many adventures in my 'Carousel' series -- a series dealing with time travel. The idea stemmed from a belief of mine that Jack the Ripper was actually a wizard -- one who preyed on Muggle prostitutes in order to prevent breeding and further the preservation of pure wizarding blood. It is also my belief that JtR was the Malfoy family physician.
The next piece, tentatively titled A Slytherin in King Arthur's Court, will have the boys sent back in time to the days of Arthur, Lancelot, and Merlin.
Though this is a series -- each piece is able to stand on its own. Enjoy all!
Malfoy Manse – circa 1985
“Do you see this room, Draco?” Lucius held the face of his five-year-old son much the same way a trainer would hold his dog’s face above its mess.
“Yes, father,” Draco whimpered.
“Lucius,” came the soft voice behind them. “You’re hurting him.”
“Not now, Narcissa. It’s because of you I’m having to do this.”
“But, Lucius—”
“Ninety-eight rooms in the manse, Narcissa. Ninety-eight rooms, and you can’t keep the boy out of one.”
“Lucius, let him come to me.”
Lucius ignored any further comments his wife made, pressing his fingertips a little bit deeper into the hollows below his son’s cheekbones. “I’m only going to ask you this once, Draco, and if Father doesn’t like your answer, he’s going to take it out on Mother. Do you understand?”
Draco nodded vigorously, tears streaming down his pale face.
“Why have you disobeyed my express wishes that you stay out of it then?”
“I don’t know, father,” Draco managed between sobs. He tried to turn his head to look back at his mother. No doubt he wanted the safety of her arms.
“Don’t look at your mother, boy. She hasn’t the right answer.” Lucius squeezed harder, dragging his son inside. “No Malfoy ever uses ‘I don’t know’ for an answer. It’s nothing more than a chocolate covered lie. Again, Draco, what were you doing in this room?”
“I wanted to see the pretty horses, father.” Draco choked on a sob when Lucius let go, shameful wet heat dribbling down his legs to puddle around him on the floor.
Lucius closed the double doors behind them, glaring at his wife until she was no longer visible through the crack.
Because Lucius always enunciated the last syllable of his spell, Narcissa was able to deduce the ‘—ate’ from behind closed doors. The silence that followed was deafening. Her heart bottomed into her shoes.
Father and son emerged five minutes later, with Draco no longer a wet and sniveling mess. The boy was all smiles.
Narcissa went after Lucius, a pained expression on her beautiful face. “You didn’t?”
“I did,” Lucius replied. “Somebody has to teach this boy some proper discipline.”
“I try to encourage Draco. He doesn’t respond positively to threats.”
“Yes, and how very ‘Andromeda’ of you I might add.” Lucius took his wife gently by the chin. “You left me with little choice.”
“Lucius—”
“Shh, Narcissa,” Lucius said, silencing her with a gloved finger to her lips. “Your son has soiled the floor of the carousel room. See to it before you come up to bed. I’ll be waiting for you.” Lucius left her to deal with the mess and with Draco.
The mess was easily cleaned by a house elf. But her beloved Draco? It is only ten minutes, she reminded herself as she held her son tightly. In ten minutes, he’ll remember that I’m his mother and not a complete stranger.
~*~
When Draco and Harry’s hatred had run its course, they were left wondering – what next? It was no longer fun to hate the other. It was more of a chore, really, to work up the energy to be insulting. The whole idea became such a bore that they called a truce. This eventually led to an implied respect – with a gesture as simple as a handshake to congratulate the match’s winner. The gestures grew friendlier -- an encouraging word, a pat on the back. Suddenly, Draco wasn’t such an impossible prat. Harry wasn’t such a wanker. A glance became a look – a look became a stare -- a stare an appreciative smile.
It’s always quickest to travel a straight line, and this is perhaps why Draco and Harry decided to brave the curves in the road. You see, one can look down a straight road and see what lies ahead – but one can never be too sure what lies beyond a curve. They were in no hurry; they would get there eventually -- that is, wherever eventually led.
High Wycombe; County Fairgrounds – 1996
“I don’t want to go home,” Draco said glumly.
“Then don’t, Draco. Come home with me.”
It was hard to take Harry seriously with grape-stained lips and a Technicolour tongue to match. “I can’t. You know I can’t. You know he expects me home.”
“Why say anything at all then?” Harry finished the last of his grape ice. It was his third of the evening.
“Don’t mind me. I’m just thinking out loud.”
“You’re focusing on your father. You’re letting him spoil a perfectly pleasant evening.” Harry eyed the various vendors, eenie meenie miney mo-ing between two. “I want a hot dog.”
“Harry you’ve had three grape ices, candyfloss, two orders of chips, and a bag of popcorn. Now you want a hot dog? Where are you putting all of this?”
“Not sure, really. Aren’t you hungry?”
“No – not for anything here. And Harry, a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips. You’re going to be porky come Quidditch season.”
Harry laughed. “I’ve heard you say that to Pansy. And besides, I have ways of working it off.” He winked at Draco, but his friend was simply inconsolable. “Look, if I win you a teddy bear will you promise not to be such a wet blanket?”
“A teddy bear?” Draco said, perking up. He tried to act all cool as if he wasn’t at all interested in something so girly “I might be encouraged by the suggestion.”
“Very well then, it’s settled. No laughing if I don’t ring the little bell.”
“You get ‘three’ tries,” Draco said, walking with Harry to the game. He watched as money was exchanged for the mallet, patting Harry on the back for good luck.
The social order was divided into six separate classes -- peasant, knave, jester, knight, prince, and king. The object of the game was to strike the platform with the mallet, thus sending the weight up to ring the bell above the king rank.
Harry’s first swing landed midway between ‘jester’ and ‘knight.’
“C’mon, Harry,” Draco snickered. “Millicent Bulstrode could do better.”
Harry turned and inclined his head, eyeing Draco over the tops of his slipping wire frames. “Millicent Bulstrode is also one chin whisker away from being a bloke.”
“True enough,” Draco said, laughing still.
Harry swung again. He might have succeeded had Draco not grabbed his arse. The weight slid back down from ‘prince.’
“Quit that!”
The operator gave Draco a funny look. “No funny business, lad. I run a clean game.”
Draco rolled his eyes, ignoring the carny. “Last chance, Harry. Make it count.”
The third time was the charm -- Harry’s third and final strike rung the bell. His t-shirt rode up his torso revealing the happy trail that faded into his shorts. He caught Draco ogling him shamelessly. Harry just shoved the hair out of his face and grinned.
The game operator shoved the teddy bear at Harry disgustedly. “You a couple of poofs then?”
“Yeah,” Harry replied wryly, casting a little grin over at Draco for colour, “we’re shagging like ferrets.” He dropped the mallet at the man’s feet, handing the teddy bear over to Draco. “I believe this bear needs a good home.”
“Shove off, then!” the man sneered. He muttered something about the youth of today.
With a last polite smile to the man, Harry laced his fingers with Draco’s before turning and walking away.
“Fucking pillock,” Harry muttered. “Still, we’d never be able to get away with half of what we’re doing if this were a wizard’s carnival.”
“No,” Draco cast a nervous look back the way they’d come, “but you know how I feel about Muggles, Harry.”
“I’d gladly trade uneasiness for privacy, Draco. Nobody here knows that I’m Harry Potter – Boy Who Lived,” he said, gesturing to his forehead. “Or that you’re Draco Malfoy -- Boy Who Worships Boy Who Lived.”
Draco chuckled and kissed Harry’s jawline.
“We can hold hands, kiss, or rub noses like bloody Eskimos, and nobody gives us a second glance.” Harry ran the backs of his fingers down Draco’s cheek. “I love this time with you. I don’t want to give it up.”
“I should get home, Harry,” Draco sighed, melting at Harry’s touch.
“You’re already in trouble. Make the most of it. Stay with me…please.”
“All right, Harry.”
“The ferris wheel beckons us. I’m in the mood to make out.”
“Race you there?” Draco grinned. “Last one there is a Snape-loving troglodyte.”
Harry ran as fast as his skinny legs could carry him, but he was no match for Draco. He finished about thirty seconds behind his blonde counterpart, panting wildly, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.
Draco, who was breathing normally, handed the tickets to the ride operator. He pulled Harry to the ride’s cart by the crook of his elbow, practically seating him. The ride shuddered underneath them, and they were up and away into the starry night sky.
The pair spent the duration of their ride stealing kisses from one another until one cart-stopping jolt stranded them at the very top. The cart rocked pendulously at the sudden stop, and Harry grabbed the side just as the cart tipped enough to see the one below them.
Draco gave Harry an amused look. “What? That was nothing at all compared to hitting an air pocket.”
“Draco! It’s not like we’re on brooms. We fall from this height, and we’ll be living life in vegetative state.”
“Nah, the fall’d kill us,” Draco informed Harry. “Lucky how the ride stopped with us at the top, eh?” Draco was wearing that smile that said he was up to something.
“Yeah, lucky. Did you whip out your wand when I wasn’t looking and conveniently stop the ride?”
“Who me?” Draco asked dramatically, clapping a hand to his chest. “You know I left my wand behind.”
“Draco?” Harry gave his lover the evil eye.
“Well, I tipped the operator fifty pounds for ten minutes.”
“You didn’t?”
“I did. Tic tock, tic tock, Harry.”
“Why are you clicking your tongue?”
“That’s the sound of our time ticking away. Now would you fucking kiss me – like you bloody well mean it? None of this knut and sickle shite.” Draco flung his arms behind him, leaning back. “Even my father kisses my mother with more passion. And he hates her.”
That was all Harry needed to hear. He pressed a hand to Draco’s chest and kissed his lips gently. His other hand slid between Draco’s knees, pushing them apart. He walked his index and middle fingers between Draco’s legs, letting them travel up the swell in Draco’s shorts. Harry deepened their kiss, forcibly prying open Draco’s lips with the rigid tip of his tongue.
Draco bit down gently with his incisors as Harry’s tongue rolled out like a red carpet to usher him in welcomingly. The cool press of Harry’s lenses on his face did nothing to temper the fire that reddened his cheeks. Harry was the best kisser he’d ever been with, and Draco had locked lips with quite a few young men. He especially loved watching Harry who always closed his eyes during their long and loving embraces. Perhaps it was the flutter of lengthy lashes – or that he couldn’t see into those beautiful green eyes, but knew what he was thinking, feeling without seeing them stare back into his.
Harry was practically in Draco’s lap when the ride started up again. But that didn’t stop him. He intensified their kiss by running his fingers through Draco’s windblown hair, mussing it even more. Harry had a sizeable bulge in his shorts by the time the ride stopped. He wasn’t even aware when the operator held the safety harness open, waiting for them to climb out.
“Ahem,” the man coughed. “You three should get a room.” The third being the stuffed bear, of course.
Draco and Harry heard nothing, saw nothing. They were only aware of each other – that is, until the ride operator took hold of Harry by the back of his collar, pulling them apart.
“Fucking tosser!” Draco hissed through his teeth. The waistband of his y-fronts snapped back against his midsection when Harry, and Harry’s hand were pried away from him. Draco followed Harry, yanked to his feet by an enormous hand. “Do us all a favour and buy some manners with the fifty quid, would you?”
Harry covered his erection with both hands, blushing something terrible at having been caught. But Draco would not give this crowd the satisfaction. He brushed past the disgusted onlookers not particularly caring who saw what.
“Glad to see that little outburst didn’t affect your erection,” Harry said, looking down.
“I’m still horny,” Draco admitted. “But that was like having the rug jerked out from under you. What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” He turned around to face Harry, gesturing to himself.
“Let me take care of that,” Harry smiled. “In the funhouse -- there’s something I’ve been meaning to try with you.”
“I think they’re going to close soon, Harry. It’s nearly midnight.”
“You turn into a pumpkin?” Harry asked. “I could make you come twice before then. That is, unless, you’d rather go home and explain to your father that Harry Potter made his son harder than his dowry bride ever did.”
“Fuck you, Harry.”
“I’m hoping for afterwards.”
“Fine,” Draco sneered scathingly. “This had better be good, Potter, or the next time I fuck you, I’ll split you open. I swear to Merlin I will.”
“Have I mentioned I love when you call me ‘Potter’…Malfuck?” Harry loved teasing Draco. The snarky undertone of their repartee made the sex that much better.
“Malfuck – now there’s one I haven’t heard before. Typical Weasley line. You stole that from him, didn’t you?”
“I claim sole responsibility,” Harry confessed. “Besides, Ron’s agreed to a cease fire in lieu of hostility.”
“Well, wasn’t that gentlemanly of him.”
“You’re poking fun, Draco. Don’t.”
“I just don’t know what you see in him. He’s – he’s wizarding trash.”
“Funny – he says the same about you.”
“He has no right being a pureblood.”
“That’s your father talking.”
“Leave my father out of this,” Draco hissed.
“Why? You haven’t all night. Surprised you’ve never scavenged a photo of him and held it while we were fuck—”
Draco came at Harry with an open-handed slap.
“—ing. You hit me!” Harry cried in astonishment. He touched his cheek gingerly, too late to cushion the blow.
“Why, yes,” Draco smirked. “I suppose I did.” His hand was still midair. “What are you going to do about it then…Potty?”
“You’ll see,” Harry growled, dragging Draco by the ear to the Funhouse.
And by the Gods, Draco allowed him – eager to follow the rabbit down the darkened hole.
~*~
Draco and Harry had to sneak past the ticket taker and his maze of velvet ropes. The last of the fun seekers were ushered out as the midnight hour approached. It was the perfect setting, and it would’ve provided a lovely fireside telling – were they not sworn to secrecy.
They walked past the aisle of mirrors, reflections distorted – short and squat like Madam Sprout, tall and thin like Severus Snape. They bounded onward over rickety bridges, past teetering beer kegs, through a labyrinth of dead-ends and tilted passageways, down blackened corridors and past a myriad of painted leering clowns, until at long last they came to a room with a faux starry sky. The walls were painted black with large craters -- several pairs of blinking eyes emerging from their shadows to give the illusion of extraterrestrial life. The floor was padded with gray foam made to resemble the surface of the moon.
“So we’re to do it on the moon, then? You, me, and the little green men?”
“The little, green men can all take numbers. I get first crack at you,” Harry smiled. He pulled a tube out of his pocket, advancing on Draco.
“What’s in the tube?”
“Liquid taffy,” Harry said, pushing Draco to the ground.
“That’s going to be awfully sticky to fuck with.”
“Oh, I’m not going to fuck you, Draco. On all fours.”
“Then what are you going to do?” Draco asked, complying with Harry’s demands.
“And ruin my surprise? Bear underneath your chest. Arse in the air.”
Draco whimpered helplessly. Each moment he waited for Harry to take him was longer than the last. “I need your cock inside me.”
“I’m sure you do,” Harry replied coolly, positioning himself behind Draco. He reached around Draco’s waist, undoing his belt buckle. He waited a minute before returning to the task at hand, letting Draco’s cock throb with want.
“What are you waiting for?” Draco’s hand slipped down the front of his shorts. He thought he’d die if he didn’t touch himself.
“Hand out of your shorts, Draco. Wanking is like spoiling your dinner with sweets. Trust me,” Harry said, fingers looped in Draco’s belt hoops. “This is like nothing you’ve felt before.”
Reluctantly, Draco removed his hand. “And how would you know?”
“Are you sure you want the answer to that?” Harry slid both Draco’s shorts and his y-fronts down his muscular legs, baring his firm arse.
“Tell me – it’s not like I haven’t been ‘around.’” As if the suspense wasn’t killing him, the feel of liquid taffy finger painted around his entrance made him edgy.
“Very well – Ron and I experimented before you and I got together.”
Draco bit down on the bear’s nose to keep from cursing. Harry and Ron – together. Kissing, licking, sucking…fucking. Draco reasoned he’d sooner stick his cock in a meat grinder than sully himself with a Weasley. He was all set to give Harry a piece of his mind when Harry surprised him. He would never have thought Harry the type to rim his arsehole like a Knockturn Alley whore.
Draco’s face sank into the soft plushness of the bear, synthetic fur tickling the inside of his nostrils. He twisted the bear’s ears in his hands, Harry and Ron together mere afterthoughts now. Arsehole, tongue – tongue, arsehole. Nothing else mattered. Draco would swear on the Unholy Bible that Harry was writing something, dotting his i’s with a quick, sharp plunge into his depths.
Harry pressed his fingertips into the curves of Draco’s arse, slowly pulling his cheeks apart and widening the cleft. He wiggled his tongue up and down the sticky trail of ‘Very Cherry’, darting his tongue inside a little further on the return trip.
Harry liked his Draco submissive, but nothing made him happier than this implied trust. With Ron the trust had been natural, and though he loved his best friend dearly, the challenge of taming the viperous Draco made the ups and downs of their roller coaster relationship worth it.
Draco arched his back like a cat in heat, rubbing up against the bear as if it were the leg of its master. The friction between his face and the fur reddened his cheek, and the sparks of aching want caught fire. It spread through his body like a wild inferno -- liquid heat that coursed through him, melting the icy disposition. If his body was actually the flame itself -- the blue flicker, the hottest element -- was his cock.
After several body trembling tongue-lashings, Harry thought Draco was ready to take his fingers. He started with two, twisting and turning them inside Draco’s arsehole to stretch him for a third -- then a fourth, thumbing his entrance in a repetitive half-moon.
Draco slammed back on Harry’s fingers, moving up his knuckles, submerging Harry’s hand a little further each time. He wasn’t quite to the wrist when he felt Harry’s index finger strike his prostate -- and one brief caress was all it took. He came violently, swaying his hips with the hypnoticism of a belly dancer. He tore the ears clean off the bear, matting its chest fur with come. Draco collapsed with a soft thud, the ears still tightly clenched in his fists.
“Was that the best orgasm you’ve ever had?” Harry asked, confident of his reply.
“Yes,” Draco said quietly, rolling over satisfied. “And I’ve had many with you.”
“You defiled the bear,” Harry laughed, uncurling Draco’s fingers.
“Well, at least now it won’t have to hear our smutty pillow talk.” Much as he was tempted to ask Harry to clean him, Draco pulled up his underwear and shorts, tucking himself in. “Pity – I never did get to ride on the carousel. I don’t care if my father says I’ve outgrown them, I still love them from way back when.”
“We still can, Draco.”
“It’s well after midnight, Harry. Everyone’s gone home.”
“So?” Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. “One of us can flip the switch. Then we can ride until morning if you want to.”
Draco thought long and hard on this. He was already in trouble with his father. The only difference an hour would make was the intensity of the beating. “All right, Harry. Help me up, won’t you?”
Harry offered Draco a hand.
Draco fell unsteadily into Harry’s arms “I’m glad you didn’t shake my hand our first day at Hogwarts. Things might’ve been different.”
Harry’s response was to kiss Draco’s cheek.
And this time, Draco closed his eyes – wishing the moment would last forever.
~*~
The moonlight reflected the ornate mirrors of the carousel at they approached. Sixteen horses in two rows, interspersed with sleighs made up the carousel. The horses were carved from maple and mahogany, each one different than the next, but proud beasts with circus costumes inlaid with gold filigree. Unfortunately, time and circumstance were cruel with neglect, and their beauty was best imagined with eyes closed.
“Isn’t it…beautiful?” Draco sighed. “If I close my eyes I can hear the organ playing.”
“If you say so, Draco. Just reminds me of my Uncle Vernon holding me back while Dudley got to ride over and over. The way he giddy upped, I thought he’d break the horse, the fat arse.”
“C’mon, Harry,” Draco said, linking Harry’s arm. “I want to take you on the horse.”
“Well, all right, but I planned on it anyway. I’m riding that one,” Harry pointed.
“No, you don’t get it, Harry. I said…I’m taking you on the horse.” Draco rubbed up against Harry’s thigh – his cock solid and throbbing. “And look,” he said as they approached, “I get to watch us.” He indicated the mirrors that covered the motor with a toss of his blonde head.
They climbed the wooden deck together, standing by the horse of their choosing. After long, amorous looks into the other’s eyes, they undressed each other between soft kisses.
Draco kicked their clothes out of the way of the horse’s runner. “Get on, Harry. I’ll be the one to flip the switch.” Just as soon as Draco touched the backside of the horse, he had a flashback that left him faint. He reached for Harry to keep from falling.
“You okay, Draco?”
“Yeah, I…I’m, fine. I just had this feeling of déjà vu. Like I’ve been here before.”
“Here as in the carnival?” Harry asked.
“No – here as in this carousel. On this horse.” Draco rubbed his eyes. “It was probably just something I remembered from a dream.”
“You sure you’re okay? We don’t have to do this.”
“I’m fine, Harry,” Draco reassured, taking the Slytherin handkerchief from the pocket of his shorts. He used it to blindfold Harry. “Can you see?” Draco asked, securing the knot.
“Only the blur of green.”
“Good,” Draco said, pulling his belt out from the loops of his shorts. “Hands on the pole in front of you.”
Harry placed his hands on the carved spiral pole, interlocking his fingers.
Draco bound Harry to the pole, pulling tightly to cinch the belt around his wrists.
“Ow! Draco that’s too tight!”
“If it’s too tight – it’s not tight enough,” Draco said, pulling it tighter one additional notch. “Merlin, Harry – you don’t know how beautiful you look right now. I’d give anything to have you at the stables.”
Harry whimpered as the leather chafed his skin.
“Relax, Harry,” Draco said stepping down. “You won’t even remember the belt when I start fucking you.”
Though it ran on a switch, the carousel had an old key crank used to kick-start the motor. Once the music started playing, Draco found it to be much louder than expected. He used a nearby piece of scrap metal to place it between the two cogs and silence it. Only the whoosh of the rotating platform and Harry’s distressed whimpers were heard as the carousel spun around. Draco watched as Harry’s horse slid up and down its pole.
Draco was content just to gaze at Harry, seeing him this way -- bound, blindfolded, and at his mercy. Five rotations became ten – ten became twenty. It wasn’t until the twenty-fifth rotation that Draco snapped from his reverie and became aware of Harry’s calling for him – beckoning him to the back of the horse with moans of desperation.
The whip of the night air brought upon a delicious chill that shivered over Harry’s body. It swept past his temples and over his ears, forcing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. It made his nipples stiffen, and the curls just below his navel tingle as it traveled to his cock. Pre-come oozed from Harry’s cock, streaking up the saddle from the motion of the ride.
Draco slipped on from behind, using the second set of stirrups to hold himself up while he lubed his cock with the liquid taffy. The combination of his own pre-come and the Very Cherry taffy painted his cock a light pink and left him sticky-fingered. He pressed a hand to Harry’s back, coaxing him to arch for entry. Little by little, he slid his cock inside Harry, hovering just above the back of the saddle, relying on his lower body strength for push. Draco stretched the reins over Harry’s head, grasping them tightly as he began to drive into Harry’s arse.
Harry curled his toes around the edges of the stirrups, crossing the second over the biggest toe as the thrusting intensified. The pain of the leather belt numbed with each and every stab thereafter until he no longer felt it at all. There was a dizzied pleasure, the same that came with aerial stunts that left him lightheaded. The sight deprivation had his remaining senses working overtime – most importantly, touch. The feel of his lover’s closeness was overwhelming when Draco curled his chin around Harry’s shoulder. Turning his head, Harry could only make out Draco’s silhouette through the blindfold until Draco tugged it down over Harry’s eyes with his teeth.
“I’m coming,” Draco gasped, his body bent over Harry’s like a Kentucky Derby jockey vying for finish. He spilled into Harry just as the horse reached the height of its ascent.
Harry came moments after Draco, the ruthless but pleasurable press of cock shivering against his prostate. His come rolled down the side of the saddle, slipping through the crack between his inner thigh and the horse’s body. A few droplets splashed the top of his foot. He could feel the rigidity of muscles in the backs of his legs, temporarily paralyzed from ignoring the charley horse mid-orgasm. He was thankful to Draco for having undone the belt, free of the bonds but still frozen in place.
Still inside Harry, Draco slid his shrinking cock out, carefully slipping down from the back over the plume of the horse’s tail. The feel of solid wood beneath his feet was strange after riding the horse for so long. His equilibrium out of sorts, Draco zigzagged back to the motor, shutting it down. He helped Harry down, letting him sling an arm across his back.
Just as they were on their way to a sleigh-bench to sit, Draco had another upsetting flashback – this one more detailed.
“What is it, Draco?”
“I’ve been here before. And to prove that I’m not crazy, I want you to check that horse,” Draco said pointing.
“What am I looking for?”
“Initials.” Draco pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes to block out the surrounding stimuli. “I, H, M, F.”
“I, H, M, F?”
“I hate my father. It’s not like I could spell it out.”
“You don’t hate your father.”
“I did that day.” Draco removed his hands to look Harry straight in the eyes. “Please, Harry – go and check for me.”
Harry went to check, examining the body of the horse, “Where, Draco? I don’t see anything.”
“Underside of the horse’s belly. I used the sharp edge of a toy wizard.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Do you see it now, Harry?”
“Yeah,” Harry answered softly. “Where was this carousel when you carved these initials?”
“You won’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
“The Manor.”
“The Manor? How could that be?”
“I think this remembrance was obliviated from my mind, but because the brain is complex, residual memory may sometimes linger.”
“Would explain the bits and pieces you remember. But what was this doing at the manse? And why is it here now?”
“I don’t know, Harry. I’m sure my father does though. Thing is, he won’t be willing to tell me. He’d probably just obliviate me again.”
“Draco, I think you may be jumping to conclusions. This seems a bit far fetched.”
“What’s far fetched about it? My father doesn’t love in the conventional sense. His idea of showing love – tough love – is through punishment. You think he’s above charming his own son? Think again.”
“Well,” Harry said skeptically. “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”
“Are you suggesting we go back to the Manor?”
“Yeah -- not that I relish the thought. If what you’re saying is correct, you should have a room big enough to accommodate this.”
“The ballroom.”
“Other than the ballroom. If your father was trying to hide this, he wouldn’t have it out in the open.”
“There was a room off limits to me.” Draco tapped a finger to his chin in thought. “Check that horse over there,” he said, pointing to a different one.
“What am I looking for this time?” Harry asked, a little exasperated.
“Dual indentations. Possibly teeth marks.”
Harry looked up and nodded. “Let’s put this to rest one way or another. You still have your portkey?”
Draco reached into his shorts pocket and retrieved a shiny conch shell.
“We’ll zip in and zip out,” Harry said, reaching for the portkey.
“Um, Harry?”
“Yeah?”
“You might want to put on some clothes.”
“Oh – right,” Harry laughed, reddening.
~*~
Draco and Harry ported to the Manor – sticky, sweat soaked, and smelling of sex. Draco led Harry straight down the first floor corridor. He placed the portkey on an antique table reserved for owl posts. Another couple of turns and Draco stopped at the double doors, steadying his wand.
“Try the door.”
“Don’t be ridiculous – it’s locked.”
“No need to lock it if what’s supposed to be kept secret isn’t behind there at the moment.”
“True.”
“Besides, your father obviously has you so conditioned not to open the door, he can leave it unlocked.”
“I hate it when you’re right,” Draco huffed, hand resting on the right doorknob.
“Ready when you are,” Harry said, his hand on Draco’s shoulder.
Draco opened the door quietly, and to their amazement, the empty room was most decidedly not.
“I thought I told you this room was off limits.” Lucius Malfoy stared at his son and their enemy, his wand poised and at the ready.
Neither answered.
“You have exactly thirty seconds to run before I hex you both where you stand,” Lucius threatened with a smirk.
“You don’t think your father would really cast at us, do you?” Harry whispered, his cynicism apparent.
“I’m not willing to stick around to find out,” Draco whispered back. “On the count of three--”
“Make that twenty,” Lucius interrupted. “Or perhaps…I should cast now -- ask questions later?”
“You like playing the hero. Why don’t you act as the decoy?” Draco whispered again.
“And you’re a bloody coward. We run together. Odds are, he’ll strike at me first anyway. On three.”
“Ten seconds,” Lucius reminded them.
“One…two…three.”
Draco and Harry sprinted from the room, each heading for the table with the portkey. But Lucius did just as Harry had known, aiming for him first. Though a promising wizard, Harry was no match for Lucius Malfoy. He was struck with a shimmering beam of light that hung over his head like a rain cloud before dissipating. Still, both made it out of the room alive -- taking refuge behind the door.
Lucius did not fire a second time, nor did he give chase. He would deal with his son later.
Walden Macnair joined the Malfoy patriarch moments later. “I have an axe to grind with you, Lucius. I told you this would become an issue at some point. Your boy has an inquisitive nature about him.”
“Relax, Walden,” Lucius said with an eye roll for Macnair’s wretched sense of humour. Their routine was just as old as the friendship itself. Walden made a lame joke. Lucius snarked. Lather, rinse, repeat. “Potter’s short-term memory has been obliviated, and my son hasn’t the intellect to put two and two together.”
“The apple does not fall far from the tree, Lucius.”
Lucius shoved the wand at Macnair. “I believe this belongs to you. Couldn’t have ‘priori incantem’ performed on my wand.”
“You should take precautionary measures just in case,” Macnair growled. “Better yet – I’ll rid the world of that nuisance once and for all.”
“My, what an itchy finger you have, Walden. It wouldn’t do for the last place Harry Potter was seen alive to be Malfoy Manor. Neither of us can say with certainty that no one else knows of his whereabouts.” Lucius patted Walden’s shoulder condescendingly. “To be on the safe side, I’ll draught a memo to my future self. Take this down, won’t you?”
Just outside the door, listening in, Draco frowned, concerned for Harry. They were in jeopardy lingering, but this was getting interesting. Very interesting.
“I can’t believe you just let them escape,” Macnair snarled. “You may have obliviated Potter, but your son will just recount the night’s events.”
“Correction – I let Draco think they escaped. Besides, my son could never stay away for very long – his mother has spoiled him rotten,” Lucius explained. “As for Potter, I directed a rather nasty Obliviate charm at him. He’ll retain nothing for longer than five minutes – no matter how many times Draco tells him. Information will leak like sand through a sieve.”
“Can you guarantee this?” Macnair asked Lucius.
“I guarantee nothing, My Axe. No plan is ever foolproof, merely fool ‘resistant’.” Lucius paused a moment to raise the head of his cane to Macnair’s lips. “Blow on this, won’t you?”
Arching a brow, Macnair exhaled on the snake’s head, fogging the hematite with his warm breath.
Lucius proceeded to polish the viper with the front of Walden’s robe. “Pray tell why the Ministry has conducted yet another raid of my property. Unless, of course – they were tipped off?” Lucius let go of Macnair’s robe front with a wintry little smile.
“What are you suggesting, Lucius? Let’s be quite clear on this.” Macnair was furious – he would not allow himself to be implicated.
“I’m merely suggesting that they were quick to respond. It seems I can’t sneeze anymore without it making the front page of the Prophet.”
“Azkaban will do that to you, Lucius.”
Lucius stiffened at that.
“You have possession of a tagged time-turner, and though you’ve hidden it cleverly, they’ll never stop looking for it.”
“So long as it’s out of the Manor when they come calling, that shouldn’t pose a problem.” Lucius did a fine job of convincing himself.
”How ever did you manage to move such a large device?” Macnair asked.
“A simple reduction charm,” Lucius replied, patting a pocket.
“Why not keep it there?”
“A time-turner leaves a resonant signature when it’s used… deceitfully. That is how the Ministry regulates its usage.”
“And yet you’ve managed to elude the Ministry all these years? I have to hand it to you Lucius, you are slippery, just as Our Lord suggests. I must know your secret.”
“I could tell you, My Axe—”
“Yes, yes – I know the drill.”
The two men shared a laugh, and the petty insults were soon forgotten.
~*~
Draco glanced over at Harry -- a vacant smile on the face of The Boy Who Lived. Intuition told him to get Harry back to the carnival. Draco was absolutely fraught with worry for his lover. If the carousel was indeed a time-turner, he could reverse the effects and restore Harry’s memory. Draco could effectively place the device in Harry’s hand and not alter his own memory.
It was all so confusing to Draco – and now he’d have to go this alone.
Fin
Pairing: Harry/Draco -- past implied Harry/Ron
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Harry and Draco spend the day together at a carnival.
Kinks: Established relationship, rimming, a bit o' fisting
Disclaimer: Oh, so not mine. This market's been cornered.
A/N: This was written for
ficbymarks' birthday. Better late than never I always say :-)Betaed by
cawti and cave_canem. Invaluable advice from cluegirl and sharp_tongue.This is the first of many adventures in my 'Carousel' series -- a series dealing with time travel. The idea stemmed from a belief of mine that Jack the Ripper was actually a wizard -- one who preyed on Muggle prostitutes in order to prevent breeding and further the preservation of pure wizarding blood. It is also my belief that JtR was the Malfoy family physician.
The next piece, tentatively titled A Slytherin in King Arthur's Court, will have the boys sent back in time to the days of Arthur, Lancelot, and Merlin.
Though this is a series -- each piece is able to stand on its own. Enjoy all!
Malfoy Manse – circa 1985
“Do you see this room, Draco?” Lucius held the face of his five-year-old son much the same way a trainer would hold his dog’s face above its mess.
“Yes, father,” Draco whimpered.
“Lucius,” came the soft voice behind them. “You’re hurting him.”
“Not now, Narcissa. It’s because of you I’m having to do this.”
“But, Lucius—”
“Ninety-eight rooms in the manse, Narcissa. Ninety-eight rooms, and you can’t keep the boy out of one.”
“Lucius, let him come to me.”
Lucius ignored any further comments his wife made, pressing his fingertips a little bit deeper into the hollows below his son’s cheekbones. “I’m only going to ask you this once, Draco, and if Father doesn’t like your answer, he’s going to take it out on Mother. Do you understand?”
Draco nodded vigorously, tears streaming down his pale face.
“Why have you disobeyed my express wishes that you stay out of it then?”
“I don’t know, father,” Draco managed between sobs. He tried to turn his head to look back at his mother. No doubt he wanted the safety of her arms.
“Don’t look at your mother, boy. She hasn’t the right answer.” Lucius squeezed harder, dragging his son inside. “No Malfoy ever uses ‘I don’t know’ for an answer. It’s nothing more than a chocolate covered lie. Again, Draco, what were you doing in this room?”
“I wanted to see the pretty horses, father.” Draco choked on a sob when Lucius let go, shameful wet heat dribbling down his legs to puddle around him on the floor.
Lucius closed the double doors behind them, glaring at his wife until she was no longer visible through the crack.
Because Lucius always enunciated the last syllable of his spell, Narcissa was able to deduce the ‘—ate’ from behind closed doors. The silence that followed was deafening. Her heart bottomed into her shoes.
Father and son emerged five minutes later, with Draco no longer a wet and sniveling mess. The boy was all smiles.
Narcissa went after Lucius, a pained expression on her beautiful face. “You didn’t?”
“I did,” Lucius replied. “Somebody has to teach this boy some proper discipline.”
“I try to encourage Draco. He doesn’t respond positively to threats.”
“Yes, and how very ‘Andromeda’ of you I might add.” Lucius took his wife gently by the chin. “You left me with little choice.”
“Lucius—”
“Shh, Narcissa,” Lucius said, silencing her with a gloved finger to her lips. “Your son has soiled the floor of the carousel room. See to it before you come up to bed. I’ll be waiting for you.” Lucius left her to deal with the mess and with Draco.
The mess was easily cleaned by a house elf. But her beloved Draco? It is only ten minutes, she reminded herself as she held her son tightly. In ten minutes, he’ll remember that I’m his mother and not a complete stranger.
When Draco and Harry’s hatred had run its course, they were left wondering – what next? It was no longer fun to hate the other. It was more of a chore, really, to work up the energy to be insulting. The whole idea became such a bore that they called a truce. This eventually led to an implied respect – with a gesture as simple as a handshake to congratulate the match’s winner. The gestures grew friendlier -- an encouraging word, a pat on the back. Suddenly, Draco wasn’t such an impossible prat. Harry wasn’t such a wanker. A glance became a look – a look became a stare -- a stare an appreciative smile.
It’s always quickest to travel a straight line, and this is perhaps why Draco and Harry decided to brave the curves in the road. You see, one can look down a straight road and see what lies ahead – but one can never be too sure what lies beyond a curve. They were in no hurry; they would get there eventually -- that is, wherever eventually led.
High Wycombe; County Fairgrounds – 1996
“I don’t want to go home,” Draco said glumly.
“Then don’t, Draco. Come home with me.”
It was hard to take Harry seriously with grape-stained lips and a Technicolour tongue to match. “I can’t. You know I can’t. You know he expects me home.”
“Why say anything at all then?” Harry finished the last of his grape ice. It was his third of the evening.
“Don’t mind me. I’m just thinking out loud.”
“You’re focusing on your father. You’re letting him spoil a perfectly pleasant evening.” Harry eyed the various vendors, eenie meenie miney mo-ing between two. “I want a hot dog.”
“Harry you’ve had three grape ices, candyfloss, two orders of chips, and a bag of popcorn. Now you want a hot dog? Where are you putting all of this?”
“Not sure, really. Aren’t you hungry?”
“No – not for anything here. And Harry, a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips. You’re going to be porky come Quidditch season.”
Harry laughed. “I’ve heard you say that to Pansy. And besides, I have ways of working it off.” He winked at Draco, but his friend was simply inconsolable. “Look, if I win you a teddy bear will you promise not to be such a wet blanket?”
“A teddy bear?” Draco said, perking up. He tried to act all cool as if he wasn’t at all interested in something so girly “I might be encouraged by the suggestion.”
“Very well then, it’s settled. No laughing if I don’t ring the little bell.”
“You get ‘three’ tries,” Draco said, walking with Harry to the game. He watched as money was exchanged for the mallet, patting Harry on the back for good luck.
The social order was divided into six separate classes -- peasant, knave, jester, knight, prince, and king. The object of the game was to strike the platform with the mallet, thus sending the weight up to ring the bell above the king rank.
Harry’s first swing landed midway between ‘jester’ and ‘knight.’
“C’mon, Harry,” Draco snickered. “Millicent Bulstrode could do better.”
Harry turned and inclined his head, eyeing Draco over the tops of his slipping wire frames. “Millicent Bulstrode is also one chin whisker away from being a bloke.”
“True enough,” Draco said, laughing still.
Harry swung again. He might have succeeded had Draco not grabbed his arse. The weight slid back down from ‘prince.’
“Quit that!”
The operator gave Draco a funny look. “No funny business, lad. I run a clean game.”
Draco rolled his eyes, ignoring the carny. “Last chance, Harry. Make it count.”
The third time was the charm -- Harry’s third and final strike rung the bell. His t-shirt rode up his torso revealing the happy trail that faded into his shorts. He caught Draco ogling him shamelessly. Harry just shoved the hair out of his face and grinned.
The game operator shoved the teddy bear at Harry disgustedly. “You a couple of poofs then?”
“Yeah,” Harry replied wryly, casting a little grin over at Draco for colour, “we’re shagging like ferrets.” He dropped the mallet at the man’s feet, handing the teddy bear over to Draco. “I believe this bear needs a good home.”
“Shove off, then!” the man sneered. He muttered something about the youth of today.
With a last polite smile to the man, Harry laced his fingers with Draco’s before turning and walking away.
“Fucking pillock,” Harry muttered. “Still, we’d never be able to get away with half of what we’re doing if this were a wizard’s carnival.”
“No,” Draco cast a nervous look back the way they’d come, “but you know how I feel about Muggles, Harry.”
“I’d gladly trade uneasiness for privacy, Draco. Nobody here knows that I’m Harry Potter – Boy Who Lived,” he said, gesturing to his forehead. “Or that you’re Draco Malfoy -- Boy Who Worships Boy Who Lived.”
Draco chuckled and kissed Harry’s jawline.
“We can hold hands, kiss, or rub noses like bloody Eskimos, and nobody gives us a second glance.” Harry ran the backs of his fingers down Draco’s cheek. “I love this time with you. I don’t want to give it up.”
“I should get home, Harry,” Draco sighed, melting at Harry’s touch.
“You’re already in trouble. Make the most of it. Stay with me…please.”
“All right, Harry.”
“The ferris wheel beckons us. I’m in the mood to make out.”
“Race you there?” Draco grinned. “Last one there is a Snape-loving troglodyte.”
Harry ran as fast as his skinny legs could carry him, but he was no match for Draco. He finished about thirty seconds behind his blonde counterpart, panting wildly, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.
Draco, who was breathing normally, handed the tickets to the ride operator. He pulled Harry to the ride’s cart by the crook of his elbow, practically seating him. The ride shuddered underneath them, and they were up and away into the starry night sky.
The pair spent the duration of their ride stealing kisses from one another until one cart-stopping jolt stranded them at the very top. The cart rocked pendulously at the sudden stop, and Harry grabbed the side just as the cart tipped enough to see the one below them.
Draco gave Harry an amused look. “What? That was nothing at all compared to hitting an air pocket.”
“Draco! It’s not like we’re on brooms. We fall from this height, and we’ll be living life in vegetative state.”
“Nah, the fall’d kill us,” Draco informed Harry. “Lucky how the ride stopped with us at the top, eh?” Draco was wearing that smile that said he was up to something.
“Yeah, lucky. Did you whip out your wand when I wasn’t looking and conveniently stop the ride?”
“Who me?” Draco asked dramatically, clapping a hand to his chest. “You know I left my wand behind.”
“Draco?” Harry gave his lover the evil eye.
“Well, I tipped the operator fifty pounds for ten minutes.”
“You didn’t?”
“I did. Tic tock, tic tock, Harry.”
“Why are you clicking your tongue?”
“That’s the sound of our time ticking away. Now would you fucking kiss me – like you bloody well mean it? None of this knut and sickle shite.” Draco flung his arms behind him, leaning back. “Even my father kisses my mother with more passion. And he hates her.”
That was all Harry needed to hear. He pressed a hand to Draco’s chest and kissed his lips gently. His other hand slid between Draco’s knees, pushing them apart. He walked his index and middle fingers between Draco’s legs, letting them travel up the swell in Draco’s shorts. Harry deepened their kiss, forcibly prying open Draco’s lips with the rigid tip of his tongue.
Draco bit down gently with his incisors as Harry’s tongue rolled out like a red carpet to usher him in welcomingly. The cool press of Harry’s lenses on his face did nothing to temper the fire that reddened his cheeks. Harry was the best kisser he’d ever been with, and Draco had locked lips with quite a few young men. He especially loved watching Harry who always closed his eyes during their long and loving embraces. Perhaps it was the flutter of lengthy lashes – or that he couldn’t see into those beautiful green eyes, but knew what he was thinking, feeling without seeing them stare back into his.
Harry was practically in Draco’s lap when the ride started up again. But that didn’t stop him. He intensified their kiss by running his fingers through Draco’s windblown hair, mussing it even more. Harry had a sizeable bulge in his shorts by the time the ride stopped. He wasn’t even aware when the operator held the safety harness open, waiting for them to climb out.
“Ahem,” the man coughed. “You three should get a room.” The third being the stuffed bear, of course.
Draco and Harry heard nothing, saw nothing. They were only aware of each other – that is, until the ride operator took hold of Harry by the back of his collar, pulling them apart.
“Fucking tosser!” Draco hissed through his teeth. The waistband of his y-fronts snapped back against his midsection when Harry, and Harry’s hand were pried away from him. Draco followed Harry, yanked to his feet by an enormous hand. “Do us all a favour and buy some manners with the fifty quid, would you?”
Harry covered his erection with both hands, blushing something terrible at having been caught. But Draco would not give this crowd the satisfaction. He brushed past the disgusted onlookers not particularly caring who saw what.
“Glad to see that little outburst didn’t affect your erection,” Harry said, looking down.
“I’m still horny,” Draco admitted. “But that was like having the rug jerked out from under you. What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” He turned around to face Harry, gesturing to himself.
“Let me take care of that,” Harry smiled. “In the funhouse -- there’s something I’ve been meaning to try with you.”
“I think they’re going to close soon, Harry. It’s nearly midnight.”
“You turn into a pumpkin?” Harry asked. “I could make you come twice before then. That is, unless, you’d rather go home and explain to your father that Harry Potter made his son harder than his dowry bride ever did.”
“Fuck you, Harry.”
“I’m hoping for afterwards.”
“Fine,” Draco sneered scathingly. “This had better be good, Potter, or the next time I fuck you, I’ll split you open. I swear to Merlin I will.”
“Have I mentioned I love when you call me ‘Potter’…Malfuck?” Harry loved teasing Draco. The snarky undertone of their repartee made the sex that much better.
“Malfuck – now there’s one I haven’t heard before. Typical Weasley line. You stole that from him, didn’t you?”
“I claim sole responsibility,” Harry confessed. “Besides, Ron’s agreed to a cease fire in lieu of hostility.”
“Well, wasn’t that gentlemanly of him.”
“You’re poking fun, Draco. Don’t.”
“I just don’t know what you see in him. He’s – he’s wizarding trash.”
“Funny – he says the same about you.”
“He has no right being a pureblood.”
“That’s your father talking.”
“Leave my father out of this,” Draco hissed.
“Why? You haven’t all night. Surprised you’ve never scavenged a photo of him and held it while we were fuck—”
Draco came at Harry with an open-handed slap.
“—ing. You hit me!” Harry cried in astonishment. He touched his cheek gingerly, too late to cushion the blow.
“Why, yes,” Draco smirked. “I suppose I did.” His hand was still midair. “What are you going to do about it then…Potty?”
“You’ll see,” Harry growled, dragging Draco by the ear to the Funhouse.
And by the Gods, Draco allowed him – eager to follow the rabbit down the darkened hole.
Draco and Harry had to sneak past the ticket taker and his maze of velvet ropes. The last of the fun seekers were ushered out as the midnight hour approached. It was the perfect setting, and it would’ve provided a lovely fireside telling – were they not sworn to secrecy.
They walked past the aisle of mirrors, reflections distorted – short and squat like Madam Sprout, tall and thin like Severus Snape. They bounded onward over rickety bridges, past teetering beer kegs, through a labyrinth of dead-ends and tilted passageways, down blackened corridors and past a myriad of painted leering clowns, until at long last they came to a room with a faux starry sky. The walls were painted black with large craters -- several pairs of blinking eyes emerging from their shadows to give the illusion of extraterrestrial life. The floor was padded with gray foam made to resemble the surface of the moon.
“So we’re to do it on the moon, then? You, me, and the little green men?”
“The little, green men can all take numbers. I get first crack at you,” Harry smiled. He pulled a tube out of his pocket, advancing on Draco.
“What’s in the tube?”
“Liquid taffy,” Harry said, pushing Draco to the ground.
“That’s going to be awfully sticky to fuck with.”
“Oh, I’m not going to fuck you, Draco. On all fours.”
“Then what are you going to do?” Draco asked, complying with Harry’s demands.
“And ruin my surprise? Bear underneath your chest. Arse in the air.”
Draco whimpered helplessly. Each moment he waited for Harry to take him was longer than the last. “I need your cock inside me.”
“I’m sure you do,” Harry replied coolly, positioning himself behind Draco. He reached around Draco’s waist, undoing his belt buckle. He waited a minute before returning to the task at hand, letting Draco’s cock throb with want.
“What are you waiting for?” Draco’s hand slipped down the front of his shorts. He thought he’d die if he didn’t touch himself.
“Hand out of your shorts, Draco. Wanking is like spoiling your dinner with sweets. Trust me,” Harry said, fingers looped in Draco’s belt hoops. “This is like nothing you’ve felt before.”
Reluctantly, Draco removed his hand. “And how would you know?”
“Are you sure you want the answer to that?” Harry slid both Draco’s shorts and his y-fronts down his muscular legs, baring his firm arse.
“Tell me – it’s not like I haven’t been ‘around.’” As if the suspense wasn’t killing him, the feel of liquid taffy finger painted around his entrance made him edgy.
“Very well – Ron and I experimented before you and I got together.”
Draco bit down on the bear’s nose to keep from cursing. Harry and Ron – together. Kissing, licking, sucking…fucking. Draco reasoned he’d sooner stick his cock in a meat grinder than sully himself with a Weasley. He was all set to give Harry a piece of his mind when Harry surprised him. He would never have thought Harry the type to rim his arsehole like a Knockturn Alley whore.
Draco’s face sank into the soft plushness of the bear, synthetic fur tickling the inside of his nostrils. He twisted the bear’s ears in his hands, Harry and Ron together mere afterthoughts now. Arsehole, tongue – tongue, arsehole. Nothing else mattered. Draco would swear on the Unholy Bible that Harry was writing something, dotting his i’s with a quick, sharp plunge into his depths.
Harry pressed his fingertips into the curves of Draco’s arse, slowly pulling his cheeks apart and widening the cleft. He wiggled his tongue up and down the sticky trail of ‘Very Cherry’, darting his tongue inside a little further on the return trip.
Harry liked his Draco submissive, but nothing made him happier than this implied trust. With Ron the trust had been natural, and though he loved his best friend dearly, the challenge of taming the viperous Draco made the ups and downs of their roller coaster relationship worth it.
Draco arched his back like a cat in heat, rubbing up against the bear as if it were the leg of its master. The friction between his face and the fur reddened his cheek, and the sparks of aching want caught fire. It spread through his body like a wild inferno -- liquid heat that coursed through him, melting the icy disposition. If his body was actually the flame itself -- the blue flicker, the hottest element -- was his cock.
After several body trembling tongue-lashings, Harry thought Draco was ready to take his fingers. He started with two, twisting and turning them inside Draco’s arsehole to stretch him for a third -- then a fourth, thumbing his entrance in a repetitive half-moon.
Draco slammed back on Harry’s fingers, moving up his knuckles, submerging Harry’s hand a little further each time. He wasn’t quite to the wrist when he felt Harry’s index finger strike his prostate -- and one brief caress was all it took. He came violently, swaying his hips with the hypnoticism of a belly dancer. He tore the ears clean off the bear, matting its chest fur with come. Draco collapsed with a soft thud, the ears still tightly clenched in his fists.
“Was that the best orgasm you’ve ever had?” Harry asked, confident of his reply.
“Yes,” Draco said quietly, rolling over satisfied. “And I’ve had many with you.”
“You defiled the bear,” Harry laughed, uncurling Draco’s fingers.
“Well, at least now it won’t have to hear our smutty pillow talk.” Much as he was tempted to ask Harry to clean him, Draco pulled up his underwear and shorts, tucking himself in. “Pity – I never did get to ride on the carousel. I don’t care if my father says I’ve outgrown them, I still love them from way back when.”
“We still can, Draco.”
“It’s well after midnight, Harry. Everyone’s gone home.”
“So?” Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. “One of us can flip the switch. Then we can ride until morning if you want to.”
Draco thought long and hard on this. He was already in trouble with his father. The only difference an hour would make was the intensity of the beating. “All right, Harry. Help me up, won’t you?”
Harry offered Draco a hand.
Draco fell unsteadily into Harry’s arms “I’m glad you didn’t shake my hand our first day at Hogwarts. Things might’ve been different.”
Harry’s response was to kiss Draco’s cheek.
And this time, Draco closed his eyes – wishing the moment would last forever.
The moonlight reflected the ornate mirrors of the carousel at they approached. Sixteen horses in two rows, interspersed with sleighs made up the carousel. The horses were carved from maple and mahogany, each one different than the next, but proud beasts with circus costumes inlaid with gold filigree. Unfortunately, time and circumstance were cruel with neglect, and their beauty was best imagined with eyes closed.
“Isn’t it…beautiful?” Draco sighed. “If I close my eyes I can hear the organ playing.”
“If you say so, Draco. Just reminds me of my Uncle Vernon holding me back while Dudley got to ride over and over. The way he giddy upped, I thought he’d break the horse, the fat arse.”
“C’mon, Harry,” Draco said, linking Harry’s arm. “I want to take you on the horse.”
“Well, all right, but I planned on it anyway. I’m riding that one,” Harry pointed.
“No, you don’t get it, Harry. I said…I’m taking you on the horse.” Draco rubbed up against Harry’s thigh – his cock solid and throbbing. “And look,” he said as they approached, “I get to watch us.” He indicated the mirrors that covered the motor with a toss of his blonde head.
They climbed the wooden deck together, standing by the horse of their choosing. After long, amorous looks into the other’s eyes, they undressed each other between soft kisses.
Draco kicked their clothes out of the way of the horse’s runner. “Get on, Harry. I’ll be the one to flip the switch.” Just as soon as Draco touched the backside of the horse, he had a flashback that left him faint. He reached for Harry to keep from falling.
“You okay, Draco?”
“Yeah, I…I’m, fine. I just had this feeling of déjà vu. Like I’ve been here before.”
“Here as in the carnival?” Harry asked.
“No – here as in this carousel. On this horse.” Draco rubbed his eyes. “It was probably just something I remembered from a dream.”
“You sure you’re okay? We don’t have to do this.”
“I’m fine, Harry,” Draco reassured, taking the Slytherin handkerchief from the pocket of his shorts. He used it to blindfold Harry. “Can you see?” Draco asked, securing the knot.
“Only the blur of green.”
“Good,” Draco said, pulling his belt out from the loops of his shorts. “Hands on the pole in front of you.”
Harry placed his hands on the carved spiral pole, interlocking his fingers.
Draco bound Harry to the pole, pulling tightly to cinch the belt around his wrists.
“Ow! Draco that’s too tight!”
“If it’s too tight – it’s not tight enough,” Draco said, pulling it tighter one additional notch. “Merlin, Harry – you don’t know how beautiful you look right now. I’d give anything to have you at the stables.”
Harry whimpered as the leather chafed his skin.
“Relax, Harry,” Draco said stepping down. “You won’t even remember the belt when I start fucking you.”
Though it ran on a switch, the carousel had an old key crank used to kick-start the motor. Once the music started playing, Draco found it to be much louder than expected. He used a nearby piece of scrap metal to place it between the two cogs and silence it. Only the whoosh of the rotating platform and Harry’s distressed whimpers were heard as the carousel spun around. Draco watched as Harry’s horse slid up and down its pole.
Draco was content just to gaze at Harry, seeing him this way -- bound, blindfolded, and at his mercy. Five rotations became ten – ten became twenty. It wasn’t until the twenty-fifth rotation that Draco snapped from his reverie and became aware of Harry’s calling for him – beckoning him to the back of the horse with moans of desperation.
The whip of the night air brought upon a delicious chill that shivered over Harry’s body. It swept past his temples and over his ears, forcing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. It made his nipples stiffen, and the curls just below his navel tingle as it traveled to his cock. Pre-come oozed from Harry’s cock, streaking up the saddle from the motion of the ride.
Draco slipped on from behind, using the second set of stirrups to hold himself up while he lubed his cock with the liquid taffy. The combination of his own pre-come and the Very Cherry taffy painted his cock a light pink and left him sticky-fingered. He pressed a hand to Harry’s back, coaxing him to arch for entry. Little by little, he slid his cock inside Harry, hovering just above the back of the saddle, relying on his lower body strength for push. Draco stretched the reins over Harry’s head, grasping them tightly as he began to drive into Harry’s arse.
Harry curled his toes around the edges of the stirrups, crossing the second over the biggest toe as the thrusting intensified. The pain of the leather belt numbed with each and every stab thereafter until he no longer felt it at all. There was a dizzied pleasure, the same that came with aerial stunts that left him lightheaded. The sight deprivation had his remaining senses working overtime – most importantly, touch. The feel of his lover’s closeness was overwhelming when Draco curled his chin around Harry’s shoulder. Turning his head, Harry could only make out Draco’s silhouette through the blindfold until Draco tugged it down over Harry’s eyes with his teeth.
“I’m coming,” Draco gasped, his body bent over Harry’s like a Kentucky Derby jockey vying for finish. He spilled into Harry just as the horse reached the height of its ascent.
Harry came moments after Draco, the ruthless but pleasurable press of cock shivering against his prostate. His come rolled down the side of the saddle, slipping through the crack between his inner thigh and the horse’s body. A few droplets splashed the top of his foot. He could feel the rigidity of muscles in the backs of his legs, temporarily paralyzed from ignoring the charley horse mid-orgasm. He was thankful to Draco for having undone the belt, free of the bonds but still frozen in place.
Still inside Harry, Draco slid his shrinking cock out, carefully slipping down from the back over the plume of the horse’s tail. The feel of solid wood beneath his feet was strange after riding the horse for so long. His equilibrium out of sorts, Draco zigzagged back to the motor, shutting it down. He helped Harry down, letting him sling an arm across his back.
Just as they were on their way to a sleigh-bench to sit, Draco had another upsetting flashback – this one more detailed.
“What is it, Draco?”
“I’ve been here before. And to prove that I’m not crazy, I want you to check that horse,” Draco said pointing.
“What am I looking for?”
“Initials.” Draco pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes to block out the surrounding stimuli. “I, H, M, F.”
“I, H, M, F?”
“I hate my father. It’s not like I could spell it out.”
“You don’t hate your father.”
“I did that day.” Draco removed his hands to look Harry straight in the eyes. “Please, Harry – go and check for me.”
Harry went to check, examining the body of the horse, “Where, Draco? I don’t see anything.”
“Underside of the horse’s belly. I used the sharp edge of a toy wizard.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Do you see it now, Harry?”
“Yeah,” Harry answered softly. “Where was this carousel when you carved these initials?”
“You won’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
“The Manor.”
“The Manor? How could that be?”
“I think this remembrance was obliviated from my mind, but because the brain is complex, residual memory may sometimes linger.”
“Would explain the bits and pieces you remember. But what was this doing at the manse? And why is it here now?”
“I don’t know, Harry. I’m sure my father does though. Thing is, he won’t be willing to tell me. He’d probably just obliviate me again.”
“Draco, I think you may be jumping to conclusions. This seems a bit far fetched.”
“What’s far fetched about it? My father doesn’t love in the conventional sense. His idea of showing love – tough love – is through punishment. You think he’s above charming his own son? Think again.”
“Well,” Harry said skeptically. “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”
“Are you suggesting we go back to the Manor?”
“Yeah -- not that I relish the thought. If what you’re saying is correct, you should have a room big enough to accommodate this.”
“The ballroom.”
“Other than the ballroom. If your father was trying to hide this, he wouldn’t have it out in the open.”
“There was a room off limits to me.” Draco tapped a finger to his chin in thought. “Check that horse over there,” he said, pointing to a different one.
“What am I looking for this time?” Harry asked, a little exasperated.
“Dual indentations. Possibly teeth marks.”
Harry looked up and nodded. “Let’s put this to rest one way or another. You still have your portkey?”
Draco reached into his shorts pocket and retrieved a shiny conch shell.
“We’ll zip in and zip out,” Harry said, reaching for the portkey.
“Um, Harry?”
“Yeah?”
“You might want to put on some clothes.”
“Oh – right,” Harry laughed, reddening.
Draco and Harry ported to the Manor – sticky, sweat soaked, and smelling of sex. Draco led Harry straight down the first floor corridor. He placed the portkey on an antique table reserved for owl posts. Another couple of turns and Draco stopped at the double doors, steadying his wand.
“Try the door.”
“Don’t be ridiculous – it’s locked.”
“No need to lock it if what’s supposed to be kept secret isn’t behind there at the moment.”
“True.”
“Besides, your father obviously has you so conditioned not to open the door, he can leave it unlocked.”
“I hate it when you’re right,” Draco huffed, hand resting on the right doorknob.
“Ready when you are,” Harry said, his hand on Draco’s shoulder.
Draco opened the door quietly, and to their amazement, the empty room was most decidedly not.
“I thought I told you this room was off limits.” Lucius Malfoy stared at his son and their enemy, his wand poised and at the ready.
Neither answered.
“You have exactly thirty seconds to run before I hex you both where you stand,” Lucius threatened with a smirk.
“You don’t think your father would really cast at us, do you?” Harry whispered, his cynicism apparent.
“I’m not willing to stick around to find out,” Draco whispered back. “On the count of three--”
“Make that twenty,” Lucius interrupted. “Or perhaps…I should cast now -- ask questions later?”
“You like playing the hero. Why don’t you act as the decoy?” Draco whispered again.
“And you’re a bloody coward. We run together. Odds are, he’ll strike at me first anyway. On three.”
“Ten seconds,” Lucius reminded them.
“One…two…three.”
Draco and Harry sprinted from the room, each heading for the table with the portkey. But Lucius did just as Harry had known, aiming for him first. Though a promising wizard, Harry was no match for Lucius Malfoy. He was struck with a shimmering beam of light that hung over his head like a rain cloud before dissipating. Still, both made it out of the room alive -- taking refuge behind the door.
Lucius did not fire a second time, nor did he give chase. He would deal with his son later.
Walden Macnair joined the Malfoy patriarch moments later. “I have an axe to grind with you, Lucius. I told you this would become an issue at some point. Your boy has an inquisitive nature about him.”
“Relax, Walden,” Lucius said with an eye roll for Macnair’s wretched sense of humour. Their routine was just as old as the friendship itself. Walden made a lame joke. Lucius snarked. Lather, rinse, repeat. “Potter’s short-term memory has been obliviated, and my son hasn’t the intellect to put two and two together.”
“The apple does not fall far from the tree, Lucius.”
Lucius shoved the wand at Macnair. “I believe this belongs to you. Couldn’t have ‘priori incantem’ performed on my wand.”
“You should take precautionary measures just in case,” Macnair growled. “Better yet – I’ll rid the world of that nuisance once and for all.”
“My, what an itchy finger you have, Walden. It wouldn’t do for the last place Harry Potter was seen alive to be Malfoy Manor. Neither of us can say with certainty that no one else knows of his whereabouts.” Lucius patted Walden’s shoulder condescendingly. “To be on the safe side, I’ll draught a memo to my future self. Take this down, won’t you?”
Just outside the door, listening in, Draco frowned, concerned for Harry. They were in jeopardy lingering, but this was getting interesting. Very interesting.
“I can’t believe you just let them escape,” Macnair snarled. “You may have obliviated Potter, but your son will just recount the night’s events.”
“Correction – I let Draco think they escaped. Besides, my son could never stay away for very long – his mother has spoiled him rotten,” Lucius explained. “As for Potter, I directed a rather nasty Obliviate charm at him. He’ll retain nothing for longer than five minutes – no matter how many times Draco tells him. Information will leak like sand through a sieve.”
“Can you guarantee this?” Macnair asked Lucius.
“I guarantee nothing, My Axe. No plan is ever foolproof, merely fool ‘resistant’.” Lucius paused a moment to raise the head of his cane to Macnair’s lips. “Blow on this, won’t you?”
Arching a brow, Macnair exhaled on the snake’s head, fogging the hematite with his warm breath.
Lucius proceeded to polish the viper with the front of Walden’s robe. “Pray tell why the Ministry has conducted yet another raid of my property. Unless, of course – they were tipped off?” Lucius let go of Macnair’s robe front with a wintry little smile.
“What are you suggesting, Lucius? Let’s be quite clear on this.” Macnair was furious – he would not allow himself to be implicated.
“I’m merely suggesting that they were quick to respond. It seems I can’t sneeze anymore without it making the front page of the Prophet.”
“Azkaban will do that to you, Lucius.”
Lucius stiffened at that.
“You have possession of a tagged time-turner, and though you’ve hidden it cleverly, they’ll never stop looking for it.”
“So long as it’s out of the Manor when they come calling, that shouldn’t pose a problem.” Lucius did a fine job of convincing himself.
”How ever did you manage to move such a large device?” Macnair asked.
“A simple reduction charm,” Lucius replied, patting a pocket.
“Why not keep it there?”
“A time-turner leaves a resonant signature when it’s used… deceitfully. That is how the Ministry regulates its usage.”
“And yet you’ve managed to elude the Ministry all these years? I have to hand it to you Lucius, you are slippery, just as Our Lord suggests. I must know your secret.”
“I could tell you, My Axe—”
“Yes, yes – I know the drill.”
The two men shared a laugh, and the petty insults were soon forgotten.
Draco glanced over at Harry -- a vacant smile on the face of The Boy Who Lived. Intuition told him to get Harry back to the carnival. Draco was absolutely fraught with worry for his lover. If the carousel was indeed a time-turner, he could reverse the effects and restore Harry’s memory. Draco could effectively place the device in Harry’s hand and not alter his own memory.
It was all so confusing to Draco – and now he’d have to go this alone.
Fin
