Current mood:	nervous
Entry tags:	fics, hpqfac, one-shots

[ONE SHOT] In The Air Tonight (NC-17) Written for hpqfac and sponser ceeceeblack
TITLE: In The Air Tonight
AUTHOR: Lani (aka lanisfanfiction)
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Harry/Draco
SUMMARY: On vacation on a balmy tropical island, Harry’s attention is caught by a well-known song, sung with a captivating yet haunting voice in the resort’s hazy and dim bar. What happens when the song ends, and Harry finds himself staring into a face of the past?
WARNINGS: Sexual content, adult themes, adult language
WORDS: 7,308
NOTES: Written for Harry Potter Quills for a Cause (hpqfac) on LiveJournal for my sponsor, ceeceeblack. Inspired by, and title taken from, the song In the Air Tonight by Phil Collins. It is recommended that you listen to this song to set the mood of the first scene (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UeAf8-rfZZo).

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. JKR owns everything.

Huge thanks to ceeceeblack for editing!

* * * * *

Harry teased the gaudy-looking cocktail in front of him with the tiny umbrella stuck in the top of it and then took a tentative sip, shrugging with indifference at the taste. He pressed his mobile phone to his ear with his other hand and tried to ignore the strains of the song In the Still Of The Night being sung at the front of the resort bar.

“Loves songs being sung at a romantic resort? How dare they,” Nymphadora Tonks commented over the phone and Harry swore he could hear her smirking at him from the other side of the world through the phone line. “Whoever it is has a nice a voice.”

“Can’t say I’ve taken much notice,” Harry snorted, sticking the end of the umbrella in his mouth to suck off the liquid from it. “I think I’m the only single person here. The bar is for my boozing pleasure, not to snuggle up on the dance floor and make gooey eyes at the singer or anyone else for that matter.”

“He sounds cute. Is he cute?” Tonks persisted. “He’s probably fifty-odd, balding, and overweight, huh?”

Harry didn’t bother to turn around and inspect. The music was boring his nuts off and he planned to hightail it out of the bar the minute he could catch Ron and Hermione’s attention to tell them he was leaving. This holiday had been their idea. Harry needed a break from his hectic schedule at work and they wanted to fuck on the beach. Inviting Harry along seemed like a wonderful solution to Harry’s best friends and Harry was too polite to tell them to fuck off.

Lately, he consistently felt like a third wheel. This holiday was just the icing on the cake. He knew they were only trying not to shut him out of their ‘Golden Trio’, but enough was enough. A week-long vacation almost over, save for this last night, and Harry had spend the waking hours trying to tan on the beach (and only going bright red and peeling), and the evenings drowning is bachelorhood sorrows in a string of colourful cocktails. He was slowly working his way through their cocktail menu and hadn’t ended a single night later than ten pm in his hotel bed completely sober and alone.

He’d taken to calling his work partner and good friend, Tonks, on the mobile each night to talk about bland and insignificant things to take his mind of the fact he was, and had been for a very long time, desperate and dateless. The work mobile, of course. Harry was fucked if he was going to pay for the international mobile calls. That’s what the Ministry of Magic was for and he may as well use his status for some inane purpose.

“Probably,” Harry answered her, having no interest in checking the singer out. His eyelids were already sinking and it looked like he was destined to a final intimate holiday night with his right hand and a tube of strawberry flavoured lube.

Tonk tutted. “Is he gay? What’s he wearing?”

“Fucked if I know! He’s probably banging the hotel manager. Half his luck, too, if his dick is sliding in and out of a hole that isn’t his fist,” Harry said with boredom, seizing a peanut from the dish and flicking it up the bar.

“Where are Ron and Hermione?”

“Dancing again,” Harry muttered, his eyes trailing to the left to his friends, wrapped nauseatingly in each others arms. Harry rolled his eyes. “Dancing and fucking. That’s all they do.”

“Why don’t you go join them?”

“I’m not into kinky threesomes, Tonks.” Harry slid his fingers into the front of his thick hair and twirled some strands around them half-heartedly. “You know how I feel about things these days.”

“Why didn’t you come home, love? I really expected you to. You’re obviously having a shite time. You sound bored off your bloody rocker,” Tonks started and Harry’s attention was finally caught by the music. His forehead creased when he recognised the first strains of a song he’d always found intriguing and haunting. It was completely different to the light romantic fluff that had been bellowing through the bar all evening and a lot of the patrons stopped what they were doing to listen.

I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh lord
I’ve been waiting for this moment, all my life, oh lord
Can you feel it coming in the air tonight, oh lord, oh lord…

Harry tuned Tonks’ random nattering out and spun around on his bar stool to finally look at the singer, who was now smoothly melting out the words of the song to the whole room through the microphone. He had his head bent; his long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck save for some sleek strands around his face hanging over his eyes and shielding them from view.

“Gotta go, hon,” Harry muttered into the phone and snapped it shut, leaning forward to listen to the rest of the song.

Well, if you told me you were drowning
I would not lend a hand
I’ve seen your face before my friend
But I don’t know if you know who I am

There was something about this person, standing on stage and belting out this haunting song with nothing more than a gentle sway of his hips, his complete focus on the microphone before him. He caressed the cool steel of the stand with the tips of his fingers and Harry swallowed heavily in realisation that this man could almost be making out with the inanimate object in his hands.

Well, I was there and I saw what you did
I saw it with my own two eyes
So you can wipe off the grin, I know where you’ve been
Its all been a pack of lies

Something about the words was drawing Harry in, but he couldn’t concentrate completely on what they were saying to him. The bar was dark and hazy from smoke that was somehow billowing around the stage. The lights were low, save for a spotlight on the singer with the mesmerizing voice. Harry briefly noticed the man had an amazing body, too, and quickly decided there was no way he was gay, and if he was, he was taken. No point even trying. The singer had now moved one hand from the microphone bar and seemingly unknowingly smoothed his fingers under the edge of his skin-tight, white sleeveless shirt to rest on his abdomen. Harry caught the briefest glitter of something in the singer’s navel and he nearly choked on his own saliva.

And I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh lord
I’ve been waiting for this moment for all my life, oh lord
I can feel it in the air tonight, oh lord, oh lord
And I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life, oh lord, oh lord

Waiting for what moment? Harry’s mind questioned and startled himself. “Fucked if I know,” he answered himself with a distracted mumble. The singer was two steps away from his hand brushing over his groin, and Harry was two steps away from coming in his jeans at the sight. The song was fucking with his mind and the singer was fucking with his sexual drought. Harry’s breath quickened to a small pant and he closed his eyes, listening to the song reach it’s peak and ease off into it’s finality…

Well I remember, I remember don’t worry
How could I ever forget, its the first time, the last time we ever met

The singer’s hand was suddenly gone from his nether regions and was back up to cupping the microphone with its mate. Harry chose to ignore any signals in his mind about the word ‘cupping’ and focused completely on the words being breathed out huskily, almost as if the song was being sung just for Harry himself… Was it? Why were these words getting to him?! The bar suddenly felt oppressive, but he was transfixed on this moment. He gripped the edge of the barstool and waited out the end of the song.

But I know the reason why you keep your silence up, no you don’t fool me
The hurt doesn’t show; but the pain still grows
Its no stranger to you or me
And I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh lord...
I’ve been waiting for this moment for all my life, oh lord
I can feel it in the air tonight, oh lord, oh lord
And I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life, oh lord, oh lord…

The song ebbed away and suddenly Harry was snatched back into reality when the singer spoke into the microphone, thanking everyone for the applause and sharing the night with him and his band. The voice was husky, yet velvety, indicating many years of singing under its belt. Harry couldn’t help himself and his eyes snapped up. Before he could register what was happening, he was staring into the eyes of the singer across the room… those same icy eyes… all those years ago, staring back at him from behind a drawn wand, but filled with terror and pain; not blank, heavy-lidded query like they were now.

Then in the blink of an eye, Harry lost his balance and was toppling off the stool inelegantly with a shocked shriek. Normally he would’ve been mortified at such an act, but not this time. By the time he righted himself, and pulled himself messily up off the floor, brushing his jeans off and ignoring the concerned queries if he was all right, a quick glance up at the stage told him the singer was gone.

Draco Malfoy was gone.

* * * * *

It didn’t take long for the bar to empty. The band members remained, packing up their gear, but the singer was nowhere in sight. “Fuck,” Harry cursed to himself. His eyes searched the room, but it was a fruitless effort. He didn’t even know where Ron and Hermione had gone, and at that point, he didn’t particularly care.

Harry whirled around and snapped his fingers to get the bartender’s attention. “Oi, mate!”

The middle-aged man wandered over lethargically, polishing a glass with his towel before slinging it over his shoulder and putting the glass on the shelf. “We’re about to close for the night, matey,” he told Harry. “I can serve you up one more, but it can’t be any cocktails.”

“Who is that singer?” Harry cut right to the point, ignoring the offer of a drink.

The barman smirked knowingly. “That’s D.”

“D?” Harry pressed.

The man winked. “That’s the one.” He went to walk away, but Harry reached over and grabbed his shirt sleeve.

“D what?” Harry asked.

“Just D,” the bartender emphasised, his amused smirk widening.

Harry growled in frustration. “He doesn’t have a full name?”

“Course he does, lad,” the man laughed. “He just prefers not to have half the hotel population pestering him twenty-four-seven. He’s not exactly a horses arse, is he now? He gets girlies wanting to flash their titties at him after his shows all the time.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Hmm, young laddies wanting to show him their tackle too, for that matter. He doesn’t want to be bothered.”

Harry didn’t miss the emphasis on the last word, but he wasn’t about to give up. He really wanted to ask if it was the titties or the tackle D preferred, but refrained. “How long has he been singing here?”

“Oh, you know,” the barman waved his hands, “I’ve been here near fifteen years. D must’ve been here a good seven years. Pretty amazing voice, huh? We all keep telling him to go make a move to hit the big time, but he won’t. He can play all those instruments up there, too. Likes his band, though. You can keep me talking all you want, laddie. I’m not telling you anything more about D.”

Harry scowled. “Fuck! Why not? Can’t you just tell me how to find him? I won’t tell him it was you,” he offered.

The man shook his head and sniggered. “He doesn’t need faceless fucking, matey.”

“What, you mean he’s married?” Harry asked and couldn’t hide the twinge of some unidentifiable emotion tweak inside him.

“No,” the man said but didn’t offer further elaboration.

“Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Significant other?” Harry interrogated desperately. “Does he live here somewhere?”

“All I meant, laddie, was D is more than capable of taking care of himself,” the barman said. “Now, you’re the last patron left. The party continues at the bar by the pool…. where D certainly won’t be. Goodnight.” He walked away, chuckling to himself and Harry flipped him the bird behind his back then stalked out of the bar in irritation.

* * * * *

“You’re losing your touch, Potter,” a smooth voice penetrated Harry’s wandering thoughts as he shuffled along the leafy walk way leading back to the hotel. “At the very least, I expected to be pursued with you spouting righteous indignations about the past.”

Harry whipped around, tripping on his shoe, but managing this time to remain upright. When Draco stepped out of the shadows and into the small beam of light from the lamppost above, Harry’s legs nearly gave way. The man standing but a few paces away from him looked almost ethereal; eons away from the robed, gaunt schoolboy back at Hogwarts. Still in the tight white sleeveless accompanied by what Harry now realised were equally as tight leather pants and a silver belt, Draco delicately put his lit cigarette to his lips and inhaled slowly, then blew the smoke out in a smooth exhalation to Harry’s left.

“What? No hug?” Draco purred with a slight smirk.

Harry exploded. “WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK, MALFOY!” He almost reflexively went to reach for his wand, before realising he didn’t have it with him on the holiday.

“Ah. You are still an heroic Auror, then,” Draco commented, not missing the slight action of Harry’s hand. “Shame that.” He turned and started to walk away.

All Harry could think of in his infuriated mind was to blurt out a bunch of expletives, but it seemed that wasn’t going to be of much help. Draco wasn’t phased in the slightest! It had been over ten years since they’d last laid eyes on each other. That night in the tower when Dumbledore was murdered by fucking Snape was the last Harry had ever seen or heard of Draco Malfoy, and now the arrogant and irritating prick was standing here before him on a secluded tropical resort miles away from Britain seemingly without a care in the world! “YOU ARSEHOLE!” Harry settled for instead.

Draco coolly turned back around, crossing his arms over his chest with his cigarette still dangling lightly between his fingers. “There is quite a bit more to me than that, Potter. Even though my arsehole is very nice indeed… Or so I have been told.”

“Where have you been all these year?” Harry demanded. “Where did you go that ni-,” but Draco cut him off by dropping his cigarette and stubbing it out with his foot and holding up a hand.

“Stop,” Draco said sharply. “I’m the one that ‘disappeared’. We talk about the past if and when I’m ready to. Because really, it makes not an iota of difference to me whether you remain in my presence or fuck off. You want the information; I don’t need to give it until I’m ready.”

Harry snapped his mouth shut and growled at the back of this throat. “Whatever,” he muttered lowly. “Fuck this. I don’t care anyway.” He turned around and started back in the direction of the main resort.

“Harry, wait.”

Harry stopped immediately, freezing at not only the use of his first name, but at the mere fact Draco was requesting his attention in a polite tone. Polite or pleading? Harry’s mind wondered. “Just forget it. Pretend we never crossed paths again.”

“I can’t do that,” Draco told him and Harry felt him come up behind him so close that he could feel his breath on the back of his neck. He nearly wet his pants when he felt Draco’s hand close around his own clenched fist and gently spin him back around so they were face-to-face.

“You’re going to fucking have to,” Harry hissed.

Draco licked his lips. “Impossible. I’ve been waiting for this moment for as long as I can remember. You aren’t going to just walk away, Harry.” And before Harry knew it, Draco was kissing him. Warm lips against his own and a wet curious tongue sliding into his mouth seeking out his own. Harry made a shocked sound against Draco’s lips and pulled out of the embrace, stepping back and gaping at Draco.

Harry’s mind raced with things he could say at that moment, but none seemed enough. Draco’s words drew him abruptly back to the song the elusive blond had just sung back in the bar. I’ve been waiting for this moment… He felt his pulse quicken slightly as Draco stared back expectantly at him and he began to feel slightly ill. “Why,” he rasped, a single word that questioned everything.

“Why not?” Draco shot back. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Harry spat. “Stop talking in riddles! You’re pissing me the hell off! Like you always managed to do so well back in school! You can’t just stand there after all this time and pretend you’re all-knowing an innocent because you fucking aren’t, Malfoy! You’re just the same hideous arsehole you were all those years ago and think fucking with me now will give you some sort of sick pleasure! GET FUCKED!” He turned sharply to the left and stormed angrily down the path leading to the moonlit beach, kicking at the sand with fury. He tried to calm his quickened breathing, but he wasn’t done with the raging thoughts yet.

“I believe in fate, Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Can’t you piss off? You’re worse than a fart in an elevator. At least the bad smell will eventually go away there.” He glared out at the ocean lapping gently on the shore, refusing to look at Draco when he stepped up beside him. “You can stick your fate where the sun doesn’t shine. I believe in the here and now.”

Draco sat down on the sand beside Harry’s feet and lit up another cigarette. “You think we ended up here together after ten years by coincidence?” He blew the smoke out, watching it form before his face.

“Yes,” Harry bit out.

Draco laughed slightly. “Whatever, Potter.” He drew some small patterns in the sand with one of his fingers. “I knew you were here. I have done for days. That last song tonight was for you. That’s our song, Potter…”

“What are you on about? There is no our anything, Malfoy,” Harry snorted, standing stiffly with his arms folded. Why wasn’t he walking away? He should be walking away! He didn’t need to waste anymore time on Malfoy. He didn’t care if a tidal wave suddenly came up and wash the mouthy tosser out to sea… He didn’t.

Draco sighed. “I believe in fate, Potter. A higher power that controls everything and everyone that is to cross our paths and when. I knew it was only a matter of time before we met again. I knew I just had to wait.”

“What a load of bollocks,” Harry muttered, rolling his eyes. Walk away now, Harry. Right now, his conscience demanded but he found himself plopping down into the sand next to Draco instead.

Draco turned to look at Harry and offered him a cigarette, which Harry declined with a shake of his head, so Draco gazed back out at the water he’d come to love so much. “I wanted you in school, Potter. I was as a gay as George Michael in a public toilet… and I knew you were too.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “How the fuck could you have possibly known that? I didn’t come out until well after the war was over. Only my closest friends knew in school. Which, by fucking gosh, you weren’t one of!”

“Not only did I want you, I was willing to do all I could to get you,” Draco continued, ignoring Harry’s tirade. He leant over and gave Harry’s arm a firm and painful pinch.

“OW! What the bloody fuck! You fucking pisshead!” Harry glared at him, rubbing his arm. “You’re a fucking freak! I should’ve known I was doomed to be haunted by you forever.”

Draco smirked. “See? You aren’t dreaming. You really are tagging along with your vapid friends here like a third wheel. You really are sitting here on a secluded beach with me after ten years of never laying eyes on me. The least you could do is fucking listen to me.”

Harry huffed and drew his legs up to rest his chin on his knees. “Fate, blah, blah, crossing paths, blah, blah, you wanted my arse, blah, blah, still do, blah blah. I heard it all and I still don’t care.”

“Don’t care about what? What I have to say, or you don’t care about me?”

“Both,” Harry mumbled.

“You’re lying,” Draco suspected.

Harry blew his hair out of his eyes. “I guess I’m glad you’re not dead. Will that make you piss the fuck off and leave me alone?”

Draco reclined back to lean on his elbows and Harry’s eyes were immediately drawn to Draco’s pierced navel when his shirt rode up a few inches to expose his toned, pale stomach. If Draco noticed Harry’s gaze, he never commented on it. Instead, he tilted his head back to look up at the stars. “Not particularly. As I said, I’ve waited. I can wait a bit longer for you to get your head out of your arse. Did you hear the words of the song, Harry? I sung it for you.”

Harry snorted. “Sure you did. You probably sing it at the end of your set every night. What do you want, Malfoy? A quick fuck on the beach and cheerio in the morning?”

“I wouldn’t say no,” Draco sniggered. “I rarely do say no to a fuck with someone as hot as you. You lot are a dying breed.”

“Oh yeah, you’re heart has just been bleeding for me then,” Harry muttered. “Am I supposed to believe you’ve been holed up here pining your arse off for me?”

Draco burst out laughing. “Absolutely fucking not,” he said. “I believe in fate, not miracles. Even you aren’t worth celibacy, Potter.”

“Gee thanks. I love you too,” Harry replied sarcastically. “Will you marry me?”

Draco finished his cigarette and extinguished it in the sand beside him. “Feisty little bugger, aren’t you? Even ten years of life experience and you still mouth off with schoolboy maturity. Very impressive.”

“Are you trying to get in my pants or make me hex you?” Harry snapped.

“You don’t have your wand,” Draco pointed out.

“Then I’ll thump you,” Harry warned. “I’m not opposed to violence if blond wankers push me far enough. And I don’t care about breaking a nail.”

Draco smirked. “And you call yourself gay.”

Harry sighed, flicking at the sand with his fingers. “What do you want from me Malfoy? I know it’s not my dick or arse, because according to you and your barman, you have a string of willy at your disposal.”

“How about if I want your dick and arse and something else?” Draco suggested and earned an irritated sigh in response. “I just want you to listen to me. That’s all. A chance to start over, maybe? I don’t know. I just don’t want it how it was in school. That was the worst time of my life. It’s no more.”

“I’ll make you a deal then.”

“Name it.”

“We fuck,” Harry started and Draco looked expectantly for him to continue.

“And?”

“And you sing me that song again,” Harry breathed, turning his head to the side and their eyes met intensely.

Draco eyes twinkled in the light of the moon. “You did hear the words then,” he noted. “I don’t sing it at the end of every set, Harry. I sung it only for you.”

“I heard them” Harry confirmed, breaking the eye contact and staring down at the sand in front of him, tracing the letter D in the grains before he realised what he was doing and scratching it out with his foot.

“And?” Draco pressed again.

“I heard enough to know you had another purpose that night in the tower other than killing Dumbledore,” Harry told him. “I just don’t know what that purpose was… Nor do I think I actually really care anymore. It’s ancient history. I told you, I’m all about the here and now.” He shifted and crawled over to straddle Draco, sliding his hands teasingly up under Draco’s shirt and mapping out every tone of Draco’s chest with his fingers. “You believe in fate, Malfoy? Why don’t you fucking prove to mean what fate means to you? If it’s brought us together, may as well make the most of it.” He bent down and drew Draco’s lips to his in a rough kiss, his fingers twining in the sleek strands of Draco’s blond hair. He pushed Draco’s shirt up further, breaking the kissing to pull the tight item over Draco’s head, leaving his torso bare.

Harry zeroed in on the navel ring, feeling his cock stir in his jeans at there mere sight of it. He swirled the pad of his thumb over the piercing, licking his lips in anticipation. He tugged his own shirt off over his head and threw it off to the side. Draco hitched himself back up on his elbow and gazed hungrily at Harry through his long lashes.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about your body while I touch myself, Harry?” Draco whispered, hooking his fingers in the waist band of Harry’s jeans and urging him further up his body. Draco undid Harry’s belt, pushing the buckle out of the way to slide Harry’s fly open. He didn’t waste any time and snaked his fingers into Harry’s pants, fondling the hardness within.

Harry groaned, bending forward and sliding his tongue along Draco’s lower lip. “Do you finger yourself when you think of me, Draco? Do you? Do you tease those gorgeous fingers up and down your hard dick, moaning my name?” he whispered against Draco’s mouth, and Draco whimpered, fisting the back of Harry’s hair and yanking him back down into a desperate snog. His fingers continued their path, pushing the elastic of Harry’s underwear down and connecting with the heated flesh.

Harry gasped, sitting back up. “Take them off,” he pleaded, rolling off Draco and onto his back in a rapid effort to rid himself of his pants. Draco pushed Harry’s hands away and slid the jeans and boxers down in one sleek movement. He knelt on all-fours above Harry, staring into his face, before his eyes dipped lower to take in the sight of Harry’s erect cock, laying in wait against his stomach, heaving from his aroused panting breaths.

“I always wondered how you would taste…” Draco purred and bent his head to lick a smooth, wet trail from Harry’s chest all the way down to his cock. He lapped tentatively at the glistening head of Harry’s erection and moaned deeply. “But I could never have expected you to be this good…” He swallowed Harry deep into his throat and Harry cried out at the sudden pressure, his fingers moving to caress Draco’s hair and urge his smooth sucking up and down his needy length. It had been so long since Harry had anyone sucking his dick, let alone someone with as much talent as Draco seemed to have. He was doing something with his tongue that was driving Harry wild and wasn’t too far off from losing it completely.

“Stop,” Harry croaked out. “Please stop…” Draco lifted his head in question and Harry just smiled reassuringly at him. He sat and pulled himself up onto his knees, urging Draco to do the same. He unbuttoned Draco’s leather pants and pushed them down to free Draco’s straining cock. He experimentally rolled his palm against the hardened length and Draco slumped against his chest with a deep moan.

Harry felt Draco’s warm tongue trailing up his neck and he tilted his head to encourage the action. Draco sucked hungrily at Harry’s throat, making small noises of appreciation. “You taste and feel better than my fantasies ever allowed…” Draco said huskily. “Will you fuck me, Harry? Fate be fucked, I just want you inside me.” He bit down gently on Harry’s neck, nibbled at his collar bone and moving on to lick Harry’s earlobe teasingly, rolling it over his tongue.

Harry ran his hands down Draco’s muscular back, and they came to rest on Draco’s firm, round arse. He gave the cheeks and gentle squeeze with his fingers. “Oh yes…” he murmured, squeezing them harder. “Hmm, Draco, I could just sink my teeth into you amazing arse… Fuck! Take your trousers off and turn around…”

Draco didn’t need to be asked twice. He kicked out of the tight leather pants with ease and turned around, whimpering at the loss of Harry’s touch and reaching back to connect with any part of him he could reach. Harry caught Draco’s fingers in his own, gave them a squeeze and then kissed the back of his hand. He shifted forward and wrapped his arms around Draco, kissing the nape of his neck and rubbing his hard cock against Draco’s arse.

Harry slipped his fingers into his mouth and wet them thoroughly, moving his hand to spread Draco’s arse cheeks and slide his fingers inside the warm cleft. He pressed his finger against Draco’s tight hole and as Draco’s pushed back in welcome, Harry’s finger slid deep inside Draco’s arse.

“Oh fuck, Harry!” Draco cried out. “Oh god…” He turned his head so they could meet in another kiss. This time it lingered, their tongues exploring each other’s mouths as Harry’s finger explored deeper and deeper inside Draco, pushing in and out of the amazing arse as he tried not to think too much that it would soon be his dick buried deep inside the hot passage.

Draco was rocking back against Harry’s hand, so Harry eased a second finger inside. The kiss continued and Harry fleetingly recognised that he was becoming familiar to this warm mouth… It was Draco who broke the kiss; he pulled back and gazed at Harry with thick arousal. “Fuck me, Harry. I want your cock so far up my arse, I can taste it.”

“Fuck… fuck!” Harry squeaked, his breathing edging into frantic rasps. Draco fell back down on all-fours, his pale arse waiting for Harry. Harry wanted to dip his head and stick his tongue right where his fingers had just been. He wanted to suck and taste Draco and make this night last forever, but Draco was getting impatient.

Harry positioned himself behind Draco and nudged hesitantly at Draco’s entrance. He was hit with a wave of cold feet all of a sudden and somewhere inside him, his conscience was screaming ‘What the fuck are you doing?!’ He bit down on his lip and pushed forward and into Draco with one thrust, gasping loudly and gripping Draco’s hips, his nails almost sinking into the smooth flesh at the hipbones.

Draco gave a whimpering moan, the feeling of being filled by Harry as he had anticipated for so long washing over him. “Oh Harry, you feel amazing… don’t stop… please…” he breathed.

Harry pulled out and pushed back in smoothly, falling into a gentle rhythm and stroking Draco’s abdomen. His other hand slid up Draco’s back and he entwined his fingers in the long strands of soft blond hair. For the first time, he realised Draco’s had been grown down his back to about his shoulder blades. Harry moaned in lust. Draco’s hair was amazing. How had he not noticed it? He sucked on his lip and tugged at the hair tie, pulling it out and freeing Draco’s hair. The locks showered out over his back and Harry ran his fingers through it, feeling his balls tighten at the first warning sounds of explosion.

Draco was pumping at his own cock in time with Harry’s thrusts, his head now bent forward. The only sound mingling with the ocean lapping on the shores was their deep, panting breathing and the soft slapping of moist skin as Harry began pounding desperately into Draco’s throbbing arse. He pushed Draco’s hand away from his cock and wrapped his own fingers around the length. The hardness felt so right in his fist, Harry realised with a moan of frustration. He was so close!

The sand was chafing their knees and sweat trickling down their skin. Draco suddenly keened loudly and shuddered beneath Harry, screaming out his name hoarsely and exploded wetly over Harry’s hand and the sand before him. Harry felt the liquid trickle down the back of his fingers and he pulled his hand away to brace himself around Draco’s waist and hips. He was almost there… just about there…

Harry choked out a moan and gave one last forceful thrust into Draco’s slick arse and hunched forward, pulsing come deep inside Draco and then stilling, riding out the feeling and being overcome with a wash of emotion.

“Are you all right?” Draco panted, looking over his shoulder at Harry, his loose hair falling into his face and reminding him why he wore it back most of the time.

Harry pulled out of Draco and flopped onto his back on the sand, looking tiredly up at the stars in the clear sky. “Um… sure…” he mumbled.

Draco lay down next to him, pressed against his side and splaying a hand across Harry’s stomach. “I would’ve waited a lifetime for that,” he murmured.

Harry turned and looked a Draco, a frown of confusion dancing on his forehead. “It was just a fuck, Draco,” he said, still breathless from exertion.

“To you, maybe,” Draco replied, shrugging. “We’re going to walk away with different things from this… maybe even more.”

Harry wet his lips. “Do you ever not talk in riddles?” His eyes came to rest on a leather choker around Draco’s neck he’d not noticed prior, which had a small heart-shaped emerald pendant on it. It had only caught Harry’s eye because the moonlight caught it briefly and it glimmered at him. Almost like Draco’s eyes had a short time again. “Who gave you that?”

Draco touched it with his fingertips. “This? It’s a family heirloom. Why?”

“How long have you had it?”

“My whole life,” Draco elaborated. “I wear it everyday. It reminds me of…” he trailed off, “nothing important really.”

Harry looked back up at the sky. “This changes nothing. I have slept with lots of people and walked away and never seen them again. I don’t give a shit about your fate theory. I was horny. That’s it.”

“Tonight is your last night, isn’t it?” Draco murmured, taking his hand from Harry’s stomach and sitting up, feeling around for his shirt.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Plane leaves at ten am tomorrow. Thinking of hitching a ride back?” he asked, but knew he was only half joking. He realised he was actually not quite ready to walk away from Draco just yet.

“No,” Draco said simply. Harry expected him to say more, but Draco fell silent, slowly pulling on his clothing again.

“Are you going to keep up your end of the bargain?” Harry pressed. At least he would have Draco’s presence for the length of the song… “Why are you here?”

“This is my home,” Draco told him. They stared at each other for a lingering moment, and Harry seemed to run out of questions. The whole situation was an enigma. He been swept off his feet and hadn’t had time to come back down yet. Draco was sitting there, half dressed and looking lustfully tasty and Harry just really wanted to throw him back on the sand and shag him all over again. But there was no point. It was leading to nothing. All that was left was Draco’s song… their song… one last time before Harry really did walk away for good.

* * * * *

Harry perched on one of the bar stools in the now deserted resort bar. He was sitting right before the stage, where Draco stood at the microphone gazing down at Harry with stormy eyes.

Draco covered the microphone with his hands. “That night, Harry, all those years ago in the tower at Hogwarts, I was faced with the hardest decision of my life. I knew if I killed Dumbledore, I would lose any chance of being at your side, in whatever capacity. I knew if I didn’t kill him, I would likely lose my life… I was trained and conditioned to do what I needed to do to get what I wanted. For a long time there, I thought what I wanted more than anything was to be my father’s equal. Until you came along…

“For weeks leading up to that night, I knew what I could be faced with at any moment, I knew what was coming. I know you noticed what I was doing; noticed that something was brewing. I know you saw I was drowning. The façade I put up for everyone in all those weeks were just lies. It wasn’t me. Inside, I was fighting a losing battle. I wanted you to save me like you did everyone else, but I knew you were never going to. I was the enemy.

“That day you found me in the bathroom, I was mere minutes from taking my own life. You stopped me, and it made me want you all the more. But I never got the chance to confront you, and after that night, we never saw each other again. But I knew we would. We had to. This song is everything surrounding that awful night, and everything leading right up until you, here tonight… So yes, Harry. I do believe in fate. Do you?”

Before Harry could answer, Draco started singing the first dulcet strains of the song that would now haunt Harry forever. Harry closed his eyes and listened, and was pulled back to that night in the tower. What would’ve happened if, by some miraculously chance, he had saved Draco from the pain he’d been faced with? Where would they be now? Was there really such a thing as fate? Draco seemed adamant their paths would cross again, and now here they were. Not only sitting together in the same room, but having just been joined together in the most intimate way possible, when Harry had been sure he hated Draco with a passion. Harry Potter had had sex with Draco Malfoy. The same Draco Malfoy who was professing they were fated to cross paths again…

The words and the emotional tone in Draco’s voice was starting to spike deep inside Harry again, he looked up and caught Draco’s eyes, startled to see a single tear escape and trickle down Draco’s smooth cheek. Draco closed his eyes and belted out the last lines of the song, looking up again on the last line and stepping back from the microphone.

They remained silent and still for many long minutes. Neither of them could be really sure how long. Something was churning in Harry’s stomach and roiling in his heart. He finally cleared his throat and blinked, looking down to break their gazed. “What now?” he murmured quietly.

Draco gave a slight shrug with one shoulder. “My life is here now. I’m happy. I haven’t set foot on British soil for seven years. I may have known we’d cross paths again, Harry, but I never said that path would continue…”

“So that’s it, then?” Harry asked, standing up off the stool and stepping up onto the stage. “You fuck with my mind and watch me walk away with a laugh at my expense?”

“No one’s laughing, Harry,” Draco said in barely more than a whisper.

“I was a good fuck then, was I? That’s all you wanted. You put up some big façade complete with a fancy song just to get in my pants? Did you finally get a sense of beating me, Malfoy?” Harry was fast losing his temper and he wanted nothing more to hit Draco firmly across the face, but something in Draco’s eyes was stopping him.

Draco reached out and curled his fingers around Harry’s, but didn’t take a step closer. “I had no way of knowing you were coming here. I only knew when your name cropped up on the guest list when you checked in. It took me a whole week to get up the nerve to sing that song. I had my friend do the shows in the bar all week so you wouldn’t see me. Even fate can’t intervene when someone is complete and utter chicken shit…” He smirked and enclosed his fingers further so their hands were no joined warmly together. “But I did come. I didn’t know if you would recognise me, but you did.”

Harry looked down at their connected hands and frowned. “It doesn’t fucking change anything!” He pulled his hand away roughly. “You’re here, I’m there. This is all a load of bollocks!”

“Stay.”

Harry’s head whipped up and his brow furrowed fiercely. “What did you say?”

“Stay. Here. Stay here with me,” Draco repeated, almost pleading. He pulled his the emerald from around his neck and pressed the choker into Harry’s hand. “Let me show you what I wanted to all those years ago…”

“And give up my life in London? For you?” Harry laughed dryly, his hand clenching around the stone. “I don’t think so, Malfoy.” He stepped down off the stage and headed to the door.

“Wait!” Draco cried and Harry stopped, looking back at him questioningly. “Will you at least sleep on it? I could give you a reason to leave London and never look back.”

“I don’t believe in fate, Malfoy,” Harry murmured and once again moved to leave.

“I’ll be waiting on the beach at sunrise,” Draco told him. “If you really want to live for the here and now…” Harry gazed at him for a few moments and then walked out the door, not looking back.

* * * * *

Harry stared out the window of the aeroplane at the horizon in the distance and sighed, resting his head against the cool plastic. There was a small ding over the intercom. “This is your Captain speaking. We hope you enjoyed your stay on the island. We will be arriving in at London Heathrow in approximately eight hours time…”

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Hermione asked, patting his arm. “I thought you’d be glad to get back to London.”

“So, did I, Hermione,” Harry mumbled, looking out at the beach far off, shrinking as the ascending into the sky. “Do you believe in fate?”

Hermione laughed. “Fate? No one controls your destiny but you, Harry.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“Then it’s all written in the stars anyway, isn’t it? You just need to wait for your moment,” Hermione said with a smile and laughed.

“What if I missed that moment?” Harry put his hand to his throat and traced the line of the small stone of Draco’s necklace.

“Then it wasn’t meant to be.”

- fin -


AUTHOR’S NOTE: Before anyone comes at me with pointy objects (and I mean the BAD kind of pointy objects), a sequel is already in the works ;)