Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Beneath a Shattered Fountain ❯ Bedroom Ornaments ( Chapter 4 )

Wings Eclipsing Night: Bedroom Ornaments

by KC

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Harry, Draco and all the rest; they'd do a lot more stuff than they do in the books and it'd all be rated R through X. Alas, however, I do not.

Other info: Post-HBP, dark!Harry, veela!Draco. Yes, there is sexxors in here, but not that much.

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Curled in a corner, Draco obeyed his master's command to stay out of the way while Harry moved shrunk-down furniture from the space below the trapdoor up into the old divination room. As he restored each piece to its proper size, the room slowly filled up and looked more like a respectable bedroom. A broad, flat desk filled a corner while a velvet-lined chair went beside it. A wide four-poster bed appeared and was pushed up against the wall before Harry threw on the canopy and arranged it. On the shelves, ornately carved candleholders, fancy inkwells and ancient instruments replaced decks of cards, crystal balls and tea leaves. As he shined a brass astrolabe, Harry smiled and looked over his shoulder at his veela.

"Found these all in the Room of Requirement," he said. "When it's the place where you hide things. You remember?"

Draco nodded quietly.

"I had a hard time choosing. There were so many things inside, I don't think anyone could ever know exactly what's there." He finished shining the piece and set it on the shelf next to decorative statue of a dragon. "A lot of it was smashed up, probably broken over time, but some of it's all right."

Draco watched him work for a few more seconds. "Why are you doing that?"

"Doing what?" Harry dusted off a wooden hourglass and turned it upside down, watching the sand spill.

"Cleaning," Draco said. "By hand. And you put the blankets and canopy on the bed by hand. You have a wand. You could just wave it on there."

Lowering his head, Harry dusted off a few more items before he answered. As the silence stretched, Draco worried that he'd upset him and looked away, curling up tighter. His wings even drew close, shaking with tiny tremors as he pulled them too tight.

"I want to," Harry said softly, not looking up. "It's weird. You'd think I wouldn't after what the Dursleys put me through, but it calms me down a little. It's familiar. Everything's changing but this...this is familiar."

With Harry's back to him, Draco couldn't tell if he was smiling or frowning, but he didn't seem angry. "Dursleys?"

"The muggles I lived with." Harry set down the brass clock in his hands and turned towards him. "I know you think I lived with muggles fawning over the Boy Who Lived, but it didn't happen that way. And I'd rather not talk about it."

Nodding and shrinking away slightly, Draco opened his mouth to apologize for asking but he hesitated too long. Heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway leading to the bedroom and Ron's voice quickly followed.

"Harry!" Ron called up from the foot of the ladder. "I got it!"

"Coming." Harry walked over to the trap door and looked down. A broad grin spread over his face. "Hey, that looks great! You really got those bars straightened out."

"My pleasure," Ron said. Draco could almost hear his smile. "Since it's for the ferret, it was a labor of pure joy."

Golden bars rounded like a dome rose up from the trap door. Draco immediately recognized it as a bird cage, and when his master restored it to its proper size, he had no doubt as to its purpose. As tall as he was with a large door, it was just the right size for a half veela with folded wings.

Ron came up after the cage, sitting on the trapdoor's edge and kicking his legs in the empty space. Of the three, Draco saw that Ron was the most changed. Whatever fighting that had happened in the last battle left scars on his face and hands, thin white lines that completely crisscrossed his skin. The rest of his body was covered in the finest silk robes and gold jewelry. After being poor for so long, Ron seemed to take the most advantage of the available wealth in abandoned shops.

The smile on the red-head's face reminded Draco of the amused look on Voldemort's face whenever the dark lord paid particular attention to his wings, burning off feathers or simply casting a crucio spell for so long that his wings nearly snapped under the pressure. If Granger's eyes promised curious dissection, then Ron's eyes promised the playfulness of ripping his wings off.

"You gonna put him in now?" Ron asked. "Can I watch?"

Draco couldn't help it. He cringed at Ron's voice and turned his head. This helplessness was all the more galling for the fact that Ron had been a blood traitor, a useless child from a useless family. Pure blood was wasted on their kind and now he sat there like a child playing dress-up, having no idea how to play at being rich. Draco choked on his indignation. If he ever rose from being Potter's plaything and regained some power, his rightful power as a pureblood Malfoy--

"I don't think he'll even move if you're here," Harry chuckled. "Besides, I have work I need to finish. Did Hermione find the rest of the maps?"

"Not yet," Ron said, shaking his head. "The Ministry records are a right mess from where they landed. They're one big smoking pile in the great hall. She said it'll take her at least a week just to sort it all out."

"Well, I can get started on what we've got already. There's enough work there for a week anyway."

"Why start working so soon?" Ron asked, his scars twisting as he frowned. "We just won the war, killed the dark lord and destroyed the Ministry. Shouldn't we celebrate a bit?"

"Can't afford to let our guard down," Harry said. "Everyone hates us right now. If you really want to, though, I know the kitchens still have plenty of food left over."

"I think I will," Ron nodded. "'Night, Harry." He looked sideways at Draco, who flinched and turned away from his gaze. "'Night, ferret." And he grabbed the ladder and slid back down. His footsteps faded into the distance.

With Weasley gone, Draco gained a little control of himself again and he berated himself for that show of weakness. He couldn't afford to lose his emotions like that, especially not in front of his master. Hoping he hadn't given anything away, he glanced up and found Harry inspecting the cage a little more before turning towards him. When Harry beckoned him close, Draco reluctantly crawled towards him, coming to rest in front of the cage.

"I knew it was perfect the moment I saw it," Harry said, opening the door. The entire cage was made of thin gold bars, almost like a wire cage, and instead of a little swing for a bird to perch on, there was a wire bench for him to sit. After Harry nudged him, Draco crawled into the cage and carefully turned to face his master, sitting on the bench while folding his wings just right.

"It's like it was made for you," Harry whispered. He stared at him for a moment, then closed the door and secured it with a small padlock.

Draco fidgeted as he settled on his seat. It wasn't comfortable but it didn't hurt, either. His wings barely fit inside the cage, but they didn't scrape against the bars. Folded up and relaxed, they conformed perfectly to the cage's gentle slope. Since the bench had to be set closer to the cage door so that his wings would have room, he was also within easy reach of anyone outside. The bars were set very wide apart, wide enough for Harry to comfortably reach inside and stroke his cheek. Draco grasped the bars and leaned closer, kissing his fingers and murmuring soft sounds as Harry touched his hair.

"You certainly don't seem to mind being inside," Harry said softly.

"You haven't touched me since you left me here," Draco said, kissing his palm.

Harry frowned as he watched him. He wasn't upset, but he didn't know very much about half-veela and after asking Hermione about it earlier, no one else knew much either. Magic crossbreeds were unpredictable at best, completely incompatible at worst. History was full of failed miscegenations, where a body could not tolerate the food that a head craved, where the body simply unraveled over time. Draco seemed to be mostly human, but there was no way to be sure what he could safely eat, if he would molt his feathers, if he would really devote himself to his master for his whole life. Harry even wondered if Draco could ever sleep on his back.

"I'll get a few cushions," he said almost absently. "And a cover for the cage so no visitors can gawk at you."

"Am I going to be in here all the time?" Draco asked, looking up from Harry's hand for a moment.

"Sometimes," Harry said. "If I want you close but don't want you distracting me. If I think you need to calm down...you're such an excitable thing. If you've done something bad."

Draco gave his hand a tiny lick, then looked up between the hair in front of his eyes. "Have I done something bad?"

"Not yet," Harry said, swallowing reflexively. He watched in fascination as Draco closed his eyes again and went back to nuzzling his hand, rubbing his head against Harry's fingertips so that his hair tangled slightly in his grip, trapping himself in his master's hand.

"You can't be the same boy who tortured me through school," Harry whispered. "What are you?"

A slow smile spread over Draco's face. "Yours."

Harry tightened his grip on Draco's hair and yanked his head back until he heard him whimper. "I don't like lies," he whispered, pulling him up against the bars. "If you're doing this just to worm your way into my good graces--"

"I'm not," Draco winced, tears springing to his eyes as Harry held him at a harsh angle. He forced himself to open his eyes and look up at his master. "If you don't believe me, look--" He froze, unable to reconcile the war inside himself. His veela devotion wanted to prove his love, his human deception wanted to conceal his plans.

The invasion came swiftly. One moment he was staring at Harry, the next moment he felt his master plunging into his memories. Harry picked apart and examined his thoughts from the moment he found him underneath the Ministry fountain to when he bound him in chains. He found fear and pain while Draco languished in the darkness, felt his fear as he snapped on the chains, and smirked at the small hope Draco had of manipulating his master into trusting him enough to let him serve in ways other than sexual. The smirk slowly faded as he saw himself through Draco's eyes. His veela was afraid of him, terrified in some ways, but despite his machinations, or maybe because of them, his love was impossible to mistake.

"You'd really like to serve me," Harry whispered. "You're trying to manipulate me because you love me." He loosened his grip, letting Draco relax but still holding his hair tight. "You strange creature..."

"Can't stop being Slytherin," Draco said softly.

Certain of his veela's feelings, Harry now took the opportunity to go further back in Draco's memory, carefully examining certain emotions and remembrances like jewels. He watched him learn to fly a broom, watched him try even harder to impress his teammates when his father's donation all but guaranteed his spot, watched him sit alone in a dark house as his parents left in Death Eater masks. He listened to the whispered assurances they gave him but saw the fear in their eyes as they answered Voldemort's call.

As he came forward in time, their fear became more and more evident until it became clear that the family could not escape the dark lord. Finally Voldemort came for Draco, who knew better than to try to fight his enslavement. The pain of his wings emerging from his back was nothing compared to the pain of knowing his parents would die if he resisted at all.

Harry released his veela and turned back to his desk, arranging the few papers on top before he sat down and began to write in a blank journal. Confused, Draco eased back onto his bench and watched him, trying not to rattle his chains as he held onto the cage. After awhile he sat back and let his hands fall into his lap. He certainly wasn't going anywhere and Harry didn't look like he was coming back anytime soon. From the cage's position, he could see outside one of the windows. Stars glittered around a dark moon as clouds blew across the sky. The night seemed so peaceful that he wished Harry would open the windows and let the cool air in.

He didn't know how long he sat in his cage, but as the candles burned low, Harry finally closed his journal and stood up. Yawning, he walked by Draco, seemingly not hearing him as the veela leaned closer. He stopped at the bed, pulling the blankets down and sitting, kicking off his shoes, and then sat staring at him for several seconds before speaking.

"When Voldemort had you, how did you sleep?"

"On the floor," Draco said, curling his fingers around the bars. "Usually wherever I fell and stopped moving."

"Oh." Harry glanced at the large bed that could easily accommodate several people. "I meant, did you sleep on your back?"

"You mean on my wings?" Draco shook his head. "Only if I couldn't get off of them. I usually slept on my side or stomach."

Harry took out his wand and pointed it at the lock on the cage, unlocking it. "Come over here."

Draco had to reach around and pull the lock off, setting it on the ground as he came out on his hands and knees. Crawling towards him, he stopped at Harry's feet and sat back, waiting for instructions. When Harry patted the mattress beside him, he obeyed and curled up beside him at the foot of the bed.

"You're not a dog," Harry said. "Unless you're being punished, you'll sleep beside me. Take off your clothes."

While Harry stripped off his robes and underclothes, Draco sat up on his knees and undid the snaps holding the tunic closed, then reached back for the strings. To his dismay, he found that his wings blocked his hands. No matter how he twisted, he couldn't reach the back of his shirt. He heard a chuckle and looked up into his master's amused face.

"Turn around," Harry said, and he unlaced his shirt. "Funny, but I think I like you being dependent on me for everything."

The shirt fell off Draco's shoulders, and Harry tossed the white outfit on the floor next to his own clothes. He climbed back into bed and motioned for Draco to lie next to him. Easing beneath the blankets, Draco lay on his stomach and cuddled close to his master. Harry thought that his wings would spread over them like another blanket, but they folded up nicely out of the way. Sharing his bed wouldn't be difficult at all. He looked down at Draco, who didn't look like he was going to fall asleep any time soon, and smiled and kissed his hair.

"You wanted to prove you're more than a sex toy," he whispered. "I'll let you try that tomorrow. For tonight, though, I want to play."

Heartened that Harry would give him a chance, Draco smiled as he pushed himself up on his elbows. "What would you like me to do?"

"Everything," Harry said, laying back and closing his eyes. "It's been a long day for me."

"Yes, master." Draco leaned over him for a kiss, but as he pulled back slightly, he frowned. "What should I call you, master or...Harry?" Even now, it felt strange to say his name.

"Either one will do. They both mean the same thing." He hooked his fingers into Draco's collar and forced him back down, but he found that Draco only resisted out of surprise. In every other way, he eagerly complied with everything he wanted.

Waiting for Harry to release him, Draco gave in to every kiss and moved only as far as Harry let him. When he was finally let go, he slowly trailed his lips down Harry's body, pausing at his chest, licking at his navel, coming to rest between his thighs. From the way his master's hand came down on his head, firmly pushing him down, Harry didn't want much foreplay. As his sucked on the large shaft, moving his head with slow strokes, he heard his master chuckle.

"Told you you'd get better with practice," he said. "In a week, you're gonna be bloody fantastic."

The thought worried Draco. He'd already served Harry so many times, and this was just his first day with him. Would Harry even let him out of bed, let alone out of this room? The hand on his head pushed him down faster and he struggled to keep the pace his master wanted.

"That's enough," Harry hissed. "Get up. I want to come inside you."

Again? Draco winced but obeyed. He had no choice. "Could you cast the spell on me?" he whispered. "Aise entre?"

Smiling in anticipation, Harry obligingly reached onto the nightstand for his wand and cast the spell. As Draco straddled his master's waist, carefully positioning himself, Harry grasped his wrists and held him fast, holding him securely in place. The only way he could move was up or down, and he bit his lip as he slowly lowered himself onto Harry, taking him in inch by inch. If Harry heard his veela whimpering, he didn't show it. He thrust his hips against him, moaning as Draco rocked on top of him, and he came quickly, pulling Draco down hard as he shuddered. At last he relaxed again, breathing deep, and he smiled up at his veela.

"Lay beside me," he mumbled. Absently, he grasped his wand and cleaned himself off, then did the same for Draco as an afterthought.

At first Draco wasn't sure how to lay down without breaking his wings, but he ended up lying on his stomach almost on top of Harry, pillowing his head on his master's shoulder. He felt a little better when Harry only pulled the blanket up to his waist, which gave his wings room to spread out. In Voldemort's keeping he'd kept his wings folded tightly whenever he could, trying to go unnoticed in a corner, but that always left his wings and shoulders cramped. Lying like this felt more comfortable but still didn't feel natural. As much as he loved the feel of his master beneath him, he didn't think he grow accustomed to sharing a bed for a long time.

Unexpected memories rushed over him. More like intangible feelings than precise recollections, he remembered the feel of his own bed, the familiar way sunlight came in through his window, the floorboards creaking in a particular way as his parents walked by his room. Even more sharply he remembered how small and comfortable the world became in the Slytherin dorm, after he closed the bed curtains and read by wandlight until he fell asleep.

Harry had wiped the tears from his cheek before he realized he was crying. The soft touch only made them come faster, no matter how he tried to stop. He thought Harry might grow annoyed and order him to stop, but his master stroked his hair and wings and turned slightly on his side so he could hold him. Maybe Harry liked having a toy that cried. Maybe Harry only punished him for being disobedient, not for being himself. Whatever the reason, he let him cry without a word, lying awake with him until he finally cried himself to sleep.

End