Floo Stains and Leather

[di-lamerr.livejournal.com]

Title: Floo stains and leather
Author: di_lamerr
Prompt: #133 from praevarus
Kink Showcased: 24/7 d/s
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Draco/Harry
Warnings: d/s
Word count: 900+
Summary: I wonder why he's with me, but I won't ask, I'll never ask.
Author's Notes: Forgive me this is my first time writing this pairing, I'm also a fest virgin. Praevarus, I don't think this was what you had in mind, but I hope you like it.
Thank you, Amorette, for the amazingly quick beta-ing. And the kinkfest mod who worked on my format, I appreciate the help.

So long as the laws remain such as they are today,
employ some discretion: loud opinion forces us to do so;
but in privacy and silence let us compensate ourselves
for that cruel chastity we are obliged to display in public.
Marquis de Sade

He kisses me, a soft thing slashed across my lips, and smiles, an apologetic thing I want to slap off his face.

"Be back soon," he says.

Weasley stares at me, eyes wary, the blush he's worn since barging into our home finally flagging. His petite bourgeoisie morals offended me, he is dragging the man I love out so they can talk about me.

I should hex him but Harry would never forgive me.

They step into the Floo, and Harry waves as he follows the nunce.

I fall then, folding into myself, mind careening.

*^

"Look mate," Ron pauses and looks around the room suspiciously. "I'm just saying that it's ok, I let Hermione use a strap-on on me once!"

Harry sighs and closes his eyes tightly, mentally cursing himself for not locking the Floo. Why hadn't he closed the Floo? He pushes his now warm larger away. "Ron, I have to go."

Ron stands quickly. "No!" Then he blushes, the red cascading from his ears down. "Ahh, I mean stay, I'll buy you another."

Harry runs a hand through his hair, "Look, I have to go. You clearly aren't comfortable with what you saw. Let's just give it some time, yeah?"

Ron sits back heavily. Harry wants to hug him and tell him everything is great, that it wasn't what it had looked like, but the questions that it would spurn stop him.

It really hadn't been what Ron thought it was; Draco standing above him naked, paddle in hand, that wicked smirk he had on his lips. If Ron had come though the Floo ten minutes later, Draco would have been over Harry's knee, ass roseate, but Ron has piss poor timing.

And Harry didn't want to answer questions about what he did with his boyfriend in the privacy of his home, or office, or … Fuck it, he didn't want to answer questions period.

*^

He's back. I hear the swoosh of the Floo, the heavy thud of his footsteps as they stop short. Shite!

"Draco."

I swallow, releasing my lip from my teeth. "Sir."

"Come."

I stand. My legs feel unsure. I'm sure my hair is a mess. I can feel tear tracks -- salty tightness -- on my face, I taste blood. I want to Apparate away quickly, run, not listen to him break my heart, because this is the final blade to sever what little regard his friends have of me.

Malfoy, Death Eater, freak.

I walk to him trembling. I am a Malfoy, I am a Malfoy, what the fuck does that mean anyway? I'll need a new mantra when he leaves me, for this time it has been I am loved, I am wanted, I am owned. What will it be when I am unloved, unwanted, unowned? Maybe I should move away again?

"You are dressed?"

I swallow, feeling the weight of my robes like the press of a fought Imperius, and fight the tears. My eyes focus on the floor, the bits of Floo power on his trousers, his dirty boots, anyplace but his face.

He repeats his question. "You are dressed?"

I shiver in awareness of whom I stand in front of. I will not be allowed to prevaricate in thought, word or deed.

"I wanted to be ready to leave."

"Leave?"

"Your friends do not like me, Sir." I take a deep breath. "You once said, 'they are my family, do not make me choose', Sir."

He sighs pulling me against his body. I fight the urge to sag into him, into his scent. They say you can't make homes out of people; clearly they have never been wrapped in his arms.

"You are my family, Draco."

A single tear breaks free. Traitor.

He wipes it away with the rough pad of a finger; I change my mind, that tear is the cleverest of the bunch.

"I am scared, Sir."

He runs his fingers through my hair, "Fear is normal, but you have to trust me, without trust..."

I know, Harry! I know! Without trust this falls apart, this withers and dies. I lose you! But I am not worthy of you!

The noise of my mind grows silent for the first time since he left. I take a deep breath and think clearly.

My Sir, my love, has come back to me. He always meant to come back, and I greeted him with a crass display, huddled in a corner like a kicked dog.

I raise my eyes then, lifting them off of his Floo stained boots, looking into his worried eyes.

I need him to understand why. He holds my gaze; I slip to my knees, knowing even as I lean forward his eyes remain on me. When it is clear what I plan to do, I hear his sharp intake of breath.

I kiss one boot then the other, ignoring the Floo stains, ignoring the connotations to the Dark Lord, feeling the warm leather against my lips, the scent of his boots, leather, pine, tar, fire wood, and Floo powder.

He must know! My submission is yours. I am yours.

I raise my eyes. His face is serene, his eyes nearly roil. He drags me up kissing me, holding me in a crushing grip. I laugh as I return it.

*^

That night he wraps me in his magic, smiling as I shiver, the spell settling over me like a warm blanket. It's a children's spell cast by mothers usually, a magical monitoring system. It wakes him when my nightmares wrap me in their arms and refuse to release me. He makes everything right. And I know he needs me, I am not replaceable as I'd thought, not just another submissive, another warm body.

He values me. I have no idea why, and I will never ask.