one more for the road...

Title: A Game Called Life
Author: Willysunny
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Archive: Emotional Peril
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling. I own nothing.
Summary: Harry fantasies run deep. Draco plays along.
Author's Notes: This is unbeta-ed. I would like to dedicate this story to my husband for his ever-lasting love and support. He is my rock and soft, safe place. Sometimes I love him so much it hurts. A special thank you goes out to crookedheart who gave me the idea.


Harry climbed the winding steps that lead to the upstairs hallway. He walked on tiptoe, hoping to keep the creaking to a minimum as the rickety steps had a way of divulging intentions and turning them useless. As he reached the landing, he stood in the darkness and listened. The prolonged silence caused a grin to creep across his face and he pushed open the bedroom door, eyes focusing on the image of Draco, lying languidly in bed, blanket tucked around his naked form, a thick book nestled into his lap.

Draco glanced up and arched an eyebrow, “Can I help you?”

“I don’t know. Can you?” Harry slid his fingers around the edges of his shirt and ripped it over his head, mussing his hair and knocking his glasses askew.

“Potter, I’m reading.” Draco pushed his glance back toward his book, trying to suppress a smile that threatened to spread across his face and break apart the mask he had been practicing for the last ten minutes.

“I don’t care. I want to play. Come on.” Harry took two steps toward Draco and brought his hands to his trousers, undoing the snap and zipper and dropping them to his feet. “You know you want to.” He took another step toward Draco and tripped over a pant leg. Harry threw out his hands, cushioning his fall against the headboard, his body dipping perilously close to Draco who didn’t flinch.

“Nice move, Potter. You’re full of grace tonight. It’s so sexy the way you fall all over me.” Draco closed his book and set it on the nightstand, shaking his head dramatically before reaching up and pulling a slightly red-faced Harry on top of him. “So, what game do you want to play tonight?”

Harry pulled his glasses from his nose and rested them on the nightstand. He then sat up on Draco, pinning his thin thighs into the mattress. The soft illumination of the table lamp encircled the pale hair and skin, painting him in a soft focus. Draco still managed to sweep the breath from Harry’s lungs, even after all these years. “How about we pretend that we live in an old house, go to work like normal, run-of-the-mill wizards, that we’re completely in love…”

“Potter, I’m starting to lose track of the rules.”

“I’m not done.” He sucked in a breath and then released it, along with words that caused a flush to blossom across his chest and cheeks. “And that we are parents to a beautiful baby.” Harry looked down at his hands that had found their way into Draco’s, fingers intertwining, fitting perfectly together

“You want to play that game again. Honestly Potter, don’t you ever get tired of it? I know a few games that could knock you into next week.” Draco rolled his eyes and wrenched his hands from Harry’s grasp, crossing them over his bare chest.

“Please. I love this game.” Harry knew he sounded pathetic, but he also knew the tactic worked and triumphantly watched as Draco uncrossed his arms and sighed heavily.

“Okay, but I decide what goes on in the sack.” Draco twisted his long body quickly, unseating Harry from his perch and knocking him into the bed. He kicked the blankets to the end of the mattress, got on all fours, threw his head back and started crawling toward his target. As he dipped his head toward Harry’s groin, he whispered, “Just remember you have to stay absolutely quiet in this old house. The baby’s sleeping.”

Harry reached up and pulled Draco on top of him. He hugged him close and kissed him, slowly and gently. He loved remembering what it had first felt like to kiss this man, clinging to the memories of their initial sexual encounter if one could call it that. It was a quick stolen kiss in the shower during their seventh year at Hogwarts that tore every aspect of his life apart and reassembled it into something that finally made sense. They were lovers now, and partners for life. He knew this much, yet he always tried to remember what it had felt like during that first tentative, awkward and innocent embrace. He felt Draco push against these thoughts, lips turning hard and desperate, needing more than the simplicity that Harry cherished. As usual, Harry relented. He was rewarded with a smooth, velvety tongue that dipped into his mouth, the tip touching his own, shooting sparks out to his fingertips. He kissed him back with the same force and deepened it further, hands flying up to weave themselves through Draco’s blonde locks, purposely mussing them. He knew Draco would complain later, and he reveled in that fact, pulling harder on the strands, twisting them between his fingers. He felt Draco’s hands wander, fluttering slowly down his body that arched in response. “Oh,” he breathed.

“Shhh…” Draco whispered and smiled into Harry. He knew exactly how and where to touch him to conjure certain responses. He pulled away from Harry’s mouth and pecked light kisses across his neck, shoulders and chest. He pushed himself up with his arms and slid down the trembling body so that his head rested lightly against Harry’s stomach. This was where he took his time. He drew words and pictures and symbols across Harry’s stomach with his fingers and tongue, listening to the blissful moans escape from swollen lips. He loved being able to watch him twist into and against the pleasure, applying pressure and quickly removing it, feeling the body beneath squirm in delight. He loved Harry more than he ever thought it possible to love someone, but found it easier to communicate this complex emotion through touch, sight, sound and taste rather than simple words that always betray. At least they had before Harry. His parents had lied to him from day one, raised him up as their prodigal son, a minion to a Dark Lord who loved no one but himself. Draco knew he was born for a specific reason, the purpose of which died along with his parents and Voldemort. He had been rewarded for his actions with freedom and love, a chance to start again coupled with Harry Potter, free from the ties of his own prophecy. This union of events still overwhelmed him, crumpling Draco into soft chairs, fighting to catch his breath. He still stole secret glances at his partner during quiet moments and felt a heaviness press against his chest. Draco knew it was both pleasure and pain. Sometimes looking at Harry actually hurt his heart.

“Oh. God.” Harry pushed against Draco’s mouth and he felt a soft bite against his taut flesh.

“Shhh… my love.” Draco repeated and he pulled himself up to plant a quick kiss on Harry’s ready lips. He nuzzled into his warm neck, feeling the pointy hair brush against his face, enveloping him in sensations that pitched him close to the edge of reason. He kissed him feverishly, working his way up the neck, along one sharp jaw and soft cheek, across the bridge of his nose and down the other side; melting into the unique contours of Harry that he claimed in small red marks that took a day to fade.

Harry fought back, pushing against Draco’s grip and tossing him easily onto his back. He watched Draco smile as he moved on pure instinct, kissing him in tender spots that he had memorized through years of playful research, behind an ear, under the chin, an Achilles heel. He loved that small inch of Draco that writhed beneath his lips, the symbolism still catching in his throat.

“Harry.” Draco reached out and dug his fingers into Harry’s back, rocking softly with the pulse of his tongue.

“Shhh…” Harry breathed. He inched his way up Draco, body pressing heavily in the wake of his lips. Pausing at Draco’s groin, he smiled up at the beautiful face, eyes closed and forehead creased, “Shhh…” he repeated. This was his favourite moment, watching Draco as he touched his erection, lips first, a light kiss, followed by tongue, a taste that left him reeling. Finally, he curled his lips around him, all the while watching Draco’s face change with each shift in pressure. He moaned and heard Draco do the same. Smiling, he looked up to see the same amused look cross Draco’s slack mouth.

“Shhh…” Draco whispered. Everything collapsed down to one sense, the feeling of Harry around him, taking him in deeper, strong hands clutching his hips, rolling them against the waves of his warm, wet mouth, taking Draco on journeys, his view blinded by the sensations undulating through his body. He felt his way through a tremor and breathed against a teetering edge. He wasn’t ready to let go of anything that wasn’t pure bliss and pure Harry.

Harry pulled away and heard the audible sigh that still caused a flutter to beat against the base of his stomach. He pulled himself onto all fours and stalked up Draco’s exposed flesh, all the while looking up into the closed eyes of his partner. “Draco -”

“Shhh…” Draco’s lids flew open and his eyes locked on Harry. He felt them fill with sudden emotion and watched Harry’s do the same. Sometimes it truly ached to look into the eyes of his future. He pulled himself up onto one elbow and met Harry in a fierce kiss, arms wrapping tightly around skin and bone, desperately attempting to crush past layers of life’s normality’s to find the burning core of desire that haunted them when they parted for work in the morning. Losing himself against Harry’s weight, Draco felt his voice rise up and out before he could stuff it back down, “Harry, I-“

“SH!” Harry shot up quickly, kneeling stiffly on the bed, his messy head tipped to one side, listening intently.

“Shit! Shitshitshit!” Draco sat up fully and waited. Then he heard it, a slight rustling sound, then a bump and a footstep.

Harry scampered across the mattress and pushed himself against the headboard. He wildly grabbed at the blankets, pulling at random corners in an attempt to cover his exposed frame. He reached out to the bedside table, grabbed at his glasses and quickly perched them atop his red nose. “Shit”, he repeated.

Harry and Draco watched, wide-eyed, as the doorknob twisted slowly, stopping once before finishing the small circle and releasing the lock. As the thick wooden door creaked open, a long inky-black shadow grew across the bedroom, looming just above the wall where both men sat rigid and waiting. The intruder stood in the doorway, hand raised, scratching its jet-black hair and releasing a loud yawn.

“Daddy, what are you doing?” The little three-year old stared from one grown man to the other, neither of which moved to answer the inquisitive remark.

He yawned again and took a step inside. Harry instinctively grabbed at the covers, pulling them up to his chin.

“Papa, what are you doing?”

Draco looked from Harry whose eyes had not blinked once since the first sign of footsteps, to his son standing wide-awake in the middle of their bedroom. “Daddy and Papa were just playing a game.”

“Oh. Can I play?” He ran up to the side of the bed and look up sweetly into Harry’s eyes that softened after he blinked and took a deep breath.

“No, sweetie. Not this game.” Harry pulled one hand out from under the covers and touched the pale cheeks before running his fingers through the mass of disheveled, black hair. “What happened? You couldn’t sleep?”

The child nodded and reached up, hands forming a familiar request. Harry pulled both arms free of the mangled blanket and picked up the baby. Draco and Harry parted, their bodies creating a space to fit their child, the final piece to their puzzle. The child immediately lay down and nestled his face against Draco’s chest.

“Do you want to sleep with us, love?” Draco ran a lithe hand down the length of his son and smiled.

The little boy nodded again and burrowed deeper into Draco, one small hand reaching over to grip Harry’s.

Harry ran his lips lightly along the fingers, palm and pudgy arm, delighting in the child’s squirms. He had memorized these tender spots that tickled his son and tugged a smile at the corners of his dimpled cheeks. He closed his eyes and bent in, pressing feathery kisses into the soft forehead, jaw and nose. He leaned in further and kissed Draco in the same places. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too” they both replied.

Harry nestled up against his son, one hand still locked in a steely, child-sized grip, the other draped across his partner. Sometimes life utterly overwhelmed him. He felt his chest tighten and his lungs catch, causing him to draw in a ragged breath and smile into his pillow. He was the happiest he had ever been in his life.

~Finis~

A special hug goes out to my son, the sweetest light in my life.