The Changing Lights by lazywonderland

chapter twenty five

Monday, 8 February 1999 - Three Weeks Pregnant

i.

He woke up to the feeling of a hand on his stomach and lips on his cheek.

"It's almost eight," said a deep, whispered voice in his ear. Harry's, he reminded himself, and grinned. Draco wondered whether he would ever really get used to waking up next to him. He smelled wonderful, and when Draco pushed his face into Harry's neck, he felt his belly instantly flood with warmth.

It was happening more and more often that the smallest things set him off - the way Harry didn't bother trying to do anything about how his untamable hair curled up in the back; a shift of muscle in his forearm when he scratched his jaw in class, confused by something he was reading out of a textbook; how he didn't even seem to think about it when he picked someone's book up for them in the corridors, or held doors open for other people to pass through first. He was disgustingly, effortlessly charming, and Draco's raging hormones were keenly aware of it. These, of course, were minor in relation to the much bigger things, the ones that left Draco with knickers so damp he had to run to his dorm between classes to change them. Things like the crackle of magic in the air when he demonstrated non-verbal magic in Defence; like the way he gleamed with sweat and exhilaration every time he came off the pitch after Quidditch practice, reeking of sex-appeal.

And what made it all so extra unbearable was that, inexplicably, Harry seemed to have lost interest in fucking.

That wasn't quite right, though - they were still having sex, and often Draco spotted a look in Harry's eyes like he was about three seconds away from throwing Draco against a wall and devouring him. The problem was that he wasn't doing it, and the sex had turned into something consistently slow and soft and, while heart-wrenchingly good, not quite what Draco needed to sate his ever-increasing need to be fucked .

This morning was no different: Harry started off trailing a wet succession of kisses down Draco's neck, his hand a warm, heavy weight on his hip, but just as Draco turned to face him more fully, Harry planted a kiss on his mouth and then rolled out of bed. He was about ready to call him back, but the words were hardly even formed in his head when Harry disappeared into the en suite bathroom.

Draco flopped back onto the bed and threw an arm across his face, overtly aware of the throbbing between his legs.

He heard the shower start. He had half a mind to go in there and demand to be fucked, but decided against it in the end. Mostly it was that he didn't want to demand it - he wanted Harry to take it, the same way he'd taken it that day after Potions, when Harry had seen Theo touching him in the middle of class.

Rolling out of bed as well, Draco let his thoughts drift as he went about getting ready. He was getting up later than usual these days, and part of it was how warm and lovely it was to wake up with Harry's heavy arm draped over him, but another part of it was that he didn't have Pansy knocking on his door each morning at half past seven.

In fact, he hadn't spoken to Pansy for nearly a week now. The last time had been the day after the debacle in the entrance hall with Theo, and Draco had proceeded to ream into her for going behind his back and telling her mum about the hex. Yes, it had turned out okay in the end, but for fuck's sake, what if it hadn't ? And beyond that, Draco despised being forced into situations for which he was ill-prepared, hated going into things before he'd had sufficient time to analyse every possible outcome, and she knew that. Needless to say, she hadn't appreciated his lashing out, and it had evolved into a full-blown row right in the middle of the Slytherin common room. Blaise, meanwhile, remained civil when Draco spoke to him, but showed no inclination towards spending any time together outside of necessity.