- Are you sure you're the alpha? I won't hurt you... honestly, I won't," Harry said in a low voice, hardly believing his own words. He reached for the blond's neck as if enchanted. Draco froze, slumped against the wall, unable to move. His conscious...
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The dinner party went surprisingly well. The topics of conversation were suspiciously neutral; they discussed the weather, their studies, and their plans for the future.
However, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy asked Harry about the future most assiduously, making a lot of clarifying questions. Lucius was even writing something down in a threatening-looking black notebook.
And the guards, who seemed to be more than fifty in the dining room, were a little disconcerting to an already tense Harry. But none of that mattered when he caught Draco's attentive gaze. Harry felt him with his skin, every cell in his body, energized with calmness and confidence by the soft omega pheromones.
Perhaps it wasn't the pheromones, but the insistent sharp knee Draco used to shove him under the table every time he picked up the wrong fork or made a mistake in answering his parents' questions. Unfortunately, Draco's attempt to discreetly reprimand him was perceived quite differently by Harry's brain.
Malfoy's hidden touches under the table spilled a completely unnecessary heat over Harry's body. His brain was starting to remember yesterday and Draco's silver eyes drunk on alpha pheromones, his exposed stomach and soft lips glistening with saliva.
As luck would have it Harry's fantasies didn't have time to flare up too brightly. Draco finally noticed his ambiguous reaction and, realizing what was happening, removed his foot. The rest of the evening passed quietly.
Only one point escaped his grasp.
Why was he now standing in the guest bedroom of Malfoy Manor in front of a spread bed, dressed in his issued pajamas!
How did that happen?!
Harry wasn't used to sleeping in such huge rooms. He looked around his intimidating mansion in disbelief. Antique shelving and chests of drawers, dark emerald wallpaper, and a heavy canopy over the wide bed. Malfoy Manor was typically classically English, even in the guest rooms.
Was I really going to spend the night here? By the way, how far is Draco's room...?
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After curling up sleepless in the huge bed for a few hours, he carefully peered out into the dark night corridor. Apart from the intimidating guard, barely recognizable in the darkness, standing at the very end, there was no one. Harry didn't get it, was this guard assigned to guard the room to make sure no one went in or out?
