(HP Đồng nhân Eng) Seven Years Too Late

Chap 11

After hours of lovemaking, with Harry's arm thrown over his shoulders holding him snugly against him, Draco slept deeply and soundly. Not even the strident ringing of the telephone penetrated that blissful, sated fog of exhaustion at first. Maybe it wouldn't have at all if Harry hadn't muttered something under his breath and pulled that warm, heavy, wonderfully shaped arm away from him.

Draco managed to pry open his eyes a fraction. Sunlight had replaced the bars of soft moonlight and the bedding was tangled around their legs. They were sharing one pillow; the other two had ended up on the floor somewhere along the way. The Slytherin could see them resting carelessly near the doorway.

"Phone's ringing," Harry intoned, his voice rusty with sleep.

"Why?" Draco closed his eyes again, turning towards Harry as the Gryffindor rolled onto his back and instinctively fitted himself against the dark haired wizard's side.

Harry's hand dropped onto Draco's shoulder, his fingers lazily tracing circles over it. "You'd have to answer it to know that."

"Mmm." Draco's foot slid over Harry's shin. His knee brushed the Gryffindor's hair-roughened thigh; so many textures, so many sensations. The blond had a lighter dusting of hair on his body, not as course as the Auror's and none at all on his chest, unlike Harry.

Harry gave a rough chuckle and tumbled Draco onto his back as he rolled over, reaching for his glasses on the nightstand and then lifting his head, looking around the bedroom. "Where's the phone?"

It was still ringing. "In the kitchen," Draco responded sleepily.

"Why isn't there one in here?"

Draco slid his hands around Harry's waist as the Gryffindor climbed over him. "Because I don't want it waking me up," he said pointedly. "Let it ring."

Harry dropped a kiss on the blond's forehead, and kept moving, right off the bed.

Draco shivered and dragged the quilt more closely around him as Harry walked, naked and bold as brass, out of his bedroom and down the hall. A second later, the Slytherin heard him answer the phone.

"Its 7 a.m.," Harry greeted the unknown caller. "It better be important."

Draco pressed his head into the pillow, cringing. Sensibility was slow in coming, but he knew that a strange man answering his phone was definitely going to cause some talk. He heard Harry's footsteps padding back along the hall and stop when he reached the bedroom.

"If that's Dee," Draco mumbled from the pillow he'd pressed to his face. "I'm going to kill her, after I hex her."

Harry didn't answer and Draco lowered the pillow. The Auror's dark brows were pulled down low over his eyes. He shouldn't have looked as fierce as he did considering he was standing there as naked as the day he was born, albeit far more grown than an innocent babe. And even though now was not the time, judging from the Gryffindor's black expression, to be wallowing breathlessly in the sheer masculine beauty of him, Draco couldn't help it.

"It's not Dee," Harry returned flatly.

Draco moistened his lips. "Who...?"

"Your knight errant."

"What?" Draco replied, confused.

"Brody Paine," Harry stated grumpily as he grabbed his underwear and pants and started pulling them on.

"He's probably calling about schoolwork for Megan," Draco told the Gryffindor hurriedly.

Harry's lips twisted. "Most people consider this a holiday weekend and the sun's barely up."