nicevenn | The Lovers' Circle

III. The Lovers' Cure

♥

My heart is pounding as I move towards the wrought-iron gates. Malfoy never responded to my owl, but I've come anyway in hopes that I'll be allowed to pass. I doubt he really wants to keep me out. If we don't work together to find some sort of solution, we could be walking around with switched eyeballs and shared vision for the rest of our lives. I doubt he wants that; I certainly don't

Eyes closed, I take a deep breath and step forwards. When I open them again I find myself on the other side of the gates. So, I'm not entirely unwelcome – that's comforting.

My legs feel heavy as I walk the length of the driveway up to the manor. This place doesn't hold the best of memories. But Malfoy and I have work to do, so I take a few fortifying breaths and lift the heavy knocker. I expect to be greeted by a house-elf announcing that Malfoy isn't at home, or isn't taking visitors, but with Malfoy's eye I can see him get up and leave the room he's in – the family library – and move through the house. Less than a minute later, the door swings open.

"It's about time, Potter" he says, and turns to lead me inside.

♥

We spend the first couple days cooped up in the library, flipping through old books late into the night until the words begin to swim before our eyes. The fire crackling in the hearth keeps us warm, and an endless supply of food and sweets ensures we stay fed.

We've gone through most of the relevant books by now, and have found only brief passages about the Lovers' Curse. The only known way to break it, according to every source we've looked at so far, is to have sex. To be honest, I've reached the point where I'm ready to just give in. I've wanted to shag him all along – what difference would it make if doing it would also end the curse?

Malfoy wants me, too. I've seen, with my own eyes and his, the way he looks at me when he thinks I'm engrossed in a book. His eyes travel from the tips of my hair to the hollow of my throat. Sometimes they pause at my mouth for a while, especially if I happen to be sucking on one of those oversized candy canes he's got, before continuing their downward path. I've also caught him drawing his lip in between his teeth during those moments when we sit in silence, sipping from steaming cups of hot chocolate and, in my case, at least, thinking about things that make us feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"It wouldn't exactly be a punishment, you know," I tell him on our third afternoon together in the library. It's Christmas Eve, and we're too tired and distracted to see straight.

Malfoy stiffens, but doesn't look up from his book. He's been staring at the same page for nearly an hour. "No, I suppose it wouldn't."

My stomach does a little flip at the awkward silence that follows. One would think we've just made progress, but I've no idea how to proceed.

Malfoy shuts the book and puts it down on the table. "I still need to buy a gift for my parents. Will you go to Diagon Alley with me?"

The question catches me by surprise. Malfoy electing to be seen in public with me is far from an everyday occurrence. "Er… sure."

I follow him downstairs to the wardrobe, where he puts on his cloak and I my coat. It's not very cold outside, so we don't bother with hats or gloves, but we do put on scarves. I notice that his is black, and although it's more finely-knitted than the one Hermione made for her mum, it doesn't look brand new.

Once we're dressed, we Apparate to Diagon Alley. In the seconds it takes us to arrive, I make one of the craziest decisions of my life: I'm going to buy a Christmas present for Malfoy. It would wrong not to, having spent the last three days at his house, regardless of whether or not we decide to shag. I doubt I'll be getting anything in return, but it doesn't matter.

We're not far from Twilfitt and Tatting's, which works out great. As long as he's not planning on going there, I can probably manage to buy his gift and a second one for Hermione to fool him, should he be paying attention to what I'm seeing at that particular moment. I've already done my shopping last Hogsmeade weekend – except for Ron's present, which I ordered back in September to be delivered by owl tomorrow morning. (A broom would be difficult to hide from one's best mate.)

"Have you done all your shopping, Potter? If not, we should probably split up so it doesn't take as long."

I feign nonchalance so that he doesn't get suspicious. "Sure, I still haven't got anything for Hermione. Meet you back here when I'm done?"

"All right. I'll be back in about half an hour," he says.

I wait until he's crossed the street, then turn in the other direction. I've never actually been to Twilfitt and Tatting's before. The shop looks very similar to Madam Malkin's, except that there are fewer items, and the numbers on the price tags are much higher. I head for the outerwear section to look at scarves. My eyes are drawn immediately to a vivid green cashmere specimen that's soft to the touch and costs more than the highest quality Snitch, but it's the red one next that I let Malfoy see me pick up. As I turn away, I surreptitiously grab the green one without looking at it and head to the register with both.

I walk out of the shop with two scarves: the green one for Draco – it's difficult not to think of someone you buy gifts for by his first name – and a thicker red one for Hermione. I've only few Galleons left in my pocket once I'm out the door, and probably won't be able to buy much at Sugarplum's without making a stop at Gringotts, which I'm not keen on doing.

"Twilfitt and Tatting's?" says Draco, when we meet up again. "What'd you get there?"

"A scarf for Hermione."

His lips quirk. "Careful you don't get her accustomed to things Weasley won't be able to afford."

I add this statement to the growing list of ways in which Draco hasn't changed, and have to resist the urge to kick him in the shin as we head off toward Sugarplum's.

Sweet shops never fail to make me feel like a kid again. I spend the rest of my money on Cauldron Cakes and Chocolate Frogs, while Draco stocks up on Belgian truffles, chocolate-covered peppermint sticks, and oversized candy canes. He must really love the holidays – or maybe he just wants to watch me suck on more of those minty canes. I wouldn't mind, as long as he'd let me suck on something else afterwards.

My thoughts leave me with a smirk on my face and a knot in my stomach as we stop out of the shop and Apparate back to the Manor.

♥

Draco and I have eaten alone these few days, so I attend Christmas Eve dinner with a fair amount of trepidation. Lucius and Narcissa are already seated at the table when Draco and I arrive. The entire way to the table, I can think of nothing else but whether or not I will know which utensils to use and when.

Needless to say, dinner turns out to be a silent and awkward affair. Narcissa spends most of her time swirling her wine goblet and making sure to smile politely whenever I so much as look in her direction, which I quickly learn to avoid doing. Every few minutes, Lucius clears his throat, at which Draco and Narcissa arch their brows in anticipation of a conversation that never comes.

It's Narcissa who breaks the ice at last. "Will you be having dinner with us again tomorrow, Mr Potter?"

"No, I won't." My response comes out a bit more enthusiastically than I intended. "I promised the Weasley family I'd join them for dinner tomorrow."

She nods in understanding. "It's a shame you won't be able to join us. Our house-elf claims to have an unrivalled recipe for Christmas pudding. He's been working on it for months."

"I wish I could try it," I say, truthfully. Everything I've eaten so far – gammon, leeks and herby boiled potatoes – was delicious. (Though I wouldn't touch the peacock.)

"I say, let's have the pudding now," Draco says brightly. "I'm anxious to see which charms Potter will receive. He always got the most fascinating predictions in Divination."

For someone who wants to shag me, he's awfully sadistic.

"I see no reason why we can't have the pudding tonight." Lucius snaps his fingers, and an elf appears out of thin air. "Titchy, send up the pudding."

"Yes, Master!" The elf says in a squeaky voice.

When she Disapparates, I lean in towards Draco. "Titchy?"

Narcissa overhears the question and answers before Draco has a chance to open his mouth.
"When Draco was five years old, we permitted him to name the new house-elf."

Draco glares at me, cheeks flushed, when I give him an amused look.

"Needless to say, Draco's elf-naming privileges were immediately revoked," adds Lucius.

Draco is spared any further humiliation when the lights suddenly go out and a large flaming pudding appears on a plate in the centre of the table, lighting up the room. Narcissa cuts portions for each of us and serves them with brandy butter.

"Bon appétit, Potter," Draco says, before we dive into dessert.

"Thanks, and the same."

The pudding really is delicious. As I'm chewing away dreamily, wondering whether or not Draco has made up his mind about shagging, I suddenly hear a cracking sound, accompanied a sharp pain that shoots up into my head.

One would think that, considering Draco just mentioned the charms in the pudding, I would have remembered to watch out for them. But no, I've gone and broken my tooth on one.

"I can heal that for you, dear.” Narcissa rises from her chair and comes over to my side of the table; the pain is so strong I don’t even think to stop her as she tilts my chin upward. "Which one is it?"

I point to the cracked tooth, and before I can have second thoughts she casts Episkey. The pain disappears.

"How does it feel?" Narcissa asks, as I'm running my fingertip over the surface of the tooth.

"Excellent – the pain's gone. Thank you, Mrs Malfoy."

"You're very welcome."

As she returns to her seat, I look down at the small silver wishbone still clenched in my hand. A shudder goes through me at the memory of biting down on it.

"Careful what you wish for, Potter." There's amusement, but also a warning in Draco’s bright eyes and curved mouth.

"I'm a Gryffindor," I tell him, "I can handle anything. What'd you get?"

It takes me a moment to put meaning to the tiny golden ring in between his thumb and forefinger: it's a wedding ring.

I grin, and tell him in a voice low enough for just the two of us to hear. "Well, I hope you and Flint will be very happy together."

He narrows his eyes. It's always unnerving to see my own green eye glaring back at me.

♥

After dinner, Draco tells me he wants to show me something. It must be outside, because he leads me to the wardrobe and starts putting on his cloak. He waits until I've got my coat on, and then offers me his arm. Taking it, I'm surprised how strong he feels. I can feel his body heat through the sleeve of his jumper, and it gives me tingles.

"Hold on tight, Potter."

The first thing I see when we Apparate is a large fir tree, decorated with hundreds of candles and crystal ornaments. It stands in the centre of an axial garden, surrounded by ice sculptures and potted topiaries shaped like globes and spires.

The sun set hours ago; the only light in the garden is that coming from the candles on the Christmas tree and the low flambeaus lining walkways. A light snow is falling; there's already a centimetre-thick layer on the ground. I haven't seen anything this beautiful in a long time.

Through Draco's eye I can see that he's watching me while I take in the scene. Being under his scrutiny makes me nervous. It only lasts a moment, though. Then he takes mercy on me and looks back at the tree.

"When I was little, I loved to play in the snow, so my parents thought I would enjoy a winter garden like this," he says, scraping snow off the walkway with his shoe. "We've been putting a tree here every winter since. Well, with the exception of last year."

Something in the tone of his voice makes me want to reach out and take his hand. Thankfully it's hidden beneath his cloak, which he has wrapped around himself.

I admire the scene for a moment longer, wondering if he even realises how lucky he is to have had this, and a real family, as part of his childhood. "It's beautiful."

"Thank you. "

He's turned around and begun walking towards a stone bench nestled against a hedge of holly. I follow and sit down beside him, a little closer than I need to. He doesn't move away when our thighs brush.

Draco draws his lower lip in between his teeth. He's looking down at his fingers, which are worrying the hem of his cloak. He must be very nervous, to let his guard down like this.

"Did you mean what you said earlier in the library?" he asks.

"You know I did."

His eyes shoot up at my answer. "No, I don't. I thought you were enjoying yourself during the game, but then you rejected my proposition."

My face flushes at the memory. "I was enjoying myself… a lot. I thought that was obvious."

"Then why'd you say no?" There's hurt and accusation in his voice, as if he were a spoiled child who'd been denied something for the first time in his life. I doubt I'd find it so endearing if it weren't about us not having shagged.

"Because I didn’t think you really wanted to… and I was nervous."

He smirks. "The Great Harry Potter, Gryffindor extraordinaire, lost his courage over a shag with me?"

"So it would seem."

The snow is falling thicker now, in great powdery flakes that break apart where they land. When one of them hits Draco's cheek, I can't help but reach out and brush it away. My thumb lingers too long, but rather than pull away Draco leans into the touch. Our eyes lock, and find myself wishing both of his were grey.

"So, let's fix it," he says, as if he read my mind.

We lean in together, our exhaled breaths mingling as white puffs of condensed air. Then at last our lips touch. His tongue sliding into my mouth again is like returning to Hogwarts at the end of summer--perfect— and so much more satisfying than a memory could ever be.

A pleasant chill runs through me as Draco wraps his arm around my waist. Snow is falling on my nose and cheeks and melting into prickling drops of ice water, but Draco's mouth is hot and he tastes like treacle, so it's all right.

He reaches between us with his free hand to untie my scarf, and then moves his mouth to my neck. As I tilt my head back to give him better access, a snowflake falls between my parted lips and melts on my tongue.

I'm amazed at how easy it is to submit to him. This is Draco, for Godric's sake. Last time I was at his mercy, he stomped on my nose left me under my Invisibility Cloak on an empty train.

"Want to go back to my room?" he asks, offering his elbow.

I nod and take it. Seconds later, we Apparate in front of a fireplace. I'm glad for it; my hair and clothes are covered in snow, and my face is numb.

White powder sprinkles onto the sheepskin rug and the floor as we hastily remove our outerwear. Draco brushes it away from our immediate space and kisses me again. A cold, damp hand slides underneath my shirt. I shiver but let it stay, and delight in feeling it warm up from my body heat. In this moment I want nothing but to get lost in his mouth forever, but he starts lifting my jumper, so I break the kiss and help him get it over my head. Once both our jumpers are off, I lie back on the rug, pulling Draco on top of me by his tie. Something twists in my belly when I remember the night of the game and warm silk sliding over my eyes.

My hands tremble as I undo his tie and the first few buttons of his shirt. He watches my reaction as I spot the faint scar cutting diagonally across his chest. I trace the length of it, feeling my heart swell in my chest. The discovery that I have left my mark on him is bittersweet.

Eager for a distraction, I reach down in between our bodies, and pull down his zip. He pauses for a moment, eyes fluttering shut when I slip my hand inside his underpants and grab his cock. Then his lips crash against mine, the kiss desperate and pleading. Part of me wants to fight him, to push him back because his tongue is so deep inside my mouth that I can't deny I'm being claimed; but another part – the one I feel more strongly – wants me to let go, to let someone else take charge for once.

"Please," I pant, when he breaks away to breathe. I give his cock a gentle squeeze on the upstroke, then smear his precome over the head.

He thrusts into my hand. "Please, what? I've no idea what you're asking for."

"You know what I want."

His eyes glitter with amusement. "No, I don't. I require directions."

Great. I should've known he wouldn't make this easy for me.

"I want your mouth on my cock –" I say with as much confidence and authority as I can muster, " – no barriers this time. And then I want you to fuck me. I want to get it so good I'll forget my own name."

He presses his lips to mine. "No pressure, then."

It's utter torture as he makes his way down towards my cock. He unbuttons my shirt slowly, stopping to dip his tongue into the hollow of my throat, to suck on the skin over my collarbones and tug on my nipples with fingers and teeth. When at last he makes it to my belly button, I lose patience and push his head down the rest of the way.

I unbuckle my belt while he pulls down my zip, then lift my hips to help him get my trousers down. Once they're off he Accios a bottle of lube.

"Er... Draco?"

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

I roll my eyes at him. "I'm not a girl. I just wanted to ask you not look there while you're... you know. I'd rather not have to see."

His lips twitch. "I hope you don't mean your dick."

"You can look at my dick all you want, just not the other place."

"All right, then. I won’t look," he says, eyes glued to mine as he lowers his head.

My head tilts back and I gasp as he dips his tongue in to the tip of my cock. The pleasure courses through me with such intensity I can feel it in the tips of my toes. When he wraps his lips around me, I can't help but grab his hair and push forwards into the heat. I hold his head still and begin to thrust, quickly losing myself in the heat and the wet sounds of my cock moving in and out of his mouth. Next thing I know his lubed finger is pushing inside me; it feels odd and fucking brilliant at the same time.

I know I won't be able to last long. His mouth is too wet, his tongue too wicked for my sanity; I'm torn between pushing down onto his fingers and up into his mouth. Draco, however, solves my dilemma by releasing my cock and pulling his fingers out of me.

He ignores my groan of frustration and reaches for the lube again. "I'm going to fuck you now, Harry Potter. Any objections?"

"Not one," I say, and I pull him down by his unbuttoned collar.

As we kiss, he lifts one of my legs over his shoulder and positions his cock against my arse. I haven’t been this nervous in ages, but I do my best to relax as he presses down. At first it feels as if he's going to tear me in two, but once he's in, the pain subsides to a slight burn and he slides in easily the rest of the way.

"Harry…" Draco's whisper is so soft I have to wonder if I actually heard it.

A moment later his lips cover mine, and he reaches in between us to grab my cock. His first thrusts are short, tentative, and a bit awkward because he keeps changing the angle. Only when he hits a wonderful spot, sending a jolt of pleasure through me, do I realise what he was trying to do.

I grab his arse cheeks and give them a squeeze through his trousers. "Right there."

He pulls back and thrusts forward again, grinning at my unsuccessful attempt to suppress a shout.

"More," I gasp, curling my fingers a fistful of his shirt.

Our breaths grow ragged as he picks up the pace. The strokes of his hand on my dick are half-hearted and uneven – but they're enough. The pressure in between my legs is building rapidly.

He raises himself on his arms for better leverage, and I take a moment to admire the sight: his shirt crumpled and unbuttoned halfway down his torso, his cheeks flushed with exertion and lips still swollen from sucking me off. For the first time in my life, I realise just how stupid we've been; we should have done this long ago.

Draco tightens his grip on my cock. "Harry, I'm –"

"Yeah, me too."

His breath hitches then, and he slams into me a few more times before he shudders and stills. The last thrust pushes me over the edge; I come silently, my cock pulsing in his hand while I drink in the sound of his suppressed moans.

My leg aches like hell when I finally slide it off his shoulders, and it doesn't help that he all but collapses on top of me.

"We should have… done this… long ago," he says, panting.

I slide my hand under his shirt to caress his shoulder. "Agreed."

He looks down at me, and I see that both his eyes are grey. (Post-orgasm, I didn't even notice the lack of our shared vision.)

"We could make up for lost time," he suggests tentatively.

"Yeah, I suppose we could."

His eyes widen at my response, and I take advantage of the moment to roll us over. I'm not surprised to see that he looks just as stunning on his back as he did on top of me. "If you don't mind, we can start now," I say.

♥

Christmas Morning finds us sore and exhausted after an entire night spent shagging and talking and shagging. After only a couple hours sleep, we go downstairs to break our fast and open Christmas presents, then come back to Draco's room and shag again. Afterwards, we lie naked in his bed, wearing only the gifts we received from each other: mine a silver thumb ring, and Draco's the green scarf I bought at Twilfitt and Tatting's.

"What are you so happy about?" Draco asks, noticing the smile on my face as we lie sprawled in post-coital bliss.

"Nothing – I just remembered your parents' faces when they saw that our eyes are back to normal."

At first Draco looks like he's going to be mad, but then gives a snorting laugh. "I'm surprised my father was able to force down his breakfast." He reaches for my hand and laces our fingers together. "But at least we can be sure they won't be a bother until dinner."

I draw my lip in between my teeth at the mention of dinner. "Draco, I told the Weasleys I'd join them for Christmas dinner."

The instant I say that, his face falls. "Oh, right."

"I'm sorry." I give his hand a squeeze. "I'd love it if you came –"

He starts shaking his head before I even finish the sentence. "No."

"Are you sure? I could send an owl – I'm certain you'd be welcome."

"No," he repeats firmly.

My heart constricts at the sudden prospect of having to divide my time between Draco and the people I've come to consider my family. It's probably too soon to be worrying about such things, but I can't help the thoughts that cross my mind.

He sighs and strokes the back of my hand with his thumb. "Harry, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make this thing between us work. But I need time. Please, don't push me."

"All right."

He looks away for a moment while playing idly with his scarf. The green is so vibrant against his porcelain skin.

"Will you come and visit me again before is the holidays are over?" he asks, still looking at the scarf.

His tendency to feign nonchalance at times like this is strangely endearing. I can't stop myself from planting a quick but deep kiss on his lips. "Of course."

♥

The knowing stares are killing me. I expected as much from George, possibly Hermione, and maybe even Ginny – but never from Mrs Weasley. And I've no idea how Fleur found out, but she must have, the way she barely hides a smirk every time she looks at me.

I've kept my eyes on my plate throughout dinner, and am now pretending to be fully absorbed in chewing my last bite of mince pie. My ears, however, are attuned to Ginny and Hermione's conversation; they've been acting unusually hostile towards one another since I arrived.

"… unethical," says Ginny. "You've gone too far this time."

To my surprise, Ron, who seems to have been ignoring the conversations around the table in favour of wolfing down his dinner, joins in on the conversation. "Hermione's right, Ginny. They wouldn't have given in so easily if they hadn't wanted to."

"Thank you, Ron," says Hermione.

I can't take it any longer. "Would you guys mind telling me what's going on?" I ask.

Everyone turns to look at me as if they'd forgotten I was there.

"Later, Harry," Hermione says, ignoring Ginny's glare.

We sit in silence until dinner's finished, and the four of us remain behind while everyone else gathers around the wireless. Once we're alone, I turn to Hermione and give her an expectant look.

She takes a deep breath and braces herself. "I cast the curse."

It takes me a moment to process what she said. Next to me, Ron is staring at the ceiling and quietly humming a Christmas tune.

"You cast the curse?" I ask, when I can find my voice again. "Hermione, that's – "

"Exactly!" says Ginny. "She left you and Malfoy with no choice but to have sex against your will. That's as good as rape."

She's genuinely upset; I put a hand on her arm to calm her.

"It is not!" says Hermione. "You know I modified the curse so that I could reverse it if necessary."

Ginny snorts.

The world starts to spin around me. "You could have reversed it? When were you thinking of telling me?"

Hermione's eyes are apologetic when she turns to me. "I would have told you today if you and Malfoy hadn't resolved it on your own."

"But you told me there was no way to reverse it other than shagging Malfoy." I'm surprised to find that I'm not as angry with her as I should be.

Hermione sighs. "Harry, it's you and Malfoy we're talking about. Are you honestly telling me you two would have given in before exhausting every other possibility? We haven't even looked in the Hogwarts library or consulted any of the professors – "

I have to admit she's right; Draco and I both wanted to shag the night we played The Lovers' Circle, and most of our time in the Manor's library was spent casting discreet glances at one another.

"Malfoy spent his entire sixth year trying to repair that cabinet," Hermione says. "Do you really think he would have shagged someone he didn't want to after only a week of shared eyesight? Would you have?"

"No, I guess we wouldn't have," I admit. "But why did you do that, Hermione?"

"'Cause you fancy the pants off each other, that's why," says Ron, finally joining the conversation.

I give him a quizzical look, and we both start laughing. Even Hermione and Ginny stop scowling at each other and join in.

"So you're happy, then?" Ginny asks.

The question catches me off guard. Ginny's concern is genuine, her expression hopeful. Looking at her I realise that yes, I am happy – happier than I've been in a long time. Even though Draco isn't beside me, I no longer feel alone. I've got someone to look forward to seeing again, someone who makes my stomach flip and my heart flutter.

I smile at them all. "Yes, I am."

The End.

The Lovers' Circle - Part III

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