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Draco Malfoy, on the edge of eighteen, was at a strange stage between boy and a man. Tall like his father and shoulders broadening by the day, no one coming from the back wouldn’t think he wasn’t a grown man, despite his longer hair rarely not elegantly braided. But his face still had the androgynous quality of someone even younger, a feature he likely would never fully lose, since he favored his mother’s beauty in that regard.
“You should enter.” He told Remus Lupin after being escorted to his room from yet another celebration at the Malfoy Manor.
It was starting to look like older days: Voldermort holding court and growing ever confident and boisterous as his numbers rose. More and more would come pay his respects and offer support and Draco Malfoy, once resented by the Dark Lord for his lack of bloodlust and unwillingness to participate in the more violent activities, was quickly becoming the jewel of his crown as he shone quite naturally as both host and diplomat, speaking rapid French and Italian with those brave enough to have come far way and charming the fear out of their eyes into pearls of laughter.
There was also the matter of the werewolf/death eater alliance which had never been stronger.
He left the door open and walked in without expecting an answer.
“It’s silly to pretend to be together if you’ve never been inside my room.” He toed his shoes off and reached to undo his tie. “Greyback will never buy it.”
He sat on the edge of his big canopy bed, and of course there was canopy, Remus Lupin mused, warily, watching him take his socks off. Bare feet now and quite a few buttons of his white shirt popped open, revealing the long and vulnerable line of his neck, usually protected by thick dark layers for they were in the dead of winter.
Draco snapped his fingers and there was a fire burning in an old and vaguely gothic looking fireplace on one side of the room.
“Sit.” The young blond pointed at a spot in the huge bed. “We’re not gonna accomplish anything with you that far away. Chess?”
“What?”
“Do you want to play chess?” Lupin, who, at this point, had been trying to keep his eyes from lingering anywhere particular on Draco, found his attention drawn to a very safe, very old looking chess set, which the boy put between them on the bed, sitting cross-legged. “Father and I used to play.”
Thank Merlin. Remus Lupin nodded, immediately, trying not to feel stupid for whatever less than innocent intentions he’d been assuming from Draco Malfoy’s behavior.
This growing familiarity felt dangerous when it shouldn’t be. Draco felt safe with him. That was very clear. To be in his arms, pretending to be lovers in the dark, in the woods surrounding the Manor. On the dance floor but also to jest, to confide, to be playful.
There was nothing inherently wrong with that. He was either going to grow resentful of this ruse and, inevitably, of Remus, of needing his protection. Or he’d grow accustomed to it and they’d, wonder of wonder, grow a real closeness born out of being co-conspirators. Wonder of wonders, the second option happened, likely to Draco’s credit, the openness of his heart, his ability to adapt to the rapid changes of his life, to the ever-growing list of strange bedfellows war bred.
Lupin brought that up on the dance floor that night, his admiration of Draco Malfoy’s resilience, while they swayed gently, comfortable and graceful. Too much was expected of this boy and he felt far too little was offered in return. Did he even know how utterly remarkable he was for lying and fooling and surviving the likes of Voldemort, Greyback and the Lestranges day in day out since he was barely sixteen?
“Oh, we’re doing compliments?” Draco volleyed back to him, winding his arms around Remus’ nape. “You’re tall.”
“Tall?”
“Very tall. I’m tall. You’re taller. It’s very impressive. Not many men are tall like you, I’ve noticed. Not that I’ve spent much time looking at older man. You’re the first one I’ve felt of any notice.”
“You didn’t seem to find me very impressive when I was your teacher.”
“I was thirteen.” He answered like that answered it all. And in a way it did. “There’s a vast difference in what is interesting at thirteen and seventeen. I used to think nothing could beat Quidditch, for instance.”
Interesting. He found him interesting. And tall. That should have been more than enough information for Remus to decline entering Draco Malfoy’s room. But here they were, playing chess together, an activity even Severus Snape wouldn’t find fault in.
It seemed like Draco was following his moves very closely. And he was, but his eyes weren’t at the pieces, but at Lupin’s hands. That much became clear after the match was over. Who won? Remus wouldn’t be able to tell you to save his life. The chess board was pushed to the side and Draco took one of Lupin’s hands on his.
“Pity me, Lupin. You’re a gentleman.” He traced a long a line on the palm of Remus’ hand with a fingertip. The sharpness of his desire, then, didn’t startle him away but made the older man freeze for it had been so very long since anyone had made him feel that way. “I have to do everything.”
You’re too young, you’re not my type, I’m not attracted to you, Lupin had assured a remarkably grumpier Draco when they had first started this, three months earlier. Had it been only that? It felt longer, this lie, whatever it was, they had created together.
He had held onto to those words like they were a promise both to Draco and to himself and hadn’t let himself entertain any alternative for it would equalize him way too much to Greyback in his mind.
Draco wouldn’t have invited Greyback to his room and bothered with this subtle, slow seduction, that much was sure. Hands on hands, he hadn’t made a move to take things further. Eyes on eyes. “May I?”, he asked, in words now, bold so very bold. That strange stage between boy and man, but the man kept winning.
While trying to fool Greyback, playing their game of pretend, Remus Lupin had felt him growing impossibly warm, even in the cold of the forest, when he pulled Draco close. He shivered, and trembled, and sighed, face resting against his chest, his neck. He always smelled like Spring and then something sweet and fresh and heady which permeated the room right now and always made Remus want to close his eyes and breath in from his hair. Something that made him feel drunk and protective and erased everyone that wasn’t Draco Malfoy from his mind, for those few minutes they would get lost in the wilderness together.
A ruse, a perfectly believable ruse despite their perfectly unbelievable pairing. Greyback had doubted it, more envious and greedy than doubtful, Lupin understood now. He had doubted Lupin’s tenderness and patience which had fueled Draco’s passion and desire. How could someone like Greyback understand seduction? How much better it was to earn than it was to take?
From the corner of his eye, when first entering the room, he had seen a stuffed dragon, of all things, stuffed in a corner of a bookshelf. There were a child’s drawings spilling over a drawer in a desk bellow a large crescent moon window.
“Are you sure you want to do this? Here?” Remus whispered against Draco Malfoy’s lips, laying on the V of his legs. The cloud of heat blinding him seemed to lift for just a moment. This was his childhood bedroom. It felt overwhelmingly intimate.
“We can do it in the forest once the weather warms.” Draco promised, panting, kissing his way from Lupin’s neck to shoulders and chest. “Tonight, I want to be comfortable.”
“Draco, have you ever --”
“Shush, just kiss me some more.”
Draco Malfoy, with his unicorn core wand, tasted overwhelmingly of innocence as he spilled his pleasure on Remus’ mouth and whimpered beautifully, bucking against the fingers slowly opening him.
“Please, please.” He trembled and sweated all over his silky sheets as Remus pressed in, bowing over and hiding his face in the boy’s neck in order to breath, to not give him more than he was ready, despite the cant of his hips eagerly asking for more. “Remus, uh, uh!”
They both came like that, the first time. Remus kissing him gently through, lips, face, neck, everywhere he could reach, his hips griding inside Draco despite his wish to stay still, to give him time adjust, but, in reality, ended up rocking with him, going as deep as he could.
Neither of them fully came down from their arousal, their cocks remaining hard, but Draco’s body relaxed enough for Remus to pull back and slowly push back in. And again. Draco stared at him with his wide moon-bright eyes, lips parting and chest rising and falling as his body understood before his lax mind did that he was getting properly fucked, at last.
“Okay? Want to take a break?” Remus panted, slowing down again and rolling his hips. That earned him a broken gasp. “Draco?”
“Don’t stop! Don’t --”
The second time was sweeter. Remus felt more present and there was no mistaking what was actually happening. It felt more real all the way to Draco almost bucking him off the bed when his third orgasm of the night caught up to him. Remus soon followed, trying to draw it out as long as he could but the sight alone underneath him, a panting, sweaty, golden Draco Malfoy stole all his willpower.
“Remus.” He got woken up what felt like a little while later, being kissed and touched and hmmmm. Draco’s turn, it seemed. He parted his legs and let him play to his heart’s content, loving his delicate, sensual tongue, and then his strength, the weight of a man on him, how wonderfully solid he felt in this position.
“Hmmm, love, like that. Yes, Draco, oh!”
The fourth one, in the early hours of the morning, was the more damning. With his inhibitions lowered, he had dropped the mild-mannered act and forgot to pick it up in time to stop himself from taking, as Draco would later describe, “what he wanted”. That had been his favorite one to no one’s surprise, he’d whisper a week later coaxing Remus Lupin back to his bed.
For what was done was done, there was little sense in pretending they could or wanted to take it back.