�Oh, no.� Harry balked, planting his feet firmly and yanking his arm out of Draco�s grip. Draco scowled at him and flopped down onto the film-covered mattress. It squashed and rippled under him, the protective plastic sheet crackling, and Harry fought to keep his face disapproving.
�Why not? It would be fun.�
�Draco, we came here to get an armchair. We don�t need a new bed. And certainly not a water bed.�
�But it�d be kinky,� Draco protested, patting the mattress and making big eyes at Harry.
�No, it�d be laughable.� Harry pushed his glasses up his nose and folded his arms. �We�ve got a cat, Draco, remember?�
�Oh.� Draco frowned for a moment, then brightened. �We could put an Unbreakable Charm on it,� he offered, looking beseechingly up at Harry through his eyelashes.
�Bloody hell,� Harry muttered, furious with himself for reacting to Draco�s expression at all. �No, Draco. Armchair. Over there. And hush, there are Muggles.�
Draco threw a deeply suspicious look at the salesman who was hovering discreetly just out of hearing range, and dropped his voice. �But I want one.�
�You want everything, Draco.�
�What�s wrong with that?� Draco blinked innocently at him and Harry groaned, scrubbing one hand through his hair.
He decided to change tactics. �What�s wrong with the bed we�ve got?�
�It�s ordinary.� Draco scowled sulkily at him. �Plebeian. Dull.�
Harry thought �dull� was the last word to describe it. Their bed (and their sofa, and their floor, and once even their kitchen table) had been the setting for a great deal of very enjoyable and interesting activity over the two months since they had moved into the flat. And most of the rest of the time he�d been in it, he�d been asleep. In fact, he was actually quite fond of it � it had sentimental value. �You�ve never complained about it before.�
�Well, that was before I saw this. I want one, Harry. Think how much fun it would be��
Harry eyed the waterbed dubiously, then prodded it with one hand. His fingers sank into the surface; it felt like poking a jelly. �I don�t know. Don�t you think it has too much give?�
Draco bounced up and down a couple of times, setting the mattress undulating slightly. �I think it�s fun.�
�Yes, but�� Harry glanced sideways, but the salesman was still hovering near the aisle. He lowered his voice anyway. �Some of your preferred activities require a firmer surface.�
�Oh.� Draco tilted his head to one side, considering. A smirk blossomed across his face; if his mental imagery was anything like Harry�s right now, Harry could see why. �Well, we could get it for the spare room then � we can afford it. And then we could play with it whenever we wanted.� The smirk grew as his eyes flickered across Harry�s body. Harry suppressed the brief desire to strangle him. It was his own fault, he told himself resignedly. He�d known Draco was impossible when he�d moved in with him.
�No,� Harry informed him firmly, stepping back as Draco reached for his hand. �Look, Draco, the only people who get waterbeds are the middle-aged suburban social climbers. The ones who think it�s really upper-class and fashionable. Like the Dursleys.� He shuddered at the image of Vernon and Petunia buying a waterbed and making sure their neighbours saw it being delivered. �Suburban social climbers,� he repeated as Draco made a face.
�Oh yuck, Harry,� he moaned, dragging himself to his feet. �Now you�ve spoilt it.� And with a pout, he marched determinedly across the shop floor to the upholstery section. Harry trailed after him, a slight sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
�God.� Harry collapsed onto the ancient, sagging sofa and covered his face with his hands. �What a day.�
�That bad, huh?� Ron sat down next to him, handing over a mug of coffee.
�Yeah.� Harry sighed, blowing steam half-heartedly off the hot liquid. �He�s impossible.�
�Colour me not-surprised,� Ron returned, plainly aching to say The Words. He even opened his mouth, but shut it again with a snap as Harry levelled a look at him.
�Don�t even think about it; you promised you wouldn�t say it.�
There was silence for a few moments, and Harry sipped gloomily at his coffee. After a moment, Ron ventured a question. �So, what�s he done now?�
�Oh.� Harry looked down at his hands, one clutching the mug and the other lying loosely on his knee. They seemed to belong to a different person. �We went to get a new armchair, and he decided he wanted a waterbed.�
�What?�
�Yeah, exactly. And I said no way, and he started sulking. He marched over and sat in all the chairs there were, and made a huge scene in front of the whole shop just because they couldn�t get the one he wanted in black, and he sulked all the way home and refused to eat lunch and tried to kick the cat.�
Ron valiantly tried to suppress his laughter. �Harry, you brought it on yourself ��
�Don�t remind me.� Harry sunk lower on the sofa and stared resignedly into space. �God. It�s like having a kid. A spoilt, whiny, bratty kid.�
Ron did laugh this time. �If I was allowed to say �I told you so� I would so be telling you so!� Harry growled and kicked out with one foot.
�It�s fine most of the time � I mean, we talk, and we laugh, and we do stuff, and, you know. But then he gets it into his head that he wants something, and he will not take no for an answer, and aargh.�
�Yeah.� Ron shrugged. �But what else do you expect, really? He�s Malfoy, you know? He�s used to getting everything he wants.� Briefly, his lips thinned.
�I know.� And it didn�t help, Harry thought, to realise that Draco still did get pretty much everything he wanted. From Harry, at least � this was only the second time he�d really, seriously put his foot down (the first time had been the infamous Potions Cupboard Incident in their seventh year at Hogwarts, when Draco had cornered him half-way through the lesson and announced his intention of having sex right now thank-you-very-much. Harry had panicked, imagined what Snape would say if he caught them, and ducked hastily out from behind the shelves. Draco had sulked for weeks over that one). Harry blinked, realising that he had a silly grin on his face. Ron was regarding him with a somewhat jaundiced look.
�Ha,� he muttered wryly. �You love it really, Harry, admit it. You�ve got that �I�m in love and I don�t care how much of a prat he is� expression again.�
Harry crossed his arms defensively, resting his coffee cup on his forearm. �Okay, so maybe sometimes it�s kind of, well, cute.� Ron�s expression indicated that he was having trouble with �cute� in the context of Draco Malfoy, and Harry made a face at him.
�Oh, face it, you might as well give in now and save yourself the trouble,� said Ron with a resigned expression. �You adore the git and we all know it � you�ll be ordering waterbeds by the end of the week.�
�I will not.� Harry glared at him. Just because he adored Draco didn�t mean he was going to give in. Not on this one.
�We�ll see,� was all Ron said, and his amused, measuring look made Harry feel a little uncomfortable.
When Harry let himself into the flat later that afternoon, all the doors off the hallway were closed. For some reason, that struck him as faintly ominous. �Draco?� he called uncertainly. There was silence. Rolling his eyes, Harry opened the door to the living room and immediately blinked in surprise. Facing him, sat cross-legged in the armchair they had bought that morning, which had previously been pale blue but was now midnight black, was his boyfriend. Draco was dressed all in black silk � black silk pyjamas, no less � and had quite clearly gone to some efforts with his hair; it shone like a halo around his head. His lap was full of their unnamed cat, curled up and purring as he stroked her soft fur, and his eyes were fixed on Harry with an unblinking glower.
Harry had to admit that the effect of all that black against Draco�s pale skin and hair was very striking. Gorgeous, in fact, but he knew better than to act on the invitation it seemed to present. �Draco.� Harry smiled rather nervously and took one careful step forward. Draco�s eyes followed him, but there was no change in his expression. Oh dear� Harry swallowed hard, then hung his coat on the hook by the door and moved over to sit on the sofa. If Draco was going to be like this, the best thing to do was to ignore it, otherwise it would only encourage him.
Harry picked up that morning�s copy of Quidditch Illustrated from the coffee table and opened it, trying to concentrate on the article about Viktor Krum�s latest club transfer. It was difficult; Draco�s unblinking gaze felt tangible on his skin, a weight of accusation and offended pride. Harry didn�t need to look up; he could see those hooded, unblinking eyes in his mind, poking at him with invisible sticks. He turned the page to an advertisement for the latest Flyte & Barker broom (flashy, but without the quality to back it up, as usual), toeing off his shoes and slouching back against the upholstery.
Should I say something? Harry wondered, wriggling his toes uncertainly. Try and make up? Or would that just make him worse? Even after nearly three years, there was so much about Draco that came as a surprise to him, and Harry knew he was nowhere near figuring his lover out in any way. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to be with someone else, someone utterly transparent. But then, most of the time Harry loved it. Loved Draco; loved the challenge he could present even asleep, the way he could smile sometimes, as though he knew secrets Harry didn�t. The way he could reach right into Harry�s chest and wrap one pale, aristocratic hand around his heart with no effort at all. Not quite knowing what to expect was part of the fun � except when it started scaring him.
Harry shot a glance at Draco over the top of the magazine. He hadn�t changed position; Harry wasn�t sure he�d even blinked. The only movement of his body was the slow rise and fall of his hand as he stroked the purring cat. This was definitely one of the scary times � Harry wouldn�t put it past Draco to put some kind of hex on him if he was really offended, or transfigure the rest of their furniture the way he�d changed the armchair. Harry didn�t really fancy waking up to discover that his feet were on backwards or the walls had turned purple overnight, and Draco really had an imagination when it came to obscure spells and charms. He sighed and put the magazine down. That was the trouble with Draco, he thought half-amusedly. He simply refused to be ignored; he always had.
�I�m sorry.� Harry met Draco�s icy glare, trying not to flinch away from the intense accusation those eyes directed at him. �I know you wanted one.�
The pale eyes narrowed. �You spoilt it,� Draco accused, hugging the cat against his stomach. �It would have been fun, and you had to go and mention your relatives and that�s just a horrible mental image.� Harry had to agree there � the idea of Vernon and Petunia and a waterbed was rather unpleasant.
�I�m sorry,� he offered again, rather weakly. �But you know you�d have hated it if people had thought you were� like that.�
The eyes narrowed even further, and Harry�s heart sank as he realised he�d made a mistake. �No one would have seen it,� Draco replied silkily. �Unless, of course, you were planning to invite other people into our bedroom.�
Ouch. Harry scrambled quickly for a way around the implied accusation; he had to deal with this quickly, or Draco would be out of the flat and back to stay with his mother for the next week until Harry had grovelled sufficiently to allow Draco to deign to forgive him. �You know that�s not what I meant,� he protested. �You said you wanted to put it in the spare room, remember?�
Draco looked mildly insulted at being reminded of this, but his face relaxed slightly, and Harry gave a mental sigh of relief. �You still spoilt it, though,� he muttered mutinously. �I wanted one, and you spoilt it.�
�Well, I didn�t.� Harry tried for apologetic, but he wasn�t sure it really came off all that well. �Waterbeds are tacky, Draco; you can�t have everything you want, you know that.�
Draco�s eyes opened very wide, and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. �Don�t you love me any more?� he asked in a tiny, wobbly voice.
�Oh, bloody hell.� Harry stared incredulously at him; it was hard to tell whether he was faking it or actually genuinely insecure about the issue. �You complete idiot, Draco.�
�Well, do you?� Draco clutched the cat so hard she gave a hiss of protest, and Harry suddenly remembered Lucius Malfoy, the man who had abandoned his only son to face the Dark Lord when his own fortunes turned foul.
�Of course I do.� Harry shifted on the sofa, holding out his arms, and after a few silent moments, Draco dislodged the cat and crept into Harry�s embrace, burying his face in Harry�s shoulder. �You idiot,� Harry murmured into the top of his head, holding him close. �Just because I don�t want a waterbed doesn�t mean I don�t love you.�
�Oh.� Draco made an indistinct weebling noise into Harry�s t-shirt, clutching his shoulders tightly. �But you always do everything else I want.�
Harry traced slow circles across Draco�s shoulder blades, the silk of his pyjamas whisper-soft and gently caressing the skin beneath. Draco shivered and moved closer. �I do stuff because I want to, Draco,� Harry said finally. �It might be your idea � like the cat, or the holiday last summer, but I agree because I want to. Not just because I love you.�
�Oh.� Draco closed his eyes; Harry could feel the flickering lashes against his neck. �You do love me, then?�
What is this, National Insecurity Day? Harry wondered. He shifted, lifting Draco up by the shoulders so he could look into his eyes. They were hooded, dark and uncertain. Oh Draco. Carefully, tenderly, Harry touched the side of Draco�s jaw with the fingers of his right hand. As always, a tiny shivering thrill went through him at the touch; even after three years he reacted this way to this man. Harry slipped his hand up, cradling the side of Draco�s face, fingers tangling in his silver-blond hair. Draco�s eyes met his, clear and wide and uncertain, and Harry tried to let his own eyes show everything he was feeling. Draco�s breath ghosted out on a tiny gasp as Harry smiled at him.
�More than anything,� Harry murmured, leaning in and brushing his lips across Draco�s in a caressing whisper of a kiss. It felt comfortable, and familiar, and heartbreakingly intimate. It always had.
�Mmm.� Draco sighed as Harry pulled away, and fiddled with Harry�s sleeve. �Where did you go?�
�To Ron�s.�
�Oh.�
�Yeah,� Harry murmured, playing with Draco�s hair; it was sleek and shiny and soft beneath his fingers. Draco leaned into the touch, eyes closing, looking more than slightly like the cat had earlier; Harry smiled at the sight and reached to pull him closer. Draco came willingly, kneeling across Harry�s lap and leaning in to kiss him, hands running teasingly across his chest. His tongue flickered out to tease at Harry�s lower lip, and Harry parted his lips eagerly, tilting his head back to give Draco better access. His hands circled around Draco�s waist, pushing the slippery silk of his pyjamas up so that Harry could touch skin. Draco shivered and pressed against him, and just as his fingers found Harry�s nipples a discreet chime from the direction of the fireplace made them both jump.
Hastily, Draco slid off Harry into the seat beside him, tugging his pyjamas into a semblance of order just as a head and shoulders appeared in the fireplace, wavering slightly as it solidified. Harry didn�t recognise the woman; she was dark-haired and wore silver-rimmed glasses and black witches� robes, and her eyes flickered uncertainly from one to the other of them.
�I�m sorry to intrude, Mr. Malfoy, but it�s quite urgent. I hope I wasn�t interrupting anything?�
�Not at all, Naomi,� Draco lied with a perfectly straight face. �What�s the problem?�
�I�ll let you speak privately,� Harry murmured as the witch launched into an involved explanation of whatever case the Department was working on at the moment, and why they needed Draco�s help with it. Draco nodded distractedly, flashing him an apologetic smile, and Harry left the room quietly, shutting the door behind him. In the corridor he paused, considering, but he could still feel the phantom imprints of Draco�s fingers on his skin, and he wasn�t that hungry anyway. He made for the bedroom, hoping that Draco�s conference wouldn�t take too long. Or spoil his mood.
The bedroom was cool and dark, and Harry made his way over to the bed carefully, pulling his wand out of his pocket. �Lumos.� One of the disadvantages of living in Wizarding London was the lack of electricity, but light blossomed in the sconces set around the walls as soon as Harry muttered the incantation. He eyed the bed dubiously. It looked much the same as it ever had � neatly made with the black linens that had been another of Draco�s little ideas � but Harry wouldn�t have put it past Draco to have done something to it in pique. He prodded at the mattress, but it remained sprung, so Harry supposed his suspicions were unfounded. He climbed into the middle of the duvet, wondering what he�d have done if Draco actually had been practising his bed-to-waterbed Transfiguration.
Black pyjamas. Harry smiled, remembering the slippery feel of silk beneath his fingers, the softness of Draco�s mouth on his own. He had left the hall door open, and the murmur of voices was just audible from the living room. Shifting, Harry pulled off his t-shirt � team issue, he never wore it out in public without a jacket � and lay back against the pillows, waiting for Draco. Imagining all the things he�d like to do to Draco. Or have done to him by Draco�
�Merlin.� Draco slouched into the room with his wand in one hand and a disgruntled look on his face. Harry propped himself up on his elbows, wondering if all his effort from earlier had been wasted. �She�s a good enough Auror,� Draco grumbled on, �but she has terrible timing.� His eyes stopped on Harry, spread out half-naked on the bed, and he paused by the footboard, a smirk blossoming on his face. �Well, well, Potter,� he drawled, twirling his wand between his fingers and raking Harry from head to foot with his gaze. It felt as though Harry could feel the path of his eyes as a tangible caress, stroking him seductively to arousal, and he shivered.
Draco�s smirk became more pronounced, and he raised his wand, looking pointedly from it to Harry�s supine form several times. Harry had just opened his mouth to protest when Draco murmured an incantation and something thin and black shot out of his wand tip. Harry sat up to try and see what it was, but Draco snatched the black stuff up quickly and climbed onto the bed beside him, pocketing his wand.
�What was that?� Harry reached out a hand to try and see, but Draco captured it with a tiny frown and brought it to his lips, kissing Harry�s fingers one by one, then the palm. Harry smiled and scooted closer, fumbling at the buttons of Draco�s pyjama top with his free hand. Draco grinned wickedly and flicked his tongue between Harry�s fingers, eliciting a gasp, then wrapped his mouth around the index finger and sucked gently. With his spare hand, he reached out and tugged Harry�s glasses off his nose, sending the world spinning into a blur of formless colour and Draco himself into a smudge of shimmering black and silver.
Abandoning restraint, Harry tugged urgently on the thin black silk, desperate for as much of Draco�s skin as he could reach. Laughing, Draco let his fingers go and moved closer, settling astride Harry�s thighs in the same position they�d been in before the interruption. �Where were we?� he murmured so softly that Harry could barely hear him, leaning down to bite softly at Harry�s lower lip. Harry arched upwards into the kiss, deepening it, both hands pushing Draco�s pyjama top back off his shoulders. The sheer softness of Draco�s skin never ceased to surprise him, and he ran his hands open-palmed across Draco�s shoulder-blades, pulling him closer. Draco purred and arched against him for a moment, opening his lips to Harry�s tongue, then pulled away, grasping Harry�s wrists and wrapping his fingers around them.
�What?� Harry blinked up at him short-sightedly, somewhat put out by the loss of contact. He couldn�t see the expression on Draco�s face very well, but for some reason it made him nervous.
�Relax, Harry.� Draco tugged both Harry�s arms above his head, then leaned in for another lingering kiss, pushing Harry back onto the bed. Draco�s lips and tongue were intoxicating, thought-stealing, and by the time Harry realised that Draco�s clever hands were very busy indeed his wrists were tied securely to the headboard with a length of black velvet ribbon. It was actually quite soft against his skin, but that wasn�t the point.
�Hey,� he protested, tugging vainly at his bonds as Draco sat back with that smugly satisfied look on his face that would have made Harry want to hit him if he wasn�t too busy wanting to fuck him.
�There,� Draco announced gleefully.
�What the hell is this, Draco?� Harry demanded, trying to work up some righteous outrage in the face of the rather interesting way Draco was toying with his left nipple. He gave a strangled squeak, biting down on his tongue, as Draco pinched him unexpectedly.
�Exactly what it looks like,� Draco informed him serenely. �I wanted a waterbed � I really, really wanted one, Harry, and you said no. In fact, you as good as accused me of tackiness. So you�re going to have to be punished.� And with that pronouncement, Draco leaned down and dragged his tongue in a long, slow swipe from Harry�s navel to his throat. It crossed Harry�s mind, briefly � before his rational thought processes shut down completely � that if Draco had really wanted to punish him, he�d have left Harry here like this for an hour or two before moving on to the sex part of the agenda. He didn�t say that, though. There was no way he was going to give Draco ideas, not with what he was doing right now.
�You know,� Harry managed to gasp out as Draco slid warm fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers, �we�re wizards. There�s nothing � ooohhhh � to stop you from experimenting with a bit of Transfiguration for a few hours.�
�Oh?� Draco raised his head from Harry�s nipple, pale hair falling loosely into his eyes.
�Mm. If you really want a waterbed that badly, I mean.� Harry arched upwards with a gasp, tugging helplessly at the ribbons binding his wrists as Draco wrapped a thoughtful hand around him, rubbing slowly. His fingers felt warm and familiar and exciting and so bloody good� Harry moaned, and Draco leant down to catch it in his mouth, nipping gently at Harry�s lower lip. Harry pushed upwards into the kiss, trying to urge Draco further, deeper. The ribbons suddenly started to seem more like a punishment as Harry automatically attempted to wrap his arms around Draco only to be pulled up short with a frustrated groan.
Draco laughed breathlessly, pulling away to kneel over him and tugging at Harry�s trousers. Harry lifted his hips helpfully; less clothes seemed like a very good idea. �I�m sorry,� he murmured again, wondering if his offer would be enough to placate his lover.
�For what?� Draco shifted, bending to blow gently across Harry�s erection.
�Ah! � for saying no. Before.� Harry swallowed a yelp as Draco licked him once, thoughtfully, then lifted his head again with the wickedest grin Harry had ever seen on him.
�Oh, that. �You will be.�