Work Text:
“Hold still, Harry.”
“It stings.” Fire flared through Harry’s left shoulder, worse than the bludger he’d taken last month.
“Serves you right. I’ll have you know multiple warning signs advised against leaving the compound without a tour guide.” Draco let out an exasperated sigh. “But no. You’re Harry Potter, the rules don’t apply to you.”
“Potter-Malfoy,” Harry replied, then winced as Draco pulled the thread taut. A wave of Draco’s magic washed over him and Harry relaxed as the Freezing Charm took effect. Draco continued his work with precision.
“Maybe next time you’ll listen to reason and I won’t have to stitch you up with the hotel sewing kit.” Draco shook his head. “Honestly, who keeps their sewing kit inside a biscuit tin?”
“It’s a Muggle thing.”
Harry had rented a luxurious beachfront cabin with a spectacular view. The interior was a fusion of wizarding elegance with Muggle-chic elements (currently avant-garde among the wizarding elite), but in his opinion, the Muggle aspects were overstated. The biscuit tin was a bit much. So was the Magic Fingers bed that had vibrated them onto the floor as soon as he’d slipped in his Knut.
“There,” Draco said, as he finished the last stitch. “I’ve transfigured the thread so it will dissolve in three days. Do try not to overexert yourself and undo all my hard work.”
Harry cupped Draco’s cheek, placed a gentle kiss on his lips, and massaged his furrowed brow. “Relax, love. We’re on vacation.”
“I’d relax if you’d stop trying to get yourself killed.”
“I just wanted to experience the wonder of the island without a throng of followers trying to snap our picture. Or asking me to sign their… snitch.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”
“Besides, that Occamy came out of nowhere.”
“I told you not to have the Occamy omelette for lunch. They have a keen sense of smell.”
“And how was I supposed to know the ruins were cursed?” Harry grimaced as he held up his hand. Draco carefully unwound the gauze.
“It’s a blessing you never became an Auror. Mind you, perhaps if you had you’d have more sense than to touch unknown masonry.”
“Well, I got us out safely,” Harry called out to Draco’s retreating form.
“Transfiguring a vine into a broom was clever.” Draco’s voice drifted out from the loo. “Fancy that, they have a salve specially formulated for curse burns. Right next to the wand polish.”
“Admit it, the ride was thrilling. Weaving through trees and dodging dive-bombing Occamys.”
“You’ve no sense of self-preservation,” Draco replied, but the side of his mouth twitched as he tried to suppress his laughter.
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“And how do you propose to do that?”
“I booked us the chef’s table at the Silver Dragon, Golden Pearl Restaurant.”
“You know me so well.”
***
“Yes—Harry—harder!”
The bed squeaked with every movement, and Harry hoped their Silencing Charms held.
Draco tossed his head back, his features soft in the early morning light, and he bit his lower lip. Harry loved him like this: uninhibited, unwound, and so fucking sexy. Harry grabbed Draco’s hips, hard enough to bruise, and thrust up while he pulled Draco down hard. A lock of platinum hair fell across Draco’s face and his plump lips parted as he gasped, “Fuckfuckfuck.”
Pleasure coiled in Harry’s belly, and he inhaled sharply as he tried to hold on. “I’m close,” he gasped. “Touch yourself.” But instead, Draco froze, then quickly wriggled off and landed beside the bed with a loud thump. Harry hissed at the loss of warmth and friction, his hard cock suddenly cool in the morning air.
“Draco?”
Draco’s eyes widened with alarm; his pale skin dotted with sweat from their coupling. He clutched the blankets, pulled them against his slender frame. Harry looked over to the window and saw a large, puffy bird with vibrant pink plumage. The Fwooper stared at him with the most judgmental expression Harry had ever seen.
“Look at those soulless eyes. Do you think it’s been watching us this entire time?”
“I have no idea.” Quite frankly, Harry didn’t care. He spelled the curtains closed. “Now, where were we?”
But Draco was already halfway into his robe. His pinched expression meant no returning to pleasure. Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, already resigned to a sad wank in the shower.
***
Harry inhaled deeply. The ocean air was invigorating, the glittery sand between his toes felt divine, and Draco looked positively edible in his tiny red speedo. He was smiling even, their odd morning encounter washed away with brunch mimosas. Harry felt hopeful. Surely their rocky start (how was he to know the five-star restaurant was overrun by tiny dragons that stole the silverware?) was behind them and things could only get better from here.
Harry rented snorkelling gear, which Draco eyed suspiciously while Harry explained how it worked. There had been a sign warning guests not to venture out too far, but Harry paid it no heed. He and Draco were both excellent swimmers.
The water was perfect—just the right temperature. Small pink and orange fish darted around their faces, and Harry wanted to see more. He grabbed Draco’s hand, interlacing their fingers, and guided them further out. The beach fell away quickly into a deep underwater trench. They remained near the surface and looked down. Deep down, jellyfish wove in and out in an exotic dance, and vampire squid veered back and forth, making inky trails.
Harry couldn’t believe his eyes when a mermaid rose from the depths. He’d never seen a tropical mermaid before, only the drab grey and green species from the Black Lake. The mermaid’s scales were the most beautiful shade of turquoise Harry had ever seen; they shimmered in the diffused light like tiny jewels. A lilac shell bra covered her ample bosom, she wore a matching shell necklace, and her auburn hair glowed, illuminating the surrounding water like a liquid flame. Small fish followed her blazing locks as they flowed in the current, and Harry was equally enchanted. He couldn’t look away.
But soon a dark shape loomed behind the mermaid, and Harry feared for her safety. He swam towards her but didn’t get far—Draco clasped his ankle tightly. Harry thrashed against his husband as the dark shape rose from the trench. He needed to help her.
The mermaid’s lips parted to reveal two perfect fangs. She grinned wider, revealing row upon row of sharp, jagged teeth. With great agility, she turned and lunged at the monstrous fish behind her, stretching her jaw wide and swallowing it whole.
She turned back slowly, and patted her lips as she let out a dainty burp. Tiny bubbles rose to the surface. She winked at Harry and beckoned him closer.
Harry and Draco quickly swam for shore.
***
Harry decided perhaps it was for the best they stayed out of the ocean. Draco agreed wholeheartedly. They stretched out side-by-side on lounge chairs beside the pool instead. The water was crystal clear, no hideous surprises lurked within. Harry ordered another round of mimosas and the tropical tapas platter.
Their drinks arrived topped with those little paper umbrellas that amused Draco so much, and the food looked divine: skewers of coconut chilli prawns; grilled oysters on the half shell with spicy mango salsa; bruschetta topped with pineapple, mango, and ceviche; crispy calamari rings; and watermelon, mint, and feta salad drizzled with balsamic glaze.
Draco bit into a prawn and Harry delighted in his blissed-out expression. Harry started with the bruschetta and smiled as the tropical flavours exploded (metaphorically) on his tongue.
Soon an enormous cloud rolled overhead, blocking out the sun. But it wasn’t cause for concern. They were in the tropics; surely it would blow over.
Sirens blared—deep, booming blasts that crescendoed, then gave way to shrill whistles. Harry glanced around. The resort was divided into two sorts—those who casually gathered up their belongings as though this was a routine occurrence, and those who were panicked and weren’t sure what it all meant. Harry and Draco fell into the latter group.
A calm voice, amplified by a Sonorous Charm, filled the resort compound.
Attention, lovely and esteemed guests. Please gather your belongings and return to your cabanas in an orderly fashion. Please move swiftly, but do not panic. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill.
The sky opened and large snowflakes fluttered down to the ground like feathers. Harry and Draco quickly wrapped themselves up in towels, shivering as they made their way back to their cabin. Large stormy waves crashed into the beach and the snowfall increased rapidly until it was a full-on blizzard. In the distance, the wards flickered and flashed, then fizzled as they failed. Dozens of Lethifolds swarmed in, shrouds of death coming in for the kill.
Many elderly wix hadn’t yet made it back to their cabanas.
Harry pulled out his wand, and Draco did the same. Their eyes met, and Draco nodded. Harry thought back to their wedding day and shouted in tandem with Draco, “Expecto Patronum!”
A pair of shimmery Hungarian Horntails emerged from their wands. They flew around the compound snarling, snapping, and breathing vapour-like fire at the Lethifolds, keeping them at bay so all the guests could make it to safety.
When they reached their cabin, Draco held open the door.
“After you, Potter.”
“Potter-Malfoy.”
***
Their poolside meal had magically reappeared on the table in their room with a complimentary bottle of Veuve Clicquot and a small pamphlet about tropical snowstorms.
“Wonder how long it will last?” Harry asked. The pamphlet conveniently didn’t mention that fact, just that they were to remain indoors, and that they could order room service or help themselves to the Muggle-style mini-fridge.
“It’s fascinating,” Draco said, as he opened and closed the fridge door, watching as the light blinked off and on. “I didn’t even have to cast Lumos.”
“It runs on electricity.” Draco gave Harry a pointed stare. “It’s how Muggles make things work without magic.”
Draco opened and closed a small door with buttons on it.
“That’s a microwave. No! Don’t turn it on unless there’s something inside.”
While Draco fiddled with the fridge and microwave, Harry drew a hot bath filled with complimentary potions. He may have used a heavy hand on the ones with ‘calming’ and ‘romance’ on the label.
Draco stepped into the bath and lowered his body into the water with a contented sigh.
“Look, they’ve included rose petals for the bath.”
“Have you checked to make sure they’re not from carnivorous roses?”
Harry paused, hand mid-air. “Er,” he said and scanned the label. “Is there even such a thing?”
“Yes. Mother grows them in her garden.”
“That explains so much.”
Draco laughed, rich and deep. “Those are fine. Pour them in.”
Harry opened the bottle and scattered the wine-red petals into the water. He poured two glasses of champagne. They clinked glasses, then Harry leaned over to wash Draco’s back.
“I’m sorry, Draco. You work so hard, and I just wanted to treat you to a nice, relaxing holiday. We’ve had so little time together lately, what with my training schedule and all your overtime.”
Draco took a sip and charmed his glass to hover nearby. “Where did you find this place?”
“There was a brochure in the Quibbler.” Harry summoned it from his bag. “See, it looks beautiful. Sandy beaches, cabanas. ‘Tranquility on a silver platter.’ I thought it would be perfect. Luna said she had a fabulous time here.”
“Of course she did.” Draco examined the brochure. “Did you read the fine print? This part here, on the bottom.”
Harry hadn’t. He read it quickly, taking in random words: …Silver Sands Wizarding Resort will not be held responsible for any personal loss or injury… potential life-threatening dangers… …eaten by Lethifolds, roasted by dragon fire, bewitched by mermaids…
“You didn’t, did you?” Draco’s expression was more amused than upset. “Even the picture shows a Lethifold next to the lighthouse.”
“Er, my thumb must have been covering that one. I’m sorry.”
Draco’s mouth quirked into a grin. “Typical. Get in here. And bring the wand polish.”
Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He let his robe slide down, kicked off his swimming trunks, and stepped into the tub. He leaned back against Draco, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder.
Draco summoned a washcloth and gently washed Harry’s chest.
“Well, it’s the thought that counts,” Draco whispered against the shell of Harry’s ear as his hand disappeared beneath the water. “Chin up,” he added. “It’s not a bad resort, per se. So long as you keep the curtains closed and don’t leave your room.”
Harry groaned as Draco’s hand wrapped around his cock.
“But Potter,”—Potter-Malfoy, Harry interjected—“next time, I’m choosing the resort.”
“That’s fair.”