(no subject)
Fic: Lost and Found
Draco hadn’t moved for eight hours. Maybe more. Maybe less. Who was counting anymore? He’d gotten up at some point to take a piss and he vaguely remembered writing some gibberish in that bloody journal. Or maybe he’d imagined writing in it. But if he had written in it, had anyone replied? Had he replied to them? He didn’t know, and his head hurt from trying to figure it out, and another piss was probably in order.
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he waited for the world to stop spinning before he stood up, shuffling into the loo to take care of business. Harry liked to take a piss first thing in the morning, and fuck, how weird was it to remember something like that? He finished up, trying not to think anymore as he washed his hands and made his way back over to the bed. Walking was hard work after a night without sleep. Even more so when he’d very much not been crying. But before he could sink back into the softness of Harry’s bed, Harry’s scent, someone knocked at the door. Swearing to himself, he shuffled over, opening it and blinking blearily as Kelly smiled at him.
“We found him.”
Draco nodded numbly, and made to close the door before the words hit him. Found him. They found him? They found Harry. Oh fucking hell. He almost made off for the infirmary right then before Kelly gently reminded him that he wasn’t wearing anything but a ratty pair of red and gold boxers, and might he want to put on some trousers at least? He dressed with shaky hands, yanking on a pair of jeans and his trainers, pulling one of Harry’s t-shirts over his head and following Kelly when she started for the infirmary building. The memory of his dream assaulted him as he approached the door, but no one stopped him when he reached for the handle, no one kept him from looking inside and seeing Harry, sleeping peacefully on one of the cots. His hands shook and he tiptoed across the room, hovering anxiously beside him, wanting to touch, unsure if he should. Fuck, Harry.
Harry was dreaming again. Or at least he thought he was - having spent the last few days trapped in his own brain, it was hard to be sure of anything. This world was brighter than the last, and very warm. This world smelled distinctly of freshly washed cotton sheets and iodine. Harry blinked - he recognized that smell. It reminded him distinctly of the infirmary back at camp.
He blinked again; the sky above him swam into focus, and turned out to be not the sky at all, but the wooden ceiling of the infirmary building, and the brightness was the hanging lamp above his bed, Harry moaned with relief - he was hungry, and tired, and more than a little irritated, but he was at least back in the real world, and in once piece, as far as he could tell.
He tried to sit up, although his head was pounding, and saw that Draco and Kelly were standing at his bedside, looking at him worriedly, and that Draco, in addition, looked as if he’d spent a week crying.
Harry smiled, or tried to, but the lure of the fluffy pillows proved to be just too much, and he sank back against them, closing his eyes and murmuring, “what took you so long?”
Draco made a choked noise of relief when Harry spoke, sinking heavily into a chair beside his cot and gathering up his hand. Fuck, he was like ice. He brought Harry’s hand to his mouth under the pretense of blowing warm air over it, though he managed to squeeze in a kiss or two to his frigid fingers.
“You stupid sod,” he whispered, swallowing thickly, desperate to keep his emotions in check. “It’s only been since yesterday. Maybe twelve hours.” Touching Harry’s hand wasn’t enough, though he kept a hold on it as he reached over and brushed a bit of hair from his face. “…You look like shit.”
Harry laughed, and then coughed. “Thanks,” he said wryly, but he quietly pressed Draco’s hand in his own, even though he could tell by Kelly’s knowing smile they really needn’t hide anything anymore. He could tell he wouldn’t be awake for much longer - the Mediwitches had evidently given him something to make him sleep more - but he was anxious to hold on to consciousness for as long as he could, anxious to make Draco understand that he was okay.
“Was I really only gone for half a day? It felt like three or four, where I was.” Harry thought about saying something about seeing his parents, or Seamus, but it felt too soon, and too strange, when he was barely certain that he was home.
Draco nodded, clutching his hand a bit desperately. That would be the only half a day Harry spent away from him for a long time, if he had anything to say about it. “I’m going to try to get the Medi-witches to allow you to come back to the cabin. Couldn’t sleep without you snorting louder than the Hogwarts Express on the other side of the room.” Couldn’t sleep without knowing he was there and safe and not off somewhere possibly dying. He touched another bit of Harry’s hair, letting his fingertips brush his temple lightly.
“…Don’t sleep yet,” he instructed Harry firmly, giving his hand another squeeze and a subtle kiss before he pushed himself up. There was no way in hell Harry was staying here. Draco needed him. And he was obviously fine. No wounds, no vomiting blood. He was coming back to the cabin tonight.
It took fifteen minutes of arguing with the head Medi-wizard, five minutes of promising not to let Harry do anything too over taxing, another five minutes of vowing that he would remember what potions to give him and when, and an annoyed three minutes and twelve seconds ignoring the man blather on about something he couldn’t be arsed to care about. Draco finally, finally escaped, making a beeline for Harry’s bed and clutching the bag of potions. “Think you can walk with some help?”
“Yeah,” Harry said, yawning widely, though when he took Draco’s arm and stood, he swayed precariously for a moment. He let Draco lead him down the dimly lit path and back to the cabin, and didn’t protest too much when Draco pushed him into his bed and crawled in beside him.
“You know,” Harry mumbled thoughtfully, already drowsing, “I missed you when I was gone.”
“Of course you did,” Draco replied, letting the scent of Harry wash over him as he closed his eyes. He wedged himself as close to Harry as he could without being draped over top of him, turning his face into Harry’s shoulder, sighing. This was better. This was much better. And he was never letting anything interrupt this again. “I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
“Twat,” said Harry, and promptly fell asleep.
Draco hadn’t moved for eight hours. Maybe more. Maybe less. Who was counting anymore? He’d gotten up at some point to take a piss and he vaguely remembered writing some gibberish in that bloody journal. Or maybe he’d imagined writing in it. But if he had written in it, had anyone replied? Had he replied to them? He didn’t know, and his head hurt from trying to figure it out, and another piss was probably in order.
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he waited for the world to stop spinning before he stood up, shuffling into the loo to take care of business. Harry liked to take a piss first thing in the morning, and fuck, how weird was it to remember something like that? He finished up, trying not to think anymore as he washed his hands and made his way back over to the bed. Walking was hard work after a night without sleep. Even more so when he’d very much not been crying. But before he could sink back into the softness of Harry’s bed, Harry’s scent, someone knocked at the door. Swearing to himself, he shuffled over, opening it and blinking blearily as Kelly smiled at him.
“We found him.”
Draco nodded numbly, and made to close the door before the words hit him. Found him. They found him? They found Harry. Oh fucking hell. He almost made off for the infirmary right then before Kelly gently reminded him that he wasn’t wearing anything but a ratty pair of red and gold boxers, and might he want to put on some trousers at least? He dressed with shaky hands, yanking on a pair of jeans and his trainers, pulling one of Harry’s t-shirts over his head and following Kelly when she started for the infirmary building. The memory of his dream assaulted him as he approached the door, but no one stopped him when he reached for the handle, no one kept him from looking inside and seeing Harry, sleeping peacefully on one of the cots. His hands shook and he tiptoed across the room, hovering anxiously beside him, wanting to touch, unsure if he should. Fuck, Harry.
Harry was dreaming again. Or at least he thought he was - having spent the last few days trapped in his own brain, it was hard to be sure of anything. This world was brighter than the last, and very warm. This world smelled distinctly of freshly washed cotton sheets and iodine. Harry blinked - he recognized that smell. It reminded him distinctly of the infirmary back at camp.
He blinked again; the sky above him swam into focus, and turned out to be not the sky at all, but the wooden ceiling of the infirmary building, and the brightness was the hanging lamp above his bed, Harry moaned with relief - he was hungry, and tired, and more than a little irritated, but he was at least back in the real world, and in once piece, as far as he could tell.
He tried to sit up, although his head was pounding, and saw that Draco and Kelly were standing at his bedside, looking at him worriedly, and that Draco, in addition, looked as if he’d spent a week crying.
Harry smiled, or tried to, but the lure of the fluffy pillows proved to be just too much, and he sank back against them, closing his eyes and murmuring, “what took you so long?”
Draco made a choked noise of relief when Harry spoke, sinking heavily into a chair beside his cot and gathering up his hand. Fuck, he was like ice. He brought Harry’s hand to his mouth under the pretense of blowing warm air over it, though he managed to squeeze in a kiss or two to his frigid fingers.
“You stupid sod,” he whispered, swallowing thickly, desperate to keep his emotions in check. “It’s only been since yesterday. Maybe twelve hours.” Touching Harry’s hand wasn’t enough, though he kept a hold on it as he reached over and brushed a bit of hair from his face. “…You look like shit.”
Harry laughed, and then coughed. “Thanks,” he said wryly, but he quietly pressed Draco’s hand in his own, even though he could tell by Kelly’s knowing smile they really needn’t hide anything anymore. He could tell he wouldn’t be awake for much longer - the Mediwitches had evidently given him something to make him sleep more - but he was anxious to hold on to consciousness for as long as he could, anxious to make Draco understand that he was okay.
“Was I really only gone for half a day? It felt like three or four, where I was.” Harry thought about saying something about seeing his parents, or Seamus, but it felt too soon, and too strange, when he was barely certain that he was home.
Draco nodded, clutching his hand a bit desperately. That would be the only half a day Harry spent away from him for a long time, if he had anything to say about it. “I’m going to try to get the Medi-witches to allow you to come back to the cabin. Couldn’t sleep without you snorting louder than the Hogwarts Express on the other side of the room.” Couldn’t sleep without knowing he was there and safe and not off somewhere possibly dying. He touched another bit of Harry’s hair, letting his fingertips brush his temple lightly.
“…Don’t sleep yet,” he instructed Harry firmly, giving his hand another squeeze and a subtle kiss before he pushed himself up. There was no way in hell Harry was staying here. Draco needed him. And he was obviously fine. No wounds, no vomiting blood. He was coming back to the cabin tonight.
It took fifteen minutes of arguing with the head Medi-wizard, five minutes of promising not to let Harry do anything too over taxing, another five minutes of vowing that he would remember what potions to give him and when, and an annoyed three minutes and twelve seconds ignoring the man blather on about something he couldn’t be arsed to care about. Draco finally, finally escaped, making a beeline for Harry’s bed and clutching the bag of potions. “Think you can walk with some help?”
“Yeah,” Harry said, yawning widely, though when he took Draco’s arm and stood, he swayed precariously for a moment. He let Draco lead him down the dimly lit path and back to the cabin, and didn’t protest too much when Draco pushed him into his bed and crawled in beside him.
“You know,” Harry mumbled thoughtfully, already drowsing, “I missed you when I was gone.”
“Of course you did,” Draco replied, letting the scent of Harry wash over him as he closed his eyes. He wedged himself as close to Harry as he could without being draped over top of him, turning his face into Harry’s shoulder, sighing. This was better. This was much better. And he was never letting anything interrupt this again. “I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
“Twat,” said Harry, and promptly fell asleep.