White Lies (7/?)
Title: White Lies (7/?)
Author: Cassis Luna
Rating: PG-13 for now
Warnings: ignores DH, EWE, AU, adult themes, profanity
Chapter Word Count: 6256
Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me, it belongs to J.K. Rowling. No money is being made out of this.
Note: I got the idea about the Restoration Potion from the Troyjeinen Potion found here, so that's not mine either.
Summary: Eight year. Draco drinks a potion that makes him know if a person is lying, and Harry, apparently at fault that Draco is this way, is forced to 'help' him throughout the effects of the potion. For the first time, they deal with each other with no lies to hide behind.
Alternate Summary: In which Draco's a Potions experiment gone bad, Hogwarts wants to eat Harry (oh, but does it really?), and everyone thinks they're shagging each other. (Yes, even the house-elves.)
CHAPTER 7
A Beginning of Sorts
Harry couldn't remember the last time he felt safe in sleep. Or warm. Harry had firmly decided to himself not to mull over the war anymore, but the nights were the hardest. It's been almost half a year now and he was getting better, really, but his slumber was more often than not restless. When the letter from Hogwarts came, he had grabbed at it almost desperately, yearning for a reprieve. Hogwarts had brought back memories, yes, but it was also the closest thing to a home that he had, other than the Burrow. (Grimmauld Place was his, but he wasn't quite ready to call it home yet. It only was when Sirius was there.)
Then all this falling-through-walls thing started, and sleep evaded him so much that even the nightmares were better.
Harry wasn't really awake. Oh, far from it.
But he was aware of the fingers gently threading through his hair, and he sighed in contentment, dreaming of blond hair and libraries.
-
The fingers soon went away, taking the dreams of blond hair and libraries with it. Replacing them were dreams of a different kind, of cupboards and rooms that made him feel claustrophobic. There was still that blond hair and pale, pale skin, only that it was accompanied by -
Harry jolted awake.
Blood.
He blinked his eyes open, only to close them again as they burned at the sudden light. That, and at the incomplete sleep. He didn't know how long he'd been sleeping; just that he knew that it wasn't long enough. He pressed fingers against his eyelids firmly, feeling a headache coming on.
"Bad morning, Potter?"
Without knowing why, Harry sighed in relief. Then, he remembered his dream and he cracked an eye open to look at Malfoy, who was sitting up on the bed with a tray of breakfast in front of him, looking pristine in his white pajamas against the morning light. Harry blinked at his bed hair. "Time?" he rasped out, pulling away slightly from the bed where he had been resting his arms and head to stretch his neck and shoulders.
"Eight," Draco replied, watching amusedly as Potter wriggled his fingers to get blood back in them. "The house-elves brought us breakfast, and I very graciously saved you some bacon, Potter, so you better be -" He stopped as Potter suddenly winced. He furrowed his eyebrows in concern. "What is it?"
Harry slumped his upper body back against the bed, hand gripping at the sheets that covered Malfoy's legs. After getting blood into his fingers, he had shifted his leg and was promptly reminded of his very broken ankle that he was almost scared to even look at right now. "Right ankle," he muttered mournfully against the mattress.
"What?" Draco was confused. "What about your ankle?" He picked up the tray of food and set it on the bedside table instead, before getting off the bed and going over to Potter's side.
Harry was still wearing his school robes (Draco had saved the question regarding that for later.) and his trousers and black shoes didn't give Draco much of a view of his ankle. Harry laughed humorlessly at himself. Oh, he was certainly awake now. "Do you know how to fix a broken ankle? Episkey it or something," he asked, sounding slightly strained.
Draco was even more confused. "How the hell did you get a broken ankle?" he asked suspiciously. He remembered their past Hogwarts years and how furious he would get at the fact that Harry Potter was involved in every little thing that happened school year after school year after school year. After a while, the furiousness gave way to curiosity, and maybe even envy. Now, it held a touch of concern.
Oh, Draco, how low you have fallen, he thought dryly.
"Fell," Harry mumbled.
The light around him stayed gold, so Draco knew that to be true. But he was a Slytherin, so he also knew that there was more to the story than just 'falling'. "Let me see, Potter," he muttered, kneeling on the floor to pull the other's trouser leg up.
Oh, if his father could see him now, kneeling at Harry Potter's side. Not that Draco cared much, really. His mind was busy producing the most enjoyable images that included 'kneeling' and 'Harry Potter', but he quickly returned to the task at hand when Potter hissed in pain once again.
"Sorry," Draco said, pulling the trouser up more carefully. "I'm going to have to take off your sock and shoe, Potter."
Harry let out a strangled sound of distress. Then, after a moment, he nodded in resignation.
Despite Potter's obvious pain, Draco couldn't help but enjoy this chance to touch him and to see him vulnerable. It wasn't from any kind of sadism, more like… from a desire to be close to him, both physically and emotionally.
Harry bit his lip to keep from making any more pitiful noises when Draco slowly slid his shoe off his foot. He was torn, because Draco's fingers hurt when they pressed too hard but the coldness of it felt nice against his skin. Next came the sock, and this time, Harry couldn't stop the hiss that slipped past his lips.
Draco stared in shock. "Shite, Potter," he murmured, fingers very carefully avoiding the discolored part of Potter's skin.
Harry swallowed. "That bad?"
"I'm pretty sure that skin's not supposed to be… purple and green at the same time," Draco drawled, but his voice was shaky.
Harry gave a short laugh. "Me too."
"Madame Pomfrey went out to talk with Professor Snape," Draco continued, frowning. "And I would rather not use you as a test subject for my healing prowess," he lied. He was good with healing spells. He'd made it a point to learn as much healing spells as he could when he had realized, stricken and fifteen years old, that he wasn't going to get out of participating in the fucking war. It had come in useful during his time as a spy, and most especially during the climax of the war itself.
At the Battle of Hogwarts, he had fixed Ron's smashed hand. That was probably the moment when they had - officially - come to a sort of truce.
He wondered if Potter knew about that.
Harry chuckled weakly. "You strike me as someone with good instinct. Try me."
Apparently not.
Draco looked up at that, eyes going wide in wonder as he stared at Potter's hunched form against the bed. "Seriously?"
Harry nodded, moving his head so that he could look at Malfoy. "I've never tried Episkey-ing broken bones."
"I haven't either," Draco replied quietly, persisting in his lie. When he looked down at his hand on his lap, he idly wondered why he didn't have that sort of freaky light. If he did, then it would be probably be as black as Snape's robes right now. Or Potter's hair. Potter's hair was nicer to think about. "We should wait for Madame Pomfrey…"
Harry frowned at his sudden change in demeanor. "Uhm, Malfoy? It kind of hurts."
Draco rolled his eyes at that. "I figured. But I think you'd be safer Episkey-ing your own bone, rather than have me do it."
"Malfoy," Harry said, sighing exasperatedly. "Are you doing this on purpose just to have me admit that you're the better wizard? You learn anything on the first try and you pretty much top everything."
Draco flushed at the praise, and he saved that to preen at later. "No, I don't," he said instead. "Granger does."
Harry shot him a pointed look. "Hermione's not normal. She doesn't count."
"Ah."
"But alright," Harry continued, trying to relax against the bed. If he didn't move his ankle, it didn't hurt so much, it just… throbbed, but at least then it was bearable. "I don't mind waiting for Madame Pomfrey," he murmured. His eyes were closing of their own accord, the pain having made him exhausted.
Silence answered him, and moments passed just like that. Harry was halfway asleep, when Draco finally replied. His voice was quiet and raw with strangled emotion.
"You seriously trust me to point my wand at you, Potter?"
Harry opened his eyes in surprise, looking at Malfoy still on the floor beside him. Draco was watching him with a serious expression, and Harry marveled at how vulnerable and insecure he really was.
How could Malfoy still be insecure about this, when he had turned his back on his family and everything he ever believed in to fight in a war that wasn't his to fight? When he had joined the other side instead, and made the sacrifice to take on the responsibility as a spy for the Order? When he joined Harry instead, fought alongside him and the people he'd grown up despising, and placed his whole being on the unsure bet that Harry was going to win?
Did he really trust Malfoy to point his wand at him?
"Yes."
And if there was anything at all about Malfoy that he knew to be true, it was the fact that he wasn't heartless. He was absolutely mean, yes, and probably the most annoying git that Hogwarts had ever encountered, but he was humane. At least, he had grown to be.
And deep down, Harry had always respected that about him.
-
Draco did not know what to do with this trust.
He stared, waiting for the light around Potter to turn black, but it remained positively golden. He would have scoffed and not believed Potter at all, if he wasn't currently under the effects of a Potions experiment gone wrong. He'd have inserted some crafty insult or two there too, just to make him seem superior.
But the thing was, he was currently under the effects of a Potions experiment gone wrong and Potter's almost brutal honesty - and his trust, dear God, how had Draco come to deserve it? - had him speechless and his heart thumping fast against his ribcage.
So he looked straight in Harry's eyes instead and tried to tell him how grateful he was with that gaze.
He took his wand from his bed and swished it effortlessly, while muttering 'Episkey'.
Harry let out a surprised grunt against the mattress as he felt something in his ankle shift abruptly, and he hissed in pain for the umpteenth time. Then, he let out a shaky laugh. "You're such a git, Malfoy."
Draco raised an eyebrow, standing up from his position on the floor and crossing his arms. "You're welcome, Potter," he said dryly, but he was amused at the image that Harry provided him, hunched over the side of the bed and laughing with mirth.
"Not good with healing spells, my ass," Harry muttered with another chuckle, rolling his eyes. He tried to move his ankle experimentally, and regretted it almost immediately. Okay, give it time. Right.
At that, Draco sobered. He looked at Harry, eyes searching. He suddenly felt very small again. "I just wanted to make sure…"
Harry chuckled once more, softly now. "Yeah," he murmured, eyes drooping closed again.
And Draco warmed at that, both at his simple reply and his actions because Potter was actually letting him see him vulnerable like that, eyes closed and almost incoherent with sleep.
…Or maybe it was because that Potter was incoherent with sleep, that he was letting Draco see him like that.
Nevertheless, Draco knew how to appreciate his blessings.
"Get to bed, Potter," he said exasperatedly. "I'm surprised your head hasn't fallen off your shoulders yet."
Harry blinked his eyes open blearily, before he nodded and leaned away from the bed, finally sitting up on the chair. Then he promptly stood up and plopped himself down on Draco's hospital bed.
Draco was amused. "That's my bed, Potter."
Harry made a noncommittal mumble, and Draco leaned in closer to listen, before he realized that Potter was already asleep.
He raised an eyebrow. Just how long did Potter sleep in that chair anyway? Beside his bed? He surreptitiously glanced around the infirmary to see if anyone else was there, out of the habit that he'd done most of his life whenever coming too close to the other boy.
With his heart close to bursting, he stared at Harry's sleeping, peaceful form on the bed with a look that was yearning and almost desperate. He pulled Harry's glasses off and laid them on the bedside table, only managing to stop himself from reaching out for a longer caress. Still, he couldn't have stopped himself from lying down on the bed beside Harry and pulling the covers over them both. Their arms touched, and Draco felt warm.
The breakfast tray was forgotten, and he quickly followed Harry to sleep.
-
The next time that Harry woke up, it was to a certain sense of calm and warmth, despite the October air. He sighed in contentment, and moved to roll over - only to freeze when his back hit something hard. He vaguely remembered Malfoy and his ankle and then 'bed', and Harry's face colored at the realization that he had just jumped into Malfoy's bed that morning. Still, he was too sated to feel anything besides light embarrassment, so he relaxed once more, shifting to give Malfoy space.
Their bed curtains were closed, he noticed. It was quiet, and everything looked… gray. Still, there was this feeling of tranquility that Harry savored. It was the first time in a long time that he really felt… safe.
He turned around carefully, lying on his back and hummed pleasantly. He could feel Malfoy's breath on his shoulder, and his warmth even through the school robes that Harry was still wearing.
Unable to resist, he turned his head and looked at Malfoy's sleeping face, awed at the peaceful expression that he found there. Malfoy was pretty when he wasn't sneering, Harry mused. On second thought, perhaps pretty wasn't an appropriate word for a boy. Handsome. Malfoy was handsome, with his sharp features and that blond hair against pale skin. His lips were chapped, which Harry found surprising because he had figured Malfoy to be the type of guy who busied himself with branded skin products.
Ponce, Harry chuckled to himself.
"Fancy me yet, Potter?" came Malfoy's sleepy albeit amused drawl.
Harry flushed at having been caught staring, and he quickly sat up, fixing his clothes self-consciously. "You wish, Malfoy," he muttered lamely, face burning as thoughts of him and Malfoy holding hands flittered across his mind. What made him flush darker though, was the fact that he was actually letting himself picture these thoughts!
Malfoy snorted, rolling on his back and stretching.
Harry pointedly looked away.
"I don't have to," Draco replied, a smug smirk on his face.
Harry rolled his eyes. Two can play at that game. "Can't resist me so much that you have to start flirting with me the moment you wake up?"
At his response Draco beamed at him. Then he chuckled. "You're the one who climbed in my bed, Potter."
That did it. Harry was as red as he could possibly go and his face felt like it was on fire. Draco felt a surge of triumph (and maybe adoration) pass through him. The thought that he could affect Potter like made him grin widely.
"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry muttered pitifully, looking away. The problem was, since the bed curtains were closed, there really was no 'away' to look at. "I was tired, okay?"
"Mm-hmm, so you've been saying," Draco said with a raised eyebrow. "For the past two days, actually," he mused thoughtfully.
Harry started at that. "Oh, no, I don't mean I'm tired because of you, Malfoy -"
Draco hadn't even thought of that but was placated nonetheless. Still, he would have liked Harry being tired because of him, if it were because of other more likeable reasons that he'd obligingly list down if Harry asked.
"- just that I haven't had much sleep lately and -"
It was then that Draco remembered one important detail. "Don't tell me you really did sleep all night beside my bed, Potter?" he asked, voice half-curious and half-incredulous. His eyebrow was raised in disbelief.
Harry flustered even more. "No, I -" then he quickly stopped himself, because Draco was looking even more incredulous than before and he almost slapped himself because right, Draco could tell if he was lying.
True enough, Draco marveled at how the light around the other boy had turned black.
Grudgingly, Harry muttered. "I might have."
He had half a mind to blame Madame Pomfrey for not waking him up, because really, you normally wake people up when they fall asleep in chairs unless - unless they refuse to, which Harry might have done considering how desperate he'd been for sleep.
"Speaking of which," he started, hastily changing the subject. He peered at Draco. "Are you okay?"
Draco was surprised at the sudden question. He blinked, before nodding slowly, eyes carefully not leaving Harry's face. Harry still hadn't put his glasses on, and his eyes really were more beautiful up close like that. "Madame Pomfrey gave me something for my throat and a Blood-Replenishing Potion, if that's what you're asking about." Then, he frowned. "What happened yesterday?"
Harry tilted his head in confusion. "Madame Pomfrey didn't tell you?"
An eyebrow rose. "No. When I woke up this morning, she just gave me the potions and the breakfast and went off to talk with Professor Snape," he muttered, feeling the beginning prickle of irritation at not knowing what they knew about him. He cast a quick Tempus.
"It's only 2 PM. If it's already this dark, then the weather must be awful," he commented, scrunching his nose up in disdain. He reached over to grab the edge of the bed curtains to yank it aside. The infirmary was empty. No sign of Madame Pomfrey anywhere.
A sudden thought appeared in Harry's mind and he blanched. "Malfoy," he choked out. Draco looked at him strangely. "Were you the one who closed the bed curtains?"
"No…? I don't think so -"
"Oh, Merlin, what did Madame Pomfrey think, seeing us in bed together when there are a million other beds available to occupy -"
Draco couldn't help it. A self-satisfied smirk was slowly working its way to his lips. "Sod it, Potter. It's not like the whole school doesn't know we're buggering each other."
Harry's face turned from white to red almost instantly. "D-d-don't say that!" he spluttered, aghast.
"There's no need to be shy about it, Harry," Draco scoffed, looking mock-hurt but the effect was ruined when his grin eventually won over his mock-indignant expression.
"Ponce," Harry muttered, eyes shifting around the infirmary in search of salvation from this humiliation. He then remembered to put on his glasses, so he quickly put them on, much to Draco's disappointment. "Look, are you - really - uhm," Harry started awkwardly, flushing. "You know."
Draco raised an eyebrow and didn't say anything even though he knew what Harry meant, just because the other boy being so embarrassed was amusing.
Harry swallowed and called forth his Gryffindor courage. "Do you really like… guys?" he said, trying to sound nonchalant but he figured he rather failed.
Draco beamed at him. "Only you, Harry."
Draco wasn't joking. Far from it. But he let Harry think what he wanted to think, and it didn't hurt that it still made him fluster.
Harry stared at Draco's beaming smile and swallowed the lump in his throat that came with the grudging, horrified acceptance of the fact that that expression was one that was going to follow him around for at least the rest of the day. Or week.
Just then, Harry's stomach grumbled, and with the almost deafening silence of the empty infirmary, Draco heard it clearly. Harry flushed and prepared himself for the onslaught of Draco's sharp tongue, so he was surprised when the other boy merely frowned at him.
"You haven't eaten anything yet, have you? Since dinner, I presume."
Harry shrugged, then slowly nodded.
"It can't be helped then," Draco sighed, sniffing haughtily as he waved his hand. "I myself am quite famished. Fancy calling on your little house-elf friends, Potter?" he said politely, but a grin was on his face.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Lazy git," he muttered, and then, "Dobby!"
Harry remembered the first time he called on Dobby after Draco had moved in to Grimmauld Place during the war. Both Dobby and Draco's eyes bulged spectacularly in a similar fashion, and he and Ron didn't stop laughing at least until Hermione threatened them with no dinner.
("Potter, what the hell is my house-elf doing with you?"
Harry at least had the decency to look sheepish. Ron had not. "Well, he's not your house-elf anymore, is he, Malfoy?"
Draco glared at him, before crossing his arms with a huff. "I was wondering where Dobby went."
Dobby let out a huge wail. "Dobby is sorry, Master Draco! Dobby will hit his self with a bludger later but Master Harry freed Dobby and Dobby is very glad but Dobby was not meaning to leave Master Draco alone in the Malfoy Manor! Dobby should be punished for leaving Master Draco alone with those Dark -"
"Stop hitting yourself with that blasted Muggle contraption, Dobby!" Draco intervened quickly, not liking the way Harry's head had snapped up to look at him curiously.
"It's a microwave, Malfoy," Hermione helpfully supplied.)
With a crack, Dobby appeared beside their table, all boggly eyes and big ears. When he saw them, his eyes grew impossibly wider, which Harry would have found funny had he not been reminded that he was in bed with another boy. With Draco Malfoy.
"Uhm," Harry started, swallowing nervously, already feeling the impending doom that was about to come in the form of a masochistic house-elf. "Dobby, can -"
He wasn't disappointed.
"Dobby is not understanding, sir," Dobby squeaked out, all watery eyes and lower lip quivering. He sounded like he was choking on a pea, but then again, that might have been his normal voice. "Why Master Harry is in bed with Master Draco."
"We've consummated our burning love for each other, Dobby," Draco quipped nonchalantly and a bit too cheerfully for Harry's liking.
Harry whipped his head to stare at him, aghast, before staring at Dobby, horrified. Dobby was misty-eyed.
"Oh, Dobby is joyful, sirs, that both his Masters are toge -"
"Dobby, just get us some food!" Harry all but shrieked, face burning with embarrassment as Dobby nodded enthusiastically, making his ears flop up and down, before disappearing with another loud pop. "Oh, my God, Malfoy. Now even the house-elves think we're shagging each other!"
Draco hummed in agreement. In truth, he wanted everyone thinking that he and Harry were shagging each other.
Even if it wasn't true.
(Later, he'll tell this genius plan of his to Pansy, who'll look at him sympathetically and burst his bubble by telling him once again just how pathetically sad he was.)
-
"So, Harry," Draco started conversationally, ten minutes after Dobby had returned with a heaping tray of breakfast. He reckoned the only reason why the tall pile of food was able to stand upright was because of elf magic. Well, elf culinary magic.
Harry paused his devouring of his roast chicken to look at Malfoy warily. One, because any conversation with Malfoy starting with 'So, Harry' meant bad stuff, usually embarrassing ones. Two, because it was 'So, Harry’, not 'So, Potter'.
"Care to tell me what happened to me last night?"
Harry looked at him incredulously. "You seriously can't remember what happened last night?"
Draco frowned in confusion. Harry almost made the mistake of thinking adorable when Draco opened his mouth. "What, we really did shag each other senseless and I can't remember a thing? Goddamnit," he said in utter seriousness.
Harry's face burned. "Yes, shame indeed," he shot back dryly.
Draco grinned at him, and it was contagious, the way his grin almost split his face, that Harry couldn't help but grin back. Sitting in the infirmary with a tray of food and his ex-rival-now-friend, he couldn't remember the last time he felt warm like this, just content, and he didn't want to have to get up and face the world again.
Unfortunately, he had to. "Obviously, something bloody happened yesterday, probably literally, since Madame Pomfrey was adamant on my downing of the Blood-Replenishing Potion," Draco mused.
Harry's grin was immediately wiped off his face as he remembered the scene last night, how Draco's body had shook and how his own robes had been covered in blood. Draco's blood.
Draco looked at him sharply, because all the color slowly drained from Harry's face. "Potter?"
Harry shook his head, clearing his mind's eye and swallowing the lump in his throat. Instead, he looked down at his robes and saw no sign of blood. Madame Pomfrey must have Scourgified them in his sleep. "You had another of your coughing fit," Harry supplied, waving Draco's worried look away. "It was pretty bad, I'm surprised you didn't wake up."
Draco simply nodded slowly, as he registered this information. "Well, that certainly explains the massive headache and the sore throat I had this morning," he muttered, but didn't dwell on it since remembering them made him remember waking up to Harry by his bedside, and that made him lighten up. "I'm assuming you were there when it happened?"
"Yeah," Harry replied, shrugging nonchalantly. It still made him ill to think of Draco like that, bloody and shaky and unconscious.
Draco raised an eyebrow, looking at him coolly. "Why?" he asked, genuinely curious.
Harry paused. "My ankle," he said carefully. He knew what the question next would be and he wasn't sure if he was ready to tell everything. Harry blinked. Well, there really was no reason to lie, was there? Other than the fact that Draco may as well laugh at him in disbelief and tell him that he's mental, or laugh at him for losing to a building. In Harry's defense, it was a magical building.
He was surprised when Draco stiffened and took on a haughty, nonchalant expression. It was his defense mechanism, as Harry had found out during the time spent together in Grimmauld Place. He wondered why Draco needed it now.
"Right," Draco started, reaching towards the bedside table to idly pour himself a glass of pumpkin juice. "I don't suppose I should ask about it."
Usually, Draco was pretty good at getting what he wanted. If he really wanted to, he could have asked Harry questions and watch out for the flicker of gold and black of the light surrounding him, but more than that, he wanted Harry's trust. Not just as an ally, like in the war. Like how Harry had trusted him earlier to point his wand at him and Episkey his ankle.
He wanted Harry's trust as a friend.
("You're a bloody Hufflepuff," his inner Pansy told him. Draco agreed morosely that yes, Harry bloody fucking Potter was making him one.)
Harry looked at Draco's back with an amused smile. "That's okay, you don't have to. I'll tell you." His smile widened when Draco spilled some pumpkin juice on the table in startlement.
Draco turned to him and peered at him suspiciously, then simply blinked in bemusement. The light around Harry stayed gold. "Alright," he said dumbly, too stunned to think of anything else.
Harry really considered them as… friends, didn't he?
"I'm not really sure what's going on myself, but I think it's because the Patching Team's still making changes in Hogwarts," Harry started with a shrug, oblivious to Draco's internal conflict.
Draco frowned and raised an eyebrow. "What does the Patching Team have to do with you twisting an ankle?" Then he paused, eyes widening just a little bit as he remembered yesterday morning. "Is this related to your shoulder the other day?"
"Sort of," Harry admitted, flushing. If saying that you tripped to someone else was embarrassing, then saying that you kept on falling through not-traps on a daily basis was even more so, even if it wasn't his fault.
"What, someone from the Patching Team's been hexing you?" Draco asked calmly, already feeling irritation prickle underneath his skin at the thought. He was concerned about Harry's injuries, yes, but Harry's been saying that he fell, which Draco believed was true since it didn't make the light around him turn black.
Harry's eyes widened and he shook his head furiously. "No! I didn't mean that!"
Well, that was a ridiculous thought. Someone from the Patching Team hexing him.
Harry busied himself with poking the remains of his roast chicken. "I meant, some parts of Hogwarts are still a little wonky, and sometimes I activate stuff without meaning to," he muttered, trying to say it in a… less humiliating manner.
Draco was even more confused. "What the hell are you saying, Potter?"
"I've been falling through traps," Harry said exasperatedly, almost sulkily.
"Traps?" Draco asked, voice higher an octave than usual, and Harry realized his wrong choice of words. Still, the worried look that Draco sent him warmed him unexpectedly.
"No, no, not traps," he said quickly, assuredly. "Well, I thought they were traps but they're actually safety rooms that the Patching Team's been installing all over Hogwarts. You know, in case of emergencies? And it's got some bugs in it and I don't think they're done testing it out yet so I've been falling through them by accident, and, I thought that maybe Hogwarts was trying to eat me, and well -" Harry stopped himself abruptly, flushing even more when he realized that he had rambled. "Yeah, that's pretty much it," he muttered. "Don't laugh."
Draco's reply made him look up in surprise. "Why would I?" Draco asked with a snort and a roll of his eyes. "It seems to me that you're the one who should be monitored 24/7," he commented with amusement, trying not to look worried.
Okay, so he was a bloody Hufflepuff. Didn't mean he had to start acting like one.
Harry stared at him incredulously.
Draco shifted uncomfortably in his place. "What?"
"You actually believe me," Harry mumbled, blinking at him. Then, he paused and chuckled softly to himself. "Right, you can tell if I'm lying. I forgot."
Draco frowned. "What? Granger and Weasley didn't?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't blame them. When I first told them, I said that Hogwarts was trying to eat me. It was only from Remus that I found out about the safety rooms."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Potter. Even if I weren't currently a Potions experiment gone wrong, I wouldn't think you'd have made that story up."
"Oh," Harry said. Draco didn't know what he said to have made Potter smile that big, but he was glad he said it.
Actually, it was because he had pretty much just told Harry that he believed in him.
The door to the infirmary opened loudly, and in came Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape, who raised an eyebrow at the sight of the boys in the same bed.
Granted, they were both sitting up on opposite ends of the bed with food between them, but Harry flushed nonetheless.
"Oh, you're both awake!" Madame Pomfrey commented with a knowing smile that made Harry remember with dread that she had seen them lying in bed together. He inwardly groaned at how wrong that sounded. She turned to Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, how are you feeling?"
As they conversed, Snape rounded in on Harry, who was sitting on the foot of the bed.
"Mr. Potter," Snape started in a low voice, locking a piercing gaze on Harry. Harry wanted to tell him even though your godson and I are in the same bed, it's not what it looks like but thought it wiser to simply stay mum. "The potion you've asked for is in my drawers. I'd like to believe that you're not going to use them for anything else, especially for your… shenanigans."
Harry was confused at first, but comprehension dawned on him as he remembered his conversation with Snape yesterday about Blood-Replenishing Potions. He nodded.
"I sincerely hope you plan on getting them before the day is over," Snape drawled. "Before Professor Bridgewood takes them," he muttered, a sneer forming on his face.
Harry wondered why Snape disliked Bridgewood so much, but he figured it was along the same dislike that Professor McGonagall once had for Professor Trewlaney. He glanced at Draco, wondering if it was alright to just leave. Draco had just finished talking with Madame Pomfrey and looked at him back, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.
"Go, Potter," Snape barked again, almost in exasperation. "You'll see Mr. Malfoy again during dinner."
Harry turned red. Snape thought that the reason why he looked at Draco first was because he was reluctant to leave and be apart from Draco, his so-called… boyfriend.
Well, this was embarrassing.
And Malfoy, being the git that he was, was looking way too happy with this scenario.
…Actually, Harry didn't know why he was reluctant to leave. It was just that he and Malfoy were actually having a pleasant time together, that it sort of felt weird to suddenly get up and go.
"Err, right." Nevertheless, Harry jumped off the bed with a burning face and awkwardly nodded his goodbye to the three of them.
-
Before doing anything else, Harry headed straight towards Gryffindor Tower, mind-set on getting out of the school robes he'd been wearing for more than twenty-four hours already. Hermione and Ron weren't in the common room, so Harry simply waved hello to Seamus and Dean and tried not to think too much about Seamus' smug smirk that may have been because Harry didn't sleep in the dormitory again. He also waved hello to Ginny, who turned as red as her hair again at the sight of him but weakly waved back.
Then he retreated to the boys' bathroom for a much-needed shower.
-
"What's so important that you had to send Harry away, Severus?" Draco asked with amusement, when Madame Pomfrey finally left them soon after Potter's own departure.
Snape's grim demeanor didn't change. "I heard you had another of your… episodes."
Sensing his godfather's mood, Draco immediately sobered up. "I can't remember any of it," he admitted. "Harry says it was pretty bad."
"It is," Snape replied, almost immediately. He was worried, Draco could see that. "Madame Pomfrey and I have a theory."
Draco nodded slowly. He squashed down any sense of dread because he knew that it wouldn't do good to jump to conclusions. He may be a coward, but he was a practical one. "So you're telling me that there's more than a bad mixture of two potions?"
"It's only a theory," Snape murmured, almost as if it were to comfort also himself.
"Alright," Draco said coolly. His expression softened when he realized just how stiff his godfather was holding himself up. "I can take it," he said firmly.
Slowly, Snape nodded. "Dragon's Blood and Erumpent Exploding Fluid is a bad mixture, you know that much," he murmured. "Madame Pomfrey did some tests to you while you were sleeping," he paused at this, choosing his words carefully. "The Erumpent Exploding Fluid may be making the Dragon's Blood more reactive than it should be…" he trailed off.
He knew how clever Draco was.
It didn't take long before all color drained from Draco's face as comprehension dawned.
"Bloody hell," Draco squeaked out weakly. "It's burning my internal organs."
"No," Snape snapped sharply, back stiff and face carefully straight. Draco looked up at him in shock. "No," Snape repeated, more softly this time. "The belladonna in the Veritaserum's preventing that. It was good after all, that you consumed the whole bottle of Veritaserum."
Draco let out a short, humorless laugh at that, but nevertheless felt warm relief flowing in his veins. "But there's more, isn't there?"
"It's not as bad as you seem to be thinking, Draco," Snape said. "We're just not sure how much of it the belladonna is preventing."
Draco nodded slowly. "So what now?"
At this, Snape paused once again. "Madame Pomfrey and I were discussing on taking you to St. Mungo's -"
"No," Draco said sharply, glaring.
Snape didn't seem fazed. "That's what I said," he continued. He watched as Draco calmed visibly, his shoulders losing its tension. Snape's lips thinned. "You fought in the battlefield against Voldemort, Draco," he murmured.
"Doesn't change the fact that I'm still a Death Eater's son," Draco muttered bitterly.
Snape sneered at him. "And you'll allow that fact to change you?"
Draco closed his mouth, stunned.
Snape was satisfied. "I have told Madame Pomfrey that I am not allowing you to be sent to St. Mungo's," he said firmly. "However, we are still going to ask for their Healers' opinions on how to proceed. In the meantime, you'll have to take belladonna tinctures whenever you have your… episodes. Inform Potter of that."
Draco blinked in confusion. "Harry? What for?"
Snape's lip twitched. "Because he's your lover?"
Draco couldn't help it. He let out a short laugh. Suddenly, the atmosphere felt lighter and he didn't feel as dreadful as he did earlier. "Right."
"One more thing, Draco," Snape said almost exasperatedly, hand rising to rub at his temples.
When he spoke, it was with great difficulty.
"Must you call him 'Harry' in front of me?"
Draco's grin was wicked.
Chapter 8
Author: Cassis Luna
Rating: PG-13 for now
Warnings: ignores DH, EWE, AU, adult themes, profanity
Chapter Word Count: 6256
Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me, it belongs to J.K. Rowling. No money is being made out of this.
Note: I got the idea about the Restoration Potion from the Troyjeinen Potion found here, so that's not mine either.
Summary: Eight year. Draco drinks a potion that makes him know if a person is lying, and Harry, apparently at fault that Draco is this way, is forced to 'help' him throughout the effects of the potion. For the first time, they deal with each other with no lies to hide behind.
Alternate Summary: In which Draco's a Potions experiment gone bad, Hogwarts wants to eat Harry (oh, but does it really?), and everyone thinks they're shagging each other. (Yes, even the house-elves.)
CHAPTER 7
A Beginning of Sorts
Harry couldn't remember the last time he felt safe in sleep. Or warm. Harry had firmly decided to himself not to mull over the war anymore, but the nights were the hardest. It's been almost half a year now and he was getting better, really, but his slumber was more often than not restless. When the letter from Hogwarts came, he had grabbed at it almost desperately, yearning for a reprieve. Hogwarts had brought back memories, yes, but it was also the closest thing to a home that he had, other than the Burrow. (Grimmauld Place was his, but he wasn't quite ready to call it home yet. It only was when Sirius was there.)
Then all this falling-through-walls thing started, and sleep evaded him so much that even the nightmares were better.
Harry wasn't really awake. Oh, far from it.
But he was aware of the fingers gently threading through his hair, and he sighed in contentment, dreaming of blond hair and libraries.
-
The fingers soon went away, taking the dreams of blond hair and libraries with it. Replacing them were dreams of a different kind, of cupboards and rooms that made him feel claustrophobic. There was still that blond hair and pale, pale skin, only that it was accompanied by -
Harry jolted awake.
Blood.
He blinked his eyes open, only to close them again as they burned at the sudden light. That, and at the incomplete sleep. He didn't know how long he'd been sleeping; just that he knew that it wasn't long enough. He pressed fingers against his eyelids firmly, feeling a headache coming on.
"Bad morning, Potter?"
Without knowing why, Harry sighed in relief. Then, he remembered his dream and he cracked an eye open to look at Malfoy, who was sitting up on the bed with a tray of breakfast in front of him, looking pristine in his white pajamas against the morning light. Harry blinked at his bed hair. "Time?" he rasped out, pulling away slightly from the bed where he had been resting his arms and head to stretch his neck and shoulders.
"Eight," Draco replied, watching amusedly as Potter wriggled his fingers to get blood back in them. "The house-elves brought us breakfast, and I very graciously saved you some bacon, Potter, so you better be -" He stopped as Potter suddenly winced. He furrowed his eyebrows in concern. "What is it?"
Harry slumped his upper body back against the bed, hand gripping at the sheets that covered Malfoy's legs. After getting blood into his fingers, he had shifted his leg and was promptly reminded of his very broken ankle that he was almost scared to even look at right now. "Right ankle," he muttered mournfully against the mattress.
"What?" Draco was confused. "What about your ankle?" He picked up the tray of food and set it on the bedside table instead, before getting off the bed and going over to Potter's side.
Harry was still wearing his school robes (Draco had saved the question regarding that for later.) and his trousers and black shoes didn't give Draco much of a view of his ankle. Harry laughed humorlessly at himself. Oh, he was certainly awake now. "Do you know how to fix a broken ankle? Episkey it or something," he asked, sounding slightly strained.
Draco was even more confused. "How the hell did you get a broken ankle?" he asked suspiciously. He remembered their past Hogwarts years and how furious he would get at the fact that Harry Potter was involved in every little thing that happened school year after school year after school year. After a while, the furiousness gave way to curiosity, and maybe even envy. Now, it held a touch of concern.
Oh, Draco, how low you have fallen, he thought dryly.
"Fell," Harry mumbled.
The light around him stayed gold, so Draco knew that to be true. But he was a Slytherin, so he also knew that there was more to the story than just 'falling'. "Let me see, Potter," he muttered, kneeling on the floor to pull the other's trouser leg up.
Oh, if his father could see him now, kneeling at Harry Potter's side. Not that Draco cared much, really. His mind was busy producing the most enjoyable images that included 'kneeling' and 'Harry Potter', but he quickly returned to the task at hand when Potter hissed in pain once again.
"Sorry," Draco said, pulling the trouser up more carefully. "I'm going to have to take off your sock and shoe, Potter."
Harry let out a strangled sound of distress. Then, after a moment, he nodded in resignation.
Despite Potter's obvious pain, Draco couldn't help but enjoy this chance to touch him and to see him vulnerable. It wasn't from any kind of sadism, more like… from a desire to be close to him, both physically and emotionally.
Harry bit his lip to keep from making any more pitiful noises when Draco slowly slid his shoe off his foot. He was torn, because Draco's fingers hurt when they pressed too hard but the coldness of it felt nice against his skin. Next came the sock, and this time, Harry couldn't stop the hiss that slipped past his lips.
Draco stared in shock. "Shite, Potter," he murmured, fingers very carefully avoiding the discolored part of Potter's skin.
Harry swallowed. "That bad?"
"I'm pretty sure that skin's not supposed to be… purple and green at the same time," Draco drawled, but his voice was shaky.
Harry gave a short laugh. "Me too."
"Madame Pomfrey went out to talk with Professor Snape," Draco continued, frowning. "And I would rather not use you as a test subject for my healing prowess," he lied. He was good with healing spells. He'd made it a point to learn as much healing spells as he could when he had realized, stricken and fifteen years old, that he wasn't going to get out of participating in the fucking war. It had come in useful during his time as a spy, and most especially during the climax of the war itself.
At the Battle of Hogwarts, he had fixed Ron's smashed hand. That was probably the moment when they had - officially - come to a sort of truce.
He wondered if Potter knew about that.
Harry chuckled weakly. "You strike me as someone with good instinct. Try me."
Apparently not.
Draco looked up at that, eyes going wide in wonder as he stared at Potter's hunched form against the bed. "Seriously?"
Harry nodded, moving his head so that he could look at Malfoy. "I've never tried Episkey-ing broken bones."
"I haven't either," Draco replied quietly, persisting in his lie. When he looked down at his hand on his lap, he idly wondered why he didn't have that sort of freaky light. If he did, then it would be probably be as black as Snape's robes right now. Or Potter's hair. Potter's hair was nicer to think about. "We should wait for Madame Pomfrey…"
Harry frowned at his sudden change in demeanor. "Uhm, Malfoy? It kind of hurts."
Draco rolled his eyes at that. "I figured. But I think you'd be safer Episkey-ing your own bone, rather than have me do it."
"Malfoy," Harry said, sighing exasperatedly. "Are you doing this on purpose just to have me admit that you're the better wizard? You learn anything on the first try and you pretty much top everything."
Draco flushed at the praise, and he saved that to preen at later. "No, I don't," he said instead. "Granger does."
Harry shot him a pointed look. "Hermione's not normal. She doesn't count."
"Ah."
"But alright," Harry continued, trying to relax against the bed. If he didn't move his ankle, it didn't hurt so much, it just… throbbed, but at least then it was bearable. "I don't mind waiting for Madame Pomfrey," he murmured. His eyes were closing of their own accord, the pain having made him exhausted.
Silence answered him, and moments passed just like that. Harry was halfway asleep, when Draco finally replied. His voice was quiet and raw with strangled emotion.
"You seriously trust me to point my wand at you, Potter?"
Harry opened his eyes in surprise, looking at Malfoy still on the floor beside him. Draco was watching him with a serious expression, and Harry marveled at how vulnerable and insecure he really was.
How could Malfoy still be insecure about this, when he had turned his back on his family and everything he ever believed in to fight in a war that wasn't his to fight? When he had joined the other side instead, and made the sacrifice to take on the responsibility as a spy for the Order? When he joined Harry instead, fought alongside him and the people he'd grown up despising, and placed his whole being on the unsure bet that Harry was going to win?
Did he really trust Malfoy to point his wand at him?
"Yes."
And if there was anything at all about Malfoy that he knew to be true, it was the fact that he wasn't heartless. He was absolutely mean, yes, and probably the most annoying git that Hogwarts had ever encountered, but he was humane. At least, he had grown to be.
And deep down, Harry had always respected that about him.
-
Draco did not know what to do with this trust.
He stared, waiting for the light around Potter to turn black, but it remained positively golden. He would have scoffed and not believed Potter at all, if he wasn't currently under the effects of a Potions experiment gone wrong. He'd have inserted some crafty insult or two there too, just to make him seem superior.
But the thing was, he was currently under the effects of a Potions experiment gone wrong and Potter's almost brutal honesty - and his trust, dear God, how had Draco come to deserve it? - had him speechless and his heart thumping fast against his ribcage.
So he looked straight in Harry's eyes instead and tried to tell him how grateful he was with that gaze.
He took his wand from his bed and swished it effortlessly, while muttering 'Episkey'.
Harry let out a surprised grunt against the mattress as he felt something in his ankle shift abruptly, and he hissed in pain for the umpteenth time. Then, he let out a shaky laugh. "You're such a git, Malfoy."
Draco raised an eyebrow, standing up from his position on the floor and crossing his arms. "You're welcome, Potter," he said dryly, but he was amused at the image that Harry provided him, hunched over the side of the bed and laughing with mirth.
"Not good with healing spells, my ass," Harry muttered with another chuckle, rolling his eyes. He tried to move his ankle experimentally, and regretted it almost immediately. Okay, give it time. Right.
At that, Draco sobered. He looked at Harry, eyes searching. He suddenly felt very small again. "I just wanted to make sure…"
Harry chuckled once more, softly now. "Yeah," he murmured, eyes drooping closed again.
And Draco warmed at that, both at his simple reply and his actions because Potter was actually letting him see him vulnerable like that, eyes closed and almost incoherent with sleep.
…Or maybe it was because that Potter was incoherent with sleep, that he was letting Draco see him like that.
Nevertheless, Draco knew how to appreciate his blessings.
"Get to bed, Potter," he said exasperatedly. "I'm surprised your head hasn't fallen off your shoulders yet."
Harry blinked his eyes open blearily, before he nodded and leaned away from the bed, finally sitting up on the chair. Then he promptly stood up and plopped himself down on Draco's hospital bed.
Draco was amused. "That's my bed, Potter."
Harry made a noncommittal mumble, and Draco leaned in closer to listen, before he realized that Potter was already asleep.
He raised an eyebrow. Just how long did Potter sleep in that chair anyway? Beside his bed? He surreptitiously glanced around the infirmary to see if anyone else was there, out of the habit that he'd done most of his life whenever coming too close to the other boy.
With his heart close to bursting, he stared at Harry's sleeping, peaceful form on the bed with a look that was yearning and almost desperate. He pulled Harry's glasses off and laid them on the bedside table, only managing to stop himself from reaching out for a longer caress. Still, he couldn't have stopped himself from lying down on the bed beside Harry and pulling the covers over them both. Their arms touched, and Draco felt warm.
The breakfast tray was forgotten, and he quickly followed Harry to sleep.
-
The next time that Harry woke up, it was to a certain sense of calm and warmth, despite the October air. He sighed in contentment, and moved to roll over - only to freeze when his back hit something hard. He vaguely remembered Malfoy and his ankle and then 'bed', and Harry's face colored at the realization that he had just jumped into Malfoy's bed that morning. Still, he was too sated to feel anything besides light embarrassment, so he relaxed once more, shifting to give Malfoy space.
Their bed curtains were closed, he noticed. It was quiet, and everything looked… gray. Still, there was this feeling of tranquility that Harry savored. It was the first time in a long time that he really felt… safe.
He turned around carefully, lying on his back and hummed pleasantly. He could feel Malfoy's breath on his shoulder, and his warmth even through the school robes that Harry was still wearing.
Unable to resist, he turned his head and looked at Malfoy's sleeping face, awed at the peaceful expression that he found there. Malfoy was pretty when he wasn't sneering, Harry mused. On second thought, perhaps pretty wasn't an appropriate word for a boy. Handsome. Malfoy was handsome, with his sharp features and that blond hair against pale skin. His lips were chapped, which Harry found surprising because he had figured Malfoy to be the type of guy who busied himself with branded skin products.
Ponce, Harry chuckled to himself.
"Fancy me yet, Potter?" came Malfoy's sleepy albeit amused drawl.
Harry flushed at having been caught staring, and he quickly sat up, fixing his clothes self-consciously. "You wish, Malfoy," he muttered lamely, face burning as thoughts of him and Malfoy holding hands flittered across his mind. What made him flush darker though, was the fact that he was actually letting himself picture these thoughts!
Malfoy snorted, rolling on his back and stretching.
Harry pointedly looked away.
"I don't have to," Draco replied, a smug smirk on his face.
Harry rolled his eyes. Two can play at that game. "Can't resist me so much that you have to start flirting with me the moment you wake up?"
At his response Draco beamed at him. Then he chuckled. "You're the one who climbed in my bed, Potter."
That did it. Harry was as red as he could possibly go and his face felt like it was on fire. Draco felt a surge of triumph (and maybe adoration) pass through him. The thought that he could affect Potter like made him grin widely.
"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry muttered pitifully, looking away. The problem was, since the bed curtains were closed, there really was no 'away' to look at. "I was tired, okay?"
"Mm-hmm, so you've been saying," Draco said with a raised eyebrow. "For the past two days, actually," he mused thoughtfully.
Harry started at that. "Oh, no, I don't mean I'm tired because of you, Malfoy -"
Draco hadn't even thought of that but was placated nonetheless. Still, he would have liked Harry being tired because of him, if it were because of other more likeable reasons that he'd obligingly list down if Harry asked.
"- just that I haven't had much sleep lately and -"
It was then that Draco remembered one important detail. "Don't tell me you really did sleep all night beside my bed, Potter?" he asked, voice half-curious and half-incredulous. His eyebrow was raised in disbelief.
Harry flustered even more. "No, I -" then he quickly stopped himself, because Draco was looking even more incredulous than before and he almost slapped himself because right, Draco could tell if he was lying.
True enough, Draco marveled at how the light around the other boy had turned black.
Grudgingly, Harry muttered. "I might have."
He had half a mind to blame Madame Pomfrey for not waking him up, because really, you normally wake people up when they fall asleep in chairs unless - unless they refuse to, which Harry might have done considering how desperate he'd been for sleep.
"Speaking of which," he started, hastily changing the subject. He peered at Draco. "Are you okay?"
Draco was surprised at the sudden question. He blinked, before nodding slowly, eyes carefully not leaving Harry's face. Harry still hadn't put his glasses on, and his eyes really were more beautiful up close like that. "Madame Pomfrey gave me something for my throat and a Blood-Replenishing Potion, if that's what you're asking about." Then, he frowned. "What happened yesterday?"
Harry tilted his head in confusion. "Madame Pomfrey didn't tell you?"
An eyebrow rose. "No. When I woke up this morning, she just gave me the potions and the breakfast and went off to talk with Professor Snape," he muttered, feeling the beginning prickle of irritation at not knowing what they knew about him. He cast a quick Tempus.
"It's only 2 PM. If it's already this dark, then the weather must be awful," he commented, scrunching his nose up in disdain. He reached over to grab the edge of the bed curtains to yank it aside. The infirmary was empty. No sign of Madame Pomfrey anywhere.
A sudden thought appeared in Harry's mind and he blanched. "Malfoy," he choked out. Draco looked at him strangely. "Were you the one who closed the bed curtains?"
"No…? I don't think so -"
"Oh, Merlin, what did Madame Pomfrey think, seeing us in bed together when there are a million other beds available to occupy -"
Draco couldn't help it. A self-satisfied smirk was slowly working its way to his lips. "Sod it, Potter. It's not like the whole school doesn't know we're buggering each other."
Harry's face turned from white to red almost instantly. "D-d-don't say that!" he spluttered, aghast.
"There's no need to be shy about it, Harry," Draco scoffed, looking mock-hurt but the effect was ruined when his grin eventually won over his mock-indignant expression.
"Ponce," Harry muttered, eyes shifting around the infirmary in search of salvation from this humiliation. He then remembered to put on his glasses, so he quickly put them on, much to Draco's disappointment. "Look, are you - really - uhm," Harry started awkwardly, flushing. "You know."
Draco raised an eyebrow and didn't say anything even though he knew what Harry meant, just because the other boy being so embarrassed was amusing.
Harry swallowed and called forth his Gryffindor courage. "Do you really like… guys?" he said, trying to sound nonchalant but he figured he rather failed.
Draco beamed at him. "Only you, Harry."
Draco wasn't joking. Far from it. But he let Harry think what he wanted to think, and it didn't hurt that it still made him fluster.
Harry stared at Draco's beaming smile and swallowed the lump in his throat that came with the grudging, horrified acceptance of the fact that that expression was one that was going to follow him around for at least the rest of the day. Or week.
Just then, Harry's stomach grumbled, and with the almost deafening silence of the empty infirmary, Draco heard it clearly. Harry flushed and prepared himself for the onslaught of Draco's sharp tongue, so he was surprised when the other boy merely frowned at him.
"You haven't eaten anything yet, have you? Since dinner, I presume."
Harry shrugged, then slowly nodded.
"It can't be helped then," Draco sighed, sniffing haughtily as he waved his hand. "I myself am quite famished. Fancy calling on your little house-elf friends, Potter?" he said politely, but a grin was on his face.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Lazy git," he muttered, and then, "Dobby!"
Harry remembered the first time he called on Dobby after Draco had moved in to Grimmauld Place during the war. Both Dobby and Draco's eyes bulged spectacularly in a similar fashion, and he and Ron didn't stop laughing at least until Hermione threatened them with no dinner.
("Potter, what the hell is my house-elf doing with you?"
Harry at least had the decency to look sheepish. Ron had not. "Well, he's not your house-elf anymore, is he, Malfoy?"
Draco glared at him, before crossing his arms with a huff. "I was wondering where Dobby went."
Dobby let out a huge wail. "Dobby is sorry, Master Draco! Dobby will hit his self with a bludger later but Master Harry freed Dobby and Dobby is very glad but Dobby was not meaning to leave Master Draco alone in the Malfoy Manor! Dobby should be punished for leaving Master Draco alone with those Dark -"
"Stop hitting yourself with that blasted Muggle contraption, Dobby!" Draco intervened quickly, not liking the way Harry's head had snapped up to look at him curiously.
"It's a microwave, Malfoy," Hermione helpfully supplied.)
With a crack, Dobby appeared beside their table, all boggly eyes and big ears. When he saw them, his eyes grew impossibly wider, which Harry would have found funny had he not been reminded that he was in bed with another boy. With Draco Malfoy.
"Uhm," Harry started, swallowing nervously, already feeling the impending doom that was about to come in the form of a masochistic house-elf. "Dobby, can -"
He wasn't disappointed.
"Dobby is not understanding, sir," Dobby squeaked out, all watery eyes and lower lip quivering. He sounded like he was choking on a pea, but then again, that might have been his normal voice. "Why Master Harry is in bed with Master Draco."
"We've consummated our burning love for each other, Dobby," Draco quipped nonchalantly and a bit too cheerfully for Harry's liking.
Harry whipped his head to stare at him, aghast, before staring at Dobby, horrified. Dobby was misty-eyed.
"Oh, Dobby is joyful, sirs, that both his Masters are toge -"
"Dobby, just get us some food!" Harry all but shrieked, face burning with embarrassment as Dobby nodded enthusiastically, making his ears flop up and down, before disappearing with another loud pop. "Oh, my God, Malfoy. Now even the house-elves think we're shagging each other!"
Draco hummed in agreement. In truth, he wanted everyone thinking that he and Harry were shagging each other.
Even if it wasn't true.
(Later, he'll tell this genius plan of his to Pansy, who'll look at him sympathetically and burst his bubble by telling him once again just how pathetically sad he was.)
-
"So, Harry," Draco started conversationally, ten minutes after Dobby had returned with a heaping tray of breakfast. He reckoned the only reason why the tall pile of food was able to stand upright was because of elf magic. Well, elf culinary magic.
Harry paused his devouring of his roast chicken to look at Malfoy warily. One, because any conversation with Malfoy starting with 'So, Harry' meant bad stuff, usually embarrassing ones. Two, because it was 'So, Harry’, not 'So, Potter'.
"Care to tell me what happened to me last night?"
Harry looked at him incredulously. "You seriously can't remember what happened last night?"
Draco frowned in confusion. Harry almost made the mistake of thinking adorable when Draco opened his mouth. "What, we really did shag each other senseless and I can't remember a thing? Goddamnit," he said in utter seriousness.
Harry's face burned. "Yes, shame indeed," he shot back dryly.
Draco grinned at him, and it was contagious, the way his grin almost split his face, that Harry couldn't help but grin back. Sitting in the infirmary with a tray of food and his ex-rival-now-friend, he couldn't remember the last time he felt warm like this, just content, and he didn't want to have to get up and face the world again.
Unfortunately, he had to. "Obviously, something bloody happened yesterday, probably literally, since Madame Pomfrey was adamant on my downing of the Blood-Replenishing Potion," Draco mused.
Harry's grin was immediately wiped off his face as he remembered the scene last night, how Draco's body had shook and how his own robes had been covered in blood. Draco's blood.
Draco looked at him sharply, because all the color slowly drained from Harry's face. "Potter?"
Harry shook his head, clearing his mind's eye and swallowing the lump in his throat. Instead, he looked down at his robes and saw no sign of blood. Madame Pomfrey must have Scourgified them in his sleep. "You had another of your coughing fit," Harry supplied, waving Draco's worried look away. "It was pretty bad, I'm surprised you didn't wake up."
Draco simply nodded slowly, as he registered this information. "Well, that certainly explains the massive headache and the sore throat I had this morning," he muttered, but didn't dwell on it since remembering them made him remember waking up to Harry by his bedside, and that made him lighten up. "I'm assuming you were there when it happened?"
"Yeah," Harry replied, shrugging nonchalantly. It still made him ill to think of Draco like that, bloody and shaky and unconscious.
Draco raised an eyebrow, looking at him coolly. "Why?" he asked, genuinely curious.
Harry paused. "My ankle," he said carefully. He knew what the question next would be and he wasn't sure if he was ready to tell everything. Harry blinked. Well, there really was no reason to lie, was there? Other than the fact that Draco may as well laugh at him in disbelief and tell him that he's mental, or laugh at him for losing to a building. In Harry's defense, it was a magical building.
He was surprised when Draco stiffened and took on a haughty, nonchalant expression. It was his defense mechanism, as Harry had found out during the time spent together in Grimmauld Place. He wondered why Draco needed it now.
"Right," Draco started, reaching towards the bedside table to idly pour himself a glass of pumpkin juice. "I don't suppose I should ask about it."
Usually, Draco was pretty good at getting what he wanted. If he really wanted to, he could have asked Harry questions and watch out for the flicker of gold and black of the light surrounding him, but more than that, he wanted Harry's trust. Not just as an ally, like in the war. Like how Harry had trusted him earlier to point his wand at him and Episkey his ankle.
He wanted Harry's trust as a friend.
("You're a bloody Hufflepuff," his inner Pansy told him. Draco agreed morosely that yes, Harry bloody fucking Potter was making him one.)
Harry looked at Draco's back with an amused smile. "That's okay, you don't have to. I'll tell you." His smile widened when Draco spilled some pumpkin juice on the table in startlement.
Draco turned to him and peered at him suspiciously, then simply blinked in bemusement. The light around Harry stayed gold. "Alright," he said dumbly, too stunned to think of anything else.
Harry really considered them as… friends, didn't he?
"I'm not really sure what's going on myself, but I think it's because the Patching Team's still making changes in Hogwarts," Harry started with a shrug, oblivious to Draco's internal conflict.
Draco frowned and raised an eyebrow. "What does the Patching Team have to do with you twisting an ankle?" Then he paused, eyes widening just a little bit as he remembered yesterday morning. "Is this related to your shoulder the other day?"
"Sort of," Harry admitted, flushing. If saying that you tripped to someone else was embarrassing, then saying that you kept on falling through not-traps on a daily basis was even more so, even if it wasn't his fault.
"What, someone from the Patching Team's been hexing you?" Draco asked calmly, already feeling irritation prickle underneath his skin at the thought. He was concerned about Harry's injuries, yes, but Harry's been saying that he fell, which Draco believed was true since it didn't make the light around him turn black.
Harry's eyes widened and he shook his head furiously. "No! I didn't mean that!"
Well, that was a ridiculous thought. Someone from the Patching Team hexing him.
Harry busied himself with poking the remains of his roast chicken. "I meant, some parts of Hogwarts are still a little wonky, and sometimes I activate stuff without meaning to," he muttered, trying to say it in a… less humiliating manner.
Draco was even more confused. "What the hell are you saying, Potter?"
"I've been falling through traps," Harry said exasperatedly, almost sulkily.
"Traps?" Draco asked, voice higher an octave than usual, and Harry realized his wrong choice of words. Still, the worried look that Draco sent him warmed him unexpectedly.
"No, no, not traps," he said quickly, assuredly. "Well, I thought they were traps but they're actually safety rooms that the Patching Team's been installing all over Hogwarts. You know, in case of emergencies? And it's got some bugs in it and I don't think they're done testing it out yet so I've been falling through them by accident, and, I thought that maybe Hogwarts was trying to eat me, and well -" Harry stopped himself abruptly, flushing even more when he realized that he had rambled. "Yeah, that's pretty much it," he muttered. "Don't laugh."
Draco's reply made him look up in surprise. "Why would I?" Draco asked with a snort and a roll of his eyes. "It seems to me that you're the one who should be monitored 24/7," he commented with amusement, trying not to look worried.
Okay, so he was a bloody Hufflepuff. Didn't mean he had to start acting like one.
Harry stared at him incredulously.
Draco shifted uncomfortably in his place. "What?"
"You actually believe me," Harry mumbled, blinking at him. Then, he paused and chuckled softly to himself. "Right, you can tell if I'm lying. I forgot."
Draco frowned. "What? Granger and Weasley didn't?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't blame them. When I first told them, I said that Hogwarts was trying to eat me. It was only from Remus that I found out about the safety rooms."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Potter. Even if I weren't currently a Potions experiment gone wrong, I wouldn't think you'd have made that story up."
"Oh," Harry said. Draco didn't know what he said to have made Potter smile that big, but he was glad he said it.
Actually, it was because he had pretty much just told Harry that he believed in him.
The door to the infirmary opened loudly, and in came Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape, who raised an eyebrow at the sight of the boys in the same bed.
Granted, they were both sitting up on opposite ends of the bed with food between them, but Harry flushed nonetheless.
"Oh, you're both awake!" Madame Pomfrey commented with a knowing smile that made Harry remember with dread that she had seen them lying in bed together. He inwardly groaned at how wrong that sounded. She turned to Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, how are you feeling?"
As they conversed, Snape rounded in on Harry, who was sitting on the foot of the bed.
"Mr. Potter," Snape started in a low voice, locking a piercing gaze on Harry. Harry wanted to tell him even though your godson and I are in the same bed, it's not what it looks like but thought it wiser to simply stay mum. "The potion you've asked for is in my drawers. I'd like to believe that you're not going to use them for anything else, especially for your… shenanigans."
Harry was confused at first, but comprehension dawned on him as he remembered his conversation with Snape yesterday about Blood-Replenishing Potions. He nodded.
"I sincerely hope you plan on getting them before the day is over," Snape drawled. "Before Professor Bridgewood takes them," he muttered, a sneer forming on his face.
Harry wondered why Snape disliked Bridgewood so much, but he figured it was along the same dislike that Professor McGonagall once had for Professor Trewlaney. He glanced at Draco, wondering if it was alright to just leave. Draco had just finished talking with Madame Pomfrey and looked at him back, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.
"Go, Potter," Snape barked again, almost in exasperation. "You'll see Mr. Malfoy again during dinner."
Harry turned red. Snape thought that the reason why he looked at Draco first was because he was reluctant to leave and be apart from Draco, his so-called… boyfriend.
Well, this was embarrassing.
And Malfoy, being the git that he was, was looking way too happy with this scenario.
…Actually, Harry didn't know why he was reluctant to leave. It was just that he and Malfoy were actually having a pleasant time together, that it sort of felt weird to suddenly get up and go.
"Err, right." Nevertheless, Harry jumped off the bed with a burning face and awkwardly nodded his goodbye to the three of them.
-
Before doing anything else, Harry headed straight towards Gryffindor Tower, mind-set on getting out of the school robes he'd been wearing for more than twenty-four hours already. Hermione and Ron weren't in the common room, so Harry simply waved hello to Seamus and Dean and tried not to think too much about Seamus' smug smirk that may have been because Harry didn't sleep in the dormitory again. He also waved hello to Ginny, who turned as red as her hair again at the sight of him but weakly waved back.
Then he retreated to the boys' bathroom for a much-needed shower.
-
"What's so important that you had to send Harry away, Severus?" Draco asked with amusement, when Madame Pomfrey finally left them soon after Potter's own departure.
Snape's grim demeanor didn't change. "I heard you had another of your… episodes."
Sensing his godfather's mood, Draco immediately sobered up. "I can't remember any of it," he admitted. "Harry says it was pretty bad."
"It is," Snape replied, almost immediately. He was worried, Draco could see that. "Madame Pomfrey and I have a theory."
Draco nodded slowly. He squashed down any sense of dread because he knew that it wouldn't do good to jump to conclusions. He may be a coward, but he was a practical one. "So you're telling me that there's more than a bad mixture of two potions?"
"It's only a theory," Snape murmured, almost as if it were to comfort also himself.
"Alright," Draco said coolly. His expression softened when he realized just how stiff his godfather was holding himself up. "I can take it," he said firmly.
Slowly, Snape nodded. "Dragon's Blood and Erumpent Exploding Fluid is a bad mixture, you know that much," he murmured. "Madame Pomfrey did some tests to you while you were sleeping," he paused at this, choosing his words carefully. "The Erumpent Exploding Fluid may be making the Dragon's Blood more reactive than it should be…" he trailed off.
He knew how clever Draco was.
It didn't take long before all color drained from Draco's face as comprehension dawned.
"Bloody hell," Draco squeaked out weakly. "It's burning my internal organs."
"No," Snape snapped sharply, back stiff and face carefully straight. Draco looked up at him in shock. "No," Snape repeated, more softly this time. "The belladonna in the Veritaserum's preventing that. It was good after all, that you consumed the whole bottle of Veritaserum."
Draco let out a short, humorless laugh at that, but nevertheless felt warm relief flowing in his veins. "But there's more, isn't there?"
"It's not as bad as you seem to be thinking, Draco," Snape said. "We're just not sure how much of it the belladonna is preventing."
Draco nodded slowly. "So what now?"
At this, Snape paused once again. "Madame Pomfrey and I were discussing on taking you to St. Mungo's -"
"No," Draco said sharply, glaring.
Snape didn't seem fazed. "That's what I said," he continued. He watched as Draco calmed visibly, his shoulders losing its tension. Snape's lips thinned. "You fought in the battlefield against Voldemort, Draco," he murmured.
"Doesn't change the fact that I'm still a Death Eater's son," Draco muttered bitterly.
Snape sneered at him. "And you'll allow that fact to change you?"
Draco closed his mouth, stunned.
Snape was satisfied. "I have told Madame Pomfrey that I am not allowing you to be sent to St. Mungo's," he said firmly. "However, we are still going to ask for their Healers' opinions on how to proceed. In the meantime, you'll have to take belladonna tinctures whenever you have your… episodes. Inform Potter of that."
Draco blinked in confusion. "Harry? What for?"
Snape's lip twitched. "Because he's your lover?"
Draco couldn't help it. He let out a short laugh. Suddenly, the atmosphere felt lighter and he didn't feel as dreadful as he did earlier. "Right."
"One more thing, Draco," Snape said almost exasperatedly, hand rising to rub at his temples.
When he spoke, it was with great difficulty.
"Must you call him 'Harry' in front of me?"
Draco's grin was wicked.
Chapter 8