Being Fine
Title: Being Fine
Rating: PG13
Length: 6134, oneshot
Genre: Romance/General
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: During the war, Draco remembers the past. As to not confuse you, this features flashbacks.
Note: My birthday fic to myslef (shush, I know that's sad). Written for magic_carrousel's challenge with prompt number 1 'Harry watched nervously as Draco drew nearer and nearer.' Also for _hpchallenge 'Voldemort' and hpfanfic10x10 'Past.'
It looked like Voldemort was losing. Draco, standing by his father’s side, looked displeased.
Draco happens to be a great actor.
Sometimes Draco disliked potions. It was one of those times. Snape was busy keeping and eye and ear on Harry, who had been moved to the very front after ticking Snape off. It wasn’t that which made Draco unhappy. No. It was the fact that now Snape wasn’t paying attention to the rest of the class and Dean and Seamus were talking. Draco, sitting in the table across the aisle from them, could hear every word.
“What do you mean? She’s awesome,” Dean protested enthusiastically. His friend simply shook his head, a wry grin on his face. “Ginny is. She’s very fiery. You’re just saying that because she doesn’t have a dick and possesses breasts.”
Draco grumbled and tossed some lacewing flies into the bubbling potion. It was a light shade of green; the correct color.
“Speaking of dicks,” Seamus said, glancing around the room before turning back to Dean. “Harry.”
“No, I’m Dean.”
Seamus chuckled and Draco tried not to appear interested. Maybe he could get some blackmail on Harry. That would be great. He hadn’t had anything good in the past few months.
Seamus hit Dean on the shoulder and lowered his voice, but it was still loud enough for Draco to clearly hear, “We snogged last night.”
Harry is gay, was all that registered in Draco’s mind. The only other gay people in Hogwarts that he knew of was Seamus and that one Hufflepuff girl, and everyone knew of those two. But Harry. The boy-who-lived. Draco looked up at the boy. He didn’t look gay. Then again, was there even a certain look for gay?
Dean snorted. “You’re dating Harry?”
“No,” Seamus answered sulkily. “He was just curious.” He winked at Dean. Draco pretended to drop some ingredients on the floor so he could move closer. “But he sure seemed to enjoy it, if you know what I mean.”
“But you want to date him?” Dean asked, placing a comforting hand on Seamus’ arm.
Seamus shrugged it off and said jovially, while watching Harry, “He doesn’t want anyone to know about him.”
Draco’s eyes followed Seamus’ until he too was staring at Harry. It was obvious from his sharp movements and soft shaking of his head, that he was angry. But Draco was mostly looking at his pink lips. Whenever he turned slightly, they would show. Draco wondered how they felt, if he was any good at kissing.
But then he heard Seamus and Dean laughing about Millicent’s third nipple. She didn’t have one. Maybe Harry wasn’t gay and Seamus had made it all up for attention.
The conversation he overheard in potions bothered him for the rest of the day. Every time he caught a glimpse of Harry, he would become hyper-aware of him. Gregory and Vincent, for Merlin’s sake, had even noticed he was looking at Harry differently. For some unknown reason it seemed very important to know if it was true, which was why Draco found himself standing behind Harry during dinner, drawling, “I heard something very interesting earlier today.”
Ron and Hermione glared at him while Harry twisted in his seat to see him. “That’s lovely, Malfoy,” he said in an I-don’t-give-a-shit voice. Draco smirked.
“Yes, very interesting. I overheard it during potions.” He gave Seamus and Dean a deliberate look. To his immense satisfaction, they looked alarmed. Seamus even went as far as to wave his hands at him to be silent.
“As shocking as this no doubtfully is, I don’t care. So go run off to your Slytherin cronies and tell them.” Harry huffed and turned back to his food. He took a bite of his beef.
Draco leaned down and whispered into his ear, “I heard the Gryffindor Golden Boy’s a pouf.” Harry choked on his beef and Draco straightened, highly pleased with himself.
“Where’d you hear that from?” Harry gasped between hacking, facing Draco once again. Harry’s face was red. Draco wondered if it was from choking or what he had said.
“If you’re going to practice on someone, a blabbing Gryffindor is a very bad choice.” He moved forward, staring at Harry’s ears. He wondered if they tasted any different than girls’ ears. “You should choose someone better suited for secrets. Slytherins are good for that.”
Harry snorted. He looked amused. “Except for the fact that they’ll blackmail you with it.” He grinned cheekily. “Why, are you offering?”
There was a whoop of laughter a little ways down the table and Draco didn’t have to look to know it was Seamus. No one else knew what they were talking about, save for Dean. By the confused looks on Hermione and Ron’s faces, they didn’t know either.
Draco flushed, willing the forthcoming images away. That was strange. He’d never envisioned things like that. But then he realized what he was thinking about and snapped, “No. I, unlike you, don’t go around snogging blokes.”
There was a slight gasp (Draco supposed he had spoken rather loud) but he didn’t look to see who it issued from as he was already stalking back to his table. What the bloody hell was wrong with his mind? There were no way images of Harry and him should be racing through it. Sure, he thought about the Gryffindor occasionally, but never that way. It was all Harry’s fault, and Seamus'.
Making sure his face was showing pride instead of the confusion he felt, he sat between Gregory and Vincent.
“So, Potter’s gay?” Pansy asked, leaning forward. Draco nodded, letting a faint smile show. “And how would you know?” she joked, wiggling her eyebrows pitifully.
Draco frowned and rolled his eyes, silently cursing her for making the images swarm back into his head.
“Lord, should we help?” Lucius called, watching Voldemort and Harry throw curse after curse, pausing only to put up defenses. They both were weakening slowly, but Harry’d had the element of surprise. Voldemort was accosted while eating dinner during his daily thinking walk.
“No. I will finish him off myself.” And he shot the killing curse, slouching forward from the amount of strength used. Harry dodged it just in time.
“Harry, Harry!” Hermione shouted, running up the hill with Ron trailing behind her. Ron threw a few curses at Voldemort to distract him long enough for the two of them to reach Harry’s side and adopt a dueling stance.
Lucius grabbed Draco’s arm, making a movement to join his master since he was now outnumbered, but Voldemort stopped him, laughing about how he killed hundreds of people, three teenagers were nothing.
Swallowing his doubt, Lucius let go of Draco, who inwardly sighed and rubbed his arm in relief.
Draco marched down the hallway, Pansy in tow. He couldn’t believe she had done that. It was his bloody letter. Not hers. She couldn’t just go around reading other people’s personal stuff. He thrust open a random door and pulled her in. Gregory and Vincent tried to follow but he shut the door in their faces, telling them to get lost.
Once their thundering footsteps disappeared, Draco turned to a sheepish-looking Pansy. “Darling, I’m sorry,” she apologized. “But really, you’re not going to do it, are you? Aren’t you too young? What’s he want with you at this age? Fuck, Draco, you’re only in seventh year.”
“I know!” He grabbed his wand and cast a silencing spell at the door. There was a shadow over part of the bottom crack. Draco couldn’t believe Gregory and Vincent had returned. Usually they listened to him. “Look, my father says I’m getting it this Christmas vacation.”
Pansy frowned. “Don’t get it! I mean, sure if you want to be when you’re older, go ahead. Be my guest. But Draco, you’ll die. You’re only seventeen.”
“You want to know the truth?” Draco asked shortly. He didn’t want to reveal this to anyone, but Pansy would never let it go if he didn’t tell her. She would think he was just mental. “I don’t want to be a Death Eater. They all are bloody insane.”
“But when we were younger you said you wanted to,” she objected, confused.
Draco rolled his eyes and sat on a desk. They were in the empty charms classroom. “Yes. But that was then. I didn’t know anything about them back them. But last summer I learned a whole lot more. Pansy, did you know the Dark Lord’s a half-blood?”
She let out a bark of laughter. “You don’t want to be a Death Eater because he’s a half-blood? That’s perfectly insane.” She leaned against the wall and scrutinized him.
“No, that’s not the only reason. Okay, so it’s a big one, but I don’t want a tattoo on me. Did you see them? Sure you must have. They’re ugly.” Draco looked down at his arm, pulling his sleeve back and trailing a finger over his milky-white forearm. “I don’t want something to mare my skin.”
That only made Pansy laugh harder. “Oh Gods, Draco. They are the stupidest reasons ever.”
“Excuse me,” Draco said, highly affronted. “Look, I don’t want to kill anyone either. That a good enough reason for you?”
“Aww,” she coed, walking over from the wall. Her face twisted into something like compassion. “Is my Draco too good? Or are you afraid to kill people?
“I hate you,” Draco announced, pushing Pansy away and walking to the door.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she called. “It’s a much better reason, I guess. But you didn’t explain what you’re going to do.”
Draco huffed and faced her, his hand on the doorknob. “My father says I’m getting it this Christmas. That’s only three weeks away. I don’t get a choice. And I’m not stupid enough to say I don’t want to be one.”
He opened the door and someone fell in. Draco was getting ready to yell at Gregory or Vincent for not listening to him, but then he realized it was Harry. Draco smirked. “I silenced the room, Potter.” He kicked at the extendible ears. “These aren’t going to help.”
Harry looked up from the floor, trying to sneer at him, but his glasses were crooked and it didn’t work. Draco tried ignoring the thought that Harry kneeling on the floor before him and looking up was quite appealing.
He stormed off, Pansy running after.
“Draco,” she whispered harshly. “Those were the new extendible ears. They go through silencing charms.”
“Crucio!” Voldemort rasped, pointing his wand at the pesky red-head.
“Ron!” Hermione shrieked as Harry deflected it just in time. Voldemort, taking advantage of Harry’s concern over his friend, shot a crucio at him.
Harry screamed as he withered and twitched on the damp grass, Hermione’s yells of horror with it. Draco dug his fingernails into the palm of his hands, biting his lip so hard he drew blood.
“Draco?” Lucius questioned, noticing fear in his son’s eyes and the twitchy demeanor that suddenly overcame him.
Gaining control, Draco stared at the scene before him, inwardly thanking Ron for cursing Voldemort; thereby, ending the spell. Knowing eye contact was the crucial in Legilimency, Draco refused to look his father in the eye when he said, “Nothing. I bit my lip.”
Apparently, Harry was still angry about being outed to the whole school even though that had happened a week ago. It was very apparent to Draco because he now found himself at wand point. Harry’s wand point.
“I have no idea what you’re blabbering on about,” Draco drawled, knowing very well what he meant. But it was just too funny to see the Gryffindor’s face screw up in anger, for his breath to come in short gasps, and his fingers to twitch. In fact, it made Draco’s toes curl.
Behind them Hermione was chastising and Ron cheering Harry on. Gregory and Vincent were there too, asking every ten seconds if they should help. It was all rather annoying. But before he could contemplate the extreme irritation that was the people Harry and he surrounded their selves with, a body landed on him, and his head hit the floor painfully.
“What the fuck?” Draco managed but then a hand contacted his mouth and it bloody hurt. Deciding Harry deserved punishment for that, he brought his knee up, missing Harry’s crotch but hitting his hip.
Hermione’s yells for them to stop became louder as they tussled on the floor. Ron, Gregory, and Vincent were cheering them on. Right as Draco was about to command Gregory and Vincent to take over for him (because honestly, he was going to have so many nasty bruises marring his skin), a stern voice spoke and Harry was thrown off him.
Draco panted and gingerly touched his lip. Blood was on the pad of his finger when he pulled it away. Gently, he sucked on his lip, trying not to wince at the metallic taste.
“You two,” McGonagall, who had been the one to spell them apart, said tersely. “Follow.” And she set off down the hallway.
Draco waved his friends away, telling them they could fight Hermione and Ron if they felt like it. He set off after McGonagall, not waiting for Harry to finish being scolded by Hermione. He hoped Harry got in more trouble. He had started it after all.
McGonagall was silent the whole way to her classroom. Once she shut the door behind her she whirled on them and said, “I’ve never seen such a disgusting display in the hallways. Anyone could have walked by. And Mr. Malfoy, you’re head boy. Mr. Potter, I thought better of you.”
Draco tried not to laugh at the guilty expression on Harry’s face.
“As punishment the two of you will be cleaning my classroom.” She swept her hands out, indicating said classroom. It was a mess. The floor was littered with feathers. Somehow, they had even managed to stick all over the walls. “Sixth year transfiguring turned disaster. But you shall clean it. By hand. Now, I have to be at a meeting for an hour, but you will start nevertheless. And I want no fighting or it will be more detentions.”
She murmured to herself as she moved out of the room, letting the door fall shut behind her back. Draco glared at it, cursing his luck. Harry just had to pick a fight when classes were over and he was tired. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep. Quidditch practice had been treacherous.
“This is your entire fault,” Draco growled, kicking at some feathers and licking his cut. It seemed to have stopped bleeding.
“My fault!” Harry yelled, his hands clenching and breathe coming in angry gasps again. Draco flushed as he tried to stop thinking about his gasps. They sounded so…sexual. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t -- hadn’t…” Unable to find words he waved his hands wildly in the air.
Draco smirked. “If I hadn’t made you come out to the whole school?”
“Exactly,” he huffed.
The desk was cutting into Draco’s side as he leaned against it, laughing. Harry turned around and started scooping up the feathers, placing them in the wastepaper bin. After a while, Draco started helping, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. But there were feathers everywhere.
“What the bloody hell were they transfiguring that made feathers fly everywhere?” Draco asked crossly, slouching onto the floor. Normally he wouldn’t be seen falling onto a feather-crusted floor (or any floor for that matter) but he was so tired. And Harry didn’t do anything but sulk in his own corner, so he wasn’t even helping to keep him awake.
Irritably, Draco sat up and stalked over to Harry. He wasn’t even paying attention to him! But as he got nearer he noticed Harry had his wand out and was banishing small amounts of feathers at a time. No wonder his half of the room was looking better than Draco’s. “What do you think you’re doing?” Draco roared, snatching the wand out of his grip. “She probably has magic-detecting spells on the room. If I get another detention because of you,” he threatened.
But Harry seemed unnerved by it all. Instead, he was staring at Draco’s lips. “What?” Draco asked sharply, touching his lips hesitantly, careful to not split it open.
Harry pointed and said, “You have a feather on your lip.” He made to reach out then dropped his hands, stepping backwards.
Disgusted, Draco tried pulling it off. Who knew what kinds of diseases it was teeming with. But he couldn’t find it. Deciding that Harry had made it all off, he glared angrily. But then Harry was moving.
Draco watched nervously as Harry drew nearer and nearer, his eyes never leaving Draco’s lips. He wasn’t going to kiss him, was he? Because that would be wrong. And it was wrong that Draco wanted him to.
But Harry only blew on his face, breath cool against Draco’s lips. He almost moaned. Then his eyes caught movement out and sure enough a small fluffy bit of a feather floated lazily to the floor. When it landed Draco looked at Harry, finding him mere inches away.
All either of them did was stare. Harry parted his lips and licked them. Draco's desire for Harry to kiss him finally overwhelmed his view of it being mad. He whispered condescendingly, “Just kiss me already.”
So Harry did. It wasn’t that good of a kiss, but it was Draco’s first kiss with a boy. It was rather sloppy and halfway through Draco’s lip split open again. Just when it started to get better, Harry venturing his hand under Draco’s shirt, he felt the terrible taste of blood and pulled away with a grimace.
Harry flushed and went back to cleaning, every now and then running his tongue over his lips. Draco waited for his lip to stop bleeding before returning to his side of the room. They didn’t speak for the rest of the detention. The detention following that one, they did much more than talking.
Draco crossed his fingers behind his back. A muggle habit for hope that he’d seen Harry do many times. Lucius looked curiously at him, probably wondering what he was hoping if he even knew what it meant, but Draco didn’t care at the moment.
Harry was going to win.
He was so close. Voldemort was weakened far more than the other three and though Lucius tried to interfere and help, Voldemort would have none of it.
“Mens mentis viator!” Voldemort roared with the last of his energy, slouching to the ground. But before anyone could react, the spell hit Harry square in the head, sending his body twirling through the air like a rag doll. He landed on the ground with a dull thud that resounded deep in Draco’s chest.
Everyone stared at the two bodies, not believing what had just happened. Not understanding.
Draco allowed himself to be pulled into the room of requirement even though he knew he wasn’t going to like it. He didn’t want to talk about what Harry wanted to.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Harry said, hurt in his eyes. He finally let go of Draco’s wrist. Draco sat on the couch. Harry followed him but stayed standing before him. Once Harry realized Draco wasn’t going to answer he continued. “I mean, I don’t get it. We were together for two weeks. Bloody fuck, you started it! And now, all of a sudden, you won’t talk to me. You won’t meet up with me. You won’t even look at me.”
So Draco did. He looked up. “We never were together.”
Harry’s eyes flashed with anger. Draco smiled. Anger from Harry was nothing new. He could deal with that. It was the other emotions he couldn’t deal with.
“Draco! We’ve fucked how many times in the past two weeks. Doesn’t that constitute as something? Doesn’t that mean you should explain yourself if you’re going to suddenly up and ignore me?”
Draco was getting angry too, now. He stood up, his face close to Harry’s and said, “You shouldn’t care because we’re not a couple. We’re not and we never will be!”
Just like that the anger in Harry disappeared. Draco wanted to curse him. Make him angry again. He wanted Harry to be mad because he didn’t want to talk about why exactly he started ignoring Harry.
“What if I want us to be a couple?” Harry said, taking that one step closer that made their noses touch. Harry’s breath was going into Draco’s parted mouth. If the past two weeks taught him anything, is was that Draco could not deny Harry when he was so close. It made his mind work slowly.
He whispered, “No.” But he pulled Harry’s face to him, their teeth clashing together. Before Draco knew it, Harry was lying on the couch and he was straddling him, his hands running under Harry’s shirt. “Can’t,” was all he got out before his mouth decided it liked to suck on Harry’s neck rather than talk.
“But why not?” Harry whined between moans.
Draco pulled back and looked through lust-filled eyes at the boy beneath him. Squeezing his eye shut tight, Draco shook his head, trying to make intelligent sentences out of the jumble that was his brain.
“Because,” he said finally, Harry’s hands having fallen off him long ago, realizing a serious conversation when it was sitting on him. “You’re the boy-who-lived. I’m going to be a Death Eater by the end of the week. Don’t you see a potential problem there?”
Harry groaned and pushed his face into the couch. “The end of the week?” he mumbled, the couch muffling out whatever tone he had said it in. “But you don’t want to be. Can’t I help?” He pulled away from the fabric and gazed beseechingly at him.
Draco huffed, irritated. “You bloody eavesdropped on my conversation with Pansy. I can’t, okay? Just leave it at that.” He made to get up but Harry grabbed his arms, holding him there.
“Fine. But why can’t we date? No one has to know, if you want. We can get through it.” Harry smiled but Draco glowered down at him.
“Maybe I just don’t want to.” But Harry’s fingers were gliding along Draco’s stomach, fondling the waistband of his trousers, then dipping below, and he knew he wanted it. Gods, he wanted Harry.
Apparently Draco had let his emotions show through because Harry started to get cocky. “I think you do,” he whispered, letting his fingers slide to Draco’s arse and curling under.
Draco leaned down on Harry so he could get a better grip on his arse. He buried his face against Harry’s neck, breathing in the musky scent, and protested weakly, “But it’s unsafe.”
“I promise everything will be fine,” Harry whispered, seeking Draco’s lips with his own. They met and Draco reasoned that maybe it would be fine.
Suddenly Draco’s shock slipped away to be filled not with sadness or regret, but with anger. Anger directed that the black-haired body lain on the ground as if taking an evening nap. Only as Draco ran closer, pushing through his father’s tight grip, he noticed that there’s no way it could be a nap because Harry was laying on his arm and his glasses were broken and he was not breathing.
How could he lay there when he’d promised? Promised, seemingly so easily, as if nothing could break the promise. As if nothing could go wrong and holding Draco in his arms would make everything go smoothly. But it didn’t. He lied.
He dropped beside Harry, reaching out and touching his cheek. Deep in his mind he registered the loud footsteps that was Lucius escaping. He also heard Hermione and Ron walk over. But he was more concerned with Harry.
“Is he…?” Hermione asked, her voice shaky. Draco pressed his fingers against Harry’s neck fleetingly. He didn’t want to push down, didn’t want to know for sure that he stopped breathing, that he was dead. That’s when he noticed a bruise appearing on Harry’s collarbone. It was deep purple and growing darker by the second. He backed up.
“Shit!” Ron exclaimed, and Draco wanted to punch him for not saying something else. For not saving Harry. He watched the two of them cling to each other, sobbing in hair, and he blamed himself. Harry’s friends had at least helped him. What had Draco done? Nothing. He crossed his bloody fingers and that was it!
A nimble hand reached out and closed on Draco’s wrist. Hermione was pulling him to them. He gave them a questioning look, glancing at Harry once to notice a cut on his hand he didn’t remember before. Was the spell Voldemort cast at him going to make his body destroyed beyond recognition?
“Harry told us about you. About the two of you,” she explained through gasps for breath. And they both looked so pitiful with tears rolling down their eyes, standing so close. If was only when Hermione brushed his face that he realized he was crying too. He let them pull him into the hug. And it felt so nice.
Draco raced into the hotel room Harry had arranged for them to meet in. He was half an hour late and he hoped beyond all hope that Harry was still there. He hadn’t seen him in four weeks.
“You came,” Harry said, badly disguised relief seeping from every pore. The two of them stood across from each other, neither making a move. Draco wanted to run forward but he didn’t want to be the first one, the one to admit he needed the other.
“Of course I came. You asked me to,” Draco said stiffly.
Harry hesitated. Draco started to think that the meeting wasn’t so much for them to touch than to talk. But Draco didn’t want to talk. He hadn’t touched another body sexually for four weeks, and in those four weeks he spent it with the Dark Lord and other Death Eaters. He bloody well needed a good shag.
“Draco…” He took a step closer then stopped, hand paused in mid-rise. “You’re still with me right? You haven’t changed sides?”
Draco sighed heavily. So that was what bothered Harry. “No you twit. Why the fuck would I do that? Nothing has changed.”
“Damn, I’ve worried nonstop about you,” Harry sighed, breaking the barrier between them. Before Draco knew it, Harry was climbing on his lap and how he’d even managed to end up in a sitting position he didn’t remember. But Harry’s lips captured his and it didn’t really matter.
Draco slipped a hand under Harry’s shirt and trailed his nails lightly up and down, the way Harry liked it. He groaned into Harry’s lips, “You shouldn’t worry so much. I’m perfectly fine. I can take after myself.”
“I know.” After that, speech was rendered incapable. Clothes were ripped off by eager hands and lips burned a trail everywhere. Their bodies were moving sinuously, and Draco was coming much sooner than he could ever imagine, Harry following soon after.
Breathing heavily, Draco propped himself up by his arm and looked at Harry, a few inches of the bed being all that separated them. “Merlin, I missed you,” he breathed, spreading Harry’s hand out and curling his fingers absently, marveling at the stark difference between their skin tones.
Harry turned his head and grinned at him though heavy-lidded eyes. “I missed you too. I wish you would come back with us.” He avoided Draco’s gaze sheepishly.
Letting go of Harry’s hand and burying his face into the cheep hotel pillow that smelled slightly moldy, Draco groaned. They had talked about that before. Both had decided it was best if Draco stayed with the Death Eaters. “Harry, I’m there for any inside information you need. I can’t very well do that if I’m lazing in your bed all day.”
The room was silent and Draco lifted his head to repeat, thinking Harry hadn’t heard him through the pillow, but Harry said in a strained voice, “But I’d feel a whole heck of a lot better.”
“Not everything’s about you,” Draco said sharply, sitting up and pulling his pants on, trying to find his trousers in the poor lighting. “You might play a big part in the war but it’s not just about you, Harry. You need help, and yes, people are going to be put in danger. People are going to fucking die. Get used to it. You can’t save everyone.”
Harry’s eyes depicted a mixture of anger and hurt. Draco pulled Harry’s head to his chest and stroked his messy mop of hair. He ran his hand through the raven-black hair, once again amazed by the difference. It was like white digging through black. “It’s the truth, Harry, whether you want to believe it or -- Ouch! Fuck Harry!”
Harry pulled back and gave him a sad smile. Draco rubbed his sore nipple angrily. Harry bloody bit him! Harry tried moving closer but Draco stood rapidly and started looking in the dark corners of the room, where the light didn’t reach, for his trousers. He located his shirt and pulled it on, ignoring Harry’s impatient huffs.
“We’re going to attack soon. All the horcruxes are gone. Only Voldemort is left.”
Draco stilled mid-bend. He straightened and riveted on the spot to look at Harry. “Who’s going with you?” he asked.
The raven-haired boy shrugged. “I don’t want anyone to.” But he must have caught Draco’s warning look because he hurried, “But I’m pretty sure Ron and Hermione are coming. We do everything together.”
“Not everything,” Draco replied wryly, indicating the two of them.
Harry gave a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t want anyone to know.” He didn’t look Draco in the face.
“Damn straight, I don’t. More people who know the better chance one of the Death Eaters will find out. Then I’m screwed.” He moved into the light, dropping to the floor in front of the bed. Harry looked down from it and swung his legs over the edge, one on each side of Draco’s arms. “You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
Harry locked his ankles behind Draco’s neck and said, “What kind of question is that? But, you know, if you come with me we won’t have to worry about that.”
The bed creaked as Draco climbed on top of it and over Harry. Draco grinned down at him. “I won’t talk of it any longer. I want to have sex once more before I go back. Merlin only knows how long it will be until we met again. I’ll keep you posted of any information, as usual.”
Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s neck and pulled him down. Draco settled on top of him and sucked on his neck. He hovered over Harry’s lips, feeling every breath of frustration as he tried connecting their lips but Draco wouldn’t allow it.
“I love you,” Harry whispered foreign words to Draco. He froze, Harry taking that moment to kiss him tenderly. Everything came crashing down on him. Harry couldn’t say that. He couldn’t say that for the first time in a crappy muggle hotel that reeked of sex and mold. He couldn’t say that when in a few hours they would be parting to stand on different sides of the war. He wasn’t allowed to say it, because now Draco didn’t want to leave him.
As if in a dream, Draco pulled away and tugged Harry up, shoving him at the door. “I’ll see you…sometime. I’ll owl you later. Inform me of when you’re going to attack.” He pushed Harry out, tossing his clothes out after him and shut the door on his protests.
Draco leaned against the door, squeezing his eyes shut tight against Harry’s voice demanding to know what was wrong. After a while, the noises died down and Draco heard defeated footsteps going away. He hit his head repeatedly on the door. But there was no way he could have stayed with Harry any longer after hearing him say that without giving in and going back with him.
After what seemed like a very long time Draco pulled away from the two friends and looked down at Harry’s body, surprised by the cuts, scraps, and bruises appearing.
“What the?” Ron asked, stepping out of Hermione’s arms and moving closer. He rubbed at his face and bumped into Draco’s shoulder. “How…”
“What did that spell do?” Draco croaked, watching blood seep out of a cut on Harry’s forehead that had appeared mere seconds ago. “Do you think it mars his body?”
Hermione rushed forward and hovered her ear over Harry’s mouth, her hand grabbing his wrist. She gasped and pulled back. “He’s breathing, but it’s shallow. We have to get him to Saint Mungo’s, now!”
Draco stepped forward. “This place has Anti-Apparition charms on it.”
“Shit!” Ron exclaimed for the second time, dropping beside Hermione on the ground. Draco looked into the distance, letting the light wind riffle through his hair. He wasn’t going to let his hopes get up. He couldn’t. But then Hermione started performing healing charms on Harry, dissolving his marks, and Draco could only watch, antsy excitement spreading through him
After Hermione had removed Harry’s shirt and healed the cuts there she moved down to his legs. While the two of them were trying to pull his trousers down without hurting him, Draco thought he saw Harry’s eyelashes flutter. It couldn’t be, could it?
“Wait,” Draco whispered.
“No, we have to heal him,” Hermione protested but her eyes followed Draco's finger until she too saw Harry’s eyelashes fluttering. Disoriented, Harry blinked, eyes darting everywhere. “Oh, Harry!” Hermione squealed, barely keeping herself from leaping on him. Draco threw his head back in relief.
“What ‘appened?” Harry asked, sitting up then wincing and gingerly lying back on the dewy grass.
“I don’t know. Voldemort hit you with a spell and you flung through the air. We thought you were dead,” was all Hermione got out before she dissolved into sobs and tossed her arms around Harry’s neck. Ron stumbled forward and reached his arms around the two of them.
Between his friends’ head, Harry caught Draco’s gaze. Harry gave him a tired smile. Draco dropped his gaze, feeling anger bubble up inside him. Harry had just ‘died’ and he fuckin smiled at Draco as if nothing had happened.
“I was fighting Voldemort. I thought I was like portkeyed. It was dark though and I couldn’t see anything but Voldemort and myself,” Harry mumbled into Hermione and Ron’s hair.
“You weren’t portkeyed, mate,” Ron said, pulling away and sitting on his legs.
Hermione wiped her eyes, kissed Harry on the cheek, and crossed her legs. “Well, you weren’t transferred there, obviously, because you were lying right here.” She stood and started pacing, everyone’s eyes following her movement. “I’ve read something before about old, dark magic that took people out of reality and, kind of, in their mind.” She stopped and faced Harry. “It’s possible that you fought Voldemort in your head or on some other plane. We’ll talk to someone when we get you to Saint Mungo’s.”
“How are you feeling?” Ron asked, standing up and fiddling with his wand, looking nervous.
“Erm, fine. Sore.” Harry looked at Draco, who felt the anger even more so when Harry was looking at him. “Draco…”
Harry started to sit up but Draco knocked him to the ground, kissing him hungrily while hitting him weakly. All the while Draco mumbled things like, “I hate you,” “You bastard,” “Don’t you ever do something like that again,” “I can’t believe you didn’t get more help,” “Idiot.”
Beneath him, Harry grumbled and pulled his arm out from between their bodies, wincing slightly. “I’m sore,” he managed before Draco pushed his tongue into Harry’s mouth again and dug his hands into Harry’s hair.
“I bloody love you, you idiot,” Draco said, slipping over to the side so his body weight wasn’t fully on Harry and lacing kisses on his neck.
Ron mumbled something and Hermione hit him on the head, but Draco couldn’t hear what he said as Harry was now returning the attention with equal passion.
“I love you too,” Harry murmured. “But my legs are killing me. Mind moving off them?”
Draco shifted and started licking Harry’s ear, drawing forth mewls. Voldemort was dead. Harry was alive. Maybe Harry was right; everything would be fine.
Rating: PG13
Length: 6134, oneshot
Genre: Romance/General
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: During the war, Draco remembers the past. As to not confuse you, this features flashbacks.
Note: My birthday fic to myslef (shush, I know that's sad). Written for magic_carrousel's challenge with prompt number 1 'Harry watched nervously as Draco drew nearer and nearer.' Also for _hpchallenge 'Voldemort' and hpfanfic10x10 'Past.'
It looked like Voldemort was losing. Draco, standing by his father’s side, looked displeased.
Draco happens to be a great actor.
Sometimes Draco disliked potions. It was one of those times. Snape was busy keeping and eye and ear on Harry, who had been moved to the very front after ticking Snape off. It wasn’t that which made Draco unhappy. No. It was the fact that now Snape wasn’t paying attention to the rest of the class and Dean and Seamus were talking. Draco, sitting in the table across the aisle from them, could hear every word.
“What do you mean? She’s awesome,” Dean protested enthusiastically. His friend simply shook his head, a wry grin on his face. “Ginny is. She’s very fiery. You’re just saying that because she doesn’t have a dick and possesses breasts.”
Draco grumbled and tossed some lacewing flies into the bubbling potion. It was a light shade of green; the correct color.
“Speaking of dicks,” Seamus said, glancing around the room before turning back to Dean. “Harry.”
“No, I’m Dean.”
Seamus chuckled and Draco tried not to appear interested. Maybe he could get some blackmail on Harry. That would be great. He hadn’t had anything good in the past few months.
Seamus hit Dean on the shoulder and lowered his voice, but it was still loud enough for Draco to clearly hear, “We snogged last night.”
Harry is gay, was all that registered in Draco’s mind. The only other gay people in Hogwarts that he knew of was Seamus and that one Hufflepuff girl, and everyone knew of those two. But Harry. The boy-who-lived. Draco looked up at the boy. He didn’t look gay. Then again, was there even a certain look for gay?
Dean snorted. “You’re dating Harry?”
“No,” Seamus answered sulkily. “He was just curious.” He winked at Dean. Draco pretended to drop some ingredients on the floor so he could move closer. “But he sure seemed to enjoy it, if you know what I mean.”
“But you want to date him?” Dean asked, placing a comforting hand on Seamus’ arm.
Seamus shrugged it off and said jovially, while watching Harry, “He doesn’t want anyone to know about him.”
Draco’s eyes followed Seamus’ until he too was staring at Harry. It was obvious from his sharp movements and soft shaking of his head, that he was angry. But Draco was mostly looking at his pink lips. Whenever he turned slightly, they would show. Draco wondered how they felt, if he was any good at kissing.
But then he heard Seamus and Dean laughing about Millicent’s third nipple. She didn’t have one. Maybe Harry wasn’t gay and Seamus had made it all up for attention.
The conversation he overheard in potions bothered him for the rest of the day. Every time he caught a glimpse of Harry, he would become hyper-aware of him. Gregory and Vincent, for Merlin’s sake, had even noticed he was looking at Harry differently. For some unknown reason it seemed very important to know if it was true, which was why Draco found himself standing behind Harry during dinner, drawling, “I heard something very interesting earlier today.”
Ron and Hermione glared at him while Harry twisted in his seat to see him. “That’s lovely, Malfoy,” he said in an I-don’t-give-a-shit voice. Draco smirked.
“Yes, very interesting. I overheard it during potions.” He gave Seamus and Dean a deliberate look. To his immense satisfaction, they looked alarmed. Seamus even went as far as to wave his hands at him to be silent.
“As shocking as this no doubtfully is, I don’t care. So go run off to your Slytherin cronies and tell them.” Harry huffed and turned back to his food. He took a bite of his beef.
Draco leaned down and whispered into his ear, “I heard the Gryffindor Golden Boy’s a pouf.” Harry choked on his beef and Draco straightened, highly pleased with himself.
“Where’d you hear that from?” Harry gasped between hacking, facing Draco once again. Harry’s face was red. Draco wondered if it was from choking or what he had said.
“If you’re going to practice on someone, a blabbing Gryffindor is a very bad choice.” He moved forward, staring at Harry’s ears. He wondered if they tasted any different than girls’ ears. “You should choose someone better suited for secrets. Slytherins are good for that.”
Harry snorted. He looked amused. “Except for the fact that they’ll blackmail you with it.” He grinned cheekily. “Why, are you offering?”
There was a whoop of laughter a little ways down the table and Draco didn’t have to look to know it was Seamus. No one else knew what they were talking about, save for Dean. By the confused looks on Hermione and Ron’s faces, they didn’t know either.
Draco flushed, willing the forthcoming images away. That was strange. He’d never envisioned things like that. But then he realized what he was thinking about and snapped, “No. I, unlike you, don’t go around snogging blokes.”
There was a slight gasp (Draco supposed he had spoken rather loud) but he didn’t look to see who it issued from as he was already stalking back to his table. What the bloody hell was wrong with his mind? There were no way images of Harry and him should be racing through it. Sure, he thought about the Gryffindor occasionally, but never that way. It was all Harry’s fault, and Seamus'.
Making sure his face was showing pride instead of the confusion he felt, he sat between Gregory and Vincent.
“So, Potter’s gay?” Pansy asked, leaning forward. Draco nodded, letting a faint smile show. “And how would you know?” she joked, wiggling her eyebrows pitifully.
Draco frowned and rolled his eyes, silently cursing her for making the images swarm back into his head.
“Lord, should we help?” Lucius called, watching Voldemort and Harry throw curse after curse, pausing only to put up defenses. They both were weakening slowly, but Harry’d had the element of surprise. Voldemort was accosted while eating dinner during his daily thinking walk.
“No. I will finish him off myself.” And he shot the killing curse, slouching forward from the amount of strength used. Harry dodged it just in time.
“Harry, Harry!” Hermione shouted, running up the hill with Ron trailing behind her. Ron threw a few curses at Voldemort to distract him long enough for the two of them to reach Harry’s side and adopt a dueling stance.
Lucius grabbed Draco’s arm, making a movement to join his master since he was now outnumbered, but Voldemort stopped him, laughing about how he killed hundreds of people, three teenagers were nothing.
Swallowing his doubt, Lucius let go of Draco, who inwardly sighed and rubbed his arm in relief.
Draco marched down the hallway, Pansy in tow. He couldn’t believe she had done that. It was his bloody letter. Not hers. She couldn’t just go around reading other people’s personal stuff. He thrust open a random door and pulled her in. Gregory and Vincent tried to follow but he shut the door in their faces, telling them to get lost.
Once their thundering footsteps disappeared, Draco turned to a sheepish-looking Pansy. “Darling, I’m sorry,” she apologized. “But really, you’re not going to do it, are you? Aren’t you too young? What’s he want with you at this age? Fuck, Draco, you’re only in seventh year.”
“I know!” He grabbed his wand and cast a silencing spell at the door. There was a shadow over part of the bottom crack. Draco couldn’t believe Gregory and Vincent had returned. Usually they listened to him. “Look, my father says I’m getting it this Christmas vacation.”
Pansy frowned. “Don’t get it! I mean, sure if you want to be when you’re older, go ahead. Be my guest. But Draco, you’ll die. You’re only seventeen.”
“You want to know the truth?” Draco asked shortly. He didn’t want to reveal this to anyone, but Pansy would never let it go if he didn’t tell her. She would think he was just mental. “I don’t want to be a Death Eater. They all are bloody insane.”
“But when we were younger you said you wanted to,” she objected, confused.
Draco rolled his eyes and sat on a desk. They were in the empty charms classroom. “Yes. But that was then. I didn’t know anything about them back them. But last summer I learned a whole lot more. Pansy, did you know the Dark Lord’s a half-blood?”
She let out a bark of laughter. “You don’t want to be a Death Eater because he’s a half-blood? That’s perfectly insane.” She leaned against the wall and scrutinized him.
“No, that’s not the only reason. Okay, so it’s a big one, but I don’t want a tattoo on me. Did you see them? Sure you must have. They’re ugly.” Draco looked down at his arm, pulling his sleeve back and trailing a finger over his milky-white forearm. “I don’t want something to mare my skin.”
That only made Pansy laugh harder. “Oh Gods, Draco. They are the stupidest reasons ever.”
“Excuse me,” Draco said, highly affronted. “Look, I don’t want to kill anyone either. That a good enough reason for you?”
“Aww,” she coed, walking over from the wall. Her face twisted into something like compassion. “Is my Draco too good? Or are you afraid to kill people?
“I hate you,” Draco announced, pushing Pansy away and walking to the door.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she called. “It’s a much better reason, I guess. But you didn’t explain what you’re going to do.”
Draco huffed and faced her, his hand on the doorknob. “My father says I’m getting it this Christmas. That’s only three weeks away. I don’t get a choice. And I’m not stupid enough to say I don’t want to be one.”
He opened the door and someone fell in. Draco was getting ready to yell at Gregory or Vincent for not listening to him, but then he realized it was Harry. Draco smirked. “I silenced the room, Potter.” He kicked at the extendible ears. “These aren’t going to help.”
Harry looked up from the floor, trying to sneer at him, but his glasses were crooked and it didn’t work. Draco tried ignoring the thought that Harry kneeling on the floor before him and looking up was quite appealing.
He stormed off, Pansy running after.
“Draco,” she whispered harshly. “Those were the new extendible ears. They go through silencing charms.”
“Crucio!” Voldemort rasped, pointing his wand at the pesky red-head.
“Ron!” Hermione shrieked as Harry deflected it just in time. Voldemort, taking advantage of Harry’s concern over his friend, shot a crucio at him.
Harry screamed as he withered and twitched on the damp grass, Hermione’s yells of horror with it. Draco dug his fingernails into the palm of his hands, biting his lip so hard he drew blood.
“Draco?” Lucius questioned, noticing fear in his son’s eyes and the twitchy demeanor that suddenly overcame him.
Gaining control, Draco stared at the scene before him, inwardly thanking Ron for cursing Voldemort; thereby, ending the spell. Knowing eye contact was the crucial in Legilimency, Draco refused to look his father in the eye when he said, “Nothing. I bit my lip.”
Apparently, Harry was still angry about being outed to the whole school even though that had happened a week ago. It was very apparent to Draco because he now found himself at wand point. Harry’s wand point.
“I have no idea what you’re blabbering on about,” Draco drawled, knowing very well what he meant. But it was just too funny to see the Gryffindor’s face screw up in anger, for his breath to come in short gasps, and his fingers to twitch. In fact, it made Draco’s toes curl.
Behind them Hermione was chastising and Ron cheering Harry on. Gregory and Vincent were there too, asking every ten seconds if they should help. It was all rather annoying. But before he could contemplate the extreme irritation that was the people Harry and he surrounded their selves with, a body landed on him, and his head hit the floor painfully.
“What the fuck?” Draco managed but then a hand contacted his mouth and it bloody hurt. Deciding Harry deserved punishment for that, he brought his knee up, missing Harry’s crotch but hitting his hip.
Hermione’s yells for them to stop became louder as they tussled on the floor. Ron, Gregory, and Vincent were cheering them on. Right as Draco was about to command Gregory and Vincent to take over for him (because honestly, he was going to have so many nasty bruises marring his skin), a stern voice spoke and Harry was thrown off him.
Draco panted and gingerly touched his lip. Blood was on the pad of his finger when he pulled it away. Gently, he sucked on his lip, trying not to wince at the metallic taste.
“You two,” McGonagall, who had been the one to spell them apart, said tersely. “Follow.” And she set off down the hallway.
Draco waved his friends away, telling them they could fight Hermione and Ron if they felt like it. He set off after McGonagall, not waiting for Harry to finish being scolded by Hermione. He hoped Harry got in more trouble. He had started it after all.
McGonagall was silent the whole way to her classroom. Once she shut the door behind her she whirled on them and said, “I’ve never seen such a disgusting display in the hallways. Anyone could have walked by. And Mr. Malfoy, you’re head boy. Mr. Potter, I thought better of you.”
Draco tried not to laugh at the guilty expression on Harry’s face.
“As punishment the two of you will be cleaning my classroom.” She swept her hands out, indicating said classroom. It was a mess. The floor was littered with feathers. Somehow, they had even managed to stick all over the walls. “Sixth year transfiguring turned disaster. But you shall clean it. By hand. Now, I have to be at a meeting for an hour, but you will start nevertheless. And I want no fighting or it will be more detentions.”
She murmured to herself as she moved out of the room, letting the door fall shut behind her back. Draco glared at it, cursing his luck. Harry just had to pick a fight when classes were over and he was tired. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep. Quidditch practice had been treacherous.
“This is your entire fault,” Draco growled, kicking at some feathers and licking his cut. It seemed to have stopped bleeding.
“My fault!” Harry yelled, his hands clenching and breathe coming in angry gasps again. Draco flushed as he tried to stop thinking about his gasps. They sounded so…sexual. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t -- hadn’t…” Unable to find words he waved his hands wildly in the air.
Draco smirked. “If I hadn’t made you come out to the whole school?”
“Exactly,” he huffed.
The desk was cutting into Draco’s side as he leaned against it, laughing. Harry turned around and started scooping up the feathers, placing them in the wastepaper bin. After a while, Draco started helping, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. But there were feathers everywhere.
“What the bloody hell were they transfiguring that made feathers fly everywhere?” Draco asked crossly, slouching onto the floor. Normally he wouldn’t be seen falling onto a feather-crusted floor (or any floor for that matter) but he was so tired. And Harry didn’t do anything but sulk in his own corner, so he wasn’t even helping to keep him awake.
Irritably, Draco sat up and stalked over to Harry. He wasn’t even paying attention to him! But as he got nearer he noticed Harry had his wand out and was banishing small amounts of feathers at a time. No wonder his half of the room was looking better than Draco’s. “What do you think you’re doing?” Draco roared, snatching the wand out of his grip. “She probably has magic-detecting spells on the room. If I get another detention because of you,” he threatened.
But Harry seemed unnerved by it all. Instead, he was staring at Draco’s lips. “What?” Draco asked sharply, touching his lips hesitantly, careful to not split it open.
Harry pointed and said, “You have a feather on your lip.” He made to reach out then dropped his hands, stepping backwards.
Disgusted, Draco tried pulling it off. Who knew what kinds of diseases it was teeming with. But he couldn’t find it. Deciding that Harry had made it all off, he glared angrily. But then Harry was moving.
Draco watched nervously as Harry drew nearer and nearer, his eyes never leaving Draco’s lips. He wasn’t going to kiss him, was he? Because that would be wrong. And it was wrong that Draco wanted him to.
But Harry only blew on his face, breath cool against Draco’s lips. He almost moaned. Then his eyes caught movement out and sure enough a small fluffy bit of a feather floated lazily to the floor. When it landed Draco looked at Harry, finding him mere inches away.
All either of them did was stare. Harry parted his lips and licked them. Draco's desire for Harry to kiss him finally overwhelmed his view of it being mad. He whispered condescendingly, “Just kiss me already.”
So Harry did. It wasn’t that good of a kiss, but it was Draco’s first kiss with a boy. It was rather sloppy and halfway through Draco’s lip split open again. Just when it started to get better, Harry venturing his hand under Draco’s shirt, he felt the terrible taste of blood and pulled away with a grimace.
Harry flushed and went back to cleaning, every now and then running his tongue over his lips. Draco waited for his lip to stop bleeding before returning to his side of the room. They didn’t speak for the rest of the detention. The detention following that one, they did much more than talking.
Draco crossed his fingers behind his back. A muggle habit for hope that he’d seen Harry do many times. Lucius looked curiously at him, probably wondering what he was hoping if he even knew what it meant, but Draco didn’t care at the moment.
Harry was going to win.
He was so close. Voldemort was weakened far more than the other three and though Lucius tried to interfere and help, Voldemort would have none of it.
“Mens mentis viator!” Voldemort roared with the last of his energy, slouching to the ground. But before anyone could react, the spell hit Harry square in the head, sending his body twirling through the air like a rag doll. He landed on the ground with a dull thud that resounded deep in Draco’s chest.
Everyone stared at the two bodies, not believing what had just happened. Not understanding.
Draco allowed himself to be pulled into the room of requirement even though he knew he wasn’t going to like it. He didn’t want to talk about what Harry wanted to.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Harry said, hurt in his eyes. He finally let go of Draco’s wrist. Draco sat on the couch. Harry followed him but stayed standing before him. Once Harry realized Draco wasn’t going to answer he continued. “I mean, I don’t get it. We were together for two weeks. Bloody fuck, you started it! And now, all of a sudden, you won’t talk to me. You won’t meet up with me. You won’t even look at me.”
So Draco did. He looked up. “We never were together.”
Harry’s eyes flashed with anger. Draco smiled. Anger from Harry was nothing new. He could deal with that. It was the other emotions he couldn’t deal with.
“Draco! We’ve fucked how many times in the past two weeks. Doesn’t that constitute as something? Doesn’t that mean you should explain yourself if you’re going to suddenly up and ignore me?”
Draco was getting angry too, now. He stood up, his face close to Harry’s and said, “You shouldn’t care because we’re not a couple. We’re not and we never will be!”
Just like that the anger in Harry disappeared. Draco wanted to curse him. Make him angry again. He wanted Harry to be mad because he didn’t want to talk about why exactly he started ignoring Harry.
“What if I want us to be a couple?” Harry said, taking that one step closer that made their noses touch. Harry’s breath was going into Draco’s parted mouth. If the past two weeks taught him anything, is was that Draco could not deny Harry when he was so close. It made his mind work slowly.
He whispered, “No.” But he pulled Harry’s face to him, their teeth clashing together. Before Draco knew it, Harry was lying on the couch and he was straddling him, his hands running under Harry’s shirt. “Can’t,” was all he got out before his mouth decided it liked to suck on Harry’s neck rather than talk.
“But why not?” Harry whined between moans.
Draco pulled back and looked through lust-filled eyes at the boy beneath him. Squeezing his eye shut tight, Draco shook his head, trying to make intelligent sentences out of the jumble that was his brain.
“Because,” he said finally, Harry’s hands having fallen off him long ago, realizing a serious conversation when it was sitting on him. “You’re the boy-who-lived. I’m going to be a Death Eater by the end of the week. Don’t you see a potential problem there?”
Harry groaned and pushed his face into the couch. “The end of the week?” he mumbled, the couch muffling out whatever tone he had said it in. “But you don’t want to be. Can’t I help?” He pulled away from the fabric and gazed beseechingly at him.
Draco huffed, irritated. “You bloody eavesdropped on my conversation with Pansy. I can’t, okay? Just leave it at that.” He made to get up but Harry grabbed his arms, holding him there.
“Fine. But why can’t we date? No one has to know, if you want. We can get through it.” Harry smiled but Draco glowered down at him.
“Maybe I just don’t want to.” But Harry’s fingers were gliding along Draco’s stomach, fondling the waistband of his trousers, then dipping below, and he knew he wanted it. Gods, he wanted Harry.
Apparently Draco had let his emotions show through because Harry started to get cocky. “I think you do,” he whispered, letting his fingers slide to Draco’s arse and curling under.
Draco leaned down on Harry so he could get a better grip on his arse. He buried his face against Harry’s neck, breathing in the musky scent, and protested weakly, “But it’s unsafe.”
“I promise everything will be fine,” Harry whispered, seeking Draco’s lips with his own. They met and Draco reasoned that maybe it would be fine.
Suddenly Draco’s shock slipped away to be filled not with sadness or regret, but with anger. Anger directed that the black-haired body lain on the ground as if taking an evening nap. Only as Draco ran closer, pushing through his father’s tight grip, he noticed that there’s no way it could be a nap because Harry was laying on his arm and his glasses were broken and he was not breathing.
How could he lay there when he’d promised? Promised, seemingly so easily, as if nothing could break the promise. As if nothing could go wrong and holding Draco in his arms would make everything go smoothly. But it didn’t. He lied.
He dropped beside Harry, reaching out and touching his cheek. Deep in his mind he registered the loud footsteps that was Lucius escaping. He also heard Hermione and Ron walk over. But he was more concerned with Harry.
“Is he…?” Hermione asked, her voice shaky. Draco pressed his fingers against Harry’s neck fleetingly. He didn’t want to push down, didn’t want to know for sure that he stopped breathing, that he was dead. That’s when he noticed a bruise appearing on Harry’s collarbone. It was deep purple and growing darker by the second. He backed up.
“Shit!” Ron exclaimed, and Draco wanted to punch him for not saying something else. For not saving Harry. He watched the two of them cling to each other, sobbing in hair, and he blamed himself. Harry’s friends had at least helped him. What had Draco done? Nothing. He crossed his bloody fingers and that was it!
A nimble hand reached out and closed on Draco’s wrist. Hermione was pulling him to them. He gave them a questioning look, glancing at Harry once to notice a cut on his hand he didn’t remember before. Was the spell Voldemort cast at him going to make his body destroyed beyond recognition?
“Harry told us about you. About the two of you,” she explained through gasps for breath. And they both looked so pitiful with tears rolling down their eyes, standing so close. If was only when Hermione brushed his face that he realized he was crying too. He let them pull him into the hug. And it felt so nice.
Draco raced into the hotel room Harry had arranged for them to meet in. He was half an hour late and he hoped beyond all hope that Harry was still there. He hadn’t seen him in four weeks.
“You came,” Harry said, badly disguised relief seeping from every pore. The two of them stood across from each other, neither making a move. Draco wanted to run forward but he didn’t want to be the first one, the one to admit he needed the other.
“Of course I came. You asked me to,” Draco said stiffly.
Harry hesitated. Draco started to think that the meeting wasn’t so much for them to touch than to talk. But Draco didn’t want to talk. He hadn’t touched another body sexually for four weeks, and in those four weeks he spent it with the Dark Lord and other Death Eaters. He bloody well needed a good shag.
“Draco…” He took a step closer then stopped, hand paused in mid-rise. “You’re still with me right? You haven’t changed sides?”
Draco sighed heavily. So that was what bothered Harry. “No you twit. Why the fuck would I do that? Nothing has changed.”
“Damn, I’ve worried nonstop about you,” Harry sighed, breaking the barrier between them. Before Draco knew it, Harry was climbing on his lap and how he’d even managed to end up in a sitting position he didn’t remember. But Harry’s lips captured his and it didn’t really matter.
Draco slipped a hand under Harry’s shirt and trailed his nails lightly up and down, the way Harry liked it. He groaned into Harry’s lips, “You shouldn’t worry so much. I’m perfectly fine. I can take after myself.”
“I know.” After that, speech was rendered incapable. Clothes were ripped off by eager hands and lips burned a trail everywhere. Their bodies were moving sinuously, and Draco was coming much sooner than he could ever imagine, Harry following soon after.
Breathing heavily, Draco propped himself up by his arm and looked at Harry, a few inches of the bed being all that separated them. “Merlin, I missed you,” he breathed, spreading Harry’s hand out and curling his fingers absently, marveling at the stark difference between their skin tones.
Harry turned his head and grinned at him though heavy-lidded eyes. “I missed you too. I wish you would come back with us.” He avoided Draco’s gaze sheepishly.
Letting go of Harry’s hand and burying his face into the cheep hotel pillow that smelled slightly moldy, Draco groaned. They had talked about that before. Both had decided it was best if Draco stayed with the Death Eaters. “Harry, I’m there for any inside information you need. I can’t very well do that if I’m lazing in your bed all day.”
The room was silent and Draco lifted his head to repeat, thinking Harry hadn’t heard him through the pillow, but Harry said in a strained voice, “But I’d feel a whole heck of a lot better.”
“Not everything’s about you,” Draco said sharply, sitting up and pulling his pants on, trying to find his trousers in the poor lighting. “You might play a big part in the war but it’s not just about you, Harry. You need help, and yes, people are going to be put in danger. People are going to fucking die. Get used to it. You can’t save everyone.”
Harry’s eyes depicted a mixture of anger and hurt. Draco pulled Harry’s head to his chest and stroked his messy mop of hair. He ran his hand through the raven-black hair, once again amazed by the difference. It was like white digging through black. “It’s the truth, Harry, whether you want to believe it or -- Ouch! Fuck Harry!”
Harry pulled back and gave him a sad smile. Draco rubbed his sore nipple angrily. Harry bloody bit him! Harry tried moving closer but Draco stood rapidly and started looking in the dark corners of the room, where the light didn’t reach, for his trousers. He located his shirt and pulled it on, ignoring Harry’s impatient huffs.
“We’re going to attack soon. All the horcruxes are gone. Only Voldemort is left.”
Draco stilled mid-bend. He straightened and riveted on the spot to look at Harry. “Who’s going with you?” he asked.
The raven-haired boy shrugged. “I don’t want anyone to.” But he must have caught Draco’s warning look because he hurried, “But I’m pretty sure Ron and Hermione are coming. We do everything together.”
“Not everything,” Draco replied wryly, indicating the two of them.
Harry gave a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t want anyone to know.” He didn’t look Draco in the face.
“Damn straight, I don’t. More people who know the better chance one of the Death Eaters will find out. Then I’m screwed.” He moved into the light, dropping to the floor in front of the bed. Harry looked down from it and swung his legs over the edge, one on each side of Draco’s arms. “You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
Harry locked his ankles behind Draco’s neck and said, “What kind of question is that? But, you know, if you come with me we won’t have to worry about that.”
The bed creaked as Draco climbed on top of it and over Harry. Draco grinned down at him. “I won’t talk of it any longer. I want to have sex once more before I go back. Merlin only knows how long it will be until we met again. I’ll keep you posted of any information, as usual.”
Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s neck and pulled him down. Draco settled on top of him and sucked on his neck. He hovered over Harry’s lips, feeling every breath of frustration as he tried connecting their lips but Draco wouldn’t allow it.
“I love you,” Harry whispered foreign words to Draco. He froze, Harry taking that moment to kiss him tenderly. Everything came crashing down on him. Harry couldn’t say that. He couldn’t say that for the first time in a crappy muggle hotel that reeked of sex and mold. He couldn’t say that when in a few hours they would be parting to stand on different sides of the war. He wasn’t allowed to say it, because now Draco didn’t want to leave him.
As if in a dream, Draco pulled away and tugged Harry up, shoving him at the door. “I’ll see you…sometime. I’ll owl you later. Inform me of when you’re going to attack.” He pushed Harry out, tossing his clothes out after him and shut the door on his protests.
Draco leaned against the door, squeezing his eyes shut tight against Harry’s voice demanding to know what was wrong. After a while, the noises died down and Draco heard defeated footsteps going away. He hit his head repeatedly on the door. But there was no way he could have stayed with Harry any longer after hearing him say that without giving in and going back with him.
After what seemed like a very long time Draco pulled away from the two friends and looked down at Harry’s body, surprised by the cuts, scraps, and bruises appearing.
“What the?” Ron asked, stepping out of Hermione’s arms and moving closer. He rubbed at his face and bumped into Draco’s shoulder. “How…”
“What did that spell do?” Draco croaked, watching blood seep out of a cut on Harry’s forehead that had appeared mere seconds ago. “Do you think it mars his body?”
Hermione rushed forward and hovered her ear over Harry’s mouth, her hand grabbing his wrist. She gasped and pulled back. “He’s breathing, but it’s shallow. We have to get him to Saint Mungo’s, now!”
Draco stepped forward. “This place has Anti-Apparition charms on it.”
“Shit!” Ron exclaimed for the second time, dropping beside Hermione on the ground. Draco looked into the distance, letting the light wind riffle through his hair. He wasn’t going to let his hopes get up. He couldn’t. But then Hermione started performing healing charms on Harry, dissolving his marks, and Draco could only watch, antsy excitement spreading through him
After Hermione had removed Harry’s shirt and healed the cuts there she moved down to his legs. While the two of them were trying to pull his trousers down without hurting him, Draco thought he saw Harry’s eyelashes flutter. It couldn’t be, could it?
“Wait,” Draco whispered.
“No, we have to heal him,” Hermione protested but her eyes followed Draco's finger until she too saw Harry’s eyelashes fluttering. Disoriented, Harry blinked, eyes darting everywhere. “Oh, Harry!” Hermione squealed, barely keeping herself from leaping on him. Draco threw his head back in relief.
“What ‘appened?” Harry asked, sitting up then wincing and gingerly lying back on the dewy grass.
“I don’t know. Voldemort hit you with a spell and you flung through the air. We thought you were dead,” was all Hermione got out before she dissolved into sobs and tossed her arms around Harry’s neck. Ron stumbled forward and reached his arms around the two of them.
Between his friends’ head, Harry caught Draco’s gaze. Harry gave him a tired smile. Draco dropped his gaze, feeling anger bubble up inside him. Harry had just ‘died’ and he fuckin smiled at Draco as if nothing had happened.
“I was fighting Voldemort. I thought I was like portkeyed. It was dark though and I couldn’t see anything but Voldemort and myself,” Harry mumbled into Hermione and Ron’s hair.
“You weren’t portkeyed, mate,” Ron said, pulling away and sitting on his legs.
Hermione wiped her eyes, kissed Harry on the cheek, and crossed her legs. “Well, you weren’t transferred there, obviously, because you were lying right here.” She stood and started pacing, everyone’s eyes following her movement. “I’ve read something before about old, dark magic that took people out of reality and, kind of, in their mind.” She stopped and faced Harry. “It’s possible that you fought Voldemort in your head or on some other plane. We’ll talk to someone when we get you to Saint Mungo’s.”
“How are you feeling?” Ron asked, standing up and fiddling with his wand, looking nervous.
“Erm, fine. Sore.” Harry looked at Draco, who felt the anger even more so when Harry was looking at him. “Draco…”
Harry started to sit up but Draco knocked him to the ground, kissing him hungrily while hitting him weakly. All the while Draco mumbled things like, “I hate you,” “You bastard,” “Don’t you ever do something like that again,” “I can’t believe you didn’t get more help,” “Idiot.”
Beneath him, Harry grumbled and pulled his arm out from between their bodies, wincing slightly. “I’m sore,” he managed before Draco pushed his tongue into Harry’s mouth again and dug his hands into Harry’s hair.
“I bloody love you, you idiot,” Draco said, slipping over to the side so his body weight wasn’t fully on Harry and lacing kisses on his neck.
Ron mumbled something and Hermione hit him on the head, but Draco couldn’t hear what he said as Harry was now returning the attention with equal passion.
“I love you too,” Harry murmured. “But my legs are killing me. Mind moving off them?”
Draco shifted and started licking Harry’s ear, drawing forth mewls. Voldemort was dead. Harry was alive. Maybe Harry was right; everything would be fine.