Proving Himself
Title: Proving Himself
Rating: NC-17
Genre: General/Romance/Humour
Length: 6845
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Warning: Watersports
Summary: No one trusts him, which is a given, but Draco's sick of being the scapegoat and sets out to prove himself. Only, the search group messed up and Draco ends up lost, with Harry Potter.
Note: Written for aldebaran1977. Hopefully this is somewhat what you wanted.
Beta-ed by the by the absolutely wonderful kcstories. Thanks a heap, darling!
The sequel can be found here.
"It's been a week."
"Only seven days."
"Exactly! Seven days. That's one hundred and sixty-eight hours. One hundred and sixty-eight hours that they could have sent a Patronus in."
"Maybe they aren't encountering any problems."
"Or their problems prevent them from contacting us."
"We need to go to them!" Ginny Weasley cut through their senseless banter, slamming her fists on the worn table.
Draco stayed poised in the doorway. They would stop talking if they knew he was listening in. One would think that after five weeks, during which he had done nothing wrong aside from giving them a few well-placed (and equally deserved) insults, they would trust him enough to partake in their conversations and not go running off to the Dark Lord.
Old habits die hard. As do prejudices.
In truth, Draco wasn't going to go any closer to the Dark Lord than necessary. Not after he'd failed to rid the world of Dumbledore. Not after the Dark Lord had refused to break Draco's father out of Azkaban because of it, and his mother had been forced into hiding. No, he wouldn't be returning to the Dark Lord anytime soon.
The Order just happened to be the only people with the power to protect him since he wore the Mark and the Dark Lord could trace him through it. Luckily, though it still made no sense to Draco, Potter had insisted upon granting him protection. Then left him to fend against the irate Order members.
"I'll bet Malfoy has something to do with it," wailed Tonks and Draco felt fury so deep he thought he could have shot the killing curse at her and she would have died. Throughout his whole stay at headquarters never once had she said anything ill towards him. Never once had he overheard her blaming him. Sure, the others accused him all the time, even when the tea tasted stale, but Tonks never had.
So much for family.
Though it didn't ease his anger, he could somewhat understand why she had said it. Her precious Lupin was out there, along with the select group Potter had chosen.
Tonks didn't want to admit something could have happened to him, which explained her utter denial about sending a Patronus in the conversation that had just taken place.
But if they believed her they had to be nutters.
Draco overheard plenty of things because what else was there to do when no one would converse with him in any way other than to try and find out if he was a spy? One thing he never heard was what the Order was looking for. Or, more exactly, what Potter and his little crew were looking for because from what he'd gathered, Potter's ex girlfriend didn't even know. Tonks didn't know neither (he'd heard her arguing with Lupin about it) nor did anyone else presently at Headquarters and not running rampant in the forest.
Also, as far as they knew, he stayed cooped up in his room all day and never eavesdropped on their conversations.
"If you want to know," Moody's gravely voice pierced Draco's spine, making him stand straight, "he's in the doorway."
Draco groaned audibly as all twelve pairs of eyes turned towards him.
Busted.
"What are you doing?" Mrs Weasley asked softly, but there was suspicion in her voice.
Draco refused to answer her. He still hated the Weasleys with a passion and the mother was the worst of the lot. Not only had she treated him as if he wasn't there for the first week but once she had figured out he wasn't leaving she tried to act like he was just one of the other kids. More annoyingly, as if he were one of hers.
Draco had put a stop to that notion straight away.
With a raised eyebrow, Draco headed towards the refrigerator. "I came for a drink. Didn't know you'd all be gathered in the kitchen and blaming me for Potter and company getting lost."
"Ah-ha!" Some short bloke Draco didn't recall ever seeing before stood up and pointed an accusatory finger at him. "So you did do something!"
Draco thought back on his speech. He was pretty sure he hadn't said a word about doing anything other than getting a drink. He narrowed his eyes at the little bloke.
"He said they're lost. He must have done something to make them get lost!" the bloke eagerly said to the group.
Draco grabbed the first thing his hand landed on in the fridge and took a sip. Ugh. Whatever it was he hoped it wasn't a potion. There was no way he was actually going to look.
"Now, now," Mrs Weasley cut into the accumulating yelling. "I don't think we should go judging the boy. He hasn't done anything wrong since his arrival."
Mr Weasley placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered something, making her face flush. She stared at Draco, then blinked and shook her head. But whatever her Muggle-obsessed husband had said kept her quiet.
Her daughter, however, was practically yelling at her. Draco didn't understand how she could get away with that type of behaviour. He would have been in hot water for talking that way to his mother.
"Mum! This is Draco Malfoy! He's a Death Eater! And he hates Harry, even tried to kill him before." She crossed her arms and huffed.
Draco hated her even more. Hopefully the floor would open up and swallow her and then every time he walked on the floor he would have the satisfaction of stepping on her pretty little face.
Being cooped up in Grimmauld place was making him lose his mind, he was sure of it.
"I told you he shouldn't be here," Moody announced and most of the kitchen nodded in agreement.
Draco's hands felt clammy. This was it. They were going to kick him out. Potter wasn't even around to make sure he stayed. There was no way of contacting him.
"But no, you all want to listen to Potter. I'll have you know that Potter may have his brilliant moments," -- Moody glared at Draco, large electric blue eye probing -- "but this wasn't one of those."
"Too bad. He'll have to stay," Bill Weasley said, leaning against his wife. Delacour-Weasley laced their fingers together and gave him a betrayed face.
Draco felt a rush of gratitude.
Bill Weasley chuckled. "What? Don't look at me like that. He knows the address and information, now. He's here and unless we want him to tell, he'll have to stay, rather like Kreacher."
That gratitude was instantly zapped into anger.
"I haven't any information!" In the back of his mind he recognized that he was arguing against Weasley's reason to keep him there but he didn't want them to think he'd been eavesdropping.
Moody let out a harsh bark. "You have too, boy. You've been creeping around, listening at most of the meetings." He rolled his fake eye. "I've been watching you."
"Then why didn't you say anything?" Draco challenged.
"I have my eye on you. One wrong move," he threatened and moved his hand towards his wand.
The Weasley girl made a squeaking sound. "You'll turn him into a ferret, right?" She was grinning widely until Tonks shushed her. Draco hoped his cousin felt bad for what she'd accused him of. Not that it would make him like her even the slightest. She had done the damage. There was no going back.
"I think you should go to your room," Mrs Weasley said to Draco, her eyes pleading. Draco curled his lips and didn't move. She let out a sigh and turned to Moody. "He may have been listening but does he even know the exact place? No. He'd have to see the map for that. How could he do anything if he didn't see the map?"
Draco almost laughed. Now they'd have no reason to kick him out. And if they did he could always go to Potter and demand being let back under protection because --
"He had seen the map." There was a triumphant glint in Moody's regular eye. The other one was pinned on Draco, gauging his reaction.
Draco schooled his features into impassive but he knew that panic had already shown.
"Some fool left it on the table this morning. He sat there for a good half hour memorizing it while eating breakfast. Even left a jam stain on it." He turned to glare at Draco, and to Draco's immense disgust he felt fear claw up his stomach. Moody was going to be the death of him yet. He was the one who protested adamantly against Draco's presence. Draco should have known the moment he was turned into a ferret and bounced around like a ball. The fact that it had been Barty Crouch junior wasn't even relevant.
Tonks wailed, "Sorry! I could have sworn I put it away."
But Moody didn't take his calculating gaze away from Draco and Draco had the distinct feeling that Moody was waiting for him to break down and confess. Confess what? He honestly hadn't done anything to Potter and his friends.
A huge sigh sounded from the table. Draco looked over, grateful for a non cowardly reason to break Moody's stare. Bill Weasley had his head in his hands, looking very irritated. "Unless Malfoy is going to admit to doing something there's nothing we can do short of giving him Veritaserum. Just let him go to his room. We need to talk about what to do, not if someone in this house did anything."
"I still think he did something!" the little bloke said. Most of the room nodded and that was it. Draco stomped out of the kitchen, all the way to his bedroom.
He hated being the scapegoat. He had come to the Order for safety, not suspicion and the looming threat of being tossed out on his arse for anyone to find. Really, the Order wasn't much better than Voldemort and his Death Eaters. He'd even received death threats from a few members of the Order. He just expected the Death Eaters to follow through with them before the Order.
What he needed was to hand them information so essential or commit an act of heroism so great that the Order would trust him enough to stop blaming everything on him. But for that to happen they would have to respect him. Or know he did something so great that they would feel terrible being nasty to him. What's something that would gain him those feelings? What's something that the Order loves?
Potter.
It seemed funny that Potter would be the answer to his problems when all other times he had been the problem to his answers. But this was brilliant. The Order needed their Potter but Potter was missing. Potter wasn't sending any Patronuses.
If Draco found Potter then the Order would put him on a pedestal.
The only problem was if something really bad had happened to Potter and his crew. Draco figured he would just return to Headquarters then because there was no way he was going to put his life on the line. He would rather stay a scapegoat.
He would leave tonight, when everyone was tucked in bed. He had memorized the map so he knew where Potter and his group were supposed to be. He'd steal a broom from the youngest Weasley; she kept it under her bed so all he'd have to do would be to summon it.
That settled, Draco fell into a steady sleep, dreaming not once.
It was a warm October afternoon when Draco flew over the Epping Forest, which was a good thing because on the trip over he'd fallen asleep, crashed into a tree, and butchered his robes beyond repair.
Other than that one little fumble it had been relatively easy to steal Weasley's broom, sneak out of the house, and find the woods. His memory hadn't failed him.
He was hungry but intent on staying awake, terrified of nodding off and hitting another tree. He was close to where they'd set up camp so it was only a matter of minutes until Draco would find them, send a Patronus to the Order, and bask in being admired. Who didn't like to be admired?
It would most definitely show Moody.
Carefully, Draco steered his broom between the trees and landed on the spongy grass still wet with dew. The shedding trees cast a strange and detailed pattern on the forest floor and Draco sighed in irritation. One second he had to squint his eyes against the bright sun and the next he'd relax them in the shadows.
He gaped.
The place was empty. Thinking he'd made a mistake, Draco set off in wide circles, searching. He contemplated calling out but that didn't bode well with his safety. It was sinking in now. They were completely gone and wouldn't they have notified the rest of the Order if they were moving? Someone else had to have moved them, or killed them and ridden of the evidence that they were ever there.
Draco gulped. Maybe he should just get out of there.
He hopped on the Cleansweep Seven but hesitated. Everyone back at Grimmauld place was awake by now. They would have noticed his absence because Mrs Weasley always called him down for breakfast. Would they allow him through the doors without information, especially since Potter and his crew were most likely dead?
His stomach curdled. If Potter was dead there was no one to keep him there. With Potter gone did that mean the Dark Lord would win?
Crack!
"Avada Kedavra!" Draco roared, whipping around to the sound. Round, lifeless eyes stared back at him from the ground. Just a rabbit.
But it broke the tension. Draco let out a chuckle. He was being ridiculous. They were probably a little ways off. Just because they weren't at the exact place they had said they'd be didn't mean they were dead.
He ignored the Patronus factor as he set off through the forest, eyes growing weary from the constant change in lighting.
"Luna?"
Draco stopped and the voice called out again, this time in excitement. "Luna!" It sounded familiar. It was one of them, had to be, because Lovegood was part of the secret group.
The thunderous sounds of someone breaking through the undergrowth had Draco alert. He pointed his wand at the movement just in case.
Harry Potter burst out, twigs and dirt and leaves coating his clothes and face. He cocked his head and stared at Draco for a moment before pulling his wand out too. "Who are you?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes.
"Draco. Malfoy," he answered slowly. Potter must be losing his mind. Draco had a bruise on his left cheek from hitting the tree but other than that he looked the same.
But Potter shook his head venomously. "Nu-uh." His wand was aimed at Draco's chest. "Malfoy's back at G--some place. Who are you and why'd you Polyjuice into Malfoy's body?"
For some reason the insane urge to double over in laughter burst forward, but Draco fought it and frowned instead. "I'm Draco bloody Malfoy. I left Headquarters to find you lot since you seem incapable of sending a Patronus."
"Didn't know you cared," sneered Potter.
"I don't."
Potter blinked. "Then...why?"
The urge to laugh left and was replaced with anger. "Because I'm sick of being the scapegoat. Everyone blames me for everything, which I'm sure you didn't notice."
"I did."
"It's always 'the Death Eaters attacked, Malfoy had something to do with it,' 'we didn't find that whatever, Malfoy did something,' 'the tea's spoiled, Malfoy did it!' And quite frankly, I didn't do a sodding thing! I'm fucking tired of it all. You should have never taken me in. I would have fared better with the Dark Lord!"
"You would have been killed instantly," snarled Potter, pocketing his wand and kicking a fallen branch. He pinned Draco with a stare. "I'm pretty sure Voldemort," -- Draco tried not to wince -- "wasn't happy with you after failing to kill Dumbledore." Potter narrowed his eyes. "But that's not why you left him, ay? No, you stayed with them for a few months."
Draco opened his mouth but Potter cut across with, "No, don't make up excuses. I know that's what you're going to do. Because the fact that Voldemort wouldn't get your dad out and your mum's in hiding isn't a good enough reason to switch sides."
Draco flushed in anger. He hadn't been aware that others had known about those things. "How do you know that?"
A twisted grin marred Potter's otherwise troubled features. "A little birdie told me."
Draco crossed his arms.
"Snape."
That couldn't be true, but Potter nodded and he didn't look like he was lying. "But Snape killed Dumbledore."
"I know," Potter said darkly.
"Then...?"
Now Potter looked uncomfortable. He rubbed at his face, flakes of dirt falling to the grass. "He had an Unbreakable Vow with your mum. And I think, perhaps, Dumbledore knew it would happen and wanted him to. I mean, he kept asking for Snape." There was a faraway look in his green eyes. "Wouldn't take Madam Pomfrey. Had to have Snape. And," -- here his voice dropped to a whisper -- "he begged. Dumbledore wouldn't beg, would he?"
Potter was staring at him so intently, so helplessly that Draco wasn't sure how to respond. Should he comfort Potter, let him think he was making the right decision by conversing with Snape, or say his own opinion: that Snape was really on the Dark Lord's side?
"You knew him better than I," he finally said. Safe. Easy. Carefully neutral.
Potter inhaled deeply. "You'd do anything for your family, wouldn't you?"
"Why?" Draco asked, scrutinizing Potter. What was he going to have him do?
"Oh, nothing. I just mean, last year you did all that for your family."
"Did not." It seemed important to correct him on it, even if it just made himself look less trusting. "I did it because I wanted to. I wanted to make the Dark Lord happy. I wanted to be a Death Eater. But then I realized I couldn't do it, and there would go my family."
Potter nodded. "Exactly."
They lapsed into silence. Draco waited for him to say something else, but Potter just stared at the forest ground so Draco spoke up. "Why didn't you lot send a Patronus? The Order's going mad. Blaming me, of course," he muttered bitterly.
Potter's brow furrowed. "We did send Patronuses. Every day we sent one."
"Nu-uh. We didn't hear anything for a week."
"Then..." Potter blinked. "Can Patronuses be intercepted?"
Draco shrugged. "Are you sure you sent them? Fine, well, maybe because it's such a long distance. And the wards on Grimmauld Place. Not to mention I encountered turbulence when flying closer. Must have been more wards."
"And the Dementors," Potter offered, scratching his ear.
Draco informed him, "You're filthy," because really, he looked disgusting.
Potter rolled his eyes but did a quick Cleaning Charm. Draco grimaced. He hated using them on his body. They stung a bit.
The sun hid behind a cloud, making the forest darker. It looked more like dusk than afternoon. "Where's everyone else?"
He watched Potter chew on his bottom lip until Potter raised his shoulders slightly.
"What do you mean you don't know?!" roared Draco. They couldn't all be dead, could they? "And why aren't you at the original camping area?"
"Couldn't find it," Potter explained, flopping to the ground. He curled his fingers around the thick grass. "I was out with Luna, looking for the Ho-- stuff. We got separated and now I'm lost."
Unbelievable.
Speaking to him like a little kid, Draco asked, "Did you try sending them a Patronus?"
"Yes!" He buried his face in the dirt. "But no one answered it. Maybe Patronuses don't work in whatever these wards are."
In a surge of anger -- he was not going to be stranded in the forest with Harry Potter of all people -- Draco threw the broom. It slapped Potter across the face before sinking into the grass.
"What the bloody hell was that for?" Potter groaned and Draco smiled.
Grudgingly, but with a glare that only made Draco snigger, Potter stood and headed off in a random direction. "You can stay behind if you'd like, but I'm going to look for Luna, or camp, whichever I come across first. Grab the broom if you're coming."
Draco sneered. He didn't have to do what Potter said. But the moment Potter was out of sight Draco snatched the broom and rushed after him. No way was he going to be stuck all alone.
"Voldemort can trace you through that there Mark, ay?"
"Yes."
"Then you're an idiot."
"Huh?" Draco asked, generally bemused. Was Potter going to rap on him about getting the Mark because that was past, already done, and there was nothing he could do about it? It was on his otherwise flawless skin and it wasn't going anywhere, no matter how many people wished it gone.
Potter huffed but kept trudging through the underbrush, every now and then bursting some nasty thorns or weeds with his wand. Draco made sure to walk behind him so there would already be a trail for him to walk on. No need to get even dirtier.
"Now that you're out of Headquarters, Voldemort could trace you down. We've told you you're only protected in the house. It doesn't extend outside." A spark burnt the nearest bush to a crisp. Potter stomped through the ashes.
Draco, however, had frozen. How thick could he be? The Dark Lord was going to send someone to kill him any second now. And it was all Potter's fault; if only he had sent Patronuses that reached everyone else, Draco wouldn't be in this predicament.
"Hey," a soft voice said directly in front of him. "It's okay, Malfoy."
Draco tried to sneer or scoff or do anything disdainful but his face was paler than normal and his jaw refused to move.
"Look," Potter murmured, carding a hand through Draco's half-gelled hair, the product having partway disappeared from the flight over the forest. "For what it's worth, I don't think Voldemort is searching for you anymore. It's been how long? He's probably given up."
Really, Potter could have intelligent moments. That sounded not only plausible but correct. Why would the Dark Lord keep trying to detect him after all this time, when he'd been unsuccessful before?
Draco let out a sigh of relief and noticed Potter's breath was bursting on his face. He wrenched away, wincing as Potter's hand yanked his hair.
"Keep walking. And don't touch me. I need a nice long bath."
Potter was just staring at him so Draco shoved past him and stalked through the forest, aware that now he was the one getting insanely dirty but too stubborn to make Potter lead again.
"I have to piss." Potter's voice rose into the silent air.
When it appeared that Potter was looking for a place to stop Draco spoke. "I am not waiting for you to go on the ground like some animal. You just wait until we find the camp. It's your fault we're lost anyway."
Potter grumbled something but Draco couldn't hear.
It was still warm and it just made the dirt stick to Draco's skin. He desperately needed to bathe. Potter, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind. What else could you expect from a grubby Gryffindor that had been raised by Muggles?
A gurgle rose up and Draco wasn't sure whose stomach it had emerged from but he flushed all the same. Bodily functions were supposed to be private. He shouldn't mind because it was just Potter but in a weird way that Draco didn't understand, Potter thinking him a pig was unappealing. Perhaps he felt like he owed Potter for letting him stay with the Order.
It was obvious, however, that Potter didn't feel the same way because he barely spoke to Draco the whole time he'd taken residence. Not even to lord it over his head for information. Potter was barely at the Headquarters anyway, always chasing after something.
"What's that?" Potter asked after an impossibly long time. The sun had started to lower, casting an eerie glow through the forest.
Draco followed Potter's finger to see a small cluster of tight-nit trees. The trees were so close to each other that it looked impossible to enter the circle. Draco didn't understand what was so interesting. He was tired.
Potter's arm brushed against his as he passed and walked forward. A few paces from the trees he stopped short, lifting his right hand.
"What?" Draco asked, rubbing his eyes.
"Come here," murmured Potter.
Draco rolled his eyes but decided to humour Potter and walk over. The sooner Potter finished acting like a madman the sooner they could get to looking for everyone else.
The moment he stepped next to Potter he felt a familiar little shift, almost undetectable. He had either entered some wards or exited the ones around the forest, but because of the softer shift than the first wards, Draco figured he had entered new ones.
"You dolt!" roared Draco. A bird took flight. "Who knows what you just made me walk into!"
Potter wasn't listening. He squeezed between two trees and gasped.
Draco debated following or backtracking. Eventually his curiosity got the better of him and he followed. Couldn't let Potter get all the glory or treasure.
The waning sun barely penetrated into the circle. Only a faint light shone down into the centre, where a small wooden platform stood. There was what looked like a very old wand sitting under a glass bowl. Draco frowned. Why was there a wand? Wizards were always buried with their wands. It wasn't possible that the owner had left it there for safekeeping.
Since Potter wasn't doing anything but staring at it like it was the ninth wonder of the world, Draco moved forward.
"Stop!" Potter yelled, tugging Draco back.
Angrily, Draco rested against a tree, the sharp bark digging into his back and probably making him dirtier, but he was beyond caring. Potter couldn't boss him around like that.
"Oh, don't pout, you big baby," Potter snickered, looking back at him. "I was just saving your skin."
"Since when do you care?"
Potter ignored him. "That's a Horcr-- thing and usually there are spells and such surrounding them, making them hard to get to."
Draco's interest was flared. So this -- this old wand -- was what they had been looking for. "How'd you know it was in this forest?"
"Snape," Potter answered absentmindedly, moving forward cautiously.
"Why do you trust him?"
"Don't. Just think he's on our side."
"Idiot," Draco muttered. Fine by him if Potter didn't want to explain his reasoning. If his only reasoning was the nonsense he'd babbled earlier he was sorely wrong about the whole thing.
Oh well. As long as the fact that "I'm the one that lead us in this direction" was known he didn't care. Not much, anyway.
With the miniature sized steps Potter was taking it would be years before he reached the platform, and it was only two arms lengths away. Draco sighed in irritation but a loud crack! punctured it. A whoosh followed and Potter whacked against him, digging Draco's back into the tree and probably making him bleed.
"You bloody tosser! What the fuck do you think you're do-- Oww! Oh, bloody oww!" Wincing he brought his right hand to his scraped back but Potter's arm followed. Something was tugging on his wrist.
Potter groaned and Draco was afraid to look down at what monstrosity Potter had done, but he did anyway.
There was a thin rope, so thin it could have been wire if not for the brown coarseness that always came with rope, connecting their wrists together.
"I don't get it." Potter lifted their hands and inspected it while Draco rubbed his tender back with his other hand, trying not to attack Potter -- no need to hurt his back even more.
Draco understood perfectly. Well, perhaps not perfectly but more than Potter ever would because Potter was a complete and utter pillock who couldn't watch where he was going and what wards and spells he activated. Draco's breath was coming in harsh bursts despite the fact that he'd thought those words, not spoken them.
"You just activated one of the things that make it hard to get to, as you said not a few minutes previous," Draco snarled.
Potter blinked at him. "Of course. But why would it tie us together? I mean, how would Voldemort even know there would be two people to tie together?" He let out a bark of laughter. "Hey, we can still get it."
Draco had just made up his mind to strangle Potter to death, drag his body back to camp, and pay the consequences with a clean conscience when three loud cracks filled the air, distinctly different from the sound that had roped them together. Draco recognized them instantly, before the people even materialized as Apparations.
Standing with their backs to them were the Dark Lord and two robed Death Eaters.
Bloody fucking hell, he was going to die, with Potter tied to his body. The disgrace!
He should have stayed with the Death Eaters.
"Which tree did the spell bind him to?" a feminine voice asked. It was his aunt Bellatrix, and Potter seemed to notice that as well because a little snarl left his mouth.
Swiftly, Draco tugged Potter behind the tree, making sure to step on no twigs, but the dead leaves on the forest ground crinkled.
The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters turned but they were out of sight, trying not to breathe.
Potter's eyes were wide, probably like Draco's own. Were they actually going to just stand there, against the tree that had bloodied his back, no thanks to Potter, and wait to be found?
"This one has some bark scraped off," the other Death Eater pointed out.
Draco shot Potter a glare but there was a wild look in his eyes and suddenly Draco realized that Potter was going to jump out and get himself killed. Frantically, Draco scrabbled with the rope.
That didn't do any good and Potter already had his wand pulled out, gaze piercing the small gap between their tree and the one next to it.
"Come out, Potter, and fight like a man," Voldemort's high pitched voice cooed.
Draco dug his fingers into Potter's stomach and pinched.
Their eyes locked and suddenly they were running, tripping over roots and ending up on opposite sides of a tree, having to step back and stay close so that wouldn't happen again. Spells whizzed past them and it suddenly occurred to Draco that he'd left Ginny Weasley's broom behind. It was such an absurd thought to have whilst he running for his life that Draco started laughing.
He laughed so hard he crumbled to the dirt. He wasn't sure when his laughter turned to tears but it did.
Another body landed next to him but Potter's laughter didn't turn to despair. He still had that wild look in his eyes.
"They're going to Apparate next to us any second now, aren't they?" Draco managed to choke out.
Potter stretched his hands to the sky and Draco glared at him out of the eye not plastered to the grass. He tugged his wrist down and Potter looked at him, shaking his own hand slightly.
"No. Are you kidding, Malfoy? I've tried Apparating to camp but you can't. I guess that was the only place you could Apparate in and out of."
Draco sagged in relief. He grabbed his wand and pointed it at the rope, saying every spell he knew but nothing worked. After Potter had his skin scorched five times (because there was no way Draco was going to use the spells on his half) he tried his own spells.
The rope didn't budge.
"You're still crying," Potter pointed out.
Draco sat and rubbed his cheeks. So he was. He was beyond caring. "What if he locates me through the Mark?"
"Doesn't matter," Potter brushed it off. "He'd still have to walk after us."
"Or take Weasley's broom."
Just like that they were serious again. Silently, they stood and made their way around the forest, searching for the camp.
Two fruitless hours later Potter whined, breaking the longest silence ever between them. Potter moved his hands -- and, by default, Draco's right one -- to cup his crotch. "I've really got to piss."
Draco wrenched his wrist away in disgust. There was, after all, only about a hand's length between their wrists.
Potter did a little dance though Draco figured it was more for show than need.
"If you wouldn't have got us lost --"
"I wouldn't have found you."
"-- then you wouldn't have this problem." He gave Potter a dark glare. "You'll just have to wait until we reach camp."
"That could take days," Potter countered flatly. Draco refused to acknowledge that because with each passing second, the darkness already encasing them, it seemed more truth than possibility.
Potter did another silly dance. "Look, I'll just go behind that bush over there."
"Yes," Draco said dryly. "And I'll wait here." He jingled their hands.
A crease formed on Potter's forehead. "Well. I can't wait any longer. I'll piss my pants."
"Fine!" Draco huffed and crossed his arms -- attempted to really, because Potter's hand got in the way and he ended up simply looking weird.
Potter bustled over to the bush, which the moonlight just happened to illuminate, and unzipped his trousers. Draco scrunched his nose and tried pulling his hand away because he did not need to know Potter was semi-hard, or feel that he was.
Then Potter's clothes were around his ankles and Draco was trying to inch away, eyes pinned on Potter's cock to make sure he wouldn't get too close.
He had a rather nice cock. Not thick but long. Longer than his own anyway, and not as thick. And why wasn't Potter taking a leak already? It was very awkward standing there with a half nude bloke next to him, about to relieve himself.
Potter ground out, "You're staring at me."
"Just making sure the spray doesn't go near me," Draco replied waspishly.
Potter made an irritated noise and then faced him, right hand aiming.
Draco let out a shriek and Potter laughed, turning to face the bush. A steady yellow stream burst forth, hitting the leaves and dripping off them onto the others.
Draco's stomach was doing odd things and his toes seemed to be...curling?
And, shite, his cock was hardening too, and not from some sudden need to urinate.
Potter let out a sigh, hand shifting to get a better grasp on his cock. He rolled his shoulders.
"Stop it!" Draco yelped, pressing his left hand against his crotch and backing up because there was no way he was finding this arousing. In his panic, he had forgotten he was tied to Potter and when he tried to flee Potter turned with him, spraying him.
The hot liquid hit a line across Draco's stomach and instantly soaked through his thin shirt.
"Oh, gods, I'm so sorry!" The twat then moved forward, hand releasing his prick, making the stream hit Draco's knees.
A strangled moan escaped Draco's lips. He had never been so turned on in his life. The urine was penetrating his trousers and drizzling down his legs. It was so warm and disgusting and the smell was invading his senses. He cared no longer what Potter thought, what the surprised silent look on his face meant, and he slipped a hand down his clothes, grasping the base of his cock, eyes trained on the rapidly diminishing liquid. It burned a trail down his trousers, over one shoe, across the impossibly small amount of grass between them, and ended at Potter's shoe.
"You're sick."
Draco looked at Potter's face, his cock, then his face again. "And you're getting hard."
"Not -- you're wanking and -- not because I was pissing!" He flung his hands around in desperation, only succeeding in pulling Draco closer.
"Who cares?"
Their lips fussed together and Draco wasn't sure who had initiated that but it didn't matter because Potter's mouth was wet and warm and tasted so good.
They tumbled to the forest floor. A stick managed to shove its way under Draco's shirt and he wrestled to pull it out. Potter grabbed his free hand and pinned it to the grass. The rope was digging into his wrist so he bucked. Potter only groaned and crushed their hips together, a thin layer of Draco's trousers and pants preventing skin-on-skin contact.
"I don't -- mrff -- want to be the only one naked," Potter protested, lacing their fingers and rocking deliciously.
Draco was too set on getting off to waste time removing clothes, even though it would probably be the fastest, most enjoyable way. He was so close anyhow. Potter latched onto his ear and thrust a tongue in, awakening nerves Draco hadn't even known he possessed.
Potter slipped a hand down the front of Draco's pants, tugging and tweaking along with Draco's hand. Draco used his other hand to knead Potter's arse, making Potter bend his arm awkwardly, but he wasn't complaining.
Their desire was building and their tongues met, tousling together.
Draco came with a muffled yell, arching into Potter's touch. Potter grabbed his own cock and pumped once, twice, and spurted, dropping his head to Draco's neck and biting down hard.
In the silence that followed Draco grabbed his wand and cleaned both of them off, wincing at the slight sting. Eventually Potter rolled over and pulled his clothes on, forcing Draco to hover over him, not that he really minded; it meant he got a nice view of Potter's fit arse.
He wanted to lick it. Did this mean he was gay?
"Er," Potter said. The moment Draco looked at him he dropped his gaze to the ground. "Keep going?"
Draco nodded and they set off. Just when Draco was beginning to wonder if they were going to act like it had never happened he caught Potter running his eyes up and down his body. He smirked.
Potter stopped and a sheepish grin crossed his face. Draco faced what Potter was looking at: a small clearing filled with tents. The campsite.
Draco really didn't mind that Potter couldn't have waited those five minutes to camp. His knees were still weak.
"Harry!" someone yelled, and Draco looked around to find Lupin running towards them. "Luna came back a few hours ago, said you went missing."
Potter nodded. "So Luna's all right?"
Draco didn't see what the big deal was. Who cared if she was all right? She was a right loon anyway.
"Yes, yes," Lupin answered distractedly. He was staring at Draco. "What's Mr Malfoy doing here?"
Just like that, Potter was animated, waving his hands about no matter how much Draco protested, and talking so fast Draco had trouble understanding. "Malfoy's was out looking for us. Said everyone isn't getting our Patronus'. And I don't think we can send Patronuses in here because I sent you lot some -- you didn't get them, did you? No, I didn't think so.
"But guess what? I found a Horcr- thing. You know, it's a wand. But Voldemort and Bellatrix and some other Death Eater popped up. We got away in time, obviously, but we need to go back for it, then leave. Voldemort's probably looking all over the place. And he can trace our location by Malfoy's Mark."
He stopped and gasped for air.
Draco tried inching away from him. "I'm the one who lead us to the Hor-thing," he announced.
Potter rolled his eyes. "Oh, and we're tied together because of the Hor-thing. We can't get it off."
Lupin nodded. He looked like he was still taking it all in. "Well, um, Hermione's in her tent. Maybe she knows some way to disconnect you two. Then show us where the wand is."
Potter nodded and looked at Draco, then coloured instantly.
Draco, on the other hand, didn't blush. He tried not to, at least, but he was sure something showed because Lupin was giving them odd looks now. Quickly he tugged Potter to the circle of cheap tan tents.
Potter opened his mouth then shut it, staring straight ahead.
Their fingers twined together and Draco wasn't sure if it was just an accident but their fingers had to bend awkwardly so it had to be a conscious movement.
Either way, it was warm and Potter didn't seem to mind; there was a faint smile on his face.
Sequel
Rating: NC-17
Genre: General/Romance/Humour
Length: 6845
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Warning: Watersports
Summary: No one trusts him, which is a given, but Draco's sick of being the scapegoat and sets out to prove himself. Only, the search group messed up and Draco ends up lost, with Harry Potter.
Note: Written for aldebaran1977. Hopefully this is somewhat what you wanted.
Beta-ed by the by the absolutely wonderful kcstories. Thanks a heap, darling!
The sequel can be found here.
"It's been a week."
"Only seven days."
"Exactly! Seven days. That's one hundred and sixty-eight hours. One hundred and sixty-eight hours that they could have sent a Patronus in."
"Maybe they aren't encountering any problems."
"Or their problems prevent them from contacting us."
"We need to go to them!" Ginny Weasley cut through their senseless banter, slamming her fists on the worn table.
Draco stayed poised in the doorway. They would stop talking if they knew he was listening in. One would think that after five weeks, during which he had done nothing wrong aside from giving them a few well-placed (and equally deserved) insults, they would trust him enough to partake in their conversations and not go running off to the Dark Lord.
Old habits die hard. As do prejudices.
In truth, Draco wasn't going to go any closer to the Dark Lord than necessary. Not after he'd failed to rid the world of Dumbledore. Not after the Dark Lord had refused to break Draco's father out of Azkaban because of it, and his mother had been forced into hiding. No, he wouldn't be returning to the Dark Lord anytime soon.
The Order just happened to be the only people with the power to protect him since he wore the Mark and the Dark Lord could trace him through it. Luckily, though it still made no sense to Draco, Potter had insisted upon granting him protection. Then left him to fend against the irate Order members.
"I'll bet Malfoy has something to do with it," wailed Tonks and Draco felt fury so deep he thought he could have shot the killing curse at her and she would have died. Throughout his whole stay at headquarters never once had she said anything ill towards him. Never once had he overheard her blaming him. Sure, the others accused him all the time, even when the tea tasted stale, but Tonks never had.
So much for family.
Though it didn't ease his anger, he could somewhat understand why she had said it. Her precious Lupin was out there, along with the select group Potter had chosen.
Tonks didn't want to admit something could have happened to him, which explained her utter denial about sending a Patronus in the conversation that had just taken place.
But if they believed her they had to be nutters.
Draco overheard plenty of things because what else was there to do when no one would converse with him in any way other than to try and find out if he was a spy? One thing he never heard was what the Order was looking for. Or, more exactly, what Potter and his little crew were looking for because from what he'd gathered, Potter's ex girlfriend didn't even know. Tonks didn't know neither (he'd heard her arguing with Lupin about it) nor did anyone else presently at Headquarters and not running rampant in the forest.
Also, as far as they knew, he stayed cooped up in his room all day and never eavesdropped on their conversations.
"If you want to know," Moody's gravely voice pierced Draco's spine, making him stand straight, "he's in the doorway."
Draco groaned audibly as all twelve pairs of eyes turned towards him.
Busted.
"What are you doing?" Mrs Weasley asked softly, but there was suspicion in her voice.
Draco refused to answer her. He still hated the Weasleys with a passion and the mother was the worst of the lot. Not only had she treated him as if he wasn't there for the first week but once she had figured out he wasn't leaving she tried to act like he was just one of the other kids. More annoyingly, as if he were one of hers.
Draco had put a stop to that notion straight away.
With a raised eyebrow, Draco headed towards the refrigerator. "I came for a drink. Didn't know you'd all be gathered in the kitchen and blaming me for Potter and company getting lost."
"Ah-ha!" Some short bloke Draco didn't recall ever seeing before stood up and pointed an accusatory finger at him. "So you did do something!"
Draco thought back on his speech. He was pretty sure he hadn't said a word about doing anything other than getting a drink. He narrowed his eyes at the little bloke.
"He said they're lost. He must have done something to make them get lost!" the bloke eagerly said to the group.
Draco grabbed the first thing his hand landed on in the fridge and took a sip. Ugh. Whatever it was he hoped it wasn't a potion. There was no way he was actually going to look.
"Now, now," Mrs Weasley cut into the accumulating yelling. "I don't think we should go judging the boy. He hasn't done anything wrong since his arrival."
Mr Weasley placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered something, making her face flush. She stared at Draco, then blinked and shook her head. But whatever her Muggle-obsessed husband had said kept her quiet.
Her daughter, however, was practically yelling at her. Draco didn't understand how she could get away with that type of behaviour. He would have been in hot water for talking that way to his mother.
"Mum! This is Draco Malfoy! He's a Death Eater! And he hates Harry, even tried to kill him before." She crossed her arms and huffed.
Draco hated her even more. Hopefully the floor would open up and swallow her and then every time he walked on the floor he would have the satisfaction of stepping on her pretty little face.
Being cooped up in Grimmauld place was making him lose his mind, he was sure of it.
"I told you he shouldn't be here," Moody announced and most of the kitchen nodded in agreement.
Draco's hands felt clammy. This was it. They were going to kick him out. Potter wasn't even around to make sure he stayed. There was no way of contacting him.
"But no, you all want to listen to Potter. I'll have you know that Potter may have his brilliant moments," -- Moody glared at Draco, large electric blue eye probing -- "but this wasn't one of those."
"Too bad. He'll have to stay," Bill Weasley said, leaning against his wife. Delacour-Weasley laced their fingers together and gave him a betrayed face.
Draco felt a rush of gratitude.
Bill Weasley chuckled. "What? Don't look at me like that. He knows the address and information, now. He's here and unless we want him to tell, he'll have to stay, rather like Kreacher."
That gratitude was instantly zapped into anger.
"I haven't any information!" In the back of his mind he recognized that he was arguing against Weasley's reason to keep him there but he didn't want them to think he'd been eavesdropping.
Moody let out a harsh bark. "You have too, boy. You've been creeping around, listening at most of the meetings." He rolled his fake eye. "I've been watching you."
"Then why didn't you say anything?" Draco challenged.
"I have my eye on you. One wrong move," he threatened and moved his hand towards his wand.
The Weasley girl made a squeaking sound. "You'll turn him into a ferret, right?" She was grinning widely until Tonks shushed her. Draco hoped his cousin felt bad for what she'd accused him of. Not that it would make him like her even the slightest. She had done the damage. There was no going back.
"I think you should go to your room," Mrs Weasley said to Draco, her eyes pleading. Draco curled his lips and didn't move. She let out a sigh and turned to Moody. "He may have been listening but does he even know the exact place? No. He'd have to see the map for that. How could he do anything if he didn't see the map?"
Draco almost laughed. Now they'd have no reason to kick him out. And if they did he could always go to Potter and demand being let back under protection because --
"He had seen the map." There was a triumphant glint in Moody's regular eye. The other one was pinned on Draco, gauging his reaction.
Draco schooled his features into impassive but he knew that panic had already shown.
"Some fool left it on the table this morning. He sat there for a good half hour memorizing it while eating breakfast. Even left a jam stain on it." He turned to glare at Draco, and to Draco's immense disgust he felt fear claw up his stomach. Moody was going to be the death of him yet. He was the one who protested adamantly against Draco's presence. Draco should have known the moment he was turned into a ferret and bounced around like a ball. The fact that it had been Barty Crouch junior wasn't even relevant.
Tonks wailed, "Sorry! I could have sworn I put it away."
But Moody didn't take his calculating gaze away from Draco and Draco had the distinct feeling that Moody was waiting for him to break down and confess. Confess what? He honestly hadn't done anything to Potter and his friends.
A huge sigh sounded from the table. Draco looked over, grateful for a non cowardly reason to break Moody's stare. Bill Weasley had his head in his hands, looking very irritated. "Unless Malfoy is going to admit to doing something there's nothing we can do short of giving him Veritaserum. Just let him go to his room. We need to talk about what to do, not if someone in this house did anything."
"I still think he did something!" the little bloke said. Most of the room nodded and that was it. Draco stomped out of the kitchen, all the way to his bedroom.
He hated being the scapegoat. He had come to the Order for safety, not suspicion and the looming threat of being tossed out on his arse for anyone to find. Really, the Order wasn't much better than Voldemort and his Death Eaters. He'd even received death threats from a few members of the Order. He just expected the Death Eaters to follow through with them before the Order.
What he needed was to hand them information so essential or commit an act of heroism so great that the Order would trust him enough to stop blaming everything on him. But for that to happen they would have to respect him. Or know he did something so great that they would feel terrible being nasty to him. What's something that would gain him those feelings? What's something that the Order loves?
Potter.
It seemed funny that Potter would be the answer to his problems when all other times he had been the problem to his answers. But this was brilliant. The Order needed their Potter but Potter was missing. Potter wasn't sending any Patronuses.
If Draco found Potter then the Order would put him on a pedestal.
The only problem was if something really bad had happened to Potter and his crew. Draco figured he would just return to Headquarters then because there was no way he was going to put his life on the line. He would rather stay a scapegoat.
He would leave tonight, when everyone was tucked in bed. He had memorized the map so he knew where Potter and his group were supposed to be. He'd steal a broom from the youngest Weasley; she kept it under her bed so all he'd have to do would be to summon it.
That settled, Draco fell into a steady sleep, dreaming not once.
It was a warm October afternoon when Draco flew over the Epping Forest, which was a good thing because on the trip over he'd fallen asleep, crashed into a tree, and butchered his robes beyond repair.
Other than that one little fumble it had been relatively easy to steal Weasley's broom, sneak out of the house, and find the woods. His memory hadn't failed him.
He was hungry but intent on staying awake, terrified of nodding off and hitting another tree. He was close to where they'd set up camp so it was only a matter of minutes until Draco would find them, send a Patronus to the Order, and bask in being admired. Who didn't like to be admired?
It would most definitely show Moody.
Carefully, Draco steered his broom between the trees and landed on the spongy grass still wet with dew. The shedding trees cast a strange and detailed pattern on the forest floor and Draco sighed in irritation. One second he had to squint his eyes against the bright sun and the next he'd relax them in the shadows.
He gaped.
The place was empty. Thinking he'd made a mistake, Draco set off in wide circles, searching. He contemplated calling out but that didn't bode well with his safety. It was sinking in now. They were completely gone and wouldn't they have notified the rest of the Order if they were moving? Someone else had to have moved them, or killed them and ridden of the evidence that they were ever there.
Draco gulped. Maybe he should just get out of there.
He hopped on the Cleansweep Seven but hesitated. Everyone back at Grimmauld place was awake by now. They would have noticed his absence because Mrs Weasley always called him down for breakfast. Would they allow him through the doors without information, especially since Potter and his crew were most likely dead?
His stomach curdled. If Potter was dead there was no one to keep him there. With Potter gone did that mean the Dark Lord would win?
Crack!
"Avada Kedavra!" Draco roared, whipping around to the sound. Round, lifeless eyes stared back at him from the ground. Just a rabbit.
But it broke the tension. Draco let out a chuckle. He was being ridiculous. They were probably a little ways off. Just because they weren't at the exact place they had said they'd be didn't mean they were dead.
He ignored the Patronus factor as he set off through the forest, eyes growing weary from the constant change in lighting.
"Luna?"
Draco stopped and the voice called out again, this time in excitement. "Luna!" It sounded familiar. It was one of them, had to be, because Lovegood was part of the secret group.
The thunderous sounds of someone breaking through the undergrowth had Draco alert. He pointed his wand at the movement just in case.
Harry Potter burst out, twigs and dirt and leaves coating his clothes and face. He cocked his head and stared at Draco for a moment before pulling his wand out too. "Who are you?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes.
"Draco. Malfoy," he answered slowly. Potter must be losing his mind. Draco had a bruise on his left cheek from hitting the tree but other than that he looked the same.
But Potter shook his head venomously. "Nu-uh." His wand was aimed at Draco's chest. "Malfoy's back at G--some place. Who are you and why'd you Polyjuice into Malfoy's body?"
For some reason the insane urge to double over in laughter burst forward, but Draco fought it and frowned instead. "I'm Draco bloody Malfoy. I left Headquarters to find you lot since you seem incapable of sending a Patronus."
"Didn't know you cared," sneered Potter.
"I don't."
Potter blinked. "Then...why?"
The urge to laugh left and was replaced with anger. "Because I'm sick of being the scapegoat. Everyone blames me for everything, which I'm sure you didn't notice."
"I did."
"It's always 'the Death Eaters attacked, Malfoy had something to do with it,' 'we didn't find that whatever, Malfoy did something,' 'the tea's spoiled, Malfoy did it!' And quite frankly, I didn't do a sodding thing! I'm fucking tired of it all. You should have never taken me in. I would have fared better with the Dark Lord!"
"You would have been killed instantly," snarled Potter, pocketing his wand and kicking a fallen branch. He pinned Draco with a stare. "I'm pretty sure Voldemort," -- Draco tried not to wince -- "wasn't happy with you after failing to kill Dumbledore." Potter narrowed his eyes. "But that's not why you left him, ay? No, you stayed with them for a few months."
Draco opened his mouth but Potter cut across with, "No, don't make up excuses. I know that's what you're going to do. Because the fact that Voldemort wouldn't get your dad out and your mum's in hiding isn't a good enough reason to switch sides."
Draco flushed in anger. He hadn't been aware that others had known about those things. "How do you know that?"
A twisted grin marred Potter's otherwise troubled features. "A little birdie told me."
Draco crossed his arms.
"Snape."
That couldn't be true, but Potter nodded and he didn't look like he was lying. "But Snape killed Dumbledore."
"I know," Potter said darkly.
"Then...?"
Now Potter looked uncomfortable. He rubbed at his face, flakes of dirt falling to the grass. "He had an Unbreakable Vow with your mum. And I think, perhaps, Dumbledore knew it would happen and wanted him to. I mean, he kept asking for Snape." There was a faraway look in his green eyes. "Wouldn't take Madam Pomfrey. Had to have Snape. And," -- here his voice dropped to a whisper -- "he begged. Dumbledore wouldn't beg, would he?"
Potter was staring at him so intently, so helplessly that Draco wasn't sure how to respond. Should he comfort Potter, let him think he was making the right decision by conversing with Snape, or say his own opinion: that Snape was really on the Dark Lord's side?
"You knew him better than I," he finally said. Safe. Easy. Carefully neutral.
Potter inhaled deeply. "You'd do anything for your family, wouldn't you?"
"Why?" Draco asked, scrutinizing Potter. What was he going to have him do?
"Oh, nothing. I just mean, last year you did all that for your family."
"Did not." It seemed important to correct him on it, even if it just made himself look less trusting. "I did it because I wanted to. I wanted to make the Dark Lord happy. I wanted to be a Death Eater. But then I realized I couldn't do it, and there would go my family."
Potter nodded. "Exactly."
They lapsed into silence. Draco waited for him to say something else, but Potter just stared at the forest ground so Draco spoke up. "Why didn't you lot send a Patronus? The Order's going mad. Blaming me, of course," he muttered bitterly.
Potter's brow furrowed. "We did send Patronuses. Every day we sent one."
"Nu-uh. We didn't hear anything for a week."
"Then..." Potter blinked. "Can Patronuses be intercepted?"
Draco shrugged. "Are you sure you sent them? Fine, well, maybe because it's such a long distance. And the wards on Grimmauld Place. Not to mention I encountered turbulence when flying closer. Must have been more wards."
"And the Dementors," Potter offered, scratching his ear.
Draco informed him, "You're filthy," because really, he looked disgusting.
Potter rolled his eyes but did a quick Cleaning Charm. Draco grimaced. He hated using them on his body. They stung a bit.
The sun hid behind a cloud, making the forest darker. It looked more like dusk than afternoon. "Where's everyone else?"
He watched Potter chew on his bottom lip until Potter raised his shoulders slightly.
"What do you mean you don't know?!" roared Draco. They couldn't all be dead, could they? "And why aren't you at the original camping area?"
"Couldn't find it," Potter explained, flopping to the ground. He curled his fingers around the thick grass. "I was out with Luna, looking for the Ho-- stuff. We got separated and now I'm lost."
Unbelievable.
Speaking to him like a little kid, Draco asked, "Did you try sending them a Patronus?"
"Yes!" He buried his face in the dirt. "But no one answered it. Maybe Patronuses don't work in whatever these wards are."
In a surge of anger -- he was not going to be stranded in the forest with Harry Potter of all people -- Draco threw the broom. It slapped Potter across the face before sinking into the grass.
"What the bloody hell was that for?" Potter groaned and Draco smiled.
Grudgingly, but with a glare that only made Draco snigger, Potter stood and headed off in a random direction. "You can stay behind if you'd like, but I'm going to look for Luna, or camp, whichever I come across first. Grab the broom if you're coming."
Draco sneered. He didn't have to do what Potter said. But the moment Potter was out of sight Draco snatched the broom and rushed after him. No way was he going to be stuck all alone.
"Voldemort can trace you through that there Mark, ay?"
"Yes."
"Then you're an idiot."
"Huh?" Draco asked, generally bemused. Was Potter going to rap on him about getting the Mark because that was past, already done, and there was nothing he could do about it? It was on his otherwise flawless skin and it wasn't going anywhere, no matter how many people wished it gone.
Potter huffed but kept trudging through the underbrush, every now and then bursting some nasty thorns or weeds with his wand. Draco made sure to walk behind him so there would already be a trail for him to walk on. No need to get even dirtier.
"Now that you're out of Headquarters, Voldemort could trace you down. We've told you you're only protected in the house. It doesn't extend outside." A spark burnt the nearest bush to a crisp. Potter stomped through the ashes.
Draco, however, had frozen. How thick could he be? The Dark Lord was going to send someone to kill him any second now. And it was all Potter's fault; if only he had sent Patronuses that reached everyone else, Draco wouldn't be in this predicament.
"Hey," a soft voice said directly in front of him. "It's okay, Malfoy."
Draco tried to sneer or scoff or do anything disdainful but his face was paler than normal and his jaw refused to move.
"Look," Potter murmured, carding a hand through Draco's half-gelled hair, the product having partway disappeared from the flight over the forest. "For what it's worth, I don't think Voldemort is searching for you anymore. It's been how long? He's probably given up."
Really, Potter could have intelligent moments. That sounded not only plausible but correct. Why would the Dark Lord keep trying to detect him after all this time, when he'd been unsuccessful before?
Draco let out a sigh of relief and noticed Potter's breath was bursting on his face. He wrenched away, wincing as Potter's hand yanked his hair.
"Keep walking. And don't touch me. I need a nice long bath."
Potter was just staring at him so Draco shoved past him and stalked through the forest, aware that now he was the one getting insanely dirty but too stubborn to make Potter lead again.
"I have to piss." Potter's voice rose into the silent air.
When it appeared that Potter was looking for a place to stop Draco spoke. "I am not waiting for you to go on the ground like some animal. You just wait until we find the camp. It's your fault we're lost anyway."
Potter grumbled something but Draco couldn't hear.
It was still warm and it just made the dirt stick to Draco's skin. He desperately needed to bathe. Potter, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind. What else could you expect from a grubby Gryffindor that had been raised by Muggles?
A gurgle rose up and Draco wasn't sure whose stomach it had emerged from but he flushed all the same. Bodily functions were supposed to be private. He shouldn't mind because it was just Potter but in a weird way that Draco didn't understand, Potter thinking him a pig was unappealing. Perhaps he felt like he owed Potter for letting him stay with the Order.
It was obvious, however, that Potter didn't feel the same way because he barely spoke to Draco the whole time he'd taken residence. Not even to lord it over his head for information. Potter was barely at the Headquarters anyway, always chasing after something.
"What's that?" Potter asked after an impossibly long time. The sun had started to lower, casting an eerie glow through the forest.
Draco followed Potter's finger to see a small cluster of tight-nit trees. The trees were so close to each other that it looked impossible to enter the circle. Draco didn't understand what was so interesting. He was tired.
Potter's arm brushed against his as he passed and walked forward. A few paces from the trees he stopped short, lifting his right hand.
"What?" Draco asked, rubbing his eyes.
"Come here," murmured Potter.
Draco rolled his eyes but decided to humour Potter and walk over. The sooner Potter finished acting like a madman the sooner they could get to looking for everyone else.
The moment he stepped next to Potter he felt a familiar little shift, almost undetectable. He had either entered some wards or exited the ones around the forest, but because of the softer shift than the first wards, Draco figured he had entered new ones.
"You dolt!" roared Draco. A bird took flight. "Who knows what you just made me walk into!"
Potter wasn't listening. He squeezed between two trees and gasped.
Draco debated following or backtracking. Eventually his curiosity got the better of him and he followed. Couldn't let Potter get all the glory or treasure.
The waning sun barely penetrated into the circle. Only a faint light shone down into the centre, where a small wooden platform stood. There was what looked like a very old wand sitting under a glass bowl. Draco frowned. Why was there a wand? Wizards were always buried with their wands. It wasn't possible that the owner had left it there for safekeeping.
Since Potter wasn't doing anything but staring at it like it was the ninth wonder of the world, Draco moved forward.
"Stop!" Potter yelled, tugging Draco back.
Angrily, Draco rested against a tree, the sharp bark digging into his back and probably making him dirtier, but he was beyond caring. Potter couldn't boss him around like that.
"Oh, don't pout, you big baby," Potter snickered, looking back at him. "I was just saving your skin."
"Since when do you care?"
Potter ignored him. "That's a Horcr-- thing and usually there are spells and such surrounding them, making them hard to get to."
Draco's interest was flared. So this -- this old wand -- was what they had been looking for. "How'd you know it was in this forest?"
"Snape," Potter answered absentmindedly, moving forward cautiously.
"Why do you trust him?"
"Don't. Just think he's on our side."
"Idiot," Draco muttered. Fine by him if Potter didn't want to explain his reasoning. If his only reasoning was the nonsense he'd babbled earlier he was sorely wrong about the whole thing.
Oh well. As long as the fact that "I'm the one that lead us in this direction" was known he didn't care. Not much, anyway.
With the miniature sized steps Potter was taking it would be years before he reached the platform, and it was only two arms lengths away. Draco sighed in irritation but a loud crack! punctured it. A whoosh followed and Potter whacked against him, digging Draco's back into the tree and probably making him bleed.
"You bloody tosser! What the fuck do you think you're do-- Oww! Oh, bloody oww!" Wincing he brought his right hand to his scraped back but Potter's arm followed. Something was tugging on his wrist.
Potter groaned and Draco was afraid to look down at what monstrosity Potter had done, but he did anyway.
There was a thin rope, so thin it could have been wire if not for the brown coarseness that always came with rope, connecting their wrists together.
"I don't get it." Potter lifted their hands and inspected it while Draco rubbed his tender back with his other hand, trying not to attack Potter -- no need to hurt his back even more.
Draco understood perfectly. Well, perhaps not perfectly but more than Potter ever would because Potter was a complete and utter pillock who couldn't watch where he was going and what wards and spells he activated. Draco's breath was coming in harsh bursts despite the fact that he'd thought those words, not spoken them.
"You just activated one of the things that make it hard to get to, as you said not a few minutes previous," Draco snarled.
Potter blinked at him. "Of course. But why would it tie us together? I mean, how would Voldemort even know there would be two people to tie together?" He let out a bark of laughter. "Hey, we can still get it."
Draco had just made up his mind to strangle Potter to death, drag his body back to camp, and pay the consequences with a clean conscience when three loud cracks filled the air, distinctly different from the sound that had roped them together. Draco recognized them instantly, before the people even materialized as Apparations.
Standing with their backs to them were the Dark Lord and two robed Death Eaters.
Bloody fucking hell, he was going to die, with Potter tied to his body. The disgrace!
He should have stayed with the Death Eaters.
"Which tree did the spell bind him to?" a feminine voice asked. It was his aunt Bellatrix, and Potter seemed to notice that as well because a little snarl left his mouth.
Swiftly, Draco tugged Potter behind the tree, making sure to step on no twigs, but the dead leaves on the forest ground crinkled.
The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters turned but they were out of sight, trying not to breathe.
Potter's eyes were wide, probably like Draco's own. Were they actually going to just stand there, against the tree that had bloodied his back, no thanks to Potter, and wait to be found?
"This one has some bark scraped off," the other Death Eater pointed out.
Draco shot Potter a glare but there was a wild look in his eyes and suddenly Draco realized that Potter was going to jump out and get himself killed. Frantically, Draco scrabbled with the rope.
That didn't do any good and Potter already had his wand pulled out, gaze piercing the small gap between their tree and the one next to it.
"Come out, Potter, and fight like a man," Voldemort's high pitched voice cooed.
Draco dug his fingers into Potter's stomach and pinched.
Their eyes locked and suddenly they were running, tripping over roots and ending up on opposite sides of a tree, having to step back and stay close so that wouldn't happen again. Spells whizzed past them and it suddenly occurred to Draco that he'd left Ginny Weasley's broom behind. It was such an absurd thought to have whilst he running for his life that Draco started laughing.
He laughed so hard he crumbled to the dirt. He wasn't sure when his laughter turned to tears but it did.
Another body landed next to him but Potter's laughter didn't turn to despair. He still had that wild look in his eyes.
"They're going to Apparate next to us any second now, aren't they?" Draco managed to choke out.
Potter stretched his hands to the sky and Draco glared at him out of the eye not plastered to the grass. He tugged his wrist down and Potter looked at him, shaking his own hand slightly.
"No. Are you kidding, Malfoy? I've tried Apparating to camp but you can't. I guess that was the only place you could Apparate in and out of."
Draco sagged in relief. He grabbed his wand and pointed it at the rope, saying every spell he knew but nothing worked. After Potter had his skin scorched five times (because there was no way Draco was going to use the spells on his half) he tried his own spells.
The rope didn't budge.
"You're still crying," Potter pointed out.
Draco sat and rubbed his cheeks. So he was. He was beyond caring. "What if he locates me through the Mark?"
"Doesn't matter," Potter brushed it off. "He'd still have to walk after us."
"Or take Weasley's broom."
Just like that they were serious again. Silently, they stood and made their way around the forest, searching for the camp.
Two fruitless hours later Potter whined, breaking the longest silence ever between them. Potter moved his hands -- and, by default, Draco's right one -- to cup his crotch. "I've really got to piss."
Draco wrenched his wrist away in disgust. There was, after all, only about a hand's length between their wrists.
Potter did a little dance though Draco figured it was more for show than need.
"If you wouldn't have got us lost --"
"I wouldn't have found you."
"-- then you wouldn't have this problem." He gave Potter a dark glare. "You'll just have to wait until we reach camp."
"That could take days," Potter countered flatly. Draco refused to acknowledge that because with each passing second, the darkness already encasing them, it seemed more truth than possibility.
Potter did another silly dance. "Look, I'll just go behind that bush over there."
"Yes," Draco said dryly. "And I'll wait here." He jingled their hands.
A crease formed on Potter's forehead. "Well. I can't wait any longer. I'll piss my pants."
"Fine!" Draco huffed and crossed his arms -- attempted to really, because Potter's hand got in the way and he ended up simply looking weird.
Potter bustled over to the bush, which the moonlight just happened to illuminate, and unzipped his trousers. Draco scrunched his nose and tried pulling his hand away because he did not need to know Potter was semi-hard, or feel that he was.
Then Potter's clothes were around his ankles and Draco was trying to inch away, eyes pinned on Potter's cock to make sure he wouldn't get too close.
He had a rather nice cock. Not thick but long. Longer than his own anyway, and not as thick. And why wasn't Potter taking a leak already? It was very awkward standing there with a half nude bloke next to him, about to relieve himself.
Potter ground out, "You're staring at me."
"Just making sure the spray doesn't go near me," Draco replied waspishly.
Potter made an irritated noise and then faced him, right hand aiming.
Draco let out a shriek and Potter laughed, turning to face the bush. A steady yellow stream burst forth, hitting the leaves and dripping off them onto the others.
Draco's stomach was doing odd things and his toes seemed to be...curling?
And, shite, his cock was hardening too, and not from some sudden need to urinate.
Potter let out a sigh, hand shifting to get a better grasp on his cock. He rolled his shoulders.
"Stop it!" Draco yelped, pressing his left hand against his crotch and backing up because there was no way he was finding this arousing. In his panic, he had forgotten he was tied to Potter and when he tried to flee Potter turned with him, spraying him.
The hot liquid hit a line across Draco's stomach and instantly soaked through his thin shirt.
"Oh, gods, I'm so sorry!" The twat then moved forward, hand releasing his prick, making the stream hit Draco's knees.
A strangled moan escaped Draco's lips. He had never been so turned on in his life. The urine was penetrating his trousers and drizzling down his legs. It was so warm and disgusting and the smell was invading his senses. He cared no longer what Potter thought, what the surprised silent look on his face meant, and he slipped a hand down his clothes, grasping the base of his cock, eyes trained on the rapidly diminishing liquid. It burned a trail down his trousers, over one shoe, across the impossibly small amount of grass between them, and ended at Potter's shoe.
"You're sick."
Draco looked at Potter's face, his cock, then his face again. "And you're getting hard."
"Not -- you're wanking and -- not because I was pissing!" He flung his hands around in desperation, only succeeding in pulling Draco closer.
"Who cares?"
Their lips fussed together and Draco wasn't sure who had initiated that but it didn't matter because Potter's mouth was wet and warm and tasted so good.
They tumbled to the forest floor. A stick managed to shove its way under Draco's shirt and he wrestled to pull it out. Potter grabbed his free hand and pinned it to the grass. The rope was digging into his wrist so he bucked. Potter only groaned and crushed their hips together, a thin layer of Draco's trousers and pants preventing skin-on-skin contact.
"I don't -- mrff -- want to be the only one naked," Potter protested, lacing their fingers and rocking deliciously.
Draco was too set on getting off to waste time removing clothes, even though it would probably be the fastest, most enjoyable way. He was so close anyhow. Potter latched onto his ear and thrust a tongue in, awakening nerves Draco hadn't even known he possessed.
Potter slipped a hand down the front of Draco's pants, tugging and tweaking along with Draco's hand. Draco used his other hand to knead Potter's arse, making Potter bend his arm awkwardly, but he wasn't complaining.
Their desire was building and their tongues met, tousling together.
Draco came with a muffled yell, arching into Potter's touch. Potter grabbed his own cock and pumped once, twice, and spurted, dropping his head to Draco's neck and biting down hard.
In the silence that followed Draco grabbed his wand and cleaned both of them off, wincing at the slight sting. Eventually Potter rolled over and pulled his clothes on, forcing Draco to hover over him, not that he really minded; it meant he got a nice view of Potter's fit arse.
He wanted to lick it. Did this mean he was gay?
"Er," Potter said. The moment Draco looked at him he dropped his gaze to the ground. "Keep going?"
Draco nodded and they set off. Just when Draco was beginning to wonder if they were going to act like it had never happened he caught Potter running his eyes up and down his body. He smirked.
Potter stopped and a sheepish grin crossed his face. Draco faced what Potter was looking at: a small clearing filled with tents. The campsite.
Draco really didn't mind that Potter couldn't have waited those five minutes to camp. His knees were still weak.
"Harry!" someone yelled, and Draco looked around to find Lupin running towards them. "Luna came back a few hours ago, said you went missing."
Potter nodded. "So Luna's all right?"
Draco didn't see what the big deal was. Who cared if she was all right? She was a right loon anyway.
"Yes, yes," Lupin answered distractedly. He was staring at Draco. "What's Mr Malfoy doing here?"
Just like that, Potter was animated, waving his hands about no matter how much Draco protested, and talking so fast Draco had trouble understanding. "Malfoy's was out looking for us. Said everyone isn't getting our Patronus'. And I don't think we can send Patronuses in here because I sent you lot some -- you didn't get them, did you? No, I didn't think so.
"But guess what? I found a Horcr- thing. You know, it's a wand. But Voldemort and Bellatrix and some other Death Eater popped up. We got away in time, obviously, but we need to go back for it, then leave. Voldemort's probably looking all over the place. And he can trace our location by Malfoy's Mark."
He stopped and gasped for air.
Draco tried inching away from him. "I'm the one who lead us to the Hor-thing," he announced.
Potter rolled his eyes. "Oh, and we're tied together because of the Hor-thing. We can't get it off."
Lupin nodded. He looked like he was still taking it all in. "Well, um, Hermione's in her tent. Maybe she knows some way to disconnect you two. Then show us where the wand is."
Potter nodded and looked at Draco, then coloured instantly.
Draco, on the other hand, didn't blush. He tried not to, at least, but he was sure something showed because Lupin was giving them odd looks now. Quickly he tugged Potter to the circle of cheap tan tents.
Potter opened his mouth then shut it, staring straight ahead.
Their fingers twined together and Draco wasn't sure if it was just an accident but their fingers had to bend awkwardly so it had to be a conscious movement.
Either way, it was warm and Potter didn't seem to mind; there was a faint smile on his face.
Sequel