Walk of Shame (8/?)
Title: Walk of Shame (8/?)
Author: dracogotgame
Word Count: 2,000
Rating: R
Prompt: slythindor100's 25 days of Draco and Harry: Prompt 8
Summary: The plot thickens.
Warning: Mild Angst
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Author's Notes: Part 8 of the Walk of Shame Series. Yeah, so this fic is kinda going it's own way now. I hope nobody's too disappointed and that you'll still join me for the ride? There will be more fluff, yes, but apparently, there's also a sort of plot now with hints of angst. So...yeah, my bad ;)
Draco woke up to darkness and hushed voices all around him. His mind reacted slowly, trying to make sense of the awareness returning to his aching body.
“…a stupid, ill thought out prank. Nothing more.”
Draco froze, recognising Shacklebolt’s voice. The Head Auror was here. But why?
“You can’t possibly believe that,” another voice replied, low, angry and instantly recognisable. If Draco could have managed it, he would have winced at the sheer fury in Harry’s hushed whisper.
Shacklebolt didn’t seem to think much of it either. “Auror Potter, get a hold of yourself,” he growled. “There is no evidence that this was anything but an attempt to make mischief at a Ministry event.”
It was then, and only then, that Draco realised he was lying down on someone. Half sprawled in someone’s lap, specifically. His head rested on strong thighs and a warm, large hand was rubbing circles in his back. It felt nice. He rather wanted to doze off again, but he forced himself to stay awake and listen.
“You’re not serious,” Harry scoffed. His hand drifted to Draco’s hair now, the motion gentle and soothing. “How much more evidence do you need? St Mungo’s just reported back. The potion composition is an exact match to the sample we retrieved from Devon! Which means…”
“Which means absolutely nothing,” Kingsley cut in firmly. “Potions tend to have similar compositions, Harry. It’s how we know they were brewed correctly. We just don’t have enough to justify an investigation at this point.”
Harry went stiff as a board. The sudden tension was unnerving, and Draco tried to remain as still as possible.
“Ten people,” Harry hissed dangerously, “succumbed to varying degrees of hysteria at a secured Ministry event and you don’t think we have anything to investigate? Kingsley, this wasn’t a prank! It was an attempt to induce mass hysteria, potentially start a riot. It was an act of terrorism and you know it!”
“Don’t throw words like that around!” Kingsley barked, sounding exasperated. “The last thing we need is for the Minister for Magic to catch wind of some conspiracy theory and start breathing down our necks! We’ll be looking for a needle in a haystack and when nothing turns up…you know, I’m finding it very hard to talk business with you while you’re petting the Head Archivist.”
Draco flushed as he finally put the embarrassing scene together in his head. Good grief, had he been glommed on to Potter all this time?
“I’m not leaving him,” Harry replied, softer this time. His fingers carded through Draco’s hair again. “Not right now.”
“Harry, we…”
Draco had had enough. He stirred a bit and groaned to announce his presence. Harry’s hands stilled in his hair.
“Draco?” he whispered, sounding hesitant and a bit scared.
Draco finally opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was Harry- looking down at him with a soft smile and eyes just a tiny bit damp. “You’re awake,” he murmured softly. “Oh, thank Merlin. You’re awake.”
He sounded so relieved, so grateful. Warm hands carded through Draco’s hair gently, brushing it back and stroking his face.
It was enough to tip Draco over the edge. He hadn’t even realised how awful he was feeling- cold and small and scared. A soft whimper escaped him and his hands flew up to tangle in Harry’s shirt, desperate to keep him close.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Harry soothed him. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re okay now.”
He didn’t feel okay. He felt small and lost. His stomach was churning and he could still feel the phantom heat from the flames. Draco shivered and turned in Harry’s arms, wanting nothing more but to hide away from the world. He missed his Library desperately right now. He wished he was there instead.
“Okay,” Harry murmured. Careful hands crept up his back to hold him carefully. “Okay, Draco. Whatever you want, yeah?”
Kingsley cleared his throat, reminding them of his presence. Draco nudged further into Harry’s arms and Harry squeezed him gently.
“I think we’re done here tonight, Head Auror,” he told Kingsley, politely but firmly.
Kingsley harrumphed but didn’t protest. “I’ll see myself out. And Harry? Keep this thing under wraps. We don’t want the press making a mountain out of a molehill, understand?”
Harry was mutinously silent for a few seconds. Draco squeezed his arm discreetly, prompting him to respond.
“Yes,” he replied heavily. “I understand. Sir.”
Kingsley excused himself shortly afterwards, and left them to it.
It still took Draco a few minutes to release Harry. Harry helped him sit up, propping him up on the sofa, arms still loosely wrapped around his shoulders.
“How do you feel?” he asked, nuzzling at Draco’s hair. “Any nausea? Headaches? Hermione said there might be some side effects.”
Draco vaguely recalled that Granger was a Healer. She must have checked up on him then- probably heard him screaming and watched him claw at himself as he battled his worst nightmare…
The rush of humiliation hit hard. Draco looked away, and his eyes landed on the DMLE crest hanging proudly on the wall in front of him.
“Where am I?” he demanded.
“In my office,” Harry replied, rubbing his back soothingly. “We couldn’t move you to St Mungo’s. You were panicking too much.”
Draco swallowed. His throat still felt too dry. “What happened?” he asked. He needed to know. He needed to understand.
Harry tightened his grip a fraction. “Someone spiked the champagne,” he explained quietly. “You…you got dosed. By the time I got to you…it was bad, Draco. You were screaming. The things you were saying…”
The champagne.
Someone had drugged him.
Draco’s blood ran cold.
He closed his eyes. He tried to will his heartbeat back to normal. Most of the night was a blur, but he could still remember how he’d felt. The haunting, sickening heat of the Fiendfyre, the fear and panic and pain of the night he’d never let himself think about since the Battle…it had seemed so real in that moment. It had felt like he’d been dropped in the throes of his worst nightmare.
“Was…was anybody else…”
“Ten people.” Harry exhaled sharply and scrubbed at his eyes. “It hit you harder. You… had two glasses, remember?”
His memories flew back to the balcony, to Harry smiling in the moonlight and offering him his glass. It could have been him, Draco thought blankly. If Harry had taken it, he would be suffering right now.
Strangely enough, that thought was even worse.
“I’m sorry.” Harry’s voice shook and his hands gripped Draco desperately. “Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”
“No,” Draco protested at once. “No, it’s not. You didn’t know, Harry. How could you have known?”
“I should have known,” Harry growled. There was a quiet fury in his voice, his eyes were dark with anger. Draco shivered slightly. He had only seen this side of Harry a scant few times. And lately, he had become so used to his softer side- his playful presence, his kind smile and teasing comments. He had forgotten what was hidden beneath that cheerful veneer. Harry was powerful. Dangerous, when provoked.
He was dangerous right now.
Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, curling into him. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, and judging by Harry’s huff of surprise, he didn’t quite get it either. All Draco knew was that if he didn’t calm him down right now, Harry would do something. Something reckless and dangerous.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Harry crooned, pulling him closer and pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’m here, sweetheart. I won’t let anything happen to you, okay? I’ve got you, I promise.”
The tender endearments were soothing them both, Draco realised. It felt good, giving Harry something to hold on to.
A few minutes later, Harry pulled out his wand and muttered a Summoning Charm. Draco watched in perplexed silence as a box flew off the desk in the corner and floated towards them.
“You haven’t eaten since this morning,” Harry reminded him. He pried the box open and held it out. “Here.”
Draco peered inside, staring at the bright assortment of Christmas cookies. They looked delicious but he was too unsettled to eat. “I’m not hungry,” he mumbled, pushing the box away.
Harry clicked his tongue disapprovingly and picked up a biscuit anyway- one shaped like a snowflake. “Just a bite,” he coaxed gently, holding it out. “The sugar will help.”
Draco sighed and closed his eyes. He leaned forward and took a bite, only realising then that Harry was basically hand-feeding him. The cookies did help though. For a minute, he just sat there enjoying the sweet taste on his tongue and the warm brush of Harry’s fingers against his lips.
After a while though, he had to break the silence. There were things they needed to talk about.
“Harry?”
“Hm?”
“What happened in Devon?”
Harry fell silent. Draco tried not to squirm guiltily under his piercing gaze.
“How long were you listening in?” Harry asked quietly.
“What happened in Devon?” Draco repeated.
Harry sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Nothing,” he said finally. “It was just…it was nothing, Draco.”
Anger simmered in his gut, tight and uncomfortable. “I have a right to know,” Draco said coldly. “I was drugged. Do you have any idea what it was like? What I went through? You…”
“I know,” Harry cut in. He reached out and cradled Draco’s face in gentle hands. “I know and I’m so sorry,” he repeated quietly. “I won’t let it happen again. I swear, Draco. It will never happen again. I’ll fix it, okay?”
“But…”
Draco trailed off helplessly. He felt sick again- sick and small and weak. Something was going on. Something bad. Harry was clearly reacting to it. There was a different energy about him now- something dark and fierce and protective. The playful, gentle side of him was gone, buried under this restless rage.
Draco didn’t like it. He wanted Harry back. The old one. The one he’d started thinking of as his…no matter how much he denied it.
“Take me home.”
He couldn’t be here anymore. He needed to leave, and he needed to get Harry away from here too. Back home. Back to the safety of his flat.
“I want to go home,” he repeated, fiercer than he’d intended.
Harry’s eyes softened. He gathered Draco up and pressed a kiss to his head. “Okay,” he murmured. “I can Side Along us. Do you feel well enough for that?”
“I’m fine,” Draco replied, even though his stomach flipped. But the thought of using the Floo- literally stepping into fire again- was unbearable.
Thankfully, Harry didn’t press him. He just helped Draco up, holding him close as he palmed his wand.
“Harry?” Draco swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. “Will you stay over? Just…just for tonight?”
Harry swept him up in a fierce embrace. “Of course,” he whispered in Draco’s hair. “As long as you want. I won’t leave you, sweetheart. Never, okay?”
Draco wasn’t sure he could put his messed up feelings into words. Not now, maybe not ever. So he just nodded and hooked his hands in Harry’s shirt again. Harry pressed a warm kiss to his forehead and Draco curled into him. He felt safe and protected. This was good. For now.
But he was going to figure this out- whatever was going on and Harry wasn’t telling him.
The tug of Apparition distracted him from his dark thoughts, and he was whisked away to the safety of home, still secured in Harry’s arms.
Part 9
Author: dracogotgame
Word Count: 2,000
Rating: R
Prompt: slythindor100's 25 days of Draco and Harry: Prompt 8
Summary: The plot thickens.
Warning: Mild Angst
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Author's Notes: Part 8 of the Walk of Shame Series. Yeah, so this fic is kinda going it's own way now. I hope nobody's too disappointed and that you'll still join me for the ride? There will be more fluff, yes, but apparently, there's also a sort of plot now with hints of angst. So...yeah, my bad ;)
Draco woke up to darkness and hushed voices all around him. His mind reacted slowly, trying to make sense of the awareness returning to his aching body.
“…a stupid, ill thought out prank. Nothing more.”
Draco froze, recognising Shacklebolt’s voice. The Head Auror was here. But why?
“You can’t possibly believe that,” another voice replied, low, angry and instantly recognisable. If Draco could have managed it, he would have winced at the sheer fury in Harry’s hushed whisper.
Shacklebolt didn’t seem to think much of it either. “Auror Potter, get a hold of yourself,” he growled. “There is no evidence that this was anything but an attempt to make mischief at a Ministry event.”
It was then, and only then, that Draco realised he was lying down on someone. Half sprawled in someone’s lap, specifically. His head rested on strong thighs and a warm, large hand was rubbing circles in his back. It felt nice. He rather wanted to doze off again, but he forced himself to stay awake and listen.
“You’re not serious,” Harry scoffed. His hand drifted to Draco’s hair now, the motion gentle and soothing. “How much more evidence do you need? St Mungo’s just reported back. The potion composition is an exact match to the sample we retrieved from Devon! Which means…”
“Which means absolutely nothing,” Kingsley cut in firmly. “Potions tend to have similar compositions, Harry. It’s how we know they were brewed correctly. We just don’t have enough to justify an investigation at this point.”
Harry went stiff as a board. The sudden tension was unnerving, and Draco tried to remain as still as possible.
“Ten people,” Harry hissed dangerously, “succumbed to varying degrees of hysteria at a secured Ministry event and you don’t think we have anything to investigate? Kingsley, this wasn’t a prank! It was an attempt to induce mass hysteria, potentially start a riot. It was an act of terrorism and you know it!”
“Don’t throw words like that around!” Kingsley barked, sounding exasperated. “The last thing we need is for the Minister for Magic to catch wind of some conspiracy theory and start breathing down our necks! We’ll be looking for a needle in a haystack and when nothing turns up…you know, I’m finding it very hard to talk business with you while you’re petting the Head Archivist.”
Draco flushed as he finally put the embarrassing scene together in his head. Good grief, had he been glommed on to Potter all this time?
“I’m not leaving him,” Harry replied, softer this time. His fingers carded through Draco’s hair again. “Not right now.”
“Harry, we…”
Draco had had enough. He stirred a bit and groaned to announce his presence. Harry’s hands stilled in his hair.
“Draco?” he whispered, sounding hesitant and a bit scared.
Draco finally opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was Harry- looking down at him with a soft smile and eyes just a tiny bit damp. “You’re awake,” he murmured softly. “Oh, thank Merlin. You’re awake.”
He sounded so relieved, so grateful. Warm hands carded through Draco’s hair gently, brushing it back and stroking his face.
It was enough to tip Draco over the edge. He hadn’t even realised how awful he was feeling- cold and small and scared. A soft whimper escaped him and his hands flew up to tangle in Harry’s shirt, desperate to keep him close.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Harry soothed him. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re okay now.”
He didn’t feel okay. He felt small and lost. His stomach was churning and he could still feel the phantom heat from the flames. Draco shivered and turned in Harry’s arms, wanting nothing more but to hide away from the world. He missed his Library desperately right now. He wished he was there instead.
“Okay,” Harry murmured. Careful hands crept up his back to hold him carefully. “Okay, Draco. Whatever you want, yeah?”
Kingsley cleared his throat, reminding them of his presence. Draco nudged further into Harry’s arms and Harry squeezed him gently.
“I think we’re done here tonight, Head Auror,” he told Kingsley, politely but firmly.
Kingsley harrumphed but didn’t protest. “I’ll see myself out. And Harry? Keep this thing under wraps. We don’t want the press making a mountain out of a molehill, understand?”
Harry was mutinously silent for a few seconds. Draco squeezed his arm discreetly, prompting him to respond.
“Yes,” he replied heavily. “I understand. Sir.”
Kingsley excused himself shortly afterwards, and left them to it.
It still took Draco a few minutes to release Harry. Harry helped him sit up, propping him up on the sofa, arms still loosely wrapped around his shoulders.
“How do you feel?” he asked, nuzzling at Draco’s hair. “Any nausea? Headaches? Hermione said there might be some side effects.”
Draco vaguely recalled that Granger was a Healer. She must have checked up on him then- probably heard him screaming and watched him claw at himself as he battled his worst nightmare…
The rush of humiliation hit hard. Draco looked away, and his eyes landed on the DMLE crest hanging proudly on the wall in front of him.
“Where am I?” he demanded.
“In my office,” Harry replied, rubbing his back soothingly. “We couldn’t move you to St Mungo’s. You were panicking too much.”
Draco swallowed. His throat still felt too dry. “What happened?” he asked. He needed to know. He needed to understand.
Harry tightened his grip a fraction. “Someone spiked the champagne,” he explained quietly. “You…you got dosed. By the time I got to you…it was bad, Draco. You were screaming. The things you were saying…”
The champagne.
Someone had drugged him.
Draco’s blood ran cold.
He closed his eyes. He tried to will his heartbeat back to normal. Most of the night was a blur, but he could still remember how he’d felt. The haunting, sickening heat of the Fiendfyre, the fear and panic and pain of the night he’d never let himself think about since the Battle…it had seemed so real in that moment. It had felt like he’d been dropped in the throes of his worst nightmare.
“Was…was anybody else…”
“Ten people.” Harry exhaled sharply and scrubbed at his eyes. “It hit you harder. You… had two glasses, remember?”
His memories flew back to the balcony, to Harry smiling in the moonlight and offering him his glass. It could have been him, Draco thought blankly. If Harry had taken it, he would be suffering right now.
Strangely enough, that thought was even worse.
“I’m sorry.” Harry’s voice shook and his hands gripped Draco desperately. “Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”
“No,” Draco protested at once. “No, it’s not. You didn’t know, Harry. How could you have known?”
“I should have known,” Harry growled. There was a quiet fury in his voice, his eyes were dark with anger. Draco shivered slightly. He had only seen this side of Harry a scant few times. And lately, he had become so used to his softer side- his playful presence, his kind smile and teasing comments. He had forgotten what was hidden beneath that cheerful veneer. Harry was powerful. Dangerous, when provoked.
He was dangerous right now.
Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, curling into him. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, and judging by Harry’s huff of surprise, he didn’t quite get it either. All Draco knew was that if he didn’t calm him down right now, Harry would do something. Something reckless and dangerous.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Harry crooned, pulling him closer and pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’m here, sweetheart. I won’t let anything happen to you, okay? I’ve got you, I promise.”
The tender endearments were soothing them both, Draco realised. It felt good, giving Harry something to hold on to.
A few minutes later, Harry pulled out his wand and muttered a Summoning Charm. Draco watched in perplexed silence as a box flew off the desk in the corner and floated towards them.
“You haven’t eaten since this morning,” Harry reminded him. He pried the box open and held it out. “Here.”
Draco peered inside, staring at the bright assortment of Christmas cookies. They looked delicious but he was too unsettled to eat. “I’m not hungry,” he mumbled, pushing the box away.
Harry clicked his tongue disapprovingly and picked up a biscuit anyway- one shaped like a snowflake. “Just a bite,” he coaxed gently, holding it out. “The sugar will help.”
Draco sighed and closed his eyes. He leaned forward and took a bite, only realising then that Harry was basically hand-feeding him. The cookies did help though. For a minute, he just sat there enjoying the sweet taste on his tongue and the warm brush of Harry’s fingers against his lips.
After a while though, he had to break the silence. There were things they needed to talk about.
“Harry?”
“Hm?”
“What happened in Devon?”
Harry fell silent. Draco tried not to squirm guiltily under his piercing gaze.
“How long were you listening in?” Harry asked quietly.
“What happened in Devon?” Draco repeated.
Harry sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Nothing,” he said finally. “It was just…it was nothing, Draco.”
Anger simmered in his gut, tight and uncomfortable. “I have a right to know,” Draco said coldly. “I was drugged. Do you have any idea what it was like? What I went through? You…”
“I know,” Harry cut in. He reached out and cradled Draco’s face in gentle hands. “I know and I’m so sorry,” he repeated quietly. “I won’t let it happen again. I swear, Draco. It will never happen again. I’ll fix it, okay?”
“But…”
Draco trailed off helplessly. He felt sick again- sick and small and weak. Something was going on. Something bad. Harry was clearly reacting to it. There was a different energy about him now- something dark and fierce and protective. The playful, gentle side of him was gone, buried under this restless rage.
Draco didn’t like it. He wanted Harry back. The old one. The one he’d started thinking of as his…no matter how much he denied it.
“Take me home.”
He couldn’t be here anymore. He needed to leave, and he needed to get Harry away from here too. Back home. Back to the safety of his flat.
“I want to go home,” he repeated, fiercer than he’d intended.
Harry’s eyes softened. He gathered Draco up and pressed a kiss to his head. “Okay,” he murmured. “I can Side Along us. Do you feel well enough for that?”
“I’m fine,” Draco replied, even though his stomach flipped. But the thought of using the Floo- literally stepping into fire again- was unbearable.
Thankfully, Harry didn’t press him. He just helped Draco up, holding him close as he palmed his wand.
“Harry?” Draco swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. “Will you stay over? Just…just for tonight?”
Harry swept him up in a fierce embrace. “Of course,” he whispered in Draco’s hair. “As long as you want. I won’t leave you, sweetheart. Never, okay?”
Draco wasn’t sure he could put his messed up feelings into words. Not now, maybe not ever. So he just nodded and hooked his hands in Harry’s shirt again. Harry pressed a warm kiss to his forehead and Draco curled into him. He felt safe and protected. This was good. For now.
But he was going to figure this out- whatever was going on and Harry wasn’t telling him.
The tug of Apparition distracted him from his dark thoughts, and he was whisked away to the safety of home, still secured in Harry’s arms.
Part 9