(no subject)
Title: After
Author: Elouana
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Warnings: bit angsty (happyish ending), non-graphic mention of past character death (not H or D)
Summary: Snapshots of Harry’s life after he defeats Voldemort.
Preview:
*
Harry got cold, even in this heat.
He wrapped himself round the thin body in his bed, stopping its shaking in the process, telling himself it was only to warm up.
*
Word Count: 600
Notes: So short and vague it could be DH compliant or not. More not.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the Harry Potter universe belongs JK Rowling etc.
The final battle was suffocating with heat.
Harry had imagined cold, mist, the darkness of early morning; inky black skies.
It was blazing with sunshine.
Malfoy’s hair shone.
*
Voldemort had been twitchy. Harry had expected cool, calm defiance, even if he knew it was the end.
He’d begged for his life, the only thing proving he still possessed it: mumbled words and a sheen of sweat.
Malfoy had sweated that morning; he’d licked a trail of it from the length of his spine.
*
Hermione’s eyes still seemed to see him as he closed them with shaking fingers.
That night, he stared into Malfoy’s to forget.
Malfoy never closed his eyes when he could be looking at Harry.
*
Ron’s laugh turned bitter and cold, and Malfoy’s began to warm.
If Harry laughed, he felt guilt rip through his insides. Malfoy’s hands traced his stomach and eased the desire to expel its contents.
The rare occasions Malfoy did laugh, Harry almost smiled.
*
Harry got cold, even in this heat.
He wrapped himself round the thin body in his bed, stopping its shaking in the process, telling himself it was only to warm up.
*
George visited.
Harry vomited his lunch and cried all afternoon.
Malfoy brought him soup, but it ended up on floor with his clothes.
*
Malfoy became Draco somewhere between moans.
*
Harry liked pain, because it was feeling something. He liked to hurt Draco, because when he did feel, it was so overwhelming.
*
Ron didn’t really talk much anymore, and other people expected too much.
Draco listened when Harry wanted him to, and spoke when Harry couldn’t bring himself to.
*
Molly brought Teddy to see his Godfather. Harry wouldn’t hold him, but Draco did. They both smiled.
Harry actually felt something at the sight.
*
Christmas came, and Ron stayed to keep Harry company.
Harry didn’t say, of course, but already had all he needed.
*
Draco had bruises, and people noticed.
Arthur worried.
Draco felt loved, liked that bruises were real.
*
Harry drank, and Draco picked up the pieces.
The bruises were worse, but it felt like Harry was really there.
*
Harry found his lips sliding over Draco's, but only in the safe cover of dark.
His chest tightened when he looked at him, and he wondered what that meant.
*
Ron broke down, and Harry had a purpose in fixing him.
His eyes seemed less dead.
His body felt warmer.
*
Harry said things as he came that Draco was sure he never remembered, or meant.
*
Hogwarts reopened, mid-year, and they were asked back.
They wanted them to tutor and counsel younger students and complete their studies.
Harry knew enough, and Draco went where Harry went. Nowhere.
*
Draco cooked for Harry, because otherwise he didn’t eat.
Harry had mood swings. There was anger, and lust. And a combination.
Dinner was ruined at Harry teasingly slowly fucked him on the kitchen table.
*
There was routine, at last.
Draco was firmly a part of it.
*
Harry now only bruised Draco when he begged for it, and didn’t need to bite or be bitten to make himself come.
*
They fucked when Harry was neither drunk, nor sad, nor angry.
They touched outside of the bedroom, but never outside of the house.
Their home.
*
A year passed.
Draco found him at Hermione’s grave, his old mask back in place, only to soften.
‘This would be me, without you.’
They made love in the dirt.