FIC: Give My Heart 5/5
Severus came to retrieve the memory the next afternoon. Draco had it ready and waiting in the Pensieve before he even arrived, and he stayed on the opposite side of the room during Severus’ entire visit, making it clear that he didn’t want to be touched. They barely spoke two words to each other before Severus entered the memory.
Draco didn’t think he’d ever been this angry with Severus. He just felt so betrayed. Severus had hidden things from him, gone behind his back, and manipulated the situation to his own benefit. Not only did that shake Draco’s trust in him, but it also reawakened his old fear that Severus had little use or care for him beyond sex.
But even though he was furious, Draco still loved Severus - loved him so much that his heart ached with it. It hurt to be in the same room without touching him, and his conflicting desires to pull Severus close and push him away just confused Draco and made everything harder.
Severus didn’t say anything when he emerged from the memory, and he remained silent as he passed it through the duplication device. That was fine by Draco. He didn’t think there was anything Severus could say right now that wouldn’t make things worse.
When the duplicated memory was stashed safely in Severus’ robes, he finally turned to face Draco. “The Dark Lord will likely require several days to prepare his ambush,” he said.
“All right.”
“I will warn you of the kidnapping before it occurs. Tell Potter to have his forces ready to move at any time.”
“Tell him yourself,” Draco said, perhaps a bit too harshly. “I’m not your messenger.”
Severus stiffened, and there was a brief flash of surprise and hurt in his eyes before his face smoothed out as if he hadn’t been affected by Draco’s words at all. “Of course.”
Draco felt the urge to apologize, to reach out to Severus, to tell him it would be all right, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was the one who had been wronged, not Severus. Once the initial hysteria after his indiscretion with Potter had passed, Draco had realized it was ridiculous to hold himself responsible for what had happened - it was no different than if Potter had slipped him a love potion and then taken advantage of his altered state, except for the fact that Potter hadn’t gotten Draco high on purpose. Draco would never in a million years have been unfaithful to Severus under any other circumstances. He hadn’t fucked up, Severus had, and Draco was too proud to apologize when he hadn’t done anything wrong.
So he said nothing.
The panic attack that hit him that night was the worst he could ever remember having. It happened when he was in bed, pretending to be trying to sleep but really just staring glumly at the wall. One moment he was breathing freely, and the next his throat had closed off under the pressure of abrupt, unexpected terror.
Draco tried to cry out, but no sound could pass through the constriction in his throat. And who would he call, anyway? Severus wasn’t here, and Potter wasn’t an option. He was alone.
Merlin, he was going to die alone! His heart was beating so fast that it would surely explode any second. Draco thrashed on the bed, legs kicking wildly as his hands scrabbled at the mattress in search of something, anything to hold on to. His pulse pounded in his ears, loud, too loud, the ceiling was going to fall, cave in, bury him in the bed, oh no no no Severus -
Just as Draco’s vision began to grey at the edges from lack of oxygen, the panic waned and his throat opened up, allowing him to breathe again. He took in great shuddering gasps of air as he reminded himself that he wasn’t in any danger, that he wasn’t going to die. His sweat-soaked body trembled violently from cold and the aftereffects of gut-wrenching fear.
In his panicked convulsions, Draco had thrown the covers completely off the bed. When he got up to retrieve them, he was hardly able to stand on his wobbly legs. He cast a spell to clean himself up and then lay back down, burrowing under the covers in search of warmth. The panic was gone, but his pulse was still racing and his breaths were unsteady. Draco was shaken to his core.
He felt the sudden and almost uncontrollable urge to burst into tears, but he managed to stop himself after only one irrepressible sob. He bit the inside of his cheek hard. No way was he going to cry like a frightened child because of a panic attack.
When was the last time he’d suffered an attack all the way to its natural conclusion? Draco couldn’t remember. Years ago, at least. For a long time, Severus had always been there to cut them short, aside from the one time that Potter had done it. Draco had forgotten how truly awful they could be.
In a few days, the war would be over, one way or another. And Draco was starting to realize that he didn’t even care how it ended.
He just wanted it done.
***
Severus’ Patronus came three days later, galloping straight through the walls of Draco’s bedroom and startling him badly.
“Five minutes,” the doe said in Severus’ voice. “Be ready.”
The Patronus dissolved into mist, leaving Draco gaping at the spot in which it had stood. He’d thought he’d been prepared for this, but the way he stood frozen for a good twenty seconds suggested otherwise.
When he finally broke out of his trance - this is really happening, oh gods - Draco grabbed his wand from the bed and slid it into his sleeve before hurrying to search for Potter.
It was mid-afternoon, early enough so that most of the house’s residents were out and not late enough that they had starting coming home for dinner yet. Draco didn’t run into anyone in the halls or on the stairs as he made his way to the ground floor after failing to find Potter in his bedroom.
Potter must have heard his running footsteps, because he came out of the library with a puzzled look on his face just as Draco was sprinting towards it.
“He’s coming now,” Draco gasped.
Swiftly, but without any obvious panic, Potter withdrew a Galleon from his pocket and tapped it with his wand. Draco raised his eyebrows.
“Signal for the others,” said Potter, tucking the Galleon away but keeping his wand out. “Let’s go.”
They turned and headed for the kitchen together. This last part, Draco’s kidnapping and Potter’s attempted rescue, had to be played according to the Dark Lord’s plans just in case he decided to use Legilimency to see how it had gone. Accordingly, Draco entered the kitchen alone while Potter stood just outside the door, waiting for Severus.
Severus stepped out of the Floo three minutes later - the longest three minutes of Draco’s life. He saw Draco sitting at the table and held out his hand.
“Potter is home, I trust?” he asked.
“Yes.” Draco stood and moved towards Severus, letting his lover grip his elbow. It was the first time they had touched since the day Draco had told him off.
“And you are certain he will come to your aid?”
“Positive.”
“Then what are you waiting for? I believe that victims of abduction tend to struggle.”
Draco glared at him. Sometimes Severus played the loyal Death Eater a little too well.
“Harry!” he yelled, trying to wrench his arm from Severus’ grasp as he fought to get away. He didn’t have to pretend; Severus was strong enough to keep his hold on Draco without Draco having to pull any punches. “Harry, help me! Help!”
He gave a scream of fright and kicked a chair over. It fell to the floor with a horrible crashing noise, and a second later, Potter rushed into the room with his wand drawn.
His jaw dropped when he saw Draco and Severus struggling. “What the -”
Severus Disapparated, taking Draco with him. Potter had just enough time to latch onto their Apparition like an enormous idiot. He really was lucky that Draco and Severus were on his side.
They landed in a dimly lit, cavernous room that was dank and musty. The floor was hard, and Draco would have lost his footing if Severus hadn’t caught him. Potter landed a few feet away from them, and he was not so lucky; he stumbled and fell to his knees.
“Expelliarmus.”
The Dark Lord’s spell took Potter by surprise, sending his wand clattering across the floor. Before Potter had time to react, two more spells bound and gagged him in quick succession, keeping him on his knees.
Draco suppressed his instinctual gag at the feel of the Dark Lord’s slimy magic rushing past him. As his eyes adjusted to the low light, he saw that he, Severus, and Potter were in the middle of a large circle of Death Eaters, all in robes and masks. The Dark Lord was standing directly behind them, Nagini curled near his feet.
Group situations like this, in which there was a chance or even a certainty that multiple wizards would be casting spells at the same time, were always dangerous for Draco. The vast majority of wizards weren’t powerful enough to affect him all that much, especially if the spells were simply cast near him instead of on him, but the combination of dozens of different sensory experiences all occurring simultaneously could confuse and disorient him. It had happened before at other Death Eater meetings, and even a couple of times at Hogwarts. Draco’s plan for the actual battle was to find his parents and get as far away from the fighting as possible.
Right now, however, it seemed that the Dark Lord would be the only one using magic. Draco could handle that.
“Excellent work, Severus,” the Dark Lord said. “Come join me.”
Severus was still holding Draco’s elbow, though much more loosely now. He didn’t let go as he turned, taking Draco with him as he assumed his position in the empty space that had been left at the Dark Lord’s right hand.
Draco looked around, but he had no idea where they were. It was some kind of building, probably Muggle from the looks of the machines that were scattered about the place, but the layers of dust and grime made it clear it had been abandoned for a long time. There were no doors that he could see, and the only windows were tiny and set high on the walls, several storeys above.
How was the Order going to get in here? Draco wasn’t worried about not being found; Potter was wearing a powerful talisman that would allow him to be tracked no matter where he was. But it wouldn’t matter if the Order knew their location if they couldn’t get in.
Draco realized the Dark Lord was looking at him and blanked his mind, his mental shields falling into place. The Dark Lord didn’t seem interested in reading Draco’s thoughts, though. He looked inordinately pleased.
“Draco,” he said. “Lovely Draco. You’ve done so well. I regret having doubted you.”
“Thank you, my Lord.” Draco smiled shyly, hoping he looked chuffed rather than disgusted.
Potter made a confused, angry noise from behind his gag. The Dark Lord looked at him.
“Ah, Harry. I think you’ll find Draco less receptive to your…attentions, now that he’s back where he belongs. But even you must admit he did a fine job. I had no idea that he would be able to take you in so completely in so short a time.”
Potter’s eyes widened. He looked at Draco almost pleadingly.
Draco smirked. Severus was standing directly behind him now, and Draco leaned back against him so that his head rested against Severus’ shoulder and Severus’ arms encircled his waist. He tilted his head to the side, inviting Severus to kiss his neck.
Holding Potter’s eyes the whole time, Draco said, “On the whole, I think I prefer men to boys.”
The faceless Death Eaters broke into appreciative chuckles, but Draco barely noticed. The look of betrayal on Potter’s face was so profound and absolute that it twisted in Draco’s stomach like a knife even though he knew it wasn’t real.
“Once again, your weak heart has led you astray,” the Dark Lord said with contempt. “And this time you will not escape. Crucio!”
Potter toppled over, spasming in pain and yelling behind his gag. Draco grabbed at Severus’ hand, still resting on his stomach. The impulse to run to Potter, to try to help him, was overwhelming. Draco couldn’t just stand by and watch this -
Severus jerked Draco around and kissed him roughly. Caught by surprise and not a little horrified that Severus would try to kiss him at a time like this, Draco tried to push him away. Severus held him fast, not letting him move, not letting him turn aside, and Draco realized that Severus was only trying to give him an excuse to not watch Potter being tortured.
Any sign that Potter’s pain bothered him, any indication that Draco didn’t enjoy watching Potter twitch and groan in agony, would be interpreted as weakness or even treachery by the other Death Eaters. Snogging Severus would make it look like he was getting off on the torture instead of trying to ignore it.
Draco kissed Severus back, making it look as passionate as he could despite the fact that he had never been less aroused in his life. He was pressed closely enough against Severus’ body to know that Severus wasn’t enjoying it any more than he was.
A loud banging suddenly echoed throughout the room. Draco and Severus broke their kiss, turning to look for the source of the sound just as the rest of the Death Eaters did. The Dark Lord frowned and ended the spell on Potter. “What -”
There was a deafening boom as half of the far wall exploded inward in a blast of dust and stone. Severus squeezed Draco’s hand. Draco withdrew his wand with his free hand and pointed it at Potter even as Severus pointed his own at Nagini.
“Finite Incantatem.”
“Avada Kedavra.”
The snake died, taking with her the last of the Dark Lord’s Horcruxes, in the same moment that Potter was freed from his bonds. He jumped to his feet, and wizards began pouring through the hole in the wall, firing off spells left and right. The Death Eaters frenzied as the Dark Lord screamed in outrage.
Draco grimaced under the barrage of magic, his head swimming.
“Go,” Severus said, pushing him in the opposite direction of the fight.
Draco ran for the shadows that cloaked the unexploded wall. Once he’d gone a few metres, he could no longer feel the spells, and he turned around to survey the scene.
It was absolute chaos. Draco could barely make out faces in all the commotion, and the din of shouts and screams was ear-splitting. How was he going to find his parents in this pandemonium?
He remembered a spell his father had taught him years ago and looked around for a rough surface, a sharp edge, anything he could draw blood with. There was a piece of broken glass on the floor. Draco snatched it up and dragged it across his palm, hissing at the pain of the shallow cut. He dropped the glass and smeared the blood from his wound on the tip of his wand.
“Blood to blood,” he said. “Point Me.”
His wand pointed not in the direction of the battle, as he’d expected, but towards the corner of the room. There were two Death Eaters standing there, and though robes and masks concealed their identity, the spell was never wrong. Draco raced towards them.
“Mother!” he said as he skidded to a stop in front of them. “Father. Hurry, we haven’t got much time.”
His parents removed their masks, and he could see that they were white-faced and shocked.
“Draco,” Narcissa said shakily, “you and Severus - and Potter -”
“Please, I’ll explain everything later.” Draco unclasped the simple chain he was wearing around his neck and handed it to his mother. “You and Father have to go. Now.”
“Go where?” said Lucius.
“That’s a Portkey. It will take you to an Order safehouse. Potter can guarantee you immunity, but only if you leave now and don’t fight.”
Lucius stared at him. “How long have you been -”
“Of course, darling,” said Narcissa, cutting her husband off. “But you must come with us.”
“I can’t.”
“Draco -”
“I love him.”
Narcissa and Lucius looked at each other, then back at Draco. They both seemed as if they wanted to argue.
“Please,” Draco said desperately. “Please, I’ve tried so hard to protect you, I can’t -”
His mother pulled him into a fierce hug, startling him. “My boy,” she whispered. “My beautiful, brave boy.”
When she released him, there were tears running down her face. Lucius squeezed Draco’s shoulder.
“Be careful,” was all he said, but his eyes said much more.
“I will. The activation word is sanctuary.”
Narcissa held the necklace out to Lucius, who grasped the other half. “Sanctuary,” she said, and they were gone.
Draco nearly fell to his knees in relief. No matter what happened now, his parents would be safe. Even if the Order lost, the Dark Lord would never be able to find them. Draco hadn’t failed them. Not this time.
An arm seized him around the waist from behind at the same time a large hand clamped over his mouth, muffling his alarmed shriek. Draco twisted in his captor’s grasp, clawing at the arms that held him as he was dragged farther into the corner, deep in the shadows.
The man turned Draco around and shoved him up against the wall, pinning his arms at his sides. Draco’s pulse stuttered when he saw who held him.
Yaxley.
“You treacherous little bitch,” Yaxley snarled. His breath was hot and foul against Draco’s face.
Draco couldn’t use his wand with the tight grip Yaxley had on his arm, and the man was too close for Draco to kick him with any force. There was only one thing he could do: he smashed his forehead into Yaxley’s nose as hard as he possibly could.
Yaxley lurched backwards in pain and surprise, automatically raising his hands to protect his bleeding - and probably broken - nose. His arms now free, Draco raised his wand and pointed it at Yaxley.
“Stupefy!”
Yaxley dodged just in time, shooting an Expelliarmus at Draco. Draco blocked it and fired off a stinging curse that caught Yaxley across the shoulder. The oily feel of Yaxley’s magic distracted him, though, and he wasn’t prepared when Yaxley charged at him, grabbing his wrist in one hand and his throat in the other.
Draco was propelled back against the wall again, his head hitting it hard enough to make him see stars. The hand on his wrist squeezed excruciatingly, threateningly, and Draco dropped his wand with a cry of pain.
Yaxley spun him around and slammed him face-first against the cold, slick wall. He pulled both of Draco’s arms behind his back, holding his wrists. “You’re going to pay for that,” he said, his bloody nose making his voice thick.
“Let go!” Draco struggled, but Yaxley was orders of magnitude stronger than him. With magic, Draco would have had a good chance of getting away, but without his wand, he had no hope of overpowering Yaxley.
Yaxley moved Draco’s arms so they were stretched above his head and pressed against the wall, still holding his wrists in one hand. He pressed the full length of his body against Draco’s. The feeling of Yaxley’s erection against his arse spurred Draco’s frenzied struggles considerably, but it didn’t make any difference.
“When the Dark Lord wins - and he will,” Yaxley whispered into Draco’s ear, “he’ll kill your lovers. I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to give you to me. A reward for a truly faithful servant.”
“I’d die first.” Draco tried to kick backwards at Yaxley’s knee, but Yaxley simply sidestepped him and laughed.
“You’ll come to enjoy it. Although I do hope you never stop resisting.” Yaxley’s hand slid underneath Draco’s shirt, over his stomach, making Draco gag. “That takes all the fun out of it.”
“Take your hands off me, you sick bastard!”
Yaxley’s hands yanked at Draco’s trousers, undoing his belt and unzipping the fly. “Merlin, the things I’ve dreamt of doing to you,” he said.
A tiny voice in Draco’s head whispered at him to stop struggling, that fighting back would only make it hurt more, that he would make things much easier on himself if he gave in and let Yaxley do what he wanted.
That voice was an idiot. Draco fought for all he was worth.
Still, his resistance was mostly futile. Yaxley fumbled with his own trousers, muttering the nastiest, most obscene things Draco had ever heard. Then, out of the blue, Draco felt the crash of an angry wave sweep past him. Yaxley was knocked off his feet by the spell, landing several metres away.
“Severus,” Draco said before he’d even turned around. Nobody else’s magic felt like that.
Severus didn’t even glance at him, all of his enraged attention focused solely on Yaxley, who was trying to get to his feet. “Crucio!”
Yaxley rolled out of the way and drew his own wand, leaping upright. He and Severus began trading furious curses, both out for blood but neither gaining any ground.
Draco frantically searched the floor for his wand. It couldn’t have gone far from where Yaxley’d had him against the wall -
There it was. Draco grabbed it and turned, running to Severus’ side. The two of them together could bring Yaxley down easily.
Something exploded in the center of the room, in the middle of the main battle. And in a crucial moment, Severus turned his head to look…but Yaxley didn’t.
Draco saw Yaxley raising his wand, saw the words of the slicing curse forming on his lips, and knew that Severus wouldn’t be able to react in time.
The thought of a world without Severus in it filled Draco with stark terror. That was where his thinking ended.
He shoved Severus aside and took the curse himself.
The pain was so immediate, so intense, that Draco went numb in the next second. He fell to the ground, blood pouring from his chest and stomach, with an irresistible feeling of déjà vu.
His vision darkened and sounds became odd and echoey, but Draco saw the green light that flew from Severus’ wand to hit Yaxley squarely in the chest. Saw Severus fall to his knees at Draco’s side, his hands soaked with Draco’s blood as he tried to stem the bleeding. Saw the fear in Severus’ face, the anguish.
The love.
Draco turned his head to the side and saw one last thing, something so strange it made him think he might be hallucinating. Potter and the Dark Lord were standing in the middle of the room, wands pointed straight at each other. As the Dark Lord spoke the words of the Killing Curse, Potter began to cast an Expelliarmus.
Draco’s last thought before losing consciousness was What a moron.
***
He didn’t wake slowly, rising gradually from the murky depths of unconsciousness brought on by blood loss and pain potions. Instead, Draco woke suddenly, completely, with a gasp of pain and fright.
He looked around wildly, not sure where he was or why his chest ached so horribly. White walls. White tile floor. Narrow hospital bed.
St. Mungo’s.
The curse. The battle. What -
Severus was sitting in an armchair by the side of Draco’s bed, fast asleep. Draco relaxed. If the Dark Lord had won, he certainly wouldn’t be lying in a bed in St. Mungo’s with Severus at his side.
“Severus,” he said, clearing his throat when his voice came out scratchy. “Severus.”
Severus startled awake. His eyes immediately fell on the bed, then widened with surprise and relief. He leaned forward so rapidly that it had to have hurt his neck, taking one of Draco’s hands in both his own.
“Draco,” he breathed. “My God, you’re awake.”
“Yes.” Draco was shocked by the amount of stubble on Severus’ face, days’ worth of it. Severus was always clean-shaven. “How long has it been?”
“Eight days.” Severus’ eyes roamed over Draco’s face as if to reassure himself that Draco really was awake and speaking. “The Healers thought you might never wake again. The blood…you nearly -”
His voice cut off and he squeezed Draco’s hand hard, too hard. Draco didn’t pull away.
“The Dark Lord?”
“Dead,” said Severus. “For good, this time.”
Draco closed his eyes. A leaden weight he hadn’t even known existed was lifted from him, making him lightheaded and giddy. He’d lived for so long with the threat of the Dark Lord hanging over his head that he couldn’t even remember what it had been like to live without it.
“My parents?” he asked, opening his eyes.
“Safe. Concerned for you, of course, but safe.”
“Good. Are you going to kiss me or not?”
Severus made a desperate noise that was wholly unlike him and moved to bend over the bed, kissing Draco fervently and repeatedly. He was careful to keep his weight off of Draco’s body.
“Fool,” he said in between kisses. “What you did - so stupid -”
Draco returned the kisses with equal passion. “He was going to kill you.”
“Better me than you.”
“I didn’t want to live without you.”
Severus rested his forehead against Draco’s. “And you thought that I would wish to live without you?”
“I have to admit that I never considered how you would feel,” said Draco.
Severus settled back into his chair with a snort. “Only you could make the act of saving someone’s life a selfish one,” he said affectionately.
Draco smiled. “Now that the Dark Lord is gone, is…is everything over?”
“More or less. Most of the Death Eaters have been captured - those that survived. Shacklebolt has been appointed interim Minister until the mess has been sorted through.”
“And Potter?”
Severus went rigid. “What about him?”
“Is he all right? The last thing I saw -”
“He survived,” Severus said shortly.
“Oh,” Draco said, taken aback by Severus’ abrupt shift in demeanor. “That’s good, I suppose.”
“Wonderful.” Severus stood, his body tense. “Your parents will be wanting to know that you’ve woken.”
“Can’t you just send them a Patronus?”
“I am sure they would rather hear it in person.”
Draco frowned. What was going on? It was as if Severus had suddenly shut down emotionally for no reason at all. “All right,” he said slowly. “Will you come back after you’ve told them?”
“Certainly.”
***
Severus didn’t come back. When Draco’s parents visited less than an hour after he’d left, they didn’t know where he had gone, nor did they seem very interested. They spent the rest of the day with Draco, not leaving until after dinner. By the time they took their leave, Severus still hadn’t returned.
Draco was confused and hurt. Was Severus angry with him for what he’d done, after all? He’d seemed so happy when Draco had first woken up. Draco couldn’t imagine what had happened during the course of their conversation to cause such a dramatic change in his behaviour.
A knock on the door raised his hopes for a second, but it wasn’t Severus - it was Kingsley Shacklebolt.
“Shacklebolt,” Draco said in surprise. “Or should I be calling you ‘Minister’ now?”
“Why don’t you just call me Kingsley?” he said affably. He pointed to the chair. “May I sit?”
“Of course.” Draco was glad that his parents had managed to get him propped upright. It would have been mortifying to receive the Minister - interim or otherwise - lying flat on his back. “What’s this all about?”
“Well, for one thing, I wanted to reassure you that the MLE will not be bringing any charges against your parents.”
“Yes, they told me.”
“As for yourself, the documentation of your espionage during the war has been made public record. I’m pleased to inform you that you’ve been awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class.”
“I what?”
“The awards themselves are still being crafted - we’re conferring quite a number of them, as you may imagine - but you should receive it within a week or so. There’s going to be a ceremony, if you feel up to it by then.”
“Okay,” Draco said weakly. He’d never thought…but then again, he’d never really thought he’d survive the war in the first place, had he?
“Now, the real reason for my visit.” Shacklebolt looked at Draco intently. “I’d like to offer you a job.”
Draco almost laughed. “No offense, Minister, but I don’t think I’m the right fit for the Auror force. I’ve done about as much risking my life as I intend to do for…well, the rest of my life.”
“I don’t want you to be an Auror. I want you to consider taking a position as a criminal profiler for the MLE.” When Draco gave him a blank look, he said, “You’d be helping the Aurors identify the perpetrators of crimes by analyzing the way in which the crimes were committed.”
“What makes you think I’d be good at that?”
“I was very impressed by the way you handled the seduction operation,” said Shacklebolt. “The way you read Potter so perceptively, posited his likely ehavior - that’s exactly the kind of skill we need, although what you’d be doing would technically be the reverse of that. But even before recent events, I’d seen you demonstrate remarkable insight, a knack for pattern recognition -”
“I’ll do it,” Draco said without thinking.
“You will?”
“Yes.” Draco had no idea why he had agreed, but it was so exhilarating to have somebody recognize his competency for once, his aptitude for something that had nothing to do with sex or his looks, that he didn’t even care.
“Excellent.” Shacklebolt grinned and stood up. “There’s some extensive training you’ll have to undertake first, but I don’t see you having any problems. I’ll be in contact - once you’ve mended, of course.”
He extended his hand. Draco shook it, his giddiness of the morning returning, and he almost forgot Severus’ broken promise.
***
Draco was released the next morning with strict admonitions not to overexert himself. There wasn’t much chance of that; though the wounds from the curse had healed with only minimal scarring, his chest and stomach still ached with every breath and flared with sharp, stabbing pain if he moved too suddenly.
He hesitated in the lobby of St. Mungo’s, not sure where to go. He really should go see his parents at the Manor, but that place was poisoned for him now. Draco wasn’t sure he would ever return again.
Severus was probably at Spinner’s End. Draco could Floo his parents from there to tell them he’d been released. That was, assuming that Severus even let him in. Draco still had no explanation for his lover’s bizarre behaviour of the day before.
Well, he would go to Spinner’s End and demand an explanation, if that was what it took. There was just one stop he needed to make first.
When Draco Flooed into Grimmauld Place, he had been expecting it to be empty. With the war over, there was no longer any need to use the house as headquarters, and the only people who really had any reason to live there were Potter and maybe Lupin. To Draco’s dismay, however, he stepped out of the fireplace right into a raucous party.
Draco stopped short. The war had ended over a week ago, and people were still partying? It was only ten o’clock in the morning, for Merlin’s sake! He wondered if he could turn around and leave before anyone noticed he was there.
No such luck.
Weasley was the first to see him. “Malfoy!” he cried, a bit drunkenly.
Draco tensed as everyone turned to look at him, a sudden silence falling over the previously noisy room, and prepared himself for the torrent of verbal and magical abuse that was sure to follow.
Instead, somebody let out a loud cheer, which was immediately taken up by everyone else. Draco was swarmed with people, most of whom he didn’t even know but all of whom seemed to want to hug him or slap him on the back. They chattered happily, all talking over each other so that Draco couldn’t understand what they were saying, though he got the gist of it. Someone pushed a drink into his hand.
“Let the poor boy breathe, now.” Molly Weasley’s voice cut through the cacophony with unique shrillness. “Come here, Draco. Oh, you poor thing, you’re thin as a rail, haven’t you been eating?”
She kept on jabbering at him in a similar vein. Draco’s head started spinning. He felt horribly crowded and overwhelmed.
“Is Potter here?” he managed to get out.
“He’s in his bedroom,” said Granger. She was looking at him with a mix of sympathy and amusement.
“Right, I’ll just -” Draco put down the bottle he’d been handed and started pushing through the crowd, trying to make his way to the door, fending off offers of food and alcohol with every step.
Once he’d cleared the stairs, he found the foyer to be blessedly empty. He took a moment to breathe deeply. Gods, his head was aching. And the aggressive affection of the partiers had considerably aggravated the throbbing in his torso.
When he’d recovered somewhat, Draco headed for Potter’s bedroom. He found the door open, Potter lying on the bed fully dressed with his eyes closed. The room was much warmer than the rest of the house. Latent magic made the air hum, though it didn’t seem out of control. That Draco could feel Potter’s magic when he was neither using it nor feeling any strong emotions could only mean that Potter had become even more powerful since the battle.
“Not in a partying mood?” Draco asked, leaning against the doorjamb.
Potter bolted upright. He stared at Draco in astonishment. “Malfoy,” he said. “You’re - you’re here.”
“Looks that way.”
“I just…” Potter scrambled off the bed, though he didn’t move any closer. “Kingsley said you’d woken up, but I never thought you’d come here. To be honest, I was half-sure I’d never see you again.”
Draco shrugged. “You’ve gotten stronger,” he said, taking a step towards Potter.
“Yeah.” Potter didn’t look happy about it.
“You don’t have to let it take you over, you know.”
“I know. McGonagall’s going to help me learn to control it.” Potter swallowed hard. “I saw you after you took that spell. We all thought you were going to die.”
“I didn’t.”
“I’m glad,” said Potter. He gestured at Draco’s chest. “It looks like it still hurts, though. You’re moving kind of slowly.”
“There’s only so much the Healers can do for the pain. They said it may last for a few more weeks. And there’ll always be some scarring.”
Potter frowned. “You didn’t have scars from when I cast that Sectumsempra on you.”
“Yaxley’s curse was more powerful,” Draco said, repressing a shudder at the memory. “It went deeper. Plus, it took longer to get me to a Healer.”
“I can fix it.”
“How? The best Healers at St. Mungo’s couldn’t do any more for me, and you don’t have any training -”
“I don’t need any.” Potter hesitated, then quietly said, “I don’t need to use spells anymore to cast magic. I don’t even need to use a wand. I still do, because I don’t want to scare people, but I don’t have to. All I have to do is want something, and it just…happens.”
Draco stared at him. The last wizard on record who had been that powerful had been Merlin himself. “Potter,” he whispered.
“It scares me, too. But I think I can help you. Please let me.”
Draco bit his lip. It would be very risky to let Potter use magic on him, especially now that he was exponentially more powerful than before. But Potter was looking at him with such pleading eyes, and the pain really was quite awful…
“All right,” he said.
Potter moved closer to him. “I have to touch it.”
“Touch…oh. Of course.” Draco’s mouth was dry. He unbuttoned his shirt to reveal the faint scars that crisscrossed his chest and stomach.
Potter’s jaw clenched when he saw them, but he didn’t say anything. He just reached out and pressed the palm of his hand against Draco’s sternum. His brow creased with concentration.
A warmth very much like sunlight began to radiate from his palm, seeping into Draco’s skin and making him sigh. It spread throughout his body, slow and gentle, and it wasn’t frightening or even arousing. It was just…comforting.
Potter took his hand away, but the warmth remained. Draco twisted his body experimentally from side to side. Every trace of the pain had disappeared. And when he looked down, the scars had vanished as well.
“Thank you,” Draco said, awed not just by the strength of Potter’s magic but by the beauty of it, the gentleness.
“It was the least I could do.”
“Well, that’s true.”
Potter chuckled.
Draco rebuttoned his shirt. The spell - if it could even properly be called that - had relaxed him, melting the apprehension he’d felt when he’d first gotten here. He was no longer nervous about asking what he’d come to ask.
“Potter,” he said, “I came here because I have to know…your feelings for me, were they just physical, or was it something…more?”
For a second, Potter look confused, but then he got it. “Well, I wanted you, and I do like you, even though you’re the most exasperating person I’ve ever met. But if you’re asking if I was ever in love with you, then the answer is no.”
Draco’s relief must have shown on his face, because Potter laughed.
“I can’t even really explain it,” he said. “I just wanted you, wanted to touch you so badly, not just because you’re beautiful, but because you were so…”
“Unavailable?” Draco suggested.
“Yeah. Forbidden fruit and all that, I guess.”
Potter looked sheepish, but everything he was saying was exactly what Draco had hoped to hear.
Feeling generous, he said, “You deserve to be in love. To find a person who feels that way about you, who can give you marriage and children and all those things that everyone knows you want.” He took Potter’s hand, looked into his eyes. “And you will.”
“Thank you,” Potter said softly.
Draco kissed him chastely, just lips, an acknowledgement of everything they had been through together. Then he stepped back.
“So, will I be seeing you around, then?” said Potter as Draco headed for the door.
Draco smirked over his shoulder. “Count on it.”
***
He Apparated directly into the tiny library at Spinner’s End, but it was empty. Draco walked through the small house, finally finding Severus in the sitting room.
Severus still hadn’t shaved, and he was slumped in a chair with a small glass in his hand. Draco could smell the scotch from the doorway.
“Are you drinking?” Draco said, striding towards Severus and taking the glass from him. “It’s barely eleven!”
“What do you care?” Severus muttered.
Draco glared at him. “Is this what you’ve been doing instead of coming to see me in hospital like you promised? Getting drunk?”
Severus gave a one-shouldered shrug. Annoyed, Draco drew his wand and cast a sobering spell on him.
“Fuck!” Severus gasped, shuddering as the spell did its work. “Christ, Draco, you cannot cast that spell without warning -”
“If you’re going to try to lecture me about rudeness, we’re going to have a problem.” Draco stood directly in front of Severus’ chair and folded his arms. “Now, you had better have a good explanation for the way you’ve been acting.”
Severus ignored him, studying Draco’s body with a knit brow. “You are not in pain.”
“Not anymore. Potter healed me. Can we please -”
“I see,” Severus said acidly. “Potter healed you. Is that why you’ve come, then? To tell me face-to-face?”
“Are you still drunk?” Draco knew his sobering spells weren’t the best, but they weren’t that bad.
“Unfortunately not. So just tell me that you are leaving me for Potter and let me drink in peace.”
Draco gaped. “What? You - I -” He was so flabbergasted by Severus’ words that he was speechless for a moment. “You really think that I would…gods, I could just strangle you, you - you idiot! Where would you even get such an idea?”
“You asked after him in the hospital.”
“Because the last thing I saw before I passed out was him about to take a Killing Curse!” Draco exclaimed. “Is that what’s been making you behave like this?”
Severus’ lips tightened and he looked away. Draco sat on his lap and turned his head back, forcing Severus to look him in the eye.
“Severus, I was willing to die for you. I don’t know what more I can do to prove to you that I love you.”
“I want to believe you,” Severus said. He wrapped an arm around Draco’s waist and held him tightly, running the thumb of his other hand over Draco’s cheekbone. “But I cannot bear the thought of believing you and then losing you. Of you walking away.”
“I won’t walk away.” Draco’s heart swelled with fierce love and a strange protectiveness. “Not ever. And if I have to spend the rest of our lives convincing you of that, that’s exactly what I’ll do.”
“What are you saying?”
“Marry me, Severus.” Draco felt lighter and happier than he ever had before. “Will you marry me?”
FIN