Fic...Of This, I am sure...H/D
Title: Of this, I am sure. Part 3/4.
Author: jamie2109
Rating: Is NC-17, this part R.
Pairing: H/D
Word Count: over 20,000 all up.
Summary: Draco laughed and stood up. “You know what the difference is between you and me, Potter?” Draco stripped off his clothes and stood there, naked and proud and more than half hard. He was fucking gorgeous and Harry’s mouth went dry at the sight. Not to mention that his own cock had decided that it was more than interested and it was straining against his pants already.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Not mine, but they should be.
A/N: I've already said that this was written for reversathon for anael and I have 25 million betas to thank for holding my hand through all this. So, to son_of-darkness, meredyth_13, and nocturnali, thank you guys for holding my hand and working with me through this marathon effort and giving me brilliant guidance. I also need to give a huge thank you to two wonderful people on my flist who read through/betaed the first half of this story for me and who gave me wonderful advice. So, thankyou to luredbyvenus and ceria_taliesin *smooches*
Previous Parts.
When Harry woke a number of hours later, he stretched and sat up, reaching for and putting on his glasses. He was about to call out to wake Malfoy, when he looked at the couch and found it empty. The sudden thud of his stomach dropping was stopped when he thought that Malfoy was probably in the bathroom and he got up and went and knocked on the door to be sure.
No answer. He knocked again and called out. “Malfoy?”
No answer and no noises coming from inside either. He flung open the door and could see straight away that there was no one inside. Damn him, where had he gone? He quieted the little voice inside his head that tried to tell him that Malfoy had gone back to Voldemort. He refused to believe that, not after what he’d heard the night before.
Harry whirled around, grabbed his bag and rummaged through it for his map. Thankfully, it was still there, as was his Invisibility Cloak. What was the fool doing running around the castle? Was he even still in the castle?
As the map appeared on the parchment, Harry saw that Filch was nowhere to be seen on the grounds and he wondered if it meant that he had left the school. But, he was impatiently waiting for Malfoy’s name to appear and when it did, Harry was puzzled. Malfoy was in Dumbledore’s office.
Covering himself with his Cloak, he made his way to the office, quite prepared to give Malfoy a piece of his mind. If he’d been seen, then that could jeopardise the safety of both of them. When he entered the office, however, his irritation faded when he saw Malfoy curled up in a ball at the foot of Dumbledore’s portrait. He was sound asleep, but Harry could see the tracks of dried tears on his cheeks.
God, he was so pathetic. How could all this not move Harry? It would take a hard-hearted man indeed to not be affected by Malfoy’s emotion. It made Harry irritated all over again, that Malfoy could play on his sympathies like this and he tossed off the Invisibility Cloak and walked over to shake him awake.
“Malfoy, what in hell are you doing here?” he yelled as he shook his shoulder.
“Gnh…wha…?” Malfoy mumbled as he blinked and woke up, looking up at Harry with still red-rimmed eyes. “Fuck off, Potter, I just came to…” he stopped and seemed to remember where he was suddenly. Then he pushed Harry away as he stood up.
“What were you thinking? You could have been seen…were you seen?” Harry yelled.
“No, you fuckwit!” Malfoy was as angry as Harry, now but Dumbledore broke in and stopped their argument.
“Boys, please. Harry, Mr. Malfoy assured me when he arrived that he was not seen. Indeed, most of the portraits have been at a garden party on the third floor.”
Harry was slightly mollified, clamping his lips together to stop from spilling that he had been worried about Malfoy.
Dumbledore continued. “You did not tell me that you had planned on staying in the castle, Harry.” There was some reproach in his voice, and Harry felt contrite.
“Sir…”
“Harry, it is alright, I had a feeling you would stay here. It’s where you feel safe.”
Harry nodded and Malfoy was looking at him in some interest.
“The portraits in here are bound by an oath to not reveal the events in this room, so you have no need for fear of discovery from that quarter, however, the rest of the portraits in the castle are not bound by that and you would do well in future to only come here under Harry’s cloak,” Dumbledore addressed Malfoy, who pursed his lips, but agreed.
They spent the few minutes talking about inconsequential things with Dumbledore. Harry didn’t trust Malfoy enough - or at all really - to tell him of anything important, though he did note that he seemed a lot better than the previous night.
Both huddled under Harry’s cloak on the way back to the room, perhaps too closely for Harry’s comfort, so he tried to take his mind off just how close they were, by working out how he would tell Malfoy off for making him worry. In the dim light, Harry could see Malfoy’s satisfied little smirk and couldn’t decide wether he wanted to punch it away or kiss it away.
Shit.
Then he was very thankful that the light was dim and perhaps Malfoy wouldn’t see his blushing. What a stupid thing to think…kissing it away…bloody hell, he scoffed.
“Why did you run off to see Dumbledore?” he asked Malfoy when they got back to the room. His annoyance with himself lent his voice an edge of aggravation he didn’t really intend. That had the effect of putting Malfoy back on the defensive and if Harry hadn’t been so annoyed with himself he might have felt sorry.
“None of your business, Potter,” Malfoy scowled.
“Well you can’t just wander around here. What if one of the portraits saw you and word gets back to Voldemort?” Harry raged, letting his temper flow now.
“How stupid do you think I am?” Malfoy’s face was composed in an angry sneer. “You’re not the only one that’s wandered these halls after dark, Potter. I know a thing or two about getting around undetected in this place.”
“Oh, I’ll bet! And I’ll just bet that they’re dark spells, right? Did your father teach them to you so you could spy on your classmates?” Harry advanced on Malfoy.
“Ever heard of a Disillusionment spell?” Malfoy’s mocking tone halted Harry. Bugger it, yes he had heard of that one; even had it cast on himself, too. He took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down, before meeting Malfoy’s face and seeing a conceited smirk on his lips. Right. Definitely punch that look away. He raised his eyes, with difficulty to Malfoy’s.
“Right…well, no more pissing off somewhere without telling me.”
“Oh why, were you all worried about me?” And there was that bloody mocking tone again. Harry just grit his teeth and nodded, once.
Malfoy’s face softened slightly at that. At least the triumphant look had gone, anyway. “Fine,” he agreed.
The silence between them stretched out as they stood there, looking at each other.
“Bit more than meets the eye to you, too, isn’t there?” Harry finally said, quietly.
Malfoy allowed that with a small nod.
Harry decided that it was time he went and had a shower to start the day off. Anything to escape from those eyes; that scrutiny. Eyes that were beginning to feel like they could see right through him.
.o0o.
Harry spent the rest of the day checking the wards around Hogwarts. He also checked out the portraits as he travelled the Halls. He found that Malfoy had been right; a lot of them were empty. Perhaps they all had other, more interesting portraits to occupy now that Hogwarts was empty for the foreseeable future. Or were still at the garden party Dumbledore had mentioned. Unfortunately, there were still enough present that it would be dangerous to wander around the school without the Cloak or the Disillusionment charm in place.
It was his fourth day here since the staff had left. Harry wondered what had happened to Professor Binns and once that thought surfaced, he realised that he had seen none of the ghosts of the castle. Which was odd. He pushed that aside. If they weren’t in the castle, then they couldn’t tell anyone that he and Malfoy were here.
Malfoy.
He figured he had about three more days before he could safely travel to Godric’s Hollow to start on his journey and therefore he had plenty of time in which to check the wards and such. No need to take all day about it; he could go back to the room. But Malfoy was there and he’d needed to escape. There was no point in denying it; he’d needed to get out of there. Those long looks that they were beginning to share were becoming too intense and Harry was sure that had he stayed, something was bound to give.
Critically looking at Malfoy, Harry had to admit that he was pretty easy on the eye when his face wasn’t all scrunched up in disgust or sneering at him in that haughty I’m-so-much-better-than-you way he had. But, Harry had never been interested in boys before and so put this newfound interest in Malfoy down to proximity and stupid hormones. And missing Ginny. At least that’s what he was telling himself.
Regardless, whatever hormone induced…feelings…Malfoy provoked and despite his suspicion that Malfoy might have hormonal-type inklings in return, it just didn’t seem right to take advantage of them…of him. Malfoy was feeling down about his mother, feeling alone and abandoned and it was human nature to need solid human contact. Right? Again, that was what he was telling himself.
After checking all the wards around the school, Harry returned to the room with a feeling of trepidation.
When he entered the room, he was surprised to find a hand bunched in the front of his shirt and himself shoved back against the door.
“Malfoy! What the…?”
“Do you realise you’ve been gone all day? All! Fucking! Day! Potter!” Malfoy punctuated each word with a shove into his chest. Harry wasn’t hurt, but Malfoy’s face shoved in close to his made him catch his breath. Malfoy was scared. Angry, but scared.
“I was checking the wards! Let me go!” Harry retorted hotly.
“You leave me here all day, ON MY OWN! Bored out of my mind and not knowing if you’ll come back, not knowing if you’d aban…” Malfoy caught himself with a little hitched breath and scowled, letting Harry go. He moved away and turned his back to Harry who was straightening his shirt.
Again, Harry wasn’t sure what to do. God, how did Malfoy manage to do this? He was forever putting Harry in a position where he had no idea what the right thing to do was. It had always been that way and the only times Harry had ever felt comfortable with Malfoy; knew where he stood with Malfoy, was when they were involved in some physical confrontation.
Ah…
Had it been like that all along?
It was ridiculous, really in its way, but it made sense. Too young to recognise a physical attraction, too immature and naïve to understand the need to confront each other all the time, it had become the only way they could allow themselves to behave and still have that contact. Well, he wasn’t sure about Malfoy, but it did explain why Harry had always seemed so obsessed with him.
And amazingly enough, Harry wasn’t surprised at this sudden insight. On the contrary, he was relieved. It was comprehensible at least. The only problem was what to do about it. First things first. He moved towards Malfoy and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t just leave and not come back. I’m sorry you were worried.”
Malfoy spun around under Harry’s hand and tried giving him a look of contempt. One that failed because his eyes were pathetically relieved and his mouth closed over the scathing words Harry was sure he’d been going to speak. Instead, they locked eyes once more and Harry felt his face begin to flame and his breathing sped up fractionally. It was really too intense, Malfoy looked like he was reading every emotion that was flooding him and Harry was aware that his hand was still on Malfoy’s shoulder. He could feel the warmth of Malfoy’s skin through his clothes, feel the tension, coiled and waiting and unconsciously his fingers began to tighten, his arm pulling Malfoy closer.
He let out a shaky breath when he realised what he was doing, but Malfoy wasn’t pulling away.
“Draco…” he whispered, deciding that if he was going to do this then he was going to call Draco by his name. He saw Draco’s face relax at his words, though and the next thing he knew he had his arms full of Draco and felt the barest pressure of lips against his cheek. For just a moment. Then Draco pushed him away and stormed off, head held high and that easy graceful strut Harry had always hated. It didn’t look so bad anymore.
“I was just so bored here, Potter, that any company is better than none,” Malfoy drawled as he dropped onto the couch. “So, don’t read anything into that.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it Draco,” Harry replied with a grin, sitting down beside him. “You were right, you know. Most of the portraits have gone. It’s still not safe to wander around without the Cloak or that spell, but perhaps we can go to the Library and get some books to relieve the boredom.”
“We could? Of course we could,” Draco smiled back.
“Tomorrow then?”
“Yes, tomorrow,” Draco agreed.
Dinner, when Dobby served it was delicious and the two of them chatted amiably about Quidditch, the difference between wizard and Muggle music; things that were safe ground for them. Harry told Draco about what had happened to Rita Skeeter being kept in a little bottle as a beetle and Draco laughed along with Harry and agreed she only got what she had deserved. Harry liked it when Draco laughed. The tension and the ever-present hint of arrogance disappeared.
After dinner, Harry went into the bathroom to change into his pyjama pants; he didn’t want to do anything silly to break this easy relaxed atmosphere, but when he returned and slipped into bed, Draco spoke.
“Pity,” he said, eyes boring into Harry’s again.
“Pity, what?” Harry asked.
“I rather liked the view you gave me last night.” There was an almost wistful smile on Draco’s face and Harry blushed.
“Shut up, you prat,” he responded lightly.
“I just happen to think you’ve got a decent body and I wouldn’t mind seeing it again.” There was definitely a challenge in his eyes now and Harry wouldn’t be Harry if he didn’t rise to a challenge and so he gave Draco one of his own smirks and replied.
“Ponce. I could return the compliment, but that would only feed your ego and that’s big enough as it is.”
Draco laughed and stood up. “You know what the difference is between you and me, Potter?” Draco stripped off his clothes and stood there, naked and proud and more than half hard. He was fucking gorgeous and Harry’s mouth went dry at the sight. Not to mention that his own cock had decided that it was more than interested and it was straining against his pants already.
“What?” Harry asked, trying desperately to keep his voice steady.
At that moment, Draco hissed and grabbed his left arm, covering his Dark Mark with hard gripping fingers. His face was a mask of pain and Harry jumped up concerned and ran to him.
“Is he calling you?” he asked, not knowing what to do, if anything to stop the pain. Draco nodded and dropped onto the couch bending his head to his knees and groaning.
“Can I do anything?”
Draco shook his head. “No,” he said gasping. “It gets worse when you don’t answer, that’s all. I’ll just have to wait.” He had his arm cradled across his lap and was rocking backwards and forwards. His eyes were screwed shut and he gave a small whimper. Harry bit the bottom of his lip and he felt useless. It was one thing he hated more than anything else was seeing someone in pain and not be able to do anything about it.
Damnit!
He leaned down and picked Draco up; giving only scant thought to the fact that Malfoy was lighter than he looked. He walked them both over to the bed, Malfoy still whimpering with the pain. Once Draco was settled under the covers, lying on his side in almost a foetal position, Harry slid in behind him and fitted himself to Draco’s back, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tightly. One arm reached round and covered the back of Draco’s hand, fingers pressing between his and squeezing. He could feel the answering grip crushing his fingers, but Harry didn’t care. This was all he could do; give Draco some comfort in the knowledge that he wasn’t alone. The fact that Draco allowed this closeness confirmed to Harry that he needed it too and that made it alright.
Harry continued to hold Draco and gently rocked them both in the hope that the rhythm would be soothing. He murmured words into Draco’s neck; hopefully comforting ones, until Draco’s whimpering finally made his voice crack. It seemed like hours, but was probably much less than that, before Harry felt Draco relaxing slightly in his arms.
Harry whispered. “Has it stopped?”
Draco shook his head. “No, but its getting less…fuck that hurt.”
Draco’s grip on his fingers lessened and Harry could tell that the pain was receding, but he didn’t want to let go and move away, so he stayed right where he was, conscious that Draco was naked, but deeming it unimportant. Sex was now the furthest thing from his mind. Whatever had been about to happen before this…the moment was gone, but once again, Harry was reminded of how important his mission was.
“Did he call you when you were out in the Forest?” Harry asked.
“Yeah, once or twice.” Draco nodded and turned his hand in Harry’s until they were palm to palm, where he twined their fingers again and held Harry’s hand close to his chest. “Thank you,” he said, so quietly that Harry wasn’t sure that he’d heard him.
“It’s alright, I just wish I could have done something to stop the pain.”
“You did.” There was quiet for a few moments and Harry felt Draco relaxing even more against him. Was he snuggling back into him? Harry smiled a little. Who’d have thought that Draco Malfoy would be grateful for Harry Potter’s arms around him and want to stay there?
“Harry?” came Draco’s tired voice.
“Hmmm?”
“Don’t leave me, please?”
God, Draco’s defences must really be down, Harry surmised, for him to sound so obviously broken and needy.
“I won’t,” he replied softly and just held Draco until he felt the boy relax into sleep, the soft regular rise and fall of Draco’s chest, slow and soothing under Harry’s hand.
.o0o.
“Bring her before me,” he said, his voice raspy and hoarse and extremely fed up with the incompetent fools that had allowed that Malfoy boy to remain at large. His patience with the whole family had finally snapped and he was no longer prepared to listen to the sycophantic pleadings of Snape to spare her life.
His loyal minions surrounded him. Wretched as they were, they were at least loyal, which was more than could be said for Snape. Bella was right; Snape was a liability now. He was no more use as that dratted school run by that bumbling old fool Dumbledore was closed at last and his ghosts laid to rest. He had destroyed the influence that Hogwarts enjoyed, and he felt vindicated. Powerful and in control.
Now, he would sweep clean the ranks of followers that he suspected of weakening his position and amass a new army of those creatures that were considered filth and vermin. Greyback had seen to the werewolves and he had other, secret operatives enlisting other dark beings.
When Narcissa was flung to the ground before him and he looked upon her cowering form, he felt no pity for her. Her husband had let him down; her son had forsaken him and therefore she was as much a traitor as the rest of her worthless family.
His hand reached down beside him to stroke the scaly skin of Nagini and he inclined his head at the scratchy tongue that flickered over his hand.
“We will dispose of her quickly my pretty and then you may have your fun with her.”
“Thank you master,” Nagini’s hissing replied.
“What a shame the men in your family are so ineffectual, Narcissa. I had big plans for both of them, especially your pretty blond son. I do so like fresh young flesh, it’s so tender and sweet to the taste and it takes defilement so well. No matter, the colour of his blood will stain my hands one day and I will bathe in it and remember this moment.”
“My Lord…” Narcissa’s trembling body failed to hide her horror and Voldemort smiled at it.
“Horrified, Narcissa? Surely you knew? His life was forfeit the moment he was born. If he had succeeded in this mission, I may have let him live after I had taken my pleasure. Now, however, I shall not.”
“He is but a child my Lord, you can’t…”
“Quiet! I have grown tired of this discussion. I merely wanted you to go to your death knowing his fate. Avada Kedavra!”
A green light shot from Voldemort’s wand and Narcissa slumped prone.
Dead.
Harry woke with a start, sweat pouring from his face, stomach roiling and horrified at what he had just seen. Voldemort had killed Draco’s mother! His head was thumping; his scar was still burning and a vicious twinge finally upset his stomach and he leant over the edge of the bed and retched, bringing up all his dinner.
Weak and panting he hung over the edge for a moment, his eyes streaming with the strain of vomiting and the stress of what he had witnessed. Then he felt a cool hand on his back. Draco. Oh God…how could he tell him?
“Harry? What’s wrong?”
Harry just shook his head and fumbled blindly around for Draco’s wand, which was still in his pillowcase. Wordlessly he handed it to Draco and indicated that he clean up the mess. Harry didn’t feel like he even had a simple cleaning spell in him at the moment. Luckily, Draco seemed to understand and quickly cleaned up the mess, then got out of bed and went to get Harry some water and a towel to wipe his face.
“What happened?” Draco asked again, when Harry had cleaned himself up.
“Voldemort,” Harry whispered, his throat sore. He was calming down, now, but the sight of Voldemort killing Draco’s mother was still foremost in his mind. And the things that he had heard Voldemort say about his plans for Draco were so vile that Harry almost dry retched. No matter if Draco had succeeded, he would still have been used as a plaything for Voldemort.
Harry scrubbed at his face, rubbing the pads of his fingers over his eyes, then up to his scar. It was hot to his touch and he could almost feel his pulse throbbing through the membrane of his skin. How was he to tell Draco that his mother was dead?
Draco was looking at him searchingly, a frown on his face, not understanding.
“This scar is a sort of link to Voldemort. When he’s feeling some strong emotion, I…tend to get visions of what he’s doing…saying…thinking even.”
Draco’s eyes widened. “And he was feeling some sort of strong emotion just now? What?”
Harry took a deep breath. “Your mother,” he answered as gently as he could.
“He…?” Draco’s voice broke.
Harry nodded. “But it was quick and she didn’t feel anything. They hadn’t hurt her.” He tried to reassure Draco, but in all honesty, how could you cushion something like that?
Harry watched as Draco’s face drained of all emotion. It became a blank slate and only the obvious clenching of Draco’s jaw gave away the intensity of what he was feeling.
“I’m really sorry, Draco,” Harry rasped, as his throat was still a bit raw.
“I should have been there,” Draco ground out from between his clenched jaw. “You should have let me go!”
“You couldn’t have done anything,” Harry protested.
“You don’t know that! I could have been there for her! I hate you for keeping me from her in those last moments. You always think you know best. Perfect bloody Potter! So bloody arrogant and you think I’m arrogant! You do it thoughtlessly, Potter. You’re so intent on being the fucking hero, you walk all over everybody else’s feelings and rights and you don’t even realise that you do it!”
Draco’s anger and distress were starting to be released now and Harry let him go, but when he had finished, Harry hit back.
“I don’t want to be everyone’s fucking hero Draco and you can be as angry as you like with me for not letting you go to her. You can hate me for the rest of your fucking life…because at least now you have a rest of your fucking life!”
“Oh, and I’m supposed to get down on my knees and thank you for that?” Draco snarled, standing up and leaning over Harry. “You made me let her die alone, Potter, and I’ll never forgive you for that!”
Harry knew that Draco was taking his anger out on Harry, because he was the one that was available, though he did have a point. Harry was the one that had refused to let Draco go. With what Harry knew now, it was the right choice, but Draco wouldn’t see it that way until he knew, too.
“You want to know what would have happened to you had you gone? Voldemort’s words were - I had big plans for your pretty blond son. I do so like fresh young flesh, it’s so tender and sweet to the taste and it takes defilement so well. His life was forfeit the moment he was born. If he had succeeded in his mission, I may have let him live after I had taken my pleasure.” Harry reached up and grabbed Draco’s shoulders and twisted, pulling him back onto the bed and sitting on him before he had the chance to move away.
“Do you think your mother would have wanted you anywhere near that? Don’t you think she went to her death knowing that you would not have to face that sort of debasement? Don’t you think that she thanked all the Gods that you weren’t there? She loved you and wanted to protect you.”
Draco’s face was a picture of horror at Harry’s words. He was shaking his head in disbelief. Harry watched the multitude of emotions flash across Draco’s face. Grief, anger, sorrow, revulsion and disgust all battled for Draco’s face at the same time. Then he seemed to turn a bit green and pushed Harry off him, before he scrambled to the bathroom where Harry could hear him throwing up.
Harry wearily dragged himself from the bed and went to help Draco. After a few minutes and with a wet face cloth covering his face as he sat leaning against the wall next to the toilet, Draco began to sob. Harry lowered himself beside the blond, took him in his arms once more and let him cry.
While he sat there, he did some thinking. Tired thinking, but he made himself do it. He decided that he was really just hiding out here at Hogwarts where he was safe. People were still dying out there and it was wrong that he was just sitting here waiting for people who were on his side, to stop looking for him. How stupid was that? How cruel was that, to let everyone worry so much about him? He felt entirely guilty now. He’d trusted his judgement and look what had happened; he’d wasted these days - no he hadn’t, not really. If he hadn’t been here, he would not have found Draco; not been able to fulfil his promise to Dumbledore and perhaps without him there, Draco may have already been caught. There was a reason for every decision, every choice and perhaps finding Draco made his choice the right one.
Instead of waiting the few more days, Harry decided that he would go tomorrow night. All thoughts of turning Draco over to the Order had vanished from Harry’s mind. He’d make sure that Draco had whatever he needed, that Dobby would look after him and he’d leave his map as well. He’d have no use for it outside Hogwarts anyway. Besides, something else that Voldemort had said was that he was going to clean out his followers, Snape among them. He’d have to try and warn him somehow. Much as he hated Snape, he thought that Dumbledore would appreciate him demonstrating his trust.
Harry sighed and rested his head on Draco’s. He’d only just not long ago said that he wouldn’t leave him, and now he was going to do just that. Draco must have heard the sigh, as he moved his head and looked up at Harry with red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks.
“All I seem to do is cry on you lately,” he gave a weak smile.
“And I’ve become used to your red eyes and blotchy skin. That’s a new look for you, Malfoy,” Harry feebly joked back, but his heart wasn’t in it and Draco just sniffed and punched him in the chest.
“Come on, let’s go back to bed,” Harry said tiredly. “We’ve both had a big day and sitting on this floor is not the most comfortable place.”
“If I weren’t feeling so…” he made a vague hand motion. “I’d ask if you were propositioning me,” Draco answered as he stood, giving Harry his hand to help him up, which he took.
“And if I weren’t feeling so…” Harry erratically copied the same hand motion. “I might have been.”
“Ah, tomorrow, then,” Draco said as they made their way back into bed. Harry let Draco climb in first and then settled behind him, moulding his body to Draco’s back as he had previously, letting his hand come to rest across Draco’s chest. Harry’s lips found the back of Draco’s neck and he kissed it lightly.
“Tomorrow,” he whispered as Draco snuggled back into him with a sigh of relief.
“I don’t hate you.”
“I know.”
Part Four.
Author: jamie2109
Rating: Is NC-17, this part R.
Pairing: H/D
Word Count: over 20,000 all up.
Summary: Draco laughed and stood up. “You know what the difference is between you and me, Potter?” Draco stripped off his clothes and stood there, naked and proud and more than half hard. He was fucking gorgeous and Harry’s mouth went dry at the sight. Not to mention that his own cock had decided that it was more than interested and it was straining against his pants already.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Not mine, but they should be.
A/N: I've already said that this was written for reversathon for anael and I have 25 million betas to thank for holding my hand through all this. So, to son_of-darkness, meredyth_13, and nocturnali, thank you guys for holding my hand and working with me through this marathon effort and giving me brilliant guidance. I also need to give a huge thank you to two wonderful people on my flist who read through/betaed the first half of this story for me and who gave me wonderful advice. So, thankyou to luredbyvenus and ceria_taliesin *smooches*
Previous Parts.
When Harry woke a number of hours later, he stretched and sat up, reaching for and putting on his glasses. He was about to call out to wake Malfoy, when he looked at the couch and found it empty. The sudden thud of his stomach dropping was stopped when he thought that Malfoy was probably in the bathroom and he got up and went and knocked on the door to be sure.
No answer. He knocked again and called out. “Malfoy?”
No answer and no noises coming from inside either. He flung open the door and could see straight away that there was no one inside. Damn him, where had he gone? He quieted the little voice inside his head that tried to tell him that Malfoy had gone back to Voldemort. He refused to believe that, not after what he’d heard the night before.
Harry whirled around, grabbed his bag and rummaged through it for his map. Thankfully, it was still there, as was his Invisibility Cloak. What was the fool doing running around the castle? Was he even still in the castle?
As the map appeared on the parchment, Harry saw that Filch was nowhere to be seen on the grounds and he wondered if it meant that he had left the school. But, he was impatiently waiting for Malfoy’s name to appear and when it did, Harry was puzzled. Malfoy was in Dumbledore’s office.
Covering himself with his Cloak, he made his way to the office, quite prepared to give Malfoy a piece of his mind. If he’d been seen, then that could jeopardise the safety of both of them. When he entered the office, however, his irritation faded when he saw Malfoy curled up in a ball at the foot of Dumbledore’s portrait. He was sound asleep, but Harry could see the tracks of dried tears on his cheeks.
God, he was so pathetic. How could all this not move Harry? It would take a hard-hearted man indeed to not be affected by Malfoy’s emotion. It made Harry irritated all over again, that Malfoy could play on his sympathies like this and he tossed off the Invisibility Cloak and walked over to shake him awake.
“Malfoy, what in hell are you doing here?” he yelled as he shook his shoulder.
“Gnh…wha…?” Malfoy mumbled as he blinked and woke up, looking up at Harry with still red-rimmed eyes. “Fuck off, Potter, I just came to…” he stopped and seemed to remember where he was suddenly. Then he pushed Harry away as he stood up.
“What were you thinking? You could have been seen…were you seen?” Harry yelled.
“No, you fuckwit!” Malfoy was as angry as Harry, now but Dumbledore broke in and stopped their argument.
“Boys, please. Harry, Mr. Malfoy assured me when he arrived that he was not seen. Indeed, most of the portraits have been at a garden party on the third floor.”
Harry was slightly mollified, clamping his lips together to stop from spilling that he had been worried about Malfoy.
Dumbledore continued. “You did not tell me that you had planned on staying in the castle, Harry.” There was some reproach in his voice, and Harry felt contrite.
“Sir…”
“Harry, it is alright, I had a feeling you would stay here. It’s where you feel safe.”
Harry nodded and Malfoy was looking at him in some interest.
“The portraits in here are bound by an oath to not reveal the events in this room, so you have no need for fear of discovery from that quarter, however, the rest of the portraits in the castle are not bound by that and you would do well in future to only come here under Harry’s cloak,” Dumbledore addressed Malfoy, who pursed his lips, but agreed.
They spent the few minutes talking about inconsequential things with Dumbledore. Harry didn’t trust Malfoy enough - or at all really - to tell him of anything important, though he did note that he seemed a lot better than the previous night.
Both huddled under Harry’s cloak on the way back to the room, perhaps too closely for Harry’s comfort, so he tried to take his mind off just how close they were, by working out how he would tell Malfoy off for making him worry. In the dim light, Harry could see Malfoy’s satisfied little smirk and couldn’t decide wether he wanted to punch it away or kiss it away.
Shit.
Then he was very thankful that the light was dim and perhaps Malfoy wouldn’t see his blushing. What a stupid thing to think…kissing it away…bloody hell, he scoffed.
“Why did you run off to see Dumbledore?” he asked Malfoy when they got back to the room. His annoyance with himself lent his voice an edge of aggravation he didn’t really intend. That had the effect of putting Malfoy back on the defensive and if Harry hadn’t been so annoyed with himself he might have felt sorry.
“None of your business, Potter,” Malfoy scowled.
“Well you can’t just wander around here. What if one of the portraits saw you and word gets back to Voldemort?” Harry raged, letting his temper flow now.
“How stupid do you think I am?” Malfoy’s face was composed in an angry sneer. “You’re not the only one that’s wandered these halls after dark, Potter. I know a thing or two about getting around undetected in this place.”
“Oh, I’ll bet! And I’ll just bet that they’re dark spells, right? Did your father teach them to you so you could spy on your classmates?” Harry advanced on Malfoy.
“Ever heard of a Disillusionment spell?” Malfoy’s mocking tone halted Harry. Bugger it, yes he had heard of that one; even had it cast on himself, too. He took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down, before meeting Malfoy’s face and seeing a conceited smirk on his lips. Right. Definitely punch that look away. He raised his eyes, with difficulty to Malfoy’s.
“Right…well, no more pissing off somewhere without telling me.”
“Oh why, were you all worried about me?” And there was that bloody mocking tone again. Harry just grit his teeth and nodded, once.
Malfoy’s face softened slightly at that. At least the triumphant look had gone, anyway. “Fine,” he agreed.
The silence between them stretched out as they stood there, looking at each other.
“Bit more than meets the eye to you, too, isn’t there?” Harry finally said, quietly.
Malfoy allowed that with a small nod.
Harry decided that it was time he went and had a shower to start the day off. Anything to escape from those eyes; that scrutiny. Eyes that were beginning to feel like they could see right through him.
.o0o.
Harry spent the rest of the day checking the wards around Hogwarts. He also checked out the portraits as he travelled the Halls. He found that Malfoy had been right; a lot of them were empty. Perhaps they all had other, more interesting portraits to occupy now that Hogwarts was empty for the foreseeable future. Or were still at the garden party Dumbledore had mentioned. Unfortunately, there were still enough present that it would be dangerous to wander around the school without the Cloak or the Disillusionment charm in place.
It was his fourth day here since the staff had left. Harry wondered what had happened to Professor Binns and once that thought surfaced, he realised that he had seen none of the ghosts of the castle. Which was odd. He pushed that aside. If they weren’t in the castle, then they couldn’t tell anyone that he and Malfoy were here.
Malfoy.
He figured he had about three more days before he could safely travel to Godric’s Hollow to start on his journey and therefore he had plenty of time in which to check the wards and such. No need to take all day about it; he could go back to the room. But Malfoy was there and he’d needed to escape. There was no point in denying it; he’d needed to get out of there. Those long looks that they were beginning to share were becoming too intense and Harry was sure that had he stayed, something was bound to give.
Critically looking at Malfoy, Harry had to admit that he was pretty easy on the eye when his face wasn’t all scrunched up in disgust or sneering at him in that haughty I’m-so-much-better-than-you way he had. But, Harry had never been interested in boys before and so put this newfound interest in Malfoy down to proximity and stupid hormones. And missing Ginny. At least that’s what he was telling himself.
Regardless, whatever hormone induced…feelings…Malfoy provoked and despite his suspicion that Malfoy might have hormonal-type inklings in return, it just didn’t seem right to take advantage of them…of him. Malfoy was feeling down about his mother, feeling alone and abandoned and it was human nature to need solid human contact. Right? Again, that was what he was telling himself.
After checking all the wards around the school, Harry returned to the room with a feeling of trepidation.
When he entered the room, he was surprised to find a hand bunched in the front of his shirt and himself shoved back against the door.
“Malfoy! What the…?”
“Do you realise you’ve been gone all day? All! Fucking! Day! Potter!” Malfoy punctuated each word with a shove into his chest. Harry wasn’t hurt, but Malfoy’s face shoved in close to his made him catch his breath. Malfoy was scared. Angry, but scared.
“I was checking the wards! Let me go!” Harry retorted hotly.
“You leave me here all day, ON MY OWN! Bored out of my mind and not knowing if you’ll come back, not knowing if you’d aban…” Malfoy caught himself with a little hitched breath and scowled, letting Harry go. He moved away and turned his back to Harry who was straightening his shirt.
Again, Harry wasn’t sure what to do. God, how did Malfoy manage to do this? He was forever putting Harry in a position where he had no idea what the right thing to do was. It had always been that way and the only times Harry had ever felt comfortable with Malfoy; knew where he stood with Malfoy, was when they were involved in some physical confrontation.
Ah…
Had it been like that all along?
It was ridiculous, really in its way, but it made sense. Too young to recognise a physical attraction, too immature and naïve to understand the need to confront each other all the time, it had become the only way they could allow themselves to behave and still have that contact. Well, he wasn’t sure about Malfoy, but it did explain why Harry had always seemed so obsessed with him.
And amazingly enough, Harry wasn’t surprised at this sudden insight. On the contrary, he was relieved. It was comprehensible at least. The only problem was what to do about it. First things first. He moved towards Malfoy and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t just leave and not come back. I’m sorry you were worried.”
Malfoy spun around under Harry’s hand and tried giving him a look of contempt. One that failed because his eyes were pathetically relieved and his mouth closed over the scathing words Harry was sure he’d been going to speak. Instead, they locked eyes once more and Harry felt his face begin to flame and his breathing sped up fractionally. It was really too intense, Malfoy looked like he was reading every emotion that was flooding him and Harry was aware that his hand was still on Malfoy’s shoulder. He could feel the warmth of Malfoy’s skin through his clothes, feel the tension, coiled and waiting and unconsciously his fingers began to tighten, his arm pulling Malfoy closer.
He let out a shaky breath when he realised what he was doing, but Malfoy wasn’t pulling away.
“Draco…” he whispered, deciding that if he was going to do this then he was going to call Draco by his name. He saw Draco’s face relax at his words, though and the next thing he knew he had his arms full of Draco and felt the barest pressure of lips against his cheek. For just a moment. Then Draco pushed him away and stormed off, head held high and that easy graceful strut Harry had always hated. It didn’t look so bad anymore.
“I was just so bored here, Potter, that any company is better than none,” Malfoy drawled as he dropped onto the couch. “So, don’t read anything into that.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it Draco,” Harry replied with a grin, sitting down beside him. “You were right, you know. Most of the portraits have gone. It’s still not safe to wander around without the Cloak or that spell, but perhaps we can go to the Library and get some books to relieve the boredom.”
“We could? Of course we could,” Draco smiled back.
“Tomorrow then?”
“Yes, tomorrow,” Draco agreed.
Dinner, when Dobby served it was delicious and the two of them chatted amiably about Quidditch, the difference between wizard and Muggle music; things that were safe ground for them. Harry told Draco about what had happened to Rita Skeeter being kept in a little bottle as a beetle and Draco laughed along with Harry and agreed she only got what she had deserved. Harry liked it when Draco laughed. The tension and the ever-present hint of arrogance disappeared.
After dinner, Harry went into the bathroom to change into his pyjama pants; he didn’t want to do anything silly to break this easy relaxed atmosphere, but when he returned and slipped into bed, Draco spoke.
“Pity,” he said, eyes boring into Harry’s again.
“Pity, what?” Harry asked.
“I rather liked the view you gave me last night.” There was an almost wistful smile on Draco’s face and Harry blushed.
“Shut up, you prat,” he responded lightly.
“I just happen to think you’ve got a decent body and I wouldn’t mind seeing it again.” There was definitely a challenge in his eyes now and Harry wouldn’t be Harry if he didn’t rise to a challenge and so he gave Draco one of his own smirks and replied.
“Ponce. I could return the compliment, but that would only feed your ego and that’s big enough as it is.”
Draco laughed and stood up. “You know what the difference is between you and me, Potter?” Draco stripped off his clothes and stood there, naked and proud and more than half hard. He was fucking gorgeous and Harry’s mouth went dry at the sight. Not to mention that his own cock had decided that it was more than interested and it was straining against his pants already.
“What?” Harry asked, trying desperately to keep his voice steady.
At that moment, Draco hissed and grabbed his left arm, covering his Dark Mark with hard gripping fingers. His face was a mask of pain and Harry jumped up concerned and ran to him.
“Is he calling you?” he asked, not knowing what to do, if anything to stop the pain. Draco nodded and dropped onto the couch bending his head to his knees and groaning.
“Can I do anything?”
Draco shook his head. “No,” he said gasping. “It gets worse when you don’t answer, that’s all. I’ll just have to wait.” He had his arm cradled across his lap and was rocking backwards and forwards. His eyes were screwed shut and he gave a small whimper. Harry bit the bottom of his lip and he felt useless. It was one thing he hated more than anything else was seeing someone in pain and not be able to do anything about it.
Damnit!
He leaned down and picked Draco up; giving only scant thought to the fact that Malfoy was lighter than he looked. He walked them both over to the bed, Malfoy still whimpering with the pain. Once Draco was settled under the covers, lying on his side in almost a foetal position, Harry slid in behind him and fitted himself to Draco’s back, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tightly. One arm reached round and covered the back of Draco’s hand, fingers pressing between his and squeezing. He could feel the answering grip crushing his fingers, but Harry didn’t care. This was all he could do; give Draco some comfort in the knowledge that he wasn’t alone. The fact that Draco allowed this closeness confirmed to Harry that he needed it too and that made it alright.
Harry continued to hold Draco and gently rocked them both in the hope that the rhythm would be soothing. He murmured words into Draco’s neck; hopefully comforting ones, until Draco’s whimpering finally made his voice crack. It seemed like hours, but was probably much less than that, before Harry felt Draco relaxing slightly in his arms.
Harry whispered. “Has it stopped?”
Draco shook his head. “No, but its getting less…fuck that hurt.”
Draco’s grip on his fingers lessened and Harry could tell that the pain was receding, but he didn’t want to let go and move away, so he stayed right where he was, conscious that Draco was naked, but deeming it unimportant. Sex was now the furthest thing from his mind. Whatever had been about to happen before this…the moment was gone, but once again, Harry was reminded of how important his mission was.
“Did he call you when you were out in the Forest?” Harry asked.
“Yeah, once or twice.” Draco nodded and turned his hand in Harry’s until they were palm to palm, where he twined their fingers again and held Harry’s hand close to his chest. “Thank you,” he said, so quietly that Harry wasn’t sure that he’d heard him.
“It’s alright, I just wish I could have done something to stop the pain.”
“You did.” There was quiet for a few moments and Harry felt Draco relaxing even more against him. Was he snuggling back into him? Harry smiled a little. Who’d have thought that Draco Malfoy would be grateful for Harry Potter’s arms around him and want to stay there?
“Harry?” came Draco’s tired voice.
“Hmmm?”
“Don’t leave me, please?”
God, Draco’s defences must really be down, Harry surmised, for him to sound so obviously broken and needy.
“I won’t,” he replied softly and just held Draco until he felt the boy relax into sleep, the soft regular rise and fall of Draco’s chest, slow and soothing under Harry’s hand.
.o0o.
“Bring her before me,” he said, his voice raspy and hoarse and extremely fed up with the incompetent fools that had allowed that Malfoy boy to remain at large. His patience with the whole family had finally snapped and he was no longer prepared to listen to the sycophantic pleadings of Snape to spare her life.
His loyal minions surrounded him. Wretched as they were, they were at least loyal, which was more than could be said for Snape. Bella was right; Snape was a liability now. He was no more use as that dratted school run by that bumbling old fool Dumbledore was closed at last and his ghosts laid to rest. He had destroyed the influence that Hogwarts enjoyed, and he felt vindicated. Powerful and in control.
Now, he would sweep clean the ranks of followers that he suspected of weakening his position and amass a new army of those creatures that were considered filth and vermin. Greyback had seen to the werewolves and he had other, secret operatives enlisting other dark beings.
When Narcissa was flung to the ground before him and he looked upon her cowering form, he felt no pity for her. Her husband had let him down; her son had forsaken him and therefore she was as much a traitor as the rest of her worthless family.
His hand reached down beside him to stroke the scaly skin of Nagini and he inclined his head at the scratchy tongue that flickered over his hand.
“We will dispose of her quickly my pretty and then you may have your fun with her.”
“Thank you master,” Nagini’s hissing replied.
“What a shame the men in your family are so ineffectual, Narcissa. I had big plans for both of them, especially your pretty blond son. I do so like fresh young flesh, it’s so tender and sweet to the taste and it takes defilement so well. No matter, the colour of his blood will stain my hands one day and I will bathe in it and remember this moment.”
“My Lord…” Narcissa’s trembling body failed to hide her horror and Voldemort smiled at it.
“Horrified, Narcissa? Surely you knew? His life was forfeit the moment he was born. If he had succeeded in this mission, I may have let him live after I had taken my pleasure. Now, however, I shall not.”
“He is but a child my Lord, you can’t…”
“Quiet! I have grown tired of this discussion. I merely wanted you to go to your death knowing his fate. Avada Kedavra!”
A green light shot from Voldemort’s wand and Narcissa slumped prone.
Dead.
Harry woke with a start, sweat pouring from his face, stomach roiling and horrified at what he had just seen. Voldemort had killed Draco’s mother! His head was thumping; his scar was still burning and a vicious twinge finally upset his stomach and he leant over the edge of the bed and retched, bringing up all his dinner.
Weak and panting he hung over the edge for a moment, his eyes streaming with the strain of vomiting and the stress of what he had witnessed. Then he felt a cool hand on his back. Draco. Oh God…how could he tell him?
“Harry? What’s wrong?”
Harry just shook his head and fumbled blindly around for Draco’s wand, which was still in his pillowcase. Wordlessly he handed it to Draco and indicated that he clean up the mess. Harry didn’t feel like he even had a simple cleaning spell in him at the moment. Luckily, Draco seemed to understand and quickly cleaned up the mess, then got out of bed and went to get Harry some water and a towel to wipe his face.
“What happened?” Draco asked again, when Harry had cleaned himself up.
“Voldemort,” Harry whispered, his throat sore. He was calming down, now, but the sight of Voldemort killing Draco’s mother was still foremost in his mind. And the things that he had heard Voldemort say about his plans for Draco were so vile that Harry almost dry retched. No matter if Draco had succeeded, he would still have been used as a plaything for Voldemort.
Harry scrubbed at his face, rubbing the pads of his fingers over his eyes, then up to his scar. It was hot to his touch and he could almost feel his pulse throbbing through the membrane of his skin. How was he to tell Draco that his mother was dead?
Draco was looking at him searchingly, a frown on his face, not understanding.
“This scar is a sort of link to Voldemort. When he’s feeling some strong emotion, I…tend to get visions of what he’s doing…saying…thinking even.”
Draco’s eyes widened. “And he was feeling some sort of strong emotion just now? What?”
Harry took a deep breath. “Your mother,” he answered as gently as he could.
“He…?” Draco’s voice broke.
Harry nodded. “But it was quick and she didn’t feel anything. They hadn’t hurt her.” He tried to reassure Draco, but in all honesty, how could you cushion something like that?
Harry watched as Draco’s face drained of all emotion. It became a blank slate and only the obvious clenching of Draco’s jaw gave away the intensity of what he was feeling.
“I’m really sorry, Draco,” Harry rasped, as his throat was still a bit raw.
“I should have been there,” Draco ground out from between his clenched jaw. “You should have let me go!”
“You couldn’t have done anything,” Harry protested.
“You don’t know that! I could have been there for her! I hate you for keeping me from her in those last moments. You always think you know best. Perfect bloody Potter! So bloody arrogant and you think I’m arrogant! You do it thoughtlessly, Potter. You’re so intent on being the fucking hero, you walk all over everybody else’s feelings and rights and you don’t even realise that you do it!”
Draco’s anger and distress were starting to be released now and Harry let him go, but when he had finished, Harry hit back.
“I don’t want to be everyone’s fucking hero Draco and you can be as angry as you like with me for not letting you go to her. You can hate me for the rest of your fucking life…because at least now you have a rest of your fucking life!”
“Oh, and I’m supposed to get down on my knees and thank you for that?” Draco snarled, standing up and leaning over Harry. “You made me let her die alone, Potter, and I’ll never forgive you for that!”
Harry knew that Draco was taking his anger out on Harry, because he was the one that was available, though he did have a point. Harry was the one that had refused to let Draco go. With what Harry knew now, it was the right choice, but Draco wouldn’t see it that way until he knew, too.
“You want to know what would have happened to you had you gone? Voldemort’s words were - I had big plans for your pretty blond son. I do so like fresh young flesh, it’s so tender and sweet to the taste and it takes defilement so well. His life was forfeit the moment he was born. If he had succeeded in his mission, I may have let him live after I had taken my pleasure.” Harry reached up and grabbed Draco’s shoulders and twisted, pulling him back onto the bed and sitting on him before he had the chance to move away.
“Do you think your mother would have wanted you anywhere near that? Don’t you think she went to her death knowing that you would not have to face that sort of debasement? Don’t you think that she thanked all the Gods that you weren’t there? She loved you and wanted to protect you.”
Draco’s face was a picture of horror at Harry’s words. He was shaking his head in disbelief. Harry watched the multitude of emotions flash across Draco’s face. Grief, anger, sorrow, revulsion and disgust all battled for Draco’s face at the same time. Then he seemed to turn a bit green and pushed Harry off him, before he scrambled to the bathroom where Harry could hear him throwing up.
Harry wearily dragged himself from the bed and went to help Draco. After a few minutes and with a wet face cloth covering his face as he sat leaning against the wall next to the toilet, Draco began to sob. Harry lowered himself beside the blond, took him in his arms once more and let him cry.
While he sat there, he did some thinking. Tired thinking, but he made himself do it. He decided that he was really just hiding out here at Hogwarts where he was safe. People were still dying out there and it was wrong that he was just sitting here waiting for people who were on his side, to stop looking for him. How stupid was that? How cruel was that, to let everyone worry so much about him? He felt entirely guilty now. He’d trusted his judgement and look what had happened; he’d wasted these days - no he hadn’t, not really. If he hadn’t been here, he would not have found Draco; not been able to fulfil his promise to Dumbledore and perhaps without him there, Draco may have already been caught. There was a reason for every decision, every choice and perhaps finding Draco made his choice the right one.
Instead of waiting the few more days, Harry decided that he would go tomorrow night. All thoughts of turning Draco over to the Order had vanished from Harry’s mind. He’d make sure that Draco had whatever he needed, that Dobby would look after him and he’d leave his map as well. He’d have no use for it outside Hogwarts anyway. Besides, something else that Voldemort had said was that he was going to clean out his followers, Snape among them. He’d have to try and warn him somehow. Much as he hated Snape, he thought that Dumbledore would appreciate him demonstrating his trust.
Harry sighed and rested his head on Draco’s. He’d only just not long ago said that he wouldn’t leave him, and now he was going to do just that. Draco must have heard the sigh, as he moved his head and looked up at Harry with red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks.
“All I seem to do is cry on you lately,” he gave a weak smile.
“And I’ve become used to your red eyes and blotchy skin. That’s a new look for you, Malfoy,” Harry feebly joked back, but his heart wasn’t in it and Draco just sniffed and punched him in the chest.
“Come on, let’s go back to bed,” Harry said tiredly. “We’ve both had a big day and sitting on this floor is not the most comfortable place.”
“If I weren’t feeling so…” he made a vague hand motion. “I’d ask if you were propositioning me,” Draco answered as he stood, giving Harry his hand to help him up, which he took.
“And if I weren’t feeling so…” Harry erratically copied the same hand motion. “I might have been.”
“Ah, tomorrow, then,” Draco said as they made their way back into bed. Harry let Draco climb in first and then settled behind him, moulding his body to Draco’s back as he had previously, letting his hand come to rest across Draco’s chest. Harry’s lips found the back of Draco’s neck and he kissed it lightly.
“Tomorrow,” he whispered as Draco snuggled back into him with a sigh of relief.
“I don’t hate you.”
“I know.”
Part Four.