Hard Time, Chapter 23
Title: Hard Time Ch. 23/?
Author: Juwel (juweldom@yahoo.com)
Pairings: Draco/Harry
Rating: Adult (NC-17)
Catetories: romance, hurt/comfort, angst
Warnings: SPOILERS for DH, compliant with DH except for the epilogue. Warnings for rape (early chapters), submission and domination, and suicidal tendencies.
Archive: just ask.
Disclaimer: The characters in this fic are the property of J.K. Rowling and not mine, sadly. That doesn't seem to have stopped anyone from using them in truly sick and demented ways. No money is being made from this.
Summary: The war is over, and the Death Eaters must do hard time in Azkaban. Draco must vanquish his worst enemy; his own fear.
Notes: I apologize for the lateness of this week's chapter. Thanks to the holidays my beta readers weren't able to work on it with their usual lightning quickness. But never fear; I should be back on track for next week, as I'm already halfway through writing the next chapter. Thanks, casynne for the beta reading! And thanks to everyone for their comments.
4050 words this chapter
Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22
******
The next morning Harry awoke when Draco whimpered in his ear, arms wrapped tight around him and hair brushing up against the still rather tender burn on his chest. He fumbled for a moment to find his glasses, which lay on the pillow beside him, petting Draco's hair and wishing that he'd received just a little more sleep; he still felt exhausted. Draco shuddered and Harry thought he felt wetness on his shoulder. "Draco?"
Harry heard a snuffle, and then Draco raised his head a little. His eyes were red. "I feel terrible. Scared." He swallowed, looking lost and broken. Harry absently pushed a strand of blond hair away from the cloudy grey eyes.
"Why is that? I thought last night--" Last night had been wonderful, and confusing. Draco had wanted to claim him in some way--wasn't that what the mark had meant? At least it had certainly seemed so when he'd wanted Harry to alter the old one, and when he'd finally allowed him to top. Harry had thought it meant something profound, that perhaps it really was him that Draco desired, not just a warm body, or a saviour.
Draco touched the tip of his finger to Harry's newest scar. "I still can't believe I did that. I've been thinking about it all morning, and no matter how I approach it, it was still wrong." His face screwed up in pain. "I keep thinking you're going to send me back to Azkaban."
Oh. Harry bent over to kiss Draco, ignoring the salty taste. "I'm not going to send you back." Yes, strictly speaking, it had been wrong. And he wasn't sorry that Draco was feeling a little guilty about it; the fact that Draco could be sorry for something, could feel regret for hurting someone, was a huge step forward, in Harry's opinion. If it had been Harry's choice, he might have chosen somewhere less conspicuous than the chest for the scar to reside in. But it was done, and he still liked it. The pain had even felt good, in a weird, twisted way. So he was a sick bastard. He could blame it on his screwed up past.
Or he could blame it on something else, Harry reflected, as he held Draco who continued to spew apologies. Somewhere between the last battle and now, something had happened to change the way he looked at Draco Malfoy. He'd felt it so strongly last night, that it was a wonder indeed that the room wasn't glowing with it. He loved the poor sod. Harry could forgive Draco his mistakes, and even his ridiculous princess attitude, because he loved him.
"You aren’t mad? You're not going to send me back?" Draco asked for the third time, wiping at his face and sitting up. This new open and vulnerable Draco still needed some getting used to, Harry decided. He liked the openness, but he wished Draco would actually trust him a bit more.
"I'm a little angry that you used the wand against me, if you want to know the truth. That was stupid, Draco. But I'm really not sending you back. We're going to keep working on your defence." Harry sat up as well, so they could have a normal conversation. "Tell me. Do you want to be a Death Eater? A dark wizard, working to undermine the Ministry and seeking to inflict harm on Muggles, using Dark magic?"
Draco shook his head. "No. I don't. I just want to be left alone."
Harry nodded. "And you'd still be able to say that under Veritaserum?" Because the Wizengamot would give him that potion before trial, he knew.
There was no doubt in Draco's face. "I would. Voldemort was insane. I want nothing to do with anyone who aspires to take over the wizarding world again."
That received another nod, and a small smile. Draco stood up and began rummaging around the floor for his clothing, then stood and called out, "Kreacher! Fresh clothing, please." He smirked at Harry, and Harry was glad to see that Draco seemed to be recovering from the rather emotional evening. Harry got up as well, finding some underwear for himself and a pair of worn-out jeans. It wasn't long before Kreacher appeared with freshly-laundered clothing in hand for Draco.
"Master Harry, you'll be wanting to turn in your paperwork for Hogwarts soon," Kreacher informed Harry, as he picked the clothing up off the floor. Draco was busy getting dressed, but Harry could feel his inquiring gaze on him.
"Thanks, Kreacher." Once Kreacher had gone, Harry looked at Draco. "You know you should fill out the paperwork as well, if you'd like to go to Hogwarts and finish your schooling." Of course, that could only ever come to pass if the Wizengamot allowed him to walk free at all.
Draco shrugged, attempting to look nonchalant, but Harry could see it was all an act - there was that air of fragile vulnerability still about him. Once he'd donned a shirt and trousers, Draco sat on the bed, nodding to himself. "I suppose I'd better finish my education. I'll need the skills, what with the family reputation gone. Not to mention that I’d need the money." He looked miserable at the prospect.
Harry reached over to touch Draco's hand. "I can keep an eye on you. Make sure that nobody gives you a hard time." All at once, he realised that they'd be apart then. Draco would be back in Slytherin House, sleeping in the dungeons. And Harry, he would be in his usual bunk next to Ron. It was a strange, dizzying thought. He wouldn't have Draco curled up asleep at his side.
"Perhaps," Draco said softly. Is he thinking the same thing?, Harry wondered. Draco looked down at their joined hands. "My mother has a place in Edinburgh. I could probably live there until she got out."
The idea that Draco wouldn't stay with Harry, brought a sharp pain to Harry's chest. "Oh. That'll … be nice." What he really ached to say was, stay with me.
They both fell silent for a moment. Draco rose, pacing a bit, not looking at Harry. "I need to show you what I've been working on for Kingsley. For the trial, you know." He left the room, and came back a moment later with his notes, handing them to Harry. "I tried to describe things. I reckoned they'd want a full account and all."
"I need to owl Kingsley today and set up an appointment for us. Oh--and we'd better meet with Mrs McGonnagall too. To make sure that you'd be able to return to Hogwarts, since they cancelled the N.E.W.T.s and all." Harry took the notebook with no little trepidation, wondering how much detail Draco had put into his descriptions of the abuse. He didn't want to read it. But he had to, because he had to know.
Harry could feel Draco's agitation as he opened the first page and began reading. Draco was sitting at the edge of the bed, fidgeting with his wand, which he'd retrieved from the floor. And Harry read. "Pucey," he muttered, finally realising where the 'P' had come from. It was Pucey, who had masterminded the assaults, the whoring, and everything else that Draco had to go through. Oh yes, he was going to have a talk with Kingsley about this. The more he read, the more the anger flared in his veins, making him clench his jaw, making his heart race, his stomach nauseous. He had to stop reading at the part where Draco was reporting his suicide attempt, and so he set the notebook down, vision swimming. He shook his head. "I can't believe they allowed that," he whispered, throat feeling raw and choked. "I should have … I should have come sooner." I should have listened. He'd done too little to ensure Draco's safety after that first visit. He never should have walked out without taking Draco with him.
Beside him, Draco gave an exaggerated shrug, looking down at his hands, avoiding Harry. That rang a warning bell in Harry's mind; he would have expected a more forceful and dramatic reaction from Draco. He had expected to see the same Draco who had complained vocally to everyone around that he was dying, when he'd been given a little scratch by Buckbeak. That old Draco was long gone. Harry scooted closer and wrapped an arm around Draco's shoulder, and immediately felt him lean in, trembling. "It wasn't your fault," he told Draco. Wasn't that what you were supposed to tell the victims of abuse? That’s what the books said, anyway.
Draco shook his head, frowning; he kept breathing hard in what Harry was sure was an attempt to hold back tears. He petted his soft hair, in an excuse to touch the blond silken strands, as well as to offer comfort. "It's okay to cry, you know. You went through … a lot." Words didn't seem adequate to describe the tortures Draco had faced. And this didn't even describe what must have happened before when Voldemort was living here. He was afraid to ask.
"I'm sick of crying! I feel like it's all I’ve been doing lately--that and feeling angry," Draco snarled, wrenching Harry's hand away and standing up, arms crossed over his chest. "Let's talk about something else. You've seen it now. It's over. Let's go have some breakfast."
Harry still felt a whole slew of his own emotions churning inside and wanting release, but he nodded and allowed Draco to lead him out, grabbing a t-shirt to pull over his head as they headed down to the kitchen and dining room. Once there, they saw that Kreacher had already prepared eggs, bacon and toast, which they dug into heartily. Harry asked for a quill and paper as he ate, and scribbled off a brief note to Kingsley, letting him know that things were going well with Draco, and that they should be ready to meet some time soon to discuss strategies. He wrote a second note to Mrs McGonagall, asking about allowing Draco to attend Hogwarts in the fall, provided the Wizengamot cleared him of charges, and last he penned a letter to Hermione to let her know he'd be coming soon to visit. He hoped it would be some time today; he had a lot of things he needed to ask her. She'd probably shriek in outrage when she saw his scorched mark.
He considered giving Ron or Ginny some kind of a note … but he had no idea where to start. Dear Ron: I'm gay? Most definitely not! Perhaps Hermione would have some advice on where to start on that as well.
Draco was reading the paper again, very likely scanning for reports of Greyback, Harry thought with a shudder. He munched on his bacon absently and grabbed for the bits of paper that Draco was done with to read, as he waited for Soot to make the deliveries. He tried to enjoy the quiet morning while it lasted. It probably wasn't going to stay that way for long.
"Nothing," Draco announced with a huff, throwing down the last of the paper and sipping at his tea. "No sightings. He could be anywhere." He glared at Harry and stole one of his strips of bacon. "You don't look nearly concerned enough."
Harry shrugged. "You have to remember I had him - and worse - after me for a long time. I think I'm just used to it now, the constant danger." Indeed, the fear felt like an old friend.
Draco snorted. "Well, I'm not." He shivered, though the room was warm, crunching noisily on the bacon. It seemed that he was going to be back in one of those moods again, Harry thought with a pang. He liked Draco by night much better.
Harry tried to think of ways to ease Draco's mind. One thought came easily enough; he wondered what kind of truly defensive spells Draco knew. The Carrows probably hadn't taught them. "We could practice with our wands, try to work out some spells we could use, should the need arise." Hermione would be so proud of him for planning ahead.
Apparently, that was the right thing to say. "There's a practice room in the cellar," Draco said, thoughtfully, glancing up at Harry. "It's well shielded. Near the cells where--" He flushed, looking embarrassed. “Where we kept Luna and Ollivander for a while."
Draco looked away, but Harry nodded. He'd already come to grips with the memories that haunted this place. Truthfully, there wasn't a single place he'd been to that didn't have some kind of evil memory attached to it. Another thing he had been forced to get used to. "That should work. And remember, no Dark Magic, no Unforgiveables. If you're going to convince the Wizengamot, you have to completely give that sort of thing up."
Draco looked back at Harry and rolled his eyes. "Do you think I'm an idiot? I know that already!" But he stood up, and walked over to take Harry's hand. "Come on then--I'll show you where the room is." And was it Harry's imagination, or was Draco clinging a little to him? Whatever the reason for the hand-holding, Harry decided he liked it, and followed Draco without any further talk, feeling the buzz of energy between them. There was another reason he couldn't get worked up about the thought of Greyback out there. It was hard to think of much of anything when Draco was touching him.
They reached the practice room and Draco let go of Harry's hand, stepping inside to a room with sturdy panelled walls, where the floors were covered with soft mats. Good for wrestling, as well as spellcasting, Harry couldn't help thinking, nodding with approval at Draco as he stepped inside and closed the door behind himself.
Harry pulled off his shirt and shoes, leaving them on a small shelf by the door. He felt eyes on him, and when he turned, sure enough, Draco was staring, eyes darkening to a smoky grey. Harry grinned, basking in the attention. I must really be in love, Harry thought to himself, because right now he felt light enough to fly. Not to mention decidedly warm and intoxicated as well. We are here to practice magic, he reminded himself sternly, pulling out his wand. "I didn't want to wrinkle the shirt," he said by way of explanation. Draco blushed and nodded.
"Good thinking." Draco took his off as well, but he couldn't hide the blush, or the fact that his gaze kept travelling over to check on Harry. Whether it was to gaze at him or see if Harry was looking back at the pale flesh of his torso, Harry wasn't sure. Perhaps a little bit of both, he thought saucily, taking up his position at one side of the room while Draco brought out his wand and took up his own position.
One other thing Harry could see with Draco's shirt off was the livid scar on his chest, retouched last night, and pale lines on each wrist as permanent reminders of the torment he'd gone through. Anger stole over Harry again, filled with images from Draco's report. "You know Protego, right? And I know you know plenty of hexes. We can take turns throwing spells and trying to defend against them." At Draco's terse nod, Harry began, attacking Draco with a Petrificus Totalus, which Draco successfully knocked aside with the anti-jinx. Draco returned with a jinx that Harry didn't recognise, which he shielded, using a Protego.
Back and forth they exchanged spells, and Harry stole a moment to have Draco practice Expelliarmus, thinking back to the days he'd been coaching the DA against the likes of Draco and his friends. Draco also practiced his shielding charms, which were rather weak, to tell the truth. His hexes, however, were perfectly strong, as Harry found out to his chagrin, when a lip-locker curse struck him so hard he thought he'd swallowed his tongue. Draco nixed the spell, but gave him little chance to recover, attacking him with Jelly-Legs next, which Harry only narrowly managed to avoid. They tried body-binding curses, Levicorpus (which Harry managed to sneak past Draco's defenses, to his great delight), and several rounds of exchanging and avoiding stunning spells.
Somewhere, in the heat of practice, they both disarmed each other, and it became a clumsy brawl. Perhaps it was the pent up anxiety, or the anger at others who had hurt them so badly, that Harry found himself locked in a tight embrace with Draco, rolling on the floor as each of them tried to get control of a wand. Draco punched Harry in the side, and bit him on the arm, but Harry rolled Draco beneath him and straddled him, pinning his hands to the mat. He was a lot stronger than Draco, Harry realized, as Draco fought to break the firm hold, snarling and bucking beneath him. They were both covered in sweat, breathing hard. Abruptly, Harry felt Draco's erection grind against him and stopped, their mouths almost touching, chests heaving.
Draco arched up and captured Harry's mouth in a hard kiss, which Harry returned in kind, and their struggles morphed into something erotic and hungry, as Harry entwined his fingers with Draco's, keeping his hands pinned on the ground. Draco thrust up, to better rub against Harry's weight, creating an electric heat between them. Harry growled and bit down on salty flesh, where Draco's neck met shoulder, biting harder than he'd dared earlier, imprinting his teeth in a dark bruise. There was a primal need to show Draco that he wasn't going to roll over this time. He was keeping Draco right where he wanted him. For now at least, Draco was his.
For another moment or so, Draco continued to struggle. Then it was as if he could see into Harry's heart, could sense his determination and, with an exhale of breath, Draco went limp. Harry looked into his eyes, searchingly, to make sure everything was all right, that it wasn't a repeat of Azkaban for Draco. He smiled, when he saw the raw need and surrender in Draco's face. He kissed him slowly, and felt a thrill go through him when Draco whimpered wantonly, letting Harry direct the kiss, sucking at his tongue. "Yes," Draco breathed, not even trying to get away. With his hair fanned out on the mat and his pale skin flushed with desire, he looked like a debauched angel.
Harry licked his lips, enjoying the sight for a moment. They had things to do today … but there was only about two and a half weeks left of them together like this. Then Draco would go to his mother's place, or the Slytherin dormitory at Hogwarts. Or--but he wouldn’t' even allow himself to think of that possibility. No matter what way Harry looked at it, though, Draco wouldn't be here much longer. They wouldn't have this, whatever this was. He dipped his head, making a decision that he would take every opportunity he was given to delve a little deeper, enjoy a little more. His tongue swiped a circle around Draco's nipple, before he bit down. Draco cried out, bucking up against him, and Harry groaned, loving the sound of it and the feel of Draco’s body writhing under his.
"Don't move," Harry told Draco with a firm look, letting go of his hands so that he could kneel up and work Draco's trousers off, and his own as well. A sudden thought came to him, which made him grimace. "No lube," he murmured, wondering if he'd have to abandon his plans to take Draco right here and now.
"Don't need it," Draco breathed, his grey eyes hazy and unfocused. His cock was weeping precome onto his belly, and he kept his hands over his head. "Just--go easy," he added, bending his legs, opening up. "Use spit."
Oh, God, the sight of Draco ready for him, his words, were more than enough to make Harry's mouth water. He spat into his hand a few times and slicked himself, then used a bit more to coat his fingers, pushing them gently into Draco's body, keeping in mind that Draco might still be a touch sore from last night. However, if he was, he didn't show it, arching, as his body was entered, shuddering. "Hurry," Draco pleaded. Harry could hardly argue with that.
Prepping Draco just enough to slick the passageway a little, Harry resumed his position on top, clasping both of Draco's hands in one hand, and holding onto his shaft with the other, rubbing the head of his cock against Draco's pucker. There was an intense look of concentration on Draco's face as Harry began pushing in, feeling Draco's body slowly opening up to him, swallowing him whole. Draco shook all over, thrusting up at him, and Harry took that to mean he should get moving right away.
So he did. Pulling out a little first, Harry thrust in deep and Draco cried out, clasping his ankles at the small of Harry's back, to help better anchor himself as Harry began to fuck him. It was nothing at all like the last night; they were both covered in sweat, their movements were jerky and impatient, and there almost seemed to be a contest between them over who could bite whom the most. But it was just as incredible. Harry grunted and groaned, putting all his weight onto the hand holding Draco's wrist as he plunged into his willing body over and over again. Draco was making small cries that were escalating in volume; he swallowed once and gave Harry a searing look. "Touch me, please!"
Harry wrapped a hand around Draco's length, stroking him in time with his thrusts, working his hand over the slick head and down the shaft mercilessly. "Go on, come for me," he muttered, feeling his own impending climax. His words seemed to trigger something in Draco; Draco gave a loud shout, come spurting over his chest, and Harry gave himself over to the pleasure, coming deep inside as Draco's walls clenched tightly around him. They lay there afterwards for several moments, twitching with the aftershocks.
Draco's lips were pressed against Harry's neck, his arms wrapped around his shoulders. Harry felt a great sigh go through Draco as they lay together there, letting their pulses return to a normal rate. Draco's hand came up to thread through Harry's hair. His voice came as a mere whisper, almost too low to hear. "I feel so safe with you."
Harry's heart nearly stopped, and then restarted with a shock that seemed to go straight through him. His stomach was doing a wild flip flop. Draco just didn't make confessions like this. Not to him. Not to anyone, he didn't think. He squeezed Draco back. "I'll always protect you."
They held each other silently for a few moments.
Eventually Harry crawled off to retrieve his wand, cleaning himself and Draco off, even though they were still in need for a proper shower. Draco rolled onto his side languidly. He looked sleepy and content. Harry chuckled, offering him an arm to pull himself up. "That was some practice session," Harry said, because he felt the need to say something, anything.
Draco was still holding his hand, looking a little dazed and dreamy-eyed. "Mm-hmm," he said, leaning against Harry. He looked around at the room, at their shirts folded on the shelf by the door. "I needed this." He finally let go of Harry, walking unsteadily over to pick up his shirt.
"Me too," Harry murmured, and he wasn't sure if he was referring to the practice session or the sex after. He walked over to grab his shirt as well. Neither of them donned the shirts--no point in getting them all sweaty. As they headed up the stairs towards the bathroom, Kreacher appeared with three letters in hand.
"These were owled while you were busy, Master," he told Harry.
Harry felt a surge of nervousness as he took the letters, opening them in the hallway, as Kreacher and Draco looked on. "Looks like Headmistress McGonagall wants to see us both the day after tomorrow," he said, after reading the first one. He opened Kingley's next. "And Kingsley wants us to present our arguments to him on Monday next week." That would leave them with two weeks to make adjustments to their case under Kingley's direction. He opened the one from Hermione last and, after reading it, looked at Draco. "Hermione wants to know if we'd like to come to her house tonight for dinner." He double checked the letter, but it was as clear as day. "She wants both of us to come if possible." He wondered how Draco would react to that--it wasn't like he and Hermione had a very good relationship, and there was also the fact that this would be asking Draco to step foot inside a Muggle house, and deal with Hermione’s Muggle parents.
Draco appeared to think it over, his gaze flicking over Harry's face, and then lower, over his chest, and perhaps the scar. A little wrinkle appeared between his brows, and he flicked back sweat-damp hair from his face. "She wants me to come?"
Harry shrugged and nodded, holding out the letter to show the pertinent line. "Maybe she wants to see if you've changed." A thought came to him. "She could be a character witness. If she came and supported you …" He wondered if Hermione had considered the possibility. She was certainly smart enough to. "It'd strengthen your case."
That received a nod, as Draco chewed his lip thoughtfully. He nodded once, slowly. "Then tell her we'll come." He looked at Harry's face again, and Harry saw a flash of fear and nervousness. It would be Draco's first time out anywhere since his imprisonment in Azkaban; it was a small wonder he was nervous. Harry smiled in encouragement at Draco.
"I'll tell her." He couldn't wait to see what Hermione thought of the new Draco.
***
Chapter Twenty-four
***
Author: Juwel (juweldom@yahoo.com)
Pairings: Draco/Harry
Rating: Adult (NC-17)
Catetories: romance, hurt/comfort, angst
Warnings: SPOILERS for DH, compliant with DH except for the epilogue. Warnings for rape (early chapters), submission and domination, and suicidal tendencies.
Archive: just ask.
Disclaimer: The characters in this fic are the property of J.K. Rowling and not mine, sadly. That doesn't seem to have stopped anyone from using them in truly sick and demented ways. No money is being made from this.
Summary: The war is over, and the Death Eaters must do hard time in Azkaban. Draco must vanquish his worst enemy; his own fear.
Notes: I apologize for the lateness of this week's chapter. Thanks to the holidays my beta readers weren't able to work on it with their usual lightning quickness. But never fear; I should be back on track for next week, as I'm already halfway through writing the next chapter. Thanks, casynne for the beta reading! And thanks to everyone for their comments.
4050 words this chapter
Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22
******
The next morning Harry awoke when Draco whimpered in his ear, arms wrapped tight around him and hair brushing up against the still rather tender burn on his chest. He fumbled for a moment to find his glasses, which lay on the pillow beside him, petting Draco's hair and wishing that he'd received just a little more sleep; he still felt exhausted. Draco shuddered and Harry thought he felt wetness on his shoulder. "Draco?"
Harry heard a snuffle, and then Draco raised his head a little. His eyes were red. "I feel terrible. Scared." He swallowed, looking lost and broken. Harry absently pushed a strand of blond hair away from the cloudy grey eyes.
"Why is that? I thought last night--" Last night had been wonderful, and confusing. Draco had wanted to claim him in some way--wasn't that what the mark had meant? At least it had certainly seemed so when he'd wanted Harry to alter the old one, and when he'd finally allowed him to top. Harry had thought it meant something profound, that perhaps it really was him that Draco desired, not just a warm body, or a saviour.
Draco touched the tip of his finger to Harry's newest scar. "I still can't believe I did that. I've been thinking about it all morning, and no matter how I approach it, it was still wrong." His face screwed up in pain. "I keep thinking you're going to send me back to Azkaban."
Oh. Harry bent over to kiss Draco, ignoring the salty taste. "I'm not going to send you back." Yes, strictly speaking, it had been wrong. And he wasn't sorry that Draco was feeling a little guilty about it; the fact that Draco could be sorry for something, could feel regret for hurting someone, was a huge step forward, in Harry's opinion. If it had been Harry's choice, he might have chosen somewhere less conspicuous than the chest for the scar to reside in. But it was done, and he still liked it. The pain had even felt good, in a weird, twisted way. So he was a sick bastard. He could blame it on his screwed up past.
Or he could blame it on something else, Harry reflected, as he held Draco who continued to spew apologies. Somewhere between the last battle and now, something had happened to change the way he looked at Draco Malfoy. He'd felt it so strongly last night, that it was a wonder indeed that the room wasn't glowing with it. He loved the poor sod. Harry could forgive Draco his mistakes, and even his ridiculous princess attitude, because he loved him.
"You aren’t mad? You're not going to send me back?" Draco asked for the third time, wiping at his face and sitting up. This new open and vulnerable Draco still needed some getting used to, Harry decided. He liked the openness, but he wished Draco would actually trust him a bit more.
"I'm a little angry that you used the wand against me, if you want to know the truth. That was stupid, Draco. But I'm really not sending you back. We're going to keep working on your defence." Harry sat up as well, so they could have a normal conversation. "Tell me. Do you want to be a Death Eater? A dark wizard, working to undermine the Ministry and seeking to inflict harm on Muggles, using Dark magic?"
Draco shook his head. "No. I don't. I just want to be left alone."
Harry nodded. "And you'd still be able to say that under Veritaserum?" Because the Wizengamot would give him that potion before trial, he knew.
There was no doubt in Draco's face. "I would. Voldemort was insane. I want nothing to do with anyone who aspires to take over the wizarding world again."
That received another nod, and a small smile. Draco stood up and began rummaging around the floor for his clothing, then stood and called out, "Kreacher! Fresh clothing, please." He smirked at Harry, and Harry was glad to see that Draco seemed to be recovering from the rather emotional evening. Harry got up as well, finding some underwear for himself and a pair of worn-out jeans. It wasn't long before Kreacher appeared with freshly-laundered clothing in hand for Draco.
"Master Harry, you'll be wanting to turn in your paperwork for Hogwarts soon," Kreacher informed Harry, as he picked the clothing up off the floor. Draco was busy getting dressed, but Harry could feel his inquiring gaze on him.
"Thanks, Kreacher." Once Kreacher had gone, Harry looked at Draco. "You know you should fill out the paperwork as well, if you'd like to go to Hogwarts and finish your schooling." Of course, that could only ever come to pass if the Wizengamot allowed him to walk free at all.
Draco shrugged, attempting to look nonchalant, but Harry could see it was all an act - there was that air of fragile vulnerability still about him. Once he'd donned a shirt and trousers, Draco sat on the bed, nodding to himself. "I suppose I'd better finish my education. I'll need the skills, what with the family reputation gone. Not to mention that I’d need the money." He looked miserable at the prospect.
Harry reached over to touch Draco's hand. "I can keep an eye on you. Make sure that nobody gives you a hard time." All at once, he realised that they'd be apart then. Draco would be back in Slytherin House, sleeping in the dungeons. And Harry, he would be in his usual bunk next to Ron. It was a strange, dizzying thought. He wouldn't have Draco curled up asleep at his side.
"Perhaps," Draco said softly. Is he thinking the same thing?, Harry wondered. Draco looked down at their joined hands. "My mother has a place in Edinburgh. I could probably live there until she got out."
The idea that Draco wouldn't stay with Harry, brought a sharp pain to Harry's chest. "Oh. That'll … be nice." What he really ached to say was, stay with me.
They both fell silent for a moment. Draco rose, pacing a bit, not looking at Harry. "I need to show you what I've been working on for Kingsley. For the trial, you know." He left the room, and came back a moment later with his notes, handing them to Harry. "I tried to describe things. I reckoned they'd want a full account and all."
"I need to owl Kingsley today and set up an appointment for us. Oh--and we'd better meet with Mrs McGonnagall too. To make sure that you'd be able to return to Hogwarts, since they cancelled the N.E.W.T.s and all." Harry took the notebook with no little trepidation, wondering how much detail Draco had put into his descriptions of the abuse. He didn't want to read it. But he had to, because he had to know.
Harry could feel Draco's agitation as he opened the first page and began reading. Draco was sitting at the edge of the bed, fidgeting with his wand, which he'd retrieved from the floor. And Harry read. "Pucey," he muttered, finally realising where the 'P' had come from. It was Pucey, who had masterminded the assaults, the whoring, and everything else that Draco had to go through. Oh yes, he was going to have a talk with Kingsley about this. The more he read, the more the anger flared in his veins, making him clench his jaw, making his heart race, his stomach nauseous. He had to stop reading at the part where Draco was reporting his suicide attempt, and so he set the notebook down, vision swimming. He shook his head. "I can't believe they allowed that," he whispered, throat feeling raw and choked. "I should have … I should have come sooner." I should have listened. He'd done too little to ensure Draco's safety after that first visit. He never should have walked out without taking Draco with him.
Beside him, Draco gave an exaggerated shrug, looking down at his hands, avoiding Harry. That rang a warning bell in Harry's mind; he would have expected a more forceful and dramatic reaction from Draco. He had expected to see the same Draco who had complained vocally to everyone around that he was dying, when he'd been given a little scratch by Buckbeak. That old Draco was long gone. Harry scooted closer and wrapped an arm around Draco's shoulder, and immediately felt him lean in, trembling. "It wasn't your fault," he told Draco. Wasn't that what you were supposed to tell the victims of abuse? That’s what the books said, anyway.
Draco shook his head, frowning; he kept breathing hard in what Harry was sure was an attempt to hold back tears. He petted his soft hair, in an excuse to touch the blond silken strands, as well as to offer comfort. "It's okay to cry, you know. You went through … a lot." Words didn't seem adequate to describe the tortures Draco had faced. And this didn't even describe what must have happened before when Voldemort was living here. He was afraid to ask.
"I'm sick of crying! I feel like it's all I’ve been doing lately--that and feeling angry," Draco snarled, wrenching Harry's hand away and standing up, arms crossed over his chest. "Let's talk about something else. You've seen it now. It's over. Let's go have some breakfast."
Harry still felt a whole slew of his own emotions churning inside and wanting release, but he nodded and allowed Draco to lead him out, grabbing a t-shirt to pull over his head as they headed down to the kitchen and dining room. Once there, they saw that Kreacher had already prepared eggs, bacon and toast, which they dug into heartily. Harry asked for a quill and paper as he ate, and scribbled off a brief note to Kingsley, letting him know that things were going well with Draco, and that they should be ready to meet some time soon to discuss strategies. He wrote a second note to Mrs McGonagall, asking about allowing Draco to attend Hogwarts in the fall, provided the Wizengamot cleared him of charges, and last he penned a letter to Hermione to let her know he'd be coming soon to visit. He hoped it would be some time today; he had a lot of things he needed to ask her. She'd probably shriek in outrage when she saw his scorched mark.
He considered giving Ron or Ginny some kind of a note … but he had no idea where to start. Dear Ron: I'm gay? Most definitely not! Perhaps Hermione would have some advice on where to start on that as well.
Draco was reading the paper again, very likely scanning for reports of Greyback, Harry thought with a shudder. He munched on his bacon absently and grabbed for the bits of paper that Draco was done with to read, as he waited for Soot to make the deliveries. He tried to enjoy the quiet morning while it lasted. It probably wasn't going to stay that way for long.
"Nothing," Draco announced with a huff, throwing down the last of the paper and sipping at his tea. "No sightings. He could be anywhere." He glared at Harry and stole one of his strips of bacon. "You don't look nearly concerned enough."
Harry shrugged. "You have to remember I had him - and worse - after me for a long time. I think I'm just used to it now, the constant danger." Indeed, the fear felt like an old friend.
Draco snorted. "Well, I'm not." He shivered, though the room was warm, crunching noisily on the bacon. It seemed that he was going to be back in one of those moods again, Harry thought with a pang. He liked Draco by night much better.
Harry tried to think of ways to ease Draco's mind. One thought came easily enough; he wondered what kind of truly defensive spells Draco knew. The Carrows probably hadn't taught them. "We could practice with our wands, try to work out some spells we could use, should the need arise." Hermione would be so proud of him for planning ahead.
Apparently, that was the right thing to say. "There's a practice room in the cellar," Draco said, thoughtfully, glancing up at Harry. "It's well shielded. Near the cells where--" He flushed, looking embarrassed. “Where we kept Luna and Ollivander for a while."
Draco looked away, but Harry nodded. He'd already come to grips with the memories that haunted this place. Truthfully, there wasn't a single place he'd been to that didn't have some kind of evil memory attached to it. Another thing he had been forced to get used to. "That should work. And remember, no Dark Magic, no Unforgiveables. If you're going to convince the Wizengamot, you have to completely give that sort of thing up."
Draco looked back at Harry and rolled his eyes. "Do you think I'm an idiot? I know that already!" But he stood up, and walked over to take Harry's hand. "Come on then--I'll show you where the room is." And was it Harry's imagination, or was Draco clinging a little to him? Whatever the reason for the hand-holding, Harry decided he liked it, and followed Draco without any further talk, feeling the buzz of energy between them. There was another reason he couldn't get worked up about the thought of Greyback out there. It was hard to think of much of anything when Draco was touching him.
They reached the practice room and Draco let go of Harry's hand, stepping inside to a room with sturdy panelled walls, where the floors were covered with soft mats. Good for wrestling, as well as spellcasting, Harry couldn't help thinking, nodding with approval at Draco as he stepped inside and closed the door behind himself.
Harry pulled off his shirt and shoes, leaving them on a small shelf by the door. He felt eyes on him, and when he turned, sure enough, Draco was staring, eyes darkening to a smoky grey. Harry grinned, basking in the attention. I must really be in love, Harry thought to himself, because right now he felt light enough to fly. Not to mention decidedly warm and intoxicated as well. We are here to practice magic, he reminded himself sternly, pulling out his wand. "I didn't want to wrinkle the shirt," he said by way of explanation. Draco blushed and nodded.
"Good thinking." Draco took his off as well, but he couldn't hide the blush, or the fact that his gaze kept travelling over to check on Harry. Whether it was to gaze at him or see if Harry was looking back at the pale flesh of his torso, Harry wasn't sure. Perhaps a little bit of both, he thought saucily, taking up his position at one side of the room while Draco brought out his wand and took up his own position.
One other thing Harry could see with Draco's shirt off was the livid scar on his chest, retouched last night, and pale lines on each wrist as permanent reminders of the torment he'd gone through. Anger stole over Harry again, filled with images from Draco's report. "You know Protego, right? And I know you know plenty of hexes. We can take turns throwing spells and trying to defend against them." At Draco's terse nod, Harry began, attacking Draco with a Petrificus Totalus, which Draco successfully knocked aside with the anti-jinx. Draco returned with a jinx that Harry didn't recognise, which he shielded, using a Protego.
Back and forth they exchanged spells, and Harry stole a moment to have Draco practice Expelliarmus, thinking back to the days he'd been coaching the DA against the likes of Draco and his friends. Draco also practiced his shielding charms, which were rather weak, to tell the truth. His hexes, however, were perfectly strong, as Harry found out to his chagrin, when a lip-locker curse struck him so hard he thought he'd swallowed his tongue. Draco nixed the spell, but gave him little chance to recover, attacking him with Jelly-Legs next, which Harry only narrowly managed to avoid. They tried body-binding curses, Levicorpus (which Harry managed to sneak past Draco's defenses, to his great delight), and several rounds of exchanging and avoiding stunning spells.
Somewhere, in the heat of practice, they both disarmed each other, and it became a clumsy brawl. Perhaps it was the pent up anxiety, or the anger at others who had hurt them so badly, that Harry found himself locked in a tight embrace with Draco, rolling on the floor as each of them tried to get control of a wand. Draco punched Harry in the side, and bit him on the arm, but Harry rolled Draco beneath him and straddled him, pinning his hands to the mat. He was a lot stronger than Draco, Harry realized, as Draco fought to break the firm hold, snarling and bucking beneath him. They were both covered in sweat, breathing hard. Abruptly, Harry felt Draco's erection grind against him and stopped, their mouths almost touching, chests heaving.
Draco arched up and captured Harry's mouth in a hard kiss, which Harry returned in kind, and their struggles morphed into something erotic and hungry, as Harry entwined his fingers with Draco's, keeping his hands pinned on the ground. Draco thrust up, to better rub against Harry's weight, creating an electric heat between them. Harry growled and bit down on salty flesh, where Draco's neck met shoulder, biting harder than he'd dared earlier, imprinting his teeth in a dark bruise. There was a primal need to show Draco that he wasn't going to roll over this time. He was keeping Draco right where he wanted him. For now at least, Draco was his.
For another moment or so, Draco continued to struggle. Then it was as if he could see into Harry's heart, could sense his determination and, with an exhale of breath, Draco went limp. Harry looked into his eyes, searchingly, to make sure everything was all right, that it wasn't a repeat of Azkaban for Draco. He smiled, when he saw the raw need and surrender in Draco's face. He kissed him slowly, and felt a thrill go through him when Draco whimpered wantonly, letting Harry direct the kiss, sucking at his tongue. "Yes," Draco breathed, not even trying to get away. With his hair fanned out on the mat and his pale skin flushed with desire, he looked like a debauched angel.
Harry licked his lips, enjoying the sight for a moment. They had things to do today … but there was only about two and a half weeks left of them together like this. Then Draco would go to his mother's place, or the Slytherin dormitory at Hogwarts. Or--but he wouldn’t' even allow himself to think of that possibility. No matter what way Harry looked at it, though, Draco wouldn't be here much longer. They wouldn't have this, whatever this was. He dipped his head, making a decision that he would take every opportunity he was given to delve a little deeper, enjoy a little more. His tongue swiped a circle around Draco's nipple, before he bit down. Draco cried out, bucking up against him, and Harry groaned, loving the sound of it and the feel of Draco’s body writhing under his.
"Don't move," Harry told Draco with a firm look, letting go of his hands so that he could kneel up and work Draco's trousers off, and his own as well. A sudden thought came to him, which made him grimace. "No lube," he murmured, wondering if he'd have to abandon his plans to take Draco right here and now.
"Don't need it," Draco breathed, his grey eyes hazy and unfocused. His cock was weeping precome onto his belly, and he kept his hands over his head. "Just--go easy," he added, bending his legs, opening up. "Use spit."
Oh, God, the sight of Draco ready for him, his words, were more than enough to make Harry's mouth water. He spat into his hand a few times and slicked himself, then used a bit more to coat his fingers, pushing them gently into Draco's body, keeping in mind that Draco might still be a touch sore from last night. However, if he was, he didn't show it, arching, as his body was entered, shuddering. "Hurry," Draco pleaded. Harry could hardly argue with that.
Prepping Draco just enough to slick the passageway a little, Harry resumed his position on top, clasping both of Draco's hands in one hand, and holding onto his shaft with the other, rubbing the head of his cock against Draco's pucker. There was an intense look of concentration on Draco's face as Harry began pushing in, feeling Draco's body slowly opening up to him, swallowing him whole. Draco shook all over, thrusting up at him, and Harry took that to mean he should get moving right away.
So he did. Pulling out a little first, Harry thrust in deep and Draco cried out, clasping his ankles at the small of Harry's back, to help better anchor himself as Harry began to fuck him. It was nothing at all like the last night; they were both covered in sweat, their movements were jerky and impatient, and there almost seemed to be a contest between them over who could bite whom the most. But it was just as incredible. Harry grunted and groaned, putting all his weight onto the hand holding Draco's wrist as he plunged into his willing body over and over again. Draco was making small cries that were escalating in volume; he swallowed once and gave Harry a searing look. "Touch me, please!"
Harry wrapped a hand around Draco's length, stroking him in time with his thrusts, working his hand over the slick head and down the shaft mercilessly. "Go on, come for me," he muttered, feeling his own impending climax. His words seemed to trigger something in Draco; Draco gave a loud shout, come spurting over his chest, and Harry gave himself over to the pleasure, coming deep inside as Draco's walls clenched tightly around him. They lay there afterwards for several moments, twitching with the aftershocks.
Draco's lips were pressed against Harry's neck, his arms wrapped around his shoulders. Harry felt a great sigh go through Draco as they lay together there, letting their pulses return to a normal rate. Draco's hand came up to thread through Harry's hair. His voice came as a mere whisper, almost too low to hear. "I feel so safe with you."
Harry's heart nearly stopped, and then restarted with a shock that seemed to go straight through him. His stomach was doing a wild flip flop. Draco just didn't make confessions like this. Not to him. Not to anyone, he didn't think. He squeezed Draco back. "I'll always protect you."
They held each other silently for a few moments.
Eventually Harry crawled off to retrieve his wand, cleaning himself and Draco off, even though they were still in need for a proper shower. Draco rolled onto his side languidly. He looked sleepy and content. Harry chuckled, offering him an arm to pull himself up. "That was some practice session," Harry said, because he felt the need to say something, anything.
Draco was still holding his hand, looking a little dazed and dreamy-eyed. "Mm-hmm," he said, leaning against Harry. He looked around at the room, at their shirts folded on the shelf by the door. "I needed this." He finally let go of Harry, walking unsteadily over to pick up his shirt.
"Me too," Harry murmured, and he wasn't sure if he was referring to the practice session or the sex after. He walked over to grab his shirt as well. Neither of them donned the shirts--no point in getting them all sweaty. As they headed up the stairs towards the bathroom, Kreacher appeared with three letters in hand.
"These were owled while you were busy, Master," he told Harry.
Harry felt a surge of nervousness as he took the letters, opening them in the hallway, as Kreacher and Draco looked on. "Looks like Headmistress McGonagall wants to see us both the day after tomorrow," he said, after reading the first one. He opened Kingley's next. "And Kingsley wants us to present our arguments to him on Monday next week." That would leave them with two weeks to make adjustments to their case under Kingley's direction. He opened the one from Hermione last and, after reading it, looked at Draco. "Hermione wants to know if we'd like to come to her house tonight for dinner." He double checked the letter, but it was as clear as day. "She wants both of us to come if possible." He wondered how Draco would react to that--it wasn't like he and Hermione had a very good relationship, and there was also the fact that this would be asking Draco to step foot inside a Muggle house, and deal with Hermione’s Muggle parents.
Draco appeared to think it over, his gaze flicking over Harry's face, and then lower, over his chest, and perhaps the scar. A little wrinkle appeared between his brows, and he flicked back sweat-damp hair from his face. "She wants me to come?"
Harry shrugged and nodded, holding out the letter to show the pertinent line. "Maybe she wants to see if you've changed." A thought came to him. "She could be a character witness. If she came and supported you …" He wondered if Hermione had considered the possibility. She was certainly smart enough to. "It'd strengthen your case."
That received a nod, as Draco chewed his lip thoughtfully. He nodded once, slowly. "Then tell her we'll come." He looked at Harry's face again, and Harry saw a flash of fear and nervousness. It would be Draco's first time out anywhere since his imprisonment in Azkaban; it was a small wonder he was nervous. Harry smiled in encouragement at Draco.
"I'll tell her." He couldn't wait to see what Hermione thought of the new Draco.
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Chapter Twenty-four
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