Someday
Title: Someday
Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 1700 (approx)
Summary: Draco is disowned. Harry offers comfort, while struggling with his own feelings for the blond. A prequel to Harry Throws a Hissy Fit
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe, or the characters in it. The following was written purely for fun, not profit.
The moment Harry set foot in his flat he knew something was wrong. He could sense his Auror instinct taking over, and he walked through the quiet living room, his hackles raised. It was far too quiet. Usually by this time, his flatmate would be around, making dinner or sketching in front of the fire place. The kitchen was empty, the fire place abandoned and Harry clenched his wand. His gaze lingered on the liquor cabinet. It had been opened and the contents strewn about, as if someone had gone through it hastily, looking for something specific. Harry's eyes widened. The scotch was missing.
"Draco!" he all but yelled, panic taking over as he scoured the flat for his missing flatmate. Harry fled from room to room, trying to locate the blond. Draco's room was open but he wasn't there. Finally, Harry turned his attention to their shared bathroom, flinging the door open- his heart flooding with relief as he spotted a familiar blond figure slumped on the floor, the empty bottle of scotch rolling by his side.
"Draco" he repeated, partly in relief, and partly in anger. He had never been so scared. The blond looked up at him, his gaze mirroring the irritation. Harry noted that he was partially dressed, his shirt half open and nearly off his thin shoulders. His jeans were riding low, revealing just a glimpse of the pale, toned abs that lay beneath the coarse fabric. The brunet swallowed.
"I'm not deaf, you know," Draco muttered, the words slurring. Harry glanced from the empty bottle to Draco's face. It was a face he was used to now, having lived with the blond for a year and a half. It was a pale face, with sharp aristocratic features and silver eyes. With an expressive mouth that changed to accommodate derisive smirks, sharp grimaces or easy smiles. There were more easy smiles for Harry these days, now that they were friends. Friends, Harry told himself firmly. He knew it was a lie. And now was not the time to dwell on it. Draco was in pain, he could tell. Harry's heart clenched, aching to fix it. Fix him.
"What's wrong?" he asked gently. A morbid thought seized at his worried mind and he almost snarled, making Draco jump.
"Did someone hurt you?" he demanded. He had never been particularly comfortable with Draco's… profession, for lack of better words. Why the blond had chosen to be an escort was beyond his understanding, but he tried his best not to say anything about it. Even if it was slowly becoming intolerable. Right now, boundaries be damned, he didn't care. Draco was hurt, and Harry was beyond angry. "Give me a name, Draco. Just tell me who it was and I'll tear the bastard up limb from limb…"
Draco gave him a weary look, speaking up for the first time. "As much as I admire the sentiment, Potter nobody hurt me. I'm fine"
"You're not fine," Harry argued back, sitting beside him "Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"
Draco shrugged delicately. "Why would you assume something is wrong?" he asked, his voice taking on a casual tone that Harry at once identified as an act. He knew the blond too well.
"Scotch" Harry replied easily. It was a well established fact between the two. Draco went for the Scotch when he was extremely upset. The only other time he drank it was on his mother's death anniversary. Other than that, he avoided it like the plague.
"Touché," Draco replied, not bothering to hide the pain now that he knew it was futile. "Something…happened" The last word was choked out, the blond's voice breaking as he hunched his shoulders, trying to compose himself. It wasn't working. Finally, he settled for bowing his head, letting his hair fall over his eyes. Harry resisted the urge to brush it back. Draco was hiding. He wouldn't force him out. Not if he wanted to help, anyway.
"I'm here, Draco," he offered, slinging a hesitant arm across the blond's shoulders and pulling him closer. "Talk to me"
The blond shook his head vehemently, but he leaned in to Harry's chest anyway. "N-nothing to talk about," he stuttered, breathing deeply.
"You're hurting," Harry replied quietly. "I don't like it"
Draco only shook his head fiercely, battling it out with his inner demons, trying to stay strong by himself. Harry stayed silently at his side, willing himself not to catch hold of the stubborn prat and shake him until he let him help. Even as he coached himself into being patient, Draco apparently lost his will and thrust a piece of paper in his hand.
"What's this?" Harry frowned, as he smoothed the crumpled paper. It was a letter, written in a curt precise hand. Harry's eyes widened as he caught the signature at the very end.Lucius Malfoy. That was never good. Harry's mouth was set in a thin line as he turned back to the blond.
"It came this afternoon," Draco managed to choke out, visibly shaking now. His hands clenched at Harry's jacket as if the Gryffindor would abandon him. Harry tightened his hold, stroking Draco's shoulder as he did. "Should I read it?" he asked. When Draco nodded, he scanned the letter quickly.
It started out coldly enough- as would be Lucius Malfoy's demeanour, even towards his only son, Harry thought spitefully- and then just as suddenly it descended into a psychotic rant, the words lashing, cutting, accusing…blaming Draco for everything, anything under the sun. His failure to be a death eater, a 'proper wizard', for turning blood traitor, for betraying his father, for being a bloody 'pouf', for being lower than scum…the list went on and on. Horrendous charges, in an endless vile, spew. Harry controlled his steadily rising temper as best as he could, gritting his teeth as Lucius Malfoy remorselessly foisted all his failures as a human being and wizard on the most convenient target- his only son. And then he was nearly finished and his eyes raked the last line.
You have proven yourself unworthy of the Malfoy name. As your sire, I disown you. You are not to set foot in Malfoy Manor again, nor attempt to contact anyone bearing the Malfoy name. As of today, you are no son of mine.
Almost as if he could sense what Harry was reading, Draco broke down. The sobs were sharp like jagged glass in Harry's skin as Draco splintered and shattered in a hundred pieces before his eyes, falling into him, sobbing into his jacket. "Why?" the blond sobbed, all pretence of strength gone, vanished like his name, his legacy, his only family.
"Why? Why? WHY?" he was chanting the word, screaming his anguish. And Harry held him tight, imagining that he was the only thing holding Draco together, that without him the blond would fall apart and break like glass.
"I don't know. I don't know," he replied, his voice a steady whisper in the storm of Draco's emotions. He stroked the shaking head, running his hand through the messy blond strands, trying to offer him comfort, warmth…whatever he needed right now. Harry gnashed his teeth as Draco cried harder. One of these days, he was going to hunt down Lucius Malfoy and kill him. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that the bastard was out of Draco's life.
"He was my father," the blond snarled into his shoulder "My father!"
"He's not worth it, Draco," Harry replied. "He never was"
"He took everything, Harry," Draco sobbed. "I'm nothing now."
"That's not true!" Harry snapped at once. "Look at me" He practically growled when the blond resisted "Damn it Draco, you're going to look at me right now. Do it."
Draco obeyed, even though his eyes were still brimming with unshed tears. Harry had always found his immediate response to authority fascinating. Right now, he was just relieved he had some semblance of control over the hysterical boy. "Don't ever say you're nothing to me," he said; his voice focused and calm. "You're still the strong, beautiful, amazing man you always were. With or without your bastard of a father"
Draco blinked, looking like a silver eyed deer in headlights. "I need a drink," he said finally, trying to get up. Harry held him down easily. He had the advantage of being the taller of the two, not to mention Draco was physically exhausted. "No," he said firmly. "You've had all the drink you can handle. What you need is sleep"
"Can't sleep," Draco mumbled dejectedly, slumping against Harry's shoulder. "Feel…alone"
Harry bit his lip. "I'll stay with you," he offered. It was certainly against his better judgement but he couldn't bring himself to leave Draco alone in this state.
Draco looked up at him, his eyes glinting. There was pain and, unless Harry was very mistaken…hope. "Will you?" he asked. There was a question in that question. Harry wasn't sure how to answer, so he nodded simply. "Always," he replied, the word falling almost automatically from his lips. He knew he meant it before he even said it.
"Don't leave me, Harry," Draco pleaded, vulnerability flitting across his face. "Please?"
Harry leaned forward, watching intently as Draco's eyes widened. He wanted to…so badly. But, no. Not like this. Not with Draco drunk and uncertain and hurting. Not when he needed comfort and a friend above everything else. Perhaps someday, but not today.
So he pressed his lips to the blond's forehead instead. "I won't leave, Draco. I promise," he said simply. He took his pale wrist and slung it over his shoulder. "Now come on, I'm taking you to bed"
The blond stood shakily, most of his weight still on Harry. "Harry?" he whispered. The brunet looked at him enquiringly. "You're a good friend," Draco managed. His head was still lowered, his fringe still hiding his silver gaze.
Harry nodded and walked the blond back to his bedroom. A good friend. Someday he might be more to Draco. Someday. But not today.
Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 1700 (approx)
Summary: Draco is disowned. Harry offers comfort, while struggling with his own feelings for the blond. A prequel to Harry Throws a Hissy Fit
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe, or the characters in it. The following was written purely for fun, not profit.
The moment Harry set foot in his flat he knew something was wrong. He could sense his Auror instinct taking over, and he walked through the quiet living room, his hackles raised. It was far too quiet. Usually by this time, his flatmate would be around, making dinner or sketching in front of the fire place. The kitchen was empty, the fire place abandoned and Harry clenched his wand. His gaze lingered on the liquor cabinet. It had been opened and the contents strewn about, as if someone had gone through it hastily, looking for something specific. Harry's eyes widened. The scotch was missing.
"Draco!" he all but yelled, panic taking over as he scoured the flat for his missing flatmate. Harry fled from room to room, trying to locate the blond. Draco's room was open but he wasn't there. Finally, Harry turned his attention to their shared bathroom, flinging the door open- his heart flooding with relief as he spotted a familiar blond figure slumped on the floor, the empty bottle of scotch rolling by his side.
"Draco" he repeated, partly in relief, and partly in anger. He had never been so scared. The blond looked up at him, his gaze mirroring the irritation. Harry noted that he was partially dressed, his shirt half open and nearly off his thin shoulders. His jeans were riding low, revealing just a glimpse of the pale, toned abs that lay beneath the coarse fabric. The brunet swallowed.
"I'm not deaf, you know," Draco muttered, the words slurring. Harry glanced from the empty bottle to Draco's face. It was a face he was used to now, having lived with the blond for a year and a half. It was a pale face, with sharp aristocratic features and silver eyes. With an expressive mouth that changed to accommodate derisive smirks, sharp grimaces or easy smiles. There were more easy smiles for Harry these days, now that they were friends. Friends, Harry told himself firmly. He knew it was a lie. And now was not the time to dwell on it. Draco was in pain, he could tell. Harry's heart clenched, aching to fix it. Fix him.
"What's wrong?" he asked gently. A morbid thought seized at his worried mind and he almost snarled, making Draco jump.
"Did someone hurt you?" he demanded. He had never been particularly comfortable with Draco's… profession, for lack of better words. Why the blond had chosen to be an escort was beyond his understanding, but he tried his best not to say anything about it. Even if it was slowly becoming intolerable. Right now, boundaries be damned, he didn't care. Draco was hurt, and Harry was beyond angry. "Give me a name, Draco. Just tell me who it was and I'll tear the bastard up limb from limb…"
Draco gave him a weary look, speaking up for the first time. "As much as I admire the sentiment, Potter nobody hurt me. I'm fine"
"You're not fine," Harry argued back, sitting beside him "Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"
Draco shrugged delicately. "Why would you assume something is wrong?" he asked, his voice taking on a casual tone that Harry at once identified as an act. He knew the blond too well.
"Scotch" Harry replied easily. It was a well established fact between the two. Draco went for the Scotch when he was extremely upset. The only other time he drank it was on his mother's death anniversary. Other than that, he avoided it like the plague.
"Touché," Draco replied, not bothering to hide the pain now that he knew it was futile. "Something…happened" The last word was choked out, the blond's voice breaking as he hunched his shoulders, trying to compose himself. It wasn't working. Finally, he settled for bowing his head, letting his hair fall over his eyes. Harry resisted the urge to brush it back. Draco was hiding. He wouldn't force him out. Not if he wanted to help, anyway.
"I'm here, Draco," he offered, slinging a hesitant arm across the blond's shoulders and pulling him closer. "Talk to me"
The blond shook his head vehemently, but he leaned in to Harry's chest anyway. "N-nothing to talk about," he stuttered, breathing deeply.
"You're hurting," Harry replied quietly. "I don't like it"
Draco only shook his head fiercely, battling it out with his inner demons, trying to stay strong by himself. Harry stayed silently at his side, willing himself not to catch hold of the stubborn prat and shake him until he let him help. Even as he coached himself into being patient, Draco apparently lost his will and thrust a piece of paper in his hand.
"What's this?" Harry frowned, as he smoothed the crumpled paper. It was a letter, written in a curt precise hand. Harry's eyes widened as he caught the signature at the very end.Lucius Malfoy. That was never good. Harry's mouth was set in a thin line as he turned back to the blond.
"It came this afternoon," Draco managed to choke out, visibly shaking now. His hands clenched at Harry's jacket as if the Gryffindor would abandon him. Harry tightened his hold, stroking Draco's shoulder as he did. "Should I read it?" he asked. When Draco nodded, he scanned the letter quickly.
It started out coldly enough- as would be Lucius Malfoy's demeanour, even towards his only son, Harry thought spitefully- and then just as suddenly it descended into a psychotic rant, the words lashing, cutting, accusing…blaming Draco for everything, anything under the sun. His failure to be a death eater, a 'proper wizard', for turning blood traitor, for betraying his father, for being a bloody 'pouf', for being lower than scum…the list went on and on. Horrendous charges, in an endless vile, spew. Harry controlled his steadily rising temper as best as he could, gritting his teeth as Lucius Malfoy remorselessly foisted all his failures as a human being and wizard on the most convenient target- his only son. And then he was nearly finished and his eyes raked the last line.
You have proven yourself unworthy of the Malfoy name. As your sire, I disown you. You are not to set foot in Malfoy Manor again, nor attempt to contact anyone bearing the Malfoy name. As of today, you are no son of mine.
Almost as if he could sense what Harry was reading, Draco broke down. The sobs were sharp like jagged glass in Harry's skin as Draco splintered and shattered in a hundred pieces before his eyes, falling into him, sobbing into his jacket. "Why?" the blond sobbed, all pretence of strength gone, vanished like his name, his legacy, his only family.
"Why? Why? WHY?" he was chanting the word, screaming his anguish. And Harry held him tight, imagining that he was the only thing holding Draco together, that without him the blond would fall apart and break like glass.
"I don't know. I don't know," he replied, his voice a steady whisper in the storm of Draco's emotions. He stroked the shaking head, running his hand through the messy blond strands, trying to offer him comfort, warmth…whatever he needed right now. Harry gnashed his teeth as Draco cried harder. One of these days, he was going to hunt down Lucius Malfoy and kill him. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that the bastard was out of Draco's life.
"He was my father," the blond snarled into his shoulder "My father!"
"He's not worth it, Draco," Harry replied. "He never was"
"He took everything, Harry," Draco sobbed. "I'm nothing now."
"That's not true!" Harry snapped at once. "Look at me" He practically growled when the blond resisted "Damn it Draco, you're going to look at me right now. Do it."
Draco obeyed, even though his eyes were still brimming with unshed tears. Harry had always found his immediate response to authority fascinating. Right now, he was just relieved he had some semblance of control over the hysterical boy. "Don't ever say you're nothing to me," he said; his voice focused and calm. "You're still the strong, beautiful, amazing man you always were. With or without your bastard of a father"
Draco blinked, looking like a silver eyed deer in headlights. "I need a drink," he said finally, trying to get up. Harry held him down easily. He had the advantage of being the taller of the two, not to mention Draco was physically exhausted. "No," he said firmly. "You've had all the drink you can handle. What you need is sleep"
"Can't sleep," Draco mumbled dejectedly, slumping against Harry's shoulder. "Feel…alone"
Harry bit his lip. "I'll stay with you," he offered. It was certainly against his better judgement but he couldn't bring himself to leave Draco alone in this state.
Draco looked up at him, his eyes glinting. There was pain and, unless Harry was very mistaken…hope. "Will you?" he asked. There was a question in that question. Harry wasn't sure how to answer, so he nodded simply. "Always," he replied, the word falling almost automatically from his lips. He knew he meant it before he even said it.
"Don't leave me, Harry," Draco pleaded, vulnerability flitting across his face. "Please?"
Harry leaned forward, watching intently as Draco's eyes widened. He wanted to…so badly. But, no. Not like this. Not with Draco drunk and uncertain and hurting. Not when he needed comfort and a friend above everything else. Perhaps someday, but not today.
So he pressed his lips to the blond's forehead instead. "I won't leave, Draco. I promise," he said simply. He took his pale wrist and slung it over his shoulder. "Now come on, I'm taking you to bed"
The blond stood shakily, most of his weight still on Harry. "Harry?" he whispered. The brunet looked at him enquiringly. "You're a good friend," Draco managed. His head was still lowered, his fringe still hiding his silver gaze.
Harry nodded and walked the blond back to his bedroom. A good friend. Someday he might be more to Draco. Someday. But not today.