A/N:
Disclaimer: As far as I know, my name is not J.K. Rowling. I don't own Harry Potter: books, movies, or otherwise. But if I did... Oh, the possibilities.
Pairings: Draco/Harry
Author Warning: Thisis the first Harry Potter fic. that I have actually written and posted. I might decide to end it where it ends or I might decide to continue on. I have some ideas, but I have other fics. that need finishing and too little time. I'll try, especially if this gets good reviews. hinthint
Story Warning: Hinting at abuse, mild gay thematic ideas, hurt/comfort, a really mean Snape, really expensive cars, OOC and... whatever else I'm forgetting to mention.
Summary: AU Who would have ever thought that finding sanctuary could be so simple, especially when that sanctuary comes from the help of an enemy.
My heart was racing, racing, racing. I couldn't breathe in a single breath. You'd think that after all the scary movies and haunted houses I had seen that I, Draco Malfoy, would be immune to the sight before me… Except this was different; this was real.
The high off sugar-packed candy and loud, pulsing music vanished, every witty remark I had been about to say drying in my throat. Only silence remained to scream in my face, demanding I move; do something beside just stand there in my confusion and uncertainty.
A pair of the most startlingly emerald green eyes stared owlishly up at me and, suddenly, everything was wrong in the world. I couldn't believe how strongly I was being affected; how murderously furious I'd become at the sight of a split lip and purpling jaw, messy hair matted with blood. On Harry Potter, no less; an enemy, a rival, someone I had spent many years sharing mutual hate with. That Harry Potter…
And "that" was all it took for me to bolt into action. In seconds I was kneeling on the ground in front of the last person anyone on Earth would be expecting me to help. Harry's posture was slumped, a far cry from his usual stubbornly defiant appearance. His back was leaning haphazardly against my car, looking as if a simple breeze might tip him over.
"Oi," I called hesitantly, "Potter, you alright?"
But of course he wasn't, I berated myself. Such an obvious question had no business coming out of my mouth, and it sure as hell didn't deserve an answer.
"Yeah, "Harry mumbled roughly, "'course I am."
He was a terrible liar. I knew it, he knew it; I don't even know why he bothered. The tears beginning to spill from his eyes did nothing to prove me wrong, that and he was shaking. I was torn to see him this way. Harry Potter was not supposed to be weak. He wasn't supposed to break down in front of me, looking beaten and bruised, clothing in tatters.
"I-I'm sorry," He apologized miserably, voice cracking, "I can't seem to… stop crying. I- the tears just won't… Sorry, so… sorry."
"Oh, shut it. Contrary to popular belief, I'm no idiot, nor am I heartless. Up you get," I gently helped Harry stand, all too conscious of how he swayed dangerously on his feet.
With an arm wrapped around his waist, I lead him to the passenger side of my Koenigsegg CCX. It wasn't until we were both situated comfortably inside that Harry seemed able to absorb the reality around him. He swiped at his eyes with his sleeve, curling forward to rest his forehead on his knees.
"What the hell are you playing at, Malfoy? I don't need your pity."
"Feel free to get out. Don't let me hold you back."
"Fuck you," His words were empty and I merely hummed thoughtfully before starting the car, "Where are we going?"
"We, Potter? I'm taking you home. Where do you live?"
Harry didn't answer, choosing instead to stare blankly ahead out the windshield. Draco asked again as politely and with as much patience as he could possibly manage, but Harry steadfastly refused to look at him, let alone speak. Frustration rising, Draco found he couldn't understand.
"Potter, will you bloody well answer the question?"
"I…" He croaked shortly thereafter, "Please, no…"
"Uh… What?" Draco said eloquently, startled.
"Don't take me back there. Anything but that…"
"You don't want to go home," He stated flatly, "Jesus, Potter. What happened to you?"
"That's none of your damn business, Malfoy!" Harry bit out, anger flaring without warning and perhaps, just cause.
"That's where you're wrong, Potter. I think it is my business when I find you bruised and beaten, leaning against my car."
"You're right. I'm… sorry." He had the decency to look slightly abashed.
"You're sorry. Again."
"Yes."
They sat together in a heavy silence until Draco put the car in gear. Not a word was spoken as he drove them to the manor. Harry went back to gazing blankly out the window. It proved to be a very comfortable ride… Sort of.
Draco had parked the car into the large five-car garage, gotten out and even opened Harry's door before the other realized that they had arrived. He blinked life back into his face, and hesitantly took Draco's proffered helping hand. They experienced a couple close calls when Harry's legs began to give out on him on the way to the door inside of the manor, but otherwise Draco felt that they were doing well until Harry had some sort of dizzy spell and passed out cold in his arms.
Draco swore quite loudly before he began yelling for some sort of assistance. However, it was not one of the maids that came to help, rather, his mother, who appeared first. Her eyes went wide in astonishment before narrowing in suspicion, lips pursing in a thin line.
"Draco Malfoy," She scolded, "What have you been up to?"
"Not that it matters, nothing. I haven't done a thing."
"Then how to you explain that?" Mrs. Malfoy pointed to the boy in her son's arms, before she actually allowed herself a good look at him. And when she did, her eyes widened once more, "Oh, oh my."
"Yes. Yes, I know. Now will you help me? I can hardly hold him by myself the way he is." Which was true; Harry was slipping inch by inch, supported awkwardly by Draco.
Narcissa took hold of Harry and between the two of them, the managed to get him to the living room and on the couch. Puffing elegantly, Narcissa seated herself on one of the plush armchairs, raising a quizzical brow at her son.
"Care to explain?"
"Honestly? No, but as I don't even know myself, it doesn't matter."
"Well, who is he? A friend?"
"Mother, this is Harry Potter." Draco said bluntly.
"W-What? The boy who always has you in such an uproar?"
"Yes, I am afraid so."
"I admit, Draco, that I am surprised. You do not know what happened to him?"
"He didn't say and I don't think it's my place to ask, given our… relationship. However, I do know that he did not wish to return home. I can only suspect that-"
"Shh." Narcissa sounded quickly, "Do not say it aloud."
"As you wish," Draco turned his attention to Harry, gently shaking him awake.
He let out a pitiful groan, mouth opened wide in a soundless yawn. His brows furrowed momentarily until his eyes peaked open slowly. For a while, Harry just lay there, staring up at the ornate ceiling. He seemed to steel himself as he turned his head to the side, instantly spotting Draco. Harry winced. Draco blinked. He was just as dumbfounded as ever.
"Bugger," He mumbled, just loud enough for Draco to hear.
"Mr. Potter," Narcissa began, "Welcome, and might I say that it's a pleasure to finally meet you."
"Er, thanks."
"You are quite welcome," She said graciously, ever the elegant host, "Now I must insist that you stay as long as you like and make yourself quite at home," She turned to her son, "Do not forget that your godfather is coming for dinner in about half past the hour. I am expecting him at any moment."
Draco nodded and Narcissa gave them both a kindly smile before gliding out the door.
"Um…"
"You passed out," Draco supplied, "I suspect you knocked your head against something? Mm."
"Yeah. I'd, well, I really don't want to talk about it."
"Understood," Draco gave him another once-over, "Would you like a shower, maybe some clothes?"
Harry's face flushed prettily and all he could do was nod through his embarrassment. Draco helped him up and wrapped an arm around his waist before he half-carried, half-helped Harry up the stairs and to his room. He dropped him off in his bathroom and quickly fetched some clean clothing. They were about the same size, so Harry fitting in them wasn't much of a problem. However, Draco knew that Harry also wasn't much for formal wear. So, he settled for choosing a pair of well-loved black jeans and a dark green long-sleeved turtleneck.
By the time he returned to the bathroom, Harry was already in the shower. The mirror was partially fogged as Draco glanced at himself. His hair was wind-blown and tonight's outfit was a little rumpled from transporting Harry. An inaudible sigh parted his lips.
The clothes he placed on the counter and Draco seated himself on the floor, resting his back against the door. He remained silent for a while, just listening the sound of running water and whirring fan.
"If you need anything, feel free to ask." He supplied eventually.
A yelp came from behind the shower curtain, and Draco was on his feet in moments, dashing forward to be of assistance. His face instantly flushed a deep scarlet (probably a match for Weasel's hair, he thought).
"Potter, what's the matter?" He gushed, frantically looking for anything wrong… and spotting all the bruises that marred Harry's tan, too-thin body.
Fury awoke inside him, breaking open and pouring black, murderous intentions. Needless to say, Draco had become more than a little… protective of Harry since finding him not even an hour ago. Which was severely odd, he knew… After all, how was it even possible that he could be so concerned with his enemies well-being? Maybe…
"I- Nothing. You just startled me. I didn't know you were in here." Harry looked about as embarrassed as Draco felt.
"So everything's okay, then?" He asked while taking a step back, desperately averting his straying eyes.
"Yeah. Wait, no. Can I have a towel?"
"Sure, sure," Draco was glad for the excuse to busy himself by fetching the desired item; anything for him to calm down. "Here. I'll just wait outside…"
And with that, Draco took his leave, breathing in deep the chill air as he collapsed back on the plush bed. His feet were left to dangle over the edge, face burrowing in some pillows. It wasn't long before Harry came out of the bathroom with a flourish of steam.
"What are you doing?" He asked in amusement.
Draco grumbled something undecipherable and then sat up. Harry froze at the serious, determined look Draco was giving him, standing stalk-still as he was approached.
"Did I do someth-" Harry began quickly; uncertainly… fearfully?
"No," Draco answered firmly, "No. You did nothing wrong. I just wish you would tell me about…" He waved one hand around frantically, searching for the right words, "Who is doing this to you, Potter?"
"Doing what?" Harry asked evasively.
"Abusing You!" Draco nearly shouted, hands thrown high in the air in exasperation.
"I- Malfoy… What do you even care?"
"It's your family, isn't it?" Draco continued on, "I know it's your family."
"Fine. Yes, it's them. All right? It's them!"
"No, everything is not all right! Why haven't you done anything?"
"I can't!"
"You can't? Yes you bloody well can!"
"No, Malfoy, I can't. They are the only living family I have. Where else would I go? Get myself swept off to another family that treats me worse than I already am?"
"It could be better," Draco reasoned, "A new family wouldn't do this to you."
"You don't know that. You can't be certain. I'm seventeen. I'll be moving out in a year. Just leave it. Continue to hate and ignore me as you always have... Please…"
They were silent for a while, just looking at each other. It wasn't uncomfortable, nor was it exactly pleasant. Draco let his eyes rake over Harry; the way Draco's jeans hugged his calves and thighs, resting low on his hips, how Draco's shirt brought out the color of Harry's eyes…, the nasty colors Harry's jaw was turning and the puffiness of his bottom lip. And, somehow, during that time they grew closer… Not fighting off the magnetic attraction that had always seemed to draw them together until their noses were mere millimeters apart.
Draco could feel Harry's breath on his face, it was hot and moist and everything it should be. He could see the confusion and loneliness and vulnerability swirling through his eyes and Draco felt compelled to make it all go away.
"But… I don't…. want… to…" Draco slowly closed what little distance there was left between them with each word he whispered until his lips brushed lightly against Harry's and, finally, they pressed together in a tender kiss.
He couldn't think. Neither of them could. They acted on pure, fiery instinct. What had first begun as gentle and exploratory had morphed into something fierce and desperate. Their lips were crushed almost painfully together, all-together wet and animalistic… Yet Draco wouldn't imagine it any other way; hands moving to tangle in Harry's still-wet hair. It was slick against his fingers and angel soft. The way it smelt of Draco's very own shampoo brought out a possessive desire that Draco didn't even know he had.
And it ended all too soon, in Draco's opinion. But it couldn't be helped, what with the lack of oxygen circulating to their brains. So they broke of, both of them panting for air, foreheads pressed intimately together.
"I- What- " Harry began breathlessly, recovering first; straightening.
Draco didn't let him finish, ignoring the fact that he was scared of what Harry might say, and pressed a small kiss to his cheek.
"Shh, later," Draco reassured, "We're late for dinner."
Needless to say, they were indeed late for dinner. Being the teenage boys that they were, they stopped to kiss every few seconds along the way to the dining room, slowed down even more by the fact that Draco had to practically carry Harry. Having found this rather surprising comfort in the other's touch and warmth, they weren't about to fight off the cravings that could stir something beyond their control.
Upon entering, Draco felt Harry stiffen. He stopped. And that is when he spotted their dinner guest. He had forgotten all about his godfather coming, so he hadn't even thought to warn Harry. He winced uncharacteristically and instantly regretted it, watching solemnly as Severus Snape's left eyebrow arch inquisitively.
"Harry, Draco, do be seated. Dinner's just been put on the table." Narcissa said in a happy flourish, "I do hope you like lasagna."
"Yes, Ma'am," Harry answered softly, head bowed forward.
Draco helped him to his seat and pushed in his chair, whispering "I'm sorry" into Harry's ear before he sat in his own chair beside him. Harry nodded minutely, but no other recognition came from him as he sat as still as a statue, completely surrounded by the sort of people he usually tried to avoid… But now… what had happened between him and Draco…
Harry just couldn't think! Especially when he just knew that his least favorite teacher on earth was looking at him. He could just feel the older man's silent questions buzzing through the air around them.
Soon they dished in. Narcissa carried on an abundance of pleasant chatter, engaging all of them in her talk. Harry spoke as little as was polite, eating the delicious meal slowly; a sort of excuse. He pointedly ignored Draco's worried glances that came when both his mother and godfather were too busy to notice.
If either Narcissa or Severus Snape picked up on Harry's closed-off mood or Draco's unspoken concern, neither of them showed it. However, Snape did keep an unusually keen eye on them. And by the time dinner had finished and a plat of chocolate éclairs had been placed on the table, Snape could hold back his question no longer.
"Narcissa, tonight I have found myself wondering at your choice of dinner guests."
Harry automatically dropped his fork to his plate, knowing full well the sneer that would be on the man's face without even having to look up. Draco bristled beside him, jaw clenching with unnecessary force.
"What ever do you mean?" Narcissa asked, feigning ignorance.
"I wish to know why I was not informed of the attendance of this boy," Snape answered casually, as if Harry weren't even there.
"Severus," Draco began warningly, only to be cut off by his godfather.
"And, why you, of all people, would be having him over for dinner and polite conversation." He finished.
Meanwhile, Harry's humiliation turned into black, crackling anger. This man kept proving again and again why he should be dead-set on hating him. And Harry did hate him. Severus Snape was nothing more than a greasy old science teacher, full of nastiness and nothing else.
"Narcissa, thank you for an excellent meal," Harry spoke as nicely as he could, pushing back in his chair and rising, fists clenched painfully tight, "Draco… I- thanks. Really, I appreciate your help… and… I'm just going to go."
Harry briskly left the room, heading straight of the front door. Draco shot his godfather a searing look before standing up and chasing after Harry. He wasn't fast enough.
Harry was already out the door, made invisible by both rain and darkness. Draco couldn't see two feet in front of himself, let alone where Harry might have gone.
"Harry!" He called hastily, hating the way the rain chilled him to the bone, "Harry, come back! It's raining!"
There was no answer.
