Disclaimer: Anything relating to Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling and her publishers.
Synopsis: Harry Potter is a little lost in the aftermath of the war and spends most of his nights drinking with Draco Malfoy. The kind of healing they find in each other is unexpected. One Shot
Author's Note: I haven't written in awhile, so I figured I would give this another shot!
Hope you enjoy!
Life had changed as they knew it. Nothing was the same; nothing would ever be the same. There was too much death, too much was broken that couldn't be repaired. Less than two weeks after the final battle, the Death Eater Trials commenced for a month long parade of evil. The Trials were made public to the wizarding world so that people could gain some peace through the imprisonment or execution of those that murdered their families. A revolution was stirring, people were screaming for the blood of Voldemort's followers, but the ministry did not comply, instead, they gave them a fate worse than death, they gave them life in a new Azkaban, rebuilt and restructured to become inescapable, a new breed of Dementors was developed by the Ministry to be even more dismal than the last.
After the trial, Witches and Wizards flocked to Hogwarts to help rebuild; people rebuilt with their hands, not their wands. They labored day in and day out till the walls were rebuilt, positions were filled and new students came in. The seventh years who had been at war, or even at school were given the opportunity to retake their seventh year, but not many of them did. They had all seen too much war, pain, hurt and death. They all felt lost, without a home. Harry, Ron and Hermione spent most of their time at the Burrow or Shell Cottage.
Harry didn't feel at home anywhere. Why should he? Hogwarts was hollow to him, the happy memories that once played out in those hallways were replaced with flashes of red and green, screams, dead bodies and piles of rubble. He felt too torn up to face the Weasley family, other than Ron who had endless patience towards Harry. He couldn't see Ginny without feeling the intense anguish and guilt that consumed him for all the casualties. He took care of Teddy, because he had too, because he knew what it was like growing up without parents, without god parents. He understood Teddy's anguish that he would one day know, but for now, he was blissfully ignorant and comfortable being doted upon by Mrs. Weasley who was teaching Harry the ins and outs of parenting.
Harry spent most nights at the bar with none other than Draco Malfoy. The war has hardened both of them to the point where they didn't have the energy to care about their old rivalry. Draco had been tried as well as his mother and father and was released due to the fact that he was manipulated into service, even Harry's eyes fueled by hatred could see that, Draco was as much of an orphan as he was now. Night after night they talked, and began to see the real personalities underneath. Draco was not snide and arrogant, rather he thought deeply about good and evil and his family's legacy, what he wanted to change about himself. Likewise, Draco did not see Harry as someone seeking attention, but rather someone that shied away from it, trying to sink into the background.
They understood each other in a way only they could truly understand; after all, they had both been pressured into service without anyone asking if that was what they wanted. They both had taken position, knowing it was their duty, but they were done now, they had lived all the life they could live. The solace they found in each other at first was a begrudging acquaintance until after a few too many pints, Draco dragged Harry back to his flat so the Weasleys wouldn't have to see him like that. That night Draco had laid Harry down on his bed and after a moment of intense debate, laid down next to him. The body felt different, too hard and rigid, but Draco's soul opened up, the contact of another human being was something that had been so lost for him, now that he felt like nothing, a little kindness, a little touch went a long way.
They didn't talk about it, of course, why would they? They both enjoyed it, they both knew they did. They were reaching a striving for purpose. When Ron and Hermione got engaged, Harry disengaged from them even more, spent more time at Shell Cottage that had been abandoned, more time drinking, more time playing cards with Draco. They always avoided the emotional stuff. Never talked about Hogwarts, never talked about the Dark Lord, never talked about anything of substance, surface level; they had to, to survive.
The night they kissed for the first time they were at Shell Cottage, Harry's mind had been on a never ending drive that day of memories and so Draco blasted music so loud you couldn't think even if you wanted to. Harry got up from their card table and lit a cigarette, leaning against the kitchen counter. Draco looked up at him, his ice blue eyes smoldering and stood up, walking up to him and taking the cigarette from his hand, inhaled a drag and then placed it in the ash tray. Their bodies were alive with anger and passion; they were one in the same, two people who were hurt all the time. Their jaws were set tightly as their bodies stirred with something unfamiliar.
It was Harry who made the decision this time, quick as a flash he reached his hand out and grabbed the back of Draco's neck, pulling him flush against his body. They breathed each other's air for a moment and then their mouths collided. The kiss was all consuming, their mouths pressed together hard, their tongues colliding rough and fast, exploring each other's mouths. This is what they had been missing, this release, something to think about other than the pain. Draco rocked his hips forward into Harry as his erection grew, Harry groaned when he felt the pressure, feeling himself rise to Draco's insistent prompting. They kissed like they meant it, pouring every bit of hurt into it, into each other. Harry ripped his mouth away with a gasp, his eyes hazy with lust. Draco saw a soft, boyishness in his face that he hadn't seen since before the war, there was tenderness and a vulnerability. It made Draco sigh with approval and lift up his hand to touch Harry's face. But Harry caught his hand in midair and wrapped his own around it. "Not now, Draco." Harry whispered. It was the first time he had ever called Draco by his name, they still stuck with the habit of calling each other by their surname, if they even referenced each other at all.
Harry apparated with a pop and Draco was left in Shell Cottage, his erection pressing hard into his jeans. He imagined Harry on his knees in front of him when he came, little did he know that Harry was coming to the exact same thought. A month went by and they didn't talk about it, they just played cards, just drank beer and whiskey. They pretended it didn't happen while they were together, but alone they dominated each other's thoughts. They both had a hot writhing sexual need for the other, it wouldn't be long before it overflowed and consumed them both.
When it happened they were alone again in Shell Cottage. Harry had taken Teddy for the week, and was finally at the end of his rope when Mrs. Weasley collected him. Harry had stayed, sending Draco an owl, asking him to come over. He knew what was going to happen, butterflies ran through his entire body, because he knew how much it would change, but he couldn't be that afraid, every part of his body ached for it. When Draco arrived they didn't even exchange greeting, their bodies flew together hard and fast, their lips coming together in a sensual slow dance despite their hands working so quickly to remove clothes.
When their naked bodies met for the first time, it was like fire. Their erections pressed against each other sending a white hot flame of pleasure inside them. Their hands touched, caressed and rubbed in places that were so familiar and foreign to them at the same time. They both ended up on their knees, sucking each other one after the other until they were almost to the breaking point. When Harry slipped his fingers inside Draco, there was no manner of self restraint, Draco moaned loudly, feeling his flame grow brighter and brighter and when Harry slipped inside of him, he thought he would combust. Harry looked at Draco writhing beneath him and his pleasure doubled. He went hard and fast to enjoy more, to feel more, to let go. They both were letting go of the pain with each thrust, they were embracing the truest pleasure either had experienced with each moan and with their orgasms, they were accepting that this is where life had brought them.
They stayed at the Cottage for another week, learning how to fuck but also make love. They felt each other everywhere, suddenly finding a divine sense of healing. It had been a year since Harry had defeated Voldemort, and they had both suffered for a year. But they were done now. They had overflowed with anger and passion and lust and soon they knew they would remember again how to overflow with love.
Author's Note: Please Review!