This is an AU, one-shot. Any chapter added to it, will also be written in the style of a one-shot, connected only by the subject matter and theme. I know that defies the definition of a one-shot, but that's how it's working out for me. This fic was inspired by a picture (pic fic), which this site will not let me link or show you.


Time was up.

He'd had two years to inspire the human, Harry Potter, to use his magical abilities. He'd had two years to wake up Harry's memory of belonging to a higher order of Saraphim, in charge of keeping magic alive on Earth. Harry was still angry and unreachable after everything that had happened. Draco could practically see magic boiling in the young man's veins, but knew that Harry didn't want to risk being locked up again, so he'd stopped using it.

Institutionalized for being different, for rogue magic that got him wrongly accused of hurting others, and subjected to shock therapy at the hands of a madman who claimed it was all about curing him of his "hysterics, Harry had finally earned his release, and a semblance of his life back. He had a decent apartment and worked for himself, but still flirted with danger and the loss of his freedom again. Tonight, alcohol poisoning and the overdose were the last straws. They weren't fatal, but they marked Draco's failure to inspire Harry to embrace his life and his magic.

He decided that he couldn't help Harry this way. He had to get closer.

Whispering into Harry's mind, laying next to him at night, stroking his hair and attempting to soothe all the damage done by doctors, wasn't enough to make Harry see that their connection was real. He was too far gone, too immersed in the illusion that he had no power. If Draco didn't do something drastic, he would be pulled off the case and Harry's recovery turned over to guardians who didn't know him the way Draco did. Who didn't love him the way Draco did. After two years of ruining Harry's every suicide attempt, pulling him from burning cars, and jumping in front of every bullet as he courted the worst trouble and the worst company he could find each time he escaped the institution, there was only one thing left to do.

As he watched Harry sleep, he committed himself to his life. The Source of All Things heard him, and he felt his desire granted. He felt his ethereal body grow heavier, denser. The desire to live pulsed into the first rhythmic beats of a heart which, seconds ago, had had no form. With it, came the strain of holding himself up against gravity, against his own muscle and sinew. His new circulation and new solid skin went cold waiting for his wings to dissolve.

He couldn't ever remember a life without them, and he tried not to flinch as he felt their weight lighten as they vaporized from the tips, one by one. When it was over, he stood naked and cold in Harry's apartment. The only thing he knew to do, was slip into bed beside Harry, as he'd done every night in his light-form. Only now, he needed Harry's warmth as much as Harry had needed his protection.

There was no turning back now. He had to believe that however the other reacted come morning, Draco could get him to calm down and realize that they'd already been together for the past two years. He'd use what was left of his magic, to make sure Harry slept till morning. For now, he needed Harry to stay asleep so that he could take his arms, enclose himself within them, and press his back into the other's chest. Without his wings to keep this body warm, to regulate his temperature, he had to get that from Harry now. He would have to make Harry understand that he depended on him for that.


Top stories by this writer are in the Unbearable Series.