The cold wind caressed his bare chest but barely made an impression on him. It didn't matter if it was cold or hot; all he felt was the rage inside of him.
Drip, drip.
The lower branches of trees hung over him, brushing against his disheveled hair. The stars shone in the half-hidden sky above. He curled his fingers in the ground, the soft mud giving way easily. It wasn't meant to turn out this way. He had to find him. He had to find Harry.
Drip, drip.
He tried to straighten his legs and stand up. He managed to stagger to his feet, but the nausea and dizziness made him sway to the right until he collided with a tree. He held on to it and breathed heavily. With a shaky hand he reached over his head and behind him. His hands brushed against the wet mess on his back and a sharp breath of pain escaped through his chapped lips. His wings. His wings were gone. Only pieces of jagged bone remained now, coated with small feathers and thick blood. Oh God, he'd lost so much blood.
Drip, drip.
He turned to look behind him. Under the faint starlight, the small pool of blood that had been slowly gathering underneath him was barely visible; yet seeing the blood loss made him weary to the bone. It was so tempting to sit back down and let the fatigue consume him. Maybe he would have let it if the anger hadn't been so demanding. Slowly, he put one foot in front of the other and clasped his hands around the trees in his path to move forward. Shortly thereafter, the forest thinned out, and there were no more trees to hold on to. This would have been no trouble if he'd still had his wings. He kept himself from reaching for them by sheer force of will.
Drip, drip.
He had to keep going. He took a sturdy piece of wood from the forest and used it as a walking stick. He'd reached the road now, and the town wasn't so far from here. He would have been happy about it if he'd been capable of any emotion other than fury. The bright lights of the town were his guide, but even without them he'd know where to go just from the scent. Harry's scent was as familiar to him as the palm of his hand, and it teased his nose now.
Drip, drip.
He supposed he was glad for the rage. In its absence, he wouldn't have had the strength to travel the distance. He would have given in to the blood loss long ago. But Harry was so close now. By now, the houses were surrounding him. He wondered if anyone would look out a window and question why a shirtless man was walking the streets at this time of night. Now that he'd lost his Grace, his wings and glamour were gone too. It made him itchy to be so visible. To think that anyone could see him now. To think that he'd lost all control over his existence. But Harry would know what to do. He always did.
Drip, drip.
There. There was the school. Harry's scent was stronger now and he wanted to leave the walking stick behind, to run through the school gates and shout for Harry, but he knew without the stick he'd collapse. To show this weakness, to go to Harry pale, shaky, and bleeding made him grit his teeth. And yet the anger pushed him forward. He'd come too far to go back now, even if after losing his Grace going back was possible.
"Harry," he murmured. "Harry."
The gate was unlocked. He stepped inside the school building and took the stairs on his right. His feet were dragging and slipping on the blood now. He felt faint and black patches were appearing in front of his eyes. Couldn't Harry feel his pain? His desperation? How could he smell Harry and his warm and healthy presence so clearly when Harry was completely oblivious to him?
Drip, drip.
He supposed that's what happened when you fell in love with humans. They couldn't taste the atmosphere, weren't as sensitive to the charges in the air. How inconvenient.
He turned into the classroom that Harry's delicious scent was coming from, a smirk on his mouth, his anger burning steadily, and froze when he saw them. How had he not sensed the presence of another human here? He clutched at the doorway, his walking stick clattering to the ground. Harry turned around with a gasp and stared at him with wide eyes, the girl hidden behind him. She peered around his shoulder to see what was going on, her eyes filled with fear.
"Are you alright?" She asked, gulping, at the same time that Harry shouted, "Draco?"
He fell onto his knees, feeling his head swim. It was too much. First they took his Grace from him, his own kin betraying him, and now here was Harry, making out with some human girl. He passed out long before Harry's hands took hold of him and cradled his head. The sounds of drip, drip were muffled under Harry's shouts.
xXx
"No," he muttered, waking up. The world took a long time to swim into focus. When he could finally feel the wheels in his brain turning, he looked around. It was a familiar place, a place that would have made him instantly relax if the image of Harry pressed against a human girl wasn't permanently etched into his mind. He looked at Harry's bedroom with detachment now. He didn't belong here. A sharp pain went through him every time he thought about how he'd found Harry. He felt someone stir beside him and looked to his left to find Harry draped over an armchair, holding his left hand, and slowly waking up.
"Draco?" He whispered "Are you awake?"
Looking into Harry's worried eyes, he said nothing. He felt the uncomfortable absence the moment Harry let go of his hand and scrambled around to find his glasses. He watched the moonlight sliding on Harry's dark hair, spilling over his smooth skin. Just like that, he felt his anger subsiding, replaced by pain.
"How are you feeling?" Asked Harry anxiously, adjusting his glasses. "Do you want some water?"
"I don't drink water," he grumbled, only to realize how dry his throat was. "Well, I suppose I do now."
Harry rushed to the bedside table to pour some water into a glass and helped him sit up. "What happened?"
"What do you think happened?" He asked, annoyed.
"You fell," murmured Harry.
"Yes," he replied after taking a long swig of water. "I'm mortal now. My Grace was taken."
"I'm so sorry," mumbled Harry, reaching out to brush his hair out of his eyes.
"Don't touch me," said Draco, recoiling.
Harry looked at him with confusion. "Does it hurt?"
"It's none of your business. You shouldn't have brought me here."
"Where else was I supposed to take you?" Retorted Harry. "And of course I care if you're hurting!"
"No, you don't," spat Draco. "You've moved on, fallen in love with someone else; good for you. You should care for her now, not me."
"What?" Replied Harry slowly, leaning forward towards him.
"For Fuck's sake, I saw you kissing her," he growled.
"Don't turn this on me," stated Harry. "You're the one who was too high and mighty to be with a mortal and left me. You can't tell me you care about who I do and don't kiss."
"Idiot, of course I care!" Shouted Draco.
"Quiet, you'll wake everyone," Groaned Harry. "And it certainly didn't look like you cared when you pushed me away after I kissed you and disappeared for months."
Draco looked away from Harry. He supposed he hadn't really conveyed his true feelings. But that didn't mean Harry could go around kissing someone else and then act like he hadn't done anything wrong. Didn't people who proclaim they love you wait for you?
"It was only a few months," he grumbled.
"I know for an immortal like you a few months seems like nothing," replied Harry slowly, "but for me that's an eternity. I thought I'd never see you again, Draco."
He looked at Harry. When Harry had kissed him all those months ago, he'd been filled with so many conflicting emotions, wanting to stay and kiss him back but knowing it to be against the rules, that he'd flown away not thinking of what Harry would take away from the situation. He'd been selfish, he realized. He'd assumed that his own troubles were more important than Harry's, and it had resulted in breaking his heart. He really did have no business knowing who Harry kissed and didn't kiss.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't think you'd take it as rejection." He looked down at his hands. "I love you, Harry."
He heard a quick intake of breath and looked up to see Harry move to sit on the bed next to him. Harry's hands framed his face and he leaned into the touch, letting their lips brush against each other. The first time they'd kissed he'd run away from it, but this time he let himself get lost in it, kissing Harry eagerly, wanting to show him that he really did care.
"Why did you leave?" Harry breathed against his neck, embracing him lightly.
"I didn't know what else to do," he admitted. "You know it's not allowed for mortals and immortals to be together."
"Is that why they took your wings?" Harry inquired sadly, running his finger across his back.
"They took my Grace, yes," he replied, and was surprised to find he wasn't as angry about it as he'd been before. That's what Harry's presence did; it always calmed him down. It was the only thing that could.
"I love you too, Draco," Harry murmured. "I have for a long time."
"What about that girl?" He asked begrudgingly.
"What girl?" Harry leaned back to kiss him again.
"The one you were making out with, Harry," he struggled to get free.
"I wouldn't call it making out, exactly," Harry replied calmly, tightening his hold. "Maybe pecking?"
"Ugh, get off me," protested Draco, straining to get out of Harry's tight embrace.
"No. Look at me." Said Harry soberly. "That kiss was nothing. You're the one I care about."
He tried to lift himself up into a sitting position and found that his back was still quite sore, although patched up and healing thanks to Harry. He groaned and pushed himself back against the pillows. At least they smelled like Harry.
"Don't get up yet, you've been asleep for days, healing, but you still need more rest," said Harry with concern. He leaned back against the pillows too and they both lay there side by side, intertwining their fingers and staring at the ceiling.
"Why did it take months for you to come back?" Asked Harry.
"I was trying to keep both my Grace and you," replied Draco tiredly. "But apparently it doesn't work that way."
"Oh," replied Harry. "I'm sorry about the girl."
"It's fine," Draco said, heat rushing up to his face.
"What?"
"Nothing!" He replied quickly. "It's just that… I wish someone would kiss me like that too."
"Like what?" Harry asked, grinning mischievously.
"Like I'm the only one who matters."
"You are the only one who matters to me." Harry lifted himself up and over him, taking his hands and pushing them above his head against the bed. Draco felt his heart beating faster.
Harry bent down and put his mouth above his, waiting for Draco to close the space between them. He pushed up and pressed their lips together, feeling the weight of Harry on his body and forgetting how sore he was. Harry licked his upper lip, sucked on the lower one, and still kept his hands pressed against the bed around Draco. He felt like he wanted to make this moment last forever.
"I'm still angry that you left me without telling me why," announced Harry, biting gently on his earlobe.
"And I'm angry that you went and kissed someone who wasn't me," shot back Draco, even as he shuddered under Harry.
Harry bit harder this time, and Draco arched his back off the bed, wanting Harry and no one else. Harry moved down slowly, nibbling on his neck, and Draco wanted so badly to have his hands released, to weave them through Harry's hair, to push the shirt over his head and run his hands over his body. But Harry held on to his hands, making him moan in frustration. Harry laughed, going lower and using his teeth to push his shirt up. The sudden chill in the air hit his bare stomach and he gasped, arching his back again. Harry licked a long strip along the bare flesh, and he moaned, not wanting him to ever stop. It didn't matter that his wings were gone. It didn't matter that Harry had been kissing someone else. It mattered that he was here now and that his touches were driving him crazy. He tried to wriggle free again and was able to disentangle his hands from under Harry's this time. He took off his shirt completely and reached down to take off Harry's too. Harry grinned at him, trapping his hands with the shirt and pushing it against the bed again.
"Patience," Harry exhaled against his chest.
He moaned again, showing his displeasure at being trapped, trying to grind against Harry's thigh for some release. It was hard to keep still; the friction felt too good, and Harry's smell was engulfing him. Falling was worth this. He'd choose the same path all over again if it meant that he could feel this good. He shivered uncontrollably as Harry's finger brushed against his sensitive skin.
"Please, Harry," he moaned.
Harry started licking and tasting him everywhere, making him yelp, shudder, and continue moving his hips frantically. The pain in his back was the last thing in his mind, he had all but forgotten about the splintered bones of his wings, the sharp edges still poking out of his back. He let a pleased sound escape as his hands were freed, and tugged on Harry's pants.
"Please, Harry," he repeated.
"You're still injured," said Harry, holding him gently.
"Don't care," gasped out Draco, managing to unzip Harry's pants.
Harry laughed softly and pushed off his pants. "Oh, Draco, how could I ever want anyone but you?"
Draco moaned in reply and took his own pants off next.
"Just look at you," went on Harry. "You're perfect, and you're mine."
Draco groaned, and let Harry pin down his hands again. He was new to all these feelings, as a newly turned mortal. Everything was immensely pleasurable, all the more so because it was Harry. It was somehow fitting that one of his very first acts as a mortal would be this, with Harry. He wanted to be Harry's and no one else's. He wanted to prove to Harry that he was here, that he was his, that he would never leave him behind again. He moaned until Harry's lips found his to satiate him, feelings Harry's hardness pressed against his stomach.
"Draco, are you sure?" Asked Harry, breaking the kiss to look down on him with concern. "This is your first time, we don't have to."
"I'm sure," said Draco, eyes filled with pleasure.
Harry didn't ask a second time. Draco closed his eyes and let his mouth fall open as he felt Harry go down on him. A tongue was pressed against his entrance, and he whimpered, letting his legs fall open. His hips were lifted off the bed and the tongue entered him, moving around, trying to press further in. The sensation was almost unbearably good and he heard little sounds and breaths escape his mouth. He felt dazed, drunk on the pleasure that was coursing through his entire body. He wouldn't choose to be anywhere else; with anyone else. He knew that he belonged here with Harry. No one would understand, the high and mighty sitting up there judging him. But it didn't matter, because Harry understood.
He twisted his hands in the bed sheet as he felt Harry's finger entering him. He couldn't help but lift his lower back from the mattress, and it was hard not to reach down and stroke himself. He never would have imagined it to feel this good. And yet, it wasn't enough. He could see how hard Harry was, and he was aching for it to be in him, so he could pleasure Harry in the way that Harry was pleasuring him. He tried to convey that through words, but it was hard to form them. In the end he gave up all control and simply lay there, writhing in pleasure, moaning Harry's name.
It seemed that was enough to push Harry over the edge. He wrapped his hands around Harry as he came up again, his hardness pressing against Draco's entrance this time. They both shuddered as Harry slowly pushed in. Harry leaned down and bit Draco's earlobe possessively. Draco held him closer and gasped as Harry filled him completely. He felt whole, absolutely Harry's, and he knew that this was what he'd always wanted.
Harry slowly pulled out and pushed in again, allowing Draco to get as used to it as he could before picking up the pace. Draco groaned, holding on to Harry, wanting him to slow down and speed up at the same time. His eyes flew open in surprise as he felt Harry's hand grip him, and he sighed as Harry started fisting him in time with each of his own thrusts. He was feeling so many things at the same time and it was too much. He was lightheaded, trying to stay aware, but slipping into a daze of absolute bliss. He was on the edge, wanting it to continue but needing to let it go. When he heard Harry's voice moan his name, he couldn't control himself anymore, and came undone in his hands.
Harry followed not too far behind, letting his heat go inside Draco, clutching onto him and panting.
"Mine," he whispered, still inside Draco.
"Yours," sighed Draco, letting himself be cherished and feeling like everything was right with the world.