Hey there! I'm back again with part 3 of my Drarry oneshot. Only one more chapter left. :3
This chapter starts up during the battle of Hogwarts, right after the confrontation in the Room of Requirement. I was still getting the hang of Harry and Draco's personalities when I wrote this, so if they are not completely in character, again, I apologize.
Thanks again to all the wonderful comments and reviews left both here and on Tumblr. I really, truly appreciate it.
All characters belong to JK Rowling and the world of Harry Potter.
Enjoy!
Draco collapsed onto the floor, shoulders heaving, white-blonde hair streaked with soot.
"Crabbe," he choked. "Crabbe –"
"He's dead." Ron said harshly.
Harry watched Draco's shoulders slump in utter defeat, watched the shock play out over his ash-streaked face, and his gut twisted painfully.
"Harry…" Ron urged, backing away and raising an eyebrow at Harry. Hermione clutched the remains of the diadem in her hands, her bushy hair frizzy and singed at the tips.
"Harry, the snake?" His friends stared at him, seeing the way he shifted hesitantly on the spot. They saw how reluctant he was to leave and they were completely bewildered. All the same, when Harry muttered, "I'll be right there," and stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his sweatshirt, they left.
Goyle shuffled to his feet, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows pulled together over his beady eyes. He glared at Harry, shot a look at Draco, who was still trembling on the floor, and stalked away.
Harry stood there awkwardly, and the corridor was empty except for the two boys, silent except for the echoing bangs and cracks from the war raging just outside the hallway.
Draco couldn't raise his head from his knees, even though he knew that he and Harry were alone, that he knew Harry was looking at him. He could barely breathe, couldn't move; his whole body hurt and tears were clogging his throat. Crabbe was dead. Just… gone. He'd been towing Crabbe along with him for seven years now, and never once had he acknowledged him as anything more than a henchman, and now he was just gone. It stunned Draco, the finality of it; one second he was screaming for Crabbe not to kill Harry, and the next Crabbe was lost in the roar of enchanted fire. Gone.
And damn it, why was this always how Harry found him? Broken and vulnerable and in tears? He didn't want a protector; he didn't want someone to put him back together. But he couldn't help but lean into Harry's touch as Harry knelt beside him and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. He couldn't help but whimper a little when Harry whispered his name, his breath tickling Draco's cheek.
Harry rubbed his hand hesitantly over Draco's shoulder, fingers trembling.
"Are you…okay?" he asked softly. His body thrummed with a strange heat and his pulse raced in his throat. This was the closest he had been to Draco since the disaster at Malfoy Manor, and his whole body was yearning to press closer. It was ridiculous, really; there was a war going on. People were dying all around them, and all Harry wanted was Draco Malfoy's lips on his own. Was he really that twisted, unhealthy?
Draco gasped in and out, his breath wet with tears, and, as if abandoning his previous misgivings, grabbed at Harry's collar, yanking him forward. Harry was caught aback, off balance, and wobbled forward. Draco pressed his face into Harry's sweatshirt, his hands curled limply against Harry's chest. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's shuddering body and pressed his lips to Draco's forehead, tasting the ash that had settled on Draco's pale skin.
"Shh, it's okay," Harry murmured, stroking Draco's messy blonde hair back from his face. Draco let his head fall limply against Harry's shoulder, his panicked breath hot against the skin of Harry's throat.
"He's gone," Draco mumbled flatly. Harry pulled Draco closer against his chest.
"I know," Harry breathed, cradling the dazed body's face in his hands and looking at him earnestly. He rubbed his thumb against Draco's jaw, unnerved by the glazed, numb look in Draco's silver eyes. "It's going to be okay. I'm going to end this."
Draco stirred, a dangerous fire sparking life into his eyes.
"Oh, of course," he spat, pulling free of Harry's embrace and staggering to his feet. His thin face twisted maliciously. "Of course you're going to end it. It's always you, isn't it? Precious Potter, always out to save the bloody day."
Harry got slowly to his feet. Draco's fists clenched as Harry moved closer, and Harry could nearly feel the anger rolling off the taller boy's rigid body.
"It's just go to be me," Harry said simply. But all the same, his heart sank at Draco's words. It was always him, wasn't it? It was always on his shoulders. Sometimes he wanted to run and hide like a scared child, but he knew such an act was impossible. It did have to be him; he did have to end this – for Ron and Hermione and the Weasleys… and for Draco. Harry could see what Voldemort had done to the once proud Slytherin boy; he could see the bones jutting out of Draco's hips and shoulders, how his cheekbones were jagged cliffsides, and how every last shred of innocence had been torn from his grasp. He had to save Draco, even if Draco did not want to be saved.
Draco stood there, chest heaving, his lean body stiff with defiance and grief, and God, the need to touch him was tearing Harry apart.
"Come here," Harry snarled. He reached out and grabbed at Draco's hips, yanking the skinny boy flush up against him. He stretched up to capture Draco's lips with his own, his hand sliding around Draco's waist, and Draco's lips parted and he caught a fistful of Harry's hair with a groan.
"God, it's been too long," Draco gasped around Harry's lips. His right hand traced Harry's jaw, feeling cuts and scrapes beneath the rough stubble and God why did Draco find that so attractive?
Harry caught ahold of his arms and pulled him into the concealment of a hidden alcove and shoved Draco hard against the wall.
"Too fucking long," Draco reiterated in a hiss, bracing his back against the wall and clutching Harry against him.
Harry exhaled hungrily into Draco's mouth and their tongues intertwined and they were both lightheaded now, each intoxicated by the other boy.
Harry tasted like smoke and copper and a hint of butterbeer, and Draco couldn't get enough. It had only been a few weeks since they had laid eyes on each other, but it had been months since they had so much as touched, and there was no way either of them had forgotten the events in the boy's bathroom or the Astronomy Tower. And bloody hell, how about the catastrophe at Malfoy Manor? The tension and desire had been through the roof. How could they forget, when sometimes it was all that they thought about, or was the only thing that kept them going another day?
"The Boy Who Lived," Draco sneered as Harry trailed his lips over Draco's collarbone, his fingers digging into Draco's spine. "Doesn't that get old? The nicknames? The Chosen O – oh god, fuck!" he yelped at Harry bit sharply at his neck to shut him up. It was an old trick, but it never failed to make Draco unravel, to turn him to butter in Harry's grip. Draco's knees knocked together and it was only Harry's strong arm around Draco's waist that prevented Draco from collapsing.
"Doesn't that get old?" Harry questioned, steadying Draco against the rough stone wall and grinning at him deviously. His hair was wild, his eyes smoldering. Draco raised a slim eyebrow at him, his hands twisted into the bottom of Harry's sweatshirt.
"What's that?"
Harry leaned in and his tongue flicked against Draco's ear. A low moan rumbled in Draco's throat and Harry reveled in the noise, in how easily he could tear Draco's defenses apart.
"Turning to Jell-O every time I touch you," he breathed hotly.
"Fuck you," Draco groaned, pushing forward off the wall and crashing his lips to Harry's, his arms winding possessively around the shorter boy's waist.
Harry laughed deep in his throat, seized by an arrogant confidence that surprised even him.
"Don't. You. Wish."
The spark dancing between them ignited. Draco snarled and fisted his hands in Harry's hair, yanking his head back so violently that Harry cried out in pain. The sound sent a shiver through Draco's whole body and he ravaged Harry's neck with his kiss-swollen lips. He felt Harry's throat vibrate as he groaned, and God, he couldn't even think anymore, and remind him, what was breathing?
The boys embraced violently once more, their breath hot and heavy, blinded by the passion, the need, that was acute to the point of pain.
Draco struggled to get the sweatshirt over Harry's head, needing to feel Harry's bare arms wrap around him, free and unhindered by unnecessary layers of fabric. Harry helped him, ripping his arms out of the sleeves, reluctant to let go of Draco's waist for even one instant. They gasped in the same breath as Harry's sweatshirt hit the ground, leaving Harry in a slim-fitting black t-shirt. Draco ran his hands over Harry's veined and corded arms, feeling the muscles under Harry's skin, and he couldn't stand it; he dug his fingers into Harry's biceps, throwing his head back with a wild groan.
Harry grinned, entranced by Draco's reaction, watching the muscles in Draco's throat clench as the taller boy almost came apart at the seams.
Harry leaned forward and kissed the divot in Draco's collarbone, running his hands over Draco's chest and down to his belt, fingers hooking into the waistband of Draco's black uniform pants.
"God, what do you do to me?" Draco moaned, seeking out Harry's lips once more. He nearly bruised his lower lip on Harry's teeth with the urgency in which he smashed their mouths together. Harry's tongue slipped into Draco's mouth and Draco bit down, tasting the tang of blood and fuck, every inch of their skin was on fire.
The could scarcely draw breath anymore, as Harry's thumb slipped on Draco's hip, sliding under the waistband of his pants, and oh God, Draco couldn't get close enough, couldn't hold Harry tight enough, couldn't kiss him hard enough. Their movements were jerky, violent, their senses dulled with lust, and they were losing their balance, their feet fumbling on the ground, and they abruptly lost their footing, toppling right into the suit of armor that also occupied the alcove.
The banging and crashing was so loud that Harry was surprised that Voldemort hadn't heard it and rushed to the scene to finish him off once and for all.
Draco's head smacked sharply against the statue's pedestal as they landed in a tangle of sweaty limbs, and the sound echoed in the wake of the clattering metal.
"Son of a BITCH!" Draco shouted, unable to free his arm from under Harry's elbow to check with point of impact. Indeed, Draco wasn't exactly in a position to be moving anywhere. Their fall had caused Harry to land on top of Draco, basically straddling his torso, and, while this was not a bad thing in either of the boys' eyes, they could hear footsteps coming their way and this was not exactly a prime position to be discovered in.
"Don't move!" Harry gasped, fumbling in his pocket for his Invisibility Cloak.
"What're you - ?" Draco began, but Harry shushed him and flung the cloak over both of them and lay forward on Draco's chest to make sure it covered them completely.
They lay utterly still as the footsteps drew ever nearer, trying to muffle their still-ragged breathing. The concealing tapestry was pulled back and two masked Death Eaters peered in, their wands raised.
Harry was calm, knowing that if they kept silent they would go undiscovered, but Draco had only ever heard of Harry's infamous Invisibility Cloak – he had never experienced the bizarre sensation of being two feet away from someone – in what should have been plain sight – but go unseen. His hand clutched nervously at Harry's hip, and Harry was suddenly all-too aware of those fingers against his skin; they were both still tingling with desire, and Harry tried not to pay attention to just how close they really were, the fact that he could feel every single line of Draco's bony frame beneath him, and dear God if he didn't stop thinking about that he was going to do something that would give away their position completely.
After a few moments, the Death Eaters shrugged at each other and let the tapestry fall back, muttering something about stray jinxes and poor aim.
Neither boy moved, even after they were sure the Death Eaters were long gone.
"Why didn't I think of this before?" Harry whispered into Draco's collarbone. "The Cloak. We could have snuck away so many times, kept hidden…."
Draco sighed, bringing up his other hand to stroke lightly at Harry's temple. "I wish we didn't have to hide," he admitted in a barely audible whisper. Harry froze. This was the first time Draco Malfoy had said anything sincere and heartfelt – it was so startling, so uncharacteristic of the haughty Draco Malfoy, and Harry wasn't sure how to react. His heart was in his throat, aching fit to burst. Draco didn't say anything else. He just sighed.
Harry twisted his head to look up at Draco. The blonde didn't meet his gaze – he stared pointedly up at the gabled ceiling through the silvery film of the cloak, tears glittering faintly in his eyes. Harry didn't say anything either – he simply raised himself on his elbows, leaned in, and kissed Draco so softly and sweetly that it was all Draco could do not to burst into heartbroken tears.
Harry drew back slightly, so that their noses were just touching and their breath was still mingling, and brushed his fingers gently over Draco's lips.
"Maybe after all this is over, we won't have to hide," he whispered. Draco refused to meet his gaze, but his hand tightened on Harry's hip.
Draco didn't want Harry to leave. He needed him now, as much as he hated to admit it. He needed his touch, his warmth. But Harry had to leave, and the loss of his warm body weight was almost physically painful to Draco.
Harry slowly rolled the cloak into a ball and tucked it back into his pocket before just standing there, biting his lip. Draco slowly eased himself into a sitting position, rubbing the back of his head ruefully.
"I should go," Harry whispered after a moment of silence. Draco nodded curtly, gazing down at the floor. Harry hesitated for a moment longer, and then he knelt down in front of Draco, slipping his hand behind Draco's neck. It was Draco who leaned in this time, his pale lips parting to meet Harry's, and their kiss burned with the taste of so many unsaid words.
"Stay safe," Harry murmured against Draco's mouth. Draco inhaled, breathing Harry in one last time before Harry was gone, leaving the tapestry swinging behind him. Draco sat there, his shoulders shuddering, and Harry strode away, his fingers locked tight on the handle of his wand, his jaw clenched.
It wasn't until they were both sure that the other boy had gone that they let the tears fall.