Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello Draco/Harry

Overall plot: what does it take to make Harry trust his stalker?

Segment plot: It takes time to heal stuff.

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things.

Warning: angst.

Thanks for all the feedback!

Thank you, Cassy, for the beta read!

You look at me and nod. I can see the stress melt out of you, and I'm amazed. I never thought words from my mouth would comfort or assure you. But before I can comment on the change in attitude you lean slowly in and kiss me. I move into the kiss, careful not to knock the cup of tea you're still holding, and I think about how cups of tea and slow kisses like this are so domestic and I want to grow old with you and drink tea and hold your face so I move my hand to cup your cheek. And as we pull back you guzzle your tea down and say, "I needed that," and I'm not sure if you mean the drink or the snog so I just smile. You lean forward to put the empty cup down on the table. Then you move to rest against me and I look up to see the werewolf watching us.

I can't figure him out. Does he know about your family? When you move your arm to hold my hand your sleeve rides up and he looks at your bare skin. For a moment I'm positive he knew from the shock on his face. But then I realize that he's staring at the bracelet and not the unmarred flesh and he says, "Malfoy, isn't that you're coming of age bracelet?"

Flinching I curse him silently as I grit out, "Yes."

"You're never supposed to take that off."

"I know."

"What would your father say?"

Feeling my skin flush I reply icily, "Contrary to popular belief my father does not dictate all of my actions."

"Draco?" you ask softly.

Rolling my eyes I turn to you and explain, "It's given to purebloods on the eve on their seventeenth birthday. I didn't think you would wear it if you knew about it's blood status. Each one is designed for the person who it's given to so that it fits them perfectly both for their powers and their minds. It's not even as though it actually served a purpose: it only wards off light magics. I should have told you but I wanted to give you that extra safety." You're gonna be pissed. You won't react well to the idea of unwittingly wearing a symbol of all things snobbery. "It's just a good luck charm."

"You aren't supposed to take it off?"

"It's supposed to be on the wrist of its owner until they die. It's an honor that is not to be removed. Most purebloods are buried wearing them. They're designed not to come off. It took me twenty minutes to charm it open while you were sleeping earlier."

Expecting a barrage of angry words I drink my tea. It offers no comfort. And I wait in the silence for your anger but instead you say, "You're amazing." There's no scorn and I look to your face. "Thank you." You smile, "I can't believe you went in there totally unprotected but thank you." You pull the bracelet off your wrist and laugh, "Now put this on before we forget and your father sees it because, while he doesn't make your choices he can make your life hell if he wants to." You slide it back into place on my arm and ask, "Seal it?"

"Finite Incantatem," I mutter and you smile.

"I walked around with a blood symbol on my arm for hours? I'm dating a mental snob." And you laugh and so do I because the most concrete proof that I'm not a snob is now residing on my wrist. No "good pureblood" would ever let their half-blood lover wear their coming of age bracelet.

My watch face reads, "This isn't a time for social visits: get to your alibi." And I sigh, "We have to go. I'm sorry, we need to get back to the castle."

You nod and say, "Remus, sorry we couldn't stay longer. Thanks for having us at all, I mean without notice."

"You're always welcome in your own home," The man says earnestly. He studies Harry for a moment and then says, "Your scar is gone."

I feel a sudden surge of respect towards him. Anyone who sits with you for a half hour without studying your face long enough to notice that its gone must really be on your side, because who doesn't look at your scar first and your face second? "Draco's a healer." I wish you'd stop putting that about.

"I've never met anyone who could do that," says the man with slight awe.

"He taught me; I can do it too. I could do your scars, if you'd like?" You sound like a kid with a toy that needs to be shared.

He just shakes his head, "They'll be replaced by the next moon." He speaks dismissively but there's an off note about the statement. You just nod silently.

We stand and walk to the door and I say, "Thank you, Lupin, you've been more than kind. If the Ministry comes please tell them. . . tell them we came to tell you that we're together?"

"Sure," he says with a nod, "And I think it's time you started calling me Remus."

"Well then it's Draco. And thank you."

You take my hand and we Apparate back to Hogwarts' gates. Neither of us release the other's hold as we walk to my father's house and up to the door. I open it without knocking and call, "I'm home, Harry's with me. We've had a fruitless day of shopping and went to visit Remus Lupin." Uncle Rus comes into the hall and watches us but I don't look at him. I'm still so angry at him for what he did to you. One thinks that he can go to his godfather for help, but what he did was not in anyway helpful. Without acknowledging him I say, "Want to see my room? Father conjured it here directly from the mansion, all my cool stuff is in it." You laugh but your fingers are cutting off my circulation and you're so careful to keep your eyes fixed on the stairs. "Come on, it's on the first floor." I pull you away by the hand and lead you up the staircase.

Behind my shut door I say, "Ignore him. I'm sorry, I just went to him for help, I didn't sic him on you, didn't mean to at least."

"I know," you nod, "and I don't think he was attacking me, I think I was being examined." You shudder. "I feel queasy though, I hate that he knows."

"What does he know?" I ask softly, I have no idea what happened in that room after I left other than that he saw your scars.

"He saw my arms. Thinks I'm a crazy cutter with a mean family. . . it's not that far off from the truth."

You laugh but you sound tired. I look around the room, turn out the light, and draw the curtains with a few flicks of my wand. "Come here," I say and lead you to my bed. I lie down and pull you next to me. We stare up at the ceiling and I say, "Cool, right?" On the black ceiling glowing stars move like the constellations the they represent. The swirls move silver against the darkness and I say, "I used to watch them for hours."

"Muggle kids have this too, but they're made of glow in the dark plastic."

"What's plastic?" I ask not understanding.

Your eyes widen in surprise and you say, "No way. Wizards don't use plastic?" I shake my head feeling foolish. "What do they make the soles of trainers with? What do they make spectacles from?"

"Cork and leather and magic, or rubber. We have rubber, we let the Muggles in one that one. And glasses are made from glass and wire," I reply.

"Huh," you don't sound scornful. "I think rubber is like plastic only soft." You remove your glasses and hand them to me. "See the frames and the lens? What are they made of?"

I tap the lens, they're lighter, make a duller noise, and don't feel like glass. The frames look like black glass, but they're too thin and light, "Plastic?" I guess. "So what's it do? What's it made of? How does it 'glow-in-the-dark'?"

"Um," you smile, "It's quite strong but it's pliable so it doesn't break. And it doesn't shatter like glass. It's a polymer, but I don't really know what it's made of, I was eleven when I stopped taking Muggle science classes. I think it's like rubber," you repeat and then say, "You can make it glow by. . . I think it's a paint they put on it, or a spray. It sucks in the energy from light, the energy makes electrons move, and then when the electrons move back to their starting position they release the energy as a glow." You look at me and say, "Do you know what electrons are?" I shake my head expecting you to laugh at me. You laugh but then shake your head, "I don't really either." You take your glasses from me and look back at the stars. "They're great." You glance at the bed we're on and say, "I thought you said you didn't read Muggle books."

I look at the bed sheets. I've had them since I was little and I laugh, "Postman Pat isn't a Muggle."

"He's a postman."

"He's a squib. Don't you think his cat Jess is too big and clever to be a cat?"

"He's half kneazle?" you sigh, "That does put a different spin on it."

I smile and say, "Feeling a bit better?"

"Thank you."

"For what?" I ask gently taking your hand in mine.

"For taking me into your dark room, and lying me down on your bed, and making it not scary."

Not expecting that reply I say, "Harry, beds in dark rooms shouldn't be scary."

"I know, but they are and instead of being frightened I'm trying to explain plastic and it's great." You lean forward as if to kiss me but I lean back slightly and you say, "What?"

"Beds in dark rooms can be just that. We don't need to do anything at all. We can just lie here." I want to kiss you, I want to sink into your mouth and touch your hair and drown in the act but I need to say this, you need to know.

"But, I mean." You look confused and hurt, "After everything today-"

"It didn't change anything. You're still the most beautiful man on Earth. I still love you. But we don't need to kiss if you don't want to."

Your face goes dark and I don't know how I've offended you until you say, "So you want to skip right to the fucking?"

"No," I say firmly, "We don't need to have sex either. We don't need to do anything you're uncomfortable with. That's what I'm saying. No matter what, I want to be your friend. I don't ever want you to think you owe me for that, or think that I expect something. We don't need to kiss, or touch, or have sex if you don't want. I'll still be your friend, hell if you want, I'll still be your boyfriend. Physical presence has nothing to do with this relationship. You're beautiful and sexy but that's not why I want to be with you. I didn't bring you up here to seduce you. I brought you up here to bring you away from Uncle Rus and to show you my stars. I love kissing you, and holding your hands, and if at some point you want to have sex I can't wait to feel you inside of me, but I like having you trust me more." I run a hand over my face and you pull my hand away and kiss me slowly. You release your grip on my wrist so that you can stroke my sides and you pull me onto of you and deepen the kiss.

It all feels too serious, and the room is dark and I don't want you to start thinking about the day so I tickle your ribs. You're laughing and flipping our position so that I'm under you before even breaking for a breath. The fingers on my flesh are merciless and I laugh into your neck before kissing the soft flesh to distract you, and your hands still. I strike at the weakness and tickle your arms. You pin them to my sides and say, "You're amazing."

"I know," I agree. That makes you laugh more. You laugh like a kid.

"You make it fun."

"It?" I ask, thinking I understand but wanting to make sure.

"Being with someone. I mean, I know it's supposed to be fun but I never really believed it. Hermione and Ron fight and make moon eyes at each other. And Mr. And Mrs. Weasley always seem happy and comfortable but not fun really. And really, they're the only people in love that I see. But you make this so much fun. I feel like I'm on a really good roller coaster: I'm safe but I don't know what's coming and it's so exciting."

"And what about when the coaster stops?" I ask, I've been on one of those in Cornwall with Severus.

"It won't," you sound so sure.

And there's so much more I need to say but a knock on the door pulls me away and I look at you and you nod so I say, "Come in," And Severus is standing in the door looking at us.

I hate the way he glances at you, I think he's trying to see scars or something but he says, "The Minister for Magic is downstairs." I hadn't been expecting him, I'd been expecting a Minister not the Minister. "Are you in trouble?"

The flash over your face is momentary and Uncle Rus didn't notice it. I can see that you understand everything: I didn't tell them where we were going, they were our all purpose alibi. And you lie so easily, "No, all we did was bunk off of Herbology, and to the best of my knowledge the Ministry doesn't get involved in that."