Draco also gaped up in horror at Professor Snape. The man was a Death Eater – The Dark Lord's Left Hand! Could Lupin not protect Potter better than this? Now Draco's Potter was going to die – even worse, he was going to die with Draco still stuck in his head!
Professor Snape's hand went into his robe pocket. Potter tensed, and the boiling surge of his power returned, though he didn't seem so much scared as angry and embarrassed. Draco himself was nearly gibbering in panic. He readied a hex, since Potter definitely seemed to be falling down on that job.
Then Professor Snape withdrew a small cloth bundle from his pocket and stood with it in his hand, his eyes raking disdainfully over Potter's skinny frame. "I see that for once Lupin did not exaggerate," he drawled.
Lupin was in league with Snape? What? Wait, that couldn't be…
Draco's mind suffered a slow and very disorienting one-eighty shift. Snape was in league with Lupin? More importantly, Snape was not in league with the Dark Lord? Draco wasn't stupid; Professor Snape was clearly a spy for somebody, and if it had been the Dark Lord, Potter would not have kept winning all these years whenever he was confronted by the Dark Lord or the Death Eaters.
He wondered if his father knew. He wondered why that thought worried him. He realised his respect for his professor had grown at the idea that the man did not bow before the deformed thing Lucius Malfoy called Lord. That realisation made him sad.
"Professor," Potter gulped, not relaxing in the slightest. Draco could feel his embarrassment and his dislike of the man – but also his lack of surprise at his presence in "Headquarters" and the total absence of any thought that Professor Snape might be here to hurt, steal, or kill him.
"Put this in the bath water, Potter," said Professor Snape, tossing the bundle. Potter's hand snapped it out of the air just as Draco registered it moving. Damned brilliant Seeker skills. Also, absolutely no expectation of the bundle being a secret Portkey, or – oh! Draco suddenly realised why Potter might be leery of Portkey travel, but it was a parenthetical observation. The bulk of his thoughts were still focussed on his shocked conviction that Professor Snape was not at all who Draco had always believed him to be. "It will help with the bruising. Let me see your wrist."
Potter held up his injured wrist. It was ringed with bruises, and hugely swollen. Professor Snape took hold of Potter's hand and pulled his arm out straight; Potter gasped but did not cry out. (Draco did.) The Professor then rested his wand on Potter's wrist and muttered something; there was a nasty crack as the bone healed.
Professor Snape dropped the wrist. "Since you hate Skele-Gro so much," he said coolly. "See me after you eat."
"Yes, sir," Potter muttered.
Professor Snape sneered at him and swept out, closing the door with a thump. Potter jumped forward and locked it, then sniffed at the cloth bundle he held.
Draco identified herbs for healing, pain relief, and soothing of mental trauma. Potter clearly did not; Draco could feel his continuing confusion. Nevertheless, he threw the bundle into the rapidly filling tub. Aromatic steam rose, and Potter took a deep breath and did relax. Then he took a few minutes to brush his teeth before climbing into the bath.
The hot water and the herbs combined to leach away all remaining pain from Potter's body – even the headache seemed to fade almost to nothing. Potter sighed and lolled back against the rim of the tub, rather lazily swiping a flannel over his body to get rid of the sweat and blood. Draco luxuriated in the bath quite as much as Potter; possibly more, since Potter had seemed rather accustomed to physical discomfort, which Draco most certainly was not.
After awhile, Potter emptied the tub and refilled it with clean water, then lay soaking, his thoughts drifting. He was looking forward to some of Mrs Weasley's cooking, and happy to be away from his relatives' house.
As who wouldn't be, Draco thought to himself, gladly seizing on Potter's ruminations as a distraction from his own confusion. He felt so disappointed, but couldn't decide in whom, or why – Professor Snape, the spy; his father, the subordinate?
The awful uncle having hit Potter made him angry, but not really surprised. Draco wondered at that, until he realised that Potter saw it as a logical progression. Had to expect it sooner or later, Potter said to himself, what with me waking him up every night when it's so hot and hard to sleep anyway. Can't have Moony making a giant fuss about it, though.
At least he has someone to make a fuss, Draco thought, suddenly bitter. Lucius had used Cruciatus on Draco, and no one could possibly be expected to ride to the rescue. Damn Potter's ingratitude anyway.
Potter's thoughts had drifted on, to a sort of surprised gratitude for the herb bundle Professor Snape had given him. "Never would have expected it from him," he said aloud, swirling his hands through the water and clearly enjoying the tickle of the current he created on his skin. "Is it time to admit the man has facets?"
He laughed a little at himself. "Maybe not. Maybe he just wants to impress Moony…" He swirled the water some more and smiled at the sensation. "Slytherins in love." He laughed a little more. "Better Moony than me…"
What? What? Draco's brain was going to explode! Surely Potter was only speculating!
"Moony wishes anyway…must be the voice…" Potter was rambling on, sweeping his fingertips lightly down his own chest. "Mmmm. Still, for hot Slytherins…"
An image of Draco himself – startlingly accurate, considering he was stark naked – drifted into Potter's mind. Draco gasped.
"Yeah…" Potter murmured, running his fingers over his chest again. His nipples peaked as he took a shuddering breath. Draco gasped again, and then groaned as Potter shivered.
"Draco," Potter whispered. His fingers traced back up his body, over his throat, to his lips. The sensation was delicately electric. "Just want to lick you all over…" He licked the pads of his own fingers instead, and moaned as he then dropped them to pinch his nipples.
This was very disorienting, but Draco was definitely enjoying it. On a whim, he approached the fantasy image of himself in Potter's head, and touched it curiously. The next moment, he found himself inside it, with Potter's hands locked behind his neck and Potter's lips devouring his. Just as in his own dreams, Potter tasted of chocolate.
Potter's mouth left his and ran down over his neck, biting at the cord there. Draco shuddered and gasped, throwing his head back. "Yeah, Potter…" he muttered.
The mouth left him. "What did you call me?" Potter asked, backing off and frowning into Draco's eyes.
"Uh – Harry," Draco corrected. He wanted those hands back on him. This did not feel like a fantasy at all.
"That's better." Not least because in a fantasy of Draco's, Pot – Harry would never be this assertive. His hands were all over Draco, leaving trails of fire in their wake, and his mouth had returned to Draco's neck, sucking fiercely.
"Uhhh," Draco managed, clenching his own hands on Harry's bony hips. Harry crowded him backwards, and suddenly, somehow, he was in the tub with Harry on top of him, squirming and running his mouth down Draco's chest to clamp on a nipple. Harry bit, and Draco howled.
His hands came up to grasp Harry's head, tangling his fingers in the damp, soft hair, but Harry's own hands came up and pinned them at his sides instead. "Uh–uh," he said indistinctly, sucking on Draco's other nipple. Draco writhed. "Don't move. Hands down."
What? No way was Harry going to top him – Harry's hands ran firmly over his thighs and between them. Okay, maybe Harry was going to top him. The strong hands, one on his cock, one on his balls, left at once when he tried to lift his hands. He subsided with a whimper, and they returned to their work.
Not to move was so, so hard…he felt like there was a pit of lava boiling in his center. Harry had no mercy, trailing kisses and bites all over Draco's body, his hands never ceasing their work. Maddeningly, they slowed whenever Draco started to twitch and gasp too much, keeping him balanced on a razor-edge of pleasure 'til he thought he would lose his mind.
Finally, finally, there were fingers preparing him. Draco shoved back onto them with a grateful moan, despite the way he would never ever accept such a thing in real life…and Harry allowed it. He nibbled very gently at the edge of Draco's foreskin, and Draco howled again and nearly threw him off, he writhed so hard.
"That's it," Harry muttered, eeling upward and taking Draco's mouth in a bruising kiss. At the same time, Draco felt his cock go in, all at once, right to his center, touching off fireworks all the way.
"Harry!" he screamed.
"Draco!" Harry groaned, pulling back and thrusting again. It felt like his full weight pushing on Draco's prostate. Unable to be still any more, Draco's arms came up and clamped Harry against him and his hips snapped up to meet Harry's next thrust.
It seemed to go on forever, and yet all too soon Draco was screaming and so was Harry and they were both covered in Draco's come and Draco was full of Harry's.
Afterward, they drifted in the cloudy water, hearts pounding, bodies shaking. Eventually Harry lifted his head and kissed Draco softly, his tongue soothing the bitten places on his lips. Draco kissed back, his arms loosening and his hands running gently up and down Harry's back.
"Mmmm," said Harry lazily.
"Yeah," Draco murmured, not even shocked at himself yet.
"Wish you were really here…" Harry murmured, dozing, and his fantasy image of Draco faded. Draco came back to himself, but couldn't bring himself to do anything other than doze as well. There would be time enough to panic later.