A/N: First of all: I am SO SORRY!
See, I've learned: Life sucks. Sure, that's a fact of life. But when life sucks especially hard I get terrible blocks. I'm sorry this one was so long!
Bad depression! Bad, bad, bad! You made my readers wait forever! And just after someone had thanked me for updating regularly. I am truly, truly sorry. Lemme go beat my issues with a stick so they'll go away and LET ME WRITE!
Secondly: In response to a few unsigned reviews:
dreamweaver: I'm glad I've made you like my story, even though you don't usually read this type of thing. I take that as a huge compliment :-) I love swaying people from their norms:-) Hope you keep enjoying it!
Answers: You've raised a few good issues, and I appreciate you pointing them out, it means you're paying close attention! ;-) . I'm really sorry if it seems I've taxed my "poetic license" to the max, I'm a whore for drama and angst so I tend to let magic in these stories take me away beyond rational and logically realistic (even more so than magic itself it seems lol). I'll try to stop, since I concede to your point insofar as the emotions regarding Draco's imprisonment are concerned. On the other hand, I can't say I can agree with your first point (about Draco being the sub). We'll see how the story goes. And your second point about Draco being skittish (sorry if it seems I'm rambling) is also very true. You'll see soon how Draco reacts when he's no longer in Harry's sight. :-)Thanks again!
Hope you all enjoy! Please review!
Harry was stopped short by the sudden apparation of Draco and Severus. His eyes took in the worry in Severus's eyes and the unease in Draco's stance, and wondered at it, concerned.
"Are you okay?" he was unable to contain himself from asking. Draco's eyes were startled as they looked up at Harry.
"Fine," he answered automatically.
Harry's eyes flicked to Severus, who in turn looked to Draco. Harry returned his attention to the blonde. "What happened?" he asked gently.
Draco tossed a glare to Severus before shaking his head. "Nothing," he answered shortly. "They let me out of the hospital. Thank you for bringing me here, Sev."
Sev's lips twitched slightly, amused by the presence and implications of Draco's discomfort. "I'm sorry, Draco. I thought this is where you needed to be."
Draco curled his lip in disdain. "You would," he groused. "You know…" he caught his words on the tip of his tongue and forced them back down his throat. Glancing at Harry, he forced himself to appear calm. "May we be excused, Potter?" the words were clipped and impatient, a command from master to servant, though Draco didn't even notice.
Harry was startled by the chill in the blonde's voice, as well as more than a little hurt at being addressed so coldly. He nodded curtly and forced himself to walk calmly from the room, his back ramrod straight.
Sev's amusement fled as he watched the insecurity and pain flicker to life in Harry's eyes, and he rounded on the blonde with fury in his mind as the door clicked closed behind the raven-haired youth. "Draco, it's my fault you're here before you've regained your poise, you have no reason to take your ire out on him."
Draco's curled lip twitched higher. "Why did you bring me here, Severus, I didn't want to disrupt his day as it is, and now… now…"
"Now you didn't want Harry to see you upset. I get that. But ordering him off like a child is no way to resolve that."
"I did not 'order him off,'" Draco snapped. "I simply asked to speak to you privately."
"You're a fool if you think that's how Harry saw it."
"Nor does it change the fact that you brought me here," Draco pressed.
"I thought you would want to see him," Severus defended himself.
Draco ignored the fact that his every nerve was in fact screaming to feel Harry's arms around him, annoyed that Sev could see through him. "You thought wrong," he lied. "I'm done crying to him."
"You intend to stop associating with Harry?" Severus exclaimed, shocked that Draco would want such a thing. He had thought…
"No!" Draco exploded. "I need Harry!" The words were out before he could stop them, so he decided not to bother trying. "I just don't want him to see me blubbering like a little idiot yet again."
Severus rolled his eyes. "You aren't blubbering. If anything you seem pissed beyond belief, and there's nothing wrong with that. In fact, you're in the perfect place to vent, in case you haven't noticed. I'm certain the breakable things in your room were broken far too quickly for your tastes."
Draco's eyes flicked about the room. The bags had repaired themselves and the room had in a way started itself over; it was once again at the beginning of a training session, with a sole large bag dangling in the center.
Draco felt himself tense in anticipation at the very thought of it.
"Could I?" he asked, and Sev's amusement returned. Draco was like a kid in a candy shop when it came to training.
"Of course," Sev allowed, and instantly Draco had shucked his shirt and transfigured his jeans into something more appropriate to train. Sev hung back as he approached the bag, his stance still vibrating fury and frustration due to the memories of his father.
Sev sighed and turned away as Draco began to stretch and warm up. "Meanwhile," he murmured under his breath, his concern for Harry rising once more. "I'll go try to fix the mess you've made of Harry's self-esteem."
He was slouched on one of the benches in the hallway, his head in his hands; his slouched shoulders straightened with a jolt as he heard the door slide open, then immediately fell again as he saw Sev exit alone.
"He… he left?" Harry asked, his voice catching and fading out. Had Draco changed his mind about staying with Harry? Had he decided to live elsewhere? Was he angry at Harry for some reason? "What did I do?" he couldn't help but implore, confused and hurt.
Sev smiled comfortingly. "He's still inside, he wants to train for a bit."
Harry's tension melted out of him. "Oh," he sighed.
"I'm not sure whether he wanted me to tell you, but he went by the manor," he began. When Harry still seemed baffled, he realized that Harry would assume he meant Potter Manor, Harry's home.
"Malfoy Manor," he explained.
Harry tensed. "Why?"
"He wanted to retrieve something. I don't know what. But he… it upset him to be in that place again."
Harry dragged a hand through his hair and sighed. "How badly?"
Sev bit his lip for a moment. "Don't be surprised in the morning when they find a smoldering pile of ash where Malfoy Manor used to stand."
Harry's eyes flew wide. "You're kidding. He burned it down?"
Sev nodded once.
Harry's eyes flicked to the doorway through which Sev had come. "That bad, huh?"
Sev blew out a heavy breath and sat next to Harry. "He was only upset when we got here because he didn't want you to see him so furious. He was a mess, to be honest. He broke everything made of glass and shred everything he was able. He physically smashed a two-hundred-year-old shelving unit that probably weighed an elephant's ass. I knew he hadn't really been able to vent entirely so I brought him here, but apparently he wasn't too pleased with that."
"So he isn't…" Harry shook himself and changed his mind. "Never mind. Should I talk to him? Or just leave him be?"
Sev shrugged and shook his head. "I honestly haven't a clue. That would be up to you. I think beating the shit out of the bags will relax him some. I will never understand your type, how in the world wearing yourselves out energizes you and calms you."
Harry snorted a laugh. "I don't know either," he agreed. He chewed his lip for a moment before rolling his eyes and giving in to temptation. He stood from the bench and strolled to the door. Flicking the switch beside the doorjamb he stepped back as the covering to the window rolled open.
The rooms were designed to allow a trainer to monitor the trainee during these sessions, and since his presence in the room would disrupt the focus of the spells, the designers had taken a page out of police stations and created a viewing window along one wall of the room. Unlike police stations, however, there was no mirrored side; from the inside of the room it was simply a blank wall, as it was distracting for a trainee to see either himself or the trainer.
Harry felt himself practically melt after only a few moments of watching Draco train. The blonde had spectacular form; he was naturally lithe and graceful, and his every movement vibrated with power and intensity. He managed to create a beautiful combination of brute strength and control; his every movement was careful and measured, with the force of a semi and the speed of a Ferrari. Though his body and coordination were dimmed by his years out of practice, his movements were still beautiful to behold.
Harry only snapped out of his appreciative stupor when Sev clucked his tongue beside him. "He's damn good for someone who hasn't seen the inside of a gym for two years," he observed, impressed.
Harry snapped his mouth closed audibly. "Damn good is one way to say it. Fuckin' amazing would be another. He hasn't worked out whatsoever in two years. That's… insane. He's damn near better than half the guys, and they've had access to these rooms this whole time."
Sev winced as an errant bag smacked into Draco's unprotected back. "He's really out of practice, though. Can he handle this room?"
Harry bit his lip. "Not for long. None of the guys can. I don't want him getting cut."
As though summoned, a tiny, speeding dagger spun from its hold in the wall and arched toward the unprotected back of the blonde. Even knowing that the dagger wouldn't follow through with the blow, Harry tensed and lunged for the door.
He snatched it open in time to see Draco spin, his arm lashing out to slap the dagger from the air. He was an instant too slow, however, and it sliced a nick in his side before vanishing.
He hissed a startled and furious breath through his teeth and his hands stalled. For the next few moments his every movement was altered by that moment of hesitation; he was an instant too late to block the remaining blows. Panic because of his inability to defend himself welled within him; his lips pulled back from his teeth and his movements became more harsh and uncontrolled, only lending to the predicament.
Harry snapped his hand out and halted the room's enchantment. The bags and swords vanished instantly, and Draco snarled as his furious swing toward one of the blades swept air.
"Damnit, Potter, what did you do that for?" Draco hissed. The words were grated between his teeth, and this time, he did notice his err. He winced and shook his head. "I'm sorry," he immediately backtracked, chagrin at having once again treated his friend so coldly rising within him and tamping down his anger. "I didn't mean it like that. I just… I'm sorry. What is it you need?"
Harry raised a single brow in challenge. "You look like you need help getting back into shape," he responded, a half-smile gracing his lips.
Instantly Draco smirked and dropped to a crouch, affecting an oppositional air. "Do I?" he challenged.
"You're hopelessly out of shape," Harry pointed out mock snidely, and strode forward, clenching and unclenching his fists.
"You're here to re-train me, then?"
Harry smiled gently. "If you want me to," he agreed, sensing that very desire, for Harry to become his trainer, behind Draco's bravado. For a moment, the image slipped, and Draco winked playfully at his new trainer.
"Well, then, let's get going," he suggested.
Harry took a few moments to stretch, his eyes never leaving Draco, who had resumed motion to keep his muscles active.
Harry snapped into action, and Draco immediately blocked. Taking a moment to appreciate the effectiveness of Draco's block -- he had exerted only enough effort to swipe Harry's attack to the side -- Harry reared back with another blow.
"Let's take things from the top," he suggested as Draco neatly blocked another strike. "Just focus on relearning how to move your body."
Draco nodded, his focus on Harry's limbs.
"I know you know all of these moves, but you haven't used them in years. You have to focus…"
Harry feinted a right twist but followed through with a left. Draco's lack of coordination and intense focus on Harry's movement stalled him; the blow fell, softly, on Draco's shoulder.
He hissed in frustration.
"Draco, calm down. You're allowed to take a few hits when you're relearning these things. But you have to focus on yourself, too. Don't zero in so much on me. I'm just a target, you have to let your body feel where I'll be and how to react."
Draco forced himself to swallow his frustrated pride and nodded.
Harry smiled reassuringly as he executed a few simple strikes, which Draco easily deflected, to rebuild the blonde's confidence.
"Focus on your own feet," Harry suggested coolly. He lunged, but didn't follow through, and watched as Draco's feet responded almost perfectly. "Until you relearn how to, not to sound cheesy but -- be one -- with your body, you have to focus as much on yourself and where your body is moving as me. You can't block a blow you see coming unless you have your body aligned with mine. To block an overhead strike…" he prepared for an overhead, but instead struck with a low kick, which Draco neatly predicted and swept aside. "You have to have your hands in position. Well done, Draco," he commended.
Draco tossed him a smile.
"And when you come into these rooms, even if you feel like you just want to vent, you have to feel the room. Otherwise you're just setting yourself up to being torn to ribbons."
"The room will..?"
"Not completely. But it will hurt you. It's spelled not to follow through, but it's not foolproof."
Draco wrinkled his nose. "Good to know," he groused, messily sweeping aside the next of Harry's advances. "As though having people out to get me wasn't enough, now even the rooms are."
Harry barked a surprised laugh and shook his head, his shaggy hair falling into his face. Draco couldn't help but muse how adorable Harry looked when his hair was mussed…
…except when he used Draco's momentary distraction to launch an effective attack.
Draco cursed.
Harry laughed and ran Draco through the paces of a battle to gauge his strength, speed, and stamina, finding that though the blonde faired well relative to a novice, his imprisonment and starvation had left a lasting effect on his body in the form of sluggish reactions and weakened blows.
However when it came down to the reality of Draco's extensive imprisonment, Harry was surprised by how little the blonde had been affected.
Harry finally relented once Draco seemed as though he had spent his fury. His rash reactions and frustration at being struck unawares relented until he was properly docile to the recommendations Harry offered and reacted accordingly. Harry worked him until he no longer reacted with fury and frustration to defeat his opponent, instead striking with deliberation and poise.
Harry was silently pleased with himself for having been able to work the fury from the blonde without actually having to fight it out. He knew from experience that his men, when furious, either had to vent through beating the daylights out of an opponent -- or, Harry mused, getting the daylights beat out of themselves in the process -- or by succumbing to Harry's patient scolding until rational thought returned. He had been on the receiving end of both reactions too many times to count, and was pleased that he had guessed right in Draco's case.
There was an exhilarated smile on Draco's lips by the time Harry called a halt to their training, and Harry was for a moment ensnared by the beauty of that delicate curve of lips. He had to shake himself loose from his longing to kiss the blonde, but only succeeded in drawing Draco's curious gaze. Sweat beaded generously on his skin, causing his long hair to mold to his neck and cheeks. Harry found himself frozen.
"I know, I know," Draco crowed, his voice raised to mimic dismay. "I'm so out of shape I'm sweating like a thief in church. I know!"
Harry forced a chuckle between his lips, thankful that Draco had only spared him a glance, knowing that had Draco looked harder, he would have seen the obvious desire in Harry's eyes.
Harry curled his hands into fists and dropped his head.
Sick. Sick bastard, he swore, hating himself for being turned on by such a simple thing as training with the blonde.
How the hell are you going to manage to train him if you feel this out of control after just one session? He's going to notice your interest eventually, you fool.
Draco's flippant smile faded as he observed the tension in Harry's arms and shoulders. "Hey," he murmured, reaching to tip Harry's chin up. "What's wrong? Did I say something wrong?"
Harry forced himself to shake of his self-deprecation. "No, nothing's wrong. Just tired. I had just finished a pretty intense session in this room before you got here. You've just about worn me out!"
Draco snorted. "I have a feeling it'd take a lot more than little old me to wear you out, Potter."
Harry's step faltered for only a moment.
Potter?
Since when did Draco call him Potter again?
His mind flicked back over the last half hour in an attempt to remember. Draco had been calling him Potter since he'd come from Malfoy Manor. Harry had assumed that it was simply due to the lingering remnants of anger and frustration, but Draco was no longer upset.
So why was he calling him Potter?