Draco's head throbbed and pounded. Through it all he was aware of soft, gentle hands running through his hair. Tori's hands. He groaned, fighting through the pain that infuriated him more than anything. The agony seared through his forehead as he opened his eyes, blinking away the water that pooled before them. He was in a strange room, with sage green walls and the scent of gingerbread. The bed beneath him was soft, with a lumpy mattress and checkered sheets. He stayed confused for a moment, but when his eyes found Tori and the sadness in her own, the events that had occurred came flooding back through his mind.
Blood coursed through his veins as he sat up quickly, bile rising in the back of his throat. He couldn't look at her. Not right now. Not while he was still working his way through the complete mind fuck that Voldemort… No. He couldn't have returned. An impostor, just as Potter had said. But even an impostor of the Dark Lord would remember the Malfoys, would remember their betrayal.
"How do you feel?" Tori asked, her voice timid.
"Fine," Draco lied.
He needed to get rid of her. Not because he didn't want her here, or love her, but because he needed to fall the fuck apart in private. Before all this madness, he could have taken a walk or gone for a pint. The thought seemed laughable.
"We'll get out of here," Tori continued. "Back to France. As soon as I'm strong enough."
His head snapped up. She was pale, so pale, with dark circles beneath her eyes and chapped lips. Guilt twinged at Draco's stomach for casting her ordeal aside so easily. She'd almost bled to death, and yet the occurrence felt like a lifetime ago. It was too much to bear and he barely made it to the sink, just visible through the door left ajar, to vomit all the bile his stomach had to offer.
"Draco?" Her voice came again. He wanted to scream. "I can imagine you're in shock, but you're worrying me."
He leaned over the sink. "You scared me to death," he said quietly, clenching his jaw for a moment. "I spent days in that room, in and out of sleep. They told me you were in St Mungo's."
"I don't remember any of it," Tori whispered. "I'm so sorry Draco, this is all my fault."
She stepped into the small bathroom, clad in mosaic tiles. Her arms wrapped around Draco's waist, and though he stayed tense against her, he wanted so badly to give in.
"I'll never let you be caged like that again," she swore, her voice powerful. "You've endured far more than anyone should have to. It breaks my heart."
"The enduring's not over yet," Draco said. He hesitated for a moment, piecing together the words he knew he'd need to say. "I'm not joining the Order, Tori. I don't want Voldemort or any other dark wizard in power, but… I'm not joining."
"I know. Neither am I."
"What?" he turned in genuine surprise.
"After what they did to you? To us?" She shook her head. "I don't know what to believe anymore. It's all so…"
A rush of gratitude soared through Draco. He'd thought that Tori, being straight-edge as she was — a fucking Ravenclaw, for God's sake — would be insisting they fight for the right side, just as she'd insisted they turn themselves in. This deviation from his expectations jolted him back to some sense of reality. It was like a haze had been lifted. And now that his mind was crystal-clear once more, he noticed two things: he was filthy, and he was starving. And, judging by her appearance, Tori was probably both of those things, too.
"Shower with me," he murmured on a whim.
She let out a small gasp. Her eyes widened. "In here?"
"What's so wrong with that?" he scowled.
"What if… someone walked in?"
Draco stayed silent, leaning across to lock the bathroom door and prove his point. He undressed slowly, pulling the black shirt over his head.
"It looks too small," she tried again.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Get in, Tori."
The place seemed to be stocked for visitors. Draco opened the vanity drawers in turn, finding spare toothbrushes and toothpaste and various unopened toiletries. He scrubbed his mouth thoroughly, twice, while Tori shyly undressed and started the water behind him.
He hadn't planned on the act being so intimate. At first it had only made sense, to save time for them both, and admittedly, he'd swung from wanting only to be alone, to now wanting anything but solitude. But seeing Tori stood beneath the water, each curve of her body accentuated in the daylight filtering through the small window, had awoken a strange hunger in him. He found himself quiet, bordering on shy, as his boxers fell to the ground and he stepped in to join her.
"Fuck," he grumbled as the water hit him, steaming far too hot.
"Sorry," she apologised, fumbling at the taps.
"You don't bring your wand in the shower?" he asked, a hint of incredulity.
"Of course not. Do you bring yours?"
"Usually," he admitted. He wrapped his arms around her waist, tightening above her hips and pulling her in closer. "I thought it might only get in the way on this occasion, though."
Tori's wide, hazel eyes fixed on him, so intense he found himself unable to look away. She'd regained some colour already, her cheeks flushed with heat from the water. Or so Draco supposed. She was utterly beautiful. Draco pushed Voldemort and the Order and the accident far from his mind — they all ceased to exist. All that mattered to him in this moment was this woman before him, and protecting her at all costs.
She trailed a hand along his collarbone and then down his torso, tracing each rib as she went.
"You're getting too thin," she whispered.
"We'll eat soon," he promised, caressing her face.
She leaned in and kissed him, so gently it was almost a tease. Her familiar taste was like a sedative, and Draco found himself intoxicated as their tongues met in a dance. He held her close, but not tightly, and she moulded her body against his own. He was in absolute heaven. This was all he needed. And that sensation only heightened as she moved her hand down to his pelvis.
"Tori," he murmured. "I'm not going to fuck you." Her eyes widened in surprise. "You need to rest, baby," he said, kissing her forehead. "You've been through a lot."
She pouted. "But I feel fine."
"Fine enough to go back to France?" Draco tested.
She scowled. "Yes."
Draco hooked his arms behind her legs, then lifted them up so she was straddling him. "Are you lying to me, Greengrass?"
Tori gasped in surprise at the moment, tilting her head back. "Maybe just a little."
"Later," he whispered against her ear, "I promise. I do want to bend you over that bed before we leave."
She giggled, pressing her lips to his neck. Only at Draco's insistence did she untangle herself from him, and they scrubbed themselves clean for the first time in days. But when Draco turned the water off and wrapped a towel around his waist, the weight of the world crushed against him once more. His felt the scowl form on his face, the tension in his shoulders. He knew the horror-filled thoughts would be quick to return, too. And with them, would come the nightmares.