They barely made it on the last train. Without any muggle money Harry had to cast some Confundus charm on the station employee, and then they jumped the turnstile. Malfoy looked sickly and his arm started bleeding again as they rushed into a half-empty train car.
The people looked at them funny and Harry could understand that they were quite a sight with blood covering their clothes and scratches on their faces and hands.
"Hold on, Malfoy, I cannot use magic in front of so many muggles," he whispered to the blonde who clenched his teeth and tried not to faint.
The events of their lucky escape were still replaying in his head, Williamson must have been bewitched or it wasn't the Auror after all. They were not a bad team, he and Malfoy when their wands were not pointed at each other. They fought together in the same rhythm, the choice of spell was completely different, but the way both of them had some inexplicable understanding what to do next was exhilarating. Maybe if they got into the Auror training together they might make a nice team.
It was past midnight when they neared the Grimmauld Place, Harry half-dragged Malfoy to the building. Once they were inside he cast all the protective spells he needed and hurried to the parlor to assist the Slytherin with his injuries. He Accioed some Essence of Dittany and Blood Replenishing Potion and fed them to Draco.
"Are you alright?" Harry shook him gently and the grey eyes opened slowly.
"I'm still in pain…" the blonde answered. "need the Poppy."
"Well, I don't have any," he said hotly, "Come on, let's get you changed, your clothes are soaked in blood…"
Harry reached out to unbutton his shirt but long fingers stopped him and Draco looked at him intently.
"Don't…" he whispered.
"Right… I am going to bring you a change of clothes or something," the Gryffindor stood up quickly and went up the stairs to fetch something to wear and stop thinking about shirtless Malfoy.
When he came back with the best flannel shirt he could find in his possession and a navy-blue Weasley sweater he saw that Draco asleep on the sofa, his long legs dangling off the side and a bloodied garment lying on the floor. Then Harry understood why he was so reluctant to show his chest: faint scars were stretching from his ribs to his collarbone.
I did this. It is my fault, he thought miserably, overwhelmed by guilt.
The blonde murmured something in his sleep and his body started to shiver. Blood Replenishing Potion could induce fever so Harry summoned a couple of blankets and covered him with them. He sat down on a Persian rug next to the settee and exhaled tiredly, it was an overwhelming day and he wanted to make sure everyone was okay.
Harry decided to cast a Patronus to notify Andromeda and Narcissa that they were fine, he pronounced the familiar incantation but something strange happened: instead of a silvery stag his wand produced some small animal, it looked like a coyote or a fox of some sort. He watched the creature bouncing around the drawing-room in a slight stupor. Whose Patronus was that? His gaze traveled to the sofa behind him and a blonde head buried under the covers.
Surely it can't be…
Harry tried to concentrate again on casting a stag but the animal was there, it was very odd, it was almost laughable how stupid he seemed to himself. He remembered how Tonks' Patronus turned to a wolf when she was in love with Remus. In love… Who was he in love with then? It can't have been Ginny, he liked her, he wanted things to work out with her, but Harry couldn't call it love. Did somebody put some love potion into his drink or food? It was insane to even think that. He got angry but decided to send the wretched spirit anyway whatever shape it might have been.
Draco woke up sometime during the night, he felt too hot and smothered by a heap of covers thrown over him. He saw Potter's head slumped on the sofa beside him, the idiot was dozing off in a sitting position, crouched on the floor, still wearing the same sweater from last night. Was he really there watching over him? The Slytherin realized that he was naked from the waist up and belatedly noticed a new change of clothes put on top of the blankets. He suspected that this place was an old Black residence, modernized and made to look like an exceptionally dull muggle house. The furniture and magical objects were still there but there was a muggle screen, a telephone, and electric lamps everywhere. He could say that it looked cozy and the creepy atmosphere that a lot of wizarding houses possessed was gone and replaced by that strange wizarding and muggle blend that was Potter himself.
This house should have had plenty of bedrooms so he might as well move the Gryffindor to one of them, he tried levitating the sleeping sod but his wand hand was still throbbing and he couldn't concentrate his foggy feverish mind on doing so. Draco finally gave up, mustering enough strength to drag the boy onto the sofa next to him. They were way to close and Potter's sweater was scratchy with stains of dry blood on it, but he wrapped his arm around him and buried his nose in messy locks at the nape of his neck. For just a little bit he wanted to pretend that they were like this together by choice and not because of some fucked up circumstances.
The git woke up, turned his head around to look at him with unfocused confused bloody beautiful eyes, and sighed, snuggling closer and nodding off once again. After that Draco couldn't get a wink of sleep, his heart in his mouth, and his body painfully aware of all the places they pressed together on that godforsaken sofa.
He found him in the kitchen the next morning, with no spectacles, damp hair, and pensive expression on his face. The smell of muggle shampoo, bacon, and eggs and freshly brewed tea lingering in the cold air.
"Morning," Potter smiled, looking strangely out of sorts. "Are you alright?"
"Marvelous" Draco drawled, sitting next to him and stealing a sandwich out of his plate unceremoniously.
"Hey, I've made you some too," he protested. The Gryffindor poured him some tea and gave him a strange muggle device that looked like a wand made of glass with a silvery substance inside. "You need to measure your body temperature. Here is the thermometer."
"There is a spell for that, you know. And does that thing have mercury in it?! You know you can get mercury poisoning… those muggles are completely loony!" Draco said eyeing the object suspiciously.
"Well, I am not exactly a Healer and you looked like shit last night… so put it under your armpit and stay still for a bit!" he instructed him.
So the Slytherin sat there like an idiot holding a glass tube with a dangerous chemical for what it felt like forever until Potter was finally satisfied and took it away to look at the numbers on the scale. A cold hand felt his forehead and when the git wasn't pleased with that a cheek was pressed there and then his lips.
"It seems... y-you still have a slight fever." the Gryffindor babbled and then he summoned a white bag with a red cross on it and took out two small tablets for him to take.
"I am not consuming any more of your muggle nonsense! Just find me my Poppy potion! It's Blacks' house there has got to be a stash somewhere!" he demanded.
"There isn't anymore. I threw all the dark arts-related tat away! And I am not feeding your addiction, so take the goddamn pills and stop pissing me off!" Potter looked all worked up about it like he was actually worried about Draco.
He glared at him maliciously but took the medicine anyway.
"Do you have any clue why Williamson might want to attack you. He was your probation officer?" Potter was all business after that.
"No… Somebody must have cursed him. You didn't look surprised at all though," the blonde noted.
"There was some information in the Quibbler that Williamson was missing, his mum said she hasn't seen him since the war started but as I heard that they had a strained relationship I kind of dismissed it." the Gryffindor explained.
"Your spying on me has reached new levels of disturbance," Draco shook his head.
"I was just… worried," the git grumbled.
"Well, you weren't' wrong. The bastard must be connected to Yaxley somehow, he wants revenge and information. He sent Nott to blackmail me because of that," the Slytherin said.
"That's what you saw when you used the Legillimency spell on him?"
"Oh, you can see plenty of things if you know where to look," he looked at Potter intently. "Remember the vial with a memory that you gave me. You thought it was mine… It wasn't. It was a dossier of some sort about you. I think that girl Baelish made a bunch of those on all the people she had to deal with and Yaxley wants them desperately. That is what I've gathered so far."
Harry was gaping at him his face beet red and eyes big as two saucers.
"What did you… Did you look at… it? Why didn't you tell me…" he was babbling and it was a bit amusing if not for the fact that the sod might try to strangle him after that.
"I did," Draco confirmed. "I thought it was mine… You have nothing to worry about, Potter. I have kept plenty of secrets before... and it's not like I didn't know stuff about you already."
"What stuff?!" the Gryffindor was getting defensive. "You have to tell me what you saw!"
"Veron Duddley… that was you, wasn't it?" Draco chuckled "You came in the disguise of a random bloke you'd hooked up with and called yourself the names of the muggle relatives that hated your guts."
"I…" the poor sod was rendered speechless.
"And just so you know, Potter, you are as straight as I am and it is embarrassing to see you deny it," the blonde was tired of that little dance they had around each other and the words of encouragement from Granger made him bold and reckless in that situation.
"So… what are you trying to say here, Malfoy?!" he looked properly angry and unguarded by glasses his gaze was piercing and desperate.
"I am trying to say that you probably really want to shag me but all that stupid shit you've been hearing for years is stopping you, and it is a shame really…" Draco said cruelly, he wanted to provoke the git to make him do something, to cross that invisible line. "I don't need a Legillimency spell to see that you are a self-loathing little coward! I might have to fake a marriage in the future but I have no delusions about what I am!"
He expected a punch, he expected a painful shove or a slap he did not expect Potter to break down into sobs in front of him. He was there in his stupid muggle rags with his stupid attractive face and soft hair crying his eyes out over something that he couldn't control.
"Potter… Harry… I am sorry" Draco whispered carefully, taking him into his arms and trying to calm him down. The Savior of the wizarding word shouldn't be doing that, he should be brave and courageous and not consumed by self-loathing and guilt, and he probably shouldn't be queer either, but there they were.
"I… think… I might," he babbled into Draco's shirt.
"It's fine… don't say anything while you're upset. I am not going to pressure you into anything… You're fine," the blonde was rubbing soothing circles on his back and he desperately needed a smoke a drink or a potion, because one cannot cock things up as massively as he had just then.
"Mate, you're in there?!... What the hell?!" Weasley was standing there with a big fur tree under his arm, a box of Christmas ornaments that had been levitating in the air before fell to the floor.
"Ron… Shit, Ron… is Ginny inside too?" Potter exclaimed not leaving a protective circle of Draco's embrace.
"Luckily, she isn't… What is going on! Why are you… and the ferret… Were you going behind my sister's back all this time?!" ginger's voice was getting higher with every sentence he screamed.
"I will explain everything when we are in the Burrow," Harry said finally letting go of the Slytherin and hastily wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper.
"Why is he here?!" Weasley demanded, giving Draco the nastiest glare he could muster.
"We were attacked! At Narcissa's safe house. And Draco was injured, so I had to take him in," Potter started explaining, he was trying to spell the broken baubles back together but his hands were shaky and the glass just didn't want to mend itself.
"So he is Draco now," ginger groaned.
"Weasley! Would you shut your homophobic mouth up for a moment!" the Slytherin gritted dangerously. "We need to figure out how did Yaxley manage to get so close to the Ministry's business and your accusations are not helping the matter!"
They spend most of the morning exchanging ideas and theories about the Death Eater's plan and when it was time for lunch Weasley was smart to decide to leave them alone.
"I am going to need a lot of explanation from you, Harry," he said before stepping out into the fireplace. "And you, Malfoy… you are lucky there is a maniac on the loose after your head and not my sister!"
"That went swimmingly," Draco said sarcastically. "Alright, I need to be at Hogwarts for the holidays so… Potter, thank you for not leaving me to bleed, and good luck with your crisis."
The Gryffindor looked at him as though he announced that Christmas was canceled and he was solely responsible for it.
"Please, stay… There is a tree to trim… and all the ornaments are shattered. You are good at repairing stuff, aren't you?" Harry said quietly giving him a lopsided grin.
He remembered that year during the war he had spent trying to fix a Vanishing Cabinet, that ultimately led to Death Eaters in Hogwarts and Dumbledore being dead and that joke was as inappropriate as all this situation altogether.
"Block the floo, for Merlin's sake. I don't want a Weasley squad in here trying to murder me for corrupting their future son-in-law." the Slytherin rolled his eyes.
Harry spent a surprisingly pleasant day decorating the Grimmauld place for Christmas, Malfoy wasn't giving him any grief after his earlier outburst and his anxiety about dealing with his friends and Ginny was slowly ebbing away. The only thing that was not going anywhere is a tense sort of atmosphere between them, they accidentally touched hands too often and their glances lingered too long on each other.
Draco was charming the garland for the mantlepiece when all Harry's self-control went out of the window.
"You were right…" he started, earning a questioning look from the blonde. "I was in denial. I am probably as bent as you are… and I wouldn't mind… er, doing things with you."
"What sort of things?" Malfoy cocked an eyebrow at him.
"A lot of things…" Harry exhaled and then he was next to the Slytherin, his hands on his neck and in his hair, leaning up to meet his lips.
"Are you sure about this?" Draco murmured not yet answering his advances.
The dark-haired boy nodded and finally they were kissing. Malfoy maneuvered them away from the fireplace and they ended up tumbling down on the sofa in the heap of tangled limbs and hot mouths exploring each other. It felt so right, so certain for Harry, he had never kissed anyone like that before. All his apprehensions about it being wrong an unnatural were gone and replaced by the overwhelming desire.
He felt cold fingers on his ribs and a hot breath on his neck as Draco started undressing him. Harry reached out to take off the blonde's shirt and he let him this time, looking a bit shy but his hands never stopping their explorations.
"I am sorry... for hurting you then," the Gryffindor whispered and reached out to trace the biggest scar on Malfoy's chest with his trembling fingers.
"It was in a different time," he gave him a small smile taking his hand and kissing the knuckles.
Harry was pressed into the sofa's cushions, the Slytherin hovering over him, trailing kisses over his neck down his chest, over his abdomen and then he felt his jeans were unceremoniously pulled down to his ankles.
"Can I suck you off?" the blonde asked provocatively.
"Er… I've never…" Harry babbled.
"I know you're the blushing virgin here…" Malfoy teased, "just relax… you don't have to worry about anything..."
"Alright…" and then he really needed not to worry about anything, the only thing he was worried is not too come straight away like a bloody amateur that he was.
It felt incredible, not that Harry had anything to compare to but just the sight of Draco's head between his legs doing inexplicable things with his mouth was intoxicating. It didn't take him long to come and it happened a bit too sudden for him to warn the blonde.
Malfoy rose, a carnivorous smirk on his lips, and then he was kissing him again, shoving his tongue into Harry's mouth to let him know exactly how it tasted.
"Should I… return the favor?" the dark-haired lad suggested after they broke off.
"Are you feeling brave enough for it?" Draco asked.
"I dunno…"
"Then your hand is fine… make me come… Harry" the request sent shivers down his spine and he reached out to take Malfoy's cock into his fist and started moving.
The Slytherin was looking at him intensely, his face earnest, his pupils all-consuming dark surrounded by a faint ring of grey. He was eerily handsome, his pale skin flushed in the tones of pink, his always impeccable hair a mess, and his thin mouth open and panting. There wasn't a person at that moment Harry had wanted more. He wanted Draco to take him to consume him to show him exactly what he was missing and the feeling made his head spin.
The blonde came with the strangled sob, leaving Harry's hand and his stomach covered in semen.
"Still think you're straight, eh, Potter?" Malfoy asked breathlessly looking down at him.
"Not one goddamn bit," the Gryffindor smiled.
"Draco, sweetheart, what do you think of emerald robes?" his mother asked and a small man with pencil mustache brought a heap of silk in rich green embroidered with silver thread.
...Emerald… Potter's eyes when he orgasms are wet and bright and full of lust for him. His body is a map of scars and burns and remains of evil curses but he is perfect nevertheless...
"Or maybe a more traditional black? Mister Malfoy," the tailor suggested.
... Black... Black hair sticking out every which way… he likes holding it in his fingers when Potter gives him head… and then he smiles like he has just tamed a dragon… toothy disgustingly sweet Gryffindor grin Draco knows he doesn't deserve…
"I think burgundy is a bit too much for your complexion, don't you agree?" the woman takes the yard of dyed cashmere away from his shoulder.
...Burgundy… the drapes on the four-posted bed are dark red just like back at Hogwarts… it's Potter's bedroom… his bed is completely unmade… they breathe heavily after another round of fooling around… he doesn't let him go all the way but whatever they do still feels brilliant… I want to stay likes this forever, he exhales a secret over Draco's ear, and after that he is asleep…
"That's lovely, thank you very much," Narcissa smiled giving the tailor a small fortune in Galleons.
He had left like a coward in the night. He took Potter's ghastly jumper with a golden letter H on the front, Scourgified his shirt clean from blood, and got dressed. All the ride to his aunt's place in the Knight Bus he thought of Potter calling him Draco, he thought of how fiercely he clung to him, his fingers leaving bruises on pale skin, he thought that he wouldn't be able to forgive himself, that whenever he would have to do his marital duty he would think of Potter.
The reason why he left was simple - he was about to be engaged to Astoria Greengrass, a perfect match from a respectable and wealthy pureblood family. That was what his mother would want for him, and Draco had given her enough grief not to fulfill his filial duty.
As much as he wanted to kid himself and think that these few days he spent perverting Potter would last, he was delusional. And cruel, extremely cruel. Potter had almost let him fuck him, the idiot. He almost took it away from the Gryffindor. His precious innocence. Such things create magical bonds in the wizarding world, they connect people as much as those horny teenagers would want to think otherwise.
His aunt saw him cry the previous night. She watched him bury his nose in that ugly sweater and sob like he never did during the war. Andromeda told him a story of how her sister, Bellatrix, had wept before her betrothal to Rodolphus Lestrange.
"It is rare for a Black not to cry before getting a match for marriage," she said soothingly and patted his blonde head. "You have to be a man in this situation… or you can always do what I did."
Her smile made his insides churn with anxiety. Her name was scorched away from the family tree after she had run away with that muggle-born. How could his aunt suggest something like that?
Draco walked around the house like a ghost, not noticing the furniture, not listening when he was spoken to, not eating meals, not breathing. His only reprieve was watching his little cousin play. That child would always change his hair to blonde when he picked him up. Teddy would coo something unintelligible and make that sappy toothless smile all babies did at people they liked.
"Draco, dear the robes are finally here!" his mother exclaimed and he went to stand like a manikin before a short French assistant from Madame Malkin's.
"Harry you haven't even touched your pie," Molly Weasley complained, putting another slice on his plate.
It was the second day after Harry came to the Burrow after waking up to an empty bed and no sign of Malfoy anywhere. He suspected something like that might happen but he spent a couple of days fooling himself that whatever madness they'd engaged in would last a bit longer.
He received the invitation to the Greengrass Annual Gala the first day he returned to Weasleys. Harry Incendioed it as soon as he saw Malfoy's name next to the name of the Greengrass girl. The git was about to get married, of course, he would leave Harry, it's not like they were in love or anything. It was just a fling, a bit of fun.
The Gryffindor looked around the dining table at the somewhat solemn faces of his second family. There was no reason for him to upset them with the news that he was gay and would not be pursuing anything with Ginny just yet. He would say it eventually when all the eggnog was drunk and all the Christmas pastries were eaten and all the Celestina's songs were horribly sung along with. Then he would say it but now was not the time.
"I am sorry, Mrs. Weasley... I feel a bit under the weather today," Harry lied.
"You alright?" Hermione mouthed to him across the table.
He shook his head and looked at Ron who avoided his gaze altogether. He had ruined their friendship with his stupid crush on Malfoy and it was painful to acknowledge.
After the Christmas dinner the family gathered around the tree to sing some carols and talk and reminiscent of the happier years, when Fred was alive and Bill wasn't attacked by the werewolf and the war was just at the back of their minds.
"What happened, Harry? You can tell me anything," Hermione asked for the umpteenth time since he came here.
"I don't want to talk about it," Harry replied for the hundredth time.
So Ron had not told anyone anything, at least he was being a good friend at that moment.
When Celestina started her annual Christmas song extravaganza on the Wireless he knew it was his cue. He came up to Ginny and asked her to talk to him somewhere private.
"Of course, Harry," she looked excited for the wrong reason.
They went outside into the snowy garden. Homemade fairy lights were adorning the barren trees and evergreen bushes. A random gnome would stick its potato head out of the snow and grin at them with a mouth full of sharp teeth.
"Gin, I need to tell you something," he started to say, a knot in his throat. "I think that we cannot be together anymore…"
"What? Why? But we were… It was going fine," the girl denied, tears glistening in her eyes.
"I am gay… I should've never lead you on like that," Harry announced and he was relieved to see that at least those words were honest.
"It is because of Malfoy, isn't it?" Ginny asked. "He made you like that, he… that sleazy, disgusting serpent…"
"One cannot make a person gay, Gin… Don't be ridiculous! I knew that before, I just refused to acknowledge it and thought it would go away… It didn't and I am sorry that I've hurt you."
She slapped him. It stung and it was a nice reality check for Harry, he was still alive.
"Fuck you, Harry Potter!" Ginny spat and slammed the door behind her leaving him alone in the backyard.
He exhaled a cloud of steam in the cold air. At least that was done.
He noticed a familiar silvery shape in the darkness pouncing over heaps of snow, his new Patronus, an arctic fox. Only he hadn't cast it. The apparition stopped in front of him, beautiful fluffy tail wagging and clever eyes looking inquisitively and spoke with urgent Draco's voice.