A/N- *Andia laughs nervously* Okay okay, I know my last chapter made no sense at all and was really really bad *blush*. I'll go back and fix it later. And there are some things in this chapter which should clear those up. So…I hope you like it…
Draco had gone to bed in his jeans, merely because he didn't fancy the idea of stripping down to his boxers in front of Harry-fucking-Potter. But he was beginning to realize that the people who said jeans were uncomfortable to sleep in had a good point. Harry had changed into a loose pair of pajama pants- which weren't in the best quality, but by the looks of it none of Harry's clothes were- in the bathroom. And it caused Draco to partially admit that Potter was a bit brighter than he was at some things.
Not like he'd bloody admit it out loud.
So as soon as he heard the gentle snore from the bed next to his, he snuck into the bathroom to change. He'd have to get up before Harry, just so the brunette wouldn't notice and comment on it. He really didn't think he could handle any smart remarks from him, especially at this time of the year.
But even now, comfortable and exhausted, his mind would not let him sleep. He began to notice things now that his eyes were adjusted to the dark, and he could see almost every detail of the room around him. He did not want to remain awake- instead he wanted to curl up in a tiny ball of warmth, and pretend things were the way they used to be when he was back in school. But the sanctuaries of his school days were long gone.
Since a young age Draco knew his father expected him to honor the Malfoy name and receive the Dark Mark when he was ready. And he prided himself in it, prided himself in thinking that one day he and his father would stand smugly next to the ruler of the world. He believed it with his very heart and though he really didn't care about muggles or mudbloods he pretended all the same. He lived his life on the top of the world- rich, powerful, and with a bright future ahead of him.
But when Potter battled Voldemort for the last time and defeated him, everything changed.
The Death eaters were thrown into chaos as their master fell. Some made deals with the Ministry of Magic to exchange names for protection. Some claimed to be under the influence of the Imperius curse, or were forced to do things because Voldemort had their loved ones. Others were hunted down one by one and sent to Azkaban. Some committed suicide rather than be caught.
He did not want to remember it, but it surfaced each night to torture him. The image of his mother, his beautiful and caring mother, lying limp across the pine floors of the study room. He saw his father crazed beyond help bending over her and then reaching for Draco with his wand out. He was ranting, saying how he would not let the Malfoys end up as fugitives. And then Draco ran, fleeing for his life.
When he returned to the manor, soaked from head to toe in rain, he found his dead father cradling his mother, with his wand a few feet away. The Death Eater had performed the Killing curse upon his wife and upon himself. Leaving Draco alone in the giant manor to care for himself after the Ministry took away the bodies.
And who should he find on this seventh year anniversary but Harry Potter. The Savior of the World who had disappeared without finishing his seventh year after the battle. As soon as he saw Harry performing in that tiny little bar stage, he knew Destiny had set its trap on him. If he returned to the Wizard world without Potter, someone would find out and he would no longer be trusted after spending so many years fighting off the condemning of being a suspected dark wizard. He knew he would have to bring Potter back with him and keep him safe until he could deliver him to his superior.
He did not like this at all. It caused a cold feeling in the depth of his stomach, as though he knew something would go wrong. It always did. And yet, his memories strayed for once from his dead parents to something else. An image of Harry on that tiny stage, and the way he glimmered as though lit from within.
Not a good thought. Not a good thought. Damn it, why wouldn't it go away?!
He heard it, a low sound from his right. Whimpering, small and silent cries. He turned over onto his side, silver eyes moving over the pale back of his foe. Harry was shaking, almost violently, but his whimpers were those of a lost child. He didn't have to see to know that he was crying, but he wondered it Harry was awake. The sobs were growing louder, but never went beyond a small murmur.
Draco sigh, knowing that his …., whatever was left of it, would not let him ignore this. He rolled over to the edge of the bed and slowly stood, wobbling slightly as the blood rushed between his legs and head. He swayed his way over to Harry's bed, and stood there debating for a moment. He remembered the comment about Harry not getting much sleep and decided it wouldn't be a good thing to wake him now.
With another sigh of defeat, he gently slid beneath the covers of Harry's bed, and slid his arms around Harry's waist. Almost instantly the moans died down, but Draco spooned the boy against him anyway. His back was warm against his chest, almost feverish and slipper with sweat, but it wasn't too unpleasant. He settled his head upon Harry's shoulder softly, and just prayed that the boy was indeed asleep. And as his fingers swept across Harry's chest by accident, there was a small shiver that worked its way from his neck to the back of his spine.
Please, please let him wake up before Harry….
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When Harry awoke, there was a screaming in the back of his mind that something was not quite right. He was lying on rough sheets, but they were much nicer than the ones he had at home. His body was surrounded by that morning warm which made one cling to the bed even though a glorious day awaited them. But there was something else. He was pressed to something, something that was usually not in his bed…
His body tensed, and he found his eyes open to look upon the broad surface of an almost white chest. This was not good, this was so not good. Had he gotten drunk last night? He never got drunk…and he never slept with anyone. Period. End of Sentence. His mind raced, trying to remember what he had done when it came to him- Draco Malfoy, the Red Heel, the Leaky Cauldron.
He allowed his eyes to travel upwards, and watched Draco as though his sleeping face would tell him something. Well…he did look really good asleep. His face wasn't nearly as harsh, nor did he have that constantly exhausted look to him. The sunlight that was streaming through the windows made his hair look more golden than silver and his skin looked even more like carved ivory. Though thousands of questions ran through his head to guess why Draco was lying next to him, but he was content looking up at that face.
Which led him to another discovery. Both boys' lower regions were pressed tightly together, and though there was nothing embarrassing at the moment there was about to be.
'Oh shit, oh shit…' A look of panic and a blush took over Harry's face faster then he could comprehend what that meant. He was about to squirm his way out of Draco's arms, but he realized it would wake the blond up. Not good. Not good. His eyes darted around, looking for some sort of escape, but he knew there was none. He'd have to wake the blond up, and if his hormones decided to wake up as well…Why did he have to be found by the Slytherin-bloody-sex-god?! Okay, don't repeat that. Thinking of sex is not a good idea right now.
Closing his eyes tightly, Harry resorted to his last idea. 'Think unsexy thoughts, unsexy thoughts. Uh…Ron and Hermione making out! Not strong enough. Voldemort in a thong…ew, now I'm going to be sick…' But, problem almost solved, he decided he might want to try falling asleep again. A nightmare would definitely take away the problem, right?
A pair of silver eyes opened slowly, clouded by sleep, and there was a lazy grin on their owner's face. He looked down upon Harry, watching the blush and how tightly the boy was closing his eyes, and soon realized why. If anything his grin grew wider. Pretending he was still asleep, he wrapped his legs firmly around Harry's and brought certain sections of their anatomy closer. His amusement grew at the rapidly reddening blush and the small whimper that it derived.
'Ah, I might have to do this more often.' He thought to himself, closing his eyes once again. Unconsciously wrapping his arms around Harry, he surrendered to the morning warmth and fell back to sleep.
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When Harry awoke next, a strong scent of fresh breakfast almost instantly jolted his dazed mind almost instantly to full alert. He sat up, allowing a breeze of cold air to hit his chest, a looked around. There was breakfast set for two on the small table, but someone had already eaten their share. Draco was nowhere in sight, but the trunk at the foot of his bed was open and he could hear the sound of a shower running. The curtains were still closed, but Harry could hear the noise of morning shoppers down in Diagon alley along with the mild chatter from downstairs which leaked through the floor.
"Sorry I didn't wait for you." Harry glanced up, and instantly glanced down again. Draco was standing at the door to the bathroom, steam flowing out around him in thick clouds, in nothing but those sort-of-fluffy towels all inns and hotels gave you. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and because the towel was so small it only covered certain areas- leaving Draco's chest and legs bare for the world to see.
'Not again…'
Draco smirked as he saw the blush once again take over Harry's face. It was amusing in a way to see his rival like that. Well, Harry wasn't really a rival anymore. They hadn't seen each other in seven years- it was sort of hard to get back in the routine of bothering each other after so long. He began to notice that Harry didn't seem to want to fight either. And if the blush said anything, Harry was thinking of other things besides fighting.
The smirk grew wider, and Draco decided to have a little fun with this. Walking over to his trunk, he rummaged through it until he could find the clothes he planned to wear for today. Then, turning his back to Harry and the rest of the room, he let the towel drop. He didn't need to look over his shoulder to know Harry was staring at him, and Draco began his show. He was half way into his leather pants when he heard Harry scrambling to get to the bathroom.
"Don't you want breakfast?" He called, fastening the last of the bone buttons of his white cotton shirt. He could here a shaky reply that Harry would get it later. He shrugged, walking over and grabbing a few grapes from the table and took a seat on the bed. They had a lot to do today…
Harry leaned back against the cool tile of the shower as the coldest water he could get poured down on him. It wasn't helping that the other boy was his childhood rival, but why did it have to be Draco of all people to find him? And why the heck was Draco flirting with him. It was almost if…Harry shook his head. Of course not, that couldn't be it, no matter how much he wished.
He grabbed his clothes when he was finished, ignoring Draco's leers, and changed in the bathroom. He had to admit that his black pants and plain button up blue shirt weren't as posh as Draco's, but it was one of his performing outfits so it didn't look as ragged as everything else he owned. He picked up Draco's pajama bottoms from the bathroom, since the blond had spent so much time torturing him that he had left them there. The same scent of vanilla and mint swarmed over his senses along with something else- cigarette smoke. He realized that he had seen Draco smoke the night before.
'Wizards really don't have to worry about things like cancer, do they?' He walked out of the bathroom to find Draco stretched out over his bed. For a moment Harry thought he was asleep, but when he set the pants on Draco's trunk those silver eyes flew open and looked at him.
"Thanks."
"Sure."
"You better eat. We've got a bit to do today."
As Harry sipped at a bit of pumpkin juice, and ate his breakfast, he couldn't help but think of how fast this had happened. Yesterday morning he had woken up in his tiny three room apartment on the ratty old couch that the last tenant had left. He had showered in cold water merely because there was no hot water. The only heat in the entire house came from the stove in the tiny kitchen, and he always feared it might set fire to something in the night.
He had spent the morning and afternoon working as a waiter at a normal café, earning minimum wage at best, and had to deal with the constant dirty remarks from the customers in order to get his tips. He spent half of his evenings working at the Red Heel behind the bar, and then the other half performing- sometimes at clubs, but most of the time at the Red Heel. He'd eat the few bits of food in his tiny little kitchen, and curl up on his couch alone in his apartment, waiting for the next day.
And all of a sudden he was face to face with Draco Malfoy, and dragged back to the Wizarding world. It was sad to think he woke up in a nicer place than his apartment, ate more food than he had eaten in a week, and had spent the night without nightmares. He wasn't really sure if he was lucky or not. Sooner or later he'd have to reveal himself to the world, only to be swarmed with questions and praise. Praise he didn't want. It would be nice to see Ron and Hermione again, but would they ever forgive him for leaving?
Would anyone forgive him?
"Are you done?"
"Yeah."
"Grab the cloak; we've got to check out."
Harry shrunk his trunk again and stuck it into his pocket with his wand. He pulled the cloak over himself again, moving up the hood once more. Draco had shrunken his own trunk, setting it in the pocket of his trench coat, which he draped over one shoulder. Harry didn't know what to think of Malfoy. They had once been worst rivals- they had once done anything to cause misery to one another. But now…now he was just Harry, and Draco was just Draco. They didn't have it in them to fight. So instead, Draco took to teasing him.
He had to wonder…
A/N- I used to offer choices on what the next chapter was going to be like, but now that I actually have a plot in mind (imagine that!)… Sorry. And I hope you liked the smut. Consider it my gift for the crummy chapter before this.