"No... I don't like it. It hurts." Harry's eyes widened as he approached the front door of Spinner's End. He heard Draco's whining drawl through the open window.
He looked over his shoulder as if someone might be following, but he was alone. Part of him wanted to rush in and stop whatever it was that was hurting Draco, but the voice sounded more petulant than afraid, so he snuck in through the door to continue listening.
"If you'd just let me do it, it wouldn't hurt," Snape's voice purred. A flash of pale emerald light washed over the open drawing room door. The whoosh sounded like arrival by Floo. "Here, give me that, I'll just--"
A hard slap cut Snape off. "Don't touch me," Draco snapped, "I said you could watch, and that's it."
"Considering all I'm doing for you and your 'friends'..." Snape began.
Harry quickened his pace to the drawing room, peeking his head through the door. He had to stand on tiptoes to see what was going on. The knot that formed in his stomach at what he saw made him wish he hadn't looked.
Draco was in his maid's uniform and his white hat was tangled in his hair on the back of his head. His legs were sprawled out in front of Snape, who was hunched in front of him, smudged in soot from his recent travel. The firelight illuminated a rather ordinary feather duster between Draco's pale legs. Propped up on one elbow, Draco's hand wrapped around the dark handle and he rocked his wrist back and forth; the purple feathers waved as the duster moved. "They're not my friends," said Draco
Snape's attention was fixed between Draco's legs, on the handle of the feather duster sliding in and out of Draco. Harry's heart stopped and he grabbed onto the doorframe to keep from losing his balance. Too many emotions hit him at once and all he could feel was cold-- numb and cold.
"Stop it," Draco snapped. One pointed shoe was upon Snape's chest as the man reached for him again. "Stop trying to touch me." He ground the sharp heel into Snape's shoulder.
Hissing, Snape grabbed Draco's ankle hard enough to make Draco wail and bring his hands up to hit Snape's chest. "You stupid boy!"
The aggression was enough to spur Harry into action. The sickening thud of Draco's head smacking on the floor incensed him.
"He said stop," Harry growled as he stepped into the room, pulling his wand. Snape looked up at Harry in shock. Draco froze for a moment and then dropped his hands from Snape's chest and turned his face away in shame.
"Well, well, Potter to the rescue, I suppose you think--" Snape's monologue was cut off by Harry grabbing a handful of Floo powder from the tray next to the fire. He tossed it into the flames and shoved Snape in after it. He took great pleasure in the violent look on Snape's face as Harry ordered the Floo, "to Hell." He hoped it really would.
Wiping his hands free of the fine, silvery powder, Harry turned around and looked down at the black handle sticking out of Draco and then up into his flushed face. Draco refused to meet his gaze. "Why?" Harry asked.
Draco didn't even try to hide the indignity of his position, but left his legs open; his hands remained limp at his sides. "I can't..."
"Oh, clearly you can," Harry said, his exhaustion overriding his anger, "Just not with me."
Caught somewhere between admiration and defiance, Draco finally glared back at Harry. "Maybe I just don't like you."
That hurt. Harry swallowed hard. "Then why are you doing all of this?" The toe of Harry's shoe brushed against the feathers of the duster. "You tried to protect us from Snape."
Closing his eyes, Draco went limp against the floor again. "I'm not doing this for you; I'm doing this for my parents."
"Not even you believe that, do you?" Harry knew he was way out on a limb, but Draco looked obscene and frail, so vulnerable with his eyes closed and his head turned away. Kneeling next to him, Harry stroked his fingers along Draco's jaw, tilting his head up. He brushed his thumb over Draco's lips, casting his eyes over his expressionless face and closed eyes. Then he leaned in and pressed their lips together. His lips were silky-soft and pliant and they surrendered easily to Harry's coaxing. Soon their arms were entwined.
As Draco sat up, he whimpered in discomfort and Harry gently pried the feather duster out of him and tossed it aside. He gathered Draco up in his arms and carried him to bed.
--
Harry held Draco, pressing his face against his chest. He knew he must smell awful, but for once Draco wasn't snarking. In fact, he was lying rather still, allowing Harry to stroke his hair and the side of his face. As if he could read Harry's mind about how still he was, he shifted on his side, making the crinoline rustle.
"You should take this off," said Harry.
Draco's body stiffened, but he didn't say anything.
"I just meant that you should get into your pyjamas, this can't be comfortable," Harry whispered against his forehead.
"You should have a shower."
"I know." Harry didn't make any moves to get up, but just continued to stroke Draco's hair. "Did he... I mean... have you...?"
"No. That was the first time." Draco shifted closer; pressing his face more insistently at Harry's sternum as if the suggestion of something like that happening disquieted him.
Harry was flooded with relief and kissed the top of Draco's head. It didn't sound like he wanted to do it, but he wasn't sure if he should pry or not. He was at a loss for words, so he resettled his arms around Draco. "I'm glad."
Draco remained silent, but one of his arms circled around Harry and hung around him awkwardly.
"He's old enough to be your father."
"My father thinks I should... do what he wants me to. Snape's done a lot for me and my family."
"Is that why you did that?"
Draco nodded against his chest.
Tightening his arms protectively around Draco, Harry whispered, "What do you want to do?"
"Hide."
The answer was so simple and plaintive that it broke Harry's heart and he clung to Draco, trying not to think about what he caught him doing, or what Snape had seen, focusing instead on how scared Draco was. Of course Lucius Malfoy would want Draco to give Snape what he wanted. Lucius believed Snape was Voldemort's right hand man. He'd want that prestige and to get back in Voldemort's good graces.
"I can't breathe!" Draco wheezed.
"Sorry," whispered Harry as he loosened his grip. He let Draco sit up and watched him examining himself in the maid's uniform. Draco looked so morose as he smoothed down the wrinkled fabric over the abdomen. He felt a pang of guilt for fetishising Draco's humiliation. "You should put on your pyjamas."
"But you like this." Draco reached up into his hair and frowned when he discovered that his hat was missing.
"I like you... Draco." It was the first time he'd called him by his first name to his face. Harry wasn't sure how it would go over.
Draco blushed with pleasure and looked a little coy. Then his features steeled over again. "So you want to touch me now?" He looked just past Harry, over his shoulder.
It was Harry's turn to blush, which he did. He sat up and shook his head. "I want to have a shower, and I want you to change into your pyjamas."
Seeing Draco look to the nightstand where he knew Lolly was hidden, Harry suppressed his urge to smile and nodded instead. He passed Draco, taking his own pyjamas with him. As much as he wanted to touch Draco, he wasn't ready to touch him like that. Not yet, anyway. What he very much wanted to do was to go back to holding him. So he showered, washing the grime and old cobwebs he'd collected from Borgin and Burke's as quickly as he could.
When he returned to the room, he half expected Draco to be on the other side of the bed, feigning sleep. He was quite surprised to find him instead in the middle of the bed, clutching Lolly, and wide-awake. Harry beamed at him, pleased that he wasn't the only one who wanted to go back to how they'd been. He slipped under the covers and wiggled closer with his arms out, but his eyes stopped on the stuffed unicorn.
Draco followed Harry's gaze to Lolly and he tightened his arms around her, narrowing his eyes at Harry.
"I just... I thought you didn't want me to touch her." Harry felt awkward with his arm out, so he dropped it.
Draco looked down at Lolly and after a long consideration, he decided, "I think it's all right for tonight." That pronouncement made, he slithered forward against Harry, the squashy animal pressed between their chests.
Harry fought sleep for as long as he could just to watch the silken strands of Draco's hair sliding through his fingers, but he was exhausted after a long and exciting day. As he drifted off, he thought about Draco in the maid's uniform. He decided that as much as he enjoyed seeing Draco in it, he would do his best to see to it that he never had to wear it again.
--
There was a loud crash from the other room that sounded of glass breaking and furniture tearing, followed by loud shrieks in familiar voices. Harry had run down the hall, glasses askew on his face, before he even registered that he'd woken up alone. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he braced himself for Armageddon-- Death Eaters, Voldemort, dead friends and the final show down he wasn't ready for. So he was relieved to find Ron and Hermione crouched behind the broken kitchen table lobbing fistfuls of fry up at Draco.
"It's not my fault!" Draco wailed, in part due to the fact that his once proud, delicately scalloped beige robes were now forever ruined by chunks of sausage trailing grease.
"YOU MADE HARRY CRAZY, HE WOULD NEVER HAVE SAID THOSE THINGS TO GINNY IF-- Oh, hullo Harry," said Ron, hiding behind a sheepish Hermione, whose hands were coated in shiny yellow egg yolk.
Draco shrieked and ran behind Harry, setting his hands lightly on Harry's waist as he peeked out over his shoulder. Harry pressed his lips together to keep from giggling as he felt a chunk of egg fall from Draco's hair onto his shoulder. On the bright side, it didn't seem that Hermione and Ron were angry with him for running away from the Burrow. On the down side, breakfast was ruined.
"Tell him we're not… that I don't… well, at least that I'm not. We all know you are, but it's not me! I didn't do anything!" Draco's voice was distinctly hysterical, and if his words weren't bordering on being insulting, Harry probably would've laughed out loud.
"I SAW YOU TWO WRAPPED AROUND EACH OTHER LAST NIGHT!" Ron looked down at the bowls for something else to throw, but remembered that Harry was in the line of fire and shoved his hands in his pockets.
The shouted revelation caused Harry to flush and he felt Draco hide his face against the back of his shoulder. The soft tendrils of hair tickled the back of his neck, causing goosebumps. "Look, Ron, I've told you before that I had no interest in Ginny. It's not Malfoy's fault."
"Harry, she's just," Hermione started. She stopped when Harry's hands went up, fingers splayed in an entreaty to not go on.
"I know. I know. 'She just wants to be with me-- dating someone else worked the last time.' I just don't want to be with her. Look, I broke up with her to protect her and she treated it like a game. It's not a game. It's life and death. I spent the summer not liking her. I do like Malfoy however, and we're…"
A small voice squawked from behind Harry. "I'm not gay!"
The entire room groaned. Even Pettigrew, who had been sitting silently in the corner, managed to roll his eyes against Draco's Imperius.
"What? I'm not! I like girls!"
"I walked in on you with a feather duster in your…" Harry protested, whirling around. Ron and Hermione got up from behind the table to flank Harry and glare at Draco.
"Shh!"
"A feather duster--"
"In his--"
"That was so my parents wouldn't be hurt!" Draco explained as if that would make sense. Seeing the baffled expressions on Hermione and Ron's faces, he exhaled. "Snape wanted me to." Harry grabbed Draco, pulling him close in reactionary protectiveness. Draco just glowered at Ron and Hermione like a defiantly wet cat. "It doesn't mean I'm gay!"
Hermione sighed. "No, that doesn't make you gay if you were coerced, but you were… snuggled up with Harry…"
"The room gets cold!" Draco protested.
Ron stifled a laugh as Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "Draco, I'm going to become offended very soon."
The owl tapping at the window interrupted whatever Draco was about to say, giving him the easy out of wriggling past Harry. Hermione removed the hex from the drawing room door and Draco pranced inside as if he weren't covered in breakfast. He threw open the window and grabbed for the scroll. The owl contentedly nipped at bits of food on Draco's robe as he unfurled his correspondence.
Harry stepped into the room first, although he didn't want to push this issue, at least not when he saw the horrified look on Draco's face. It seemed impossible for Draco to grow any paler than he naturally was, but somehow, he'd managed it. Draco looked up at him and thrust the note into Harry's hand.
Narcissa explained to Draco that he was to be moved somewhere else, somewhere with Snape. The note went on to detail how Snape didn't believe Spinner's End to be safe for Draco any longer. He could only be guaranteed protection if he stayed at Snape's side. Reading between the lines, even Narcissa appeared to be suspicious of Snape's motives, but her message fell short of telling Draco to run. The one thing Harry couldn't tell from the letter was whether Narcissa was all right with what her son would have to do. The words made it sound like she was struggling to remain calm, but the tone sounded angry and helpless. He wondered what she'd say if she knew Draco had options.
"Greasy bugger's trying to get Malfoy away from you?" Ron asked Harry quietly as Draco blushed and stared glumly out of the window.
Hermione sat beside Draco, ignoring the disdainful look she received in response. She tried to comfort him by striking up a conversation. Draco rolled his eyes in annoyance but answered anyway. After trading a few comments, he became more interested in their exchange and sat up. The owl, deciding that he was quite full of fry up, flew off again with no return message.
Harry shook his head as he tried to follow their conversation. "I always thought that the Theory of Perlaxas Maganenum negated the Law of Nemesio," Hermione said.
Draco leaned closer, becoming more engrossed in into the conversation. "Of course you'd think that, but that's because you can't get past the Quakalona curves. If you were to reread that chapter…"
Harry looked at Ron who looked back at him, his face mirroring his confusion. At least Draco was talking. Ron turned to mend the furniture and clean the room, and then looked at Harry, who was eyeing Pettigrew curiously. "We can't just let him leave with Snape. Not if that pervert intends to--"
"I agree. I'm just not sure how we can keep him here without compromising the safety of his parents," Harry said, relieved that Ron felt some mercy towards Draco.
"Do you think he knew this was coming?"
Pondering the question, Harry directed the dishes to the kitchen, where they cleaned and shelved themselves. "I don't think he had much of a choice up until now."
"Good on him for cuddling up to you," Ron said pointedly.
Harry's stomach knotted up. Was he forcing himself on Draco like Snape had? He wondered about Draco's denial. They'd all laughed at it, but what if Draco really wasn't gay? Worse yet, what if Draco had cuddled up to him for protection? He felt the blood drain from his face. "I-- I guess it is… convenient."
Ron appeared remorseful for his harsh conclusion, "You really like him."
It felt good to recognize and finally admit it, in spite of Draco's denial. "I really do."
Ron nodded and grinned sympathetically, "I hope he likes you back."
"I hope so too." Harry sighed and looked at his blue-grey trainers.
--
Draco seemed mollified by the intellectual conversation with Hermione, but soon retired to wash the remnants of breakfast off. He hadn't returned to face them, and no one seemed to know enough of what to say to try and bring him back out. So Ron and Harry had a conversation about Quidditch, while Hermione found a book about the history of local geography and attempted to research other possible Horcrux locations. As she had been staring at the same page for the past two hours, Harry figured she hadn't made much progress.
Lunch had come and gone with nary a peep from the bedroom. They'd settled on sandwiches and debated bringing one in to Draco. Harry had gone so far as to make one and stood in front of the door, but remembering the anguished look on Draco's face after he'd read his mother's letter, decided to give him till dinner and retreated.
Harry sat for much of the afternoon rereading Narcissa's missive, searching for any possible way that she would be coding a message telling Draco to save himself, but he could not glean anything of the sort. She sounded remorseful, even resentful, but she hadn't warned Draco off Snape.
Ron, Hermione and Harry finished their dinner in stilted silence. "If you want to… you could sleep on the floor in our room," Hermione offered, much to Ron's dismay.
"No, this is ridiculous. He needs to eat." Harry summoned a plate and portioned out some spaghetti, which hadn't been terribly good, but at least it hadn't been roast meat again. Hermione gave Harry a wry smile and Ron nodded. "I might be right back." He stood up and straightened his shoulders and headed to their room.
Knocking produced nothing, so Harry opened the door. The room was lit with three sputtering candles. A book was left face-down on the bed. Draco was nowhere in sight. Harry stepped inside, his heart beating frantically. All at once, Harry felt his arm pulled and he was yanked forward. The door slammed shut behind him and he was thrown against it. His head made contact with the wood and he felt headachy and dizzied.
Eyes wide, Harry couldn't seem to bring into focus the person in front of him, who was plundering his mouth too fast and too hard. It wasn't until he could smell the citrus and felt the tendrils of Draco's hair against his face that he started to relax. A little. The kiss was all teeth and tongue and awkward press of noses. Whereas their first kiss had been confused and soft; this was rushed, desperate and had an edge of resentment. Harry tried to regain control, but he was foolishly trying to keep the spaghetti on the plate. He dropped it when Draco's hand pressed over the front of his trousers, fondling him. "Draco, stop!"
Draco didn't respond to Harry's plea. He leaned against Harry's hands as Harry pushed him away. He didn't speak, but Draco's bloodshot and swollen eyes said it all.
Breathless, Harry scrambled for something to say. "I thought you weren't gay." He regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth.
His eyes glistening, Draco let out a choked sob and croaked, "I don't know… I don't know what I am. I'm not like you. I can't… I can't just decide these things on a whim."
Releasing Draco's shoulders, Harry wrapped his arms around him. "Don't cry, Draco," he whispered.
"I'm not crying," Draco sobbed. Harry stroked his hair gently and patted his back. "I don't cry. I'm just… sensitive."
Harry kissed his temple and nodded. He wasn't going to argue, this wasn't the time. "I know, I know." It hurt so much to see Draco like this, to feel his slender body pressing against him, tense with emotion. He clung tighter.
"Don't make me go with him. I don't want to go, please don't make me…." Draco pled. "I know he has information that… that you can't get otherwise but… but I'll make it worth your while, I swear."
Harry wasn't sure what heartbreak really felt like up until that moment, but now he was hot with it. He was short of breath and shocked into keeping his face as neutral as he could, even though no one could see it. He squeezed Draco tighter, wishing he'd never said that; wishing that he could still believe that Draco would want anything from him other than to be protected, but wishing most of all, that he could cry. You already make it worth my while. "You don't have to go with him, Draco," he managed.
Draco started to force another harsh kiss on him and Harry pushed hard enough that Draco fell back a few steps. "You want me," Draco panted, looking baffled. "I've seen how you look at me."
Harry could only stare at Draco, feeling anger and pity warring. He mouthed a few words, but he could add voice to nothing. He felt incredibly stupid for having read Draco's gestures wrong all this time. Clearly, he had been trying to enamor Harry simply to have a failsafe. The fishnets, the clingy jeans, and everything else, had all been carefully chosen to cultivate his attraction. How could he have been so stupid? "I thought you wanted me, too."
Draco looked ready to say something, but instead blushed brilliantly and looked away. He took a few steps backwards and then sat on the bed. He brought his hands up to undo his pyjamas, starting at the collar.
Harry ignored him, instead turning his attention to repairing the dinner and floating it onto Draco's lap.
Draco stared at the plate curiously for a moment and then peered at Harry. "What's this?"
"Dinner, Draco. You need to eat." Harry headed towards the bathroom after pulling his pyjamas from the dresser.
"But what about…" Draco asked, tugging at his robe.
"Eat up, tomorrow we're leaving." With that, Harry shut the door to the loo and stared in the mirror. Only then could he let himself cry.
The next morning, Draco left the door to the bathroom open while he showered. Harry disregarded it and went to breakfast.
--
"But if I vanish, then my mum will be left out in the cold to fend for herself against the Dark Lord! She'll be slaughtered!"
Harry rubbed at his temples. "Draco, we have very few options here. If we stay here, then you're probably going to have to do something unpleasant eventually. I'm sorry that you're in this position but it's really not my fault, so I'd appreciate it if you'd stop yelling at me. I am trying to help. We all are."
Hermione looked at Harry in shock-- even Ron seemed a bit surprised with Harry's coldness.
Draco appeared too hysterical to notice. "I can't just leave her to die! As little as I want to do that with him-- I can't just…"
"Perhaps we can move her with us," Hermione offered.
"She won't, she won't come… she'll call me a traitor!" Draco paced, shoving his sleeves up. They fell back down immediately.
Harry ignored the nervous fidgeting and stolen glances. "Well maybe you should just do it then," he snapped.
"Harry!" Hermione gasped.
"Maybe I will!" Draco shot back.
Ron looked between them both, finally settling on Harry. "Mate…"
"Then you can report to us how being gay is working out for you!" Harry stood at the table, glowering.
Draco withered under the glare at first, but then whirled around and stormed back to his room, slamming the door behind him.
--
"You can't have him." Harry sat in front of the fire, glaring at Snape. He'd wondered how long it would take before he of the hooked nose and annoying demeanor would show up to claim Draco and gloat about it. He was surprised Snape had waited even a day.
"I suppose Draco cannot speak for himself?" Snape stared at the three of them with derision. "I'm certain he will not appreciate your negotiating on his behalf with his mother hanging in the balance."
Harry cleared his throat. "I'm certain that Lord Voldemort wouldn't appreciate your handing us a Horcrux. Nor would he be thrilled that you're helping us." He felt Hermione and Ron leaning forward, ready to defend. They'd all agreed that they could finish Voldemort without Snape.
Flinching at the way Harry invoked Voldemort's name, Snape said, "You're a very imprudent boy. Don't martyr yourself for Malfoy. He'll stab you in the back the moment you become inconvenient." Snape perked a brow as he folded his arms, his words a fresh challenge.
Harry shifted and regretted it, as he watched the sickly grin spread over Snape's face. "That's my choice to make, isn't it?"
"Very well, be an irrational Gryffindor. It is not my concern. The boy can stay. I'll inform his mother of their death sentence."
"We're moving tomorrow. To Grimmauld Place. You may contact us there by Floo. With Dumbledore's i murder /i , the Fidelius has been lifted, but I'll have it warded."
Snape was taken aback. His eyes widened in spite of his obvious attempt to remain neutral. "Taking Draco from this house is guaranteeing his mother's demise."
"If Narcissa dies, then I'll be forced to explain to Voldemort how you've been helping us." Harry leaned closer to Snape, close enough to smell his rank breath. "So, I suggest you stop wasting time and figure out a way to explain it to Voldemort. We're leaving tomorrow." Harry shot a stream of water at the flames from his wand to end the call abruptly. He traded glances with Ron and Hermione, who had paled but returned his nod.
--
"I don't understand why you're doing all of this for him while being so cold, Harry," Hermione said over dinner. She'd taken Draco food, only to find the previous meals untouched and his trunk open and unpacked.
"I'm doing it because someone needs to." Harry stared at his food. He felt so miserable he could barely function, but he wasn't about to let Draco or his friends see this weakness. Soon day would pass completely into night and he'd have to face Draco again. He wasn't sure he could.
"I thought you liked him." Ron finished the curry and leaned in to kiss Hermione on the cheek in thanks for a good meal.
Harry shrugged. "I do-- did." He didn't want to explain. It was still too fresh and humiliating. How did you explain just how difficult relationships could be to friends who appeared to have everything in their relationship figured out?
"You know Harry; you can't just save someone halfway. You have to do it completely, or not at all. You shouldn't be doing it just because you like him, either. You should do it because you want to help him." Hermione narrowed her eyes at Harry, but relented as Ron tugged at her shoulder.
"That's-- I am helping him. That's what I'm trying to do. Grimmauld Place will be better, you'll see." Even Harry didn't look sure of this, but he'd chosen this course of action and he was going to stick to it.
"Whatever, mate." Ron squeezed Hermione's shoulder. "We're going to bed."
Hermione appeared a bit annoyed with Harry, but stood to follow Ron's lead. It was obvious she wanted to say something, but Ron nudged her. "Goodnight, Harry."
He nodded. "Goodnight."
--
Harry sat at the table for a few minutes before clearing the dishes away. He hand washed them, trying to keep his mind blank. He'd been putting off facing Draco all day long, but it was getting late, and if they were to move the next day. He needed to get some rest. After putting the dishes back into the cupboards, he headed to the room.
Lying at the edge of the bed was Draco, curled around Lolly in a fetal position. There was only a single candle left lit for Harry. Draco's trunk was open and half-packed-- an obvious nod to Harry's decision; but not too agreeable. That was fine. They could finish the packing in the morning before they left. Harry changed into his pyjamas and made no move to rouse Draco to talk. In the morning, Harry found the door to the loo to be shut again.
He did not try it to see if it was locked.