Disclaimeroon: I own nothing…except this computer which let me type this up :D
Warning: Shower Scene, occasional curse here and there, grammar screwups being that I don't have a beta…yet. Slash. but that's just how the story goes…:D Mature for the fact there is a shower scene and there is slight swearing. Hooray.
Also I've got a feeling that this might be deleted because I do alot of script writing in this story. But that's just how the character is...so if it isn't deleted I'll be very happy ha ha. If it is, I'll fix it so it can be read otherwise. But it will take a chunk out of the story.
Summary: A lot of this story really just doesn't make sense. That's how I write, that's how I like to write, whether you like how I write or not is your decision entirely. Pretty much, Draco is in Azkaban…and that's it
ONE SHOT! Yes, this is a ONE shot, meaning ONE chapter. If you didn't get that..ONE!
Thanks: To British people everywhere, without you there would be no sort of life for me. JKR for writing this marvelous story which we can all steal and warp to our own little minds. To my friends, who have been able to restrain themselves while I rant about my ship. And of course, to you, for reading through all this!
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Azkaban Aches
I've been sitting here for an entire hour in this dingy, old, and pathetic excuse for a room. Of course, I suppose there is reason to me being here. After all I am a death eater right?
Wrong.
You see, even though I'm Draco Malfoy, son of a Death-eater and all that rot, why does that automatically make me a death eater? I'll tell you, because there is one thing that the Wizarding World, and well the world in general want, and that is a person who will pay the debt for a crime, innocent or not. I just happen to be innocent.
Anyhow, this little scrawny man with a name much like Mousel or something stupid like that is interrogating me. This has been going on for this past hour along with this whole past week, the beginning of which was when I was abducted from my home under charges of being a death eater or something to that nature. Whatever, I didn't do it and that's what's kept me sane, or close to it anyway, for the past week while the damn dementors try to suck the living soul out of me…sometimes literally.
So yes, he interrogates me, and this one is exceptionally boring. The least they could do is ask different questions! Since I've practically memorized the answers it's time to make it enjoyable for the time being. Hmm…well, I could make a script of it. I've had an interest in screenwriting since the death of The Dark Lord, having taken part in living in the Muggle world. Why would a Malfoy live there? Well, when Snape and I were in hiding, we had to find somewhere that old Voldie wouldn't even consider taking foot in, and that was a Muggle town. After living there for three or more years, I grew used to it and at the triumph for the light at the downfall of the Dark Lord, I was free to go about the town to get some things other than food, like a television which had fancied me since we were in a small apartment, much less dinghy than this place I assure you, that was right across the street from a TV shop.
Now to scripting time. Maybe I could remember some of this later and write it on my wall. I'm sure that the rat in the corner won't be living any time soon.
Mouse Man (that's what this interrogator shall be named): A-a-a-and M-m-mister Malffffoy. (Yes keep going lad) (He clears his throat before continuing) were you under the imper-r-rious curse?
Me: I was not under the imperious curse.
Mouse Man: (intrigued) so you admit your c-c-crimes?
Me: No, I admit that I was not under the imperious curse, you twot. That in no circumstances means that I was a Death Eater.
(At this point, mister mouse leaves the room and is replaced by a much bigger, and rather grotesque looking man which we will name Fat Patsy)
Fat Patsy: Are you a death eater? (Oh my, here we go again with repeating questions)
Me: No
Fat Patsy: Do you have any connections to your father?
Me: No
Fat Patsy: How about your mother?
Me: No
Fat Patsy: Why do you not have contact?
Me: My father, because I am in prison and as far as I know he's somewhere in Africa, and my mother is dead.
Fat Patsy: Malfoy, did you kill her?
Me: (silent)
Fat Patsy: Malfoy answer the question.
Me: I'm sorry, all I heard was a bunch of incoherent gibberish from a stupid, fat man who has the gall to think I would murder my own mother! Listen (this is where I take my stand, though it's kind of diminished in dramatics being that I almost trip on my chains) you've put me under veritiserum an unsafe amount of times to see if I have anything of which would provide evidence to you. I have told you that I was at the death of Dumbledore and that I did NOT kill him, and you also have Snape to account for that. I was simply there to make the dark lord pleased with myself so I could get closer and perhaps kill him myself. A stupid thing to do, perhaps, but none the less my intent. I know that my blood goes against me, but wasn't this what the war was about? Are we now to be fighting the opposite way that you try eliminating the purebloods, thinking we are nothing but power filled inbreeds? WELL I'M SICK OF IT! (Sits down)
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After that I was hauled back into my cell and I heard the lock click. Well what had I expected really? To be set free this time? I made that speech practically every time I had been interrogated, and it always ended up the same. I was thrown in my cell, my meal put in a large dish like a dog, which I would NOT eat, and left to the silence of my hell, occasionally greeted by memories of death, watching death, bringing almost death, wishing for death. I thought that the theme was getting rather old but I had no choice in the matter. For now, I would just have to sleep and hope that maybe I would get a dreamless sleep, for any sort of happiness could not be found, even in my unconscious other than one thing.
I was innocent.
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This has been going on for god knows how long. Last I checked it was two weeks and I never ate from that filthy bowl. That would be my last straw before I would be sent into my world of madness, before the dementor's kiss would be all that could give me peace. I am sad to admit that I'm not far from that decision.
Hunger aches through me like a constant nagging in my gut. It begs me for food but I cannot give it. I had the misfortune one of the past days for it to rain outside and the rain seeped into my cell bars and unto my floor. Though I did get some much needed water from the buckets of rain which were falling down on my open hands, I turned back to see a puddle in my room. I looked into it and almost threw up in horror at what I saw. I was a wreck.
My skin was loose upon my frame, which once held a feminine yet strong body. My skin was hardly there and even as I looked down at myself, I could see that my veins were hardly visible anymore, so thinned from the cold as I would feel the blood pumping hard through my body. My feet had fecal matter and whatever else was on the floor when I had come here. There were bags under my eyes, and my eyes which were usually filled with boredom or contempt were filled with nothing but loneliness. I took a pile of hay from my relieving area and threw it on top of the puddle, covering it from my decaying form. That night, for the first time, it really hit me. They weren't going to let me go, I was going to die here. And would anyone care? No…no one cares for the death eater's son.
Well now it is about…I would give or take 3 days later. I'm sure I don't look much different than before, though the hunger is beginning to numb. This is mostly because I try to sleep whenever there is a chance so there isn't a way I could see myself reflected anywhere, though I would always see those empty eyes and I still can't believe those were my own, even in my dreams.
Wait, what's this? There's something at my cell door. I hide in the corner with the rat, which was still dead and smelling a combination of rotting, mold, and rat. However, I smelled no better so I hid with his company. The door opened and a man came in. He manhandled me out the door and I heard my cell slam shut. Once I hear it, it's like the director is calling "Action" in my mind. I must keep playing games otherwise I will go over the edge.
Guard: (I am far too tired for nicknames) Merlin, man, you smell to high heavens.
Me: (silence is my usual response nowadays)
Guard: You have a very special visitor you know, you should consider yourself lucky.
As he takes me to the room to which I had been accustomed, I would have laughed. Me? Lucky? Now isn't that a funny thought. When the door was opened, there was somebody that I sure hadn't expected seeing.
Harry Potter is sitting in the seat in front of me, a look of sympathy on his face. Dear. Lord.
I almost have the gall to just turn around and leave, but then I remember that there was a rather large guard behind me, and in my current state I'm not exactly fit to fight one such as him, without my wand especially.
Sitting down, the guard turns and leaves us in a room with no windows, and only one door. Why do I take this to account? Simple. I have to talk to the arse. However, I don't know what is in store for me. I take this time to make an improvisational script on this one, for it may prove interesting.
Pothead: Gods, Malfoy, what have they done to you?
Me: (silence)
No Brained: (surprised) not even a comeback? You must be beyond help.
Me: What do you want?
That came out a little more pathetic than I had hoped. You see, I wanted a sort of 'I don't need you get out of my way dork' response to spew from my lips, instead I came up with a sort of 'I'm going to die, leave me alone' sound. Not quite the same, as you can well imagine.
Potter looked at my eyes a brief moment before looking back at the table. And took a deep breath. Why did everyone talk to the table when they wanted to talk to me? Maybe I…actually I can't think of why they do that.
"I'm bailing you out, Malfoy," he said finally, as if it were like he was telling me that Chudley Cannons had won again. Being that he didn't say it quite clear enough, sorry that's sarcasm, I decided to ignore it, and wait for what he was really here for.
After a good ten second silence I asked what the real reason he was there for was.
Dim wit: I'm bailing you out, I said that, and it's the reason whether you like it or not.
Me: Why?
Four Eyes: (takes in a sigh) because I know you are innocent Draco.
Well I surely hadn't expected that, but what could I say? "No, you can't take me out of here? The cuisine here is just marvelous?" So I stayed in silence.
After quite a lot of silence, Potter went out of the room for a long time so I was able to be by myself for a very long time. Had I just dreamed this? Was it possible that I had finally kicked the bucket and I was on my way to heaven? Well that doesn't make sense; my name was on hell's list since birth. As my musings consumed me, I didn't see Potter come back in and watch me from behind. It was only when he touched my shoulder that I knew he was there, where I screeched and shoved his hand away.
He looked quite strange for a moment, was that hurt in his eyes? Oh it didn't matter. He tried to offer I help to get up but I sent him a glare, however half hearted it was, and got up on my own. It took me a while, being it was hard for me to hold these chains up without falling, but at least I had my dignity intact. Yes, I can get out of a chair.
The thugs that had guarded the prison along with the dementors came out and released me from my chains. I pinched myself. My gods, I wasn't dreaming! I looked back at Potter just before the world went black.
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Alright I smell something rather…salty at the moment. Oh lord; I smell salts aren't I? I guess I'll have to wake up now.
…but I haven't gotten this kind of sleep in weeks. I don't know why I'm sleeping with this cozy feeling about me but whatever. It's cozy. It's warm. It might possibly kill me being that I've no idea what exactly I'm in, for it surely is not the stone hard bed of Azkaban. Finally, I decide to open my eyes. It takes a while but eventually I get them half open to see I'm in a rather cozy room.
I've never slept in a cozy room in my life, so I can't say that the whole experience had been a dream and that I was waking up from in my Muggle apartment or the manor. There's something over me, blocking me from seeing the rest of the room.
I would get up but I don't feel up to it. Sleep. I need more sleep. Beginning to shut my eyes, I hear a faint voice. I don't get to answer the voice before I fall asleep again.
Opening my eyes again, I don't know how much time has passed but I'm in the same cozy room. This time, I feel I can at least open my eyes all the way. When I do, I get an eyeful of the cozy bedroom I am occupying.
I am currently lying on a good sized bed, possibly queen, which had a deep, royal looking plum comforter, though I can't see the sheets underneath it. The room itself is only a little bit bigger than the bed that I am currently resting in. There is a dresser to the right of the bed that is, as I can tell through my hazed vision, made of red oak.
The walls are white though they are dimmed by the drawn curtains on the windows, making it seem darker all around the room. Then I turned to my left to see a certain Harry Potter sleeping in a recliner that was next to the bed. Sitting up, memories of what had happened popped back and questions sprung out into the open. Why did he save me? How did he convince them I was innocent? How long have I been asleep? Why does he look so good in just boxers?
Alright, the last thought surprised him a bit and made me gasp, which in turn made Harry awake. He rushed over to me and fussed much like a mother with a sick child. Every so often he would tut or say something like "So skinny" or even "We need to fix that."
Feeling uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze, I watch him curiously. He finally stopped and looked into my eyes, a small smirk on his lips.
Time for the script. You know you would think I would be over this, but I'm afraid not:
Potter: I'm glad you're awake; you nearly gave me a fright you did!
Me: Why?
Potter: Well because you've been sleeping for three straight days!
Me: No, why did you save me, Harry.
Potter's giving me this really weird look now. Oh, I said his first name didn't I? Oh well, no use in changing the past now is there? I shall glare at him till he stops staring.
He is now flushed as he looks at the bed towards my feet. Success!
Potter: I've told you why, why don't you accept it?
Me: Because it seems so hard for you to say.
It seems he gives in then shakes his head.
Potter: I saved you, get over yourself.
And he leaves. Not polite at all, ah well at least he's shutting the door.
Alright maybe slamming it would be a better way to describe it.
What a psycho.
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Well after that I decided to sleep, though it didn't last long. Potter's just woken me up. Once again, another point of politeness taken off. It's times like these that I wish I were in Hogwarts again, just so I could take points off people's names if they bothered me. Oh well, I'm supposed to be an adult now. Go figure.
He's saying something but I can't quite understand him. So, since I can't understand, I try to get up so maybe I could go to the bathroom and begin re-beautifying my face. Though I suppose that it didn't work out how I planned, as I am now falling to the ground.
And now I'm not on the ground, as a hand is protecting me. I look up and I believe I am going delirious as Potter is the one who had saved me from a possible bruise or possibly worse with the sorry state I'm in. He's looking at me with a worried look and he speaks again. This time I understand.
Potter: Malfoy, you're not well enough to move about.
Me: I'm sort of getting that now.
Potter: You still smell like shit.
Me: Then why don't I get washed up?
Potter: (smirks) Can you stand up on your own?
The nerve! Of course I can stand up on my own! I nod and he puts me upright then let's go. I stand, but he doesn't look impressed. He tells me to walk. Stupid Potter, of course I can walk, before was just because I got up too fast. I take a step and I see myself face to face with the floor again, once more held by the illustrious Potter.
Me: Alright, I get it. So what are you going to do about it?
The smirk that he gave me did not make me feel any better about what was yet to come.
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He gave me a shower! I've never felt so invaded in my life! Actually, though, it wasn't as bad as I would have imagined, or maybe that just goes to show that it went completely wrong.
At first when he brought me into the bathroom and locked the door I grew a tad antsy. Then he told me to take off my clothes, which made me give a screech that hurt even my own ears.
"You can't bathe without taking off your clothes, Malfoy, and I would have thought you'd be anxious to take those rags off anyway," he said, raising his eyebrows.
"Well what if I do like them," I don't, "and maybe I don't feel comfortable getting undressed in front of you," I didn't. Now, granted, I am completely straight. Yep, that's me, Mr. Straight Man, Mr. DIY, Mr. Porn reader. Alright, so I don't read porn but that doesn't matter! I'm just as much a man as my father was, well, more of a man since I wasn't a coward and that rot…but what I'm saying is I'm not queer, so stop asking!
"If you don't take them off, I will," he threatened, completely oblivious to how wrong that sounded, so I informed him.
We bickered like that for a good amount of time before I finally let it go and got undressed. Then before he began to move me to the shower, I asked if I could take a bath, for then maybe I wouldn't feel so exposed. He said that I'd probably drown. What. A. Wanker.
I tried something else, being that I was feeling completely inferior, and I did NOT like that feeling. So I stopped again. "What is it now?" he asked, rather frustrated.
"You have to get naked too," I said. Alright, it sounded wrong but at least I was conscious of knowing, but instead of blushing like Pot Head was doing at the moment I just gave him an even, blank look. I'm quite good at those I might add, which I did just now.
After blushing up to a shade of Weasel's Hair, he asked why and I said that if I had to get naked in front of him, he'd have to do the same. He couldn't see anything that would get him out of this situation so he shrugged and undressed. He quickly turned me around, NOT that I was staring at him in any sort of manner other than disgust, NO! I wasn't staring at him at all! Nope, not me, nuh-uh. He held me from behind, letting there be allowed a bit of space between us, then reached in front of me and turned on the shower. When he found the right temperature, he told me to go in, still holding unto my shoulders.
The water felt nice, and I could see the grime and dirt rolling off my skin. I reached out for the soap and a loofah. I love loofahs; they get in all the right places. I had one back home and I never let anyone use it. Just in case he didn't want me to, I am considerate after all; I looked back at him and checked to see if it was alright that I do it. He smiled as if I did something miraculous then nodded shortly and I began using it. I relaxed as I felt about ten times cleaner, but I couldn't reach my back. Everyone has their downfall right? Mine was that I couldn't reach my back without breaking my arm, knowing this from experience. I tried to find a way to do it but it wouldn't work. I suppose it's lucky for me that Harry had been observing, the little pervert, and had asked if I needed help. I said no, but my voice proved otherwise as it sounded defeated yet stubborn. As I tried again, he gently put a hand on top of mine. In shock, I stopped in mid motion.
I felt the loofah being pulled out of my grasp and my back was beginning to be rubbed and cleaned with said loofah. I let out a small moan at the feeling of him rubbing my back, still holding my shoulder, with the sponge and rested my head against the shower wall. I felt completely relaxed as he did so and groaned a little again as he reached the sensitive part of my back and he staggered a moment as this one was louder than the other. Out of instinct to see what was wrong, I turned around to see him staring wide eyed at me. I didn't understand why but I suddenly found myself looking at Potter like I hadn't before. First I started at his feet, which were bigger than mine but mine were scraggly anyway so I had an excuse. His legs were definitely toned, which made me wonder what he did for a living now since he'd long since stopped training to defeat Voldemort, since he already did. It didn't take long for my eyes to reach his member, which gave me a bit of a shock in two ways. One, it was a rather large bulge, especially since I thought, NOT THAT I THOUGHT ABOUT HIS DICK, that he would be a bit smaller, since he was quite small in our school years. That had obviously changed as he was standing at my height, though he looked much bigger in comparison being I was nothing but bones. The second was that it was….HARD! Skimming past his chest, which again was toned and he definitely had a six pack growing in, I looked up at his face in shock. Once again he was red as a tomato. He swiftly turned off the water, helped me into a towel, sat me on the bed, and after grabbing his own towel made his way out of my room.
And now, I've been sitting here a good five minutes. I'm getting a little bit concerned since no noises were made for the past two of them, when before there was a sound of a few things bumping about here and there. I saw he had laid out clothes too and I put on a shirt and a pair of boxers, both of which were hanging low on me. I mustered all the strength I had and got up. I held unto the bed as I did so then took a step and fell, put I held unto the wall's corner as I stood up again and began walking, leaning against the wall for support, walking out of the room to find where the famous Harry Potter had gone.
Walking out to what I presume to be a living room and I see a small fireplace. It's lit and the shadows it casts make the room seem a bit gloomy. I rather like this sort of gloomy, so I walk further into the room and hold tight onto the furniture as I passed them. I'm slowly loosing energy though, and when I see Harry sitting in an armchair in front of the fire, I can't reach him as I fall.
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I hear my name being said by a rather panicky voice. I give a groan to let them know I hear them, but I still hear the voice calling me.
"Draco…Draco wake up…come on you prat wake up."
Wait a second. The only ones who've called me 'Draco' were my mother, my father, and the occasional Slytherin. None of them called me a prat though. Hmm, who was saying my name? I try opening my eyes but I'm too tired. I begin to slip into my shell of unconsciousness when I hear the voice again, calling me, only it's louder. I try opening my eyes again and it works, and my eyes begin to slowly part.
Potter? Potter hadn't been calling me Draco had he? Had he ever called him Draco? He wasn't sure, but he just looked at the other's face as it melted into relief. "You idiot," he muttered, his voice shaking. Had he been crying? Why the hell would he be crying? I cough a minute then clear my throat.
"What happened?" I ask quietly, my mind not in script mode.
"You came out here when I told you not to move around and you passed out, crashing your head on one of the tiles. You made a mess." He didn't sound that upset, having been more relieved than anything. I just lay there, looking up at him as he looked in the fire. "Harry," I whisper, but he can't hear. I try again but he's too lost in his own little world. I want his attention though, so I persist, as a Malfoy always should. I reach my hand and shakily ran it down his cheek which got me the reaction I wanted and he looks at me. I take a deep breath and breathe out a small "I'm sorry." It didn't seem he caught that for he continued gazing into my eyes. How he could stand it, I don't know, my eyes are so empty all the time anyway, well nowadays. "I shouldn't be causing you so much trouble, you should have left me," I had to cough so I took the opportunity at this point and hacked a bit before continuing, "to rot in Azkaban."
He seemed to have heard this though, and it was obvious when his demeanor changed into one of disbelief. "You'd rather be there than here?" he asked, obviously offended. I suppose he didn't take my apology the right way, so I shook my head. "What do you mean then?"
"I mean," sighing, I take my thumb and ghost it over the top of his hand as he had taken my hand when I touched his cheek. "I mean that I'm a Malfoy, arrested for being a Death Eater, making you take showers," he blushed at this, "and now you're still trying to comfort me though I don't even follow the rules you set. If…if you wanted to send me back, don't feel obligated to keep me, I'd understand." That took a lot of energy so I closed my eyes, but squeezed his hands so he knew I was awake somewhat.
I could tell he was smiling at the way his grip changed on my hand, don't ask how I suppose it's just a talent that I have, smiling through hands. "I know you're a Malfoy. You're not a Death Eater. You didn't make me take a shower…" he cleared his throat at this and I couldn't help but let a smirk befall my own lips, "don't you smirk at me! And once again you are a Malfoy, I don't expect you to follow any of the rules that I set."
I give a small nod. "I'm tired, Harry," I whisper.
"Then sleep, we'll get you something to eat tomorrow alright?" he said and I didn't have time to react as sleep took me.
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Well, about two weeks later there wasn't much improvement on my end. I tried to eat but I'd usually only keep one meal down a day. Harry didn't know what to do so now about a week later from that, I'm being fed from a needle. Oh well, I feel so pathetic but at least only Harry knows about it.
Yes, yes I know "Oh no, Draco's calling him 'Harry' now?" Well, yes I bloody well am! I started calling him that since that night a few weeks ago, and he's been returning the favor by calling me Draco. He smiled broadly every time I call him by his first name, even though I do it all the time, and for some reason beyond my comprehension I sort of like it. I like the fact I can make him smile, since it sort of makes me smile. Sort of, not entirely, Malfoys do NOT smile…often anyway.
There are some improvements though. I can now walk with the help of my IV line that follows me around, and keeps me upright if I feel myself sliding down. It doesn't always work, but most of the other times Harry is there to help me. I don't need it too much though, though it does help me save my energy.
I get to go outside as well. Harry lives in a house somewhere in the country, though I'm not sure what the town is called. He has an enormous, private backyard, and I can go out there without being self conscious that someone is watching me. I like going out there especially in the rain, though Harry doesn't like it and says that I'll get a cold in the condition I'm in. I actually did get one, about halfway through the second week but it didn't last too long, and I went outside the next time it rained, this time in more water resistant clothes, at least to give Harry a little peace.
I feel something that I never really felt before, and that's mainly regret. Not that I regret getting out of Azkaban, for that had to be the worst hell I've ever been in, but Harry seems so tired all of the time. Every time I tell him to go to bed he says he doesn't need me mothering him, when that's exactly what he's doing to me.
I wake up this morning to the sound of Harry talking on the phone. I creep into the living room to listen better to the conversation that's happening in the kitchen.
"Hermione, I swear to you he's changed! He's not the prick that he was in Hogwarts! He's…he's sweet, and considerate. He only will do certain things that would be better if he didn't, but that's just because of his health! Why don't you see that he's completely innocent?" he sounded exhausted. I realize that he's talking about me, though I could sort of guess from the beginning. I hear his voice grow quieter. "He's not ready for you two to see him yet, he's still weak. Hermione, what they did to him there! I can't bear to think about how I saw him! At least now it looks like he has more than just bones. His eyes were so lifeless; I thought I would never see light in them again!" By god is he crying again? He was getting really too emotional for me to be able to handle him. Maybe his friends being over would be good, I could show that I have changed and maybe he cold get some rest, feeling at ease that I would be okay with them. Not thinking of the consequences, I stepped out into the kitchen.
"Harry?" I say softly, hoping to not sound rude as he was on the phone after all.
"Draco, not right now alright?" he says distracted. I however, persist.
"Invite them over." Well that made the conversation stop and Harry looks at me confused.
"You were listening in on my conversation weren't you?" he says, trying to sound condescending but shock was still the dominant of the two.
"You know what they say, when someone's talking about you it's like you can't stop listening." Alright I don't know if they actually say that, but it sounds good anyway.
"Are you sure, Draco?" he asks and I nod. He sighs and says something about being crazy then tells Hermione that she and Ron could come over. Draco could hear the squeaks of excitement at seeing her best friend over the phone and rolled his eyes. He stumbled out into the living room and sat on the couch, looking at the fireplace which was empty of fire, only ash.
I didn't realize I had shut my eyes until I felt the cushion move under me and I opened my eyes seeing Harry looking at the fireplace as I had just before.
He says that they're coming over around noon for a bit of a luncheon. I simply nod.
"Thank you for telling me to invite them over, I miss them a lot," he admitted and once again I nodded, though a bit more curtly. Had I been preventing Potter, I mean Harry, from seeing his friends before? Is that why he seemed so tired? Had I been causing Harry pain? Well of course I have, I've been here loafing about and here he is doing the best he can to just help me get through the day without falling over. I was the most pathetic excuse for a living being that I had ever dreamed of.
Turning I see he's noticed my silence. "You alright Draco?" he asks. I nod slowly. I decide to forget about it.
"I'm going to try to eat," I state and get up. I saunter into the kitchen and lean against the counter as I open the refrigerator. I take out the smallest thing I can find, which is a yogurt. I open the lid and take out a spoon.
"Small bites, Draco," he warns walking in to see what I'm doing.
"You can't bite yogurt," I retort, smirking. I watch him roll his eyes before a dip the spoon in the yogurt. I take a slurp and then put down the yogurt and let that hold me for a minute. I wasn't that hungry anyway, I just wanted to try it.
He smiles proudly at me, and I just roll my eyes. Yay, I ate yogurt, let's all dance the Horah and through confetti. Instead, I stick my tongue out at him, and he just smiles broader. He'll never learn.
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Before I tell you about what I'm doing currently, I will tell you about what happened at the get together.
Harry and I, mostly Harry though I tried as best I could, really, cleaned the house up. I didn't want to make it seem like I had made Harry a slob, now did I? I mainly helped with the less physical things such as dusting; of course I had to do it manually since the Ministry had insisted on keeping my wand. Before long, it was noon and, as I expected from a pair of graduated Gryffindors, they came right on the dot. They immediately rushed over to Harry and Hermione hugged him till he was breathless. Ron shook his hand and patted his back. The entire greeting was quite snicker-worthy, so I did the only thing one would do at such a moment, I snickered. That was a bad move on my part. They all stopped and stared at me, though Harry's was out of embarrassment, and the other two were out of annoyance. They curtly sat down on the couch while I sat on the armchair in front of the fire, which wasn't lit since they had flood here and it didn't seem polite for them to come in with there bums aflame. Funny yes, but not polite.
They talked about the random news from their jobs. Apparently, Hermione was the Department Head of Research at St. Mungo's Hospital, and Ron was the new Keeper of some Quittich team in Europe. Through the last tidbit of information, I discovered that Harry had been a Seeker on the same team that Ron was currently placed in and Ron was ranting about the ludicrousy of giving it up. It was at this time I decided to go into script mode, which was rather odd being that the last time I did it consciously was close to a month ago. I wondered why I hadn't done it in so long.
Ron: Why did you leave Harry!
Harry: I told you already, Ron, I didn't have an interest in that sort of thing anymore.
Ron: But you love quittich!
Harry: Loved, Ron, Loved quittich.
At this point, I feel Ron's glare at my back, since I was facing away from them so they could have a bit of privacy. Mind you I wanted to be in my bedroom but Harry wouldn't hear of it. Don't know why.
Ron: It's because of this wanker isn't it?
Hermione: Ron, please behave.
Harry: (irritated) No, he has nothing to do with that.
Ron: (snorts) Yes, I'm sure (I'm pretty sure that was sarcastic) and I'm one of the models in those magazines you like reading so much. (Once again, I'm hoping he is being sarcastic)
I'm not quite sure what he means by magazines but at this point I turn around and see Harry blushing quite red, Ron looking defiant, and Hermione has her back to me so I cannot see her reaction other than an elbow to the ribs.
Harry: Well (clears throat) since we're all talking about him, we might as well have him join us. Come on Draco.
Me: No, I like it here thanks.
Harry: No, I think you want to come over here.
I sighed and threw my hands in the air. I grab my IV and move over to them. Now I feel like I'm under a very bright, hot spotlight as the two friends of Harry observe me. I clear my throat and they stop looking at me like a lab rat.
Hermione: So, D-d-Draco (ah, yes that took quite a lot out of her, poor thing) how are you feeling?
Me: Could be better, but then again could be worse.
Ron: (Mumbles)
Me: I'm sorry, I didn't catch that.
Ron: Maybe it wasn't for you to catch.
Harry: Ron…
Me: It's fine, Harry. (Turn back to Ron)Well, you know if you don't want to say something that the whole group can here, and then you might as well not say it at all. I'm sure everyone is curious right about now.
Hermione: Draco…
Ron: Forget it, 'Mione. (Turn back to me) You want to know what I said, you nosy little git? Well then I'll tell you. I said that you should feel better than that; you little ferret, since Harry's done all this for you.
Harry: Ron, stop it.
Hermione: Please Ron, don't cause a scene.
Ron: Don't cause a scene? You are all bonkers. Look at him! He's enjoying all the attention he's taking from you, Harry. While he gets to live like a king, you serving him hand and knee, you loose touch with your old friends, and yet he's still so happy about it! I can see it in his eyes! He's taken everything you love and those who love you away from you Harry! He's taken your Quittich. He's taken the time you used to spend tending the house, and the garden like you always talked about? What's of the garden now, Harry? It's all weeds! He's taken you away from us, your family, Harry! The ones that care about you! And look at him! You say how he's still in a bad way, and I bloody well agree, but it's been about a month Harry! Surely he should be showing some improvement by now! And you look so tired Harry! Has he not been letting you sleep? He's obviously been doing nothing but sleeping from what I've heard and how bedraggled he looks! He's so bloody…pathetic!
It seems that he's lost the momentum he had. Ah well, it did enough for me.
Everything that I had been thinking about as Harry took care of me came back. The guilt, the shame, the remorse, the regret, all poured on me like a heavy rainfall. He had confirmed everything I had been thinking since I noticed Harry's fatigue and began thinking about that sort of thing. About Harry's well-being though he would never let me care for him. But Ron was right. All I was was a bloody nuisance. I got up as the rest sat in shock. I ripped the IV out of my arm and watched as blood gushed out of my skin. I didn't care anymore. With newfound adrenaline I walked over to the fireplace, through floo powder into the fireplace and watched as flames sprung to life. "Diagon Alley" I said as I stepped in and disappeared.
And that's where I am right now, sitting at the corner of Merlin and Wart Root Street. Rain was pouring down and making the blood on my arm disappear down my white skin. Looking up at the sky, I'm still amazed at my stupidity. I never cared for anyone but myself, had I? I thought I had been trying hard enough to care for Harry, but I didn't even do that right. I curl into a ball and await a possible death to ensue. I am going to die, being I have no one to take care of me now. I was once ashamed to admit it, but not anymore. I am weak, and defenseless. I need help while I recovered. And that protection has been Harry, and he was now gone, to be with the ones that really would give him the care he deserved as well.
So why is there something stroking my back. Thinking it might be some weird person from Knock turn Alley, I groan and scoot away, but the touch follows me. I take my time and look up to see black raven hair, and a pair of circular glasses above my curled form. I cannot tell if tears are running down his cheeks or if it was the rain. Before I could say anything he picked me up, bride style, and I clutched to his warmth. I didn't go unconscious though for before I knew it I was back at the house.
Now I'm being stripped of my soaken clothes, and I don't have enough fight to refuse him doing this. He puts a warm blanket around me and lays me on the bed. He's about to leave to get something I'm sure when I croak "Harry?"
He looks back at me. "Draco, you're awake?" he asked, not moving from his spot.
"Yeah" I reply, but only for a few minutes. "I'm sorry," I say as the emotions from before spill out and run down my cheeks in tears.
"Shh, you've no need to be," he assures me coming over since he sees my distress. I shake my head.
"Weasel's right, I'm nothing but a nuisance, Harry!" I cry, too weak to care how pathetic I sound.
"You are not a nuisance," he says forcefully, but I rebuke.
"I am! Harry I am! Why did you save me again?" I ask, my eyes growing dim.
"Do you really want to know why, Draco?" he asks me. I nod but before he can reply I can't breathe, the blood that had been spilling out of my body spills too much, and I loose consciousness, for the last time.
Or was it?
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I awaken to the sounds of beeping all around me. Groaning I open my eyes and see that I'm not in Harry's room, or my room, or in that house at all. I'm in some puce colored room. I would look around more but I notice there is a hand in mine. I want to know who it is and I can't much move my head too well, so I squeeze the hand to see if they'll get up. Stirring awake I see dark raven hair and a shocked face. It's kind of silent for a moment, so I rasp.
"Nice to see you too, Potter."
He smiles and looks like he's resisting the urge to do something. Oh, maybe he wants a hug? I never did one of those before but maybe I could try if that's what he wants. I open my arms out shakily and he gets the hint, thank god, and gets up then bends down so he's on top of me, hugging me close, but not too tight. I wrap my arms around him and hug back, though probably not as strong as he did.
"I almost lost you again," he said, hoarse from obvious crying. He cries a lot over me doesn't he?
"I'm right here," I said, then I did something I don't think either of us expected. I turned my head and pecked his cheek.
"What was that for?" he asked quietly.
"For helping me live," I reply.
"Is that all?" he asked, beginning to shift.
I shrug.
We both lay very still until he leaned down and captures my lips. It's gentle, sweet, yet erotic all at the same time.
"I love you," he says to me which shocks me a little but not too harshly.
"Why?" I asked, unsure.
He shrugged. "You're beautiful, you're not as much of a prick as before, and you're the only one I know, who can do this to me."
I suddenly felt something very hard on my leg. And it made me smile, for I realized two things.
One, I was going to live. I would be fine, and protected in Harry's care, and no matter how much I may think he resents it, he says he loves it. Everything was going to be alright.
The other? Simple. We would have to take another shower very soon…
'Da End
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A/N- So yes that is another AMAZING story written by me. ha ha. Anyway, yes this is definately a one shotter. Yep. Yep indeedy. I'm sorry I didn't give you too much slash...but then again I rarely do ha ha. Um...review if you wish! Love you all! Now I'm going to fetch me a sandimash! -Galavants into the sunset on her pony- -wishes she had a pony...-